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perlelune · 7 months

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Young God | Feyd-Rautha

The mercy you show towards an enemy in the aftermath of battle yields tragic consequences for you and your people.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen!Reader, Kynes!Reader, Kidnapping, Unrequited Love, Mentions of cannibalism, Knife Play, Masochism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

The aftermath of battle is often the same ritual. Corpses are taken away to scavenge for bounty and salvage the water in their bodies. Moisture is too precious, too rare in the air and the dry desert sand covering your home world to be wasted. Harkonnen foot soldiers especially. No sympathy is spared for the cruel beasts who slaughter your fellow fremen, ravage your land, and bleed your beloved home planet Arrakis of its most valuable resource. The Spice.

Today is one of these days. After fending off another attack by the Harkonnen army, your entire tribe is sifting through the desert fields. The proud white-skinned soldiers weren’t expecting the swarm of Fremen that unleashed upon them. Thankfully Muad'Dib had a vision of the attack and managed to convince enough of your people to raise their blades in unison to stand against their oppressors. While you balk at violence, preferring to stay back and sink into your role as a healer, you still wish to offer assistance in cleaning up the battlefield and checking for any potential injuries. You were a little shocked when you arrived and were struck with the realization that there is so little for you to do, the number advantage having been so overwhelming.

Still, you find a few warriors that require medical attention. Their injuries are deeper than you expect. Apparently one of the Harkonnen soldiers wouldn’t let himself be slain, unleashing a storm of fury all on his own and taking several down with him. You gingerly finish dressing your last wound, lifting your head as you notice your cousin heading north.

Wiping the blood on your hands with a rag, you get to your feet.

“Chani, where are you going?” you inquire.

She stares ahead, crysknife in hand, determined.

“Some may have survived and slipped away from us. We’re checking the caves nearby.”

You give a nod and follow after her. “I’ll come with you.”

While your voice didn’t waver earlier, your stomach is in knots as you join the search. You and Chani split up. She points in a direction and you acquiesce, rushing the opposite way. You sneak underground, climbing down a row of steep, slippery rocks before you find a small cave.

You practically have to crawl the rest of the way inside, the lichen-draped overhang almost too bent and crooked for you to advance any further. It’s no wonder no one thought to check this place. It’s hard to imagine any wounded Harkonnen soldier gathering the strength to hide in such a place.

You’re forced to swallow your words however when you find the outline of a pale form lying across the cave floor.

Your jaw drops. You inch closer to the corpse, already planning on calling another Fremen to help you extract the water from the body.

But the man’s chest lifts, his mouth shuddering ever-so-slightly.

Tamping down your fear, you hunker down and inspect his armor. Your brows knit. A long, deep jagged cut slashes his side. The kind of deadly injury that makes you wonder how the man is still breathing, as it’s impossible no internal organs haven't at least been nicked.

Yet, somehow he is, still breathing that is.

Though you gather not for long based on the way blood gushes from the wound.

You hear your name called from outside the cave. Pulse soaring, you climb your way out of the concealed shelter with haste.

You’re faced with Chani’s questioning stare. She must be done with her own search. You note the tinge of crimson on the tip of her blade. Your insides wrench.

The lie flows from your tongue with frightening ease.

“I already checked that one. It’s empty.”

She nods and walks away. You wait for her to be at a safe distance to return inside the cave.

As your slow, fearful steps bring you closer to the wounded man, your mind rages, at war with itself.

You are of two worlds. Daughter of the fallen Liet-Kynes, imperial planetologist, and a member of the Sietch Tabr. The Harkonnen are your people’s ancestral enemies. Oppressors who annihilate whoever stands between them and their unquenchable thirst for more wealth and power.

They are monsters. There is only one rational thing to do when one is faced with one of the pale-skinned warriors. Only one thing that is right to do.

You unsheathe the crysknife at your thigh from its scabbard. The blade is shimmery and new. So perfectly sharp. For you have never used it. Not even once.

You approach his unmoving form and lift the blade high in the air.

The crysknife in your hands quivers above his chest. It’d be so easy to end it. So quick. Over within a few minutes. You’ve seen countless members of your sietch do it, not a sliver of hesitation in their smooth, practiced motions. Some even enjoy it, reveling in seeing that spark wither in their enemies’ eyes.

For a moment, you let yourself wonder, picture yourself snugly gripping the blade and driving it through the Harkonnen’s alabaster throat. The watery coughs he’d let out. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling around him. The light in his onyx orbs flickering before going out.

It should satisfy you. After all the evils they’ve inflicted upon your people, upon your planet, the prospect of retribution should fill you with immeasurable joy.

Yet it doesn’t. Chest heaving, you slowly lower the weapon until it slips out of your hands, its clattering echoing in the cave.

Your shoulders sag as you unleash a tremulous breath, one you didn’t notice was even caged inside your lungs.

An unyielding truth swaddles you as you watch your pale-skinned enemy draw feeble, dwindling breaths. You can’t take a life. You are a healer, through and through.

You gasp when you suddenly feel the cold bite of metal against your throat.

Your eyes widen. The Harkonnen is awake, heavy, wheezing breaths bursting from his chest as he presses the blade against your neck.

“I-If you kill me, you will not survive,” you stammer, your chest clenching in fear.

He shocks you by flipping the blade and handing it to you.

“Then give me a warrior’s death,” he says, his gaze unwavering. You study him. He looks worse than before. What he just did must have taken his last bit of strength.

Steadying your hammering heart, you glower at him.

“The glory you seek isn’t in a dank cave, Harkonnen.”

As soon as he collapses over the cold, hard stones, you get to work. First, you check his pulse. Though it’s faint, you find a steady heartbeat. He must be quite strong, you surmise. You’ve never seen anyone survive this long with an injury this deep. Logically, he should be dead.

But he isn’t. So while you shouldn’t feel this way, every fiber of your being craves to pull him from the brink.

You peel the layers of his armor off him. Heat nestles inside your cheeks as your gaze roams over the hard, defined planes of his muscular form. You shake off the sensation, reminding yourself that you can’t proceed unless you have complete access to the wound and need to assess for other potential injuries.

You reach for your medpak and pouch. You use a mix of wound sealant and medicinal herbs to curb the bleeding. You then clean the wound with antiseptic and press onto it firmly. Eventually, it stops. Once the bleeding is under control, you pull out a needle and thread from your pouch and begin sewing the wound. Every stitch is nice and neat, so tight that you know he will barely scar. You squint as you work, the dim lighting of the cave making you miss the right spot in his skin a few times. You keep a cool head the entire time, simply starting over whenever necessary.

After the wound is sealed, you set up a hypovial with a plasma bag. Finding the bulging vein in his arm isn’t too hard. It’s quite easy in fact, as every part of him appears carved from stone. You slip a dash of spice melange in the IV. A potent cinnamon smell fills the air. Just the right amount to keep him awake. Now that his life isn’t on the line anymore, his peculiar body chemistry should do the rest and recover.

You unleash a deep breath and wipe the sweat doting your forehead. You sag against the cave wall.

Your eyes drift to the night sky, visible through a small opening in the overhang.

For the first time since you snuck inside the cave, the tension woven through your limbs comes loose.

Nights on Arrakis are a thing of beauty. You are willing to bet there are no more beautiful skies in the entire galaxy. None so clear and vast and with stars twinkling this bright. Mother used to say the same thing, that the boundless empyreans of Arrakis were the most beautiful sight she ever laid eyes upon. And as an imperial envoy, your mother traveled far across the known universe. So she must have been right.

You cast one last glance at the Harkonnen warrior. He’s stable. Or stable enough at least.

It’s time for you to return to your sietch before too many questions are asked.

“You were gone a while,” your cousin blurts out when you return to your sietch. You weigh her tone. There is no suspicion laced in it, just curiosity.

“I was just making sure we didn’t forget any of them,” you casually reply.

Chani heaves out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to. You have no heart for killing, cousin.” She turns her focus to the rest of your tribe. “We need you here, tending to our wounded. It’s where you shine best.”

You nod in acknowledgement. No one in the sietch ever expected you to fight but you often wish that you could do more. You think of your mother’s untimely death, of the way Fremen laid down their lives today. Your heart sinks. If anyone learned of what you did, you would be exiled. Rightfully so. Your eyes wander to your cousin, now besides Paul Atreides. Longing gazes lock and fingers twine before they disappear into their shared tent. You look away.

You hope one day that twisting inside your chest whenever you see them will cease. You are happy for them; you truly are. Nevermind that you felt a pull towards the heir of House Atreides from the moment you met him, that you felt it was returned when his gaze rested upon you. That all of it vanished the moment his eyes crossed Chani’s.

A seer from your tribe foretold that a woman in your family would have a great destiny, one that will change the fate of worlds. You now understand, that woman is Chani, and she and Paul aren’t just destined to one another. They are fated.

And who are you to stand in the way of fate?

“You must be insane, girl,” the Harkonnen soldier scoffs as you remove the needle in his arm. Since he appears to have regained some color…or whatever consists of “color” for a Harkonnen, you elected to remove the plasma bag this morning.

A sliver of shame flutters through you that you were almost relieved to find him alive. You saved a life. Perhaps not the most worthy one, but a life nonetheless.

“Striking an enemy while he’s down isn’t brave,” you reply with nonchalance.

A crooked smirk cants his plump lips, baring a hint of the black teeth underneath.

“Insane and stupid then,” he sneers, the gristly echo of his voice resonating in the cave.

Ignoring the way his comment chafes you, you retrieve the little vials you packed this morning.

“Drink that.” He sits up, humming low in his throat with the movement when you’d expect him to wince or groan at the pain. It’s almost like he’s enjoying the pain he surely must be experiencing, but you discard that thought, because it’s ludicrous. What kind of person enjoys pain? “It’s water.” He studies you, making no move to grab the water. You fidget, unnerved that you can’t read his expression, his lack of eyebrows making it even more difficult. “I could only steal a little from the deathstill. It’s all I could get before anyone could see me.”

You briefly considered trading your mother’s water rings, the ones you inherited upon her death. The symbol of her standing and wealth within the Sietch Tabr.

Though while you may have saved your enemy, you want to hold on to that piece of her for as long as you can.

“I also have some food.” You rummage through your pouch to pull out dried fruits, slices of meats, bread and spice honey. It’s the best you could gather on short notice without drawing suspicion.

His dark gaze flicks over you as he taunts, “Perhaps I shall eat you. You look far more appetizing than…whatever this is.” You shudder, acutely aware that while cannibalism isn’t widespread amongst the Harkonnen…it’s also not unheard of.

He snickers at your expression. “Do not fret, desert rose.” His gravelly voice drips with suggestion as he licks his lips. A chill runs through you as his black tongue and teeth are bared to you. “I’m not quite that hungry…yet.”

Your shift, discomfort slithering through you. There is something profoundly unsettling about the Harkonnen, even more so than a typical one. The blood leaking through the bandage draws your gaze.

“I should dress your wound and redo the stitching,” you offer, clearing your throat.

When your hand stretches towards his wound, he growls at you.

Your heart leaps and you retreat your hand.

“Please,” you insist. “You’re bleeding.”

When he doesn’t make another threatening sound, you take that as your cue. You quickly gather your supplies and approach him. The drumming of your heart inside your ears is a clamor, but you pretend it isn’t there, removing the bandage and driving the needle through his wound to sew it shut again. He doesn’t flinch, showing no hint of even feeling the needle. His sizzling scrutiny sears through your flesh, almost causing your usually steady hands to quake. You sharpen your focus, remembering your grandmother’s teachings. Steady heart, steady hands.

He tilts his head, dark gaze trained on you. “I threaten to eat you and you tend to me still. What a peculiar creature you are, desert rose.”

The days fly by in a strange haze, your days spent preparing for the new Reverend Mother while you sporadically check on the stranger. He recovers faster than you expect, even without you needing to use the spice melange again. Considering he was at death’s door when you found him, you can’t help but be a little amazed.

You sense the time to go your separate ways is near. You have done a lot, likely more than you should. The alabaster-skinned warrior is well enough to roam the desert and find his way back to his people through his own means. You brought him supplies, food and a stillsuit. Whatever befalls him will be up to fate and his own wits. You don’t plan on returning after tonight.

“You’re looking better,” you note, checking his wound for the last time. You leave the bandage for good measure even if it’s clear he doesn’t need it anymore, the wound having begun to fade since you removed his stitches yesterday.

He pins you with that unsettling stare once more.

“That song you sang…” he rumbles.

“A song?” Your head tilts as you comb through your memories. It comes back to you. You sometimes hum it to yourself. It calms you down. You didn’t even realize you’d done it in his presence. “Ah, that song.” You shrug, a small smile sneaking onto your lips. “It’s just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me before she passed, to teach children about the Shai-Hulud.”

He looks at you in what you believe to be confusion at the name, though you can only assume.

“Your people call them… sandworms,” you explain. “They are sacred and should be revered.”

Silence hangs between you and the Harkonnen. His deep raspy voice shatters it after some time.

“Songs…I had a blade in my hands from the moment I could walk.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t seem sad, more reflective, but it seems you should say something. “Do you…Do you ever think of what your life would be like if you weren’t Harkonnen?” When he looks at you blankly, a nervous laugh peals from your lips. “I’m sorry. That was a silly question.”

Your crysknife materializes in his hands from behind his back. Your blood runs cold as you pat your thigh. You don’t remember ever leaving it around him.

“My older brother...He took me from our parents when I was a baby,” he utters, sounding detached, almost as if he were recounting someone else’s life. “My uncle raised me. I don’t remember my father. And my mother…” His lightless gaze slams into yours as he smiles, exposing his glistening, black teeth. “I killed that whimpering, meddling bitch.”

Your breath snags in your throat. Perhaps…you let yourself get too comfortable around the Harkonnen. The crude reminder of who he is, who they all are, yanks you back to reality.

You bolt to your feet, coaxing a tremulous smile onto your face.

“It’s getting late. I should return home before the sandstorms grow too strong.”

As you prepare to leave, the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps above you freezes you in your tracks. Your eyes bulge. Dread sinks within you as you realize someone’s right above you.

Before a single sound can make its way past your lips, the Harkonnen’s large hand envelops your mouth. He pulls you flush against his bare chest as he whispers into your ear, “Quiet.”

His muscles go taut against you. You catch him twirling the blade with smooth precision, clearly ready to fight if need be. You hold your breath, bridling your stuttering heartbeats.

Two men in full Harkonnen livery leap inside the cave. Panic rushes through you.

However, instead of a fight breaking out, relief fills the soldier’s faces as they see him.

“Na-baron. We received your beacon.”

Na-Baron…The air is knocked from your lungs. The title isn’t that common amidst the known universe. In fact, it’s quite unique and you only ever heard of one man from one specific house using it. Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the heir-designate to Baron Vladmir Harkonnen.

He is a monster, a ruthless killer…and you nursed him back to health. Allowed him to get well enough to hurt, maim and kill as he pleases. The cave seems to twirl off its axis around you.

Perhaps he was right that night. You might be an insane idiot.

You feel the subtle lift of his lips against your scalp.

“Right. Did I forget to mention my name?” he taunts, as if he could read every thought zooming across your head. Giving you no time to even try to run or fight him off, the na-Baron slams your head against a nearby wall.

Pain explodes inside your skull. Your vision dims as you grow too weak to stand, your knees buckling beneath you. You fall into his arms and he holds you against him. He strokes the side of your face, a fire burning in his onyx orbs. Consciousness slips from you, his last words reverberating inside your ears.

“You and I are going home to Giedi Prime, my desert rose.”

You awake startled, jarred by the softness of the sheets and the largeness of the bed around you. This is nothing like the cot you used to sleep on in the desert. You leap from the bed, clutching your face and hugging your frame, stunned to note you are without your stillsuit and face mask.

Instead, you are wearing a sheer white tunic that hugs your curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. The outfit is unlike you, impractical in every way. Your pulse escalates.

You rush to rise and nearly crash down on the bed again.

Your forehead creases.

You wobble around, struck by the difference in gravitational pull, humidity and atmospheric pressure. Every breath you take exerts you, bearing heavily on your lungs.

Your head spins as you glance at the unfamiliar room. Every single detail of it is cold, somber, opulent.

Horror twists your insides.

You’re not on Arrakis anymore.

“You’re in the Harkonnen keep, darling.”

The gravelly voice erupting at your back has you whirl around. A half-exposed Feyd-Rautha fills your sight, his carved alabaster muscles and bald head shimmering silver in the low light.

You swallow hard, fighting to keep yourself breathing normally in the brand new air.

“The Harkonnen Keep on…”

“Giedi Prime, yes,” Feyd-Rautha finishes.

While you understood it on your own, having it uttered out loud sends you in a renewed state of alarm. You are away from your family, your friends, your home. You are alone on a foreign planet. A hostile, enemy planet.

“In secluded apartments away from my other concubines,” he further informs. A shadow of mirth lurks in his gaze. “They’re quite the jealous kind. They may even try to take a bite out of you if they learn of your existence…” He leers at your shivering frame, making no effort to hide his lust, the evidence already bulging in his pants. “Though I don’t think I could entirely blame them.”

He inches closer to you. “How does the weight of a real planet feel?” he asks, a twisted excitement swaying in his dark orbs. “Is it crushing your bones? Is every cell in your body screaming in pain, my desert rose?” He grips your chin, studying you oddly, almost as if he wishes he could absorb every bit of your agony and discomfort.

You glare up at him, your insides white hot with rage.

“H-How could you do this? I saved you.”

He frames your chin, squeezing tightly. “Oh darling, you should have killed me…” A squeak spills from your throat as he drags his tongue across the side of your quivering cheek. His lips brush over your earshell as he mumbles under his breath. “Because there’s nowhere in the galaxy you will ever be able to hide from me now.”

“I belong in Arrakis with my people. You have to let me go,” you plead.

You search his impassive face, scouring for an errant ounce of humanity. The emptiness you find has tears rushing to your eyes. You mourn the tragic loss of moisture, willing yourself to stop crying. Ever since you were young, you were taught never to waste your precious water...especially on something as trivial, as painfully unnecessary as tears.

...But you can't quell your weeping.

He tilts his head.

“You belong with me…No, to me, desert rose. In my arms, screaming as I ruin that pretty cunt of yours with my cock.”

Fear floods your entire being. Your eyes scan the room. A faint spark of hope blooms inside you as you spot a long, sharp knife on a stone table nearby.

Pushing past the queasiness you experience every time you move on the unfamiliar planet, you race across the room and grab the knife.

You point it at him. Instead of cowering, Feyd-Rautha opens his arms, smirking.

“Do it,” he urges, making no effort to protect himself from the sharp blade in your hand, inviting you to strike him as his tongue darts across his lips.

His uncanny anticipation coats the air. Confusion fills you.

“I will,” you say, trying to appear braver than you feel. Still, the blade quakes in your hand.

“Please. I beg of you,” he purrs, gliding towards you. As he watches you hesitate, he cruelly reminds you, “You will never go home, never see your beloved planet again. In fact,...” He hums, his eyes lighting up as if a wonderful idea just occurred to him. “I think I might slaughter some of your family and friends just for sport.”

A wave of wrath surges through you. Bereft a thought behind it, your hand slashes across his chest, a small cut forming there. Droplets of blood so dark it appears black drip down onto his alabaster flesh.

“More…” he rasps, pleasure leaking from his gravelly voice.

The sight of the bleeding wound rattles you, causing you to retreat.

But he doesn’t let you remove the blade, his fingers cinching around your wrist and keeping its sharp tip over his bulging pec. You sob as he forces you to drag the blade across his chest, a blissful expression spreading across his features. A long dark cut oozing dark red blood decorates his body now, going all the way to his defined abs.

Terror and confusion tangle within you. You stagger backwards, the dagger slipping from your lingers and hitting the floor.

“You’re sick.”

“I didn’t realize there was such a fire inside you, desert rose. If I don’t have you now, I think I’ll go mad.” His hoarse, lewd tone scrapes against your eardrums, causing your insides to twist in dread. He cracks his neck, black tongue sweeping over his lips as he approaches you. “No, I definitely will.”

It’s the only warning you get before he tosses you on the bed and rips the clothes off your frame. Tears brimming your lashes, you squeal in protest, scratching and punching every part of him within reach. You slap him hard and he cackles, baring his black smile in sheer delight.

“Come on, desert rose, I’m sure you can hit even harder,” he sneers.

To make him eat his words, you hit him again. Harder than before. His laugh gets louder as you watch a faint bruise form on his cheek.

