#fifty sentences fic

[spicywhumper]

@femslash-february bingo 2024 (dark edition): enemies to lovers 

series: untitles // rating: mature

trigger/content warnigs: blood, temporary captiviy, mental health issues, mentioned blood & violence, arranged marriage, implied child abuse. whatever the fuck you call "forcing your daughter to pose as your son so you don't lose the throne".

01 –  Destiny

There’s fate, there’s destiny, and there are people meant to hate each other; people who meet across the battlefield but can’t bring themselves to draw the other’s blood.

02 – Royal

In a world built by men, first-born daughters don’t have the same rights of the firstborn son; sometimes she forgets her name’s the one carved in a tombstone, and that the reason she suffocates all the time is because if she’s not Krystian, than she’s nobody – and being nobody us dangerous when you do have a womb.

03 – Forest

The witch was collecting herbs in a cold winter morning when she found the bundle, impossibly, impossibly small, and a baby that somehow survived the night  that kills even the strongest men.

04 – Protection

It’s annoying, how he father will forget she’s a princess for everything but his insistence that she needs protection, a knight to be around her all the time; her, Prince Krystian, the best soldier that came out of the Royal training in years.

05 – Silver

Prince Krystian shouldn’t be here, it’s what her commander says, he’s the Crown Prince and he’s the second most important person of his kingdom. And he’s her prey as soon as the commander orders.

06 – Dark

Krystian is mildly surprised that the barbaric enemies of her kingdom allow women in their ranks, but judging by her tall and broad the one attacking her is, it’s probably because she can easily go toe-to-toe with the order tall and larger savage; she’s, luckily, the average size of her people’s male soldier, still easily defeated by the behemoth.

07 – Eyes

Krystian pretends she’s not mesmerized by silver eyes, moonlight eyes, definitely not human eyes.

08 – Compression

Her routine is to spend her day with her chest bind with tightly wrapping, hide in her quarters or private tent and take it off so she can breath; in the forth day of captivity, she’s lightheaded all the time and probably with some damaged ribs.

09 – Purple

Savina’s more worried by the purple and black on the Prince’s soldiers  chest than with how that’s definitely not your regular male chest.

10 – Silence

“Will you say anything,” she asks, exhausted, her chest and back hurting even if now she’s free from the bindings for the night. The savage in front of her, the one who gave her a shirt of hers that is large enough to hid most of the bulge just gives her  water and a bow of broth.

11 – Secret

She frowns at the way the savage lies without even looking like she’s lying, telling her commander that the only reason she gave the prince one of her shirts is because he’s injured (Krystian pretend she doesn’t want to hug her as a thank you).

12 – Sharp

It’s a full moon, she notices how the savage is restless, how fast she eats and how she looks jumpy, weird; the commander enters their tent, she bares her teeth at him, sharp fangs – mo than one set of canines, eyes shining brighter than ever; all he does is roll his eyes and tell her “please do not eat the prince”.

13 – Blood

“Why,” she asks one night, “because my father needed an heir”; because they’d make him sell me as soon as I bled, because it’s being his son or being a breeding stock.

14 – Water

The savage, Krystian won’t go a low as call her “Savina” or whatever. Guard the body of water as Krystian takes her bath; because I won’t let any of you see royal goods, she tells the men and women of her brigade, half of the men grunt, the men made disgusted noises.

15 – Cold

Savina watches the prince – the princess? – shiver, teeth clattering, and covers her with her own warmed blanket;.

16 – Touch

Krystian doesn’t know how it escaped from borrowing a blanket to standing close to curling up on Savina’s arms, but she’s not complaining when she has a warm touch to stop her from freezing to death.

17 – Joke

The savages joke about how Savina must be riding the princes dick for him to get this attached to her, Krystian is disgusted by the blatant show of “a woman needs to be fucking a guy  to be his friend”; Savina rolls her eyes and tasks him if that’s how he got into the position of member of this brigade

18 – Armor

Krystian’s shoulders are broad, well-sculpted, and she has been wearing a rather heavy armor since she was eleven – since her body started to reshape itself in a form too feminine for a prince; she’s so used to layers of thick leather and metal that it’s weird to feel safe without them.

19 – Predator

Savina’s a predator by nature, Krystian has been sure of that since she saw her coming towards he in the battlefield; she’s not ready to watch a wolf take place of her and bring a large buck to fed the brigade.

20 – Share

Krystian shares how the pressure of being the heir makes her feel small (how she’s desperate because how the fuck she’ll get her own heirs?); Savina shares sweet nothing, comforting words and keeps her own burden a secret – Krystian doesn’t like the feeling that it’s because it’ll hurt her.

21 – Sweet

Turns out that the enemy that was supposed to kill the Crown Prince brings her little candies, the woman turns into a giant wolf and is still the sweetest person she has ever met.

22 – Venom

In hindsight, Krystian finds it almost ironic that turns out Savina is the one holding her when the venom wrecks havoc on her body and changes her so deeply that she feels like a dead woman walking.

23 – Pink

Savina’s lips are pink, and soft, and warm, and everything Krystian shouldn’t be addicted to.

24 – Moon

Under the moon, all Krystian can think of is how she managed to get capture and fall in love with one of them; the answer, she think, is that it’s because they’re just in opposite sides, the devil is decided by who wins.

25 – Hold

Savina doesn’t think she can get used to the way Krystian curls up and relaxes on her hold, the so feared prince is just someone that hasn’t been held since she was a baby.

26 – Sword

The tip’s painted red, coming out of her chest, the wielder is dead before Savina’s knees touch the ground.

27 – Lonely

There’s something lonely about being a Prince, there’s something lonely about being a wolf without a pack – finding each other seems to fix it; (then there’s something lonely about not being allowed to die).

28 – Marriage

The issue with this marriage, Krystian thinks, isn’t that her wife is a bad person, not even that she still doesn’t know how to tell her “you see,  Myrian… I’m not a male and I do not have the needed parts to get you pregnant”; is that apparently Krystian’s not the only one easily charmed by Savina.

29 – Flesh

Warm and tender, under her fingers and under her mouth, Savina decides to not think about how delicate it is; she pretends she doesn’t know how sweet human flesh tastes (but she thinks Krystian knows what she has done before, and somehow still trusts her with her very human, very breakable body.)

30 – Mark

Krystian offers to watch over Savina during baths, as a thank you, the soldiers frown but don’t mind it when Savina says “I trust the prince”, she takes a sneak peak; Savina’s all muscles and smooth skin, and marks down her back that Krystian doesn’t want to think about what it means.

31 – Noise

The forest sounds are soothing, calm, Krystian misses them when she comes back to the castle – she learns in a few days that the noises of her home are too much for Savina, the other guards side-eye them when she lets the woman sleep on her quarters; she doesn’t think they need ot deal with a distressed werewolf.

32 – Glint

Many things glint: her eyes, her sharp canines, her chin when she lifts her head from her apparent favorite spot between Krystian’s thighs.

33 – Tears

When her father dies, she wonders why half of her tears feel fake; when Savina and Myrian hold her at night, she wonders why the tears felt more like relief than grief.

34 – Bird

“A little bird told me you’ve been eying my bodyguard,” Myrian just stares at her and smirks; a little bird also told her that better a bodyguard that can’t give the Royal Family bastard heirs than any other member of the Kingsmen.

35 – Father

Krystian’s supposed to Father a dozen children, the court says, since ‘he’s’ the only heir of the royal family, she wants to ask them if they can make her fingers suddenly able to impregnate women (Savina laughs at her face, pulls her closer and pats her head like she’s trying to mollify a dog – it works).

36 – Smile

They have different smiles: Savina’s a predators barely in disguise and Myrian a wolf in sheep’s skin; Krystian loves both equally, and also fears them because she’s not stupid.

37 – Devil

The man cries “devil!” when Savina’s teeth sink into his throat, she doesn’t care, not when he was trying to break into Myrian’s room, expecting Savina to have followed Krystian in a trip; Myrian laughs maniacally until she’s sobbing when it hits her.

