#god forbid anyone understand why I feel the way I do about him

[nxtaliaistyping]

Thinking about Morpheus making you ride him as punishment :(

Author’s note: oh my god the season 2 behind the scenes look has me screaming, I’m so excited. I need him back in my life.

18+ nsfw, fem reader, slight bondage

Morpheus is nothing if not an attentive lover, always putting your pleasure first. While you’re in his realm, you don’t have to lift a finger, don’t have to want for anything. He provides.

And while he spends long stretches ravaging you, of taking you apart piece by piece via his long fingers stroking your clit until you squirm and cry for him, or fingering you while your gush around his lithe digits, there’s occasionally times where he finds you…challenging.

That mouth of yours has a tendency to run rampant, undermining his authority. He is a king, a god…more than a god; an endless. And to think a bratty little mortal like you has the audacity to be in his domain, his kingdom, and demand more of his time and energy? Well, you simply need a correction. A simple reminder of your place.

So that’s why you find yourself straddling him, thighs burning as you move up and down. He looks every bit the king of dreams as he sits on his impressive throne, how high you both are allowing you to survey the room while you ride your lover to the best of your capabilities. An unseen force is keeping your hands pinned to the small of your back, not even giving you the slight relief of bracing your weight on his thighs or shoulders.

No, instead you simply have to rut against him, feeling every bit like a concubine, pleasing your ruler.

“Are you getting tired my love? That cannot be the case I’m sure, since you were so eager to have me earlier. Quite…insistent, were you not?”

You whine pitifully at his words, the ache of your limbs at the repetitive motions setting in. Morpheus doesn’t have quite the same need to cum that you do, after all you both are in the dreaming, as much a part of him as he is of it. He can withhold his orgasm for as long as needed, which seems to be long enough that you’re soaking his lap with your needy juices.

“Making a mess I see, so wanton.” He chastises, but still makes no effort to help you move.

“Please…”

“Hm?” He tilts his head, a neutral expression plastered on his regal features. “Is there something you need, dearest?”

God you just want to scream, but your outburst would most likely not help your situation, so you give him a particularly strong slam of your hips before batting your eyelashes. “Please just fuck me.”

Instead of your desired response, he simply tuts. “You misunderstand the situation. This is…correctional. Your penance if you will. After all, you were the one being especially mouthy while in my realm. So it’s only right you prove to me you’re worth the attentions of a king.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how reminding you of his status above you makes you whine and clench your pussy around him. Your body is an instrument he is especially well versed in playing.

“Perhaps I have been too accommodating to your every whim and desire. I have created a spoilt thing it seems, so used to not putting in the work to achieve what she wants. This lesson is needed.”

Knowing no other way, you fight against your bodies’ exhaustion to ride him with vigour, rolling your hips. Pleasant hums occasionally pass his lips, the minuscule praise like a drug as you move faster on his lap.

You must get too carried away, as he gives your hip a light slap. “Now now, do not allow yourself to get carried away. Remember, it’s rhythm that is important in sexual situations such as this. Not just how fast you can move your hips on me.”

At his reprimanding, you nod your understanding and mutter a soft apology, building a rhythm that works. The sheer fact you’re riding him on his throne, in his throne room, really settles in. Anyone could walk in, heaven forbid Matthew flies in and gets the shock of his (after)life.

But you can’t deny how much it turns you on, to be dream of the endless’s favourite mortal, his favourite little pet to entertain him. It’s almost power in a strange sort of way, but it thrills you nonetheless.

Eventually, your lover’s hips start to move up in time with your thrusts, causing the breath to leave your lungs quickly. Your hands are released, and you quickly move them to his shoulders, feeling the material of his black cloak under your fingertips.

“Touch yourself. Feel the pleasure that I allow you to take.”

You don’t need to be told twice, fingers hurriedly rubbing circles on your clit as he fucks up into you with tenacity. “Please…can I cum?”

“You can do better.”

A moan rips its way from your lips before you can stop it. “Please…please my king, I need to cum. Please let me cum, I won’t talk back again, I’ll be so good…please.”

A trace of a smirk tugs on his lips, and he gives a simple nod of his head. Blue eyes trace over your trembling form as you finish all over his lap. A few thrusts later, he’s buried to the hilt inside of your weeping cunt, filling you up. He allows you to slump against him, gentle fingers moving up and down your spine to soothe you, his release warm inside of your spent pussy.

“Was that to your enjoyment?” He mumbles lowly into your ear, and you can’t help the girlish giggle you make as you nod against him. His smirk is now transformed into a soft smile, not allowing you to see this moment of vulnerability as he presses kisses to your hairline.

“Do not make such demands of me again, unless you want your next punishment to not involve climax for you at all.”

[earl-grey-love]

😳 Let me tell you my feelings for Barbs are next level. I woke up suddenly possessed with inspiration and spent 5 uninterrupted hours writing a 5.3k word fic about him and my s/i before I even had coffee. I didn't even PLAN to write that much. Good grief.

[pucksandpower]

Baby Steps

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you are barely staying afloat, desperately trying to wrap your mind around your impending motherhood while juggling being a press officer for Scuderia Ferrari … Charles shows you that you don’t have to do it alone

Warnings: pregnancy, family abandonment, and harassment

You grip the edges of the trash can tightly as your stomach lurches again. The half-digested remains of your breakfast spill into the plastic liner with a sickening splatter. Straightening up slowly, you take a few deep breaths and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The smell rising from the can makes your stomach roll threateningly once more.

Turning away quickly, you lean against the side of the Ferrari motorhome, eyes closed. The sun beats down relentlessly, and you can feel sweat beading at your hairline.

This “morning” sickness is no joke — it seems to strike at all hours of the day. You thought you had gotten away with a quick breakfast break an hour ago when Carlos was in a team briefing, but apparently not.

Footsteps on the gravel make you open your eyes. You pray it’s not a member of the press, or, god forbid, Carlos. The last thing you need is a photo of the Ferrari press officer tossing her cookies behind the paddock. But no, it’s Charles Leclerc striding towards you, his brow furrowed.

You straighten up and attempt nonchalance. “Good morning, Charles.”

He slows, glancing between you and the extremely obvious trash can of vomit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine,” you say breezily. “Just a bit of food poisoning, I think. Had a questionable chicken salad for dinner yesterday.”

You notice Charles is wearing a soft grey t-shirt and track pants, his hair damp from the shower. He must have just finished with physiotherapy. He looks so effortlessly handsome, it’s frankly unfair. You suddenly feel acutely aware of the sheen of sweat on your face and your limbs heavy with fatigue.

Charles’ face remains creased in concern. “Food poisoning? Have you been to the medical center?”

You wave a hand. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just 24 hours of hell before I’m back to normal.” You attempt a smile, but have to grab the trash can again as the smell from it hits you like a wave.

Charles springs forward and grabs your arm as you retch miserably. “Whoa, take it easy,” he says, supporting you until the heaving subsides.

You stay hunched over, breathing hard. The world is spinning a little. You hear Charles say firmly, “Okay, come with me. Let’s get you sat down.”

He keeps a hand under your arm and leads you into the blessedly cool motorhome. The rich scent of coffee fills the interior, reminding you that you haven’t managed to keep any food down today. You sink gratefully onto a padded bench at one of the tables.

Charles sits opposite you, his green eyes studying you intently. “When did the sickness start?”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. The jig is up. “About four weeks ago,” you mutter.

Understanding dawns on Charles’ face. “Oh. Oh!” His eyes flick down to your still-flat stomach. “So you’re ...”

“Pregnant. Yes.” You drop your head into your hands.

“Well, hey, congratulations,” says Charles gently. “That’s really exciting.”

You huff out something between a sob and a laugh. “Exciting? More like a nightmare!” You run your fingers back through your hair and look desperately at Charles. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Carlos. I can’t risk anyone finding out about this. If I lose this job ...”

Charles’ brows draw together again. “Why would you lose your job? You’re Carlos’ press officer. I’m sure he’d be thrilled for you.”

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no way. I can’t take time off. The season just started! Carlos needs me, I organize everything for him. The travel, the events, the media, everything!” You bite your lip anxiously. “Maybe … maybe after the baby comes, I can figure something out. But I have to keep this quiet until then. Please.”

Charles reaches over and lays a hand on your arm. His touch is gentle but firm. “Y/N. Working yourself into the ground won’t be good for you or the baby. Have you thought about taking a sabbatical? Just a few months to rest, focus on yourself.”

Panic flares in your chest. “No! No, I can’t.” Your breathing quickens. “You don’t understand — I have no one else. No partner. No family. This job is everything. If I lose it ...” You trail off, trying to blink back the sting of tears.

Charles is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “Okay. I understand this is your decision. And I promise I won’t tell Carlos or anyone else.” He hesitates. “But Y/N, please take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

You nod jerkily and avoid his earnest gaze. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet. The motorhome tilts sickeningly for a second.

Charles rises too, watching you with concern. “Will you be alright?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. You start to head deeper into the motorhome, desperate to lie down before the nausea returns.

“Y/N,” Charles calls after you softly. You pause, glancing back. “Congratulations again. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” He gives you a small, warm smile.

You swallow hard. “Thank you, Charles,” you whisper. Then you turn and continue on unsteadily, one hand braced against the wall.

You make it to the small office that passes for your private quarters on race weekends. Collapsing onto the ergonomic desk chair, you stare up at the ceiling and place a hand over your still-flat belly.

A baby.

Your baby.

Fear and wonder tangle inside you.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you know a hand is gently shaking your shoulder. You jerk awake to find Carlos standing over you, his eyebrows drawn with concern.

“Y/N? Are you ill?”

You stand up too quickly and immediately regret it as the room spins. Carlos grabs your shoulder to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you say hoarsely. “Just needed a quick nap.”

Carlos frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Charles said you were throwing up outside. That you have food poisoning?”

You make a mental note to kill Charles later. “Uh, yeah. Bad chicken salad, I think. But I’ll be okay.” You attempt a reassuring smile.

Carlos sits down on the edge of your desk, watching you closely. “Why didn’t you tell me you were unwell? You know you don’t have to worry about me, I can look after myself for one day.” His dark brown eyes are filled with worry.

Guilt twists your gut. Carlos has always been extraordinarily kind and thoughtful, a rarity in the high stakes world of Formula 1. You hate lying to him.

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just didn’t want to let you down. But you’re right, I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head immediately. “No, don’t be sorry. Just focus on feeling better, yes? Take tomorrow off too. I order you to rest,” he adds with a small grin.

You smile weakly back. “Okay, boss.”

Carlos stands and gestures to the tiny table bolted to the wall. “I brought you some tea and crackers. Hopefully you can keep it down.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you checking on me.”

He smiles. “Of course. Feel better, Y/N.” With a last lingering look of concern, he turns and leaves you in peace.

You look at the steaming tea and crackers and feel tears prick your eyes again. Carlos is a good man. Too good, probably, for the pragmatic demands of Formula 1. You know you should tell him about the pregnancy. But the thought of losing your place here, on this team, fills you with dread.

This high stakes world of racing is all you’ve known for the past three years. You can’t imagine life outside the bubble of the paddock, away from the adrenaline and pressure. Away from the team. Away from Carlos. Away from Charles.

With a deep breath, you sit up straight and tear open the crackers. You need to think about this rationally. Maybe Charles is right and you do need to slow down eventually. But for now, for the next few months at least, you have to keep going like nothing has changed.

You place a hand on your stomach as you nibble a cracker. “It’s gonna be okay, little one,” you whisper. “We’ll figure this out.”

***

The smell of coffee turns your stomach these days, but you still make your way blearily to the breakfast buffet each morning. Carlos is an early riser, and you need to be available whenever he is ready to start the day. You scan the offerings, deciding toast is the safest option, and reach for a couple of dry slices.

“Oh, Y/N!”

You turn to see Charles holding out a pre-packaged parfait cup. “I grabbed an extra yogurt by mistake. Do you want it?”

You hesitate. Your first instinct is suspicion — this is the third time this week Charles has “accidentally” had an extra snack to offer you. But the yogurt does look appealing ...

“Sure, thanks,” you say, taking the cup from him. Charles shoots you a smile before grabbing a plate and continuing down the buffet.

You sit down next to Carlos with your toast and yogurt. He glances up from his phone. “Morning. Feeling better today?”

You nod, mouth full. In truth, the nausea has continued, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it from Carlos and powered through.

Charles joins you both a few minutes later, greeted by Carlos with a fist bump. You peel open your yogurt while half-listening to the two men discuss the upcoming practices.

The sweet, fruity parfait is cool and soothing on your sensitive stomach. You find yourself polishing it off in record time. As you scrape the last bit of yogurt from the bottom, you realize Charles is watching you.

“Good?” He asks.

You lick the plastic spoon clean before answering. “Yeah, really hit the spot, thanks.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with a smile. “No problem. I’ll try to grab two tomorrow.”

You feel your smile grow fixed. This is getting ridiculous. Charles Leclerc does not care this much about your yogurt preferences. He’s up to something.

Over the next week, Charles’ thoughtfulness continues. A cold bottle of water when you’re looking hot and tired. A sandwich from a local bakery when you missed lunch. Your favorite chocolate bar when you mention a craving in passing. Always with an innocent smile, as if he’s not playing Superman to your pretend Lois Lane.

It all comes to a head on race day. You’re in the scorching sun on the grid, already feeling the fatigue of the hectic weekend. Carlos is doing his pre-race routine, so your attention has lapsed. Suddenly a blessedly cold bottle of water appears in front of your face. You look up to see Charles grinning down at you.

“Stay hydrated,” he says with a wink.

That does it. “Okay, enough!” You snap, smacking the water bottle away. It falls to the ground with a thud, water glugging out.

Charles’ eyes go wide with shock. “Y/N?”

Grabbing his arm, you pull Charles several steps away from eavesdropping mechanics. “Why are you doing this?” You hiss. “I don’t need you to baby me!”