Pinning your wrists besides your head, he bends over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipples, his cool tongue causing you to hiss and shake. Sharp teeth graze your breast and the breath hitches in your throat. You squirm on the sheets, completely at the mercy of Feyd-Rautha as he licks, bites and kisses every part of your flesh. As if he wanted you covered in marks of his ownership, wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you were his if they stole a glance at you. You loathe the way your traitorous body writhes and pants, a disgusting dampness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

The tears in your eyes swell. Your body is divorcing your frazzled mind little by little, yielding to his rough, wanton touch.

He grabs your thighs and dips between your legs, diving straight for your center. He licks a long stripe up and down your folds and you tremble. As his devilish tongue swirls around your clit, your eyes flutter, blinding pleasure building in your core. Hot waves of delight engulf you as he gathers your arousal with his tongue and drags it around your tender spot. The slow, unrelenting patterns he traces with his mouth have you fight the urge to buck your hips into his jaw. Your juices drench the entire bottom of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greedily devouring your cunt as if he’ll never get to do it again.

As you quiver against him, your orgasm flowing through you, he chuckles against your wet cunt.

“Your body can’t even deny how much it craves me, desert rose.”

Shame pulses through you with his words.

He crawls over you, cutting his pants loose with one aggressive shove downwards. Only a glimpse of his thick alabaster cock, glazed with his need at the tip appears in your vision before he shoves the entirety of himself in you. The pain is so intense, flames alongside your walls, that it robs the words from your throat. He sinks inside you until his tight balls chafe your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat while the other keeps your wrists above your head.

You whimper beneath him, defenseless against his sharp, piercing thrusts. Pleasure builds within you, his cock overwhelming you with shameful sensations each time it grazes your sensitive places, making you see stars. Gargled sounds pour from your throat as his girth splits you apart.

He grunts as your walls constrict around him, slamming into you even harder.

“You’re so delightfully tight around me, darling.” He bends over you to whisper, “I bet I’ll turn you into my perfect little cock-hungry whore in no time. Have you on your back and knees for me whenever I wish it.”

The Harkonnen heir’s pace fastens, his cock hitting spots that have you question your sanity. So delicious that you can’t help but let pathetic little moans escape from your throat.

He buries himself inside you even deeper, the pain and pleasure blending in crescendo. Your eyes roll back as you near your peak. Meanwhile, Feyd Rautha’s hunting his own release, his quick thrusts growing sharp and slow, his bald head grazing your bare chest.

Pleasure rolls over in a tidal wave, your back curling alongside the sheets. His own release comes after yours, thick ropes of his seeds painting your sore, sensitive walls.

As you crash in a boneless heap on the sheets, he wraps his hand around your jaw and steals your lips for a sloppy, heated kiss.

You cry out in pain as he sinks his teeth into your neck, placing a visible puncture wound that won’t disappear for a while.

Still nestled in your warmth, he scatters more bites along your shoulder.

“Any man would be insane to let you go after tasting such a sweet cunt, desert rose.”

You know he wants you to see, doesn’t want you to miss a single second of the spectacle. It was a split second moment, one that could have easily resulted in his death.

But at the very last second, Feyd-Rautha prevailed and dodged Paul Atreides’ attack. He then proceeded to stab him in the heart in front of his heartbroken mother and your cousin.

You don’t want to believe it. It must be an awful dream, one you will soon wake up from. One that lasted entirely too long. While seeing Paul’s body sink to the floor, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces…Watching Chani glare at you with pure hatred in her eyes from across the room is almost worse. You want to run to her, embrace her, tell her you never meant to leave, tell her you aren’t a traitor to your people despite what clothes you may wear now, what marks may brand your skin.

But it’s all for naught. Paul is dead and with him the hopes for your planet, for your people have died as well.

And you are left with nothing, no one. A stranger in a strange world.

It’s what he reminds you as he has you caged beneath him that night, burying himself inside you again and again with abandon.

“You’re mine, desert rose. And nothing, no one can take you away from me. Not my uncle. Not Paul Atreides. Not the Emperor.” He chuckles darkly, whispering against your ear. “...And not even you, darling.”

He is right. You are his. And with no one to challenge the rule of the now Baron Feyd-Rautha, ruler of House Harkonnen, it is as he said…There is nowhere in the galaxy you can hide where he will not find you.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #dune fanfiction #dune part 2 #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha #feyd-rautha harkonnen #dark fic

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Note

hii! I really love and enjoy all of your writings, you are so amazing and talented!

I checked just to be sure before I ask if you could write about rafe being/having casual dominance towards a clumsy!reader but she doesn’t really notice she’s clumsy or a bit reckless?

i’m so sorry if this doesn’t make sense my english isn’t that good but it’s okay if you don’t want to this, I love your work anyway! thank you so much!

Clumsy Princess

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

A/N: You are so sweet, thank you!

Masterlist

Rafe knows how to control his body. He is aware of every movement he does and how it affects and is affected by his environment. He is practically Spider-Man. Y/N, on the other hand, is the completely opposite. She bumbles around the world like a baby doe on freshly born legs. Her depth perception is severely lacking and it has led to a variety of bruises all over her body. However, ever since she started dating Rafe, the number of her accidents has dwindled.

———

The couple walks hand-in-hand around the aquarium, taking their time to look at the different exhibits. Rafe booked out the whole place, so they didn’t worry about other people being in the way. The first place she has wanted to go is to look at the turtle and they have been making their way to the animals for five minutes now. They finally spot the hard-shelled sea creatures and her face lights as bright as a star. She rushes to the tank while dragging him behind her. As soon as they get to the tank, he places the back of his hand against the glass around her height. She can’t question what he is doing because before she can, the momentum of her hurry to get to the glass causes her forehead to hit his hand. Her left hand reaches up to rub where a bump would have been forming if not for Rafe and she turns to him with a thankful smile. “Thank you, Baby.” She rises on her tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

———

Her hand is looped into his as they walk down the street after leaving the aquarium. They are heading to Chinatown to get something to eat. “And I told her that she was being mean…” The words Y/N is saying fade away from Rafe’s ears as he sees the street lamp coming up and he has a fortune-teller moment. He nods with a smile, pretending to listen. As they pass the lamp, he is sure to tug her to his side. She narrowly misses walking into the pole, yet she doesn’t notice and she continues on with her story. “She said I was the one at fault.” Rafe can now focus on his girlfriend’s words because there are no dangers in sight.

———

They get back home and she can’t wait to get to their room to watch Coco like Rafe said they could. He holds her hand whilst she stumbles over her shoes as she takes them off, but she lets go of it as she runs to the stairs. Rafe is right behind her. She rushes up the stairs and feels his hands on her waist. As he predicted, she was going too fast and would’ve missed the first step, which would’ve caused her to face plant right into the steps. She straightens up and looks at him with a sheepish grin. He returns the smile and rests his hand against her lower back to help her upstairs.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks

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leascorner · 8 months

Text

b.b. | With child

Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.

Words Count: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!

“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.

Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.

His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.

You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.

He did not mind, or so he thought…

Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.

Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.

The ride home that night was particularly quiet.

Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.

On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.

He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?

He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.

When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.

Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.

Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.

“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.

Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.

You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.

Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.

He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.

He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.

He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.

In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.

All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.

It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.

“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.

“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.

He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:

“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”

“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”

“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.

It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.

“My love, this is not your fault.”

“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.

“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”

“Ben, of course, no!”

“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.

You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.

He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.

“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”

“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.

Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.

“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”

“Ben, of course, I want your children!”

Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.

If he could not tell you, he could still show you…

Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.

“We should just take some time away from here.”

“What do you mean? The season only began-”

“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”

Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.

His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.

“France, it is then.”

Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.

One of the many to come.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #lea's writing #benedict bridgerton fanfiction

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

Text

Irresistible || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

December 2019

Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.

“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”

He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.

“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”

“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”

Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”

Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.

You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”

A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”

“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”

“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”

He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”

August 2017

All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.

You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.

“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?”

You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before.

“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”

“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”

“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.

“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.

“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”

You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”

He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”

You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.

“Charles, dépêche-toi!”

You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.

“Well?”

You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”

“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”

“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”

You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him.

“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”

He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”

“The Fairmont.”

The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”

“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Your boyfriend?”

You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”

He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”

“Have you been to Jimmyz?”

“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.

“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”

January 2020

Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink.

You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.

The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.

“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.

“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”

August 2017

The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.

“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.

With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”

Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”

He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”

You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.

Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”

February 2020

You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.

“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.

The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”

“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.

She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.

“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”

“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”

August 2017

“Where are we going?”

Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.

“You live in a hotel?”

He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”

He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.

For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.

The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.

“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.

“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.

“What’s my name?” he repeated.

“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.

“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”

The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.

You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.

Giada: When are you coming home?

“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.

You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”

His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”

You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.

Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx

You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.

You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.

It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.

You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.

“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.

He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”

Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.

February 2020

You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away.

“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”

“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”

Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?”

“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”

You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping.

“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”

“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”

“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”

“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”

“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”

You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”

“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”

He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”

“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”

“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Asshole.”

“Biche.”

“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”

You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”

A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad.

“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”

“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”

Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too.

“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.

“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”

“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”

You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway.

“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”

“No, she prefers me with nothing on.”

You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Night, ma biche.”

It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.

“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”

You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply.

Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours.

Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water.

“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”

“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.

“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”

His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”

“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him.

You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”

“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.

“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”

“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”

Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys.

You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”

Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”

You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable.

Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”

His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.”

“She’s pretty.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.”

You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”

“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”

“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it.

“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”

“This is a bad idea.”

It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.

“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”

“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”

Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way.

“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”

He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”

The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand.

Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening.

“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv.

“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”

“Okay, and?”

His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”

“Why?”

He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.”

His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”

“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”

You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Good news or bad news first?”

You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.

“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?”

“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”

“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”

Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”

“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.

“This is going to be great.”

Click here for part two.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic

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forwhomthewordsflow · 9 days

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Sleeping Conditions

steve harrington x fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: established relationship, some allusions to smut, reader has breasts, fluff, fluff, more fluff, some anxiety

author's note: i felt the need to validate my own specific sleeping conditions with this little blurb that ended up being longer than expected...we're not high maintenance! we just wanna sleep!

word count: 2.6k

The weatherman had jovially warned the city of Hawkins this morning about a bit of rain that was supposed to roll in later on in the evening. A slight drizzle, just enough to water the grass but nothing to worry about.

Except, the weatherman seemed to have underestimated today’s weather, because you were currently sat down on the couch at your boyfriend’s house watching the torrential downpour that was occurring outside his living room window.

Normally, this would be cause for celebration. An impromptu sleepover at Steve’s house! Yay!

But you were not celebrating, no. You were sort of freaking out, actually.

You’re able to fully recognize how strange it is for someone to have such specific sleeping conditions in the way that you do, but what are you supposed to do? It’s the only way you can really get a good night’s rest!

In your perfect world, you’re in your room where the thermostat is set at 69. There is not one light source in sight, you even make sure to throw a t-shirt over the tiny light on your alarm clock. Alone in your completely pitch black room, you’re able to sleep comfortably in just a pair of comfy panties. You love the way your two blankets, duvet, and jersey sheet set feel on your bare skin.

In order for you to be able to fall asleep the pillow under your head has to be just right, you have to have a slightly flatter pillow parallel to your body, your smallest blanket has to be tucked between your legs in a specific way, and the blankets have to be adjusted based on how hot or cold you feel on that particular night.

When plans are made for you to sleep somewhere else, you always make sure to bring your two pillows and your smallest blanket, but you still can’t seem to sleep that well unless you’re really tired.

It’s really a lot.

So naturally, with all of this in mind, you’re freaking out about having to stay the night at Steve’s house tonight.

You love him, you really do, but your relationship with him is still relatively new. You’ve only spent the night together a handful of times, and those nights of sleep for you were always aided by the effects of one too many drinks at the Hideout with friends or a passionate night of lovemaking.

You’ve never had a normal night in with Steve before.

And he is so excited about it.

Steve’s been craving any ounce of domesticity with you that he can get. Sure, he’s made you romantic dinners before and you’ve come over for movie nights a bunch of times, but it’s never been just a normal sleepover.

He can’t wait to watch you go through your night routine, to cuddle up with you in bed as you both fall asleep, and then to wake up to you tomorrow morning.

He was all too excited to alert you to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to drive home safely tonight, and that you’d most likely have to stay the night with him.

You’re thankful Steve hasn’t noticed how anxious you’re becoming as the night goes on, because he’s so sweet that you could cry.

He watched you through the mirror as you brushed your teeth together side by side.

The huge grin on his face made it hard for him to get to his back teeth, but he’d gladly sacrifice one night of dental hygiene for you any time.

He sat on the toilet and gazed adoringly at you as you washed your face and brushed your hair.

Steve was happy that the travel sized toiletries he’d purchased for you a couple weeks ago were being put to use.

You took a longer time than you normally would in an attempt to delay the inevitable, but Steve was on an opposite mission.

When you were finished in the bathroom, Steve ran into his bedroom to fix up his bed and lay out a t-shirt for you to sleep in.

You stood there nervously, holding the t-shirt in your slightly shaking hands. You know you won’t be able to sleep in this, but would Steve be comfortable with you sleeping practically naked? He might take it as a sign that you want to have sex or something, but you’re feeling much too anxious to get into that headspace right now.

Steve notices you standing at the foot of his bed, staring down at his faded Hawkins Athletics t-shirt in your hands.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Your head shoots up to meet his eyes, quickly trying your best to wipe the upset look off of your face. You nod your head and smile over at Steve.

Steve shoots you a warm grin, he’s not convinced that you’re totally fine, but he’s assuming you’re just a little nervous about the storm or staying the night with him.

You retreat back into his bathroom to change out of your clothes and into his t-shirt, which Steve finds a little odd. He’s seen every square inch of your body, and you’ve certainly changed in front of him before, but he shrugs and goes back to fluffing his pillows for you.

Meanwhile, you’re taking comfort in the smell of Steve on his shirt, holding it up to your nose and taking deep breaths over and over hoping to calm yourself down.

So what if you can’t sleep tonight? You’ve definitely survived through sleepless nights before.

But Steve would definitely notice if you couldn’t sleep. He’s so caring and attentive.

That means that he’ll be awake worrying about why you’re not asleep, which keeps him from getting any sleep, and then you’ll both just be awake and miserable all night long.

Maybe you should just pretend to fall asleep until he actually falls asleep.

You’re startled by a gentle knock on the door.

“Sweetheart? I’ve got the bed ready for us.”

You take one more deep breath, exiting the bathroom to envelope Steve in a tight hug around his chest.

He stumbles back a bit at the force of your affections, but is quick to wrap his strong arms around you with a warm chuckle into your hair.

“Ready for bed?” he asks you.

You sigh into his chest. “As I’ll ever be.”

After half an hour of cuddling with Steve, you’ve given up on all attempts to get comfortable.

It’s not that you weren’t comfortable in Steve’s arms, far from it. The feeling of his naked chest rising and falling against your back and his thick arms surrounding you was possibly the only thing keeping you from crawling out of your skin at the moment.

Steve’s felt your irregular breathing and squirming for the past ten minutes, but he didn’t want to distract you just in case you were on the cusp of falling asleep. It was the slightly irritated sigh you let out that let him know that something was wrong.

You knew you shouldn’t have sighed like that, but you couldn’t help it. The pillow under your head wasn’t right, the blanket on your legs was too warm, and you could feel the tag on Steve’s t-shirt resting at the back of your neck. You felt Steve’s arms tighten just a bit around you, you had hoped he’d been asleep.

“Hey, you okay?” he whispers into your ear.

“Y-yeah, yeah I’m okay,” you answer, “just trying to get comfy.”

You feel Steve rise to one elbow behind you and you turn your head to look up at him as he clicks on the lamp on his nightstand.

“What can I do to help?”

The sweet, adoring look on his face is what causes the dam to break, and your eyes fill with tears.

Steve is instantly alarmed, rushing to hold your face gently in one of his big hands.

“Baby, baby,” he coos, “Hey, what’s wrong, huh?”

You roughly wipe your face with the heels of your palms, and let out a trembling breath.

“It’s nothing, Steve. Let’s just go to bed, okay?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow together as he frowns down at you. “Baby, I’m sorry but something’s obviously wrong. Tell me what it is so I can fix it.” He brings his hand back up to your cheek and lets his thumb stroke your skin back and forth soothingly. You decide to let it all out.

“It’s just that–I can’t sleep here.”

Steve looks at you confused. “I–you’ve slept here before, right?”

“I mean, yes, but also no. It’s all so complicated Stevie.”

He sees that your walls are starting to come down with the use of your favorite pet name for him. He loves when you call him Stevie, it’s only when you’re being soft and sweet with him that you use it.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you, baby, please. Maybe I won’t think it’s so complicated.” Steve strokes the hair next to your ear and speaks to you in his lower, warmer, sleepy voice. It’s like a balm to all of your worries.

“I have these very specific sleeping conditions at home. If it’s not just right, then I can’t sleep.”

Steve nods his head. “What kind of conditions are we talking about?”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to lay it all out on the table in front of Steve, hoping and praying that he doesn’t think that you’re some kind of high maintenance freak when it’s all over.

“I can’t sleep with a shirt on, it feels weird on my skin. And I can’t sleep without my pillows from my bed. Or my blanket between my legs. And I feel all hot and itchy and it’s usually so cold and dark in my room.” You’d been ranting while making an effort to not meet Steve’s eyes, worried at what you might see there. When you finally do look at him, he’s hard to read.

“I know it’s a lot and it’s probably too much and I’m probably too much and-”

You're interrupted by Steve placing his pointer over your lips to silence you. The firm stare he’s fixing you with commands of your attention.

“First of all, you are not, ever too much. I can handle anything you throw at me, baby. I swear.”

The edges of your lips quirk up in the beginnings of a smile, Steve takes his finger from your lips and goes back to holding the side of your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this before we laid down?”

You huff softly and look away, embarrassed to have been so scared to tell him about your anxieties when he’s obviously the greatest, sweetest, most understanding boyfriend on the planet.

“I guess I was just nervous that you’d think I was high maintenance.”

Steve scoffs. “You’re saying this to the guy who used to wake up an hour earlier for school in the mornings so that he could do his hair every day.” Steve playfully growls into your neck when he says this, and you can’t hold back your giggles.

He looks at you, still stroking your hair, and smiles before planting a kiss on your lips and pulling away with a ‘mwah.’

“What can we do to make it better, hm?”

You think for a bit, and then sheepishly ask, “Would it be okay if I slept without my shirt?”

Steve blushes and blinks at you a few times, shocked that you’d even feel like you had to ask.

“Of course, baby. I’d never say no to that, c’mon now.” You both sit up, giggling softly as he helps you take your his shirt off. Steve seems to be trapped in a daze, his eyes glazing over as he takes in all of your newly naked skin.

“What’s next?” he slurs, still staring at your chest. You laugh and playfully shove his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance.

You look around at the bed and his room, biting your lip while you think of how else to make yourself more comfortable.

“Do you have any extra pillows maybe?” you ask, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your chin on top of them.

Steve does a quick survey of his room, then remembers that he might’ve seen some in his closet. He darts out of bed and makes his way over to his closet to search for them.

You take this opportunity to bask in the love you have for him. In the warm light of his lamp, you watch as the muscles of his upper body flex and ripple while he rummages through his closet. You can’t believe that this beautiful man is not only yours, but that he’s going through all of this effort just to make sure you can sleep comfortably with him in his bed. You’re so unbelievably lucky.

Steve turns around to triumphantly hold up two pillows for you to inspect.

“Which one?” He asks.

“Both, if that’s okay.” He nods and hurries back over to the bed, pillows in hand. You take one and place it on top of the one you had been laying on, trying to copy the fullness of your pillow at home. You take the second pillow and place it between your legs, for your right leg to rest on top of. You’d always loved sleeping on your side, but hated the feeling of your thighs sticking together.

Steve tries to be good, but he can’t help himself from watching your naked breasts move while you readjust the pillows to your liking. He feels a warmth in his chest as he observes you making yourself comfortable in his bed, and he wishes for many, many more nights like this.

You adjust the blankets around your leg so that your leg isn’t completely covered, and you finally lay down with a huff.

“Better?” Steve asks as he leans over to turn his lamp off. He’s happy to slide behind you once again, relishing in the feel of your bare skin on his.

“I think so.”

Everything is fine, really. It’s just that the pillow in between your thighs keeps slipping away. Ugh.

