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Masterlist | formula-ghost

Franco Colapinto

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader) [SERIES: COMPLETE]

CHAPTERS: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Supermodel (FC43 x fem!reader)

The Driver (FC43 x fem!reader) - coming soon

George Russell

Taking Care (GR 63 x fem!reader) - coming soon

Charles Leclerc

Eyes On Me (CL16 x fem!reader) - coming soon

Oscar Piastri

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4) [SERIES: IN PROGRESS]

CHAPTERS: Chapter 1

🃏👑🃏

You were married off to the king as a young noble woman. The arrangement was rather rushed in your opinion, not that anyone asked for it. The king only needed a show queen, a quiet but present symbol for the kingdom and you suited well enough for that.

He didn’t need a wife for pleasure, he had plenty mistresses for that and he seemed to be in no rush for a successor. You suspected it was because he had no intent to hand over power to anyone else anytime soon. Although, that's just what you assumed, others never blamed him for it. You were always the target of the hushed whispers and silent accusations of infertility, unruliness or even infidelity when it came to the subject of an heir.

The people's gossip aside, it was an easy marriage. You didn’t have to share a bed with a man you didn’t love and you didn’t have to raise his children. Many more deserving women would kill for such a life, which only made you feel worse about the utter discontent you felt. It was the loneliness, mostly. Such a privileged life and yet not a single companion in the world to share it with.

The king and his advisers only speak to you when they need you to make an appearance as queen. Their orders always dripping with condescension and near mockery. They’ve made you smile and wave for hours, waltz until your feet blister and recite a holy text’s worth of pompous poetry, but this most recent ploy was particularly concerning.

You sit on your throne next to your husband, hands in your lap, staring at the colourful figure in front of you. The bells on his ridiculous hat jingle as he bows his head so low they almost touch the marble floor. Quiet chuckles emit from the nobility crowding the massive ballroom and the unease in your stomach only builds.

When the jester picks his head back up, you can’t help fiddling even more with your dress, just like your husband's advisers have scolded you not to. The jester silently stares with his sheet white face, big red grin painted across his mouth. You want to shrink under the jesters stare, the blue diamonds painted over his eyes make his gaze feel piercing.

The king grins when he catches your nervous gaze.

“Do you like your surprise, my love? I thought you could use some cheering up lately. As did my advisers.”

He chuckles, looking over at the old men in the corner of the room. They smile back, amusing in a joke you're not a part of.

You just nod your head as politely as possible. You don’t know what's happening, but whatever they have planned can’t be good.

The jester skips up to where you and the king sit. He gives an exaggerated curtsy to the king, earning a laugh from him and the various nobility.

The bells jingle as he springs back up and steps closer to you. He stretches his hand out, you stare at it and then back to your husband.

“The fool wants a dance, my dear. Give him a dance.”

You try to hide the apprehension on your face and reach for the jesters white glove-covered hand. He doesn’t squeeze or pull you up like you expected, instead he holds it gently, waiting for your next move. You rise from your throne and cast one more glance at your husband, who only offers a self-satisfied grin in return. This whole time all they've wanted from you is a perfect queen and now they want you to dance with a fool?

The jester walks you to the middle of the room, encircled by leering nobility. He places your hand on his waist before dramatically correcting the mistake and placing it on his shoulder instead, looking bashfully to the audience who snicker at the joke. He takes your other hand in his and gives you a little nod before the musicians starts playing and he guides you into step.

Now obviously you know very well how to dance, you enjoyed it quite a bit when you were little although, now it’s just become another part of your queenly duties. Did any of that even matter now? Now that it’s clear the king and his peers see you as just as much of a joke as the man you’re waltzing with.

Your deep thoughts are broken when said man unexpectedly twirls you in a dizzying circle. You flail slightly in your surprise but you’re brought back into his arms just as quickly to continue your steps. You fully focus on him now and you wonder what his features look like under that gaudy clown makeup. Even in the bright chandelier lights of the ball room, you can’t make out the colour of his irises. Earlier, you thought they were hazel but now it seems they're an impossibly dark brown.

The dark pools look as if they could swallow all the colour from his face and your own. Actually, has he blinked even once during this dance, or at all for that matter?

You’re not sure if it was your mistake or the jester’s but you step on his foot and he suddenly pulls away from you. He clutches his foot and jumps up and down in theatrical pain. The room bursts into laughter, bellows and cackles. These elite men and women delight in the humiliating performance you’re both putting on for them. It takes everything in you not to cave right there in the middle of it.

While the jeering continues, you try your best to steel yourself, replacing the need to cry with spiteful compliance. If they want a dance, they can have a dance.

