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yaekiss · 1 year

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𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔?! - 𝒑𝒕. 𝟐

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader! x Sub! Xiao, Sub! Zhongli, Sub! Diluc (separate), all 3 of them are inexperienced virgins, mild monsterfucking(?) in Xiao's part, handcuffs in Zhongli's part, lmk if I missed out anything! ꩜ A/N: Part 2 !!! Sorry for the wait, made this one slightly longer to make up for it orz, enjoy the tired meowmeow trio! Tried to make it as in character as possible but could be ooc 💀, feedback if anyone's too ooc LMAO ꩜ Adjoining Rooms: Part 1 (Wanderer, Aether, Kaveh)

It’s your first time fucking your babygirl, what trait of his catches your eye?

🏷️𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝟎𝟒𝟏𝟕: 𝑿𝒊𝒂𝒐

I’d like to think with how much he does seek out approval from those he looks up to, plus how he usually never lets himself be loved, the second your hands wrap around his cock and you mutter a soft “you’re so good for me, Xiao,” the walls he set around his heart slowly start crumbling down

Perhaps more adeptal features start showing itself to you for the first time in your whole relationship with him

Carding your hands through his hair, you feel the soft feathers starting to sprout from the nape of his neck down to his shoulder blades

As you work him to his peak, the tattoo on his right arm starts to glow faintly

Maybe if you make him cum enough, he’ll show you all of his adeptal form 👀

“That’s it Xiao, don’t hold back,” you purr into his ear as his face gets impossibly redder. Your hands wring out the most delectable noises from him but it’s not enough. You want more. (And judging by his reactions, so does he)

“Hah, ahn! So so so close…!” His body is tense, teetering on the edge of euphoria, piercing golden eyes gazing into yours. Even in the throes of pleasure, he’s still waiting for you to give him permission to cum.

“So perfect, go on, cum for me.” A particularly harsh jerk has his eyes rolling into the back of his head, breath hitching as he chokes on air. Your eyes catch the pale green tattoo shimmer when the pressure building in him snaps, his orgasm splattering across his toned tummy and coating your hand.

When you look back up at Xiao, he has deep teal feathers dotted around his shoulders, and wait- Are those talons?! Noticing your gaze, he attempts to squirm out of your embrace, angling his body away to hide his features that made a sudden appearance. But you know your skittish sweetheart too well. Your hands immediately clamp down on his waist and he bites back a whimper, stopping his escape.

“Don’t look at m- mmph?!” His cock is engulfed by your mouth, any previous thoughts of shying away instantly dispelled.

“I wonder how much more you’re holding back from me darling?” With that look in your eyes, Xiao knows he’s in for a long night ♡

🏷️𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝟏𝟐𝟑𝟏: 𝒁𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊

He’s not exactly… uneducated on coitus or sexual intercourse per se

(Don’t ask him how many lewd prayers he’s had to listen to over the years)

But no matter the amount of knowledge he has amassed, nothing beats hands-on experience and expertise (that he, very glaringly, lacks)

The furthest he’s gone is clumsily fumbling around with his body and figuring out some of his erogenous spots and ahem deepest fantasies after hearing an especially steamy prayer one night

Which is why you have a naked and blushing 6000-years-old ex-deity lying in your bed right now

Thankfully he can always count on you to ravish him!

The flickering candlelight casts a warm orange sort of radiance on his skin, further accentuating the glimmering veins of molten gold climbing up his arms. Trailing your gaze upwards, you are greeted with the sight of geo-constructed cuffs circling his wrists, shackling him to your bed. His face is practically scarlet with how embarrassed he is right now but with how much effort he has put in, he’s determined to see tonight through.

(The sight before you reminds you suspiciously of a scene in that raunchy erotica book you lent him a couple weeks ago. It’s kind of cute when you think of how long he has had this desire ruminating in his mind.)

“T-touch me please, dear,” his voice is gravelly, laced with a desperate need for your hands to roam all over him, cock twitching at the thought.

“Where do you want me to touch you? What makes you burn and shudder from how good it feels?” Such licentious words! Zhongli can’t help but shake with anticipation at your next sentence.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll give you everything a god could ever want.”

🏷️𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝟎𝟒𝟑𝟎: 𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄 𝑹.

Our favourite repressed redhead!

Despite the more-than-enough prospective fiancées he’s introduced to during banquets and festivals, he’s never really progressed far enough in a relationship for him to tumble into bed with another

That is, until you entered into his life and stole his heart (and soon, his virginity!)

Very obedient and mostly just goes along with whatever you say so he greatly appreciates it when you regularly check in to make sure he’s comfortable

Do: Praise him. He’ll cum the second you praise him!

Don’t: Expect him to tell you what he wants. He has no idea either 💀

“Like this? Ah… it feels a little- hng! -weird!” His index finger slowly disappears into him the way you’ve instructed and he’s gradually getting used to the sensation of his ass being penetrated. Brows furrowed, he looks up at you for your input (oh you’ll be putting something in him alright)

“That’s right, doing very well! You’re a fast learner, as expected of my Diluc.” Hearing your praise, it spurs him on to push deeper, loosening him up even more. You can see every little action he does, seated across from him but never touching him. The amount of concentration he puts into fingering himself for the first time is honestly endearing, sweat already forming on his forehead, thigh muscles tensing and relaxing at the new experience.

When he jolts, toes curling and head thrown back in a flurry of red, you know he’s discovered where his prostate is. Diluc looks breathless yet so breathtaking, his face the same colour as his hair, chest heaving as he tries to recover from the lick of ecstasy he just tasted.

He looks so cute and clueless but you’ll help him out, won’t you?

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

#📜.qi musings #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #dom reader #xiao x reader #xiao smut #sub xiao #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #sub zhongli #diluc x reader #diluc smut #sub diluc #2 more parts to go !!#📜.qi writings

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doromoni · 5 months

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A Rivalry Misunderstood | LN4

Ships : Lando Norris x McLaren Driver! Reader

Genre : Angst , Romance

Warning : Toxic! Lando , Possessive! Lando

Summary : You’re the new Golden Rookie of McLaren F1 , a driver loved and accepted by everyone. But Lando may beg to differ.

masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Quickly passing by every motorhome as you joyfully skip through the paddock , signing merchandise and taking photos with the fans. The Sprint race had just finished — with you getting your first Formula 1 win as a rookie! Well technically, but you were happy either way. Congratulations and pats on the back were constant from your team and even competitors as you made your way towards your own motorhome.

Life as a rookie in formula 1 had its ups and downs , majority of the people around have been supportive. However, oddly enough, you expected the least person to be against you would be your teammate … yet, here we are. You never understood Lando’s dislike towards you , it was so out of the blue and you could not think of anything you could have done to earn his mistrust.

You were always on your best behavior, and you always made an effort to be friendly towards your senior driver. You always made sure that you were cautious and that you didn’t step on any toes.

Busy with your thoughts, you reached your motorhome. So here you are, walking towards your designated driver room. Nearing the hallway of your destination.Head filled with thoughts but at the same time empty, not noticing the built figure as you turned the corner. Both bodies weren't aware of the other person, bumping into each other with a thump.

The person was heavy for sure, a built composed of lean and hard muscles. How would you know? He was currently lying on top of you. You were pressed by his chest, while he was on top of you. Yup … definitely muscled, you can feel it through your fireproofs

" Urghh, watch where you're going " you groaned in pain. Suddenly , you were face to face with the your teammate, Lando Norris.

His face was painted with an expression you cannot understand ... His toned arms were beside your head, trapping you between him and the floor . You stared at your co-driver, his hazelnut brown wavy hair, dark emerald eyes as green as the amazon forest, and a jawline that could rival a sword.

Unconsciously, your hand trailed the bridge of his nose to the soft and plump lower lip that the man possessed.

" What the hell are you doing" Stopping yourself from examining him more, and finally connected the dots. You were pressed on the floor by Lando Norris! The person who hated you and wanted you gone.

Almost automatically, you put your hands on his chest — an effort to push him . But alas, your efforts were null, when he suddenly pinned your hands above your head.

Struggling from his iron grip, and sighing into submission and decided to use your brain rather than brawn. Since trying to force yourself out would do you no good, knowing that he was much stronger than you were.

Having enough of his attitude and his harsh treatment , you realized being nice was never going to work— and that you don’t actually care about what he thought of you. And for the first time with him , you set your foot down and served him the attitude that he served you all the time that you were his teammate.

"I think your male bravado is content now, right? having a girl defenseless and restricted. I suggest letting me go now " you felt his hold on your wrist grow even tighter.

Steeling your front , you stared back into his glare, challenging his piercing glare.

"Why? Do you have somewhere to go? Have more people to suck up to? Don't you think that's low ,even for you?" A dangerous glint in his eyes. And an animosity in his voice that you couldn't decipher. He drew his face closer to yours, you felt his breath on your cheeks , an inch more his lips would touch yours.

Suddenly finding the situation amusing, a chuckle slipped your lips. Your chuckling then turned into laughter, and this stunned Lando, as he stared at your face, still sharing the same breath.

He can’t beat you on track, so he now uses other tactics to up you. Funny.

"Funny, such accusation are done by you , don't you think? Oh that's right its because the team actually prefers me now over you. Now that I’ve actually given them a win... hmm or maybe we all should be like you and bow and cower when max’s car shows in the mirror? “

Of course that wasn’t true, you just wanted to aggravate the English driver more. Once again, you tried prying your hands off his grip.

"Shut the fuck up . You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. " Lando bit back with so much animosity. You were definitely scared now .

Realizing that you are in the middle of a hall way and is still beneath Lando, you once again struggled to push him off.

" You know what, let go of me! I need to go to the debriefing for Pete's sake" You started squiggling trying to move away from under him, when an deep growl vibrated through your ear, causing shivers down your spine and goosebumps littering the nape of your neck.

"Don't.Move" Hearing him swallow and steady his breath, you smirked as you lay still below him and glared into his eyes challenging him further

Lando finally lets go of you as he stood up. Scrambling to your feet and dusting yourself off ; adjusting your driver suit and fixing your hair. You the felt his stare on you.

"What? The hell are you staring at?" With a scowl, you folded your arms and returned his stare with a glare.

"You changed your fireproofs" You looked down at your clothes . Your race suit was half open and your fireproofs were showing.

"What? Even my uniform you've got issues with? Should I also have my uniform exactly like yours instead? " you asked with a sneer as you patted the crease on your pants

"Stop trying to be different from everyone on the team! Fucking mooching on every mechanic . Know. your. fucking. place “ The British driver said scathingly.

Suddenly pissed, you decided to provoke Lando even further. Having enough of his bullshit. You drew your body near his , going on your tippy toes and placing a delicate hand on his chest, slowly dragging your fingernails to draw patterns on his fireproofs, feeling him tense under my touch. Fuck it! You were already a slut in his eyes anyway.

Slowly moving your lips to his jaw then towards his ear and whispered

"Does that make you angry, hmm, Lando? little ol me taking your precious spotlight? People adoring me instead of you. “ You tutted , making sure your voice held rotting sweetness

“All eyes on me. Does that make your blood boil? You getting nothing while I have everything, Lando?" Adding emphasis on his name, you gently moved your hand towards his hair and pulled.

Feeling Lando freeze and grow rigid from your touch you chuckled, you were about to move away, when you felt a hand wrap around your waist and suddenly pinning you against the wall with force.

" Don't fucking test me princess. Your playing a dangerous game. No one will look at you, I'll make sure of that.... Don’t prance around trying to win everyone to your side, you’re only mine to look at “ His lips ghosting the shell of your earlobe as he pulled you into his embrace even tighter.

Your breath hitched when you felt his teeth nip your ear. His lips traveled down your jaw to your neck, harshly biting the skin he traveled. He licked the junction of your neck and your shoulder, sucking and lapping his tongue over the bite. He let out a moan while you whimpered.

" Baby? I Never knew you could taste this good" Speechless , you stared at him as he licked his lips, your mind trying to gather any thought it could process.

"Win all the races you want, I don’t care. But don’t fucking flirt with anyone … and I don’t care if he’s your engineer. " With a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze on your waist , Lando was gone

You stood shocked, heart pounding, in the deserted hallway,trying to piece everything that just happened.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #lando #norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #mclaren f1 #mclaren formula 1 #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic

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leo-muscle · 4 months

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Kings of the World: Caribbean Waves

Kai knew he was far above the rest. Born into money and power, he got everything he wanted, exactly when he wanted it. Women, cars, planes, food... all at the drop of a dime. He dressed in designer suits, which he constantly bragged about the price of. He wanted the whole world to bow to him, and worship the very ground he walked on.

This leads to Kai's 22nd birthday party, taking place in the Bahamas. He had invited five of his wealthiest friends, the only people he deemed worthy of associating with. They had spent the entire month on Kai's father's dime with women, watersports, booze, and dice, all leading up to one final drinking night on Kai's actual day of birth aboard his luxury yacht, moored to a private island. The party was too much: strippers dotted the decks, fireworks went off every half hour, loud music floated about, and poker chips poured like honey. Kai himself sat at the head table with his five rich friends.

"Here's to one more year of life!" Kai cheered, his voice slurring.

"Hear, hear!" His friends replied, and they all chugged down their liquor like it was water.

"Alright, guys, I've got the next round coming!" Kai shouted, as he dashed back to the bar... only something was amiss.

The scantily-dressed barwoman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an absolute giant of an irishman stood behind the bar, dancing to the beat of the music. He wore no shirt, just a bowtie with a nametag reading "Dom," and short shorts, accentuating his enormous muscles. An easy smile sat on his face, accented by the enormous emerald earring in his right ear. Just by being in the room with the man, Kai felt a need to compete with him.

"Where's Chrissy?" Kai asked, a simmer of anger in his voice.

"Ach, she was feeling a tad ill, so she came to fetch me." The bartender replied in a soothing Irish accent. "Watcha looking for tonight?"

"Something powerful and special." Kai said. "You'd know a thing or two about that."

The bartender's smile twitched. "I think I got just the thing for a birthday boy like you. Little something from back home, you aught to enjoy it."

The bartender turned around, and started pouring a variety of liquors into a shaker, then dancing to mix it all up. Kai couldn't stop looking at his ass: while Kai was incredibly straight, he could easily tell that this man had a great, bouncy bubble butt. His pecs too were incredible, the girls should be all over him-- why weren't they?

The bartender brought the shaker right up to his enormous left pec, opened it up, and dumped something in it that Kai couldn't see. He then presented the drink into a tall tankard. It was a sparkling emerald green, unlike any drink Kai had seen before.

"What is this shit?" Kai groaned.

"Special recipe of mine. You'll learn to make it yourself, someday."

"As if. People make my drinks, not the other way around."

Kai took a big swing of the emerald drink, chugging it all in one go. Instantly, he could feel his insides bubbling.

"Did you poison me?!" Kai screamed, but was inaudible over the clamor of the party.

"Nope." The bartender said. "Enjoy." And with that, he vanished.

Kai ran to the restroom as his muscles began burning and pulsing with new strength. He could barely make it to the bathroom before he began to shake, shiver, moan, and grow.

As Kai grew, a single thought entered his head.

My behavior is not suited for a King.

----------

Kai's friends were starting to wonder where their leader had gone, when suddenly, a single text appeared on their phones.

Kai: Everyone, come down to the island. There's someone you need to meet.

The group stumbled to the beach, where a single man awaited them, carrying four drinks with him. He was enormous, seven feet tall, and was a stunning example of peak masculinity. He was clearly from the islands around here: his beautiful, dark skin reflected the setting sun perfectly, while saltwater trickled through his tight curls, mustache, and goatee. His gigantic, bouncy, fuckable pecs sat atop a tight muscle gut, indented with the turtle-shell pattern of abs. His biceps outsized his head, and were crisscrossed with a pattern of veins showing his strength. His legs would have been incredibly oversized on any other man, but on him, they were glorious, perfect cylinders striated with pure strength, able to cut through water with ease. His ass was a perfect breeding site for any cock able to work its way past his thick muscle cheeks. An inviting aroma of saltwater and musk wafted from him, beckoning the boys over. It assaulted their nostrils, the scent unimpeded by clothes, for this beach hunk wore only a speedo and a necklace of purest silver. It smelled divine, and although these boys were straight before, this musk was worth far more than any feeble heterosexuality. They almost climbed over each other to get closer to the man.

"Now, now," The beach hunk said. "We can take me in some other time; I'm not the important one here. What is important, is you."

"What do you mean?" One of the rich boys asked. "You're perfect!"

"And you can be too." The beach hunk replied. "You boys want a drink?"

"Yes?" Another rich boy said.

"I made them myself," The beach hunk said, gesturing to the drinks in his hands. They gleamed a pure silver, like liquid mercury.

"From this big boy down here." He continued, patting the massive cock straining to break free of his speedo.

By this point, every single boy had a raging-hard on. They needed to know what this man tasted like. They dashed over to the beach hunk, and each grabbed a glass from the man's enormous hands, and drank the whole thing in one gulp each.

Instantly, their bodies expanded. Their thighs grew from twigs to tree trunks, laced with power. Their arms mirrored their King's, bursting with strength the size of coconuts. Their abs, one by one, popped into existence, forming tight eight-packs on all of their cores.

Soon, one boy started noticing how hot his neighbor was getting. While the beach hunk was a true being of masculinity, his friend was definitely becoming capable of rivaling him. He reached over to his friend's chest, and touched his nipple--

And suddenly, his friend's chest ballooned past almost every letter of the alphabet with mass, growing larger and darker and more sensitive, until his pecs were just as bouncy and voluptuous as his King's.

"B-bro..." He moaned. "I... I need you to touch them..."

His fellow transformee showed no slowness as he latched his rapidly-expanding hands onto his friend's enormous muscle tits, pawing and kneading the muscle and nipple. His friend moaned with pleasure. How could his chest feel so good?

The other two had noticed what their friends were doing, and immediately joined in. One began worshipping another's ass, while the final one began giving his friend a blowjob. Soon, their asses and dicks had all expanded into pillars and beautiful mounds of dark flesh, sensitive and plush, perfect for kneading. The friends grew closer and closer together, their hair darkening and tightening as they went, until they had all become a massive literal clusterfuck. Each man was sucking a nipple, taking a dick, fucking an ass, all in the most intense pleasure any of them had ever felt in their life.

Though, eventually, it was all too much. They felt their load coming right from their new enormous bull balls... and they just couldn't hold it any longer. In a burst of cum, they all released each other, panting on the sand in their beautiful new forms.

King Kai knew his new boys would make great citizens of his kingdom, but there was still much work to be done. He would go about this subtly, with his own line of drinks laced with kingly fluid. Soon, the islands would be peaceful, and everyone would live freely and without strife.

