#Not very well but if I know the word I can read it
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alchemistc · 3 days ago
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You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.
They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.
And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.
Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.
I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.
My mistake.
Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.
That's not fair. I'm sorry.
The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.
He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.
Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.
Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.
No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.
He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.
He wonders if it had hurt.
Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.
His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.
Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.
His life has meaning, and all that jazz.
Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.
(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)
There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.
The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.
It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.
It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.
When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.
I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.
It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.
And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.
Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)
Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)
He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.
And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -
His phone buzzes on the coffee table.
Can we talk?
Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.
Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.
His phone chimes with an incoming call.
Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.
His phone rings again.
"What?"
"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."
Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"
"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."
"Are you driving right now?"
"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"
Buck gets stuck on fifth time.
There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.
Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.
"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."
Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."
"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."
He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."
Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.
(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)
The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.
He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.
He looks like shit.
"You look like shit."
Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.
"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."
Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.
Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"
Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.
"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -
"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.
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writerdownbookworder · 1 day ago
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The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 
Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.
Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 
After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 
Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.
Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.
“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am
engaged.”
His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”
“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”
His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”
Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”
His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”
Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”
“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”
“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.
His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”
Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”
“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 
She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”
Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”
Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.
He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought
” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And
here we are.”
“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”
Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m
not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”
Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 
He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”
Avalie’s eyes went wide.
She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!
And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!
That would make them sisters!!!
The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.
“How?”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“What in the world possessed you?”
“Her?”
“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”
“Why would she even say yes?”
Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”
She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”
The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.
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darktrashsoulbear · 2 days ago
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The Abyss Of Affection
Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader
Summary: Aemond discovers the book his sweet wife has been obsessed with and after reading one of the scenes, a plan begins to formulate (fluff)
This was inspired by a conversation I had with the wonderful Hannah @gwaynesprincess
House of the Dragon Masterlist
Warnings: Allusions to smut
Word Count: 2308
Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics
Not entirely show canon as Jaehaerys is alive, Maelor exists and people are happy
Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)
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His calculated footsteps echoed in the hallways of the keep’s royal chambers, following the elder of the King’s brothers - Prince Aemond Targaryen - back to his chambers after an incredibly taxing day filled with fulfilling duties that were not his own and patrolling the city atop his beloved Vhagar, the Queen of all Dragons. Many would argue a dragon fit for a true king, Aemond would agree. Finally rounding the corner, he greeted the familiar face of Ser Steffon giving a cordial nod as he made his way through the doors of his chambers, removing his cloak as he went. 
The sight that greeted the prince was not surprising yet still brought a small, fond smile to his face. Laying on her side of the feather bed was his sweet wife curled up under the various blankets spread across the bed to combat the chill in the air as the citadel switched black ravens to white and summer turned to winter. Aemond made quick work of stripping out of his leathers and into a loose night shirt and breeches ready to join his wife in slumber.
Just as he was about to blow out the candles beside where they lay, he noticed a book beneath the blankets next to his sweet wife’s sleeping form. He picked it up ready to place it on the small table on her side of the bed before taking a look at the title and realising it was the book that had so often stolen her attention away from him during the nights they spent together before the fire. The prince’s insatiable curiosity, it seems, also extended to what on earth his sweet wife could be reading in the non-academic books she so loves.
Flipping over to one of the pages he remembers her completely raving about with her lady in waiting, he began to read and as he continued, a plan began to formulate.
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She was met by a chorus of “good morrow, Princess” to which she responded with decidedly less vigour and an almost petulant expression as she discovered that her husband was in fact not in their shared chambers. This prompted the other ladies in the room to barely suppress their giggles knowing how not seeing her husband in the mornings can dampen her mood - not that the Prince fairs any better himself.
“Do any of you happen to know where my dear lord husband is at such an hour?” she discontentedly drawled.
The handmaidens exchanged uneasy glances with one another which, of course, did not escape her watchful gaze and she probed further with a single raise of an eyebrow. Silence ensued for a couple of very awkward, tension-filled seconds until the Princess’ lady in waiting - Elaena - stepped closer and stated that “we are not at liberty to say, Princess,” adding a slight curtsy at the end.
Again silence ensued only interrupted by her own chortle “what in the name of the seven do you mean ‘not at liberty’, forgive me but I am utterly confused.”
“I’m afraid Prince Aemond has forbidden us to speak of it Princess and he reminded us that if you demanded
 well Princess he said for us to remember that his orders outrank yours,” Elaena hesitantly explained, shoulders visibly tense at her admission.
An even longer silence commenced, this one not so easily interrupted. Instead the Princess slightly nodded her head and proceeded to load some fresh fruits onto her plate before biting into a strawberry that was surprisingly ripe given the season. She sat with a contemplative look on her face, her ladies worried she was deeply hurt when really she was wondering what the best way to punish him would be, perhaps
 
She was pulled from her musings by a knock on the chamber doors which one of the handmaidens - Lyla - was quick to answer. She carried a written message delivered by a page boy and with mild curiosity the Princess unravelled it and began to read.
She then very calmly got up, retreating to the sitting chambers with her beloved book and instructed her handmaidens to leave her, and on their way to “inform Prince Aemond that if he wishes to have an audience he may do so in our private chambers, I am not a dog to be called to heel and told to wait in the dragon pit until he finally chooses to descend from the sky”.
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Suddenly Queen Helaena turned to look directly into the Princess’ eyes causing her to startle. Helaena grasped her arms in a gentle hold and decided that “you will be very happy with it,” and while not always understanding but being kind to Helaena’s ways, the Princess confidently nodded in affirmation.
“I’m certain I will be sister,” followed by a soft squeeze of the Queen’s hands she quickly let go to ensure she didn’t crowd the gentle soul beside her.
Turning her attention to Maelor, the youngest of the King and Queen’s children, she scooped him into her arms and brought him to her lap where she proceeded to grab the second less than perfect dragon (Daeron’s first attempt) and began to play with him. Entirely encompassed by the babe's soft giggles she failed to notice the shadow of her husband nor feel the piercing but fond gaze he stared at the two of them with - giving him a few ideas of his own.
Finally sensing his presence, his sweet wife turned towards him and pinned him with a markedly less than sweet gaze. After returning Maelor to his mother, the princess stood, brushed off her dress, said her goodbyes to the children with the promise of visiting again soon, squeezed Helaena’s hand and strode straight past her dear husband without so much as a look in his direction.
Aemond Targaryen, the incredibly formidable man that he is, immediately turned and followed (and after speaking with her lady in waiting) trailed a step behind knowing that if he got any closer he may well be subject to a more physical attack.
“Sweet wife - ,” his mouth slammed shut, the sound of his teeth clacking together audible as she turned around to face him and he thanked the seven that they’d at least made it to the hall outside their chambers to give a small amount of privacy.
“How can I be of service to my Prince? Shall I draw you a bath, change your linens, perhaps wash them too? After all, your commands should certainly be obeyed by all who rank lower than you lord husband!” and Aemond’s moment of stunned silence was all she needed to turn and push the door to their chambers open, her hair almost whipping Aemond in the face. After clearing his throat and righting his already perfectly placed doublet, the prince followed after his wife. This time the nod to Ser Steffon was slightly more stiff and definitely less cordial. 
Upon entering their chambers, it became apparent that his sweet wife was just getting started on his torture as she began shedding her day clothes to ready herself for dinner that night as it had become customary for the royal family to dine together per the Dowager Queen Alicent’s request. As he walked in she turned to look at him, again raising a single eyebrow, a silent demand for him to explain himself and explain he did - after he managed to bring his eye back up to meet hers.
Aemond nervously began to describe how he had to go patrol the city earlier than expected that morrow and after his wife’s further probing he let out a sigh as he admitted that he was hiding something from her but he insisted she could not know. Instead he decided to avert her attention by apologising for his blunt and insensitive instructions, insisting his mind was incredibly preoccupied and he meant none of it. 
After a beat, his sweet wife looked back up at him and simply agreed that it was foolish of him before continuing to prepare herself for dinner. With the guilt still weighing down on him, Aemond tried once more to draw a further reaction from her and informed her that “we will not be dining with the family tonight, my heart, it shall just be the two of us so please do not feel obligated to wear something that will placate my mother”. The huff of air Aemond let out could have rivalled Vhagar’s as his Princess finally met his eye and gave a smile of her own.
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The Princess very quickly decided that she would never again allow her husband to guide her through the gardens, at dusk, alone with no idea of where on earth he was going. She marvelled at how her Prince had spent the entirety of his life growing up within the walls of the keep while she had only moved here three years past when their betrothal was finalised and yet she knew the gardens a lot better than he did. They walked in silence with the occasional mumble of “I’m sure it was this way”, “perhaps it’s actually that way” and what she is sure sounded like a “seven hells this is so embarrassing”.
Eventually, the Princess abruptly stopped walking causing Aemond to turn back to look at her with wide eyes as though he was expecting her to end the night and head back into the castle (which definitely seems tempting) but instead she drew herself closer to him tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb and sweetly asked him to tell her where he wanted to go and she would lead the way. Confusion clouded her eyes when she saw her husband’s gaze darken with disappointment at not being able to keep the location secret before giving a rather reluctant nod and mumbling the area of the gardens.
This again caused her to still, as not long before setting off on their adventure she’d gotten to her favourite scene in the romance novel she was currently re-reading which described the relationship between two lovers from flea bottom snook into the castle’s garden and had a picnic beneath a section where two trees intertwined to look like a heart. She let out a small laugh at the coincidence before leading him in the direction of the garden’s that she learned the trees actually existed in when she went searching after her first time reading the book.
As they stepped through the clearing, fingers interlocked, Aemond’s sweet wife stopped dead in her tracks. The scene before her bringing an onslaught of tears to her eyes and Aemond’s own eye drank in her reaction feeling his chest expand with pride. The scene was exactly as described in the books - granted the royalty version - with a table in the middle of the clearing, the heart trees standing right before it. A small fire was lit as the air was cool and biting and she thanked the gods for giving her a husband intelligent enough to organise for a canopy to be set up over the table. Even the food was some of the meats and fresh fruit described in her book.
After taking it all in, the princess - now thankful for there being no escort - fisted her husband’s nicest leathers and brought him down for a bruising kiss, whispering thank you’s and I love you’s in between.
Aemond’s own heart was beating out of his chest as they finally pulled away from one another and he helped her into her seat before taking his own next to her, never letting go of her hand - not even when they began to eat, opting to do it with his left hand instead, and certainly not as his sweet wife moved from her own seat into his lap, playing with his hair and telling him just how wonderfully he had done.
If you asked anyone who crossed paths with the Prince and Princess that night, they’d tell you that never before had they ever encountered two individuals looking so shamelessly in love. They’d express their shock as they witnessed their Prince, the fierce rider of Vhagar, laugh freely with his lady wife with his arm firmly wrapped around her waist and the Princess’ hand rubbing up and down his back.
As the Prince once again encountered Ser Steffon, he greeted the guard with a slightly more reserved smile than his wife received and instructed him to have a good night while he ushered his giggling wife inside. Once they were out of sight Ser Steffon let out a small chuckle of his own before walking a few paces down the hall, away from the door.
As the very smitten couple climbed into bed the Prince once again asked his sweet wife if everything met her standards to which she simply pulled herself up and decided on showing him how pleased she was instead - but not before ensuring the punishment she decided on earlier was carried out.
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casually-eat-my-soul · 2 days ago
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I don’t know why I’m equating stiles to penguins and crows but stiles gives really pretty and super shiny rocks to his favourite people.
Maybe it stemmed from collecting rocks with his mother — “See, Stiles there are stars in the sea”— because they both loved looking at stars together so now they can carry stars around with them. (Stiles buried his best rock with his mother)
Stiles only clued into his feeling about Derek after the third time he had given him a rock.
The first time had been the day after Derek had killed Peter. Stiles knew what it was like to bury a family member. It took him nearly the whole day to find the perfect rock, or else he would have given it over sooner. Stiles awkwardly dropped it in his open palm stammering out broken sentences — “I like rocks- me and my mom - when she - it’s a good rock” — Derek looked very confused and frustrated. (He was thinking about the collection of rocks he had seen on stiles bookshelf when he was a fugitive.)
Stiles tried to defend his rock choice while also trying to explain why he gave it to Derek. It made for a very uncomfortable 4 minutes. Stiles gave up and just told Derek he could keep the rock or throw it away or fucking bury it with Peter. That he wouldn’t care what Derek did with the rock (lie). And with that he stormed away.
Unbeknownst to him, Derek heard the lie and kept the rock. He wasn’t going to at first, and had tried to just drop the rock but his hand wouldn’t uncurl from around the stone. Derek had generally understood that stiles had been trying to comfort him, and this rock was his confusing way of doing that.
He only truly understood after seeing the headstones that read Claudia Stilinski when going to deliver flowers to his families grave.
It was the first piece of kindness he had received since Laura died. So he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.
—————
The second time stiles had brought Derek a rock was a week after holding Derek up in the swimming pool. Stiles had tried going down to the lake the day after swimming pool but couldn’t bring himself close to the edge. He had cried for hours after, scared that he’d never be able to get back in the water again. He wouldn’t be able to look for rocks and pretend his mother was still with him. Pretend that she was the one sending him the stars in the “sea”.
So after a week of going back to the lake and trying, he had succeeded in getting about knees deep. While celebrating Stiles stepped on a rock. Well two rocks. He had finished them out of the lake after he was done cursing. Loving how cool the rocks looked he went to make his way home. he had planned on giving the second less shiner rock to Scott so they could match. But he saw Derek on his way home and felt compelled to give it to him instead.
Still wet from the lake stiles walked up to Derek and asked him to hold out his palm. There was far less hesitance, glaring, and arguing than the first time stiles had demanded that.
Without even realizing it, Stiles had given Derek the rock he was going to keep. He was going to ask for it back and switch out the rocks but the look on Derek’s face stopped him. He looked more open and relaxed than stiles had even seen him, more vulnerable. There was a look of wonder in Derek eyes, as he fiddled with the stone.
Stiles no longer cared that about having the less shiny stone. In fact he was completely okay with not having it. When Derek realized stiles was staring with his mouth totally not open, he went right back to a closed expression. Words immediately begin spilling out of stiles mouth, without his permission.
—“ I couldn’t get in the water, after
 - the lake, it’s 
 It’s a good rock, super shiny and it’s got a smooth texture. It’s kinda red like your eyes.” —
He even flipped his own hand and showed Derek his rock. “We’re matching, kinda. Well we were the only two in the water that night” He trailed off again before reiterating that Derek could just throw out the rock but Derek thanks him in the middle.
Derek walks him out of the preserve towards his car and reminded Stiles to be careful as there was still a kanima and argents on the lose.
——
The third time Stiles give Derek a rock is the night of his kidnapping. And technically Erica and Boyd’s. It was also the night he fully joined the hale pack, by protecting Boyd and Erica from hunters. The night he thought he was going to die.
Instead of leaving Erica and Boyd tied up, the hunter dragged them to the woods. They were planning on having a proper hunt. It was only by sheer luck that the three of them got away. Well that and the fact that the hunter were stupid enough to underestimate very desperate and pissed off Stiles. The fact that he had grown up in beacon hills and the hunter hadn’t was an added bonus.
During the fight stiles had tripped and and caught a stone in his hand. He was still holding it when he slammed his jeep through a wall. He only gave it to Derek after everyone else passed out for the night.
Stiles was sitting on a very uncomfortable chair in the train deport. However, that wasn’t enough to stop him from getting lost in his head. Vaguely watching as the rest of the pack slept in a pile. Stiles only came back to himself after Derek sat down beside him. The warmth of the werewolf’s arm around his shoulder allowed him to release the tension his body.
Stiles curled into Derek as sobs shook his body, not caring at pretending to be okay at the current moment. Derek only held him tighter, nearly pulling stiles into his lap.
When stiles had calmed down he grabbed one of Derek’s hand and gave him the rock. He heard a hum of confusion, one that prompted a sudden laugher.
“I thought I was going to die tonight.”
At his confession, Derek went still. Stiles stumbled through explaining what had happened that night. Derek just held him through it. He felt a little insecure when he finished. Over both the story and the ugly rock.
Derek just dropped his face into the crook of stiles neck and breathed out a thank you and that was that.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Stiles didn’t feel need to move. Moreover he didn’t want to. Which was a revelation in of itself. He would pay more attention to the maybe crush in morning, for now he was safe to sleep.
A few weeks later after everything calmed down and the pack is having a movie night, he give a rock to each member if the pack. Derek leaves the room for a second before returning. Later on that evening he goes to grab his sweater from Dereks room. He sees his three little rocks, now four. He absolutely falls in love with Derek in that moment. He didn’t know that Derek kept any of this rocks, but seeing the proof made him really happy.
Lydia makes a joke about stiles being a penguin. Stiles squawked in offense, of both himself and penguins. Claiming that giving rocks as a way of courting someone is perfectly valid. But that he wasn’t a penguin so it doesn’t count. She just gives him a knowing look.
This is what finally clues Derek in. His wolf already knew and was laughing at him.
Derek had wanted to give stiles back a rock when he confessed to him or on their first date or something romantic. Unfortunately that didn’t happen. Instead it happened after an exhausting fight with a troll. Stiles had stormed up to Derek about to lay into him for his self sacrificing tendencies. Derek thought stiles still looked like the most beautiful thing he had even seen. Even covered in gore.
So he plucked one of stiles waving hands out of the air and gave him the stone that had been in his pocket for far to long.