You curtsy at the jester, offering an apology and hold your hand out to him. He looks around and then points to himself. You can’t help but smile and nod your head.

He takes your hand and when the music starts back up again, you step in time to the beautiful melody. You try and put your full attention on the jester, not anyone else in the large room, which proves to be quite easy as he is by far the most interesting person present. You can just make out the small smile under the red painted grin, his relaxed eyebrows under the bright blue diamonds, the crook of his pointy nose.

While moving in sync, you become almost lost in trying to map out his face under the make-up. You look for imperfections in the face paint but can’t seem to find a single smudge or brush streak, in fact the paint looks impressively even, like it’s a second skin.

It truly does feel like its only you two and the music, for the first time in a long time you feel wanted by someone else.

But when the king grows bored he demands new entertainment.

He motions for the musicians to stop their music and you’re brought back to reality. The jester bows for the crowd, he gestures to you and you offer a little curtsy before being escorted back to your throne. Form there, you watch the rest of the strange performers routine. He juggles an impressive amount of miscellaneous items, he folds himself into ridiculous positions, walks on his hands and generally makes a fool of himself for the crowd.

You watch in delight, though your husband doesn't seem as interested as he was before your little dance.

You think about the jester all the way back to your courters that night. You think about him as you slip on your night dress and slide into bed, and you think of him as you stare up at the ceiling for possibly hours. There is too much on your mind, the fun of watching the jesters performance has subsided and thoughts of what this means for your reputation and position in the court remain constant. A sigh leaves you as you lift yourself up and open the doors to your balcony.

You lean on the balcony ledge and stare out at the starry night sky, not even the strange jester can distract from the humiliation ritual you were just a part of. He could have been in on it for all you know and you're just naive enough to think he was being kind to you during the whole thing.

A shuffling sound from behind you makes you turn your head and it takes you just a split second to register the very colourful jester standing in the corner of your balcony.

The screech you let out is smothered by your own hand. You clutch the edge of the balcony, staring at the slender man who puts his hands up, waving apologies while moving his chest as if laughing, nothing comes out of his mouth. You clutch your heart, breathing quite heavily as you stare at him bewildered. You look around trying to discern where he could have come from, and how you only now hear his bells jingle as he waves his hands, still apologising.

He steps closer and stands tall in front of you, he’s much more imposing than you remember him being. He holds up one finger and then mimics a waltz. His head bows low and he holds his hand out for you to take. He’s asking for another dance but is there really much of a choice at all? Has this also been planned? If you say no, will he just leave? Do you want him to leave? The dance you shared was the most delightful time you've had in so, so long

You stare at him for a good while, he stays with his hand outstretched, bent over at a near 90 degree angle, not straining even a little. The longer you wait, the more uncomfortable you feel in his unwavering presence.

Against your better judgement, you reach out and touch his gloved hand. He curls his fingers around yours and stands upright. You let him bring your hand to his shoulder, place his hand on your waist and step closer. This time is different from the last time. Now it really does feel like his attention is only on you, not with the other guests, not with the performance. It should be frightening, but you find no malice in his eyes, no ridicule in his demeanor.

As he steps into motion, you begin a slow waltz in the small space of your balcony. It's slower than in the ballroom, it's more intimate. While you dance with this complete stranger, your thoughts run rampant, you second guess your judgement again and again. Maybe the kindness you sense from him is a ruse. Maybe he is here on behalf of the king, setting up another degrading show. He could even be an assassin, come to rid you quietly in the middle of the night.

You would deserve such a fate for giving in so easily. You slowly spin in his arms and this time you don't hear the snide laughs of the nobility, just the sounds of the night. Both of you step in time and you let him guide you to the edge of your balcony. You hold your breath as he dips you over the ledge. Your eyes squeeze shut and you let out what could be your last breath ready for him to let go and let you fall.

But he doesn't let go, your grip on his shoulders never slips. You open your eyes, a bit blurry from wetness but you can make out his face, because it's right in front of you even though you're bent over the balcony far enough that your feet have left the ground. You stare back at his unrelenting gaze. In the dim light of the moon his eyes look even darker than before and something new swims in the deep black of his pupils, something sad.

They are lidded as they examine your face, your entire being. His hand on your back presses your chest further into his until you're sure he can feel your rapid heartbeat through your very flesh.