#male tf #male transformation #jock tf #race change #latino tf #black tf #bear tf #butt growth #pec growth #straight to gay #kings of the world

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strawberrystepmom · 6 months

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pairing: werewolf!kakashi hatake x f!reader

word count: 5.2k

about: your boyfriend leaves you alone for one week every month and you can never seem to put your finger on why. convinced he’s cheating, you book a romantic getaway to pin him down and figure him out. while preparing to leave, you instead discover the hairy secret he has been keeping from you all this time.

contents: nsfw - mdni. cw knotting, cw mating, cw breeding kink. miscommunication with resolution, established relationship, piv sex, vaginal fingering, reader has breasts and is referred to as pretty and mate multiple times, reader has pubic hair, few mentions of birth control (reader is on it but method is not specified), sloppy and messy sex (saliva is mentioned but there is no specific instance of spitting)

notes: part of thot-o-ween 2023! ngl i had the most fun writing this one out of the whole group this far and i hope that it shows and you enjoy reading it! thanks for the support the last four weeks and i'm so glad we are getting into the thick of the good stuff now. ♡

“Don’t be ridiculous, he absolutely adores you.”

Despite the consistent reassurance of your best friend, you aren’t certain that your boyfriend Kakashi does adore you.

It’s not that he isn’t wonderful because he is. Supportive, serious without being a bore, and surprisingly humble - these are all things it takes no effort for you to feel and say about him. Despite this, you can’t shake the nagging distrust you’ve felt since he told you he’s going on his once a month week long business trip. Unfortunately, this time it coincides with a romantic getaway you tried to book for the two of you as a surprise. Despite days of trying to convince yourself that it’s nothing and you have nothing to worry about with his cyclical departures, you have a really bad feeling.

“I can’t explain it but my intuition is going crazy. It feels like he’s lying to me.”

Your mind has played through all of the reasonable possibilities for his departure and is now filtering through the unreasonable ones. The “he has a family he’s hiding from me” paranoia pings between your ears like a racing pinball and your friend can tell, her face set in a displeased frown. She has been placating you for the past five months, politely shoving you in the direction of speaking your mind to the man, but she knows you’re uncomfortable with the idea.

She reaches across the small table the two of you sit at, dotted with discarded napkins and cups full of rapidly melting ice, and grabs your hands between hers. You appreciate the gesture and squeeze her fingers with your thumbs, smiling softly.

“You already know my advice because I’ve given it freely. What you do next is completely up to you.”

Nodding, you know she’s right. She has told you to confront him, to snoop, to follow him and these all sound like wonderful ways to handle the issue in theory. In practice, though? That’s a different story.

Dropping her hands and picking your phone up from the table, you sigh and open the little green bubble that is the messages app. Kakashi’s thread is at the top of your list and you open it, smiling looking at his sweet wishes of a good evening with your friend.

Hope you’re having fun. See you soon. 😊

“I booked that cabin before he told me he was leaving, do you think I should still tell him about it?”

Your friend nods firmly, sticking to her earlier advice.

“Yes, you should have told him as soon as you planned the getaway but maybe he can arrange something with work if he knows. It’s still a week out.”

Sighing, you nod in agreement and tap out a message in response to your boyfriend, worrying your lower lip between your teeth.

I know this is kind of off the cuff and you already told me you’re going to be gone but I booked a cabin for all of next week for the two of us. If you can’t make it, I understand. Romantic surprises are so hard sometimes!

The message whooshes and shows as sent, the blue text bubble sitting as heavy as the anxiety in your stomach. It’s long winded and something you probably should have said in person rather than via text but considering how nauseous you already feel anticipating his answer, you think this may have been for the best. You lock your phone and place it back down, not wanting to stare at the screen any longer, and the waitress comes to drop off your check.

Just as you reach for the little black tray with your receipt, your phone pings and your eyebrows raise. You smile at the waitress as you slide your card onto the tray and send her off, picking up your phone as soon as it’s not rude to do so.

You are so thoughtful. Don’t worry about not saying something sooner, I will see what I can figure out. Thank you for doing something so sweet.

Maybe your mind really has been playing tricks on you. It’s hard to hide your grin as you pass the phone across the table and your friend smiles as she reads as well, holding her hands out and tilting her head.

“See? Good communication is key.”

You know she’s right.

Across town, though, Kakashi paces the floor of his bedroom wondering how the fuck he is going to make this work.

How he ended up landing someone like you is still beyond his rational understanding. You are too good to be true and booking a surprise romantic getaway, in any other situation, would be a gift. A luxury, even. Time spent with you, secluded, watching the autumn leaves fall? He couldn’t dream of anything more but next week simply does not work for him.

Pressing the screen of his phone wildly, he swipes through apps until he finds his moon phase tracker, popping open the calendar to see when exactly the full moon falls. He’ll get more details from you later but if you booked it from Monday to Sunday, he may be able to pull off leaving early but staying for most of the time. The full moon falls on Friday and realistically if he spent the week with you up until Thursday, he may be able to pull it off.

Sighing, he slumps down on the edge of his bed and scrubs his hand over his face. The luck he has had over the last few months hiding his secret from you has been nothing short of fortuitous and he’s glad for your trust in him even though it eats him up to lie about his whereabouts for a week every single month.

Putting you at risk is the last thing the man would ever want to do so he’s already taking a huge chance trying to make this week work knowing that his hormones are stronger in certain months rather than others. He has felt overcome by his instincts this entire month, it’s the reason he has buried himself in busy work rather than spending his free time with you, but he knows that if he hangs you out to dry this week it could result in him losing you.

That’s simply not an option he’s willing to entertain so he will figure it out despite how it makes his gut twist and his mind race.

Swiping off of the moon cycle app, he opens his messages and the cursor blinks at him tauntingly while he considers what to say.

I can come along Monday through Thursday if that’s alright with you?

Tapping the little blue arrow that sends the message off to you, he feels a weight on his shoulders that he can’t quite name. It’s sadness because he knows eventually he’ll have to tell you the truth about himself or let you go but selfishly, he wants to put it off for as long as he possibly can.

Something about you makes him believe that those old stories his dad told him growing up about their kind having fated mates may have been true. His mother was his father’s mate, she knew of his secret and kept it until the day she died, and despite this harsh world, Kakashi has always kept the smallest kindling of hope that it could be true.

Then he met you and his body all but told him it was, the ruts coming more consistently and stronger, lasting for longer than they ever have. What started as one day a month he had to hide away to keep from exposing himself became two days, and then three, and then an entire week having to seclude himself from you to keep from giving into his more base urges.

Another sigh leaves the man and he taps his feet against the floor beneath them impatiently, clutching his phone in his palm. Three pings in succession make him lift it to his face, squinting slightly thanks to the brightness of the screen, but he smiles reading your words.

Omg yay!!!

I’m glad to get you for even that long

Thank you for making it work for me

It’ll be a risk but he’s willing to take it to see your pretty smile and to spend time cozied up reading and watching your silly shows and enjoying each other.

It’ll all be worth it as long as he can keep control.

The days leading up to the trip pass uneventfully for you but Kakashi feels differently with each hour that passes, especially today.

He’s hot. Cloyingly and overwhelmingly, to the point he has to lay on his couch in nothing but boxers and an old tank top dug out of the back of his dresser drawer to try and cool down. Sweat glistens across his skin and his very bones ache, all of the blood in his body running to his cock and making it impossible for him to think.

When you arrive at his apartment to spend the night in order to make leaving in the morning simpler, you’re shocked to see him lying on the couch with one hand down his boxers halfheartedly playing with his hard cock with one arm thrown over his eyes. His cheeks are pink and he’s panting, only glancing up briefly when the door opens and shuts. He scrambles to sit up but you can tell he’s struggling, his abs tensing with every breath he takes.

“Oh babe, are you alright?”

Dropping your bags at the front door, you rush to his side and kneel on the ground next to where he is strewn across the sofa. You press the back of your hand to his clammy cheek and coo, your other hand tangling in his unruly hair and combing it away from his forehead. He doesn’t uncover his eyes but his breathing is so heavy you worry something is seriously wrong with him.

“Kakashi, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you need to go to urgent care?”

He shakes his head and groans, chest still heaving and you notice the tip of his cock peeking above the waistband of his boxers. It looks the same as you remember it in every way except for the color - so red, as if it’s blushing to be spotted and leaking a pool of sticky pre-cum onto the barely exposed skin his tank top isn’t covering. You know the two of you have been too busy the last several days to spend much quality time together and sex hasn’t been possible but you’ve never seen someone so horny they’re actually ill because all current signs point to that being the exact issue.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Embarrassment keeps him from opening up. Kakashi is ashamed of who he is, a beast more than a man, and he’s even more ashamed that he has no way of keeping the secret from you any longer. This rut is too strong and he needs you to leave lest his instincts take over his logic. Pulling his arm from over his eyes, he tries to sit up and you assist him to the best of your ability, his cock throbbing through the thin fabric of his boxers and catching your eye despite your attempts to focus on his handsome face. His stormcloud colored eyes have never looked more tumultuous than they do right now and you reach out to cup his face, only for him to gently grasp your wrist and pull you away.

“Don’t touch me.”

The look on your face, brows pinched and mouth agape, reminds him that he’s a monster and not a man and he should have never brought you into his life. The only thing he can do is hurt you. His grip on your wrist is gentle and he loosens it further but you capture his hand in your own, eyes brimming with tears of frustration.

“Please tell me what’s happening,” your voice cracks as you speak and you feel warm tears spill down your face, irritated by your own ability to hold it together, but your worst fears are coming true in front of you. Something is off about your boyfriend, you were right, and now he’s denying your touch when he clearly needs it. “I just want to know the truth.”

The truth would be a heavy burden for both of you and the last thing he wants to do is force you to carry it with him despite the pleading look in your eyes and your quivering bottom lip.

“What are you hiding from me?”

Your voice cracks again and his heart breaks all over, gray eyes trained on your face despite his disgust with himself. Despite the tears and the way they blur your vision, you scan his face and drink in every feature because despite how you feel right now, you love this man. You were hoping to tell him so this week, tucked away in the idyllic countryside, and now you feel the dream slipping away from you.

“Are you married? Do you have another life?”

Desperation for the truth makes your hands shake and he shakes his head, blowing a breath out of his lips. He continues to feel so hot it’s painful, like he’s burning alive, and he is resisting inhaling and choosing to breathe through his mouth instead to keep from catching your scent that is gradually replacing all of the fresh air in the apartment.

Allowing you to hold his hand, he sits forward and looks you in the eyes. If his gut feeling is real, if what he believes about you is true, then he needs to be honest. If you are his mate then you’ll understand. His voice shakes when he speaks and you scoot forward on your knees, closing the distance between your bodies as much as possible, still kneeling on the floor next to him.

“I think I should be offended that you’d even think that about me.”

Despite yourself, you laugh and he hides a smile of his own, eyes darting away from you. He pulls you up to your feet and scoots over on the couch, hissing as you occupy his space even further. You are affecting him more strongly than you ever have and his self control thins with every moment that passes.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what else to think. The weeks away, the secrecy, all of it…my mind has filled in the blanks I don’t understand.”

Kakashi nods. He understands, he truly does, knowing that his behavior has been less than exemplary while he has tried to keep his secret from you, but he wants to right his wrong while his mind is still clear. His cock throbs angrily, still pressing against the bottom of his stomach even while he sits, and he knows it’s now or never.

“This is going to sound ridiculous but I’m not what you think I am.”

Tilting your head to the side, you look over your handsome boyfriend and wonder what he could mean. Is he lying about his job or where he’s from? He can tell you aren’t following so he looks away from you and tries again, spitting out the words he himself has tried to run from his entire life.

“I’m only half a man, the other half of me is something else entirely.”

Again, you look lost and he grasps your hands in his own hot ones and chuckles, letting his eyes shut.

“Werewolf. I’m a werewolf.”

He opens his eyes at the sound of your surprised laughter and he’s met with the smile he has found himself falling more in love with every single day, your nose scrunching the way he finds utterly adorable.

“Kakashi…” you start but he squeezes your hands and shoots you a look so earnest you feel guilty for ever questioning him. His cheeks have turned from pink to flaming red, the same color as the engorged tip that is still peeking out over the top of his boxers. Your jaw drops and he groans, eyes falling to your lips.

“What is happening right now is called a rut and unbonded men like me go through them occasionally.” You nod, understandingly. You are always unfailingly kind and patient to him, more so than he deserves for lying to you all these months. He takes your silence as permission to keep speaking and you remove your hand from his to push his sweat slicked hair off of his forehead, noticing the way his nostrils flare with your touch. “Mine have been happening more frequently than that, though, because of you.”

He expects to have lost you again and to see confusion on your face when his eyes flit up to look at you but instead he sees a sweet, almost nervous, half smile. You don’t know what he means or how you could possibly be affecting his rut but the insinuation that you have this strong of an impact on him is flattering to say the least.

Arousing too, you think while pressing your thighs together. Your focus shifts from the heat in your own core to Kakashi and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“How can I help you through this?”

Your boyfriend is far from shocked that this is your next question for him but he’s grateful, shaking his head and gazing at you nervously from the corner of his eye. You have been surprisingly okay with everything so far, or at least it seems like it, but he worries how you’ll react if he tells you everything.

“Well, ruts are usually resolved by…well, for lack of a better word, mating.” Nodding, you keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “It’s not just, you know, having sex like we usually do. It’s more than that.”

You shift where you sit and he watches you intently, gasping when you move to straddle him and sit on top of his thighs. His bulge presses against your core and you hum, still combing your fingers through his hair. Those instincts he was dreading continue to work at him, his mind all but overwhelmed with the sight and scent of you, and his mouth fills with saliva.

“I can handle a few days of fucking if that’s what will make you feel better,” you smile and press a kiss to his forehead, his hands finding their way to your hips and holding them tightly. His grip is harsher than he has ever touched you but it doesn’t hurt, it’s simply anchoring you in place. “But if that’s not all, I will do anything you need.”

He chuckles lowly, the sound sexy and ringing in your ears, and you instinctively grind down on his lap to relieve the tension of your own arousal. It doesn’t take much to turn you on, not when it comes to him, but the mystery of what you have to look forward to makes your head swim.

“I, uh…well, I’d need to knot you.”

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes glisten with mischief watching him search for the right thing to say.

“What does that entail?”

Again he sighs, cock throbbing painfully, and you press your lips to his forehead again. He holds you in place to keep your hips from grinding or bumping against him. His mind is growing fuzzier with each passing second and he doesn’t need the encouragement of your luscious hips to turn him into something he can’t explain away with a conversation. He’s teetering on the edge of it anyway.

“You’re familiar with my dick, of course, but when I’m rutting it’s different. It’s…” He trails off again and you reach down between your bodies, snapping the elastic waistband of his boxers. You smirk, the little temptress that you are, and he groans in defeat.

“Show me.”

Despite his brain telling him not to, he nods, happy to bend to your whims as long as you’re okay with what you see. He shifts where he sits, keeping you anchored to his lap with one hand and he uses the other to pull his boxers down around his thighs. You gasp when you notice the thickened base, larger than you��ve ever seen it and swollen.

“This is your knot?”

He nods, eyes fixed on your face as you inspect the newest part of his anatomy, to you anyway, and he’s relieved to see nothing but curiosity on your face. Your hand drifts back between your bodies and you squeeze the base of him, his knot almost too large for your hand to wrap around, and his hips buck into the touch. He pants, chest heaving with each breath, but you keep your grip intact.

“So let me make sure I have this right,” you start and he nods to indicate that he’s listening despite the overwhelming pleasure he’s feeling at your touch, lower lip tucked between his teeth. “You need to knot your mate to get through this and feel better?”

He nods again, happy that he doesn’t have to explain the gory details and that you were able to fill in the blanks on your own.

“Do you know who your mate is? Is it someone I need to go find for you?”

Shaking his head, his brows furrow.

“You are my mate. That’s the only explanation why my body is reacting like this to everything about you.”

His voice sounds strained, struggling to hold onto his humanity with each passing second. You mercifully let go of his knot, the relief on his face disappearing when you do, and you lean forward, just inches from his lips.

“Then fuck your mate and feel better, baby.”

Sealing your offer by pressing your lips against his, you’re shocked to find that they’re as hot as his hands, his body, his cheeks, but they feel like home to you and the sloppy sound of your tongues running against one another in open mouthed kisses fill your ears. His grip on your hip tightens and he does his best to remain gentle as he slides you off of his lap and places you on your back on the sofa below you. He pauses for a moment to glance over your face, to be absolutely certain that you still want this, and you smile at him.

Reaching for the button of your jeans, he helps you slide them off and tosses them across the room, your panties coming off with them and the rest of your clothes in short order. He wants to shred them, to see the pieces fall and flutter away from your beautiful body, but he holds himself back.

This is just the beginning of his rut, after all, and the two of you are bound to have a very interesting week ahead of you so he savors this moment, the first that he can be who he really is in front of someone he loves.

It’s freeing and terrifying but his cock is throbbing so painfully he can’t focus on anything else.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

You nod when he slots himself between your spread legs, his boxers and tank top gone. Your cunt pulses at the sight of him, walls clenching almost painfully around nothing as you look at the size of his knot and wonder how you’re meant to fit it inside of you, but he quiets your wandering mind by leaning down and pressing his chest to yours, kissing you sloppily.

“God I love you,” he mutters and you hum in agreement.

His mouth is wetter than it ever has been, a side effect of his current state, and saliva drips down both of your chins and drips into the valley between your breasts. You moan into his mouth and your hips cant and grind against his erection that slips into the cleft between your pussy lips and he feels himself slipping further and further into the basest of his needs, the warm slick seeping from your cunt a nectar he can no longer resist.

Kakashi’s fingers slide down your body, dragging through the pool of saliva between your breasts, down your torso, across your belly button, and finally down to your aching pussy. He makes himself useful quickly, one of his long digits replacing his cock and running through your soaked folds. You whine, hips bucking, and he increases the pressure of his finger as he slides it over your slippery clit.

“My pretty little mate is so eager for me, huh?”

Nodding dumbly, you spread your legs further hoping he’ll take the hint to get moving to where you need him the most. Your eyes dart from his face to where his finger slowly slides inside of you, warmth accommodating the digit with ease thanks to how soaked you are, and sweet relief washes over you. Tipping your head back, you softly moan beneath him while he works you open for him - he’ll need all the help he can get if you’re going to take his knot, and a second finger joins the first while his thumb massages your clit just the way you like.

“Oh baby, you feel so good.”

You nod and hum, hips grinding into every thrust of his fingers in and out of you, the sound of your own sloppy pussy making your breaths stutter. Who would have guessed you’d be so into finding out your boyfriend’s not so little secret?

His fingers continue to spread you open, shifting and grinding against the spot deep inside he knows drives you wild, and you know you’re about to cum for the first time tonight when his thumb grinds small circles directly into your sensitive clit. Your back arches off of the couch and you clench around his fingers, mumbling his name. His lips find yours, chests still pressed together, and you whimper into his mouth while your legs shake.

Withdrawing his fingers from inside of you, he holds them up and spreads them apart, breaking away from your lips long enough to let you look at the slick that webs between them when he does. You gasp, his fingers glistening with your arousal, and he smirks.

“Think you’re wet enough for me now. Gonna stuff you full of me, is that what you want?”

Nodding, you shiver, catching a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes. He’s the same man you love and have known for all this time but there’s a hunger you can’t wait to sate dancing in his eyes. Your cunt clenches again, finally ready for more after your orgasm, and he reaches between your bodies to position himself at your entrance.

