#also the beard is looking so fine and full i love it here

[barkovsasha]

cubs @ cardinals - 7.13.24

[its-time-to-write]

how about a Jamie x reader fic when they go away to Amsterdam they sit together on bus and they wake up cuddling and then there’s an issue w hotel booking and there’s a one bed trope and they end up waking up cuddled together and then they admit feelings and reader goes to game with a tartt jersey on <3

I’ve been thinking about this forever, and I’m terribly sorry it took so long!! I do enjoy being an adult, but I’m at a point in life where I don’t have much free time and if I do, I use it to sleep😂

I really miss the days when Ted Lasso was still airing and the x reader tags had new content every day. I feel like that one meme of Thanos when he’s like “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Shoutout to all y’all who are still here and reading my stuff! Love you!!

smile at me

It’s straight-up fucked. It really, really is. But also maybe it’s good, as Keeley pointed out, because not having a boyfriend anymore means you can focus on yourself?

Or something. 

Of course he had to break up with you right before leaving for Amsterdam. Hell, he broke up with you because you were leaving for Amsterdam. 

“I don’t want you going to another country with a bunch of other guys,” he had said. “It’s them or me.”

“It’s literally my job,” you told him. 

Apparently, that didn’t matter. 

But what-fucking-ever, you’re at Keeley’s waiting for a car to take you to the airport, and she’s promised to make sure you don’t think about your stupid ex even once. 

It’s times like these you wish Ted were still here with a spot-on pun and some dad-type advice. All you ever get from Beard is a weird anecdote and a vaguely threatening look. 

Keeley chatters on for the entirety of the ride to the airport, through customs, and all the way to the lounge. 

“You’re gonna get loads of great content for the socials, babe. Candids, action shots, behind-the-scenes. Friendlies are fucking amazing!”

Last time Richmond were in Amsterdam, they had lost horribly. They’re hoping to make up for it this time around. 

The plane is full of Greyhounds, both footballers and coaches alike, with Rebecca at the very front. Keeley plops done in the seat next to her as Dani waves at you from the middle. 

“I saved you a seat!” he calls. You smile as Sam takes your bag to put it in the overhead. “Thanks, Dani. You excited?”

Dani grins. “I think this time I am ready to see a whole field of tulips!”

You laugh as the lads roll their eyes. Jamie leans across the aisle toward you and says, “Oi, what’s the twat doing while you’re away?” 

You press your lips into a thin line. “Not a clue.”

He raises an eyebrow and says, “You break up with him?”

“He broke up with me.”

Jamie twists his face into a scoff. “And you wonder why I call him the fucking twat. Prick. Bet it was so he could finally fuck his coworker.”

You shrug. Jamie’s never liked your boyfriend. It’s not like you were together long, only a few months. And sure, he was a little bit of a twat, but sue you. You had a special place in your heart for pricks with a heart of gold, only he didn’t even have a heart at all. 

“You should date someone better,” Jamie continues. 

You glare at him and retort, “Oh yeah, because it’s just that easy. You got some one in mind?”

Jamie gives you his most angelic look and says, “What about me?” which makes half the plane dissolve into laughter, yourself included. 

“Cheers, Jamie,” you say as you wipe your eyes. “I needed that.”

A strange look crosses his face, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual cocky expression. “Anytime, love,” he replies as you turn to start a conversation with Dani. 

As much as you’d like that, Jamie would never date you. His joke stings a little but you brush it off. Maybe you’ll find another twat in Amsterdam to distract yourself from the fact that you’re half in love with Jamie Tartt.

—

“I’m sorry, we don’t have a booking under you name,” the hotel concierge says.

You tap your nails to your wrist. “Are you positive? I’m with AFC Richmond, they should’ve had one.”

The concierge taps on his computer for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have anything. And all of our rooms are booked this weekend. Might I recommend the hotel down the road?”

Damn it. There’s no way this is happening. Everyone else has gotten to their rooms without a hitch and here you are, alone in the lobby as you pull out your phone to call Keeley. There’s no way this is fucking happening. 

“Everything alright?” asks a voice behind you, and you jump. 

“They don’t have a room for me, and they’re fully booked,” you explain. 

Jamie looks at the concierge, who shrugs apologetically, then back to you. He asks, “Why don’t you share with me?” and you frown. 

“I thought you were rooming with Declan,” you say. 

Jamie lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, but he switched with Richard because O’Brien fucking snores and he don’t give a shit.”

You say, “So you’re with Richard, then,” and he shakes his head. 

“Nah, Richard’s with Jan.”

“I thought Dani was with Jan,” you say. These fucking footballers. What’s the point in having set rooms if they’re just going to switch it all up.

“Dani is with Jan,” Jamie says patiently, as if this all the most obvious thing in the world. “But Dani’s a cuddler, so he’s probably going to fucking end up with, I don’t know, Isaac or someone. Which means I get a room all to meself.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “Alright, I can do that. As long as you don’t mind.”

Jamie winks. “Sharing a room with a pretty girl for four days? Ain’t a problem, love.”

You laugh and follow him to the elevator.

—

It feels a bit like playing with fire, agreeing to room with Jamie. Especially since you’re freshly single and definitely open to a rebound. But there will be two beds and a lot of space and anyway, you’ll be busy with the match and social media, respectively. 

Except as soon as you walk through the door, you realize there’s a tiny little hitch.

“There’s one bed,” you blurt out, so surprised you’re unable to filter your words. Jamie blushes a little bit as he says, “Yeah, um, Cockburn and I hate sleeping alone, so we asked for one. He grew up sharing a bed with his brothers and I just fucking hate being alone. I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“No,” you say firmly, “you need good rest. It’s not a problem.”

It’s not a problem. 

Or at least it wouldn’t have been if Isaac had been a shittier captain. 

But as it is he’s great, so he’s got the whole team going out to dinner at a pre-determined location complete with a dress code of no t-shirts and apparently you count as part of the team, so you have to go too. You’re in your massive bathroom trying to curl your disgusting travel hair when Jamie walks in wearing one of those white hotel bathrobes.

He asks, “You mind if I’m in here?” so you shake your head, struck temporarily mute by his bare clavicle. Fucking hell, you feel like a repressed Victorian woman. 

Jamie says, “Mint,” and goes about his alarmingly detailed skincare routine. You’re pretty sure you’re done with your hair so you crane your neck in an attempt to check the back. 

“Missed a spot,” Jamie says. “Want me to get it for you?”

You shoot him a dubious look but hand him the curler. He runs a hand through your hair, picking up the offending strand and it’s all you can do not to shiver. 

“Mum taught me,” he explains and you nod ever so slightly, not wanting him to accidentally burn your neck. Jamie says, “All good,” and runs his whole hand through your hair this time, making the curls bounce. 

You choke out, “Thanks,” and hurriedly put away your things, desperate to leave before Jamie can pick up on the fact that you can barely handle being in the same room as him, and that you have great concerns about what the night will bring. 

—

“You look fucking hot,” is the first thing Rebecca says when you meet her in the lobby. Keeley looks mildly offended that Rebecca took the words out of her mouth, but she just laughs and taps your arm. 

“Gonna break a few hearts tonight, yeah?” she grins.

You’re not sure about that, especially since dinner turns out to be a very domestic affair. It’s loud, sure, but it’s definitely toned down since it’s a pre-match celebration instead of a post-match one. You’re with Sam, Keeley, and Roy with Jamie far, far away. You push all thoughts of him from your brain only for memories of your ex to surface. You frown. 

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy says and for a moment, you think he’s talking to you. But he’s actually talking to Jamie who has moved from his place across the restaurant to right behind your chair. 

“Fuck off grandad,” Jamie says good-naturedly. “Wanted to tell this one that some of the lads are going out dancing after this. Not too late,” he hastily adds at Roy’s burning scowl, “just for two hours and we’re only allowed one drink.”

You’re pretty sure that’s a bit more liberal than Roy likes, but he nods his head slightly so he must be in a good mood.

“So, you coming?” Jamie asks and before you can reply Sam and Keeley chorus, “Yes she is.”

You give Keeley a Look before turning back to Jamie. “Guess I am,” you reply.

The smile Jamie gives you does more to make your head spin than any amount of alcohol you’ve had in your lifetime.

—

Jamie has taken it upon himself to wipe that frown off your face. He might have been watching you over dinner and that might have been why he chose that exact moment to invite you out, but he’ll never fucking admit it to anyone except Sam. And Keeley. And maybe Cockburn when it was the off-season and they were a little tipsy. (But not drunk, never drunk.) 

So yeah, sue him if he’s spinning you around on the crowded dance floor just because it makes you laugh. It’s not his fault that he’s been wildly in love with you since the day Higgins hired you. It’s not his fault that you’re easy to be around and have the most beautiful smile he’s seen in his life. 

And fuck, it certainly isn’t his fault you can’t see in yourself what others do. Why you settled for a piece of shit like your ex, he’ll never know. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do his best to show you how special you are. He knows you’ll never feel the same about him, but maybe he can help you level up your standards. Maybe if you’re with someone good, it’ll hurt less that it’s not him. 

So he lets you hold his hand for the entirety of the two hours that the team is out and doesn’t say a word when you don’t let go in the cab back to the hotel. 

You’ve gotten that closed-off look in your eyes again, the one that means you’re thinking about your ex, so Jamie knocks his shoulder into yours and asks why he can’t have the password to the team’s Instagram account, which is a sure fire way to get you to lecture him on irresponsibility and aesthetics and the best way to get your eyes to come back to life.

—

Honestly, it’s easier to fall asleep than you might have expected. It’s a big bed and you’re fucking tired. 

You just didn’t expect to wake up in the middle of the night crying, but it’s always fucking like this when you go through a breakup. You go to sleep fine and wake up sad, so you do your best not to wake up Jamie except you’ve both ended up entangled in each other’s arms, so he can feel you shaking. 

“Hey,” Jamie says in a soft voice, “You’re okay, love.”

You half expect him to push you away once he realizes you’re so close, but he only pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Maybe it’s because you’re both half-asleep, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

You sigh and settle into him, drifting off in a matter of moments. 

—

You wake up to a pair of blue eyes watching you. 

“How you feeling?” Jamie asks, voice gravelly with sleep. 

You just blink at him. It’s hard to form coherent sentences within the first ten seconds of waking up, and even harder with the memory of Jamie’s arms around you last night. 

Wait. Not just the memory. The present reality because neither of you have moved. 

Jamie misinterprets your silence and begins to extricate his arms.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m not to trying to like, cross and fucking boundary or something. Should’ve left you alone.”

You’re still not awake enough to talk so you grab him to stop him from moving away. He gives you a questioning look so you say, “I wouldn’t have agreed to share a bed if I thought you were a creep.”

Jamie grins. “So like, if Jan had offered to share a room you’d’ve said no.”

You wrinkle your nose as you say, “Jan’s not a creep.”

“He’s the fucking worst,” Jamie grumbles, “And anyway, can we not talk about Jan fucking Maas this early in the morning?”

“Sure,” you say, “let’s talk about something else.”

Despite your comment, you both lapse into silence. You’re enraptured by Jamie’s blue eyes. You’ve never been able to study them this close before, and you want to take this opportunity to memorize every fleck of green. 

Jamie seems to have a similar thought, except his gaze flicks to your lips. 

“I have morning breath,” you tell him and he says, “Real men don’t give a shit, babe,” before leaning forward.

It’s softer than you’d expected, sweeter. 

It’s also strange to think that you’re making out with Jamie in bed, and that he’s the one who initiated it.

The thought is so absurd that you giggle, mid-kiss. Jamie breaks away and says, “Oi, there’s no way that was a shit kiss.”

“No,” you say between giggles, “it’s just weird that we’re doing this. Like, how are we supposed to look each other in the eye after?”

Jamie moves so he can look at you better, and you roll from your side to your back. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Oh come on, we share a room and a bed, we kiss because I have all these sad feelings and you’re feeling a lot of emotions about the match, and then we have to work together after. It’s silly.”

Jamie cocks his head. “That’s what you think is happening?”

“Yes?” you say. None of this is going how it’s supposed to. “What do you think is happening?”

“I like you,” he says, and there is absolutely no mistaking his meaning. 

“Oh,” you reply in a small voice. “Since when?”

“Since before you started dating the twat. When Higgins introduced ya to the team.”

“That’s a fucking long time ago!” you exclaim. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Jamie rubs his face. “Yeah, ‘cept you showed up to work tellin’ everyone how you started dating the twat. And I ain’t a home wrecker.”

You groan. “Fuuuck. I literally only dated him to try to get over you.”

Jamie shoots up. “What?!”

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ve been like a little bit in love with you ever since you winked at me during that first promo I did.”

Jamie blows out a breath. “Okay. Think that’s enough talking. C’mere. We’re making out proper, like, then we’re going to breakfast.”

You grin as you climb onto his lap. 

[cowboyfromh3ll]

You know how in the epilogue John works on Mr Geddes ranch and the wife invites him inside the house (basically hinting at you know what) well that sparked an idea for a request. Could you do an Arthur fic where the reader is in a similar situation where she isn’t on good terms with her husband and she knows he’s cheating on her so after Arthur starts working on their farm she takes a liking to him and they have sex.

Sugar On My Tongue

(Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut)

FINALLY UPLOADING A ONE SHOT YALL

Warnings: smut, infidelity

You found it hilarious that people thought you and your husband were the perfect couple based solely on looks. During the celebration following your wedding, his brother loudly and drunkenly declared just how attractive the two of you were, “a genetic match made in heaven.” he said, his words slurring together with noticeable envy. Later that night, his brother would have attempted to put a hand on your ass before throwing up in the grass behind your ranch. 

The two of you were needlessly attractive, and in your days working as a handmaid, you would have bragged endlessly about what a catch you got. Your fellow handmaids would’ve also raved on about just how good-looking he was, expressing their jealousy through lighthearted jokes. The wealth he possessed was another determining factor of your marriage to him. You supposed marrying him was worth it for his massive ranch alone. However, the real problems began just mere months after your wedding ceremony. What should have marked a beautiful beginning to your lives together quickly deteriorated into something else. 

The ring on your husband's finger didn’t seem to slow the frenetic pace at which he flirted with women and picked them up, never in the comfort of your own home but under the guise that he was headed into town to take care of business. You often wanted to argue back that all the business that needed doing was here on the ranch, but you did not want to risk your life of comfort. Part of you learned to put up with it only because it meant you could sit around all day, spend your husband's money, and watch loads of sweaty men work around your ranch. In the same vein as your husband's infidelity, his time away from the ranch meant being able to flirt with the ranch hands subtly. 

You were well aware of how attractive you were and were more than well aware that the ranch hands thought the same of you. You’d feel their leering gazes whenever you bent over to pick something up, the whole world suddenly stopping behind you just to stare at your ass. You found enjoyment in the act of undoing the top buttons of your shirt to expose your cleavage before heading out the doorway of your home, looking straight ahead while doing your best strut past the working hands. You would smirk openly as you heard their chatter between each other die down and fall silent, feeling all their eyes transfer to you as you walked past. Once you were several feet away, you’d hear the low whistles of the men, followed by their lewd comments: “She’s smoking hot.” “If I had a wife like her, hell, I’d be home all the time.” “Too bad she’s married to the ranch owner.” 

You knew this was the mindset you had to conquer in Arthur’s mind. In your conquest of the new aforementioned ranch hand, you had to rid him of the idea that what you were doing was wrong; it’d appear more as taboo flirting than actual infidelity. Arthur could also be described as needlessly attractive. He seemed to highlight every aspect that made up exactly what it was that you loved so much about your ranch hands: his sultry low drawl, his big arms with bulging biceps that would flex from any form of strain, his rough hands, callused from all the work he had done in his life, his full beard that he’d occasionally trimmed down to a fine stubble, and his wonderfully welcoming gentle blue eyes that contrasted every other bit of his begin. The sweat on his skin made him appear glossy and slick, and you’d taken a liking to the fantasy of licking his entire body clean of it. The perfect cherry on top.

At times you wished your urges for the man would remain dormant, but the silent cries from between your legs were hummed just loud enough that you were constantly aware of them; like a soundtrack to whatever it was you were trying to do with Arthur. And every time you ventured outside your ranch home, you’d spot Arthur in the distance, splashing his face with water and watching the way the droplets of water raced down his jaw and neck to see which was lucky enough to make it under the collar of his shirt first. Other times you’d see him shoveling dirt or hay, and you’d focus solely on the way his hands and arms worked. Your favorite was being able to watch him heave large sacks over his shoulders, often multiple at once. By the end of the day, the scent of Arthur’s sweat as he stood by you or walked past you was so pungent that it clung to your nostrils and made you dizzy with desire. 

You clung onto the hope that during one of these encounters, you might come across the best scenario possible: Arthur fixing a fence at noon when the sun was highest in the sky, freckles of blown dirt sticking to his sweaty shirtless torso, his dirt-stained denim jeans hanging lowly on his hips; one tug away from freedom. Your husband gone. In that case, you might be able to stumble across his working form and feign concern for his sunburnt skin. Would he mind taking a break? Allowing you to take him into your home for a cold glass of water? You’d been in the sun all day, you were both likely parched.

Your greatest bouts of confidence came during moments when you were able to find yourself alone with Arthur. You knew seducing any of the other ranch hands would be ridiculously easy, but Arthur had a little resistance to him, and you loved a little challenge. You pounced on the opportunity to talk to Arthur when you saw him standing inside the stables, soaked in sweat from head to toe while trying to evade the sun’s harsh rays in the shade provided. You saw him wipe his sweat off on the back of his sleeve, feeling as though it was a blatant misuse of a precious resource. ‘No!’ you wanted to shout ‘Don’t wipe it off! Let me clean it off you!’ 

“Real hot today isn’t it, Mr. Morgan?” You sauntered up behind Arthur, leaning your weight on the door of one of the stables. He pitched his pitchfork against a wall and turned back before smiling politely at you. 

“Certainly is, Miss. Why ain’t you inside, huh? You could get sunburnt.” Arthur warned, which you found incredibly endearing. It could’ve been just a simple show of concern, but you believed it to be far more than that. It sounded more to you like a declaration of love. 

“I just like making my rounds around the ranch, taking nice walks. It is my ranch after all.” You reminded. You found that an admonition of your position of power around here would cement you as someone with far more influence than any of your hands. It proved effective, as Arthur began nodding in understanding. 

“Right, my apologies, Miss.” He said, bowing his head slightly. 