“You think so?” Steve tickles your side with his fingers, he loves the sound of your girlish giggles.

“It’s just the pillow between my legs. It won’t stay put.”

Steve takes a breath, assessing the situation. He doesn’t really have any other throw blankets lying around, and he makes a mental note to buy some more before the next time you come over. Then, he gets an idea.

“Can I try something?”

You turn your head towards him and nod, curious about what his idea is.

Steve takes the pillow from your legs and pulls it out from under the comforter, tossing it at the end of the bed. He then grabs your right thigh and lifts it a bit. You begin to question his plan, but then you feel the warmth of his right thigh sliding between yours. Steve hikes his knee up a little higher on the bed, so that his thigh fits snuggly in between your legs.

“Oh,” you say, cheeks heating up at the feeling of his thick, muscular thigh against your core.

You adjust your hips a bit, and then at last relax into Steve’s embrace, comfy at last.

Steve laughs smugly, “Is that alright?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, smiling and already feeling sleepier by the second.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” Steve whispers into your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“G’night Stevie,” you reply.

The last thing you feel before drifting off into dreamland are Steve’s arms tightening around you, holding you as you sleep soundly all through the night.

taglist <3

@josephquinnsfreckles @the-fairy-anon @anukulee @yujyujj @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics

#steve harrington fluff #steve x you #steve x reader #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanction #steve harrington x femreader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic

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leaderwonim · 3 months

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𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — ten: the nishimura siblings are so back

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

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姉 (ane) = older sister in japanese

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” You huff as you help carry your little brother’s suitcases.

“But you loveeee me!” Riki’s irritating voice rings through the air, and although you want to smack him in the head for being such a nuisance, you’re genuinely so happy that he’s finally with you once again.

Unlike you, he wasn’t given a Decelis scholarship until months ago, which meant when you went to Korea at the fresh age of fourteen, only knowing your aunt who lived there because of work.

“Can we get ramyeon?” Riki questions, only to get hit in the head by you. “Ow!”

“Yah, I picked you up at 4 in the morning at the airport and you want me to get you ramyeon?!”

Riki raises his hands in surrender, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Geez, you could’ve just said no.”

“Shut up and put your suitcase in the trunk!” You turn around to inspect him one more time. “And since when did you get so tall?”

He grins. “I’m 6’2 now, much taller than you.”

You raise your hand once again, and he quickly puts away his suitcases knowing you might smack him again if he keeps teasing you.

Then in classic Riki fashion, the 6’2 boy giddily runs to the passenger seat when he’s done.

You turn on the engine, quietly admiring the quiet early morning glow.

“So ane, you got a boyfriend?”

It was going to be a long ride home.

As soon as Riki got settled into his new room, he was quickly asleep, his quiet snores filling the room.

“You sure you can go to school tomorrow Y/Nie?” Your aunt asks you with a concerned look. “If you’re too tired from picking Riki-kun, you can always take a day off, you’ve been working hard anyways.”

You smile gratefully at your aunt, but slowly shake your head. “It’s okay auntie, I can’t miss a day of studies.”

“You study too hard.” The woman mutters before patting your back and heading back to bed.

When you got to school, Heeseung immediately greets you at the door. He usually wasn’t early, which perked your interest.

You bite the inside of your cheek, choosing to ignore him and walk by instead of acknowledging his wave.

He frowns. “Hey, hey, what’s up?” He says, suddenly standing in front of you.

“Nothing Heeseung.” You say, trying to walk pass him to no avail.

“I didn’t see you at the party yesterday, who drove you home?”

“Not like it was any of your business but Sunghoon.”

You could feel Heeseung tense up by your words. “Sunghoon?”

“That’s what I said.”

Heeseung scoffs, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “The same one who went with Hanni right after your little rooftop hangout, right? That Sunghoon?”

“Why does it matter?” You say exasperatedly. “You are no better than him.”

You finally are able to push past him, making him stumble back in shock.

“Y/N? Hey! What do you mean?”

You have never felt more grateful for the bell than you did at that moment, which signaled the beginning of first period.

Heeseung’s shoulders slump in defeat, feet turning around to go to his physics class, which was on the opposite side of your first class, creative writing.

You enter, scanning the room for a free seat. The class was a first come first serve regarding seating, so everyday was basically a fight for a good seat.

The only free seat was next to Sunghoon, who was already looking at you.

“Get a good sleep?” He asks, but you stay silent.

Suddenly, he leans closer and closer toward your face—until—

“You got an eyelash,” he whispers before taking it off your face.

You try not to blush, not wanting Sunghoon to see how even his little actions affected you.

“Why are you being nice to me Sunghoon?” You say with a sigh, looking directly into his eyes.

“Cause why wouldn’t I?”

The professor enters the room a second later, already beginning today’s lesson.

And although you and Sunghoon don’t say anything else, the silence is enough for the both of you.

AUTHOR’s NOTE: nishimura siblings alr friendly bickering yess and ynhoon??

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luveline · 1 year

Note

JADE!!! WE WOULD LOVE TO SEE ANOTHER SPENCER X BADASS GIRL!!! maybe its a quiet day and reader & spencer just chilling and joking around in their little world and the others just watching ahahah

thank you for your request babe, I would love to write more for this pairing if u have requests!! ♡ fem!reader

"What are they doing?" Emily asks, a fierce whisper that carries across the jet.

"I think they're flirting," JJ whispers back.

Hotch closes the case file in front of him. There's nothing left to do until they get home but sit here in each other's company. You and Spencer seem to have realised this before anybody else, shoulder to shoulder, a book in his hands. He's slouched with his leg crossed over his knee, taking up the majority of the couch. You seem content to take the brunt of his weight while giggling softly by his ear.

Hotch can't lie, he's genuinely startled by your behaviour. It's the total opposite of your usual affect.

"That's not flirting," Rossi says without looking up.

Hotch has to agree. You brush a stray hair from Spencer's shoulder and he doesn't so much as blush, turning the page to show you something particular. You lean in closer still, hand resting now on his shoulder.

That's not flirting, that's way beyond it. Spencer is practically in your lap, and you —wouldn't hug anyone on your birthday, didn't tell them where you were for four days when you had appendicitis until you were forced, cold, lone wolf you— look like you're about to cuddle him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

You're in your own little world.

"I stopped expecting her to push him off twenty minutes ago," Derek says, as seemingly unbothered as Rossi.

"Don't tell me you knew about this," Emily says incredulously.

"They've been going on dates."

"They what?"

You laugh happily at Spencer's side, pointing at a specific line with the tip of your fingernail. "When asked, Moroscova said that the length of his stay was an act of perjury," you read.

Spencer laughs at your quotation, sharing a secret smile with you. "That haircut is an act of perjury."

Your eyes glow with a look Hotch knows well. Haley looked at him like that for years. "Thanks for reading this with me. I know I'm slow."

"You're not slow. I'm really fast. There's a difference."

It's the definition of young love, Hotch thinks, all those heartfelt reassurances disguised as brags, stolen touches, Spencer's knuckles stroking up and down your outer thigh.

He turns back to his book and you stare at the side of his face. It's a little heartbreaking. Hotch knows if things don't work out between you, you'll take it hard. Your affection for Spencer has always been in the silent things, undulating, until lately: you listen to him talk when nobody else has the patience, what must amass to hours and hours of stories and statistics; you defend him at every turn, in every precinct in every city; when Spencer has a hard time, you refuse to rest until he feels better. The case before this one, the unsub beat you across the face with the handle of his gun, and you leaned out of the ambulance with your eye glued shut to make sure Spencer got anaesthetic before his stitches. You look at him like he's hanging the moon in real time.

"Okay, that's too much," Derek says. Hotch detects a hint of brotherly affection in it, but mostly disgust.

You raise your gaze from Spencer's chest, the breezy smile playing on your lips flattening into a hard line. You send Derek your fiercest glare, him being the first in your line of sight, and Emily gets the shock of her life when you turn and narrow your eyes at her, too.

Emily smiles widely. "Hey, how's it going over there?" she asks.

"Why are you guys looking at me?" you ask.

"You can't guess?" Derek says.

"If I could guess, I wouldn't have asked."

Hotch gives you a disapproving look. Tone it down, Agent.

"I just wanna know what's so interesting," you say, leaning into indifference.

Spencer looks up from his book. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, your tone gentler in a capacity only profilers might notice. "Don't worry about it."

Spencer sits up and your eyebrows pinch down. Hotch wants to save it and he also doesn't get paid enough. Everything works out in the end, he thinks, not believing himself even slightly as he gets up to make a cup of coffee at the back of the jet. Your sullen tones hardly reach him through the curtain and over the sound of the hot water kettle, Spencer's puzzled reassuring even quieter.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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ellecdc · 6 months

Note

HEY POOKIE!!!!

Could I request a fic with either poly moon water or poly marauders where reader has had mental health issues but they were getting better and then they slip back into them. This happens to me in moments and I have to remind myself that it’s part of my progress but it would be so nice if I had someone else to say it too. No pressure lovely!!!!

I ADORE all of your marauders work!! Like OML I never know how much I needed poly moonwater until youuuu❤️❤️❤️😘

hi babes! totally get where you're coming from re: mental health issues. It's a marathon, not a race. and I'm so glad you love moonwater! my evil plan of converting the entire fandom (lol) is succeeding. I opted to go with the marauders but it's quite sirius centric

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with her mental health

CW: non-sexual nudity [nothing is described], discussion of dark mental headspace and anxiety/depression [again, nothing is described]

You felt awful.

You knew the boys would be understanding, but it didn’t make you feel any better about your behaviour.

You’d found yourself slipping back into familiar and darker headspaces as of late, and though you couldn’t deny the disconcerting comfort that familiarity brought, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to fully fall back into it; you worked so hard to move beyond this, and you had been doing so well.

It hurt worse now that you felt like you weren’t just disappointing yourself anymore, but also disappointing three other people who - for whatever reason - cared an awful lot about you.

You’d been inching closer and closer to a panic all day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed when you got home and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours days weeks.

Those kinds of plans don’t work when you live with three other people, two of which have the tendency to coddle you.

You knew that irritability was one of the symptoms of your anxiety, but knowing that didn’t stop the sting of your words as they left your lips.

James was too nice, too bright, too happy, too lovely. You felt like the polar opposite of your sweetest boyfriend, which made you feel even more disappointing than you already had. And Remus was a fixer; he had a tendency to see a problem and immediately start problem solving, but that’s not what you needed right now.

Of course, you didn’t say that.

Of course, you got angry and lashed out at them before storming off to your room and slamming the door.

What started off as feeling blue quickly spiralled into a low affect. Feeling low left you increasingly anxious. Your anxiety left you feeling disappointing and less than, which caused you to feel depressed. The more depressed you got, the more anxious you became. The more anxious you became, the more depressed you felt.

It was a vicious cycle and you were stuck in its seemingly never ending assault on you.

And now, you weren’t just depressed and anxious; you were also feeling terribly guilty and overwhelmed at the thought of having upset Remus and James.

Remus, who only wanted to help, who only wanted you to feel better, who only wanted to care for you.

And James, who only wanted to perhaps share a little bit of his joy with you on the off chance it could brighten your day.

You were awful.

Horrid.

You didn’t deserve them, and they didn’t deserve you - they deserved better. You deserved nothing.

You’re not sure how long you had been standing under the spray of the water with your head against the cool tile when you heard a gentle knock against the glass of the shower door.

You felt the irritability surge in your blood again at the intrusion of your pity party, but tried your hardest to take a steadying breath before you hummed a quiet “yeah?”

“Can I come in?” You heard Sirius’ voice ask from the other side, apparently having gotten home sometime during your meltdown.

He could, though you weren’t sure he should.

You were terrible after all.

Horrid.

The glass door popped open and Sirius shoved his face in. You didn’t bother turning your face towards him but you could feel the questions permeating his being nonetheless.

“I’m coming in.” He announced, deciding on your behalf.

You heard the sound of his clothes falling to the bathroom floor, and you knew if Remus were in here he’d be scolding him: “there’s a hamper right there, Sirius.”

But Remus wasn’t here because you were awful and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the sodding hamper nor Sirius’ clothes littering the floor.

Some of your steam escaped as Sirius opened the shower door fully and you were accosted with cool air that left your body covered in goosebumps. He corrected it quickly by standing under the spray with you and pushing his front up against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

“Fuck, you take hot showers.” He commented.

Usually you’d laugh.

“Sorry.” You said instead.

He rubbed at your hips where his hands had fallen with his thumbs, eliciting another layer of goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re not feeling too good, are you baby?” He asked quietly.

You let out an exhausted breath. “I don’t feel good; I’m no good.” You responded just as quietly.

Sirius ducked his chin down to kiss your shoulder before quickly replacing it.

“That’s not true.”

You didn’t respond, glad that the water streaming over your face hid the evidence of the tears escaping your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sirius pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, working it into your hair. You did nothing to help him in his task, keeping your head pressed against the shower wall as he lathered the soap on your scalp. He pulled the handheld down to rinse it out, paying special attention to point the spray away from your face since you didn’t seem too fussed over protecting your own eyes. He combed some conditioner through your hair and rinsed it out in much the same manner before grabbing a loofa and lathering body wash over your form.

“Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.” He commented, finally breaking the silence that had long been only the sound of the water falling and each of your breaths. “But that still means you’re one step forward.”

A sob escaped you, causing Sirius to pause in his ministrations and pull you back into his chest again.

He didn’t say anything else; he knew better. Of course he would, Sirius sometimes understood this side of you better than the others did. Sirius had a tendency to fall into darker times too, also having a penchant for lashing out at those closest to him when things felt like too much.

He let you cry, standing under the likely too-hot-for-his-tastes water, as he rocked you back and forth with your head leaned back, resting on his shoulder as you faced toward the ceiling.

“Do they hate me?” You whimpered eventually, trying to convince your lungs to take in slower, deeper breaths.

“Of course they don’t; you know they don’t.”

“Are they mad at me?”

You could feel Sirius shake his head, but he answered you verbally anyway.

“No, doll. They worry, is all.”

You didn’t like that. You didn’t want them to worry. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” He agreed readily. “They do too.”

You let that sit in the foggy air for a little bit.

“Do you know that?” He asked eventually.

“Know what?”

“That you’re okay? That you’re just fine?”

You thought about that for a moment. You were sad, and you were anxious, but were you fine?

You admitted to yourself you felt the familiar tendrils of your darker self pulling at you, but you could also admit it was different this time. You were better, you had been working hard, and most importantly, that hard work was paying off.

You may have been two steps forward and one step back, but you were still one step forward from where you started.

“You’re sure they’re not mad at me?” You asked instead, earning you a chuckle as Sirius turned you in his arms to hold your face between his hands.

“No one is mad at you, love. I swear it. You are, however, very loved.”

You offered him the best smile you could muster and let him pull you forward for a chaste kiss.

“Then… yes, I know I’m fine.” You agreed eventually, earning you a beaming smile from your boyfriend.

“Atta girl.”

Your felt your cheeks heat up at the praise and pushed your forehead into his chest.

“Can we get out of this torture chamber, now? I swear this water is being heated by hellfire.” He joked, leaning around you to turn off the shower without your consent.

“It’s really not that bad.” You argued, earning you a scoff.

“I’m red, doll. The water has marred my skin, perhaps permanently.”

You continued arguing about proper shower etiquette as you rubbed lotion into your skin (and then into Sirius’ for his troubles [he really was sort of red]), and changed into your comfies.

You headed towards the living room before you remembered you were sort of ashamed with yourself for the way you had spoken to the other two boys, but Sirius didn’t allow you to hesitate in the hall as he caught your elbow when your steps faltered and ushered you into the room.

“Boys, we’re really going to have to do something about her shower habits.” He commented as if a) nothing had happened, and b) you weren’t even there. “I’m surprised she hasn’t completely melted her skin off."

“Perhaps hot showers are how she gets so beautiful, Sirius, ever think about that?” James jested back, earning him an indignant scoff.

“Are you saying I’m not pretty, Jamie?”

“As pretty as Y/N?” Remus interjected, looking between the two of you as if assessing. “No, not at all.”

“Well I-” Sirius began, but you interrupted.

“I’m sorry.”

Everyone’s shoulders fell as they turned to look at you, clearly willing to brush over the tension if that had been what you wanted.

“I was rude and irritable when I got home, and neither of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James started, opening his arms for you which you readily accepted and tucked yourself into his chest.

“I was never mad to begin with, but I’ll go ahead and forgive you right now if that’ll make you feel better, okay?” He murmured into your wet hair.

“Okay. Thank you.” You murmured back.

“You’re too sweet for us, dove.” Remus commented, moving to place a consoling hand on your back.

“I was the opposite of that earlier.” You chuckled at your own expense.

“Please.” Sirius scoffed derisively. “These two are too nice, especially when you feel like shit; I’ve given them a far harder time than you have, dollface.”

“It’s true.” James said quickly. “He once told me he’d rather have a cup of tea with his mother than snuggle with me when he was in one of his moods once.”

You gasped and looked at Sirius in horror. “You did not.”

Sirius, not at all guilty, shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure did, and I meant it too.”

“Oh come off it.” Remus chided, pulling Sirius into his side who broke out in a grin, effectively eliminating his earnest facade.

“No, of course I didn’t mean it.” He relented, leaning further into Remus’ side.

“I don’t like myself very much when I’m like this.” You admitted quietly.

“We’ll love you enough for all of us in the meantime then, yeah?” James asked, pulling you into his arms tighter.

“Just be patient with yourself dove, you’re much too hard on yourself. We’re here now and we’ll be here when you feel better too.” Remus added.

“Can’t get rid of us that easily, dollface.” Sirius concluded, shooting you a wink.

Two steps forward and one step back.

But you were still one step forward.

You knew you would make two more steps forward again soon.

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fastandcarlos · 5 days

Text

Thousands Of Miles Apart : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: you and daniel aren't getting any younger, and yet you seem to find yourselves further and further apart on either sides of the world

There was no response from you as you heard the key finally go into the door to your apartment, hearing the sound of Daniel singing to himself. You remained where you were sat, staring down at the floor as his footsteps echoed throughout the place, a clear spring in his step, the complete opposite to how you were feeling beside him.

However, as Daniel walked in and noticed you sat on the sofa, a few candles lit around you, his heart dropped. The singing came to a stop, his footsteps became heavier as he slowly walked closely towards where you were.

There was no acknowledgement from you that he was there as Daniel sat in the seat opposite you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look across at him as you tried to stop the anger in the pit of your stomach from exploding.

“Babe,” Daniel whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get home so late, we were just testing and time just ran away from me.”

“Shut up, please, just shut up,” you asked of him, the harshness in your voice taking Daniel by surprise. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses anymore; I’m fed up of you treating me like I’m stupid with all of these reasons.”

It took a moment for Daniel to comprehend what you were saying, the anger in your voice leaving him dejected. “I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you by not coming home earlier, I should’ve let you know that I was going to be a while.”

“I don’t care about work Daniel; I care about the fact it’s another night away from each other.”

“I know, but we’re both so busy it’s hard to find time together.”

Your eyes rolled at how careless his voice was, shrugging his shoulders. With time so tricky to find, you were trying to find those pockets of time, however Daniel didn’t seem to be.

“We spend the majority of our days thousands of miles apart, but when we’re both at home we’re still apart too. What’s the point of doing this to ourselves when we’re just constantly away from each other?”

Daniel’s body tensed up as you finally looked across at him, your expression was emotionless, sending a shiver down his spine. “It’s not going to last forever, we’re trying our best, aren’t we? But sometimes things get in the way.”

“You’re really telling me this is you trying your best for me?”

Daniel’s head nodded, only to feel your eyes narrow in on him, questioning how honest he was being with you. “I’ve always put our relationship first; do you know how hard it is for me too when we’re so far away? It’s not like I want to live like this.”

At times it felt like you barely recognised the man in front of you anymore. The Daniel you knew at the start of your relationship would race halfway around the world if it meant getting to spend time with you, but now it felt he couldn’t even be bothered to walk half a yard for you, instead deciding to prioritise work instead.

Your eyes dropped as you struggled to hold back your emotion. “I can’t keep doing this Daniel, I don’t even feel like I’m in a relationship sometimes these days.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel whispered, “I hate that you feel that way. You know how much I love you sweetheart; I couldn’t imagine doing life without you by my side.”

“I love you as well,” you assured him, “but the fact we love each other can’t be the reason why we stay together. We have two very different, hectic lives, and although we always promised that wouldn’t get in the way, I can’t help but feel like now it is.”