38 – Night

Krystian lies that she has “tried to secure an heir” after every night of “genuine attempts at keeping my bloodline alive”; it’s pretty funny that they don’t find the silence suspicious.

39 – Seasons

Days pass, weeks and years, seasons change and Krystian keeps doing her best to visit both of the graves; she finds them again, again and again, different faces and different names; but she always comes back to where there’s nothing but bones turned to dust and smooth gravestones.

40 – Grab

The baby boy grabs her finger, he doesn’t seem scared that a stranger with blood-red eyes visits him at night; she wonders if that’s the good ending, that this version of Myrian is happier than the ones that came before.

41 – Summon

“I can’t fix your curse,” the demon’s blacker than black, “I can’t save you from your love.”

42 – Miss

When Krystian’s away from home, before she does befriend Savina, she misses something she never had; in hindsight, she thinks maybe her soul had been tethered to Savina’s since they were forged deep in the pit of the underworld.

43 – Spite

For the first few years, she survived out of spite – for her father, for the usurper, for the bloodsucker that bit her, and for how something greater than her cursed her like that.

44 – Spirit

“What do you see? When you look in the mirror,” the spirit, the hallucination asks, the mockery of a mx between Savina and Myrian, nothing, vampire’s don’t have reflections.

45 – Talk

The first time she takes time to talk to Myrian, she think it’s when she’s doomed to love her for the rest of her life (unaware of how long that is).

46 – Past

Savina doesn’t tell her about her past, but whispers to Myrian and she pretends she didn’t listen (and she pretends it doesn’t hurt that Savina trusts Myrian more than her.)

47 – Fever

Maybe she should have known she loved Savina right then, after the weeks of torture as the wolf fought to survive the poison, when she only could breath again when the fever broke.

48 – Double

There’s much more than double the pain when you loose two soulmates.

49 – Plan

When she meets Harlow, she doesn’t see the spark, the silver or the golden, she only sees normal human eyes; so her plan is to settle down with this human that doesn’t host the souls of people she has loved for centuries.

50 – Fairytale

It’s almost a fairytale, her story – meeting one in a battlefield, meeting the other under the duty of a Crown Prince, and never being free of them.

[peadoesnothing]

good fics are good fics are good to me bc they dont repeat terminology over and over again, do people get what i mean?? i get so worn out of getting recaps on things i already know, from lore that’s already mindnumbingly extensive. please it sucks the whimsy out of the thing im reading!! i am sick of hearing octoling dome with an octarian army at the hands of the octolings with an octarian army who are octolings or smth

[musicallisto]

· · · · ♡ IF (SAINZ WIN == TRUE) (cs55)

… starring carlos sainz x f!engineer!reader ... 4.4k words ... in which carlos is an effusive, self-assured lad to every member of his team... except ferrari's head software engineer, making her wonder if he secretly hates her guts. ... based on this request ... warnings for language (minor) ... my first ever (posted) fic for carlos aaaaa (i have written A Lot More about this man because he occupies my every waking hour, but i shan't share it yet). in honor of me missing my communication networks final last week i made the reader a software engineer, but you would Never catch me willingly coding anything in c++ outside of my mandated assignments. no not even for carlos sainz jr. i have morals. this is open for part 2 if you guys enjoy it <3

He speaks the language of princes.

It's not in anything he says, no, he's much too industrious to waste time boasting, but rather in all that he doesn't. Carlos walks into the Ferrari motorhome, with that good-natured smile and that slightly disheveled hair from the morning's cycling session, and heads bow. Not out of plight, or even obligation, but mostly because it's hard not to. His warm greetings to everyone—Ciao's and even Come stai?'s to his team members strolling down the hallways before the weekend—, his keen interest in remembering little things about engineers' and photographers' lives, his nonchalant stride around the parc fermé all force camaraderie at least; reverence to most.

Wherever the red car goes, Maranello or any other corner of the world, religion follows, and though Carlos Sainz has never quite fit into the nooks they keep for their idols—their walls are carved for Monégasque shoulders—, he's at least always carried the air of a rebel leader on unforgving land.

But if Carlos is Ferrari's bastard prince, then clearly you are a subject he would not go to war for.

Or so he makes you think, once again, on that hot Singaporean afternoon.

You hadn't meant to interrupt, really, but with only one hour to go before FP1, you needed to talk to Riccardo Adami; something about the software updates, optimization of the data acquisition systems to account for Marina Bay's sweltering heat—run for half a second too long, overheat half a degree too much, and everyone's calculations would be going to hell. So of course you'd corrected it, supervised a brand new version of your code for the weekend, for that tenth of a Celsius; competition drove you. Almost just as much as those solar eyes boring into you when you walk into the room.

"Riccardo, about the softw—oh. Carlos. Hi," you timidly trail off when Carlos' eyes meet yours.

The room gets quiet, and it is only then that you notice how much space his laugh takes. Usually, you would've recognized the accent from outside the door, the boisterous voice regaling the Fifty-fives with another funny story—how could you not, when it sends shockwaves down your stomach? He seems to have been in an animated conversation with his race engineer, but as you get closer to the two men you notice the crinkles lengthening Carlos' eyes are fading with his smile. You aren't sure he's even said hi back.

"We've changed the code for acquisition, but some loops could still cause problems with overheating, particularly the engine oil temperature sensors…" you explain, though half your attention is directed to your peripheral vision, in which Carlos sways on his two feet, averting your gaze at all costs.

But you're not a college girl with a crush, you're Scuderia Ferrari's head software engineer and so you go on with your precisions to Riccardo. What to expect during free practice, how to overshoot any nonessential sensors that might fuck up the data analysis... until, mid-sentence, Carlos excuses himself awkwardly, pats Ricky on the shoulder, and walks out of the room.

You will your face into not betraying the sudden ache in your throat. How he simply acted like you weren't there... didn't even inquire about the updates. About the race. About your flight, about how much you loved Singapore's twinkling lights, about... you.

"Xavi and Charles know this already, but we really gotta test it all now before it gets cooler for FP2," you conclude with a too-hard swallow. Back firmly turned to the door Carlos just disappeared out of.

Riccardo thanks you, offers his own insight, some banalities about the risks of rain—no, you shouldn't consider them banalities. Nothing, on a Friday, is a banality anymore; yet everything is when you remember how Carlos' entire face shuts close when you're around, how his tone quietens down, how he repeatedly and stubbornly conceals all his rays of brazenness from you.

Does he hate you? Despise you? Are you not worth his effrontery?

This is ridiculous. You're not a college girl with a crush, you're a damn senior member of the team with responsibilities and he doesn't owe you anything more or less than you him—

"Riccardo," you neither ask nor plead. "Has Carlos... said anything about me?"

"About you? Like what?"

"I don't know... but you did see he just... left while I was in the middle of talking, right? And he looked annoyed as soon as I came in." And for all that's holy, try to pass this off as mere politeness and not a heartache that is eating you alive.

"Maybe he was just bored."

"So I'm boring?"

"No," Riccardo wheezes, in uncharacteristically high spirits for the conversation. "But I've worked with a ton of drivers, and you know, they're all the same. Less time discussing boring analytics is more time they spend in the sim. Or on track. What, you think he's angry at you or something?"

"I just... don't get why he's always so guarded and distant with me but so outgoing and confident with you guys. Charles isn't like that either. It makes no sense. We're a team, all of us."

The Italian looks at you for long seconds, amusement noticeable on his features, and you would shake him up and tell him to stop giving you those pity eyes if you lacked the tiniest bit of respect for the man; instead, you frown and cross your arms.

"He'll be in a good mood tonight when we top free practice," Riccardo assures you before you can ask him if he needs anything else. "and even better tomorrow after getting pole. You can talk to him then if you want."

A smile creeps its way on your lips without you conjuring it. There it is, that loyal veneration that only men and women of the Scuderia possess. Something in those southern eyes Carlos shares with legend has made you religious, too.

"I'll hold you to that... we could all use a Singapore miracle."

Singapore is a miracle.