“What?” Charles looks completely bewildered. “I’m just trying to help-”

“Well, stop,” you interrupt sharply. The hurt on Charles’ face makes you falter, but you press on. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”

“Pity?” Charles frowns. “It’s not pity, Y/N. I care about you.” He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re always taking care of everyone around you. Now you need someone to take care of you too.”

His kind words hit you like a gut punch. Oh God, the stupid hormones! You feel hot tears spring to your eyes.

Charles’ alarmed expression softens. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you ...” He pulls you into a hug. One hand smoothes your hair while the other rubs comforting circles on your back.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmurs. You cling to him, embarrassed by your raw emotional response but unable to stop the tears.

After a minute the wave passes. You pull back, wiping your eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Nothing is wrong with you. But I understand this is a difficult time.” His expression turns serious. “If you ever need anything, please ask me. I’m here for you.”

Looking up into Charles’ earnest green eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude. Whatever awkwardness lingers between you has evaporated. Charles is a true friend.

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Glancing around, you notice some odd looks from passing crew members. “We should probably get back to work before people think there’s a full-blown soap opera going on over here.”

Charles grins. “Agreed. But this conversation isn’t over. Dinner tonight in my room?” He raises an eyebrow.

You laugh, blinking away the last dampness from your eyes. “It’s a date.”

***

You smooth your hands down your dress as you approach Charles’ hotel suite, suddenly feeling nervous. You’ve been in drivers’ rooms countless times for work, but this feels different. More intimate.

You take a steadying breath and knock. Charles opens the door, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp button down shirt.

“Y/N! Come in.” He steps back to allow you inside.

The suite is spacious and modern, with floor to ceiling windows along one wall looking out over the glittering city. Charles leads you through the living area to a set of glass doors. “I thought we could eat out on the balcony,” he explains, opening the doors with a flourish. “The fresh air will be good for you and baby.”

You step outside and have to stifle a gasp. A small table is elegantly set for two, a vase of flowers in the center. String lights twinkle overhead. “Charles, this is beautiful!”

He looks pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” Pulling out a chair, he gestures for you to sit.

As he takes the seat opposite you, you notice several covered dishes on the table. Charles sees you looking and smiles a bit sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mother earlier.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I asked her what foods she craved when she was pregnant with me and my brother. So I ordered a bunch of that from room service, in hopes there might be something you’d like.”

A lump forms in your throat. You reach over and squeeze his hand. “Charles, that is so incredibly thoughtful.”

Pink tinges his tanned cheeks. “Of course. I want to take care of you.”

You chat comfortably over food and Charles’ excellent choice of wine for you — sparkling grape juice. He relaxes as you praise the chicken and melon he ordered.

When you sit back contentedly, Charles fixes you with a thoughtful look. “So, do you know how far along you are?”

You hesitate. “About three months now.”

He nods. “And have you been to a doctor yet?”

Your fingers find a groove in the wooden table to trace. “Not yet.” At his surprised look, you add defensively, “I’ve just been so busy with work. But I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Still, you should make an appointment soon. Just to be safe.” Charles’ tone is gentle.

You nod without meeting his eye. An uncomfortable beat passes.

“Do you ...” Charles pauses delicately. “Forgive me, but … do you know who the father is?”

Your cheeks flame. You stand abruptly, walking over to the balcony railing. After a moment Charles joins you, leaning on the rail at your side.

“I’m sorry, that was too personal,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I just ...” You glance up at him. “He’s no longer in my life.” You look away, a lump in your throat.

Charles doesn’t ask anything more, just moves closer in a gesture of silent support. You stand together breathing in the night air. The twinkling city sprawls before you. For a moment, the future doesn’t feel quite so frightening.

Eventually you stifle a yawn behind your hand. Charles glances over. “You must be exhausted. I should let you get to bed.”

You smile gratefully. He walks you to the door of the suite. Pausing, you stand on tiptoes and kiss Charles lightly on the cheek. “Thank you again for dinner. For everything.”

His eyes shine as he gazes down at you. “Of course. Sweet dreams, Y/N. And ...” He brushes a feather-light touch over your belly. “Sweet dreams to you too, little one.”

You feel your heart melt just a little. With a last smile, you head down the hall to the elevators. As the doors slide closed, you catch one last glimpse of Charles watching after you.

Back in your smaller, blander room, you change for bed in a happy haze. Sliding between cool sheets, you let out a contented sigh. Tonight was lovely. Charles’ thoughtfulness reminds you there are still good people in the world. For the first time in weeks, you feel a spark of hope.

You drift off to sleep with a hand resting gently on your belly. Everything seems less frightening now that you aren’t alone. Whatever happens next, you and your baby will get through it together.

***

The buzz of the media pen is giving you a headache today. Or maybe that’s just the pregnancy. You blink heavily, trying to focus on Carlos speaking into the microphone in front of you. You hit record on your phone as he answers the first question. It’s your job to capture every word to ensure he’s not misrepresented later.

The reporter’s voice fades in and out. You sway slightly, shaking your head. Just need some fresh air. You take a step away from the crowd, vision blurring at the edges. Dark spots dance across your eyes. The concrete floor rushes up to meet you-

“Y/N!”

Strong hands grab your shoulders, slowing your collapse. Your head spins as you try to make sense of it.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Charles’ worried face swims into view above you. You part your lips but no words come out.

There’s loud commotion around you now. You feel yourself being shifted, lifted. Snatches of Charles’ voice pierce through the fog.

“She’s pregnant ... get help ... ambulance ...”

You try to cling to consciousness but it’s like grasping at smoke. The world goes dark.

When you resurface, it’s to antiseptic white walls and a steady beeping. Hospital. An IV pulls at your arm as you shift.

“Y/N?” Charles appears at your side, relief breaking across his face. “Thank God. You’re awake.”

Before you can respond, he’s disappeared again, calling for a doctor. You try to push yourself more upright but your limbs feel like lead.

A brisk older woman in a white coat enters, glancing at the monitor beside your bed. “Good to see you awake, Miss Y/L/N. You gave us quite a scare.”

“What happened?” Your voice comes out hoarse.

“You fainted from low blood pressure. A common issue in pregnancy, but yours seems to be more severe.” The doctor flips through your chart with a frown.

Charles stands anxiously at the foot of the bed. “But she’ll be alright now?”

The doctor hesitates. “I’m recommending complete pelvic rest and limited activity for the remainder of the pregnancy. Strictly no standing or walking for prolonged periods.” She pins you with a sharp look. “And if your blood pressure drops again, we’ll have no choice but to put you on full bed rest.”

Your stomach drops through the floor. “What? No, I can’t! I have to keep working, I-”

“Y/N.” Charles’ voice stops your panicked rambling. His face is lined with concern as he takes your hand. “Your health is what matters most.”

The doctor nods briskly. “Precisely. No job is worth risking your or your baby’s safety.” With a final warning look, she departs.

The moment she leaves, you burst into tears. Harsh, gasping sobs wrack your frame. This is a disaster. Without being able to stand or walk for long stretches, you’re useless to the team. You’ll be fired for sure. And then what will you do? You have no one, no other skills-

Warm, strong arms wrap around you as you weep. Charles cradles you against his chest, making low soothing sounds.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

You clutch fistfuls of his shirt, burying your face in the soft cotton. The steady thump of his heartbeat slowly calms your hysteria.

When the tears finally subside, Charles eases you gently back against the pillows. His thumbs brush away the moisture from your cheeks.

“I know you’re scared,” he says quietly. “But I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. We are in this together now.”

His green eyes radiate such sincerity, you feel some of the panic and despair lift. You cling tightly to his hand, anchoring yourself to him like he’s a rock in a stormy sea.

***

You pick listlessly at the greyish meat and mushy vegetables on your hospital dinner tray. At least Charles had the foresight to sneak in some contraband snacks earlier — you polish off the last crumbs of the cookies he brought, wishing futilely for something more appetizing.

A knock at the door precedes Charles peeking in. “Hungry for something better than hospital food?” He holds up a paper takeout bag and shakes it enticingly.

You brighten immediately. “Charles, you’re my hero.”

He laughs and enters, pulling a table over your lap to serve as a makeshift dining surface. Soon plastic containers of pasta, salad, and fresh bread are opened, the savory scents making your mouth water.

Charles watches fondly as you tuck in. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to eating. But who doesn’t like Italian food?”

You make a noise of emphatic agreement through your full mouth. Charles chuckles.

When you finally surface for air, he clears his throat. “So I was thinking ...” Charles busies himself folding and refolding your napkin. “My apartment in Monaco is pretty big for just me. And it has a guest room that’s just sitting empty.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.

“Well ...” Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I thought maybe when you’re discharged, you could come stay with me for a while. So I can make sure you’re not overexerting yourself.”

You frown slightly. “Oh. That’s really kind, but I’ll be fine once I’m out of here.”

“Will you?” Charles levels you with a knowing look. “No offense, but you’re not exactly the best at asking for help when you need it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but can’t really argue with that.

“Let me do this for you. For my own peace of mind too,” Charles implores gently. He takes your hand, blue eyes full of sincerity. “Please?”

Looking into his earnest face, you feel your weak resistance faltering. Still ... “I don’t want to be a burden,” you mumble half-heartedly.

Charles squeezes your hand. “You could never be. I care about you, Y/N.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “I want to take care of you and the baby.”

The warmth in his voice melts away the last of your reluctance. And honestly, the prospect of having Charles doting on you is far preferable to being alone in your small, dreary apartment.

You meet his hopeful gaze. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then … I accept your kind offer.”

Charles’ answering smile rivals the sun. “Yeah? Oh, that’s fantastic!” He sweeps you into an enthusiastic but gentle hug. You cling to him, feeling the nervous knot that’s been your constant companion for weeks finally start to loosen. Everything will work out.

That night as Charles is leaving, you call his name softly. He pauses, one hand on the door.

You twist your fingers in the blanket, suddenly shy. “I just wanted to say … thank you. For everything. I’ll find a way to repay you someday, I promise.”

Charles’ expression softens. He comes back and squeezes your hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Just focus on yourself and that little one.” He strokes a finger over your belly. “That’s all the repayment I need.”

With a last smile, he slips out, leaving you to fall asleep with a heart full of gratitude and growing affection for your kind rescuer.

***

You smooth your hands nervously over your dress as you approach Fred Vasseur’s office. This is it. Time to tell your boss that you’ll be leaving him in the lurch smack dab in the middle of the season.

Charles gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It will be okay. Just explain the situation.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Charles opens the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Fred rises from behind his desk, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, Charles. What can I do for you?” His gaze darts between you curiously.

Your mouth goes dry. Charles gently guides you to sit in one of the chairs facing Fred, taking the other himself.

“Y/N has something she needs to discuss with you,” Charles begins calmly. “I’m here for moral support.”

Fred’s eyebrows raise but he nods for you to go on. Your hands twist together in your lap.

“Well, I ...” You have to pause and swallow hard. “I recently learned that I’m pregnant. And I’ve developed some, uh, complications that mean I can’t travel or be on my feet much.”

Fred’s eyebrows climb higher. “I … see. Congratulations?” He still looks perplexed.

Charles jumps in. “What she’s trying to say is, she needs to take a leave of absence. Doctor’s orders.”

“Ah.” Understanding settles on Fred’s face. He turns back to you. “I’m very sorry to hear you’re unwell. Of course health must come first.”

You feel yourself relax slightly. “So I can take a sabbatical? My job will still be here when I’m able to return?”

“Absolutely.” Fred nods. “You’ve been invaluable to our team. Your role will be waiting whenever you’re ready.”

You could cry with relief. “Oh, thank you! That means the world.”

Fred smiles kindly. “Think nothing of it. Focus on your health and that baby. We’ll manage in the meantime.”

Charles reaches over to clasp your hand supportively. “Is there anything else she needs to know before starting her leave?”

Fred considers this. “Y/N will have full pay during sabbatical, of course. And keep me posted on any support you require — medical, household, anything at all.”

You clutch Charles’ hand, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiles. “Very generous. We appreciate that greatly.”

After finalizing a few details, you both stand. Fred comes around the desk to shake your hand. “Best of luck with everything. Let me know if you need absolutely anything.”

You whisper a heartfelt thank you before allowing Charles to guide you out. Safely in the hallway, you turn and fling your arms around him.

“Charles, thank you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

His strong arms come around you, cradling you close. “Of course, Y/N. I meant what I said — I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

You cling to each other for a long moment, his steadfast support washing away your lingering fears. As long as Charles is with you, you know everything will work out just fine.

***

You fidget in the generic mint-colored exam room, paper crinkling beneath you as you perch on the edge of the table. Charles sits in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone, the picture of calm. You wish you shared his zen attitude.

A brisk knock precedes the door swinging open. A smiling older woman enters, glancing down at her chart.

“Y/N? I’m Dr. Boucher, nice to meet you.” Her smile widens as she looks between you and Charles. “And you must be the dad! Wonderful.”

Your mouth drops open to correct her, but Charles beats you to it. “That’s right, thank you,” he says easily, standing to shake the doctor’s hand.

You snap your mouth shut, eyes widening. But the doctor has already moved on, washing her hands at the sink.

“Now then, let’s take a look at this baby, shall we?” She pats the exam table.

You lie back, hiking up your shirt to expose your belly. The cool gel makes you shiver as the doctor smears it over your skin. She places the ultrasound wand low on your abdomen and moves it slowly.

The screen blooms to life, blurred black and white shifting until a shape emerges — a tiny profile, curled arms and legs distinct. You gasp softly. There’s your baby.

Dr. Boucher smiles. “There we are. Looks to be about 16 weeks along. Growing beautifully.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen. Your throat feels tight. After so many weeks of secrecy and fear, this precious little life finally seems real.

“And there’s the heartbeat.” The doctor turns up the volume, and a rapid thumping fills the room. “Nice and strong.”

Tears spill over your cheeks before you can stop them. A glance over shows Charles watching the monitor intently, green eyes shiny with emotion. He reaches for your hand, gripping tightly.