“No need to apologize, say, do you wanna come into the house for a cold beer? Sure seems like you need to cool off.” Not just a beer, a cold beer. You had a way with words. How many hours had Arthur worked in the field, the skin of his back stinging from cruel sunburns while his vision blurred from his own sweat dripping into his eyes, parched beyond any relief the tepid tap water could provide, dreaming of a really cold beer? You shifted your weight onto one hip and allowed a small smirk to crawl onto your face. You began to shed all polite pretenses as you looked Arthur up and down, reveling in the way his body noticeably tensed. You weren’t being too forthcoming, but just enough that if Arthur decided to come onto you, you’d be doing him a great favor by entertaining his advances. 

“I don’t think I should, Miss, I-”

“Nonsense! You live on this ranch, after all, I see no harm in stepping inside my house. Especially since I’m allowing it.”

Arthur looked at you hesitantly, then quickly around him as if he didn’t want anyone to see him talking to you. Arthur wasn’t oblivious to the fact that every single ranch hand found you attractive, as well as himself. He just didn’t want to receive an endless stream of questioning as to why and what he was talking to you about. 

“If you insist.” He said, removing his hat from his head and following you out the stable. 

“I’m more than happy to.” You smiled, blithely patting his shoulders before sliding your hand down his arm. You passed it off with clueless laughter, shivering at the feeling of his eyes on your backside. Arthur fiddled with his fingers as he followed you up the path to your house. The glaring sun made the green grass appear brighter, creating a luminous passage toward salvation. 

The sounds of your footsteps up the wooden porch pulled him out of a trance he didn’t realize he was in. Arthur looked up at you from the bottom of the steps, still hesitant to make his way up. You looked down at him from where you stood, reveling in the faux height difference that made you far taller than he was; you felt half god to his mortal. 

“Come on,” You beckoned. “It’s just my house.” You shrugged and smiled, your lips twitching in an attempt to hold back a smirk. Arthur took one last cautionary glance around before finally making his way up. You opened the door and allowed Arthur to walk in first, stepping inside afterward with a large smile. The sound of the metal clanking as the bolt shut into place felt like a small kick in your loins that spurred you on in your pursuit. 

Arthur stood awkwardly in the center of the living area as he looked around. He became hyper-aware of his limbs, his arms hovering over his torso, unsure what to do next. You walked past him and smiled at him, motioning with your hand for him to follow you. 

You led him to your ornately papered kitchen, making a show of bending over in front of him to retrieve the box of chilled beers below the counter. You set the heavy box down on the table, digging a beer out, and popping the lid off on the corner of the table. Froth rose from the beer bottle, sliding over your hand and soaking the skin. Arthur watched, as if hypnotized, as the foam slid over and dripped onto your floor. He swallowed hard and squinted his eyes, the kitchen window behind you draping you in a soft sheet of sunlight as you eclipsed it; only adding to your godly image. Your movements seemed to play in slow motion as you stretched your arm out and handed Arthur the beer. Every turn or twitch of a limb felt somnambulant, his arm feeling like a sandbag as he lifted it and took the beer from your dainty hand. 

The condensation, combined with Arthur’s nerves, caused the bottle to slip from his hand and crash on the floor. The shattering sound caused Arthur to snap out of his daze, as thought it more some sort of anecdote to the hypnosis he was under. 

“Oh, Miss, I’m so sorry.” Arthur crouched down and began gathering the large pieces of glass in his hand, afraid of the possibility that if he looked up, he might see your disappointed face. Being able to step inside your home to be able to enjoy a cold beer already felt like a blessing. You bent down in front of him, placing your lithe hands on his wrists. He looked up at you, swallowing hard and preparing for any chastising he would receive. But it never came. 

“It’s okay. I’ll clean it up. It’s my fault anyways, I should’ve wiped it down before I handed it to you.” Normally, Arthur would have argued back, but he seemed to fall under your spell again. It was as if against his own will, he let the glass side from his palms onto the ground again and rose. You looked up at him with a smile, still kneeling before him. Arthur felt his cock twitch. 

“Why don’t you go sit down at the table over there? I’ll get you a new beer.” You smiled a bit longer, watching for any signs of refusal before getting back to cleaning up the mess. You waited for the view of Arthur’s boots to disappear from your peripheral before you decided to dispose of the glass in the trash. You turned your back to retrieve another beer, hearing the scrape of a chair against the floor. You took the opportunity to unbutton two extra buttons from your shirt so that it hung open and exposed some cleavage. You expected him to stare at you as you spoke inane details about how the ranch was doing in terms of business, then you could act surprised that his gaze had med your open shirt and possibly get a confession that he was indeed looking at your chest—information you’d pretend to find so overly flattering you’d offer to give him an even better look. 

The moment you turned around to face him, beer and bottle opener in hand, you caught his eyes flickering to your chest before quickly looking away. You would’ve passed it off as sneaky if not for the fact you were actively seeking for him to look. You walked closer, grinning widely and continuing to approach him until you stood closely next to where he sat, perhaps too close for comfort. Your hip bone brushed against his arm, something you pretended not to notice—you also pretended not to notice the way he shifted in his seat, trying his best to keep his gaze on the table. 

You popped the cap off the bottle, handing it to Arthur and ensuring he had a firm grasp on it. Arthur thanked you quietly before taking a sip. For the first time since Arthur entered your home, he felt comfortable and almost content as he sipped the beer. He took a large swig, his nerves washed away by the golden liquid as he allowed himself to slump in his chair. It was almost enough to make him forget that you still stood closely by his side, your hip pressed into his tricep at this point. 

Arthur continued to drink, trying to ignore the satisfied smile on your face that bordered on unnerving. He nearly dropped the bottle again when he felt your hand slide onto his shoulder before giving it a heavy and firm squeeze, full of intent. He nearly convinced himself he was hallucinating, hesitant to look up. Was this all just a mirage he had dreamt up, brought about by the scorching heat? But as your hand slid down to his firm bicep, delivering a gentle squeeze, it was confirmed to him that this was real. 

“Miss… What are you doing?” Despite having downed an entire bottle of beer, Arthur’s throat became instantly dry. He finally willed himself to look up at you, a chill wracking through his body when he made eye contact with your icy eyes. Eyes colder than any drink you could offer him, and it suggested that perhaps, you had something that could quench his thirst better than any drink as well. 

“Why don’t we celebrate a little more?” You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, maintaining that same innocent smile. But the two of you were beyond the point of ignorance for what this was leading to; all it would take for this to escalate was for someone to say it. 

Your other hand slid around his shoulder, both of your hands coming to knead at his shoulders. You skillfully worked the muscles in his shoulders, making occasional comments about how hardworking he must be in order to be this tense. Meanwhile, Arthur sat in his seat, trying to weigh out in his head whether this was okay or if this was already too far. How much farther would this get? Would it go beyond the point of being able to say he didn’t engage in adultery? How long would your husband be gone for? Would he find out? You could say Arthur came onto you and he’d have no reason not to believe you. 

“Miss, I really don’t think I should be here anymore.” He didn’t turn to face you, occupying himself with playing with the bottle. 

“Why not?” 

Arthur was unsure of how to proceed. There was no way he was reading your signals wrong. You were feeling his chest up at this point, and so far, he’d made no movements to get your hands off of him. He’d be lying if he said part of him didn’t enjoy this. But what if he was reading this wrong? But how could he? It couldn’t have been more in his face. 

“Well, you’re… married…” He finally mustered up. Being reminded of your husband at a time you were supposed to be enjoying yourself nearly drove you to anger. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, confirming something in Arthur’s head. 

“Let’s not be dumb here.” There was a sudden seriousness in your voice that made Arthur nervous. “I’m tired of looking dumb to everyone on the farm while my husband goes out and fucks some birds in town.” You squeezed Arthur’s shoulder and moved around his body to face him now. Perhaps it was your honesty or your assertiveness, but not much else needed to be said. There was a sacred moment of understanding between the two of you that did not need to be verbalized. 

When your husband later found out, you wouldn’t have been able to recount to him the details of the time it took to get from the kitchen table to your shared bed. Time sped up the instant you crashed your lips onto Arthur’s, any tinge of hesitance leaving him as he kissed back hungrily. He gripped either side of your button-up and yanked, causing buttons to fly all over the bedroom floor—buttons you never bothered to pick up. You wore no chemise that day, so Arthur got an instant eyeful of your bare breasts. Arthur worked his shirt off while you slid off your skirt and drawers, leaving you completely naked. Arthur himself was only wearing his jeans at this point. 

You wasted no time in pushing Arthur on his back, the same spot where your husband slept; he had a moment of clarity when his head hit the pillow where he realized just how quickly this was moving. But before he could reach the point in his train of thought where he would begin defusing this sexually charged situation, you were on all fours facing him. You lowered yourself onto your elbows as you began undoing his belt buckle, sliding the leather out the loops of his jeans and discarding it next to the bed. You hastily undid his button and zipper, making Arthur feel like he was being pounced on by a panther in the woods, ready to be mauled by your lust and desire. 

Arthur rested his body weight on his elbows and watched you pull his cock out, looking on in amusement as you gawked at its size and held it next to your face in comparison. His breath caught in his throat when you licked up the side of his cock, reaching the tip and spitting a fat glob of saliva, allowing it to slide down his shaft. The two of you watched it in mesmerization before you began slathering his cock with it, swiping your thumb over his tip and circling your pad on it.

You lowered your head onto his cock, your hair coming down and framing your face while you sucked him off like curtains to a show. Arthur eyed the way your ass lifted in the air, curving into a perfect heart shape that was begging to be slapped. You wasted no time shoving his cock all the way to the back of your throat, swallowing around him as you tried to ease away a gag. You salivated around him, your body’s attempt to aid you. You slid your head back up slowly until breathing became difficult, various strings of saliva connecting you to his tip as you sucked in a breath. The strings broke and dripped down your chin, the sight so filthy and lewd Arthur almost didn’t feel bad about this. 

You licked up the side of his cock before reaching the tip and licking down again. You repeated the same motion while maintaining eye contact, smiling widely as you did so. Arthur was utterly debauched, his limbs feeling too jelly-like to continue to hold himself up. He crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing fully and claiming your husband’s spot like he was the new lion that crawled into the den. You began deepthroating Arthur, bobbing your head up and down as you moaned around him. You had never blown your husband with such vigor, and much recently, you had begun refusing to sleep with him. Probably spurring him on to keep seeking out sex work. But you couldn’t care less about his history of infidelity at this moment. You could only focus on the way Arthur's face contorted and tipped back in pleasure, his lips parting to pant. 

You lifted your head from Arthur, wiping your mouth on the back of your arm and eyeing him. The two of you synchronized as you climbed on top of Arthur, his hands taking hold of your own as he guided you on top of him. Arthur watched you take his glistening cock and line it up with your cunt, and in the blink of an eye, you had sunk down fully onto him. 

Arthur’s eyes went wide as he watched you instantly begin to ride him, not taking a second to adjust to the sudden intrusion. Your moans began loudly, throwing your head back as you bounced yourself on his lap. You supposed this was a bigger moment than this was for Arthur. A sense of control washing over you, feeling more powerful than ever. You imagined your husband’s face if he were to walk in. The horror that would cross his features.

“Oh fuck! This is so much better than my husband…” You gasped. You gripped his shoulders and supported yourself on his, the burning in your legs increasing as you continued to ride him. Arthur eventually gripped your hips, moving you up and down with much greater force. Initially, it felt like you were fucking yourself on Arthur, but now it felt like he was the one fucking you. 

Your bodies move in tandem, heavy moans and pants and groans filling the room. The sheer scandalousness of it all tipped you over as you came all over his cock. You continued to ride Arthur, despite having been satiated yourself, set on having him cum inside you. 

“Finish inside me.” You demanded. His thrusts stuttered, a tinge of bewilderment in his eyes. 

“Are you sure? What if-”

“Just do it, dammit.” You said through grit teeth.

After a few more minutes of thrusting, Arthur emptied himself inside you, your cunt now a spent pool of pleasure. It felt as though a deep itch inside you had finally been scratched, and Arthur began to wonder how long you had been planning something like this or if this happened completely by chance. 

Golden rays began pouring in from your bedroom window, indicating a lot of time had passed. To the two of you, it felt so short. Your body shone with the afterglow of sex, the sweat glistening on your skin. You had never looked so heavenly. Arthur allowed you to be his god for the day, his savior. To you, godhood was just like girlhood, begging to be seen.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Sugar On My Tounge - Talking Heads

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal x Reader - Here with me

Summary: During his time in Morrocco, Pedro finds himself in need of reassurance. You are happy to help.

Relationships: Pedro Pascal x Reader

WC: ~1200

Tags/Warnings: RPF, Gender-Neutral Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pedro is a softie in this, the morroco pics made me do it, pedro pascals cream-colored hat, age differene (not specified), insecurities

AO3 LINK

Notes:

i hope yall like this! it is my first time posting a pedro work so id love to hear your thoughts on it <3 also watch me settle the six pack debate through the power of fanfiction.

_________________________________________________________

“I look stupid.” He muttered under his breath as he stood in front of the mirror. You weren't sure if he was talking to you or to himself. Still, you had caught every word.

“You do not look stupid.” “Fine, then I look- I don't know - bad.”

You sighed, finally turning your full attention towards the man you adored so much.

“You do not-” You crossed the bedroom in a few strides until you were behind him and could gently brush your hand over his back:” look stupid or bad-” He opened his mouth to protest but you immediately cut him off:” or whatever other similar attributes you have prepared.”

Pedro grumbled but it soon turned into a soft sigh as you carefully brushed the wrinkles out of his white tee and stood on your tiptoes to look over his shoulder, glancing at him in the mirror. He looked more than good, in your opinion. His skin was sunkissed, the colorful trunks went well with the basic shirt, he had put on some comfy sneakers and the light fedora he'd brought from Los Angeles. His hair was still a little messy after the shower you had shared and bits of it stuck out below his hat, making him all the more adorable.

You pressed a small kiss to his shoulder, just below his neck. The skin was soft and warm, having absorbed the sun throughout the long day you had spent exploring the streets of Morocco.

“You were so excited about bringing the hat when we packed, baby.” You mumbled to him, searching for his gaze through the mirror in front of you. He still didn't look at you, his eyes instead wandering over his body once more. Your lips were still on his skin and the vibrations of your voice carried into it as you spoke:” What's going on?” Pedro let out another small sigh:” Its nothing, I'm sorry. Just a long week.”

You knew shooting had been draining, the long hours combined with the physicality of the role and the heat- you admired how well he coped with it. Then again, maybe he didn't. Very gently, you stepped back and lowered your heels to the floor, returning to your normal height. You placed a hand on either side of his hips and slowly nudged him to turn around until he was fully facing you. Your left hand stayed on his hip while your right one wandered up to cup his face. He hadn't shaved in a while and you ran your thumb over his beard.

“What's going on?” You asked again, gazing up at him. You both knew he couldn't resist opening up to you. Not when you were looking at him like that. The words almost tumbled out of his mouth.“I just want to go somewhere without it ending up on social media. I want to go out with unwashed hair and a stained shirt and not worry about repeating an outfit or looking stupid or old or-” You shushed him gently, your hand still caressing his cheek.

“Baby, you can. Noone will mind, I promise.” He still looked doubtful. You didn't want to push him but at the same time you felt like you wanted to get to the bottom of this. You knew he needed the reassurance.

“You're afraid you'll look old?” He shrugged a little but it was accompanied by a small nod. So, that was it. “Can I ask something?” Your thumb had begun to draw circles on his cheek and he gave another silent nod.

“Are you scared that someone will think you're old?” You paused for a moment:” Or are you scared I will?”

His large brown eyes finally met yours and-

Oh.

Pedro barely had time to react as you leaned up and pressed a desperate kiss to his lips, trying to convey how much you adored him, making up for the words you couldn't find. He wrapped his arms around you, almost protectively and it suddenly occurred to you that he must've had that thought for a while.

“Pedrito, I- I don't think that.” You mumbled:” What makes you think I do? And don't say it was the stupid hat, you've worn that before.” He kissed you again, buying some time before he had to reply. “When we were at the beach a few weeks ago and I didn't have my reading glasses with me.” You knew exactly what he meant. And you immediately felt guilty. It had been a rare day off for the two of you and you'd decided to pack up some towels, books and snacks and spend the day at the beach. And then he had realized that he'd forgotten his reading glasses. And you had teased him about it.

“Baby, I didn't mean- Why didn't you say anything?” You asked quietly. You had pulled back a little more, to properly study his face. Just like you, he seemed to struggle with finding the right words. “I didn't want to make a whole deal about it. And I didn't- I didn't mind it. At first.” He explained gently. His voice was low and his gaze kept flickering away from your face:” I don't want you to miss out on things just because I, well, just because I'm older.” You couldn't help but let out a small giggle at that. Pedro stared at you like you had gone crazy:” What's so funny about that?” He demanded. You grinned up at him, your thumb still rubbing circles into his skin:” I'm not some rich Hollywood guy with a fancy yacht. I'm not going to trade you in for some young hunk with a six pack.”

You could tell he still tried to look a little mad but the corners of his lips curled a little as he tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his smile. That earned him another small laugh from you. “With this role, I might have a six pack soon, you know.” He teased as he finally looked down at you again. Your hand that had rested on his hips slowly moved under his shirt, finding his small, soft belly.

”As long as it makes for a comfortable pillow, I don't mind either.”

That elicited a small smile from Pedro. He watched your expression closely as you shifted, turning a little more serious. “I knew how old you were when we started dating. In fact, I'm pretty sure I knew before that.” You said gently:” I don't mind. I want to be with you. Siempre.” Your thumb had found the small, bald spot in his beard and rested in it for a moment. They fit perfectly. “Okay.” He whispered. And then it was his turn to try and convey an emotion he couldn't quite grasp with a kiss.

You understood.

After a while, you pulled back and studied his face for a moment, the way his eyes seemed a little watery, the shape of his nose, his slightly reddened lips. You smiled.

“If you wear the hat, I'll wear the dress.” It took him only a second to catch on:” The yellow one?” He asked, his face lighting up at the idea. ”The yellow one.” You confirmed.

You'd never seen him wear a hat with more pride.

[cogentranting]

Ranking Animated Horse Designs Take 3

This time I really am back by popular demand because the other two posts have been getting a steady trickle of notes for over a year now.

(If you're looking for stuff like Disney and Dreamworks there are two other posts. Here we've got mostly random cartoons and also the Pokemon horses)

Starlite (Rainbow Brite) 6/10 Little weird that he seems to be drawn in a style that's like 3x more realistic than any other character in this show but hey sometimes you just ascend to a higher plane of existence. (2014 Reboot Starlite gets a 3/10. I do not trust him.)

