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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

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Bad Reputation

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Sainz!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Words: 2.2K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Omg this is random but can you pls write bad reputation max x super good girl reader? Like everyone says she shouldn’t go for max and criticising their relationship, saying he’s bad for her and whatever but they just don’t know him like she does and we all know max is the sweetest person irl (and Netflix is a bitch for pushing a bad agenda about him) and it’s just all the sweet secret moments they have between them? Kinda like the song ‘call it what you want’ by taylor swift & delicate (‘my reputations never been worse, so you must like me for me’) 🥺

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, secret relationship, Papa and Carlos are fuckers, Carlos is a petty bitch, nothing major honestly

Max Verstappen The Notorious Bad Guy That Stole A Championship

You scuff at the news article on your phone. How ridiculous. Not only was it dragging up old wounds, but distasteful simply due to Max dominating right now.

"Something wrong?" Your eyes peer at your brother over your sunglasses. "No, just another distasteful article about Max again." You try to reign in the anger of your words, but it's evident as the man across from you raises his eyebrow. "You defend him too much." Rolling your eyes, you want to bite back that you don't.

It'd be a lie, of course. You knew Max better than everyone else. Yet, you had to keep that hidden from the world. "You're just jealous because he's been kicking your ass." Sticking your tongue out at your brother Carlos who flips you off. "Carlos, you put your finger down right now." Your mother hisses, fixing your hair which has you moving away.

"She's not a baby, Mama," Carlos grumbles, leaning back into the lawn chair. "Carlos, your sister is a good girl. Don't sully her eyes." Your mother sighs, placing plates of food down. "Mama, stop. I'm not a child." You grumble, lowering the brightness on your phone.

You hated having to hide your relationship with Max. But, he was known to have a horrible temper, foul-mouthed, cheater, thief, and everything else under the sun. But, to you? He was calm, a boy who grew into a man too quickly, chasing the records to be etched into greatness. Max's foul mouth was never pointed at you. That mouth gave you soft promises and sweet nothings.

Everyone judged him because of DTS, his radios, and the fact he had no remorse when it came to the races, driving hard and winning hard. They needed someone to blame, and Max was the easy escape for fans and teams alike.

I saw the article. You didn't steal it. You won fairly. They don't want to admit it.

Hitting send, you place your phone on your lap, waiting for a reply. You knew it'd be late in Monaco as you enjoyed the summer break with Carlos back home in Spain. Throughout the night, you kept checking your phone, unable to help yourself. A soft buzz on your lap has your smile growing more than usual as you look at your phone.

I could care less; I'll only care if they involve you. No one knows yet, and that's for the best. When do you come back? I miss you.

Those three words have your heart beating faster. He missed you? Max and you haven't been together long, just shy of 7 months. Still, in that honeymoon phase, you always made excuses to your brother and his friends about why you couldn't hang out. Carlos was going suspicious, even once tried following you only to see you go to a bookstore.

I miss you too. Have to go. Carlos is about to-

You hit send just as Carlos snatches your phone. "Carlos! Give it back!" Swiping for the phone, Carlos steps back as he looks at your screen. He laughs as you two fight for the phone, but it dings, making you frantic. "Carlos, please. Please give me back my phone. I'm begging you." Desperation evident. "What? Texting your boyfriend?" Carlos jokes, but that smile of his slips when he reads the text.

"Carlos, I can explain." He tosses your phone back, all traces of your brother gone, replaced with a pissed-off man. "Max answered your text. We'll talk later." He whispers in your ear, going back to his seat. The rest of the family joining the two of you now. Looking down at your phone, you see the text and know Carlos is about to lose his mind.

Call me. Love you buttercup

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Lying on your bed, you stare at Max's contact. You want to call him, but you know Carlos is waiting for the party downstairs to die so he can slip away. Max had texted you multiple times since the afternoon, ranging from asking how dinner was to asking if you were angry with him.

"Y/n?" Shooting up, you fix your shirt as your older brother Carlos pokes his head in. "I'm still awake." Carlos pushes the door wider, fitting his body through before closing it with no sound. "Do I need to ask, or will you tell me?" He moves from the door to lay on your bed, you following him. "Carlos, please don't make me." He huffs, his larger hand holding yours. "Why? Because you'll know what I'll say? And I will say it, pequeña." You sit up, staring at your phone screen.

It lights up, Max's smiling face staring at you. Unable to look at it, you hit decline and mute it. "He's good to me, Carlos." Your brother snorts, rolling his eyes at those words. "So what? You know his reputation. He's a loose canon that doesn't care who he hurts. You'll be a casualty in his warpath." Carlos sits up, rubbing your shoulder as he stands. "Dump him, pequeña. He'll only hurt you." Carlos doesn't wait for an answer, leaving with a sense of accomplishment, thinking you'll dump Max.

Standing, you look at yourself in the mirror. The small silver bracelet with a little lion hides slips from your sleeve, reminding you of the day Max gave it to you.

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3 months ago

"Max, I'm going to be late. Carlos and Papa are strict about curfew." It was stupid, but the men in your family still gave you a curfew. You did have the good girl image as the youngest Sainz to uphold. "We've got 30 minutes. Besides, I can get us back in 5," Max smirks, tugging you through the crowded festival.

Smiling, you tug him back, wrapping your other arm around the one holding your hand. Unable to help himself, he leans down, kissing you without a care who saw. "Come on. There is one stand I want to visit." High off the kiss, you nod as you move around the people. Max stops before this tiny little stand with an older woman making jewelry.

"Excuse me, can you make this for me?" The older woman smiles, taking a slip of paper in Max's hand. Opening it, her smile grows as she nods and gets to work. "What's she making?" Max shushes you, kissing your ear. "Be patient, buttercup." Unable to stop the blush, you turn away, hiding your face in his side. Laughing, he kisses the top of your head as fireworks explode above.

The older woman finishes what she is working on, handing it to Max. Pocketing it, he hands over more money than needed. Before the woman notices, Max tugs you away. "Where are we going?" You yell over the loud music and fireworks. "Somewhere, quiet." The farther you walk, the music starts to fade, but the fireworks still burst into colors above. You gasp, seeing a little gazebo with a pond around it. "Come on." He urges, pulling you out of your haze.

The two of you run to the gazebo, you jumping up the ledge so you can look Max in the eye. "How'd I get so lucky?" Max whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I think I should be asking that." With a hum, you rest your head on his chest, watching the fireworks. Max says nothing as you enjoy the show and others' warmth. "Oh, this is for you," Max whispers, leaning down to grab something from his pocket.

"Max, you shouldn't have gotten me anything." Hating when he spends money on you. "Stop. You're the light in my life right now. Let me be the one to make it burn brighter." Shutting you up with a kiss. Pulling away with giggles, he places the silver bracelet in your palm, looking away. Peering at it, your heart squeezes as you stare at a little lion head dangling off it.

"We can't always be together when we're so close, sooo," Max groans, shy at admitting this. "This will prove that even though I can't always be next to you, I'm here." Pointing at the lion's head, looking up, he stops seeing tears in your eyes. "It's perfect. I love you." Your eyes grow wide as you both take in what you have just said.

"Oh, Max. God, it's so earlier. I'm so-" Words get swallowed as his lips mesh with yours, kissing away your apologies. "Don't apologize. I love you too, Y/n Sainz." The two of you laugh, losing yourself in one another. Curfew be damned.

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

Present Day

"Stay away from Max. Today is a race day, we don't need you getting caught and your name being ruined." Your father hisses so others don't hear. So much for trusting Carlos. He told your father immediately, not even giving you a chance. "Yes, Papi." Your father nods and lets you go, heading to talk to your cousin and Carlos.

Carlos looks at you smiling, but you lift your hand, flipping him off; no shame in showing off the bracelet Max gave you. Carlos's face turns sour, leaning in, whispering something to your father, who turns his face filled with rage. "Mama, going for a drink." Your mother waves you off, slipping through people, careful not to be spotted by cameras or media personnel.

It was stupid and reckless. You knew that walking that way was asking for trouble. You just couldn't help it, wanting one glimpse of Max. Stepping back and into the shadows, cameras come rushing past saying they just saw Max. Looking up, you feel a presence behind you and a hand on your mouth. Letting out a scream, it's muffled as that warm voice soothes you. "Buttercup, it's me." Automatically your body relaxes into his.

"Max?" Chuckling, he drops his hand, spinning you around. Fingers going for the lion head rubbing it. "Papi and my family know." Max's smile falls, fingers still, and he steps back. "Oh." You hate that he's doing this. Shutting down and refusing to talk about this. "Max, hey." Grabbing his hand, you pull him back close. "Please don't shut down on me. Please, I don't care what my family says. I love you." Max sighs, looking down at you as he yanks you into a hug.

"I love you too, but I don't want my reputation to harm you." He whispers into your hair, his racing heart calming by holding you in his arms. "Fuck that. I want you, Max. I picked you. You were my first and last choice." Max leans down, kissing the bracelet, then your lips. "I have to go. Race is about to start." You nod, giving him one last kiss as you watch him rush off.

"Where were you?" You control the urge to roll your eyes at your brother. You're tired of hiding how you feel, and you weren't going to be ashamed of it. "I was with Max. If you have a problem with it, deal with it." You hiss before joining the rest of your family, refusing to say a word.

"YES!" You knew it was wrong to scream loudly when Max crossed the line, a photo finish with your brother. You didn't care. Max deserved this win, but Carlos didn't. The backstabber needed to feel this sting, and you're glad he would. Ripping off the headphones, you make a run to parc ferme, only to be yanked back.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Your father snarls. "LET GO OF ME!" People turn, your father letting you go immediately as you take deep breaths. "I love him! I love him, Papi! He's the only one who understands me and is a good man! But you and Carlos are so blinded by the media and the rumors that you don't see how happy I am! So fuck you and this stupid image! I'm going to kiss the love of my life." Laughing, you turn, bolting off, watching Max jump out of the car, celebrating.

"MAX!" Hearing your voice, his helmet turns, looking at you. Without a second thought, he rushes over, scooping you up, pulling you over the rails as you hug him tight. "I love you, I love you." You repeat before you lean back, kissing his helmet. You can see his eyes scrunch in happiness.

"I don't care what people say; I don't care about your bad reputation. You're mine, good or bad. I choose you." Max laughs, spinning you around as people scream and cheer. From the corner of your eye, you see a red storm past, not even looking at you. He'll get over it. Even if he doesn't, you still have Max.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #formula one #f1 scenario #max x reader #max verstappen imagine #max imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen scenario #red bull racing

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drakoneve · 7 months

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A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 10 days

Note

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.”

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown.

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better.

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her.

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted.

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum?

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise.

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear.

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?”

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits.

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.”

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.”

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.”

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.”

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment.

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

Note

#2 "where are you going dressed like that?" with Emmett! I miss your writing with Emmett and I miss your writing in general. Dinner Party is fantastic.

oh yeah that makes so much sense for him!!

warnings: smut (18+ only!!!), rough sex, d/s dynamics, established relationship, roleplay, dirty talk, daddy kink, implied age gap, hair pulling, spanking, kinda dumbification kink, no relationship to the movie/pre-apocalypse, no plot just filth!

You bit your lip with excitement as you saw yourself in the mirror, surprised by how well the look fit you. Who knew something Emmett picked out could end up being fashionable? Or maybe you just 'look good in anything' like he said, but that was surely just flattery.

You tried to act nonchalant as you walked past him towards the door, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor. He looked up from his newspaper at you, and you smirked to yourself when you heard the loud crinkle of him setting it down suddenly.

"Where the hell do you think you're goin' dressed like that?" he asked roughly, standing up as you turned around to face him.

"Like what?" you asked innocently.

"Look how short your skirt is," he growled, stalking closer to you, his heavy boots making a much more intimidating sound when they hit the floor. "You're hardly even wearing a shirt--"

"This is trendy!" you defended.

"How come I can see through it?!" he snapped. "What do you think people are gonna think when they see you like this? What do you think men are gonna think?"

"I don't know... that I'm fashionable?" you shrugged.

He stepped right up to you, making you blink up at him as you tried not to show your nervousness, or excitement, or arousal. "You look like a slut, babydoll," he explained lowly. You loved the way that word sounded in his voice: slut. Just the right amount of insulting and sexy all together.

"I'm sorry, daddy," you batted your eyes at him. "But I'm grown, I can wear whatever I want. See ya later!"

You didn't even make it one step away before he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you back, making you gasp and whimper. "Think just 'cause you're grown, you can act like a brat?"

You tried to shake your head, but he was holding it too tightly-- and then a second later, he was shoving you down and bending you over the couch, delivering a harsh smack to your ass (which was barely covered by the tight skirt). "Daddy!" you yelped in faux shock-- well, it wasn't entirely acting. Sure, you knew where this was going, but you didn't expect him to be quite this rough... not that you were complaining.

"If you wanna act like a big girl, you're gonna get treated like one," he warned, spanking you roughly again as your knees pressed together. "And if you wanna look like a whore, you're gonna get treated like one'a those, too."

He pushed the skirt up over your ass to reveal the lacy, Barbie-pink thong, and you heard him growl through his teeth.

"Knew this was what you wanted," he growled, rubbing his hand over your ass and groping it in that way that just made you tense up in anticipation of your spanking. "Only one reason a girl gets dressed up like this-- wanted somebody to put you in your place. You don't need to leave the house for that, honey, daddy's right here to teach you some manners."

He hit you again, and again, and again-- three hard slaps right to the curve of your ass that made your legs wobble and your hands grip weakly at the couch under you. "Fuck," you moaned, fluttering your eyes shut as the sting dissipated and your skin started to feel hot.

"Look't this pretty ass," he cooed, "think I should hit it 'til you've got a nice big handprint right here?"

"No, daddy, please," you begged, "I'll be good-- you don't need to hit me that much..."

"So then what do you need, princess?" he asked sweetly, grabbing a rougher handful of your ass. "What do you need to learn your lesson?"

"U-um..." you stalled, not sure what to say.

"See, daddy knows what you need," he explained. "So just shut up and take it."

He hit you until your legs were giving out, and you were crumpling down onto the couch under you with weak little sobs. You were crying out like it hurt you, which it did, but you were arching your back deeper, too.

