#I KNOW I COULD HAVE LOVED YOU BUT YOU WOULDN'T LET ME!

[norrisleclercf1]

He's Not Yours

Pairing: Mafia!Jenson x Assistant!Reader

Rating: PG-17

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Pregnancy, lying, angst, fluff, it's really just, yeah

Synopsis: One night changes your life, but one lie completely destroys it

Mafia Jenson: pt.1 Unattainable / pt.2 Slipping Through My Fingers

A/N: This was an idea @percervall and I talked about a long time ago and I’m finally writing it and yes this is part of the main story

With shaking hands, you try to read the test before you; you are unwilling to believe what the test says. The two little lines mock you, making you sick. Taking another deep breath, you grab your phone and dial the first person you can think of. 

"I need you," 

-----------------------

Lewis holds it as you sit on the couch, sobbing, trying to get control. You craved control, but instead, you've thrown your world into such uncontrollable chaos that your chest has tightened. Lewis takes an intense breath, blows out, puts the test down on the coffee table, and slowly bends to your height. 

"Jenson?" He asks the question slowly like he knew asking you would set off a whole wave of tears. You flinch at his name, the flashes of drinks, laughter, his hands on your body, pulling delicious toe-curling orgasms out of you. And the way he felt inside you. Shaking your head, you nod it slowly, and Lewis groans. He wants to yell at you for finally getting with Jenson and being so reckless. 

"Well, I know this isn't how you wanted to get with him, but Y/n." "He can never know," Lewis snaps his mouth shut, his eyes narrowing but softening when you look up at him. "Lewis, he can never know. Lewis, promise me, promise me you won't tell him." Lewis groans and hangs his head. Sighing, he pulls you into his arms as you cry into his chest. "I won't, I won't tell him." 

--------------------

You finally calmed down enough to talk with Lewis about being pregnant. Pregnant, you couldn't believe it. Pregnant with Jenson's baby, it made a smile tug at your lips, but you had to shake your head as it would be extremely dangerous having his child. You loved Jenson, and he loved you, yet you two kept up this game of not being together. Jenson was the head of a Mafia group, and if his enemies learned he had a child, he'd have a weakness, a weakness that would end with either the child's death or his, and you knew you wouldn't survive either. 

"I know you don't want to tell him, but you can't hide it," Lewis whispers, pouring you some juice, even though you'd really wish it was alcohol. "I'm not going to hide it, Lewis. Just tell him it's someone else's, baby," Lewis makes a disgruntled noise and sits down, shaking his head. "Y/n, I love you, but that would crush him. He loves you, and you two finally sleep together, and he has been chewing Fernando and I's ear off about how you two are finally coming together." The knife in your heart stabs deeper, tearing into the muscle with such force you choke on air. 

"If people find out that this is his child, they'll target the child, and Jenson would," You take a deep breath as the tears gather in your eyes. "Jenson would rather die than let his child be harmed. I can't lose them both," You whimper, hanging your head in shame. "You're going to lose him if you tell him that you're carrying another man's baby." Lewis loves you, he'd kill for you, has killed for you, he'd die for you, but he wouldn't support you in this. Jenson has been his friend for years, and this would crush his dearest friend. 

"You think I don't know that!" Your voice raises at the end, and you swallow back the bile burning your throat. "Lewis, just trust that I'm doing the right thing," Lewis has never seen you so broken. You were always this badass, tough woman who could cut a man down with one look. Hell, you've got Jenson Button down on his knees for you. "I don't think you're doing the right thing, but I'll be here for you, no matter what." Lewis moves, sitting down next to you and kissing your head. 

"We have the gala tonight," you whisper, and Lewis groans, knowing Jenson will be all over you. You know, last gala, I snuck off with Sebastian, and we were gone for a while," you whisper, and Lewis goes tense next to you. "Don't, Jenson and Sebastian are close," You chuckle, sipping at the sweet drink in your hand. "Sebastian and I were engaged once." His jaw drops as you nod, having never revealed that fact. "I'm sorry, what? You were once engaged to Michael Schumacher's right-hand man, now the German Mafia's leader?" Lewis pulls back, and a wet chuckle gets past your lips. 

"We were children, young, we met at university, and well, it was a whirlwind romance. We got so close to being married, but we both realized we didn't want this, so we stopped. Stayed good friends too," Lewis thinks over every interaction you've had with them, and you giggle, seeing the lightbulb go off. "Oh my god, that's how you got us to meet with them," you nod and start to laugh, feeling slightly lighter. 

"Jesus," Lewis sinks into the couch as you nod. Where did you...could it be?" You stop him and shake your head no. "No, Sebastian... no, we didn't sleep together," you admit, and Lewis nods his head, not wanting to doubt you, but right now, he needs a little doubt. "Would Sebastian even agree to this?" Sipping on the juice is the only thing that does not make you nauseous. "Yes, he owes me." Lewis raises an eyebrow, and you lean back into his arms, his fingers digging into your neck muscles. 

"Why does he owe you?" Lewis stops and shakes his head fast. "Actually, don't tell me, knowing you, it's probably something horrible." Your lip quirks up as you sigh and look at Lewis. "He's in love with Mark," "Oh yeah, he's in love with Mark," Lewis repeats, his eyes slowly growing wide as he lets the words sink in. "What, but Mark is," "Yep," You whisper sadly, remembering the night Sebastian sobbed in your arms about Mark and how he would never love him. 

"Does Mark," "He suspects something, but that's why tonight I'll be stuck by his side. He'll get drunk and do something reckless," You whisper, Lewis nods and looks at the time. "We should get going," You nod, standing as you look down at the pregnancy test. "Oh god, I'm pregnant." Lewis laughs and pulls you into his chest, rubbing your arm, "Yeah, yeah, you are," 

----------------------

"Something is off," Lewis tenses next to Jenson as he stares at you and Sebastian. Lewis tries hard not to make eye contact, worried he'll spill everything to Jenson. "What, no, nothing is off," Lewis answers far too fast, but Jenson doesn't clock it, staring a hole into your head. "How do Sebastian and Y/n know each other?" Lewis swears his muscles will rip from how tight they are, and Mark questions the closeness between you and Sebastian. 

Lewis wishes you could hear his thoughts as Sebastian puts an arm around your waist, and you lean into him. Lewis closes his eyes and sees Sebastian moving his hand lower and you inching closer. "Okay, I'm going to rip his hand off," Jenson slams his whiskey down, but Mark steps in. "Touch him, and I'll rip you apart." Jenson and Mark have a stare-down, Lewis panicking. "Stop it. They used to be engaged, so I'm sure there are still feelings there," Lewis blurts out, and he groans, knowing he just fucked up. 

"What?" Jenson's sound makes Lewis's blood run cold as Fernando walks up and giggles. "Eh, love birds are leaving," Lewis wishes Fernando could read a room. Actually, he could. He was just feeding into it." Jenson's eyes turn pitch black as Sebastian grins and leads you out of the gala. 

-------------------

"Congratulations," Sebastian whispers, and you smile, lying your head on his shoulder. "If anyone asks, can," "Of course, but you know I won't be in the baby's life; I'm going to be the cool uncle." You giggle, and he sighs, pulling you closer. "So, Jenson, you are having a baby." "No," Your voice is cold as you touch your stomach. "I'm having a baby, not Jenson. He was just a...a sperm donor." You spit and sigh as Sebastian stares at you with wide eyes. "Woah, alright, never mind. Noted, don't talk about Jenson." Sebastian whispers, and you groan, burying your face in your hands. 

"Sorry, it's the fucking hormones, if the time is right, I'm 3 months pregnant." Sebastian hums and takes off his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. "It's okay, but I'm serious; you can say I'm the father, but I can't be involved; he's around too much." You understood why Sebastian stayed away. It was too painful for him to constantly see Mark and not be with him. "I understand." And you did. It was unbearable for you to be around Jenson, even more so now that you are pregnant. 

"I could always move to Germany," You offer, and Sebastian chuckles and shakes his head no. "He'd follow you, and then rip me to shreds, and then just drag you back here." You nod your head, knowing that was all very true. "I'm glad I can call you my friend," Sebastian smirks and waves a hand over him. "Well, duh, I'm the better blonde." Giggling, you two stand up and walk back to the party; you shiver, feeling someone watching you. 

Turning, you see a distraught Lewis, a confused Mark, a smug Fernando, and a furious Jenson. Sebastian notices and moves, placing a delicate kiss on your lips and shocking you. You can see Fernando and Lewis holding Jenson back. "I hope you're making the right decision." You smile, and Sebastian gives you one last kiss, leaving you in the shadows. 

Walking over, you grab a drink, but Lewis quickly swaps them, and you nod. "What the fuck was that about?" Jenson growls, Mark even looking pissed, which has you thinking things over. "I was telling him some news," "Which is what? What could possibly have been your ex-fiance kissing you?" You whip your head to Lewis, who quickly looks away and whistles. "Nothing," Jenson tightens his hold on his glass and waves over the bartender. "Get her a real drink, please," "No, thank you," The guys stare at you, shocked; you always drink with them. "I can't drink," You whisper, unable to look them in the eyes. 

The bartender's eyes sweep over you and smile. "Congrats." He walks off. Jenson stares, but then a smile starts to grow. "Are you?" "Yes! And it's Sebastian's okay, but he wants... just leave it alone." You whisper. A pen could drop with how silent it was around you. Lewis, I want to go home now," Lewis nods and gathers you in his arms, noticing how you are still wearing Sebastian's jacket. 

---------------------

2 months later, 5 months pregnant

You stopped wearing your heels, and you hated it. Mark and Jenson kept towering over you, and you were annoyed with it. Since that night at the gala, Jenson hasn't said much to you, just small words here and there, but today, he asked you to come into the office early, so here you are, trying to figure out what he would want to say to you. 

Knocking on the office door, you push it open and see Jenson sitting in the same position you left him last night. "Did you stay the night?" You ask, shocked at his disheveled state. "Are you pregnant with my baby?" The question throws you off, shock flashing through your features, but you quickly school your emotions and take a deep breath. "No, Jenson, it's not your baby." His face, once stoic, breaks as he takes a deep breath and looks away. 

"There's...not even a chance?" He whispers, and you hate being pregnant at this moment because he's got your throat tightening without even touching you, eyes burning like fire has been thrown in them. "No," You choke on the word; clearing your throat, you roll your shoulders back and speak up. "No, there's not a chance." You repeat, and Jenson leans back, rubs his face, and nods. "Sebastian, he....he's going to be there for you, yes?" It wasn't really a question; it was more of a demand. "No, he wants nothing to do with the bug, baby." Jenson's face is cold, but then he cracks a smile. 

"Bug?" You sigh. It was something you started calling the baby, and it just stuck. Lewis even bought the baby a little bug plushie. "Yes, it's something I called the baby," "That's cute," Jenson stands and walks over before settling on his couch and patting the empty side. You move and sit down, feeling your feet ache as you whine. "I'm not the father, but I want to help Y/n," You open your eyes and stare at him. The raw emotion on his face eats you alive, Jenson has always spoken about how much he's always wanted to be a father, and here he is, the father of your baby, and you're hiding that from him. Taking away the one thing he's truly wanted. 

"Jenson, you don't have to," Jenson moves, his large hands wrapping around your ankles and lifting them to his lap, and slowly rub the soles of your feet. "Jenson, please, I'm doing this alone," You whisper and pull your feet in, knees tucked into your chest. Jenson stares at you, the rejection hurting, but he clears his throat. "So, I'm just your boss, and you're my assistant, and us fucking, us telling each other we loved one another, that never happened? Instead, you fucked, Sebastian, and now you're pregnant with his baby, not mine." Jenson snaps, standing up, and you flinch, his anger leaving just as quickly as it came. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm just," You don't know what comes over you, but you start to cry and hold your arms out to him, just wanting to feel his warmth and smell the whiskey and earth that clings to him. Jenson doesn't think twice and sits down, pulling you into his lap. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You repeat, sobbing into his chest. "It's okay, I'm here, I'm always here," 

----------------------

3 months later, 8 months pregnant 

You don't know how it happened, but one day, you were living in your lovely apartment, and suddenly, you were living in Jenson's home, painting the nursery together. Now, you're lying in bed, wondering if you should talk to Jenson. 

He wasn't his usual self; as your stomach grew, the more he refused to let you out of his sight, and you could tell he was slowly losing his mind. According to Lewis, he saw Sebastian not too long ago, and they both left the room with busted lips and black eyes. Jenson came stalking into the house, stormed past you, and locked himself up in his study hours ago. Unable to sleep, you throw the covers off and groan. 

Your stomach was heavier and heavier by the day as your little bug was dropping, getting ready for you to give birth. Holding your stomach, you waddle to his study and knock on the door softly. "Jense, it's me." You push it open with ease and stop seeing him sitting at the desk, his head down and a bottle of whiskey half empty. "Jenson," You whisper, close the door, and walk farther into the study. "Jenson, love," You whisper, hating how you living here has made you two grow closer, scary close for you. 

He looks up, and you hiss, seeing his eye and lip swollen. "That should be my baby; I wish it was my baby; I wish you were mine." He croaks, and you freeze, your hold on your stomach tightening. "Jense," "I would take such good care of you because I-.. because I love you." He whimpers, sounding so broken that you blink, and tears slide down your cheeks. Your chest aches; you knew he'd remember nothing in the morning. He was far too drunk to even correctly see if it was you in front of him and not some dream. 

"Jenson, he is yours," you whisper, stepping forward and cupping his face, wiping the tears as his hands touch your stomach, staring at it. "Don't hurt me like that, baby. It's okay; I don't need to lie to protect my heart. Don't care. I will care for them no matter what. I will care for both of you," He slurs with a sad smile. That ache in your chest grows as you pull him up; he stumbles but stands upright and blinks slowly. "Let's go to bed, Jense." Jenson nods and follows after you. He stumbles occasionally, but you carefully lead him into the room, and he flops onto his bed. 

"Go to sleep," You lean down and kiss his cheek, but he stops you, and you freeze, having never seen such vulnerability in someone before. "Stay, I'm, just stay," He begs, and you nod, not even thinking twice as you climb into the bed and sigh. Jenson's hand moves to your stomach, lying on it protectively. You flinch, feeling a little kick, and Jenson giggles. "Hey, little bug, I'm Jenson. I'm not your father, but I'll love you like one." You bite your bottom lip hard, trying not to sob as Jenson slips off into sleep, leaving you to sob quietly into the pillow. 

---------------------------

1 month later, Hospital 

Jenson couldn't believe it; this tiny little human, the tiny bug, was finally here, in his arms. You slept soundly as Jenson refused to leave your side, and Lewis was picking out the perfect outfit to take him home in. "Should we do the bugs?" Jenson makes a face, and Lewis sighs as Jenson can't look away. The tiny bundle was tucked tight in his arms, staring up at Jenson. Jenson hated that the baby had Sebastian's eyes, these perfect little blues, with a little button nose and perfect lips. 

"Here, dress him in this," Lewis says, holding out a pretty blue onesie, but Jenson shakes his head. He and the baby were doing skin-to-skin, and it felt like the perfect thing to do like the universe was frozen and nothing was wrong in the world. Jenson, you have to dress him." Lewis whispers, and Jenson finally looks away and groans, taking the onesie. "Ruining mine and bug's moment." "His name is Theodore, Theo for short." Jenson doesn't think it is possible, but he falls more in love with the little boy and his mother. 

"Called Sebastian," Mark walks into the room and coos at the little blue eyes staring at him. Mark freezes and looks at Lewis with realization; Lewis slowly shakes his head no, and Mark looks at you, sleeping peacefully in the bed, and back at one of his dearest friends dressing the tiny human. "Yeah, what did he say? Does he even want to see his son?" Jenson asks in a cheery tone, but they can hear the anger in them. 

Theo coos and yawns. Mark melts before shaking his head. "Um, he said, 'Oh, that's good,' and hung up." Jenson picks up little Theo and holds him close like any father would. "Fuck him," Lewis casts a glare, and Jenson doesn't see it too wrapped up in little Theo, who just stares right back at Jenson. 

"Jenson," Lewis whispers; his close friend looks up with so much happiness and love that Lewis feels his heartbreak. Don't forget, he's not yours." Jenson's smile fades, blinking slowly as he looks back down at Theo and then at you. I know, but a man could dream." Jenson's voice breaks as he leans down, kissing Theo softly. "A man could dream," he whispers softly. 