Surely any other team would scoff at the word, bragging that a pole position has nothing to do with miracles, that it's all meticulous teamwork and endless iterations on calculators, but Ferrari is deeply supersitious at its core. You—the centenarian team, its red-hot beating heart—don't shy away from thanking divine intervention. Maybe that's the reason why it still works.

After Carlos' last pole in Monza, the whole Scuderia had dared to dream of something different, a glimmer of scarlet in the season's overwhelming orange. Of course, an uncatchable Max had put a dampen on the fervent Tifosi's mood, but the formidable hope machine had revved back to life...

and now it's roaring in Marina Bay.

Leclerc's side of the garage claps for a hard-earned P3, but it's the Spaniard's team that erupts into cheers and rushes out into the pitlane to congratulate their hero. You stare at his lap time on your monitor with a grin—1:30.984, not even a tenth faster than his teammate—as cheerful screams, in Italian and Spanish, fill the garage; they get louder when Carlos walks back inside, grinning ear to ear and not even bothering to dodge the strong-arm pats on his head and back.

"Twice in a row, cazzo!"

"And this time you won't have Verstappen underfoot!"

"Perfect lap, Carlos, that was a perfect lap..."

"Grazie a tutti," Carlos beams, fire suit down to his waist, running clammy hands through his hair—he parts the red sea as he walks deeper into the garage, close to where you are. "I think we all did a very good job today, and now we gotta finish the job tomorrow..."

He laughs with the mechanics, a sun of fire and victory casting its rays onto the tarmac, and maybe it's the euphoria of the moment, but a sudden wind of courage rushes through your blood, and you walk up to him.

"Bravo, Carlos."

Your voice hits him like the purr of an engine in the ruckus, overshadowing any other sound; he whips his head in your direction, shiny eyes colliding with yours, and for the first time you don't back off but hold them in awe, and his smile doesn't fade, but rather shifts. To surprise, or... coyness?

"You were incredible out there, we're all so so proud of you," you praise, and the more you look at him the wider your smile grows, and the quieter the rest of the world gets.

"Thank you, Y/N," he rubs the back of his neck, his free hand fiddling with the hanging sleeves of his fire suit. "We... I couldn't have done this without you. Because, you know, the overheating, or what you were saying to Ricky before? I didn't understand everything, but at least I didn't cook to death."

Coyness? In Carlos Sainz? When he's still sweaty and panting from qualifying first? What a bizarre sight, one that makes you giggle.

The way your nose scrunches up beneath sparkling eyes is so endearing, Carlos almost feels his breath hitch in his throat, almost reaches out to lightly brush your arm, hold the steady coolness of it.

"Great, that was what we were going for, pretty much," you reply, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to touch your arm and changed his mind, but...

you bury the idea before a craving for his warmth can nestle in your chest.

"Great," he repeats. "So, I'll... see you later," and with that he leaves you there, stranded in the middle of the garage, to be lauded by the press and fans.

You'd be lying if you said his shadow disappearing out the backdoor as quickly as it had come doesn't slice a gash in your heart—always whisked away to some important obligation, and you, like everyone else, duty-bound to pick up the pieces behind him. But this time around the cut doesn't run as deep, doesn't bleed as red; because for the first time in months Carlos talked to you, joked with you, and looked the tiniest bit glad to be doing so.

If that's how good of a mood a pole puts him in... then clearly you'd better make damn sure he wins this race.

Ferrari is deeply superstitious at its core. Maybe that much is true in any sport—when victory eludes you, athletes find obscure laws to trick themselves into believing they still retain control—, but a team so old, on which glory has rained so often, does not withstand the passage of time without a few pillars of faith. And so it makes sense that Ferrari drivers, of all people, would have their pre-race traditions.

Leclerc plays the piano on Saturday nights; you hear him every time you pass by the team hotel's lounge, his melancholy tracks grounding you in a precise time and place. Now the car is out of bounds, the comfort of your object-oriented programming and optimized lines of code off-limits; now's the time for withdrawal and rest.

Typically, you like to hang out in the lounge while Charles plays, trying to distract yourself with a book or simply basking in the music. The predictable, calculated flow of Charles' arpeggios soothes you, like lines of code running one after the other. So does the Monégasque driver's easy conversation. Although it doesn't shoot butterflies in your belly like Carlos' does... but you're not supposed to play favorites.

This Grand Prix eve is just like any other, save for the unordinary trepidation that carpets the hotel. With one of their own sitting on pole, it's obvious strategists struggle more than usual to drop the words "tire management" and "pit stops". Eager to escape the nervousness, you excuse yourself from the dinner table, and make your way to the lounge.

Charles is already there, if the usual pieces echoing in the distance at dessert are any indication, and you barely even get lost in the elegant halls before you find the lounge... though there is no piano to be heard. Maybe this hotel has two music rooms—maybe Charles went to bed early—or maybe...

maybe he's sitting on the piano stool and chatting with Carlos, wet and sleepy from his evening shower.

Neither driver notices you at first, and you stop dead in your tracks, wondering if you should just leave. You wouldn't want to intrude—intrude on what, the rational part of your brain says, but with Carlos I always feel like I'm intruding on something bigger than myself, the rest of your body answers—, but you really enjoy this unspoken tradition with Charles... and, well, this is everybody's lounge, and...

"Y/N," Charles sees you eventually and beckons you over. "Sorry, I don't think there'll be a lot of music tonight, Carlos is distracting me."

"You could kick me out anytime," Carlos remarks good-naturedly, but you don't miss how he angles his body away from you ever so slightly. The sight sends a dagger through your heart. So he actually hates you then. So you didn't breach any barrier earlier at the circuit, didn't melt any ice. So he didn't look pleased and a little excited to be talking to you.

"That's okay, I'll just head to bed then—"

"Oh no no no," Charles interrupts, "come sit with us. I was trying to convince Carlos to give the piano a go, maybe you'll be more successful than me."

"Absolutely not, mate."

"Come on Carlos, it will relax you!"

"No, you're the musician, not me. One of us has to be the sportsman, no?"

Unsure, you flick between the two men, Charles' inviting face and Carlos, who's still doing everything he can to avoid looking at you in the eye. And then you decide—fuck it. You're just as much a member of the team as he is. He cannot drive you away with his... stupid cold shoulder tactics any longer.

You take a seat on the sofa opposite Carlos, and watch in half delight, half annoyance as he turns his shoulders away from you. Though his body language appears relaxed, one leg strewn across his knee and elbows hugging the backrest, he is, as usual, going to hell and beyond to not acknowledge your presence.

Charles has the merit of lightening the mood with his jokes and fan encounters of the day: some bizarre, some endearing, because he seemingly never has a boring day in the paddock. His easy laughter mixes with the distant voices down the halls when your attention drops—too fast, too soon, as always, it's irremediable—to Carlos, the soothing scent of his shampoo and the little droplets that run down his temple whenever he shakes his head in amusement... before you know it, you're staring again, eyes shining with undisclosed heartache. Something Charles sees, and recognizes very well, with a jot of curiosity.

Charles may not be the most perceptive when it comes to these things, but he is in love too, and he'd know the signs anywhere. That's why after a little while he lets silence blow his last words away like wind does the mist, and stands up from the piano stool.

"Well, I'm going to bed," he announces with an air of conniving finality, and he smiles his crooked smile at Carlos. "Gonna need all my energy to take the lead in turn 1."

This snaps you out of your reverie. Half-gone, you bid him goodnight at the same time as the Spaniard does, and you brace yourself for his own excuse... but it doesn't come. Carlos lazily watches as Charles leaves the lounge. You don't dare to move, as if your slightest sound could remind him you're there and trigger his fight.

You would've thought a tête-à-tête with you to be Carlos' worst nightmare... but he makes no sign of leaving. And sends solar flares up your chest and throat. "Whatever problem he's got with me, he'll have it sort it out with me like an adult" sounds much more intimidating when it's so plausible.

"You think he has the slightest chance of overtaking me in turn 1?" Carlos chuckles.

You look him straight in the eye and read no resentment, not even that sheepishness from before—just relaxed delight, and the slightest hint of reddened cheeks against tan, damp skin. It takes you a second, maybe even two, to realize there's no one else in the room. He's talking to you. Joking with you.