The first inch isn’t anything you aren’t used to but you still gasp as he slides himself inside of you, your nails digging into his shoulder while his blunt head prods at your eager cunt, slipping inside with ease. He sinks deeper and deeper and you gasp breathlessly when he stops just short of the inflamed knot at the base of his cock.

“Can’t go all the way in, not yet,” he explains, grinding his hips and guiding them to make sure the head of his cock brushes against the same spot his fingers were just working. You are breathless, wordless, and completely overwhelmed, deciding to let him have his way with you however he needs. His hands travel the expanse of your waist, settling on either side of it, thumbs brushing the underside of each of your breasts that bounce slightly with each movement he makes.

He isn’t satisfied keeping his hands at your waist, though, and one travels back down your stomach and rests in the hair covering your mound. He loves the feeling of the hair between his fingers and he stretches his hand so that his thumb brushes against your clit, maintaining steady pressure on the bud while he grinds and thrusts in and out of you.

“Baby,” you coo from beneath him and he smirks, leaning forward enough to fold your legs up against your sides. Your thighs are pressed against your torso and your knees rest by your ears, the shift in position making you groan, shocked at how deep he is despite the whole of him not even being inside of you. “Need it all, Kakashi, please.”

How can he deny you when you ask so sweetly and he’s so close to cumming himself?

Shifting his own position so that he is practically mounting you, the front of his thighs pressed to the backs of yours. It feels like you can hardly breathe with how he has you folded but you don’t mind, succumbing to the mind numbing pleasure of the additional inches of him slowly sinking inside of you.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

You nod, licking your lips, and he continues to push what remains of his cock inside of you. His hips grind and shift and you do your best to lift your own to meet him but he stills you with the hand spread over your pelvis, pressing directly on your clit while you stretch to accommodate his knot that slowly slips inside of you.

The stretch is delicious and your lashes flutter against your cheek, eyes rolling back into your skull. He thrusts shallowly, not wanting to release his knot from your warmth, but he gives in quickly and withdraws his knot. You gasp at the loss of the fullness but he’s quick to rectify his wrong, slipping his knot back into you in a quick motion that leaves you breathless.

“Full,” you spit out with a nod and he chuckles, dipping his head to kiss you again.

“Not as full as I’d like you to be but soon.”

You giggle and kiss him back, his grunts and pants against your lips making you whimper. He’s so sexy and you’re so full of him, your head spinning when his grunts increase in a way you know means that he’s close. His cock spasms inside of you and his thumb doubles down on its ceaseless pace on your clit, his knot swelling as he groans and fills you with his release. His knot remains swollen and keeps his cock in place, the warmth of his spend filling your pussy.

Reaching for his face, you grab both of his cheeks and kiss him, his thumb still rubbing idle circles on your clit until your hips jerk and the sensation becomes too much.

“I love you,” you return his earlier sentiment with a smile against his mouth. He smiles and kisses you back, the two of you afraid to part and technically unable with his engorged knot still inside of you.

“We have to stay like this for a little while,” he explains and you nod, eyes glossy and body limp. “Instincts say I have to make it take even if we both know it won’t.”

Smiling, you keep your grip on his face and kiss him again.

“Do you feel better?”

He nods, sighing contentedly.

“For now but we have a long week ahead of us and the full moon is on Friday.”

Dots connect in your head and you giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist while he gradually shifts and rests his head on your chest.

“Good thing we’ll be all alone in the woods then, huh?”

Kakashi chuckles and nods, kissing you between your breasts.

“My thoughts exactly.”

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #thot-o-ween 2023 #monster mash 2023 #kendall writes #cw knotting #cw mating

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insanermin · 2 months

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and it taste like cherry lip gloss on your lips

pairing: bartender!ellie x fem!reader

warnings: soft ellie; my favourite warning, fluff! short mentions of blood and vomit (i promise it's not bad just v short), no nsfw, not proof read!

word count: 1,8k

summary: it's the night before your birthday and you party with friends. but leaving is all you think of until a certain bartender appears, cheering you up. or; ellie successfully gives her number to you.

a/n: it's my birthday! (it's the 5th already where i live, so yes, birthday time) yes, i am a pisces but! i am a cap moon and gemini rising, does that make up for it? i don't know, anyway i might make this a series??? inspo: i'm ready for you, bryson tiller

if it wasn't for the two hours of sleep that carried you through this dreadful day, then maybe you wouldn't have to curse out your friends at any second you had to spend here longer. the music pounding in your ears, sweaty bodies blocking your vision and alcohol violating the nerves of your nose. and to top it all off, your feet are starting to hurt, screaming at you to sit down.

although it was the night before your birthday, you couldn't help but think about all the things you'd rather do than to be here. your friends are long gone, they're dancing bodies melting into the crowd while your head is exploding in pain, you're surprised that you're not standing in a red puddle of your own misery.

you shake your head, blink a few times and take a deep breath; you're here to enjoy yourself, you're here to celebrate, you—

"are you okay?" a voice emerges, you're surprised that your ears could pick that up although the music drowns out any other noise that isn't itself. you turn your head to the side, where you believe the question came from, and you're right.

an auburn haired woman, around your height, probably two or three centimetres smaller, wearing a white shirt and pleated wide pants.

you muster her as questions arise in your head. why is her shirt not tugged in? why is she smiling at you? why does she seem so familiar?

"me? i think so," you reply, eyes still roaming for answers, but the more you look at her, the less sense you make out of her.

the barely shorter woman takes a step closer to you, her eyes meeting yours.

for a nanosecond the music turns into mere background noise and your body doesn't scream to dissolve, but the second the beat dropped you were reeled back in.

"you look out of it, want to step out for a bit?" she asks, worry reflecting her face. usually, you'd throw in a few sarcastic remarks here and there, but the smell of sweaty human flesh made you nauseous and you were sure the more you stayed in this crowded room, you would be exchanging the acid inside of your stomach rather than words.

about eight deep breaths later, sitting at the curb and feeling the cold breeze against your face, you finally start feeling better.

however the presence that lingers behind your back is starting to creep you out, especially since said presence hasn't spoken a single word.

you turn around, the woman is leaned against the wall while holding inadvertent eye contact with you.

"mind sitting next to me?" you ask, watching her mouth form a little 'oh' as she takes weirdly slow steps towards you.

she sits down, leaving an awkward gap between the two of you. the awkwardness in the air is overruled by the breeze that carries her woody but sweet scent, a delight to your abused sense of smell.

you observe her spreading her legs further apart, while her arms hug her knees, interesting, you note to yourself.

"so what's your name?" you watch the auburn haired woman scoff at your question. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion; she returns an apologetic look.

"oh, you don't remember me? i'm ellie, the bartender," she says, her green eyes boring into your cheekbones. you're starting to connect the dots, the familiarity, the reason why she approached you. your eyes widen in realisation as ellie just nods slowly in response, her lips thinned to a line.

"right, you work here," you mumble under your breath as your cheeks turn a shade of pink. how could you forget about her when she listened to your drunk rambles?

"what happened to your shirt?" you blurt out, in hopes to shift the focus on her.

ellie looks down, vividly confused at your question, feeling her upper body and noticing the unevenness of her shirt.

"that, well, these ass—" she clears her throat,

"—sorry, they ordered the wrong size for me, so neither my shirt or my vest fit—" the clearly annoyed woman says as she pulls down at her shirt. you knew it wasn't appropriate, however having sight of an admittedly attractive bartender that is not in the greatest of mood is for sure amazing eye-candy, but her voice raising pulls you out of thought.

"—so at this point, i was like fine, sure, fuck y'all, sorry, work on your own, i'm gonna take a break, and that's when i noticed you almost fainting." she finishes. panic grows in her eyes as they await an answer, but impatience and insecurity come first.

"sorry, did i talk too much?" ellie looks away, she hopes for you to take this question as a rhetorical one, her blowing up this way is more humiliating than she'd expect. she fiddles with her fingers, deep in thought.

this night has been incredibly exhausting, but laying her burden upon someone else might be the worst of it all. as a bartender, it's only natural for her to listen to all sorts of stories, every human-being needs someone to talk to, to be heard, to feel understood. although she didn't like to admit nor realise this, it left a sense of superiority within her; everyone relies on her, so she doesn't feel the need to be heard and understood. or that's what she liked to believe.

"no, your voice is soothing," you say, pulling her out of her spiralling thoughts.

the eyes of the distressed woman begin to soften, it might not be the end of the world talking to you, only because you seem to benefit from this conversation, of course.

"at first, i was intimidated by you, you seemed so cool, but now... you're surprisingly awkward," you chuckle, how can an attractive woman be so awkward? however, you didn't really mind, you thought it added some kind of sweetness to her character. she inches a little closer, aggressively facing your way, disbelief written all over her face.

"oh, so i'm not cool anymore? what if i tell you that my hands are pretty skilful?" her upper body is fully turned towards you at this point. she realised that entertaining your playfulness would make her feel better as well, but seeing you press down your lips, colour appearing in your cheeks and you blinking rapidly, quickly made her regret her decision. ellie balls her hand into a fist and covers her mouth, averting her eyes from you.

"shoot, no that's not— i can play the guitar..." the embarrassed woman explains, sorrow overriding the panic in her voice.

but you chuckling draws her eyes back to you, the corners of her mouth not knowing wether to smile or to frown.

"what?" ellie asks, eyebrows raised in expectation and mouth narrowed.

"'shoot' seriously? that doesn't sound like you," your wheezes turn into a heartfelt laugh. your laugh was like a sweet melody to ellie's ears, she didn't expect to enjoy your presence and joke around.

"seems like you're pretty much obsessed with me," she teases, her comfort reflecting in her voice. her mind entertained the idea of going back in, but if it meant to be herself for a few more minutes, then being yelled at for taking a too long break was worth it.

"no not really, you're the one trying to impress me with your skilful hands," you shoot back, feeling at ease. you're content as you notice that the gap between the two of you has completely disappeared.

for a second, your attention is drawn to your buzzing phone as you pull it out of your bag.

12:03 am.

"didn't expect to spend weirdly intimate time with a stranger on my birthday," you say, sentiment lingering in your voice. for some reason, knowing that your friends are on the dance floor enjoying themselves, probably too drunk to remember that they're here to celebrate your birthday, leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

"oh come on that's super insulting— and besides, that's better than spending it alone in the cold," ellie defends herself.

however, her experience as a bartender makes it impossible to ignore the affliction in your voice. although in doubt, she rests her hand on your thigh, her green eyes searching for yours.

"that being said, happy birthday," she continues, a soft smile emerges on ellie's face. you can't tell whether its her hand on your thigh, her smile or just her that lets your heart skip a beat or two, but you don't really mind.

"thank you, but it's a little sad that only a bartender is congratulating me," you try to joke, your voice is laced with bitterness.

"no, you're getting it wrong, only extraordinary and amazing people are able to get a 'happy birthday' from a bartender, consider yourself lucky," the auburn haired woman chuckles as she pats your thigh.

her touch leaves you with goosebumps and looking at her face would only worsen it, so you avert your gaze from her. but when you realise what she just told you, curiosity conquers your mind.

"you think i'm extraordinary and amazing?" you ask, followed up by a scoff.

ellie's eyes widen, she winces and coughs. it only now crosses her mind that the two of you might have been flirting this whole time. but seeing the way your hair frames your face and your dress hugging your body, maybe she doesn't mind so much after all.

"well, i like the way you are, i mean not like like, you know, uh, you... have a cool personality," ellie's rosy cheeks spoke sooner than she could, leaving her completely vulnerable to you. her forced laughs and her fist rubbing her chin only aggravates said vulnerability, you got her good.

"you're pretty cool too, thank you," you reply, flashing a grin her way. your birthday night not be so terrible after all.

you only start to feel the cold of the night when ellie stands up, her presence taking all the warmth there was with her. you watch her search for something wildly in her pockets, her big hands are quite nice to look at.

"here," the woman offers you a crumpled up note, she always keeps one in her pocket just in case. mouthing an 'o', you accept said note and chuckle at its content. it feels good to be appreciated by a stranger once in a while, especially when that person is as good looking as ellie.

"i'm much cooler when you get to know me better—" she continues, her cheeks still pink.

"i would text me if i were you. only if you want of course, no pressure or anything," she suggests, her back now turned to you. she glances once more at you, before waving you goodbye while entering the club again. the last thing you hear is a very quiet 'yes' as the door closes, leaving only you and the few stars lighting up the sky.

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magnoliasandarson · 2 months

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"he came back wrong"

Dick Grayson was many things, a hero, a performer, a lover, a son, but of all of the things he was, he was most proud of being a brother.

He was gone when his baby brother, his Little Wing, was murdered.

He was gone when Bruce buried a five-foot casket six feet down.

He was gone when his brother needed him most.

He was there for Tim, though. Dick wasn't ready to see the Robin costume on another too-small bright-eyed kid, but he tried for Tim. He taught him how to fly, how to be brave, and how to defuse a bomb. Dick never stopped grieving for his lost Wing, but he tried to live for Tim.

Then his Jay Bird came back. Sure, he had murderous tendencies, but Dick had hunted down Tony Zucco when he was ten. And yeah, the thing with Tim pissed him off, but Dick had hardly been a golden example of brotherhood in the beginning. It took one look at poisonous green eyes that used to be bright blue for Dick to forgive Jason for everything.

It was difficult to understand why his Baby Bird wouldn't come home, but Dick wasn't stupid, and he recognized League fighting when he saw it. It wasn't hard to connect the dots. He told Bruce what he thought happened to Jay and how he must've been brought back.

Bruce didn't care, "He came back wrong."

Dick was many things, but his blood sang with violence and vengeance that even Batman couldn't match. It took Tim and Alfred to pull him off of the man he once thought of as a father.

#dick grayson #good brother dick grayson #nightwing is batmans contingency for a reason #nightwing #robin #batman #batfam #dc comics #dc universe #jason todd #tim drake #dc robin #dick grayson isnt stupid #he literally fought ras #he wouldve noticed pit madness #lazarus pit #bruce wayne

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bradshawsbitch · 6 months

Text

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅸ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 3.2K

× chapter warnings; swearing, see general story warnings, mature content, mentions of food

disclaimer; first of all, thank you!! for being so understanding and amazing about this story. i am so overwhelmed with love for all of you who keep being excited about my surly chef, even after all this time. second of all, i am sorry for it having been an 'all this time' - your support means everything to me. thank you again ❤

this chapter was super hard for me to write, which is why it's a little shorter, and perhaps more of a filler and a thank you to my readers. please be aware that the prose may be a little rusty as i am slowly getting back into writing again ❤

tagging some people who i know have waited; @roosterforme @hangmanssunnies @mak-32 @laracrofted @pisupsala @cherrycola27 @gretagerwigsmuse @seresinsweetie @ryebecca @lewmagoo

otherwise you can follow @bradshawsbitch-library and turn on notifications ❤

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Soft little sighs, muffled by muted green sheets fill the room as rays of the morning sun turns harsher the higher it rises in the sky. Noon is approaching, unbeknownst to the two laying still in bed. A Monday, which for many means the start of a new week, gone is the restful weekend and labor is nigh. For the two forms in bed though, the pace of mere mortals were not applicable. A waitress and a chef could sleep in, for their holy day was indeed Monday. Most restaurants were closed, or very slow come Monday - which gave those weary souls a day to rest.

Turning slowly, the woman burrow deeper into the sheets, a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips as she heard Bradley’s soft, sleepy grunt as his arms tightened around her naked midsection. He hasn’t awoken yet, and neither had you, not fully at least. Sleepy eyes were slow to open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light that surrounds the two of you.

Waking up next to Rooster’s warm form sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Seeing the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips are ever so slightly parted - his cupid’s bow defined so prettily beneath that lovely facial hair of his… the way freckles dot along the bridge of his nose… tan skin so beautiful, ridges, freckles and spots that adorn his skin. Sleepily, you let your finger trace over those shapely shoulders, where, much like the stars the freckles dot all the more frequently.

“Bambi…” Rooster grunts, voice raspy and breathless - the mere mention of your nickname makes those fluttery wings of butterflies flap helplessly within your chest. His hold on you tightens again, drawing you in towards his chest. One arm embraces your form soothingly, as the other gently tucks your head into his chest, a large thigh suddenly nudging its way in between yours to rest. This position he also adjusts, letting the hand that had rested in its embrace slide slowly down past your bottom, ghosting over your thigh before gripping just above your knee - drawing it up high on his thigh.

A content sigh leaves his lips as his thumb draws soothing circles on the bare skin that’s still in his firm hold, pleased with how he’s molded you into his form. You fit quite nicely here, he reflects as you start to place small kisses against Bradley’s sternum - he’s warm from sleep, radiating calm and safety as he holds you near.

“Getting enough air in there, sweets?” he rumbles after a few moments of your face buried in the dip between his pecs, lips ghosting over his sternum every now and then. Nodding, you let out a soft ‘mhm’ in reply as you trace your hands over the ridges of his hips and waist, gently letting yourself explore his adonis belt and lower abdomen.

Bradley lets out the softest of noises, a choked moan that seems to catch in the back of his throat as his pubic hair tickles the back of your hand as you leave feather light touches closer and closer to where he needs you. His grip on you has tightened, and his nose and lips are pressed tight against your hair where he inhales deeply. His palm is flexing, tensing and kneading where his palm is spread on your thigh - he hesitates for only a short moment before he uses his strength to pull your leg further over his hip.

A small gasp and a pathetic whine slips past your lips as your lower body joins where your hand had been exploring just seconds ago. Drawing your hand back, you feverishly grasp at Bradley’s neck, shuffling to tilt your head back up to catch his lips with yours, your body fluid and ever moving against his large form. Pressing, pushing, pulling– the leg Rooster had pulled closer now draws him in to you, the whole length of your naked body pressed against his sturdy one.

“Fuck, Bambi…” he groans as you grip the short hair at the nape of his neck before your lips chase his, you whine again as Rooster’s palm slides up to grip the flesh of your ass, kneading and grinding you against his hardening cock.

“Bradley!” you gasp as you feel his warm, soft skin run along your sensitive clit. Another whimper leaves you, clinging on to his shoulders, drawing him in with all the strength your sore muscles can muster. You need to be closer, need to have him surrounding you in every sense. Bradley hums deep in his chest as his lips stray from yours to leave chaste kisses along your neck, his hot tongue laving over points he discovered you were responsive to yesterday.

Bradley’s hand drifts from your waist, up to tease at your nipple, pinching, pulling gently before letting his palm envelop your flesh, kneading and drawing out soft little moans from you before he traces his fingers down your stomach, down to where you’re rutting against his upper thigh.

“What’s my needy little baby want, hm?” his raspy morning voice reverberates in your ears, and as he speaks he lets the rough pad of his index finger press against your clit, slowly drawing languid circles in time with your desperate movements.

“Need you…” you whine, frustrated that he thought now was a good time to tease you. His soft chuckle in response draws the least intimidating little growl out of you, and Bradley can only smile as he places a soft kiss to your lips

“Relax,” he whispers “we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart,” as he says this, a single thick finger gently eases back and forth over your slick folds before pushing inside. Bradley slowly moves in and out of you, lips attached to the junction of your neck and shoulder, drawing small moans out of you as he works you open for him.