You quickly wiped a tear away, hoping that Daniel wouldn’t see. However, as he stood up and moved himself to where you sat, placing his arms gently around your back, you knew that he had seen just how much you were struggling.

“Why does this feel like you’re breaking up with me?” Daniel stuttered. “I don’t ever want to make you feel like I’m not trying, or that I don’t care. I wish more than anything that you didn’t have to wait for me constantly, that I could be here whenever I want and spend my evenings cuddled up to you and not letting you go.”

“I don’t think I am,” you whispered, leaning a little closer into Daniel. “But I just don’t think I can carry on like this, it’s not healthy for either of us Daniel, this shouldn’t be the normal.”

Daniel pulled you even closer towards him, pressing a kiss against the top of your head, refusing to let you go. “I don’t care what I have to do, but I promise that I’m going to make some changes and make sure that I’m here for you, for us, more.”

Your head slowly nodded, you could hear the fear in Daniel’s voice, desperate to make sure that you knew just how serious he was about fixing you up and not losing what you had.

“I’ll do whatever to prove to you how much I want to make this work, even when we’re thousands of miles apart,” Daniel whispered. “I hate the fact that I ever made you doubt how I feel about you or made you feel like I didn’t care either.”

“Are you really serious about making this work again?”

Daniel’s head nodded without even having to think, he had never been so sure of anything in his life. “I can’t lose you, even if I made it seem like it’s not the case recently, I cannot stress enough that you really are everything to me.”

“It’s a relief to hear you say that, Daniel.”

He pressed a kiss against the side of his head, bringing his lips to your ear. “I love you, more than you could ever imagine, you’re the best.”

Your smile slowly turned up, resting your hands on Daniel’s arm that was around you. “I love you, that will never change.”

“You know, I miss us too, I always wish that we could go back sometimes and pause time.”

Despite seeming as if he didn’t care, Daniel did, more than anything. He hated whenever work told him to stay, or when his management called and told him they had plans for a deal which meant he had to be away from home for even longer.

“How about tomorrow we plan some time and organise some dates, we can do whatever you want and I promise that I’ll definitely show up for them too.”

Your head nodded at Daniel’s suggestion, relaxing into his hold as he leaned his head down to rest on top of yours.

“You can make me do whatever, it’s the least I can do for what I’ve put you through,” Daniel added, bringing a chuckle out of you.

“You might regret saying that you know with some of my ideas.”

Truthfully, he didn’t care, as long as it meant time with you then he was happy doing absolutely anything. “All I want is to be able to start creating memories with you again, no matter how stupid they end up being.”

“Making you look stupid is my speciality,” you teased in reply to him.

“Hm, I’m pretty good at doing it all by myself.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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its-avalon-08 · 2 months

Note

omg I love the protective Daniel post you just did, I feel like max would be so protective too, could I please request max and rival driver reader who always bicker but have undeniable tension..and after a race they’re celebrating at the club and mad max comes out seeing a really creepy guy hitting on her and manhandling her across the dance floor. Reader is a bit shaken up cause she hasn’t had things like that happen in a while since becoming more famous and the creepy guy was a lot bigger than her

and max drives her home and comforts her - I feel a hug from his big strong arms would fix all my problems lolz, maybe leading to some spice?? Thank you!!

hi bubs! im sorry im not super gr8 at writing spice so i didnt include any, myabe in the future! so sorry but hope u enjoy

hands. off. (mv1)

✦ pairing - max verstappen x female!driver!reader

✦ genre - enemies to lovers, angst, creepy guy, confessions, happy ending

The tension was palpable in the team garage as Max and Y/N prepared for the race. Mechanics bustled around, making final adjustments to the cars, while the two drivers stood on opposite sides, glaring at each other.

"You know, Max, just because you have a world championship doesn't mean you're invincible," Y/N said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she adjusted her gloves.

Max smirked, not looking up from his car. "And just because you're fast doesn't mean you're good enough to beat me. You should focus on keeping up."

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes flashing with anger. "Maybe if you stopped acting like you're the king of the track, you'd see that I'm right on your tail. You're not as untouchable as you think."

Max finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a challenging look. "I'll believe it when I see it, Y/N. Until then, you're just another driver trying to take my spot."

She crossed her arms, standing her ground. "You better watch out, Max. One mistake, and I'll be there to overtake you. And believe me, it'll happen sooner than you think. Until then fuck off."

Max's eyes narrowed. "Bring it on. Just don't cry when you can't handle the pressure."

Their team principal stepped in, sensing the rising tension. "Alright, you two, save it for the track. We need both of you focused if we're going to win today."

Max and Y/N exchanged one last glare before turning their attention back to their cars, the hostility between them lingering in the air.

post race

The race had been fierce, with Max narrowly edging out Y/N for the win. As they walked back to the garage, Y/N's frustration boiled over. She threw her helmet down in exasperation, drawing Max's attention.

"Nice job blocking me out there, Max. Real fucking classy," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger.

Max shrugged, a smug smile playing on his lips. "It's called defending my position. Maybe you should learn how to do it."

Y/N stepped closer, her fists clenched. "Or maybe you should learn to win without playing dirty."

Max's smile faded, replaced by a cold stare. "I play to win, Y/N. If you can't handle that, maybe you're in the wrong sport."

Y/N's heart raced, not just from anger but from the proximity. She could feel the heat radiating off him, their faces inches apart. "Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with proving you're the best, you'd realize you don't have to be such an asshole all the time."

Max leaned in, his breath hot on her face. "And maybe if you stopped trying to compete with me, you'd see that I actually respect you."

Y/N's eyes widened, the air between them crackling with tension. "Respect? You have a funny way of showing it, Max."

Max's gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her eyes again. "It's called tough love sweetheart. You wouldn't want it any other way."

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't need your respect."

Max's hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he held back. "Maybe not. But you have it, whether you like it or not."

The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, making her head spin. For a moment, all the anger and frustration seemed to morph into something else, something neither of them was ready to admit.

"Why do you always have to make everything so complicated?" Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max's voice softened, the hostility fading. "Maybe because I don't know how else to deal with you. You're... different."

Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "Different how?"

Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, the walls between them seemed to crumble. "Different in a way that scares me. And I don't scare easily."

The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard, and she felt a surge of emotion she couldn't quite name. Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, their bodies almost touching.

"Max..." she began, her voice trembling.

Before she could say anything more, Max leaned in, his forehead almost resting against hers. "Y/N, I..."

The moment was electric, the world around them fading away. For that brief second, all the rivalry, the anger, and the hostility melted into something raw and undeniable. But just as quickly, Max pulled back, the moment shattered and his rough facade was back up.

"We should get back to the team," he said, his voice hoarse.

Y/N nodded, her heart still racing. "Yeah. We should."

As they walked back to the garage, the tension between them was stronger than ever, but now it was laced with something more—something neither of them could ignore.

time skip

The club was alive with music and dancing, the perfect place to celebrate after a hard-fought race. Y/N tried to shake off the lingering tension from her earlier confrontation with Max, letting the music take over as she moved with her friends. But even in the crowded club, she could feel his eyes on her, a constant presence that sent shivers down her spine.

Max sat at the bar, nursing a drink, but his attention was entirely on Y/N. She danced with an easy grace, her movements drawing the eyes of everyone around her, but Max's gaze was different—intense, focused, and filled with the unresolved tension from their earlier confrontation.

As she danced, Y/N's eyes found Max's across the room. The connection was electric, the tension between them palpable. She locked eyes with him, her movements becoming more deliberate, more provocative, as if she was challenging him, daring him to react.

Max's grip tightened on his glass, his heart racing. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, locked in a silent, charged exchange. He wanted to go to her, to close the distance between them, but something held him back.

Suddenly, a large man approached Y/N on the dance floor, his intentions clear. He moved too close, his hands reaching out to touch her. Y/N tried to step away, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him with a force that made her stumble.

"What the fuck? Let go!" Y/N shouted, trying to free herself.

The man's grip tightened, his voice slurred with alcohol. "Come on, baby, don't be like that. Let's have some fun."

Panic flashed in Y/N's eyes. She was used to handling herself, but this man was larger and stronger, and the situation was spiraling out of control. She looked around for help, her gaze finally landing on Max.

Max's vision turned red as he saw the fear in Y/N's eyes. He pushed his way through the crowd, his protective instincts and anger flaring into his "Mad Max" persona.

"Get your hands off her," Max growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The man looked at Max, clearly unimpressed. "Who the hell are you?"

Max stepped closer, his glare icy. "I'm the fucking guy who's going to make sure you never touch her again. Now, let go."

The man sneered, but Max's cold fury was unmistakable. He released Y/N, but not before giving her a rough shove. She stumbled back, and Max caught her, pulling her close to him.

"You okay?" Max asked, his voice softening as he looked down at her.

Y/N nodded, but her eyes were wide, and she was clearly shaken. "Yeah, just... let's get out of here."

The man, not ready to back down, took a step towards them. "You think you can just walk away?"

Max turned back to him, his expression darkening. "I warned you."

Without another word, Max launched himself at the man, delivering a hard punch to his jaw. The man staggered back, and Max followed up with another punch, knocking him to the ground.

"Stay the fuck down," Max spat, his voice filled with anger.

The bouncers quickly moved in, grabbing the man and dragging him away. Max turned back to Y/N, his expression softening once again.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Let's get out of here."

The ride home was silent except for Y/N’s quiet sniffles. She stared out the window, her hands still trembling. The events of the night played over and over in her mind, and she couldn't shake the fear that had gripped her. She let out a silent sob, tears streaming down her face.

Max glanced over, his heart aching at the sight of her distress. Without saying a word, he reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Y/N looked at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She squeezed his hand back, drawing strength from his presence.

They drove in silence for a while longer before Max finally spoke. "You don't have to be scared anymore, Y/N. I'm here. I'll always be here."

Y/N nodded, unable to find her voice. The tears kept coming, and she leaned over, resting her head on Max's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as she sobbed into his shirt.

When they arrived at her apartment, Max turned off the engine and gently lifted her out of the car. She clung to him, too exhausted and shaken to protest. Max carried her inside, navigating the familiar path to her bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and sat beside her, brushing a stray hair from her face.

"Max," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was so scared."

Max's heart clenched. "I know. But you're safe now. That guy will never touch you again. I promise."

Y/N looked into his eyes, searching for the strength she always saw there. "Why are you always there for me? Even when we fight, even when we're at each other's throats, you're always there."

Max took a deep breath, his gaze intense. He wordlessly pulled her into a warm, protective hug. His strong arms enveloped her, pulling her close against his chest.

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, her voice a barely audible whisper. "I've dreamed about this."

Max’s heart skipped a beat. He held her tighter, his own emotions surfacing. "You’ve dreamed about this?"

She nodded, her voice muffled. "About being held like this… safe and cared for. I didn’t think it would ever actually happen."

Max tilted her chin up gently, looking into her eyes with a serious expression. "Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes filled with vulnerability. "What is it, Max?"

Max took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly. "I’ve been trying so hard to deny it, but I can’t anymore. I care about you more than I ever wanted to admit. The rivalry, the arguments—they’ve been a cover for what I really feel."

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and relief washing over her. "Max, I’ve felt the same way. I’ve been pushing you away because I was scared of these feelings. I didn’t want to admit how much you mean to me."

Max’s fingers brushed a tear from her cheek. "I’ve been so caught up in the competition and the fights that I didn’t realize I was falling for you. But now, seeing you like this, I can’t ignore it any longer."

Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. "It’s like everything else fades away when I’m with you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before."

Max’s gaze was intense, filled with affection. "You mean everything to me, Y/N. I don’t just want to win races with you; I want to be with you. I want to be the one who’s always there for you."

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. "I want that too, Max. I want us to be more than just rivals. I want us to be together, through everything."

Max’s smile was tender as he leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Then let’s make it real. Let’s be together."

Y/N nodded, her voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. I want that more than anything."

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss filled with all the emotions they had been holding back—passion, relief, and a deep, unspoken love. When they finally pulled away, their eyes locked, both of them knowing that their feelings were finally out in the open.

Max brushed a strand of hair from her face, his smile full of promise. "We have a lot to figure out, but we’ll do it together. I’m in this for the long haul."

Y/N nodded, her heart full. "Together. Always."

Max wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close as they lay down together, both of them finally at peace with the love they had discovered.

#formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #max verstappen imagine #red bull racing #y/n #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 x female reader #requests #ava speaks

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vanishingcherry · 1 year

Text

YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: this has been in my drafts for wayy to long, so ive decided to just finish it off and post it. im sorry lmao but i just couldn't watch this rot away in my wips any longer.

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

The video cut to you and Charles, sitting opposite each other in front of a yellow to red gradient, smiling at the camera.

"Hi! I'm YN", you say cheerfully.

"And I'm Charles"

"And we are here to take a couples quiz!"

You are handed a stack of questions from a person off screen, and turn towards Charles.

"Are you ready?"

"Is that the first question?" he retorts.

Your face drops, now showing slight annoyance but there is still a small smile you try to hide. "That's it. Minus 1 points."

"Oh c'mon! That is not fair."

You turn to argue but the video cuts to a different scene in which you ask the actual first question.

"What things do I have, of yours, that are my favourite?

He looks up in thought before chuckling and replying. "Theres a lot, you steal my stuff all the time."

You grin. "Yes, but what's my favourite?"

"My shirts? No wait! My bracelets?" He asks.

"Yeah!" you exclaim. Turning to the camera you add. "He gets so many bracelets from fans and they are all so pretty. We keep them in a bowl on our dresser so I like to take a few whenever I go out."

Looking back at Charles, you add. "You didn't know the answer, but you still got it right so I think you deserve half a point." The staff behind the camera gives you a thumbs up, noting it down for when they would edit the video.

"Ok! Next question- which song of yours is my favourite?"

He looks at you, his eyes widening with a confused expression on his face. He looks at the camera crew and then back at you.

"C'mon, I only have 2 it's not a very hard question."

"Then answer it." you reply, looking at him with a small smirk.

"Fine. Uh, AUS23."

"Wrong!" you exclaim, laughing at the way his jaw drops in surprise.

"Then what? I know its not Miami."

"Its the one you wrote for Baku." you slyly say, knowing fully well that he hadn't released it and you were possibly the only one other than him to have heard it.

You look down at the cards you had been given, reading off the next question. "What is the first thing I eat in the morning?"

You see his smirk growing in your peripheral vision and cut in before he answers. "If you dare make a joke, I will murder you."

He laughs at that, chuckling as he looks up to think. "Um. Breakfast? It's different things every morning, but if I wake up before her then I make cereal."

Noticing the evident confusion on the faces of the cameramen, you elaborate. "It's the only thing he's allowed to make without me present. The last time I let him cook alone, he burned the pancakes and half our kitchen."

Turning red at the story, he interrupts. "Okayy, next question amore."

"Which side of the bed do I sleep on?"

"Left."

"If I could get a tattoo of something, what would it be?"

"A bouquet of flowers. The flowers would be your favourite and my favourite together."

You are shocked at his response. "How did you remember that? I told you that ages ago!"

He smiles slyly to the camera. "That is why I am the best boyfriend, there is no need for these silly questions I am already the best. She told me so in be-"

"Right. Next question." You cut him off, eyes widening as you figure out where he was going with the statement. "This is the last one. If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Oh this is easy. Italy. You are always talking about how much you love it. But you also love Monaco and France so depending on how you feel, one of those three."

"Well.", you look at the camera, "I think that answer deserves 2 points." Handing your questions off to the side, you turn to Charles who has started reading the first of his questions.

"If I had a ticket to anywhere in the world, where would I go?" he reads. "This is similar to yours", he mutters.

"Home", you say confidently. "He's a mama's boy, tries to go back home as much as possible."

He blushes slightly before nodding to the camera. "Yup, 1 point."

"What was I wearing on our first date?"

You reply quick as lightening. "A shirt and pants. Very gentlemanly, I remember thinking, probably the best first impression I've had of a guy."

His eyebrows raise at the confession, cockily tilting his head in the direction of the camera. "You heard her! Next, what is something I hate?"

"A lot of things, Char."

"Is that your final answer, cherie?"

"Um." you pause. "Oh I know! When manipulate stuff that you say. It makes me really mad too. It gets really tiresome when they take stuff that Charles has said that turn into into a different story altogether."

"Thats true, I do hate that." He smiles at you, reaching over to squeeze your hand once to say thank you.

"How many kids do I want?"

"3, because you have 2 siblings. But, you said you want as many as I am comfortable with!"

"Of course, amour. You're the one whose going to be carrying them, your choice is more important here. What is something I get annoyed about?"

"Oh, when Seb and Carlos beat you at those Ferrari games you play."

His jaw drops in faux offence, shaking his head as he reads out the last question on his cue card.

"What is one my hidden talents?"

You look straight at the camera, not dissimilar to The Office. A smirk grows on your face and the lens zooms in. In the background Charles can be heard complaining.

"Oh I see! You can make these jokes, but I cant?"

The video cuts to the wider angle once again, you and Charles wave at the camera.

"Thanks for watching our couples quiz! I think it's clear that I've won."

Charles rolls his eyes, eyes shining with admiration and love for you. "Bye everybody."

Comments:

charleslover: OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE IT KILLS ME

ynandcharles: their facial expressions always kill me

username89: where do i get a charles leclerc bcs i will willingly offer all the money i have

doratheexplorer16: their love for each other hurts

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alesandraelin · 3 months

Text

𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚘 - 𝙾𝚗𝚊 𝙱𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Description: Y/n Bonmati and Ona Batlle have just moved back to Barcelona after their stints in opposite sides of Manchester, can they keep their relationship hidden?

*google translated spanish*

The summer sun bathed Barcelona in a golden glow as Y/n Bonmati stepped onto the lush green pitch of the Barcelona training grounds. It had been a whirlwind few weeks since she and her girlfriend Ona Batlle had returned to FC Barcelona Femeni, their beloved home club where their football journeys began. Y/n, who had made her name at Manchester City, and Ona, a star at Manchester United, had decided to come back to Barcelona.

"Finally back." Y/n breathed the Catalan air in deeply as her head fell onto Ona's shoulder as they watched the sun set over the pitch they hadn't trained on in years but loved so much.

"Finally home." Ona smiled as y/n's head fell comfortably onto her shoulder, she pressed a kiss into her girlfriend's temple as they sat on the turf.

Their love had blossomed quietly over the years, starting with shared glances on the field and late-night conversations after tough matches. It had been a secret kept tightly between them, not out of shame but out of a desire for privacy in a world where their every move was scrutinized. Now, back in Barcelona, they hoped to breathe freely again.

But old habits die hard, and the fear of judgment lingered. Especially from Y/n’s older sister, Aitana Bonmati. The midfielder had been the main pillar of support in Y/n’s life from when she just began at a grass roots club to when she joined La Masia, the Barcelona B team and then when she went to Manchester for experience. Aitana was perceptive, her eyes sharp and her intuition keen. Y/n feared her sister’s reaction the most, worried that their revelation might strain their close bond.

Their first few days back were a whirlwind of training sessions and team bonding activities. Y/n and Ona stole glances and brief touches whenever they could, their love simmering just beneath the surface as they navigated the watchful eyes of their teammates. The couple had made the decisions to have two apartments close enough to each other they could walk over at any point and stay there so that team mates and family who came over wouldn't question them living together, let alone sharing a bed.

The team decided that it should be Ona who would host team bonding night, Alexia really just wanted to see if the apartment hadn't been destroyed already. Y/n was already sitting on Ona's couch in an old Manchester city tracksuit when the rest of their teammates started making their way through the door to the apartment, loudly disrupting the young girls attempt to sleep.

"It is not time to sleep pequeña, we are here to have fun." Y/n was startled as Patri creeped behind and grabbed her shoulders.

"You only get louder Patricia." Y/n huffs, giving her friend a playful frown before pulling her down into a hug. "Missed you amiga."

"Good to have you back chica." Patri let her go and sat on a seat next to Pina.

The loud laughs of the older girls talking to Ona had Y/n turning her head. "Are you sure you haven't broken or burnt down something yet Oni? The place looks to... clean." Alexia questions Ona with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

Y/n engages in many conversations with the girls she grew up with in the academy as well as the girls she had never met throughout the night. She met Mapi's girlfriend Ingrid, who was super tall by the way and Ingrid's good friend Frido who was even taller. She caught up with her big sister who was currently the favourite to win the ballon d'or after her performance last season and during the World Cup the sister won together.