Like a switch of their roles, Stiles stared at the rock in quiet awe for a minute, while Derek stood insecure. Stiles let out a small giggle, quite happily whispered “he got me a rock, you got me a rock!!” And preceded to haul Derek by the shirt and kiss him.
Stiles goes around excitedly telling everyone that derek gave him a rock. He also used it in an argument with dad over their relationship.
They exchanged rocks and well as rings in their wedding. One of their wedding cake toppers were penguins.
Now that I’ve finished writing this all out I’m realizing that this could also be a creature stiles au.
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thetetra · 2 days ago
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So I actually did read it!
You obviously did not.
Lets take a few of your quotes and quotes from the article. "This article is intentionally leaving out information"
such as?
"Neither you or the article explain how this is the fault of pro-life legislation" --Although US abortion bans – which more than a dozen states have enacted in the two years since the supreme court overturned Roe v Wade – technically permit the procedure in medical emergencies, doctors across the country have said that the laws are worded so vaguely that they don’t know when they can legally intervene. Instead, many physicians say they have been forced to wait until a patient is on the brink of death – then attempt to pull them back. So poorly written legislation is delaying needed medical care and making what should be routine procedures more dangerous. and from the next paragraph
--Barnica went to the hospital with cramps when she was just over 17 weeks pregnant on 2 September 2021, the day after the Texas six-week abortion ban took effect, according to ProPublica. --Barnica’s cervix was dilated at nearly 9cm, a condition that left her vulnerable to fast-acting infections, ProPublica reported. Normally, in cases like Barnica’s doctors will offer medication to speed up labor or perform a procedure to empty the uterus. --But Barnica’s fetus still had a heartbeat. And under the Texas ban, doctors could not intervene unless a “medical emergency” – a term that was not defined in the law – developed.
So this VERY clearly is a law, as written, killing this woman. Like the only arguments here are if you dont understand what is going on.
--Within days, she was back at the hospital, where she died of sepsis involving “products of conception”, according to her autopsy report.
Just in case you were wondering that means the baby killed her.
--Multiple experts, including OB-GYNs and maternal fetal medicine specialists, told ProPublica that delaying Barnica’s care ran against the medical standard of care due to the risk of infection.
That bit means that medical experts knew what to do but werent allowed to. So now that we have clearly shown that you projected your own sin of ignorance upon me. Lets see if you had any other points to make.
"There is nothing about pro-life laws that prevented this woman from being treated. Abortion laws in Texas do not prevent miscarriage care." Article covered that... there was a heartbeat so no care could be provided due to the Abortion laws in Texas. "This woman could have been treated and should have been treated and any doctor worth their salt is well aware they could have helped this woman in any way they saw fit." Baby had a heartbeat so their hands were tied. You either didnt read the article, dont understand what you are talking about, or dont care what is written and just pray your audience wont read it. "So this is a case of you not knowing anything about the abortion laws and the media lying and you just believing them for some reason." Wait wait wait... did I not read the article or is the article lying? If these laws aren't preventing this necessary care then there should be a HUGE wave of malpractice lawsuits being taken out against these doctors who " committed malpractice when they saw an opportunity to be activists." So wait... your argument is that Doctors are sacrificing the lives of patients for political gains? That is a HUGE leap and requires more proof than you insinuating that it might be true. I could, with just as much likelihood, insinuate that you are suggesting such a thing in a completely baseless way because you want to hold on to your political views and win an argument despite facts. So please provide some sort of basis that makes your statement that political human sacrifice is happening in OB/GYN offices in (I think) 14 states across the nation.
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svtiddiess · 12 hours ago
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Sex Education
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Synopsis: In your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?
Pairing: loser!virgin!med student!Mingyu x afab!med student!reader
Genre: smut, slight crack, one shot, med school! au
Rating: mature
Word count: 2.6k
Warnings: pet names (puppy), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, size kink, choking, loss of virginity, sub!Gyu, big dick!Gyu, loser!Gyu, riding, masturbation, lemme know if I missed anything!
Note: Thank you so much for helping me with the synopsis my twin @tomodachiii! As promised, here's sub!Gyu.
Thank you so much to @onlymingyus for beta reading!
Click here to join my taglist!
Reblogs are appreciated ♡
.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ
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Mingyu.
That's the only thing on your mind right now—nothing else, just Mingyu. You should probably be paying attention to the lesson, but how could you, with the hot nerd sitting right within your line of sight? Okay, maybe you chose this seat specifically so you could look at him without getting caught, but still! He’s a distraction you’re more than happy to have.
You rest your chin in your hand, sighing as your eyes trace over his figure. He’s built like a Greek god—strong, tall, with perfectly styled black hair, and his large square glasses barely hide his handsome, tan face. Oh, what you’d give just to see him without those glasses on.
You’ve known Mingyu since middle school. You never really interacted, but you definitely noticed him around. Back in school, he was known as the nerdy kid with glasses and a scrawny, lanky frame to match. Shy and awkward, he was an easy target for bullies. But over the years, his muscle mass increased, and his frame filled out. It seems he’s been putting in serious hours at the gym, and it’s definitely paid off.
Although he’s the most handsome guy in med school, he’s still incredibly shy and reserved, keeping his circle small and close-knit. Despite numerous people, especially girls, trying to get closer to him, he just pushes them away. That’s why, despite your massive crush, you haven’t made a move. You’re too scared he’ll shut you out and avoid you for good.
You can't help but bite your bottom lip and squeeze your thighs together as you rake your eyes over his bulging biceps, his shirt barely able to contain the muscle. Just one chokehold; one chokehold is all you're asking for, really. You sigh once again, knowing that you'll never be able to have him.
Your train of unholy thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of your professor calling your name. Startled, you sit up and look towards him.
"Miss Y/N, are you even paying attention?" Prof. Choi huffs, crossing his arms.
"Of course I am, professor," you reply, flashing the sweetest smile you can manage.
"Then, for the third time, please answer the question on the board," he says, gesturing to the problem.
"Uh
" you trail off, completely lost.
Prof. Choi sighs and tells you to see him after class, to which you reluctantly agree. You sink into your chair, dreading what’s to come. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and shifted your gaze back to Mingyu, watching in awe as he effortlessly answered the very question you stumbled over. Tall, muscular, hot, and smart—he really is the perfect guy.
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You grumble as Prof. Choi calls your name, sabotaging your plan to slip out of class. Sighing, you drag yourself over to his desk, only to be surprised when Mingyu joins you. You glance between Mingyu and Prof. Choi, waiting for an explanation.
"Y/N, I’ll get straight to the point—you’re failing this class," Prof. Choi says. "At this rate, I’m not sure you'll be able to move on to the next year."
Well, it’s not your fault that a hot distraction named Kim Mingyu exists.
"That’s why I’ve assigned Mingyu here as your tutor to help you pass," he says, nodding toward Mingyu.
Your eyes widen, and you struggle to suppress a smile. Mingyu tutoring you? Spending time alone with him? This feels like a dream come true. You silently thank both Prof. Choi and the heavens for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Mingyu gives you a shy smile. "I hope we can get along well," he says, extending his hand.
You gratefully take it, noticing the blush coloring his cheeks.
"Please take good care of me, Mingyu," you say, beaming, already looking forward to your tutoring sessions.
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You smooth out your skirt one last time before opening the door for Mingyu. You made sure to wear your sluttiest outfit today. After insisting that your brain works better when you study in your room, Mingyu shyly agreed to hold the tutoring sessions there.
You smile and step aside to let him in, watching as he sheepishly steps into your house. Making sure your ass is sticking out, you made him follow you upstairs to your room.
You sat down on your bed, subtly raising your skirt, and gestured for Mingyu to take a seat next to you. He awkwardly took his seat and started pulling out his notes.
He keeps his eyes on his notes as he starts explaining today’s lesson—something about the Krebs cycle, though you’re not really listening. You’re too busy admiring his handsome face. You twirl a strand of hair and blink sweetly as you ask (hopefully relevant) questions, but he barely glances at you while answering.
After what feels like hours of studying (it’s been 30 minutes), you whine and beg him for a break, and he blushes as he agrees.
"Would you like some snacks? Or maybe water or juice?" you ask, perking up.
"Just a glass of water is fine," he mumbles, still focused on his notes.
You nod and grab a glass of water for him and a snack for yourself. Returning, you hand him the water with a smile, which he accepts with a quiet “thank you,” while you peel your banana for your snack.
You lick the tip of the banana before biting down on it, smirking when you see Mingyu gulping at your actions. Noticing you looking at him, he blushes and quickly averts his gaze.
"Want a bite?" You offer him with a sultry smirk.
"N-No, thank you," he mumbles, his ears turning red.
You giggle as you finish your banana and scoot a little closer, prompting him to continue the lesson. But he’s a stuttering mess, tripping over his words and repeatedly asking for more water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.
After stuttering his way through, Mingyu finally managed to finish the lesson. Sore from having hunched over, you stretch, not so subtly pressing your chest against his arm. Mingyu flushes, quickly gathering his notes and mumbling something about being late for a gaming session with Wonwoo.
You see him out, throwing in a wink and waving goodbye. You watch as he stumbles a bit while getting onto his Vespa and driving off. Chuckling to yourself, you can't help but smile at how cute he is.
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The rest of the tutoring sessions go the same way: you not-so-subtly flirt with Mingyu, while he either purposely ignores it or remains completely oblivious. You even try to out-slut your outfits with every tutoring session, but nothing seems to work.
One night, after yet another session, you lie in bed, frustrated that Mingyu isn’t picking up on your very obvious hints. Who knew the loser nerd would actually turn out to be a huge loser? You sigh, but him being a huge loser is what you find most endearing about him.
You bite your lip, remembering what he wore today—a black polo that stretched perfectly over his muscles, jeans that hugged his thighs just right, and of course, those thick black frames.
You can't help but sneak your hand down your torso as you remember how his arm felt pressed against your boobs. They felt so strong and firm, you bet that he could easily carry you and fuck you mid-air.
You shiver as your hand sneaks under your panties. You circle your pussy, collecting your arousal before pushing a finger into your hole, sighing at the slight stretch. You moan at the thought of Mingyu's fingers being way bigger than yours. His fingers would stretch you out so well before he finally fucks you with his huge cock.
You insert another finger and start thrusting your fingers, moaning out Mingyu's name. You imagine him hovering over you as he relentlessly thrusts into you, groaning your name right beside your ear. He'd growl as your fingers rake his back, leaving angry red marks. You'd wrap your legs around his hips and push him in deeper, making him breed you.
Your other hand circles your clit as you feel yourself getting to the edge. You imagine him thrusting from behind as his large bicep chokes you, putting just enough pressure to heighten the pleasure. He'd whimper and moan in your ear, letting you know how good you feel wrapped around him. He'd fill you up with his cum, again and again, and again, until the sheets underneath you are soaked with your mixed fluids.
Your breath hitches as you cum, whispering his name like a prayer, hoping that if you say it enough times, he’ll appear before you and make your dreams come true.
But he doesn't, and you're left lying in bed, sticky, sweaty, and alone.
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You yawn for the umpteenth time as Mingyu drones on about anatomy; you're sure your brain has shut down by now. You sigh as you lean back onto the bed, too tired even to sit up.
"Mingyu, can we please take a break? I don't think my brain can take any more of this," you groan, resting your arm over your eyes.
"U-Uh, yeah, sure," Mingyu mumbles, fiddling with his notes. "We could always switch to a different topic if you want a change of pace
"
"What's the next topic?"
"The reproductive system."
Your eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk paints your face as an idea pops into your head. You sit up and grin at Mingyu.
"Sure, let's learn about the reproductive system."
Happy that you're finally interested in a topic, Mingyu gathers his notes and starts to explain. After about 15 minutes of explanation, you put your hand over his and gently push away his notes.
"Mingyu, I don’t understand the topic at all," you say with a pout, shifting to sit directly in front of him. His face turns bright red, clearly flustered. "I think it would help if we put the theory into practice so I can learn better," you purr.
Mingyu stumbles over his words, stuttering, his brain clearly short-circuiting. You giggle at his flustered state and shift to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of him.
"Will you let me use you to put the theory into practice, Mingyu?" you ask, tilting your head with a pout as you gently cup his face.
"I-I’m not sure h-how
" Mingyu stammers, swallowing hard.
"Oh, you poor thing," you coo. "It's okay, I'll guide you, puppy. Will you let me?"
He licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath before giving a small nod.
"Don't worry, puppy, I'll make sure to take good care of you," you hum as you gently remove his glasses.
He blinks and looks up at you, lips parted and cheeks flushed. You take a moment to admire his handsome face without the glasses. Cupping his face, your eyes trace over his features—his strong jawline, his parted lips, and the small mole on the tip of his nose. Unable to resist, you lean in and place a gentle kiss there, making him shiver.
"Can I kiss you, puppy?" You whisper.
"P-Please," he whimpers, and you can't help but smile over how pathetic he sounds.
You lean in and press your lips against his, and he kisses back desperately, hungry for your lips. You chuckle into the kiss, his inexperience showing with every hesitant movement. When you pull back, he leans forward, chasing your lips and letting out a soft whine when you don’t return the kiss.
"Puppy, if you don't behave, I will punish you," you scowl, furrowing your eyebrows.
"'m sorry," he mumbles with a pout.
You plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, then slowly run your hands down his torso, gently squeezing each muscle through his white polo. He moans and shivers under your touch, his eyes squeezing shut.
"Puppy works hard in the gym, hm?" You giggle, squeezing his chest slightly harder, eliciting a gasp from him.
You giggle, then start slowly dragging your hands to his arms, squeezing his biceps.
"God, your arms are so big and strong," you moan, squeezing him hard. "I want you to choke me, puppy. Can you do that for me? Choke me with your biceps?"
Letting out a shaky breath, he nods. You shift, pressing your back against his chest. He gently puts you into a chokehold and squeezes his arm slightly. Your eyes roll back, and a moan slips from your lips when you feel his biceps push against your throat.
You can't help but feel small in Mingyu's hold; he's just so big and beefy. You grind your hips against him, and you feel his grip faltering. He whimpers and pushes his erection against your butt.
"P-Please, I can't. I-It hurts," he whimpers against your ear.
You sneak down your hand and palm him through his jeans, making him groan and buck your hips against your palm.
"Need me to take care of your problem puppy?" You giggle, palming him roughly.
"Please," he strains out, choking back a moan.
He releases you from the chokehold, and you quickly clamber over to grab the bottle of lube you've stashed on the side table. You look over to see that he's already pushed his jeans and boxers down and freed his aching cock.
"Impatient are we now, puppy?" You chuckle, making his cheeks heat up.
Locking eyes with him, you give him a sultry look as you slowly peel off your panties but keep your skirt on. He gulps hard, shifting in place, anticipating your next move.
Biting your lip, you slowly crawl back over to him. You pour lube all over his cock and give him a few pumps, he whines your name and bucks his hips, making you giggle.
"Gonna make you feel so good, puppy," you whisper as you shift to hover over him.
You grab onto his shoulders and slowly sink onto his big cock, the stretch making you moan out loud. Mingyu whines and groans under you, his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into you.
"F-Fuck," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth slowly envelopes him.
Your mouth goes agape, and your eyes roll back when you feel his tip kiss your cervix.
"M-Move, please move. I-I can't," he begs, muscles straining under you.
You slowly lift yourself and slam back down onto him, making the both of you moan out loud. Slowly picking up your pace, you start riding him. He becomes a blubbering mess under you, moaning your name and whining at how good it feels.
"Look at the mess we're making, puppy," you pant out, lifting your skirt and showing him the sticky mess forming at the base of his cock.
He looks down at where both of you are connected and moans. He starts picking you up and slamming you down at an animalistic pace, his hips meeting you halfway. You squeal at the feeling of him rutting into you.
Unable to hold back any longer, he cums hard, filling you up to the brim with his seeds. Desperate to reach your high, you continue to ride him despite his chokes and whimpers. You capture his lips into a messy kiss to distract him from the overstimulation.
"C-Circle my clit," you mumble in between the kiss, and he complies, his hand immediately sneaking down and rubbing your clit in circles.
You yell his name as you cum around him, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. Mingyu moans, and a few tears slip from his eyes at the feeling of you squeezing him with a vice-like grip.
You both take a moment to catch your breath, your head resting on Mingyu’s shoulder as he leans back against the headboard. Licking your lips, you cup his face and look into his dazed eyes.
"You did so well, puppy," you coo, watching him blush and give you a fucked-out smile.
"But I don't think I've fully understood the topic yet. Maybe we should go over it again, just to be sure," you say before smashing your lips on his again.
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Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour
@iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina
@theidontknowmehn @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @toplinehyunjin
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jymwahuwu · 2 days ago
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I'm speechless
 Mihoyo released the recording on CN social media. This is about Aventurine giving you a poetry book and reading poetry to you. He is so romantic! đŸ„ș💖
(That book of poetry is "The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Baudelaire.)
The translation is as follows:
Um? Am I not welcome at Astral Express? Your conductor and the navigator have no objections.
And, I didn't come empty-handed.
Look, this book of poetry. A gift for you.
Haha, I know what you want to say just by looking at your expression.
I never went to school, but it’s not like I didn’t study. Don't you believe me?
Okay, it seems I must read it to you.