If yesterday had been frantic and explosive, today Bradley was savoring you. He wanted to memorize every sound you made, every move of your body as it reacted to his touch, every mewl of his name falling from parted lips. As he worked three fingers into you, he could hear your breathing pick up slightly, your grip on his bicep tightening and loosening rapidly, and he couldn’t help the smirk that grew against your salty skin.

“You gon’ cum for me, sweet little Bambs?” he muttered, and you could only nod as your moans turned high pitched, Rooster never slowing or altering his movements as your body shook against his own as you tipped over the edge on his fingers. Bradley moaned low at the sight of you.

“Look like a fuckin’ angel cumming on my fingers…” he murmured “Fuck, darling, you make me so fuckin’ hard.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he used your slick to coat his cock, languidly stroking himself as you came down from your first high. Panting, you nudged your nose against his, lips connecting in a fleeting kiss before you felt the nudge of his swollen tip against your puffy entrance. “Please,” you whispered softly against his lips, fleetingly catching a glimpse of those amber eyes. They were so intense, but you couldn’t look away if your life depended on it.

At that first gentle push, your breath stuttered against Bradley’s parted lips. His cock was slowly inching into you, and even if he’d made a point to carefully prepare you for him, that initial stretch felt otherworldly - had he been this big yesterday too?

Grunting, Bradley’s eyes fluttered shut. Gripping his bicep, you inhaled sharply, pressing your forehead against his as he stilled. “You alright, baby?” he murmured, his hand moving to soothe up and down your back, making your chest flutter with emotion.

“Yeah- just… were you this big last night?” you moaned, and Rooster couldn’t help the small laugh that left him, before he reached up to cup your cheek. Moving away a little, he let his adoring gaze roam over your face. The cute scrunch of your nose, the thin sheen of sweat making you glow, eyes alight with lust and… Bradley blinked, taking in the way your chest heaved, the way his body was molded against yours, your warmth and your trust - it made him dizzy.

“More… please, Bradley,” your voice was soft, and you slowly moved closer to his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck where your lips flitted over the skin of his throat, along the long line that went across it, up to his jaw and back down to gently suckle at the skin near his collarbones.

Letting his strong arms wrap around you, Bradley moved against you, one hand slowly ghosting over your skin to grip your thigh as his cock slid deeper and deeper into your core, finally bottoming out as he gently pushed at the small of your back to tilt your hips just right. Small little noises reverberated against his warm skin, and he felt your lips leave wet traces as you occupied your mouth with his neck and shoulders.

“You okay, Cookie?” he murmurs against your ear as he rocks his hips slightly against you. The soft mewl you let out fills his chest with pride, and something like a fierce need to protect you, to make sure you’re taken care of.

“So good, Roos’” the words were slightly slurred against the naked skin of his shoulder, and he grunted softly as he yet again used his strength to form your body against his. His large palm resumed their hold right above your knee, drawing it upwards as he pressed your bottom down against himself. Almost as if he was rocking your body against his instead of the other way around.

“Sound so pretty for me, darlin’” Bradley murmured, gently nudging your chin with his nose, lips hovering over your skin - he needed you to look at him. Needed to see the way those sweet eyes betrayed adoration, betrayed lust and need and want and… trust. He needed to see how much you depended upon him - how you’d given yourself to him to cherish.

As with every other thing, you were so responsive to him. To his voice, touch - it was dizzying, truly. Your glittering eyes held his, and he moaned low in his throat as he felt the way you squeezed him as you caught sight of his face. He could feel his heartrate picking up, could feel the way his breath were coming in shorter bursts, and it fucking turned him on to no end that that drew the softest of little mewls from you - made your brows pinch in that cute little needy fashion he’d noticed only once yesterday.

“You okay, my little Bambs?” he murmured softly, letting his lips brush against yours lovingly “I’m so okay,” you whispered against him, your hands slowly running across his muscled chest, nails leaving soft little tendrils of pleasure as they went.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rooster confessed breathlessly, grunting softly at the end as his cock slid, if possible, even deeper into your heat - as your hips started rutting against his movements. The soft moan of his name made him groan, fucking into you more languidly - slow, steady and deep. The hand that wasn’t gripping your thigh, keeping it hitched high over his hip, returned to squeeze and knead at the flesh of your breast. Fuck, he loved your tits. Loved your body, loved– his breath hitched in his throat, heart almost doing fucking double time…

Blinking, he let out a shuddering breath before letting his mouth leave a wet trail down your throat, before his lips enclosed on your nipple, his tongue teasing and flicking against the nub. At the sensation of Bradley’s hot tongue on your sensitive breasts, you let out a high pitched moan, pushing your chest against Bradley’s face as your hands flew to his curls, gripping tight as you panted wildly. You were so sensitive, and Bradley’s cock was stretching you, pulling and pushing so so slow - and yet he made it feel so fucking good. You could almost feel every ridge and vein as the drag of his cock made wetness drip from your core, down his length, making a mess of his pubic hair… He was fucking you so incredibly, right there in his bed, that you’d both shared that night.

You cried out his name again, ending almost on a sob as he pushed his cock deep inside just as he let his lips latch on to your flesh, giving it a heady suckle - his facial hair scratching just hard enough to bring tears to your eyes from the pleasurable sensation. That pressure was building again, deep in your core, building and getting more and more tense. He was everywhere, just like you’d wanted. Filling you, tasting you, gripping you… his smell was surrounding you, the feel of his hair, the warmth of his body, his sweat glowing like a halo around his body in the morning sun as the muscles in his back rippled and moved.

“Bradley!” you sobbed pathetically, clawing and clinging to him, he must have felt how close you were. Your pussy was pulsing around his thick dick, your arousal dripping down his balls at this point. He was grunting and moaning against your flesh, and you desperately tried to rut your hips, needing more, more more– but he kept his slow, deep pace. His cock barely left your cunt before he pushed deep, each stroke of his cock hitting that spot that you hadn’t been sure if it existed or not.

“That’s it, baby,” Bradley’s voice sounded wrecked and broken as he released your now glistening nipple. “Can feel you squeezing my dick,” he sounded almost smug - you hated that it almost turned you on. His large hand was still palming at your tit as he nipped and kissed gently at your jaw, your hands still tugging desperately on his hair.

“N-need more,” you gasped, pleading with him as you looked down on him. Those amber eyes of his were shadowed by heady lust, and he just smirked softly before shaking his head ever so slightly “No,” he muttered, kissing your chin as you cried out, the tears that had burned behind your lids slowly running down your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his cock twitching deep within your pussy “so pretty, darling, crying for more of my cock,” he whispered, you couldn’t do more than nod and keen, letting out small cries and whimpers as you felt your core clench around him harder, chasing that high so desperately.

“You’ll cum from this, baby.” he rasped “You don’t need more.” he decided- It felt like he was cradling your body in his hands, molding and shaping, pushing, pulling, playing with you as if you were only made for him. And he was right. As he spoke those words, a shocked gasp tore through your throat as you cried and sobbed, white hot pleasure rolling through your body in waves as you shook and shook, convulsing slightly with every thrust that Bradley’s swollen tip hit that sensitive spot deep within your core.

“Fuck–” Bradley moaned loudly, “atta girl,” he praised, voice breaking slightly as your hips rolled and shook in his hold “Fuck, Bambi- I’m gon’...” his chest rose and fell rapidly, his shoulders and back muscles rippling as he fought to hang on to see you through your high, not sure if he could–

“Cum in me,” you whined softly, needing him. Needing him everywhere. At those words, Bradley shattered. He couldn’t hold on if his life depended upon it. With a long, low moan of your name, his hips stuttered, once twice, stilling deep within you as he gasped and his warm release filled you, over and over as his cock pulsated through his high.

“Jesus, darling…” Bradley gasped and moaned low as your cunt throbbed around his still hard dick, milking him of the last of his orgasm. “So good… so fuckin’ beautiful… soft ‘n pretty,” he was murmuring now, kissing his pretty words into the skin of your chest. He finally released his grip on your thigh, palms gently smoothing over the area, ghosting over your skin as his strong arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him as you both caught your breaths.

“Bradley,” you murmured lovingly, nuzzling into his warmth, it was hard to describe how you were feeling - but it felt weird. Good, but a little jarring. You’d never experienced sex in this fashion before - not entirely sure you’d even experienced any other partner giving you two orgasms, let alone while they were actually inside of you. Your heart was fluttering fast and hard, and the tears that had run down your cheeks had all but dried, but it felt as if the high was lingering - clouding your mind and making you feel so utterly vulnerable.

Perhaps he could sense it, perhaps he could hear it in the smallness of your voice, but slowly he’d ushered you to rest against the broad expanse of his chest as he softly shushed and murmured against your skin. “You’re alright, darlin’ - did so good.” in the fluffy state your mind was in, you hadn’t really gathered that you were whimpering and making noises as Bradley held you.

“There you are, baby… you’re alright, you’re safe - I’ve got you honey… fuck - that was incredible… you’re incredible,” he let out a small laugh as his strong hands moved up and down your spine, the other gently stroking over your hair as he murmured praise and soft words of encouragement in your ear. Tilting your head back, you took in the tenderness of his brown eyes, and you smiled softly up at him.

“That’s it, there’s my beautiful Bambi,” Rooster murmured before placing a small kiss on your nose. “Gave unsteady legs a new meanin’ huh?” he rasped, grinning as you swatted at his chest, although you couldn’t help the amused smile that stretched on your lips.

“Do we have to get up?” you murmured, pouting softly at the thought of leaving this heavenly moment. You didn’t want to walk out into the harshness, the cold, the bitter. You wanted to stay here, in Bradley’s arms where everything was okay, everything was safe and covered in a thick layer of fluffy soft clouds.

“Not right now,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head “I have to get up to cook you something of substance to eat in a while, but you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that just yet,” he smiled, placing a reassuring kiss against your hair. You smiled softly at the thought, a content sigh making your form rise and fall gently in his hold.

“You never stop working, do you?” you teased.

“Well, hate to break it to ya, Bambs - but people will unfortunately always need to eat,” rolling your eyes, you felt the head chef had earned another light slap against his chest - the only answer was a rumbling sort of laughter that made his chest vibrate slightly against your touch.

“And cooking for you isn’t a job,” he said casually “it’s something I love doing.”

For some reason, those small words sent a strong wave of emotion through your body, awakening the flutters of butterfly wings again. This time they were not only contained to your stomach, but seemed to flutter and spread warmth and overwhelming, nearly suffocating emotions all through your body. Choked up, you merely squeezed Bradley as tight as your muscles would allow it before offering him the most sincere

“Thank you.”

#mise en place series #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fics #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster imagine

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galacticspaceguy · 11 months

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can i have a miguel o’hara platonic reader?? maybe younger sibling and he’s overly protective of them. they want to fight alongside miguel and help him restore the multiverse but miguel wont allow them. they get into a mini argument which ends with them hugging n stuff and finally miguel allows his younger sibling to fight w him IDK IF THIS IS A LOT BUT I NEED MORE PLATONIC X READERS 😭😭

Miguel O’Hara x gn! Reader (platonic)

You were Spider-Man.

Ok, You were all Spider-Man.

But you were different. At least, Miguel would say so. Not in a bad way. Miguel just liked you more than everyone else.

You were younger, and he felt responsible for you.

You both come from different worlds, except his was gone. You were the only good thing he had left, you were like the little sibling he never asked for but always wanted.

How did you two meet? Well, it’s a long story.

It actually isn’t that long.

Almost a year ago, you were fighting Green Goblin, and then Miguel showed up, and kicked his ass.

-and then you got recruited.

You don’t really know why though, you never did anything.

You mostly stayed in the lobby. Correction, you only ever stayed in the lobby. Yeah, you had your own earth and everything, but Miguel had a bunch of stuff figured out so all the dangerous criminals in your world would be taken care of.

Now all that was left was small crimes, like break-ins or petty theft. You spent most of your days getting cats out of trees.

It was nice not getting the shit- crap beaten out of you every few weeks, but this was just boring.

But you guess with Miguel to keep you company, it wasn’t too bad.

It was obvious to the rest of the spider lobby that Miguel was protective of you- perhaps too much. They even started calling you “Y/N O’Hara” or “mini O’hara”, much to your own amusement.

“Hey, Miguel!” You called out, strolling into Miguel’s totally not evil void office. “You done brooding, I got us empanadas from Earth- something-something,I forgot.”

You held two white styrofoam containers in your hands. You clicked the web shooter in your palm. A web stuck into a base and you swung yourself up to Miguel’s upper platform.

“At first I was gonna get Chinese takeout, but it turns out some guy exploded the place, so this shall suffice!” You lightly tossed him one of the containers.

You took a seat on top of a table, crossed your legs and started digging in.

“So-“ you said through bites. “What did you do today despite standing here all menacingly?”

Miguel had taken a seat, picking at little bits of his food.

Miguel looked at you with a look you could only describe as a silent “really?”.

“I’m kidding!” You threw your hands up innocently. “But no, seriously what have you been doing in here?”

He placed his food down, and pulled up a screen, showing off a picture of the Spiderverse- or the ultimately confusing Humanoid-Arachnia, poly multiverse- or whatever Miguel calls it.

“More worlds are becoming infected. It’s like the whole multiverse is about to collapse in on itself.” His tone of voice was already serious, but you knew behind that stoicism, he was scared.

You ate your food down, and walked towards him. You leaned over his shoulder, looking at all the red little dots on the screen, the names of different spider universes popping up like crazy.

“What am I even looking at right now?” You said this as more of a joke. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Please, take this seriously.”

“I will once you give me my first job.” You crossed your arms. You’ve been begging to be out in the field for months, to no avail.

Miguel got up and turned to face you. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this-“

There was a loud beeping sound coming from the screen.

“Lyla, what’s going on!?”

“Another dimension, another anomaly, you know the drill.” The mini holographic woman said.

Miguel sighed, his face a blank slate of unknown emotions. He started walking away. You trailed behind him.

“Great, let’s get going!”

He froze in his tracks. “Who said you were going.”

“Uh, me.” You stopped and turned to look at him, placing a confident hand on your hip.

“No.” He brushed past you.

“Wait, what!?” You quickly caught up with him, but he continued walking. “But I’ve been waiting for this for months!”

“You’re not going.” He didn’t even look at you. He started tampering with his watch.

“But that’s not fair!?” You yelled. You stopped, and stood there. He heard your steps come to a stop, and he slowly came to a halt.

“It’s too dangerous.” He still wasn’t looking at you, and it was starting to drive you insane.

“You can’t be serious.” You almost laughed. “You call up Jess for backup, and she’s with child!” You scoffed.

“You’re not ready.” He said, a bit louder this time, clearer.

“Yes, I am. I’m spiderman! I’ve been ready, why won’t you let me do this!?” You walked up to him. He finally turned to face you.

“You’re not going. That’s final.” He shook his head. The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

He didn’t think you were strong enough.

You weren’t enough.

“You don’t think I can do it!?” You yelled.

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant-“

“Oh, sure!” You’d scoffed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “That’s why you won’t let me tag along- or won’t even let me fight my own battles, why not, huh? Am I not strong enough for you?”

You were jolted forward when he grabbed your shoulders. He shook you. You froze in his grasp.

“I can’t lose anyone else!”

He screamed. The emotional walls he held up fell. He panted, seemingly out of breath from a single sentence. He let go of you, letting his hands fall to his sides.

Everything is so eerily quiet, nothing but the sounds of shaky breaths and the sounds of machinery in the background.

“I can’t…” Miguel said in nothing higher than a whisper. If he spoke another word, he would break.

You wrapped your arms around him. It catches him off guard at first, but quickly he holds you, like if he lets go, you would disappear.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, and you can feel his arms tighten around you.

After what felt like an eternity of it just being you two, you let go. Miguel looks away to hide his tear stained face.

“You get one mission. If it goes well, you can come on more.” His voice was hoarse, but it was beginning to return to its normal tone.

“Yes!” You shouted, and hugged him again, this time it was short and outlived. He smiles down at you.

“What are we waiting for?” You asked, pulling him along. “Let’s go save the multiverse!”

#across the spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #oneshot #writing

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i-smoke-chapstick · 2 months

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can you write gotham ozzie x reader?? like, their first time together and all; smut obviously, but with kinda feelings (we respect our emotional short king)

‘OFF TO THE RACES,

-GOTHAM!OSWALD COBBLEPOT X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Oswald embraces his rather crude interests.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!oswald x female reader. SMUT! (with feelings) PORN WITH (some) PLOT! I can’t stop writing oswald smut fics to lana del rey songs. Oswald being soft,,,and a bit rough. He’s a gangster, after all.

♫ “My old man is a bad man, but I can't deny the way he holds my hand / You are my one true love” Off To The Races by Lana Del Rey

You stare at him from across the table. God, you love this place, and you know he does too. His luxurious mansion and a banquet full of food parallel to you.

It feels like home to you two. And he’s been riding on a high ever since the both of you aknowledged your feelings. He still remembers it like yesterday- the way your eyes lit up. The way this feeling of sheer adoration, love, admiration; was reciprocated.

But somethings different tonight. You can’t quite place it. He’s at least eight feet away from you, fidgeting with his cain like how he did before you admitted your feelings to eachother. He’s stuck in his own head, and a blush dusts his perfect freckled face. He refuses to meet your gaze, and in his other hand, he lazily stirs a glass of brandy in his palm. Every now and then, you catch him looking into the swirls of the glass.

It surprised you, how much he drinks when somethings on his mind. Not to mention, he typically didn’t ask you to dinner like this. No, not now that the two of you were dating. This type of behavior was reserved for those flustered days beforehand- not now.

Your almost scared he’s going to break up with you. Let you go. Do something rash. Does he think you betrayed him or something…?

You tap your fingers along the side of the table. The food infront of you has gone uneaten, both of you anxious.

Finally, his blue-green eyes look up- and he clears his throat. He looks at you through dazed, hooded eyes. He’s obviously a bit tipsy from his drink, but not over confident. You almost jump at the sound of him. You cross your fingers and pray for the best.

He stares at you and his eyes narrow, feigning confidence. But in a way, his lip quivers, betraying how nervous he is to speak.

“Y/N. A man comes to a crossroads in his life, and he has to make a choice. Does he choose safety and cowardice, or…does he opt for courage, and risk everything?”

You take a beat as you follow his words. It almost sounds rehearsed. Just what the hell was he saying?

You can audibly hear him swallow.

“A man, ahem, also has…needs. So to speak.” He clears his throat again. “I choose courage. What I’m trying to say is-“ He sucks his teeth, almost rolling his eyes at himself. “The thing I’ve been wanting to ask you all day long is…”

His voice gets caught in his throat like a fish out of water. He continues to stare at you incredulously, almost horrified with himself for not being able to speak. You go to prompt him- before the dots connect in your head. The crimson blush on his cheeks. The fidgeting.

A man has needs.

You let out a loud bark of laughter, interrupting his crestfallen scilence. He immediately looks even more terrified, mouth opening and closing in surprise at your outburst.

“Y/N!” He tries to reprimand you, but it wavers. He’s flustered beyond belief, sure he’s made a fool of himself. “Why are you laughing?!” He weakly demands, a clear expression of dread on his beautiful face.