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[barcaatthemoon]

red || jenni hermoso x reader ||

you ask jenni to stop.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

it's not really smutty, but still.

jenni's hands were gripping your hips so tightly that you swore you could feel the bruises forming already. she had been rough with you all day, starting before the two of you had even gotten out of bed. then, it had been more of a playful rough housing. now, she was thrusting her hips into you as hard as she could to make sure that you could feel every inch of her.

it wasn't what you had expected whenever she had taken you back to the bedroom. you were no stranger to jenni's moods, but she wasn't usually this rough for no reason. jenni wasn't jealous, nobody had been around either one of you today. it had been a bit of a lazy day, with the exception of jenni trying to annoy you throughout the afternoon. if anything, you should have been the one to be a bit aggressive in bed.

and in a way, you had been. you had held jenni's head down in between your legs earlier. that wasn't enough to warrant jenni fucking you like this though. it was fairly indulgent, and usually, you'd be fine with that, but it didn't feel right.

"jenni, red. i'm red," you whined. it was quiet, just barely a whisper. you hated interrupting jenni whenever she was focused, but you couldn't take any more. a part of you had said it so quietly that you thought she wouldn't hear you, but jenni was pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back as quickly as she could.

"what's wrong?" jenni asked immediately. her eyes were wide with fear, and you immediately were engulfed in guilt. you hated making jenni feel bad, especially whenever you didn't even know what was wrong. "did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's not that," you reassured her. jenni looked absolutely distraught as she mentally combed over every little thing she had done that day. you had been a bit snappy with her before dinner, but that wouldn't have caused this. jenni had apologized to you long before the two of you made your way back here.

"is there anything that i can get or do for you?" jenni asked you. she was gentle as she reached towards you. you let her hand come to rest on your arm. slowly, jenni began to pull you into her arms. you hummed happily at the feeling of her holding you. it was soft and nice in all the ways that you realized that you had been craving jenni.

"i'm sorry," you apologized. jenni pulled back a bit. there was a puzzled look on her face. her eyebrows were furrowed deeply as she pouted a little. it was something you usually would have teased her about, rubbing out the furrow as you joked about wrinkles. tonight, you didn't feel like joking, instead going straight for clarity. "i stopped us. i don't think i can keep going. i'm sorry, jenni."

"you have nothing to apologize for, my vida. i'm sorry for not paying better attention to you, okay?" jenni pulled back just enough to force you to look at her.

"but you wanted this. it's been so long," you whispered.

"you tell me to stop, and we stop. i don't care what's happening. all i care about is you. do you understand me?" jenni asked you. you nodded, having completely understood her words. whether or not you took them to heart was a completely different thing. "i need to hear you say it and mean it."

"you care about me. if i need to stop, it's okay to tell you. you won't be mad, because you care." it wasn't word for word, which jenni appreciated. the two of you had been working on properly communicating needs, something that jenni felt was testing her patience. she didn't understand how someone so lovely and caring could be so unkind to themselves.

"thank you. i love you," jenni muttered against your forehead as she pressed a kiss to it.

"i love you too," you told her. jenni was absolutely beaming at your words, and you didn't have to see her to know. the way that she shook you a little as she hugged you told you everything that you needed to know. "what now?"

"that, my dear, is up to you. what would you like to happen?" jenni asked you. you thought a lot about it before deciding on just laying back with her. jenni got out of bed and grabbed some clothes for the two of you. she fished through her side of the closet for a sweatshirt for you to sleep in, along with the softest pair of underwear that jenni could find. you happily accepted the boxer briefs, not commenting on jenni only grabbing a sports bra for herself.

"can you hold me please?" you knew not to be nervous, but it wasn't easy for you to ask for things. jenni smiled as she climbed into bed with you, clad in a black sports bra and a pair of grey joggers. you were pretty sure that the pants were yours since they were both a little loose and too short on jenni.

"of course. i'll always hold you. you don't even have to ask." jenni pressed a kiss to the top of your head as the two of you positioned yourselves comfortably. you laid with your head on jenni's chest and your leg thrown over her body. she was completely trapped between the bed and your body, covered by the comforter, just how she liked it. "good night, mi amor."

"night jenni," you hummed happily.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Power II

Katie McCabe x Reader

Summary: You put Katie in her place

Katie was really toeing the line now.

A win against Chelsea under her belt and suddenly she was drunk off the feeling of victory.

That always made her act out a bit and you looked up at her from under your lashes as you sat in her cubby.

The whole locker room was celebrating.

Usually, you wouldn't venture in here but she had been insistent, dragging you inside in a way that really puffed her up to her friends.

You could forgive that though.

You always gave her a bit of leeway when she was celebrating. Not too much though and she was really getting closer to you snapping at her.

"Y/n!" Kyra crowed from across the room," My zipper's stuck!"

You sighed fondly at the girl, getting to your feet to fix her coat for her.

A half-eaten slice of pizza hung from her mouth as she struggled, trying to force her zipper down and you tutted.

"Give me a moment, Kyra," You told her," I don't know how you got it this stuck."

Kyra was sat in her cubby and you had to lean over to wrench the extra fabric out from her zipper.

You'd just got it free when you felt a slap to your ass.

You shrieked a little bit at the shock of it before whirling around.

Katie was grinning, looking back at her friends to check if they saw but her smile dimmed when she saw the pointed look you were giving her.

You stepped closer, enough for the team to not hear your words as you spoke them directly into her ear.

"That's strike one," You said," Keep pushing me and I will put you back in your place, Katie."

"Babe," She stuttered out," It was just a joke."

"And that's why it's only your first warning."

Strike two came when you were on the bus. Usually, you would drive yourself to Katie's games but she had insisted on having you on the team bus with her, sat in her lap.

She was still talking to Leah and Lessi and you knew the moment Leah mentioned partaking in certain celebrations when you got home that Katie would feel emboldened again.

Her hands roamed and you let them.

They were mostly under the table where the other girls couldn't see.

A squeeze of the thigh.

A teasing drag of her leg against yours.

Then her hands got higher and higher until she was squeezing one of your breasts in one hand.

Your shifted a little bit, tilting your head to once again speak into her ear.

"Second warning. One more Katie and I swear to god I will put you in your place in front of all of your little friends."

Katie's hand dropped.

There wasn't another incident until you all got back to London.

You were walking off the bus when Katie, having been teased somewhat by Leah, pulled you into a downright filthy kiss in public.

There was cheering behind her and you decided in that moment that Arsenal was just frat house masquerading as a football club.

You also decided that Katie had run out of warnings so, as she slipped her tongue into your mouth, your hand shot out to grab her neck.

She faltered.

"What?" You said," Is something wrong? You love when I squeeze your neck when we kiss."

"B-Babe," She said, chest heaving, torn halfway between being ridiculously turned on and embarrassed beyond belief.

"What? I thought you wanted to kiss me in front of all of your little friends."

"I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh. You will be." You pulled away but kept a tight grip on Katie's neck, raising your voice so everyone could hear. "Now, go and say goodbye to your friends. Nicely, Katie, and then we'll go home."

"Er...yes..."

You released her and off she went to say goodbye, face burning red as everyone stared with open mouths at how obedient she had become.

You couldn't resist though.

"If you hurry up then I'll break out that big strap you like and we can work on you taking it all."

Her face burned brighter.

[prongsiepotter]

down bad | j. potter

summary: you're so in love with james potter but he's a little too good at giving you mixed signals that it might actually ruin you

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: angst, a little fluff if u squint, and so much longing & yearning. omg so much of it

a/n: i am unfortunately completely obsessed with taylor swift's new album, so everything i'll write in the near future will be based on one of the ttpd songs (yey!) & this one's based on 'down bad.' feel free to send requests if u want pick the next song for me x

──────── 𑁍︎ ‧₊°

"So he just said no?" Mary all but hisses. Marlene shushes her, glancing around the classroom before leaning down from where she's sitting on your desk.

"Are you sure it didn't mean something else?" She rests her hand on yours. "Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. He wouldn't…he just wouldn't, right?" You smile weakly at her, then shake your head. She squeezes your hand.

"The note was pretty clear," you say with a soft sigh. The sentence rolls off your tongue with unhidden bitterness. "Sorry, can't. Need to catch up on some assignments."

You would show it to them, so they could see for themselves and maybe divert their sympathetic gazes from you. But you had set it on fire right after reading it, just like the other two notes friendly rejecting you. You still aren't sure why you did it. After all, you did just tell Mary and Marlene that you're fine. At least you will be. You should not be this devastated over some guy.

Even if that guy is James Potter.

James who is now strolling into the room with his mates, looking as invincible and full of life as he always has and always will.

Quickly, you force a smile at the girls and pull out the chair next to you. Marlene, bless her, gets the hint and lightly shoves Mary's shoulder to have her take the seat. You're going through your book bag, pulling out your inkwell when four bodies make their way past your desk.

"Ladies," comes Sirius cheerfully loud voice as he bows at the waist because, of course, he does. Peter and Remus aren't as dramatic with their greetings. The latter, however, does take the time to slow down in front of you until you look up and return his kind smile. Belatedly, you realise perhaps you shouldn't have done that. You lock eyes with James, who's right behind him.

He sends you an easy smile and a wink. Like he's letting you in on another one of his rare secrets. You're not sure if you're smiling back, but it's almost a given that you are.

He takes his seat behind you, laughing blithely at a joke Pete just told, and it's all so painfully charming that you want to die. You fear he will always make you feel like this. Like you're somehow the chosen one. It's such a sickening feeling, you can't help but whip around and look at Mary, pleadingly. Though, you're not sure what you're pleading for anymore.

She shoots you another unbearably sympathetic smile, looking like she's close to cooing at you. You sigh, hiding your face in the crook of your arms.

You can't help but think how easy it would be to just cry right here. It's embarrassing to admit, but you've done it plenty of times over the weekend after you had seen James out at Hogsmeade with the others. Miserably, you had realised that he was, in fact, not too busy working on his assignments. He just didn't want to spend time with you.

You almost let out a sob.

A hand rubs your back and you know it can only be Mary, but you let yourself believe that it's the universe consoling you, as if to say there, there because there's nothing fair about this and she knows it, but there's nothing she can do it about now, can she?

History of Magic passes in a blur. Before you know it, you're in the library, pouring all of yourself into an essay that you normally couldn't have cared less for. But you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep yourself busy. You know your thoughts will stray the moment you're lying quietly in bed anyway, awaiting another sleepless night.

You finish the sentence and look up, satisfied with your work. Apparently it's been a while since you've torn your gaze away from the parchment before you, seeing how stiff your neck is. You knead at the uncomfortable knot in your shoulder while looking around the library. It's relatively full today with every other seat being taken.

Which makes it all the more irritating when your gaze snatches on a figure sat at the other table right across from you. He's not even looking up, head bent over a book, but you would recognise that mop of unruly dark curls anywhere. James must've seen you when he came in, but that might have just been your hopeful self speaking.

Begrudgingly, you resume your writing and it takes everything in you not to look up every few minutes. To glimpse the slight furrow in his brows and the small pout of his lips as he's carefully reading every paragraph. You know he's likely looking for something to prepare for a prank. Normally, you would simply go over and ask him what he's up to. You know he'd happily tell you. But you're glad to have at least a little bit of pride and dignity left that keeps you rooted in your spot.

Seemingly not enough though since all you can think about is that there's no way he doesn't know that you're right there. It really does make you want to bang your head against the table. Maybe that would finally catch James' attention.

Pathetically, you glance at him only to notice that he's packing his things to leave. The tip of your feather goes back to the parchment so fast, it almost pierces it. You haven't got a clue what you're writing, too busy tracking James' movements from the corner of your eyes.

You watch him stand up, walking down the length of his table towards the door down the hall on his right. Then he stops. You hold your breath. James seemingly hesitates before fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He turns left and walks towards you. You're staring at your hand as it writes illegible words, completely out of your control, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey," James whispers when you look up, giving you a familiar grin and small wave. It's an innocent gesture, sweet, but there's almost something hostile about this encounter. Like you have no choice but to let him occupy every single one of your senses. You stare up at him, a matching smile sweeping over your lips before you can think better of it.

That's when you notice the scarf he's wearing and its frizzled ends. It's yours. You know it is.

Did he not give it back to you after one of your nights out together on the stands? After you had flown on your brooms, so close to the sea of stars that you could've dipped your fingertips in them? You could almost hear the echoes of your windblown laughters as the memory pushes itself into the foreground of your mind.

James is sitting still, rosy-cheeked, watching you with curious eyes while you babble on about the Leo constellation. He had just told you that you could do whatever you want to him—another quite maddening thing to casually say to someone—and now he's apparently keen on staying true to his word by letting you wrap your scarf around his neck.

It took some convincing before he'd finally accepted it from you. You promised that you wouldn't be cold with your high collared sweater, but James only gave in when you had accepted his wool hat in exchange.

He had carefully put it on you, smoothing down your hair and pulling out some loose strands to frame your face, mumbling something about how much lovelier his hat looked on you than on him. You told yourself that he surely must've known what it did to you when his knuckles brushed your cheeks. Right? Surely.

James pokes your side, chuckling, as if he sensed that your mind was drifting elsewhere. He cracks another joke, saying that if you were the one to teach him Astronomy, he might actually pay attention in class. He says it like it's a deal and you feel inclined to do whatever it takes to hold up your side of the bargain.

You laugh helplessly, feeling drunk on a little bit of everything; the stars above, James' gentle laughter, the familiar smell of broom wax and crisp winter air. This must be cosmic love, you think to yourself. Your breath clouds in front of you, becoming one with his. All the while, you're too aware of James' shoulder bumping into you, his leg pressed against yours. There's no one out here but you two.

You have all the room in the world, but James chose to sit this close to you. Probably close enough for him to hear your heart pounding. Did he do it for a reason? You'd love to know.

"You don't need me to pay attention in Astronomy," you find yourself saying in response, something daring laced in the drawl of your voice. His eyes flash, bright and a bit wild. It's the same look he gets after you challenge him to a race on your brooms. His grin grows wide, carefree, and oh so lovely.

"Please." His face comes impossibly closer and you lean in without another thought, eager to take whatever it is James will give you. You feel his breath on your lips.

"I will always need you, Y/N."

Somehow he makes it sound genuine.

Then he winks and leaves you a horrid, forsaken mess. Somehow he makes that feel like a nice gesture too.

Incredulously, you stare at him as he leans back, elbows resting on the seats behind him. James Potter, you think weakly, what are you doing to me? Not for the first time you ponder what you would do if you can't have him. You almost double over from the striking pain in your chest.

Then he points out another constellation and you nearly forget all about yourself. He's good at that. Never ceasing to show you that the world is bigger than the two of you. Making you forget and remember that you might be in love. Because what if you were in love?

James cups the back of his neck, then points towards the door of the library, almost shyly letting you know that he's leaving. You nod slowly, still dazed. A small smile crosses his lips before you watch him round the corner, his back disappearing from your sight.

You blink, letting out a ragged breath. You feel like you got the wind knocked out of you. Like you just lost your twin. Someone who knows you like no one else ever will. Someone who might just be your better half. Someone who sometimes makes you feel like they want nothing to do with you.

It's ridiculous, you think bleakly to yourself, you're so down bad.

And James Potter makes it feel like a curse and a blessing.

[bunnys-kisses]

"the bounties & death au" (a modern gods au)

a/n: 'sunlight' by hozier is burned into my brain

god of death!simon has been locked away for centuries, not able to return to the surface of the earth after being casted away into the shadows of the underworld. but once he finds himself free, in the countryside of england.

the world feels and looks different than what he remembered. it even smelled different. but the familiar grey sky of england loomed in a familiar way. the only thing in the distance was a small stone cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. his legs felt weak, but he managed to make it to the cottage. it had been so long since he walked, after being chained on his knees. to walk again felt like being a newborn deer.

who was he to see on the other side of the door, was none other than you. you looked scared and quickly closed the door. you squeaked, "no one's home! please leave."

simon was a bit confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he knocked once more. he said in his low voice, "i know yer in there. please, let me in."