When he stopped suddenly, you heard him opening his belt and you really didn't know if he was just taking his cock out or if he was going to hit you with that, too. All you did was try to straighten your legs again to take whatever he would give you-- like a good girl.

He hooked a finger into your barely-there panties and pulled them to the side, chuckling lowly at how wet you were.

"Soaked through this cheap lace, baby," he noticed proudly. "You like when daddy gives you some discipline?"

You nodded and bit your lip, but it fell wide open in a gasp when he roughly shoved his cock inside you, all the way. "Ow! Fuck, Em, s'too deep," you yelped, reaching behind you and trying to push his hips back, but he grabbed your wrist and held it down in front of you, only rutting into you faster and deeper in response.

"Nuh uh, babydoll," he scolded, "you're gonna take it all. S'what you fuckin' deserve-- you're gonna take all of this fuckin' dick."

You whined and tried to arch your back away, but there was no escape from how deep he was inside you, nor how hard he was fucking you.

Even though it did hurt, in a certain way, you knew it was what you needed. Each thrust made you whine and choke, until you finally went limp and accepted it; your eyes rolled back and your whimpers turned into needy moans. "There she is," he growled, "there's my little cockwhore."

You hated how much you loved when he talked like that. And he knew it, too, because he smiled as he felt you get even wetter where he drove himself into you.

"So fuckin' stupid for dick," he noticed with a purr. "Head's all empty now, huh? Just wanna get fucked, don't wanna think? Don't worry, baby, you don't need to. I don't give a fuck what you think. I just like the way you take my cock inside you, that's all that matters."

"Daddy," you panted desperately, legs shaking with the effort to try to hold yourself up. These heels certainly didn't make it any more comfortable.

"You look so fuckin' cute like this," he praised darkly. "Dressed like a bimbo, drooling for cock... I could just come in you right now and leave, then would you learn your lesson? Learn that all a cheap slut deserves is to get used and filled and left with come running down her legs?"

"Nooo, daddy, please," you pouted, barely able to string words together with how he was pounding you into the couch.

"Okay, princess," he offered sweetly, "I'll make you come first. But when I'm rubbing your poor little clit until you can't take anymore, and making you come until you pass out, you're gonna wish you'd taken me up on my offer when you had the chance..."

#emmett a quiet place x reader #emmett a quiet place smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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lilislegacy · 1 month

Text

Ok guys this is somewhat of a controversial take on Jason Grace’s powers. You can tell I was nervous writing this out because I used capitalization lol. Please read till the end

I want to start by saying I love Jason Grace. He is such a cutie. I adore him. And he is a very, very powerful demigod. And he is totally capable of very evil things, just like Percy. This take concerns a certain ability that a lot of people seem to think he has, but I don’t think people realize how unrealistic is. (I mean people can still hc whatever they want, it just doesn’t mean it’s canon.) Okay, here goes

There is absolutely no evidence or reason that Jason Grace would be able to control the electricity in our bodies. And here’s why…

I know so many of you really love that idea, and justify it by using the logic that percy can control people’s bodily fluids, so since jason can control lightning, he could control neurons and action potentials. But here’s the thing: The reason percy can control bodily fluids is because bodily fluids, like saliva, blood, and tears are largely made up of water, so he can manipulate the content of those substances that is water. And water is water. H2O is H2O. Percy directly controls all water. That’s his power.

Jason, however, controls weather. Which means he controls clouds, thunder, wind, rain, and yes, lightning. But just because lightning involves electricity does not mean he controls ALL electricity. He controls rain, right? Rain is water. But jason does not control all water. Just rain. Because it’s weather. And before you completely ignore what I just said about rain, and argue “but if he can control the electricity that causes lightning, he could control the electrical signals in people’s brains and muscles,” I see where you’re coming from, but the electricity in lightning is NOT the same electricity in our bodies. Unlike water, not all electricity is the same. Water is a basic chemical compound, in all its forms. Electricity, however, is the flow of electric charge through conductive materials, which produces energy. And those materials and types of energy vary. There are different types. The two we are discussing here are static electricity and bioelectricity.

Static electricity is the accumulation of electric charge on the surface of an object. Did you ever do that experiment where you rubbed a balloon on your head and your hair stuck up? Static electricity causes lightning when there is a buildup of electrical charge in the atmosphere during a storm. When the charge difference between clouds, or between a cloud and the ground, becomes too much, it creates a sudden discharge of electricity, which we see as lightning.

Bioelectricity involves chemicals. It refers to the electrical signals and currents produced within living organisms. It works through the movement of charged particles, called ions, across cell membranes, which allows for communication between cells, nerve impulses, muscle contractions, and various physiological processes.

So here’s the thing. Even if Jason could control ALL static electricity, which likely is NOT the case, it’s not even the same type as the electricity that makes neurons fire. And like I stated, Jason/Zeus has control over weather and storm elements, which may involve electricity, but does not mean he controls all electricity.

Okay besties, now before you show up in my comment section aggressively defending jason and assuming I think he’s weak, let me clarify: I am not saying Jason is not powerful as hell, or that he could not do some creepy ass evil things. He definitely could. For instance, he’s shown through his control over wind that he can manipulate air currents in various ways. MEANING he could create a vacuum effect, and suck all the air out of a person’s body. Like… HELLO? He could collapse their lungs. Deprive their brain of oxygen. He could repeatedly suck the de-oxygenated air, aka CO2, out of their lungs, and then force it back in. Which would be torture. Death by slow suffocation. So using his control of wind and air currents, Jason could be terrifying as hell if he wanted to be, and could do unspeakable things to human beings. I’m simply saying that his ability to summon lightning has absolutely zero connection to the hypothetical ability of being able to control people’s neurons. They’re not even somewhat related processes.

Please don’t yell at me. I love Jason. I think he could be very very scary and evil if he wanted to. Him as a villain would be catastrophic, and I’m not doubting that in any way.

#PLEASE DONT YELL AT ME #IM JUST STATING THE FACTS #jason could be very scary #i don’t doubt it #jason grace #percy jaskon #heroes of olympus #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians

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astraaa3 · 2 months

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Yandere Lucifer and GN!Reader headCanon

A/N: Thank you for the request Anon. I absolutely loved writing thisss. Kisses and hugs. Feedback is much appreciated. Also, if you want to proofread this degeneracy that I write please feel free to shoot me a dm. Mwah. Now, let's get this bitch on the road.

Yandere!Lucifer X Gn!Reader

Note: The first few ideas/phrases/headcanons whatever you want to call them might not seem like straight-up Yandere behavior, but it will get there. Lucifer doesn't seem like the type to instantly go full "You're mine, you're not allowed to leave". You'll see what I mean by that~ Cw/tw: yandere behavior (obviously), given the first warning possessive and obsessive behavior are a given so keep an eye out for that as well; threats of violence; actual violence;

=========꧁🍏꧂=========

Initially, you came to the Hazbin Hotel out of pure curiosity and boredom. You didn't actually think that sinners could get redeemed. After all, everyone here had their chance of leading a righteous life. That said, you ended up staying at the Hotel. Whether it was because of the Princess' puppy eyes that basically begged you to remain, or whether it was because you found yourself actually enjoying the company of the residents, you still didn't know why for sure.

It was a few weeks into your stay at the hotel when you first met Lucifer. It was apparently the first time Charlie saw her father in quite a while as well.

After Lucifer spent some (much-needed) father-daughter time with Charlie, he found himself at the bar right next to you. He was immediately taken aback by your looks. The two of you quickly found yourselves making some small talk. As most talks over a drink go, the topics took a deeper turn after a while, when Lucifer asked you "Do you really believe sinners can be redeemed?"

You smiled looking into your drink as if it could give you the words you couldn't find within yourself. Finishing your drink in one big gulp, you stood up, looking at Lucifer with a small smile: "Not really, no. But I think that if anyone can find a way to do it... it's Charlie" With that you left. Unknowingly leaving behind you a flustered King of Hell.

Since that discussion Lucifer found himself entranced by you. He analyzed everything about you. From the way your nose scrunched up with laughter whenever you were genuinely laughing, to the way you walked (he could already tell how you were feeling based solely on the way you stepped).

He made sure to bring you your favorite drink whenever you felt down, coaxing you into telling him whatever made you upset over a drink (or more than a drink if you didn't feel particularly sharing in regards to what made you upset).

And well, if it was someone that upset you, that person would find themselves on Lucifer's radar. (and if their bodies turned up later on, well, it's not like he would ever let you find out; he didn't want to risk losing your favor)

You found Lucifer's unyielding pursuit of finding everything about you to be quite cute. Yeah, maybe it was a bit over the top and spiraling out of control, but the silly crush you had developed for the King of Hell was jumping up and down with joy whenever you had his attention.

The first time Lucifer's possessive side came out you were arguing with another sinner in the Hotel's lobby. The sinner was some runt who thought he would be able to get his hands on Angel Dust if he stayed in the hotel. Having grown fond of the resident porn star you defended your friend giving the sinner a verbal lashing. Lucifer just watched on amused and annoyed (that your attention was not on him) his love-sick smile turning into an enraged frown when the sinner proposed that the two of you "made love instead of war". HOW FUCKING DARE HE. Not only did he dare look at what belonged to the King of Hell. Not only did he dare to imply defiling your precious innocent body. He dared to utter the word 'love' while looking at you.

Lucifer's patience snapped and with a snap of his fingers, a portal opened beneath the sinner's feet teleporting him high up in the sky on the other side of the Pentagram. You looked shocked at Lucifer. Seeing him angry on your behalf... It was hot.

That night was one of the many the two of you found yourselves falling into bed together, soon after making your relationship official.

As days passed, Lucifer started making more and more odd requests: "My love, could you please tell me whenever you leave the hotel?", "You should leave some of your clothes over at my place, for simplicity's sake." , "Could you please stop talking to (Friend Name)? I... think they may be harboring feelings for you. I think I actually heard them admit to that once. I'm sorry if I'm overreacting but since Lilith left me....", "Darling, I know we haven't dated for long, but I would love it if you were to move in. I know you love the hotel, but I want to make sure you are safe. No? I... alright. We'll talk about it later, it's going to be ok".

The moment that made you realize that Lucifer's obsession was more serious than you thought was after the battle against Adam and the exorcist angels. You got hurt in the chaos of the battle. It was just a stab wound, but when Lucifer saw it, he flipped. With a serious tone, he looked at you, a crazed look in his eyes: "You are going to make a contract with me. You are going to give your soul to me. I will not hear any objections. You clearly can't take care of yourself. So, do we have a deal?"

You reflexively nodded out of fear, having not seen your lover so serious.... so obsessed.... so possessive. This was the first time you looked at Lucifer and saw The King of Hell, the Devil from the Bible. As he gently took your hand shaking it he smiled, the crazed look never leaving his eyes, he cupped your face gently "It's going to be alright, my love, I will take care of everything. I will make sure that you never need for anything. And you will never leave me, after all, you are the apple of my eye."

=========꧁🍏꧂=========

Small prompt: After the deal

It has been two months since you moved in with Lucifer. Your lover wouldn't take no for an answer. And well, you couldn't really say no to him anyway.... After the initial apprehension ended, you fell into a domestic routine with Lucifer: he would coax you to wake up with small kisses peppered across your face, kisses which turned into full-blown sleepy make-out sessions the moment you were awake; afterward, he would make breakfast for the two of you (the duck-shaped pancakes being your favorite); then, the two of you would go to the Hotel to check up on everyone or whatever else the two of you felt like doing; at the end of the day you would take a bath with Lucifer as he would make love to you, your body warm and soft from the hot water; you ended the day with a kiss. The next day it was the same routine. And the next. And the next.

Wherever you went, whatever you did, Lucifer was there with you. Initially, you were bothered by it, feeling like your privacy was forcefully taken from you. But as Lucifer whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he would hug you to his chest proclaiming his love for you, as he would make love to you cradling your face and telling you that you're his... You slowly forgot what it was like to have time alone.

When you first realized how much of your time Lucifer monopolized you tried going on a walk alone. That was the first time since the deal when you saw Lucifer get truly angry. Golden chains wrapped around your body, you were tied to your bed, his smile overly sweet as he caressed your face: "You see how easy it is for someone to just kidnap you? What if someone tried doing something to you, my love? You are so weak and pure, I can't let those dirty sinners touch or even glance at you. Now then, you can play with the duckies while I make sure that no one who saw you today sees the light of day again." with that, he kissed your lips sweetly before leaving you there tied to the bed, with a rubber duck on your chest.

After that, you never tried leaving again, too afraid that maybe your lover's ire will turn to you this time around. But Lucifer would never. He loved you, obsessively so. Maybe... it wasn't that bad letting him lock you away in the gilded cage you called home. After all, did you really need anything else when you already had him?

#lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar x reader

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amoristt · 9 months

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anon: can you write a ghost x reader fic about y/n being wrongfully accused of being a spy and she makes a run for it and ghost finds her? YESSSS . LOVE ITTTT

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - wanna tip me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

- Heavy footsteps, the air thick, the wall in front of you even thicker. Never did you think that beige wallpaper would be such an obstacle in your way as the echoing sound of footsteps gain on you. The door is shut tight, but the room is still under construction and lacks any furniture to help barricade you in. There isn't even a fucking closet for you to hide in. The only thing other than light brown plank flooring and a door with a half-painted white frame, was a window overlooking a yard.

It was roughly a five-story drop- too high to continue your run unscathed, but at this point, you've got some pretty heavy options to weigh. On one hand, potentially cut your life short, on the other, get caught and dragged out fighting.

Not that it would be much of a fight. You didn't even have time to grab your gun or knife before you made your escape.

Your heart aches. This wasn't right. While you weren't sure what dirt Shepherd had on you, what documents had been falsified as evidence of your alleged 'treason', but whatever they were they must have been pretty damn convincing to have Graves up in arms almost instantaneously. Tears bite at your eyes- had been since you first ran, but now they were heavier. Angrier. You wipe them harshly and red blotches bubble at your cheeks.

Shaking, you bring your radio to your lips. You can't hear them, but they can surely hear you, switched to a different station so you couldn't use their chatter to work around them.