Why is the script running without error all of a sudden, even though you changed no variables?

"Maybe," you give a noncommittal shrug and a smile. "Why not? It all depends on you."

"He can lead the first lap if he wants. That will just make it more fun to cross the finish line ahead of him after."

"You better win this one, Sainz, because I..." you start, and midway through your sentence are hit by how absolutely ridiculous you're about to sound, but he's leaned in already, intrigued by your words, and his burning gaze and strong hands fiddling in his lap have you losing all notions of propriety. "I've... coded a little something for you. If you win. A surprise. It's not much, but... yeah."

Your whole face burns deep scarlet as you trail off... and the light in Carlos' eyes darkens, then goes out completely. His smile fades back to the usual professional grimace he reserves for you. Distant. Cold. He rises to his feet.

"I should get some sleep."

Terror strikes you. Incomprehension too.

"No, Carlos, wait."

He turns his head to your outstretched hand... your pleading eyes almost rip through his heart.

"Why do you dislike me so much?"

And then his shoulders slump, like crushed by an immense weariness, and he sighs, long and hard, before his gaze falls back to yours. Those big brown eyes, gentle, compassionate, and those fingers tapping against his thigh like they're waiting for an invisible cue to reach out for yours.

"... Can we talk about this after the race?" he says, shooting daggers through your stomach.

So he didn't deny it. Didn't reassure you, tell you it's all a misunderstanding, that he bears no ill will towards you, that you're imagining things as usual and that you two could be on the best of terms if you just got out of your head a little bit.

One more time, he's running away. Sweeping everything under the rug, for just one more session, one more race, hiding behind the excuse of concentration and professionalism.

But who are you to revoke him that? It's a damn good excuse. You need to win. He needs to win. Not be bothered about... interpersonal relationships while clipping walls.

"... Alright," you concede, voice and bones all broken, glistening under your frozen skin. "But if it's something I've done, then I'm sorry. I really do... enjoy your company. And you."

"It's not something you've done," he speaks quietly. Gosh, your frailty in this moment—you, so proud and unshakable on the pit wall, so dedicated and thorough on TV, so immeasurably devoted to Ferrari, to Charles, to him... "Or, well, I guess not directly..."

If he looks into your confused, imploring eyes one more second, almost brushes your arm with his one more time, then he's done for. But he thinks he knows this already.

"I don't dislike you," he starts speaking and as soon as he opens his mouth he knows there's no stopping himself now, so he blurts it all out as quickly as he can to get it over with and hopefully bury some meaning in the pits of his accent. "Not at all. In fact I really like you. I think you're gorgeous, and smart, and clever, and fun, and every day I wish I could spend more time with you outside of races and get to know you better but then I remember that can never happen and it's so frustrating and I have the hardest time concentrating. So I just avoid you. It's easier."

Silence thick as a thundercloud tethers you to one another. He runs a hand over his face, sighing deep, and you blink. Once, twice.

You've always prided yourself on your brains—not everyone gets to be in charge of all the computing for a Formula 1 car—but right now, you are all utterly lost.

"Carlos, I... I don't get it." Or maybe you do, heart thumping in your ears, but you're too scared you might be wrong.

"In any other life I would've asked you out on a date." This time he speaks more slowly, more purposefully, too. Like he's imbuing every syllable with the depth of his confession. "But it kills me that it can't be this one."

"... Why not?" you tentatively ask after an instant, feigning not to notice how his hand is now resting on the back of your sofa, right next to your ear and neck.

"Because you're a senior engineer! That would be like... like dating Ricky. Even if you're much prettier than Ricky. But you don't need to tell him that," he adds with a nervous laugh, which you mirror; though you fall silent as soon as his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, right where your collar ends, millimeters away from your skin. His body's warring with his own words... one wants to resist, the other to give in. "What if I leave Ferrari? That's a crazy conflict of interest."

"That's a silly idea, you're not leaving Ferrari anytime soon. Are you?"

"I don't know, it's... hypothetically... you know what I mean," he exhales in defeat. His hand clasps a little tighter on your shoulder, his scent dizzying, closer than ever before. Can he feel your frantic heart thumping underneath your skin? If he keeps licking his lips like this, will he sense your breathing getting more erratic?

"I do. But... the problem is I like you too, Carlos."

If embers could burn back to life, light a hearth out of nothingness... they wouldn't shine as bright as Carlos' eyes just then.

"Don't mess with me."

"I'm not messing with you. Why wouldn't I like you?"

"Because you're not supposed to have a favorite."

"I won't tell Fred if you don't."

He laughs, a brittle but adorable little thing, like a small bird taking its first flight. If you could hear the sound more often, see that bashful smile on his handsome face more every day... you wouldn't need any other prince to die in war for.

His hand runs down your arm, his thumb lightly caressing your skin through the fabric of your shirt before he grabs your shaky hand in his.

"Now's not the best time, but... I think we've got to have an important conversation after the race tomorrow," his deep, soft tone pacifying you just as much as the abstract shapes he traces on the back of your hand.

"After you win, you mean."

"Right. After I get my surprise, no?"

"After you win," you repeat with a grin, and he squeezes your hand, smiling too. Something, deep down, tells him he'll win regardless of the race result.

"Cosa diavolo sta facendo?"

Even in spite of the roaring crowd and the bellowing V8s speeding down the straight, the dumbfounded voices around the pit wall come to you clear as day.

"Russell 1.4 behind Lando," Ricky, sitting on the other side of Vasseur, speaks into his headset.

The team principal keeps quiet, eyes fixed on the cascade of numbers and brackets on your screen. He understands before the rest of the wall what his driver is doing; and as you relay all the information you get to the race engineers, you understand it too.

"Lando .8 behind, .8 behind with DRS—Russell no DRS... Copy that."

He's doing it on purpose. Keeping Norris just close enough to shield him from the Mercs while making sure he can't catch up. You'd laugh in triumph and disbelief if you weren't gritting your teeth so damn hard, heart on the verge of exploding as the last laps tick out in a blur.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more seconds, and the night sky over Marina Bay will explode in crimson lights...

Mechanics spring to their feet and climb the wall to the track, bumping their fists in the air. Cheers, claps, exclamations, a bouquet of red roses swaying in the wind to greet its champion at the finish line. And then, the unmistakable roar of a racecar speeding past the chequered flag at three hundred kilometers an hour. Liberation.

You spring to your feet right as the fireworks go off, yelling to the sky. Carlos won. Carlos won! Your Carlos—in the middle of Red Bull's flawless season...

"¡Vamos Fred! ¡Vamos Ricky!" Flashes of red and gold pass his high spirits by, diligently braking into the first corner.

He laughs, he screams it all out, unclenching all his muscles, woozy from the G's, from the adrenaline, from the win... from you, watching him from the pit wall. From the memory of your skin against his, your adoring eyes and the formidable lightness inside his chest that has him feeling like he's the king of the world.

In a few minutes, he'll be posing with his trophy and the team in front of his P1 plaque for the group photo, and he'll drench you in champagne—your lively laughter will fill his heart with the gold of medals. And later in the evening, before the afterparty, he'll pull you aside and tell you maybe this victory has made him reckless, and he'll kiss you senselessly like a prize he fought for.

For now, though, he's nodding his head at Lando who gave him a congratulatory wave from his car when his on-board screen lights up with an unexpected message. Glowing red letters read, "Great job, smooth operator! 🌶️" Laughter escapes him as small virtual fireworks go off on his screen... and he presses the radio button on his steering wheel.

"Did she have one of these ready for Charles too?"

A few seconds of white noise, and then, your mischievous voice, dripping with joy.

"You know me, Carlos. Never play favorites."

… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[lucifertoxics]

missing pieces: marcus lopez

| pairing: marcus lopez x reader

| genre: exes to lovers

| warnings: angst, swearing, minors dni

| word count: 1.3k

| aura's note: this fic is for @chericherilvr who has an obsession with marcus like, so girly this is for you, enjoy🫶🏻

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

Ever since you and Marcus broke up, your only mechanism was singing. To say the least, you were actually good at it. That's when you found yourself with your schools band practicing a cover. Unfortunately for you, the rain started pouring soon after you finished, which forced you to stay under a bus stop.