"are you going to kill me?" "no." "are you sure?" "i need help, i have no interest in killing ya." he lit up when he saw you open the door and look up at him.

you took him in but told him that he had to sit at the chair in the kitchen and not move. you knew it was a risk but, there was something familiar about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. (you'd later recall when you felt close to death after the death of your previous boyfriend).

but simon is kind, you find it comforting to speak to him. he was calm and didn't move from the chair. when he moved as he ate, his movements were slow as to not scare you. simon thought of you like a rabbit. small and delicate, easily nervous.

the first act of kindness he had received in a long time was you sharing a meal with him. the gods didn't need to eat, but the warmth of the stew you made had him feeling warm.

you were an author who had stayed out in the country for some time in order to get a break from the weight of being in the city. you remarked that london was beautiful, and while simon had no way of imagining a city that big, he knew it was nowhere as beautiful as you.

he wouldn't make a move until your last night in the cottage before you headed back to the city. you said you'd drive him wherever he needed to be, but he said he had no home.

you asked him why and he said, "the place i came from. i cannot go back to." and while he hunched his shoulders, you reached up to him and allowed him to stay with you. you had grown to feel affection towards the man, even if you had many more questions about him than answers.

but that night, you shared wine together. you were all over him, your smaller body up against him. when he held onto your ass so you wouldn't fall over, you moaned. you giggled and told him you hadn't been held like that in a long time.

and for the first time in eternity, as simon thrusted into you, he would worship you rather than people worshiping him. as he held your hands onto the bed while you made love, he wondered if it was possible to build a shrine to you. to allow others to worship you the way he wished to do to you.

"you make me feel alive." you whispered in his ear.

an exhale left simon's lips, he then kissed you deeply once more. as you moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist, all simon could think about was that he understood why humans were so desperate to get into the heavens. because if it felt anywhere close to how he felt next to you, he would scramble to get through the gates.

his little human, his little fruitful bounty <3

[justauthoring]

a promise he'll keep.

requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room

a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon! also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!

tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence

pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav

blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.

armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.

long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.

your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.

it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.

you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.

but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.

painfully.

"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"

you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.

astarion's face falls.

taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.

his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.

your eyes flutter shut in response.

"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."

you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."

astarion hates the way your voice trembles.

"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."

and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."

"i'm okay," you try to deny.

astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."

your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.

the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.

"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."

your hand grabs his, squeezing.

"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."

he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.

"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"

and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.

astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.

"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."

you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.

and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (27)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: fingering, masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk, kissing without consent, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When her uncle decided that they would spend the night in Dragonstone for a moment she thought she had overheard herself − she was unable to contain her delight and outburst of joy at his words, feeling that he had somehow rewarded her for her efforts.

Or at least she thought he had.

His sudden change of plans was unlike him, and she was aware of that, knowing his nature.

He detested deviating from the plans he had previously made for himself.

However, she recognised that perhaps he wanted to show her and her family his sincere intentions, to prove that she was not just a prisoner in his eyes and that he, as her husband, could also sleep under their roof without being one.

She wasn't sure if she had ever been as happy in her life as she had been the moment she flew through the sky next to Vhagar, Caraxes and Syrax; her heart was filled with heat and hope, her uncle's words echoing in her mind like a sweet whisper.

I am proud of you.

Those words meant more to her than any of his other confessions.

Of course, his confession of love was a wonderful thing, but she had always been waiting for him to appreciate her as a person, not just a woman he saw by his side.

With this, she finally felt equal to him.

Her optimism extinguished as quickly as it had appeared as soon as she crossed the walls of the family fortress. Although her heart screamed with joy at the sight of familiar rooms, smells and sights, the faces of her brothers left her with no illusions.

She swallowed loudly as she saw the hateful look on Jace's face; she knew him and she knew that he was hurt.

He was disappointed and heartbroken, he felt humiliated and, deep down, betrayed by her, even though she never meant it.

Luke clearly didn't know what he felt himself, because he just lowered his head, unable to look into her eyes.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the sight, a discomfort in her stomach that told her that perhaps this wasn't her home at all anymore.

She was no longer welcome here.

She was snapped out of her reverie by Rhaena − her step-sister was the first to approach her, warmth and longing in her gaze, some kind of understanding from which she felt tears under her eyelids. They hugged each other tightly, though they had never done so before − her words made her feel a tightening in her stomach.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice, and she smiled involuntarily at her words.

"Me too."

As Baela approached them, also enclosing her in the tight embrace of her arms, she thought with a shrug that even though she hadn't let them into the depths of her heart for so many years, they truly cared and worried about her.

At the very end Joffrey ran up to her, sobbing loudly.

"− why have you been so long in King's Landing? − why did you leave us? − Jace wouldn't read me my favourite book −" He mumbled cuddled into her belly, her hands combing through his dark curls with the calm motion of her fingers.

"− forgive me − I'm here −" She said softly, looking at her older brother and swallowed hard, seeing the murderous glances they exchanged over the table with her husband.

She looked at her mother, who nodded, understanding what she wanted to convey to her.

"You are certainly exhausted. Take up your old quarters, daughter, I will immediately command them to be brought to order and prepared for you." Rheanyra said calmly, and she bowed before her.

"Thank you, my Queen." She said softly, looking into her eyes. Her mother swallowed hard and nodded, allowing them to leave.

As they stepped inside her chamber, she felt a squeeze in her heart and some kind of elation; all her belongings were in their places exactly as she had left them, as if no one had been allowed in here since she had been forcibly held in the Red Keep.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when her uncle moved ahead of her, strolling around the room with his hands folded behind his back, intrigued.

It seemed to her that some part of him wanted to understand what her life had been like and who she had been for the eight years during which they had been separated.

She saw him walk over to her old oak desk and run his fingers over its top, thoughtful.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually.

She felt heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that he meant the place where she had written letters to him.

"− yes −"

She swallowed quietly as he hummed at her words, watching as he sat in the chair where she sat many times leaning over the parchment, scribbling words on it meant only for his eyes. He tapped his finger on the armrest, turning to face her in profile as he gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in memories.

She thought that although her return home had proved more uncomfortable than she had thought, she was grateful to him.

Whatever decision he had made that morning had led them here and was proof of his intentions.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said quietly, smiling at him, wanting him to know she wouldn't force him to sit at the same table with her family.

She thought she would spend the evening with him, give him the feeling that she was not speaking with anyone behind his back, and perhaps in the morning, before they flew away, she would ask him so that she could speak to her mother at last in peace and solitude.

Comforted by this thought and the fact that it looked like all was not lost, she began to tell him about her life in Dragonstone, to show him the books she had written to him about in her letters, the places she had flown to on Larax.

It seemed to her that her husband was only partially listening to her; his gaze was thoughtful, his face expressed weariness and discouragement. She knew that something was making him uncomfortable and she suspected that it was about the place they were in; however, she did not know how to help him, to give him the feeling that neither he nor she was in danger here.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −" She finally made an attempt to find out what had been on his mind since the morning. He shuddered at her words and looked at her with a horror as if he was about to faint.

"I'm tired." He replied quickly, without thinking, as if he wanted to answer her anything just to end the subject. She sighed quietly, recognising that she couldn't push him too hard.

Not after what they had managed to accomplish.

"Let's go to bed."

She felt a squeeze in her throat as, already lying on the bedding, she watched as he took out his dagger and tucked it under his pillow; she looked at him and met his calm, impassive gaze.

She decided not to say anything, understanding where his caution came from, not wanting to discourage or frustrate him.

She smiled involuntarily, content as his body clung to hers as soon as he lay at her side. She heard him murmur as she snuggled his face between her breasts, felt his arms embrace her waist and tighten around the material of her nightgown on her back.

She loved it when her mother sang lullabies to her when she was a child; it always calmed and soothed her. She had never dared to sing to him when they were children, fearing that her voice was too squeaky and unpleasant, but now she decided that maybe that was just what he needed.

So she sang, humming softly, once in a while placing a warm, lingering kiss on the top of his head − she felt his embrace slowly growing weaker, his muscles relaxing, his breathing quiet and even.

She sighed quietly feeling him fall asleep.

Someone's jerking and growling roused her from a deep sleep; when she opened her eyes for a moment she didn't know where she was or what was happening.

She recognised her chamber but did not know what her uncle was doing in it, convinced that he still had not answered her letters, as he had not done so for eight years.

After a moment, however, her mind seemed to regain focus and she remembered that she was his wife after all, and that his silhouette lying beside her was not a figment of her imagination.

She raised herself up on her elbow seeing that his body convulsed once in a while, as if he was trying to break free of something, whimpers and grunts came out of his throat, however, his mouth did not open, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes one by one.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!" She called out, grabbing his arm, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

She was frightened and jumped back as his eye opened suddenly, his figure rose to sit up, and he began to pant like a wild animal, quivering all over. She looked at him in disbelief, horrified to hear that he was struggling to catch his breath.

Was he having nightmares again?

Was he dreaming again of the night he lost his eye?

"− easy, my love − breathe −" She whispered tenderly, gently touching his back; he flinched all over and looked at her as if he didn't recognise her − his eye was wide open, his nostrils twitched in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled like a small, terrified child and fell into her arms, bursting into a sob so loud that the voice stuck in her throat.

She embraced him immediately, letting him find protection and comfort in her arms, stroking affectionately his hair and back, placing warm, soft kisses on the top of his head in an attempt to reassure him.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She mumbled, feeling that the fabric of her nightgown was all wet with his tears, his hot, broken breath enveloping her skin.

She felt like he wanted to melt into one with her, to hide deep inside her from whatever it was that scared him.

He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm himself; she hushed him tenderly, whispering that he was safe, that she was by his side, that all was well. She finally heard him swallow hard, his voice trembling and uncertain.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −" He muttered. She blinked, twisting comfortably in her seat, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.

"− I'm listening to you, my love −" She whispered, stroking his hair. She released him from her arms when she felt him wanting to rise.

He sat on the bedding with his side facing her, running his shaking hand over his face, his healthy eye closed as if afraid of what was about to leave his mouth.

"− I − fuck −" He began, swallowing hard − her hand rose to his back, stroking it reassuringly.

"− easy − take your time − start from the beginning −" She encouraged him softly, not wanting him to fall silent again, seeing that he wanted to throw off whatever had been weighing on his shoulders since they had left Harrenhal.

"− you may remember − Lord Strong wanted to speak with me soon after we arrived in Harrenhal −" He said uncertainly, and she nodded, reminding herself that this was indeed what had happened.

"− yes −"

Her uncle swallowed hard, drawing in air loudly.

"− he told me at the time − that my grandfather had no intention of letting your mother and Daemon leave the Eyrie alive if it turned out they wouldn't accept our terms − but now I think they wouldn't have left alive anyway − Larys had his spies there −" He muttered and fell silent, freezing completely as she did, her heart beginning to pound like mad.

My grandfather had no intention of letting them leave the Eyrie alive.

"Will you be by my side even when all is lost? Even if there is nothing left but darkness? Is that what you had in mind then?" She mumbled out in pain, feeling that there was a complete void in her mind. "Will I be there for you even if your grandfather kills my mother?"

"− n-no −" He began quickly. "− will you be there for me even if I fail to prevent it knowing that I didn't tell you −"

She felt a constriction in her throat and lower abdomen, felt tears of disappointment and sadness flowing into her eyelids − now it was her body that trembled in convulsions, his gaze full of shame and horror directed at her.

She sucked his cock, she let him take her, and he knew that the next day her father and her mother could be murdered.

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head and laughed low.

"− you will betray me − you will run away − those are your words, aren't they? − you were always the first to accuse me − was it because you were trying to cover up your own conscience? − you wanted me to let you down so that you wouldn't feel guilty about doing it over and over again? −" She asked with a cold mockery, from which he bowed his head in embarrassment, in a subconscious reflex he had inherited from his mother plucking the cuticles around his fingernails.

He did not answer.

"− what should I do now? − divorce you? − say I won't come back to King's Landing with you? − not speak to you for eight years? − tell me, uncle, what do you think you deserve? −" She asked dispassionately, feeling the tears of rage and grief one by one run down her cheeks.

She saw him tremble at her words and curl into himself, as if he were again the same little boy who had cried in her arms when his mother had reprimanded him for inappropriate behaviour.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as he hid his face in his hands and wept helplessly, as if his whole person, everything he had built around himself was just falling apart in front of her eyes, showing him his insides, what was left of him.

He was vulnerable.

"− fuck − I − I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd change your mind − that if you warned them they'd see it as a betrayal and wouldn't want to pact − that's why I didn't let any of us stay in the Eyrie − I −"

"− because my mother agreed − but what would you have done if things had turned out differently? −" She asked coldly, and he swallowed hard, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he could not bear what he felt or this conversation.

"− I don't know − I don't know how I could have protected both you and my family then − what decision of mine would have saved you from death −" He muttered and she pulled herself up from the bed, recognising that she didn't feel like listening to this, that she had had enough of him and his guilt when it was always him, him, him disappointing her.

From the first night she had returned to him, when he had closed her cheeks in the brutal grip of his fingers she had seen in his eye what had now become clear to her.

He was weak, and when he was afraid, he resorted to violence.

She heard him stand up behind her, panting heavily, wiping his tear-wet face with his hand.

"− no − don't leave − I told you because −"

"− because your conscience didn't give you peace − because you didn't want to carry your guilt alone −" She hissed, turning towards him with furrowed brows.

She felt that fury, not blood, was flowing through her veins now.

He swallowed loudly at her words, looking at her wide-eyed.

"− if you've never hidden anything from me − you've never concealed anything from me for fear that I might react impulsively, leave − but if you did, come back to bed − I won't touch you −"

She pressed her lips together in fury, recognising that he must have been mocking her, but then she felt an unpleasant sting in her heart that proved she had doubts.

She heard again the words of one of her servants in King's Landing whispering in her ear that when the time came, Prince Daemon would help her escape; she heard again the words of Alys speaking of the prophecy she had not shared with him for fear of his reaction.

Had she really never hidden anything from him?

Her whole body screamed for her to leave; she wanted to do it, but felt that if she did, she would be lying to herself and to him, creating an image in which she was without flaw.

She could say that she had the right to do it, that she had good intentions, but didn't her uncle think the same about his decisions?

She glared at him and let out a loud breath, returning to the bed without a word, sinking into the soft sheets, turning her face away from him. She heard him breathe heavily, and after a moment, the bed creaked under the weight of his body settling against her back.

"− tell me −" He whispered.

She sighed heavily and grunted, recognising that her faults were less than his anyway.

So why did she still feel shame and a squeeze in her gut?

"− after I tried to take my life I was told that my father could help me escape − don't ask how − I also didn't tell you about the prophecy I heard from Alys −"

"− that fucking witch is a liar −" He growled, and she let out a loud breath, impatient.

"− it is possible − but I also heard this prophecy from your sister's mouth − both of them spoke of two rivers of blood merging into one, taking the shape of a dragon's crowned head −" She choked out finally, her husband stirring beside her in his place, surprised.

"− what could this mean? −"

"− I don't know − I was afraid that when you heard it, you would want to give up on the negotiations and return to King's Landing − Alys warned me, so she probably knew what your grandfather was planning to do −" She said regretfully, thinking that strange woman was more concerned for her safety and her family than her husband.

She heard him swallow hard, letting the air out loudly.

"− forgive me −"

She lay in silence for some time, feeling anger that he expected her to simply forget everything, understand his reasons and forgive him as always.

No.

"− I will forgive you, but I have my conditions − we will stay here longer − for a week or two, I will decide in the morning −" She said coldly.

"− but − my mother will be convinced that they are holding us by force −" He began, but she would not let him finish.

"− you will write a letter to your brother informing him that my mother has accepted his terms, but is also setting her own − that we will stay here to discuss all the details, show our goodwill − if your mother wishes, she can travel here in her own person − you can leave Dragonstone when you wish, but I will stay here as long as I desire, and you will show no opposition −" She said impatiently, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her hands clenched into fists.

Her husband swallowed loudly at her words, tense.

"− I − very well −" He muttered finally, knowing that any other words would forever cross him out in her eyes.

She hummed under her breath, covering herself tightly with the bedding and closed her eyes, figuring she wouldn't turn towards him for the rest of the night.

"− don't try to take me or embrace me −" She commanded and he sighed quietly.

She swallowed hard when she felt him place his large hand on her head and begin to stroke her hair exactly as he had when they were children.

She felt furious that it was so pleasant, so soothing, that he knew she loved it.

"− my Rheanys −" He whispered tenderly. She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

The next morning she was awakened by a rustling noise and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; she lifted her sleepy eyelids and saw his silhouette sitting behind her desk, bent over a letter he had apparently just written.

She felt strange at the thought that he was sitting in the exact place where she had spent years writing him messages that had never received a response.

She knew, however, that she now had the upper hand over him and that her word was an order to him.