Through soft chuckles, your laugh dies down. “Are you asking to sleep with me, Oz?”

He’s rendered slack-jawed at the bluntness of your response. He immediately goes to defend himself, as to not sound offensive or vulgar.

“What?!? No-“ He quickly denies, before catching his breath and closing his eyes in a huff. “Yes.” He says quietly through gritted teeth.

It makes you chuckle again, and if his pale skin could get any redder it would. He glares at you now, obviously feeling a bit rejected.

“Okay, well you don’t have to laugh!” He squawks. The grip on his drink is so tight you can see his knuckles go white.

You realize that laughing might not have been the best idea. But you can’t help it. The man set up a dinner to ask his own girlfriend to sleep with him. It’s…sweet. Very gentlemanly. You flash him a smile.

“No, Oz. Trust me, I want to. It’s just…we are together now. You don’t have to ask me to dinner like you’re courting me in the 1800s. If you want to have sex, just say so.”

He’s stunned into scilence, obviously still a bit embarassed. He wants to explain himself. That he isn’t used to this. That he doesn’t want to offend you. He doesn’t want to lose you.

You realize you might have to make all the first moves for now. You quickly stand up from your seat at the table, and he watches your every move like a hawk.

“What are you-“ He goes to ask- before you stand over him. You offer him your hand, and nod.

“Bedroom.” You lower your voice to a whisper. Through utterly confused and stunned brows, he stares at you, before standing up in a hurry. He smooths his suit jacket down and spins his cane in his hand; quickly following you in a hurry out the dining room.

It started painfully slow, his hands messily stripping you of your clothes. His nose bumped into yours while the two of you kissed, his teeth clashing against you in a desperate and needy attempt to be closer. But you knew- every moment and kiss and too gentle peck placed against your skin was all out of love.

He got hard almost embarrassingly fast, and he knew it. But how could he help himself? The woman he loved was about to open her legs for him. You two were going to become one. What could be more fitting for his one true love? The amount of pleasure the act could bring you both had been on his mind for days. But he couldn’t necessarily just…ask for it. For one, it was embarrassing. And two, he’s fairly inexpirenced. That much he was sure everyone could see.

His lips ghosted over every inch of your skin, kissing you like his life depended on it. He worshipped you, eyes widening when you laid bare before him. He took in the sight, mouth agape as he stared intently at every curve of your body. You shuffled needily under his gaze, and felt his cool hand trace a long stripe down your chest to your slit.

You gasped when he inserted a finger suddenly. Without giving you time to adjust, he musters a pitiful “I’m sorry,” in a whisper. Oh, you can see right through him. He’s not sorry at all. He’s been waiting for this on the edge of his seat for the past week, you’re sure. And you’re happy to give it to him. Especially when his hand reaches a spot inside of you that makes you mewl underneath him.

The sound of your wet slick fills the room. You can tell he’s smiling at the sound, confidence finally spurring him on.

He hums at you underneath him, and quickly undoes his trousers in a much less elegant fashion than he had undressed you. No, now all of his moments are hard and fast. He keeps his suit jacket on, keeping himself clothed. You don’t see his cock, but you feel it peirce you in a swift movement.

The both of you let out an embarrassingly loud moan at this. You pray Olga is in a room much farther away.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, soft grunts following as he thrusts slowwwww. You thread your hands in his hair and trace the light muscles in his back, and you hear him panting. He’s already getting close.

Only a few more seconds pass, before his whole body stills- and you know he’s cumming inside you. He becomes rigid in your hold, his hands grasping at the sheets and your body hard. You let out a yelp at the bruising grip, and feel his load in between your thighs as he slips out of you.

He lets out another series of “I’m sorry”’s, and these are much more genuine. He can’t bare to look at you, finishing so quickly. But you felt so good. So tight. And he hasn’t done… this in a long time.

You gently shush him, and feel him press soft ghosts of kisses to your head. Oh, he’s embarrassed. Let him catch his breath.

A few more moments pass and he’s lifting himself up on his elbows, looking down at you.

Your confused as to why he’s staring until he enters you again.

He places his forehead against your own, eyes closing. He gasps, sweat tainting his brow. You let out a loud moan at the feeling of being stretched out again- you know this must hurt for him. He must be overstimulated beyond belief. Not to mention how quickly he got hard again.

…But you think a part of him loves this. The feeling of his partner clenching around him, the feeling of the walls of your cunt grasping onto his cock. It makes him feel needed. The joining of your bodies and minds. After this, he is yours for eternity; like a dog on a leash. Just as you are his.

Prepare yourself, this is just the begginning. He intends to stay up all night claiming you like this, for many more nights to come.

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 18 - Classic Christmas Songs (The First Nöel)

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,924 | rated: G

It didn’t take too long after the song started for Eddie to want out.

He debated staying, just to listen to Steve sing along to it under his breath while he meticulously weaved strips of dough over a pie with what Eddie thinks is way too huge a mound of blueberries, but even that didn’t help.

Steve’s ‘everyone over for Christmas dinner before Christmas’ idea made Eddie skeptical at first, having literally everyone (the Hendersons, Mrs. Wheeler along with Nancy, Mike, and Holly, The Sinclairs, the Hopper-Byers clan, Gareth and Freak along with Jeff and his mom, the Buckleys (of course), and even he and Wayne) together under one roof seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

But no.

Everyone got along great, the lot of them snacking on meats and cheeses, stolen candy and cookies that Steve had made over the last couple days, Wayne, Hop, and Claudia are fussing over two whole turkeys and a huge ham, and Joyce, Karen and Lucas are whipping up huge batches of side dishes.

And it doesn’t usually affect him this bad anymore, but that damned song paired with all of their huge chosen family together under one roof like this, warm, happy, healthy…he had to leave.

He did not want to get emotional in front of them.

The sound of the door sliding on its track breaks Eddie’s reverie. It was longer than he thought it’d take for someone to come looking for him, but he suspects that it was done on purpose.

He doesn’t look back at who decided to grace him with their presence, but immediately knows who it is when a hat gets pushed down onto his head, just a bit too far down.

“You’re not catching a cold on my watch, Munson.”

Eddie pushes the fold of the knit cap off his eyes, “Wasn’t planning on it Steve-o.”

“Coulda fooled me. As if trying to withstand a whole winter in a leather jacket isn’t gonna give you a cold.”

A snort of a laugh escapes Eddie’s lips at Steve’s sarcastic tone. “I have, and no colds yet.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Steve says, sitting down beside him. “That’s why you borrowed my old puffer coat last time you were here, right?”

The lone poolside chair not packed away for the season wasn’t his first choice of seating, but it was the only one. Though Steve’s dry heat beside him is already a welcome balance to the cold metal and plastic of the chair.

Eddie’s lips twitch up into a brief smile, “I didn’t want to get mine all wet.”

They fall silent after that, and Eddie fishes his lighter and pack of Marlboro’s out of his pocket, pulling one out of the carton and lighting it up.

He offers one to Steve, but he waves him off.

“So.” Steve says after about half the cigarette was gone.

“So?”

“Are you alright, Eddie?”

He stays silent, debating whether or not to actually tell Steve what was wrong or just brush it off again.

“Was it something I–we said? Or did?” Eddie caught the slip, and decided he was going to tell him, but Steve continued on, “I know you’re not the biggest fan of Christmas anyway..”

“No, it’s not—” Eddie heaves a sigh, and even he can hear the exasperated relenting in it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. None of you did.”

He takes a drag and blows out a long stream of steamy breath and smoke. It hits him then, before he even speaks, that he’s being dramatic. Has been being dramatic. What a stupid thing to get emotional about.

“My middle name is Nöel. Like, fully, exactly how it’s supposed to be spelled for the holidays. The two dots over the O and everything. So it’s just me being dramatic; it gets annoying to hear all season.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s gotten away with it, that Steve’s silence is just satisfied understanding, but just before he’s about to put himself back on the right way to go back inside, Steve speaks again.

“Where’d the name come from?”

Eddie finally looks over at him, taking in the comically mismatched pink My Little Pony scarf (Erica’s) and bright safety green beanie (Robin’s) he’d thrown on before coming out to the patio. “..Huh?”

Eloquent as ever, Munson.

“C’mon man.” Steve says, rolling his eyes fondly and nudging Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “You act like I don’t know you.”

Eddie’s “You don’t.” is automatic.

Steve just scoffs, “You disappeared without a word, man; normally you announce, with wildly different levels of dramatics each time, that you’re going to smoke, or you ‘gotta take a leak’. You didn’t do that this time so naturally that means this was more than just getting annoyed by a Christmas carol.”

Eddie blinks at him. Stunned by the proof that he, Eddie Munson, was one of the people Steve used his almost insane levels of observation on after all. Usually it’s wasted on the kids; Steve’s acute ability to hone in on exactly what each of the party needs at any given time—how Steve has encyclopedic knowledge on each of their favorite snacks, their preferred drinks, games, movies, which blankets they like to steal from the Harringtons’ nearly bottomless linen closet—almost always goes unappreciated.

“I may not get a lot of things, but I do pay attention to the people I care about.” Steve continues on, voicing Eddie’s thoughts.

“You a mind reader now too, Harrington?”

Steve grins at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah man, I’m just a damn good babysitter.”

Eddie huffs out another laugh, “Sorry to tell ya this, but I don’t need to be babied or sat.”

He doesn’t say anything more, just waits for Eddie to continue.

“It was my mom.” Eddie finally concedes, “She gave me the name Nöel. So you kinda hit it on the head, there is more to it than just the song.

“Wayne says she chose it because she loved the season, that it was when she felt most at peace no matter what else was going on in her life.”

Steve is quiet beside him, just existing in the space while Eddie finishes off his cigarette.

“And that’s why I get so salty about Christmas. It’s not because she died around this time of year, which doesn’t help of course, it’s because she loved the holiday so much. I mean,” he snorts, “She named me after it after all. So this time of year always felt so wrong without her.”

He stubs the flame under his boot, scrubbing it into the concrete and promising himself he’ll come back for the butt later (he’ll forget).

The younger man is silent for two more breaths.

“Eddie, I am so sorry..”

All he can do is shrug, “It’s fine Steve, I’m used to that song by now–well, I was.”

“What changed?”

Eddie lets out another steadying breath. “When I was little, down in Tennessee, it was worse because I was little. All the crafts and games and things they did with first and middle names in elementary school y’know?” He sees Steve nod out of the corner of his eye. “The kids down there would sing the damn song at me to make fun of me. After I came up here to live with Wayne it got better…kinda.

“The kids here didn’t know what my middle name was, and Wayne would switch the radio station if that godforsaken song would come on come December, but even then, every time it did come up…it was like a pointed little finger poked into the bruise left behind after mom died.” Eddie says, jabbing the air in front of him with his own finger in a harsh movement before letting his hand drop back down to his lap. “It was starting to get better, hearing my name like that.”

“How so?” Steve’s voice lilts into something eager, but just barely.

Eddie sucks in a deep breath and the cold, dry air burns his nose as he does.

“You.” he states, using all the breath he’d taken in on the one word.

“Me?” Steve asks in disbelief.

“Ever since I found out that you also think November 1st means Christmas decorations need to be up.” Eddie nods, he wasn’t about to tell him about the soupy gut feeling he’d gotten when he heard Steve singing along to that stupid fuckin’ song. “Annoying, but it was the same when I was little.

“You should see the pictures,” he grins, continuing on, “A little Batman helping mom put up the tree because I didn’t want to take off my costume–even slept in it a couple times, waking up the next morning to hot chocolate, candy canes, and popcorn garlands.”

“That’s adorable.” Steve laughs, and Eddie laughs with him, his chest feeling miles looser than when he first came out here.

They’re silent for a bit, listening to the muffed yells of the kids coming from inside about who knows what.

“I’ll follow Wayne’s example,” Steve says eventually. “I’ll make sure to change the station, won’t sing it any—”

“Nah, no way man. You don’t have to do that. Like I said, it was getting better.”

“Still, I don’t want to make you upset.”

“Don’t worry about it Stevie,” he sniffs, looking over the empty pool, “I like when you sing it.” he admits before he can stop himself.

Aw fuck.

“You do?”

“I do.”

What the fuck are you doing?!

“You do.” Steve states as if he doesn’t believe him.

Eddie nods silently, gulps around the nerves in his throat. “It’s stupid, but it’s like you’re singing about me rather than at me. It’s…nice.”

Steve falls quiet, so he turns to face him again; Steve’s eyes are wide, cheeks red from the cold and otherwise pale.

Shocked. And not in a good way.

“Just don’t tell any of the other jerks, ‘kay?” Eddie laughs, it comes out strained. “They’d definitely be singing it at me if they found out.”

Steve’s face thaws into something softer at that, his lips twitch like they want to smile.

“Also, I hardly doubt Henderson’s got nearly as good a voice as you do.”

That finally melts him completely, “Henderson’s actually got some pipes on him.” he laughs softly and knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s. “You should hear his Madonna.”

“Yeah no. No thank you.” Eddie says as he stands, “C’mon Stevie, let’s go back in and eat. It’s time to eat already, right?” He offers him a hand.

Steve takes it and pulls himself up, “After you, Edward Nöel.” he does a sarcastic half-bow, waving Eddie forward.

Eddie scoffs at him, but starts toward the door nevertheless. “That’s not even what Eddie’s short for.”

“Aw, what?! What’s it short for?”

“Nuh uh, I already bared one part of my soul tonight.” (“Aw come on!”) Maybe I’ll tell you after we’ve been friends for another nine months or so.”

Steve laughs as they reach the sliding door. “Lookin’ forward to it, Eds.”

Eddie’s about to slide it open when Steve suddenly stops him, grabbing his wrist.

“Wait–Eddie, before we go back inside, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Shoot.” he turns to face him properly.

Eddie watches Steve’s eyes flicker over his face. They hover somewhere below his nose before coming back up to lock onto his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?’

“C–can you kiss– What?! Why? When—”

Steve stops Eddie's spluttering when he tilts his head back to look above them.

God. Damn. Mistletoe.

yes, my first name is noelle. why do you ask? no, no, of course i didn't give eddie that middle name just to vent about that damn song... 😳😅

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justjams2003 · 4 months

Text

Fast Pace- 7

Also a very Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate! And Free Palestine.

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic.Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @dark-night-sky-99 @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis

Word count: 3,4k

Masterlist

Part 6~Part 8

Us Weekly:

“Carlos Sainz seen with a new girl on the paddock.”

People Magazine:

“Carlos Sainz’s new girl proves to be a fashion icon.”

Elle Magazine:

“Carlos Sainz seen dancing in the rain with his new girlfriend.”

Cosmopolitan Magazine:

“Is this new girl just a fling or here to stay?”

You can see the news articles flash before you in full HD on the new phone Carlos got you. Fully signed in on everything. Not only that but your Instagram has blown up already. Ten thousand new followers since you last uploaded a picture with you standing by the paddock. You haven’t had time to reply to any comments or new dm’s, because you were on a flight 6 am Monday.

“So, how was your first F1 weekend?” You know its Charles talking to you, but you’d much rather not even open your eyes right now. Eventually, you decide to be courteous, and you see he looks more than excited to talk to you. You gather up all your strength and put on the best smile you can. “It was a lot more fun than I expected. But there was also a lot of sitting around.”

He nods and continues. “Yes, Alexandra usually stays home for most gp’s. She usually only comes for the important ones, like Italy where were going now. It’s strange that Carlos brought you to Zandvoort for your first time.” Your mind feels foggy and thinking of a reason why seems almost useless. Where is Carlos, can’t he do all this for you?

“Yeah um, he was just so excited,” it seems good enough but thinking feels like such a chore. “Are you okay?” He asks, going closer to see if you’re okay. “Yeah, I’m uh fine...It’s just...” just then your saviour comes. Carlos sits down beside you, unaware of the conversation. “Are you not feeling better yet?” Almost instinctively you wrap your hands around his arm.

You wouldn’t usually do this. Normally you’d be more aware of your relationship and making sure Carlos is ready. But right now thinking feels above your capacity. “Is she sick?” Charles asks and Carlos can feel the jealousy grow in his stomach. It takes everything in him not to glare at his teammate or tell him to back off.

“Yeah, smoking withdrawals. I just don’t know what to do to help.” He pulls your hair out of your face. Charles sighs, “I’m sorry mate,” he pats you on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you then and get to know your girl later on.” When Charles is gone, Carlos takes you under the arms and pulls you closer into his arms, cradling you.

“I got you something,” that gets you to look up but what is in his hands disappoint you. It’s a green smoothie and a big sandwich. “You brought me healthy food? You monster,” you groan taking the sandwich from him and taking a big bite. He chuckles but continues to rub circles on your back.

“I don’t like Charles talking to you.” He mumbles, you know he’s talking to himself mostly. “He’s going to talk to me, Carlos. You take me everywhere, and where you go, he goes.” You chuckle, thinking back to the weekend. He only hums as a reply. “I’m sorry that I’m like this. I know you don’t want this.”

You mumble, still enjoying your sandwich, taking sip from your fresh drink. He sighs and shakes his head. “You keep saying that. What on earth do you mean?” There is annoyance in his voice, you can hear it and it makes you stiffen. He’s never been annoyed with you before. “I read a few articles about our...agreement. They all say you daddies want stress-free, low-maintenance always happy girls.”

He scoffs at you, “Siempre tan terca. Do you believe everything they say on the internet?” He asks, now regretting giving you the new phone and unlimited data plan. “So far what they’ve said about you and me has been true.” You shrug, finishing your sandwich as you think back. There were even TikTok's.

“Oh yeah, and what do they say?” He asks, peering down as you finish your drink. “Well, that I’m incredibly fashionable and also a gold digger.” You chuckle watching as he rolls his eyes at you again. Then he stares you down, taking your chin between his fingers. “Didn’t I tell you, mi querida, you and I are more.”

You can see his eyes flicker to your lips, and you’re entranced by his. The silence between you is deafening and you can feel your head spinning. “Can I kiss you?” the words are on the tip of your tongue, but you just don’t have the guts to ask. “I’m sorry you had a bad weekend.” He licks his lips and then takes your empty cup and paper and places it on the table.

Carlos then takes you in his arms again and holds you tight once more. His smell almost seems to get rid of your headache. “It’s alright, this weekend will be better. I’m sure, because then you’ll feel better and you can be by my side. And with you by my side, the world championship will be mine in no time.”

You giggle and curl yourself closer into his side. “Call it my 50%. Being your good luck charm.” He laughs and then pulls you closer to him. “I must warn you my dear, Italy is the home of Ferrari. The Tifosi are...enthusiastic to say the least.” His cheeks almost go pink at the thought of just how excited some of them can be.

“They can’t be that bad...” you mutter, languidly making small circles on his thigh. He laughs, “I mean, without them we wouldn’t have met.” You turn on your back so that you can look up at him. “Was that the screaming I heard that day?” He smirks and nods. “Why were you running from them? And why didn’t you want to tell me then?” You ask, watching his eyes intensely like always.