He lifts you upright again, turning you away from the ledge and out of harms way. You’re still chest to chest, he’s so close but you can’t feel him breathe. Your wide eyes stare up at him, trying to discern his expression. Your breaths are short and your grip on him hasn’t let up a bit.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, the warm fabric of his gloves on your cold cheeks has you easing into them far too easily. His eyes examine every inch of your face while his thumbs stroke your cheeks, you can just barely see the frown on his lips behind the painted smile. He brings your face closer to his, slow and methodical, making it very clear what his next move is. You’re not sure if this was due to his own hesitation or to give you time to pull away, regardless you let him inch closer and closer until his lips grazed yours and you finally feel him breathe out one long breath.

The kiss is deep. Despite being slow and gentle, it still forces a struggled breath from you. You would’ve thought he tasted like paint but he doesn’t, he’s warm and inviting. It’s nice.

Your eyes close, surrendering all hesitation to the stranger in your arms. Fingers dig into the fabric of his puffy striped sleeves as your body melts further into his. You quickly learn to breathe through your nose, out of necessity and unwillingness to part from his affections.

You let him work your mouth open, slipping his tongue inside. The feeling is so foreign, you can’t help but whine. The backs of his fingers flutter over your throat and you shiver.

His tongue fills your mouth, sliding along yours and savouring your taste. The wet muscle reaches far into your mouth, farther than you thought normal but your experience is slim and you don’t have the awareness to fully question it. It’s overwhelming. Your knees tremble and he lowers you both to the cold stone floor. His tongue reaches into your throat, a feat you know is impossible.

You’re too lost to even think of the implications of this, as you gag and convulse around the thick muscle in your throat that no longer feels like a normal tongue. He reaches so far, your eyes roll back, your lower region warms uncomfortably and you forget how to breathe. You tap his shoulders quickly, a plea for air, and he retreats from your throat. He holds you as you cough and heave, wiping the spit from your chin.

You look at him with the an expression full of shock and fear and bewilderment and every other emotion shooting through your fuzzy mind. His expression is hard to discern but he seems both amused and sad.

He stands and brings you up on shaky legs. When he starts to back away, you panic and clutch his hands tighter. You don’t know what you were hoping for. That he would stay? That he would spend the night with you?

His face is full of what you hope is longing and not pity, you know what pity looks like. He holds you close in what you know is a goodbye embrace. He presses his forehead to yours and he places one last short kiss on your lips. Its playfull and very much not what you’d consider a proper good bye kiss. You search his gaze and you’re met with rather boyish mirth, lifting your spirits slightly. Maybe this isn't goodbye then?

He winks at you and takes your hand, spinning you around once, twice and three times before he lets go. When you rebalance yourself and look around the balcony, there is no sight of the jester. It's just the pitying sounds of the night and your only other witness, the moon. Like he was never there at all.

Father(s) | Charlos

Paring: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader x Carlos Sainz.

Warning: Pregnancy, Google translator.

Trigger:

Genre: Fluff.

Prompts: None.

Summary: Y/n L/n, the spirited princess of the grid. She's 5 months pregnant from her previous relationship. She's friends with Charles and Carlos.

Part 2

Request form-> here

Masterlist

Five months pregnant from a previous relationship, she embarked on a journey of newfound friendship with two F1 Ferrari drivers, Charles and Carlos. Little did she know that her bond with them would evolve into something more complex and beautiful.

As the days turned into weeks, their friendship deepened, and Y/n noticed the admiration and affection that both Charles and Carlos held for her. At first, she was unsure of how to navigate these emotions, especially considering her pregnancy and the complexities it brought to her life. But as time went on, Y/n realized that love had a way of defying expectations and boundaries.

Y/n's pregnancy brought forth a mix of emotions within her. She was excited about the impending arrival of her child, but also apprehensive about navigating the challenges of motherhood alone. However, she found solace and support in the company of Charles and Carlos, who had become her dear 'friends'.

In a moment of vulnerability, Y/n opened up to Charles and Carlos about her own feelings. She admitted that she cared deeply for both of them, but she also had reservations about pursuing a romantic relationship while being pregnant. She feared that it might complicate their friendship and jeopardize the stability she sought for her child.

To her surprise, Charles and Carlos responded with understanding and unwavering support. They assured her that their feelings were genuine and that they embraced the idea of a polyamorous relationship. They wished to be by her side, not only as friends but as partners and fathers to her child.

One day, they walked around the paddock, y/n rubbing her belly, the air was charged with unspoken emotions. Both Ferrari drivers could sense y/n tension, their gazes lingering a little longer, their touches a little more tender.

"What's going on inside your head?" Charles asked her, taking her hand and holding it as they walked.

"Seven months left until our boy would be introduced to the world," Y/n whispered, resting her head on Carlos's shoulder.

"But?"

"But, I'm worried I'm not going to be a great mother. I'm 23" Y/n sighs deeply, taking a seat on the bench as she feels her feet sore.