When the appointment ends, you both exit the office in a daze. As you walk down the street to Charles’ car, he turns to you.

“That was … incredible,” he says softly. “Seeing your baby for the first time ...” He trails off, at a loss for words.

You lift his hand and press a kiss to the back, hoping he understands the depth of your gratitude. Charles smiles tenderly in return.

Safely home in Charles’ plush apartment, you curl up together on the sofa with mugs of tea to continue gazing at the ultrasound photos. Charles slips an arm around your shoulders, his thumb idly stroking your arm as you chatter excitedly about preparing a nursery.

This moment, here with Charles, your child’s heartbeat still echoing in your ears … it’s the closest thing to pure joy you’ve ever known. The future finally feels bright with hope. You lean into Charles’ warmth and send up a silent prayer of thanks for this man and the new life he’s given back to you.

***

You curl deeper into the plush couch in Charles’ apartment, cradling your mug of tea. Rain patters against the windows overlooking Monaco’s glittering harbor. The cozy scene makes you feel safe enough to finally open up.

“Charles?”

He glances over from where he’s poking at the fire. “Hmm?”

You twist your fingers together nervously. “There’s more I should tell you. About how I got pregnant.”

Charles rises and comes to sit beside you, face open and attentive. Taking a deep breath, you begin.

“It happened last winter, during the off-season. I went back home to Italy for a while, to the little town outside Milan where my family lives.”

You stare into your tea, remembering. “There was a man vacationing there, from Rome. Dario. We met in a cafe and just … clicked. He was handsome, charming, a perfect gentleman.” Your lips twist wryly. “Or so I thought.”

Charles remains quiet, letting you gather the words.

“We spent every day together for two weeks. Took long walks, went on romantic dinners. When it was time for him to leave, we ...” You trail off, face warming.

“You made love,” Charles supplies gently. You nod, still not meeting his eyes.

“I thought it meant as much to him as to me. But after he went back to Rome, his texts and calls slowly stopped. And then I found out why.”

Your voice drops to a pained whisper. “He was married. His ‘business trip’ was just a chance to fool around. When his wife saw my texts on his phone … it exploded. And then my family found out about the affair.”

Finally you lift your head. Charles’ face is lined with compassion. “They disowned me. Called me a fool and a harlot. It didn’t matter that I was lied to — as far as they’re concerned, I brought shame upon our family.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Charles immediately pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “You did nothing wrong. This Dario took advantage of you, and your family should have supported you.”

Charles holds you until the storm of tears passes. When you finally pull back, he cups your face in both hands, brushing away the lingering moisture with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says softly. “I know that wasn’t easy. You’re so incredibly strong.”

Leaning forward, he places a tender kiss on your forehead. Then his palms slide down to cradle your rounded belly.

“I’ve got you now,” Charles murmurs. “Both of you. You’ll never be alone again.”

Nestled in his lap, you close your eyes and just breathe. The remnants of hurt and betrayal wash away, replaced by the safety of Charles’ embrace. Whatever comes next, you have found your sanctuary here, with him.

***

You wander through the apartment looking for Charles, one hand braced on your lower back. Your belly has popped noticeably in the last couple weeks, throwing your balance off.

Not finding Charles in any of the usual spots, you head down the hall towards the spare bedroom. When you push open the door, your jaw drops.

The room has been completely transformed. Bright sunshine spills through the windows onto whitewashed walls. A plush rug covers the hardwood floor. In one corner sits a fully assembled crib, stuffed animals piled inside.

Charles stands back to admire his work, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair adorably mussed. He turns when you gasp softly.

“Y/N! I wanted to surprise you.” His grin falters. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Charles, I love it!” You blink back happy tears, wandering further inside. Charles’ face lights up.

“I wasn’t sure what color to paint, so I left the walls white for now,” he explains, coming over to slip an arm around you.

You lean into him, gazing around. “It’s perfect. Our baby is so lucky to have you.”

Pink tinges Charles’ cheeks. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m the lucky one.”

You decide on a pale green for the walls. Charles immediately fetches paint supplies, but hovers anxiously as you start rolling color onto the first wall.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” He eyes your protruding stomach. “The fumes can’t be good ...”

You wave off his concern. “I’ll be fine! Here-” You dip a roller in paint and offer it out. “Make yourself useful instead of worrying.”

Charles accepts the roller reluctantly. Soon you’re both working side by side. Charles takes on the higher parts of the walls that you can’t comfortably reach anymore.

Humming under your breath, you step back to critique your work so far. As you do, your foot catches on the paint tray and you stumble. Charles reaches out to steady you, but not before a fat drop of paint lands on his cheek.

“Oops!” You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh at the green splotch on his tanned skin.

Charles narrows his eyes in mock indignation. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Before you can react, he flicks his loaded paintbrush at you, spattering your shirt.

You gasp in delighted outrage. “Oh, it is on!” Grabbing your roller, you swipe it down his arm.

Charles lets out a laugh of surprise. Soon paint is flying from both directions. You run around each other, giggling and slipping on the drops coating the floor.

Finally Charles catches you gently by the waist. You’re both absolutely covered in pale green, sides aching from laughter. Your faces are inches apart, smiles fading into something more tender.

Slowly, Charles leans in and presses his lips to yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. You melt against him, hands coming up to cradle his jaw.

When you finally part, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he confesses, a little breathless.

You smile, heart soaring. “What took you so long?”

His answering grin outshines the sun. There, surrounded by dreams of the future, you share another lingering kiss.

***

You settle back against the mountain of pillows, trying to find a comfortable position for your unwieldy body. At nearly 8 months along now, your belly feels impossibly huge. Luckily Charles’ plush bed offers plenty of space to sprawl.

Speaking of Charles, he appears in the doorway holding a bottle. “Ready for your massage?”

You eye the bottle of oil eagerly. The stretch marks crisscrossing your stomach have been itchy and tight. “Yes please.”

Charles props up pillows behind you so you’re half-reclining. Then he drizzles some of the oil into his palms, warming it up before smoothing his hands over your bump.

You sigh in bliss at his gentle but firm touch. The fragrant oil soothes and softens your irritated skin. Under Charles’ ministrations, the discomfort slowly ebbs away.

His strong hands glide over every inch, easing out the aches and pains. As Charles works, he murmurs to your belly. “There you go, little one. We’re going to make your home nice and cozy.”

Your heart clenches at the tender scene. Even after all these months of living together, it still sometimes hits you how domestic this is. Sharing a home, sharing a bed … it’s everything you secretly longed for but never expected to have. A real family.

You trail your fingers through Charles’ soft waves. His eyes lift to meet yours, soft with affection. The look on his face steals your breath — pure adoration, like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

“I love you.” The words slip out unbidden. Charles’ hands still. For a heartbeat, you’re afraid you’ve said too much.

But then he surges up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “I love you too,” Charles whispers fiercely when you finally break apart, both panting. “So much.”

He seals his words with another drugging kiss. Your hands clutch him close, heart near bursting with joy.

Suddenly Charles breaks the kiss with a gasp. His wide eyes dart down. “Did you feel that?”

You start to shake your head no, distracted by the sensation of his calloused hands massaging your belly, but then you feel it — a distinct thump against your insides. Your baby shifting and kicking.

Charles’ face lights up. “There it is again!” He laughs in wonder. “The little one is saying hello.”

Happy tears blur your vision. Charles presses a delighted kiss to your stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispers tenderly.

Through your tears, you smile at the man you love. The one who gave you and your child a home when you had nothing. However you got here, this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

A dull ache starts low in your back as you crawl into bed. You shift and stretch, trying to get comfortable, but can’t seem to. Charles notices your restlessness.

“Alright?” He murmurs sleepily, rolling over to rub your back.

You nod. “Yeah, just some back pain today.” Probably from lugging around this massive belly.

Charles makes soothing noises and continues massaging you until he drifts off. You finally manage to doze too.

Sometime in the night, you jerk awake. The sheets under you are soaked. For one confused moment you think you wet the bed. But then it hits you.

Your water broke.

“Charles!” You shake his shoulder urgently.

He comes awake with a snort. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

“It’s time! The baby-” You break off with a hiss as the first real contraction clenches your belly.

That wakes Charles up fully. “The baby? It’s coming?” He practically falls out of bed, all long limbs flailing.

You have to stifle an inappropriate giggle at his panic. “Yes, so we should-” Your instructions die as Charles sprints from the room. Alright then.

You shake your head in amusement and heave yourself to your feet, one hand braced on your lower back. Waddling slowly after Charles, you find him hyperactively rushing around the living room, tossing items randomly into your hospital bag.

“Okay, let’s go!” He grabs the overflowing bag and dashes out the front door. You stare after him in disbelief then lower yourself carefully onto the couch to wait.

Not thirty seconds later, Charles comes barreling back inside. “Oh God, I forgot you!”

You have to laugh at the panic on his face. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Looking marginally calmer, he helps you up, frantically gathering your bag in one hand while keeping the other wrapped around you.

You lean your weight on him during the next contraction, breathing through it. “It’s okay. But we should really go now.”

Charles practically carries you down to the garage and bundles you into his Ferrari in record time. He drives well over the speed limit, one hand clutching yours the whole way.

At the hospital, Charles refuses to leave your side even for a second. He holds the gas and air for you to breathe during contractions, whispering how strong and amazing you are.

When the time comes to push, the pain is unimaginable. You nearly give up, sobbing that you can’t do this. But Charles is there, guiding you through it, telling you that you absolutely can. And with one final scream, your son enters the world.

The shrill cry is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Charles cuts the cord with trembling hands. Then the nurse lays your wailing, squirmy son on your chest.

You press kisses to his downy head, tears of joy streaming down your face. Charles gazes at you both with pure reverence.

“His name is Matteo Charles,” you whisper. Charles lets out a choked sob at the middle name.

Too soon, the nurses take Matteo for cleaning and checks. One asks Charles if he’d like to hold him. Charles looks to you questioningly, and you nod through your exhaustion.

Charles settles into a chair, shirtless, and Matteo is laid on his bare chest. Charles strokes a gentle finger over Matteo’s cheek, seemingly enraptured.

“Thank you,” he rasps to you. “For our beautiful boy. Thank you, mon amour.”

This is everything you never knew you needed — a family, a home, and an overflowing love you once thought would forever be lost to you. But you’ve found it now, here in this room, together.

***

The sharp cries jolt you from sleep. With a groan, you roll out of the warm circle of Charles’ arms. Your body still aches and protests as you make your way to the nursery in the dark.

Picking up little Matteo, you carry him to the rocker and situate him at your breast. He latches on eagerly, cries fading to soft snuffles.

Charles appears in the doorway, hair adorably mussed. “Everything okay?” He asks through a yawn.

“We’re good now.” You smile tiredly down at your nursing son. His downy hair and scrunched features are all you — you find yourself thankful that there is barely any indication that his biological father even participated in making him.

Charles comes to perch on the ottoman, watching Matteo. “I can’t believe he’s really here,” he murmurs. “Our son.”

Pride swells in your chest. Charles has fully embraced his role as Matteo’s father, as naturally as breathing.

When Matteo finishes eating, Charles takes him to gently pat his back while you right your nightgown. He kisses your son’s head when Matteo lets out a tiny burp.

Back in bed, you curl into Charles with Matteo nestled safely between you. Charles has a race this weekend, his first since the birth. The thought of him leaving fills you with anxiety.

In the morning, Charles confirms your fears. “I’ll just tell Fred I’m not coming this weekend,” he says casually over breakfast. “The team will manage without me. One of the reserve drivers can take over for a few days.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No, Charles, you have to race.”

“But I don’t want to leave you two!” Charles gestures helplessly to where Matteo snoozes in a bouncer.

You catch Charles’ hand. “This is your dream. Matteo and I will be right here cheering you on when you get back.”

Charles wavers. You soften your voice. “It’s only for a little while. We’ll be okay.”

Finally he nods reluctantly. You know how hard this is for him — but Charles was born to race. You won’t let him give that up.

The morning Charles is set to fly out, he clings to you and Matteo like a second skin. You practically have to peel him off at airport security.

“I’ll be back so soon,” he whispers fiercely. One last kiss, and then he’s gone.

The apartment feels empty and too quiet. But you fill the time singing and playing with Matteo, keeping yourself busy until the race.

You and Matteo cuddle close on the couch to watch Charles zoom around the track. Your heart swells with love and pride seeing your man do what he was meant to.

When Charles wins, he shouts his ecstatic thanks to you and Matteo over the team radio. The podium champagne gets sprayed directly into the camera for you.

Finally Charles is home, sweeping you and Matteo into his arms. “I love you both so much,” he murmurs in wonder. You whisper it right back, nestled safe in the arms of your little family.

***

The energy in the Albert Park paddock is electric as teams prepare for the first race of the 2025 season. You feel a thrill just being back, Matteo cooing happily in your arms. At nearly six months old now, he’s ready for his first race.

Charles bounces on his toes, unable to contain his excitement. “Are you ready to see Papa race, Matteo?” He tickles Matteo’s belly, eliciting bubbly giggles.

You head first to the Ferrari garage, where the mechanics crowd around eagerly to fawn over Matteo. Lewis gives you a careful hug, peering curiously at the baby.

“Lewis, meet Matteo,” Charles says proudly. At Lewis’ questioning look, he adds “My son.” The way he says it brooks no argument.

Lewis’ eyes widen slightly but he just smiles. “Hi Matteo!” He offers a finger for Matteo to grip.

Fred comes over next, cooing over how much Matteo has grown. You enjoy the familial atmosphere, everyone fussing over your boy. Matteo basks in the attention.

Charles takes him down to the front of the garage to watch the crews work on the cars. He points out parts of the sleek machines, explaining them seriously to Matteo as if he understands. Matteo just gazes adoringly up at his Papa.

When Charles finally straps into the car for practice, you have ear muffs ready for Matteo’s sensitive ears. Charles blows kisses to you both before pulling on his helmet. Matteo squeals and waves his little fist as the car roars out.