"Please," you damn near sob. "Please, there's a mistake. There's been a fucking mistake, I haven't done anything. You really think I'd do this to you guys of all people?"

Grave answers your pleads like a poison, settling deep into your lungs, replacing all the air in its wake.

"Enough running. Come out and no one has to get hurt."

There was no use in arguing, you realized. They would never hear of it- not the people that truly mattered when it came to imprisonment, anyways. Even if you could convince your humble squad of your innocence, it would never hold up in the end. Besides that, by the way Graves spoke to you, the way he had looked at you, like you were a fucking bug that needed squashing, told you all you needed to know when it came to fighting against Shepherd's allegations.

You knew, ultimately, that running wasn't going to exactly help your case, but you didn't know what else to do. It felt like everyone had turned against you in a moment. You hadn't even had time to process anything. One moment you were joking with your crew, and Graves scampered off the take a rather important call.

Shepherd, was all he had said before disappearing.

And god, when he came back, red-faced and tense, the accusations poured.

Soap tried to defend you. Ghost fought to question, to figure out what the fuck was happening, but the supposed 'evidence' was apparently damning enough to convince Graves through and through that you were a spy.

A rat.

Ghost's voice, laced with desperation and confusion, when Graves began to 'explain' your betrayal haunted you. More so than the act of being accused of treason, even. You just stared at him, past that skull mask, into those familiar dark eyes. Even now, as you ran for what could possibly be your life, that half-hidden expression was all you could see.

The moment Graves brought up arresting you, and even moved to try and grab you, your brain damn near malfunctioned. Your body reacted on its own.

You fucking ran.

Though you weren't sure how someone had found you, this was the position you were in now. The curtains blew out with the breeze, soft and inviting, almost like it was beckoning your jump. They unfurl before you like great wings, and you stare down at the green grass below. You'd surely be crippled by this fall. If not that, it could very well kill you.

Your heart seizes, your lungs struggle to take in air as panic begins to sets in like vines creeping over your nerves. For a moment, you freeze. There was no other way out.

But then there's a slam on the door behind you, so great that the frame creaks and sharp chunks of wood launch off and scatter onto the floor around you. You flinch and your body once again takes priority over your mind, tossing your leg over the sill and swallowing hard. You're going to have to make the jump for it.

You heave yourself up and over, planting your feet flat on the sill, your entire body shaking with both fear of the leap and the deeper issue at present. One hand braces against the top of the window, the other covering your mouth.

Behind you, the door bursts open. Wood splints and tears as it slams into the wall.

"Enough!" A voice shouts, thick with accent and heavy breaths. "You're going to break every damn bone in your body."

You can practically feel Ghost's gun pointed straight at you. You cringe.

Would he pull the trigger?

"Might as well do it now before someone else does trying to beat a confession out of me that'll never fucking come." You didn't mean for your voice to carry so sharp, so laced with the pain and hurt of being hunted by your own friends.

By Ghost, of all people.

How could he be so fucking blind after everything you'd been through together? You wanted to reach out and smack him upside the head. You'd patched each other up more times than you could count, you trusted him with your life, he'd trusted you with his.

Or so, you had always thought.

But the way he's looking at you has to second guessing.

But, ultimately, you knew the game at play. He was a good soldier- the best. He was a former lone wolf, distrustful to his core. You'd worked so fucking hard to get close with him and now it was all crumbling down. Even if you stayed and explained yourself, there would be no point. You would be arrested, processed, thrown in jail labeled a traitor to your country and more people than not would be celebrating it. You'd never see the light of day- shackled and stuffed into a prison so far off the map that God himself would struggle to find you.

And you would be damned if you were going to just sit there and accept your fate. Even if it meant you appeared just as guilty as Shepherd had painted you. You just needed to get away for a bit, collect yourself, and have the time to figure out what the hell was going on. But it seemed that was never in the cards for you.

The ground below looks menacing, but more forgiving than the fate that awaits you.

You can hear Ghost taking heavy steps forward, and you wonder why he hasn't just come up and ripped you from that sill already.

"Get down," He barks, and you shake at the tone, refusing to look back at him. Defiance shines through as you refuse to climb down.

"I'm not going down for something I didn't do!" Exasperated, your knuckles whitening with your iron grip. It takes what feels like eons to prepare for gravity to play its course, but in reality, it's been mere seconds. You try to force down air through the boulder in your throat.

For a moment, everything stills. You knew the outcome that was bound to come to this. You knew, deep down in your heart, that your fate was not a good one at this point. Either you die on impact, or you'd be wheeled into the interrogation room on a stretcher. That alone makes your skin crawl- interrogation. Knowing you had not a single detail to offer despite the amount of 'tactics' that would be used on you... The torture would essentially be never-ending.

You were well and truly fucked.

"I have to do this." You try to keep your voice level, but it betrays you. You hear Ghost suck in a sharp breath, the sound of his gear shifting. At this point, you don't even care if he shot you. At least you'd die with the person you loved.

"You don't." Ghost's voice is quieter, closer. Now you can really hear it- the sadness. The desolation. It wracks you to your very core.

With a hasty glance over your shoulder, you take in the sight of him. Maybe the last sight of him you'll ever get the chance to see. His looming figure stands feet away, gun still fixated on you. He looks defeated. Or, perhaps, torn. Riding that fence and teetering on the edge between believing you or hauling your ass back to Shepherd kicking and screaming.

Tears well in your eyes when realize his finger isn't even on the trigger. You nod at him sadly.

"I do."

And then, you give yourself to gravity. For a split second, you're weightless. Without much family back home, you found yourself thinking about your squad. How would Soap react? Gaz, or Price? Would they try to find your innocence, or would they take your cowardly actions at face value? Would Graves struggle with the weight of your life if he discovered his manhunt had been unwarranted?

Would Ghost be okay after firsthand witnessing such an awful, selfish act?

Would he ever forgive you?

With a sickening crack, your body slams into the brick wall of the building and you're left dangling in place. Your shoulder screams as you hang, and when you snap your attention toward the searing pain, you see two large hands grasped tight at your wrist and elbow.

"Damn it!"

Ghost's voice reaches you like a bullet had been ripped through your chest. He'd caught you, holding fast and unrelenting. You tried to fight, struggling against him, trying to reach up and pry those fingers away but they didn't budge.

It was over. You'd been caught. You were going to fucking prison and forever labeled a traitor to your country and everyone you ever knew. Everyone you ever fought with, and for, would remember you as a rat. A stain on the fabric of the U.S. Army.

"Let go!" You cry, feeling yourself reeling back into that room with Ghost's unwavering grip. "Just let go!"

Ghost grunts a sharp no before you're hauled up, into the room, and held fast by his arms caging you against him. He crushes you to himself, fingers near digging bruises into your skin and he's shaking you realize. Tears well up and flush past your waterlines, disappearing into the cloth of his gear. You haphazardly beat on his chest with a loosely formed fist.

"They're gonna fucking kill me" You sob. "It's not me, I didn't do anything."

You feel Ghost's arms leave you, and you realize now is when you'll have to surrender. You'll have to hang your head low and saunter away and into the clutches of the armies worst. You're crying into your hands now, not caring what you look like. Not caring this was the first time Ghost had ever truly seen you cry. And god, did you cry.

"Simon, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't me!"

He's silent as he watches you fall apart right in front of him. Though he uncurls his arms from your shaking frame, he doesn't back away, looking down at you, like he's unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to believe anymore. As you press your forehead to his shoulder, your legs threaten to give out from underneath you.

"Why is this happening." Your voice escapes you as a whimper, broken up with sharp, painful breaths. "What could I have done for someone to do this to me of all people? I know I'm not a saint, but,-" Finally you look up at him, babbling. "Fuck, what do I do?"

Ghost's eyes narrow as he watches you, taking in every word. He places his hands on your shoulders, the first familiar gesture you've felt yet.

"You think you've been framed?" He asks, tone cool despite the waves of emotions in his eyes. You nod.

"That's the only explanation I can think of, but why? I would never do this to my country, my home." You flicker your eyes up to his own. "I would never do this to you."

You can see him trying to work it all out in his brain. Weighing the evidence he'd been presented with versus the fact that he fucking knew you. Knew you like the back of his hand, knew you without even having to think about it. He knew you as he knew himself, and he just knew you wouldn't do this.

"So what is it then." He starts harshly, so terribly confused it brings about anger, like he needs the answer right now because he doesn't know what to do next and time is running thin.

Shaking your head, you shrug. "I don't know. I just-... I know that there's something going on here. Maybe by mistake, maybe intentionally, I don't know. But I didn't fucking do anything."

Ghost digests your words. You continue.

"I just need time to figure it out and I don't have it. I've got 141 and god fucking forbid, the Shadow's coming for this at this point." your face falls. "...Did anyone try to defend me after I left...?"

Ghost stiffens and swallows hard. You nod, laugh hoarsely. Of course.

"It was fast. There wasn't time to think." He offers. It made sense. You wondered what would have happened if anyone found you up here. If it had been Soap, or Gaz. Or Graves.

His eyes are softer now, his breathing leveling. Surely he's made a choice, but you aren't sure of which. You pray it's in your favor, that he realizes that this is you you're talking about. You pray he remembers all the time, the trust. As you watch him, like he's miles away from you, you can't help but notice him staring at you like you're just mere arms reach away.

Like you'd never left his arms at all, actually. Still flush against him a crying mess of pleads and hurt.

"Ghost, how copy?" Grave's voice pipes up from Ghost's radio.

You still. Ghost lingers a moment, like he doesn't want to answer, his eyes dart from his radio and then back to you, and you press your lips into a tight line.

Don't fucking answer it, your mind begs. Don't do this to me.

When Graves repeats himself, urgently this time, Ghost drags the radio begrudgingly up his clothed lips. Mouth running dry, hands shaking, you take a step back.

'Please,' You mouth. Ghost shakes his head and refuses to meet your gaze.

He was going to turn you in, after all.

He was a good soldier.

You, in that moment, recall the moments you spend side by side with this man. This scary, intimidating man, that you'd found comfort in. The person you plucked from the litter and thought to yourself, this one.

And he hadn't wanted you in. You bulldozed your way through until he found himself picking you out in crowds, remembering all those little things about you that no one else seemed to give a damn about. Waiting for you in the morning, sharing his thoughts and time.

You had always hoped, in another world, you two could enjoy life without all the pain together. A life outside of the army.

Surely, it would have been enough.

Face downcast, you hear him take a breath to speak.

"Clear." He says. "No sign."

There was no stopping the tears that spilled down your cheeks at that moment, mouth covered to muffle yourself, crouching down as your knees shook.

"Sonofa bitch! Regroup back at point A." Graves says with a sigh.

"Copy." Ghost says quickly, shoving his radio back into his belt. He takes a knee in front of you, and his hands cup the side of your wet face. You eye him, babbling thank you over and over again, sick with fear, gratitude, and confusion. A cocktail that left an unnaturally horrendous taste on your lips. He retrieves a hand just long enough to set his knife down o the floor in front of you.

"Now you've got time." He says matter-of-factly, but you can still sense that urgency in his words. He wants you to escape. To figure this out and come back to him his friend and partner.

He takes your discarded radio and switches it to the proper channel so you could keep tabs on their whereabouts and plans. The voices of your squad chatter on the line, Soap's voice above all wondering how the fuck this was even happening. Bless his heart, he even mentioned being worried for you, which was quickly shot down by Graves reminding him of your betrayal.

As Ghost crouches before you, massive, all-powerful it seemed, you watch his eyes. He pats your cheek. His gloved finger points to the window.

"Ever try a stunt like that again, I'll kill you myself." He bites. You nod, struggling to compose yourself. He stands and your mind begs for him to stay, to be with you during this, but you know he can't.

He lingers in the doorway like he's thinking the same thing.

"I will... Do what I can. Watch your back, soldier."

And then he's gone, and It's silent save for your harsh breaths. You shakily pull yourself up from the floor, grasping the knife he'd given you- his favorite blade entrusted to you. You'd wait for nightfall and make a run for it, find shelter day by day, and hopefully reconnect with him somewhere to go over what the hell was going on.

You prayed he'd find a way to convince them of your innocence, ask the right questions to the right people, and have more players in your court.

It would likely be your only way out of this awful nightmare.

#mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2

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sebscore · 1 year

Note

can you write how that dinner that the drivers had for seb last year would have been with yn there??? love your writing

THE LAST SUPPER

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader

warnings: mention of the time seb killed a bird on accident. mention of christian horner.

author's note: i feel like this one is long overdue? Idk, i should have written this one a long time ago but it's finally here!! thanks for the request, and thank you for loving my work! hope you like this one as well, darling! x

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Still can't believe you killed a bird.'' Alex shook his head as Sebastian finished his story about the time he accidentally shot Christian Horner's former wife's favourite bird when he visited his former team principal's home.

''I didn't do it on purpose!'' Sebastian continued defending himself. ''Let's move onto something different, please.''

Nicholas pointed at the young woman in front of him. ''Y/N must have some great stories about Seb, you've known him for a long time, right?''

''Come on, Nicky! You can't put me on the spot like that.'' She chuckled, the eyes of all her colleagues on her making the pressure for a good story even higher.

She momentarily glanced at Sebastian as if asking for permission to reveal some of the personal moments they had experienced over the years. He seemed to get what her eyes were saying, giving her a small nod.

''Uh,'' she collected her thoughts, quickly wanting to get something out, ''Oh! There was this one time- it must have been like 9 or 10 years ago- me and Seb went for ice-cream after I had won some karting race, and he ordered for the both of us, and we sat down at one of the tables, and the waitress gave us our ice-cream and she said something like 'Oh, you two are so cute! I always love it when fathers come in with their daughters!' She thought Seb was my dad.''

By the time she finished her story, the entire table was laughing at the waitress mistaking Sebastian as Y/N's father. Meanwhile, the Aston Martin driver's cheeks coloured red at the embarrassing memory.

''Weren't you like in your mid-twenties or something?'' Charles said, his voice an octave higher because of the laughter.

Sebastian defeatedly nodded his head, causing more chaos at the table. ''I don't know what she was thinking- an older brother? Okay, I would have understood that, but her father? Come on.''