He leans back, now his hands are in your hair. You can feel your headache dissipating as his big strong hands untangle any knots that hid from you. “Sometimes, I just want to roam the streets of Paris without being bombarded to take photos. And I didn’t tell you because I was scared you might be one of them and have a... similar reaction.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh. “Did it disappoint you when I didn’t fall to my knees and kiss your shoes?” He lets out a sigh at your shenanigans. “It was nice for someone to show me kindness because they are human not because of what I do.” This does make your heart melt; you can’t help yourself.

You let your hands reach up and touch his cheek, letting his scruff tickle your hands. “Tell me, how can I be that person for you? What more can I do for you?” He takes your hand and holds it close before he places a kiss on your palm. “Don’t ever change. Not for me, not for your family, not for your future. Don’t ever let the world take away that smile, or that sprakle in your eyes.”

His words bring tears to your eyes, and you can’t help but use the sleeves of your (his) hoodie to wipe away the forming tears. “Why do you cry, mi amor?” He asks, his brows furrowing to a point between his brows. You can just shake your head. “I’m just emotional, is all.” He shakes his head and the continues massaging your scalp.

“Get some sleep, mi amor.”

You’re awoken by a door opening. Not a plane door, a hotel door. It takes a few moments to realise, but you’re tucked in deep into the soft comforter. The room is dark, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to get use to the light. Then, you see Carlos coming closer and then squatting down next to the bed.

“Good morning, sleepy head. I was starting to get worried that you’d gotten sick.” He says, pushing the hair out of your face. “Good morning?” You ask, starting to sit up, confused by the dark room. He smirks along with a chuckle. “Shall I open the curtains?” He then stands and you watch him as he walks across the hotel room to the window.

The light floods in and you peak your head back under the covers. “What time is it?” You ask, listening as he walks about. “It’s about 12-ish.” This doesn’t seem so bad, but Carlos said you’d go to the gym as soon as you landed. The realisation causes you to throw the comforter off.

He tsks, coming over and smoothing the furrow between your brows. “Why would you let me sleep that long?” You ask with just a bit of a whine in your tone. “Because you are sick and need the rest.” You huff and push out your bottom lip. “I missed our first gym session,” you whine. For once you were looking forward to it and you can see by his wet hair that he already went and already showered.

After all, you did see the Instagram story he posted on Friday morning. The thought of seeing him hot and sweaty is enough to get your workout shoes on. Again, he tsks and shakes his head. “Not while you’re recovering. You can take a walk, get some fresh air but that is it until you start to feel better.”

Carlos’ voice is stern and leaves no room to argue. For now, you’ll just have to continue keeping a close eye on his Instagram. “I bought something for you.” He smiles, walking over to the bag he had placed on the couch in the hotel room. There is a pep in his step. He brings over two boxes and two bags, both from name brands that you’ve only ever dreamed of owning.

He looks so excited to see you open the boxes and honestly you too are gleaming with elation. The first box is flat and you open it to pull out a beautiful hand spun white boho maxi-dress. “It’s hotter in Italy,” he explains before you open the next box. Its beautiful brown woven sandals to match with the boho effect. Lastly, the bag.

The shopping bag has the unmistakable Prada logo. “You shouldn’t have,” you mutter feeling your heartbeat rise. His glare makes you want to eat your words. You take the bag out as if it is ancient Chinese porcelain. The bag matches perfectly with the sandals. The same brown with the same woven effect.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous Carlos, thank you so much.” You reach over and pull him tight into a hug. You can smell his musky deodorant and it makes you never want to let go. “I saw all these and instantly thought of you.” He smiles and then continues. “Lastly, they made special Ferrari merch for Italy.” He explains, taking out the red, yellow and black shirt. Along with a cap with the same colour theme.

“You like them? They make me think more Spanish flag than Italy. It suits you,” you smirk with a raised brow. Once again reminded by his strong accent. He only shrugs, “Doesn’t really matter if I like them or not. Wear or don’t wear, that’s up to you.” You gasp and this time it’s your turn to scold them.

“No, Carlos. You must stand up for yourself.” He smirks at your reaction and raises his brow. “Is that so? I’ll keep that in mind next time you push out that bottom lip of yours.” He replies, giving your lip a swipe and then going on. “Now go get dressed. We’re going out for brunch; you must be hungry.”

“The view is really beautiful, hold on let me send you guys a photo.” You take a picture from the balcony. In clear view is a beautifully crafted, over 500-year-old church. Not only that but you have a perfectly clear view of the circuit. If you wanted to, you could watch the race from the balcony. Knowing Carlos, he would prefer it so.

“Woah, girl. Isn’t that so cool? In a five-star hotel in Italy right next to the formula one track.” Jasmine says over the phone. You can’t help but chuckle. “How are you feeling?” Ilsa asks, not as impressed by the fancy location. “Better, he’s really been taking good care of me.” You explain thinking back. “Oo, do tell.” It’s Jas again.

“He let me sleep in his arms on the plane and even tucked me in and let me sleep more. He woke me up with gifts,” you can’t talk more before Jasmine demands to know what the gifts are. “He got me this beautiful dress, and brand-new shoes. Both name brand. And you’ll never guess what.” You begin but don’t even allow them to guess. “He got me my very first Prada bag.”

You can hear screaming through the phone while you send them a photo. As well as the Instagram photos Carlos took for you. “He took these photos for you?? Damn girl, he knows all your best angles.” You blush at Jas’ words. “It seems all too good to be true...” Ilsa seems to speak your thoughts out loud.

“Yes, there are some small things that seem a bit odd.” They both go a bit quiet. “Like?” Ilsa asks, and you know this might ring alarm bells for them. “He has these two bodygaurds to follow me everywhere.” You get two wildly different reactions. Jas coos and Ilsa gasps. “And I feel a bit like he’s babying me.”

Ilsa asks for you to explain. “Well he’s working with a dietitian to make sure I get all my daily vitamins, and once I get better, he got me a personal trainer.” They both are dead silent. “That is a bit strange...” This time it’s Jasmine talking. “That doesn’t seem normal at all,” it’s Ilsa talking, and you know she’s right.

“But it’s the terms I agree too so I can’t really say anything about it.” There isn’t much else to be said. “I suppose, but as soon as he crosses a line, you’ll leave him, right?” Ilsa asks and you bite your lip. “That’s the thing. He hasn’t tried to do anything to me, even once. He’s been nothing but kind to me. He keeps saying he and I will become something more but so far it’s only been words.”

They hum as a reply, “Maybe you should make the first move?” Jas suggests and Ilsa scolds her for it. “That’s the thing, I don’t know if I want that. What if it makes things weird between us? What if I do make the first move and that’s all he sees me as after? What if I do make a move and he just wanted someone to talk to and he ditches me?” You can hear your friends roll their eyes at you. “You’re overthinking it, Y/N. If it’s meant to be, it will be. For now, just enjoy the lavish life and look hot. That’s your job.”

The conversation plays in your head over and over. Who is right? Jasmine or Ilsa? Should you just enjoy the luxuries he gives you, or question his actions? Why is he doing all this for you? You read online that Sugar Daddies like to spoil. Take their babies on trips and buy them anything and everything. But do they form diet plans and make sure you get a full 8 hours of sleep?

Do they tuck you into bed at night, and get you medication to help with smoking withdrawals? Do they hire a personal trainer to make sure you stay in healthy body? Do they tell you, you’re their person and promise to visit your family? Are there lines being crossed? Should you be more wary? Or should you just shut up and enjoy it?

You toss and turn at night. It’s already 2 in the morning, Carlos had you going to bed at ten. Like you said, he wants you getting a full night’s rest. You just can’t sleep. Likely due to the withdrawals but also due to the storming thoughts in your mind. And you remember feeling this same way all of last weekend.

The only other thing that got you to sleep last weekend, was Carlos. Being wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his scent. Now that you’re sleeping in separate rooms, would it be weird for you to ask for him to hold you? How weird is that? Would that be considered making the first move? You know for a fact that Carlos would be seething if he found out you didn’t sleep at all.

You open the door, there are different bodyguards here. Likely the night shift and it feels so eerie to have them standing there. There aren’t even any by his door and you know other drivers are staying here and you haven’t seen them have any bodyguards. “Um, excuse me?” You grab their attention, but they don’t seem to notice.

“Do you maybe have a keycard for Carlos’ room?” The taller of the two reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a keycard and then hands it to you. “Thank you,” you smile up at him but get little reaction. You keep across the hall and open his door with a click.

His room is the same as yours, but reversed. You can see from here that he is sound asleep. You can feel a pang of guilt hit you at just the thought of waking him up for something this silly. He looks so peaceful, not stressed, or anxious about his future. No he seems entirely at content to be drifting away in Dreamland.

Do you really have to wake him? Can't you just return? It's a nice thought, but you can't help but remember last weekend. You were too exhausted to even enjoy the energy and the surrealism of the moment. You spent most of the time as a zombie in Carlos' room. And when the actual finished, you had been sitting in the garage and only registered when Carlos came up to you.

Needless to say he was furious when he found out truly just how little you slept. And how well you hid it from him. You'd gotten use to putting up a smile and hiding the exhaustion from the people most important to you. He told you that your health was on the same level of priority as his racing to him. Which, honestly, blew your mind.

Your health has always been on the back burner. Something you'll worry about when you have more money and more time. Now you have an abundance of both and still can't help but ignore it. Because if you adress it, it makes it real.

Now, as you stand besides his bead, you can't help but feel like a child. Is that how he sees you? As a responsiblity he's here to dress and take care of? Is that why he won't kiss you? Why his touch is soft and gentle and never show anything more than worry?

If you leave now, you know for a fact those goons outside your door will definitely tell him. Likely, they would tell him that you didn't sleep too. Just do it! You had practiced the words so well before. This is the first time you've truly wanted for something. He's taken care of everything else before you could even think about it. But now you have to ask him for something.

You gently tap his arm, no reaction. He must be a deep sleeper. This time you shove a bit harder, it's difficult to see exactly what you're shoving especially with the black out curtains. This time, however, he does stir and you can only assume awoke when words spill from his mouth.

“What is wrong, mi dulce chica?” He asks, already his hand gently caressing your arm. You take a deep breath in and try not to think of your next words too much. “Daddy, I can't sleep.” You can't see his reaction but soon after he opens up the duvet and his arms. Queuing for you to join him.

This. This is exactly what you needed. He cradles your head between his arms. Your knees pressed between his legs. You body perfect matching his. That small. The smell of a hot summer day. Of his musky deodorant and what you can only describe as a day in the beach. If you could bottle his scent, you're certain you'd make millions.

You had so many questions that you wanted to ask him. But now as you're cuddled in his arms, your thoughts just melt away. Into a nice and warm sheen over your body. Sleep comes easy.

My tag list is open!

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

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lelengerine · 11 months

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call you mine

✿ pairing | haechan x reader

✿ synopsis | sometimes, love letters might just be the way to get someone to like you (or maybe it’s because they’ve liked you for the entire time).

✿ genre | kinda tooth-rotting fluff at some points, a little bit of childhood friends to lovers, also pretty cliché so bear w me here

✿ wc | 1.4k

✿ notes | hello! this is a sequel to sincerely, yours and i highly suggest reading that first but this can also be read as a stand alone fic too hehe <3 ngl i kinda got carried away writing this ;0; as always,, lmk ur thoughts on this one :D

m.list

if you’d ask him, haechan wouldn’t know how long he’s been staring at the mirror, picking out clothes from his closet before tossing them into the far corners of his room.

each second passes by and the more his irritation grows from the fact nothing seems to be just right. he knows he’s just going for a casual trip with you, and that’s all it’ll ever be, but the back of his mind itches at the thought of being with you for a couple of days straight.

sure, you’ve seen him wear all sorts of things back from when the two of you were little. the first time you met, he was sporting a shinchan shirt in the brightest green you’d ever seen. he even used to wear this one jacket that’s seen it’s fair share of days (correction, he still does), and you’ve always complimented how much it suits him.

you’d honestly be the last person to care about what he’d show up in, and yet, he wants to look the best for you. he doesn’t know why this is exactly the case, but he’s never questioned it too much to care either.

haechan then pulls up a purple hoodie littered with embroidered patches from his closet by the hanger, recognizing it almost immediately. not because it’s an item he’s worn so often, but because you borrowed it more than once before. he still remembers how the fabric would completely engulf your figure, obviously being too big on you. though, you always tell him that’s exactly what you prefer.

he always thought you looked cute in it anyways.

carefully folding it up, haechan packs it into his small suitcase — the hoodie now being the first piece of clothing that rests inside.

checking the clock, he doesn’t have much time left before needing to pick you up and painstakingly tries to gather all the things he needs to bring for the trip, rushing with you in mind. this trip would be marked as the first time you would travel together. well, more like the first trip without your parents coming along since they deem you’re both old enough to not get into stupid situations. at least, that’s what they wanted to assume from the both of you.

okay, so maybe he should be a little more nervous than he is. whatever, the jitters will come hit him straight in the face soon enough when he least expects it.

he finishes stuffing his suitcase full of items, albeit a bit sloppily and not at all like he originally planned for, but it’ll have to do. he’d rather have a messy bag filled to the brim with wrinkly clothes that might not even be fit for the weather than be late to the time you both agreed he’d pick you up on.

-x-

haechan soon arrives at the front of your doorstep pretty much on the dot, hand instinctively reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a replica key with a mini teddy bear charm dangling from it. you gave it to him for when he ever wanted to spontaneously visit you and it’s something he treasures dearly, knowing it symbolizes the trust you place in him.

eagerly, he rushes up to your room, assuming you’re still inside. “y/n- are you ready to go?” he questions, sounding a little flustered to see the area empty. it isn't like you to leave your room unattended. did something happen-

“i’m in the bathroom! i’ll be out soon.” he hears you yell out soon after, placing his heart at ease.

“oh thank god,” he mumbles softly, not knowing what he’d do if you were gone.

he takes the time to look around your room, noting how practically nothing has changed since he last visited when he was much younger. there are still glow in the dark stars that vaguely shine on your ceiling, ones he helped you stick because you couldn’t reach the ceiling even with the height offered by your bed. hell, even the wooden cabinet you use hasn’t changed for the past years and is kept in good condition thanks to your care.

it’s like he’s reminiscing everything he’s known about you all at once. every little detail only he knows as your best friend.

there is, however, one small thing that sticks out of place in his eyes. a small, well-kept box rests below your desk, one he’s never seen before nor heard you talk about.

he believed you always told him about everything that went on in your life, so why hasn’t he known about this? perhaps he had been mistaken all along.

the thought can’t help but form the start of a crack on the notion of him being your best friend. maybe someone else had already taken that spot away from him right under his nose and he had realized just a bit too late.

he didn’t want to be the person who would limit you to who you make friends with, quite the opposite actually, but jealousy serves to be a weakness in him – slowly seeping into his mind and clogging his train of thought. he could only wish he wasn’t feeling this way right now.

it's that same jealousy that urges him to pick up the box, crouch down and quickly take the lid off. there, he finds the dainty envelopes stored away with utmost care and attention to detail.

each one is signed with ‘sincerely, yours’ written at the bottom left in a perfectly executed cursive font, and that’s when he realizes they’re letters written with someone in mind.

he sighs, returning back to the times you’d nag him to learn lettering with you. he would never take the lessons seriously, but you always did. so this was why you wanted to learn how to write so prettily, he quickly assumes.

his heart grows heavier the more he rummages through the box, the realization of the envelopes being love letters sinking in slowly but surely into his soul.

you like someone, he thought to himself.

so it wasn’t even someone stealing his title of best friend. it was someone who had stolen your heart. that someone was the person he yearned to be for so long, and now, it was never going to be him seeing as you’ve even committed to writing down letters.

since when did you even write letters? haechan scoffs to himself bitterly at the thought.

“hyuck, i’m done. we should get-“ you come out of the bathroom unannounced, not even giving him a chance to gather his thoughts. “…going.”

he probably caught you just as off guard, judging by the way your shoulders stiffened up and your line of sight instantly focused on the letters that now rest in the palms of his hands. he already pieced together the fact he was never supposed to know about this, much less rummage through your things without consent.

what was he even going to tell you? surely he could not get himself out of this situation with an excuse after being caught like a raccoon searching for scraps in the neighbor’s trash can at night. instead, haechan does the next best thing he could think of.

“…y/n? what are these?” well, to be fair, he never said his idea wasn’t outright stupid.

truthfully, he doesn’t know whether asking you directly was the right thing to do. yes, he knows he’s the one at fault in this situation, yet this was the only way he could hear a proper answer from you.

he just wanted to pull the bandaid off his heart and accept the fact you have feelings for someone else. any form of hatred you throw his way after all this, he will gladly accept.

with a deep breath, you finally answer him with “they’re… sincerely yours.”

and for the second time today, haechan’s brain goes blank. did you just say all those letters were for him? no, he probably interpreted your words incorrectly.

“mine?” he utters out moments later, voice still laced with confusion.

you sheepishly nod your head along to his words, further confirming what he had originally perceived about those letters were oh so wrong. his heart that was once sinking was slowly coming back above the tide, meeting the bright, blue sky.

his lips curl upwards into a smile unbeknownst to him, however, you’re quick to notice – taking that as a sign your feelings may have not been so one-sided after all.

“can i… read them?” haechan looks at you with stars in his eyes and you wonder if that’s a reflection of the glow in the dark stars that decorate your room’s ceiling or if it's just him glistening under the sunlight that barely manages to shine into your room.

just how could you decline when he’s acts like this in front of you?

“after our trip?” you propose, “at least you’ll have something to look forward to when we get back.”

“okay, but does that mean i get to call you mine?”

now you’re the one flustered, heat creeping up to the apples of your cheeks. just how much did his confidence surge knowing the letters were for him? “i don’t know- i mean, you haven't asked me out yet.”

“oh baby, you genuinely don't know how long i’ve waited for this moment.”

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

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lulublack90 · 4 months

Text

Prompt - New Beginnings

@jegulus-microfic December 31 Word count 474

Regulus had gotten obsessed with growing things. After so much death, it seemed to be his coping mechanism. He had lines and lines of seed trays. Every day, he’d go outside and check on them. But they’d be nothing.

James watched sadly as Regulus bought more seed trays and more seeds. There were shelves of flowers, vegetables and fruits, but nothing grew.

Regulus came back inside one morning and went to James, resting his forehead against his chest.

“Why won’t anything grow? What am I doing wrong?” His voice was quiet, defeated. James wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

“Nothing, love. You’re doing everything right. Sometimes these things take time.” James honestly didn’t know why things weren’t growing. When his dad had planted anything, everything had just shot up and bloomed. “Have you tried talking to them? My dad was adamant that talking to the plants helped them grow.”

So that’s what he did. Regulus stayed outside for two days straight and spoke to all his seed trays. He talked about nothing and everything. He told them how he missed his brother but didn’t know how to tell him that. How he loved James with all his being but couldn’t say it. How he never wanted to take the Mark or be the heir. But someone had to, as Sirius didn’t. He told them that all he wants is a simple, quiet life where he can read books, grow plants and be with the man he loves.

After two days, his voice was all but gone. But he felt as though something had been lifted from him. He could breathe again. He was in no way healed, but the wounds were starting to heal.

He left the greenhouse and went straight up to bed, exhausted.

He slept in late, something he never did. He had a shower, scrubbing the residual soil from under his fingernails. He felt good. Better than he had in months.