Sadly, as you did not own a car, you had to call your brother, Billy. He said he'd pick you up, but that's when you saw Marcus car, probably a stolen one, pull up in front of the school.

The two of you dated for 3 years, until you decided to end it, without giving him any reason why. That was 5 months ago, until now, you haven't talked since. The only person that you didn't want to see right now, surely, the break up was a complicated one to say the least.

"Get in." He says. From the tone of his voice, you knew one thing, he was pissed.

"No fucking way!" You say in an annoyed voice, crossing your arms. You two are like magnets and you didn't want to be stuck in a small place with him. He was bad for you. He brings out the worst in you.

"Are you seriously going to stand out here?" He says with the same tone. Marcus knows that he is being irrational, but he can't help it. He's just mad and heartbroken right now, seeing you just makes it even worse. He hates you for breaking his heart, but he's not going to let you know that.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he has a point never the less. And you wanted to be home faster, so having an argument with him, wasn't useful. As you open the passanger door to get into the car, you look at him.

Marcus starts the car and pulls out of the bus stop, onto the road. He doesn't say anything, just drives. The windshield wipers make loud screeches as they fight to get the rain off the windshield. The heater blasts as it tries to warm up the car from the outside cold. The air makes the windshield foggy. Then suddenly, Marcus sights loudly and looks over at you. As you were looking outside the window, gathering your thoughts about what just happened.

Turning around to look at him, you decided to ask him. "What?" Looking at him with confused eyes.

Marcus just stays silent, he just stares at you, trying to gather his thoughts. You can see his anger and frustration written all over his face. He doesn't want to look at you, he doesn't wang to look at anything. He's just so angry. Finally, he breaks the silence with a blunt ask. "Why did you dump me?"

"Marcus..." You look at him and then out the window, sighting, trying to find a good way to answer his question. You hate this situation that you're in. This was not the right time to talk about the break up, not with him.

The classic answer, and the one that he didn't want to hear. He hated when things were "complicated". He hates uncertainty. He wanted an answer and he wanted it now. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as his anger builds up. "Jusf answer me, god fucking damn it!" He snaps a little at you. He doesn't like losing his cool, but he's already too far gone.

"Because i'm leaving for university..." You talk in a low tone, looking outside the window. "I got accepted into Harvard." You explain yourself to him, staring at him, hoping he understands your intentions.

Marcus felt an intense wave of jealousy wash over him as soon as you finish the sentence. He could never get into Harvard. He's not smart enough. He knows you are and that bothers him. He hates that he feels jealousy of you, but he can't help it. "So you dumped me because you got accepted into a stupid school?" He says completely ignoring the fact that you're going to Harvard.

"A stupid school? I got a full scholarship to that stupid school." You say in an annoyed tone whie looking at him, feeling that he doesn't care about your achievement. "You'll only be three hours away.." You say trying to find something positive in your departure.

"Oh three hours away, really?" Marcus says sarcastically trying to ignore the jealousy that's building up inside of him. "And i'm sure that this full scholarship is a huge achievement." He says mockingly. Marcus knows damn well the school isn't stupid and he knows how hard getting a full scholarship there is but it just pisses him off so he can't help but belittle your achievement.

"It is, Marcus! I didn't want to leave you...I didn't want to leave you in the first place. I was scared that this won't work, us, fuck i want this to work out cause i miss you." I explain myself to him on a calm tone, trying not to be affected by his words. Coming closer as you say the words "I miss you"

The words "I miss you" make him soften up, but only for a bit. He still doesn't know if he should forgive you or not, but hearing those words come out of your mouth makes his heart feel a little warmer. He slowly turns to look at you more. He reaches his hand over and places it on your thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. Marcus likes to hide his emotions but that small act kind of gave him away.

"I missed you! You have no idea..." You lean your head on his shoulder as he drives. The truth is that you missed him. His kisses. His hugs. His affection, You were craving it.

Marcus blushes a bit as you put your head on his shoulder. He can barely believe he's allowing you to do these things. Maybe part of him is ready to forgive you...but another part of him is not. He stays silent as he continues driving, his hand firmly planted on your leg. He can't help his attraction towards you and his desire for you. The silence is getting more intense as the minutes go by.

"My brother said that long distance relationships don't always work out...so that's why i thought it's for the best...but it's only three hours..." You say sighting interlacing your fingers with his, still having your head on his shoulder.

Marcus wanted to argue and say that three hours is too much but he knows is his own jealousy getting the best of him. A small part of him, a very small part, has forgiven you for breaking his heart. He's not completely over it but he's slowly starting to terms with it. "You know, I could drive over and see your every weekend." He says finally, turning to look at you as he tries to gauge your reaction.

"Really? You would do that for me?" You look at him surprised, hy his answer. Jumping into his arms, hugging him tight, still surprised by what he said.

Marcus freezes up with surprise. He was honestly prepared for you to reject him, but now? This is...unexpected. He feels your tight embrace and a wave of butterflies washes over him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you even tighter. "You can't get rid of me that easily you know?" He says with a smile, brush a piece of hair out of your face.

"I don't wanna get rid of you." You smile, looking at him as he brushes the hair from your face. That's when you take his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his.

What was once a small wave of butterflies now turns into a tidal wave of euphoria. Marcus is swept away by the kiss, he wraps his arms arouns you and pulls you in closer. All the emotions and feelings that have built up during the car ride come bursting to the surface. He kisses you hard and agressively, like he wants to make this moment last forever.

© LUCIFERTOXICS ⎯ do not translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[hanaeriin]

蘇枋 ノ LONGING FOR THE HOLY NIGHT.

⋆˙⟡ featuring. god!suo hayato x fem!reader

⋆˙⟡ synopsis. you returned to your hometown with news of your engagement with your long-term fiancé; it was the happiest day of your life. However, everything changes when you encounter a small shrine dedicated to the god who seemed to be infatuated with you, and he seems to have known you ever since childhood...

⋆˙⟡ content. wind breaker (nii satoru) , yandere!suo , potentially ooc , spirited away , kidnapping , mind sensitivity (manipulation) , supernatural , horror.

⋆˙⟡ word count. 2.7k ,, sign up for taglist!! ,, m.list.

⋆˙⟡ note. my longest fic to date...my entry for pixelcafe's spooktober!! you don't want to know how many times I wrote the sentences for this one ahhh...special thanks to my sister, @marizuki for proofreading this!

For how much time has it passed?

Since your arrival, the moon in the sky has remained stationary. Time appears to stand still within the area, but signs of life are still detectable. This strange occurrence begs the question: Who is responsible for this? The person sleeping beside you is the same deity you used to play with during your childhood days. Someone you once considered a friend is the very person who has confined you in this place.

How did this come about? To do that, we must turn back time a few hours...

You returned to your childhood hometown, a modest village in the Japanese countryside where you were raised. You hadn't visited for years, but when you returned to the area, you shared news of your engagement and were pleased with their happiness for you. You let out a disappointed sigh as you realized you were alone, wishing you could have brought your fiancé, but he was busy working on an important project.

“Thinking about him more makes me even more excited to return home now~” you chuckled, a soft blush tinting your cheeks. With a skip in your step, you hummed your favorite tune while sitting on the bus stop's metal bench, leaning against the wall, eagerly awaiting the bus.

“Let's check, when is the upcoming bus scheduled to arrive?” After sitting up, you search for the bus schedule, and when you find it, you let out a surprised gasp, “Woah, not for another hour!?”

In the rural area, it takes approximately fifty minutes to reach the closest train station, with buses operating only every hour. Certainly, being in a secluded location implies there are no establishments, such as cafes or restaurants, where you can relax and pass the time. You wouldn't want to remain there for an extended period when it's bitterly cold outside, especially if you happen to be dressed in thin clothing today. To be truthful, what options do you have while waiting for the bus to come?

“Oh, I know! I can visit the shrine!” you exclaimed when he suddenly came to mind. You should be able to go to the shrine. It was within walking distance after all, and you used to spend a lot of time playing there as a child. You now wonder if he has forgotten about you.