''The entire way back he kept complaining about it 'Y/N, I don't look that old, right? I don't look like I could be your father, right? Is it my hair? My clothes?' He just kept going.'' The young woman continued, enjoying the drivers' reaction to the story.

Mick put his hand on Sebastian's shoulder. ''It probably was your clothes.'' He told his friend, matter-of-factly.

''Yeah, it wasn't too great back then.'' Lewis agreed with Mick, remembering some of the things the German would wear back in those days.

''No, I think it was the hair.'' Fernando chimed in, a villainous smirk on his face.

Daniel nodded to the Spaniard's words. ''Yeah, definitely the hair! I remember it, very dad-like.'' He continued the teasing.

''Hey, hey! Isn't the purpose of this dinner to celebrate me and my career? This isn't supposed to be a roast.'' Sebastian interjected, having heard enough about the various humorous insults thrown at him.

Y/N lightly pushed his arm. ''Please, you were loving it! You didn't even correct the poor lady.'' Sebastian had simply stared at the waitress, while the young girl had hid her face behind a napkin as she tried to hold in her giggles at the misconception.

At her words, Sebastian lowered his head and a blush appeared on his face again. ''He was loving it! Look at him!'' George exclaimed, pointing his finger at the older man.

''No, no, '' the German shook his head, waving his hands, ''I was just too- oh, whatever.'' He gave up his attempt at explaining himself, the drivers were too immersed in the teasing that they wouldn't believe him either way.

''Hey,'' Y/N put her hand on Sebastian's shoulder, ''I get it, I would also love to have a daughter like me.'' She batted her eyelashes.

''Now don't flatter yourself.''

''Y/N, you want to take a taxi with me and Mick?'' Lando asked her, a hopeful glance in his eyes yet a nonchalant demeanor.

A soft smile appeared on her face, gently nodding her head. ''Yeah, that might be easier.'' She chuckled, the three of them stayed at the same hotel and it would be more convenient for them to take the same car.

''Great.'' He smiled, turning around to join the other drivers in the lobby where they could grab their coats and call their chauffeurs. Y/N was about to follow Lando, but a faint call of her name stopped her in her tracks.

''Yes?'' She turned around, meeting the eyes of Lewis and Sebastian.

The Brit's hands fiddled with his phone. ''Would you, uh, take a picture of us?'' The nervousness in his voice was a rare thing, Lewis always oozed confidence.

A big smile creeped onto her face, taking a few steps forward to take his phone. ''Of course.'' Y/N tried withholding herself from letting out a giggle, not wanting to embarrass the two men for acting so sweet with each other.

The two World Champions awkwardly glanced at each other, trying to figure out how to pose for the picture. Y/N patiently waited for them, the phone ready in her hand.

Eventually, they opted to clasp their hands in front of them and to simply stand next to one another. ''We're ready.'' Lewis confirmed with a nod of his head, while Sebastian adjusted his headband.

She held the phone up vertically and snapped a few photos so there were more options to choose from would Lewis want to post them.

Y/N frowned as she looked at the pictures- something wasn't right.

''What is it?'' Sebastian asked her, noticing the muddled look on her face.

She opened her mouth, but wasn't sure how to properly communicate her thoughts to them. ''It's just that, uh, it looks a bit… weird- I don't know.''

''What do you mean weird?'' Lewis said, confused by her answer.

She motioned her hand between the two of them. ''You guys have known each other since you were teenagers, you've been friends for so long and have gone through so much together- this picture doesn't say that.'' Y/N clarified, out of breath as she finished her sentence.

The two men found each other's eyes, understanding what she was saying. They met as young boys and had grown into mature men. Something glistened in their gazes, something only they understood; we've come a long way, haven't we?

Lewis made the first move, firmly putting his hand on Seb's shoulder, a more genuine grin on his face now. Sebastian mirrored his smile and his hand found Lewis' lower back.

Y/N could see the awkwardness leaving their bodies and held up the phone again, snapping a picture which would be liked by millions of people in a few hours.

''Perfect!''

She showed them the photo, smirking as gentle smiles covered their faces, satisfied with the result. ''Thanks, darling.''

The withheld giggle from earlier managed to finally escape her mouth, resulting in puzzled looks from the two drivers in front of her. ''What are you laughing at?'' Sebastian asked, amused.

Y/N shook her head, handing Lewis his phone back. “Nothing, it’s just,” she turned back around, ready to go join the other drivers, ''you two are so cute.''

The young lady didn't wait for the two men to follow her, not wanting to see their reaction to the sentiment she just told them. Meanwhile, Lewis and Sebastian admiringly watched her leave. They knew how much they meant to her, she had expressed it several times over the years.

''We'll let her get away with that one.''

lewishamilton We've come a long way as drivers and continue to grow as men. Despite whatever may happen on the track we grow and become better each day. Us all coming together to celebrate life and Seb's amazing career in F1 is truly a night I'll never forget.

📸 @/yourusername

taglist :: @i0veless @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @scuderialavender @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads @mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolate @anonymous-platypus1

#f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you

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shanastoryteller · 7 months

Note

Its spooky season!!! Any chance for a continuation of the gryfindoor draco?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

Colin Creevey is an ickle firstie and extremely annoying - no matter what Harry says, he couldn't have been that bad as a first year - and Draco feels sick to his stomach thinking of him lying petrified in the hospital wing.

Of course his house is being targeted. Of course they went for a muggleborn, of course whoever is doing this went after an eleven year old muggleborn who hadn't the first clue on how to defend himself against whatever the hell this asshole thinks he's doing -

"Calm down," Harry says, his grip on his shoulder just a shade away from painful.

"I am calm!" he shouts.

Calmly.

Neville pats his back, apparently less interested in leaving finger shaped bruises on him than Harry is. "It's okay, he's going to be fine."

"He will," Draco says darkly. "And what about the next victim? I am done. Hogwarts doesn't need another student death ruining it's reputation."

"What are you planning to do?" Ron asks, but he sounds more curious than derisive.

"Please let it not be something stupid," Hermione says, the first time she's spoken since they've gathered together.

Draco doesn't blame her. If Gryffindor muggleborns are the targets, she's next on the list, regardless of her friendship with him and Neville. Maybe even because of it. Certain people, like idiotic teenagers emulating Voldemort, consider it a sign of muggleborns not knowing their place when they make connections above their assigned station.

"I'm writing my father," he says. "Kids are in danger, and Dumbledore clearly has no idea how to stop it. So I'm going to do what none of the mugglborns' parents know to do or even can do."

Hermione and Harry just look confused, which is to be expected, but he expected better of Neville. Ron, depressingly, just raises an eyebrow. "You want to get aurors involved?"

"They won't interfere in Hogwarts unless they're requested, Dumbledore's influence and reputation gets in the way. No muggle would know that, so I'm going to have my father push it through instead."

"Dumbledore could still block it," Neville says slowly.

Draco doesn't like to think of himself as having a temper. He decides to blame it on the influence of his house. "Then he should be thrown out of the school! Children are in danger, someone is walking around the halls trying to kill us, the aurors should already be handling it!"

Ron grins at him. "I'll talk to my father too. He might not have the scary reputation of yours, but he is a department head, and he knows a lot of the aurors. Anyone your father can't bribe or intimidate, my father can likely bring around."

Draco looks at him in surprise, but just inclines his head. Ron's probably right - his parents fought in the war, just like his father did, only on the opposite side. They probably do have connections to the entire department between them.

His dad will likely be put in a mood with having to work with a Weasley, but Draco's already gotten over it himself so it's time for his father to do the same.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter

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criminalamnesia · 2 years

Note

Please write about Harwin being married to Rhaenyra's sister. When the kids' fight happens in Driftmark, it's their son who attacks Aemond because he was defending his cousins and brother, who were fighting with Aemond and because he called them bastards. When Harwin and her arrive at the hall, they see everyone judging their kids, so they get protective over them, and the reader is the one to stand up against Alicent with the dagger, while Harwin protects their sons by hiding them behind him.

ooooh I love this! I hope I gave your idea justice!

Armor

warnings: f!targaryen!reader, fighting, not proofread, reader has children with harwin strong, no use of Y/N

summary: aemond loses an eye to your sons, but your only concern is protecting your family.

author’s note: I loved this request so much! I also tried to not make it an exact replica of the actual scene, and I didn’t want to make the names of the children the same as Rhaenyra’s, so they will be unnamed lol.

You practically sprinted down the corridors, fear driving your every step. Your hands grasped your nightgown to keep the fabric out of the way, wanting nothing to slow you down. You faintly registered the sound of thundering footsteps behind you– Harwin– but you were so focused on your mission it was as if he wasn’t even there.

When you reached the doors to the chamber, you pushed them open with all of your might, slightly stumbling into the room. All heads turned your way as you frantically searched for your sons.

“Boys!” You cried out, rushing over to them as you spotted them. They were standing by Rhaenyra and Daemon, with one of Rhaenyra’s hands on each of their shoulders. Their faces showed clear signs of relief as you hurried over to them and crouched down to their level, pulling them to you in a fierce embrace.

The room was silent as they watched the display before them. Harwin was right behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder as you squeezed your children. They put up no fight– they were as relieved to see you as you were to see them.

You pulled back from them after you were sure they wouldn’t be ripped away from you. Your hands cupped the cheeks of your youngest, turning his chin this way and that as you examined his bloodied face.

“What happened?” You asked him softly, concerned.

“Your children,” Alicent spat the words from somewhere behind you. You didn’t bother turning to look at her; you kept your gaze focused on the two boys in front of you. “Attacked my son.”

“I’m sure that whatever they did, they did in self defense.” Harwin spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest.

You two had been sleeping when a servant had abruptly entered your quarters to tell you the news. You hadn’t had the mind to make yourself more presentable, and neither had your husband.

You both stood in your nightclothes, and as you rose to stand beside your husband, you realized how underdressed you were compared to the rest of the room.

Alicent scoffed from her place by her wounded son. You watched them as you snaked a hand around one of Harwin’s arms. He looked down at you briefly before turning his attention back to Alicent.

“It was not self defense, it was planned and it was an attack. Your sons and Daemon’s girls cornered him and beat him–” she began, but was swiftly cut off by your eldest.

“He called us bastards!” Your eldest cried in outrage, pointing a finger at Aemond.

The room fell deathly silent. Your grip on Harwin’s arm tightened dangerously. Fury seethed through your veins at the false accusation.

It was not the first time you had heard those words. Alicent and the greens had been attempting to undermine you and Rhaenyra for years, but tensions were growing as you all grew older. With your father’s rapidly declining health, both sides were preparing to take the throne. Therefore, Alicent had recently taken to spreading lies throughout the castle about you and your sister. She never outright said anything, of course– but she had planted seeds that had grown quickly in the underbelly of the Red Keep.

“My children,” you began, gaze trained on Alicent with a murderous glint in your eyes. “Are not bastards. To insinuate that they are is treason.”

“That does not excuse what your children did to my son. He’s lost an eye over words!” Alicent cried, taking a few steps towards you. Harwin moved to stand in front of you as you pulled your children behind you.

The doors to the chamber creaked open once more as the King clambered into the room. He looked angry as he made his way towards his wife.

“What is the meaning of this?” He shouted, looking first to Alicent and then to you.

“Your grandchildren have attacked your son–" Alicent began, but you stepped out from behind Harwin.

“Your son called my children bastards–” you started with narrowed eyes, but Viserys interrupted you.

“Boys,” he spoke, taking a step towards your children. They peeked their heads out from behind you to see the King. “What happened?”

“Aemond took Vhagar, and he was insulting Rhaena and Baela, so I told him to stop but he said he would not listen to a bastard.” Your eldest spoke, and as soon as he finished, clamor rang throughout the room.

“Quiet!” Viserys roared. The room slowly quieted as the King moved towards Aemond.

“Aemond, I want no lies.” He told the boy as he stood in front of him. Aemond looked up at the king with his remaining eye, and it was then that you got a good look at what had happened.

You inhaled sharply at the sight of Aemond’s wound. You knew then that whatever your sons had done to Aemond had been what he deserved.

“I called them bastards,” the boy confirmed, eye glancing over the King’s shoulder towards your family. “And then the older one hit me.”

“See?” Alicent cried, a hand landing on her younger son’s shoulder. “You daughter and her family have no respect! Her children attacked your son and took his eye over words–” she began again, but you would not have it.

“Quite serious words,” you muttered, which caused Alicent to turn on you.

“Enough to maim my son? He has lost his eye! Your children only lost their pride–”

You surged forward, a few feet separating you from the Queen now. All eyes watched the two of you. Harwin made no move to intervene. Instead, he stood protectively in front of your children, a hand going back to keep them from moving forward.

“Perhaps he should lose his other,” you seethed, watching her. “You have constantly belittled my husband and I. You look down upon us, you slander us, and now you turn on my children?” Your voice was shaking with anger, your fists clenched at your sides.

“Viserys,” Alicent called to her husband. “Do you hear this? This is a clear threat to the life of your child!”

“I am also his child!” You shouted, taking another step towards her. Alicent’s eyes widened. “You so badly wish to play the victim, and I tire of it. My family and I have tried to stay out of your way, and still you always find a way to accuse us of something.”

Alicent laughed in disbelief. “I, the victim? Your sons are whole– they are fine. My son will never heal!” She glared at you for a moment before speaking again. “I shall have one of their eyes, as payment.”

“You will not.” You spoke firmly. You heard movement behind you as Rhaenyra and Daemon moved to surround your children in a little huddle. “Should you even try to lay a hand on my sons, you will lose the hand.”

“Another threat,” Alicent huffed in disbelief. “Viserys–”

The King, who had been standing to the side unsure of what to say, moved to stand between the two of you cautiously. He was torn between the pair of you– Alicent was his Queen, but you were his second daughter.

“I will hear no more of this,” Viserys said, unable to pick a side. “All children will be dealt with by their parents, after sincere apologies have been made.”

Alicent was hysterical now as she shook her head. “This is not justice!” She shouted, eyes flitting around the room in search of support. “I will take their eyes myself!” She moved forward then, and without a second’s thought, you acted.