In the hotel that night, you set Matteo on the bed while Charles showers. Stripped down to his diaper, your son kicks his chubby legs excitedly.

Charles emerges in comfy clothes, his hair still damp, and laughs at Matteo’s antics. “Alright, my little race car driver, time for bed.”

He tickles Matteo’s tummy as he puts on a fresh diaper and snaps up his pajamas. Then Charles cradles Matteo close, humming softly as he sways back and forth to soothe him. Your heart clenches at the tender scene.

Once Matteo is deeply asleep, Charles lays him gently in the travel crib. He turns to you with a soft smile. “I can’t imagine life without him now.”

You slip your arms around Charles from behind. “He loves his Papa so much already. Your biggest fan.”

Charles covers your hands with his, gazing at Matteo. “I’m going to win tomorrow for him.”

And he does. On the podium, Charles looks down to where you cradle Matteo in one arm, and gently showers you with champagne. Matteo’s delighted laughter is the sweetest sound.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted.

***

The energetic buzz of the Italian Grand Prix washes over you as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles, your son cradled safely in his arms. At nearly a year old now, Matteo is fascinated by the vivid colors and cacophony of sounds surrounding him.

Charles playfully bounces Matteo as you weave through the crowded walkways, pointing out the sights and sounds. “Look Matteo, there’s the cars! Vroom vroom!” Charles mimics the roar of an engine. Matteo’s delighted giggle melts your heart. You can’t help but grin, chest swelling with love and pride for your little family.

You’ve just about reached the looming Ferrari motorhome when an absolutely venomous female voice shrieks out, “You!”

Every muscle in your body instantly tenses. You freeze mid-step, heart lurching into your throat. Whipping your head around, you see an immaculately dressed woman barreling directly towards you, her face mottled an ugly shade of rage-induced crimson.

“You disgusting harlot!” The woman spits with unrestrained fury. “You filthy whore!”

Stunned, you instinctively take a faltering step backwards, nearly stumbling. Charles’ strong arm immediately wraps protectively around you and Matteo, steadying you. His body angles partly in front of yours and Matteo’s smaller form, shielding you both on pure instinct.

The deranged woman continues her tirade, advancing until she’s nearly screaming in your face. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, you reprehensible little homewrecker!”

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, a ghost from your past suddenly materializes behind the enraged woman. A man you hoped to never lay eyes on again.

His eyes blow wide at the sight of you, Charles, and the infant cradled against Charles’ chest.

The woman — his wife, you realize with dawning horror — grabs viciously onto his arm, her razor-sharp nails digging in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped gouges. “Just look at her!” She shrieks, spit flying from her mouth. “Parading that little bastard child around like it’s something to be proud of!” She violently thrusts her finger towards Matteo, still safely ensconced in Charles’ embrace.

Your son, sensing the onslaught of hostile energy, immediately begins wailing in distress. You instinctively reach out to take him from Charles, desperate to comfort your frightened boy. But Charles subtly shifts his stance, moving further out of her reach, as he focuses intently on gently bouncing and shushing Matteo in an attempt to calm him.

Matteo’s biological father simply stares, slack-jawed, at the sobbing infant. The gears visibly turn in his head. “Is that ...” he chokes out, “Is he … mine?”

“No.” Charles’ immediate response is biting and unequivocal. He clutches Matteo tighter to his chest. “Matteo is my son.” Though his voice remains steady, you can see a muscle in his jaw ticking from the effort of holding back more heated words.

But Dario clearly does not accept this response. His eyes narrow calculatingly as he continues scrutinizing the wailing baby. Behind him, his unhinged wife keeps up her tirade of slurs and accusations, whipping the gathering crowd into greater frenzy.

You feel lightheaded, paralyzed. This is a living nightmare. Distantly you are aware of camera phones pointed your way, capturing every wretched moment. Charles seems to realize the same, his handsome face darkening with rage.

With frightening efficiency, Charles strides directly over to the nearest paddock security officers and has a brief, terse exchange. Moments later, two bulky guards firmly take hold of the still-screaming woman and shellshocked man, forcefully escorting them away. The crowd reluctantly disperses, murmuring.

Charles immediately returns to envelope you and Matteo in a fiercely protective embrace. “It’s alright now, you’re both safe,” he soothes, though his rapid heartbeat belies his calm words. Matteo’s panicked sobs have faded to tiny hiccups against Charles’ neck.

The rest of the chaotic day passes in a blur. Much later, in the privacy of your hotel room, Charles reveals that he pulled every string and called in every favor necessary to have Dario and his deranged wife permanently blacklisted from all Formula 1 events.

His voice shakes with quiet rage as he describes how close security came to needing to restrain him physically.

Finally he takes your face so very gently in his hands. “I promise you, I will do anything and everything to protect our family. You and Matteo are my entire world. Nothing will ever hurt you as long as I’m breathing.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude, you collapse against his solid chest. Charles’ strong arms anchor you in place as you cling to him. He continues murmuring fervent assurances, pressing kisses to your hair.

Despite the ugliness of the day, you know with utter certainty Charles will shield you and Matteo from the darkness of your past. Your family is still perfection in your eyes.

***

“Papa, I wanna be a race car driver like you when I grow up!”

Your five-year-old son looks up at Charles with big, adoring eyes as he makes this pronouncement over breakfast one morning.

Charles freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He slowly sets it down, gazing at Matteo with surprise and pride. “You do?”

Matteo bobs his curly head eagerly. “Yeah! I wanna drive fast cars and win like you! Can you teach me?”

Charles melts, ruffling Matteo’s hair. “Of course, buddy. We’ll have to convince your maman first though.” He shoots you a meaningful look.

You shift uncertainly. Of course you want to encourage Matteo’s interests, but motorsport is dangerous ...

Charles seems to sense your hesitation. “Why don’t you think about it, mon amour? No need to decide yet.” He winks at Matteo, who grins in excitement.

Over the next few days, your two boys put on a full court press to sway you. Charles points out safety advances in karting and helps Matteo make adorable PowerPoint slides with photos of your son in race helmets. They both unleash heartbreaking puppy dog eyes.

Finally you cave. “Alright!” You laugh, holding up your hands in surrender. “You can start teaching him the basics.”

Matteo and Charles high-five so hard it makes a cracking sound. “Yesss!” Charles pumps his fists while Matteo dances in glee. Seeing their matching enthusiasm melts away the last of your reluctance. Your little daredevil was born for this.

The next weekend, Charles takes Matteo to a racetrack an hour outside the city. It’s just a small circuit, but Matteo gazes around with wide eyes, gripping Charles’ hand tightly.

Charles shows him the karts and safety gear, patiently explaining how everything works. Then it’s time. Charles helps strap Matteo into a kart made for kids, snugging his helmet gently under the chin.

“Ready, mon petit champion?”

Matteo gives him a thumbs up, practically vibrating with excitement. Charles grins and drops the visor down. “Alright! Let’s do this!”

He gives Matteo a little push to get the kart rolling onto the track. Your son quickly gets the hang of working the gas and brakes. Charles jogs alongside, gesturing and calling out instructions.

Gradually he lets Matteo take full control. Your little boy zips around the course, hair blowing out the back of his helmet. His delighted laughter echoes around the circuit.

Watching from the sidelines, Charles records it all on his phone, face alight with joy and pride. “That’s it Matteo, you’re doing amazing!” He cheers.

This is only the beginning. But seeing the utter bliss on both their faces, you know Matteo has chosen the right path. The Leclerc legacy will live on.

***

“I’m here in the pit lane with Charles Leclerc on the momentous day his son, Matteo Leclerc, makes his highly anticipated debut with Scuderia Ferrari. Charles, you must be incredibly proud right now.”

The Sky Sports reporter holds her mic out to Charles as he stands, beaming, in front of the scarlet Ferrari garage. Charles nods, looking slightly choked up.

“Incredibly proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replies earnestly. “This has been Matteo’s dream since he was just a little boy. To see him achieve it, to be standing here watching him drive for the team I devoted my life to … it’s indescribable.”

Charles pauses, glancing over fondly at where you stand with Matteo, straightening your son’s helmet and race suit.

“His mother and I, we’ve worried and experienced every up and down along the way with him. But Matteo has worked so hard for this, never gave up even when it seemed impossible. He more than deserves today.”

The reporter smiles. “And his last name isn’t the only way he takes after you. Matteo is widely considered your protégé after you mentored him through the junior ranks.”

“I taught him everything I could,” Charles acknowledges. “But his talent and dedication are all his own. Matteo is his own man now. I can’t wait to see how high he continues to climb.”

“Any advice you’ve given him before his first race with Ferrari?”

Charles chuckles. “Just to enjoy every second. This only comes around once.” He looks off into the distance, eyes crinkling nostalgically.

“Still seems like yesterday I was in his shoes for my own Ferrari debut. I’ll never forget that feeling.”

The reporter wraps up the interview and Charles makes his way over to where you and 21-year-old Matteo are embracing. Charles’ eyes shine with unshed tears as he clasps arms with his son.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles says hoarsely. “Your mother and I both. Now go show the world what you can do.”

Matteo’s answering smile is blinding. “I’ll make you proud, Papa.”

He hugs you tight, then pulls on his helmet and strides confidently to his waiting Ferrari. The mechanics cheer as the car roars to life and Matteo peels out onto the track, on the cusp of achieving his lifelong dream.

You cling to Charles’ side, waving tearfully. “Our little boy,” you whisper in awe.

Charles wraps an arm around you, never taking his eyes off the bright red car. “He’s all grown up. But he’ll always be our son.”

No matter how high Matteo climbs, Charles knows he will always remain his sweet little boy — the bright-eyed child you and Charles raised with love.

His greatest source of pride and joy as the future beckons brightly, another generation of Leclercs carrying the hopes of Ferrari forward.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Inumaki Toge being insecure about his speech (or the lack of thereof).

I feel like if he could trade a year of his life for sixty seconds without his cursed speech, he would. Without second thought. And specially because of you.

He's had a crush on you for a while (ever since your first encounter), but he'd never admit it. Not because he's scared of rejection, but because he's scared you'll reciprocate his feelings. Because he thinks you deserve better. Actually, scratch that: he knows you deserve better. You deserve someone so much better than him.

"And then you won't believe what he said! He said: 'I can't date you, cause I'm actually your brother!'"

"No way! That's the plot of the movie? How shitty!"

You deserve someone like Yuta. Someone who can make you laugh with their own words, someone who you don't need to strugle to understand what they're saying. Right now, you and Okkotsu are talking about some bad movie he watched. And you're laughing so hard and your laugh is so pretty it makes him wanna laugh too. He wants to engage on the conversation. He wants to say: "That's one of the worst plots I've ever seen! I can take you to the movies to see a real good movie if you'd like to"

But he can't. He can't, but Yuta can. He should let you go so you can be with someone who deserves you. He has no right to be this selfish, making you a slave of a love without any words of affection.

It feels like everytime he looks at you, there's a nagging voice in the back of his head, painfully reminding him that he can't be with you, and there's nothing he can do about it. It's an impossible love.

Hell, even Panda is making him feel envious and jealous. Even though he's literally a panda, at least he can talk to you. Sing your favorites songs with you. And he can't. At least not without cursing someone (and, God forbid, maybe even you. You're the last person he wants to harm)

He wanted you to confide in him just like how you confide in Maki. You always tell her everything. He wishes he, too, could be a source of relief. A shoulder you can rely on. But he can't. He can't, cause the best he could say in that situation is "Salmon", "Caviar" and other stupid onigiri ingredients that have nothing to do with the actual topic of the conversation. Honestly, he would be tired of himself if he was his friend. You don't have the obligation to understand his dialogue. Nobody does.

So, he comes to the conclusion that he should just avoid you. He should give up on loving you, because he doesn't want you to suffer.

"Toge, please! We haven't talked in days! Why did you suddenly stop talking to me?"

He stays silent. That's the only thing he can do, after all. He can't speak. He can't. But he wishes he could. He wishes he could tell you everything that's going through his head, tell you about how he feels like dying when he sees you playing a game with Itadori and Nobara because he knows he'll never be capable of doing that with you normally. If he speaks now, everything that'll come out of his mouth are foods. Speaking now would only remind him about the drift that exists between you both (and there's two options to avoid anyone's fall: you either close the gap or you widen it. He chose the latter)

"..."

"Inumaki, talk to me" (how sad. You want him to do exactly the only thing he can't do. That just makes him remember that he'll never be enough for you. Never)

Also, wow. You're using his last name. He got in a really bad situation, huh? How will he get out of this? How will he stop your (and also his) suffering?

There's only one way. And even though he swore that he'd never use his spell against you, he finds himself lowering his scarf with trembling hands.

"Leave. And don't look back."

~A/N: This is the fic I wrote that I mentioned on my last post!! I know a lot of people have writen abt this b4, so this is inspired by other stories I've read (if you've written something like this and want me to credit you, feel free to send me an ask!!). IT JUST FITS INUMAKI CHARACTER SO MUCHHH!! Like, I can totally imagine him being insecure about not being able to speak. I just thought I should give it a try cause I CAN'T FIND INUMAKI STUFF, so I took matters into my own hands. I don't realy like this, but I thought it would be a waste to not post it anyway

Masterlist

[opennwindows]

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

[celestialglow24]

••• Even Still •••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

Frank is upset with you when you put yourself in harms way

once again i was in my frank feels and got a little carried away with this one. enjoy xx

“Don’t.”

He cut you off before you could even finish saying his name. You bit your tongue hard as you watched him insert another stitch on your forearm.

The pounding in your head was relentless and you did your best to ignore the buzz emitting from the lights in the bathroom.

It felt as though it was right in your ears.

Your chest rose and fell slowly — each breath feeling like a knife was being jammed into your side. More than likely you had a few broken ribs.

It hurt to talk and smile but at least your split lip had finally stopped bleeding. The soreness around your eyes reminded you of the probable bruises that would be there to greet you tomorrow morning.