Skydancer (Rainbow Brite) 7/10 I bumped Starlite down a point because he wants what Skydancer has. Skydancer doesn't need rainbows to fly. Skydancer has a lightning bolt. Skydancer has the Drama. (The one wiki page said he's a Shire or a Clydesdale and um I don't think so. Maybe a Friesian.)

On-yx (Rainbow Brite) This is a rocket powered balloon animal. 2/10

Sunriser (Rainbow Brite) 5/10 Eh. I like her hair though.

Swift Wind (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power/ She-Ra Princess of Power)

Right (older version) 8/10 I don't understand the wing physics going on here. Also not sure if the horn is part of the mask or just attached to the mask. Diggin the bib though. Also love that he's a ginger.

Left (new version) 4/10 If the older version wasn't there this would score higher because just as a character design I don't think it's bad but if these are supposed to be the same character he seems so cutesy and I do not vibe with it. I don't know either show. So maybe that works. But it feels wrong.

Amalthea (The Last Unicorn) 9/10 They gave the unicorn the split deer hooves, and the lions tail and that is automatic points from me. Bummed they didn't go all out and give us the goat's beard. Rude. Any distance shot, I love. Close-ups of the face creep me out with the giant doll eyes and tiny nose.

(Pokemon and more below)

Honey Pie Pony (Strawberry Shortcake) 8/10 Adorable. Fantastically chunky design. The others from this... show? book? brand? are like 6s or 5s depending. But Honey Pie has the It factor. (The It Factor here apparently being that recurring pattern of only the main character's horse being able to talk?? This is the third. Swift Wind, Starlite and Honey Pie have dark secrets about how they come by this knowledge).

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic "ponies" Just as characters they're cute in a "trying so hard to be cute that they almost miss the mark entirely" way. But this is about how they are as HORSE designs. And these are magical gremlins not horses. 1/10 (WHAT is happening on the far right of this set. I do not approve. Zebra is fine though).

My Little Pony: A New Generation Like if the MLP: FM ponies and the Trolls characters somehow had children. Somehow the main character of Bee Movie was also involved. The one on the left makes TikTok thirst traps. -2/10

My Little Pony Tales 3/10 I can almost tell they're meant to be horses. Plus that one has a tattoo of a comb. So. Full extra point for the comb tattoo.

Bratz Horses I can't tell if there's an official video game or cartoon design for these but in ANY given version I found the conclusion is the same: if you look into the gigantic distended eye you will be put under the horse's curse. 1/10

Boxer (Animal Farm) 4/10 All horses are equal but some are more equal than others, but Boxer is not one of them because his mouth is not okay.

Marvin (Marvin the Tap Dancing Horse) 5/10 I mean. Dude's got spats. Come on.

Ponyta (Pokemon) 3/5 The armpit and middle thigh flames were a choice.

Rapidash (Pokemon) 8/10 Look at his face. The angst. He has seen things.

Mudsdale (Pokemon) 8/10 The classic mohawk, dreadlocks and legwarmers trifecta. Love it. Would love to hug him.

Galarian Ponyta 3/10 It's giving sheep, and it's giving dog. Very little horse.

Galarian Rapidash (Pokemon) 4/10 He's angry because his hair is too long and he can't walk and also he has not eaten enough somebody feed this horse.

Origin Palkia (Pokemon) 6/10 A built-in hoola-hoop AND thigh high Boots?! what fashion.

Keldeo (Pokemon) 1/10 Clown goat.

Spectrier (Pokemon) 10/10 Beautiful goth girl horse floating around like a Victorian ghost who's too modest to show her ankles.

Mudbray (Pokemon) 5/10 He has passed through the depths of existential dread and returned world-weary but unshakeable and with a snazzy bowl cut.

Glastrier (Pokemon)

20/10 ICE HORSE ICE HORSE ICE HORSE. I love him so much. He's punk rock

The Fat Horse (Looney Tunes) 10/10 Queen.

[toxycodone]

genital headcannons for :

Falin

Laios

Chilchuck

Toshiro

Namari

Venery

Thistle

Falin definitely has a penis, I think hers is probably the biggest out of Laios' party? Namari definitely packs, I would let her peg me for hours omg..... she could ruin me. Ermmm.. Chilchuck probably has a big cock for a halfling, he's fucking TALL !!!! bro has to be packing something. Also shaved or not shaved... Namari body hair everywhere OMG I need her to shove my face into her bush I need to smell her. Sorry I'm being a little too straight (? I am a man but this feels gay idk) ... anyway chil, Namari, and Falin are unshaved, full bush down there. I feel like Toshiro at his best keeps everything trimmed !! but when he can't even shave his face when he's at his lowest... bro wouldn't have the energy to take care of it. Hmm and then Laios could be either way..?? We know he shaves his face and keeps his hair short bc he doesn't wanna look like his dad, but would he even think of shaving his pubes????? Idk. Wait is this a weird thing to think about? Oh wait do elves grow body hair??? I feel like thistle would have some body hair if it's possible, I feel like they can't... unless my DND 5e knowledge is getting mixed with uhmmm. What is it called... DUNGEON MESHI I think I'm starting to dissociate I'm going to stop typing lmfao

FALIN - GIRLCOCK. Whether you are a trans!Falin fan or what, in my eyes after the red dragon thing. She gets girl cock. I can see this as either like, a penis or like T-dick. Whatever you decide. But whatever it is her situation is definitely unique. Also she got a bush frfr

Laios - COCK. (I am also a trans!Laios fan so like. He can have anything in his pants it don’t matter imma eat it but usually when I write him it’s cock). His dick is as painfully average as he is. Not crazy length wise but he got some girth to it. I’m thinking like. 5 inches frfr. Maybe 6 but that’s generous imo. No manscaping just vibes he’s full bush down there. And body hair on his chest/legs/arms and around his groin

Chilchuck - OKAY. His dick is probably like more similar to an average tallman penis. Which is remarkable considering he’s like half their size. I’m gonna give him four inches and he’s breaking other halflings in half with it but with other races. He’s learned how to use it. Chilchuck is a real one. Light on body hair, but would keep it tidy when he’s not in the dungeon (I think he likes to manscape and like. Appreciate himself in the mirror lol)

Toshiro - He is ALL length and so embarrassed about it. (Def afraid he’s gonna hurt you.) He could learn to love it with a supportive partner though. I think for a while he’s rocking bush because like, yknow. That stuff isn’t really talked about…but he figured it out for himself that when he takes his time and shaves and stuff after a anything or whatever he’ll do some trimming down there because he likes the neatness. I like to think he grows body hair but it’s not super dark for some reason (besides on his face people get jealous at the beard he can grow)

Namari - SHE IS JUST LIKE ME I GET HER VIBE SO WHAT IM SAYING HERE IS CANON: SHE HAS CRAZY PUSS BUT IS ALWAYS ROCKING THE STRAP. Namari doesn’t let anyone fuck her hole unless they’re in a committed relationship (she does not play about that either if you insert anything in her sex is over). Insane with the strap too. She’s someone I can genuinely see breaking the bed with her strokes. Also she’s got body hair for days. Like other Dwarf women she can grow a beard too but she usually shaves. (Namari with stubble…I’m bout to go feral.)

Venery - Started off with a human vagina. Now it’s some weird mix between that + hyena + dragon cock. I think he’s canonically intersex due to the ancient magic. But he’s happy about it. Also UHHHHHH…..HE LAYS EGGS. JS.

Thistle - Okay Thistle is so trans to me I think he gives himself top surgery when he’s getting older with ancient magic. He leaves the downstairs area alone because he’s fine with just presenting masc that’s good enough for him. Very low body hair he just sits in the middle of gender ambiguous for REAL.

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Honeysuckle - Roy Kent x Reader

Honeysuckle (Lonicera) - Meaning: Devotion, affection

Summary: Reader is sick, Roy takes care of them.

Pairing: Roy Kent x Reader

Word Count: 646

Warnings: Language, Reader has a nasty cold, workaholicism, Roy tough loves the reader, Roy being adorably attentive and protective.

Here's a quicky for Day 13! I may have written this cuz I've been fighting a sinus infection and want this hairy foul-mouthed bastard to take care of me cuz I know he'd be amazing at it.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

“No fuckin’ way, love,” Roy declared, snatching your work phone from your hand despite your protest. You’d managed to sneak it up to your bedroom without him noticing. Or, at least, you thought you had. 

“Roy, come on, I need to—” you said before another wave of hacking coughs overtook your airway, making it impossible to continue. 

“No, you’re not fuckin’ workin’ when you’re fuckin’ sick. Taxes your immune system too much, so no I won’t be giving your fuckin’ phone back,” he explained, tucking your work phone in his back pocket and well out of your reach. “But I will give you your iPad, which I disconnected from your work shit.” 

“You do know my work shit directly affects you, right?” you asked through a smile. You ran the Richmond AFC account for KBPR, which was a pretty hands-on assignment. 

“And Keely told you they would handle it while you’re out,” Roy reminded. You were loath to take a sick day, let alone two in a row, but Keely had insisted over FaceTime that everything would be handled while you got better. She and Roy had practically bullied you back into bed this morning. 

You groaned, leaning back into your pillows. “Fine. I won’t work today. I’ll just sit around and watch daytime telly like a lazy, boring lump and have no purpose.” 

“Oi!” Roy’s sharp tone almost made you startle. Bewildered, you looked at him and saw his brows were drawn down, the firm line of his mouth and tightness in his jaw all suggested his frustration. “That’s enough outta you. You are not only the hardest working person I know, you’re also fine as all hell and fuckin’ deserve to have a few days off, especially when you’ve basically become a mucus factory and can’t even breathe through your fuckin’ nose, alright?” 

This was the tone he used when players were being too hard on themselves. The tone he used whenever he was trying to boost someone’s confidence. His tough love tone. Yeah, it was tough, but it was fueled by his love for you so you took his words to heart. 

“Okay, okay,” you cajoled and he nodded sharply, disappearing from the room only to return moments later with a tray — where did he get a tray? You were sure you didn’t own one — full of things. He put it on the empty spot on your bed where he usually slept. 

“Alright, ya got your iPad, tv zapper, tissues, meds, that cinnamon tea you like, a little pot of honey, some cough drops, some chocolates, that trashy romance novel you’ve been reading, and I put your mug warmer on your nightstand in case the tea gets cold. I gotta go run training, but I’ll be back in a few hours to check on ya. If you need anything in the meantime, text me, yeah?” 

“Yeah, Roy, I will,” you promised. 

“I mean anything, more tea, whatever. Don’t lift a fuckin’ finger, I’ll send Will over to — ya know what, I’ll just have him come over now in case—” He looked down at his phone, starting to text, but you put your hand on his forearm to stop him. Your heart swelled with love for this man, and you couldn’t help but beam at him. 

“Roy, you don’t need to send Will to babysit. I’ll be okay until you get back.” 

“You sure, love?” he asked, looking at you like he wanted to secure you in bubble wrap. 

You coughed, then stretched a little. “Yeah, I’ll probably just go back to sleep.” 

Roy nodded, “Good. Get your rest.” His phone chimed. “I gotta go, Beard wants to meet early about Man City’s defensive line.”

“Right, you go, I’ll stay here and nap.” 

Roy bent over and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Love you.” 

You beamed up at him, “Love you more.” 

[onboardsorasora]

I made a random post a few weeks ago about Daniel needing to have an existential crisis over a grey pube hair (if I find it I'll link). Weeks later @yesloulou made this post and I was immediately compelled all over again.

Dedicating this brain rot to @arturleclerc. I hope you enjoy it💕 (also I haven't reread it so hopefully it makes sense and is actually good. If it's not good we can pretend it didn't happen lmao)

Max paused in the doorway of their bedroom, eyebrows pulling to his hairline the longer he watched Daniel turn this way and that in front of the full length mirror. 

Naked. 

“Uhm, Daniel?” He asked, biting back his grin when Daniel jumped in surprise and slapped his hand over his dick to cover it. 

“Jeepers Maxy.” Daniel held his chest. 

Max tilted his head when Daniel’s eyes strayed back to the mirror. He never took Daniel to be the ‘check himself out in the mirror naked’ type. Considering he hadn’t seen him do it once in the entire time they’ve been dating. 

Daniel furrowed his brow as if annoyed before grabbing a pair of shorts from his drawer, what he had attempting to do in the first place. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked again, walking further into the room. 

“Nothing babe— can’t a guy check himself out? Still good looking, hot, sexy.” Daniel replied, Max knew him long enough to clock his uncomfortable babbling. 

“Are you looking at your gray hairs again?” Daniel had been weird for the last week, ever since Max pointed out a couple grey hairs that had started growing in his beard. 

Daniel stilled and unconsciously glanced at himself in the mirror again. He didn't look any different than he did a minute ago but clearly time and his age were catching up to him. He was 34, 35 this year. And greying.

Sure his job was stressful. Sure the last three years of his career were particularly stressful among other heightened emotions. But for his body to outwardly tell him that he wasn't providing a proper working environment for his cells was a slap in the face.

And his balls.

A handful of grey hairs in his beard by his jaw. He can handle that. Eventually. He eventually learned to accept it. Ok he hasn't accepted it yet but he was getting there. 

Sure he was shaving his beard more so he didn't have to see it but Max liked him with a mustache so it was all great.

But this was just egregious. 34 wasn't like all that old. He didn't even know that greying ‘early’ happened in his family! Grey hairs on his head he could manage (eventually). But grey hairs anywhere else should be illegal. 

It was fine, his day was going great. He had a productive meeting, went for a run, and came home to manscape a little in the shower, hoping to maybe lure Max off of the sim for an hour or so. 

Sure, Max didn't care if he had pubes or whatever but Daniel didn't like his shit growing too wild and free. A trim here and there was fine for him. Max made him promise not to wax anymore.

Anyway, he was just about to go through his almost meditative process when he saw something that he hoped was maybe just glare from the light. He'd almost fainted dead away right then and there when he'd brushed the hair with his finger and it continued to glint grey against the rest of the dark hair.

He had a grey hair beside his dick.

He had a grey hair beside his dick!

His dick had a fucking grey curly q.

“Daniel?” 

Daniel jumped, surprised to see Max so close. He hadn't even realized he'd spaced out.

“Daniel you are not old, of course.” Max smiled, cupping his cheek and swiping the stumble at his side burns that had started to betray him.

“Maxy I'm old as fuck apparently.” Daniel grumbled, soothing the ache in his chest with Max's giggle.

“Well I still love you.”

“Maxy...” Daniel trailed off because he wasn't yet willing to admit that his greatest fear was Max would come to his senses and realize that Daniel was too old. That these greys would be a warning sign to Max that Daniel's best years were officially behind him while Max's were yet to come.

“Daniel, you are being silly I think.”

“Maxy you say this now but I don't think you're ready to deal with old man balls.” 

“Daniel!” Max's eyes crinkled as he laughed. “You do not have old man balls.”

“Nah yeah. I like really do Maxy.” Daniel sighed.

Max rolled his eyes, Daniel was being so dramatic. He dropped to his knees in lieu of saying anything else.

“Max!” Daniel squawked. Sure this had been his plan maybe a half an hour ago but he hadn't gotten rid of that pesky grey hair and he couldn't let Max see.

“Daniel, you are being silly and I love you and you do not have old man balls.” Max started tugging at Daniel's shorts, snorting when his boyfriend grabbed at the waistband.

“Max– it's– no.” Daniel struggled, biting his lip when Max looked up at him curiously.

“Daniel?” Max furrowed his brow, Daniel was being more squirrely than usual. Something wasn't right.

“I–” Daniel's mouth opened and closed a couple times and no more sounds came out. He sighed explosively and his shoulders slumped. Max's eyes widened.

“Daniel what–”

Daniel bit the inside of his cheek, there was nothing for it. He may as well rip the band-aid off and just let Max see. He let go of his shorts, allowing the fabric to fall down his legs.

“I really do have old man balls Maxy.” Daniel said morosely. “A whole old man dick!” Max bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh at his boyfriend who truly was going through it. He couldn't figure out the trigger though.

“I don't understand, Daniel.”

“It's there!” Daniel, aggrieved, pointed aggressively to the thatch of hair surrounding his still soft dick.

Max followed his finger, stopping himself from leaning in to suck it into his mouth or to kiss Daniel's still lovely non old man dick. If only to apologize to the organ for how ungrateful Daniel was being. 

He mentally rolled his eyes and paid attention to what Daniel was trying to show him. Max didn't see anything wrong, Daniel's pubes had grown out a bit and Max wanted nothing more than to just press his face into the wiry hair– feel the burn of it against his chin. Then he saw it, and oh.

“Yeah– oh. Old man dick and balls. The whole package. I'm ancient Maxy. A fossil–” Daniel continued to babble, dragging a hand down his face.

“Daniel you are being silly. You are not old.” Max gave into the urge to press his face into the crease of Daniel's thigh, pressing a kiss to the section of skin that the lone (and apparently offending) grey hair was growing.

“Max–” Daniel was exasperated that Max wasn't getting it. Wasn't picking up what he was putting down. Even though he didn't want him to…he was confusing himself. The fact was he was old and Max finally knew and he was steeling himself for the inevitable.

“Oh!” Daniel shuddered when Max licked a wet stripe along his soft dick that wasn't very soft anymore. Max smirked and continued, sucking Daniel's half hard dick into the warm wet heat of his mouth.

Daniel gripped Max's hair to steady himself, moaning when Max swallowed him whole and pressed his nose into the curls at the base of him. Max looked up through his lashes, humming long and deep.

“Fuck.” Daniel hissed and Max clutched at his thighs. He created a rhythm, coaxing Daniel to fuck his throat. Daniel snapped his hips forward eagerly, groaning as he watched Max swallow his dick in the mirror. Max winked up at him before doing that thing with his tongue that Daniel loved. 

Daniel was a goner, curling over Max's head while he came– hard. 

After, he staggered backwards, watching dazedly as Max licked his swollen, pink lips. Daniel wanted to swallow him whole.

He dragged Max to his feet and planted a sloppy kiss to his lips, tasting his come and Max's lips. He was about to push him onto the bed so he could eagerly return the favor when

“Of course it's exactly what I thought.” Max said smugly. Daniel raised a brow curiously.

“What do you mean?” 

“I don't know what you're talking about earlier, Daniel. Your old man dick still works.”

Daniel couldn't help it, he laughed. Because in his own way, Max just alleviated Daniel's fears.