"And I'm 28. Have you seen yourself around kids?" Carlos scoffed as he and Charles sat beside her. Charles placed his hand on her stomach, rubbing her round belly.

"Even then, we'll be with you through it. Shotgun on dada." Charles chuckled as y/n and Carlos rolled their eyes at him.

"You bet, his first words are papa," Carlos argues back, playfully slapping Charles's hand off Y/n.

"No, It'll be mama," Y/n said, crossing her arms and ending the playfully bickering between the men. Charles placed a kiss on her head and Carlos let her rest her head on his shoulder.

Together, they navigated the uncharted territory of love, trust, and a shared vision of a family. Charles and Carlos were present throughout Y/n's pregnancy, attending doctor's appointments, sharing in the excitement of ultrasounds, and providing emotional support during the highs and lows.

As Y/n's belly grew, so did their bond. They created a loving and nurturing environment, preparing for the arrival of their child with joy and anticipation. Charles and Carlos showered Y/n with affection, ensuring she felt cherished and supported every step of the way.

When the day finally arrived, and Y/n gave birth to their precious baby, their hearts swelled with love and gratitude. Loving her son like their own, by blood or not, their bond solidified by the shared experience of parenthood.

In the years that followed, Y/n, Charles, Carlos, and their child formed an unbreakable family unit. They faced the challenges of parenting with unity, love, and unwavering commitment, celebrating each milestone and cherishing the moments that made their unconventional love story even more extraordinary.

In the world of Formula 1, where competition and speed reign, Y/n, Charles, and Carlos proved that love could conquer all. Their polyamorous relationship defied societal norms, embracing the beautiful complexities of their hearts. Together, they wrote their own love story, one that would forever be etched in the annals of racing history.

___________

liked by landonorris, yourusername, carlossainz55, and 940,038 others!

charles_leclerc: Mon amour avec notre précieux prince♥️....

Tagged; yourusername

carlossainz55: you mean, OUR love with our precious prince

charles_leclerc: fine, notre amour avec notre précieux prince. Happy?

carlossainz55: very☺️

Tagged: @tbb01

The Song of Blackwoods & Brackens: Chapter 15

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Chapter 15: The Battle of the Burning Mill

cw: graphic depictions of war

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

I didn't know how I got there. All I knew was that these moments were about to be my last.

Everything had happened so quickly. The situation spiraled out of control before I even realized it was occurring.

Smoke was everywhere, bodies were everywhere. I couldn't walk without stepping on someone. I knew I was going to die. I could barely walk, could barely see.

I could live with dying. I made my bed, I'm ready to lie in it.

He and I were doomed from the start. I loved him; It ruined my life.

———

"I wish I could keep my hands off of you." Benjicot says, kissing my forehead repeatedly.

"Touch me all you want, Benji. We've got a month of time to make up for." He smiles, continuing to plant gentle kisses on me.

He holds me close, our bodies still wet and cold from the water. "Does something trouble you?" He asks.

I sigh, "How could you tell?" I pause for a moment. "I just... I curse the Gods for making me as they did."

"What do you mean?"

"A Bracken." I say, saddened. "A Bracken woman."

I turn to face him before continuing, "I want to love you freely with no consequence. I want to stay in bed all day and eat cake with you. I want my brother to love me, despite what I'm doing to our house, to my duty."

"Fuck duty." He says.

"I wish we could just run away together. Live here, hunt, fight, fuck, build our land, maybe our own new house... A family."

"What would you name our house?" He asks.

"Brackwood." I jest, and he laughs.

"You truly do something strange to my heart, my lady." He says. "I think we should return. Midday is nearly upon us."

He pulls me up. We dress and begin our walk back. I don't know why, but I feel an impending sense of doom.

We make it back to the edge of the woods, when Benjicot pulls me in for a tight kiss.

"I love you, my lady." He whispers into my lips. "I've loved you since the day I met you."

"I love you in return, Lord Blackwood."

We part, painfully, like getting a limb cut off during a fight.

I make my way back to the castle, and my heart sinks at the sight before me.

My brother's horse, my uncles carriage, and... a Lannister carriage.

"Oh, no. Oh, Gods no." I whisper to myself. I turn to run, but I turn right into the arms of my uncle.

I gasp in shock, I try to break from his arms but he has me tight.

"Uncle-"

"Be quiet!" He yells. I immediately burst into tears. My uncle curses and drags me into Stone Hedge as I cry and fight and drag my feet.

He covers my mouth to keep the Lannister lords from hearing me sob as we pass the council chambers. He opens my door and shoves me inside to the floor.