You hadn’t planned on getting hurt. You hadn’t really planned on any of the events of tonight.

But when the opportunity came up for you to go after the men who killed your brother, there was no way you could turn it down.

You didn’t think about the possible consequences.

You didn’t care.

All you could see was the vision of your brother’s mutilated body. All you could hear were the screams from your mother when the police had come to deliver the news.

So you sought your own justice— with help from a certain red vigilante that your boyfriend wasn’t particularly fond of.

The tension in the bathroom was palpable. You wanted so badly to say something sassy, but Frank was the one with a needle and thread in his hand.

While you knew he would never purposely inflict pain, you wouldn’t put it past him to fix you with a little more pressure and force than was probably necessary.

So instead you waited until he finished covering your stitched wound with a bandage and gauze.

You didn’t move from your seat as he started cleaning up the supplies and you refused to look at him. You kept your gaze off to the side, looking toward the bathroom window at the few cars that drove down the quiet midnight street.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry? I thought you would understand more than anyone why I did what I did.”

It was a low blow and you regretted it as soon as the words left your mouth. It wasn’t fair to throw that in his face but it also wasn’t fair that you got the cold shoulder when you weren’t all that different.

You couldn’t comprehend why it was okay for him to consistently put himself in dangerous situations but god forbid you do it one time.

He didn’t respond. He just continued to clean. For some reason that irritated you more than if he would’ve bit back with something even lower.

“Frank.” you prodded, this time finally turning to look at him. Again he ignored you, shoving the first aid kit back under the bathroom sink.

“Is this really what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna pretend like i’m not he-”

He grabbed your chin and jutted it up toward him. It didn’t hurt you, just startled you more than anything.

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

His voice was low, and while he tried to keep up his usual tough, stoic demeanor, you detected a hint of hurt in his voice.

You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Hm?” he squeezed your chin gently when you hadn’t responded.

You avoided his gaze now, uncomfortable with his searching eyes. He could always see right through you. No matter how much you tried to close him out, it never worked.

“Because I knew you would’ve said no.”

As the words left your mouth you could hear how dejected you sounded. You were tired and really didn’t want to get in a screaming match with Frank tonight. You were just happy to be home and alive.

“You’re damn right I would’ve.”, he quipped. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

You scoffed, finally pushing his hand off your chin and crossing your arms.

“I did what was necessary.”

“No, you got fucking lucky. I mean what the hell were you thinkin? You really thought you could take on a group of those guys by yourself and win? You were just a doe heading straight into a lion's den.” he said incredulously.

“That’s why I didn’t go by myself, Frank.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m stubborn, not naive.”

“Oh right. ‘Scuse me. You and Red. The dynamic fucking duo.”

He was definitely hurt. There was no denying that. From the outside you could understand how it looked. Turning to someone he couldn’t stand for help instead of coming to him.

You realize now he wasn’t asking why you didn’t ask for his permission.

He was wanting to know why you didn’t ask him to be the one to go with you. Why did you go to Matt Murdock of all people?

But if you had gone to Frank you know he would’ve stopped you. Those men would still be alive right now and on their way to hurt someone else. To destroy some other family. You couldn’t let that happen.

Matt tried to stop you too but you had a bit more leeway with getting him to go along with you than Frank.

You knew even if he objected to it, Matt would reluctantly follow alongside you.

Frank would’ve tied you to a chair and locked you in a room.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you by going to him for help but you said it yourself. There’s no way I could’ve done that on my own. I needed someone who could join me and handle a fight. Not someone who was just going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do like I was some incompetent child.”

Frank shook his head. “Yeah and i’ll deal with that motherfucker later. He’s an idiot for letting you put yourself in danger like that.”

“He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.” you shot back.

All he could do was run his hands down his face before turning to look at you. “Do you hear yourself? He ain’t some magic shield that would’ve kept you from getting shot or stabbed. What if there had been more men? What if he had gotten hurt and you were left to try and fight off those scum bags by yourself?”

“I think i handled myself pretty well when he was occupied.”

You knew you were being difficult. You also knew Frank was right. It was a bad idea all around, but at the time it didn’t matter. You just wanted to hurt them.

Sure there was a part of you that felt invincible having someone like Matt with you, but as you got more clarity you realized how lucky you had been to get away with the injuries you had. It really could’ve gone a different way.

Still, you hated the way Frank was making you feel right now. Like a child being scolded by a parent. You know it’s cause he loves you and you scared him, but it doesn’t make it any easier right now.

You figured he’d be a little upset but you also thought he would be proud of you.

The look he was giving you right now showed you anything but that.

“So do you feel better?” he asked, following you as you limped out of the bathroom. “Huh? You get what you wanted out of it?”

“Frank.” you sighed.

“No I wanna know.”

He grabbed your arm and spun you around. He loosened his hold when he saw you grimace from the contact, god you ached like a bitch, but he still held his intense stare.

“Was it worth it?”

You knew he was trying to rile you up. Get some sort of angry response from you. He was pissed now and was ready to let you have it but you weren’t giving in that easily.

“I don’t feel anything right now.”

Which was the truth. Besides the obvious physical pain, you didn’t feel anything about tonight. There was a rush of adrenaline as you fought, as you punched and kicked and dumped the last body into the river.

But now? As the high wore off and reality was sinking in? You just felt empty.

“You think about anyone else before you did what you did? You think about me or your friends?” he nodded toward the dog bowl for Rocco, the pitbull that you shared. “You think about him, how he’d search all around the apartment and wonder why you never came home?”

You turned your back to him and headed toward the bedroom. You just wanted to get out of these uncomfortable clothes and you wanted this conversation to stop.

“Enough, Frank.”

He didn’t listen, he just kept going. God is this how he felt when you nagged him for coming home close to death after a mission gone wrong?

“What about your mom, huh?”

That made you pause.

“You ever stop to think how she’d feel having two dead children?”

Your stomach dropped and the blood in your veins suddenly felt ice cold.

“How dare you.” you asked angrily, spinning around to face him. It took all the strength you had not to slap him.

“You don’t understand sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. I did what you did and it doesn’t stop the pain. It’s there like a gaping wound that won’t fucking close except now you’ve got something else on your conscience.”

“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now? The rush is gone and you’re left feeling like ‘what now’? He ain’t gonna call you up. He ain’t gonna walk through that door.”

You move to sit on the bed now, not even bothering to fight the tears as they rolled down your face.

“It doesn’t end there. No, because now you just took 3 men’s lives. Men with families. Men with people who are gonna want to know what happened to them. Men who work for people that don’t take well to being threatened and they’re gonna want to find whoever did this.”

“They ain’t gonna care that you were getting revenge for your brother. It’ll take them all but 2 seconds to put a bullet in your head and drive away like it never fucking happened.”

You hated that Frank was right but you didn’t understand the self righteous talk. Why does he do what he does if this is how he feels about it?

“How is this any different than what you do huh?” you spat angrily. “You think I don’t sit here worried about you when you disappear at night? Come in looking like you’re knocking on death’s door?”

“You’re not me!” he shouted. “I’ve already made the mistakes I made and I deal with it. I never wanted you anywhere near that world because it’s not for people like you. I already accepted my fate a long time ago.”

Frank knew he was being hard on you but he just couldn’t help it. He was so angry that you put yourself in that situation and he was angry that as much as he tried to protect you, there was nothing he could do for you now.

You were still processing everything but because of the kind of person you are, he knows tomorrow you’re gonna wake up feeling the guilt wash over you like an unrelenting wave.

It wasn’t that Frank was only trying to keep you safe physically—that was part of it— but he wanted to protect you from the emotional trauma that comes with taking a life. He’d buried that part of himself a long time ago.

But you? You were too sweet for this life. He was worried that it would break you. He knows better than anyone that it’s not a piece of you that comes back. You’re changed forever.

Your lip trembled and suddenly the sob you had been holding in came rushing out. The tears stung like hell as they fell down your face and this would no doubt make your headache a million times worse, but there was nothing you could do.

“Shit, baby.” Frank cursed, rushing over to you. He pulled you up into his arms, kissing your head and rubbing your neck. “Just let it out, I got you.”

Your whole body shook as the grief consumed you.

“I’m so sorry Frank.” you cried. “I’m sorry. I just wanted them to feel what he felt. What I feel. It’s not fair. It’s not-” you couldn’t even finish the words. You sounded like a blubbering mess.

“I know sweetheart. I know.” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back and lightly rocking you back and forth.

He wished he could take this away from you. It hurt to see you hurt.

“I’m sorry for the harsh things I said. I’m not the best with words.” Frank said, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathed together, slow and steady. You could feel yourself start to calm down, the edge of the panic attack starting to subside. You slumped against Frank’s chest as the energy had been zapped from you.

“I’m sorry too.” you replied, “I wasn’t exactly making it easy on you.”

“No, but that’s my girl.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear and tilted your chin up to look at him. For a moment neither one of you said anything and you couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

“You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes.” he said quietly, “Even still, I don’t think I could survive losing you too.”

It felt like a kick in the stomach to hear that. You really had been selfish. You didn’t think about anyone else in your life that would’ve been affected if something had gone wrong.

It made the tears come again and Frank pulled you into him. He tried to soothe you, telling you it was going to be okay. You were safe, nothing was going to harm you.

After a while he helped you get out of your clothes, changing you into one of his big t shirts. You really wanted to shower but at this point the exhaustion was overwhelming. You could barely stand up straight.

So the two of you laid in bed. You laid on his chest, the top of your head resting in the crook of his neck.

You played with the chain around his neck, twisting and twirling it around your fingers while he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down your back.

“Frank?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Those men, do you really think someone will come after me now? Or my mom? What if they try to hurt her-”

“Nobody’s gonna do a damn thing, sweetheart.”

You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him with tired eyes, you honestly weren’t sure if they were even open all the way.

“But what if-”

“Don’t do that.” he shushed you. “I promise nobody is gonna touch you or your family. I’ll take care of it.”

You decided to drop it for now. It’s not that you didn’t trust Frank. You know without a doubt he would die before letting anyone hurt you or the people close to you.

But you still couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen. You hated the thought of him having to fight a battle on your behalf. Especially one that wouldn’t have even happened if you had kept your emotions in check.

Still, you decided to believe Frank in the moment. Everything would be okay.

Besides, you never felt safer than you did in his arms.

As the breeze from the outside moved through the curtains and over your back, you finally agreed to let sleep overtake you.

You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heart beating. You felt a light kiss planted on top of your head along with a string of mumbled words,

“No one’s gonna lay a finger on my girl.”

[cheesus-doodles]

BFF Rindou’s the kind of person that, if someone asks if he’s dating reader, will be like “Of course not. Why tf would I date that loser? I have standards.” On the other hand if someone thinks reader is dating Kakucho, Izana, or god forbid RAN he gets super defensive like “Why the HELL would they date him? They barely even know each other. I know everything about them. If they’re gonna date anyone it’s gonna be me.”

Previous Yan BFF Rindo Ask | Rindo's Valentine Day Short

Masterlist

‎

Oh no ABSOLUTELY 100%, this will be such a shitshow

I would think that this baby boy has definitely considered it - dating you that is, but from a more logical point of view. You were so helpless in his eyes that he was sure you would get yourself killed, kidnapped or worse, coerced into dating some guy, that the only way to plug the gaps from the start would be just to date you. But Rindo first off, is a delinquent, one of the feared Haitani brothers, and obviously he has a reputation to keep up. And second, he's supposed to play the part of your grumpy, reluctant bestfriend who was just being dragged along by your silliness, scolding you when you do something he doesn't like or approve of. You were supposed to seem more like his playful puppy that him, as a big bad delinquent, looks after begrudgingly. He can't be caught dating you, you know? That would totally ruin his reputation. Even if everyone knows just how soft Rindo acts towards you, though no one says a thing because he will find them and beat the shit out of them.

Even still, no doubt that somewhere down the line, seeing how close you are with your bff, someone somewhere would have the balls to ask Rindo if the two of you were dating, or if he was planning to date you at some point in the future. Seems like an innocent enough question if it came from anyone else: but the highest likelihood is that Rindo would be hearing it from Ran of all people. And his face would immediately turn red, but with anger or embarrassment not even the older Haitani could tell. Embarrassment at being called out, anger at the mere idea that others thought he saw you like that. Whoever it was that asked that unfortunate question, Rindo would be sure to try his best to shut them up before they tipped you off. No way he was going to date a loser like you, was he? Not in his wildest dreams, absolutely not. Deny, deny, deny. Proceeds to go and get his regular dose of cuddles from you afterwards when he inevitably loses to Ran.

On the other hand, this baby boy will not happy in the slightest if he hears even a rumor that you might be dating anyone. Absolutely not, no way in hell were you dating anyone. Rindo doesn't understand why you had to find someone else to be with; you already had him, your bestfriend, after all. No one else was needed in your life. If it was just some random soul that took a liking to you, and you to him, no doubt that Rindo would be quick to put him out of your life permanently and painfully. A brick to the back of the head and then breaking each and every limb is usually a good start - and if that poor person had the audacity to foul your innocence by holding your hand, this baby boy didn’t know if he would be able to stop himself from killing them outright. But at least if you went after a normal civilian, Rindo could deal with it.

But if you were dating Izana or Kakucho, there was nothing he could do but be mad pissed. There was only so many times he could stand to get his ass kicked after all. Would try his best to convince you that this was a mistake behind their backs, that dating someone as dangerous and unstable as them (cough the irony) was bad for you. That only he knew everything about you. Would he actually ask you to date him instead? Depends really. Did he feel shy and embarrassed? Yes. Did he like you that way? Who’s asking? But was he sure that he was the best for you? Yes. 100% yes. So no, Rindo will not ask you to date him, but he will stew and pout and try to take up every second of your time that he possibly can to get you away from your “boyfriends” (he doesn’t believe they are anything more than ants, if you asked him, but he wouldn’t dare say that in front of those two demons).