“I love you, y'know?” 

“I know Daniel.” Max pressed a deep kiss to his lips before pulling back. “My young man dick needs attention, of course.” 

Max grinned when Daniel laughed.

[nolita-fairytale]

still into you | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter two: friday

summary: big announcements are made at the james beard house dinner, and carmy tells you how much you mean to him.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking

word count: 4.6k

listen to: in transit - albert hammond jr. | nightswimming - r.e.m | friday i'm in love (cover) - phoebe bridgers (playlist here)

a/n: remember when i accidentally posted this earlier today at the start of the american work day? that was weird. anyways...

read: chapter one | bonus smut scene

Friday

The way that the four of you flow together is like a symphony – each one of you so committed to your craft – to excellence – and the feeling you get sends chills down your spine. It’s a sign of how far you all have come, which is what the menu is all about this evening. It was Syd and Carmy’s idea: each dish presented this evening would embody a part of The Bear’s story. You’d even worked with Marcus on elevating his signature chocolate cake, wanting to keep the heart and soul of it, even if it had to lean a little more towards the fine dining side of things.

Never in a million years would Carmy have thought that, on his first day at The Beef, that you’d all end up here. After all the chaos, all the swimming upstream, it felt near-impossible that something so disorganized and broken could become something so beautiful. 

He’s near-shaking at the idea of what he has to do next, but he also knows that this is a story he has to tell. It’s not really something he’s spoken about – at least publicly – and not to the food world. 

But he can’t tell the story of The Bear without Michael. 

He feels like he’s sweating through his chef whites, but you remind him that he’s going to be great. It’s a huge step in his healing journey and after a long talk about it, Carmy had decided it was something he felt he wanted to do. 

“Before we wrap up the evening, we have one more dish before dessert,” Carmy says, earning the attention of the dining room full of people. 

He hopes his voice isn’t shaking too much, and he nervously fidgets with a spoon he’s holding in his hands while you and Sydney stand behind him as literal and emotional support.

His face feels hot. He feels like he wants to throw up and cry at the same time, and he looks back at you for reassurance. 

You nod your head in his direction, a comforting smile on your face, as Sydney grabs your hand. You’re both nervous for him. 

You can do it, Bear. Let it rip. 

“As some of you may know, three years ago I left New York to go back home and take over the family restaurant – the restaurant that would eventually become The Bear,” he explains.

“This dish is uh… it’s really special to me,” he says, trying his best not to let his voice break as he continues.

“It’s an ode to my late brother: a play on the braciole he used to make for me and my sister every Sunday.” 

The dining room gets quiet, each person hanging onto every single word that Carmy says, his vulnerability palpable. 

Carmy suddenly feels emotionally exposed, but he knows there’s no turning back now. He can practically hear Mikey’s voice in his head, encouraging him, pushing him to let it rip. Knowing that he’s got you and Sydney behind him gives Carmy the extra boost of confidence he needs to get through this speech. 

As he explains each component of the dish, it becomes easier to fake it: fake some confidence, fake that he’s not crumbling inside. Carmy knows how to talk about food so he leans into it, even if it feels like his voice is caught in his throat. It feels like second nature -- like falling into an old pattern he's practiced a thousand times -- as he hides behind his tough, calculating, diligent exterior. But he feels as if he’s just put his open, bleeding heart on a plate, and it's impossible for him not to feel.

Carmy clears his throat before concluding his presentation with, “So thank you again for dining with us this evening. Uh… Chef Sydney has some news she’d uh… we’d like to share with everyone.” 

He thanks the gods that he made it through.

He can’t wait to get out of the spotlight. 

Carmy moves aside, letting Sydney take center stage, and he can feel the blood rush through his head – an almost dizzy-feeling. As he stands next to you, you bump up against his shoulder, giving him some comforting touch, in an effort to ground him.

“Thank you, chef,” Sydney begins, glancing back at Carmy. “And thank you for sharing this dish with us. I know that it’s something you hold close to your heart and our story of The Bear wouldn’t be complete without it.”

The dining room full of people begins clapping once again and it gives Carmy a moment to zip himself back up emotionally. He only reminds himself that he has a few moments left of being in front of people. While he may be an expert at fooling everyone else with his stoic exterior, you can see he’s struggling to hold it together.

“And thank you again to everyone for coming out tonight. We have some really exciting news to share. After putting our heart and soul into The Bear, we are at a point in its journey where we can expand,” Sydney begins, earning a few excited whispers from the room.

“We felt tonight would be the perfect time to announce that we will be opening up a second restaurant – a separate concept that I will be leading as CDC in Chicago. I’m really excited to have this opportunity to develop my own concept with my business partner, Carmen Berzatto, and to lead my own kitchen.”

The entire room erupts with applause once again as the wait staff begin to bring out Carmy’s perfectly plated beef dish. Carmy nods as a signal to you and Syd and you both follow him back into the kitchen. 

“Stay. I’ll go help Marcus,” Sydney says to you, reassuringly.

She rubs a sympathetic hand over Carmy’s upper back before saying, “Good work, chef.”

Sydney hurries over into the prep kitchen to help Marcus plate dessert, while you hang back with Carmy in the hallway. He’s avoiding your gaze and you can tell he’s trying his best not to lose it right then and there. His body is still – frozen in a moment of time. There’s a tension that runs across his chest and into his shoulders that hadn’t been there at the start of the night. He looks like he hasn’t taken a breath since his speech began either. 

“That was really beautiful, Bear,” you say softly. He still won’t look at you, but you understand why.

“Thanks,” he nods curtly. 

There’s a silent tension between the two of you and you know what you need to do next. 

“What do you need?” you ask. 

“Think I uh-, just need a little fresh air,” he mumbles, his voice breaking a little, before clearing his throat again. 

“‘Course. Marcus, Syd and I have got this,” you encourage him. 

You wait as Carmy slips out back for a break, before making your way back into the kitchen. Loving Carmy through his grief sometimes looked different. Some days he’d need space. Other times he’d need you – crawling into your arms and allowing you to care for him. Together, you’ve had to learn how to ask, and he’s had to learn how to tell you what he needs. 

“How’s Carmy?” Sydney asks with a concerned look on her face, causing Marcus to look up from the plate he’s working on. 

“He’s okay. Just needs a break,” you answer. You’re not worried about him. You know how painful that was for Carmy, and you’re more than happy to give him the space he needs to sit with it. 

“What can I do?”

And then Marcus is handing you a few extra plates, asking you to double check his previous count to ensure that every single plate went out in a timely manner. 

Carmy returns about ten minutes later, ready to jump back in. He’d just needed a timeout – a moment to feel the enormous swell of emotions that had come up when talking about Michael to a dining room of eighty people. Soon enough, he’s helping plate the tiny chocolate layer cakes, with an olive oil ice cream, and a tahini caramel drizzled over the top. 

Dessert is the last dish to be brought out, and as Marcus presents, the four of you receive a standing ovation at the James Beard House. It’s like for the first time in a week, Carmy can breathe again. He feels like a one hundred pound weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, and his heart swells with pride over how the night’s gone. Everyone’s liked the food, you all have worked so beautifully as a team this evening, and he can’t believe he got through his fucking speech without crying in front of everyone. 

Entirely exhausted yet filled with a grand sense of accomplishment, the four of you drag yourselves out of the James Beard House and back out onto the streets of NYC. You’re not sure who suggests it, but you’re grateful the idea has been brought up as you’re carrying pizzas you picked up on the way back to the hotel. Piled onto the two full beds in Marcus and Sydney’s room, the four of you can finally celebrate a job well done. 

“Yo, I think I like the Sicilian slice better,” Marcus says, polishing off another piece of the pepperoni and mushroom. 

“Oof,” Carmy sounds, watching your face for your reaction. “You’re playing with fire, Marcus.”

Sydney snorts, “Fuck. We’re finally able to relax. No one kill each other, please.”

“What? We’ve already had the Chicago vs New York pizza debate,” Marcus says, throwing up his hands as if he’s innocent. I know what I’m getting myself into! I’m just sayin’ the Scilian slice is giving mad Chicago vibes and it’s dope.” 

You laugh, shaking your head, while Carmy playfully nudges you. 

“Okay, while pepperoni and mushroom is a classic and you know I have mad respect that, as a New Yorker… hard disagree on your style of pizza, chef,” you say back, starting on a new slice of one of the remaining NY Style pies. 

“You know what’s fucking fire? Pepperoni and jalapenos – pickled, not fresh,” Sydney chimes in and you all reply in a chorus of agreement. 

“Hundred percent,” Carmy says. 

“Never fresh. The sour tangy brine is key,” you add. “At least we can all agree on something. 

“You know what’s fucking wild?” Marcus begins, looking across the three of you. “We made this whole fancy ass meal, yet we’re eating pizza in a hotel room at the end of the night.” 

Carmy laughs dryly, “Yeah, man. It’s kinda par for the course.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Seriously!” Sydney exclaims.

“Speaking of, how was your stage at per se?” you inquire, curious to hear about his experience in the fine dining kitchen. “We barely had time to catch up this morning about it.” 

Truthfully, you’d all been so focused on tonight going well that no one had really talked about it. 

“Man,” Marcus sighs. “It was cool. But like. Now I know what you guys are talking about when you say a chef only let you zest lemons for three months.”

You laugh in response, thinking back to the time blood orange juice caused you an existential crisis. That existential crisis – the one that led you to quitting your job, leaving fine dining behind for good. 

“And it’s like… the whole staff works as a machine. Kitchen’s more like a science lab than a kitchen. I got lucky, huh?” Marcus continues and Carmy shakes his head. 

“Yeah, per se’s a lot like where we used to work,” Carmy says with a shrug. 

“Should’ve seen Alinea. It’s very… science lab meets art school,” Sydney adds. “Inspiring… but cold.” 

“Damn,” Marcus shakes his head, feeling luckier than ever that he got to learn from the three of you instead. 

“Wait. Syd, how was your supper club?” you ask, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t had a chance to tell any of you yet. She had, after all, gotten home late last night, only to get up early to go with Carmy to Chelsea Market. 

“Oh my god,” she gloats. “So fucking cool. Like unreal. You guys have to come with me next time.” 

“I uh-,” she starts again, as if she has a secret. “They actually asked me to come back and do a pop-up dinner, especially with the new restaurant opening. I mean, they want to do a collab with me!”

“Okay, I see you,” Marcus calls out, proud of his friend. 

“Of course they do!” you cheer her on. 

“What do you think, chef?” she asks Carmy, searching for approval in the way his face changes as he hears the news. 

“I think… you’d be silly not to. We’ll work out a time for you to come back up here once we get the new restaurant up and running,” Carmy reassures, respect and pride in his eyes as he exchanges a look with Sydney. 

“And of course, I want you guys back here with me. Like… are we the fuckin’ dream team, or are we the fuckin’ dream team?” Sydney celebrates, reliving the memories of this evening. 

Tonight has been so incredible and Sydney wonders if this is what it feels like to be at the top of your career. She wants to savor the moments of this weekend, replaying them over and over again in her head. 

“Oh 100%,” Marcus confirms with confidence.

“Absolutely,” you promise.

A temporary quiet settles between the four of you as you reflect on the evening. Carmy is quiet again, caught up in his head as he’s filled with a deep sense of gratitude: for all of your hard work, for how well the evening went, for his team. 

You all are his people. 

And he’s never had people before. 

Not until now. 

“Thank you guys. For tonight,” he says, his tone serious. “You guys were rockstars, and... I couldn’t have done it – any of this – without you.” 

“Aw, Carmy,” Sydney smiles, savoring this rare tender moment with Carmy. 

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Marcus reinforces.

“Of course,” you smile proudly. 

You each take a moment to feel it all: accomplishment, the gratitude, the love and genuine respect you all have for each other.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything,” you begin, half apologetically. “If anyone’s up for more fun food debates tomorrow, Carmy and I have a fun little tradition I’d love to share you guys.” 

You and Carmy exchange glances and it’s as if he can read your mind. 

“Walking dumpling tour?” he questions. 

You confirm with a nod. 

“What’s the-?” Marcus begins to ask as Sydney finishes his question with, “... the walking dumpling tour?”

“A fun little thing we used to when we still lived here,” you reply. “Hit up as many dumpling spots as we can in search of the best pork dumplings that Chinatown can offer. Hell, I’ll make up a scorecard and we can rate them.”

“Sounds fun. I’m in,” Marcus says. 

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Sydney agrees. 

Carmy checks the time on his phone. 

“Yo, it’s getting pretty late. We should probably head to bed,” Carmy says to you. 

“Oh shit. It’s almost midnight?” Sydney asks, seeing the time on the hotel room clock. 

“Yeah. Guys, this has been fun. Seriously, great work tonight. I’ve missed this so much,” you sigh, totally satiated. 

“You know there’s always room for you at The Bear,” Marcus says genuinely, before adding, in a more teasing tone, “You can send me your resume and I’ll take a look. Nah I’m just playin’!”

You laugh, playfully rolling your eyes, “Okay, it is definitely bed time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, goodnight you guys,” Marcus replies.

“Goodnight.”

As you and Carmy leave Sydney and Marcus’ room, it dawns on you that you’re not quite ready to go to bed. While you’re exhausted, and should be in a carb-induced sleepy pizza-coma, you’re wired from the adrenaline of being back in the kitchen. 

“Hey, Carm?” you ask, stopping him as he fumbles with the room key. 

“What’s up?” he asks back. 

You pause for a moment, and as you speak, there’s a certain hesitance in your voice, like it’s the first time you’re asking someone out on a date.

“Do you want a drink?”

He’s caught off guard by your tone of voice, curious to know where this is going. 

“Now?” he asks back with a half-smile plastered to his face.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I-, I don’t know if I’m ready to go to bed yet.” 

You can see the hesitation on his face as he thinks it through. While Carmy knows there are plenty of bars still open in NYC right now, he’s not sure he wants to leave the hotel. 

And neither do you. 

You offer your hand to him, “C’mon. I’ve got an idea.”

*

“I don’t know if we’re supposed to be here,” Carmy states nervously, looking around the empty room. 

He’s bouncing his knee up and down as he sits on a bar stool, alternating between watching you behind the bar, and looking around to check for anyone who may catch you. The bar itself is poorly lit, save for the pool lights outside, that come flooding in through the large floor to ceiling windows. 

“We’re not,” you reply, without a care in the world.

He lowers his voice before asking, “What if we get caught?”

You giggle, “You are such a baby, Carmen.” 

He rolls his eyes as you search for what you need, pouring the appropriate combination of liquors into an old fashioned glass.

Gin. Campari. Vermouth

After stirring them together over ice, you reach for an orange and y-peeler that the bar is stocked with, shaving off a piece of the orange peel. 

“Besides, isn’t that the fun part?” you ask, a glimmer of mischief flashing across your face. 

Carmy shakes his head, averting his eyes as he brings his hand up to his mouth, “You’re a bad influence on me.” 

You snort in response and it’s your turn to roll your eyes at him. 

“And you love it, my little rule-follower.”

“Relax, Carm. I’m gonna leave $40 behind the bar for what we took and we can go back to the room when I’m done if you’re so worried about it,” you offer as a compromise, the tone of your voice still a rebellious one. 

He has to admit that he finds your devil may care attitude incredibly sexy. Carmy’s not sure whether he’s anxious or turned on right now. 

 “Yes chef,” he finally agrees, cheekily. 

“Lighter, please,” you request.

Carmy pulls his lighter from his pocket, tossing it to you. You catch it, immediately flicking it on, using the flame to torch the orange slice. 

Just a spritz of the orange, and then the rest of the peel for garnish.

You hand Carmy the drink from across the bar, before working on your second one.

He looks down at the deep red colored liquid before saying, “Sweetheart, you know I hate gin.” 

But you’re one step ahead of him. 

Only moments later, you’re stepping around the bar with a second glass of whiskey on the rocks prepared for him. You trade glasses with him, and he can’t take his eyes off of you as you finally say:

“Cheers.” 

Clink. 

“Cheers.”

You both take your respective first sips, making sure to hold eye contact with him as you do. He looks at you, and you’re not sure if he’s more surprised that you haven’t gotten caught or that he’s willfully watched you break into the hotel pool bar. 

“Thought you said we could take these back to the room,” he challenges. 

You smirk, even though your heart is filled with pure adoration for the man standing across from you. 

“Yes, chef.”

It’s an easy choice to take your drinks back to the room, opening the french doors that lead to the terrace. You pull a spare blanket from the hotel room closet, curling up with it outside. You drape the blanket over both you and Carmy as you settle down on his lap. He’s brought his lighter and a cigarette out with you, so you close the french doors behind you so that he can light one up. 

You haven’t stayed up this late with Carmy in a while. It feels good – spontaneous and a little rebellious – like anything could happen at any given moment. New York City always seems to bring this side out in you. 

It’s home. 

But Carmy is also your home. 

Having the two of them here all at once is an indescribable feeling. You enjoy the bitter taste of your negroni, the cool spring air kissing your skin as you sit on your boyfriend’s lap. Carmy enjoys his cigarette, his whiskey sitting on the patio table in front of the two of you, as he exhales the smoke away from you. 

“Does being back here feel… I don’t know. Weird to you?” Carmy asks, breaking the quiet between the two of you. 

It’s like he can read your mind, again.

“Yeah,” you answer. “But it’s a good weird. I think maybe because we have all these memories here, you know?”

He takes another drag off the cigarette and it’s your turn to ask him a question. 

“I wonder what would’ve happened if you hadn’t spilled your drink on me that night. You think we still would’ve become friends?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks about it. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, answering honestly. 

You let out a small laugh. 

“Hell of a way to get a girl’s attention.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Bullshit.”

He’s telling the truth – sort of. He hadn’t been trying to get your attention, though he had spent most of the night racking his brain for any kind of conversation starter – get out of his own fuckin’ head. But he’d spent most of the night overthinking and coming up with reasons not to. He had sort of been your boss back then, after all.

He waits a beat before admitting, “And maybe the only way I would’ve even talked to you that night.”

You hum in response, taking another sip of your negroni. 

“Even then I thought I’d fully fuckin’ blown it.”

“You didn’t,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Uh… yeah I did,” he smiles, shooting you a ‘c’mon’ kind of look. “The first time you ever actually talked to me and… you’re fuckin’ furious. I was terrified.”

You can remember your first real conversation with Carmy fondly – even if it hadn’t been the fondest experience at the time.

“Baby, you ruined my shirt!” you exclaim with a laugh. “I had every right to be mad at you.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d see another day after that,” Carmy recalls, shaking his head. 