Poetry translation (translation I found on the Internet):
The back of my crib was against the library, That gloomy Babel, where novels, science, fabliaux, Everything, Latin ashes and Greek dust, Were mingled. I was no taller than a folio. Two voices used to speak to me. One, sly and firm, Would say: "The Earth's a cake full of sweetness; I can (and then there'd be no end to your pleasure!) Give you an appetite of equal size." And the other: "Come travel in dreams Beyond the possible, beyond the known!" And it would sing like the wind on the strand, That waiting ghost, one knows not whence it comes, That caresses the ear and withal frightens it. I answered you: "Yes! gentle voice!" It's from that time That dates what may be called alas! my wound And my fatality. Behind the scenes Of life's vastness, in the abyss' darkest corner I see distinctly bizarre worlds, And ecstatic victim of my own clairvoyance, I drag along with me, serpents that bite my shoes.
And it's since that time that, like the prophets, I love so tenderly the desert and the sea; That I laugh at funerals and weep at festivals And find a pleasant taste in the most bitter wine; That very often I take facts for lies And that, my eyes raised heavenward, I fall in holes. But the Voice consoles me and it says: "Keep your dreams; Wise men do not have such beautiful ones as fools!"
—William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
I changed some of the wording, but the rest should remain the same. But
 what a bitter poem.
If that were you, which voice would you listen to? It's okay, you don't have to rush to answer me.
Well, the book is given to you. I have to go now.
I wish you sweet dreams tonight.
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ashasdiary · 2 days ago
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Pumpkin’s First Birthday
Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader
Synopsis: it’s your and Nanami’s daughter’s first birthday. Gojo and the students buy gifts for her and meet her for the first time at the party (based on this ask)
CW: so much FLUFF, established relationship, pet names, babies, PAPAMIN WC: 3.2k A/N: This is a sequel to Vitamins and Pumpkin — Pumpkin and this one are SFW! Enjoy thee cutest story ever!! <3
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As much of a family man Nanami Kento is, he’s not very traditional. Since you’d both agreed to skip a gender reveal for it to be a surprise at birth, you hadn’t even discussed names. 
Tired as you were after pumpkin was born, you were excited to discuss it. She slept comfortably against you while you breastfed. And you found, not surprisingly, that the discussion flowed smoothly and quickly. 
“I wanted to say we should go for a name beginning with K, to match yours,” you tell him. 
“That’s sweet, but wh—” he begins, you know he’s going to say what about yours, but you shake your head. 
“She’s our first child, and I think a K name would work better.”
He chuckles quietly and gives you a soft smile, “Alright, honey. You’re prepared, it seems. Shoot.”
“Kaiyo,” you tell him. He tilts his head, pondering on it. 
“Kaiyo,” he repeats, testing it out. Kaiyo, meaning ocean. 
You nod, smiling a little as you watch him think, the cogs turning in his head. “It's not one of the most common names, but I thought you might like it both for its literal translation and it being associated with the vast and endless beauty of the ocean,” you explain. 
He smiles warmly. “I really like that one. It’s sweet. Nanami Kaiyo works.”
“I thought you might. Now tell me yours?” You request and he squeezes your hand gently, gazing down at his daughter, sleeping soundly. 
“Kimiko,” he says, his voice soft, bringing his gaze to yours, “It’s a little more traditional, but it means ‘precious child’ or ‘valuable daughter’. It’s associated with beauty, grace, and elegance. It's not too common but still has a strong connection to Japanese culture.”
While you’d been listening to him explain, so passionately, so lovingly, you felt pumpkin shift a little, as if she was approving, and you knew that that was the one. Nanami Kimiko. 
“Oh
Ken, that’s wonderful. And we can shorten it too, even the nicknames still have pretty meanings. That’s so well thought out,” you whisper to him, eyes twinkling. 
He grins, “I’m glad you like it, honey. Yeah, it’s versatile. Kimi, like the term of endearment meaning dear, beloved, or sweetheart. And then Miko, which has connotations of grace, purity, and spirituality.” 
You lean over and kiss his head, “I love your brain. Goodness. It’s perfect!”
*
Nanami had taken paternity leave from work for 9 months, and you were so grateful for all of the moments you shared together with your daughter. Being present together, with her.
Kimiko, your sweet girl, was growing too fast. She’d began to crawl at 6 months. Nanami had very much been proactive in her development, having read so much about babies during your pregnancy, so you chalked up her fast progression to him. He was quite hands on when it came to tummy time, independent movement, and the process of introducing her to new foods. 
He was also extremely encouraging of Kimiko’s personality development.
It came as no surprise her first word was “dada,” because she was very much daddy’s girl. 
At 9 months, Nanami returned back to work. His colleagues, friends, the students, all asked him about you, your daughter, fatherhood, and he would always speak proudly of his family, show them pictures, and go into great detail of Kimiko’s developmental stages. 
A couple of weeks later, after he’d come home from work one day, he’s greeted by the sight of you sat at the end of the hallway encouraging Kimiko, and slowly, she totters over to him. Beginning to walk at 9 months was quite the achievement. 
*
“What’re you doing for Kimiko’s birthday?” Gojo asks one day as they’re sat in the staff room. He was perusing his phone and seemingly looked uninterested, but he had grown fond of his niece that he hadn’t met yet, and was actually searching up gifts to get for her.
“Hm?” Nanami looks up from the documents he was reading. “Her mother and I thought of having a little party for her.” 
Her first birthday was in a couple of weeks. It was mind blowing just how fast the past year had gone. Nanami finds himself smiling as he reflects on the past 12 months and how his daughter had completely transformed your lives for the better. 
“Little? Come on, Nanami, it’s her first ever birthday. It’s gotta be special. Go big or go home. Aren’t you gonna let us meet her? I want to meet my niece,” Gojo raises a brow over his glasses and Nanami eyes him over his. 
“Well, of course, but
 I’ll have to discuss with my wife first,” Nanami says and Gojo claps and cheers. 
“Alright! No way she’ll say no. I’ll just take that as a yes and start preparing,” he grins and Nanami rolls his eyes but smiles a bit to himself. 
Nanami was ordinarily quite a reserved man, and he was a little hesitant to invite everyone to his daughter’s birthday party, but with your encouragement, he did, and he was both nervous and excited for the students and his friends to meet his pride and joy. 
*
“Itadori, wh— put the Lego down. She’s only one,” Megumi sighs exasperatedly, and Nobara laughs. 
“I’m just looking, Fushiguro,” Yuji huffs and puts the box of Lego back onto the shelf. 
“If you’re looking, look at the age on the box, for goodness’ sake,” Megumi mutters. 
Gojo pushes along the half full shopping cart through the aisle, humming quietly to himself as he examines the toys on the shelves.  
“No, these are much too advanced for her yet,” Gojo concludes, and he pushes the cart into the next aisle, the kids following him, much like a mother hen and her chicks. 
“But
why can’t we just get stuff that they could use later?” Yuji offers, and Gojo turns to look at him, raising a brow. 
“You have much to learn about children and parenthood, young one,” he says and he goes back to perusing the shelves, picking up a mini musical keyboard and putting it into the cart. 
“Use your brain, Yuji. Where would they store it? What if it gets broken before they can use it? Why get something they can’t use yet? Hello?” She knocks her hand on the side of Yuji’s head and he lets out another huff. 
“Ow. Okay, got it, stop,” Yuji rubs his head. 
“This multipack looks good,” Nobara picks up the big box of Play-Doh, in an array of colours, and shows it to Gojo. He hums. 
“Oh, Nanami will probably hate these. But I think she’ll like the bright ones. Put it in,” he instructs and she does so with a small laugh. 
There’s a moment of silence as all four of them are perusing the shelves, and then, “Okay, I think this is age appropriate, what do you guys think?” Yuji points to a wooden train set with big wooden blocks to make the tracks. 
“Fantastic. Put it in,” Gojo nods. 
“Gojo Sensei, is it really necessary to get—” Megumi begins and Gojo claps his hand over the boy’s mouth. 
“Yes. It is. Only the best for my niece. No expense will be spared when it comes to her. And you’re not the one paying, so I don’t want to hear a peep out of you.”
Megumi pushes Gojo’s hand away and hums. “Right. Gotta get the best for my
cousin?”
Nobara and Yuji snicker and Megumi’s lips curl into a small smile. Nobara gasps when her gaze falls onto a mini kitchen set, “Gojo Sensei, look at that!”
Gojo looks over and he grins, pushing the cart over to it, inspecting it. “I like this a lot. I don’t think Nanamin will, but
it’s a nice gift. Babies like playing pretend. Alright, hold the cart while I put it in,” he instructs his students, and they hold the cart while he picks up the large box and places it in. 
A mini kitchen set, mini instruments, building blocks, teddy bears, Play-Doh, clothes, shoes, accessories— Gojo had practically bought the entire store for Kimiko, and of course didn’t bat an eye at the price on the receipt. 
*
You’d both opted to have the party mid afternoon, not too early and not too late, which worked best. 
Both you and Nanami had planned and executed the decorations perfectly, and were quite pleased with the outcome. Kimiko had had her afternoon nap and was well rested, so everything was going smoothly. When she’d seen the decorations, she was so full of joy, her excitement infectious. 
Slowly, your guests had started to arrive, and you rub your husband’s back to ease his nerves, though he doesn’t look it, you know him well. “You’re doing fantastic, my love,” you whisper and kiss his cheek. 
He gives you a grateful smile and hugs you into his side, whispering back, “Thanks, honey.”
Soon enough, most of your guests are there, enjoying the celebration of a year of Kimiko. The little lady was having a blast, pushing the balloons around. The last of your guests ring the doorbell, and Nanami opens the door to let them in. 
The sight before him makes his brows raise. Gojo and the first year students, with so many wrapped presents in hand, it was impossible to count. 
“Hey, Nanamin!” They all chime. 
Nanami is stunned for a moment at the amount of presents. Gojo grins, “You gonna let us in?” 
Nanami steps to the side to let them in and gives a warm smile to the kids as they step inside one by one. “Hi, you three. Thank you for coming,” he ruffles Yuji’s hair, “Hi, Gojo— was all of this necessary?”
Gojo steps in last and hands over a gift bag to Nanami, setting down the big box and looking at Nanami in all seriousness over his sunglasses, “Yes. Where’s my niece?”
“I hope you left a gift receipt. I don’t know about your taste in children’s gifts,” Nanami says, teasing. 
“Oh, come on
you’re no fun. I got all good things, like I said to my students: only the best for my niece. But
yes. There is a gift receipt inside should my taste not be to your liking. Which I doubt.”
You walk through the small crowd with Kimiko on your hip to greet them, and you are taken aback by the sheer amount of wrapped presents the students have brought into the house, and you blink, wide eyed. 
“H-hi, kids
!” 
“Mrs. Nanami!”
“Lovely to see you, Mrs. Nanami—“
“Hi, Mrs. Nanami—“
They speak over each other and you laugh softly as you close the distance to them, greet them and introduce your daughter to them.
She’s a little shy but she’s curious so she burrows herself against you but still peeks at them. You smile softly, stroking her hair gently as you gaze at her, “Miko? Not gonna say hi to your friends?” You turn to the kids and give them a kind smile, “The ice’ll melt eventually. Go and get some food while it’s still warm. Then we’re going to have the cake,” you tell them and they all head further inside to eat. 
Gojo was still talking with Nanami, and you approach from behind. It’s when Gojo sees the way Nanami’s entire face softens at something behind him that he whips around.
Gojo’s smile is so bright and he looks so giddy that you laugh softly as you greet each other. 
“Look at you, glowing and beautiful as always
motherhood suits you,” he gives you a grin, and your cheeks warm slightly at his playful and flirtatious nature. 
“Thank you, Gojo, it’s lovely to see you again,” you embrace him with your free arm and Kimiko peers at Gojo with piqued interest.
She’s quite intrigued by the white haired man and as you’d finished hugging Gojo and stepped back, she leans over to reach for him which surprises all three of you. 
“Oh. Am I—
am I allowed to hold her?” Gojo asks and you laugh a little. 
“Of course. You’re her uncle, aren’t you?” You tease him, holding her out to him, and he almost melts. He gently takes her into his arms and holds her against him.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Nanami the way Gojo’s hands had trembled slightly, which made his lips curl at the corners— the strongest sorcerer showing a bit of weakness over a baby? He’d never live this one down. 
Nanami’s friends and colleagues had come over to greet Gojo as well and the small crowd had gathered around you as Gojo has his moment with his niece. 
“Hiii, Kimiko
happy birthday, sweet pea,” Gojo holds her gently as he caresses her cute little round chubby cheek as she looks at him, “oh, aren’t you adorable
yes you are, Kimiko.”
“Meekoh,” she repeats and she grabs his glasses. He chuckles and takes them off for her and she looks into his bright eyes curiously. 
“Go-jo,” he says his name slowly to her, pointing to himself and she smiles with her teeth, scrunching her nose. 
“Gogo,” she says and everyone either laughs or ‘aw’s. She squeals happily and claps her hands, loving the attention. 
“Take her before I cry, Nanami,” Gojo says to your husband and you and Nanami both laugh at this. “I am no longer Gojo Satoru, from here on forth I am Gogo!” 
You and Kento were both mindful of having her meet a whole bunch of new people at once, so you take your time between each person, or group them, so as not to overwhelm her. 
When Shoko meets her, she sits on the couch with the baby on her lap, talking to you. “And she started walking at nine months? Wow. That’s early for a baby
you may have super baby on your hands here.”
“Shohkoh,” Kimiko stands on Shoko’s lap, Shoko holding her under her arms, and she bends and straightens her legs, bopping to the music as if she’s dancing. 
“I wouldn’t mind taking her home, y’know— if you ever need a babysitter for a date night or something, let me know,” she smiles. 
“Thanks, Shoko, I’ll probably take you up on that soon. We’ve not gone on a date in a while,” you tell her, “but I don’t mind, it’s parenthood. We’ll find the time at some point.”
“Guggo,” Kimiko says as she steps closer, practically climbing up Shoko’s body. You both laugh, and Shoko looks from you to the baby with a questioning look, playful, as she moves her to stand on her lap again. 
“I couldn’t agree more, birthday girl. Your parents definitely need some romantic time together. And I think you and I will get up to plenty of mischief together too. But we have to keep it a secret, okay?” She tells her and Kimiko giggles and holds Shoko’s face. 
The students had stuffed themselves with the delicious food you’d made, and you and Nanami take Kimiko to get acquainted with the three of them afterwards. They sit in a circle on the floor and Kimiko totters around. 
“She’s such a cute baby,” Nobara fawns. “You have the cutest cousin, Fushiguro.”
Megumi almost laughs, the tiniest of smiles peaking through. Then Kimiko comes over to him and points at him. “Daa
g.”
“What does that mean, Nanamin?” Yuji asks. 
Nobara facepalms. “She means dog,” your husband explains. 
“How does she—?” Megumi is perplexed and you chuckle at the look on his face. 
“I told her about you three. It seems the thing that stuck with her was the fact that you have animals, Megumi,” you tell him. 
“Ah
uh, yes, Kimiko. I have dog. And elephant. And frog. And bird. And bunny. I would love to show you, but I don’t think it’s safe for me to do that yet. I will one day, though,” Megumi tells her and she reaches out and touches his hair with a little giggle. He smiles at this, and the sight warms your heart. 
The kids are all great with her, they keep her company — under the supervision of the adults — while you and Nanami get the cake. 
And when you sing happy birthday to her, Kimiko might just be the happiest baby on the planet sat in her high chair, seeing her parents and all of the new friends she’d made today singing to her. She couldn’t blow her candle out yet, so you and Nanami assist her. 
Everyone cheers once the candle is blown out, and she’s happy for a moment but then whines. “What’s wrong, baby?” You say to her and she kicks her legs in her high chair, whining more. 
“I know,” your husband says, lighting the candle up again. Kimiko’s frown instantly disappears and you let out a hearty laugh. 
She tries to blow out the candle but can’t, desperately spluttering. You stealthily step behind her and blow it out for her so that she thinks she did it, while Nanami picks up the cake before she can spray more saliva onto it. 
“That’s enough cake decorating for you, pumpkin.”
This earns a few laughs from your guests and they settle down to eat some birthday cake. As you’re sat with Kimiko, giving her some cake and having a forkful yourself between, Nanami stands up and clears his throat, turning the volume of the music down. 
Everyone quietens down as they look and listen to him. Nanami is not one for attention and you smile when you see the slight pink tint on his cheeks. 
“I just wanted to say a few words. I was
a little skeptical about having a party like this, but my darling wife was the one who made this happen. Thank you all for attending Kimiko’s birthday and making this day special,” he says and everyone cheers. This was the most relaxed they'd all ever seen him be.
“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Nanami!” Gojo calls. 
“Na-na-mi! Na-na-mi!” Yuji chants and Megumi slaps him upside the head to shut him up, “Hey, Fushiguro!”
Nanami turns up the music with a laugh at Yuji and Megumi’s antics, “Help yourselves to food and cake, there’s plenty left.”
Nanami joins you and Kimiko and sits down beside Kimiko, plate in hand. “Daddee.”
“Hi, pumpkin,” he kisses her head. 
“I liked your little speech there. Short and sweet,” you smile at him. 
“Hm. Like you,” he grins and eats a large forkful of cake. 
“Kento,” you laugh, and eat a big one yourself. He gazes at you with a playful look in his eye. 
“You have a little
ah
” he leans in and thumbs away some frosting from the corner of your lips, and then sits back, sucking it off his thumb. 