And it'll be absolutely the apocalypse if its Ran of all people that Rindo thinks you're dating. Would actually march you straight to where Ran was and start a fight with the older Haitani, cursing and swearing at Ran that he knew you were off limits. That Ran knew he wasn’t supposed to touch you, that you belonged to him, all the while you were sat at the side, humming to yourself and maybe sipping on a cold drink. Would be even angry enough to move out from their shared apartment for a few days and take you with him, much to his older brother's amusement. Takes his frustration out on some poor souls from a rival gang because he can’t beat his older brother, and he’ll have to go back and stay there, no matter how much he wanted to just move in with you. Rindo would even continue to grumble to the unfortunate victims of his brutal beatings, whining and complaining to his captive audience about how it was so obvious that he was the best for you, and that you should date only him.

Everyone knows Rindo wouldn’t do that though, so he just has to suffer through watching you be shy and blush. Poor baby boy.

[im-a-hoping-beetch]

Many people genuinely get confused when we, native people, get uncomfortable when Katara, a native character, is reduced to a mom and her canon relationships with characters are put down in favour for a boy who lived in a society that benefitted from her oppression, antagonised her and her friends for most of the series and was even racist at times. But because he's hot and had an episode with katara, everything should be forgiven, because god forbid a native girl gets with anyone who isn't from a group of people who aided the genocide of her people. God forbid two characters who experienced genocide have a relationship and connect over this shared trauma, in favour for boy who also has mom trauma

Look, while I can understand your feelings of discomfort towards the ship, I’d still like to put certain things into perspective.

Now, I don’t really know what you meant by her being “reduced” to a mom. Do you mean that her relationship with Zuko would confine her to such a role? Which, by the way, is absolutely laughable, since one of the main reasons why so many ppl ship these two is bcz unlike every member of the gaang (aside from Suki), Zuko is the only one with who she doesn’t have to act like a surrogate mother. Katara is allowed to be angry and be vulnerable with him. All things that we rarely see her be able to do with the rest of the bunch, let alone her own brother.

Actually, one of the main appeal of the two is bcz, both have the same level of of maturity and similar way of interacting with the members of the gaang. Which is why so many ppl label the two as “parents of the group”.

But, if you’re talking about how, we zutarians usually talk abt the intricacies that come with her being a motherly person, I’ve got some news for ya. Most of us, usually, never fail to highlight how much of a tragedy, her being pushed into a role of adulthood at such a young age is. Also, on how, ironically, her canonical partner (Aang) has never really helped with that phenomenon, actually he perpetuated it even further.

Besides, wanna talk abt canon relationships being put down for a boy, well, look no further than canon itself, anon. I’m guessing that you’ve probably read this post, due to the phrasing at the beginning of your ask. One thing I specifically touched on, was how much of Katara’s existence seems to revolve around Aang, the biggest example being, the comics. In them, we do see the creators ready to strain Katara’s established relationships with the gaang (aside from her brother) in order to shove kataang down our throats. Cuz if you think abt it, Toph and Katara’s interactions are heavily reduced, let alone meaningful ones and do not even get me started on Zuko or Suki.

Yes, Zuko lived in a society that benefited from her oppression. He has antagonized her and her friends. But Zuko is also made to recognize the harm his actions have caused. Additionally, at no point is he not faced with the consequences of what he has done towards the gaang. Every single member gets to express anger or/and resentment over what he’s done in the past, Katara is no exception. Actually, she’s the one who’s given the most leeway in terms of doing so. Even for things he had no control over such as her mother’s death and the fire nation raids. However, instead of whining about how he’s not responsible for all of this taking place, something he could’ve easily done, he makes it up to her. He helps her seek justice for her mother while her canonical future boyfriend is out here reducing her righteous anger to blindsided revenge.

I don’t know what you mean by “Because He’s hot and had an episode with her, everything should be forgiven.” To me, that last part owed to make me scratch all the dandruff off my braids. Language is a powerful tool, but often than not, people don’t really know how to use it nor seem to understand the ramifications of their use. When you say “everything should be forgiven”, you are framing forgiveness as something passive, when, here, it is active. Someone does the action of forgiving Zuko, Katara does. Katara forgives him, because he earned it.

Right now, I’m assuming that you thought you were in defence of Katara, but the truth is that you are actually perpetuating an habit that many have had when it comes to the Southern Raiders. Which is to perpetually strip any agency Katara has in an episode literally centered around her character!?!

Nobody forbid anyone from anything. If people don’t feel comfortable shipping these two, so be it. However, to act as if Zuko hasn’t actively fought against the system that has led to those atrocities being done or like he hasn’t used his position of power in order to make actual change or/and retributions, is simply disingenuous.

Aang and Katara did have a relationship, but have never connected over their shared trauma. More specifically, Aang failed to connect over their shared trauma, when he should have and instead used as a way to silence hers. @sokkastyles makes a very good point about it in this post.

[mineonmain]

as @lurkingshan said earlier today, "Get bent, Maya"

I haven't been this pressed about a fictional character (antagonist???? she is one to me now!!) in a hot minute. Before I get into her in this ep, I wanna preface by saying that I do have the actual manga, but I wanted to finish watching the show before I went and read the manga for comparison, so that i'm going into this with basically an open mind. So I have no idea how this compares to the manga version of her.

Also if it wasn't clear, Spoilers for I Hear The Sunspot ep 7. Okay.

So it's the start of a new academic year, and we're introduced to freshman Maya, who is a Science major, is also Deaf/Hard of Hearing, and is Kohei's new tutee in the university as a result of having a mutual friend. That is the extent of what we know about her. Other than Kohei being her tutor and maybe a pseudo mentor/companion who can understand and appreciate her disability, they have absolutely no connection. They are not childhood friends or family.

Which begs the question, why on gods green earth is she so invested in what Kohei does or doesn't do, and who he is or isn't with???

Lady, he doesn't know you. He doesn't owe you anything, because you objectively mean nothing to him. So you've grown up with a really severe and isolating disability, I get it. But that's not a good enough reason to become so bitter that you decide to become judge jury executioner on every (visibly) abled person's morals. (Which is so incredibly telling, judging people on how visibly disabled they look or act, when you have a disability that is fairly invisible, unless you can see hearing aids or a cochlear implant or something like that. Interesting how that works, huh.) (Having a disability doesn't give you a free pass to be an asshole.)

Maybe, just maybe, you're allowed to act like that based on how people act towards you. But what gives you the right to walk up to the friend of a friend (??) that you absolutely know nothing about, and mete out judgement? To decide how that person is allowed to interact with someone else, a someone else that you have no claim or authority over?

Oh, but god forbid that Kohei have a friend who doesn't treat him like a social leper, who doesn't have every interaction of theirs revolve around Kohei's deafness, who for once makes him feel included and normal.

Kohei is a grown ass man, who can make his own decisions, including his own mistakes. Who are you to suddenly come into his life and make decisions for him without his involvement, consent, or approval? And who says that any person who is friends with someone with a disability has to be physically and morally perfect?

How dare you?

If I were to sum up my biggest issues with Maya, it is in the way she talks. It's entirely indicative and reflective of how she views and interacts with society. One of the first things that Kohei tells Taichi is that he is able to understand what someone else is saying if they speak slowly, partially by listening and partially by lip reading. it's a small accommodation that we even see Taichi's friends making for Kohei. That means that when anyone talks they should talk clearly, and slowly, and try to enunciate their words properly. If we look at the way Maya talks, she barely opens her mouth at all. If I didn't know any better i'd have thought it was ADR. Given she is someone who has lived with the same sort of disability that Kohei has, she would require similar accessibility needs. And yet, while she expects the world around her to accommodate her needs, she doesn't accommodate for the world. She expects people to speak in a way that she can understand, but she won't do the same.

I'm assuming that the narrative point of Maya criticising Taichi right now is so that we get to see him go on a growth journey, where he'll become more passionate and dedicated about learning note-taking and even maybe signing (and advocating for the deaf community as an ally), and not just be a passive friend who seemingly 'takes advantage' of Kohei, and in the process become the person that Kohei truly needs, and not the person Taichi thinks is good enough.

But here's the thing. I don't care if Taichi has any growth or not. I don't care if he changes or doesn't change to maintain his friendship and relationship with Kohei. I don't care if he tries to become someone that Maya (and Kohei) can approve of.

Because Kohei already likes him the way he is.

And it's none of Maya's goddamn business. Get bent

[eldritch-spouse]

How would Belo be with a cult leader s/o?

She already has followers consisting of both monsters and humans who rave about how perfect she is, and they think Belo is a testament to that.

I mean, not just anyone can receive the affection of an angel; she must be akin to a god!

There is a hierarchy in the cult, and Belo is at the top of it. He can rest his head on her lap and watch as the others worship the very ground his lady walks on (he doesn't have a choice; the leader demands it this physical contact, otherwise she will be unhappy the whole day).

They validate Belo in every thought he has of his lady and also obey him as he is basically the leader's right hand (or so he believes, but in reality, they respect him so much because he is their leader's precious).

And what if more angels started coming out of the woodwork to serve his lady? If he was able to handle the cultists, surely this would be a stretch.

I can just imagine the cultists praising Belo as they dress him up in lingerie fitting to their leader's taste, then tie him up, mindful of his wings, and leave him in his lady's quarters. His lady comes in and gets on top of him, caressing his wings and whispering something about being her 'pretty little canary' and 'give yourself to me, show me your devotion.'.

This is the ideal situation for Belo.

Unlike most angels, who tend to have a mindset favorable to sharing with other celestials, Belo gets intoxicated when he realizes he's the only holy entity in a location, that he no longer has to share, that his tier hardly matters because he's the only celestial present and automatically the authority in a plethora of matters. He feels special in a way he never has before and his ego swells almost incomprehensibly.

Which is exactly why he's living his best life in this situation. Not only are you a sacred being, your generosity blinds you to the misdeeds of your own following. My Lady they are clumsy, obliviously disrespectful, they hold no discipline! Someone who is built to serve and protect needs to teach them how to behave, how to conduct themselves before you and how to make sure that your love is not for naught.

It's only right that Belo be the only one allowed to touch you. His holy nature makes him incapable of corrupting you, and others live through him their own lecherous, selfish fantasies of being your favored.

With him at the helm of many secondary areas and tasks, your cult blossoms like the loveliest lotus and gains a level of steadfast efficiency previously unforeseen.

The arrival of other angels... Complicates things. They're immediately perceived as threats to Belo's position.

You may not know this, but he's only a power. If there's a dominion, throne or, Eden forbid, a seraphim... By their own laws, Belo could have to step down and allow the worshiper-tiers to overrule him in the hierarchy.

And he goes half-mad at the idea.

That's not happening.

No tier can understand and service you better than him, and Belo will personally confront the more powerful celestials about this. There is a very special balance here, in your wonderful garden of light, where the rank of an angel is not what makes them worthy of your love and guidance. Belo may be just a power outside of these blessed grounds, but in them, he is your second in command, your favored, your fighter, your whorshiper, your guardian. He's your everything.

And though he may celebrate the arrival of more angels beside you, he makes sure they always remember their place.

He's determined to keep this perfect balance.

In your name, he thinks as he placidly remains in position, bottom eye counting the patterns on his service gown and the jewelry on his spread wings, everything in your name.

This won't be like before. He's doing so much better now, the cultists are behaving perfectly, the workflow is stable and satisfactory, the other angels are impeccable. You wouldn't leave them. Not when everything is immaculate, when mistakes are non-existent. This time will he different.

You enter the room, and his thoughts vanish.

[akutasoda]

hiii!! Requesting if that’s ok :>

reader who is very similar to a genie? Likes to show off their wealth, being playful and often tricking people, but also being helpful (at times). Their ability is making wishes? (Cause I want some angst..maybe reader is terrified of being left alone and small spaces after being treated like a real genie?)

a wish in a bottle

synopsis - everything about you interested them, but when they dug a bit deeper they wanted to do nothing more than comfort you

includes - chuuya, sigma, oda, verlaine

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, mention of claustrophobia, wc - 1.1k

a/n: hello anon! i didn't quite get what fandom you wanted but i assumed bsd, if im wrong feel free to message me and ill do a redo!

chuuya nakahara ★↷

↪chuuya's first meeting with you left him with a mix of impressions. he thought that you were pretty cool but soon learnt about your habits of tricking and messing with people - he was not spared from your tricks. he didn't mind your playful nature, it was just the trickery. he had also held mixed feelings towards your eagerness to show off wealth, sometimes he thought it was just unnecessary.

↪as for your ability, he thought it was amazing. he found it not only interesting but admired how much control you had over what wishes you granted and who to. he knew it could be a dangerous ability, but that control over it that you held showed that you knew how to use it properly.

↪perhaps when you became closer, he would notice how clingy you would become, it wasn't overbearing and he didn't mind but it was curious. he started picking up your small attempts to tag along with him for whatever he planned on doing, he never brought it up however. again he never minded, he had grown to tolerate you and your antics.

↪but that also meant he picked up on your fear of small spaces. at first he ruled it down to claustrophobia, but it seemed to be something deeper than that. he would never confront you about but if you ever told him, he would hold nothing but sympathy for you.

↪he understood your fear, he could relate on a similar level, and so he made sure to never let that happen to you. if you had been treated like a real genie ages ago, he would want to rid you of those memories and hopefully those fears.

sigma ★↷

↪sigma's first impression was oneof confusion. sure he had met his fair share of weird people and while you may be the most sane you definitely had your 'charms'. your little habit of pulling tricks on people and messing around had lead to remind him that you kind of acted like a more sane nikolai. while he didn't mind, he just didn't really want two people like that to deal with.

↪he never understood your show of wealth, sure he owned a casino but he never really flaunted stuff like that as openly as you did.

↪your ability was something he could only admire. he felt slightly envious that such an ability existed, i mean you probably could grant anyone anything. but then he realised you were probably the best person to hold that ability, god forbid some people get hold of it. he also admited how sparingly you would use it, granting only the wishes to people you deemed worthy.