“Also. Who drinks a soda the night they get the biggest promotion of their career?” you add, referring to the coke he’d spilled all over you the night he’d gotten promoted to CDC. 

“Pop,” he corrects you. “... is a perfectly normal thing to drink at a bar.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “It’s not. But I love you anyway.”

The staff of the restaurant had wanted to go out and celebrate Carmy’s new position, only Carmy hadn’t seemed like he was in much of a mood for celebrating as he’d refused shots all night. He’d been so nervous to talk to you all night, the recently hired pastry chef, and you’d assumed he hated you considering his cold and stoic demeanor at work seemed to translate to you outside of it as well. He thought for sure he’d blown any chance of getting to talk to you that night, when you accidentally bumped into him and he’d spilled his soda all over you. Your shirt was soaked through, and your friends had rushed in with a spare t-shirt for you to change into. You’d come to find days later that it was Carmy’s shirt that he’d had in his bag.

That soda – and his chivalry that evening –  had set it all in motion.

“After all that, think we’d be here?” he asks, his eyes more like a sad, sweet puppy than ever before.

“No,” you answer honestly with a half smile. “But once I got to know you, I hoped maybe we could get here.”

He sighs, searching for the right words to tell you how he feels. The love you have together is more than he ever thought was possible for himself, and being back here with you has brought up so many memories of not feeling like enough. 

“It kinda feels…” he begins to say, choosing his words carefully. He wants to get it right. “...like. I don’t know. Kinda like we’re going backwards and forwards at the exact same time, you know?” 

You take another sip of your drink, processing what he’s said. He’s nailed it and you just need a moment to sit with his words.

“Yeah,” you sigh, like he’s finally named that thing you hadn’t been able to. “Like our past and our present are colliding or something.”

Carmy nods in agreement, “Yeah.”

You sit together in your comfortable quiet, listening to the sounds of the city below you: sirens, car horns, music from the bodega across the street. 

“I don’t know if I ever told you… how much your friendship meant to me back then. I wasn’t… well, I wasn’t in a great place,” Carmy admits, his eyes piercing and honest with his words. There’s a sadness to him and you wonder if this has been weighing on him over the last few days on top of everything else. 

“I know, sweetheart,” you reply empathetically. 

“I know we’ve talked about…” he trails off, searching for what he wants to say. “... how much we mean to each other now. But you meant so much to me back then too. I don’t-, I don’t know if I ever told you.” 

“Carmy,” you say, your heart swelling with love for the sad mess of a man whose arms you’re wrapped up in. “You didn’t need to. I-, I knew because… because you meant so much to me back then too.” 

He pauses, wondering if he should keep going, and coming to the conclusion that he wants to – not for your sake, but for his. 

Because he wants to tell you. 

“When we met… I wasn’t… planning on letting anyone in,” he continues. 

“Hmmm, didn’t notice,” you joke with him. 

He gives your hips a squeeze, causing you to giggle as you snuggle a little closer to him, hugging the blanket around the both of you. 

“I thought for sure I didn’t need anyone. Sure as hell didn’t want anyone. Had gone so long without someone to-. It just didn’t make sense for me anymore.”

You listen quietly, wanting him to give him the space to say what he needs to say. 

“You know, my sister used to say, she used to tell me that one day I’d wake up and I’d need someone. Someone other than Mikey and his friends – the kids I grew up with. And I didn’t believe her. And then he cut me out and-. And I got really fuckin’ good at it. At the food. At being alone….”

And then you came along.

“But you didn’t push me… you didn’t ask me to be anyone that I-. You just… let me be me… even if I didn’t give you much to work with at first. I think… Sugar was right. I needed a friend back then… and you were always a friend. Are always… It’s why I love you.” 

You’re grinning, and you’re also so, so proud of him – how far he’s come – to be able to tell you all of this. 

You lean over to set your drink down on the patio table. You only have one thing to say him, as you hold his head between both of your hands:

“I’m so in love with you, Bear.”

*

read: chapter three

a/n: the above first conversation/meeting that carmy x reader talk about WILL be written for my 'make my heart surrender' prequel everyone buckle up for the will-they-won't-they bc we all know THEY WILL

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

[bennysmiller]

Sweet Nothing - Frankie Morales x Reader

You and the boys have a night in at Benny's place, and amongst the chaos during a movie night, you and Frankie manage to find some quiet.

"Beer?"

You look up from your place on the sofa to see Benny holding out a full bottle of beer.

Normally you'd accept, but alcohol made you sleepy and you had to keep your eyes open for the game of charades Santi had proposed to everyone five minutes earlier. You shook your head at Benny but offered a slight smile in return.

"You don't have to stay awake, doll. Always welcome to crash in my bed while we're all out here"

Benny knew. He always knew. But once again, you shook your head at his suggestion and promised him you were fine. But you weren't fine. You wanted nothing more to fall asleep in Benny's bed to the sound of your boys laughing in the front room. But you also wanted to be present. After their latest mission, you knew how important it was to spend as much time as possible together.

"Well, you know where it is if you need it." Said Benny, before moving on and offering the beer to his brother.

Ten minutes later, the game of charades had been abandoned and Santi decided to put a film on instead. You couldn't actually hear what was being said, because Benny and Santi were too busy arguing over what they thought was going to happen. Then Will joined in and you wished you had taken up Benny's offer to sleep instead.

You managed to get yourself up off of the sofa, and over to the kitchen for a glass of water. As you take sips, you can't help but stare at an equally tired Frankie. The way his curls poke out from under his cap, and the way his hand is resting underneath his shirt, just on his stomach. You began to wonder what it would feel like to put your hand there instead. Do it for him.

You mentally kicked yourself for thinking about Frankie like that. He'd been nothing but sweet and respectful to you since you had met. But every now and then, no matter how hard you tried to push them down, those thoughts would creep up.

"They're real fuckin stupid sometimes."

You looked up to see Frankie stood across from you with his hands on his hips. When did he get here? you thought to yourself. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't see him get up.

You straightened up and put the glass down on the counter before agreeing with the man in front of you.

"I love them to bits but you're absolutely right." you said, earning a sigh from Frankie.

"I'm an old man now, just want peaceful nights in where I don't have to listen to a running commentary on whatever film we're trying to watch." He said, before taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair.

I could give you those kind of nights.

Before you realised what you had just said in your head, you jumped at the sound of a bottle smashing in the front room. Frankie rolled his eyes and chucked his cap on the table next to him.

"Too damn loud." He said, and ran a hand over his patchy beard. "Hey, you ever get those Taylor Swift tickets you wanted?"

You were about to turn around, but paused when he brought Taylor Swift up. It was something you had mentioned to him ages ago. You were both sat in a diner after a similar night with the guys, and needed to escape. So you sat and talked. All night. About anything and everything. You mentioned wanting to get tickets but didn't spend too long on the topic, so you went red when you realised Frankie truly was listening to you ramble on about them.

"Yeah, I did." You spoke quietly, but inside you were screaming. For so many beautiful reasons.

"Can I confess something? The night you mentioned those tickets, I went home and played a few of her songs. She's good."

"Seriously? You like her?" You asked excitedly. You wanted to die at the dimple that made an appearance on Frankie's face when he smiled at your enthusiasm that had suddenly shown up.

"Yeah," He chuckled. "You mentioned you loved Sweet Nothing. That's my song right now. I really am too soft for all of it."

He looked proud as fuck for slipping that lyric into the conversation, and also for how he'd clearly been studying your favourite artist.

You thought of the lyric outside they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming and realised that perfectly described your situation with Frankie. Pure chaos in the front room with Santi, Benny, and Will, but the kitchen? You and Frankie found five minutes of peace in the kitchen. It was your place. You made the rules that night.

[cevansbrat0007]

Brat Games

Summary: Full story! It’s all fun and games when you find yourself in the mood to embrace your inner brat. Andy Barber x Bratty Reader

Warnings: Smut, Shenanigans, Bratty Reader, Grumpy Andy, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Sex Toys, Sexual Themes, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Well, I finally managed to finish this story! I hope it's okay. Please let me know what you think. Part of my ongoing Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated. Semi-proofread. All mistakes are my own.

___

You’d woken up this morning in a mood. But not just any kind of mood. You wanted to play. Too bad the man you were playing with didn’t know that you two were in the middle of a game. Oh, well. You were sure he would figure it out. 

Eventually.

___

Your fun begins innocently enough. 

You lean back in your seat, your stomach threatening to burst if you tried to eat even one more bite of your stuffed brioche french toast. Brunch at the North Street Grille never disappointed, that was for sure. 

Sighing, you take a look around the restaurant hoping to catch sight of your boyfriend. He’d stepped outside to take a call from the office roughly ten minutes ago and still hadn’t returned. It was annoying, yes. But his prolonged absence also gave you an idea. 

You were about to do something that was going to irritate the hell out of your man. Something that he had never let you do in all your months of dating. 

Take care of the check. 

“Still enjoying everything, ma’am?” Your waitress asks as she walks by your table. “Or would you like me to get you a box?”

“I’m finished, thanks. But I think my boyfriend might need one.” Casting a brief glance over your shoulder, you reach into your bag to pull out your debit card. “Could I go ahead and pay real quick? He never lets me get the bill so…” You shrug and offer her a conspiratorial wink.

That’s right. You were gonna pay for your meal, his old-fashioned objections be damned. 

“No problem. Be right back with your card and that box.” The young woman hustles away before returning a few moments later with the necessary items. After thanking her and signing the receipt, you slide your card back into your purse. Just in time for Andy to rejoin you at the table. 

“Everything alright?” You chirp before taking a sip of your now lukewarm cappuccino. 

“It’s fine.” Andy scrubs one big hand over his neatly trimmed beard. “More than fine, actually. That was Ahmed calling. He thinks we’ve got enough cause to petition for the judge in this case for a recusal, which is great fucking news.” 

“Oh, well, yay! I guess.” While you didn’t know the specifics, if he was happy, then you were happy. 

“Trust me. That ignorant fuck, Baxter, has no business on the bench.” Your man takes a bite of his bacon. “Mm…thanks for grabbing me a to-go box, little love. I’ll pay and then we can get out of here. But I will need to stop by the office for a bit before we get on with our day.”

“Sounds like you need to work.” You flash him an easy smile as you begin to gather your things and stand up. “How about you just drop me off at home? Or, come to think of it, I can walk back.”

“Not happening, baby girl.” Andy stands up too, tossing his used napkin on the table. He takes a moment to stretch his arms above his head, his sinewy muscles bunching and flexing beneath his maroon colored shirt. “I won’t be long. I just need to grab a couple files.”  

“Andy Bear, it’s only like a fifteen minute walk from here to my place. I do it all the time.” You swing your purse strap over your shoulder. “Really. It sounds like you need to concentrate. And I’d probably just be in the way…”

Your Big Man pins you with a hard look, letting you know that he disagrees with this entire conversation. It was no secret that your man wanted you with him practically all of the time. He was even bugging you to move in with him. Not that you were complaining.

“Yeah, not gonna happen. Let me go pay for this and –” Andy looks down at the receipt in his hand, finally noticing your handwriting scrawled across the signature line. “What did you do?”

“My treat, handsome.” Rising on your tiptoes you plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Don’t forget your box.” With that, you turn and scamper out the front door. 

“Damn it, Y/N!” You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know your unhappy Andy Bear is hot on your heels. Cursing your short legs, you speed walk all the way to his Audi. Which, of course, just happens to be parked at the far end of the freaking lot.

You feel Andy’s hand grip the waistband of your jean shorts, tugging you backwards and into his side. “Why would you –?  We’ve been over this, baby girl.” Andy growls, his tone rife with displeasure. “When I take you out, I pay.” He uses his big body to box you in, pressing you against the passenger door of his SUV. “That’s how this works between you and I.” 

You were pretty sure that you were the only person to ever willingly pick an argument with Andrew Barber outside of a courtroom. If he were being honest, it was part of what made you so attractive to him. 

“But Andy Bear,” you pout. “You never let me pay for anything. It’s time for you to step into the twenty-first century a little, honey. You can be so old fashioned sometimes.” 

“So?” He grunts, raising one dark brow.

“So…I’m just trying to get you to bend the rules a tiny, tiny bit.”

“No.” His rebuttal is sharp even as his soft lips go to graze the shell of your ear. “I don’t care what century we live in, princess. I’m a man who believes in taking care of his woman. Which means that I pay. Understand?”

Instead of responding you choose to stick your tongue out at him. Which then prompts him to lightly grip your chin, forcing you to meet his intoxicating gaze.

“When Daddy asks you a question he expects an answer.” 

“Yes, okay.” You whisper as the pad of his thumb delicately traces the curve of your bottom lip. “But I also think you’re just mad that I beat you to the punch, Big Man.” You give this thumb a playful nip. 

“Oh, I am. Try that shit with me again and I’ll take your debit card and keep it in my wallet for the rest of the day. Now get your pretty self in the car, baby, before I decide to bend you over the hood and redden that tempting ass just enough to make sitting a hardship.”

Frowning, you allow him to open your door and assist you into the passenger seat. And then he makes a show of handing you his food before buckling you in. 

You were a strong, independent woman who was perfectly capable of dealing with her own seatbelt. So why did it make your core spasm whenever he took charge like that? You needed to have a conversation with your inner feminist stat. 

“Thank you.” Your man huffs as he shuts the door before walking around to the driver’s side. “Such a little brat first thing in the morning.”

___

Two hours later…

Andy bristles in the seat next to you as you do your best to tamp down a fit of giggles. While he’d kept his promise to make his trip to the office a short one, he wasn’t very happy with you at the moment.

And not because you had snuck and paid for brunch. Oh no. He’d gotten over that one. Mostly. 

“Put your shirt back on, Y/N.” He grits out as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “Now, please.”

“But I’m hot!” You whine. “It’s, like, 92° outside and I’m practically melting. Look at me!” You tell him, dramatically fanning yourself with your periwinkle-colored blouse. To be honest, you weren’t sure what his problem was. Afterall, it wasn’t like you were walking around naked. You were still rocking your navy blue cami, complete with a black push-up bra layered underneath. 

“I can see the outline of your fucking nipples. And if I can, then so could Ahmed. Poor man practically choked on his tongue the moment we walked in.” He hisses under his breath. 

“It’s a natural reaction to the A/C, Andrew. And how was all your co-worker’s stammering and stuttering my fault?” You ask as you lean back in your seat, unconsciously drawing his attention to your cleavage. “It’s not like he hasn’t met me before.”

“Yeah, but it’s the first time you’ve come in with the girls on display like that. Between them and that ass in those tight little shorts…” Your man trails off as he stares hungrily at your pouting nipples, nearly veering into the other lane. 

Yeah, you knew you were slowly driving him nuts. You just didn’t care.

“I’m gonna need you to cover my tits before we hit the grocery store, baby girl. I don’t want or need a bunch of slack-jawed fuckers staring at what’s mine.” The gleam in his lets you know that your Big Man is far from joking.

“Who says it’s yours?”

“The fuck?” His head whips towards you as he swings the car into an empty parking space.

“What?” You innocently bat your lashes at him. “Last time I checked, this was my body, which means that I am the keeper of this temple, boo.”

Andy’s bright blue eyes zero in on your mouth as his own lip curls in some semblance of a snarl. 

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong, little love. Your body is my fucking temple.” One big hand goes to grip the back of your neck, applying just enough pressure to let you know that he means business. “And I worship at its altar every goddamn day.”

“Oh.” Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I don’t know why you seem so intent on pushing my buttons today; I really don’t. But I feel the need to make something very, very clear here.” He takes a deep breath as he fights to maintain control. “Just because it’s my job to uphold the law doesn’t mean I won’t toss you in the backseat, splay those sweet thighs wide, and feast on that disrespectful cunt until you remember your place.” Andy possessively nuzzles the crook of your neck, his sharp teeth nipping and sucking at the tender flesh.

“Now, are you gonna be good and put your shirt back on for me? Or do you want everyone in this parking lot to hear how fucking pretty you sound when you cum on my tongue?” He growls,  the scruff of his beard softly scraping against your cheek.

Your eyes flit to the back of the car as you process his words. Your handsome District Attorney was never one to bluff. Wordlessly, you shrug your blouse back onto your shoulders and quickly fasten the buttons. 

“Good girl.” He purrs, watching through heavily lidded eyes as you stubbornly leave the top three undone. “Tell you what. If you’re still hot when we get back to my place, you have my permission to prance around naked for as long as you want.”

“Al-alright.” You mumble, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together as you try your best to quell the ache forming between them.

You win this round, Andrew Barber.

___

Your trip to the store to grab the items you need to make grilled steak fajitas is largely uneventful. After your discussion in the car, you’re tempted to remain on your best behavior. 

And you do. For the most part. Until you decide to wander away from your boyfriend while he’s busy searching for your precious queso fresco. Because you would be damned before you settled for something like basic shredded cheddar cheese. 

Oh no. According to Andrew Barber, you were just born to be difficult.

Since he’s otherwise occupied, you make your way over to the produce aisle to grab a pineapple. And maybe a little extra attention if you could swing it.

“Excuse me…hi.” Waving, you stop someone who looks to be a manager as he’s in the process of replenishing apples. 

“Hello, Miss. How, uh…” The dark haired man goes to adjust his glasses as his eyes stray to your chest. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for something…sweet to enjoy with my dinner tonight.”

He nods along, looking just the teensiest bit flustered. Smiling, you reach over to pick up a cantaloupe, followed by a honeydew melon. Holding one in each hand, you raise them so that they’re level with his bordering on inappropriate gaze.

“And since I haven’t ever been to this particular Wegmen’s before, I’m a little curious about your…melons. I - I’m afraid I’m not very good when it comes to picking out fruit.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

This whole thing definitely had cheesy porno intro written all over it.

“Okay.” By now the man’s face is tinged with red. And if you’re not mistaken, he’s also starting to sweat.  

“Do these seem…firm enough to you?” 

“I, uh, I think so, Miss.” He coughs, nervously fidgeting with his tie as he watches you give them an enthusiastic squeeze. “They look…great.”

“Yeah? They do seem nice and plump.” You pretend to study them as if weighing your options. Good lord you were probably going to hell for fucking with this poor man, but the train was in motion and it couldn’t be helped. “You think they’re a good size? I’m looking for maximum enjoyment, you know?”

“Well, if I’m being honest, those, um - they look like the perfect handful.” His crooked grin lets you know that he likes where this conversation is heading. “But I’d be happy to show you some of the new produce we’ve got in the back.”