She was not going to imitate his cold nature and not speak to him − they had to maintain a semblance of at least a warm relationship so that the image of their marriage, on which the whole agreement between the two parties was supposed to be based, did not begin to crack.

He lifted his gaze to her when she stood up, but they did not exchange a word between each other.

He did not know what to say.

Her maidservant walked in at her summons and bowed before her, bending her head humbly.

"− my Lady, will you have your morning meal before your travel? − your mother would like to speak with you before you leave for King's Landing −"

"− we will have a meal, but convey to my mother that there is no rush − my husband and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks as an expression of our sincere intentions − my husband is in the process of conveying this message to his brother − my uncle is in need of new garments, provide them for him without delay and bring them to my chamber −" She said calmly; her servant blinked, shocked and nodded, immediately disappearing behind the door.

Despite what she had learned and the rage she felt, she was pleased − the roles had been reversed and although her husband was not her prisoner, he was attached to her and was forced to stay in a place that disgusted him.

Good, she thought.

She wanted him to feel what she had felt during the month she had spent in King's Landing, imprisoned by his mother and grandfather.

"− I wish to spend this afternoon with my mother − if you so desire, I can show you in which chamber the library is located −" She said lightly, without looking at him however, taking a bite of bread spread with confiture. Her husband rolled his eyes, displeased.

"I have no intention of leaving your quarters." He replied indifferently.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement at his words.

"You are not my prisoner, uncle. You can walk and fly wherever you please. Holding someone by force is not in my nature." She murmured softly − her husband gave her one tired look.

She smiled at him in a way from which he swallowed hard and looked away, sighing heavily.

He knew she was enraged and he wasn't going to get in her way.

One of the aspects she enjoyed upon returning home was that she had finally retrieved all her robes; her uncle looked at her from the side, watching as her servants helped her put on a golden gown with long black sleeves that reached the ground.

"− make braids around my head − my husband adores it when I wear this hairstyle, is he not? −" She sneered, glancing at him over her shoulder. She only saw him roll his eyes, running his hand over his face, not saying a word.

He knew he had to endure everything she was throwing at him with humility if he didn't want to make his already bad situation worse.

She had no idea what he could do to regain her favour, her trust, the respect she had for him.

"− have a pleasant day, husband −" She threw over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the chamber, recognising that she did not care what he did.

As she stepped into her mother's quarters, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, putting down the quill she held in her hand, approaching her with surprise and uncertainty written on her face.

"− is it true? − are you planning to stay in Dragonstone? −" She asked in a trembling voice − she smiled and nodded. Her mother sighed in relief and walked over to her, embracing her tightly with her arms, snuggling her head into her neck.

They pulled away from each other after a moment, her hands gripping her cheeks, her thumbs stroking her skin as if she remembered a time when she was still a small child.

"− let's sit down −"

Being in her chamber again was like a dream to her − she couldn't believe she was sitting at the same table again, surrounded by the same furniture and bed with a red curtain, with the windows open to a view of the great sea.

"− does he treat you well? −" She asked suddenly, taking her hand in her own.

Her mother's question surprised her, but it also filled her heart with warmth and emotion.

"− I − yes − despite his harsh, difficult nature −"

"− so how did he let this happen? −" She asked, exposing a part of her wrist with her thumb, where her pale scar was clearly visible. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what to answer her.

She wanted to tell her about the moon tea, but hesitated.

She didn't want her to think that her husband knew about it, that he was a worse person than she assumed.

It devastated her to think that she still had to tell half-truths.

"− I did it as an act of desperation − when he found out he wouldn't leave my side for weeks − he wouldn't let anyone but himself, Helaena and the maester cross the threshold of my quarters − he let me see Luke −" She muttered, looking at her at last. Her mother lowered her gaze, sighing quietly, tired and pale.

"− when Daemon passed on your words to me, I was furious − I didn't understand how you could do this to me −" She began and fell silent, closing her eyelids for a moment.

She felt an all-consuming shame at the thought that she had failed and disappointed her as a daughter.

"− forgive me − I would never question your rights if it were only about you − but you know very well that it is not −" She said cautiously − her mother lifted her gaze to her and nodded.

"− I know −"

They fell silent for a moment.

"− can I trust him? − your husband − and my brother −" Her mother asked coldly; she raised her gaze to her, surprised to feel that her lips involuntarily parted.

I don't know.

"− yes −" She muttered. "− he refused Maris Baratheon to take her as his wife − he himself proposed a form of compromise, and his elder brother supported him − Aegon is not a good man, but he cares about his children − he knows he will not leave them a secure, safe throne − just as you would not leave it to your sons −"

They said no more.

She spent some more time with her, just holding her hand, wordlessly trying to comfort her, thinking with weariness that she had to give up everything that was rightfully hers.

She finally decided to take pity on her husband and return to her chamber, not wanting to leave him alone for so long in a state of anxiety and uncertainty.

She felt her heart stop as she stepped into her quarters and saw no one inside − a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him leaving her.

He had returned to King's Landing without her.

She pressed her lips together, involuntarily feeling her heart begin to pound like mad with pain and sadness, her eyes glazed over with tears that she was ashamed of, thinking it shouldn't hurt so much, and yet it did.

She looked around the room quickly, looking for a letter or anything else that might say he had left her some word, but found nothing of the sort; she shuddered when she heard someone's dim voices in the distance and walked over to the window.

Her father and her uncle stood facing each other on the beach with their hands folded behind their backs, discussing something animatedly, a clear tension between them.

She felt regret towards herself, her body filled with an overwhelming relief that he had not left her, that he had not betrayed her again.

She thought the gods had been cruel, allowing her to love this man so deeply.

She blinked, startled, when she heard the door from her chamber open; she turned and saw the figure of her eldest brother, who only spoke up when they heard a loud clatter of wood behind them.

"− how could you do this? − choose him over us? −" He growled with regret, resentment and disappointment, his big brown eyes filled with anger and pain from which she felt a tightening in her throat. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"− we both know what the truth is − you can't rule with lies −" She replied, shrugging her shoulders; Jace moved towards her and she flinched all over, surprised at how pale he was, his lips tightened into a thin line − she had the impression he was trembling all over.

"− this was my inheritance − my throne − my crown − and you chose him, a man who did not write back to your letters for eight years, who humiliated you by calling you a bastard, and you shared a bed with him the first night you saw him, like some... −" He didn't finish and fell silent, the word he wanted to say stuck deep in his throat. She felt her lower lip tremble at his accusation, her eyebrows arching in pain and anger, her eyes red from tears of shame and humiliation.

"− say it − you've already spoken the word in your mind −" She sneered, lifting her chin higher, challenging him.

"− I won't call you an unworthy name −" He muttered lowly, and she laughed involuntarily at his words, shaking her head.

"− you think that makes you a better man? − look at this −" She hissed, lifting her hand up, exposing her wrist tugging impatiently at the material of her black sleeve. "− here is what I have done for you and for your crown − should I do it again? −"

She swallowed loudly, surprised when she noticed that something in her brother's expression had changed − Jace had grabbed her wrist and locked it between his fingers, but there was no aggression in the gesture, his thumb stroking her smooth, bare skin.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing loudly; she felt that there was a kind of tension between them from which her heart was pounding like mad, but she wasn't sure what it was caused by; something in his gaze, in his brown, misty eyes and parted lips, made her feel hot.

"− do you love him more than our mother? − than Luke, than Joffrey? − than me? −" He asked in a trembling voice and she shook her head, not understanding what he meant.

"− Jace − it's a different kind of love − I −"

"− what kind? −" He hissed. "− the kind where you're constantly betrayed? − in which someone mocks your parentage? − locks you up like some prisoner? −"

Gods.

"− Jace −" She gasped, feeling that something in his questions, in his gaze, in what he wanted to hear from her had broken her down, her whole body began to quiver.

She shuddered as he approached her suddenly, as his free hand cupped her warm cheeks, as his forehead pressed against hers, his voice trembling as the words left his throat like a river.

"− I am your oldest brother − you were born to be mine − I would be good to you − you know I would −"

"− brother, what are you saying? − you had no objections when my mother decided to marry me to Ronnel −" She said disapprovingly, furrowing her brow in anger.

"− it was our mother's decision − how could I oppose her? −" He asked with a frown, as if he really believed what he was saying, a cold shiver ran through her body as his thumb ran over the soft skin of her cheek, hot with emotion.

"− you have never loved me − not in this way, we both know it well − you have always preferred to lie to yourself rather than face the truth − you do not look at me as the woman you desire, but as an inheritance that was taken from you −" She said with pain, feeling that what he was saying was not due to any deep feeling he had for her, but to his anger that she was not waiting for him docilely like his throne and his crown.

Her brother swallowed hard at her words, his hot, ragged breath enveloping the skin of her face.

"− when you were born, our mother told me that you might be my future wife − and I always, always saw you this way −"

"− you mocked me with Aegon −"

"− I craved his attention − he was older and impressed me − didn't you do anything you regretted as a child? −" He muttered wearily; she felt her heart stop at his words, a drop of cold sweat run down the back of her neck.

What was she supposed to answer him?

"− brother − I am married to another man − of my own free will −"

"− you are a traitor −"

"− how dare you −"

"− you are a traitor, but I still am unable to hate you −"

A squeal of terror stuck in her throat, her body froze completely as his lips pressed against hers in a greedy, hot, sticky kiss, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, refusing to let her move away.

She cried out and pushed him away − before he could make any move her hand slapped him in the face so hard that he took a few steps back, clutching his red cheek, panting heavily.

"− get out −" She muttered, placing her hand over her heart, feeling as if it was about to burst out of her chest. "− get out of my chamber, brother − I'll forget this...conversation ever took place −"

Jace swallowed hard, horrified and ashamed, as if it had only now occurred to him what he had actually done.

What would Baela say if she saw this?

It seemed to him that they both couldn't believe he had done it − Jace had turned and walked out, leaving behind an open door and a complete blank in her mind.

She thought he wanted to take it out on their uncle, to take away something that belonged to him.

That she was just an object for him on which he had decided to vent.

She thought with pain that he, unlike her husband, had never tried to truly understand her.

When her uncle returned to her chamber they did not exchange a word − he seemed distracted and frustrated to her. He took one of the books from the bookshelf and sat by the fireplace, pretending to read. She lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers, thinking only of the fact that if she hid it from him, she would be just like him.

She didn't know for a long time how she should put it into words, but she figured he'd be furious either way.

"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −" She muttered, glancing at him fearfully − his eye opened wide, looking at her in disbelief, his jaw clenched in such a way that a shudder went through her.

He was silent for a moment, as if he had run out of words, which frightened her even more.

"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, closing the book with a loud slam, pulling himself up from his seat like an enraged bear.

"− he kissed me − grief and humiliation took his mind away − I − wait − gods −" She muttered, standing up as soon as he headed towards the door, which he opened with a loud clatter, running out into the corridor after him.

"− Aemond − no, no, no − stop! −" She hissed, grabbing his arm, but he pulled away from her, opening door after door until he found himself in the right room − Jace and Beala were sitting together at a table, apparently discussing something.

Her older brother rose from his seat and turned pale at the sight of them, horrified.

Her husband walked into his quarters with a wide, menacing smile, exactly the same one he bestowed on him and Luke when they saw him duelling with Criston Cole in King's Landing. He put his hands behind his back, shifting his body weight to one leg, cocking his head.

"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −"

"− Aemond −" She said warningly, but her uncle didn't listen to her, his healthy eye wide open, as if he was just waiting for this.

An opportunity for confrontation.

"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered amused, revealing his teeth in a wide grin full of feigned recognition.

"− Aemond, that's enough −"

"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela thundered.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she knew nothing.

She moved ahead and stood in front of her husband, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"− we are leaving −"

"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −"

"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"

"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He murmured in a voice filled with poison, from which a strong shiver ran along her back.

"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela hissed, furious that her betrothed simply looked at their uncle and remained silent, unable to get a word out.

"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He directed his words to her, to his sister, sadness and regret in his gaze, from which she involuntarily felt sympathy.

"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" Her husband hissed, gripping her cheeks in his hand − her voice stuck in her throat as his fleshy lips clung to hers in an aggressive, loud kiss, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.

She sighed as he turned her back to him, pressing her brutally against his chest and grabbed her neck − she grasped his wrist as his free hand slid down her lower abdomen, his fingers dug into the material of her gown beneath which her womanhood lay, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out into her ear and she closed her eyes, feeling with horror and disbelief that her nipples had hardened, that her walls had clenched around nothing at his embarrassing words, feeling his finger tease what lay between her thighs despite her resistance.

"− u-uncle − stop −" She muttered, a moan stuck in her throat as she felt his erection behind her throb hard at her words, pushing against her buttocks, his fingertips dug deep into her folds hidden beneath the fabric.

Gods, he wanted her brother to watch this.

Baela looked at Jace as if she suddenly understood everything, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.

"��� what did you do? −" She asked quietly, her older brother shook his head, all red, turning his face away, unable to look at it.

"− I −" He didn't finish; her uncle let her go immediately, panting loudly as she did when Daemon walked into the chamber, looking at them, then at Jace and his daughter.

He grinned.

"− what is the meaning of this...commotion? − hm? −" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and mockery; she looked away and glanced at her uncle, shaking her head with furrowed brows, letting him know that he was to remain silent.

Her husband pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not utter a word.

They stood in awkward silence, with only the quiet fizzle of the blazing fire in the fireplace around them.

"Mmm." Her husband hummed and turned away, heading for the door. Not knowing what to do, she simply moved after him, casting only one apologetic glance at Baela.

When they finally returned to her chamber she let out a loud breath.

"− what was that supposed to mean? −" She asked in frustration, wondering what had possessed him.

She tried not to think about how embarrassingly wet she was now.

"− I don't know what you're referring to, wife − I've merely shown my nephew the depth of my understanding as to his desire −" He grinned, grabbing a jug full of wine, pouring himself a full cup of it.

She licked her lower lip in impatience, standing still and watching him − their gazes met as he raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep sip from it.

"− what − are you wet now? −" He sneered and she felt a hot wave of shame surge through her body − she felt like her cheeks had turned scarlet.

"− don't mock me − this was humiliating −" She growled, furrowing her brow, a smirk on his face that she didn't like.

"− if you say so, wife −" He muttered, approaching her lazily, playing with his cup in his hand, raising it to his lips again "− I, however, think you'd rather I did something else −"

He said and took another sip of wine, swallowing it loudly, towering over her with a look from which a pleasant shiver ran through her core.

"− I think you'd rather I fucked you good in front of him − for me to slip my fingers under your skirt and sink them into your leaking cunt −" He murmured, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, her walls swelling all over at his words − she felt a drop of her own wetness run down her thigh.

"− am I wrong? −" He asked, cocking his head curiously, taking another sip of wine from his goblet without taking his eyes off her.

She drew in a loud breath as he set his cup down on the table standing beside them with a loud clang of steel, taking a step towards her, his lips parted in desire.

Gods, no.

"− don't touch me −"

She saw him squint his eyes as he hesitated, his nostrils flaring in accelerated breath.

She knew he was hard.

She knew he wanted to soften her up.

"Mmm."

She immediately summoned her servant wishing that she would help her pull off her gown and let her hair down. After this, she lay down in bed, covering herself with thick furs, not looking at him or speaking a word to him. She swallowed hard when she heard him lie down right next to her and closed her eyelids when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

She thought he would try to touch her, embrace her and give her a reason to push him away, but he just lay behind her back, driving her crazy.

She waited for some time, listening to his quiet breathing, and decided that he was surely asleep by now; her hand slipped silently into the material of her nightgown, lifting it up. She swallowed quietly, tightening her lips as her fingers sank into her leaking, soft, hot womanhood begging to be fulfilled, teasing and squeezing the bud between its fleshy folds.

She felt herself grow hot, her heart began to pound like mad at the indecent idea that these was his hand touching her in front of Jace, making him watch, wanting him to see what her fulfilment looked like.

She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at the thought, her fingers teasing the spot between her puffy folds with circular, intense strokes.

Involuntarily, her hips began to rock softly to the rhythm of the flicks of her own fingers, she felt that she was wonderfully close to fulfilment.