You purse your lips and cast your gaze down, keeping your composure. He knows the effect he has on you. 
You look back up at him, and he’s gazing at you, that look in his eye. 
Your lips curl at the corners as you look at your husband and you glance over the room until you find Shoko. 
“Shoko,” you call over to her, where she was lounging on the other end of the couch and where she’d seen all of this unfold, “How soon are you able to babysit?”
She laughs loudly, “Whenever. By the looks of things, I think you may need my immediate assistance?” 
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A/N: THIS WAS SO STINKING CUTE, I hope I brought this idea to life in an enjoyable way for you anon - I LOOOOVED writing it, thank you for the request!! <3
© ashasdiary, all rights reserved. Divider by cafekitsune
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hxhhasmysoul · 7 hours ago
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idk, it feels like there should be nuance here.
there is a difference between the subtitles saying something completely different and subtitles being kinda a summary that gives you the gist of what's being said.
i can get why there would be some regulations about the subtitles being actually misleading and giving a completely different message than what's being said.
but this:
character in a movie: buddy, i'm gonna tell you what i've got to do netflix subtitles: i'll say what i must do
idk why this is illegal in the usa, it feels completely insane to me as a linguist who has some idea how reading and reading comprehension works...
subtitles are not a transcript.
they are meant to be read alongside the playing film. they can't be too long because they can't hang on the screen for too long and there are limitations to how much a person can reasonably read and comprehend in that short amount of time. especially if the characters are speaking fast and the subtitles will quickly change to be synced with the speakers as best as possible.
i know that when you're streaming you can pause the video and read the text and then unpause. but you can't do it in the cinema or on tv. and not everyone wants to do that even on streaming, they want to enjoy the video at the pace it's supposed to have.
when i was translating foreign films and shows and timing subtitles, we had very strict character limits and time limits as to how many seconds the words can be on the screen. it was always a compromise between getting as much of the message across and being as faithful to what was being said as possible.
the example i cited above is a perfect example of that. the person doing the subtitles trimmed the fat. the gist is practically the same but the ease of reading the second one and grasping the message is incomparably greater. if this was part of a longer exchange and if the people were speaking fast, the condensing this is the kind thing to do.
and please no one bring up people who can't hear or have limited hearing. because of the history of ablelism most societies have, many (not all of course) such people can't read that well and for many if not most the written language is a foreign language compared to their native sign language, at least where i live. and from what i heard my shitty country isn't really an exception when it comes to this. so no, if such people want to enjoy the video that doesn't have sign language translation and just subtitles, shorter and simpler subtitles are actually more inclusive for them.
i'm not saying transcripts shouldn't be made available for everything, it might be beneficial even if they were available. but they serve a completely different purpose to subtitles.
netflix subtitles are great for when you want to read a caption with like 50% resemblance to what's being spoken
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pasukiyo · 2 days ago
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THE UNDOING OF DARKNESS
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anakin skywalker/darth vader x f!reader word count: 6k warnings: darth vader, a depiction of murder, angst, smut, p in x sex (unprotected), inappropriate usage of the force, did i mention angst, anakin is also unburnt for the sake of this fic synopsis: sometimes she believes anakin skywalker still exists. darth vader will say that he is no more but she does not truly believe he is gone. after all, anakin once told her that even in death, he would claw his way out of the very earth to find her.
read on ao3
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 Every breath feels like the rarest air in Fortress Vader. Not only is it stuffy, and the simplest of movements makes you break out into a sweat, but it has always felt more like a prison than a home. She’s tried to think of it as one, as it is the place where she spends most, if not all, of her days. It is hard, however, when all she can see is gray, orange, and red for as far as the eye can see. It is hard when she knows there is always the possibility that he is there, watching, scrutinizing, waiting. 
 He, the man she once held in such high regard, the man she never thought she would have, the man that always seemed so impossible and out of reach, the man she never thought would have given her a chance. Maybe he wouldn’t have, she thinks when she has nothing to do but sit by the sliver in the wall of the throne room that serves as a window, looking out into the fiery oceans of Mustafar, if he hadn't changed. 
 She knew the man who he once was. She knew the man before the days of apparatus, before the days of the Empire, before the days of darkness. She thinks she must be the only one left who knew Lord Vader as well as she. Yes, she knew the man Lord Vader had been, before the days of dictatorship, before the fear of existing, because existing, in these days, was fear in itself. 
 She thinks she must be one of the only ones left who knew of Anakin Skywalker. Sometimes, when she sees Lord Vader in the way she and only she sees him, she thinks she can see Anakin again, slipping through the cracks. Sometimes, she believes Anakin must still be here, somewhere, if even a fragment of him. Sometimes she will look into his eyes— the fiery pools they were now— and swear she will see a glimmer, a mirage of that cerulean ocean she once knew, slipping through the cracks of his inferno. 
 If Anakin Skywalker did still exist, however, Lord Vader made sure he never came to be. If Anakin Skywalker still existed, then he was simply locked away deep inside the cage that had been built around the new Lord Vader’s heart. She isn’t sure if it is possible to break through the iron bars— and frankly, she’s become too frightened to even want to continue trying. She feels guilty, like she has some sense of responsibility, of duty to the lost Anakin Skywalker, as she is the only one that Lord Vader allows so close, the only one who may see him in a state as vulnerable as he will allow her to see him. 
 She wonders sometimes if Anakin Skywalker cries out for her, much like the way she did when she was taken, plucked like a rose from her village in the outskirts of Galidraan. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember that day, the harsh cold on her skin, the painful inferno inside her chest, the binds used to restrain her hands behind her back. 
 “No!” She can still feel her scream ripping from her throat, the acidic, rumbling feeling in her chest as she watches the red plasmic blade of the dark figure slice clean through her uncle’s neck, and can still see the shape of his head tumble into the white snow through her watery vision. Although she knows she is merely looking into the past, the pain feels too real, like she is reliving her worst day again. 
 She lunges forward, like she intends to avenge her uncle, a foolish spur of the moment instinct, as she is bound by the wrists and with a blaster to the back of her head. The stormtrooper behind her knocks the butt of his blaster into the back of her skull and her head rings while her cheek finds the snow. She hears her cousins and her people cry behind her and when she pries a single eyelid open, she can make out their trembling silhouettes, on their knees, shoulder to shoulder, a wall of stormtroopers behind them. 
 The ringing begins to dull and she hears footsteps somewhere behind her. She cannot bring herself to move, as she is stunned with the realization that today would be their final day. All these people she’s grown up with, her family she swore she would protect— they would meet their ends today. She would never see her off-planet friends again— she would never see Anakin Skywalker again. That promise he made her that he would see her again feels empty now. She almost wonders if she was a fool to put so much faith in him and his Jedi friends to begin with, if she was a fool to think he’d want her, someone as simple and as plain as her. 
 But all the same, he said they would come should trouble find her beloved planet— so where was he now? She believes he cannot be dead, purged along with many of the other of his kind. She knows he is out there, somewhere. Everyday, she thinks he will come poking his head out from the snowy horizon. Everyday, she waits for that moment to come. She feels the bitter cold seeping into her bones now and thinks how foolish she’s been for believing in such a thing. 
 “The prisoner dares the thought of standing against me,” she hears a voice, deep and undoubtedly male behind her and feels a quivering somewhere inside her chest. The bile that’s been resting at the base of her throat threatens to rise when two stormtroopers step forward, likely from this dark figure’s command, and wraps their hands under her armpits, hoisting her from the ground. She presses her lips together to quell her sick as the world spins and all she can see is black and white. 
 The figure is tall and broad, much more so now that she was so close to him. She has to look up at him and she tries to blink away the blurriness from her vision, and when it does, she can make out the face of his mask. She glowers into the two black circles of his eyes, trying to keep her gaze locked on him rather than on the limp body of her uncle. 
 “You cannot do this,” she says, her voice shaky with uncertainty but feigning determination all the same. “You cannot take us. You cannot kill us. Ana
” she pauses and somewhere in her delirious mind she thinks perhaps she shouldn’t say his name, shouldn’t put yet another target on his back. But her brain tells her these will be her final moments and all she can really think of now is Anakin and of his promise she still tried to cling onto, even now when it was quite literally impossible for it to be fulfilled now. “Anakin will come for us. You cannot kill us.”
 A silence ensues and the masked man’s shoulders rise and she thinks she must have caught him by surprise. Perhaps he already knows of Anakin Skywalker, perhaps he merely wonders why a girl as plain and unimportant as she knows of a Jedi Knight when they’ve all been purged, seemingly from his hand, or at least, his command. 
 His black capes flows in the snowy wind and she trembles, more from knowing his stare behind that mask is devouring her rather than the cold. 
 “You speak in tongues,” he says at last, stepping forward, closer until all she sees is black, an endless void with two circles and a triangle for a face. “I can and I will take whatever I want, foolish girl. I will do what I please.”
 He straightens and with a black, gloved hand, points towards her people, her family. “Kill them,” he says simply and panic blinds her, taking control of her limbs. 
 “No. No!” She screeches into the howling wind, thrashing against the hold of the two stormtroopers behind her as she hears blaster shot after blaster shot and the sound of bodies falling into the snow. “Anakin! Anakin, please! Help me! Help us!” She screams again, sounding more like a fool than she ever has but she’s desperate as she tries to lift herself from the ground, kicking out towards the dark, wicked man before her. 
 All five fingers of the same hand the man used to damn her family to their deaths outstretches and it is like her body, her limbs are no longer her own. They freeze in place and no matter how hard she tries to will them to move, to will her arms to thrash about against their restraints and her legs to kick, they will not. Her heart pounds against her chest and it rises and falls with her shaky breaths as she is forced to stare at the man who has taken her entire world away in a matter of seconds. He steps forward again, looms like a dark cloud with the promise of downpour over her and she has no choice but to stare back, her brows knit together, the promise of tears stinging her eyes. 
 “The man you speak of ceased to exist long ago,” he speaks and she doesn’t quite want to believe him. Although, for a reason she cannot quite define now, she thinks he must be telling the truth, or at least, some version of the truth. “It’d do you well to rid your mind of these foolish beliefs. You shall not be saved. Your life rests in the palms of my hands, and I will do with it what I please.”
 Still, she cannot move, all she can do is silently cry, waiting for this man, this awful, wicked, yet somewhat familiar man to damn her to whatever fate he had in store for her. 
 “You will come with me. You will live in my fortress. You will be what I want you to be. This is a mercy, but do not consider yourself saved. Your life will still be mine to own, and it will be mine to end, should I desire it.”
 She opens her eyes and finds herself back in Mustafar again, staring out at the same fiery ocean she sees every other day. The pain and the memory of that day is still fresh, but she still cannot shake what she feels of Anakin— or rather, Lord Vader— even knowing what he is, what he is capable of. She hates herself for being so easy, for still wanting to believe that her Anakin is still there and that what she has with the new Lord Vader is love, a twisted, altered version of what her life might have been like with Anakin, should circumstances be different. 
 There are footsteps thrumming through the hall beyond the door of the throne room and time seems to still, her heart thudding against her chest as she waits for the door to slide open. When it does, he walks in, rolling like a dark fog into the room and despite the intense heat of Mustafar, she shivers, an icy chill seeping into the marrow of her bones. 
 She simply sits and stares as he stops in the middle of the throne room, her fingers wrapped around the fabric of her gown, chest heaving up and down, waiting for him to address her. She hates this— living in constant fear whilst simultaneously wanting him, wanting the man he used to be, Anakin, back. 
 Another few seconds of silence. 
 And then. 
 “Come here,” he finally speaks and his voice sounds not his own, a different man entirely. She blinks, swinging her legs over the ledge of her seat at the window, complying without a question. Sometimes she hated how easy she gave in to him, but even if she didn’t act of her own free will, she knew she wouldn’t have much of a choice anyways. Still, she hates how quickly she draws nearer, only stopping when she stands before him, looking up into his mask. 
 She purses her lips. She hates this mask. It reminds her of that day. It is the mask of a killer, rather than the face of a man. 
 She inhales, feeling air draw into her chest. Then, “will you let me see you?”
 Another moment of silence, save, of course, for the sound of his breathing through the apparatus. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath and she thinks it must have been a bad day. She internally shudders— tonight could go only one of two ways. 
 She feels a sense of relief, however, when his hands rise to the sides of his helmet, air hissing when he presses his fingers down on either side of the durasteel. Time stops altogether when he inches the helmet away from his head. Full, pink lips unveil behind the mask, a few ridged, faintly red scars like the jagged edges of broken earth spread across his cheeks, up to his strong nose and sharp, red eyes. Dark blonde curls spill over his face and her breath hitches because this is Anakin, but also not and she hates that she still feels something when she sees him, still wants him, and although it pains her to admit it— she still loves him. 
 She blinks up at him, unable to look away and he stares back, lips pressed together, fiery gaze devouring. Yes, it must have been a bad day, because although his gaze is usually unyielding, it is more intense than usual today. It pierces through her, as if he is sifting through her mind, and knowing what he is capable of, he may very well be. 
 It’s reminiscent of the way he used to look at her, back when he was still Anakin. Her Anakin. Her blue-eyed, kind, resilient Anakin. 
 He looked different then, no scars, save for the one on his eye, on his face. His eyes didn’t feel like drowning in a sea of flames, rather, they were oceans of warm cerulean, drawing her in with their kind gaze. She can still feel the rush of secret rendezvous in dark corners of rooms, where no one was watching, away from prying eyes and hushed whispers. 
 She can feel his hands— one warm, one deliciously cool to the touch— resting on either of her cheeks, her own hands wrapped around his elbows. She can still feel his lips against hers then, warm and slow but firm, dominant but soft, gentle. Anakin kissed her like she was a remedy, delicate and precious. Sometimes he still kissed her like this— warm, slow, firm, dominant, gentle. Sometimes it was almost enough to make her feel how she did then— delicate, precious, a remedy. 
 But nothing could amount to the way Anakin looked at her then, with vast blue eyes so inviting, so kind, and so him that she thought she would die if he ceased to look at her like that. This, of course, was not true. Yet, everyday she spent looking into the fiery depths that replaced his warm ocean, she thinks she feels pieces of herself, her old self, rotting. 
 Anakin pulled away from her lips and even though it was all those days ago, she still remembered how tenderly he brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it back behind her ear. She still remembers the pad of his thumb, the one with flesh instead of metal, smoothing circles into her cheekbones. She watches as his lips move to form words and she is simply mesmerized, so enraptured by this man she can hardly breathe. 
 “I will be going away soon,” he told her then, his breath like the warmth of a fire against her face. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks from his lips back to his eyes, wading further into his ocean, as if she could convince him with a stare to stay, to anchor himself here, to her. 
 “But
” she shakes her head, tongue swiping between her lips and her hands slide from his elbows to his wrists. “
but you cannot
” she sighs frustratingly, unable to find her words. “
it is not safe for us. You cannot leave
”
 “Hey,” he whispers in only the way he can, in that way that has her resolve slipping, her knees trembling, her heart stuttering. The wind whips at their hair and their clothes and snow falls behind him but he is so warm, a warm glow in the midst of the storm. She grows warm, warmer in his hands and Anakin’s gaze drops to her quivering lips, the skin of his thumb soothing over her lower one. “You are fully capable of surviving without me,” he assures in a murmur that rolls like thunder in her chest. 
 She shakes her head. “But we are weak!” she protests. “We are not strong enough to handle this on our own. My uncle he
” she closes her eyes, sucks in a breath, tries to ease the unsteady beating of her heart. “
he is only getting older. He isn’t well. The storm is only getting stronger, and if they come
 we—“
 “No,” Anakin shakes his head, steps closer, cradles either of her cheeks in the palms of his hands. “Don’t say you can’t.”
 She tilts her head in his palms, unsure of his meaning. “But Anakin, if they—“
 “They will not touch you,” he says and he speaks with a sense of finality, and she knows there would be no question, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She knows that what he says is true. His hands tighten around her face and his gaze is strong, unyielding, piercing where it meets hers. He almost doesn’t seem himself, like there is some other version of him present. She isn’t sure what to think of it, but what she knows for sure is that she knows she must be safe, because Anakin says it is true. “I will not let anyone hurt you, do you understand?”
 He searches her gaze, awaiting her answer. She stares back, wondering how someone like him could be speaking to her like this, touching her like this, caring for her like this. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was like being a snowflake, falling from the heavens, making its descent to the ground— every one was unique, but its uniqueness may only be discovered by those who look close enough. Not many cared to take the time out of their day to see her, but Anakin did. Anakin saw her and held her in a way he and only he could. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was to be seen like nobody else had seen her. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was a rarity of its own. 
 She nods against his palms, her lashes fluttering as her gaze drops to his chin, to his lips. 
 “What is it?” He asks, lowering his head, catching her gaze in his again. She sniffs, wringing a hand around his wrist. 
 “What if I do not see you again?” She asks. “How long will I have to wait to have you like this again?”
 It is a selfish thought, she thinks. They are in the middle of a war for Maker’s sake, and Anakin is one of the most important assets of it. It is selfish of her to want to keep him all to herself, to want to stay hidden in a permanent rendezvous, away from eyes, away from pain, away from war. The galaxy needed him, that, she knew. But she needed him too. She doesn’t know what she will do with herself, biding the time until she sees him again. 