↪when you had become closer, he started noticing how you hung out with him whenever you could. always finding some excuse to be with him, he just kind of chalked it up to you liking hanging around with him which he was flattered by.

↪and then he picked up on your insistence of not wanting to be around or in small places, again chalking it up to claustrophobia. he never pried as he feared it may be a sensitive subject but if you did tell him, he would be so empathetic towards you.

↪he understands why you wouldn't want to be used in that way, he can relate to that in a worrisome amount. he would want to protect you from taht ever coming true by any means possible.

sakunosuke oda ★↷

↪oda had initially had a indifferent first reaction to meeting you, he never was one to judge people by first impressions. he thought that your playful and often teasing behaviour was interesting and certainly entertaining. and your habit of tricking people was also amusing but would stop you if he thought it went too far.

↪also never understood your little flaunting of your wealth, sure maybe you were proud of it but sometimes he thought it was just excessive.

↪he thought your ability was definitely an interesting one. he admired and complimented you on how well you managed it, using it scarcely and only on people that you thought you could trust. this was because he also knew that your ability was a powerful one and in the wrong hands could be problematic. he would always be curious to see how it worked but never wanted you to feel as if you had to use it.

↪and as you two got closer over time, he would notice that you always seemed to want to be around him or someone else you trusted, never wanting to be alone. he would ask but he figured it would be sensitive and the last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

↪also thought about asking you about your presumed claustrophobia. well he presumed it was, you never liked being in small spaces or even near them. but whenever you did come forward to him about it, he swears hos heart broke. he hated the fact that that was a fear of yours, but knowing some people he knew it was warranted and would do anything to prevent ot coming true.

paul verlaine ★↷

↪verlaine's first impression was, yet again, a mix. he found you intresting but your little tricks and insistence on trying to mess with him could easily annoy him. while it never annoyed him majorly he did find it quite irritating. but he very quickly adjusted to your rather eccentric personality.

↪never got why you liked to sjow off your wealth, flaunting it around and taking pride in it. he could get why you took pride in it but anything else was interesting to say the least.

↪your ability however, deeply fascinated him and he very much would've tried to figure out its limits and possibilities if you hadn't stopped him and refused to grant him anything. he thought it was very powerful and definitely dangerous in the wrong hands, but one thing he could commend you for was your control and self limits when using or thinking about using it.

↪he would note, when you two got closer, how you would be near him whenever possible. if not directly next to him you would atleast be in the vicinity or always curious where he was going and asking to tag along. he would also note how you doubled back if it involved small spaces.

↪however he would be more forward about it. well not forward but subtly hinting for you to tell him why.

↪and the reason why made him regret his initial reaction to your ability. what made it worse is that he could somwhow relate, obviously not on your level but a smaller level. and because you two had become so close, he wouldn't hesitate to correct anyone that even thought of doing something like that to you.

[meowyn]

This method acting might pay our bills

1.7k words, enver gortash x the dark urge.

no smut! lots of kisses, fluffy kinda idk, durge constantly having inner monologues lol, heavily implied first kiss for durge.

It was often difficult for you to forget who you were, what you were. A wretched blade, stained with the blood of countless men, the strength of your faith so mighty that you could never be dulled no matter how many you slayed in the name of your God.

Only tonight, you were forgetting. Tonight, thoughts plagued your mind like flies around a rotting corpse. Thoughts of whom, you could never admit out loud.

Enver Gortash; the bane of your existence.

The Chosen of Bane being the source of your recent troubles was something you would have never predicted, the absurdity of the situation you now found yourself in was enough to make you want to claw out your eyes. Your hands twitched eargerly at the thought.

You found it hard to pinpoint exactly when this had started, perhaps when you met? Long nights spent creating ploys, yearning, drinking, and coming to understand one another better than anyone else blurred the lines. Before you knew it, you wanted less and less to see what grand artwork he would become in the name Bhaal and moreso the kind of faces he'd make fast asleep and safe in slumber. It didn't help that you found him sickeningly attractive.

Denying your affection for the man proved tedious. You had never bothered to learn how to act, let alone deny yourself of anything you wanted for this long, now painfully aware that you aren't even remotely talented at it. It was about time that you admitted to yourself that you felt more for him than petty admiration. However, to do so, you'd be committing your first sin against Father. Unbeknownst to you, the first sin of many. There would be no coming back after that.

"There you are, I've been looking for you." Spoke the devil himself, interrupting your train of thought as he sat down next to you.

You didn't bother answering him, choosing to continue staring out at the sea, which seemed to be further away now compared to when you were lost in your mind.

"What are you doing? I didn't have you pegged as the brooding type." Upon realizing you were in a fairly calm mood, he sat a little closer to you. If he noticed the way you tensed, he didn't comment on it.

"I'm not.." The words died in your throat, making you frown. When you spoke again, you found your tone had adopted a softness wholly foreign to you, "I'm people watching, as they call it."

He studied your face for a moment, before following your gaze down to the shoreline. He hummed in amusement when he saw what you were looking at, civilians of all kinds simply going about their daily lives. For a moment, he wondered wether you envied them, then remembered who you were. You noticed this seemed to surprise him with the way he looked back at you, the slight upturn of his lips indicated that he was considering teasing you about it, but he never did. It both pleased and frustrated you immensely, knowing how he'd take your feelings into consideration before he acted, despite never thinking you had any yourself. You silently hoped this was some scheme of his, that he was manipulating you like he had so many others, so that you could have a reason to want to kill him.

"..Why?" Your hopes were quickly snuffed out at his curiosity and the gentleness of which he spoke, making your chest tighten.

"All of them are so small, so insignificant, and yet.." You don't continue that thought, your tone betraying your melancholy, "They look happy enough, don't they?"

Your anemoia didn't go unnoticed by him, but the sense of finality to your last sentence indicated you didn't want to talk about it further, so he left it alone. Gods forbid he invoke your wrath here, where he had finally got you all to himself to talk to you as he wished.

You watch out the corner of your eye as he unwraps a small package he had taken from his pocket, revealing an assortment of sliced fruits. When he notices your gaze, he offers you some. Then he chuckles when your nose wrinkles and you shake your head.

"You don't like them? I thought you did, you ate all the fruit at the table during our last meeting."

"They're sour, I don't like those ones."

"Ah." He nods quietly, wrapping them back up and putting them in his pocket, "Apologies, I'll keep that in mind."

If you looked, which you do, you'd notice how his hair looked a little messier than usual and that he appeared to have just come from the baths based on the slight flush of colour on his cheeks. From here, you could feel how warm he was and the subtle scent of soap invaded your senses. You figured it couldn't hurt, so you moved closer so that your shoulders brushed together, all while staring back out to the sea intently.

"Why were you looking for me?" You ask after a short while.

"I wanted to see you." He says, as though it was obvious. Open with his affection while simultaneously keeping his cards close to his chest, which was so typical of him.

"What for? A cuddle?" You respond with sarcasm, grinning at him as though the idea was foolish. A warning, really. You could slit his throat right here and he wouldn't be able to do much about it. You then frowned, closing your eyes temporarily as the urge took delight in that thought.

"Tempting.." He mutters, taking your hand slowly. You take a measured breath and when you open your eyes again, he's smiling at you fondly.

You hum quietly in agreement, curling in on yourself in shame. You'd apologize to Father properly later, but right now you needed to let him know how you felt, even through an action so small. The guilt would surely eat you alive, it was already starting to, settling uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach whilst a repulsive warmth crept up your spine, seeping into the cracks of your blackened heart with unadulterated vengeance. The only thing keeping you from baring your teeth, from tearing skin from bone, from giving in to your vicious indulgence as a pathetic attempt to escape the confusing feelings swarming your brain and suffocating you was something as mundane as him squeezing your hand.

How cruel, you thought, to have to live alongside Enver Gortash and not be allowed to love him freely.

All it took was one last look into his eyes, and that delicate thread that held you both in your respective places snapped. With newfound vigor, he surged forward and kissed you, determined and desperate to take from you whatever you'd allow. After half a minute or so, as if remembering himself, he eased back to take in your expression, preparing himself to face your fury and be annihilated.

However, the sight before him now made his knees weak, yet not with fear. You were a beauty. Glossy lips parted as you caught your breath, eyes wide and dazed, and the most charming tinge of pink across your face. So incredibly precious, he couldn't withhold the satisfied chuckle that escaped him.

"What?" You frowned, trying to decipher what was so amusing to him, though that only served to make him laugh more, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

"Oh, my dear assassin.." His laughter died down, but the mirth in his eyes did not, "You will surely be the cause of my ruin."

"Don't be foolish." You hissed, fingers snaking into the hair at his nape and pulling him to you to kiss him once more, this urge more ravenous than the one that calls you to slaughter. All lips and teeth colliding, you greedily grab at his hair and tug, urging him to give you more of whatever this was.

"Easy.." He murmured, nudging your noses together as his arm curled around you and brought you closer to him, "Not so harsh."

You felt his hand cup your jaw, thumb swiping across your cheek, the action calming you as you loosened your grip on him. All you knew was harsh. You were bred to make the world bleed. This was new, this was frightening, a tenderness so unknown to you that it shattered every perception of mortal relationships you had spent your entire life building.

He kissed you once softly, then twice as though he could sense your unease.

"It's alright, you know," He said as his palm smoothed circles into your back, "That you don't know what you're doing."

You opened your mouth immediately to protest, then scowled upon realizing it would be pointless, he was right. Your method acting thus far had been excellent, flawless even, so much so that it was to the point where when it came to anything else, you were at a loss.

"Do you truly believe I'm capable of more?" You ask, your voice a little less than a whisper.

"I do. Do you?"

He replied, without missing a beat.

You didn't know. Being more than an executioner was never something you had thought about. You didn't even think yourself capable of such thoughts until he came along, with all of his wonderful ideas and genius inventions, sparking new inspiration in your mind. Father would not approve. Gortash brought forth temptation, guilt and a new feeling that bubbled away, warm and dizzying in your veins, making it hard to care about anything else.

You didn't wish to think on it anymore, so you shut your eyes and took the liberty of tucking your head under his chin, both of you sitting there in silence for a while longer. For once, your mind was quiet.

"How did you manage to get up here?" Your question almost breaks the peaceful atmosphere, but you continue on, "I hadn't thought you were all that athletic."

"Not to worry, I'll be sure to change your persuasion in time." You could hear the amusement plain in his tone, he was teasing you. As soon as your head snapped toward him, giving him an incredulous look, he could only start laughing.

[aphroditelovesu]

what would everyone's reaction (targaryen, hightower and velaryon) be if the reader were autistic like helaena?

❝🐉— lady l: i don't know anyone who has autism, so I'm not sure what I wrote, since I researched some characteristics of autistics on the internet. But I don't wish to offend anyone, the use of words ''special, different and condition'' are just ways of saying autism without using the word itself, without any pejorative form. If something is wrong feel free to let me know.

tw: mention of autism and possible murder. As the story takes place in a medieval environment, the word ''autism'' did not exist, so I will refer to it as a condition, aiming that autism is NOT a disease.

❝word count: +1,6k

❝Yandere!House's Targaryen, Velaryon and Hightower Reaction: If the Reader is autistic:

Viserys I Targaryen

Viserys would be even clingier with the reader than he already is. He is not very close (or not close at all) to his daughter Helaena, everyone knows how attached he is to Rhaenyra, but little is said about how obsessed and clingy the King is with you, even more than his firstborn daughter. Your condition made you fragile in his eyes, more than he ever considered you. Viserys is very protective of you and there's nothing he wouldn't do for you, his beloved child, and even if you're as special as Helaena, it wouldn't make him love you any less, quite the contrary, it would strengthen your bond, for he would never let you out of his sight for fear you would get hurt. And gods forbid anyone say anything bad about you, for Viserys will have their tongue.

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra is the only one who sees benefit in your condition. Knowing how possessive she is of you, knowing that you are uncomfortable in crowded or noisy places, preferring the quiet of your room, would make everything even more convenient for her possessiveness. Don't get her wrong, she knows that the thoughts that come to her mind the moment she lays eyes on you are not normal, even more so because you are different from others, but she knows that if you are treated differently or special can just annoy you. So, she's normal with you, clinging to her beloved sister/brother and being possessive of you in just the right measure, but still, everyone notices how soft she is with you and will rarely touch you if she notices you're uncomfortable.

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is, surprisingly, the most compassionate of them all. He knows that you are different, that you are misunderstood by others and he identifies with that, of course, excluding the fact that you have a condition that he does not have. He's one of the only ones who treats you the same way he does everyone else, sure, he's more affectionate and kinder to you anyway, but he'll never act any different around you. You are special, not just because of your condition, but because you are, well, you. For Daemon, he doesn't care about any of that but your happiness and safety. He will still remain protective and possessive of you, but in a way, he will be more tolerant and patient than he ever was. Like Viserys, The Rogue Prince will get rid of anyone who says a word about your condition.

Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys would never, under any circumstances, be indifferent or distant from you. Everyone knows how obsessive and protective Jace is of you, this is something that has stuck with him over the years and will never fade no matter how much time passes. You are of utmost importance to the prince and he doesn't care if you are different from the rest of his family, you are still you and he will continue to love you the same way he always did, you know, the Targaryen and yandere way. Jace will remain the same as ever, loving and devoted to his obsession with you. But in this particular case, he will be even more defensive and clingy towards you, he will show his cruel side to anyone who crosses him, who crosses you. No one will harm you while he's alive.

Lucerys Velaryon

Lucerys doesn't quite understand what you have, why you are so calm and often act strangely when someone touches you or at loud noises, but whenever he sees the panic in your eyes, he will rush to your side and get you out of that situation, murmuring words of comfort to you. Luke can act reckless when it comes to his obsession with you and he probably will, but this boy will cling to you in every way. He is possessive and doesn't want your attention to be anywhere else but on him. You are special to him and he will not let your attention and love be stolen from him.