"I've had enough of this. You will get out of your brother's clothes this instant or I will cut them off you myself, get you in that bloody dress, and let that Lannister wed and bed you here and now!"

"You wouldn't dare!" I scream at him through tears. He unsheathes his sword.

"Is this how you dare treat the Lady of House Bracken?" I yell as he yanks me by my arm, using his sword to rip through the fabric of the back of my tunic. "Your own brother's daughter?"

He turns me around, forcing me to look upon the most angriest stare I'd ever seen from his eyes. He raises his hand, and lands a cold, harsh slap across my cheeks. I fall to the floor, holding my cut cheek from his ring in pain. "You are to never speak to me of my brother again, or I will have your head. Fuck the Lannister alliance, I will behead you myself."

He waits, but when I say nothing he exits my chambers; My cheek bloody, my clothes ripped, everything perfect beginning to fall apart.

My sadness began to grow into anger. I was so stupid. I did this to myself. It was mine own fault for falling in love with him. I should've just left when I had the chance,

married the Lannister. I hated this place, I hated my brother for never caring, my uncle for the same, the servants, the handmaidens, the other lords. All they did was watch and let it happen.

I stood up and stormed outside, but the guard my uncle placed outside my door grabbed my wrist.

"Let me go. This will be your only warning."

He laughed. "Your uncle said you weren't to leave this room... He said I could use any force I wanted to keep you here."

I unsheathed my sword. He was quick, but I was quicker. With one shove I slammed my sword into his stomach. He fell to his knees, the blood eliciting gurgling, choking sounds as he began to drown in his own blood.

He fell on his face, dead.

I had killed my first man.

While I didn't know it yet, I would kill hundreds more in less than an hour.

I went outside, straight to the boundary stones. My tunic was almost ripped entirely, revealing my whole backside, but I didn't care. I was fuming with so much anger, fear, adrenaline. Nothing would stop me. I was going slightly mad.

I began moving the stones, one by one, by myself. Nothing was about to get in my way.

"Aeron!" I turn and look, to see some Bracken men walking towards me. "You moving the bloody stones again?" They ask laughing.

"Yes." Is all I respond. They begin to help, and I don't make any attempt to stop them. Within 10 minutes, there's a small enough clearing for the cattle to walk through. I chase them with my sword, herding them to the Blackwood land.

Twenty minutes pass of me sitting with the men along the stones, talking.

"Can you even get that thing up?" One of them asks about my sword.

"Well enough for killing Blackwoods." I say, and they laugh.

And then the sweetest voice, like a siren song to my ears, yells in anger.

"BRACKEN!"

I turn and look, unphased. I knew it would be him to come. No one else got more upset over the stones being moved than he did.

His eyes soften. He looks me up, confused at my disheveled appearance. He continues anyway, angry even more so now that he knows I messed with the stones.

"Put the boundary stones back." He says, stern, but not harsh. His way of warning me.

"We didn't move them!" I say, marching towards him.

"Oh, did they move themselves then? Just rolled their way over so Bracken cows can fill their bellies on Blackwood grass?"

"The assize of Riverrun-"

"Fuck the assize," He says, exasperated. "and fuck you. This is our land."

I look at the men behind him, weighing my options, then I look back to him.

"It's Bracken land." His eyes fume with anger, yet he's utterly confused if this is a jest. Was I alright? Everything had been such a dream this morning. He wondered what the bloody hell happened between then and now.

I ignore the snarl on his face and turn to walk away. "Babe killer." I mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

"What did you say?!" He knows it's no longer a jest now. I'm, for some reason, being serious. What he can't figure out is why. He's concerned, yet angry with my blatant disrespect. I stop, nodding my head. Will I do it? Do I dare begin this game?

I turn.

"Your false Queen Rhaenyra is a kinslayer."

He hides the shock in his eyes. Benjicot was fading, and Bloody Ben was returning. He's done with this bullshit game. If I'm willing to roll the dice, he's willing to take the gamble.

"Your uncle declared for Aegon... Did he?" He steps towards me. I say nothing. "Well, then. Let me tell you Aegon Targaryen is no true king."

He steps closer, mere inches away from my face. "Just as you... are no true knight."

I'm fuming, as is he. "You're both craven..." A shove to my chest, "Little..." another. "Cunts!" A final harsh shove, pushing me back into one of the Bracken men.

I unsheathe my sword, aiming it towards him.

He laughs, a frightening laugh, filled with anger and resentment. His lips curl into a smile and he glides his tongue over this teeth. "You wouldn't dare."

Is it a threat, or a plead not to do it?