Woah, buddy. Pump those brakes!

“That’s very kind of you, but–” 

“Y/N - there you are!” You jump at the sound of your name. “Been looking all over for you, baby.” Turning to face him, you do your best to appear as innocent as possible.

“Hiya, Andy Bear. This kind gentleman was just giving me his opinion on my melons. See?” You do a little shimmy. “Think they’re ripe enough?” 

Honest to God, you cannot remember the last time you saw your man’s face turn so many pretty colors. Mostly shades of red, but boy is it a sight to behold. 

“Jesus Christ, woman.” He rasps, his expression one of pure exasperation as he takes the fruit from you before handing it off to the worker at your side. “Sorry, but we won’t be needing these.”

“But…” 

“We’re leaving.” Andy’s gruff, no nonsense tone is enough to make you pout as he holds his hand out to you. “Now.”

“But I wanted to grab some pineapple for you to throw on the grill with the steaks.” You explain as you begin inching towards the display. “By the way, did you know that some experts say men should consider drinking pineapple juice before they go to bed…for the health benefits?” You watch as that one vein along his temple begins to throb spectacularly. “I can tell you that article definitely left a sweet taste in my mouth, that’s for sure.” 

Oops. Too much? 

Your question is answered for you when you feel Andrew’s big body suddenly looming over you. “Why do you keep trying to provoke me, sweetheart?” His nimble fingers go to brush a flyaway curl off the back of your neck, eliciting a shiver. “Hm?”

“I - I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Andy Bear.” You feel a hand sink into the back pocket of your shorts before painfully squeezing your ass. “Ow!” 

“Last warning, little girl...” He does it again, ignoring the way you rise on your toes with a whimper. “Knock it the fuck off. Now put that shit in the cart and let’s go.”  

You resume pouting, but manage to do as he asks. Quietly hating the fact that you can’t do anything about the sting in your poor bottom because you’re out in public.

Overgrown, handsome ass sourpuss. 

Andy keeps a solid grip on your waist the entire time you’re in the checkout line, only letting up when you two are loading things onto the conveyor belt. Handing you his card, he tells you to go ahead and pay while he runs off to the bathroom. 

So you do. With your debit card. But instead of going for immediate gratification this time, you take the receipt and wrap it around the black card he had initially given you. You had no idea when he would notice, but you knew that he would one of these days. And when he did…

Well, you’d deal with it. 

But until then, you decide to keep the game going by pushing the cart outside and loading up the car. Sometimes it was so unbelievably easy to mess with your man. It really didn’t take much with Andrew Barber, especially where you were concerned.  

___

The ride back to your place is mostly quiet. Well, Andy talks. But you’re not able to respond because you’re too busy sucking on one of those fucking jawbreakers he keeps in the center console for moments when you’ve been…acting up. 

Funny enough, he’d actually noticed your little switcheroo with the cards earlier than you’d expected. But only after he’d found you sitting in the driver’s seat of his car with the windows down and the A/C on full blast. At least you’d left your shirt on this time. 

See? Progress. 

Yeah, not to him. That was another rule of his. He always drove. And on the rare occasions when you were the one to pick him up, he pumped your gas. Rain or shine. When it came down to it, you really were a lucky girl. 

And you knew it.

But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t get a little sassy with him now and again – which is exactly what you'd done when he’d snarled at you to get your little ass over to the other side before he tore it up. Which explained why you were currently sulking with a mouthful of hard candy.  

And, to top it off, he had to drop you at your spot after all because he had to head back into the office. Looks like things were moving quickly all of a sudden, and he was apparently due in court first thing in the morning. Talk about a bummer. 

You’re still not done with the fucking thing when he finally pulls up in front of your home. With a sigh, Andy puts the car in park before climbing out of his seat and jogging over to your side to assist you. 

“Hm. Still pouting, huh?” Andy murmurs, chuckling when you don’t reply. Besides, you were only following instructions. You attempt to swerve him when he leans in for a kiss, turning your head so that his lips brush your cheek.

“Hey. Don’t be like that, baby girl.” Wrapping his arms around your middle, he pulls you flush against his hard body. And although you try to resist, it’s difficult to put up much of a fight when he smells so damned good. 

“Hmph.” You grunt, even as you bury your face against the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry, but it looks like I really do have to work. We’ll pick things up tomorrow.” One of his big hands begins lightly rubbing your back. “Including discussing whatever's got you acting like such a brat today. Understand?”

You nod, slipping a territorial hand beneath his shirt. 

“Thank you. And in the meantime, Daddy is going to Venmo you the amount of whatever it was you spent today. Plus a little extra so you can order yourself something for dinner tonight since we’re pushing off the fajitas until tomorrow.” He pulls back so that he can look into your eyes. “You gonna be my good girl and accept it without giving me a hard time?“

Again you nod, trying not to get lost in those big, beautiful orbs.    

“Wonderful.” His head dips to capture your lips for a brief kiss. “I’ll call you tonight after I’ve taken care of what I need to prepare for court and you’ve had time to adjust that little attitude.” 

He takes another kiss, right as you finally finish with that damned jawbreaker. This time he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, before claiming your mouth for his own. He groans softly, reveling in your sweet taste as his hands go to your ass, tugging you closer. 

“Okay, Daddy.” You whisper, feeling a touch lightheaded when you finally break apart. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Count on it.” Andy playfully tugs on a curl that’s escaped your bun. “Now go on inside, okay? And be sure to lock the door behind you too.”

“Bye.” You steal another kiss.  

“Goodbye, baby girl. Talk to you tonight.”

___

True to his word, your Andy Bear sends you your money back and then some. You’re tempted to return it, but instead you decide to use it to buy the ingredients for your famous lemon pound cake – made from scratch. 

The secret? A package of instant lemon pudding and a couple teaspoons of lemon zest.

And by the time he manages to FaceTime you that evening your mood has certainly shifted. You spend much of your thirty-minute call talking and teasing one another before signing off for the night with a little dance to the tune of T-shirt & Panties by Adrina Moore.

Yeah, Andrew Barber loved the hell out of you. Even when you spent the day being a little fucking brat. Which was understandably a good thing.

Especially since you weren’t done.

__

The next morning…

Knowing that your boyfriend would be busy with court proceedings for most of the day, you quietly let yourself into his house. After getting your things settled, you change into something into one of the two outfits you’d brought along to aid you in this particular bout of shenanigans. Namely, some brand new lingerie. 

Giggling, you disappear down the hall in the direction of his study. Once inside, you take your time putting together the compact tripod for your mobile phone before adjusting your camera and lighting. 

Deep down, you knew that you should probably quit while you were ahead. But, in all honesty, where was the fun in that? 

Having previously settled on several classy poses thanks to a little practice last night, it doesn’t take you long to capture what you need. And you managed to successfully take them all without falling on your head.

Once your man got through bitching and moaning about your being naughty, you were sure that he would come to appreciate your efforts. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

You normally felt bad about interrupting him in court, unless it was an emergency. But today you would force yourself to ignore those feelings in favor of shenanigans.

Biting your lip, you open up your message thread to fire off a good morning text. You kick things off simply enough, writing: Good morning, Daddy. I’m just over here waiting patiently for you to bring home a victory today. 

And then you hit send, which leads to the following exchange:

After slipping in the dreaded b-word to your conversation, you decide to put your phone on silent. While it was true that your boyfriend often claimed to be man things to you, being your buddy wasn't one of them. And it annoyed the crap out of him whenever you referred to him as such. 

As you go about tidying up, you consider making use of the toy you knew was tucked away upstairs in the nightstand by the bed. While it would definitely do you good to relieve some of that ache between your thighs, you would force yourself to be patient. 

However…

That doesn’t stop you from heading up there anyway, under the pretense of dropping off your overnight bag. And then wouldn’t you know it? 

The damned thing somehow makes its way out of the drawer and into your mouth. Ugh! And to make matters worse, you accidentally manage to snap a photo of yourself sucking on it, right as you hollow-out your cheeks.

What a damned shame!

Talk about a true comedy of errors. It’s so funny that you end up giggling uncontrollably for the next ten minutes. But you know what makes it even better? The moment your thumb slips and hits send.   

After that, it becomes downright hysterical. 

___

Later that afternoon…

Letting out a yawn, you lean back in your chair and stretch before deciding to call it a day. You’d just spent the last several hours going back and forth with a client about a project that was supposed to be in its final stages.

As in almost fucking finished.

But they’d since decided to shelve half of the damned concept before pivoting and heading in a different direction. Which was fine, so long as they were willing to pay. 

Pressing the heels palms over your eyes you reason that you've done enough. You really did love your job. But sometimes it could also be unbelievably taxing. 

Powering down your laptop, you decide to go ahead and ice the pound cake that is currently cooling on the counter. While you’re at it, you go ahead and prepare everything you need for the fajitas as well. Since the steaks were already doing their thing in the marinade you’d thrown together earlier, there really wasn’t much left for you to do outside of slicing vegetables. 

Once that’s done, it only takes you a few minutes to whip up the simple glaze. After all, it was just powdered sugar, condensed milk, lemon juice, and a dash of vanilla extract. Whisk together until smooth and then bam! 

Sweet and sticky deliciousness in a bowl. 

You’re in the process of slowly drizzling it over top of the cake when you hear Andy walk through the front door. Moments later, he strides into the kitchen clutching a box under his arm.

“Hey there, Andy Bear!” You chirp as you go to set the bowl in the sink before rinsing your hands and drying them on a towel. Earlier mischief forgotten, you launch yourself into his waiting arms. “I missed you!”

“Did you?” He asks, tilting his head. “That's interesting.” 

“What do you mean?” Confused, you place your hands on either side of his face, trying to pull him in for a kiss. But instead of cooperating, he sets you back on your feet with a sigh. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby girl." Andy sweetly boops your nose before removing his suit jacket. "Honestly, it’s my fault for not taking care of it yesterday when I had the chance.”

“Huh? I’m afraid you’ve lost me.” Rising on your tiptoes you offer up your lips again, only to pout when he denies you. Again.

What the hell? And what was in that box on the table.

“Just let me go and get changed and then I’ll deal with everything.” Shaking his head, your man lets out a dark chuckle as he turns towards the stairs. “Including you.” And then he’s gone, disappearing around the corner in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh shit.

Your stomach drops as every single bratty act you’ve committed over the last thirty-or-so hours suddenly comes flooding back. You really should’ve gone home to wash your hair or something like you'd said you would. Not that that would’ve helped you any. 

The man knew where you lived. And he had a fucking key!

Feeling a little on edge, you head for the hallway, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “I baked you a cake, baby!” You call out. “Want me to cut you a piece?”

“I’ll be down in a moment!” He responds. “Why don’t you go open your present, hm?”

Rocking on your heels for a second, you decide to go back to the kitchen, wondering what the hell he possibly could have bought you. And then you remove the lid. 

Okay, well, so far it appeared to be nothing more than an overabundance of pink tissue paper.

You’re just about to reach inside when you hear Andy return to the room. “Go on. Dive in.” You jump when one of his brawny arms snakes its way around your waist, as his soft lips delicately caress the sensitive skin just behind your ear.

“Wh-what is it?” 

“Aw. You really want me to spoil the surprise?” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I don’t think so, baby girl.”  

Your pulse spikes as you tear at the thin sheets to reveal...a pair of lacy black panties. 

“Keep going.” Andy urges as his talented fingers slide beneath your shirt to rest on your abdomen. “There’s more.”

Next you find a black device that looks suspiciously like a remote, followed by an oddly shaped vibrator, and a pink paddle with the words “for bad girls only” emblazoned on the front.

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense, sweetheart.” He brushes aside your curls so that he can rest his bearded chin on your shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think I quite understand.” You mutter as you dangle the skimpy scrap of fabric from your index finger.

“Well, in that case, allow me to explain.” Andy gives you another kiss, this time on the back of your neck. “See, since you love playing games so much, Daddy took some time out of his very busy schedule to go out and buy you a few things so that we could play together. Isn’t that nice?”

“Uh huh.” You breathe as your traitorous core spasms. “Wait.” Licking your dry lips, you try to turn in his arms, but his grip remains steadfast. 

“Oh no.” He murmurs before picking up the paddle and pressing it to your chest. “I’m ready to play now.” The gruffness in his tone has your panties positively soaked. “So here’s what we’re gonna do. Are you listening to me, sweetheart?”

You nod quietly, suddenly having a tough time getting a full breath of air into your lungs. 

“You're going to kick things off by stripping for me. And then you’re going to bend over the edge of the table and offer up that gorgeous ass.”

“But I -” You’re interrupted by a hand fisting itself in your hair, jerking your head back with just enough force to make you whimper. 

“I don’t want to hear another goddamned word out of that sexy little mouth.” Andy growls, licking the curve of your cheek. “Not one, unless I grant you explicit permission to do so. Understand?”

You nod again as a delicious shiver courses through you. 

“Good. Now strip. You have thirty seconds, baby.” He then steps to the side so that you can quickly go about removing your clothes, starting with your shirt. With shaking hands you work to unfasten your bra before letting it drop to the ground - baring your breasts to your man’s hungry gaze. 

Next up are your thin cotton shorts, followed by your underwear. But instead of allowing them to join the pile, Andy holds out his hand to you. Giving them over to him, you watch as he slowly brings damp cotton to his nose, inhaling your sweet, earthy scent. A strangled groan escapes his throat as he repeats the action. Once. Twice. 

“You smell like heaven.” He hums, the gravely purr rumbling in his chest. 

Finally naked, you lower yourself across the table, letting out a tiny shudder as your nipples make contact with the cool surface.

“Good girl.” Andy praises as his large, slightly calloused palm settles on the small of your back. “Now, we can continue with the game.” He steps around you to pick up the vibrator and panties that are laying on the table, just out of reach. 

“As you probably already guessed, this toy very similar to the one we keep upstairs. Except there are a couple key differences. The first one being that it’s controlled by that little handheld remote right there.” He places the device in question into his pocket, a hint of a mocking grin flitting across his lips. “Yeah, that part’s meant for Daddy.”

And then he continues on, purposely ignoring the way you keep rubbing your thighs together. 

“As for the second special thing…you see these? These are magnetic wings that lock together with this piece right here, turning these into one hell of a good time.” 

Oh good God. He was talking about vibrating panties.

"Doesn't that sound fun, little girl?" Your man's all-too enthusiastic response elicits another whimper from you, followed by a whine as he slowly begins dragging the fabric up your legs and over your ass.

You do your best to focus on your breathing when he gently adjusts the vibrator, making sure the toy is securely nestled against your swollen, needy clit.

Once he’s done, he then cups a possessive hand over your mons. “Who’s pussy is this?” He rasps, as his voice borders on something feral. “You can speak.”

“Y-yours.” You respond with a shaky whisper.

“Damn right it is. And who do you belong to? Who's the rightful keeper of this beautiful little body?" He grinds heel of his palm against your cunt, enjoying the sweet sounds you make. "Wanna hear you say my name, baby.”

“You-ooh! I belong to you, D-daddy.” 

“Good girl.” Andy purrs. “Proud of you for answering correctly.” 

“Ooh!" Without warning, you feel the toy suddenly come to life, sending low, even vibrations pulsing through your vulnerable core all the way down to your toes. “Oh, fuck - god, Andy!” Your eyes fall shut as the power increases.

“Did I also mention that this thing is equipped with twelve different settings?" Oh fuck! "I mean, the box did promise hours of fun. So, I think it’s only fair that we give it a good test drive. Maybe even leave a review.”

“Ungh!” You cry out as he ratchets up the speed once more. "Daddy, please!"

Andy ignores your cries as he silently debates whether or not he ought to gag you

“Glad you agree, baby girl. Tell you what, I’ll be nice and let you keep playing with your new toy during your spanking. In fact, you even have my permission to cum.”

“Fuck!” You dance on your toes as the sensations threaten to overwhelm you. “Too much!” 

“It is not.” Andy scoffs, issuing a sharp slap to your upturned ass, courtesy of your brand new paddle. “Knock it the fuck off before I really give you something to whine about.” And then he chuckles before adding. “Oh, wait. That’s exactly what I’m about to do, isn’t it?” 

The paddle cracks across your ass again, forcing you to bear down on the toy as your empty walls clench around nothing. 

Your orgasm was so close, but what worried you was that you knew he was only just getting started.

“And when we’re through with this part of the game, I’ll help you with the fajitas.”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ow, Daddy!” You hiss at the sting - which only serves to intensify the pleasure pulsing through your poor, soon-to-be overworked pussy. “Damn!”

“Mm. Swear, you look so pretty like this.” He delivers the next blow before turning up the vibrations another notch. “In fact, I think we’ll keep playing through dinner. What do you say?”

“Argh! Fucking bastard!” You wail as you stomp your foot, which only earns you an underhanded slap to your cunt.

Crack! 

“Okay, have it your way, sweet girl. Daddy will check in with you after dessert.”

END

[c0smoshit]

I love your writing, the way you write Venom Snake is just perfection. I had a request.. Venom Snake Aftercare hcs, please ? Totally fine if you don't want too and Thank youuu <3

Ofc!!

I'm here to serve you guys ;))

Ohh and I also added some other characters to this request because I though it would be cute🤧

thanks for the request love🫶🫶

Aftercare

⋆ ࣪. ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 ≫ Venom Snake, Big Boss and Raiden

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ fluff, kind of suggestive but nothing sexual just cuddles

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ As for Raiden I had rising in mind while writing it, but Sons Of Liberty Raiden works too! Choose your fav ;)

Venom Snake "Big Boss"

★ Tbh it depended on his mood

★ He would be the sweetest ever, cleaning you up, running you a bath, soothing your trembling legs with his hands

★ Ooor he could fall asleep on spot

★ However, since you had told him what was aftercare and the things you liked, he had became way more considerate with you

★ He loves taking baths with you, so expect lots of them after sweaty situations

★ He is such a puppy anyways and after having an orgasm he is the clingiest you'd ever see him.

★ He still falls asleep (don't blame him, blame Diamond Dogs) but he will always cuddle with you.

Clinging into him for dear life as he brought you to the bathroom, placing you on top of the sink as he rumaged through the bathroom.

You couldn't understand how freely he was moving and all the energy he still had left too. In moments like this was when you understood why everyone greeted him as "Boss"

The room was filled with a comfortable silence as he first started to clean your thighs and stomach, stopping to be more gentle on the areas where he knew you were still too stimulated.

Resting your cheek on his shoulder you lifted your butt a bit like he silently demanded by tapping the flesh of it with a drum of his fingers on your skin.