When he came downstairs, James put a mug of tea in his hand and started pulling some things out for lunch. Regulus went outside. It had become a routine at this point. He stepped through the doors into the greenhouse and stopped.

Green. Green everywhere. Tiny little dots of green pushing their way out of black soil. Every single spot in every single seed tray had green in it.

“James!” He yelled as he ran back into the house and grabbed him before pulling him out the backdoor.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” James asked, his voice full of concern. They burst into the greenhouse. Regulus stood next to James, watching the smile slowly spread over his face. “You did it, well done. I knew you’d succeed.” He said, putting an arm around Regulus’s shoulders as they looked around the greenhouse at the new life. The new beginnings.

#December 31 #jegulus #jegulus microfic #regulus black #james potter #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #james x regulus #regulus x james #New beginnings

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hardcandycigarette · 1 year

Text

LONG WAY DOWN PART 2

WOW! I’m so happy that so many of you liked Part ONE. Just got a chance to post the second part. Ok, no angst this time around. We all need a breather after Part One. Let’s check in on our little family, shall we?

WARNING-none I don’t think (let me know if I missed something important}

If you like dad!rry that’s pretty much the entire piece. So this time we get a bit more fluff. Don’t worry, we’ve got more angst coming, but we’ve got to tell the whole story.

Enjoy!

"Poppy, I know I promised we'd go to the zoo, but Mummy had to leave in a rush. Something important happened. We’ll leave soon."

Poppy climbs onto her bed and begins jumping. "Zoo! Zoo!" she shouts. The day’s overcast sky leaves a haze over the room, with the open blinds providing the only light source to the room. Her hair flies about around her head, as she bounces up and down.

"No, ma'am, we are not doing that." He points his finger at her, then at the floor. "Get down and play quietly or watch a program in the living room, but we are not jumping and shouting." He heads back to the door.

She stops.

“Leave you at the bloody zoo,” he says under his breath.

“What Daddy?”

“Nothing.” He turns to look at her again. "And besides, Miss, you aren't even dressed. So maybe get to work on that." His tone is harsher than Poppy is used to. She still stands on the bed, but slowly lowers herself to sit on the edge. It softens him, as he sees her surrounded by the pink and white ruffled pillows, and bedding. The canopy bed decorated with stuffed animals reminds him that she’s just his little girl. She stares at Harry in silence, her bottom lip puffing out.

“And why are you in here in the dark?” He turns the overhead light on.

“I like it.”

“That’s your daughter Y/N, liking the dark,” he says to himself.

Harry walks to his bedroom, grabs his phone, and as he sits on the bed, he looks at the time. She's been gone for over an hour. Is it over? No. She'll be back. His eyes fill with tears, and when tears begin to fall, he doesn’t stop them. A knock at the bedroom door interrupts his thoughts. He wipes his face. "Yes."

"Daddy, Poppy needs help."

"Coming." He just wants to crawl into bed and cry, but the kids need him. And this is complicated enough, so he needs to keep his word to them. He said they would go to the zoo, so they will go. He stands, goes to the door, exits the room, and walks down the hall.

Poppy points to the top of the closet. "Want that one."

Harry takes a deep breath before he enters her room and looks in the closet. "Which one, love? The polka dots?" He replies like the daddy she is used to, with a gentle, easy voice.

"Yeah."

"Darling, you’re wearing a green skirt with flowers. That's a pink and blue polka dot sweater. That doesn't match."

"Wanna be like you," she says.

He laughs. "Oh, do you like it when Daddy's outfits don't match?"

She giggles. “Yeah, it's funny."

"Well, Lambert, at least one person likes it," he mumbles. He takes the sweater off the hanger and hands it to the curly-haired little girl.

She pushes her head through the neck hole, then shoves her arms through the arms of the sweater. "You look just like your mumma, know that?" He smiles his big trademark smile. He helps her get the sweater adjusted to her tiny frame.

"Mumma says I look like Daddy." She points to him while she gives a bashful smile.

"Well, you have curly hair like me, but your face looks like Mummy. You're my beautiful girl, princess."

"Hey, you call Mummy princess. She's a princess?"

He laughs. "Something like that." He smirks, wondering if Poppy might have heard something she shouldn't have, but she says no more. He runs his fingers through her hair. "Need to do something about this hair before we leave."

"I'll do it."

"Yeah? That's a big girl job; think you can do it?"

"Yep. Watch." She nods and looks up.

"Let's see." He places his hands on his hips as he observes his little girl.

She walks over, opens a drawer, removes a headband, and puts it on. "See, all done."

He applauds. "Very cute, but when I come back, we might wanna brush that hair of yours."

"Kay. Kiss Daddy." She tilts her head up and puckers her lips.

Harry bends over and gives her a tiny peck. "Let me check on your brother, fashionista."

"’Kay." She sits on the floor, pushing on her rain boots.

"Archer," he calls as he steps into the hall and walks to the room next to Poppy's.

"Yes," he answers.

"How are we doing in here?" He dips his head in from the doorway.

"Fine." Archer sits on a multi-colored rope rug, reading a book.

"All dressed?"

"Yes." He doesn't look up from the book.

Harry steps into the room, walks to the little boy, and squats next to him. "What's going on? Not upset about the talk we had on the stairs, are you?" He rubs Archer's back.

"No." He shakes his head. "Where's Mummy?"

"Told ya something important happened, and she had to go."

"Will she be away for a long time?"

Harry narrows his eyes. "Not sure, why?"

"She had two suitcases, and you asked her to stay."

Harry shakes his head. "No, not long, little man; she just had a lot of stuff she needed to take with her."

Archer looks up. "But you asked her to stay."

Harry has yet to think about how he will answer the millions of questions that are certain to come from young children. He sighs. "I did because I don't like it when she's not here. Like when I leave, and you guys don't like me leaving, but I always come back, don't I?"

The boy nods. "Yeah. But even if it's too late or too early for us, you always say bye, and we always eat with you. Sometimes we even take you to the plane, but Mum just left."

Archer plays with the ends of his shoestrings.

"She was just in a rush. She'll call when she gets there. She'll be back soon. How did you see all that, Mummy’s suitcases and all?"

"I was listening at the door." He looks up.

"Now, that's not what we do, is it? We don't listen to private conversations."

"I didn't. You guys were in the hall."

Harry kisses him on the top of his head. "Too smart for your own good, aren't you?"

The boy shrugs.

"Right. So, let me get Lola changed, and we'll head out." Harry stands, and his son asks one last question as he exits the room.

"She'll be back, right, Dad?"

"Yes. And don't talk to Poppy like that. It'll scare her, thinking she lost her mum, and she didn't. None of you did. Don't worry." He leaves and walks to Lola's room.

"And so if we are both good, she'll be back," Poppy is talking to Lola through the crib rails.

"Hey, Pop, what's this about?"

Harry approaches the two small girls.

"I was telling the baby to be good and not cry so Mummy will come home."

Harry kneels at Poppy's level. "Hey, sweet girl, why would you say that? Mummy is coming home. It's not because the baby cries; it's not because of any of you."

"Archer said Mummy just couldn't take more."

"Pop, I need you to listen to me. Mumma didn't leave because of you, your sister, or your brother. Has nothing to do with any of you, nothing at all."

She looks at him. “But then, how come?”

Harry sighs. "Let me get Lola dressed. Run along while I finish with her."

Poppy dances her way to the door and leaves.

Harry lifts the baby from her crib. She grabs his face and laughs. He places her on the changing table, undoes her diaper, and tosses it in the pail. He cleans her up, puts on a fresh diaper, and chooses a top and overalls from her drawer. He holds her still with one hand and reaches into the dresser. Once he retrieves the items, he gives her a few raspberries on her chubby tummy, which sends her into a giggle fit. "Daddy's baby angel, aren't you? I love you guys so much. I wish I were here to see all you do when I'm not around. Daddy is so sorry he isn't here more, but I love you so much. Soon I’ll make it up to all of ya. I don't know how, but I will. Promise.” He finishes dressing her, picks her up, and gives her a big, wet kiss.

“Dada.”

“Excuse me, did you just say Dada?” Harry beams at Lola." That's right, I’m your dada.” Harry missed it when she said it the first time. He was on a call with Jeff, and the next time he was on a call with Sarah.

She grabs his nose and smiles.

"Now, it's time for some little socks for your little feet." He walks over and grabs a pair of socks and then her shoes. He carries the baby, the socks, and the boots over to the chair and sits with her. As he puts the items on her, he begins to speak. "Now, you need to know my darling Mummy is not gone forever, and Mummy is not gone because you cry. Mummy is upset and tired, and Mumma left because Daddy didn't help enough, but that's going to change, so don't worry." Harry knows the baby doesn't understand, but he says it anyway. When he finishes with Lola, he stands, and walks over to the door, but turns back to the crib to grab her favorite lovie, a stuffed turtle, and hands it to her. When he returns to the door, he flips off the light, and they enter the hallway.

"Come along, guys, we're ready."

Poppy and Archer come out of their rooms.

"Okay, family, let's go to the living room. We need to have a chit-chat."

The kids follow Harry and sit on the living room floor while Harry sits on the sofa with the baby in his lap. She smells of lavender, and he inhales because nothing smells better than her little lavender wash and shampoo.

"Right, small people, I need to talk to you." He looks at Poppy and Archer, then Lola. Poppy has a drop of jelly at the corner of her mouth.

“Poppy, why do you have jelly on your face? We didn’t have jelly this morning.”

“From my room.”

“You have jelly just randomly in your room? Never mind.” He shakes his head. “We’ll talk about that later. Anyway, as I was saying. Mummy is gone, and we all know that. I want you to understand that it has not one single thing to do with any of you. Mummy had to take care of some things for herself, and she needed to leave right away, just like sometimes I must leave when we don't expect it, but I always come back, don't I?"

The kids nod.

"And you know Mumma loves you, and so does Papa. You guys are the most important thing in the whole world to us. But Mummy needed to take care of herself for a bit.”

“Is she sick?” Poppy asks.

“No, baby she’s not sick.”

“Then what?” Archer asks.

“You see, she never has time for herself. This can make a person sad after a long time. You know I say how tired I am because of my work, or I come home in a bad mood? Or even you guys get sick of going to school. But we get to come home and take a break, but mummies don't get breaks. They work all of the time."

"So she's mad because she's always taking care of us?" Archer asks.

"No. It’s like when you feel upset when you can't play because you have to clean your room, eat dinner, and have a bath. All you want is to have fun. Well, that's how Mum feels. She just wants to have some fun sometimes. But for her, it's not playing so much as just resting and letting someone else take care of her.”

"We could take care of her," Archer says.

"Most times, she would love that, but this time she still had to go away for a little while. So when something came up, and she needed to leave, she decided to also have that rest I was just talking about."

"So, a trip?" Poppy asks.

"Yes, Pop, a trip." Harry decided that was the most straightforward answer they'd come up with all day, so he settled on that explanation.

"Can we go now?" Archer asks.

"Yes, young ones, we can go now. Just let me get your sister's bag. I'll be at the door in just a second. Put your coats on; it's a bit chilly today." Harry walks with Lola to the bag sitting near another sofa and checks for diapers, a binky, and other essentials. He rarely has to plan these things out, but as expected, Y/N had everything he needed in the bag. He picks it up and walks to the door. As he rounds the corner, he hears Archer before he sees him.

"It looks dumb."

"Hey, what is with all the shouting and mean words today? We just talked about this. What is wrong with you, Arch?"

He points to Poppy. "Her clothes don't match. She's dressed dumb. She said it's like you, but it's not because you're not dumb, Dad."

Poppy starts to cry.

"First, apologize to your sister. Second, we just talked about how we treat one another. And third, young man let people dress in whatever way makes them feel good. What if I told you that the cowboy hat you're wearing is dumb?"

"But it’s not."

"You don't think it's dumb, neither do we, but it would hurt your feelings if someone told you it looked dumb. So, think about how you would feel when you speak to people. Just because Mummy isn't here doesn't mean we can do whatever we want. And why are you using the word dumb, not a nice word..”

Lola claps and laughs.

Archer looks at the ground, then at Poppy. He touches her arm and says, "I'm sorry, Poppy."

She smiles. "It's okay."

"Now, Poppy, it is not okay; when someone hurts us, it is never okay, but it is okay to forgive them."

"I f'give you," she says in a hushed voice.

"So if you lot can behave kindly to one another, Archer, I’m talking to you, then we can go now." He takes Lola's coat from the hook, then his own. He sits her on the bench by the door, dresses her in the coat, and then puts his jacket on. He picks up the baby. "All right, people, are we all clothed, shoed, and jacketed?"

He looks at everyone. A bit proud of himself, he opens the door. "Then off to the zoo, we go" Poppy and Archer run to the car. "Hey, no running. Walk, please."

They wait at the SUV for Harry and the baby. As he reaches the car, he hits the key fob unlocking the door. With his free hand, he opens the door and puts Lola in first, buckling her into her car seat. "Walk around to the other side, guys, so we can all get buckled in. Archer, you get in first, then I'll get your sisters settled." The boy climbs into his seat and buckles himself in. Harry picks Poppy up and secures her in the booster seat. He turns to Archer in the last row. "Buckled in nice and tight?"

He looks down and pats the buckle. "Yep."

Harry tugs on the seatbelt and checks it just the same. "Well done." With that, he shuts the door, walks to the girls, rechecks them, and closes the door. He goes to the driver's seat, gets in, closes the door, and starts the car.

And Baby, you don't know what you're doin'

The parts of you I'm ready to ruin

Slide on over, there's room enough for two

I haven't even started my lovin' you

The song blasts through the car, a song Harry has been working on. He turns the volume to zero. The kids don't recognize the music, so they don't ask any questions. "Man, Dad, that's so loud." Archer covers his ears.

Lola starts to whine and is on the verge of tears when the volume startles her. Poppy reaches over to her. “It’s okay, Lolo.”

Harry watches in the rearview mirror. He pulls the car into drive. They roll to the exit of their home. Content with his family, he enters a code at the gate. When the gate opens, he pulls onto the road and drives toward the zoo. It's a bit of a distance, but the kids laugh and talk, not having any trouble enjoying a day out. Harry knows he should have called his security team for someone to meet them, but he doesn't have time now. Also, he needs to learn to live without constantly having security around. Isn't part of the problem that he lives in the lap of luxury, as Y/N put it? He checks to see if she's called though he knows she hasn't. She’s only been gone a short while, but he hopes somehow, she’ll be home when they get back.

The drive is uneventful, except for Lola becoming a bit fussy. She quiets down if Harry reaches back to soothe her and talks to her a bit.

"Daddy," Poppy says.

"Yes, love."

"Did I know you when I was little like Lola?"

"Of course, why?"

She hesitates. "Didn't know if you knew me then."

"Yes, baby. You've seen all kinds of pictures of us together when you were little. I was around a lot back then. Remember when Lola was in Mummy's tummy?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I knew you even when you were growing big and strong in your mummy. Even before I could see you, I knew you."

She giggles. "That's silly."

"S'not Pop. Remember how we all knew Lola? We'd talk to her while she was growing inside, Mumma?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it was the same with you, except it was just me, Mum, and Arch. We talked to you all the time, except Archer was pretty young, so he couldn't talk as much."

"Did you want me different?"

Harry raises an eyebrow and pouts his lips. "What?"

"So we have Lola?"

"Oh love, I would never want a different you. I love you.”

Archer has fallen asleep, which Harry is thankful for, or he would be piping in by the minute.

"Then why?"

"Well, baby, we loved our family so much that we thought about how great it would be if there was another one of us. You know how you love all your friends, but you like having more than one friend?

“Yeah.”

“And when you have a party, you want more than one person to come because it's so much fun with more people? Well, it's like that."

"You don't like her more than me?"

He reaches back and grabs her foot, and tugs it a bit. "I could never like her more than you. I love you all the very same amount, just like you are. I don't need you to be more or less or different. I need and want you to be uniquely you. I want you to always be yourself, Poppy." He rubs her leg. "I love you just like this, mismatched clothes, messy hair, and all. I would never want a different Poppy."

"I don't want another daddy. I love you." She blows him a kiss.

"I love you, angel. And you will never have a different daddy."

"Or mummy?"

"There will never be another mummy, not ever, ever."

###

Once at the zoo, Harry puts on a baseball cap, lifts the hood of his sweatshirt, over that, then puts on his shades and gets out of the car. By the time he is at the backdoor, Archer has already unbuckled his seatbelt and practically lunges out of the car when Harry opens the door.

"Hey, speed racer, let's be careful." He grabs him under the arms and lowers him to the ground.

Then he walks around to where Poppy sits, opens the door, and unbuckles her. He lowers her to the ground as well. Finally, he removes Lola from her car seat, picks up her bag, slams the door, and hits the key fob to lock it.

"Oh bloody hell," Harry says as they cross the parking lot.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Archer asks.

"Forgot your sister's stroller. Guess I'll just carry her."

"You can get one here, I think."

"All right, we'll ask when we get up there. Arch, Pop, I need you guys to pull the hoods up on your jackets."

"Why?"

"Poppy, please don't ask me why. Just do what Papa says."

“It won’t fit over my hat,” Archer says.

“I guess you’ll need to give it to me then, or you put it on over the hood. Either way, the hood goes up.”

Archer, detecting Harry is in no mood for games, does as he's told. He carries the hat, not wanting to push his luck.

"Poppy, take m' hand. Archer, take your sister's hand. We should stay close together the whole time, right? Poppy, if they have a push cart, I'll put you in it. I know ya don't like them, and I don't either, but it's the only way I can keep us all safe without security. Usually, we at least have Mummy, but since it's just us today, we've got to be super careful."

"What's s’curity?" Poppy asks.

"The guys that always protect us, the ones that are like policemen, but don’t wear police clothes. Do you remember Liam, Jack, and Brian? Those guys are security."

"OH, okay."

When they reach the zoo's entrance, Harry keeps his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He scans the QR code, types in the required information, and purchases the tickets. He scans the tickets, and the turnstile unlocks. He leads the children in. "Now we've got to find strollers."

Harry walks over to a booth keeping his face down as much as possible. "Scuse me? Do you have strollers?"

"Yes, sir, right over there." The woman points to a stall around the corner.

The family walks to the stall, and Harry puts money in for a double stroller. When the funds release the lock, he pulls the stroller out. Thankfully he can fit both girls comfortably.

"Lola, let's get you in first." He pushes the back portion down and puts her in, then picks Poppy up and places her in the front part. He hangs the baby bag on the handle. "Arch, I need you to stand in front of me.". You're gonna push. That way, you can't run off, mister."

"Dad, I;"

"Or we can go home." He knew how the sentence would end, and he wasn't having it today.

"I'll do it."

Archie stands in front of Harry and begins to push the cart.

###

"And then, then," Poppy giggles. "Archer fell down. Did you see Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I did."

Harry rocks a sleepy Lola as he listens to Archer and Poppy tell stories of what just happened at the zoo.

"Guys, let's finish our food and get home so we can all take a nap."

Archer tosses his pizza on a plate and slumps back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't want a stupid nap."

"You don't have to sleep, but you have to lie down and be quiet. And don’t act like that, throwing food onto the plate, ridiculous. But back to the nap, if after 15 minutes you don't fall asleep, you may read a book. Those are your options."