 “But you will see me again,” he assures in a quiet murmur, his hands dropping from her cheeks to cup either of her hands between his. He presses his lips to one of her knuckles, then to another, and then another until they’ve all been graced by his kiss. Her knees feel like jelly and she is glad he is there to support her, because she feels like she can melt into a gooey puddle of magma at their feet despite the snow. “No matter how far, no matter the time, I will always find you. There is no place in the entire galaxy where you can be where I will not find you. We are bound to one another, you and I are. Even in death, I would claw myself out of the very earth to find you.”
 She feels the bitter sting of tears pooling in her eyes, because she knows they are running out of time, and soon, he would have to take leave. She will only have these words and the memory of his touch to satiate her, until of course he keeps his word and finds her once again. 
 Anakin’s eyes fall back down to her lips before he collects them with his in a searing kiss, the kindling of a promise left in his mouth’s wake when he pulls away. 
 “We will see one another again,” he murmurs and she believes him. She knows he will keep his word. “And perhaps, we will meet even sooner than you think.”
 Blue swarms and begins to morph into an angry, fiery red and she is once again back in Mustafar, staring at Anakin but not Anakin again. Sometimes when she thinks her Anakin Skywalker is truly lost, she need only remember those tender words he had said to her, the last time she saw him as he once was. She will then look at Darth Vader and tell herself that all hope is not lost. Darth Vader will say that Anakin Skywalker is dead, but she knows it is not true. 
 Because Anakin Skywalker once told her that even in death, he would claw his way out of the very earth to find her. 
 “Something troubles you,” she whispers and Darth Vader does not move but his eyes do. His blazing gaze falls to her lips, down her arms, all the way to her hands. She follows their trail and knows what it is he must crave. Sometimes when she thinks she must be afraid of him, she reminds herself that this is only a boy who is lost, misguided. She wonders, she hopes, if in time, he can be guided back onto the right path again. 
 Her hands move to find one of his, his left, where she knows she will still find flesh underneath. She glances back up at him to find he is staring at their connected hands, lips pursed, waiting for her to continue. She sucks in a breath and pinches the tip of his glove at the middle finger, slowly, cautiously pulling it away from his hand. Her palm circles to cradle the back of his hand and while he does not shiver, the locking of his jaw does not go unnoticed. 
 Even after all this time, he still craves for touch, her touch, and her skin on his. It makes her wonder if he still thinks about it too, all their secret rendezvous, their nights of passion, bodies tangled together with only the moons as their witness. She wonders if he still remembers the words he used to always say to her, the tender, sweet little nothings he’d whisper in her ear, the promises for a better future he made woven in the tendrils of her hair. If he still thinks back to that day she last saw him as Anakin Skywalker, if he still remembers the words he told her. 
 She thinks he must, because he still fulfilled his promise: he came back, no matter what. Only not the same, but perhaps more of the same than she initially thought. She sees the locking of his jaw, his craving for her touch he dare not speak aloud and thinks maybe it could be true. 
 “Let me help you,” she says, because she knows he has no desire to speak. Darth Vader lifts his gaze to find she is already staring back as she brings his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek. The pad of his thumb subconsciously soothes over her bottom lip and she shivers, the tenderness of his touch a stark contrast to his demeanor. She knows what she is offering is only a temporary fix, but it is a start, and it is an understanding she didn’t quite have before. 
 He still craves for her, he still wants her. She doesn’t know if she can call what they have love, not anymore, but there is still a want. She thinks that maybe this is her Anakin slipping through the cracks. She decides to hold onto this sliver all that she can. 
 She presses her lips gently against his thumb, maintaining eye contact all the while, unwilling to break it. The blazing amber in his eyes intensifies and in an instant, his lips are on hers, replacing his thumb. She releases a mixture of a yelp and a moan into his mouth, letting his tongue scour her, devouring her. He seeks to conquer her but he still kisses her with desperation, almost insecurely, but not like he’s unsure. It’s more like he’s waiting for her to push him away, to curse and spit at him like he believes (and perhaps, does) deserve. 
 But she doesn’t. How could she? It’s hard to differentiate Darth Vader from Anakin Skywalker when they are one in the same, even while being entirely different. He still feels like her Anakin, he still shares the same shell as her Anakin. He kisses her with a mixture of Darth Vader and just the tiniest fraction of Anakin Skywalker but he is there, he is still there. 
 So she presses herself further into him. His right hand finds the small of her back and presses her further into him, his kiss more determined, his touch more certain. She pants against his mouth as he uses his left hand to unclip his cape, the heavy material falling in a heap on the floor behind him. She feels the shoulders of her dress slipping down her arms but does not feel his hands there and knows he is using the Force on her. It alights a new sort of blaze she’s never felt before between her legs and as his left hand grips her chin and his kisses trail down to her jaw, she burns brighter than ever before. 
 Her eyes are screwed shut as he sucks angry marks to the line of her jaw, her fingers holding on tightly to his sleeves. She thinks she hears the door slide open behind them but the invisible hand working at her clothes unties the knot at the small of her back and Darth’s teeth sink into her collarbone so she does not care. Her head tilts back and she hears the faint sound of footsteps retreating, the door sliding back closed, once again leaving them alone. 
 “An
 Ana
” she hears herself begin to pant but knows it is a mistake as soon as he pulls away from her altogether, her body, now nude, feeling cold with the lack of his against it. She peels open her lids and shudders where she stands as his gaze pierces through her as if it intended to melt her to the very ground she stood on. She thinks she very well can but she knows there is no use of running so she stays, awaiting her fate. 
 “The name you call is not mine,” Darth speaks and he reaches out with a hand, his left, and her body is not her own anymore and her mind flashes back to the day where he found her, when he used this very power on her to strip her of her own will. She presses her lips together as the Force brings her down to her knees, the ground biting into her bare skin. She does not cry, does not even struggle. She simply waits— she’s already offered herself to him and she knows that he will not hurt her. He cannot afford to. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself without her. Because Anakin is still there. There is still someone inside of him that loves her. “It’d serve you well to forget that man, because he is gone. Dead. I want to hear you say my name. I want to hear you scream it until hell fears me.”
 She hates the effect he has on her. She can feel herself pulse between her legs and she inhales, fluttering her eyes closed at how pathetic she must seem. Still wanting this dangerous, nefarious man. The man who murdered her uncle. The man who murdered her entire family. But yet, still the man who said he would cheat death to keep her safe. 
 Darth’s gaze intensifies and she feels a prodding in her mind, encouraging her, no, commanding her to comply. She gulps, and then, “Darth.”
 The invisible finger toying with the outside of her mind crawls away and her body once again feels like it is her own but still, she stays in her place on her knees on the floor. Darth Vader’s footsteps echo the room as he steps forward until he towers above her. She peers up at him through her lashes, watches as he crouches, pinching her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his gloved hand. 
 “Obedient girl,” he remarks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. “You will not defy me, lest you wish for it to be the last thing you do.”
 Her head nods before can even begin to think. She knows she would’ve complied regardless. The ache between her legs wouldn’t allow her to act otherwise. It was disgusting, lusting after this man who swears he will be her demise. But he has a way of making her insatiable, unlike herself.
 “Good,” he says before he pulls away and she watches as he circles the center of the room, setting himself down into the throne in the middle, legs spread, waiting. “Undress me.”
 She gulps down another moan, the words alone making her stomach somersault. She wastes no time to pick herself off of the floor, painfully aware of how naked she is as she makes her way over to where he sits. Even sitting on his throne, he is still bigger, still stronger than her. She feels meek, small against him as she begins with the shoulders of his armor, finding his eyes as she removes it, piece by piece. He taps his fingers against the arms of his seat as she unbuttons his tunic and before she can move to slide it down his arms, he waves a finger and her hands find his belt without their own accord. 
 She doesn’t move for a movement, only stares at him as he gazes back. He cocks an eyebrow, the one pierced with a scar, expectantly and she inhales sharply, her gaze sliding from his face down to his exposed, toned chest as she begins working at his belt. She tosses it away along with the heap of clothes on the floor and unbuttons his trousers, feeling her center throb at just how close she is to seeing what it desires. Her tongue swipes between her lips as she frees his cock from his pants, her breath hitching as she blinks at the angry pink tip peeking from his waistband. 
 “You test the limits of my patience,” Darth Vader says in an annoyed, clipped tone. “My cock will be your throne, but only if you make haste.”
 She blinks again and she feels a ball of acid at the base of her throat as she tugs his pants all the way down to his knees, finally allowing his cock to spring free. She can’t help but gawk, even if she’s already seen it more times than she can count. It’s large to say the very least and it is hard, ready, eager for her. She recalls just how large it is whenever she’s had it in her mouth, how each and every vein of it feels when it is buried so deeply inside of her. Sometimes, she can’t believe that it is all hers to have. Sometimes, she doesn’t feel worthy of it. 
 She realizes she is testing his patience again, only when she feels that invisible hand wrap around her throat, her own subconsciously reaching for them, although they are not there. Breath is stolen from her and she knits her brows together, mumbling a tight apology. 
 “You are merely fortunate that I am not in the mood for games today,” he says and the Force brings her forwards, her knees hitting his. He leans towards her until their faces are mere inches away, his breath rolling like smoke over her cheeks. “So do not push my mercy any further. Sit on my cock.”
 She feels every syllable of his last sentence in her core and the invisible hand remains on her throat as she manages to bring herself closer, her knees on either side of his thighs. He does not touch her, merely watches as she struggles to align his head with her center. When she finally does, he uses this invisible grip on her throat to push her down before releasing her altogether and she gasps for breath, eyes rolling back into her head, her head tipping towards the ceiling as a moan rips from her throat. 
 She can feel every pulsing vein of his cock against her walls, can feel her delicate cervix being bullied by his angry tip. Her hands search for his shoulders and when they do, her nails dig into the sleeves of his tunic, the bitter sting of tears escaping the edges of her eyes. 
 Darth hisses through his teeth and his left hand finds her hip, his skin warm against hers where it kneads. A curse tumbles past his lips and his other hand, still gloved, weaves through her hair, forces her forehead down onto his. She opens her eyes and sees his glaring gaze piercing through to her own. 
 “I don’t know how you do this to me,” he snarls. “I don’t know how only you have this effect on me. Only you can make me feel like this. Only you can make me
” Darth is unable to control himself so he snaps his hips up into her and she cries, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “
fuck!” He howls, tossing his head back against his throne. “You are destroying me. It’s not fair. How are you doing this to me?”
 He says this last thing with a hint of a vulnerability she’s never heard from him before. It’s almost desperate, like she really, truly is destroying him, paining him. It’s hard for her to try and understand what this means when he is fucking her into a state of mind-numbingness, but there is only one thing, one word, one name that she can even think of. 
 “Darth!” She screeches but it is not the name she thinks of. She thinks of Anakin, how perhaps this, she is the key to freeing Anakin Skywalker from the mask of Darth Vader. Because this, this Darth Vader is but a mere facade— they both know it to be true. It is not who he truly is. He can try and deny it all he wants. But there is nowhere in the entire galaxy where he can hide that she won’t find him. Because he is and will always be Anakin Skywalker. 
 She knows that Darth Vader will try and fight it. He will tear down the entire galaxy before he admits it. He will destroy planets and will bring down entire monarchies before he admits it. He will kill and he will burn and he will destroy before he admits it. But not even that will be enough to hide from it, to run from it. Because she is Darth Vader’s destiny. She is Anakin Skywalker’s destiny. She will be Darth Vader’s destruction. And she will be Anakin Skywalker’s redemption. 
 She is the key to bringing Anakin Skywalker home. 
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a/n: another long one for anakin đŸ€­ i absolutely love writing for him, he's so complex and so fun to explore and create headcanons of my own for. i hope i was able to do him at least a little bit of justice here. sorry if this seemed a little too slow burn and if there wasn't enough smut to suffice 😭 i went in like "oh yeah this is gonna be absolutely filthy" but oh well! i find i write a little easier when i go in without much of a plan lol since i get carried away easily and usually just let my thumbs do whatever the hell they want anyways 😭 anywho! thank you so much for reading! it always warms my heart to know my writing is being seen by others! đŸ„čđŸ«¶
psst, i also want to thank each and every single one of you who read a place in the sea of stars. i was not expecting the feedback that fic received and i am still so overwhelmed by all the love all this time later. thank you thank you thank you a million times over from the bottom of my heart. đŸ„čđŸ«¶
đŸ’« if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me đŸ«¶
TAGLIST
@your-nanas-house
@chaoticevilbakugo
@johnbassplayercutie
@arisksywlkr
@sydkneez
@sunnytotheend
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socksracoon10 · 2 days ago
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𝐇𝐱𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐼𝐧
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𝗩𝘂đ—șđ—ș𝗼𝗿𝘆: đ˜ đ˜°đ˜¶ đ˜€đ˜łđ˜ąđ˜Žđ˜©đ˜Šđ˜„ đ˜Șđ˜Żđ˜”đ˜° đ˜”đ˜©đ˜Šđ˜ź đ˜Ș𝘯 đ˜”đ˜©đ˜Š đ˜źïżœïżœïżœđ˜„đ˜„đ˜­đ˜Š 𝘰𝘧 đ˜”đ˜©đ˜Š đ˜łđ˜ąđ˜€đ˜Šâ€Š đ˜”đ˜©đ˜Šđ˜ș 𝘾𝘩𝘳𝘩𝘯'đ˜” đ˜”đ˜°đ˜° đ˜©đ˜ąđ˜±đ˜±đ˜ș đ˜ąđ˜Łđ˜°đ˜¶đ˜” đ˜Șđ˜”. Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader, Max Verstappen x F!Reader A/N: Alright gang, I caved like I said I would, here's my first f1 fic lmao Read The Second Part: Hit and Run (Part 2)
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đ˜Ÿđ™–đ™§đ™Ąđ™€đ™š 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙯 𝙅𝙧.
"You had a pretty nasty crash with (Y/N) (L/N) during qualifying today, do you have any words to share about the collision?" A reporter had asked Carlos, bringing the microphone closer to his lips. Boy did he have words, a very strong choice of them that he desperately wanted to spew out on national television. He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes focusing in on the said driver just a few feet from where he stood. She was most likely giving her side of the story to the press, and it boiled his blood. He wanted to be nice, he wanted to be supportive. He liked to welcome everyone into the sport, make them feel like they belonged. Yet all his efforts to try and be the better person went down the drain as soon as she had rammed into him on track. That was his final straw. If it wasn't for the fact that she had been getting much more cocky during interviews, talking about how Carlos was an easy opponent and was practically no competition to her, he would've let this crash slide. His eyes drifted back to the patient reporter and he shook his head,
"I don't uh... want to talk about it. It happened, let's leave it at that." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The reporter furrowed his brows, a doubtful pout on his lips as he tilted his head,
"Interesting you say that. (L/N) had a lot more to say."
"Oh, did she now?" Carlos raised an eyebrow; he couldn't help the way his body turned to completely face the reporter, his curiosity taking over him. He wanted to know what that idiot must've said to the press.
"She said, and I quote, 'Even if you give Carlos a million practices, he'll still fumble the bag like he did today...' what are your thoughts, Carlos?"
Carlos gaped at the reporter, his mind reeling with at least a thousand different responses, each of them having to deal with the fact that he was racing against an absolute asshole but he shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He knew his words would have weight, and he figured he might as well let her have fun for the time being. Let her have that confidence boost that she desired so strongly.
"Well, we'll see how it plays out during the race." Carlos snapped, forcing a thin smile before heading out of the press pen. đ˜Ÿđ™đ™–đ™§đ™Ąđ™šđ™š 𝙇𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙘
Charles was having a wonderful weekend. Had P1 in all the practice sessions, got pole for qualifying and he was set to the win the race. He was so happy and hopeful, he knew that after a long while he was going to taste victory. Carlos had draped his arm over Charles's shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before exclaiming, "You're going to win tomorrow, I can feel it."
And then in came (Y/N) (L/N) like the absolute hurricane that she was, bopping her head to whatever stupid song was playing in her headphones. She glanced over to him, taking off one side of her headphones before scanning him from head to toe,
"You think I'd look good in red?" She asked, her head still moving side to side as she hummed with the song. Charles didn't understand it at first, and he frowned before it eventually clicked in his head,
"You'll never be in Ferrari," He scoffed, and she snorted,
"We'll see about that."
And see he did when he saw her coming up right behind him, ready to overtake him on the turn coming up, only to lose her grip and crash into him. As both cars spun towards the barriers, it wasn't hard to miss the way Charles began to scream over the radio, his voice hoarse and dry from the fact that all his hopes were diminished within seconds. He scrambled out of his bottled car and headed towards (L/N) who was looking over at her own car's damage. "You fool! You moron! What were you doing?" Charles roared, and she turned around with an exasperated sigh, "Trying to overtake you, and then I lost grip." She crossed her arms, and Charles clenched his fists, taking another step towards her, "You leave space! Leave space! I literally-" "Oh, quit whining. What's done is done, you can't be wallowing over it," She scoffed and as Charles was just about ready to shove her onto the ground, some of the marshals jogged over to break up the fight.
"You're lucky I didn't break your face," Charles spat, feeling the marshals drag him away. He glanced over his shoulder to see (L/N) mirroring his glare. He watched her lips twist into a scowl before she was taken out of his sight.
"We're sorry about that crash, Charles," A reporter sighed, shaking her head as she gave him a look of sympathy.