"Love you"

"Mmh?"

He turned his head towards you, smiling ever so softly at your still puffy and red cheeks.

"I said..."

You paused as you grabbed his cheeks for him to look back at you and stop rubbing the towel against your skin for once.

"I looove you"

You dragged the "o" chuckling at the feeling of his beard against yours as he rubbed his cheek against yours, making you wince in "pain".

"Stop! You're scratchy"

He smiled, kissing you on your lips lovingly before pulling away with a smirk, mocking your tone.

"Well, just a minute ago you were telling me 'don't stop please!'"

Big Boss "Naked Snake" (John)

★ Like Venom, he also is a huge fan of passing out right after nutting

★ However, you also tend to be as tired as him after a full session with him

★ Which leaves a sleepy 80 kg man clinging into you, demanding cuddles

★ However, he often is the first one to wake up, so don't bother on doing the job all by yourself, your legs will not be sticky the moment you wake up.

★ Doesn't tell you, but he secretly enjoys the sight of you laying there, hickeys, fingerprints...

★ That's why he always wants to wake up first

Hand no longer gripping your neck he crashed you further into the bed as he finally acomplished his end. Sticky skin resting on each other, you both grimaced at the feeling.

Opening his eyes after his surprisingly long bliss, he heard you muttering. Well, whining.

Of course you were, he was fucking using you as his personal mattress.

"Sorry y/n"

His groggy voice muttered out as he finally moved, not without him grabbing your hips and arms and manhandling you into the pose he loved cuddling you in.

You couldn't even speak as you were falling rapidly asleep on his arms.

However, he prefered it that way, the silence after such an intense feeling, your arms wrapping around him automatically despite the humid ambience on the room, his hot skin, the stickiness not only between your legs but everywhere now.

"Sweet dreams, guess I'll clean you up when you wake up"

Softly speaking mostly to himself he brushed a strand of hair out of your face, smiling tiredly as he watched you scrunch your already shut eyes.

He loved admiring you while you slept, in fact, he often thanked his job for making him come home late for him to see your pretty face already fast asleep on the bed.

This was his aftercare, keeping you by his side, keeping you in his warm embrace as he kissed your forehead, cheeks, eyes, brows, whatever he wished to forever remember when his eyes finally shut down.

You had him wrapped around a finger that was too pure for his blood drenched soul.

Raiden (Jack)

★ He is the sweetest boy ever

★ Will take him a while to get used to being sexual or cuddly with you due to all his trauma

★ However, the moment he lets his heart get enveloped by your soft and warm hands, he is not skipping aftercare

★ Baths, food, water, a warm towel, a cold one, cuddling...

★ Whatever you wish for, it'll be granted

★ Like the other two, he would become way softer with you after nutting

"Hold on baby"

He whispered into your ear, soothing your belly and chuckling at the sight of your legs still trembling from all the pleasure.

You could only mumble out an incoherent response even for you to understand, too lost in the big wave of tiredness washing over your sore body.

However, soon enough, your white haired saviour was there to assist your needs once again. Towel in hand and a glass of cool water on the other, you thought jesus was in the room with you right now.

Grabbing the glass of water and closing your eyes, you took a sip that felt like heaven before almost spilling it out.

"Wha- Raiden!"

Your feet almost knocking him out, you squirmed at the sensation of the towel touching almost menancingly your worst bundle of nerves, still throbbing from the overstimulation.

"Jesus- Sorry princess, tryna clean you down there"

Supporting your body by your elbows you looked at his apologetic expression, making you try to bit down a chuckle, which didn't work.

But soon he followed your laugh, putting down the towel for a brief moment before he nuzzled into your chest, arms caging you into his warm body. You both stayed like that for what felt like hours, twirling a strand of silver hair as you muttered.

"Sorry"

He turned to look at you, eyes that most would see as inhuman but to you, they were one of the best examples of humanity and emotion.

"Don't say that. I'm a big boy, a little kick from such a beauty would just make me beg for more"

Now it was your turn to blush, shoving his head away as he pecked your jaw.

"Oh shut up"

[zoeykallus]

Once again, love your work so much! You seem totally flooded with asks, but if you have time would I pretty please be able to get a teensy smutty one shot with Medic!Reader and Imperial!Crosshair after cross is rescued from the platform? Much love <3

Aloha! Thank you! Love to read that 😊

Sounds like a good idea, let me see what I can do with that.... I hope fem reader is okay, you didn't really say.

Imperial!Crosshair x Medic!Fem!Reader One-shot - The Quiet Visitor

____________________________

Warning: Explicit/ Sexual Content/PiV/Cunnilingus/Fingering/Dub-Con (?)/18+

____________________________

You've seen him many times in your station. He makes you nervous every time. CT 9904, also called Crosshair. He's a clone, but a special one, he's not like his brothers, stands out among them, visually, but also in terms of his abilities and personality.

Crosshair has been in your care before, mostly just routine examinations, or minor injuries. Today was no exception. After Crosshair was stuck on Kamino for 32 rotations, you do another follow-up a week after he came back to the Star Destroyer.

He looks better today. He's shaved, he's eaten, he's washed, and he's wearing fresh clothes. When he came back from Kamino three days ago, he had a full beard, had been filthy and half-starved. Here and now, he looked like himself again, just as you remembered him.

"Good morning," you say kindly, yet as neutrally as possible.

As always, he looks at you piercingly and scrutinizing instead of answering or returning the greeting, and as always, his gaze tingles along your spine as if he were touching you.

"I see, still not very talkative," you say with a sigh.

Crosshair silently sits down on the exam table and you do the usual tests. A quick blood sample, pulse check, cardiac listening, palpation of lymph nodes.

"Any complaints? Have you been eating well, drinking enough fluids in the last few days?"

When he doesn't answer again, you feel a little annoyance rising in you.

"Listen, Crosshair, if you don't give me answers to my questions, I can classify you as unfit for duty, and you'll be sitting on the waiting bench for quite a while before you're allowed to go on the next mission," you grumble, looking at him challengingly.

His expression changes, his eyes become critical slits.

He growls, "I'm fine."

"Is that so? Well, as a medical officer, that's my call".

His hand jerks forward and grips your wrist like a vice.

"Then you better make the right decision" he growls with a threatening undertone.

Your heart is beating up to your neck, you are nervous, but still you say calmly, "Then answer my questions and I can make the right decision. So, what's it going to be?"

He sighs and lets go of you again.

"Like I said, I'm fine. I'm eating, drinking and recovering well."

You nod slowly.

"Okay, that's better."

Suddenly you see him smirk.

He says, "You're enjoying this, aren't you? The power you have over me here, theoretically."

You blink in surprise, swallowing nervously.

"I don't know what you mean."

The smirk widens, "Oh yes you do, you know very well. But what about the other way around? Is there someone who has some power over you? Someone who makes your knees buckle and shows you what's what?"

You put the stethoscope aside and frown at him. Does he really mean what you think?

"No. Not really. Why do you ask?"

He stands up from the examination table, grabs your shoulders, and pushes you against the same table he was sitting on before.

You are completely surprised and don't quite know how to react at first. Tingles run down your spine again, but this time the tingles move between your thighs as well.

"Maybe you need someone to do just that for you?"

You can't believe it yourself, but you answer him breathlessly, "Maybe."

You hear him laugh softly.

"I knew it."

He had taken off his gear for the examination and is wearing only his blacks. The tight-fitting fabric can't hide as movement announces itself in his crotch and his length begins to swell as you look up at him, mesmerized.

He's standing so close to you, has your back pressed against the top of the exam table, so close together that you can feel his body heat.

"Let's turn the tables," he says softly in his raspy voice, "Sit on the table and be a good patient."

You hesitate, but only for a second or two. You comply with the request, heart pounding, cheeks heated, and a subliminal but steadily increasing tingle between your thighs.

"Do you want me to help you undress?" you hear him ask.

You know what he means, what he wants from you. Actually, you shouldn't do that, you both could get in a lot of trouble, lose your jobs, get demoted or worse. But oddly enough, you don't care, and he doesn't seem to either.

You nod because you're at a loss for words, but that's not enough for him.

"Tell me," he murmurs, and his face comes so close that your lips almost touch, but only almost.

"Undress me!", you press over your lips and the very next second, you feel his hands on you, undoing buttons and buckles and pulling garment after garment off your body.

He smirks and says, "Looks pretty healthy to me. But let's play it safe."

His hands wander over your body, in some places gliding ghostly over your skin, in others reaching out, groping, massaging, testing. You can't believe that you are sitting naked in front of him. Your gaze wanders down to see the definite bulge in his crotch, and he catches you as your eyes wander along the bulge in his blacks, examining.

"We'll deal with that soon enough" he says, lifting your chin with his fingers, so you face him again.

His lips touch yours, warmer and softer than you expected. His hand settles flat on your breastbone and pushes you back.

"Be a good patient and lie down. That's it. Legs apart, place your feet on the edge of the table. Perfect."

Your legs spread, you lie on the table, knees bent, offering him a flawless view of your pubic. One hand grips one of your thighs, the other rests gently on your belly and slowly moves down to the heated triangle between your legs.

As his long fingers curiously caress your damp folds, a soft, excited sigh escapes you.

"Looks very good, but we want to be thorough, don't we?"

His lips touch one of your thighs first, traveling lazily along it, tenderly to the heat of your center. You can feel his breath on your pussy.

"A taste test seems in order," you hear him say.

You know what's coming, and yet the touch of his lips on your pearl drives through your body like a shock. You flinch, but one of his hands presses you firmly to the table, so you don't slip away from him.

You hear him hum, make a noise like he's tasting his favorite dish, as your pearl is between his lips and tongue and begins to play with it. His lips suck on your sensitive pearl as the tip of his tongue applies pressure in circular motions.

You moan and whimper softly, feeling your pussy contract. Crosshair's free hand moves under his chin and to the opening of your slick walls, a finger penetrating between them.

He is far too good with his mouth, so good that your thighs soon tremble with aroused tension and the tingling continues to rise quickly and steadily to a climax. As a second finger slides into your pussy, you bite your hand to stifle the loud moan that wants to escape you.

Your walls tighten around his fingers. Crosshair tickles your clit with his tongue and lips to produce the most intense orgasm you've ever felt up to that point. The climax tingles every nerve ending, pulsing through your center and making waves to cloud your mind. Despite your hand between your teeth, your moan cannot be ignored.

Crosshair works you through the echo of your climax. For a moment, he lets go of you. His fingers slide out of your pussy and his mouth leaves your pearl. But right after, his tongue drives deep into your dripping wet cleft. Your moan almost equals a scream.

"Tastes good," he growls into your folds and licks you out like he's starving.

You shiver and twitch, the over-stimulation intense yet delightful. Crosshair keeps you pressed firmly to the table and drills his tongue between your wet folds again and again. When he finally lets go of you, you're a quivering, panting mess.

You dare a look at his face, see him wipe his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, and the wry smirk on his lips.

"Now we get to the ultimate test".

Crosshair pulls down his Blacks, his hard length plopping out from behind them. Thick, long, veiny and pre-cum leaking.

He looks you right in the face as he guides his tip to your opening, finally penetrating you inch by inch. He fills you completely, stretching your little hole. Crosshair takes a deep, savoring breath.

"I'm going to enjoy this very much," he growls softly, "You have no idea how many times I've thought about doing just that to you."

You are surprised, never would you have expected him to ever desire you in this way, especially because he is always so silent.

As he begins to move inside you, every thought is wiped away. His hands have a grip on your hips, tight and demanding, as he very quickly thrusts into you more and more hungrily, splitting your pussy on his cock.

Crosshair closes his eyes for a moment and listens to your sighs, moans and whimpers. When he opens them again, he licks his lips, can still taste you on them.

"Good girl, such a good patient".

He takes you hard, but not brutally. He is always on the border between deliciously rough and pain, but he never crosses it. Your hand moves down between your thighs, your fingertips find your pearl and begin to rub it hungrily.

"Good," Crosshair gasps, "A patient who cooperates, I like that. Rub that sweet little thing, Kitten, I want to see you cum again".

It's like his voice is carrying you, your arousal peaks again. Your walls literally cling to his cock as your entire abdomen tightens in arousal.

"F-fuck," you hear him between clenched teeth, cursing softly.

While the echo of your orgasm still fades, his thrusts become erratic, his shaft throbbing in your cleft, and you feel him cum inside you.

Breathing heavily, you both pause for a brief moment. When he finally pulls his softening cock out of you, you feel his seed running down your thighs. Crosshair grabs some sterile wipes and carefully wipes away the mess he left on you.

Afterward, as your eyes meet, and he's getting dressed again, he says, "So, you think I'm fit for duty?"

You nod.

"Very."

He smirks, finally puts a toothpick between his lips, and comes closer to the table once again just as you are putting your pants back on.

"We should do intense exams like this more often," he teases, tracing a finger under your chin.

You hold perfectly still for a moment until his finger loses contact with your skin again.

"Maybe we should start a weekly routine checkup. Just in case," you suggest.

Crosshair rolls the toothpick from the right corner of his mouth to the left and finally says, "If it doesn't get in the way of my suitability for duty, I'll be only too happy to be your patient"

With a shy little smile, you say, "I'll handle it."

Crosshair nods, takes his toothpick out of his mouth for a moment, kisses your temple, then puts on his helmet and says as he leaves the med bay, "See you next week then."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

[newtonsheffield]

I feel for Wimbledon Kate. Having to perform mundane tasks while having a dreamy Anthony in the same room. Imagine washing dishes with that kind of distraction!

Oh Kate finds Anthony so distracting. Especially after they move in together. She can’t stop staring at Anthony while she does the most boring, basic stuff like brushes her teeth while Anthony trims his beard.

He always stands in the bathroom in just his tight boxer briefs completely unashamed of the fact he’s practically naked while he trims his beard and slowly moisturises oil into it, softening the rough hair so it feels gentle against her thighs. Kate’s still staring at him, her mouth full of toothpaste and her toothbrush hanging limply from her hand when he moves on to his hair, smoothing his hands through it, the muscles of his arms flexing deliciously.

“Everything okay?” Anthony blinked at her, noticing her staring. “Are you done brushing?”

Kate shook herself, spitting out the toothpaste and running the water under the tap. “Yep. Everything’s fine.”

Anthony kissed her cheek as he made his way around her, his hands ghosting over her hips for a second. “Love you.”

“Yeah I… Love you too.” Kate swallowed, watching him walk away towards the wardrobe they shared now. “Even if you’re so hot you could turn a Nun.”

The thing Kate hadn’t realised when she’d asked Anthony to move in with her was that he’d… be everywhere. Well, she had realised that, she wasn’t an idiot. But he was so… present.

He was there when she brushed her teeth and he slipped into the shower behind her and soothed the muscles in her shoulders and gently massaged shampoo into her hair. He was there when she slipped out the door to the tennis court outside, waving to Mary and Edwina.

“Morning, ladies!”

He was there when she ate breakfast, ducking to take a bite of her yoghurt off her spoon, smiling at her when he pressed their lips together.

“There’s more in the fridge.”

Anthony smiled at her, sipping his smoothie “I just wanted a bite. Your Mum’s here.”

Kate nodded, waving Mary into the kitchen, “Do you have classes this afternoon?”

“I do. David, his dad is very scary and thinks I’m going to turn his son into a champion overnight. David hates tennis and wants to play basketball.”

Kate nodded, kissing him gently as he snatched up his keys, “I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He smiled at Mary, “Mary, lovely to see you.”

“You as well, Anthony.”

Kate watched him leave, watched him throw his kit bag into the Range Rover he’d bought himself when he won Wimbledon. A treat, he’d called it. A treat that sat in his driveway next to her car all the time now. A matching set almost.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Kate nodded, turning back to her breakfast, “Yeah I just… I’m still getting used to Anthony… being around.”

Mary chuckled, “It’s been a while since Appa died, honey, but that’s what boyfriends did in my day. Provided emotional support, shared burdens.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “I’m not regretting us living together, I love him but… he’s too perfect? I got home yesterday and he’d pre-put my myoball in the fridge for me because he knows I like it after a weights session.”

“And this is a problem?” Mary chuckled, “That he loves you and wants to look after you?”

“No he just… he’s very distracting. And I’m trying to live my life.”

The back door slammed shut and Edwina slunk in, “Oh, poor Kate. Her little boyfriend’s a simp. Some of us can’t get a text back!”

Kate looked at their mother who shook her head mouthing “Josie Bagwell hasn’t called her back.”

Kate rolled her eyes, “He’s also too neat. Our pantry is in alphabetical order.”

Edwina blinked at her, “You are running out of sympathy babe. Big time.”

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 10

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"This has been the best Christmas present ever, Val. Seriously."

"You're welcome" I smile.

"Barça won, we watched it from some of the best seats, and Pedri scored! It had been a while, you know?"

"I don't keep up with what they do." 

Which is a lie, because whether I like it or not, this season I am paying attention to what Barça does. 

"Did you see Pedri's celebration? Today it was different."

"How so?" I ask.

"He started doing it this season, and the first time it was towards the stands. Then he started doing it towards the camera, and today again to the stands. We believe it is dedicated to someone."

"We?"

"His fans, of course."

"Of course" I chuckle. 

"Some people say he does it for a friend, but many think it is for a girl, because he sends a kiss and then does a peace sign. But it can also be a V for Victoria or Verónica for example."

Or Valeria, I say to myself.

"Oh my God, Val! I just realized something!" Marina says, squeezing my arm. "He did the celebration looking at where we were! What if we were sitting next to whoever that person is?"

"Could be a possibility, I guess."

"Oh… my God" she says. "And it's my turn to go into the bathroom. Don't leave, ok?"

"I won't, don't worry."

Once she goes in, my phone pings.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Where are you?

Bathroom

I'm done in 5 minutes. Do you know where to go?

Yep

Do you have your passes with you?

Yep

Are you going to use more than one word on your replies? 😂

Maybe 🤷‍♀️

🙄 

Did you like my goal? 🥰

Meh

I'm gonna stop dedicating them to you if you don't appreciate them 🙄

I liked it.  Though I would have liked it a lot more if it hadn't been the winning one

🙄

😚

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Who are you texting?"

"Fuck, Marina! You scared me!" I say, quickly hiding my phone.

"Was it your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Then your no boyfriend. You were smiling like an idiot."

"I wasn't… Whatever. There is somewhere where we need to go. Here" I say, giving him one of the passes.

"What does this mean?" she says, inspecting it.

"That you are a very lucky girl. Let's go."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Oh my God, Val. I can't believe we are in the lounge area! It is so fancy…"

"It is just a room full of people, Marina."