As it got later, the girls started to say their goodbyes and go back home. Aitana approached her little sister offering to take her back home. "It is alright Tana, I'm staying overnight with Ona, it's tradition to sleep over before we start the season remember." Y/n makes the excuse, reminding the older sister of the times y/n and Ona slept over at each others houses before the seasons began when in the youth teams.

"Only if you are sure hermana, te amo." Aitana said slightly suspicious but still said her goodbyes to her sister and Ona before heading home.

As all their guests had left, y/n let out a dramatic sigh and sat back down on the couch tiredly. Ona quickly joined her girlfriend, pulling y/n's legs over her lap before pressing a kiss to y/n's lips which she returned. "Come on amor, we have training tomorrow, bed time now."

"Yes please." Y/n replied, her girlfriend picking her up and taking them to bed to replenish before their first training session back with the team.

The next morning, under the bright Catalan sun, the team gathered for a rigorous training session. Jonatan gave instructions with his usual blend of authority and encouragement, setting the tone for the day’s drills. Y/n and Ona found themselves on the same team during a scrimmage, giving each other a smirk as they grabbed their bibs.

The scrimmage began the play went back and forth, Ona intercepting passes and y/n attempting to build forward on the wings. One mistake from Salma gave Ona the ball, she spotted y/n with wide space, the rest of the players being marked, she expertly delivered y/n the ball and the other team's defenders scrambled to keep up withy y/n. Y/n was one on one with Sandra who was that light bit off her line giving her the opportunity. She brang her foot back and gave the ball a powerful strike, ending in the back of the net.

Ona instantly came up to her girlfriend and pressed a kiss to her head and patted her back as the game continued. The interaction raised the eyebrows of Alexia, Patri, Mapi, Ingrid and Marta. Aitana's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she saw the kiss but brushed it off, the couple were nothing more than best friends in her eyes, they had always been that way.

Later that afternoon, during a break in training, Y/n and Ona found a quiet spot by the sidelines. Ona leaned against the fence, catching her breath, while Y/n stood beside her, a smile playing on her lips.

“You were brilliant out there,” Y/n complimented, brushing a stray lock of hair from Ona’s forehead.

Ona grinned, her eyes sparkling with pride. “You weren’t bad yourself, Bonmati. You always know how to surprise me.”

Y/n chuckled softly, leaning closer. “It’s all part of my plan to keep you on your toes.”

Ona’s laughter mingled with the sounds of the training ground, a melody that echoed the joy they felt in each other’s presence. She reached for Y/n’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m glad we’re back here,” Ona confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Y/n admitted, her gaze softening as she met Ona’s eyes. “It feels like we’re finally where we belong.” Their moment was interrupted by the approach of their teammates, laughter and banter filling the air. Y/n and Ona reluctantly let go of each other’s hands.

The whistle blew, marking the end of a thrilling match at Estadi Johan Cruyff. FC Barcelona Femeni had secured a decisive victory against Levante, thanks in part to Y/n Bonmati’s stellar performance – a goal scored and a perfectly executed assist to Caro that sealed the win. The stadium erupted in applause, fans chanting their names as the players made their way off the field.

Amidst the jubilation, Y/n and Ona Batlle lingered on the sidelines, caught up in the adrenaline rush of the game and the sweet taste of victory. Ona’s eyes sparkled with pride as she watched Y/n interact with their teammates, her heart swelling with admiration for the woman beside her.

"You played so well amor, it's like we never left." Ona said in y/n's ear, her mouth against her ear and her hands around the winger's waist.

"You did too cariño, so good to be back." y/n replied as she melted into the older girl's touch. "Let's go back to the dressing room." The two walked down the tunnel with Ona's arm around her shoulder and y/n's wrapped around Ona's torso.

Ona, her eyes glowing with pride and affection, couldn't resist pulling Y/n into a passionate kiss, unable to contain her joy and love for the woman who had just shone so brightly on the pitch.

Their lips met in a tender embrace, the taste of victory mingling with the sweetness of their love. They lost themselves in each other, oblivious to the world outside the dressing room, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of their shared passion

Unbeknownst to them, Marta and Alexia had returned early from their post-match interviews. They rounded the corner into the dressing room, laughter dying on their lips as they caught sight of Y/n and Ona locked in a tender kiss.

Marta's eyes widened in surprise, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Alexia stood frozen in place, her gaze alternating between the couple and the doorway, unsure of what to do next. The air crackled with tension as Y/n and Ona slowly pulled apart, their cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and affection.

"Marta, Alexia," Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "We... um..."

"I think we know what's happening pequeña." Alexia laughed slightly as Ona scratched the back of her head embarrassed. Marta stifling her laughter.

"I knew it, Caro owes me 10 euros." Marta laughed triumphantly. "We had a feeling," Marta admitted, her voice gentle yet firm. "But seeing you both like this... It's clear how much you mean to each other."

Alexia nodded in agreement, her expression softening. "You don't have to explain yourselves, Y/n, Ona. We're happy for you."

Before Y/n could respond, the locker room door swung open, revealing the rest of the team. The players filed in, their voices mingling with the echoes of celebration from outside. Asisat and Caroline exchanged knowing glances, while Pina and Patri whispered excitedly to each other.

Mariona, always one for drama, gasped dramatically. "Well, well, well! What do we have here?"

Y/n and Ona exchanged a sheepish look, their cheeks burning with embarrassment. Aitana, standing beside Keira, smirked at her sister's red face.

“You’re together,” Aitana stated, her voice a mixture of surprise and understanding.

Y/n nodded, her gaze steady. “Yes, Aitana. Ona and I are together.”

A silence settled over them, broken only by the distant sounds of celebration from the stadium outside. Aitana studied her sister’s face, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation. Instead, she found only a quiet resolve and a love that radiated from Y/n’s eyes.

After a moment that stretched into eternity, Aitana’s expression softened. She stepped forward, enveloping Y/n and Ona in a warm embrace. Tears pricked at the corners of Y/n’s eyes as relief flooded through her, the weight of secrecy finally lifted from her shoulders.

“I’m so happy for you both,” Aitana whispered, her voice filled with genuine joy. “You deserve every happiness hermana.” Aitana told her sister before looking to Ona. "And you, treat her good or else." Aitana tried to be intimidating as she looked up to Ona who stood a few inches taller.

"Don't worry Aita, she's mi amor, I will never hurt her." Ona laughed at her girlfriend's sister.

As the two lovers were left as the rest of the team changed out of their kits, they remained seated on the bench, arms wrapped around each other. "Te amo mucho Oni." Y/n whispered in Ona's ear.

Ona brought her head down to peck y/n's lips. "Te amo mucho más, cariño".

#woso x reader #woso #ona batlle #fcb femení #barcelona femeni #aitana bonmati #alexia putellas

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aquaquadrant · 4 months

Text

from eden, part X

Word count: 10,825 Warnings: Language, violence, blood/injury, victim blaming, self-deprecation, fictional racism, discussion of past abuse, temporary death Summary: After an unwise decision, Tango and Jimmy find themselves in Hels, at odds, and up against an old foe seeking revenge. But as everything comes to a boil, Tango realizes he must finally confront his past if he has any hope of saving his future.

A/N: Hey y’all, thanks so much for ur patience. Didn’t mean for this to take so long, I’ve been dealing w some health issues, but I’m doing way better now and on break from school so here we are. I hope u enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part X - no ‘who cares,’ no vacant stares, no time for me

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player stares at his soulmate in shock.

Tango could’ve sworn Jimmy was asleep. He checked, he checked multiple times to make sure Jimmy was well and truly unconscious before slipping out of bed. And he’d been so careful about it, moving so slowly and quietly to ensure Jimmy wasn’t woken up. All he’d needed was for Jimmy to keep sleeping for not even five minutes- just long enough for Tango to sneak downstairs, grab the supplies he’d secretly prepared earlier, go through the portal, and break it from the other side.

Yet here they are.

The abrupt silence after their mutual outburst is blanching. There’s almost a static feeling to it, like electricity gathering in the air before a lightning strike. All of Tango’s previous thoughts have flown clean out of his brain. He can only stare at Jimmy, forehead stinging, mouth slightly parted as he struggles to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Jimmy looks similarly disoriented. He sits in a heap in front of the portal, bathed in the green-yellow-red light, his wings splayed out around him. His nose is scrunched up- still wincing from the pain of Tango’s forehead smacking into his chin, most likely. The recently-obtained scar across the newly-formed bump on the bridge of his nose stands out in sharp contrast against his other, more familiar, features. He said it didn’t bother him, but Tango feels a stab of guilt every time he looks at it. Even now, it’s a reminder of the pain Tango’s brought him. Of how Tango’s failed him.

Jimmy recovers first.

“What am I- what are you doin’ here?!” he cries, rising to his feet.

Realization dawns on Tango as he finally grasps the reality of this impossible scenario he’s found himself in.

Jimmy’s here. In Hels. Jimmy is in Hels. Jimmy is in Hels. Oh. Oh no, oh that’s the opposite of what Tango wants. This is bad. This is really, really bad. This is a whole heap of bad with extra badness on top. Jimmy can’t be in Hels, he should never be in Hels.

“Tango,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward, “are you listenin’ to me?”

Tango jumps to his feet, heart pounding. He quickly scans their surroundings- still no players to be seen, though some of those magma cubes in the distance are getting close. He knows they’re on borrowed time; there’s at least two players in this world who are bound to notice his arrival in chat, and the clock’s ticking.

“Tango?” Jimmy says again, uncertainty leaking into his voice. “You alright?”

Adrenaline floods Tango’s body. He feels hyper aware, like all his senses are in overdrive- his skin is prickling with heat, and if it weren’t for the wither rose collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be swirling around in a defensive inferno.

He needs to get Jimmy out of here.

Despite their difference in height, Tango’s strong enough that he could probably push Jimmy back into the portal. He’d have the element of surprise, initially. But Jimmy’s build isn’t just for show- Tango would have a hard time keeping him in the portal for the few crucial seconds required to teleport. He might even get teleported back, himself.

So instead of attempting brute force, Tango stalks forward- though not close enough to be grabbed- flattens his ears, bares his teeth, and hisses.

“Go home,” Tango hisses lowly. “Right. Now.”

That seems to take Jimmy aback. He raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “Ex-cuse me?” he demands, putting his hands on his hips. “Now, hang on-”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Tango interrupts, his voice catching somewhere between anger and desperation. “This is-”

“You shouldn’t be here! What-”

“You’re not safe here-”

“- tryin’ to- well, neither are you!”

“- and you need to go back!”

“I’m not goin’ back without you!” Jimmy gives up on trying to keep his voice down, wings flaring out in agitation. “I thought we were in this together! I- god, Tango, we want to help you, we all just wanna help-”

“It’s not your problem!” Tango snaps, his temper rising. “Alright? It was my mistake that brought Bravo and Hels Tek to our door, you- why should you have to deal with it? What, just ‘cause we got randomly assigned to be soulmates? You didn’t sign up for all this!”

Jimmy’s expression darkens. “Yes, I did, that’s what it means to be a partner.” He reaches for Tango’s arm. “Tango, I love you-”

“I know!” Tango jerks away. “I know that, okay? But you- did it ever occur to you that maybe I love you, too? Maybe I don’t want you to put yourself at risk fighting my battles for me? Because I love you?” He rakes his claws through his hair, a mirthless laugh escaping him. “Is that- did that happen to cross your mind? That maybe for once I- I did something ‘cause I love you and not ‘cause I hate myself? Maybe I could do the selfless act of love every now and then? I mean, is that- is that so hard to believe?”

Jimmy stares at him for a moment, brown eyes blown wide. Even in the absence of their soulbond, Tango can tell he’s hurt.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jimmy says finally, voice quiet. “I know you love me. Of course I know you love me. But Tango, honestly- can you honestly tell me that this decision wasn’t- that- that it had absolutely nothing to do with feelin’ like you deserve to be here?” he asks desperately. “No influence on your decision at all? Not a- a single part of you that thinks it’d be okay if you got trapped here again, suffering forever? Not even the slightest bit?”

Shit.

Tango sets his jaw. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Jimmy repeats, disbelieving. “Of course it does-”

“No, I don’t- you need to leave!”

“I’m not leavin’ you, I mean it!”

“I already told you, I don’t want-”

“Tango, please.” Jimmy holds out his hand. He looks close to tears. “Let’s go home. We’ll figure this out, alright?”

Tango swallows back a frustrated whine; he doesn’t have time for this. Atlas has no doubt already noticed his arrival, and he still needs to find Bravo. And the longer they stand here loudly arguing in front of an active portal, the greater the risk of discovery. It’s already a miraculous stroke of luck that the portal spawned in an uninhabited area.

Jimmy can’t force Tango back through the portal any more than Tango can force him. Besides, starting a physical fight with Jimmy would probably be his breaking point. This is hard enough already. He spends a precious second to take in Jimmy’s face; the thin line his mouth has pressed into, the tears brimming in his eyes, the scar across his crooked nose.

Then Tango turns on his heel and sprints away.

It’s a last-ditch effort kind of gambit. He’s hoping that if he loses Jimmy in the basalt delta, Jimmy won’t know what else to do but go back through the portal for help. And once he does, Tango can swoop in and break it. Problem solved.

There’s a surprised shout behind him. Wing beats fill the air as Jimmy takes flight. But Tango’s head start has already allowed him to reach the first outcropping of basalt, pock-marked with pools of lava. Without breaking stride, he leaps up onto the ledge of stone-

Only for his foot to catch on a tripwire.

Pistons go off while he’s still mid-jump. The ground opens up into a black pit beneath him. His claws scrape uselessly against the lip of basalt and suddenly he’s falling, stomach lurching, too shocked to even call out as wind whistles by his ears and he plummets into the darkness below, Jimmy’s voice screaming after him.

“Tango!”

Traps. He forgot to look for traps.

Weightless, Tango struggles to right himself. The hole is pitch black and it’s disorienting, wavering light from his dim blaze rods flickering against the walls. His mind races frantically. Even if he could pull a block from his inventory and place it down under him- and he’s not sure that he could, at the speed he’s falling- the damage would kill him anyways. No, better to see how this ends. If he’s dumb enough to fall for a trap, he should at least give it the satisfaction of killing him as intended.

Although, Tango’s been falling for more than a couple seconds and he hasn’t hit anything yet. That’s unusual. Few trappers care to dig holes this deep when a shallow pit of lava will have the same result. Maybe death isn’t the goal here. Maybe-

Light, somewhere down below. As it gets closer, Tango thinks he can see the walls of the hole open up into a larger room. But the bottom still goes down- into a pit of cobwebs. So that’s it. The trap was designed to capture players, not kill them. But why-

“Tango!”

Jimmy’s voice echoes wildly in the tunnel. Tango glances back over his shoulder to see Jimmy diving towards him, arms stretched forward and wings flattened, body straight as an arrow.

Tango doesn’t currently have the breath to call out to him. If he did, it’d probably be something along the lines of, ‘No no no no no, why did you follow me, you idiot!’ and that wouldn’t be very constructive.

Jimmy hooks his arms underneath Tango’s, snaps his wings out, and takes them sailing out through the gap in the tunnel.

The abrupt swerve makes Tango’s stomach drop. Jimmy barely manages to avoid taking them directly into a wall, wings flaring, wind whipping around them. They tumble into an ungraceful- but not deadly- landing, tangled up in a pile of limbs.

The room they’ve flown into is large but rather crude, carved out of the netherrack and deepslate that make up the deepest levels of Hels- more of a cavern, really. A few scattered torches along the walls provide the room’s only lighting, and they’ve landed among a collection of haphazardly-placed chests- a chest monster to rival Scar’s. The center of the room is occupied by the hole at the bottom of the dropchute. Beyond it is something that makes Tango’s blood run cold.

Half of the room is covered in elaborate redstone circuitry, feeding into an empty portal frame. It’s an eerily similar setup to their own portal, and Tango is at once certain he knows who this base belongs to.

He processes this all in the couple seconds it takes him to get on his feet. Jimmy’s still crumpled beside him, uninjured but disoriented. Shit. He hadn’t planned to have Jimmy with him for this confrontation and it has him on edge, his skin crawling. The room’s empty right now, but he can’t see another way out except back up through the dropchute- it’s a precarious place to be in. He doesn’t like what being backed into a corner does to him.

“Ugh,” Jimmy groans softly, pushing himself upright. “Not one’a my better landin’s…”

“Shh,” Tango hisses.

Jimmy frowns at him, rising to his feet. “Tango, can you just-”

“Quiet!” Tango urges, gaze flicking around the room. Their sudden presence doesn’t seem to have set off any alarms, but there’s no telling what the trap was hooked up to-

Ca-clunk.

Tango’s ears prick at the sound of more pistons. He whirls around, hackles rising, to see part of the adjacent wall open up.

“Well,” Bravo says, stepping into the room, “isn’t this convenient?”

Tango had been mentally preparing himself to see his doppelgänger again, but he’s still taken aback at the state Bravo’s in. His hair and clothes are wild and unkempt, the stains on his shirt indistinguishable between redstone and blood. There’s a weariness about him, like he hasn’t slept in days, yet every muscle in his body is tense, his bruised knuckles gripping a netherite sword. Most striking, however, is his face; his green eyes are so bloodshot they’re almost red, and heavily lined with dark circles that- in a bizarre way- resemble wither stains.

So for a moment, it’s like Tango’s looking in a mirror.

It passes quickly. Tango forces the tension from his body, holding up his hands. “Take it easy, alright, I just wanna talk.”

“I?” Bravo tilts his head to the side, taking another step forward as the wall closes up behind him. “Uh, it looks like- looks to me like there’s two of you, pal.” His gaze cuts over to Jimmy, and his mouth quirks into a grin- hard and humorless. “Good to see ya, Jimmy.”

Tango bristles. “Leave him out of this,” he says lowly, stepping in front of Jimmy. “He wasn’t supposed to come.”

Jimmy makes a noise of protest. “Hang on-”

“Ohh, oh okay,” Bravo says, nodding slowly, “I- I see what this is. This is- hah, wow, this is kinda perfect.” He begins to pace in front of them, idly twirling his sword in his hand; there’s an unsettling air about him. “Lemme guess, you uh- you intended to come here alone, but your soulmate had other ideas?”

He spits the word like an insult. Tango feels his lip curl. “None of your business.”

“Oh? It’s not?” Bravo barks out a laugh- a sharp contrast to the enraged look in his eyes. “Well, you’re in my fucking house, so, you know. Forgive my curiosity.”

Anger flares inside Tango; he pushes it down. “Look, I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot-”

“You fucking think?”

“Enough!” Jimmy shouts, wings flaring as he throws an arm out in front of Tango. “Bravo, listen to me. I don’t like you, alright, but we aren’t here to fight.”

“Obviously.” Bravo actually rolls his eyes. “I can- I can piece it together well enough, okay. You figured that you could come rescue me from Hels, and then I- everything will be peachy-keen, right? I mean, if- if you wanted me to stay here, you wouldn’t have opened a portal. Except this one,” he stops his pacing, leveling his sword at Tango, “got it in his thick head that it was somethin’ he needed ‘to do alone.’ So he snuck off by himself, on a solo mission of noble, stupid self-sacrifice, in the hopes that it’d make up for what he did-”

“Shut up,” Tango growls.

“- and that it’d keep you safe. Right?” Bravo’s voice drips with malice. “Except poor Jimmy’s too good to let you take the fall alone so he followed you here, right into my trap.”

“So what?” Tango demands with a bravado he doesn’t feel. Truthfully, Bravo’s words have opened a pit in his stomach; he hates that Bravo has seen through him so clearly. “What, I mean- you want a trophy for figuring it out? And- and why set a trap for us if your plan was clearly to get out through a portal of your own?”

Bravo scowls. “That trap wasn’t for you, actually. It’s for the damn mercenaries that’ve been comin’ after us since I split from Hels Tek.”

Jimmy frowns. “Us?”

Bravo’s face twitches. “Wh- me. Whatever.”

“You split from Hels Tek?” Tango asks, furrowing his brows. He knew Atlas and Bravo had fought back on Double Life, but he wasn’t sure if that’d be enough to make Bravo willingly take on Hels by himself.

Bravo snorts. “Yeah, I- I uh, I don’t take kindly to bein’ stabbed in the back, but Atlas still wanted a portal and wasn’t gonna take no for an answer, so.”