"Y/N..." He whispers a quiet plea so only I can hear. The clarity began to hit me, the way he said my name like that. I had lost myself for a moment.

I lowered my sword, but it was too late.

One of the men behind me swung at one of the Bracken men, and from there it turned into a ballroom blitz.

The men around us began fighting, swinging their swords. The sound of the metal clashing was deafening.

Someone went to swing their sword at Benji, and I reflected it with my own. The man pushed me aside, shoving me into the boundary stone. I hit my head hard, immediately going dizzy. I touched the warm liquid seeping down my face, and turned to see Benji had struck down the man who pushed me.

He came to me, pulling me on my feet. "We have to go now."

More and more fights began breaking out. For every Blackwood that showed up, another Bracken did as well. The field was becoming surrounded with men, horses were whining, trying to avoid the cross fire. My uncle and brother run up, swords unsheathed, Lannister men hot on their heels.

"Go, now!" Benji yells at me, his voice is fuzzy due to the ringing in my ears.

"I won't leave your side." I yell.

"Y/N, no one is surviving this, go!" He shoves me behind him as my uncle approaches.

"Y/N?" Aeron asks, "What the hell are you doing?"

The fighting around us doesn't cease, in fact it grows, spreading like wildfyre.

"Aeron-"

"Your sister has been ruling in your stead, pretending to be you, Aeron." My uncle yells over the fighting. Aeron grows angry. He unsheathes his sword, going to step around Benji.

"Don't touch her." Benji warns, shoving Aeron back. Aeron stares, shocked.

"What in the Gods names have you done, Y/N?" My uncle asks, immediately understanding everything that has happened while he's been gone.

"Aeron." My uncle starts, "Bring me her head."

"Aeron, my blood, please." I beg.

He sighs, sadly. His voice cracks at his words, "I hope you'll forgive me, sister."

I shove past Benji, sword in my hand, raising it to fight my brother.

"Y/N!" Benji yells, preparing to swing at Aaron.

"Benji, stay back!" I command him. He's terrified to follow that order, but he does.

"Brother, listen to me-"

"How could you betray our family?" He sobs, our swords clashing together.

"We never were a family!" I yell in anger. "You don't know what he's done to me! You never cared! But, I still love you, brother! Please stop this." I cry.

Aeron brings his sword down, slicing it right down my eye.

I fall to the ground, screaming in agony. Blood poured down my face. I was blind. My brother, my twin, had cut out my eye.

Time slowed, yet the next events transpired so fast.

I looked up with my good eye, my brother standing over me, Benjicot with his sword slowly raising, ready to shove it into Arron's back.

My brother cocks his sword back, ready to take my head clean off. I take my hand off my eye, picking up my sword with both hands. It nearly slips from all the blood.

I shove it into my brother's stomach.

The world goes silent. Everyone watches. I just killed the heir to Stone Hedge.

I sob, and pull out my sword. His hands move to his stomach, and he falls to his knees in front of me.

"My blood." I sob, cradling his head in my hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Sister..." His bloody hand reaches up to cradle my bloody cheek. "I am sorry... Sorry I wasn't... a better brother."

He coughs, spitting up blood. I pull him into my lap, sobbing. "We... were born into this world, my sister, but we were never meant to die together."

He closes his eyes, and they never reopen. I sob, cradling his body to my chest. I kiss his head. My childhood best friend, the one I played with, who raised me until my Uncle took him under his possessive control.

"You dare mourn him, when this is your bloody fault. You killed the heir, you whore. You're no true Bracken."

I look up at my uncle, my chest rising and falling with intense anger. Tears fall from my eye.

Benji stares at me, fearful of the woman he loved turning into a mad man before him.

I stand, my brother's body lying at my feet. The fighting continues.

"Kill them all!" I cry out, "Kill every fucking Bracken and Lannister until their line is dead!"

"Get back, Y/N!" Benjicot yells, shoving my arm down to keep me from raising my sword.

"Stand back, My Lord!" A Lannister yells, standing in front of my uncle with his sword drawn.

Bodies start dropping like flies, and in the chaos I lose sight of my uncle. Benji fights behind me the whole time, both of us protecting each other's backs.

I suffer a severe blow to my leg, the gash is deep, making it near impossible to walk on.

"My Lady, you must go immediately." Benjicot says, holding me up to keep me from falling.

"Find my fucking uncle." I mumble.

"It's over! You must go! I will finish this for you, that I swear, My Lady."

I shove him off me, balancing on my good leg. "Don't lose sight of who you are, Y/N. Go now, before it's too late."

"My brother is gone. I will kill my uncle, even if it kills me."