“I hope that Suo has been doing well since I last saw him...” You muttered, picking up your things, and started walking on the roadside. It's been a long time, so it's time to go and visit. Perhaps Suo would be pleased to hear about your engagement.

Upon reaching the shrine, you will find the cherry blossoms in full bloom. At the center stood a small shrine, ancient wooden buildings showing their endurance over time, surrounded by pink cherry blossom petals, creating a beautiful sight.

“Suo!” You shouted his name as you did in your childhood and a gust of wind rustled the cherry blossoms replied. Flower petals gathered in front of the temple and a figure appeared; a young man in a white nagagi kimono, black hakuma, and a dark red haori. One eye was covered by an eyepatch and he flashed you the same smile, asking, “You called?”

Approaching with his hands hidden behind his back, he said, “It has been a while, Dove.”

“Suo! You didn't forget about me?” You had a smile on your face.

“Naturally, I have not. I'm amazed by how beautiful you've become since I last saw you,” He said, tilting his head as the strong wind swept through his long reddish-brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. He appears... extremely heavenly.

“Oh, thank you so much...” You smiled in response to the praise, cheeks blushing as you looked away.

“You never came back, so I thought you'd forgotten about me”

“I could never forget about you! You're my most important friend...”

“Friend, I see...”

You failed to observe his shift in tone and expression when you turned away from him, with your back towards him, “I've been living in the city for a while now, it's been ages since I returned home...”

“I feel somewhat comforted that the town and shrine remain unchanged...” You smiled, evoking memories of your days playing together. How the two of you engaged in various games like hide and seek, tag, and others, practically inseparable whenever possible. One day, when you tried to introduce him to your mother, you realized no one else could see him except you and that he was a god upon seeing your mother's horrified expression.

Since that fateful day, your mother has prohibited you from going to the shrine out of fear that you would be taken away, but you couldn't erase your first love from your memory and decided to sneak there against her will.

You were convinced that your mother was simply concerned because she couldn't see Suo. You trust that he would never kidnap you because of the gentle way he treated you, making it hard to imagine him doing something so ungentlemanly.

“If I may ask, what is the reason for your return?” He gazed at you with kind eyes.

You spun around, your face beaming with joy “I had some big news for my parents and wanted to share it with you too... I'm going to get married!”

“...” He had a puzzled expression as his smile disappeared.

What was the reason for him making that expression? However, his frightening expression quickly disappears, and the familiar smile reappears, “Oh? Congratulations.”

“Um, thank you?” Was it just your imagination? You couldn't tell.

“What does he like?”

“He's a very pleasant man to be with and excels at his job. He always prioritizes my happiness and he is a bit shy, but I adore that quality in him.”

“He sounds like a wonderful person.”

“Haha, yep!” You returned the smile, perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. You were happy to see him acting normally, but then he surprised you by asking “What is his name?”

“His name?”

“I am a god, did you forget that? That is why I can pray for your happiness.”

“Really?! Uh, my name is (name) (surname), and his name is...”

“...(last name) (first name)” He grins with assurance and places his hands in front of your face, blocking your view with them while murmuring, “...You will be happy now” And suddenly, you lose consciousness.

Upon opening your eyes, you immediately realized you were situated under a large, ancient cherry blossom tree. You quickly sat up, scanning your surroundings, but you couldn't spot the shrine nearby. Suo appears before you and confirms that it was not just a dream.

“...W-where are we?”

“A universe exclusively designed for us”

“What are you talking about!?”

At that moment, you recall something your grandmother had told you ages ago.

“Once you are caught in his grip, there is no way to break free because his name is like a spirit. Pay attention, dear child...you should never reveal your name to him, as he is not a human.”

A feeling of shivers traveled down your back as you gazed up at him in fear, “W-Were you the one who just spirited me away?”

“You gave me no other option. Otherwise, you would have returned to that man” He sighed, hands at his back, gazing at the cherry blossoms tree, “It was determined a long time ago that we would wed.”

“You marrying me..?” You gasped with eyes wide open.

“Have you forgotten?” He gave you a confused expression.

Oh, now that he mentioned it, that did bring back some memories, back when you used to promise him that you would marry him in the future. However, the promise lost its significance as you eventually forgot about it. But for him, he could never let go of that memory. Not ever.

“I'll never allow anyone else to have you,” He grinned, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. It was only then that you realized you had mentioned both your and your fiancé's names to him, and you exclaimed, “Did you also spirit him away?!”

“Who?”

“The person I am engaged to!”

“Oh, him? I would not lay a finger on him as long as you are by my side.”

.

.

.

And now we have returned to the present. Looking at where Suo lay peacefully sleeping beside you, with his long eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks and the soft rise and fall of his chest indicating he was in a deep sleep, you saw a chance to slip away.

‘This is my opportunity to escape!’ You stand up silently before hurriedly leaving the shrine to get away. You turned to look at the wooden buildings with a sad expression in your eyes, uttering, ‘I'm sorry, Suo,’ gripping your shirt before swiftly running away to put some space between the two of you.

The silence outside is unsettling, only the sound of your footsteps and panting can be heard. While running, you looked back multiple times to check if anyone was following you, thinking, ‘I need to escape before he notices I'm gone!’ You dashed past numerous torii gates, with only the moonlight illuminating your way, leading you forward until eventually, you spot a glimmer of light.

Oh...!! Finally, you can go back home now! Without hesitation, you jumped straight into the pool of light. The bright light caused a temporary blur in your vision, but it quickly cleared up, revealing only the large Sakura tree in front of you. When you glance back, the Torii gates are no longer in view. It felt like you had suddenly appeared there out of nowhere, causing you to stagger back in shock, “H-How?”

“Dove”

“Eeek!?!”

Upon hearing his voice, you immediately spin around. Suo stood by the tori gate, gazing with disapproval as he asked, “Where have you been? I was searching for you...” His eyes shift towards your shaking form, your face blanching as he suddenly appears in front of you. He held your hand and pulled you close, wrapping his other arm firmly around your waist, asking, “You weren't trying to escape, were you?” Once more, his face displays an identical grin as you remain in his embrace, trembling.

The love of a god is pure and powerful. Escaping such love is not a simple feat.

His arms encircled you while he was asleep, ensuring that you wouldn't escape from him. He lovingly runs his hands through your hair, grinning and saying, “Your hair is incredibly soft.”

“Is that so?” It feels good for some reason, and you are beginning to feel at ease.

“A dove symbolizes peace” He reaches out to you, gently placing his hand on your cheek, looking kind “That's what you are to me... peace”

So, that is the reason he never used your actual name when speaking to you. You didn't pay attention initially when he began using that name, but despite his kind words, you couldn't help but question if he would have taken you away sooner if he had known your real name. You were frustrated with yourself for doubting it any further and revealing it without hesitation. Suo appears to be completely unaware of your emotions as he continues to talk about his past memories.

“As soon as you saw me, you would quickly come running towards me.”

“Is that true?”

“Mhm, you were prone to falling and shedding tears frequently”

“There's no need for you to recall that either!” You blushed and began to stutter as memories you had buried resurfaced, making you wonder if you were such a sensitive child in the past. You can't remember much, but upon reflection, you realize that every time you tripped and fell, Suo was there to lift you. He comforted you, reassuring you not to shed tears while patting your back.

All you can remember are happy memories, you can't recall any bad memories with him at all. Wasn't he always kind to you? He isn't the type of god who would behave in this manner...if you communicate with him, would he comprehend?

“Suo,” you murmured, gazing up at him gradually.

“What is it?” He responded with a questioning expression.

“You're special to me”

“I love you too, (name)”

“If you love me, then please let me go”

He stood motionless, his hand still caught in your hair, gazing at you intently, “Do you... prefer the other world more?”

As your heart beats faster, you remind yourself that you mustn't let fear take over. With the prospect of an eternity here looming, you meet his gaze with resolve and express your feelings quietly. “I wish to return, to be with my fiancé at home. I wouldn't be content staying here.” His lips stayed silent, yet his eyes expanded briefly.