Tango would laugh at the irony, if he didn’t feel so sick to his stomach. “Wow,” he drawls, still unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, “so it turned out Atlas only cared about you as far as he could exploit you? Imagine that.”

Clearly, he’s touched a nerve. “Shut up,” Bravo snaps.

“Watch it,” Jimmy snaps back.

Unbothered, Tango glances around the cavern. “So wait, you- it’s only been like, what, a- a couple weeks since you respawned here, how- where did you get all these supplies?”

“Eh, found a new sponsor.” Bravo shrugs. “You know, I was probably only a few more days away from gettin’ my portal up and running ‘til you guys showed up. But it worked out nice this way, right?” There’s a manic light in his eyes. “I- I was gonna get my vengeance on you once I got back to the overworld, but instead, we can do it right now.”

That’s all the warning he gives before he attacks.

He’s fast, faster than Tango’s expecting. It’s all he can do to shove Jimmy out of the way, diving into a roll that brings him quickly back to his feet. He only brought one sword; he pulls it from his inventory and throws it to Jimmy without a second thought, because he doubts Jimmy prepared at all before coming through the portal and swords have always felt clumsy in his hands. There’s a reason traditional PVP has never been his strong suit.

The sword has barely left his grasp before Bravo’s springing at him again.

Screech!

Tango brings his claws up in time to catch Bravo’s blade between them. The force of the blow shudders through his arms. Bravo’s strong, too- stronger than Tango would think for a non-hybrid version of himself.

“Stop it!” Tango huffs. “We don’t wanna fight you!”

“Too bad!” Bravo sneers.

Well, if that’s what he wants. Tango ducks under the sword and brings a hand up to slash at Bravo’s face. Bravo disengages, darting backwards, out of reach- he readjusts his grip for another swing.

“Hey, lay off!”

Jimmy charges into the fray; Bravo pivots mid-swing to block Jimmy’s blade, the clang of metal reverberating through the cavern. He leans into the movement, bringing his leg up to deliver a swift kick to Jimmy’s side.

With a pained grunt, Jimmy stumbles, off-balance. Bravo raises his sword to slash again- but Tango rushes him, forcing him back. Claws swipe through empty air.

“Gotta do better than that,” Bravo tuts, flicking his sword out to nick Tango’s cheek.

The sharp pain and sudden scent of blood is disorienting. Tango lunges forward almost blindly, a snarl catching in the back of his throat. Rage bubbles inside him, and he can feel his fire trying to respond- but with the wither rose in his system, it’s like throwing a match into a well.

Bravo deftly steps around him. “There’s that famous Tango temper again!” he taunts. “Go on, show us exactly how much of a monster you are.”

The words sober Tango instantly. He swallows back his rage; the last thing he wants to do is lose control like he did back at the ranch, especially when Jimmy could get hurt. His fire may be dampened, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

Then his ears twitch at a furious shout- Jimmy surges into the air, wings beating, and swoops down at Bravo. “Don’t you dare call him that!”

In the same moment, Tango moves to block Bravo’s escape route, aiming for his hands in an attempt to disarm him.

But Bravo’s ready for them both.

He ducks beneath Tango’s claws and side-steps Jimmy’s attack, jabbing the pommel of his sword into Tango’s gut as a parting blow. Wings flailing, Jimmy pulls up short to avoid slamming into Tango- and yelps as Bravo’s sword cleaves a handful of feathers into the air.

“Come on!” Bravo goads them. “That the best you can do?”

Tango hadn’t gotten much of a chance to actually observe Bravo fight during the Hels Tek invasion, and he’s sorely regretting it now. It’s clear Bravo’s got more experience with PVP than either of them. And not the type of casual sparring between friends, but genuine life-or-death fighting- fast, messy, and brutal. Even being two against one isn’t helping them much; Bravo keeps on the move, twisting through and around them with a practiced ease that leaves them struggling not to accidentally hit each other.

A detached part of Tango’s mind runs through their options. Being killed and ending up at the world spawn would be the worst-case scenario; they’d basically be gift-wrapped for Atlas to come snatch up. But he doesn’t think joining through a hacked portal would reset their spawns; after all, the Hels Tek invaders wound up back in Hels after they were killed. Of course, he’d rather not find out for certain. And if he ends up respawning back to Double Life, his entire goal in coming here alone goes up in smoke. He won’t get another chance at this- the other Double Lifers will insist on putting themselves in danger to help him, ‘cause they’re annoyingly kind like that, and everything will turn into a big flaming ball of disaster.

So it’s really in his best interest not to get killed right now.

Except, he can’t help but notice that Bravo actually doesn’t seem to be trying to kill them. Most of what he’s aiming for are non-vital structures- arms, legs, Jimmy’s wings. When he does land an attack above the belt, it almost seems like he’s holding back, leaving only shallow gashes or a blunt hit with a skillfully thrown fist, knee, or elbow.

And despite clearly being the superior fighter, he’s mainly staying on the defensive. He isn’t taking nearly as many swings as he could. It’s an endurance game, Tango realizes- he’s trying to tire them out. But why? He’s on his own, it’s not like he’s stalling for reinforcements. There’s nowhere for them to go. That is, nowhere except-

Tango’s gaze falls on the pit at the bottom of the dropchute.

Oh. Oh, that’s-

Wham!

Pain explodes through Tango’s skull.

Bravo’s taken advantage of Tango’s brief lapse in concentration, landing a solid punch on the side of his face. It’s enough to make him black out for a moment, every thought in his brain screeching to a halt. When he comes back to himself, his cheek is pressed against the floor, made warm and sticky with his pooling blood. There’s a faint ringing in his ears- above it, he can barely make out the sound of swords clashing somewhere in front of him.

Tango manages to lift his head, blinking spots from his vision.

Bravo is driving Jimmy back- back towards the center of the room where the pit is. Tango opens his mouth to scream a warning, but he’s too late. As they near the edge of the pit, Bravo suddenly steps under Jimmy’s guard, hooking a leg behind Jimmy’s foot as one hand comes up to twist his sword out of his grip. Bravo’s other arm slams against Jimmy’s chest, knocking him off-balance.

Jimmy falls backwards with a shout, into the pit of cobwebs. He doesn’t fall very deep, of course- that’s not how cobwebs work. But he is immediately stuck, wings and limbs straining as he slowly begins to sink.

“Jimmy!” Tango cries, his heart jolting.

Oh, this is bad. Getting out of cobwebs without a sword, while slowly falling through them, will be almost impossible. Especially since Jimmy’s feathers are particularly prone to sticking to that stuff and every movement will cause him pain as he pulls on them.

“There.” Satisfied, Bravo stows Jimmy’s sword in his inventory before turning back to Tango. “Now we can finally finish this.”

“No!” Jimmy pleads desperately from the pit, already disappearing from view. “Leave ‘em alone!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill him,” Bravo tuts as he approaches Tango. “That- I mean, that’d just send you back home, right? Hacked portals don’t do the whole spawn reset-ification thing, as it turns out.” He shakes his head. “No, I- what I’m gonna do is arrange a little meeting with our old buddy Atlas to come pick you up, okay, and- and then I’ll finally get him off my back and be able to leave this fucking place for good.”

Terror shoots through Tango. If Atlas comes here, with Jimmy trapped like this…

Head pounding, Tango struggles to get to his feet. “Y- you don’t have to do this,” he says weakly. “I know I messed up, a- and I’m sorry, okay? But Jimmy had nothin’ to do with it, he- you have to let him go, please.”

Bravo’s lip curls. “I’m not gonna let Atlas get him. Believe it or not, I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let another overworlder get trapped here.”

Despite the severity of the situation, the offended disdain in his tone makes Tango snort. “Oh, sorry, uh- excuse me for thinkin’ you’d ever do such a terrible thing,” he rasps. “I- I mean, you can’t blame me, right? You- it’s not like you’ve made a great impression.”

Bravo’s eyes darken with anger, and then his fist is in Tango’s stomach. The punch makes Tango double over, gasping for breath- then a well-placed kick throws him back against the wall, pain crashing through his ribs.

“What’re you doin’?!” Jimmy’s panicked voice sounds from the pit- he’s sunken far enough down that he can’t see them anymore. “Don’t hurt him!”

Bravo ignores him, stalking forward to grab Tango by the front of his shirt. “You’re one to talk, you piece of shit,” he hisses in Tango’s face, reeling back for another hit.

Crack.

This one lands the hilt of his sword against Tango’s jaw. Bravo drops him to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Tango!” Jimmy’s scream sounds far away.

Everything is pain. With no small amount of effort, Tango pushes himself upright, breathing raggedly through his nose. He can feel blood trickling down his chin from his split lip, can taste it stained against his teeth. His head aches. His body is shaking. There’s a cold pit of dread in his stomach, and he knows that he’s lost this fight.

But more than that, deep down, there’s the realization that maybe… he always expected to.

(It’s not like coming here without Jimmy would’ve changed the outcome. No matter what Tango said or did, Bravo was always going to react this way- why would Tango think anything different? Despite his intention to extend the olive branch, he knows Bravo wouldn’t have been satisfied to just let bygones be bygones.

Truthfully, Tango had been prepared for this the moment he saw that red light fill their portal. Bravo had nailed it right at the start; this was always going to be a mission of self-sacrifice. If giving himself up meant placating Bravo and Hels Tek, if it meant that the people he cared about would be safe, then Tango had been willing to accept it. Even if it meant going back to the farm for the rest of his life.

He’s already had ten years in the sun. That’s more than anyone else in Hels got.)

Bravo looms over him, a mad, triumphant grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna spend the rest of your days in that farm where you belong,” he says lowly, “and out of the life you stole from me. You’re nothin’ but an evil monster, and it’s what you deserve.”

A strange feeling settles over Tango.

It’s like déjà vu, to sit here and listen to his doppelgänger repeat all the horrible things Tango’s believed about himself almost his entire life, all the things he’s told himself in the mirror time and time again. It’s his words spoken in his voice out of an eerily similar face, as if all his deepest insecurities have taken form.

It’s achingly, hauntingly familiar. Like a knife tracing over old scars.

And yet, there’s something odd about hearing it from another person. To hear such hatred and conviction in that voice, to see it so plainly in his eyes. Tango’s well aware that there are plenty of players who feel the same way- not just about him, but other hostile mob hybrids, too. He’s no stranger to prejudice; he’s noticed the wary looks and distrustful glares he’s gotten on public multiplayer worlds before.

Hell, Atlas is attempting to build an empire on the very concept of oppressing hybrids, and he’s had plenty of help to do it. Not just his fellow redstone scientists, but sponsors and buyers, too. Lots of players have reason to want Tango in a farm, to exploit and degrade him. But only because they would profit from it- otherwise they wouldn’t bother wasting so much time and energy on him. Sure, Atlas probably hates him to some degree, and is indifferent at best to all the pain he’s been caused. But Tango’s also certain that if he weren’t useful, then Atlas wouldn’t give him a second thought. If he couldn’t be farmed, Atlas would never have come after him in the first place. It’s all about ambition with Atlas; he wouldn’t waste time on petty revenge schemes.

Bravo, on the other hand, stands to gain absolutely nothing from this except the satisfaction of knowing Tango is suffering. How strange, that the only player to ever really demonstrate that desire isn’t even from Hels.

And with that thought, everything falls into place.

Tango wheezes out a laugh, though he immediately regrets it- fuck, his ribs. “So that’s where I get my sadism from! Good to know, good to know.”

The smirk drops off Bravo’s face. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Tango wipes the blood from his face. “I mean, I- we- we’ve established that I’m just a uh, a physical manifestation of all the evil parts of you, yeah? That’s what Hels are? Well, if that’s true, then every bad thing about me is somethin’ I got from you.” He grins, despite the pain of his split lip. “Can’t pour from an empty bottle, right?”

Bravo balks at him. “No, that’s not- it’s different,” he argues. “It’s- this is justified, you took everything from me-”

“So now you’re gonna do the same?” Tango raises his eyebrows. Bracing a hand against the wall, he slowly rises to his feet. “Funny, I- I thought that you were supposed to be a better person than me.”

“I am!” Bravo insists angrily.

Tango shrugs. “Well, you sure ain’t actin’ like it, skippy.”

That seems to take Bravo aback. “I- I don’t-” He rakes a hand through his hair, his breathing quickening. “It’s- it’s you, it’s this fucking place, it’s- I don’t know, it’s every-fucking-thing that’s happened in the last ten years! I- I didn’t deserve this, I didn’t do anything to deserve getting sent here!”

“Hold on, what makes you think I did anything to deserve gettin’ sent here?” Tango asks, genuinely curious. “I was spawned here as a child, I mean, what- what could a child possibly do to ‘deserve’ spawning here? What could any of us have done to deserve this?”

Ooh, Bravo doesn’t like that question. “I don’t know,” he splutters, “I didn’t make you spawn here! That was the universe, it- it must know that you- all you Hels- you’re just destined to be bad.”

Tango tilts his head. “Yeah? If that’s the case, then uh, why did the universe send you here?”

Bravo makes a sound like he’s been punched. “What?”

“I didn’t make that portal. You didn’t make that portal. We all know that the universe makes portals to Hermitcraft so why-”

“Stop it! It was a mistake! A glitch! I- I was never meant to come to Hels, you-”

“Then how has every other Hermit joined without having the same problem? Huh? Why you? Why us?”

“Shut up!” Bravo cries, almost desperate. “I’m the one in the right, here!”

“Says who?” Tango asks.

“I just- I have to be in the right!” Bravo protests, throwing an arm out. “I- I’m not like you, I’m not a Hels, I’m supposed to be the good one. If I’m mad, if I wanna hurt someone, it has to be justified, ‘cause I’m not- I’m not cruel.”

Tango just looks at him.

Bravo seems to recognize the irony in his words. It hits him almost like a physical attack; he staggers, eyes widening, face twisting with rage. “Don’t you dare fucking judge me!” he shouts as he raises his sword accusingly at Tango, voice echoing off the cavern walls. “I’m just- I did what I had to do to survive, and- and it ruined me. This world ruined me, and it’s all your fault, you bastard!”

They’re hollow accusations, built from hurt and deflected blame. But it doesn’t occur to Tango to defend himself against them. He couldn’t if he wanted to; all he can do is watch Bravo in stunned silence.

Even without the ability to set himself ablaze, Bravo’s rage is a terrible thing to behold. Tears stream down his reddened face; a mixture of fury and despair, raw and ugly. “It’s not fair!” he wails, almost a breathless scream. “Why did you get to be saved? Why did I have to take your place? What- what did I do?”

He takes another step closer, drawing his sword back, and Tango is suddenly struck by the very real possibility that Bravo is about to kill him.

“You did this to me!” Bravo snarls, wild-eyed and heaving for breath. “You and e- everyone else in th- this fucking hellscape, you- you did this, you-!”

Bravo lifts his sword for the killing blow-

And then he pauses. He stares at Tango, and Tango stares back.

“... fuck. What am I doing?”

Bravo stumbles back from Tango, lowering his sword. He clutches his head with his free hand, a few stray tears streaking down his face as he struggles to control his breathing. His anger seems to have extinguished, finally letting the pain seep through- an expression that Tango knows as intimately as his own reflection.

Tango blinks.

It’s a complicated rush of emotions. Bravo represents the worst part of Tango’s life coming back to haunt him; his skeleton in the closet. Fueled by prejudice and misplaced blame, he fought tooth and nail to destroy the life Tango had built for himself, brought pain and hardship to a world of strangers who’d done nothing to deserve it. He made a deal with a devil to get what he wanted and didn’t care who got caught up in the crossfire. Most of all, despite having a viable way to escape Hels peacefully, he doggedly pursued revenge out of nothing but spite and a twisted sense of justice.

Logically, Tango should hate Bravo as much as Bravo hates him.

But for the first time, Tango tries to imagine what it must’ve been like to be trapped in Hels for ten years and not knowing why.

What Bravo went through is exactly what Tango’s always feared since he escaped; that one day his luck would run out, and he’d lose everything. His peaceful life in the overworld. His freedom. His friends, and the love he found with Jimmy- maybe Bravo had people he cared about before, too. Worst of all, Bravo had already experienced the wonders of the wider universe before having it abruptly taken from him.

Tango had been spawned into cruelty and suffering. He hadn’t known anything different, hadn’t known there was anything beyond Hels that he was missing out on. But Bravo did. Bravo knew what it was to travel between worlds, to explore untainted horizons, to live under the warmth of the sun. He knew cooperation and goodwill between players, the comfort and safety of solo worlds. And then suddenly, he’d been deprived of it all, with no way of knowing if he’d ever get it back.

So if Atlas told him that it wasn’t his fault, that he could blame it all on some mysterious, evil doppelgänger… Tango understands why he’d cling to the notion so fiercely.

It’s an easy thing to blame someone else. Accepting that Tango isn’t to blame for what he’s become means accepting that maybe his understanding of Hels players is flawed, and that he might not have been as good of a player as he thought to begin with. Accepting that Tango wasn’t to blame for stranding him in Hels in the first place would mean accepting that maybe… there wasn’t a reason at all. And that kind of acceptance is paramount to altering his entire worldview.

Tango’s been through that himself, once. It wasn’t a fun process. So right now, watching Bravo fall apart in front of him, he finds that all he can feel is sympathy.

So Tango summons enough strength to step forward and wrap Bravo in a hug.

Bravo recoils at first; the kind of instinctive flinch that Tango knows all too well. A noise catches in his throat- part alarm, part disgust. “What’re you-” He tries to push away, but Tango holds fast.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers. “You didn’t deserve it.”

Bravo freezes.

The air is still and silent around them, filled with nothing but the faint flickering of torches and Bravo’s shrill breathing. He’s as rigid as stone in Tango’s embrace- his muscles are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. After a few moments, he inhales sharply, and Tango is almost certain he’s about to receive a sword in the gut but he doesn’t let go, because he remembers what it’s like to live in this world and if he can’t even show his own doppelgänger kindness then he really hasn’t learned anything at all-

The sword clatters to the ground. And Bravo breaks.

He folds into the embrace and begins to sob. He sobs hard, shaking and gasping for breath in between, clinging to Tango like his life depends on it. Tears quickly dampen the collar of Tango’s shirt. It’s different from his earlier furious cries- this is absolute devastation, heart-wrenching and all-consuming. It’s a flood ten years in the making, finally spilling over all the careful walls that Bravo’s built around himself. And now that it’s here, there’s no stopping it.

Tango doesn’t speak. He simply eases them down to sit on the floor- he can’t support both his and Bravo’s weight right now. Bravo practically collapses, body limp, legs curled awkwardly beneath him but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He sags against Tango and cries, and Tango lets him.

It’s slightly bizarre, holding his doppelgänger while he cries. Especially when he was attacking Tango not even two minutes ago. In many ways, it’s a disturbing echo of his own past breakdowns- he can hear himself so clearly in Bravo’s voice, the raw ache of it.

But he’s glad for it. New growth can only happen once the old is torn down. It’s a messy, unpleasant process. It won’t be quick or easy. Bravo has only just taken the first step- he’s still got a long, difficult journey ahead of him. But Tango knows how beautiful it’ll be, to come out through the other side.

And he thinks maybe he needed this, too.

Tango isn’t sure how much time they spend like that. Only when Bravo has finally grown silent, just the occasional sniffle or shaky breath, does Tango sit back enough to meet Bravo’s teary gaze.

“And neither did I,” he continues quietly. “And neither did anyone else who’s ever spawned here, that- that’s the point.”

Bravo sniffs, wiping his face on his sleeve. “But… the universe has to spawn you here for a reason,” he insists, his voice small and confused. Like a child.

Tango’s mildly surprised to find he feels no anger- just pity. “Maybe the universe is wrong.”

Distress flashes across Bravo’s face; clearly, he’s never considered that before. He pulls away from Tango but he doesn’t go far, tucking his knees to his chest. “So then... all this pain, all this struggle... was for nothing,” he says miserably. “Everything I went through... a- and everything I did... I- I was so sure there had to be a reason, that I was different from the players here, that I didn’t belong here. But I- I’m fucked up. I used to be a nice person, but…”

“Nice isn’t the same thing as good,” Tango says simply. “And I would know.”

Bravo swallows. “… how did you do it?” he asks hoarsely. “You’re a Hels, why… how come this world didn’t ruin you, too? How did you end up being the good one?”