"− what are you doing? −" She heard his low, cool voice and froze completely. She swallowed hard, sliding her hand, sticky with her own moisture from between her thighs, and remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

"− go on −" He said in a hoarse, deep voice from which a shiver went down her spine. She heard a rustling behind her and then the sticky sound of skin slapping against skin − his hot breathing quickened, heavy and ragged. "− come on −"

She couldn't help herself; his fingers dug into her swollen folds again causing a wave of heat to pass through her body − she felt pleasant tickling sensations in her lips, fingertips and nipples. She moaned quietly when she felt his nose pressed against her hair, her hips involuntarily began to rock when she heard him begin to pant, the splats behind her getting louder, louder and louder.

"− fuck − you know I'd lick you good there − hm? −" He sighed and she felt her whole body quiver, her fingers teasing her puffy pearl all sticky from her own wetness.

"− mhgm −" She whined, tilting her head back, feeling his hot, uneven breath on her ear, his swollen, wet lips run down her neck.

"− are you leaking? − are you leaking at the thought of how good I would make you feel? − at the thought of your brother watching me fuck his little sister? −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly as she felt a wonderful, relieved sensation at his words, her fulfilment shaking her like a hot, tickling wave.

Her slit pulsed all under her fingers as her own moisture leaked out of her, she shuddered when she felt his warm, rough tongue run across the bare skin of her neck, leaving a slick, wet mark on it.

"− fuck, Rheanys −" He muttered and after a moment he gasped − she felt something sticky and warm spurt out onto the back of her nightgown.

His seed.

Gods.

She closed her eyelids, trying to calm her breathing, furious at herself and her weakness.

"− let me embrace you −"

"− no −"

She heard him huff, sighing heavily, his face still sunk into her neck.

"− move away, uncle −"

"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"

"− your wife does not wish for this −"

"− sleep −"

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, thinking with frustration that she hated him with all her heart.

[scorpioriesling]

Ideal Mate + Ideal Date HC

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Reader x Rhysand / Cassian / Azriel / Lucien / Eris / Tamlin

Warnings: fluff, some light allusions to smut and brief suggestive scenes, light swearing

Summary: Headcannons/drabbles for (my idea!) what the "ideal" mate for each character is, with an ideal date for the two of them as well.

SR’s Note: Just another little idea I had, pls don't hate on me <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand

You would have to catch his eye because you're "different" in some way from other females

Whether it is because you are human, you are creative, you are undeniably brave and don't care who sees it... he is enraptured by you

All of these things intimidate him a little bit, which is why he has to learn about you from afar first before he can finally meet you

He is so nervous when he finally introduces himself, but unashamedly peers inside your head to see if you're even the least bit intrigued in him as he is by you

He's glad he did, and had nothing to worry about; you've fallen at first sight

He makes a point to learn things you like; he has tried to teach himself how to paint, but gets frustrated that it is one of the only things he can't master

He already asked you for an evening by the sidra to paint and have a picnic; too early, though as now he is realizing he is no good at the skill you excel in

"I just want you to know, painting isn't something I'm very talented in doing..."

You get butterflies realizing the most powerful and dangerous High Lord could be so nervous on a first date with a human female

"Allow me to help you, then."

He melts when your fingers hold his on the brush, only using one canvas as you paint a picture together instead of two separate ones

He can barely focus, your jasmine scent so close as you sit side by side on the soft grass by the river in the moonlight. He's not even focusing on the painting, but on your side profile instead, so intrigued in your work, the way your brows furrow in concentration

The moonlight illuminates the soft freckles on your nose; he wants to lean in and kiss each one of them

"No wonder you do not paint very well; you don't seem to have a strong sense of focus," you smirk

Cassian

He didn't want to like you when he met you, but somehow... he couldn't help himself

Your icy stare, the way you carried yourself, your strong sense of independence... you made it clear you didn't want any man

But he wanted you

At first he didn't know how to act around you, usually the fae he took interest in were kind and welcoming... but you had a bite that would send every male in Prythian screaming. He wasn't sure how to make you like him

He tried kindness; he earned a scowl. He tried buying you things; another sour look. He even tried inviting you to things, so you'd feel less isolated; all that got him was rejection, every time. Finally, he'd had enough

"What is it with you? Why won't you let anyone in? I get it, your family sucks, but-"

"Oh, please. You know nothing about me or my family." You'd spat

"Yeah! You're right, I don't," he heaves. "I don't... you don't tell me. You don't let a single person in. You don't talk to me, or tell me anything, or," he huffs a laugh. "Gods, I mean. You wouldn't step back and realize that someone cares so much for you, or see that I've just been trying to get you to love me back all along!" He'd throw his hands in the air, and they'd fall to his sides

You stand there, frozen in shock. You really could not believe what you were hearing, coming from Cassian, of all people

One minute, you're contemplating how to go about all this. Then, the next minute, you're not thinking at all

You're closing the distance, two steps at a time, throwing your arms around his neck and crashing your lips onto his. His large hands grasp your waist, holding you tight to him

You pull away and stare up into his wide, hazel eyes, boring into yours in utter disbelief

"Y/N... I can't do this if you're not serious about-"

"Take me out then. I'll show you just how serious I can be." His chest rises and falls, and he just shakes his head and lets out a suprised chuckle

"You'd really go out with me?" He asks, playfully. You roll your eyes in response, your usual irritation returning to your face

"Rita's in 30." You pull away from him and saunter off toward your room in the House of Wind, feeling his gaze on your swaying hips. You were already planning out a rather scandalous outfit for tonight, involving a tiny red dress hanging in your closet...

"You better stop staring at my ass, Cassie, or I might just change my mind." You call over your shoulder. He prectically clutches his chest with his hand

You were going to be the death of him

Azriel

Hear me out -- Azzie is attracted to someone who is originally viewed as very naive and harmless, but has a confident and brave side as well

He would see you from afar, wearing a pretty dress, a big bow in your hair while you walk along the streets in Velaris with your friends

Your smile has this man blushing!! and he doesn't even know you yet, but he knows he must have you

"You okay man?" Cassian asks, and Azriel cooly plays it off as being too hot in the mid-day sun. Cassian just gives a confused "whatever", but Rhysand says nothing as he knows exactly what is happening here

"I need a drink, and since Azriel is so warm," Rhysand side eyes his friend, smirking. Azriel immediately starts sweating. He knows Rhys is up to something, and Azriel has been casually observing you the whole morning that he's been in Velaris. You'd just gone into the small coffee shop, the one adorned with peonies outside; one Rhys was guiding the group of bat boys closer to. "...why don't we stop in here for some refreshments?"

He thinks his heart is going to fall out of his ass right now. He couldn't go in there -- you were already in there, and he was in no position to be talking to you right now

"Rhys, I uh, I don't know if I want coffee right now," he stutters quietly. Rhys chuckles, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Cassian looks between the two, still confused

"Ohhhhh Az," he sighs. "I'm sure they have water in there, and I am rather thirsty myself. Say, Cassian looks parched too -- why don't you go in and get us three waters, hmm?" Rhysand asks. Azriel glares at Rhys

"I know. What. You're doing." He says, voice clipped. Cassian scrunches his face behind the two of them.

"I mean, I'll go in and get 'em, I am kinda hot now that you mentioned the sun-" Cassian starts. Rhys puts a hand up, stopping his Illyrian friend and shaking his head. A wicked smile plays on his lips.

"No no, Azriel said he would go. We'll just wait outside..." He slinks over to a small table, and Cassian plops down in a chair, seeming to ask Rhys what was going on. The High Lord only stares between Azriel and the front door, silently ushering him to go inside. Azriel growls, forcing one foot in front of the other before he is finally opening the door and entering the small shop

The scent of roasting coffee beans and vanilla cream wafts through the air, the smell intoxicaitng and fresh. It only takes Azriel a moment to spot you, the blue and ivory sundress hugging you stunningly and the cream bow a stark contrast against your rich, flowing hair. He glances toward the window, and meets the eyes of both Rhysand and Cassian. Cassian gives him a cheesy thumbs up, and Azriel rolls his eyes as he heads towards the front counter. You're at the other end, waiting on your order

"Hi! How may I help you?" The cheery older woman behind the counter greets him. He can barely focus on anything, let alone the fae in front of him engaging in conversation when you're closer than you've been all day to him

"Three waters..." he says. The older lady follows his line of sight, a small smile pulling at her lips as she begins to chuckle

"I'll have those right out for you," hes still staring, and she shakes her head, continuing to smile at him. "Her name is Y/N."

This snaps him out of his daze. He looks to the cashier once more. "Y/N?" He repreats. The name has never sounded so lovely. Maybe it wouldn't have, but now he knows it belongs to you. The woman nods her head

"Yes, Shadowsinger." His lips part, but no words come out. "And, she is here every day around lunch time. Unwed. So... I'd suggest you go over there and do something about that, hmm?" Azriel can't hide the heat on his cheeks as the woman winks at him, turning to get working on a few orders. That was his turn to walk away, walk over to you...

As he approaches your side in the waiting area, his breath quickens. He can't help but notice you're alone, your friends have gone outside and oh-so-conveniently struck up a conversation with his two brothers.

Bastards.

"I don't think I've ever waited this long for a drink from here in my life," you say quietly, chuckling at the end. He only blinks, not sure if what he was hearing was true. Were you really speaking to him?

He turns to you, only to find you already gazing up at him. He can't help but smile, revealing his perfect teeth as he fumbles for what to say back

"Do you, come here? Often?" He asks. He already knew the answer, but...

"Almost every day!" You beam. "And you?"

He shakes his head. "First time in."

You nod slowly. "Oh... my. Well, I hope you've tried something delicious for your first experience." You grace him with another small grin, and he feels like he might melt at the sight. He hadn't realized how close you'd stepped, or maybe he had? Only mere inches separated-

"Three waters!" The cashier calls, setting down the three glasses in front of Azriel. His cheeks heat as he stares at them, the wide-eyed expression from his new crush not going unnoticed. It isn't long before the most lovely sound is filling his ears though.

You were giggling beside him.

"Oh... my..." you say between breaths. Azriel sighs, leaving the three cups on the counter and facing you. He can't help but let loose a chuckle himself, and your cheeks redden at the sight of him

"Well, it seems I'll need to come back and actually try something next time..." He says. You continue to giggle, trying hard to calm down and peer down at the floor, shaking your head.

"Hey, I've got a lot of great suggestions, but..." the cashier silently sets down your drink in front of you, and you pick it up. "...plain water maybe isn't one of them." You grin. Azriel grabs his water, taking a long swig and you wished that perhaps it was you on his lips instead-

You turned to walk toward the door, your new companion keeping up with you and holding the door open for you to exit. You open your mouth to thank him, but he beats you to it

"Maybe you can show me what you'd suggest? Next time?" Your wide eyes gaze up at him, his hazel ones squinting in the midday sun. The breeze lightly brushes his black hair across his tanned forehead, and you try really hard to supress the grin spreading across your face

"I'd meet you here tomorrow, but;" you hesitate. "Well, uh, I have ring training tomorrow at this time... but maybe the day following?" You look at him sheepishly. He looks as if he is ready to fall to his knees in front of you

"I'll be here, the day following." You rise on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before skipping off to meet your friends. His eyes trail after you, his cheek tingling from where your lips made contact. He doesn’t register his brothers rising from the table and approaching him

“So uh… where are our drinks, Az?”

Lucien

Classic, but Lucie is going to fall for someone (kind of like Az) who is very soft and kind but can also hold her own

He is also going to rizz the shit out of you... but I feel like that is already a given

I feel like he would actually meet you in the Day Court when he's there on an assignment, and you'd be one of Helion's advisor's daughters and he would immediately be drawn to you

The gold and white dress and accessories you'd appeared in... oh he's down bad

He saw you at first in a group setting, not really being able to keep his eyes off of you but then later he spotted you near a pond of sunlight and couldn't walk away

He was walking closer, and noticed you actually weren't alone but were actually comforting a small child who appeared upset near the pool's edge. The boy stood, peering down at you on your knees as you ran your thumbs across his cheeks. Lucien leaned against a nearby tree, not wanting to interrupt, but also so intrigued by the scene in front of him

"There is no need to worry, sweetheart," your tender words pulled at something deep in Lucien's chest, though you weren't speaking to him at all. The little one sniffled and nodded, staring deep into your eyes. "I know it is frightening when we are lost, but look," you give the boy an award winning smile and Lucien feels like his heart is singing for you already. "...I've found you, and you're safe here! You know?" You say. He reaches out his little arms and braces them around your neck, hands tangling in your cascade of curls. You pull him in close, not letting go until he does

You take his precious fingers in yours, and he walks closely beside you as you make your way back to the palace. "Now, let's go find your mommy, okay honey?"

Lucien swears he could cry, hes never seen anyone so kind and gentle. He couldn't imagine having someone like that to love, and made the decision then that he would be introducing himself to you later that evening, properly

And when he does... ohhhh he charms you. It wasn't hard for you to fall for Lucien as quickly as he fell for you; he practically screamed "husband material"

He'd taken you on many dates, but the one that was the most special was when he brought you to a waterfall on horseback, just before sunset. He tied your shared horse to a tree, and led you to a small alcove where a small picnic was pre-set, the sunset streaming through the falling water just right (thank you, Helion). Apple pie, roasted turkey, and autumnal wine adorned the small blanket, as well as a little golden box in the middle. Your hand flew to your mouth

"I know the sunset and these falls make you who you are in the Day Court," Lucien says sheepishly as he guides you to the spread. You take your seats and he doesn't let go of your hand. "I wanted to show you a little bit of what makes me who I am too..." he trails off. You can't help the silver lining your eyes as you take in the scene around you

"Autumn and Day... who would've thought." You smile at him, and he reaches for the box. Opening it, he pulls out a thin golden necklace with a sun symbol on it.

"I love you to great lengths, Y/N," You only then notice as he is unclasping it that he already adorns one of the same around his neck.

"I don't want to leave you, or this place anymore," he says, reaching behind your neck to fasten the clasp. He breathes in your hibiscus scent, and his fingers trail down the side of your cheek. You can't help but let a tear slip free, realizing you'd never have to say goodbye again

"I won't ever leave you, or this court, again."

Eris

You caught the attention of Eris because you were plain

Literally

Eris was so excited (but, confused?) because he'd never genuinely loved a female beyond his sexual encounters, then he'd met you and you'd absolutely ruined everyone else for him

You were overlooked by everyone, which made you feel horrible most of your life, but Eris treated you like a queen, and he appreciated your simplicity and liked how uncomplicated you were

You were not even High Fae; which didn't go over well with Beron, but Eris didn't care. You made him feral. He'd kill his own father for you if it meant spending the rest of eternity with you.

His father was always trying to marry him off with other High Fae or noble females, but they were always too much to handle or too bratty and stuck up to Eris

He also didn't appreciate his father telling him who he would be allowed to chose and who he couldn't

But boy oh boy, did he choose you

He liked to keep your outings private, so no one would be able to swoop in and ruin the time you had together

But, that did not stop him from going all out for you and giving you all of the things you did not get to indulge in

He definately used his status to his advantage...

Your favorite date to go on -- a repeat date, as it was a shared favorite -- was to the orchard. Eris would spoil you by taking you shopping the day prior (you'd almost always choose a crimson or maroon sundress with matching flats) for a new outfit, and you'd wear said outfit the next day

You'd always wear one of his rings, though the two of you were not yet properly mated, and the sight of it made him weakkkkk I am telling you weak

He'd reserve the orchard for the day, and the two of you would ride on the wagon, share warm cider, and walk along the treelines as you both did when you were just young children

Obviously there would be apple picking, and he'd purposefully wander near a tree with ones dangling higher than you could grasp

"Eris, I can't-" you huff, stretching an arm up and dancing on your tip toes in search of the hanging fruit on a branch out of your reach. His eyes would wander, taking in your bare legs as your short dress rode up higher on your thighs-

Ughhhhh, this is not the place, Eris

"Allow me, my love." He would bend down, hiking you up on his shoulder and standing at his full height, arm bent and wrapped around your knees as you sat atop his shoulderblade. You'd wobble a bit, but, now you could reach the Honeycrisp you'd been going for.

Reaching toward branch, you grab on and yank. Seeing it glimmering in the warm September sun, you can't help but to bite into it, a satisfying crunch as a tiny drop of juice trails from the corner of your lips. A satisfied "hmmm" escapes your throat as you close your eyes, but the male beneath you catches on to what you're doing

"Heyyy," Eris slides you off his shoulder, hands firmly gripping your hips and gently setting you on your feet. Your spun around to face him, and he smirks down at you. Your now wide eyes stare into his amber ones as he leans in, licking the drop near your mouth and then leaning in close to your ear

His breath was warm on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as goosebumps appeared on your arms. His warm hands trailed up and down your upper arms, his voice low and husky. "These are for picking -- I thought we could eat... later..."