“I'm sorry, but I hope we can remain friends so please don't make me hate-” Just as you were going to end your sentence, you gasped as gentle lips met yours, ‘A kiss?!’ it was a tender kiss that lightly touched your lips. Then he leans in and kisses you more deeply.

He retreats, gazing at you with such fondness yet his eyes look lonely, “No need to speak further. I understand...”

Does he understand your feelings...? What's the deal with that kiss then...

He runs his fingers through your hair once more, “(name), please be happy,” his grin fades as tears flow, he cups your face while you close your eyes tightly and cry. In the next instant, a sudden burst of bright white light dazzles your eyes and before you know it, your awareness begins to fade, “...Hm? "What...?”

Upon waking up, you discovered that you were situated beneath a large cherry tree near the shrine, pondering, “How did I end up here??” You scrutinized your environment, experiencing deja vu as if you'd forgotten something important, wondering if your purpose here was to pray. Your emotions about the situation were a jumble, you have no recollection of anything from arriving until waking up under the tree, “I must have dozed off here by mistake...”

.

.

.

That evening, you returned to the city where you both reside with your fiancé. You were getting dinner ready as you awaited his return, giggling and humming happily while beginning to chop green onions.

DING DONG

“Ah, he's back!” You cried out, placing the kitchen knife onto the cutting board and then shutting off the stove. After that, you quickly walk to the door, still wearing your apron, and greet them with a smile as you open it, saying “Welcome back!”

“I'm back” He grinned upon seeing your frown, you were still adorable despite the upset expression.

“You're late!” You sulked, feigning annoyance.

“I'm sorry, I had to stay late at work,” he said, drawing you near, his hand resting on your lower back as he kissed you on the lips. You gazed at him, confused as he laughed and said, “You look good in that apron.”

“I-I...uhh thanks?” You stammered, turning pink.

He kissed you once more, this time on the tip of your nose, causing you to quickly avert your gaze, feeling embarrassed. ‘I don't recall him being so daring...’ Was it all in your head that he, who never used to be so openly loving and complimentary towards you, was suddenly behaving this way? His personality couldn't suddenly transform overnight.

You attempted to banish that uncomfortable sensation from your thoughts, as you plaster on a cheery smile and say, “Listen! Today I returned home and shared the news of our engagement with everyone!“

“How did everything turn out?”

“Everyone was filled with joy! They would love to see you, you should join me in visiting them next time.”

“That's great, let's plan our next meeting shortly, Do-(name)”

“Now that your parents have given us the green light, nothing can stop us now...”

“Uh-huh!” You vigorously nodded “It's hard to believe... that we'll be together forever.” You hid your face in his chest, feeling a bit timid to meet his gaze, unaware of the confident smile he wore.

So, are you truly able to be with the person you love now?

The love of a god is both pure and powerful.

It's difficult to completely break free from that love...

⋆˙⟡ taglist. @hayatoseyepatch , @ryescapades , @the-original-skipps , @stunies , @nyxypoo , @ambiguouslady42 , @kaq3yma , @pixelcafe-network , @interstellar-inn + @play5withsquirrels ("no blog found")

- ˕ •マ . . . ownership of hanaeriin !! please do no steal, repost, copy, modify , plagiarize or translate any of my works on any platforms.

[seeingivy]

secrets

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

sukuna watches you get ready. or more appropriately, watches you try to hide your panic as you busy yourself with getting ready.

he found it interesting - the little rituals that you had. it was almost like a rehearsed routine the way you rotated in the morning, one he had committed to memory. he watches you secure your hair back, your fingers massaging different serums and moisturizers into your skin.

but there’s an increased fervor today, in the way you meticulously prod at your own skin - rubbing hard on the slight blemishes on your skin, covering up the darkness under your eyes, and brushing your hair three times to perfection.

it’s borderline obsessive. he hovers over your shoulder, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“don’t you think you’ve brushed your hair enough, doll? looks great.”

he watches as you run it through your hair again, muster a peachy smile for him. it doesn’t meet your eyes. sukuna starts to wonder when it was that he started getting so concerned about you, in the way that it almost never left the back of his mind.

“has to be even, sukuna. i brushed six times on the right so i have to do the same amount on the left.”

he pinches his lips together.

“seems closer to a hundred, princess. your hair is fine.” he murmurs.

sukuna watches as you give him a nod, brushing through your hair the last three times, before you swirl around in your chair and place your hands on his hips. if sukuna wasn’t so irked, he’d make a comment about the compromising position - the way you were looking up at him like you were on your knees.

you squish the bones in his fingers as he pulls you up, his demeanor increasingly reserved today. on any other day sukuna would have smothered you in fifty kisses by now - making some teasing comment about how he’d want to shower with you or make every attempt to kiss all the lip gloss off of your face.

you reach for sukuna’s tie, still loosely hanging around his neck as you eye the clock, and start knotting it together. you tighten it to his collar, pushing the buttons through their slits, as sukuna stares at you. it’s something you find him doing often, almost like he’s trying to discern your thoughts just from looking at your face.

“you okay, sukuna?” you hum.

“are you okay, y/n?”

“huh? why would you say that?”

“you said it first.” he counters.

“well, you haven’t kissed me yet today. it’s been an hour and-”

he cuts off the sentence by pressing his lips to yours, the coffee you made him still lingering on his lips. you smile into the kiss, pulling back to press a kiss to his cheek.

“didn’t realize i had to.” sukuna mumbles.

“are you stupid? that’s part of your boyfriend taxes.”

sukuna smiles, watching you tilt your head to the side and smile at him. he commits it to memory - the sweet look on your face.

“and what’s due, hm?” he asks.

“you’ve paid your fees.”

“you haven’t paid yours, pretty girl.”

you brush the fabric of his collared shirt on his shoulders, as you tuck the last of the folds in the place.

“you’re needy, you know that?”

“s’not what i meant. it’s part of your girlfriend taxes to tell me what’s bothering you.”

“just nervous to talk to yuuji, that’s all.”

sukuna would be lying if the pending approval wasn’t on his mind too. not only because he was positive that it would make you retreat from him, after he had been making every attempt to ease you into it over the past few weeks.

but the fact is that he’s always considered yuuji his savior. a silent gift sent to him, his first companion in life. it would be a sting to him if yuuji didn’t view him fit for someone special to him. that he’d think so little of him, or even worse, that yuuji could think that sukuna thought so little of you.

“you’ll come back here after?” he asks.

you nod.

“call if you need me.”

you and sukuna trek out of the apartment at the same time, both of your phones clutched in your hand as he locks up. his phone buzzes one and you flip the screen, ignoring the text from satoru and swiping away the notification to look at his lock screen properly.

it’s a picture of you and sukuna, one that you took as a joke on his phone. he’s barely in the picture - just the slightest tuft of his pink hair and one of his dimples. it’s of you - smiling brightly into the camera.

-

sukuna can parse that something is wrong when nobara’s voice is the one that comes through on yuuji’s phone. and when he parks outside the bar, his suspicions are confirmed when the four of you are already lingering out on the sidewalk in the cold, as opposed to the usual antics that he has to wrangle you out of.

it’s a strange sight. the first thing his eyes are drawn to are you, naturally, and he’s immediately irked by the sight of you sniffling, megumi wiping the tears from your eyes. his eyes gravitate to yuuji next, nobara yanking him down by the hair as she gives him an earful.

the smell warns him enough - that the group of you, except for megumi he presumes, have lost your inhibitions.

“yuuji. you had no right to say that to her.” nobara scolds.

“she said plenty to me too!” yuuji bites back.

sukuna makes his way over to the two of you on the pavement, ignoring the sting when your face droops even more at the sight of him. megumi’s hands are on your shoulders, rubbing circles into your back, as he quietly sits at your side.

“up. both of you” he demands.

megumi follows his instructions, holding up a hand for you, as you wipe away the wetness around your eyes and megumi opens the front door for you. you settle into the seat - embarrassment burning in your chest - as megumi crouches at the side of the door, poking his head into the car to talk.