It’s an exceedingly vulnerable question, without a hint of reproach. Tango hums, leaning back on his arms. “Y’know, I spent a long time in this world. I- I grew up where it’s kill or be killed, murder first ask questions later, everyone’ll sell you out for a piece of rotten flesh. That was just normal. That was expected. If you’d known me back then, I- I would’ve been no different from any other Hels. I set horrible traps for fun. I cost random players, people I didn’t even know, their resources and their lives in an already harsh world, I mean- it wasn’t pretty. But I was a kid.” He glances sidelong at Bravo. “I was just a teenager when Atlas took me in, did you- did he ever tell you that?”

Bravo’s surprised expression is all the answer Tango needs.

“Nah, I guess he wouldn’t,” Tango sighs ruefully. “But the first person I thought was different- the first person who I thought saw more in me than the capacity for chaos, who offered me a home, a sense of belonging, a purpose... it turned out to be a trick. All of it, a lie. Just to get me into a horrible farm for the rest of my life, suffering constant withering and being harvested for my resources, like- like I was nothin’ more than a mob.” He gives Bravo a half-hearted grin. “You’d think that’d seal it, right? Like, that would just totally destroy any remaining faith I had in playerkind. And uh, it came pretty close, actually. But then I got out.”

He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “The universe created a portal, and I escaped to a world where players were kind. And generous, and… gave you the benefit of the doubt. They didn’t assume the worst, they didn’t judge you based on what you looked like. It was… completely foreign. I took advantage of it at first, I mean, I- I was a total jerk. I’m just lucky they thought it was all in good fun, jokes and pranks and stuff- or, or uh, maybe they did know, and still chose to show me grace, I dunno. What I do know is that after enough time had passed… I changed. My wants, my goals, my- my entire outlook on life changed. Suddenly I wanted to be good, I- I tried so hard to be good. And that only happened ‘cause I got the chance.”

He meets Bravo’s gaze, raising his eyebrows. “And- and I was an adult at that point, I’d grown up in Hels. I mean, imagine what I might’ve been like if I’d spawned on a normal world, grown up in the normal way. Hell, imagine if any other Hels kid got that chance. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many differences between us. Like, maybe even someone like Atlas could’ve been better.” He shrugs. “And maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he always would’ve grown up to be an asshole. Either way, there’s no way of knowing if they never have the chance.”

Bravo looks pensive, his brows knitted together. “I guess I… never thought of that.”

Tango dares to reach out and put a hand on Bravo’s arm. “I’m sorry you got sent here. If I’d known about it when it happened... well, I- I probably still wouldn’t have said anything, if I’m honest,” he admits. “Like you said, I did what I had to do to survive. But I’m sorry for what you went through, and for what my role in that was. If I’d been brave enough to speak up, maybe we could’a helped you sooner, I dunno.”

Bravo glances away. “I… understand,” he says haltingly. “It, uh… it doesn’t excuse the way I’ve been actin’, so. You know.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “For what it’s worth, I- I don’t think ‘being good’ is somethin’ that’s like… intrinsically handed to us, just by virtue of where we spawn. I think good is a choice that we make, every second of every day of our lives. And y’know, deciding not to choose good in one moment doesn’t mean we can never choose good again.” He huffs a soft laugh. “I mean, if you ask me, that’s way more important than the world we spawn in.”

Bravo looks at him for a moment. His expression is impossible to read. Then determination settles over him, his eyes hardening, before he abruptly gets to his feet. Without a word, he marches over to one of the chests on the floor and rummages through it. Before Tango can say anything, Bravo pulls out an item and tosses it over to him.

Tango catches it, mostly on reflex; it’s a potion of instant health.

“You take that,” Bravo says briskly, stooping over to pick his sword off the ground, “while I go help Jimmy out of there.”

Then he jumps into the pit, slashing through cobwebs on his way down.

Tango blinks. Well, then. Guess that’s decided. He downs the potion quickly, grimacing at the sweet aftertaste of glistering melon, and rises to his feet. It hasn’t fully restored him, but it’s taken the edge off his fresh injuries and given him enough strength to be a functional player again, and he’s quite satisfied with that for now.

Putting away the empty bottle, he wanders over to the edge of the pit, catching the tail end of Jimmy snapping at Bravo as he approaches.

“- where you’re swingin’ that thing!”

“I’m tryin’ to help! Just hold still-”

“Don’t you tell me to- ouch!”

“You’re makin’ it worse! Hang on…”

Tango’s only just leaned over to look when Jimmy flies out of the pit. His wings are ruffled and there are a few places where it’s obvious that some feathers were pulled out, a few stray bits of cobweb still clinging here and there. But aside from the scrapes and bruises he received during their fight with Bravo, he looks none the worse for wear. He’s been gracious enough to carry Bravo out with him, though he’s quick to dump Bravo back on the ground once they’re clear of the pit.

“Tango!” Jimmy swoops over and nearly knocks Tango over, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, I- I was so worried, are you alright?”

Despite the ache in his bones, Tango hugs him back just as fiercely. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright, hun,” he reassures Jimmy, voice muffled in the crook of his shoulder.

Right now, he wants nothing more than to curl up in Jimmy’s embrace and fall asleep. Between the fight and his unexpected heart-to-heart with Bravo, he’s physically and emotionally worn out. But even though the immediate threat has been nullified, he knows they aren’t done yet.

Tango pulls back just enough to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “I’m sorry for all this,” he murmurs, reaching a hand up to cup Jimmy’s face. “I thought… if I came here by myself, I’d be protecting you- protecting everyone- from suffering the consequences of my mistake.”

Jimmy covers Tango’s hand with his own. “Did you… did you come here with the intent of givin’ yourself up?” he asks quietly.

Tango winces. “Well, I didn’t- that wasn’t my main goal, no, but uh- I- I knew it was a possibility,” he confesses. “I mean, ideally I would’ve patched things up with Bravo and- and somehow gotten the key from Atlas on my own, but… I was prepared to fail, yeah. I’d accepted it.”

Jimmy looks sad, but not surprised. “Y’know,” he starts softly, “you- you always talk about, uh… not wantin’ to hurt us, not wantin’ us to suffer for your mistakes. But I don’t think you realize that for us, the thought of losin’ you is far worse than whatever else might happen. I mean, I- I’d go through that battle with Hels Tek a hundred times over if it meant not losin’ you. And I know the others feel the same way.”

“Oh.” Tango’s throat tightens. “I… hadn’t thought of that.”

“I know.” A bittersweet smile spreads across Jimmy’s face. “I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, alright, but you- we’re rather fond of you, mate. So, um… d’you think you could give the self-sacrificial nonsense a rest?”

Despite everything, Tango feels himself grin. “I can try, yeah,” he says, leaning up to give Jimmy a kiss.

(On the inside, Tango is still terrified at how this might turn out. Hels is a dangerous world, and tangling with Atlas and the rest of Hels Tek is no small order. A horrible painful death is the least of his concerns- if Jimmy or any of the other Double Lifers ended up in a farm, Tango would never forgive himself.

But if today taught him anything, it’s that the people he cares about are just as stubborn as he is. No matter what he says or does, they’re going to be determined to help him, because that’s just the kind of players they are. And he could continue to try and fight it, to try and go it alone, but he’s sure they’ll still somehow put themselves in harm’s way.

So rather than fight it, maybe he can accept that they’re able to make their own decisions and take their own risks. And that working with them, rather than against them, might give them all the best chance of having a favorable outcome. They’ll certainly have an easier time dealing with Atlas if they don’t have to worry about Tango pulling another dirty, reckless move like this.)

Behind them, Bravo coughs into his fist. “Uh, hey, are you two done…?”

Jimmy breaks away with a huff of annoyance. “What?” he demands, keeping an arm around Tango’s waist.

“Just thinkin’ out loud here,” Bravo says, holding his hands up, “but uh, you- there’s no way you two are gonna be able to take on Hels Tek alone. I mean, you’ve already lost the element of surprise, I- he’s probably noticed your arrival in chat by now. And Hels Tek is several days away on foot, how- what, are you just- are you just gonna walk there? You’d barely make it a hundred blocks before gettin’ killed, what with your abysmal PVP skills.”

Jimmy scowls at the slight against them, but Tango frowns. “You’re right,” he amends. “I uh, I honestly didn’t have much of a plan besides ‘winging it’ when I came through, I- I was on a bit of a time crunch.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Jimmy asks Bravo pointedly.

Bravo rolls his eyes. “I mean, I just wanna get the fuck out of here. But if you guys are tryin’ to get the key to that collar skadoodler from Atlas, you’re gonna need help.”

“From you?” Jimmy’s distrust is evident in his voice. “Why?”

Bravo crosses his arms, shoulders hunched defensively. “I dunno, I- maybe I feel bad about the part I played in all this and feel like I owe you guys one?”

Jimmy scoffs. “Doubtful.”

Bravo opens his mouth to retort, but Tango intervenes. “Hey, I know you probably couldn’t hear everything from the bottom of that pit,” he tells Jimmy, “but uh, I- I really think we’ve worked it out, now.” He glances over at Bravo, smiling. “I think we can trust him.”

Shock flares in Bravo’s eyes, his expression sobering. He gives a slight nod.

Jimmy purses his lips. “Fine, but I still don’t like it-”

Ca-clunk.

Pistons activate, making all three of them whirl around to face the wall. Tango’s mind is already racing through the different possibilities- maybe Bravo was actually just stalling until backup came, or maybe Atlas was able to track them down on his own, or maybe it’s even a completely random player who stumbled across the base- but that all comes screeching to a halt as soon as he sees the player who steps out into the room.

Because that’s Jimmy.

Or- well- not exactly. It’s obviously not Jimmy because he’s still standing next to Tango. But it’s immediately apparent that, despite the several major differences between them, this is Jimmy’s doppelgänger, his Hels counterpart.

It seems impossible. Or at least, highly improbable, that Jimmy’s doppelgänger would be here, of all places, and now, of all times, when Hels is a massive, infinite world full of nearly infinite players.

But there’s no one else he could be.

“Bravo!” the player calls in Jimmy’s voice. “Did you- oh.” He draws up short when he sees them, seeming just as thrown by this turn of events as they are.

The first thing that jumps out at Tango is how skinny the player is. He’s practically emaciated; despite his tall frame, his limbs are no thicker than Tango’s, his big, watery eyes sunken into a hollow face- a face that, aside from the lack of a crooked nose, is almost identical to Jimmy’s. The large wings that trail behind him are black in color and poorly kept. He’s a lot paler than Jimmy is, too, almost a sickly sort of complexion. His ratty hair is a dull black, and- based on the sharp angles of the ends- was cut short very recently.

Now Tango knows how Jimmy must’ve been feeling this whole time. It’s fucking weird.

Beside him, Jimmy’s breath catches. He takes a single, tentative step forward- though Tango is quick to throw an arm out in front of him. The player doesn’t look very threatening. He’s barefoot and dressed in rags, carrying no weapon or armor. But Tango’s still on guard. This is an unknown Hels player, after all.

The player stares at Jimmy, entranced. “Oh,” he breathes, a trembling hand coming up to tug on a strand of hair. A jumble of emotions flash across his face, too fast to read. “I see… you must be Jimmy.”

“And you’re Timmy,” Jimmy says softly, dawning realization settling over his features. “Aren’t you? Gosh…”

Tango recognizes the tone of their voices; they’re experiencing the same strange sensation he did, the first time he laid eyes on Bravo. That abrupt and absolute recognition of the self in the other. Despite meeting for the first time, there hadn’t been a doubt in Tango’s mind that Bravo was his doppelgänger. He’d known it as surely as his own name. It was something instinctual, almost primal- grounding and disorienting all at once.

Timmy. That’s the nickname that Grian and some of the other guys call Jimmy. A practical joke played on them by the universe, no doubt, to have spawned with the names they did.

Bravo finally unfreezes. “Timmy! I told you to wait for me to come get you!” he hisses, but Tango can see the guilt and shame on his face.

“Sorry…” Timmy murmurs distantly, still fixated on Jimmy. “I was just… gosh, I- everythin’ makes sense now…” He finally turns to look at Bravo, and the faint, knowing smile on his face is devastatingly sad. “I… get why I wasn’t good enough.”

Bravo flinches. “No, no I- I didn’t mean-”

“Ey,” Jimmy cuts in, voice gentle but firm as he moves past Tango to approach Timmy. “C’mere, mate, it’s alright. Ignore him a second, hey?” He fans out a wing to block Bravo from view, nonverbally conveying that he’d like a private moment with his doppelgänger.

“Yeah, come on.” Tango takes the cue to grab Bravo by the arm, leading him to the other side of the room. “You- you wanna explain him?” he asks lowly, putting his hands on his hips. “I mean, how- where did you even find him?”

Bravo exhales heavily. “At spawn. Actually, I- we met the first time I ended up at world spawn, all those years ago. Go figure. He- he’d been livin’ there for god knows how long, just… starving to death, over and over again, ‘cause he was too scared to leave.”

Damn.

“Huh.” Tango nods slowly. “So… what were you sayin’ about all Hels being evil monsters…?”

Bravo tenses. “Shut up. He’s different.” He glances over his shoulder at the pair of avians. “I… after I was killed on your world, and- and escaped from Hels Tek, I ended up at spawn. He was still there, and this time… he agreed to come with me, so he could leave Hels with me once I got my portal working.”

“Mhmm.” Tango’s voice is terse, even to his own ears. “You, uh... didn’t happen to keep him around just ‘cause he’s my soulmate’s doppelgänger, did you?”

Bravo winces. “... maybe at first,” he admits. “But then- I dunno, I- I didn’t- things changed, alright?”

Tango folds his arms. “That’s pretty fucked up, to use him as a- a replacement Jimmy.”

“I know, okay?” Bravo hisses, but it’s lacking its usual venom. “I- I’ve had a lotta realizations in the last few minutes, alright? Gimme a break.”

Tango snorts but says nothing else, looking over to check on Jimmy.

He’s speaking to Timmy in low tones, eyes shining with concern. His demeanor is reserved, gentle, nonthreatening- he’s matching Timmy’s curled-in posture, just with less of the anxiety, more reassuring. And it seems to be working; even from this distance, it’s apparent Timmy’s slowly growing more comfortable, less afraid.

Sudden warmth swells in Tango’s chest. It’s overwhelming, meeting your doppelgänger, but Jimmy’s put all those complicated feelings aside to help a player who seems to sorely need it. His experience with Hels players thus far has been nothing but flat-out terrible, and yet it didn’t even occur to him to be wary of Timmy. Some might view that as foolish naivety or ignorance, maybe even stupidity. But to Tango, it’s a testament to Jimmy’s incredible kindness.

He couldn’t be more proud of his soulmate.

Eventually, Jimmy waves them over. “Hey, so uh, you got somethin’ to say to Timmy?” he asks Bravo, one hand resting protectively on Timmy’s bony shoulder.

Taken back, Bravo looks at Tango, who simply raises an eyebrow.

Bravo swallows. “Look,” he starts hesitantly, “I- I uh, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you, alright? It… wasn’t fair for me to compare you to Jimmy.”

Timmy’s avoiding his gaze, fidgeting with his hands, but there’s a hopeful light in his eyes. “Thanks,” he says softly.

Satisfied for the moment, Jimmy turns to Tango. “We can’t leave him here,” he says, completely resolute. “I- I think we should head back through the portal for now, regroup with the others and come up with a- with an actual plan? So long as we don’t break the portal, we’ll still be able to come back through. Even if he,” he nods at Bravo, “is with us.”

Tango rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Right, right, yeah. I’m- the others are bound to notice we’re gone soon, so we should probably-”

“Oh!” Timmy gasps suddenly, smacking his forehead. “The others, right! Right, sorry, I uh- the reason I came to find you, Bravo, is that a- a whole buncha players just joined the world.” He cringes, apologetic. “I- I think it’s those guys you were tellin’ me about.”

“What?!” Bravo demands, sounding alarmed.

Tango whips out his communicator, eyes widening at the chat.

The entire Double Life server has joined Hels. Which means they’re probably up by the portal right now, wandering around and looking for him in a dangerous world they’re entirely unfamiliar with, full of hostile mobs, hidden traps, and certain ruthless scientists who’d love to add a few hybrids to their collection.

Shit.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player types furiously on a communicator.

“No,” Atlas calls over his shoulder distractedly, “they won’t be at world spawn. Get me the last coordinates searched by Alisker’s mercenaries, we’ll start from there.”

“Yes, sir,” the scientist says quickly before rushing off.

It’s only been a few minutes since Atlas was alerted to Tango’s arrival in chat- him and one other player. The avian, he thinks. Obviously, this development necessitated that they drop everything and immediately pivot towards an effort to recapture Tango. Amidst giving orders to prepare the flying machines and gather weapons and armor, he’s been frantically trying to reach Alisker via whispers- without looking like he’s too desperate, of course, but he knows that having Alisker’s support in this endeavor will be critical to its success.

All the while, part of his mind is dedicated to puzzling out Tango’s motive.

He had a feeling they’d return to Hels eventually, to try and get the key for Tango’s collar from him. No doubt Tango’s finding its properties rather disruptive to normal life. The only question was whether or not Alisker’s mercenaries would find Bravo before then, allowing them to open a new portal and strike first. The latter option would’ve certainly been ideal, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. He’s confident they’ll succeed this way, too.

(Failure isn’t an option. Not again.)

What’s most confusing, however, is that Tango seems to have come without any real backup. The other players from his world were quite formidable as a group; Tango must know that leaving them behind will considerably lower his chances of success. So perhaps he doesn’t intend to confront Atlas at all, and is simply content to live with the collar. After all, he’s still wearing the cuffs, all these years later.

The only way to open a portal to Hels- that they know of, at least- is by using a player’s data to lock onto their counterpart’s coordinates. So Tango must’ve opened a portal to Bravo. Perhaps that’s all his goal is- an attempt to make amends with his doppelgänger and provide an escape from Hels. If that’s the case, then they’re working with a limited time frame.

Because if Bravo leaves Hels with Tango, then Atlas is truly out of viable options. All he’ll be able to do is open random portals to any of Hels Tek’s counterparts in the overworld, giving them access to random worlds that Tango is highly unlikely to inhabit. That won’t satisfy Alisker, and Atlas is already on thin ice as it is. No, they need to move now if they have any chance of-

Chat is suddenly jumping with join messages, and some very familiar usernames.

Ah, there’s the rest of them.

Atlas’s runaway train of thought screeches to a halt. If the other members of that world are here now, then it seems like they’ll be going for the key, after all. Which means he can breathe again. They’ve got a difficult conflict ahead of them, sure, but he rather likes their chances here in Hels. And he’s got a much better idea of what they’re up against this time- they won’t be defeated again so easily.

Oh, and Alisker’s finally returned his message. Yes, things are shaping up quite nicely, indeed.

Atlas quickly makes the arrangements, rising from his chair and heading out of his office. The halls of Hels Tek are bustling with activity as everyone scrambles to get ready. Anticipation bubbles in Atlas’s chest. This is his last chance to be victorious; he won’t rest until Tango is locked back in that farm. And, if he plays this right, he’ll have several new additions to his hybrid-farming initiative as well. Already his mind is racing with ideas..

The minutes pass in a blur. Atlas is standing before the flying machines and barking orders, his voice echoing off the garage’s high ceiling, when his communicator beeps again. He glances down, expecting to see another message from Alisker, and draws up short.

Grian tried to swim in lava.

PearlescentMoon tried to swim in lava.

InTheLittleWood tried to swim in lava.

impulseSV tried to swim in lava.

Smajor1995 tried to swim in lava.

Etho tried to swim in lava.

ZombieCleo tried to swim in lava.

bigbst4tz2 tried to swim in lava.

Smallishbeans tried to swim in lava.

GoodTimeWithScar tried to swim in lava.

BdoubleO100 tried to swim in lava.

Renthedog tried to swim in lava.

Atlas blinks in surprise. The messages are almost simultaneous; a massive die-off like this can’t be anything other than a trap. How curious... he knows Bravo is rather fond of setting traps, as Alisker’s mercenaries have discovered firsthand. And if the portal they came through was spawned near Bravo’s location… perhaps this was accidental friendly fire?

Another message flashes.

SolidarityGaming was slain by Bravo.

Oh. Nevermind.

Atlas watches chat with bated breath. It hasn’t escaped his notice that, as of right now, Tango is still alive. And if his hunch is correct…

<Bravo whispered to you> hey. I’ve got an offer for you.

Atlas grins.