"Yes, but that's Anna Lewandowska over there. And Coral is over there too. We are surrounded by wags!"

"Yeah…" I say, looking around. Could I see myself hanging out with these people?

"How did you manage all this?"

"I told you I know someone" I shrug.

"Is it your no boyfriend? Does he work for Barça?"

"No."

"Val, are you dating Ferran?"

"What?" I laugh.

"I know he follows you on Instagram."

"He doesn't."

"He does. The other day I was checking who had liked that photo of us together that you posted on Christmas, and I saw him. He follows you with his private account."

"I didn't know."

"Oh, c'mon Val. Your account is private too, you know who follows you and who doesn't. And your cheeks are so red right now…" Marina chuckles. "It's fine if he's the one you are shagging, he's hot."

"I'm not…"

"Val, hey!" Ferran says behind us.

"Shit" I whisper. "Hello."

"How are you, did you enjoy the game?"

"You won, so no" I shrug.

"Always so honest… Is this your cousin?"

"Yep."

"Marina, right? Nice to meet you" he says with his best smile before kissing her cheeks.

"Hi" she giggles. "Are you Val's no boyfriend?"

"Marina!"

"If I am what?" Ferran laughs.

"Nothing, ignore her."

"Val got the tickets for today's game and these passes through someone who definitely works for Barça, this isn't available for everyone. You two follow each other on Instagram, and you clearly behave as friends, so…" she shrugs.

"Sadly, it isn't me" he says.

"But I am right about her dating someone who works for Barça, am I not?"

"Maybe" Ferran shrugs.

"Eric! You are dating Eric García! Of course! He is so your type with the beard and the hair… and when he wears his glasses he looks very posh. Totally your type!"

"He isn't my…"

"Oh my God, that's Gavi!" Marina says, grabbing my arm and squeezing it once again. "And that… Val, it's him" she gasps.

"Who?"

"Him, Val. Him! And he's coming this way with Gavi. Ok, ok… Deep breaths. How do I look?"

"Beautiful" Ferran says, making her giggle again.

"Hello, Val. And company" Pedri smiles.

"Hi" both Marina and I say at the same time and using the same silly tone. My teenage self is back, great.

"You are Marina, right?" he asks. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh my God, Val. He knows my name! Did her boyfriend tell you about me?"

"Her boyfriend?" Gavi says, his eyes wide.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Val?" Pedri asks, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't."

"They aren't official yet, but she is seeing Eric García" Marina smiles.

"What?" Gavi says, his eyes now even wider.

"He apparently is her type" Ferran chuckles.

"Is he?" Pedri asks with a teasing smile.

"He isn't. Marina is talking nonsense, don't listen to her."

"Maybe being at the Camp Nou also affects her like happens to you" he says, still smiling. "How is it going, by the way? Feeling itchy?"

"Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit itchy, yes."

"I can help and scratch you where you don't reach" Pedri smirks.

"Marina, why don't we take some photos, uh?" Ferran suddenly says. 

"Oh, yes! Please!" she smiles.

"The light is really good next to those windows. Gavi, why don't you accompany her?"

"Sure…" he says, looking at everyone with a confused look before walking away with Marina.

"You're welcome" Ferran says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What for?" Pedri asks.

"What for? Really?" he replies, rolling his eyes. "You were shamelessly flirting in front of her. I don't know how she didn't notice."

"We weren't flirting" I snort. 

"I'm feeling itchy. I can help you where you don't reach" Ferran says with a funny voice. "You were flirting and giving each other sex eyes."

"What?" Pedri a I say at the same time.

"I get it, you haven't fucked in a while and are horny for each other. But try to tone it down in front of the kids, ok?"

"In front of the kids" I laugh. "As if you were much older."

"Whatever. Let's go take those photos with your cousin, Gavi is already asking for help" Ferran says, walking away.

"You heard him, Val. Tone it down" Pedri smirks.

"Me? You were the one who started it all!"

"But you were the one who started with sex eyes."

"I wasn't."

"You were, Val. But if you are so needy, we can meet tomorrow."

"I am not needy." Well, maybe I am a bit needy. But just a bit.

"Lunch at my place?" 

"Fine" I sigh. "Now let's go meet the others."

"Don't you want to go say hello to your boyfriend? He just walked in" he says, nodding behind him and towards where Eric is.

"Fuck you, Pedro."

"Tomorrow, Val. We are fucking tomorrow" he grins, making me roll my eyes before walking away while he just smiles like an idiot.

[themousefromfantasyland]

Bluebeard

by Bruno de La Salle

If you love fairy tales, you need a French friend. I read this version of Bluebeard when I was a child. It stuck with me, because in this version, there’s a dark, melancholic, and dream-like romance between the protagonist and the titular Bluebeard, here reimagined as a prince cursed into being a giant.

But I could never find this book again.

My good friend @adarkrainbow helped me find it and I will forever be thankful to him.

@ariel-seagull-wings , this is the Bluebeard I talked about. A Bluebeard tale that is also a mix between Beauty and the Beast and Prince Lindworm.

"Curse, curses, Spells, imprecations: Words of blood, words of lead."

There had been a curse and no one knew why, for whom or in what way. But what remained certain was that misfortune was there. There was, in this kingdom where neither king nor laws existed, a poor old man who had just lost his wife. And this poor man had lost, with his wife, his courage, his good humor and the last grain of brain that remained to him.

He had had three beautiful sons, they had been away at war for six years and would not return at the earliest after seven.

He had only his daughters left: four girls to marry, but who were not yet married and who every day asked what there would be to eat, knowing that there would be nothing.

He spent his days looking for what he could bring them back and did not find much.

One day, a winter day without bread, he suddenly saw in front of him a field covered with blue cabbages. Those cabbages that are put in soup and that are tender and crunchy. They seemed so numerous to him that it was like an ocean. But what surprised him most was that he had never seen such a field, in that place, before.

Without trying to find out more, he threw himself at this godsend. He wanted to pull out these cabbages to take them away as quickly as possible.

He could not pull out a single one. These cabbages were as if attached to the earth of this strange field. As if connected by threads. The poor man was overcome by a desperate anger. He began to hit the cabbages, kicking and punching.

He heard a rumbling, and suddenly saw a rock rise up above him and the field, an enormous stone. It was neither field nor stone! It was the head of a giant and the field was his chest on which his blue beard feel like cabbages.

The poor man wanted to run away but the giant had seized him with two of his enormous fingers. He brought him close to his face and asked him gently: What was he doing in that beard? Why had he disturbed him?

The poor man told everything: his misfortune, his misery, his four daughters to marry, feed and clothe.

“Give me one and you will never be hungry again. Otherwise, since you are disturbing me, I will crush you like a fly!”

The man did not hesitate much. Fear, misery, stupidity, the urgency of his decision did not help him to think. He accepted.

When the appointment was made, he quickly returned home, reassured and almost happy to have gotten rid of the danger, and also of his eldest daughter.

Without being heard by the others, he came to tell his daughter that a prince was in love with her, that she had to go see him near his castle as soon as possible, to come to an understanding and to marry him.

The girl did not argue. The opportunity was too good to miss, to leave such a poor father to find a powerful husband. She urged him to leave.

On their way, crossing a river, they came across washerwomen who were washing fine shirts that they were putting in baskets. The oldest of the washerwomen spoke to the girl:

“Help me carry this linen!”

The other did not look at her. She was not going to compromise such an attractive marriage to help such poor people!

When they arrived at the field, they found a drawbridge, in front of the bridge, a purse full of money and behind it, a large door that opened a crack.

The poor man pushed his daughter inside despite the terror she had, he pushed it and the door closed.

He waited but he did not hear a noise. That seemed enough to him to think that everything was fine. He took the purse and then returned home, very pleased with his good deal.

So his elder daughter disappeared and no one knew how, except him and the giant. He did not try to find out what had become of her. He worried about it the day he found his purse empty.

So he returned to the field. His blue beard waved under the winter sky. Very, very respectfully, he pulled on one of the curls that was shaped like a cabbage.

And, like the first time, the blue giant straightened up. The old man was terrified. He hesitated to ask for news of his elder daughter but what he wanted most was to ask for money.

He did not need to do so. It was the giant who asked:

“Give me your second daughter if you want to earn money and if you want to save your life!”

The old man asked for nothing else. He did not ask any questions. He did what he had done again.

And like her elder sister, the second was too happy to believe she had escaped misfortune.

She left with her father, did not listen to the washerwoman, ducked behind the door and was the father able to take the salary from this affair.

Ill-gotten money evaporates without one knowing how to do without it.

A third time, the father headed for the blue field. And as the previous times, things went well.

It was the last one's turn. The youngest, the innocent one, the one who wanted to stay home to watch over her father who was left alone since the others had left.

Everything had to be explained to her: the story of the older sisters and the giant, the choice he had left her: a daughter or to be killed.

She agreed to give herself up, but took a raven and a dove on her shoulder to send news: white and joyful news, black and dangerous news.

They met the washerwomen on the way.

The oldest asked her to help her carry the laundry. She came to help her immediately.

Then the old woman gave her three small colored handkerchiefs, the first white, the second red, the other blue:

-Take them for your wedding day, they are a shirt, a dress and a coat. And you will not take them off until your husband also takes off similar clothes.

The washerwoman returned to her shirts at the washhouse and the girl to her way.

They came to the gate. The father took his money. And the girl and her two birds went into the castle.

She enters the castle, the brave young girl and she is all amazed.

It is a magnificent palace, all lit up, all illuminated and so well made, so well arranged that it is as if she had always lived in this palace.

She crosses the lounges, the rooms, the apartments. She sees there, she recognizes there what she had guessed to see there, except that everything is blue.

The young girl arrives at the dining room, where the meal is prepared with everything she prefers.

The giant is there, suddenly, and invites her. They then sit down at the table. It is like her father told her during their journey: his skin, his beard, his hair are blue, pale blue like anger, like winter cabbages.

And yet, he seems less big, less big than a large stone and a field. But a terrible sadness can be read on his face, a heavy blue sadness.

When they have finished eating, he takes her to his room then withdraws without saying anything.

The next day, at dawn, he stands ready to lead her, to show her what he has.

He says:

“Everything belongs to you. Take whatever you want.”

But she looks and is silent, admires but does not dare say anything and it is he who must guess what she would like to ask.

The days pass thus, discovering themselves to each other, being silent and listening to each other, revealing themselves without saying anything.

She was no longer afraid of him, nor of his astonishing appearance. But as for him, the more time went by, the more he seemed worried. It was as if he had feared that a noise or a movement might shatter a hope she was unaware of.

She had asked him for news of her three sisters.

He had not invented any, he had said: They died because of their imprudence!

He had said nothing more.

In the evening, when they separated, all the lamps went out. And he had forbidden her to light a single candle before dawn the next day.

He joined her in the night and left her before daybreak. And if she had not known who he was and what he had probably done, she would have loved him very much.

Almost a year had passed. One morning, he came to find her, more serious and sadder than ever:

“I am going to go on a journey and you are going to be left alone. I leave you all my keys, the hundred keys to the house. Everything in it is for you. Go wherever you wish. Except to the lower room where I keep what belongs to me. I beg you not to go there, otherwise I am not responsible for anything.”

He tells her all this in a whisper and he leaves and she finds herself alone.

She does not hesitate for long. She knows that she must discover what this house hides.

She runs to the lower room and with the small key opens the unfortunate door.

A suffocating stench immediately takes hold of her by the throat.

She advances inside. She perceives, in the silence, the dull noise, the slow and brief noise of heavy drops that crash.

There is, in this darkness, a glowing light that escapes from a smoking fire. And this threatening glow reveals the brownish shadows that are suspended from the ceiling.

After a moment, she understands the giant's horrible secret: these shadows, these noises, this smell, are the blood, the flesh, the limbs and the remains of the wives who preceded her in this place and those of her elder sisters who were murdered and cut up.

She guesses almost everything that had happened: they had come here driven by curiosity. They had been betrayed by a secret, a magic. The giant thus warned had killed them immediately.

They had dropped this key which was magic. And this key had spoken to warn the murderer.

The young girl this time does not drop the key.

Among all the butchery, she recognizes her three sisters, their heads, their trunks, their limbs.

With tenderness, she gathers the pieces. And their bodies are reconstituted. And as if by magic breathe, but nevertheless remain asleep.

While she is at her work,She suddenly notices another door in the room. A very small door.

Curiosity takes hold of her. She wants to know what is behind this little door. She opens it and discovers a staircase. She goes down.

She arrives in a cave. A gigantic cavern, as big as the whole world, with a vault as vast as a starry night sky.

And under this sky unfolds a marvelous landscape, made of hills, rivers, mountains, fields and rocks.

But when the moon appears and illuminates the cavern, she understands what she sees: it was not a landscape, but the sleeping body of a man.

And under the moonlight, she recognizes the giant who sleeps almost peacefully.

In the middle of his chest, as vast as a valley, flows a white river.

And on the edges, washerwomen wash soiled linen, shirts stained with blood.

And each time a shirt is cleaned, the giant sighs and sobs.

And his complaints are so touching that the young girl forgets to hold the key, and lets it go.

As soon as it is no longer held, as soon as it is abandoned, the key swells, twists and screams, it screams and it warns:

“This woman has disobeyed! This woman has disobeyed!”

Then the washerwomen flee, the river stops flowing and the valley, on the giant's chest becomes a gaping wound again.

Then the giant wakes up, resumes his tormented form. His beard and his skin become pale blue like anger, like cabbages in winter.

He addresses the young girl:

“You did not know how to keep the key. This cursed fairy key that watches over me to keep me cursed. Because of you, I become again the one who only does evil, the one who separates and who kills, the one who cannot stop himself from killing so great is his fear and who will kill you too.”

He immediately seizes his ax and begins to sharpen it, while grinding between his teeth which excite his grindstone:

“Guise, guise, my grindstone! Guise my beautiful gray blade! Crips, criss for the betrothed! Guise, guise, I caught her disobeying me! Guise my beautiful gray blade! I'm going to cut her throat!”

She says to him:

“Listen to me! Since you are going to kill me, grant me a favor! I would like to become your wife before I die. I would like you to marry me before you kill me. And I want, for that moment, my bridal finery. Let me go and get dressed.”

The giant does not answer her, but while sharpening his ax, he signals her to go.

She runs out of the cave. Quickly climbs the stairs. Finds her sisters awake. Quickly tells them what to do:

Climb to the top of the tower. Open the raven's cage, so that it can fly away and warn their brothers who have returned from war. Watch, watch and watch, then warn when they arrive.

The three sisters climb the tower and make the raven fly away. The young girl is in her room. She unfolds the three handkerchiefs that the washerwoman had given her.

Then she undresses and takes the first white handkerchief. She puts it on her chest. It makes a shirt for her.

But down below the monster is busy:

“Guise, guise, my millstone! Guise my beautiful gray blade! Squeal, squeal for the betrothed! Guise, guise, I caught her disobeying me! Guise my beautiful gray blade! I'm going to cut her throat!”

And suddenly he gets impatient: “Is your finery on?”

And the young girl answers: “I can't find my chemise.”

Then she addresses her sisters:

“Don't you see anything coming?

And the three sisters answer her:

“We only see the paleness of the dawn that is about to arrive and nothing, and nothing on the way.”

But she, she looks for the handkerchief, the second little red handkerchief. She unfolds it on her body and it makes her a robe. And the giant shouts again:

“Guise, guise, my millstone! Guise my beautiful gray blade! Squeal, squeal for the betrothed! Guise, guise, I caught her disobeying me! Guise my beautiful gray blade! I'm going to cut her throat!”

And shouts even louder: “Is this chemise on?”

She answers: “It is on, but now I'm looking for my robe!”

Then she addresses her sisters:

“Don't you see anything coming?”

And the three sisters answered him:

“We see the sun coming, lighting up the horizon, but nothing, nothing on the path.”

She took the last handkerchief, the blue handkerchief, and placed it on her shoulders, and it made her a coat. A blue coat like the giant's beard.

The monster howled like a madman:

“Guise, guise, my millstone! Guise my beautiful gray blade! Squeal, squeal for the betrothed! Guise, guise, I caught her disobeying me! Guise my beautiful gray blade! I'm going to cut her throat! Is this dress finally on?”

“It's on properly. I can't find the coat!”

Then she addressed her sisters: “Don't you see anything coming?”

And the three sisters answered her:

“We only see the morning and the sad day that is coming. And then also three horsemen in the distance!”

But it is probably too late, because here is the giant coming up to look for her.

So she must resolve to go down to find him.

And he, when he sees her coming, dressed in her three handkerchiefs, he remains completely bewildered, so perfect is this finery.

He orders:

“Take off this coat!”

And she, without knowing why, answers:

“Take off a coat like this!!”

These words make him angry, even more than he was there, but he cannot refuse her what she has just asked.

With both hands, he takes his blue beard, pale blue like anger, like winter cabbages. He tears it off his face.

And all his giant skin, which was blue like his beard, he tears off his whole body. Then, she takes off his coat.

But under this skin of anger, which the giant had just lost, appears a red crust like the dried earth.

He asks:

“Take off your dress!”

She answers:

“Take off a dress like this!”

He tears off the two lips of his wound from his chest. And all the crust of earth that had covered him until then cracks and crumbles into dust. Then, she takes off her dress.

But under the layer of earth, which the giant had just lost, appears a skin of stone, like a white and pointed rock, a yoke of sharp stones.

He asks her in a breath:

“Take off your shirt now.”

She answers:

“Take off a shirt like this!”

The giant begins to tremble, to tremble from head to toe. Trembling so much that he makes the castle tremble. And suddenly, the rock breaks, the stones split, finally break.

Then the man emerges from his shell, old and young at the same time, full of strength, but exhausted, like a newborn in the hands of the one who gives birth to him. And she took off her shirt.

The three brothers had arrived. They had blown up the door and were running to the cavern. The three sisters accompanied them.

They arrived too late. The young girl had defeated the curse. She had freed the prince.

There was only a queen and a king left, happy to be free.

There were only sweet, tender and affectionate words.

Nothing more of the sinister past.

Nothing more of what had been feared, nothing more of what had been believed.

"Curse, curses, Spells, imprecations: Words of blood, words of lead."

It was all gone, like a dream.

Again, thanks for helping me find this gem again

@ariel-seagull-wings @the-blue-fairie @thealmightyemprex @tamisdava2 @princesssarisa @adarkrainbow @piterelizabethdevries @natache @theancientvaleofsoulmaking