Tamlin

So... stay with me here on this one. Tam Tam is getting a mate that has a power dynamic that is going to absolutely match his okay

Whatever energy you give me, I'm matching it... that is the dynamic that this duo is giving here

Also... I feel like after Feyre, he would pull a complete 180 and be with someone who would put him in his place from the very beginning

His previous relationship really messed him up, but after he healed from that... he absolutely changed for the better I feel like. I think he would be with someone who would keep him in check, remind him when he's acting out, and almost maybe scare him a little? Kind of like Cassian and his ideal mate lol

Except... his ideal girlie would also be maybe just a tad unhinged

Just like him

It's alright... we love to see it

Anyways

His mate would be very modernly beautiful, I feel like; what comes to mind when you think of "society's beautiful". Not fake, however. Just very blessed, and just born this way -- lucky her! Lol

This, of course, caught Tamlin and the entirety of the Spring Court's eye

He was not very intimidated by his ideal mate, at first, but when he got to know you a little bit better, he wanted to do everything right and not screw anything up like last time

If he did mess up, or do things that were genuinely wrong or out of line... oh did he hear about it. You definitely kept him in check

Yet, another reason the Spring Court loved you

He did get easily jealous of other males, High Fae and lesser faeries alike for looking at you too long, talking to you, and fawning over you of course

Who wouldn't?

He'd wrap his arm around you a little tighter when in public, or kiss you literally right on the mouth in the middle of the square if people were staring at you for longer than he'd like

But, you honestly didn't care. You reveled in it, the attention you got from others, which in turn, drove him wild and would lead to his posessiveness of you taking over-

Phew... yeah uhm

Dating... he wouldn't even bother making dates private. He liked showing you off, even though other guys looking at you made him nuts

You liked public dates, because you liked to be shown off, and again, his posessiveness was so sexy and would usually lead to a great time (in PRIVATE, of course) once the nice lil date was over

You'd make it even better by wearing something fun for him when he'd take you out. Let's say... dinner, for example

You'd start sitting across the booth from each other, both recieving polite hello's and compliments from every faerie who passed your table. You'd of course return them; one thing he'd picked up from you was your politeness and manners

After a little while of spending time together and him gazing into your eyes, he'd seem a little... distracted... and slip into the same side of the booth with you instead, just to be closer to you

It didn't really help his case, but he really liked the smell of wildflower and honey that seemed to radiate from you

He'd have one arm around your shoulders, tracing small circles on your skin with his finger and you’d giggle because it tickled

But it also distracted you from his other hand slowly tracing up your thigh...

...and under your short, oh so short skirt...

Finally, you'd caught onto what he was doing and sat up straight, the corset top you'd expertly paired with this outfit for this reason alone doing you justice as his gaze flicked down to where it curved low below your collarbone. A soft growl graced the shell of your ear, and you only chuckled as his hot breath tickled the side of your neck

"You didn't put anything on under this... did you?"

[xurory]

REDAMANCY

summary. he will always have your arms to come home to whenever things get too overwhelming.

pairings. blade, dan heng x fem!reader

cc. mild cursing . blade barely talked because i said so . fluff :3 . silly march

there isn't a time where BLADE is not welcome in your arms, and he's well aware of that. after every stressful day, or coming back from missions that separated him from your for far too long, blade never forgets to melt in beneath your gentle caresses as you caged him in your arms, with his own snaking around your waist, resting the side of his face against your chest, quietly listening to the sound of your heart beating — a sound that constantly reassures your lover that you were there, with him, and that you are safe.

you leaned on against the railing of the balcony in your room, silently gazing upon the ethereal moon that no one could compare to. admiring the glowing ball in the sky was one of the few things you did to feed off your boredom every time you're left alone with nobody to talk to, especially at night, quite obviously because the moon doesn't really appear during the morning, and you wouldn't even dare glance at the sun. the sound of your door creaking open alerted you, who in aeons was at your house at this time of nigh- oh, it's blade.

"fuck, you scared me," said you, gaze softening at the sight of blade in front of you—finally back after two weeks of being away. "welcome back, did everything go well? are you okay?" you interrogated, stepping closer to the man before you.

"it went... accordingly." he replied, hearing your sigh of relief.

saying blade looked exhausted was an understatement, he looked beyond tired, as if he hadn't had a wink of sleep for so long. you pat his shoulder, guiding him to your bed. "do you want some water? hold on, let me— oh." he cuts your talking off by the way he pulled you into a hug, and with how tight he was holding you right now, you needed no other explanation to know that he needed this, badly.

your left arm went on his back to gently pat it as your other hand found it's way to his hair, ruffling his soft locks. you let him just melt into you for as long as he wanted, you weren't the type to pull away first, and you never will be. maybe.. just maybe, something went wrong during his mission with kafka, that it caused him to be this clingy. not that you were complaining—you loved holding him.

blade was never the type of person to initiate acts of affection. meaning, most of the time you were the one hugging and kissing him first, and he did his best to return the gesture, just to make you happy. your back rested against the headboard, knowing that you two would be stuck like this for a very long time, approximately until dawn.

"wanna lay down? make yourself more comfortable." you asked in a hushed tone, not too loud, but not too quiet either. he did as he was asked an laid beside you comfortably, arms still wrapped around your middle as side of his head found its way back to your chest. your hand rested against his head, caressing it with such tenderness he craved for. "thank you, for coming back to me." you whispered, kissing the top of his head.

he hummed back, acknowledging your love. and that was enough, you didn't want to force him to talk. all that mattered was he came back to you in one piece. remaining the man you loved.

being a part of the nameless sure was fun, they brought out the best of your smiles. unlike DAN HENG, who wore the exact same stoic expression almost every day. but still, he atleast showed some signs that he appreciated your presence. but behind closed doors, he's a leech that you can never ever get off of you.

"You guys need to stop teasing the poor guy. Anyway, where is he anyway?" You questioned march, referring to the dark haired guy that disappeared minutes ago. "probably in his room, where else?" march giggled. stelle had gone to mess around with pom-pom who was merely minding her own business near himeko on the couch, drinking her precious coffee.

you smiled to march before heading off to your lover's room, knocking gently at his door and then peeking your head to chech if he was in. your gaze fell on him who was taking care of stuff as he sat in front of his desk. "you disappeared back there, what's up?"

"just wasn't in the mood." you nodded, respecting his decisions. you sat yourself down on the side of his bead, carefully observing the room in case something has changed.

a wave of silence crashed in between the two of you, your back meeting his soft comforter. soon enough, he joined you in bed and left whatever he was working on, arms wrapping around you just right, and resting his head against your shoulder. "tired?" he murmured in reply, rubbing your sides in a circular motion, which slightly tickled you.

you pulled away, leaving him confused just before you cupped his cheeks and kissed him on the lips. the intimate moment laster for another minute before you two had to catch your breath, with you giggling, looking as pretty as ever. he could never have enough of the way you looked gorgeous, utterly beautiful.

for each moment you took away his breath, he fell in love with you all over again, just like the very first time your eyes met his when himeko and welt introduced you as the new addition to the astral express crew.

"ugh, i love you soooo much." you dragged the vowel on your tongue, booping his nose out of nowhere. and after what felt so long, you finally captured him back into your arms, just like he wanted.

from xumi ; i want these two to choke me

[coffeeshopguest]

ahh! thank you so much for writing my gangbang fantasy, absolutely amazing!

i really love sambastian x reader, so it was amazing.

another suggestion is free use farmer x sebastian (or any of the bachelors tbh they’re all hotties) where they are tied up for a whole day and gets overstimulated from being toyed with alllll day

-🐇

ofc! glad you enjoyed, this one was so fun to write! i chose sebastian bc he's my favorite & the one i saw doing this the most. enjoy!

Tied and Used

Word Count: 1826 Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, smut, bondage, fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, vaginal sex, choking, praise kink, plugging, toy usage, free use, similar themes

Sebastian mentioned the idea over breakfast one day, he'd sipped his coffee nervously and tapped on the table as you chewed your food. To the point where you had to ask what was wrong. You knew Sebastian was kinky. You'd had that talk several times over before you were married. If you weren't into it you wouldn't have agreed to be with him which he seemed to forget often - usually not mentioning his own fantasies or interests in turn of just doing vanilla stuff in bed with you. You didn't mind either way but it was tiring seeing him suppress his own interests out of guilt (or maybe just plain old shame and fear). 

Upon being asked what was wrong, Sebastian devolved into a mess of blushing and awkwardness. "I wanted...to try something new?" his tone went high pitched, he tapped on the table again, a nervous fidget of his. "It's...a bit far from what I usually ask and I'd..." he sighed, shaking his head. "You know what just forget it-"

"But-?"

"No, no, I don't - it would only really work in winter anyway," he dismissed, waving his hand as he stood up and grabbed his coffee. "I shouldn't have said anything." 

You immediately stood too, gently gripping one of his wrists. "Why would it only work in winter?" 

Sebastian flushed nervously, shaking his head. "It's uhm, sort of an all day thing," he whispered. 

"All day?"

Sebastian hesitated, nodding ever so slightly. "I was thinking...like...rope...and..." he hesitated, trailing off and letting silence occupy the space as he thought of how to put it. "You...tied down all day? Just letting me fuck you, mess with you whenever I want?" 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, but not necessarily in a bad way. In the way it does on the drop of a rollercoaster. The exciting kind. "Well...winter is coming up...we could-" 

"No! No, I don't wanna...make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine! I want to try it," Sebastian's eyes widened a little and he nodded. A slight look of eagerness overtook his face but he quickly suppressed it.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

He started simple, the rope tying your wrists up to the headboard, legs tied apart to keep them spread. He examined his work, waited for a moment, then asked "Is that comfortable?" 

"It's rope."

"Will it be fine for the whole day?" he answered, voice laced with concern. He quickly went to check how tight the knots were, ensuring he could undo them in a moments notice if you gave him the word. "I can take it off-"

You quickly shook your head, "no, no, they're fine," you assured. "Don't undo them," you added. Sebastian smiled, dipping down to kiss your lips softly. When he pulled back, his eyes trailed down your body. His eyes flickered with the same eagerness you'd seen upon your agreement months ago. "Do I get a safe word?" you teased, his eyes softened and he nodded.

"Of course you get a safe word, what do you take me for?" he kissed your forehead, you noticed him holding back on anything to sexual yet. "You remember we've used them before, right? You remember how to use them, lovely?"

You smirked, nodding, "The concept is fairly simple, love," he quirked an eyebrow at you.

"You're being a bit of a brat," he noted, a hand slid up your body, reaching your throat, "Quite bold of you considering you're tied up," he added softly. You liked this version of him, the nervous Sebastian was cute - the Sebastian who was nervous to take things too far, to seem weird. The Sebastian who wanted you safe and comfortable and who fumbled to even use the word bondage. But this version of Sebastian was different, like a switch in his brain flipped he would switch to an assertive and dominant person - confident. Kinky. "Do you want to choose your safe word, then?"

Nodding pathetically, you felt yourself already getting wet. "Y-yeah..."

His grip was light, not even choking you, just gently holding your throat. "If you can't speak or tap me, I want you to blink at me to tell me you need a break, okay? Two taps if you can, or rapid blinks, can you do that?" you nodded, "Good girl, safe word?" 

With an already shut off brain, you could barely come up with a word to give him. Finally, you managed to settle on a basic easy one, "Mango." 

He nodded, "Mango," he repeated, assuring you he heard it. He gently kissed your forehead again, "mind staying here alone?" he added. "If you need me, you can call, I'll never go far." 

"How often?" 

"Between sessions, I'll get you some snacks and water between too, clean you up a little, but I want you to stay tied down...that's part of the fantasy for me..." he explained. "Would that be alright?" 

You nodded, and he smiled, already enjoying this. "Good girl," he whispered. Gently, his hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your oxygen for just a moment. You let out a soft groan, and he smiled as he watched your reaction. His other hand slowly moved, cupping your breast. His thumb rolling over your nipple, trying to earn more of a reaction from you. And he got exactly that, a loud noise came out of you. Almost like a whine. 

He leaned back, moved his hand down your body and traced for your thighs. He reached up, gently rubbing against your pussy. Your head tilted back, hitting the pillow. "Fuck-" you murmured out. Sebastian smirked, letting one finger glide up to your entrance, his thumb gently rubs your clit for a second before he slides a finger in, causing your back to arch. Your legs move slightly, but the ropes hold them in place. 

"Damn, those hold better than I expected," he mumbled, pulling his finger out, it was coated with your juice and he gently licked it off. Leaning back as he examined you. "Don't know what I wanna do first," he said. "I have a whole day..." His finger slid back inside, and he gently began pumping it to gain a reaction. You whimpered out and he watched your face. 

You whined as he pulled his finger back out, leaned back, watched your chest rise and fall. "More...more Seb..." he smirked at your whines and slid the finger in, pumping a little before he slowly slid in a second. 

"That okay? Doesn't hurt?" he asked softly, waiting for an answer, leaving his fingers in place and waiting for your answer. 

You nodded, whimpering pathetically. "It's, it's fine, keep going, please..." You begged. He smiled, immediately beginning to pump his fingers into you. Your fingers dug into the bedsheets and you pleaded for more. He kept going for a while, waiting till you were close, he pulled back, slowly sliding a third finger in. "God...I'm gonna..." 

"Go on, baby, go ahead, cum," he encouraged, watching as your body tensed. Walls clenching around his fingers, he slid them out and watched the cum drip down your legs. He gently licked his fingers clean, slid off the bed, kissed your forehead. "Good job, baby, you did so good. I'll be back later." 

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

It didn't take long for Sebastian to return, he poked his head into the room. He admired the way you laid in the bed, tied down still, he walked in gently kissing your forehead. "Holding up well? Boring on your own? Should I turn the TV on?" his hand gently slid down your body. 

"TV when you're gone would be nice," you answered softly. "But right now, I was thinking something else." 

Sebastian laughed softly, kissing you softly. "I was too, actually," he stepped around the bed, finding the drawer of his bedside table and opening it. He pulled out some lube, fished for the box of condoms, glanced at you, "would you...mind...?" 

You turned your head to him, "mind?" 

"Uhm..." he flushed, "I kinda want...to try the plugging today too?" 

You smiled, nodding, "that sounds hot, go for it." 

"Would you mind? No condom? Filling you? Then, uh..." 

"Do it," you answered simply, and that's all it took. He gently unzipped his jeans, took them off, followed by his boxers, he took the lube, squeezing some onto his hand. He slid some across your pussy before moving to rub it on himself. His head fell back slightly and a soft moan escaped him as he jacked himself off as he lubed himself up. 

His hands gently squeezed your thighs, he lined himself up. Easily, he slipped in, and you let out a desperate squeak. His head fell back once more as he began to gently thrust. His fingers dug into your thighs as he pumped. You moaned out, eager for more. Gripping onto the sheets as Sebastian rolled himself deeper into you. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, as he repeatedly pulled out and slammed back in. He let out soft grunts of pleasure, barely paying attention to the way you basically writhered for more. He felt the walls clenching and looked down at you. 

"That's right, fuck, milk it, c'mon, cum on it," he said, thrusting as he fucked you till you came onto his dick, he thrusted through your orgasam as your walls clenched, his head fell back as he finally let go. He grunted out in relief as his seed shot deep into you. He let himself lean down, kissing your lips before he finally pulled out, he fished out a dildo from the bedside table, and then gently shoved it into your used pussy. You grunted out a little, biting your lip. 

He waited, "is that okay? Doesn't feel bad?" he whispered, you shook your head. 

"It's...good- leave it, please..." 

"God I fucking love when you beg." 

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You began to lose count of how many times Sebastian came in throughout the day, alternating methods of how he used you. He fucked you with the dildo, his fingers, his tongue, he filled you multiple times and plugged you after each time. It felt like heaven. The sun set, and you found yourself sore. When Sebastian entered the room, you debated if you could take it. His eyes wandered your body, and finally he gently leaned down and kissed your forehead. "You're all done baby, I know," he cooed. "I wasn't too much, was I?" 

You shook your head, smiling as he kissed you softly down your neck. "Too tired for words? Let me clean you up, baby, you deserve it."

"Mh, love you.." 