Baela and Rhaena Targaryen

The twins are glued to you from the moment they set eyes on you, often getting into unnecessary fights for your attention, but in the end, what really matters is that you are there for them and they will be there for you. No matter what happens. Baela is more graceful than her sister, she is the first to notice her behavior seen from the fact how she almost always wants to grab you for dance lessons, fitting your arms together. As soon as she realized how disturbed you were by her touch, she released you and went to tell her sister about it. Rhaena will be more subtle than her sister, but they are possessive and won't take much pleasure in being taken away from you.

Corlys Velaryon

Corlys will worry about you, questioning what's wrong with you, but don't be offended, not in a bad or accusatory way, but worried. He will respect your space and keep you out of noisy places, when he sees that you hate either of these things (or both) and will make a point of accompanying you if you want. He is very protective of his beloved child and will do everything in his power to ensure your comfort. You may be different from the rest of the family, but that doesn't matter to him or any of the Velaryons, you are loved and always will be.

Rhaenys Targaryen

Rhaenys was probably the first to notice her condition, due to her spending a lot of time with her. At first, she would be worried about you, but when she sees that this poses no risk to you, she will breathe a sigh of relief. The way you act or talk will never bother her, in fact, she might even find it endearing about you. One of her charms, she will tell you. She makes you special, making it clear how unique you are. She is loving and motherly, taking care of you with all the care in the world.

Laena Velaryon

Laena is the closest to you out of the Velaryon's, she's the only one who can really get close to you. Really get closer to you. She is no different in the way she acts around you, she considers you to be her little sister/brother which automatically means she should have your back. Any mean comments made about you will lead her to protect you and make sure the wrongdoer is taken care of immediately. You can always count on Laena.

Laenor Velaryon

If you think Laena is protective, that's because you don't know Laenor. He loves you, simple as that, the way you are. He doesn't care about your way of being, in fact, he even likes it, it makes you even more unique. He will always look after and protect you, he is your big brother after all it is his duty. He won't mind killing anyone who dares to disrespect you. To make sure you're okay, it's quite possible he'll follow you around, just in case.

Otto Hightower

Otto is very close to Helaena, at least more than the other grandchildren he has, but he is even closer to you. He feels closer to you and more connected than he does with the rest of the Hightowers, even his own daughter. You're perfect in his eyes, there's nothing wrong with you, and anyone who says otherwise will bitterly regret it. He will always support you and act natural around you, allowing himself to be vulnerable.

Alicent Hightower

Alicent is already more familiar with your unusual behavior than the others, having Helaena as her daughter. She is especially attached to you, she is always finding excuses to be in your company. She acts delicate and caring around you, being as loving as possible and trying to support you. Alicent loves you very much and nothing you do, or the way you are, will stop her from loving and caring for you the way she should.

Aegon II Targaryen

Aegon is a big hypocrite, basically. While he says his sister is weird, he's totally different with you, complimenting you and saying how perfect and special you are. He doesn't care about many things but he cares about you and he will try nothing more than to please you, he wants it, he needs it. Just like the rest, he will kill anyone who says anything about you. You are perfect in his eyes and end of the history.

Helaena Targaryen

Helaena is the only one who doesn't have any kind of hidden interest in you from her family, she is what she is and knowing that you are like her makes her feel even closer to you. She is too kind for her own good and she will be for you, she doesn't usually show it, but she will do it to protect you if she sees that something bothers you or makes you upset. She will love talking to you about her bugs and will always take care of you.

Aemond Targaryen

Unlike his brother, Aemond was never bothered by Helaena's behavior and was always affectionate with her and he will be the same for you, only in a more protective and possessive way than he once was. Aemond will be more possessive of you, he fears someone will try to hurt you or take you away from him and he won't have that. He loves taking care of you, guarding you and he will always bring you something to make you happy, be it bugs like Helaena or flowers, whatever it is, he will do anything to see you happy. You are special to him and he will do anything to show you that.

[nrilliree]

Why is it always “Rhaenyra should’ve been a better friend to Alicent” and not the other way around? Have people forgotten how friendships work? It’s a two way street and it was Alicent who betrayed Rhaneyra not the other way around.

Everyone seems to conveniently forget that Rhaenyra was confiding in Alicent about her concerns regarding the council plotting to remarry Viserys so soon after her mother’s death so there’ll be a male heir and what does Alicent do? She dismisses Rhaenyra’s concerns, tells her it’s not for them to worry about and “what if your father were to marry?” (which is rich of her to say considering her own father hasn’t and doesn’t remarry). Alicent doesn’t say these things out of naivety or ‘girlish’ innocence, she says them because she knows she’s apart of the plot to get Viserys to remarry - she IS the plot.

God. I’m so sick of people acting as if she was an innocent bystander. She had HALF A YEAR to tell Rhaenyra about her talks with Viserys. Viserys doesn’t raise the question of whether Alicent tells Rhaenyra until half a year into it. She had ample opportunity to say something and she chose not to because she knew what she was doing and the way her and her father were going about it was cunning and conniving and wrong.

And then people are mad at Rhaenyra for not being more understanding of Alicent and the position Alicent was put in when it’s revealed that she’s to marry Viserys - Rhaneyra put two and two together and realised Alicent was scheming just as much as the council was. But yeah, she totally should’ve welcomed Alicent with open arms.

It’s not out of the ordinary for a child to be mistrusting of a step-parent in today’s world - IN REALITY - so, I’m not sure why people act as if it’s so weird or out of the ordinary or like Rhaenyra is overreacting about being mistrusting of Alicent after she becomes her step mother ESPECIALLY given everything above.

But yeah blah blah Alicent the eternal victim, nothing is ever her fault, she can never ever bear responsibility for her actions because she’s ALWAYS the victim first blah blah 🙄

I wrote this a moment ago, but I deleted the post because some anonymous person was making a mess again. Alicent, in Rhaenyra's eyes, lied to her and betrayed her. Alicent, as a young woman of marriageable age (not a child, as some say, because it was not the 21st century), secretly met in the evenings with a single man whom everyone knew was looking for a wife. She went to his chambers alone. She had dinner with him. She gave him gifts. To ANYONE looking at it from the side, it would look like Alicent WANTED to be queen. What do you think the servants who took two meals to the king's chambers and saw Alicent there thought? "Oh, what a poor girl, I feel sorry for her" or rather "she seduces the king"? Because that's what it looked like. And this is the version Rhaenyra knows, because for several months Alicent didn't say "my father forced me, I didn't want it." After half a year, Viserys asked if Alicent wasn't telling Rhaenyra about it, and he didn't forbid her from talking about it. After half a year.

Why did Alicent expect Rhaenyra to confide in her about bed matters when Alicent hadn't told her for half a year that she was meeting her father in the evenings? Especially since she knew Otto wanted to destroy her and Alicent was secretly trying to become queen (according to what Rhaenyra knows). And seriously, what girl would want to continue to be happily friends with a girl who has sex with her father? Honestly. Rhaenyra stopped trying for this friendship, but that's not surprising. Because Rhaenyra doesn't know about the "Otto forced me" version. But she still managed to show some sympathy towards Alicent - when she accidentally offended her with a comment about being locked in a tower, she apologized. During the last dinner, she said that she appreciated Alicent for taking care of her father. And Alicent? She declared open war on Rhaenyra at her wedding, and then spent a dozen years trying to ruin her life.

[t0ast-ghost]

So the thing is I wasn’t going to comment on the sixth episode. I just got home from a hella good play and I’m tired so I relax with Star Trek but holy shit

What IS that

With that HELLO and welcome to my first thoughts on the sixth episode (The Enemy Within) of the original Star Trek series

Here we go:

- that is a fucking dog

- IS THAT BLOOD?!? On Star Trek???

- so he got transporter cloned.. WHY IS HIS FACE LIKE THAT THO

- I like the fact it’s told a bit in retrospect, like it starts off with the star date and saying that at the time they didn’t know he got cloned

- MCCOY! His friendliness and then the “I have no sympathy for clumsiness” bro wha

- DONT YELL AT MCCOY

- McCoy not knowing what to do about Jim so he goes to Spock lol

- what the fuck is that fuckin thing, it’s rabid man.

- anytime someone is holding the creature there is literally no reason for them to be holding it. Like Kirk is just holding it and then HANDS IT TO SPOCK.. WHY IS THIS NORMAL NOW

- so do people casually just sit on tables here? First we had McCoy, now Spock. Is it just science/medical officers?

- Vulcan nerve pinch for the win

- POV your boyfriends are deeply concerned for your wellbeing (side note: bones looks so soft in the first pic. He cares so much)

- “you have a point, Spock.” “Yes. Always, doctor” STOP FLIRTING

- “If I seem insensitive to what you are going through, you must understand it’s the way I am.” HE SAYS THIS WITH ALL THE CARE IN THE DAMN WORLD. Spock is the most emotional character I have ever seen

- uh oh the circuits

- nooo Sulu! Do they not have better cold protection?

- YEAH I HOPE YOU’RE IN PAIN FUCKER

- so I think what they’re trying to promote is the idea that there’s the kind and indecisive side and the animalistic “sinful” side that has all the impulses and power to make decisions and together they work so that the former side can calm the latter to be more… civilized?

- “god forbid I have to agree with Spock” they’re married and you cannot convince me otherwise

- was that dog okay? Like it was really fuckin angry at something

- HES DEAD JIM MOMENT! WE HAVE A HES DEAD JIM MOMENT

- “for once I agree with you, doctor” THEY ARE MARRIED

- Spock is so riled up rn (every time he shows emotion I’m commenting on it because I think he is so so emotional but then his whole thing is he isn’t)

- SPOCK YOUR LOGIC ISNT LOGICING (having a human half and Vulcan half I think is a bit different than literally being split into two people, but what do I know)

- they are literally the angel and devil on his shoulder, but married, and also in love with him

- what no no bring Sulu back. That was such a good delivery of lines I am so

- this episode shows the power imbalance between Kirk and Janice and that messaging could be more powerful if they really wanted. Like showing how Janice felt forced to say she was okay with it and wouldn’t tell anyone because it was the captain I feel was a big step to take in the 60s (because it was rarely if ever talked about especially on tv) but it still wasn’t enough and was treated horribly in the end. They brush off her experience and also let Kirk be near her which is not okay. I know they wouldn’t but I wish they’d actually addressed the fact that Kirk can pretty much get away with anything and the crew wouldn’t/couldn’t stop him unless they deem it truly necessary (which would be way to far)

- I think the Kirk stuff could be more impactful

- some of those close ups on Kirk are crazy

- Bones is so damn worried about him in the transporter room

- SPOCK IS STRESSED AND HE HESITATES

- “the imposters back where he belongs, forget him” but isn’t the thing is that he is you? Like he’s still there and apart of you, Kirk

Okay, that’s episode six. I don’t have much more to say about this episode.

Ep 1

All other episodes

[riddles-fiddles]

The pregnancy scenario is so gorgeous, I love!! And perfect timing, I literally had a dream the night before about having a kid with Leona and Idia (two different dream timelines of the same scenario converging later as a kind of after party). I thought you might get a kick out of my brain’s toy box nonsense :3

The Leona timeline was very sweet, him comforting me after someone attempted to kill me for imperfect human genetics, and then getting me pregnant to spite the killer. Idia was too nervous to kiss me to wake me up from a Maleficent curse sleep. He eventually woke me up and we then had a kid who I think was called Scoot? Started with an S and had a double O in the middle.

At the after party scene, both the kids looked like the Tsums of the father, since my brain struggles to render babies in sleep XD But the fathers were both thrilled and proceeded to show them off to everyone around them!

Honestly this is so cute anon!!! You're making me want to write more domestic scenarios with the boys,,,

Leona knocking you up in spite from the killer is so him lmao but ohhhhh think if the killer was hired by his parents to erase you out of his life. Just makes Leona more possessive of you, so when you finally grow a bump visible enough he'll be walking around with his hands always somewhere on your body, making sure to let everyone know you are his most perfect human mate (and he'll personally throw hands at anyone who even dares look at you with any hint of disgust or mockery). When the baby arrives, Leona is so lively - his lazy demeanor never truly leaves his soul, but at least now he has one motivation to get up from bed and slack off - especially if it's a girl! I can totally see him being such an endearing girldad, the type to make feminine voices when playing house and always getting so invested when throwing fake tea parties, also gets his daughter the biggest unicorn on the fair, no matter if he needs to go through some ridiculous game. Either be it a girl or a boy, Leona's favourite thing to do is go to small walks with his baby on his shoulders, squealing in excitement from all the stimuli around them, teaching them about everyday things like what is a butterfly, why birds chirp, and so on. You could say your child really did bring a light to Leona's life.

Idia... he wants to give the baby an unique name, or something regarding the online games or otaku media he consumes, but all you need to do is bat your eyelashes and hold his hand in a death gentle grip to sort his mind out of this idea. Idia's very nervous and overly cautious around the baby, always, and easily freaks out from the smallest ractions - when the baby sneezes, when they cough, even innocent, bright squeals sends him spiraling into an anxious coma. He's horrified of the idea of accidentally dropping his own child or just hurting them in some way, so he's always with a firm grip around the head and body, sustaining them even with trembling hands. He's very dedicated though, so Idia is always close to them, literally. He'll have the baby secured against his chest in a baby carrier while gaming, sometimes making effect sounds to amuse them; you know they truly are Idia's child from the way they look so enthralled to the screen, curious eyes scanning every move, every change of scenario like they're actually understanding something. He finds it annoying to go out in public with them though! His child is just so freaking cute with their cheeks so rosy and squeezable every stranger wants to talk and cuddle them, making Idia feel proud and at the same time mortified, fighting the urge to just turn heels and run back home as fast as possible. Idia doesn't care what gender his child is, but you can be sure he'll want to dress them in gamer onesies and clothing. 'Player three' and 'level 1 human' kinda shit, you know? But he will neeeeever admit he's doing it because he secretly finds it cute; god forbid Idia Shroud enjoying something so normie. Cringe.