You reached forward, hand wrapping around the dagger strapped to your father’s waist. You unsheathed it and held it up as Alicent raised her hands to you. Chaos erupted, voices yelling in surprise and children screaming, but you couldn’t hear any of it.

The roar of the room dimmed as you stared into Alicent’s eyes, your hands shaking with force as you tried to push the dagger towards her.

“I will kill you before you touch them,” you whispered to her, eyes wide with adrenaline as her hands locked around your wrists and tried to push you away.

“You have become someone I do not recognize.” She told you, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

“As have you. And now they will all know how you spin tales–”

“Enough!” Viserys shouted again, bringing you back to the present.

You shoved Alicent back then, dropping the dagger to the floor. She stumbled backwards as you stepped back, an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Harwin. You looked up at him and he gave you the smallest smile.

He had never seen you so fierce– so protective over the ones you loved. And he was proud to know that you would always stand up for your family, even against the Queen herself.

“This infighting must cease! We are Targaryens– I will have no more of this constant bickering!” Viserys was yelling, but you paid him no mind as Harwin steered you back to your children.

Rhaenyra and Daemon stepped aside as you pulled your boys into your sides, a hand on each of their shoulders, holding them tightly.

“Good job,” Rhaenyra whispered into your ear with the ghost of a grin. You nodded once in response.

People began filing out of the room, slowly but surely. With no more dramatics to keep them consumed, they began to feel the late hour. You refused to move as you watched them go, your hands clutched around your children. Harwin stood protectively in front of the three of you, watching the passersby like a hawk.

Rhaenyra and Daemon also stood by your side. Rhaenyra placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. Daemon said nothing, but the fact that he had remained spoke volumes. He was notorious for disappearing at the worst times.

You only moved when everyone else had left the room, including Alicent and her children. She had not even spared you a glance as she ushered her sons and daughter from the room.

With the room empty, Harwin relaxed his guard slightly. He turned to you and gave a small nod. “I believe we should get these boys back to bed.”

You nodded in reply, removing your hands from your children. Rhaenyra and Daemon bid you goodnight before they slipped from the chamber together.

Harwin placed a hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you to the door. Your children walked a pace in front of you, that way you could watch them at all times.

“You did well,” Harwin whispered to you, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear.

“I have certainly made us an enemy,” you deadpanned.

“They were already enemies,” Harwin assured you, his eyes flicking back to the boys. “Anyone who tries to harm them is an enemy.”

“I agree.” You told him.

You both fell silent for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. Although you had seemed brave standing up to the Queen in a room full of people– you were now terrified.

You had no clue what she would do or say about what had happened. She would certainly spin things so that you were the evil one. You wrung your hands in anxiety– not so much for yourself, but for your kids. Your husband. You would do anything for them.

“I think the boys should stay in our quarters tonight,” your voice was quiet as you spoke to your husband. Harwin nodded with no protests.

“Of course.”

The four of you made your way back to yours and Harwin’s quarters. The boys were ecstatic to sleep in such a big bed, and you couldn’t help but laugh as they went back to their childish ways. It was as if the events of the last hour hadn’t occurred.

When you finally got them to lay down, you could not sleep. You sat in a nearby lounge, your eyes trained on their sleeping figures. You feared what would happen if you looked away for even a second.

“My love,” Harwin spoke softly as to not rouse the children. He had been speaking to someone in the corridor– a trusted guard, perhaps. When he reentered the room he came straight to you, crouching down to your side. “You must get some rest. Tomorrow will be long.”

You shook your head. “I do not trust her. What if she has something wicked planned?”

“She would not dare,” Harwin assured you. “Not tonight.”

You did not respond. Harwin sighed heavily, one of his hands reaching for your own. You allowed his touch, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

“I have a trusted watchman stationed at our door. No harm will come.”

You still did not move.

“I will stand watch,” he finally said. You knew he didn’t mind standing watch, but of course he would prefer to sleep– you didn’t blame him.

But you couldn’t shake your fears, and so you nodded.

“Thank you, my love,” you told him, turning your head to face him. He smiled, and you leaned forward to press your lips to his.

It was a short but sweet kiss, and exhaustion crept over you when you pulled away. Harwin helped you up from the lounge and guided you to the bed. You stifled a laugh as he rolled one of the boys over, making room for you.

“Sleep well,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll make this up to you,” you told him. He grinned.

“I’m sure you will.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were thankful for his lightheartedness. He left to go sit on the lounge, and you closed your eyes, letting sleep finally take you.

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gtgbabie0 · 9 months

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HI, i love your work about the marauders and hotd and i was wondering if u would write cregan stark fluff with jealous reader but if u don't want to its okay. HAVE A GREAT DAY

-Cregan Stark x reader

{House Ryswell seeks an audience with Cregan Stark, and their daughter seems to take quite a liking to him}

I got extremely carried away with this, I hope you enjoy lovelies! 💕

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It's strange how time can seem so slow when your mood has been soured by something so silly, something that you're sure you have made up in your own mind, to defend the feeling of this unadulterated jealousy that slithers its way at your heart tugging on it every so often.

Foolish, you think, although you're not quite sure what exactly it is about this whole situation you find, foolish. Is it the way, Cregan smiles at the ever-beautiful Lady Darla of house Rsywell? or is it because your mind has convinced you that Cregan would break your trust like that? maybe, it's her ever thinking she stood a chance with your husband. Whatever it might be it's sure is foolish.

But it's real nonetheless, horrible and very real. The jealousy that bubbles deep within you only fuels the doubts that plague your mind, and those same thoughts conjure another dreadful feeling, something that pinches at your heart as you watch Lady Ryswell place a dainty hand on Cregan's arm, insecurity it finds an unwelcome home within your chest.

Despite sitting so close to Cregan, you still feel miles away, watching him converse, lost, within his own world with the Lady next to him. You feel ignored and as you glance around the room you're sure that everyone else sees it too, you've been pushed aside like some sickly wife that's nearing her time.

It's only when you hear Cregan's warm chuckle do you look over to the pair once again, her hand sits higher up on his arm, there's something about the sight that breaks you. As if it couldn't get any worse Drala turns to you with a smile that makes you sick to your stomach, warm and inviting.

"Your Husband is so charming Lady Stark" she giggles, her hand still against his arm, and you swear she squeezes it ever so softly.

Slamming your cup down against the wooden table, with more vigour than you had meant, you clear your throat, "Yes he is- charmed me right into marriage" It gets a laugh or two from the others is House Ryswell.

Drala's mother even leans to you whispering a humoured, "My husband could learn a thing or two" You watch as she glances over at him with a teary smile, he seemed quite caught up with gawking at the maids, "That man knows nothing of charm" she spits before leaning back into her chair.

Cregan's hand rests against your thigh, and for a second, your racing mind seems to calm down, it's as if you can finally breathe, and then he pulls away going back to what must be a riveting conversation with Darla. You've had enough of this torture, no longer being able to bare it you call for Lyra, keeping a hushed tone as she bends down to you slightly.

"I think I am ready to retire for tonight," you tell her through gritted teeth, trying to keep the barrage of emotions at bay, she gives you an understanding nod.

"Of course M'lady " She smiles softly as she hurries off to your bedchambers preparing a change of clothes for your arrival.

You stand keeping a strict posture, it's only now do you feel as if you finally have caught Cregan's attention. "Forgive me, but I think I shall call it a night" You bite back the tears that collect along your lash line nibbling your cheek.

"Aw already? Just when I thought our conversation was bearing good fruit" she whines, her voice going straight through you just like nails on a chalkboard, she pouts, a spoiled brat who knows no discipline.

"Oh please, don't feel inclined to stop on my behalf" You smile with a curt bow before turning your heel and leaving, ignoring the way Cregan calls for you, an advance he must've given up on quite quickly as Darla calls for more drinks practically begging your husband to stay, you don't hear the rest of the conversation too focused on trying to calm your breathing.

"Lady Stark" Lyra bows softly as you walk into your bedchambers, shutting the heavy wooden door behind you with an exasperated sigh. "I have prepared you some tea m'lady," she says with a gentle tone as you sit down in front of your vanity. She makes starts to unclasp your necklace.

"Thank you Lyra, you're far to-" and before you can finish your sentence the door opens with a low groan. You don't bother turning around already knowing who it is.

"Lyra, could you give us a minute" Cregan huffs, sounding very unamused as he walks into the candle-lit room.

"Of course m'lord," she says, bowing as she rushes out of the room, and it's then the silence hits, smothering the room with its thick presence that you're sure it could snuff out the flames of the various candles.

You look at him through the reflection of the mirror as he sits down on the fur-covered sofa, running a hand through his hair before finally glancing over at you, there's something in his eyes that makes you feel... small, you have always said you would hate to be on the receiving end of Cregan's anger, that any man to challenge him would be a fool.

"Would you like to explain to me what exactly just happened?" he asks, frustration seeping into his tone and your answer or rather lack thereof only fuels it further. "Do you find pleasure in ignoring me?" he huffs, giving you a rather annoyed look.

And as childish as it might seem, you were. "Yes, well now you know how it feels, don't you?" you mumble, untying the pins in your hair before taking off your rings.

"What?" he questions watching in slight shock as you stand up, the chair behind you drags along the floor with a shriek.

"Tell me, Cregan, do you think our marriage is a farce?" you ask turning to face him with tears in your eyes, tears that you try so hard to hold back, "Do you take enjoyment out of making a mockery of our marriage?" your hands shake with the sudden adrenaline as you point at him, your finger nudging his should as rage pinches at your skin, he looks up at you with hurt in his eyes and for a minute you feel inclined to apologise.

He stands up, trying to reach for your hands but you don't let him as you pull away from his touch, he accepts defeat with a heavy heart, the sight of your tearful face makes his stomach drop.

"A farce? What in the seven hells are you on about women?" the hurt that sits in his chest slowly churns into something much more as it wraps around his heart squeezing it with force.

"Do not play ignorant with me Cregan" You speak through gritted teeth as he inches closer to you, "You sat there the entire night ignoring me whilst you entertained that naive girl" You feel your knees buckle under the stress of it all as you fall back onto the bed with a soft bounce.

"I was merely trying to be a good host" his voice is so gentle, calm that it makes you angrier.

"Being a good host does not substitute you pushing me aside like some sick dog as you fool around with her!- the entire night." you huff biting the inside of your lip.

"You're jealous?" he asks in almost disbelief.

"What?- Jealous I'm-" You can't deny it, you were, you were jealous of the pretty Ryswell girl and how she seemed to have captured Cregan's attention.

"You are missing my point entirely," you whisper leaning into him as he sits down on the bed next to you.

"I'm sorry- you're right, I should've paid more attention to you," he says, wiping away the tears that fall from your eyes, "I meant no harm by it, I swear." he presses a gentle kiss to your hairline.

"It was embarrassing Cregan, the way they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. I am your wife." you sigh, the events of tonight wearing down on you more than you thought, and now the fabric of your dress felt all too tight and itchy.

"Forgive me my love- my beautiful wife" he says pressing another kiss to your shoulder as he helps you up from the bed.

"You can get Lyra to help me if you want to go back to entertaining our guests" you whisper, testing him a little as you sneak a glance his way.

"There are no guests to entertain sweetheart, I called it off as soon as you left," he mumbles against your neck as he continues to peppers soft kisses to your warming skin.

He undoes the lace of your dress, pulling at the fabric as it loosens around your shoulders, coming undone to reveal your back, his gentle fingers trailing along your spine as his soft lips traverse to your neck.

"I never meant to hurt you or make you doubt your place within my heart" he whispers as he tugs your dress completely off, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud before going to get your nightdress, slipping the soft fabric over your body before wrapping his strong arms around your middle, nuzzling his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he breathes in deeply.

"I swear, by the old gods and new that my heart belongs to you, all of it." Cregan turns you around to face him and it's only then he sees your tear-stained face, the way your bottom lip juts out at his loving words.

"I love you," he says as you push your face against his chest, letting all the built-up emotions go as they leave you in the form of tears. His big hand soothes the expanse of your back as he sways you in his arms ever so gently. He swears to never make you feel as you did tonight, ever again.

"I love you too" you whisper against the leather he is wearing. He cups your face within his hands, the warmth of his palms bleeding with affection as his thumb soothes against the apples of your cheeks.

"Come on my love, let's go to bed eh?" you nod as he tucks your hair behind your ears. You fall asleep wrapped up with him, a mess of limbs underneath the furs as he holds you gently and in the morning and every morning after that Cregan sings your praises, never letting you doubt your place beside him, ever.

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imagine-shenanigans · 3 months

Note

Ugh I neeeeeed more of that ghost fic where he basically assigns himself as your boyfriend after defending you from a creep 😭😭 he’s so yuck but also where my men at

great news i started writing it as a oneshot but in the meantime heres some extra ideas to tide you over that im not sure if theyre going in the fic or not

Ghost doesnt end up touching you sexually at first, its all just grounding to him. Almost reverent, at times, when you wake up to him in your bed and he wasnt there before, fingertips running along your skin, eyes half lidded. Like something he never thought he could have. Presses his face to the crook of your neck and breathes. Its so soft and... well, tender, that you almost forget he broke in again. (Almost.)

calling the cops on him does absolutely nothing. every complaint is wiped from the database, any time you try and report him to a commanding officer... nothing. He's a fucking ghost, what did you expect? To invite him in and be done wirh him when he gets scary? No sweetheart, you take the whole of him whether you like it or not. (And you will like it, he will make sure of it.) The first time you call the cops and go to a hotel room, he flips you onto your stomach and spanks you raw, makes you cockwarm him with your mouth for an hour at least while he tells you exactly what you did wrong. Slips a remote control vibrator in you and then a chastity belt and sends you on your merry way back home when he's done. Sets the vibrator off at random times during the night

The first time you complain to Price, the captain just raises an eyebrow, and sighs. Tells you that he's not going to get involved in anyone's marriage, and you blink at him, dumbly, until Ghost walks in. When Price repeats himself, this time to Ghost, Simon huffs and takes you home. He spanks your pussy hard between edges, but eats you out reverently for the rest of the night, rutting his hips into the mattress as you sob and writhe against where your wrists are bound behind your back. When you're all wrung out he slips a ring on your finger and warns you not to take it off.