"I'm sorry for (L/N) for the next few races," Charles bit back, knowing that he was going to give it his all during the next race. 𝙈𝙖𝙭 đ™‘đ™šđ™§đ™šđ™©đ™–đ™„đ™„đ™šđ™Ł
A championship battle would've been much easier to win over an argument with (Y/N) (L/N). Max had figured that out the hard way. He had the fastest lap and was just about ready to overtake (L/N) when she had suddenly divebombed randomly into him, forcing him into the barriers. Max was beyond just pissed, he was fuming. He had never felt such strong rage in a very long time, and as he hopped out of his car with the help of the marshals, he knew he was about to start a war back at the garage. He had dropped his gloves onto the floor, shoved the helmet onto the ground before ripping off his balaclava with one intention in his mind: sort out whatever bullshit (L/N) kept bringing into these races. She was only 6th in the driver standings, but she sure acted like she was 2nd and that only did little to calm Max's anger. He had marched over to her team's garage much to the chagrin of those with him at Red Bull Racing.
"So, are we letting blind people race now?" Max barked, and he watched (L/N) crane her neck to get a good look at the man approaching her. She stood her ground, crossing her arms with that cocky look on her face. It drove Max wild looking at her, he hated her guts.
"Listen, it just happens. My bad," She put her hands in the air, taking a step back as she noticed Max losing his mind.
"Just happens? Just... happens? Seriously? Are you fucking stupid? That shouldn't be happening! I have a championship to win and you just ruined it for me!" "Hey, I DNF'd too. We're both in the same boat," (L/N) exclaimed.
"I'm fighting for the championship, you're fighting to secure your seat for the next season because you are nothing but shit!" Max hissed which earned a couple gasps from those at the garage. Within seconds he was dragged back to Red Bull Racing's garage, but he couldn't help but notice the smirk on her face. A part of him wondered if she did it on purpose. After all, (Y/N) (L/N) had nothing to lose at the moment so it wouldn't surprise him. He sank down onto a chair, impatiently tapping his foot as he watched the race continue without him.
He couldn't wait to wipe that smirk off her face next time.
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askfordoodles · 9 hours ago
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Ok, fellow Emmrichmancers, I need to defend my girl Harding here for a bit, cause she's been getting some disdain and eye-rolling for being the supposed 'discourse-mouthpiece' (ie. being the only one calling out the age gap thing).
Listen, ... when she first brings it up, that's what it SOUNDS like she's doing. Harding has a tendency to struggle with wording things well, she's life-smart, not book-smart - so that first banter does read as though she's worried FOR Rook in that patronizing way like a parent or older sibling, who thinks they know better... (heck even Emmrich potentially falls into that trap during the argument)
but then there's follow-up banter and it becomes clear that, no, she's not worried Emmrich might be taking advantage of poor innocent younger Rook; it becomes increasingly clear she's worried about HIS feelings. She's always addressing her concerns to HIM, and worrying about how they're "going too fast" (even IF he's made the promise to Rook to move slowly during their first dinner-date).
Harding's making observations about how he's becoming noticeably "mopey", she can TELL something's worrying HIM. (mind you, not even Rook seemed to have picked up on this)
And in turn he's very honest with Harding about how, despite defending himself against Davrin's juvenile jabs and appreciating/enduring Taash's sentiments and all that jazz, the age gap thing DOES secretly bother him. (the fact that he doesn't start moping straight away suggests that Harding was right, they DID go a bit too fast and Emmrich especially, was blinded by the honeymoon-phase so to speak). He does end up genuinely thanking her for her concern and advice, to try and think ahead about the relationship.
(Although sadly it still takes their potential impending deaths for him to reach their crisis-stage of needing to address his worries and I could do a whole essay alone on how he chooses to handle it, but others already have, so not now)
Say what you will about her, out of all their mutual friends, Harding was the ONLY ONE to see the pre-battle argument coming from A MILE AWAY, and she was trying to gently warn them; to try and nudge her two friends to have a serious talk about the consequences ahead, rather than blithely avoiding it.
tl;dr: Harding's got that serious emotional intelligence, and y'all best RESPECT her relationship advice.
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salemrph · 2 days ago
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"A Hunter's Christmas Hustle" Sylus x MC
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Summary: With Christmas around the corner, you’re on a mission to find the perfect gift for everyone, that's included Sylus, a famously tricky person to shop for. You asked for help but can the twins really help you? Sometimes the effort is the best part of the holiday magic.
Character: MC x Sylus
Genre: holiday comedy, slice-of-life, fluff | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Miss Hunter.
| Word count: 3.916 | Reading Time: 16 min |
A/N: Since this is the first Christmas of Love and Deepspace, at least for me, I'm looking forward for a special Event and have a cute moment between Sylus and MC.
You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It still feels a bit strange staying at Sylus’ place on your days off. Well, it was mostly his doing— he’d insist or come up with some random excuse or side mission to make you stay. So, at the end you agree to come visit him without needing to drag you in dirty business. It's cozy here, even if you’re not quite used to it yet.
Like always you scroll through your phone, noticing you getting a lot of Christmas ads. You squint at the screen, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the holiday promotions. Suddenly, you glance at the date on your phone. Fuck! Christmas in 1 week. And you haven’t prepared anything. Weren’t there also a Party coming up with the team? No, no, no! You go trough the calendar. There is it: 24 of December. Christmas Party with Team.
You need to go shopping, ordering stuff now would only arrive too late. 
“Okay, okay,” you mutter, trying to make a mental checklist. “I need a present for Tera, flowers for Grandma’s and Clab’s graves...” You pause, feeling a bit emotional at that thought. You take a deep breath and continue, making a list out loud.
“Then there’s Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel
” Your head starts spinning as you realize just how much you have to do. 
How could you forget? Have you really been that busy lately? It’s not like the whole city isn’t decked out in lights, giant Christmas ads, and festive music playing in every store. 
You realize with a sigh that maybe you’ve been spending way too much time in the N109 Zone, far from the holiday cheer.
“What can I get for the twins...?” you mumble to yourself. Luke and Kieran can be annoying sometimes, but you do like them. Why not bring them a small gift? Then again, you hesitate. If you get something for the twins, Sylus will definitely bother you about it until the end of your days, asking why he didn’t get anything. You're starting to sweat. Maybe he locks you up again in the basement, just for fun. Or worse, he could show up at the Hunters' Association and declare that you are his lover or something. A shiver runs down your spine. This man can be terrifying. 
You know very well how to please your friends and colleagues but Sylus
 What do you bring to the man that has everything? 
“Why is he even so fucking rich?” you mutter under your breath, looking around the guest room. The guest room of course has the style of the rest of the mansion. Black. You roll your eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and admiration. You flop back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers. You need something unique, something meaningful... but what could that be? 
You scroll through your phone frantically, searching for bundles, deals, and last-minute gift ideas. In just an hour, you’ve managed to check off most of your list.
Tera: A relaxing spa voucher—she could use a break.
Zayne: A pack of his favorite macarons, winter edition—he’ll love them.
Xavier: A cozy new sweater—you’ve told him a million times not to fall asleep everywhere. You sigh, picturing him dozing off on some random spot.
Rafayel: A unique shell you found on a mission weeks ago. You haven’t had a chance to give it to him yet, but now’s the perfect time.
Flowers: Ordered, check.
You tap your phone, thinking about the twins, Luke and Kieran. What would they like? You decide on some kind of gadget or toy—they’re like two overgrown kids sometimes, and they’ll appreciate anything they can mess around with.
Another hour passes, and you’re still glued to your phone, opening and closing tabs like a mad person. Your brain is starting to fog up from the overload of gift ideas.
“No... no... lame... oh god, definitely not.” You swipe through a blog about gifts for wealthy people and somehow end up on a page titled “Top 10 Gifts for Your Rich Boyfriend.” Your cheeks go bright red as you skim the list: sexy underwear, romantic getaways, candlelit dinners...
“NO!” You throw your phone onto the bed like it’s on fire, covering your face with your hands. What am I even doing?
You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Maybe you could ask Luke and Kieran for help. They’re close to Sylus and probably know more about his preferences than you do. Plus, he did say you could “use” them whenever you wanted. Why not use them as counselors and pack mules?
Since you don`t want Sylus sniffing around you, you think about a small lie. Or maybe just ask without giving information. The same way he always does 
...
"I need Luke & Kieran for an important mission, can you borrow me them?"
Sylus looks up from his desk, his red eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. He leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he regards you. 
"Mission? What are you planning, kitten?" Sylus raises an eyebrow at your words.
"Nothing
 jus- they will come back in one piece."
He studies you for a moment, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He seems to be enjoying your vague and cryptic request, and he's clearly intrigued by what you might be up to. 
"
Alright. You can take them for whatever this 'important mission' is. But they better come back in one piece, or I'm holding you responsible, sweetie. And you don't want to pay the price...“ he snaps his fingers. Both appear immediately. As if they had been hiding in the office. 
"Luke, Kieran, the kitten needs you for a... mission. Do as they say. I expect impeccable work."
"Yes, boss!“ They say in unison.
"Let’s go, guys." I lead them out of the office. "See you, Sylus!"
That was easy. Maybe to easy.
He laughs after the door closes. Wondering how you're going to surprise him this time. He's learned to just go with the flow even though he might have the answer to your little secrets. He just smiled, turning back to focus on his paperwork.
“What are we going to do, miss?” Luke asks with a mischievous grin.
You roll your eyes. “I told you, just call me by my name.”
“Are we blowing something up?” Kieran blurts out, making an exaggerated explosion noise with his mouth.
“Or
 cleaning up a messy murder scene?” Luke chimes in, smirking.
“Maybe torture someone!” Kieran’s eyes light up, clearly getting way too excited at the thought.
You sigh, regretting this decision already. They’re like two hyperactive hamsters—deadly, but still hamsters.
“No, no, and no!” you say firmly, waving your hands for emphasis.
“Uuuhhh...” They groan in unison, visibly disappointed.
“We have a better mission,” you declare, crossing your arms. “Change into something decent. We’re heading back to Lincoln City.”
Finally, you’ve arrived in the city. It’s strange seeing them without their usual uniforms and masks. Dressed in casual clothes, they look more like model college boys than the deadly assassins they actually are. Most of the girls passing by can’t help but glance their way, clearly debating whether they should approach the handsome twin brothers.
You snort to yourself. Probably they would’ve attracted less attention in their usual assassin gear.
You’re standing in the middle of the bustling shopping district, the holiday decorations casting a festive glow around you. Luke and Kieran are busy taking in the sights, clearly amused by the sudden change of scenery. You clear your throat to get their attention.
“Alright, listen up,” you say, trying to sound authoritative. “The mission is...” They lean in, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Shopping” you declare.
“Shopping?” they repeat in unison, voices filled with disbelief.
Luke looks like he’s trying not to laugh, while Kieran’s expression twists into mock horror.
“Wait, wait,” Kieran says, holding up a hand. “You dragged us all the way out here... for shopping?”
“Yes, and you’re going to help me,” you reply.
Luke smirks, giving you a playful nudge. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to spend time with us, Miss?”
You shoot him a glare. “Call me by my name, Luke.”
“Right, right,” he says, grinning.
“I actually need your help for...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. You look away, rubbing the back of your neck. “Christmas is around the corner, and I wanted to buy Sylus something. I’m not sure what it should be, so...” 
Before you can finish, Luke and Kieran burst into giggle. They exchange a quick, knowing glance, clearly delighted by your admission.
“Oh, so you want to buy our boss a present, huh? That’s pretty cute” Luke teases, smirking.
Kieran nudges him with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear. “And you’re asking us for help? Luke, maybe she does have a soft spot for boss after all.”
You feel your cheeks flush, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Are you two going to help me or not?”
Luke straightens up, placing a hand on his chest with a mock-serious expression. “If you’re serious about buying a gift for the boss, then you’ve definitely come to the right place. We don’t call ourselves his right-hand men for nothing.”
You exhale, feeling a bit relieved now that they seem genuinely eager to help. “I want something special. Something he wouldn’t expect, but that he’d actually like.”
Kieran tilts his head, pretending to think deeply. “Something unexpected, huh? Well, that’s tricky. Sylus pretty much has everything.”
“Yeah, exactly,” you say, feeling a bit helpless. “I was thinking about getting him some records, but he already has so many...”
Luke and Kieran nod in agreement, their expressions thoughtful. 
“It’s a good start. He does love his music. But you don’t want to give him something he already has, right?” Luke asked. 
“How about something more personal?” Kieran suggests, tapping his chin. “Something that shows you put a lot of thought into it. A gift only you could give him.”
You bite your lip, considering it. “Personal... but how?”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” Luke says, shrugging. “The boss isn’t as complicated as he looks. He’d appreciate anything that comes from you.”
Kieran gives a playful smirk. “You could just wrap yourself up with a bow, and he’d be over the moon.”
“Kieran!” you gasp, your cheeks turning red as you lightly smack his arm. He laughs, dodging away with a wink. 
Luke chuckles but gives you a more genuine smile. “He’s joking—mostly. But seriously, boss isn’t the kind of guy who cares about expensive gifts. He’d value something that reminds him of you, or a shared memory.”
You pause, mulling it over.
Kieran nudges Luke, a sudden spark lighting up his eyes. “Hey, what about that old record shop on the Avenue? They’ve got vintage records you can’t find anywhere else. You could look for a rare one, maybe something with a story behind it.”
Luke nods, his eyes brightening as well. “Yeah, and you could pair it with a handwritten note. Tell him why you picked it. He’d love that.”
You smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “That’s... actually a great idea. Thanks, you two.”
Kieran gives you a thumbs-up. “No problem, but you owe us for this.”
Luke grins. “Yeah, and don’t forget to give us the credit when he’s showering you with kisses later.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine, fine. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”
The twins laugh, and the three of you set off down the busy shopping street, feeling a new wave of excitement. Maybe this gift hunt wasn’t going to be so impossible after all.
In the end, you managed to buy everything for your friends—even for Captain Jenna, who isn’t exactly easy to shop for. But as you wandered through the record store, flipping through album after album, nothing stood out. Everything felt generic, impersonal. And you know Sylus well enough to realize that giving him something half-hearted would just fuel his endless teasing for weeks. 
By the end of the day, the twins delivered you at home after treating them for dinner. You're tired and leave all your bags in the living room of your apartment. You throw yourself down on the couch and take out your phone. Maybe you were overthinking this. A nice accessory or a bottle of whiskey could work—he has a taste for the finer things, after all. It wouldn’t be anything cheap, either; you can afford something like that with your Hunter salary.
The day passes, only 2 days for Christmas and you still have nothing. 
Desperate for ideas, you even tried bringing it up with Tera over lunch. That turned into a chaotic disaster, though. It was exhausting dodging her barrage of questions:
“Who’s the gift for? Why are you even so worried? Wait, do you have a new boyfriend? I demand to meet him!”
You had to laugh it off, making up half-baked excuses until she finally dropped it—though you could tell she didn’t believe you.
And then there was Sylus himself. Yesterday, he sent you an invitation to a Christmas dinner. You wanted to say yes, but you had already committed to the Hunters’ Association Christmas party that same night. You tried to decline, but after some back-and-forth, you reluctantly agreed to meet him afterward.
Now, sitting alone on the couch, you can’t help but replay that conversation in your mind. The way his voice softened when you said you couldn’t make it, the slight pause before he insisted on seeing you later anyway—it made your chest tighten. He sounded almost... disappointed. And that’s what makes you want to find something truly meaningful, something that will show him how much he means to you without you having to say it out loud.
You look at your reflection in the darkened screen of your phone, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. You’re running out of time. If you’re going to surprise him with something from the heart, you need to figure it out now.
With a new sense of determination, you push yourself off the couch and grab your coat. Maybe you won’t find the perfect gift sitting around here. It’s time to get back out there and keep looking, because if there’s one person you want to make smile this Christmas, it’s Sylus. But be honest, you®re not going to admit that. Not yet. 
...
It’s Christmas! The party with your unit is small but cozy. The space is filled with the warm glow of twinkling lights, the scent of spiced wine, and the sound of laughter echoing off the walls. You drink, you eat, and you feel a rare sense of contentment as you watch everyone enjoying the night. It’s moments like these that remind you why you love this chaotic, ragtag team.
The gifts you bought last minute seem to have gone over well. Captain Jenna grinned when she unwrapped the sleek new knife you picked out for her—a practical gift, just like she’d like it. Xavier looked genuinely pleased with the soft, oversized sweater you chose, already pulling it on and joking about how he wouldn’t fall asleep everywhere now. Tera hugged you tight, eyes sparkling as she held up the spa voucher. “You really do know me,” she said with a teasing smile.
Earlier in the morning, you made a quick stop by the hospital to drop off the bag of special winter-edition macarons for Zayne. And you place the flower on the graveyard. Pray for them and wishing that you could spent one more day with them.
You glance at your watch. It’s getting late, and you promised Sylus you’d meet him after this. You take a deep breath, excusing yourself quietly from the party. Tera shoots you a knowing look as you head for the door, but she doesn’t say anything—just gives you a little wave, as if to say, good luck. 
You pull your coat tighter around yourself, clutching the gift in your hand as you start walking. There’s a mixture of excitement and fear bubbling up inside you.
Suddenly your watch vibrates urgently and flashes a warning: MetaFlux Fluctuation Detected. Your heart skips a beat. A Wanderer? Now?! You glance around, scanning the quiet street for any signs of danger. The distant sound of a woman’s scream breaks the silence, and without hesitation, you sprint in the direction of the noise, already reaching for your weapon. 