"I love you too," he answered, kissing your forehead again. 

tag list:

comment if you want to be tagged in future Sebastian fics

[allysunny]

Hi! Can I pls request dating headcanons for Bale Batman with a female reader who used to works as his assistant but now helps Alfred with batman related work? Like reader is not a superhero but helps Alfred with his duty? Also reader is a very sunshiny person, kind and loving? Thank you ❤️

Lover's Liaison

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 5.7 words

Warnings: Lots of fluff, workplace relationship, kissing and making out, lots of fluff, lots of pining, idiots in love, suggestive themes and one mention of oral sex but nothing too explicit, use of the word "Batmanning", this was written on the span of 3 weeks so I'm sorry if it sucks or isn't coherent?? Not proofread omg I'm so sorry! If I forgot anything, do let me know!!!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Oh my god!!! I finally got around to write this one request that I got mixed up a few weeks ago!!!! I love this dynamic so much and want this man to be my boss only for me to bring him coffee and massage his shoulders omg...

As stated in the warnings though, I am in the middle of my final evaluations and exams, so this was written over the span of like,, 3 weeks. I apologise if some things are not coherent or repetitive, I am trying my best but uni is kicking my ass.

Anyway, I'm sorry it took so long anon!!!! I hope you enjoy this <3

Being Bruce Wayne’s assistant meant a lot of things.

It meant you sometimes pulled all-nighters when your boss decided 8 hours of work simply wasn’t enough.

“Ah, I'm so sorry, but I'm busy that day,” you said sheepishly after Mr. Rivers from Accountancy asked you out for dinner. 

“Come on princess, can’t you tell your big boss to give you a free night? A pretty thing like you shouldn't have to work that much. C’mon, let me show you how a real man should treat you.” He said, cornering you against a desk and inching his hand closer and closer to your waist. 

You looked away uncomfortably, silently praying for him to sense your discomfort and walk away. You didn't want to hurt his feelings or make him mad. You were afraid he’d take it out on you, or worse, on Bruce, by causing harm to his company - and you couldn't have that. 

“Mr. Rivers, I – “ 

“Chet, please. Do call me Chet.” 

“Mr. Rivers,” you repeated, pressing uncomfortably against the desk, not wanting the man’s hands on your body. “Please, this is hardly appropriate. I must go back to my office, and – and – “ 

“I’m sure your boss will understand. You can’t possibly tell me he’s hired you for your skills now, can you? He understands you’re a pretty girl. Surely, he should've known someone would snatch you up, hm?” Mr. Rivers’s grin was catlike, in the worst way possible. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and tears welled up in your eyes at his insinuation. Surely that was not all Mr. Wayne had hired you for, right? He complimented you on your choice of clothing, sure, and he’d once or twice gifted you pieces he said he knew you’d look lovely on. But he had also more than once commended your work ethic, thanked you for your efficiency and praised your skills. He valued you as an employee, not just someone he could look at. Right? 

“Actually, Mr. Rivers, I employ all of my workers based on their skills,” a voice boomed behind the accountant, firm and unwavering. Chet Rivers turned around only to be met with Bruce Wayne’s hard, stony gaze. “And it seems I clearly must've made a mistake with you, because if I had known you’d be treating my employees like this – especially my personal assistant, I wouldn't have allowed you to set foot in Wayne Enterprises. You disgrace my father’s memory by engaging in this type of behaviour inside the company he built.” 

Mr. Rivers scrambled to find a reply, only to stutter a few times and shake his head, at a complete loss for words. 

“Out. Now. I want your office cleared by the end of the day.” 

“But – But Mr. Wayne, I – I have been in this company for years, I – “

“If your office isn't cleared by the time the clock strikes five, I will personally ensure you will never land another job again and carry around a note claiming you are a known sexual harasser. Are we clear?” Bruce said, eyes darkening.

“I – Sir – “ 

“The clock is ticking. If I were you, I'd make quick work of packing.” 

With a few more incoherent words, the now ex-employee was out the door, and Bruce was slowly walking up to you. He gave you enough space to walk away, should you want to, but kept at a friendly distance, should you want him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked in that sweet voice reserved for his closest people – you. 

You nodded quickly, rubbing your arm in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn't want it to come to this, to you firing him. It really was nothing –  “

“Nonsense. He was harassing you. You told him you weren't interested and yet he still pursued you. He should've known ‘no’ is a complete sentence and left you alone. Understood?”

You nodded once again, looking at the floor. Bruce walked even closer and lifted your chin up with your fingers, forcing you to look at him – and yet his grip wasn't bruising. It was soft, feather-like. Bruce touched you as if he was afraid you’d vanish right before his eyes. Maybe he was. 

“It’s not your fault that he acted like an ass. Got it?”

Another nod. 

“Say it for me.”

Your heart would always follow Bruce Wayne. You couldn't refuse anything from him, and so you found yourself whispering a soft “It’s not my fault”, which earned a smile from him. 

“And you’re an amazing worker. You’re efficient and smart, and extremely kind. You're the best personal assistant anyone could've asked for. I hired you for your skills, not your looks. You're extremely competent. The only competent worker around here.” 

You chuckled, familiar with that line. 

“Understood?”

Another curt nod – this one more confident. 

“Say it for me. Please.”

“I’m extremely competent.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

He then seemed to snap back to reality and let go of your face, stepping back. 

“I’ll be in my office for the rest of the afternoon. If you want to, you can have the rest of the day off.”

This caused you to shake your head and smile confidently at him. 

“No need for that. Gotta make sure I do my job, right? Otherwise, who else will?” 

Bruce chuckled at this, and it made your heart flutter. “Exactly.” 

“You haven't eaten yet, so I thought…” you shrugged, handing him the plastic salad containers. 

“What would I do without you?” He asked, looking up from his computer to be met with the most dazzling smile. 

“I’m not sure. But I'm glad I can help.”

“You eaten yet?”

“No sir, not yet.”

“Join me.” 

You didn't have to be asked twice. You found Bruce’s presence relaxing, calm. You liked to be around him. Lunch breaks, just like overtime, allowed you to truly meet the man behind the suit, and you cherish that time with all your heart. It also allowed you to take a good look at him, at his handsome features, his strong jaw and hard eyes that could turn soft within mere seconds. At his lips, so often pressed into a straight line, but also capable of saying the kindest of words. 

Unbeknownst to you, he also took these moments as an opportunity to drink in your beauty. The lovely curve of your face, your sweet lips that managed to brighten up his days, be it with your words or your laughter, the eyes he always looked for when he was nervous, the body he so wished to pull close and worship. 

He was completely whipped by you. And yet he had no idea how to go about it. 

He couldn't just ask you to date him – he was Bruce Wayne. Whoever he dated would be dragged into the public light, and he didn't want people prying into your personal life the way they did to his. Worse than that, he was your boss. He didn't want to taint his company's image by appearing to be some sort of creep who harassed his workers into sleeping or being in relationships with him. He was the boss, of course, and could smother any and all rumours and make sure his company’s image remained the same as his father would have wanted it to be, but most of all, he wanted to protect you. From the scrutiny of coworkers and papers and crazy paparazzi. 

Little did he know, you’d go through all that trouble for him. 

“Be mine,” he said, forehead touching yours as you caught your breath. “Please, be mine. I’m crazy about you, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not. You’re such an incredible woman, so brilliant and bright,” he mumbled, fingers drawing patterns on your skin. “I’m crazy about you. I know I shouldn’t, because I’m your boss, but I just can’t stop thinking about you. I know that I’m asking a lot from you, and if you’re not interested, then you can just say no. We can forget this has ever happened, and it won’t change the way I see you at work. If you want to quit, you can also do so, and I’ll give your next employer the best of recommendations. But,” Bruce lifted his finger to brush a strand of hair away from your face, “I just had to let you know how I feel.”

Although only a few seconds had passed, your silence seemed to extend for hours, and Bruce was ready to carefully put you down on the ground and throw himself off his window, never to be seen again. But when you placed both your hands on his cheeks, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness he hadn’t had the privilege of experiencing in years, he felt hope blossom within him.

“I am yours,” you replied softly, afraid that words louder than those would burst the small bubble of happiness you were hiding in. “I’ve been yours since the day I stepped foot in here. You have my heart, Bruce Wayne. All of you. The smart you, the cheeky you, even the arrogant you that sometimes belittles subordinates over their incompetence – but quickly makes up for it with heartfelt apologies, because that is what your parents taught you. But most importantly, you. The real one. I’ve been yours since day one.”

Bruce offered you one of his beautiful smiles, the genuine ones that had your stomach flipping over itself and leaned over again. You welcomed his kiss with a sigh of content, and a soft sound that sounded awfully a lot like a moan, which had Bruce grip onto you tighter and kiss you a bit rougher. He was tugging at your pencil skirt, and you were just about to make quick work of his tie, when the door to his office burst open.

Without a second thought, Bruce quickly covered your legs with his arms, and hid your face so whoever had just walked in wouldn’t be able to look at you. It was the least he could do to protect you right now, but it was either that or nothing.

“I see you’re quite busy, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius Fox’s voice boomed through the office, a cheeky tilt to it making it known that the sight before him was amusing rather than scandalous. “I’ll return later, if you want me to? Or perhaps, not at all. What if I fax you?”

Bruce chuckled and nodded towards his employee. He could feel your quickened heart rate speed up under the gaze of someone else, and while he felt sorry you two had gotten caught, he couldn’t hide just how adorable you looked, clinging to him like that.

“That’d be perfect, Lucius.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Miss.” Lucius said your last name before leaving and closing the door behind him. When your boss took one good look at your face, he felt the heat on your cheeks and neck, and laughed before pressing a kiss below your ear.

“How come Lucius came in here without knocking? Where the hell is my assistant?”

You smiled sheepishly and ran your fingers through his hair – something you’d always wanted to do. “I don’t you,” you mumbled. “Bet she’s slacking off.”

“I must disagree,” Bruce quipped back, “She’s the most hardworking woman I’ve ever met. No way she’s slacking off.”

“Then she’s probably making out with her boss.”

“Only because he’s crazy about her.”

“She’s crazy about him too.”

Life was perfect ever since.

You couldn’t be seen together for obvious reasons, but that didn’t keep Bruce from stealing you once or twice. Extended lunch breaks, pre-company meetings meetings, post-company meeting meetings, you name it. You’d be on his lap, lazily kissing his frown upside down, next to him, helping him with contracts and files that had been sent incorrectly (and that he could easily fix by himself, but he loved having you near him, and you loved to help), and once or twice he’d had you on top of his desk with him kneeling before you, or sprawled on his couch with he laid on top of you, helping him with that he claimed to be a performance check.

After a few rumours broke out that you had slept your way to the top, you asked Bruce to quit the company. The women in the company, who faked their sympathy and niceness to you because they were utterly jealous of your position as Bruce Wayne’s assistant scowled once you walked past them, giggling and calling you names. You’d tried to ignore them at first, but after the fifty-second “Whore”, you were a sobbing mess, crying on Bruce’s shoulder and begging him to fire you so you wouldn’t have to deal with that any longer.

How typical of you, Bruce thought. Willing to lose your job so someone else won’t have to, even if that someone else’s behaviour is unacceptable. He knew your reasoning though, knew that if he were to fire said women, it’d backfire on him, and all the rumours would be confirmed.

It was a terrible idea really.

But he was also Bruce fucking Wayne, and such things did not matter to him. So instead of firing you, he made his intentions very clear in front of pretty much the entire company at a special anniversary dinner, by kissing your breath away. You were stunned to say the least, when he loudly introduced you to everyone as his lovely girlfriend and said that should anyone have a problem with either him or you, they should take it upon themselves to talk to Bruce personally.

Later that night, he held you tightly in his arms and kissed your forehead, promising that he would never hide you or your relationship from the world ever again. You, on your hand, promised to not listen to the tabloids and the paparazzi.

That was the first time you confessed your love for him, which he eagerly confessed back, before he was tugging at your clothes and his lips were pressed to your neck.

One night, as you were leaving a restaurant with your friends, you were pulled to a dark alleyway and held at gunpoint. The attacker, a man you did not recognise, told you to call your rich boyfriend and started going on about how much he wanted for you. Bruce did not pick up, which made you panic, and made the attacker get even angrier. But before he could do anything about it, a dark figure emerged from the rooftop above you two and knocked the man to the ground.

You’d never seen Batman up close, but he was as intimidating as everyone made him out to be. He tied the man up, called the Gotham Police Department, and you could make out his gruff voice saying something about a Chief Gordon. He then looked at you, and you felt so small, so vulnerable, so weak. Here you were, an insignificant nobody, being saved by Batman. Batman, of all people, who probably had more important things to do other than rescue nobodies like yourself.

But the gentleness in his voice as he asked, “Are you okay?” snapped you out of your trance. Gone was the intimidating vigilante. Before you, stood someone who seemed to care about you and your wellbeing. You nodded and told him you were a bit shook up. He asked you to tell him exactly what had happened, and so you did, carefully going over all the details. Once you mentioned your boyfriend’s name, Batman seemed to wince. You did not understand why.

He took you home, and although you couldn’t quite tell what, there was something in Batman’s presence that made you feel safe, cared for. It was familiar, comforting to be near him. Like you’d known him all your life.

Bruce, on his hand, was freaking out. You’d been targeted because of him. Him. Him. Him. You were going to get hurt because of him. And he’d pay whatever fortune he had to just to keep you safe, but if you’d gotten hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself.

He spent a few more minutes outside, to make it less suspicious, and tried to act surprised when you told him how Batman had saved you.

You hid the details from him though, simply saying you were going to get mugged. You didn’t want to worry him – he was too preoccupied about your life together as it was, trying not to track down whatever assholes wrote those nasty pieces about you in the morning papers, and trying to focus on you instead of the photographer three tables down whenever you went out for coffee.

The two of you were idiots, really, trying to protect each other at all costs.

It only took a few days after the assault for Bruce to break, though. He told you everything, spilled all his secrets about Batman as if he were a sinner in church confessing all his sins. You were shocked, to say the least, but it all clicked in your head quite quickly. The comforting presence, the gentleness in Batman’s voice, the safety – it was all Bruce. Of course it was.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “Please forgive me. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been there…”

“But you were,” you took his hands in yours, gripping them tightly. “You saved me, Bruce, and that’s all that matters. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“It’s not safe for you. If anyone finds out about me, they’ll use you, they’ll get to you, and – “

“You managed to keep your identity a secret all this time. I’m sure you’ll be able to keep doing it.” You leaned towards him and kissed him softly. Bruce responded in kind immediately, taking you in his arms and kissing you with the passion of a man madly in love. His hands roamed your body, fingers deftly remembering every curve and arch and every place that made you whimper against his lips and tighten your hold on him. Within minutes, you were laying on your back, fingers tugging at Bruce’s hair as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, promising – no, swearing to keep you safe forever and ever, declaring his devotion for you.

Some weeks after, he popped a question. Not quite the question, but a very important one nevertheless.

“Quit your job.”

“What?”

“Quit your job at Wayne Enterprises. I can take care of you. I will take care of you. Everyone knows we’re together, and as much as I don’t care about the nasty rumours and petty comments, you’re way safer here.” Bruce took your hand across the couch and rubbed circles on the back of it, thumb brushing against your knuckles. “Alfred and I found out who the attacker was. Remember Chet Rivers?”

“The accountant?”

“To say he was angry would be an understatement. He went after you because he knew it would hurt me. I won’t have this happen again. I love you so much and I appreciate everything you have done and continue to do as my personal assistant, but if this job puts you in harm’s way again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You offered him a sympathetic smile. It was so like your boyfriend to put you first in every situation.

“And what would I do?”

“Anything, as long as it wasn’t too dangerous.”

“I think everyone in Gotham knows me by now, Bruce. And according to your paranoia, that’d pose a threat.”

Bruce rubbed his jaw pensively and you scooted over, sitting on his lap and facing him.

“You worry too much,” you mumbled, stroking his cheek.

“Is it so wrong if I want to keep the love of my life safe?”

“Not at all. But I also need to live, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just – I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You’re far too precious for that, and I’ve lost so many people – “

You interrupted him with a kiss, a tactic you found quite effective most of the times. He hummed and his breathing slowed as he relaxed.

“If it makes you feel better, then fine. I’ll quit.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I’ll find something else to do. Maybe I can even help Alfred around, you know. Be Batman’s personal assistant. You think he’s hiring?”

This earned a chuckle from Bruce, and a very tight hug.

“I’ll put in a good word for you.”