Simon pulls you into his lap while watching movies, running his hand along your sides soothingly. He doesn't watch horror movies, or slashers, surprisingly enough. He won't entertain the idea of anything even remotely scary and flicks it off with a displeased hum, turning it to cartoons when you try and put on Scream (half to make a point, half for the joke) and pulls you down onto hsi chest so youre cuddling.

This Simon hates to see you cry, hates discomfort, hates anything negative (but understands ehen it happens). You're his girl, and hes your man, and so that means you should be happy. He wants to treat you right, even as he chips your phone so he can find it anywhere. Can find YOU anywhere. Won't take no for an answer. He does whatever he pleases, because you're his. And you do whatever you please because he's YOURS. Gets rock fucking hard if you push him down and ride his face or his cock, hell if you lay next to him, and press his fingers to your clit he'll take care of you for hours until you stop.

You punish HIM once, just to see if you can, and are astonished when Simon lets you mark him up with hickies because he was out too late drinking. He lets you edge him for an hour, and takes it because youre his wife and he knows he fucked up. (Only lets you do this when he feels like it though. When he decides you're right. Or thinks its fun.)

Also gets rock hard when you're jealous - even if you try not to be. to remjnd yourself that hes invented a relationship in his head, that hes a creep, etc... he just presses you into the mattress and coos softly at you, his thick cock pumping in and out of you as tears bead in your eyes. Tells you how precious you are, and fucks the jealousy out of you for hours if need be. Then he holds you close, making you cockwarm him. He presses soft kisses to your head and runs his hands over your skin. Lets you drool on his chest and snore and shuffle around in your sleep. Chuckles when you snuggle into him

#ghost cod #cod #this ghost violently shifts between sadistic freak and the most whipped man alive #strawberry writing

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adeliniel · 19 days

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SFW alphabet | Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

It's been 2 years since I wrote anything! Such a long pause for me. But Dune brought me back. Happy to write again!

Please, enjoy and let me know what you think^^

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

As a surprise for you he’s not that affectionate in public. Feyd might hold your hand or touch your shoulder, just to remind everyone who you belong to, but he doesn’t really need to prove anything to anyone. Things change dramatically when you two are in private. Feyd doesn’t talk much, he prefers to express himself through touching. Depending on the mood, it doesn’t always mean a nice, gentle touch. It can be rough and demanding, or light, almost teasing as well. But he tries to make sure that you’re on the same page and he’s not hurting you deliberately.

B = Body (Their favorite body part of their partner, why? Do they like touch?)

Eyes. He likes how you look away, your cheeks red, when he stares you right in the eyes. He likes your tender gaze when he looks back at you with so much desire to be intimate, to share something only you two can understand.

Feyd is more into touching than talking. He knows his body well and he can express more with just a simple touch. He has an opinion that talking is just a wasted effort and that the body never lies, so why waste precious time when he can show you his true feelings right there simply using the body language.

C = Courtship (What do they do to take your attention?)

Na Baron has such a famous and intriguing personality, he doesn't have to do much to attract your attention. People either want to know him, or prefer to stay as far away as possible to not get into trouble.

It’s you who one day caught yourself thinking about him more than usual. Wanting to have at least one more look at him, you started taking longer ways to your chambers, just in case Feyd is wandering around the station sometime late at night.

D = Domestic (Are they the type to settle down with you? Are they willing to help with chores? What is your daily routine with them?)

Wherever he goes - you go with him. You are his family and Feyd has no intentions to leave you behind. You’re his wife and he wants you right beside him.

E = Espousal (Do they want to marry you eventually? Who proposes to who?)

Of course. That’s the only way he sees your future together. Not just tradition, not just necessity, but a way of confirming how serious and precious this relationship is. It was kind of mutual decision, Feyd did a proper proposal anyway.

(Although forget about kneeling, sweet words and typical "Will you marry me?", cause it wasn't even a question.

F = Fragile (How protective are they of you? If they are, how do they show this?)

Absolutely knows that you’re fully capable of defending yourself if needed, knows that you can stand up for yourself and would never interfere unless he senses a real danger. Feyd gets a great pleasure out of watching how independent and confident his darling is. And even more when he sees you putting his brother to his place (below you).

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they like receiving gifts?)

Feyd is not big on gifts. You already have so many things, everything you want is there, he feels like whatever he chooses, it won't be worth it. If only he could give you, say, a planet, that would make a great gift. Just enough to show you the depth of his feelings.

Nor is he huge on receiving presents. In fact, there’s nothing you can give him that he doesn’t already have. Wealth, power, glory and love - Feyd is blessed to have it all. The best gift you can give him - your full presence and loyalty. And an heir.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He didn’t really understand what’s so special about hugs at the start, but grew to kinda like them as the time passed. Although he likes physical touch and that’s how he usually shows affection, Feyd thinks that hugs are just a substitute for something more significant. He’d rather hold your hands or grip his hands around your neck. He will also definitely choose stroking, petting and/or choking over hugs.

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

Not that Feyd has particular problems with intimacy, he just doesn’t know what to do. Playing with you is easy, but being present and real is challenging. It took a lot of time before he could put his smirk down and look you straight in the eyes with his heart wide open, showing his naked insecurities.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jealousy is, probably, his biggest insecurity. He knows that he’s good, but sometimes he questions himself whether you find him good enough. Despite his power and status, Feyd knows that there are other men and he can’t help but compare himself to them.

Noone knows about it, even you for a long time, because he never talks about it. He never shows when he’s really jealous. He does play with you sometimes, pretending to punish you out of jealousy, but it is never the case of his real feelings. He keeps it all to himself.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

All that you can and can’t imagine. He starts slowly and then ends up biting your lips and tongue. He likes the power it gives him over you, likes the taste of your blood, he likes to dominate and to use his opportunities.

And more than that he loves that you reciprocate it, that you show your passion, you express your love and loyalty to him. He does like that it goes both ways. He likes to feel that both of you are alive and feeling.

Recently Feyd has discovered that pleasant feeling when you kiss the back of his neck. it gives him goosebumps and he can’t get over it.

L = Love language (What’s their love language?)

Touch. He doesn’t need words to express his feelings when he can just touch you. Feyd uses his hands, mouth, tongue to love and punish you, to express his worries, anger, to be gentle or to be rude. Years of training made him a great master of his body and he’s convinced that his body language is way better than him talking.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s usually awake and gone long before you get up. But on those rare occasions when he doesn’t need to be anywhere early, he’d wake you up just because he’s bored.

N = Nicknames (What do they call you? What do you call them?)

Was happy when you moved from calling him Na-Baron to just simply calling him by his name. He finds it intimate enough and doesn’t see a point in creating nicknames.

He tried to say “My love” a couple of times, but didn’t really feel into it, so he stopped.

O = Overture (How did everything start?)

Slowly and way less serious. Feyd mocked around quite a bit before actually growing feelings towards you. You didn’t expect much, considering the difference between your social positions, but the man of his power can do whatever he wants and choose whoever he desires. You felt you were lucky enough to fall in love with him before he approached you with his confession.

“Possessive” you thought, accepting Feyd’s invitation to visit him in his room that night.

(To your biggest surprise nothing sexual happened. Instead you met a deadly serious Na-Baron telling you about his plans to build a long-term relationship with you.)

P = Pace (Are they fast-paced in a relationship? Or do they like to take things slow?)

Feyd is unexpectedly chill in the relationship. Apart from all the passion and desire, he smells a sense of security, he knows that you’re not playing around, that you’re not going anywhere, so there’s no need for drama. No need to rush when you have the eternity ahead to enjoy each other.

Q = Queen/King (Who takes the initiative in relationships?)

Absolutely, 99%, he’s the lead. Even though he likes to play games, where he pretends to give you control over him and lets you dominate, it never goes beyond the bedroom door.

R = Remembrance (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The night when you first had sex. That tingling feeling of something completely new happening, so expected and desired. Exciting moment of mutual trust. Feyd’s fascination, seeing you wanting him just as much, feeling that you’re not afraid, even knowing who and how he is. Holding and having you all for himself, and even more than that - belonging.

It was no vanilla, rather a night full of passion, a bit rough, but definitely long and enormously pleasant.

S = Salvage (What issues does this relationship help him to cope with?)

Feyd doesn’t have many insecurities, but for a long time he felt like he can’t find a suitable partner, and it made him feel like he’s lacking something significant in his power. A partner that’d be strong enough to put up with his character. Someone not just for breeding, but to show the world that he has it all.

Marrying you gave him more control over his social status and made his life complete. Love is a nice addition to it, but it also cured him from feeling not good enough.

T = Tiny (How are they around children?)

Children are not an option, they are an obligation, you knew it from the very beginning. But it doesn’t necessarily feel like a burden. It has to happen sooner or later, so Feyd is generally looking forward to it.

The idea of being able to create something all by himself, without his uncle’s or brother’s influence or power, makes him feel really proud of himself. And you.

U = Ulterior (What’s their secret?)

Quite rare, but he feels tired. Feyd doesn’t want anyone to know or see him like it. He’s afraid that it will affect the way others perceive him. And so he disappears. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days.

It scared the shit out of you when it happened for the first time. You genuinely thought he died in a battle. But you got used to it with time, and learnt not to disturb him in moments like these.

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

No surprise it takes quite a while. He’s longing to be seen and heard, but it also takes a lot out of him to start sharing. Not that he’s afraid of being ridiculed or betrayed (he’d simply kill you, if this happens). He worries that if he starts talking, he might not want to stop. Having someone loving and caring listening to him with no judgment is something completely new in Feyd’s experience. And for a long time he doesn't know how to address it.

W = Wound (How do they feel about exposing their scars/injuries?)

Feyd is proud of his wounds and scars. His masochistic side induces him to mutilate himself, and the sadist inside of him prefers to do it right in front of you. Just to enjoy that look of confusion and disgust on your face. It really turns him on.

As much as that he likes when after this little play you take care of his wounds and cause him some more pain.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon about your relationship)

Feyd LOVES to be spoiled and to have your undivided attention. Something he never had before. He wants it all, all the time. Whether he’s bragging about how good he’s at fighting, or just quietly lies on his stomach while you gently stroke his back, or complaining to you how hard it is to be a Baron, he wants your full attention to his persona right there, right now.

Y = Yearning (How well do they cope when their SO isn’t with them?)

It is a really rare occasion that you are apart from each other for more than a couple of hours. Usually you just don’t have anywhere else to be. Feyd is so used to having you around, he doesn’t even think that it can be different or that you’ll disappear. And if it ever happens, he’ll set the whole universe on fire just to get you back.

Z = Zzz (How are nights spent with them?)

Feyd is actually a nice quiet sleeper. He doesn't snore or steal the blanket, doesn’t even take your side of the bed, even though he’s used to sleeping alone. Although being busy in his new role, he spends more and more time managing tasks and goes to sleep really late, so you do get lonely nights sometimes.

Thank you for reading!

You can find more of my writings right here

#feyd rautha #feyd oneshot #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #dune pt 2 #feyd imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune 2 #dune x reader #dune x you #feyd rautha imagine

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chelseeebe · 9 months

Text

and i never (saw you coming)

summary: coming back from college for the summer, you never would have expected to meet someone in your tiny town. and you most definitely would not have expected that someone to be steve fucking harrington.

a.n: so this is a henderson!readerxsteve BUT there are absolutely zero descriptors and no mention of being blood relatives or anything so please take the sibling relationship however you would like!! this is also a part one to a lil two part thing. set in s4 but i've changed it to be summer break rather than spring and i am finally writing canon material wherein the UD exists (part two) shout out to miss swift for the title xx

wc: 6k+

no smut but there may be in part two and as a baseline, i am an 18+ blog so please respect that. mentions of weed, drinking and sex. no use of y/n!

‎♡‧₊˚

Steve doesn’t usually make the effort to get out of his car to collect Dustin. But he had honked his damn horn five times now and was getting frankly sick of waiting for the petulant boy.

He races up the gravel path, cursing under his breath about not being a fucking taxi and how he shouldn’t take him for granted. Steve’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears as he pounds on the door, prepared to give the boy an earful.

His mouth is open when the door creaks open, “Dustin I have told you-,” it’s only then that he realises that Dustin isn’t the one behind the door. It’s you.

“Excuse me?” you start, frowning at this apparent grown man who seemed to have a problem with your younger brother. As much as he got on your last nerve, you’d defend him to the moon and back.

“You’re not- um, is Dustin home?” he asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in utter shame. Dustin had mentioned you a few times and he was sure he remembered you from school but never really took much notice.

“Why?” you ask pointedly, scowling at the man. He was from school, you knew that much. One of the basketball players that absolutely would have sniggered about you in the halls.

“I’m giving him a ride to uh- to the movies,” he nods, realising that he sounded like an utter weirdo.

“Aren’t you a little old to be hanging out with my brother?”

Steve hesitates because yes, he probably was too old to admit that your little brother was his friend. Let alone the fact he considered him a best friend.

“Uh.. I could see why you think that but mentally I’m probably more his age than mine,” smiling at you, genuinely not seeing an issue with his statement.

Your eyes narrow, brows knitted together. You knew he wasn’t some dodgy old pervert but he had absolutely not helped his case there. “Right.. well, no. He’s not back yet so…”

“Oh, well I’ll just.. wait in my car,” he nods, slowly turning to jump back into his car. Eager to not make himself look any stupider in front of you.

You sigh, “you can wait inside,” opening the door wider for him, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from Dustin if you made his dear friend wait outside.

He tiptoes into the house, eyeing the quirky decorations your mom had covered the house in. It was clear now why Dustin was so.. eccentric. He’s like a stray dog, hovering around the couch, too scared to sit down.

You resume your spot, attempting to pay attention to whatever movie is on the TV but struggling knowing he’s still just standing awkwardly above you.

“You can sit down, you know?” you bark, not bothering to look at him.

He does almost immediately, running his sweaty palms along his knees. God, why was this making him so flustered?

“You’re Dustin’s sister then?” the words falling out of his mouth without much thought. He wants to fall into the floor. Obviously you were his sister. Fuck.