The first Wanderer lunges out from the shadows, its distorted form shifting and writhing in the dim light. You don’t waste a second. One precise shot, and it disintegrates into a cloud of shimmering dust.
„My child! Where is he?“ the woman cries out, panic in her voice. You look around fast, this is not over. 
„Mom!! Help!“ You hear the voice of the kid nearby and run over. You bolt towards the sound, pushing your legs harder. You reach the boy just in time, shielding him with your body as another Wanderer lunges forward. The creature’s claws slice through the air, narrowly missing you. You fire three quick shots, each one hitting its mark. The Wanderer lets out a guttural screech before it vanishes into thin air, dissolving into the night.
"Are you okay?“ you ask, your voice softer now, concerned. The boy nodded. His mother rushes over, wrapping her arms around him and thanking you over and over, her voice thick with emotion.
The mother and child thank you from the bottom of their hearts before leaving. You tell them to please stop by the hospital, just in case. You wave goodbye to the boy. Sigh. What a night!
"Where's my bag?" you mutter, scanning the area. You spot it lying on the ground, right where you dropped it before sprinting into action. Relief floods through you—until you notice the dark, wet stain spreading across the fabric. 
"No, no, no! Please no," you whisper, crouching down and unzipping the bag with trembling hands. The bottle of whiskey you were hunting down the last two days. Is shattered in thousand pieces.
Your heart sinks. This wasn’t just any whiskey—it was a rare, vintage bottle from a small distillery he’d mentioned once, in passing, when he thought you weren’t listening.
„Fuck!" 
You stand up, clutching the soaked bag, and check the time on your watch.
22:30.
You’re supposed to meet Sylus in half an hour, and you’re still a good fifteen minutes away from his place. Panic bubbles up inside you. Maybe you can find a late-night shop that carries something similar. Maybe there’s still a chance to fix this.
"I can make it," you say aloud, more to convince yourself than anything.


You finally arrive at the meeting point—a lookout near the water. It’s the same place where you spent last winter with him, watching the fireworks together.
“Kitten, you told me you were at a party, not a battlefield. What happened?”
“Eh?”
You’ve been running around for the last 30 minutes trying to find that stupid bottle and make it on time to meet Sylus. A little embarrassed, you attempt to fix your clothes and smooth your hair. Your cheeks are flushed from the effort. Sylus stands there in his black coat, looking amazing as always. Your heart beats hard in your chest. He watches you, trying to piece together what happened, and then a smile tugs at his lips.
“Even on days like this, you don’t get a break, Miss Hunter?” He runs his hand gently across your face. You flinch slightly, wincing in pain. “You’ve got a small cut. So... are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Nothing, just a Wanderer. It will heal,” you say with a shrug. He sighs softly.
“Careless as usual.” He pulls a small band-aid from his pocket. “Stay still.”
“Why do you have something like that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
“It so happens that I have a kitten who never pays attention to their injuries,” he teases.
You make an exaggerated offended grimace, but inside, it feels like a small gesture of affection. He places the band-aid gently over the cut.
“I’ll consider this your Christmas gift,” you joke.
He laughs. “Oh no, sweetie, that wouldn’t be enough. But I’m impressed with your minimalist idea of happiness.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope.
“You didn’t have...”
“Open it up. And thank me later.”
You take the envelope cautiously, slowly peeling it open. Could it explode? You shake your head at the silly thought. When you finally look inside, your eyes widen, and you let out a soft squeal of excitement.
“Are you for real? This tickets has been sold out for months. How did you
?”
“I have my ways, sweetie,” he replies with a smug smile.
“Thank you,” you whisper, genuinely touched.
“It’s always a pleasure making you happy.”
But your excitement fades quickly as the realization sinks in. He’s managed to make you immensely happy again, while you stand here empty-handed. You have been looking for the perfect gift and you have screwed up at the last minute. On top, you haven't found a replacement for the bottle. 
"I wanted to give you something too for Christmas...“ you started. Closing the envelope and putting it in your pocket. "but... it broke while I was protecting a kid from a Wanderer.“ You look down at your feet, feeling small and pathetic, your shoulders slumping under the weight of disappointment.
There’s a beat of silence, and then Sylus gently lifts your chin with a finger, guiding your gaze back to him. He smiles, that soft, understanding smile that always makes you feel seen. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace. The chill of winter seems to disappear in his hold, replaced by the comforting heat of his body.
“The best gift is having you by my side, kitten.” he whispers into your ear, his voice low and sincere.
You feel your heart beating faster.
"Actions speak louder than words"
You agree with Sylus that both would be more honest with each other. Maybe now is the time to show him just how important he is to you. You spent so much time looking for something to buy that you forgot that the simplest gifts are often the most meaningful, especially when they come straight from the heart.
"Sylus
 I actually have something else."
"Oh, is that so?“ 
„Can... I borrow your face?" He loosens his grip slightly and steps back, taking your hands in his, warming them up. He looks at you, amused and curious, and leans down.
"Close your eyes..." you whisper. He doesn’t say anything but does as you ask, his smile softening as he relaxes his face. You take a deep breath, feeling your heart race, each beat echoing louder in your chest.
The world falls silent for a moment—it's just the two of you, suspended in time. The anticipation tingles through you as you lean closer, closing the distance between you.
You press your lips gently against his cheek, and the warmth of his skin against your lips is electric. It’s a simple kiss, but it carries all the unspoken words you couldn’t say out loud. A silent confession. You linger there for just a heartbeat longer, feeling him inhale sharply, as if caught off guard by the intimacy of it. As you pull back, the first snowflakes begin to fall, drifting slowly from the sky. The soft touch of snow melts against your skin, but Sylus holds you close, not letting the moment slip away.
„Now... that’s a present only you could have given me." He gives you the most tender smile. "Thank you."
He looks like he wants to say something else but remains silent. Instead, he pulls you into a deeper embrace, burying his face in your hair as the snow continues to fall softly around you. You’re more than fine with that. No, you’re happy—grateful for this sweet moment.
You realize you’re a step closer to falling for him completely, accepting that the connection between you two is stronger than you ever imagined.
“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”
He smiles, his eyes crinkling with genuine joy.
“Merry Christmas, kitten.”
150 notes · View notes
covenha · 1 day ago
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Synopsis: seonghwa harnesses the power of manifestation to get himself a girlfriend. Pairings: Simp!seonghwa x fem! reader Genre: crack, fluff, just seonghwa being a silly goofy guy Warnings: witchcraft technically? astrology is also mentioned WC: 1577 a/n: another self-indulgent fic is done! wrote this after i finished an exam so read at your own risk. i might right more bonus blurbs for this but who knows. this is a piece of fiction so it does not reflect who the characters are irl. please read the warnings carefully! and as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated đŸ«¶
Simp!hwa had been content with silently pining over you. That is until one day he asked for a sign from the universe if he should confess. He was walking down the streets of his neighborhood while on his way to school with a little skip in his step, excited to see you. He was nearing Mrs. Nesbit’s house, an old lady with a splotchy memory but a kind heart. He stops to wave at her as she sways back and forth on the rocking chair on her porch. Then, as if she read his mind she goes, “Hurry up or you’ll miss it!”
Was this it? Was this the universe finally telling him to shoot his shot with you and confess his profound love for you? 
Well, the answer was no. Mrs. Nesbit was referring to the bus two blocks away ready to leave Seonghwa’s delusional ass behind. But it’s fine. He didn’t really care. All he really cared about was figuring out how to get you to fall in love with him so that you guys grow old together and live out your best lives with your two cats and moss ball babies. 
Now, Seonghwa knew that he had to approach this from a proactive standpoint. Sure, you and him have been friends since both of your awkward emo teen phases but he really wanted to cement in his chances with you. So he turned to the one place he knew he could get somewhat decent love advice from; Reddit. And with the wise words of Wefishyfishy98 he knew what he had to do. If he really wanted this he needed to use the power of manifestation. 
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Simp!hwa wore your hair tie on his hand with pride. He read somewhere on twitter that girls liked to “mark their territory” with things like this and he grew weak at the knees thinking about you staking your claim on him. (Of course, in a completely normal and non-a/b/o kind of way.) I mean isn’t this such a boyfriend thing to do? He was clearly using the power of manifestation or whatever that fish guy said on Reddit. 
And this is why, when summer grew closer and the weather grew warmer, Seonghwa absolutely did not want to return it to you. 
“Hwa, C’mon it’s hot and I don’t want my hair sticking to my neck.” 
“Look, I can get you a new set of hair ties! Here, look at these cute ones I found on Etsy.” He tried to distract you with some cute kuromi hair ties he just found. Jongho is just silently observing the interaction between the both of you. 
You found it weird that he refused to give it to you even after you pestered him to but you decided to just give up and tough it out. And those ties on Etsy were kinda cute. 
“Fine. I guess the weather isn’t so bad today. What are you even doing on Etsy anyway?” you try to take a peak at whatever Seonghwa is looking up on his phone to which he quickly turns it off and puts it screen down on the table. 
“Nothing!” You seem a little taken aback by this. “Just
 looking for plants for my
 aquarium.”
“You mean your aquarium filled with moss balls
 a plant. You want to get plants for your plants?” you blink at him. 
“Technically they’re algae.” Jongho butts in. 
“Right
. Well, at least you’re passionate about your moss balls?” you trail off. 
Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief as Jongho nods on to you changing the topic to something about your mother’s extensive cacti collection. He opens up his phone again and clicks the order on his Etsy cart. 
“I hope this works.” He thinks to himself. 
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That same night, Seonghwa started wracking his brain trying to think of something else that he could do that was “boyfriend coded”. And after much deliberation while staring at the ceiling, it finally hits him. She should be my lock screen! I mean nothing screams boyfriend like a cute candid picture as my lock screen. 
So, with this in mind, he scrounges through his gallery looking for a good photo of you to put as his lock screen. Then he spots the perfect candid of you in his living room sitting on the floor with lego pieces scattered all around the floor trying to assemble his lego death star with him. You aren’t looking at the camera, instead you look completely locked in on building the superweapon of the Empire with him. He stares at the image with a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Without even realizing it he’s smiling like an idiot at his screen and he buries his head on his pillow and screams into it while kicking his feet on his mattress. 
That night he dreams of a distant future with you. One where he can call you his. Oh, and of course you can’t forget your two cats Lily and Bongo, and his ever growing collection of marimo balls.  
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A week and a half later, he’s checking his phone every few minutes and then looking at the front door waiting to see if the delivery truck has arrived. Today was your birthday and the gift that he had bought you was running dangerously late. Which is why when he hears a truck nearing the property he all but zooms off the living room couch and to the front door. He accepts the package from the delivery man and quickly unboxes it. 
“It’s perfect.” he thought, smiling to himself as he delicately put it in a bag.
Later that day, as he walks you home just in time for you to have dinner with your family he surprises you with the gift. 
“Wha- Hwa? I thought we weren’t doing gifts this year?” you say as you accept the small paper bag from him. 
“Well, I say this and I just couldn’t not get it for you.” he just smiles at you shyly as you look at him, surprised at the gesture. 
“Now, I have to get you a gift worth two birthdays next year.” you joke. 
“You’re the best gift life has to offer.” he thinks. But he shakes his head, a dumb smile on his face. “Open it.” he motions to the gift. 
You open and find a couple kuromi hair ties, just as promised. But also, a jewelry box with a bracelet inside. It had a dainty gold chain and a baby pink stone in the middle. 
“Hwa, I love it.” you smile at him. “It’s so pretty.” you inspect the bracelet. 
“Here, let me put it on you.” he gets the bracelet from the box and clamps it around your wrist. He smiles at the sight of you wearing the bracelet. 
He unfortunately had to leave because it was getting dark and he had to feed his cat at home. But, he swears he feels something in the air that night. 
“Please work.” He mumbles to himself. 
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In hindsight, what Seonghwa felt that fateful night was probably just pollen, because the very next day Seonghwa finds Jongho coming down with a bad case of allergy sniffles. The cafeteria is filled with the sounds of chattering from hungry sleep-deprived college students and Jongho’s sneezes. 
“So, did you finally give her that rose quartz bracelet you bought from that Etsy witch?” Seonghwa’s cheeks burn at his words. 
“Yea. It was a good time too. Venus was in mercury gatorade or something.” he mumbles while picking at the skin on his thumb. 
“Ahem.” You startle both boys with your presence. You raise your eyebrows at both of them and decide to end their misery of staring at you with their mouths open in shock. “What’s this about an Etsy witch?” 
“I do not recall saying Etsy witch.” Jongho mumbles quickly then packs up his things, muttering some excuse about buying a gatorade from the vending machine. Seonghwa just sits there, mouth agape, trying to stutter out some excuse but nothing coherent falls from his mouth. 
“Hwa, you know you didn’t have to summon the forces of magic and astrology to make me fall in love with you right? I kinda already am.” You blush as you admit your feelings for your best friend. 
Simp!hwa’s brain malfunctions hearing this. Heart pounding, mind racing. Did she just... Did she just say that? She likes me? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. What now?! I didn’t actually think I would get this far. Shit what happens next. Do I shake her hand? No, that would be weird. Just say something, Seonghwa! Say something!
“Will you be my manifested girlfriend?” he asks in a dazed voice. This makes you giggle before you shake your head then decide to kiss him on the nose. “It’s about time.” 
Seonghwa wastes no time in going in for a kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off in the background (it was just Jongho having a massive sneezing fit). The moment was perfect. It was magical. You guys stare into each other’s eyes and it felt like all was right with the world. As the both of you pull away from the kiss, Jongho sits down at the table with a purple gatorade. 
“You know it's actually mercury retrograde, right?” 
130 notes · View notes
biting-miguel-ohara · 2 days ago
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Holiday Blues - Wade Wilson x bunny mutant!Reader x Logan Howlett
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A/N: *deep breath in; deep breath out* there are so many things about this fic that I despise. I want to put so many disclaimers about bad writing or sloppy endings or heavy angst. But I said I’d post it if there was interest so here we are. However, THIS IS NOT MY BEST WORK!!! I really just wrote it as a way to channel my anxiety, so if it’s shitty or just bad I won’t be surprised
No taglist for this one
Reader is vaguely implied to be ftm trans during one paragraph of the fic. But it also can be read as a cis male!Reader too
There are a lot of internalized feelings in this, some toxic masculinity, and other uncomfy things. Please read all the warnings and take them seriously before reading
Also, very important. While it’s never directly stated in the fic, I wrote this Reader based off my experiences with RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria). However, there’s a lot more going on with me than just that, so I do have to say this is only indicative of my experiences, not experiences with this as a whole. Other things may have crept in as well, simply by the nature of basing this off of me
CW: Reader is dating both Logan and Wade; Reader loves the holidays; Reader comes from a family with holiday traditions; Logan comes off as a bit rude, but it’s for reasons I don’t elaborate on; Reader is a bunny mutant; Reader is sensitive to rejection; Reader spirals fast in this; angst; anxiety; panic; hiding; Reader is hit with a lot of emotions all at once; negative thought spirals; internalized emotions; toxic masculinity moments; crying; humiliation; shame; guilt; Reader’s family is mentioned as a guilt trip; comfort seeking; more shame; there’s lots of shame in this one; prey instincts contributing to the negativity; hugging; comfort; problems are not addressed; Reader bounces back fast; Wade gets Reader’s brain; Wade has implied mental health issues as well; soft moments; quick ending; mild allusions to sexy things; god this reads so bad; okay, here are my disclaimers: bad writing, vent writing, fast-paced writing, sudden ending, and highly-charged emotional states from the Reader
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It’s no secret among your boyfriends that you love the holidays. Any chance you can get you’re constantly hanging up decorations, planning parties, and preparing food,
It’s some of the few times a year you truly come alive when doing something. It’s your time of the year. Holidays have always been your thing.
It’s tradition, from growing up in your burrow. Everyone would help out, making the holidays a time of family fun and chaos and celebration.
So when you come home to Wade decorating your apartment, you immediately want to help. You’ve barely taken off your sweater before you’re bouncing up to him. “What can I do?”
He gives you a grin, gesturing to the kitchen. “Ask Wolvie. He’s been baking all day.”
It both excites and confuses you. You’re not hosting any parties or going to an event today. So what’s going on?
Still, you head into the kitchen. Logan’s working on a pie, carefully making a beautiful lattice of crust on top.
You place a kiss on his cheek. “Can I help?”
“Ask Wade.”
His answer is short. Quick. To the point. Almost brusque even. You know he’s just concentrating, but it still makes you falter. “Um
 alright.”
You head back to Wade, but he just gives you a shrug. “Sorry, handsome, but I think we got it.”
You stand there for a moment before nodding and heading into the bedroom.
You sit on the bed, staring at your hands. Normally, you’d just brush off their responses and find something else to do. But it’s the holidays. You’re supposed to be out there helping.
Their rejection of your help hurts more than you care to admit.
But it’s stupid. It’s just decorations and food. They’ve got it all covered.
You try to tell yourself that, but the hurt still wells up in your chest. You can feel it rising, making your breathing quicken. You grip one of your bunny ears, stroking it in an attempt to calm yourself down. It’s what Wade always does.
Maybe you did something to offend them? Or maybe they were trying to surprise you and you ruined it by coming home early?
You try to think of anything and everything as a reason for their dismissals. It has to be something. It has to be.