~*~

#hermitcraft #life series smp #double life smp #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #hels to pay AU #HTP fic #my writing

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occultwaters · 6 months

Text

Painful placements in astrology I

💜 Sun square/conjunct/opposite/inconjunct (quincunx) Pluto. Inconjunctions should be maximum 2/3 degrees. If I see this in a natal chart it would indicate to me that the native has had issues with their father or figures with authority in general. Could also be men in their family. I have also noticed the fathers side of the family were absent, early on they could have been separated. The separation could be due to many threats. If not cultivated well, this aspect is common amongst serial killers and people notorious for being bullies.

💙 Moon square/conjunct/opposite/inconjunct (quincunx) Pluto. Inconjunctions should be maximum 2/3 degrees. Now this would indicate a person who has issues with the mother figure in their family. This could also indicate issues with the women figures in their life. These people are also very distant with their mother’s side of the family. Like harsh Pluto and Sun, they were separated early on. Which again potentially could’ve been due to threats to their safety in general. If not cultivated well, this can lead to mental health issues, especially those relating to Pluto. Dark obsessions and desires etc.

💜 Having square placements to personal planets, this alone is very hard to deal with as there is strong friction no matter which side you look at. These people need to work on the aspect and appropriately release the energy, depending on the house, sign, and degree.

💙 Pluto in 12th. These individuals harbour a lot of their trauma in the subconscious. They have probably also seen some crazy things in the spirit world. It’s like they attract that sort of attention without really meaning to aswell. These individuals may also have very disturbing dreams and sleep paralysis.

💜 Saturn/Uranus/Chiron in 11th. This is a constant cycle of feeling alienated from society. These people may feel like they never found their group of friends. They crave for a home they’ve never had. These are also the type of people who have had friends make secret group chats behind their back and never include them. Just because Uranus is at home here, doesn’t make it any easier. This is also true if these placements are in Aquarius.

💙 Harsh Venus and Saturn aspect (square, opposition, inconjunction). Or Venus in Capricorn/aquarius. These people were made to feel unworthy of love and care when they were younger. There’s a constant battle between loving oneself and self destructive behaviours. There is an imbalance with their feminine side, due to masculine/ figures of authority, making them feel like they weren’t good enough.

💜 Harsh Moon and Venus aspects (square, opposition, inconjunction). Again made to feel like they weren’t pretty enough and probably dealt with a lot of toxicity from maternal figures. There is also an imbalance with their feminine side due to issues with women, and maternal figures. These people also a lot of the times refuse to acknowledge their emotions and bottle things up a lot.

💙 Having inconjunctions/quincunx aspects. They need to be at a maximum 2/3 degree orb. This is similar to opposition. But the difference here is that two signs that have no similarity are making a harsh aspect. There’s bound to be heat and constant internal conflict. This one is about learning to balance the scale of energies from both areas.

💜 8th house placements. These people are constantly undergoing transformations in their life. They can easily leave everyone on delivered for months and when they return, they are no longer the same person. Then the cycle repeats. There’s a lot of trauma in these people’s lives, and a lot of it comes from family. But they’re also naturally talented when it comes to things like the occult. This aspect is powerful for astrologers as it gives the native the talent to deeply study and observe people for long periods of time. This also includes psychology.

💙 Saturn opposite/square/inconjunct Pluto. Again inconjunctions should be maximum 2/3 degrees to be truly felt. This is more of a generational aspect (may reflect the society more so). These individuals dad could carry some sort of deep trauma. This is a pretty heavy energy so will require a lot of work for the generation that has this. In addition, the themes of the abuse they dealt with surround feeling restricted from expressing oneself in regards to what Pluto represents. They seem like the sheep or the scape goat of the family. Also if they have siblings that don’t have a similar aspect, if they make a mistake, the punishment they receive can be harsher than if their sibling was to make the same mistake. Their dad/ authority figures in their family can also be/ may have been involved in the dark side of structured systems and have a lot of experience and knowledge regarding the world from that.

💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙

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daisyblog · 5 months

Text

Home To Mother

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry introduces YN and Jacob to Anne.

Warning: mention of smut

Harry had thought about introducing YN and Jacob to his Mum for a while. But with Anne living four hours away, it wasn’t always easy especially with Harry releasing his second album, and YN and Jacob having their own things on too.

A conversation about their Christmas plans had not risen yet, and whilst Harry wanted to spend it with YN and Jacob, he was aware that he always spent Christmas with his family in Cheshire.

He was surprised when he spoke to his Mum on the phone one afternoon on his way to YN’s from the studio. As he drove through the streets of London, his Mums name flashed up on the screen of the handsfree.

“Hi Mum!”. Harry’s cheerily voice answered as he kept his eyes on the busy road in front of him.

“Hi darling…how’s my boy?”. Anne’s tone was warm, full of love as she missed her son after not seeing him for a while.

“I’m good…just on my way home from the studio, we had some small things we needed to wrap up before the release”. Harry explained as it was only a matter of days before the release of his second album.

He could hear his Mum’s smile through her voice. “I’m so proud of you darling…I can’t wait to hear it…I know you’ve worked so hard”.

“Thanks Mum…this album is really special”. Harry admitted as he turned down a quieter road.

“Hmm…I wonder why that is.” Anne teased, a small hint towards Harry’s new lover. “Speaking of YN…how is she and Jacob?”.

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the mention of them both. “They’re fine…I’m actually on my way there now…Jacob wants to show me his new Lego piece he’s built”.

“Ooo sounds cool…looks like everything is going well with you all”. Anne began to prod, knowing where she was going with the conversation. “I’m not sure what your plans are around Christmas but if you’d like to…and of course YN wants to too…then I’d love for you to being YN and Jacob home with you”.

Harry loved the idea of taking YN and Jacob home to Cheshire with him, and introducing them to his family, whilst celebrating Christmas but with Jacob having other family too, it wasn’t a decision he could make solely. “I’d love to Mum…but I’ll have to ask because of Jacob with his Dad and stuff”.

“Of course darling…I will respect your decision either way”. Harry knew his Mum was way too good for the world.

It was a debate he was having in his own head, considering different options, until he decided to speak to one person who he knew would be able to give him the answer he was looking for.

---

Since Harry and YN had become serious in their relationship, he had become a regular visitor to Jack and Zara’s house when YN and Jacob went to visit.

YN and Zara had organised a Christmas shopping trip into town and Jack had asked Harry to join him and the two boys. Harry couldn’t turn down the offer and knew it was his only opportunity to talk to Jack.

Jacob was playing with his toys in the living room of Jack and Zara’s house and Theo had just gone down for his nap, leaving Jack and Harry to catch up.

“Whilst the girls are not here…I wanted to thank you for everything you do for Jacob…and YN too…I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time”. Jack began to the conversation as they sat on opposite sides of the sofa.

Harry couldn’t hide his smile because really he wanted to thank them all for allowing him to be a part of their family dynamic. “Between us…I’ve waited for someone like YN for a long time and Jacob is a real credit to you both…he’s a good lad”.

“He loves you…he talks about you a lot…I love it”. Jack explained, knowing that most of Jacob’s stories now involve Harry.

Harry thought about how he was going to approach the Christmas conversation with Jack, until he pulled the bandaid off in one. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about”. Jack nodded his head, his eyes paying full attention to Harry. “My Mum has invited YN and Jacob to Cheshire for Christmas…but I don’t want to overstep your plans and traditions”.

He was waiting for this to be the changing point for Jack to tell him he was crossing the boundaries and that he wouldn’t allow his son to travel up North.

“I’m guessing YN hasn’t spoken to you about Christmas?”. Jack asked and Harry wore a slight frown confused by his response but quickly shook his head. “Between us…Christmas is usually shit for them both…they go to YN’s parents house in Bath…I hate it but they only go once a year and we spend Christmas with Zara’s family”.

Harry felt a tug on his heartstrings at the thought of YN and Jacob having a miserable Christmas, despite being surrounded by the people who should make it special. “I’m not prodding…but is this why YN doesn’t mention her family?”.

Jack nodded, an annoyed look on his face. One that Harry could tell that Jack really disliked them. “As you can guess…they don’t like me because we had Jacob young, and they all decided to share their opinions one day…called YN everything…and I wouldn’t take it and called them all out for being narcissistic arseholes”.

“Must be so hard for her”. Harry tried to sympathise because he was loved by his family and knowing YN didn’t have the same, hurt him.

“She doesn’t talk about them much…I think it’s her way of dealing with it”. Jack explained, as he had experienced their backlash first hand. “So yeah…please take them home with you and introduce them to a nice family…they deserve a happy Christmas.

---

Harry drives up the road to his Mums cosy style cottage, and YN could already tell from the outside that this house was a home and somewhere everyone came because they’d have a warm welcome.

Anne was peaking behind the curtain through the lounge window, wanting to catch a glimpse before greeting them. She could see Harry get out of the car first, YN quick to follow. She involuntarily let out a smile as they shared a quick peck as they passed each other. Once she saw Harry head to the back door, she made her way to greet them.

“Harry!”. The three are broken from their bubble at the sound of a woman’s voice, but YN can instantly tell that the pretty woman standing at the front step is Harry’s Mum. Anne wastes no time pulling Harry in for hug, holding him tight afraid he was going to be gone for months again. “I’ve missed you”.

“I’ve missed you too Mum”. They both pulled apart, Harry turning to YN and Jacob. “Mum…this is YN-“.

“Oh it’s so lovely to meet you love!”. Anne carefully pulled her in for a hug, smiling as she did so. “I’ve heard so much about you”.

YN let out a nervous giggle. “All good things I hope”. She joked, as she and Harry caught each others eye.

“Definitely all good…I knew my boy was smitten from the first date.” Anne announced without care. Whilst YN could feel the blush on her cheeks and shyness take over, Harry laughed at his mother’s words and told her not to embarrass him. “And who’s this little lad?”.

Harry scooped Jacob into his arms, as the younger boy tugged on his hand to be held. “This little monkey is Jacob!”. But with new surroundings and a new person, Jacob tucked his head into Harry’s neck.

“What a beautiful name!”. Anne smiled up at the boy in her son’s arms, the scene being unfamiliar to her. “I feel so lucky that you did your Mummy have come to visit”.

“Thank you for inviting us, it’s really kind of you”. YN took the chance to thank Anne, knowing how special this occasion was for them all.

“You’re welcome here any time!”. Anne reassured her as she lovingly placed her hand on YN’s arm. “Hey Jacob…I’ve been baking all morning…and a little birdy told me that you love chocolate cookies…would you like one?”.

With his head still lying on Harry’s shoulder, Jacob couldn’t hide his love for a chocolate cookie. “Yes please”. His voice was quiet but loud enough for the others to hear.

“Come on in and make yourselves at home!”.

---

A few hours after Harry, YN and Jacob had arrived, Gemma and Michal walked through the front door eager to meet them. They greeted YN with a warm hug, one that reminded her of Anne’s and they gave Jacob a bit of space for him to settle.

With it being Christmas Eve, Anne had prepared a large spread of food for them all to eat together and had even bought them all matching pyjamas. It was a new tradition for YN and Jacob, as they were often left out of those things but it created an accepting feeling in YN’s heart at the thought of Anne thinking about her and Jacob.

“I’ve heard you started big school”. Anne spoke to Jacob across the table, as he used his fork to pick up the food from his plate. “Are you enjoying it?”.

Jacob nodded his head because he loved going to school and being with his friends. “Harry picked me up with Mummy the other day”. He spoke about the time that they surprised him at pick up.

“It wasn’t my greatest ideas, considering half the Mums practically announced my presence.” Harry explained to the rest of the table.

“You were definitely the topic of conversation in the Mum’s group chat that evening”. YN added. “And Jack said they were all highly disappointed when he turned up the next day”. Which caused them all to laugh at the sight of disappointing looks in their faces.

“What can I say…I just have that effect”. Harry sassily added, earning some eye rolls.

After they all sat around playing a board game into the early evening, to which they all playfully shouted at Harry to stop cheating, they all gathered up some Christmas magic and helped Jacob to prepare for the big day.

Anne had bought a personalised Christmas Eve plate for Jacob to leave carrots and snack for Santa and his reindeers. Before they knew it, they were bidding goodnight to Jacob as YN and Harry took him upstairs to settle him for the night.

---

Harry and YN came back downstairs after around an hour of Jacob’s bedtime routine and helping him go to sleep with a nighttime book. Anne told them to help themselves to any drinks or snacks they wanted from the kitchen.

Gemma and Anne could see into the kitchen from where they were both sat. “So what do you think Mum?”. Both their eyes still taking sneaky glances at the couple in the kitchen. Harry hands held her from behind as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh out loud.

Anne smiled fondly at how happy her son was and how much more content he seemed. “I like her…she seems like a lovely girl and Jacob is so polite”.

“I really like her already…she just seems so down to earth and-“. Gemma began to give her opinion, as she watched her brother cuddle up to his girlfriend in the kitchen.

“Not fake and full of herself?”. Michal finished Gemma’s sentence for, earning an amused grin from the two women. “What? It’s true and what you were thinking!”.

“It was to be fair…I’ve never been a huge fan of the girls he’s introduced me to”. Anne agreed, smiling as Harry and YN were now facing each other, talking quietly as their arms were wrapped around the other.

“As much as their affection is making me want to vomit…I will admit they’re cute”. Gemma quickly turned her eyes away as Harry leaned down to place a kiss on YN’s lips.

---

“Merry Christmas baby”. Harry whispered in between leaving gentle pecks along YN’s neck. He could feel her melting into each one.

“Merry Christmas gorgeous”. YN’s eyes were still asleep as she enjoyed the feeling of Harry’s lips moving up her neck.

Harry carefully moved his lips to meet YN’s. Their lips moved delicately together, both enjoying the feeling of the others. As Harry moved his hand to rest at the bottom of her back, their lips began to move with more desperation. Their lips moved messily as one. But once Harry’s hand started to move down south, YN pulled her lips away, causing Harry to pout.

“Oh c’mon…that’s not fair.” Harry whined as he tried to kiss her again, but YN only laughed at his pout. “We can be quick!”.

“I am not doing anything with your mother in the next room.” YN gave her reasons, as they were still cuddled as one under the duvet.

“I’ll make sure it’s the best five minutes of your life”. Harry gave it another shot, practically begging.

YN had to cover her mouth to stop the loud laugh from waking others who were still asleep. “I don’t doubt you would…but I’m not having sex with you with your mother asleep in the next room…are you mad!”.

“Makes it more exciting I think”. Harry continued to tease her. “Set myself a challenge to see if I can make you cum without making a noise”.

“Highly doubt it!”.

---

Christmas morning had a slow start to it. They all gathered in the living room near the tree where they all watched with excitement as Jacob opened his presents that were left by Santa the night before. YN was taken back by how a family, who had only just met Jacob treated him with so much love and affection already.

Anne had gifted him a football stadium Lego set, along with some smaller toys and some money for him to choose something to buy. Jacob ran over to her and wrapped small arms around her and thanked her.

Gemma and Michal had taken a similar approach and gifted him a generous gift card for a sports store for him to spend as he pleased. Like he did with Anne, he wrapped his arms around Gemma, before giving Michal a fist pump.

The rest of the morning was spent playing with all of Jacob’s news toys and counting down until they were all sat around the table eating their roast. Jacob insisted on sitting next to Harry whilst they ate because he wanted to pull the Christmas crackers with him.

Later on in the evening, Harry’s extended family of his aunt, uncle and cousins joined them for a night of fun and laughter.

It was the first year Harry had brought someone home for Christmas, so being the joker his uncle was didn’t miss out on winding his nephew up after he introduced YN and Jacob to them.

The large group were coming towards the end of their quiz, with Harry’s team in the lead by one point. The last question asked was “In the 2009-10 Premier League season, Manchester United finished second on the league table. Who finished first?”. Jacob pressed the buzzer without thinking and the pure shock on Harry’s face was priceless, because the rule was whoever pressed the buzzer needed to answer.

“What’s the answer Jacob?”. YN asked, as she stood behind him wondering if he knew it.

“C’mon Jakey…you can do this!” Harry cheered him on, giving him a nudge of encouragement.

Jacob debated the answer as he moved around, before shouting “Chelsea!”. Everybody waited to see if the answer was right.

“Correct!”. Harry lifted Jacob up into the air as their team celebrated their win.

As the evening went on, Jacob started to show signs of tiredness. Deciding he wanted to go to bed, YN encouraged him to say goodnight to the party. As YN and Harry trailed behind the little boy, a voice stopped them.

“Oh would you look at that!”. Everybody turned to look at Harry’s Uncle Mike, confused at what he was talking about. But Mike motioned to where Harry and YN were standing, and like coincidence there was a mistletoe above them.

YN giggled at the sight, but there was a tad of nervousness in the laugh. “Kiss your girl then H!”.

Harry didn’t seem the harm in a quick peck. He leaned down quickly capturing YN’s lips in his. The kiss was kept short, for the sake of everyone else around them.

Whilst Anne smiled at her son’s affection, Mike and Harry’s cousin made kissing noises along with hollowing cheers to tease the pink cheeked boy.

“Oh stop it!” Harry could be heard chucking as he left the room.

---

Harry had been lying awake for a while, YN was sleeping next to him, small breathes leaving her body as she slept. The sound of small footsteps entering their room at Anne’s caused Harry to lift his head up from the plump pillow.

“Hey JJ!” Harry used the nickname he created for him. “Did you sleep okay?”.

Jacob nodded as he rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his fingers, as he approached Harry.

“Shall we go downstairs for some breakfast? Leave Mummy have some sleep?”. Harry suggested, as he began to reach for his hoodie and joggers. “Do you know what you want?”.

“Pancakes please”. Jacob patiently waited for Harry to finish getting dressed before they descended down the stairs together.

The two of them chatted together as they walked through the hallway into the large kitchen. Anne was sat at the table already, donning her fluffy dressing gown as she sipped of her warm cup of tea.

“Morning boys!”. She greeted them both as she watched Harry place some pancakes into the toaster, and flicking the kettle switch down.

“Morning Mum!”. Harry was cheery as he moved around the kitchen effortlessly, gathering some plates and mugs. “Jakey…say good morning lad”.

“Morning!”. Jacob pulled the chair out next to Anne to sit on. Harry couldn’t help but smile as he glanced over, Jacob was starting to become more comfortable around his family. “Anne?”.

“Yes darling?”. Anne’s full attention was on Jacob, waiting for him to speak.

“Can I play football in your garden please?”. He asked with his big pleading eyes on display, the ones that got him everything he wanted.

“Of course you can sweetheart!”. Anne brought her hands up to her chest as the little boys cuteness and manners were too much. “I’m sure Harry will take you out there after you’ve finished your breakfast…I would take you but I’m not very good at football”.

Jacob chuckled out loud at Anne’s honestly. “You can come to my house and I can teach you…I have cones and-and everything in my garden…I can ask my Mummy if you can come to play”.

Anne’s heart melted and she looked to Harry to share her happy smile. “You’re very kind Jacob, I’d love to come and visit you and Mummy one day…maybe you can show me around London”.

“Me..Mummy..and Harry went to the market…and girls were following us…we had to go home.” Jacob said as a matter of fact, causing Anne to look at Harry with a little concern on her face.

She quickly turned back to Jacob, hiding her previous look. “I’m not as cool as Harry…but maybe we could go somewhere quieter when I visit…how does that sound?”.

Jacob excitedly nodded his head, as Harry placed his breakfast in front of him and giving his hair a little fuss as he walked past.

As promised Harry took Jacob outside to play football in the garden after breakfast. Anne was sat on the chair, watching as they ran around kicking the ball, playfully tackling each other and equally desperate to kick the ball in the pretend goal.

A presence next to Anne, disturbed her thoughts. “Good morning!”. YN’s voice was gentle, almost quiet.

“Good morning love!”. Anne’s smile showed her pearly whites, as she brought her eyes back to the two boys running around the garden. “I’m going to let you in on a secret….i’ve never seen Harry this content and happy”.

YN couldn’t take all the credit. “He’s changed my life for the better…you’ve raised an amazing man and I wish I’d met him sooner”. She didn’t hold back, she knew she’d fallen in deep. Not only did he make her feel special but he’d accepted Jacob as part of her and she will always be grateful.

“He won’t thank me for this…but I know my boy and he’s besotted with you and Jacob”. Anne knew Harry would tell her off for discussing him with YN, but she didn’t care.

“That makes us both!” YN couldn’t take her eyes away from her two favourite people as Harry swung Jacob around in circles in victory for scoring a goal.

Anne wrapped her arm around YN in a cuddle. “Welcome to the family my darling!”.

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