"Then I'm sorry for what I'm about to do." Benji says, holding his sword towards me.

"Why are you protecting him?!" I yell.

"I'm protecting you! Don't be a fool! I will not lose you!"

"Do what you must." I say, raising my sword back. He sighs. I give him one last look, blood covers him from head to toe.

"Don't. Don't make me do this." He begs.

"I always knew you were a cunt, Blackwood." I say. He cries, red tears falling down his cheeks.

"Please. I'm begging."

I swing my sword at him, but he blocks it. The unfortunate part for him is he trained me. I know his moves. I know how to best him.

We fight. I fume with rage, he cries in sadness, both of us mourning who we were just a day ago.

I swing, but he knocks my sword out of my hand and sneaks upon me from the right, where my eye no longer could see him. He grabs my wrist, and I gasp.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

Everything goes dark.

the heir and the wolf

summary: Being Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir is a difficult thing, but what happens when you also become one of the Realm's most prized posessions?

pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader, reader x platonic targs/velaryon

i. the dear daughter (2.8k) - At one-and-twenty and eight-and-ten, barely a year after their marriage, Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen welcomed their first child, a daughter, into the world. The girl immediately became dear to the whole court, coddled and spoiled by all, but mostly by her grandsire, King Viserys I. The man saw in his granddaughter her mother, and as the girl grew to look like his late wife, Aemma Arryn, it became even clearer that he doted on her more than he did to his own children or his other grandchildren.

ii. about children and trouble (8.2k) - It is reported that in the year 121 AC, when the Realm’s Jewel was only six summers old, her hatchling Merrax was eaten by the Cannibal in a strange turn of events that found him moving from Dragonstone to the Dragonpit in King’s Landing. Princess Rhaenyra demanded to have the dragon’s head cut, but as nobody ever tried nor dared to get close to the Cannibal, it was impossible to do it. Thus, her daughter took the matters into her own hands.

iii. little big lady (5.0k) - Court whispers tell us that during her third pregnancy, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was particularly sensitive. She managed to cover it up pretty well, apparently, but she had one weak spot: her daughter, her firstborn and heir, who later on witnessed her little brother Prince Joffrey's birth by request of her mother. Despite openly disliking the experience, it is said that the Realm’s Jewel insisted on being present to future labours in case things went downhill — and she did, attending her mother in giving birth to all her future children.

iv. dragons' scars (6.4k) - And after the events that happened during Lady Laena’s funeral at Driftmark, two dragons were left scarred.

v. you'll change your name or change your mind (and leave this fucked up place behind) (5.3k) - When the King’s Justice — the royal executioner — died, the Realm’s Jewel proposed a perfect replacement: Nādrēsy, her dragon, the infamous Cannibal. Even if many eyebrows were raised at the Small Council, the King hastily agreed, happy to have an excuse for keeping his granddaughter close to him, even if it was for only a few days every moon. Or, as it always ended up, for a bit more than that.

vi. but I'll know, I'll know (8.4k) - At the ripe age of ten, the Realm’s Jewel was nominated by her grandsire the King, despite all the protests of the Small Council, the official Royal Ambassador; thus, her voyages throughout the Seven Kingdoms started, and yet another nickname was forged for her by the Smallfolk: the Wandering Princess.

↳ interlude (tbd) - Blood stained sheets. The first thing that comes up to your mind? Burning them and fleeing, obviously.

vii. legitimacy (tbd) - “Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense,” it is said that the Wandering Princess reiterated once she heard of her uncle’s accusations. “My late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate.”

more to come!

extras:

pinterest board | spotify playlist | ao3

beautiful fanart | another beautiful fanart | yet another amazing fanart

snippet cut from chapter three

sneak peak at reader and cregan's baby number #1

memes tag

the dragons from nādrēsy's perspective

the time line

Not enough vander fics on here, I’m kinda concerned guys

not for sale 💳 mingyu x reader. (4)

celebrity!mingyu and small business owner!reader. check out 🛒 not for sale's masterlist. final installation for the main verse, so it bears repeating: this is always & forever @maplegyu's! 💍 official not for sale playlist

FIRST DAY ONE-COIL 18KT WHITE GOLD BRACELET

DETAILS Ref.: 01020221 Material: White Gold Color: White

DESCRIPTION

After the first magazine shoot where you wore my jewelry, we went out for dinner. I think that's one of the first meals we shared. There was a lull in conversation that could have been awkward, but then you suddenly blurted out, "Hey, remember the 'Snake' game on the old Nokia?" It was so out of pocket, so out of the blue, I laughed so hard that I nearly snorted my drink out of my nose. It got us talking about games and our childhood, though. Later that night, I realized you just wanted to keep the conversation going.