Anxiety spikes in your chest and you burrow under the covers. It feels comforting, like you’re back in your home warren for a moment. You curl into a ball, tucking your knees to your chest.
You count your breaths, struggling to slow the beat of your heart. But it’s no real use. The wave of emotions is already here. It crashes into you, drowning you in reasons why and what you did wrong. Over and over, your thoughts spiral.
Your eyes prickle, but you refuse to cry. The only thing worse than feeling like this is having Wade and Logan think you’re dumb for it. You’re a man. You can handle it.
You press your palms to your eyes, but the wetness still seeps out. You can handle it. You can handle it. You can handle it.
You don’t sob. Thankfully. You just cry in silence. Stuttered breaths in and out. In and out. It feels humiliating. You, crying while your boyfriends decorate.
You should be better than this. You should be better than this now. What would your family think if they saw you crying instead of celebrating?
That thought only adds to the shame in your chest and you scrunch up even tighter. You’re not some dumb flopsy bunny anymore. You’re a rabbit. A man. Crying is for flopsy bunnies.
The thoughts continue. Eventually, your silent crying turns to soft hiccups. Your tears dry up, leaving your eyes puffy and itchy.
You don’t get up until you hear the timer ringing in the kitchen. Logan’s pie is done. You can smell it. Apple. Your favorite.
Slowly, you uncurl yourself. You crawl out from beneath the blankets. You change into a pair of boxers and one of Wade’s sweaters. Your comfort outfit. You know it’ll be a tell that something’s wrong, but you need the safety of the fabric.
You open the door to the bedroom and shuffle out. No Wade. You hear him in the kitchen.
You take a moment to use the bathroom. To stare dully at your reflection in the mirror and splash water on your face to try and reduce the puffiness. It
 sort of works.
Wade’s knock on the door has you startling. “Oh, bunny boy! Dinner’s ready!”
You flinch, curling into yourself a little. They’re gonna know you were crying. They’re gonna know you were upset over something so stupid. They’re gonna think you’re dumb.
You’re shaking as you open the door. You know it’s your prey instincts. Programmed to carry you away, to keep you safe from any harm. But that doesn’t make it feel any better.
Wade blinks at you as you emerge. His whole body seems to soften. “Hey
 What’s wrong?”
He’s always so soft with you whenever you’re upset. Occasionally silly, but so soft. Sometimes you love it. Right now it just makes the pit of guilt in your chest bigger.
“Nothing
” you mumble.
He frowns, but pulls you into a hug. It helps. It loosens the ball of shame, slowly soothing it apart. You take a deep breath and hug him back.
“Everything alright?” Logan, from the kitchen doorway.
You think Wade gives him a look, or maybe he just picks up on the clothes you’re wearing. Either way, you’re enfolded in another set of arms.
“Hey, bunny. What’s wrong?” Logan’s often gentle too. It helps you relax the last bit of the way, the knot in your chest finally unraveling.
“Just
 my brain
” You’re now more embarrassed than anything. Why would they think you’re dumb? They’ve always been understanding and loving, especially with you.
Wade strokes one of your bunny ears, the action immediately calming your frayed emotions. Bringing back your peace of mind. “Being a bully again, huh?”
You nod.
Logan rubs your back, his touch gentler than normal. “Was it something we said?”
Damn his perceptiveness. You were hoping to get out of this without an explanation.
You sigh and rest your forehead on Wade’s shoulder. “I just
 I wanna help too
”
There’s a moment of silence, then Wade hums. “You can wrap the gift I got Wolvie. It was supposed to be a surprise, but it’s the last thing to do.”
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your entire self perks up at the idea. You grin, already straightening up. “You mean it? I can help?”
Logan chuckles while Wade matches your grin. “Absolutely, handsome! But first
”
He takes your hands and gives them a squeeze. “Let’s eat. You’ll feel much better once you have food in you. The surprise can wait for later.”
Logan agrees and you give in quickly.
Dinner goes by fast and soon you’re in the bedroom again, this time with a box and gift wrap in your hands. You focus on wrapping the present as Wade sits on the bed. Logan’s busy with food clean up, bustling away in the kitchen.
“We'll always love you,” Wade says, startling you from your task. You look up at him. “What?”
“Whatever your brain says while you’re upset. It’s not true.” He looks at you intently. “We love you.”
You swallow and look down. With anyone else, you’d protest. But you know him. You know him. He’s speaking more than just to comfort you right now.
“I love you too,” you say quietly. “Even on your bad days, I love you too.”
His shoulders relax but his gaze stays on you. He doesn’t say anything more though. He just watches you. It’s a little intimidating, but you let him.
You finish wrapping the box and place a nice big bow on the top. “Done.”
Wade smiles. His expression soft once more. It relieves a burden off your shoulders in some way. Some lingering guilt or whatever weighing you down.
You love him. He loves you. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know he gets your mind almost as well as you do. He struggles with his brain too.
You hold out the box to him, a silent acknowledgment of each other in the air. He takes it, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re adorable in my sweater, you know that?”
It pulls a laugh out of you, lightening the air. “Yeah. I know. Why do you think I wear it all the time?”
He smiles. “Careful, buns. You know how your sassiness gets me going.”
You roll your eyes and grin. “Yeah, yeah.”
You eye the wrapped box in his hands, a spark of curiosity in your mind. “What’s in there anyway? And what’re we celebrating in the first place?”
Wade smirks. “We’re celebrating us. And this?” He shakes the box a little. “This is for later. Consider it my gift to you and Wolvie.”
Celebrating us. The idea warms you like nothing else. Nothing else seems to matter except that. They planned a small thing just to celebrate you and them.
You lean in and kiss Wade. “Thank you. For all of it.”
He softens despite himself, his smile turning warm. “Hey, don’t thank me yet. Wolvie still hasn’t opened his gift yet. Thank me then.”
But he seems to understand. For a moment. Before he smacks your ass lightly and points towards the kitchen. “Let’s go, buns. The Readers and Wolvie can’t wait for the ending forever.”
You blink, but don’t question his words. He’ll explain eventually. For now, you’re just ready to enjoy some pie and find out what’s in Wade’s gift.
After all, knowing him, it’s probably something raunchy. And you could do with something a little stronger than cuddles.
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wlfchnlv3r · 2 days ago
Note
I read all your fictions and they’re so good my lord😭Can I request Virgin!Han x Femreader?? đŸ«¶đŸ»
(Daje Roma Italians uniteeeđŸ’ȘđŸ™‚â€â†•ïž)
Not as sweet as you
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Roommates!fem reader x Virgin! Han
Synopsis: You and Han became roommates a few months ago, he is a very shy guy and a bit of nerd, but you two get along so well.
Word count: 2.3k
Warnings: cute like hell Han, smut and fluff, sex! Mdni!, 🔞, handjob and boh.
Note: small waist!Han is so hot.
As soon as you enter the living room you start hearing some unusual noises from Han’s room.
He probably didn’t expect you to be home this early.
You get closer to his room and you finally understand what are this “noises”, moans, definitely moans. A smirk appear as you clear your throat and knock at the door “Han, everything is ok?” you ask quietly.
Hearing the knock at the door he suddenly stopped what he was doing and quickly tried to fix himself “What? Y-yes”.
“You sure? Can I come in?” You slowly open the door and watch his figure under the sheets.
Han tries to look decent, but it was obvious he was in the middle of... something “y-yeah i'm fine..! just u-um studying... yeah studying..." he quickly responds.
You just smile and nod “Yeah- I
 see”.
He suddenly become flustered, he knew what he was doing was obvious, and he tries to hide his blush but his soft cheeks made it hard to hide.
“Don’t worry- it’s- don’t be shy” you say smiling a little.
He couldn't help but feel the embarrassment building inside him, he looks at you and see your smile, the blush on his face becomes more visible "i-i
i'm not shy..." he said quietly.
“So you don't mind if I join you, right?” You tease him.
Han has a surprise expression on his face and becomes speechless for a moment "w-wait huh? i-im...uh..." he does not know what to say and just looks at you with shook.
His mind is now racing and the thought of you joining him makes him a bit excited.
“So cute Han, just let me help you
” you know he is not your “type” but you are so attracted by him anyway.
Han bites his lip, his look slowly turns to one of desire with pleading eyes and a growing blush on his face "a-are you sure...?".
You just nod, “it’s ok, I promise” you reassure him.
He slowly makes room between him, allowing some space for you to sit next to him "o-okay... then come here..." he watches as you sit down and he couldnt help but look at your body, getting a bit more excited.
You catch him scanning your body and chuckle “Mh you have to come closer hannie”.
Han is surprised hearing you call him a nickname, it makes his heart skip a beat.
He obeys you and gets a bit closer to you, a bit faster than he intends to "like this..?" he asks whispering.
You pull him more closer “just on top of me, like this
”.
His eyes widens as you suddenly pull him closer. he felt a bit flustered from the close proximity as he was now between your legs "y-yeah... just like this...".
“It’s
 ok if I kiss you?” you search for his consent.
That is so unexpected for him, but he looks at you with an excited and shy look "kiss me?.. y-yeah... go ahead...".
You gently cup his cheeks, and close the distance between you two, kissing him slowly.
He closes his eyes as he feels your soft and warm lips on his. his heart is racing from all the excitement and he slowly returns the kiss, his hands resting on your waist pulling you closer to him.
“you are so sweet Hannie
” you speak between the kiss.
Han smiles softly when you call him by the nickname again and he gently runs his hand through your hair, you could feel the heat from his body; He is getting more excited "i-i...i think you're much sweeter... y/n".
As you hear his words you immediately pull him closer to on top of you.
Han lets out a quiet moan as you pull him closer. he buries his face in your neck, nuzzling and kissing your soft skin gently.
You let out a soft moan “mhh-“.
Han continues to leave gentle kisses on your neck, moving up to your ear. His hands slowly moves down your torso, gripping your hips "g-god... i need you so bad...".
You pull back a little just to see the blush on his face, “so cute
”, and begin to caress you thumb on his bottom lip.
He gasps softly as you touch his lips.
He looks up at you and opens his mouth for your thumb, gently taking it in and sucking it slowly.
A shiver runs down your spine “god- Han
”.
Han slowly swirls his tongue around your thumb, his eyes looking at you with an intense look.
After a moment he let go of your thumb "you're driving me insane...fuck... you don't know what you're doing to me..." he says slowly.
You watch him just for a few seconds before starting to kiss his neck roughly.
He tilts his head, giving you more access to his neck and a few more soft moans escapes his mouth "mmmh...you're gonna leave marks..." he whispers to you.
“It’s ok for you
?”.
Han thinks for a moment, then quickly nods; he is so desperate for you, he wouldnt resist anything you do at this point "y-yeah... leave marks...” before he finishes his sentence you nip and begin to leave purple hickeys on his neck.
“Y-you know- an hickey is just- just a bruise
and
and it’s caused by capillaries’s damage-“ he let out a soft yet shaky moan “-that
 causes your capillaries to leak blood
and- and it doesn't have anywhere to go.” As soon as he finishes the explanation you laugh a bit.
Han just bites his lip, trying not to moan too loud.
“I want to hear you, sweetheart”
Han lets out a shaky breath, and pulls you closer against his body. he leans down again to your ear, whispering to you "you're t-teasing me... i-i want you so bad...g-goddd...you dont know what you're doing to me...".
“God- you are so innocent and cute as hell”.
He is a bit embarrassed from your words but he couldnt help feeling excited, desperate and eager for your touch; he looks at you with a flushed face and pleading eyes before saying "y-you're making me feel t-things i've never felt before... i-i...".
You give him a quick kiss smiling “I want to make you feel good
”.
Han bites his lip, and he nods slowly "y-yes... please...i want more..." he pulls you against his body, his hands slowly starts to wander on your curves.
The intimacy starts growing between you two and you take off his hoodie with a quick movement, he lifts his arms to help you take his hoodie off fully, his body revealed right in front of you.
It was now, that you notice his slender yet firm and lean physique; His waist is small, you could almost wrap your hands around it and he had muscular and defined arms “you are gorgeous sweetheart”.
Han looks at you, his eyes slowly trailing down from your face to your body, examining you; he was clearly very attracted to you "y-you're the one who's gorgeous here... god i cant keep my hands off you...and- I don’t know what to do”.
“Just- undress me
”you speak in a low tone.
He slowly pulls at the hem of your shirt and lifts it up, slowly taking it off for you; His face heats up as he took it off, revealing your body.
His eyes are focused on your curves, his gaze lingering on your exposed body; he touches your body slowly, his hands running up and down your sides, before wrapping his arms around your waist “god- you are so pretty y/n”.
You smile for his compliment before speaking again “what if i take off your pants..?”.
Han lets out a soft, shaky breathe, hearing your request. he looks at you in the eye with a mixture of pleading and excitement "m...mmh...yes, go ahead... p-please...".
You start to lower his pants and boxers and he lifts his hips slightly to help you with it. He is now naked in front of you, and visibly excited.
You bite down your bottom lip looking at him.
Han’s breaths is becoming quicker and shaky and your reaction alone was driving him insane.
He gently cups your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him before looking in your eyes with a soft yet somewhat needy look; his other hand slowly rubbing your thigh "p-please... touch me more..." he pleads.
You start to rub you finger on his hard tip, hearing him curse a little just increase your excitement “shh, now
 tell me what were you doing earlier
”.
Han lets out a few shaky breaths, his head resting on your shoulder; it is almost as if he is using you to hide his flushed face "i-i... w-was thinking of you... and touching myself..”he mumbles into your shoulder.
“Really..?” You smile a little hearing his words.
Han is still hiding his face, feeling really embarrassed and he slowly nods in response to your question, still clinging on to you tightly.
“I- i want to see you touching yourself
” you suddenly ask.
He lifts his head up, looking at you with a shy look and bits his lip.
He is hesitant at first but he nods slowly too worked up at this point and in desperately needs for some relief.
Han slowly lets go of you to lets you watch him; he leans back a bit on the bed, and slowly starts to touch his hard cock.
You just look at him with a smirk on your face; he makes an effort to keep eye contact, but he is way too shy for that.
You really want him, you can’t help it “want to feel you inside me
 please” you almost plead and finish to undress yourself, pulling off your skirt and panties.
Han looks at you and let out a quiet moan; his tongue quickly came out to wet his dry lips "g-god you're so hot...".
You pull him on top of you and between your legs, again “... have you ever have sex hannie?”.
He is now basically laying on top of you, looking at you with a flushed face (he didn't expect to be on top so suddenly), but he quickly adjusts himself for comfort and he shakes his head slowly "no l haven't... I'm a v-virgin..." he admits.
“Ehi- don’t worry, l'm gonna help you a little ok?” you reassure him softly.
Han is thankful for your kindness and patience with him and he nods at your words, trying to keep a steady breath "okay... p-please help me..".
You rub his cock tip and position it in front of your cunt, guiding him.
He is getting really desperate now, he can’t believe he is actually here, laying between your legs, about to lose his virginity.
Han bites his lip, his breaths shaky as he looks at you, then down at your body in front of him "please... c-can i-?" he pleads.
“Y-yes- you..can move” you say in a whisper.
He takes a shaky breath, gripping the cushions for support; his dick pressing against your entrance, he looks up at giving you another kiss before slowly and gently starting to push inside.
You moan a little “you- you ok..?” you ask.
Han lets out a shaky breath when he hears your moa, it sounds so good to his ears
he looks at you and nods "y-yeah I'm okay... just going slow".
He pushes his length in deeper slowly, taking in deep breaths as he feel himself being surrounded by your warmth walls.
It is all so new to him and it feel so good that he is almost losing it; Han looks at you, his eyes slightly closing from pleasured sensations.
“Good- you are doing so good
” you whine.
He smiles a bit; he was very nervous and he is glad to hear you say that "r-really..? s-should i keep going...?" he shyly asks.
“Yes- please yes
”.
Han is desperate now, and he is so eager to keep going to please you.
He begin to move in and out of you, the sensation was so new to him that he struggled to keep a steady rhythm; his breaths were quick and shaky, broken moans escaping from his mouth, not even trying to keep them under control.
You cup his face trying to kiss him not in a sloppy way.
Han immediately melts into your kiss, his hand coming up to hold your face as well. He is starting to lose himself in the sensations as he deepened the kiss, his tongue licking your bottom lip, entering your mouth.
“God- Han you feel so good inside me.. want more” you moan between the kiss.
His pace slowly starts to get faster and "f-fuck... you are so tight- i- i just don’t know how long i can last
”
Both your moans fill the room with him saying random pleas and begging words.
After a moment he reaches his orgasm right before you.
Han feels and hears you finish and it’s all so new to him and he is so overwhelmed by the pleasure, he can’t control it and buries his face in your neck; he laid on top of you, feeling weak and exhausted from his orgasm.
After a few minutes he pulls out of you and lays down holding you against him.
“You did so good sweetheart
 really good”.
Han is still shaking a little from his orgasm, but hearing your praise put a smile on his face; he looks at you, with an almost exhausted but satisfied look on his face "r-really? b-but I finished so quickly...".
“Ehi- don’t worry
it was your first time” you say as you hug him tightly.
He lays his head on your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart. it was very soothing and relaxing, but he was also still feeling clingy, and didn't want to let go of you
“What about we go take a shower?Then I'll change the sheets” you suggest.
Han lifts his head and looks up at you with a needy look, he wants to stay as close to you as possible but nods “okay... but can we shower together? I don't want to let go of you yet..."
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