“Yup.”

“Cool.. I haven’t really seen you before.. I’m uh-,” sticking his hand out for you to shake, “Steve.. Steve Harrington,” smiling as you glance at his outstretched hand, hesitantly shaking it.

The mention of his name makes everything click into place. This is the infamous Steve that Dustin didn’t shut up about. You were in the same grade at school and had shared a few classes but had never really spoken. That might’ve been something to do with him being a gigantic prick the entire five years you were in school.

“Oh,” you nod, trying to mask your apprehensions, “I remember you,” hoping that didn’t give too much of your distaste away.

“Yeah.. I’m not like.. that anymore,” picking up on your obvious distrust. It’s not surprising that so many people still hold reservations about him, even he could admit that he wasn’t exactly a saint.

You hum in response. You can mostly believe him because there was no way in hell Dustin would’ve ever become friends with someone like King Steve. In fact, knowing your little brother, he probably would’ve detested the kind of boy he was in school.

“So.. you go to college?” he asks, trying desperately to change the subject.

“Yeah.. uh, Chicago, I didn’t wanna go too far yanno?” not that you really could’ve. College was a last minute, fuck it kind of decision and you hadn’t really even planned on staying past the first week. But you had, and had even found yourself liking it.

“That’s cool.. what do ya’ do? If you don’t mind me asking,” shifting in his seat, eyes dead set on you.

“Language studies, it’s not cool or exciting at all but I enjoy it,” shrugging as you pick at the loose thread on your shorts, avoiding any direct eye contact.

Despite Steve Harrington being a changed man, he still made you incredibly nervous and you felt like suddenly you were back in high school. He just had this aura to him and the way he carries himself, even now, was just intimidating.

“No, that is cool? I wish I was smart enough for college,” chuckling nervously, “I bet it’s crazy out there.”

Your definition of a crazy night meant smoking with Julia, your roommate, and eating a stupid amount of shit food. His definition of crazy definitely included some frat party and hooking up with some stranger in a crowded house.

“Hah.. not really, I think maybe we have different definitions of crazy.”

“Well, what’s your idea of crazy then?”

You look around on the off chance Dustin and your mom had somehow snuck into the house completely silently, “getting high and eating a bunch of junk food.. not exactly the kinda shit you imagined.”

“How d’you know what I imagined? Maybe I think that’s a crazy night too,” laughing at your assumptions, evidently he was still hanging onto that King Steve persona.

“Nah.. you’re thinking of getting black out drunk at some party and then having sex with some girl you’ll never speak to again,” raising your brows, smug that you’d sussed him out completely.

“Is that what you think of me?” jokingly placing his hand over his heart, shaking his head, “I don’t even like parties that much anymore and actually I think you’re right, that would be a crazy night,” smiling to himself.

Because to him that did sound like a great night, and he’d kill to be able to do that with Robin and if it wasn’t for the fact that she got so intensely paranoid that one time they’d smoked together, they’d probably do it more often.

“Oh, well.. you’ve surprised me,” giving him a small smile. You still had your reservations about him, but if he was good enough for Dustin, you were sure you could come to perhaps tolerate him.

“Yeah, I do a lotta that nowadays.”

“Well are you surp-,” you’re cut off by Dustin barging through the front door, nearly taking the damn thing off its hinges.

“Steve? We’re gonna be late! C’mon!” he yells into the living room as if he wasn’t the one who had shown up fifteen minutes late. He’s huffing and puffing with his hands on his hips, clearly something inherited from your mother.

“Woah dude, chill out,” he looks at his watch and jumps up out of his seat, “okay shit- sorry uh, oops let’s go,” rushing over to Dustin. He turns at the last second, waving at you over his shoulder, “it was nice to meet you,” a genuine grin on his face.

“You too,” you call back, watching as your brother drags him out of the house. Muffled voices arguing over what time the movie started and how dare Steve enter his house without him present.

Dustin’s still going on in the car after much push back from Steve that actually he was early and Dustin was the one who was late.

“Your sister’s pretty cool,” Steve blurts out, driving along the bumpy road. He wants to rescind his sentence almost immediately after Dustin glares at him from the passenger’s seat.

“Absolutely not. No, Steve. No.”

“What?” flabbergasted that Dustin had so brazenly assumed he had some ulterior motive. He hadn’t even said anything. Not yet anyway.

“Just no. I know you and I know what you’re thinking and I’m putting a stop to it now,” Dustin cringes, mentally perturbed by the thought of you and Steve even speaking.

“Wha- dude, I was just saying.. you barely speak about her.. that’s all,” tapping on the leather steering wheel, playing it off rather smoothly, he thinks.

“I know my sister’s cool.. way too cool for you, okay? So you should forget about it because it will never ever happen.”

“I wasn’t even gonna.. you’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

Steve’s sat in the booth, opposite what must be the worst date of his life. Dear God, Tammy Thompson was hot but holy shit was she annoying. Her voice agitating his ear drums with every word, irritating and nasally as she rambled on about her singing ‘career’. It wasn’t much of a career, Steve thought. Singing the national anthem in your high school gym was hardly a career. He thought it was quite sad actually.

He nods along to her bullshit, maybe she would sound better when he got her into the back of his beemer. Well, he was hoping anyway.

“You guys finished?” the familiar voice rings out across the table, his eyes darting from Tammy to find you standing at the end of the table with a fake grin plastered on your face.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he sounds confused, attention fully shifted from the blonde in front of him to you. Surely Dustin could’ve had the courtesy to let him know that you worked at his favourite date spot.

“Uh.. yup, so you’re done?” still in customer service mode, trying desperately to ignore the awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah.. thank you,” he smiles, pushing the empty plates toward you “how long have you worked here.. I’ve never seen you,” positively baffled but happy nonetheless.

You shrug, “like sophomore year,” confused why he seemed to care so much, “I’m just doing part time over the summer..” stacking the plates as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to get far away from the awkward date you had stumbled upon.

“That’s cool, I mean, I’m here a lot so..”

Both you and Tammy flash him a look, granted hers was far more annoyed than yours. You mutter a small nice before scurrying off to the kitchen, relieved to be far from the impending disaster that was waiting to implode.

Something’s not right.

Even with Tammy practically climbing over the centre console to get to him, fully willing and eager.. he’s just not feeling it. Something or someone rather stuck in his head. They had been since last week and no matter how much he’d tried to shake it.. nadda.

He pulls away from Tammy, sighing pathetically, “I’m sorry.. d’you mind if I just take you home? I don’t feel great..” he hopes it’s at least half-convincing.

“Are you fucking serious Steve?” Tammy whines, staring across the car in utter disbelief.

He offers an apologetic smile, shuffling in his seat to get away from her, “yeah.. must be something I ate.. sorry,” grimacing at this incredibly awkward moment. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, could he?

“Whatever,” crossing her arms over her chest, frowning as she re-buckles her seatbelt, starting straight ahead.

He starts the car with a sigh. She was a nice enough girl, but she just wasn’t.. well, she just wasn’t Dustin Henderson’s mysterious older sister who just hadn’t let this mind since you’d met last week. That was the problem.

She doesn’t say a word as she gets out of the car, making sure to slam the door in his face when he leans over to say goodnight. He’s sure she’ll tell all her bitchpack friends who’ll vow to ignore him until he smiles at them over the Family Video counter and they’ll forget all about it.

Why couldn’t that just work on you?

You don’t see Steve for another week. Dustin normally runs out of the house the second he hears Steve’s car in the driveway meaning you don’t cross paths.

But now he’s sat in the exact same booth as last week, this time alone with a half empty cup of coffee in front of him.

Your legs sort of work on their own, carrying your body over to the booth. It’s only when you’re stood at the end of the table do you realise you have no idea what you should even say to him.

“Who’s the unlucky lady this week?” your mouth blurts out without second thought, startling him from staring out the window. His lips curling into a smile the second he realises it’s you.

“No lady this week, flying solo,” internally dying from his choice of words. Yeah, that totally made him look cool.

“Oh,” pulling the dirtied plate across the table, “Tammy Thompson didn’t work out then?” Why are you even asking? You shouldn’t care about who he dates.

“Nah.. we didn’t really..” he mashes his hands together, “vibe,” smiling up at you from the seat. He obviously wasn’t heartbroken over it.

“Well if it’s any consolation, I always thought she was a massive bitch,” and she was. One of those girls that prowled the halls waiting for somebody to humiliate. Bare in mind, Steve was too, he just picked on the weird boys rather than the girls.

Steve chuckles, “yeah, she was.. or is.. I don’t know,” he’s sure that in her opinion, he was the bitch that didn’t want to hook up with her because his ‘stomach hurt’, and really that was a fair enough assertion.

You give him a quick smile before picking up the plate, beginning to walk away when his voice calls out from behind, “what time do you get off?”

“Nine.. why?” apprehensive as you answer. Spinning on your heel to face him.

“I can give you a ride home? I mean, if you want?”

You pause just before you reach the counter. It seriously would beat walking home in the summer heat. Dustin would certainly have a few choice words when you showed up at home in Steve’s BMW, but who cares?

“Okay, yeah that’d be great.. thanks,” giving him a tight lipped smile, “you gonna sit there for the whole four hours?”

“I- wh.. no,” laughing awkwardly because he hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to do until nine but he had assumed it’d be fine if just hung out here. “I’ve gotta go uh.. pick Robin up from work,” lie. He and Robin had worked the morning shift and she was off at some family dinner she had complained about all week.

“Robin Buckley?” you ask, slightly confused as to how the two of them even knew each other.

“You know her?” he perks up.

“Eh.. kinda, we were in band together.. how do you know her?”

He’d love to tell you that they had become inseparable after nearly dying in a Russian basement with your little brother last summer. But he doesn’t. Because you, like the majority of Hawkin’s residents, were still blissfully unaware of the weird underworld that lived beneath your town.

“We worked together last summer and now we’re best friends I guess,” it sounded far too simple as he said it out loud.

He was an asshole in school and was well aware of that fact, someone like him would never have become friends with someone like Robin if it weren’t for the Upside Down. But he was grateful nonetheless, and telling you the shortened story was much easier than opening the can of worms that was the Upside Down.

“Oh..” you nod slowly, “you really have changed, huh?” thinking back to Dustin’s constant appraisal of the new Steve and how you didn’t really believe any of it.

“Yeah.. I don’t..” he clears his throat, “I don’t know if I was an asshole to you in school but if I was then.. I’m sorry,” looking sheepish as his head hangs low. In all honesty, he couldn’t really remember you ever being at Hawkins High but felt an apology was due either way.

You nod, accepting the apology though the worst he’d ever done to you was the time he sat there and cackled as Carol Perkins knocked the pile of books out of your arm.

“You want another cup of coffee or d’you have to go?” still clutching onto his dirty plate.

He checks his watch, not that the time actually mattered as he’d leave here and probably end up driving around until it was socially acceptable to come back in. “I could do one more.. thank you,” grinning softly.

You slip into the kitchen, questioning the warm, fuzzy feeling that had settled in your chest. Convincing yourself that it was only because he was being nice to you. Nothing more.

Steve strolls in again at 8:40 after driving around the entire town, ending up parking in town and just watching the tiny clock in his dash until it turned 8:30 and he could slowly make his way back to the diner.

It’s empty, has been pretty much all night bar the few regulars that seemed to spend their lives here. You’re sat behind the counter flicking through the Hawkins Post someone had left behind, reading about the upcoming bake sale. Riveting stuff, really.

“You’re early,” you point out, looking at the clock that had moved incredibly slow all day.

“I had nothing else to do so thought I’d try and squeeze one more cup of coffee from you,” he grins cheekily, testing the boundaries of this incredibly new.. friendship?

You roll your eyes, motioning over to the pot, “help yourself,” sending one of the clean coffee mugs over the counter so he could do your job for you.

The clock slowly ticks over to nine and you do one last check around the place to make sure you’d done everything needed. Javie, the cook, had gone home already, thankfully cleaning the kitchen before disappearing. Begging you not to tell Kevin he’d slipped off early with a promise of whatever you wanted to eat on your next shift.

You turn the key in the door as Steve stands behind with his hands shoved in his pockets, “are you normally the only one in there at this time?” walking beside you to his car.

“No, Javie normally finishes when I do but he had a date or some shit so he left early,” shaking your head. It would’ve been useless to make him stay anyway.

Steve jumps in front of you, grabbing the handle before you got the chance, pulling the door open, “Oh.. good, yeah that’s good,” closing the door and clambering into his own side. He wants to believe that he’s not sure why the mention of Javie’s name made him feel so funny.

“You sound disappointed.. were you planning on robbing me?” chuckling to yourself.

“No! No.. what? It just seems unsafe for you to be there on your own so late..”

“It’s nine pm Steve.”

“Yeah I know but.. there are a lotta weirdos in Hawkins yanno?” starting the car as quick as possible, not wanting to stick his foot in his mouth any further.

You smile, it was very kind of him to look out for you after all. “Yeah.. I’m in the car with one right now,” glancing at him with a shit eating grin.

“Oh ha ha.. you’re so funny,” rolling his eyes in jest though his lips twitch into a small smile.

“I know that actually,” turning to watch the trees as they disappear behind you. The air is perfect, reminiscent of the summers you had here as a child.

Steve takes the opportunity to look over at you admiring the night sky. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, this was going to be the death of him.

Well, you were.

Steve’s itching to just ask him, get it out while he’s driving so Dustin can’t run away.

“So.. I have a question for you,” testing the waters before fully committing.

“Uhh.. what could you possibly have to ask me?” Dustin asks, curious.

“Well.. I need you to ask your sister if she’d maybe wanna come to the movies with me,” he holds up his hand to preemptively stop Dustin’s inevitable reaction, “I accidentally bought two tickets and I don’t wanna let it go to waste, so don’t start.”

“Steve, I already told you that that is not happening.”

“It’s not a date Dustin,” Steve hisses, “you said she liked horror movies so.. I thought she might wanna come.. that’s all.”

Dustin looks incredulous, “since when do you like horror movies?”

“Uh.. since forever?” lying through his teeth. Steve hated horror. Would point blank refuse to watch anything even remotely scary when Robin suggested it.