He did! And you got the job.

At first, you thought being Batman’s personal assistant (a title you wore proudly, even though it annoyed Bruce – after all, this had been achieved so you wouldn’t have to be anyone’s assistant, so you wouldn’t have to work) would be boring, but you quickly got the hang of it and, of course, excelled.

You tracked down which materials made his suit lighter, which ones made him faster, which ones weighed him down. You made lists of the combinations you and Bruce had come up with, to provide him with the perfect bland of speed and lightness, without making him too unprotected.

You took over Alfred’s position, giving the old man some respite as you communicated with Bruce through the intercoms, looking out for him, reminding him to take breaks and occasionally teasing him with the usual “Wanna guess what I’m wearing?” talk – Bruce would never admit this, but it made him patrol the streets quicker, eager to get home and find out just what you were wearing – or weren’t.

Most of the time, Bruce would beg you to go to sleep after he went on patrol. Most of the time, you wouldn’t hear any of it. You wanted to help your boyfriend wash the day off him, rub his sore muscles and kiss his forehead gently as he relaxed against your hold.

“What’re you still doing up?” he asked once, looking over at your figure on top of his bed. Instead of sleeping, you had your nose buried in some book you’d always wanted to read but had never found the time to.

“Waiting for you,” you mumbled, looking up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Shouldn’t have done that. It’s late.” Bruce walked over to you, and you smiled lazily, lifting your arms so he would scoot over next to you. He did so, clad in a pair of shorts, his batsuit (courtesy of his loving girlfriend) long discarded.

“Didn’t want you to come home to an empty house. Wanted you to come home to a smile.”

“Coming home to you is enough,” he chided, playfully touching your nose.

“Bath?”

“Please.”

You prepared a quick bubble bath and got in after him, sitting with your chest pressed against his back as you washed his hair, massaged his scalp, and rubbed his sore shoulders and back. Bruce groaned a few times, finding your touch something close to a miracle.

“On your right – fuck, right there.”

You giggled at how his words sounded out of context, and got your thigh pinched in return.

“Hey!”

“I can tell you’re being dirty. Stop it.”

“Not at all,” you replied, “’m super clean right now.”

After you were both cleaned, Bruce took it upon himself to rinse you and wrap you in your fluffiest of towels. You were nearly asleep to be honest, eyes darting close every few seconds. Thankfully, your boyfriend would not let go, helping you stand up straight and keeping you from falling to the side.

You were extremely exhausted, and Bruce blamed himself for that, but he couldn’t lie – seeing you wait up for him, to make sure he was safe and sound warmed his heart. He hadn’t felt loved like this in a long time, and every day he woke up and thanked whatever deity was looking over him that he got to wake up next to the woman he loved.

It was domestic, in a way.

And it wasn’t like anything had truly changed – after all, you were still taking care of Bruce Wayne, and he was still taking care of you. It was only your circumstances that had changed. Instead of an office, you worked from home, your new home, Wayne Manor. Instead of bringing him coffee, you’d help Alfred around with cooking and busied yourself with your hobbies during the day, so you could help your husband with his duties at night.

And on his hand, Bruce protected you by protecting Gotham.

Don’t get me or him wrong – he didn’t spend all his free time Batmanning. He spoiled you rotten, taking you out for coffee dates and strolls in the park. Often, you’d find little gifts on your bed, just like he used to do when you worked for him. Only this time, they were a bit more personal. Your favourite books and candles, bracelets with his initials, dresses that left a lot to the imagination, pieces of lingerie for his eyes only to see.

But most importantly, you loved each other. More than words could express. You were the light in Bruce’s light. The reason he got out of bed and downed expensive wool and linen suits during the day, and dark Kevlar ones at night. The reason he smiled more often, the reason he had began to believe in love again. Without you, the billionaire was sure he’d be lost in life. Surely, he must’ve done something great in a past one if he now had you in his arms, in his bed, in his life, in his heart.

These were the thoughts running through Bruce’s head as he held your hand. You were both sitting at a restaurant you’d wanted to try for years (“Bruce, please, I beg of you, just get us a reservation at Dorsia,” you’d whined one afternoon, trying to argue your case with a series of convincing kisses to his neck – and how could he deny you, with arguments like those?), having the time of your life as you told him about your day.

Bruce loved the sound of your voice. He’d let you speak for hours on end, about whatever topic you wanted, if it only meant he could listen to you.

In fact, he didn’t need to do any of the talking.

That night, he only had one question to ask of you, the weight of the small box inside his pocket filling him with both excitement and dread.

He only hoped you would say yes.

He needn’t worry.

If the smile on your face after he kneeled was any indication, your thoughts mirrored his.

You could not wait to spend forever together.

A/N: And that's it!!!! I hope you guys enjoyed this!!!! I'll also take this opportunity to warn y'all that this will be my last Bruce piece in a while! I have other requests pertaining other characters, and honestly, I feel like I'm getting a bit exhausted with all the writing I've been doing for him.

I don't want fanfiction writing to become a chore, so I'll be focusing on other characters for now in order not to lose this spark!!! I hope you guys enjoy those pieces as well <3

Stay safe and have a wonderful day ahead!!!!!!! <3<3<3

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

[wonbin-truther]

casual (TEASER) jaemin x reader - 600 words but final fic is ~2.5k hopefully warnings- mentions of sex but idk if im gonna include smut, makeout session, jeno and yn smoke a joint, jaemin is an asshole, some jeno x reader "this isnt anything serious," jaemin said as he zipped his pants up and watched you pull your skirt down. "yea just casual," you agreed.

you where at yet another frat party with chaewon and karina. you hated these parties so much and the reason why stood about 6 feet in front of you with his tongue down another girls throat. "im surprised you haven't gotten mono yet," chaewon handed you a red solo cup filled with some mystery liquid. "you need to move on already. hes a bum," karina groaned. "he's nice," you could feel the tears brimming your eyes. "do not cry over that loser," chaewon grabbed you harshly by the shoulders. "what you need to do is get some non diseased dick and show him what he's missing playing around." you nodded and downed whatever was in the drink and made your way through the crowd, knowing exactly who your target was going to be. naturally you had met jeno within the first couple of weeks fucking around with jaemin. you knew jeno was attracted to you but had some kind of bro code going on. you were quick to find him sitting on the couch smoking a blunt. you sat in the empty spot next to him, making sure to get as close as possible. he adjusted so that his arm was around you, pulling you into his side. "you saw him didn't you?" he pressed the roll to your lips and you happily took a hit. "yea. it's nothing serious between us so it's whatever." "so that's why you came to press onto me? because it's whatever," he let out a low chuckle. you put your head on his shoulder, already feeling the weed mix with the alcohol in your system. "if he can go around with other girls then I can be with other guys. it's only fair," you pressed a kiss to jeno's jawline. "careful princess," his hand moved down to grip your waist as you continued leaving open mouth kisses and marks around his neck. he swiftly pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. you took a quick glance up and locked eyes with jaemin who looked like he was about to kill jeno. you gave him a smirk before you got up from jeno's lap, taking him by the hand and pulling him upstairs. jeno watched from his spot on the bed as you cried into your hands. "i just want him to want me like i want him," you were pacing back and forth. "yn that's how he is. did no one warn you?" he replied. "they did and im a dumbass for fucking around with that loser but-" you let out a scream that you hoped was drowned out by the music downstairs. "you're in love with him," jeno laughed. you threw yourself face down onto the bed next to him, "i hope his dick breaks." jeno let out a louder laugh. "i hope so too. being his roommate is rough. maybe if it broke he wouldn't have a girl over every night". "you're so not helping right now," you got up and gave a light punch to his arm. "if it makes you feel better he's never been as consistent as he is with you." you rolled your eyes, "yea that makes me feel so much better. a new girl every night makes me feel a million times better." "just tell him you like him. trust me he doesn't even know it yet but he likes you back," jeno stood up and stretched. "i'll tell him we fucked if it makes you feel better." you stood up and followed behind him, grabbing his hand, "yea we can tell him that."

a/n - yippee im so excited for this !!! im hoping for it to come out around next week ^^

[ja3yun]

i can't move on from please be real because it has me thinking about what kind of boyfriend jay would actually be irl

luckily for you anon, i think about it constantly and have a notesapp doc dedicated to it so let me share

warnings: mentions of insecurity, kisses

wc: 600

jay would call you baby/babe and honey, like they are his go to petnames for you and they slip from his lips so casually that he barely calls you by your name anymore

jay would have a playlist with all the songs you've recommended him and play them when he's just doing his tasks because they remind him of you

jay compliments you on almost everything you do, even if you do it badly, he is so encouraging for you to try new things.

he is the type to never tell you what to wear when you go out but if he knows you might end up somewhat insecure or uncomfortable with stares, he always gives you his jacket

and even if you're insecure about your body in general, jay would try his best to make sure you have a good relationship with food, he doesn't want you to be overwhelmed by standards or calories so he would constantly work with you to have the best mindset

when he goes shopping, jay will pick up your favourite snacks without having to be asked because "you'll eat them at some point"

jay takes your hand randomly when you're out, like of course he will hold your hand when you're walking but even when you're out with friends and yapping, he would intertwine his fingers with yours because it just feels right

because jay loves to cook, he would make you food you want to try and on special occasions he'll bake you sweet treats - even if he fails when trying to make them into heart shapes

jay would buy you things but i think it would be sentimental things that you can cherish because he bought them with you in mind; jewellery and handmade gifts are his favourite to get you because they'd be specific to you

he alternates between being the big spoon and little spoon, he doesn't mind either way, just whatever is comfortable for you

jay also loves laying his head on your lap or vice versa, talking about your mundane job or whatever is on your mind, he'll play with your hair as you speak, smiling at your anecdotes and silly accents you somehow bring out when impersonating your boss/co-worker/classmate (he is also heavily invested in the drama and gets angry with you)

if someone cracks a joke at your expense, he'll get defensive, calling the person out even if you're not there because he hates it when people speak about you in an ill manor, even jokingly

you would have couple piercings with him, ones that he would get matching earrings for

jay loves you unconditionally but he will vocalise when he is upset with you and talk it out, he would bottle up some feelings but not the ones that involve your relationship because he wouldn't want to put a strain on your relationship - communication is key to him

he would dry your hair if you were too tired, putting it on the lowest setting so he could spend more time taking care of you but he says it’s just so he can hear you

jay would smother you in kisses and take any opportunity to steal a smooch - in bed, when you’re cooking, when you’re distracted by the tv, each time he would kiss you and bring the attention back to him

jay is the type of boyfriend who would smile during kisses, especially when you're gripping his shirt and pulling him as close to you as possible, he loves to feel wanted and needed

he doesn’t tell you he loves you all the time because he doesn’t want the words to lose their meaning, so instead he shows it by being there for you and doing actions that prove to you that he will love you for the rest of time

[lissomeingenuestuff]

CLARA BOW // charles leclerc - pt. 4

charles leclerc x figureskater!reader

part 1 part 2 part 3

summary: you're an aspiring olympic gold medalist who just wants to compete and have fun. on the way there, a handsome monegasque f1 driver slides into your dms and changes the trajectory of your life.

note: pt. 4 bby! i'm so excited to finally get into the main part of this story with you guys! you have no idea of the devilry i have planned 😈

cassievilleneuve

liked by y/n l/n, isabeau.levito, and 8,393 others

cassievilleneuve we weren't cool enough for the amex lounge 🥲

view all 134 comments...

carolinevilleneuve sleepy bears 🧸💙

y/n l/n at least my ass looks nice 🤷🏻‍♀️

cassievilleneuve speak for yourself i look like a potato 😭 thanks care

carolinevilleneuve anytime 😁

leclerclover43 y/n is so unserious i love her 😄 "at least my ass looks nice"

y/n l/n well it does, doesn't it?

leclerclover43 you're so right queen ofc it does 🤧

leclerclover43 also, any reason why you might be traveling?

y/n l/n 👀🤫

leclerclover43 oH

isabeau.levito vacation without me? 🥲

y/n l/n bby issy you have school!

isabeau.levito australia >>>>>>> school

isabeau.levito also, where did all these people come from? what did i miss?

carolinevilleneuve you missed the y/n x hot driver saga!? dm NOW

callsignice am i the only one wondering why y/n's going to australia literally like 4 days after the olympics ended? didn't she just get back home?

y/n l/n

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 22,691 others

y/n l/n cassie's man crush treated us to... whatever that is 😄

view all 213 comments...

cassievilleneuve i do NOT have a crush!!

y/n l/n bro be so fr i know more about him than i know about my own crushes 😭

sainzismysign don't be shy y/n, tell us, who's your crush 👀

y/n l/n i don't kiss and tell 😝

charles_leclerc Whatever that is it looks like a lot of sugar 😳 can i have some?

y/n l/n i'd get you some, but i don't need your trainer up in my dms threatening me 😔

charles_leclerc Andrea's an angel, I promise 🙏🏻 no threats

pierregasly Andrea, an angel? LMAO

charles_leclerc Pierre, fermez-la!

emmalechair yeah pierre let our boy shoot his shot!

carolinevilleneuve ...where did this picture come from? i don't remember going to a restaurant?

y/n l/n neither did i 😄 the man crush sent it to me

carolinevilleneuve @cassievilleneuve YOU WENT ON A DATE!?

cassievilleneuve IT WASN'T A DATE

y/n l/n liar 😆

mclaren

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and 390,986 others

mclaren Live footage of @landonorris lying straight to our face after going on a date and consuming his weight in sugar.

view all 889 comments...

alllyyyssson ehem eXcUsE ME!? LANDO WENT ON A DATE!?

cecelewis ADMIN TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

jazzyruiz admin rlly thought they could slip the "lando went on a date" at the beginning of the caption and we wouldn't notice 😭

landosleni my husband is cheating on me!?!?!

landonorris IT WASN'T A DATE

mclaren Sure it wasn't, buddy 😛

danielricciardo why you lying

neonorangepapaya LMAO dragggg him daniel!

y/n l/n ✓ 2m

Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit Melbourne, Australia

"Are you sure this is even a good idea?" Y/N bit her lip nervously, letting the hometown hero - Daniel Ricciardo - drag her down the paddock.

"Bit too late for second thoughts now, isn't it?" Daniel quipped, nodding his head at a passing mechanic.

"I'm not having second thoughts, I just... he didn't even invite me here."

"Which is the whole point of a surprise," Daniel pointed out. He turned back to look at her briefly, "By the way, where's your friend?"

At that, Y/N giggled, "With Lando. Those two have been joined at the hip ever since he picked us up from the airport."

"So it was a date!" Daniel crowed triumphantly.

"Obviously!" Y/N snickered. "What else could it have been?"

"He was telling everyone you were there too after the McLaren admin made that post."

Y/N scoffed, "Now, that's a lie! I was dead asleep in our hotel room. Cassie snuck out and I didn't find out until I woke up and saw that Lando sent me that picture, saying she was in good hands."

"I'm not surprised. I wouldn't want to be caught dead on a date with Lando either." Daniel nodded, mock thoughtfully.

Y/N giggled again, "I don't think that's why she didn't tell me."

He hummed, but refrained from saying anything else as they reached the Ferrari garage, bustling as it was with mechanics, engineers, and strategists.

Y/N came to a full stop as he called out, "Oi! Frenchman! Over here!"

An accented voice yelled back, "I'm Monegasque!", as Charles Leclerc emerged from the sea of red, clad in his own scarlet racing gear.

"Same thing," Daniel grinned, but Charles' attention was no longer on him.

"Y/N?" He blurted out in shock.

Y/N lifted a hand nervously and waved, "Hi?"

Charles stood there, staring at her like he'd seen a ghost, until someone behind him shoved him forward and he snapped out of his reverie.

"Uh, hi! Hi!" He laughed, hovering in front of her uncertainly. "What are you doing here?"

"Lando and Daniel invited me," Y/N bit her lip, cheeks reddening. "They, um- we thought it might be a nice surprise."

He didn't say anything for a moment, but just as she was getting ready to backtrack, his face broke out into a beaming smile and he pulled her into a half-hug - an uncertain one, the kind you give someone if you know them, but you don't know them enough to give them a full hug.

"Welcome to Ferrari," he stated loudly as camera flashes went off, pictures and videos recording the moment that would go viral on Twitter and Instagram for the entirety of that day. "The best team on the grid!"

tag list: @1655clean, @norwayxo, @thecubanator2, @theendofthematerialgworl, @c-losur3, @lightdragonrayne