A VALIANT ATTEMPT 18KT WHITE GOLD BAND

DETAILS Ref.: 11110221 Material: White Gold Size: 59 Resizable: Not Resizable

DESCRIPTION

When I invited you to a one-on-one jewelry making workshop, I honestly didn't think you'd show up. But you did. You looked adorably frustrated for the most part. You could've given up, but you persevered despite it taking several tries. I think a lot about the look on your face when you finally succeeded at making a couple of rings. After walking you out, I gathered all your rejects and smelted them down in to one ring. This is it.

JUST MY LUCK WHITE GOLD BRACELET SET

DETAILS Ref.: 3330221 Material: White Gold Size: Large Diamonds (Carats): 2.25

DESCRIPTION

In "MINGYU opens up on being named Rising Star of the Year", you talk about consistency, dedication, and passion. I whole-heartedly agree with what you've said, though there is a thing or two I'd love to add.

Here's the thing: I used to not really believe in luck. I believe in hard work and perseverance, in reaping what we sow. If I have to get my hands dirty to get something done, I'll do it.

You said in your interview that you found my page after absentmindedly scrolling through SNS. I'm sure everything that followed is a product of our own personalities, our own interactions, but that initial algorithmic push? We have to chalk it up to something.

And so maybe— just maybe— I'm a little bit lucky after all.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

YOU MAKE ME WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ MULTIPART SMAU MASTERLIST

You once mentioned his group name, and now he's down bad for you. The worst part? his teammates seem to always tease him about it, but the best part? you answer his message.

★ Choi Seungcheol x Fem!reader

Genre : idol!au, idol!reader, romance, comedy, smau, strangers to lovers trope! hope y'all enjoy it <33

01. Seungkwan's photos & numbers ☎️. Seungcheol is threatening Seungkwan for some numbers.

02. Warning, LOML is here‼️. Seungcheol suddenly has the love of his life

03. Law & order ⚖️. Article comes out, should Seungcheol sue them?

04. Love is in the air 🔔. (final) Seungcheol's love is in the air & everyone definitely can see it.

©️ kimingyuslover 2025

Wedding Day Shenanigans

starring: svt leader and husband! seungcheol x wife! reader; best man! mingyu

aus: fluff

warnings: none

synopsis: seungcheol just can't hold back his tears watching you walk down the aisle.

word count: 222

A/N: just some fluff to start off the week!

—

The moment the doors to the ceremony hall opened, revealing Y/N in her wedding dress, Seungcheol swore he forgot how to breathe.

She was stunning—no, ethereal. The kind of beautiful that knocked the wind out of him, left him dizzy, overwhelmed, completely gone. His hands trembled at his sides, his throat tightened, and before he could stop himself—

A choked sob escaped.

Then another.

And suddenly, Seungcheol was bawling.

His best man, Mingyu, groaned, slapping a hand over his own face as Seungcheol practically fell apart at the altar. “Oh my god, hyung—pull yourself together!”

But it was hopeless. His shoulders shook, tears streamed down his cheeks, and he didn’t even care that half the guests were chuckling fondly at his dramatic reaction. Y/N—his Y/N—was walking toward him, eyes shining, lips curled into a small, amused smile.

She knew. Of course, she knew.

When she finally reached him, she tilted her head, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “You’re a mess,” she whispered.

Seungcheol sniffled, wiping his tears furiously. “You’re—” His voice cracked. “Too pretty, Y/N. It’s not fair. I—” He hiccupped. “I love you.”

She chuckled softly before reaching out, her delicate fingers gently wiping away the tears from his cheeks. “I love you too, you big crybaby.”

And just like that, Seungcheol let out another ugly sob.

tag list: @seungkwansflower @reiofsuns2001

check out my masterlist !

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧: The Masterlist

Thomas Shelby x F!Reader

Having a relationship with the leader of the Peaky Blinders was complicated in a world full of business and dark secrets, but that didn't mean the love between you was weak. One night in the Garrison pub, however, everything changes, and the next day Thomas Shelby accuses you of something that will change absolutely everything between you, and the consequences will be so severe that not even in your worst nightmares could you have imagined the betrayal and disappointment you will feel for the man you swore to love forever.

𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱: A mini-series full of emotions, anguish, betrayal, weapons, ghosts of the past and broken hearts. Mentions of sensitive topics such as miscarriage, suicide and murder.

Chapter One 3.9k

Chapter Two 3.3k

Chapter Three 2.1k

Chapter Four 4.6k

Last Chapter 3.4k

The Epilogue 5.4k

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