“You’re a bad liar,” Dustin frowns, he’d had many of his own movie suggestions shot down by Steve for being inappropriate and too scary.

He rounds the corner, pulling up onto your drive. He was running out of time to convince Dustin to do this for him. And see, he’d do it himself but that would mean he’d undoubtedly end up a bumbling idiot in front of you and that was not what he was aiming for.

“Can you- will you please just ask her?” he begs, pleads even.

“Fine,” Dustin rolls his eyes, sliding out of the car. His feet dragging along the pavement as he walks into your house, not bothering to give his usual wave to an idling Steve.

He slinks up the stairs, banging on your bedroom door. Get it out of the way and then he could mourn the loss of both his sister and his best friend as quickly as possible.

“Yeah come in,” you call from the other side, closing the notebook.

“Steve asked me to ask you if you wanted to go and see some movie with him, he also wants me to tell you that he accidentally bought two tickets instead of one but I think you and I are both smart enough to know that isn’t true,” your brother rolls his eyes, perched in your doorway.

You smile to yourself, rolling your eyes. It was childish but admittedly endearing, “tell him to ask me himself and I’ll think about it.”

Dustin nods, frowning as he walks over to your bedroom window, leaning out of it to holler at Steve who was still sat in his car awaiting your answer, “she told me to tell you to ask her yourself,” sticking his middle finger up at him before storming off into his own room.

You watch him leave, open mouthed before going to the window to find Steve looking up to your window. He points towards the door, shrugging. This really wasn’t how he’d have liked this to go.

The door swings open and you blink at him, allowing him the opportunity to go first. This was his question after all.

“D’you wanna come to the movies with me? I- Dustin mentioned that you like horror movies and I don’t wanna waste this ticket.. it’s cool if not,” Christ, he really needed to stop hanging around Robin so much. She had a knack for being completely defeatist before even receiving her answer and it was clearly starting to rub off on him.

“Yes, I’ll go to the movies with you,” smiling softly at him. He really was light years away from the dickhead you once despised, now just some shy guy trying to ask someone out on not-date-date.

“Okay,” he responds with far too much enthusiasm, “great.. Friday! I mean- I’ll pick you up on Friday.. eight o’clock,” cheesing as he walks back to his car. Throwing up a thumbs up before realising how stupid he looked and rushing to get into his car. Heart fluttering out of his chest.

You’re shitting it.

It wasn’t a date. No really, it wasn’t.

But you couldn’t help the nerves bubbling up in your stomach as you wait for him to pick you up.

“I think this is disgusting by the way,” Dustin pipes up, scowling as he paces the hallway. Desperately trying to conjure up a plan to stop you from going. He couldn’t think of anything worse than his sister and his best friend dating. He shudders at the mere thought of it.

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion,” rolling your eyes, peering out of the window to see if his car had pulled up yet.

“Why can’t you date any of the other losers in this town? Or someone at college? Why does it have to be Steve?” his shoulders slump, frown evident as he skulks into the living room.

“Oh my God Dustin, stop it. Yanno, the more you complain about it, the more I’m going to make sure it happens,” letting go of the blind and giving him a smug smirk. For his sake, it probably would just be a movie.

You weren’t exactly Steve’s usual type so you were certain that the second someone from school spotted you together he’d probably get embarrassed and drop this little crush. But hey, you could entertain the idea for the summer and perhaps you also had a tiny, smidgen of a crush on him too.

The doorbell rings out and Dustin lets out a ghastly wail, rushing to answer the door before you could. “You never come to the door for me!” he pouts, glaring at Steve who stood nervously on the front porch.

“Because I don’t like you,” Steve jokes, attention quickly pulled from your younger brother as you appear behind him. “You look.. nice,” smiling as Dustin’s eyes ping pong between the two of you.

“Thank you.. so do you,” barging past Dustin who looks positively distraught, “don’t cry too hard,” you call out, walking down the path beside Steve. The door slams when you reach his car and you share a look with Steve, giggling as he opens the door for you.

The second you sit, the nerves come spilling over. This was no longer just a silly thing you could tease Dustin about anymore, it was actually happening and you were here and he was here and you were about to go on a not-date-kinda-date.

You’re both fairly quiet on the ride to the cinema, exchanging small talk about your days and the movie you were about to watch. It was fairly obvious that he’d bought these tickets specifically with you in mind, because Steve Harrington would not willingly watch Friday the 13th, especially not on his own.

“So you accidentally got two tickets, huh?” eyeing him from across the car.

His cheeks flush, bottom lip trembling as he attempts to come up with something to explain his bullshit story, “I- fuck, no.. I didn’t,” looking bashful as he pulls into the parking lot, “I didn’t actually think you’d say yes.”

“Why?”

Steve sighs as he turns off the ignition, “I don’t know.. you’re like cool and in college and I’m just some loser from high school,” shrugging half-heartedly, finally meeting your eyes.

“You’re not a loser.. you were a loser but, I think you’re pretty cool now.”

His eyes widen, his smile fighting to come out, “I think most people would say the opposite,” he certainly didn’t hold the same level of prestige he had in school anymore. In fact, he’d sorta lost it in senior year when he’d decided that people like Tommy H and Carol were not the type he wanted to associate with.

And it wasn’t like he’d lost it all, girls still fawned over him and the basketball team would still get excited to see him but he had kinda just slipped into the background. Another guy who had peaked in high school that was destined to stay in this dead end town with a dead end job and a wife he’d grow to loathe. At least, that’s what he had always pictured.

“Yeah well, I’m not most people,” climbing out of the car. Not once in your life had you ever thought you would be telling Steve Harrington that you thought he was cool. Much less getting out of his car to go see a movie together.

You’re met with a genuine smile from over the roof of the car, he doesn’t need to speak for you to know that he appreciates your words.

For a moment you forget where you are until his eyes linger a little too long and your heart begins to pound again. Pulling your own gaze away and mumbling something about missing the trailers.

It’s unfortunate and a little sickening but you can hardly focus on the film and even though it’s dark, you can feel his eyes shift to your face every few minutes, distracting you from the movie. You don’t look back of course, keeping your eyes firmly glued to the screen.

His hand shifts suspiciously close to your knee, stopping just before he makes contact. You’re trying your hardest not to overthink it. He’s just.. moving his hand. That’s all.

Fuck.

You were fucked.

Your hands are practically trembling as you sit there. Finally gaining enough courage to look back at him the next time his eyes wander.

Steve’s not like you, see. He’s a little nervous of course but he’s had years of experience with girls, knows all the tricks in the book to get them falling for him. And when it really came down to it, he could unleash his moves to have you right where he wanted. His eyes don’t flicker back to the screen, they lower, gazing at your lips instead. He wants to do it. He does. Urging himself to just lunge forward and close the distance between you.

But you’re not like that. You wouldn’t have even looked at him twice in high school, immediately and rightfully passing him off as the dickhead that he was. These tricks were futile on you.

“Watch the movie,” you whisper despite not watching it yourself, blinking rapidly as you feel your cheeks heat up. Praying that the dark of the cinema would shroud your flushed face.

His lips twitch before slowly pulling his eyes away, nodding to himself as an acknowledgement to be on his best behaviour.

It takes every single fibre of your very being to get through the rest of the movie without looking at him again.

“Well I actually enjoyed that,” he professes loudly, walking out of the theatre a few paces behind you.

“Oh? I’m surprised you actually saw any of it,” walking to his car in the pitch black parking lot.

“I wasn’t talking about the movie,” grinning as he lays on that signature charm. It’s shameless and you feel like a fool for even falling for it.

“Shut up,” you mutter, pulling on the door handle as his car remains locked. He sidles up to the passenger side, one side of his mouth curled into a small smile.

“How tired are you on a scale of one to ten?” mere inches from your face.

“Hmm.. a five.”

“Great, get in,” leaning closer to open the door for you, outstretched arm keeping you between his body and the car. You swallow harshly, slipping past him and into the car.

You’re not sure if you like this version of Steve, the one that had the confidence to make you a bumbling fool for him.

“Where are we going?” you eventually pipe up, bewildered that you had just let this boy drive you to this mysterious location without any contest.

“You’ll see.”

The very second he turns onto the darkened road you groan, knowing exactly where he had taken you, his motivations becoming increasingly clear.

“Fucking skull rock?” you exclaim. Everyone had heard the rumours in school, this was his spot and girls were to be extremely appreciative if he brought them here. You should’ve known really, he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Well yes, but that’s not why we’re here.. I swear,” only now realising how scummy this looked but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until it had yours.

Your arms wrap over your chest, jutting your bottom lip out, “then why are we here?” you sounded disgusted with him. How could you have been so stupid?

“Because I-,” the car stops in the tiny lookout spot, “wait, get out of the car,” he instructs, hopping out of his side.

You don’t move a muscle, refusing to fall for his tricks once again. So he walks around the car, opening up your door, “look, I wanna show you something,” his tone is desperate and it makes you ever so slightly believe him.

There was no chance he was that eager to make out with you surely.

Your nostrils flare as you get out of the car, immediately wrapping your arms back around yourself. “What? What could you possibly have to show me out here?”

“Just look,” pointing towards the sky. It was littered with stars, bright and twinkling with the view of Hawkins in the distance. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a sight you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

He chuckles, “I come here sometimes.. just to think and stuff,” scuffing his shoes on the loose stones, “I thought you’d appreciate something like this,” hands shoved into his pockets, gazing at you as you gaze at the sky.

“Wow.. you can see everything from here,” still marvelling in the absolute beauty, blissfully unaware that he was doing the same, just not at the same beauty you were seeing.

“I thought you’d like it,” dragging his feet along to the bonnet of his car, leaning back against the maroon metal. “I’m a little offended that you just assumed that I was tryna get you here for any other reason though,” laughing softly, what more could he do to prove that he was no longer that meathead jock from school?

You finally break your gaze, looking at him as you join him on the bonnet. Heart pounding as your elbow brushes against his as you shuffle further up the car. It’s so silly, you feel like a fool, trying your hardest to contain your flushing cheeks.

“I’m sorry..” admitting that perhaps you were a little harsh, “but can you blame me? We’ve all heard the stories,” purposely knocking your elbow into his arm, wiggling your brows. Turning your attention back to the picturesque view in front of you.

“Yeah yeah.. that was a long time ago, I told you, I’m not like that anymore..” it’s only a tiny lie. He still made out with girls in his car and took them to darkened corners of your tiny town. But see, the difference was that he was actually trying to date these girls, mindless sex was no longer his goal.

“Yeah I can see that now..” your shoulders slump, relaxing as your guard comes down, “thank you, this is a really cool spot and I’m grateful you chose to share that with.. me,” smiling softly.

“You’re like the second girl I’ve ever shown this to.. by the way.”

“Second?” poking fun at him.

“Robin came first, obviously,” choosing to ignore your little dig.

You had wondered why he wasn’t just dating Robin, he was a changed man now and obviously the pair got on like a house on fire so why wouldn’t he have tried it with her? Maybe he had and she’d shut him down. She seemed cool enough in band, definitely not someone that would ever be interested in Steve, no matter how much he had changed.

“Ahh.. obviously,” trying desperately not to sound jealous.

“So you like it?” watching your face instead of the sky once again.

When you pull your eyes away from the sky to look at him, you’re taken aback to find him already staring back. “I love it,” the way the moon illuminated his face left you breathless, struggling to contain your heart in your chest.

“Good..” he smiles before descending into some ramble about the stars and how he had discovered it.

You weren’t interested. Focused on one thing and one thing only. Deciding against your better judgement to just do it. It was utterly reckless and someday you might live to regret it but you’d regret it tomorrow if you didn’t.

Pressing your lips to his, quietening his little tangent. It takes him a moment to register what was happening and you doubt yourself, wanting to pull away and run through the woods hoping to never see him again. But it finally clicks and he springs into action, masterful hand snaking its way through your hair, resting on the back of your head. Keeping you right there, pressed to him just like this forever.

Your hand nervously finds his cheek, brushing over the slight stubble that adorned his jaw. There’s no urgency, no ulterior motives. Pure and simple, only a desperate need to stay like this forever.

You pull away, lips still lingering over his. A small giggle erupts from your throat, crumbling under his stare. “Sorry..” you mutter, still trying to catch your breath, “you were saying something..”

“Sorry?” he exclaims, keeping his hand intertwined in your hair, “don’t ever be sorry for doing that.. like ever,” the stars reflecting off of his chestnut eyes back into yours, his features intricately lit up by the sky.

“Okay..” laughing slightly, “okay.. I’ll keep that in mind,” shying away from his eyes, dipping your head.

There was not one part of you that would have ever guessed that you would be the one to make a move on him first. Or that he could ever be so sweet, so kind and thoughtful and you feel awful for ever just assuming the worst of him without even giving him a chance.

You’re pulled out of your head when his head dips down to match yours, “can we do that again?” thumb tracing back and forth along your neck. You nod quickly, chest bubbling with excitement as his lips connect with yours once more.

It must’ve been gone three by the time you sneak back into your house. Praying that Dustin is already asleep as you sneak back up the creaking stairs.

It’s too late. You’ve been caught.

“Come here,” he whispers harshly, peeking out of his bedroom door, his brows furrowed.

You oblige, slipping into his room and shutting the door quietly, “you gonna give me a lecture?”

“No,” he sits cross-legged on his bed, “I was going to ask if you had a good time,” willing to put his pride behind him for the sake of his dear sister's happiness.

Your frown turns into a grin, joining him on his bed, “I did.. he’s really nice, Dusty,” moving the deconstructed lego set from his duvet so you could scoot closer. “If you really don’t like it.. I can tell him that we can just be friends,” smiling earnestly at your little brother, it would suck but after all, he was Steve’s friend first.

He sighs, swallowing his disgust, “you don’t have to do that..” this is hard for him to even get out, “if you’re happy then.. I’m happy,” giving you his brotherly blessing.

You beam at him, “but, I have some rules that you’re both gonna have to agree to,” setting his boundaries for your budding relationship.

“Shut up,” you giggle, ruffling his mop of curls before collapsing back onto his bed.

You’re happy. Genuinely happy and you’re not sure anything could happen to change that.

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