Poppy stands in her chair. "And me, Papa?"

"Sit, bottom in the chair. And yes, Poppy, you too."

Poppy lowers herself back to a seated position. “Daddy do I-“

"I don't want to read," Archer interrupts.

"Then sleep. I gave you two choices because choices are important. It's up to you which one you'd like to do. And yes, you too," he says as he reaches over and wipes Poppy's face.

"Looks like everyone has had enough pizza. We're all full, right?"

The two older kids nod their heads.

"Well then, let's head home."

“What about ice cream?” Archer asks.

“After dinner.”

“But you said the zoo, pizza, ice cream.”

Harry sighs. “I did but I didn’t say ice cream immediately after pizza, so we’ll have it after dinner.”

The three of them stand; with Harry still holding Lola, he grabs the baby bag and escorts the two older children out of the restaurant.

"Will Mummy be there?" Poppy asks.

"Not sure. I don't think so, though," Harry answers.

"Of course, she won't. She left us," Archer says.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Archer. What is that? I've told you Mummy didn't leave you. She loves you so, so much."

“But she left.”

“And she’ll be back just like I told you.”

At the car, Harry buckles everyone in. Once settled in the driver's seat, he starts the car and drives home.

###

"Poppy, don't argue. It's not nice. Now, go lie down on your bed."

"I don't wanna, wanna stay with you." She wraps her tiny arms around his neck and starts crying. "None of that, sweet girl. No need to cry. I'll be right here in the house while you take a nap. So do as you’re told, please."

Her cry becomes urgent, almost desperate- her face red, and sharp breaths escape her. She breathes faster, yet more shallow, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Now, now baby, I told ya I'll be right here in the house. I'll keep the monitor on, so if you need me, tell me, and I'll come, okay?"

"No."

"Poppy, you are always my sweet girl. Why are you talking back today?"

"Want Mummy."

"I know. I do too, and she'll be home before you know it, but for now, I need ya to do as you're told."

"Want Mummy."

"Pop, I'm sitting you on your bed and walking out. We’re not gonna argue about this." He does what he said he would. Sits her down, and crosses the room, “I love you, See you when you get up.” He closes the door.

She wails, a literal meltdown as he makes his way to Archer's room. He sticks his head into the room. "Doing okay?"

Archer nods his head.

“'m here if you need me." He closes the door.

Poppy is quiet now, so Harry doesn't dare return to her room. Lola sleeps peacefully in her crib. Harry picks up one of Archer's socks as he walks down the hall, then one of Poppy’s hair clips. Once in his bedroom, Harry exhales and drops back on the bed. He checks his phone, but there are no missed calls from Y/N. No texts. He knows he needs to call someone and tell them what happened because if she's away for too long, he will need help. But before he does that, he sends her a text.

HARRY- We miss you, love. So sorry I've been such an unappreciative twat. Can we please talk? I'll do better. Promise. Please just give me a chance to fix it. XX-H

Harry grabs the remote and turns on the Man U game even though he's not watching. It's just a way to pass the time as he waits for Y/N to text him back. He knows she won't, but he still hopes.

After 20 minutes, she has yet to reply, so he picks up the phone and dials Gemma. The phone rings three times before she answers.

"Hey," she says.

"Got a minute?"

"Just a minute, I'm about to go to yoga class," she says.

Harry sighs. "Can you give me a call when you're done?"

"Yes, but what's wrong?" she asks.

"This one might take a while. Just call me when you're done, please."

She speaks louder to drown out the sound of an ambulance passing by. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just call me back when you have time to talk, Jesus Christ."

"I know something’s wrong. I can hear it. Tell me, or I'm not calling back. Something is obviously wrong."

Harry sits up, rubs his hands along his face, takes a deep breath, then exhales. "She left."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Gemma, my wife left me."

"Y/N left you? Oh, Harry, what are you even talking about? Nonsense."

"She left. We had a huge row. She packed two suitcases and walked out the door. I haven't heard from her since."

Gemma shakes her head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure that's what I saw. Jesus, Gemma, are you gonna talk to me, or are you just gonna ask a bunch of stupid questions?"

"When did she leave? That's not a stupid question is it?"

"I dunno, maybe 10 or 10:30 this morning."

“Well, you talk like she’s been gone for days. Give her at least until dinner time. Goodness.”

“And then what? When she’s not back then what do I do?” He stands.

"I assume you've called her."

Harry paces the room. "Yes. Well, I texted her, which seemed the most likely way to get a response. You know she hates the phone."

"Did you call Mum?"

"I can't, not right now. And she can’t do much from there." He sits down in a chair near the window.

“I’ll be there around 5:30. “

“See you then.” He disconnects the call.

###

"So, you've got to give me as much detail as possible in the shortest amount of time. We can talk over all the little bits and detours of the story later."

Harry walks to the terrace door. He pulls his bottom lip between his forefinger and thumb. "She wanted to take a trip. I told her I had things to do, and it wasn't a good time. We had a heated argument last night, which drifted into this morning. It got worse; she said she couldn't do it anymore, was exhausted, and couldn't stay. She packed her bags and left. That's it in a nutshell."

"So you say she packed two suitcases? When was the trip supposed to happen?"

He continues to stare out the glass door. "Next week, Thursday, I think."

Gemma taps the tea mug. "Right, so she's not on the trip. Any idea where she'd go?"

He shakes his head, then shrugs. "Her mum’s, maybe. Since her sisters live far away, she probably wouldn’t visit either of them. She only has one friend she'd trust with something this serious-Julia."

"And have you called Julia?"

"No."

Gemma stands, places the mug on the coffee table, walks over, and rubs Harry's back. “You should call Julia; you don't have to tell her everything; just tell her you and Y/N had an argument, and you're wondering if she's spoken with her. Just checking to make sure she got safely to her destination.”

“But I don’t know her destination.”

“I know. That’s what Julia’s for.”

Harry's shoulders slump, and he drops his head back. "But that's so embarrassin’-can’t even keep track of ‘m own wife.”

"You can choose to find your wife or be stubborn. You always say choices are important, so there you go. Those are your choices."

Harry sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

#harry styles x you #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fluff #dad!rry #harry styles y/n

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awritesthings1 · 7 months

Text

The Midas Effect (Part 2)

Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?

Word Count: 2.8k+

Note: This is the final part! :)

AO3 link

Previous part

Sometime in the night, you lose yourself to the rhythm of the rain. Its presence swallowed your thoughts away into distant lands where the howl of the clouds drew tears from the sky. Where the valleys drowned themselves in waterfalls pouring down from mountain cliffs. Where mud swallowed earthly greens out of greed and where the creaking of floorboards disappeared under the roaring of the storm.

It was all the same.

Yet you still felt like a stranger in your own home.

The scar across Anakin’s eye remained as memorable as it did the day you last saw him. And the heat of the mug in your hands thawed your hands the same way. Because you couldn’t mistake any of this for anything but real. So it had to be true just the same way you were a girl and he was a Jedi.

For lack of a better term, you missed Anakin Skywalker.

You realize all of this after you position yourself in front of the fireplace. Anakin had gone to gather thicker blankets and fluffier cushions to make your spot on the floor comfier.

The universe had sent you a second chance. You just need to figure out why.

“Anakin.” His name sounds like a prayer on your lips.

Anakin, who was crossing the threshold of the room, stops still in his tracks. “Yes?”

You turn your face away from the fire, fighting away the wobble in your voice with a teary-eyed smile. “Come sit with me?”

He thinks you look like a precious vase on the verge of cracking. Without another word, he scrambles to your side, careful not to make too much noise with the weight of his boots. Anakin is afraid to make any sudden movements and cut the thinly disguised pain on your face.

The truth is, you hated being alone. When you were alone, your thoughts got too loud. It was like being stuffed in an overcrowded room with no door. And no matter how many people you elbowed out of the way, two more would rear their ugly heads. Sometimes you think you might be better off letting them grab your shoulders and press you into the crowd until you wilt away and become a dot among thousands of bodies. At least then you wouldn’t need to worry about where you place your hands.

Anakin must see the slouch in your shoulder when he brushes the back of his knuckles down your arm. You shiver because it’s the flesh hand. If only he knew his mistake before he touched you. Didn’t he know everything you touched turned to stone?

Your father once told you about a king named Midas. Everything he touched turned to gold. What a heavenly gift, you thought. You could have a gold hairbrush, gold slippers, and a large golden mirror. How could that be a curse? The ending never made sense. You would never be so dumb as to touch your family and make the mistake of turning them into gold.

You tense at your naivety. How stupid you had been. Because wasn’t that exactly what you had done? But instead of gold statues, you turned them into chiseled headstones perched in the meticulously groomed family graveyard.

The thoughts cluster together like a star ready to burst.

Bigger and bigger, they swell, burning your toes until it’s large enough that the fireplace disappears and then the room. It’s just you and the taunting ball of light.

“…in your head?” Anakin’s husky voice rasps like the burning sphere. It explodes then, pricking the soles of your feet with shards of debris.

“Huh?” You reply absentmindedly, albeit not all there.

He exhales through his nose slowly, fixing you with an intense stare. Or at least it felt that way. It was easy to feel small next to the Jedi. He was the kind of man your dad would approve of— someone strong and ambitious to rule the kingdom by your side one day. He’d give you one of those sly looks fathers gave their daughters after a joke they told fell flat. You scrunch your nose at that.

“You were fine before you went to bed. Did you have a nightmare?” Anakin asks.

You are almost certain that’s not what he said originally, but you don’t have an ounce left in your frail body to argue.

You shake your head, hoping he will let it go. How would you explain that you almost died in a crash and accidentally traveled back in time into your younger body? It wasn’t like Anakin had any reason to trust you. You had never been close, and you mostly avoided everyone after your father’s passing.

His lips part as if to say something, but he presses them closed shortly after to embrace the silence. You would thank him if you didn’t feel like a ghost trapped in a stranger’s place. What use are your hands when they tremble and cramp? Anakin would be wise to cut one off to replace his metal hand so at least then one of your hands would be able to save people.

He shuffles closer until you feel the tickle of his golden locks. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I lost my hand?”

Your teeth gnaw on the flesh of your bottom lip. You think if he opens his mouth one more time in that silky, soft rasp of his, you will burst into tears. Just one more sweet ounce of affection, and you would throw up at his feet and effectively soak his robes with your pathetic tears.

“Obi-Wan and I were on Genosis—”

It all comes out. All the muffled noise that had been prowling through your head comes crashing out.

“Come here,” Anakin abandons the story, shuffling closer until his whole body is pressed into your side.

The leather material of his glove combs through your head. You almost purr like a lothcat at the sensation. But instead, you just cry into the cusp of his neck where you can feel the pulse of an artery. His fingers brush loose strands out of your mouth and behind your ear. Anakin’s chin rests on your head, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. It’s probably something like, you’re alright, or it’ll all be fine, that people say when they don’t know how to comfort anyone. You’ve heard them a million times, and it never makes you feel any better.

Intertwining your hand with Anakin’s leather one, you pull it to your lap where you fiddle with the notches.

“Can I see it?” You sniff.

His brows furrow as you watch the cogs turn in his head. After a moment, he lets out a sigh, releasing your hair to unlatch the leather glove. Before he removes it, you place your hand over his and tug away the glove yourself. What you see next makes you bite down hard on your tongue.

It’s gold. His metal arm is gold.

The Midas effect: everything you touch turns to gold.

Anakin mistakes your delirious laughter for tears, shushing you and trying to rock you gently. “The Midas effect! The Midas effect,” you babble mindlessly, batting his attentive touch away. When Anakin pauses to hold your shoulders, you continue. “The Midas effect, Anakin,” you laugh while a tear slips out.

“What’s that?” He questions.

“The King whose touch turns everything to gold. I’m cursed like him.”

Puzzled, he looks at his golden arm. Even through your weary-eyed mess, you catch the faintest smirk on his face. By now, your maniacal laughter had died down enough to hear a gentle chuckle from the Jedi. Maybe your state of mind has brushed off on him. If anyone saw the two of you, they would surely think you were both patients who escaped a ward.

Anakin smiles at you. “Who told you that?”

“You haven’t heard the story of King Midas?” You match his grin.

He bites his lip, shaking his head. “It’s not a story the Jedi have ever told me.”

You swallow a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It would be too easy to shamelessly sink into the Jedi’s arms and bury your head in his chest forever. Of course, if he hugged you back, it would be out of pity because it was his job to look out for you. Regardless, you don’t really care at this point.

Anakin clears his throat. “You should get to bed; it’s late.”

It’s been late for the past couple of hours, you think wryly. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

He ignores you, reaching for his glove to refasten it on his arm. “Let’s go; all princesses need their beauty sleep,” but you don’t budge from your spot. Quietly, he slips out to the kitchen to fetch a bucket of water. When he returns, you watch him douse the fire until it sizzles out.

“Can you show me a Force trick?” You lean back onto the floor, stretching out like a star.

He sighs, turning around as if to check to see if anyone was hiding nearby before turning back to you. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go to bed?”

You blink up at him lazily. “What if I don’t wake up?” The words slip past your lips without a thought. God, look at you. How could anyone ever trust you with being Queen? Not when the filter keeping your deepest fears broke in a matter of hours within the presence of a Jedi.

Anakin inhales sharply. Perhaps you misjudged him. Maybe that was his Jedi trick— bringing the most unsettling thoughts to the surface.

“I’ll keep watch over you,” he nods.

“You promise?”

“I’ll be right next to you when you wake.”

You watch him as if he were a shooting star, burning so bright but gone in the blink of an eye. Your eyes burn, afraid to close them and snuff the light out. You don’t know what waits for you on the other side. Death, perhaps. Would it be dark? Would it be cold? You had heard tales of kings who buried everything they would take to the afterlife with them: their favorite wine, lavish furs, cutlery and furniture. Yet all you have is the servant’s dress you had put on earlier. If you were wiser, you would have stopped pulling at the loose thread at the hem so you wouldn’t have to worry about having one rag to your name in the afterlife. Huh. How ironic, you think, a queen with only a rag to her name. There’s something awfully fitting about that.

“Will you hold my hand?” You don’t want to go into the end alone.

Wordlessly, he lies down next to you on the floor, mimicking your position. His cheek presses into the floor, watching you as he slides his leather hand closer. Anakin’s hand is much larger than yours when he encompasses it gently and rubs his thumb up and down your knuckles.

Your skin is dry and stiff from where your tears have dried, but you still find it in you to smile out of gratitude.

“Goodnight, Anakin.”

And how lucky you must be to know that the tender caress of skin feels the same as slipping into a dream.

You find that death isn’t as scary as you expected. Its shrill cry rings like a bell in your ear, awakening you from a deep slumber. Death’s arms are wound tight across your chest in an unwanted hug. Instinctively, you claw at your chest to pull it away. It tightens then, and you jump at the sound of your own scream.

Your eyes fly open, just as the harness of your seat digs into your skin.

You survived.

Relief floods over your head and you sink beneath it. The moment is brief, enough to steal a burning gulp of air. It isn’t fresh or clean, and your lungs protest at the smoke, but it’s the fuel you need to keep pushing.

Shaking hands reach to undo your harness, and you think it’s a bit strange how one is concealed by a leather glove. Neither Vee nor the Alderaan pilot were wearing one when you boarded. You spare a look up.

“Getting yourself into more trouble, princess?”

I’ll be right next to you when you wake.

Anakin had never been a liar.

When the harness clicks open, you throw yourself at him despite, your legs giving out halfway there. He catches you in the rush, the hood of his robe falling back to reveal those tender curls you always loved. Anakin laughs a boyishly. It reminds you of timber crackling in the fireplace.

“Good to see you too,” he smiles, brushing away the dirt and sweat you felt sticking to your face.

You don’t even consider the repercussions of your actions as you sling both arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. It must be the shock, you think, or perhaps part of you still thought you were dreaming. Either way, he doesn’t pull back and it makes your stomach twist into knots.

When you pull back, you push him away and scream joyously at the sky, stretching your arms as far as they will go. You forget about it all, letting the hairs on your arms stand tall and shiver in a satisfying way.

And then it hits you.

“Vee!” You cry, hissing at the throbbing sensation in your head as you must have whipped your head around too quickly.

She comes running around a large piece of debris from the ship with her hands gathered in her skirt. Behind her is the Alderaan pilot, who cradles his arm carefully across his chest. “Are you hurt?” She asks.

“I’m fine. How about you?” You answer, although your words are muffled into her shoulder as you embrace.

“I was lucky. Only a broken arm over there,” she says, looking back at the pilot, a small smile ghosting her lips before turning back. She stills.

You follow her gaze over your shoulder to Anakin. He looks just as unnerved. Your eyebrows furrow. “Vee, you remember Anakin. The Jedi that guarded me after my…” The words die on your tongue. After my father died.

She clears her throat. “Forgive me, Jedi Skywalker. I am just surprised, that is all. I thought the Jedi were a thing of the past.” Her words are curt.

You flinch at her formal address. It probably wasn’t appropriate for you to refer to Anakin by his first name, but it also couldn’t have been appropriate to kiss him either.

Anakin sneaks a glance at you, catching his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before looking back at Vee. “We may not have a temple anymore,” he says, holding your gaze, “but we do have our responsibilities.”

“What happened to you?” You don’t mean for it to come out so suddenly, but like most things in your life, it passed you by.

He swallows and forgets to blink. “Your ship won’t make it past their lines in the sky. I suggest we take mine; it should have landed just past that hill.” He gestures somewhere in the distance. “And then we will get that cut cleaned, my lady.”

Your mouth sours at the formality before reaching above your eyebrow. When you pull your fingers away, they are covered in fresh blood. Oh.

Anakin brushes past you, swiping the faintest touch across your arm as he does. You study Vee and the Alderaan pilot to see if they caught it, but they appear unphased. Quietly, you follow behind him.

After a minute of walking in silence, you speak up. “Why did you come back?”

“I heard about the invasion of Caridaan and figured a little princess may need my help.”

“Queen.”

“What?”

“I’m Queen now.”

Anakin grins, still focused on his ship in the distance. His smile hasn’t changed.

“You remember that story you told me? About the King who turned everything to gold?” Anakin begins. You nod, confused about where he was going with this. Regardless, you watch as he fumbles beneath his robe to reveal his silver lightsaber. He stops in his tracks, grabbing your arm gently to draw your attention closer. “Put your hand out.”

You gape at him. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he sighs, putting the metal hilt into your hand anyway. It’s heavier than you expected, larger too. You wonder how he is able to wrap his hand around the whole thing. “Press the button.” He shifts to your side to stay clear of the direction you are holding his weapon.

When you do, a single beam of blue light ignites. It hums beneath your grip. “I don’t understand,” you gulp. You never really knew much about the Jedi. Anakin had told you about the different colors briefly, how the good guys were blue and green, and the bad guys were red. Still, you failed to understand what point he was trying to prove.

By your side, Anakin inhales deeply before exhaling. “Doesn’t look cursed to me.”

The King whose touch turns everything to gold. I’m cursed like him.

You see a silly reflection of yourself in the silver hilt.

The silver metal feels just right in your hand.

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