“he doesn’t mean it. weirdly enough, this is his way of being overprotective of you.”

you scoff, before turning to megumi. sukuna lingers by the door, watching as yuuji can barely hold his own against nobara, and attempts to catch the end of your words.

“sure, megs. i’m fine.”

megumi places a hand on sukuna’s shoulder as he stands up, reaching for yuuji and nobara as sukuna switches and takes his spot. it’s a quick glance over his shoulder - yuuji entirely preoccupied - as he leans his lips close to your ear. he notices you nearly flinch at the closeness but makes no comment about it.

“need anything, pretty girl?” he whispers.

“i want you to take me home after you settle them in. i want to be alone.” you mutter.

sukuna squeezes your hand, a silent response, as megumi shuffles the two of them in the car and he releases your hand just as fast. nobara gives you a smile, albeit half hearted - having spent a better part of the last hour in your defense - as megumi takes to scolding yuuji in his ear.

sukuna gives you one last look before he shifts the gear and heads home.

-

sukuna’s able to wrangle the three of them faster than usual and when he returns you’re crying softly in his passenger seat, his stray hoodie strewn over your shoulders.

“home?” he asks.

sukuna takes your non-committal nod as a yes, ignores the sting for a second time when you refuse to hold his hand, and drives slowly on the quiet streets. there’s a light sheen on the roads, the street lights reflecting in the puddles and shining a red light on your face.

you can tell that sukuna’s making his best attempts to be quiet as he drops you home. he’s quick to attend to anything - not letting you open the door or take off your coat or even tuck your hair behind your ear of from your own hands.

and sukuna almost does it. he almost makes it through without interjecting. but when he watches you rub your skin a little too hard with the moisturizer, so hard that it starts turning pink, he reaches for your hands and has to stop you.

he can’t watch you rub your skin raw just because you’re frustrated.

“here. let me.” he whispers.

“but you don’t–”

“i know the order, pretty girl. i’ve watched you do it enough times.”

he watches your weary eyes as you place the next bottle in his hands, pouring the cold liquid onto his fingertips. he taps the counter with the back of his hand and you obediently jump up, the two of you face level as he takes residence in between your legs.

the mere act eases the tension for sukuna - the fact that you hadn’t dismissed him yet, that you were letting him massage the serums into your skin was an olive branch enough. whatever yuuji had said hadn’t scared you off yet - and he’ll take his win where he can get it.

“need to talk?” he asks.

you look up at him, at the focused look in his eyes, accompanied by the soft pressure of his fingertips. he squishes your cheek, before leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head, and you instinctively pinch your eyes shut. it makes that angry, stinging feeling in your chest twist into that sinking feeling that makes you want to cower in the darkest corner of your closet.

“how many girls have you been with?” you ask.

“in what sense?”

“all of them.”

“i’ve dated two girls, not including you. one was in highschool, a girl named kisa. the other one was when i was in europe.”

“why’d you break up with them? or them with you?”

“no, it was me. both times. kisa, because i was leaving. the girl in europe because i got bored.”

he watches your eye twitch, as he continues.

“i’ve had sex with both of them. besides that, there’s six other girls that i’ve had sex with. talked to loads more, here and there, on and off.”

“what were they like?” you ask.

“meaning?”

“like…occupation wise. or-or personality. looks.”

sukuna furrows his eyebrows.

“can’t remember much to be honest? kisa and i dated in highschool, i think she said she wanted to be something stupid like an influencer. and the other, she was in vet school. they didn’t look similar. i don’t have a type if that’s what you’re trying to discern. and if i did have one, it would be you.”

you nod.

“okay.”

“i feel the need to clarify that it was never like this with anyone else.”

“well, why do you feel the need to clarify that?”

there’s something laced in your words - either hurt or animosity - but he can’t place which one it is.

“because you’re my girlfriend? i can tell that intimacy is important to you, that what i’ve done can raise questions and-”

“are you trying to infantilize me? i know you’re older and more experienced than me but that gives you no right. i’m not a little girl.”

animosity. it was definitely animosity.

sukuna reaches for your hands, pressing your knuckles against his lips as he mumbles.

“i know you’re a big girl now.”

you glare at him. his joke doesn’t land well.

“don’t taunt me, sukuna.”

“i know you’re not a little girl. and i know you’re smart enough to not equate maturity with intimacy. it’s a good thing that intimacy is important to you – that you want to take it slow. it’s important to me when it comes to you too.”

you sigh, scrunching your eyes shut as you lean forward and rest your forehead against his chest. you can feel your head pulsating - his words, yuuji’s words, your own mixing enough to give you a tension headache. he’s quick with it, his hands in your hair as he pulls you closer, resting his chin against the top of your head.

“what did yuuji say?”

you swallow hard.

“i was trying to bring it up, nonchalantly. i…i said that you and i had been hanging out. and yuuji was like yeah, that’s fine and all just don’t go dating sukuna or something.”

you watch sukuna’s eye twitch. but his immediate thought is pleased – that you’re still standing here telling him.

“i asked why. and he brought up mazzy. said that i should be careful, not jump into things so fast since i wasn’t over it yet.”

mazzy. sukuna commits the name to memory, another piece he stows away to put together his puzzle.

“and-and i said that i had learned my lesson. i am over it. i-i’m smart enough to know my boundaries now, you of all people know that.” you whisper.

sukuna offers you a smile.

“that’s right.” he affirms.

“he asked me why i was interested in you. then i got kind of defensive and said i wasn’t, that i was just suggesting it. i asked him – why was he so opposed to the idea? is it so crazy to think that you would like me? and he said…”

you swallow hard.

“he said why would you? why would you like me when i’m the way that i am?”

“he said that?” he seethes.

“not the second part. but the way he said it. why would sukuna like you, y/n? i understood it all the same. i know you’re great and all, sukuna, but is it really that ridiculous to everyone that you would be interested in me? what’s so wrong with me that everyone feels the need to question it? he said that–”

sukuna waits for the end of your sentence but it doesn’t come – just another bout of your tears.

he tilts your face up, before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. it’s wet, your tears brushing against the bridge of his nose and his cheeks as he nearly breathes fully into the kiss. and every time you try to pull away, he’s following you just as fast, refusing to let go. each one stings in your core.

“do you ever think you’re settling for me?” you ask.

“you wouldn’t believe what i think.”

“tell.”

sukuna shakes his head, almost like he’s embarrassed. you muster a halfhearted smile, poking the softness of his pecs as he rolls his eyes.

“y/n.” he warns.

“just…so squishy. like a stress ball.” you whisper.

“i’ll pretend like you didn’t just objectify me for your sake.”

“personification and objectification are different. and since you’re humbling yourself to date me, i might as well enjoy it.” you deadpan.

sukuna tries to temper the anger that flares through him. that you think so little of yourself. that you think so big of him – in the same vein as his parents. his isolating thought that you viewed him differently shatters. it’s aggravating.

“i’m joking. but i just mean that – we’re really different. and yuuji –”

“i don’t give a fuck what he thinks. do you?”

you sigh.

“i want you. do you think i’m not prepared to deal with what that means? that i don’t notice the things you do?”

sukuna watches your eyes go wide.

“you tend to get a little obsessive, princess. and you feel insecure more often than not. you’re far more chatty, more quick to joke when you’re emailing me rather than standing in front of my face, just because you can’t see my reaction – or more appropriately, can’t overthink my reaction – if you don’t see it. you can’t bring yourself to fully accept the fact that i like you, that i’m very very fond of you, because you think too little of yourself. you don’t tell me much – but s’okay. i’m able to figure most of it out.”

sukuna’s ability to read you to filth is enough to make your blood boil.

“other peoples’ words mean too much to you. wish you’d give mine more importance when i say there’s nothing wrong with you. s’not a problem that you and i have things to work through. you don’t have to meet any previous standards i have – any girls i’ve talked to – because you already don’t compare to them. they’d be in your spot if they did.”

it’s enough to make your heart ache.

“i can parse that me being more experienced than you bothers you. i have no intention of holding it over your head, nor does it make me feel any less attracted to you. you’re all things - intelligent, brilliant, beautiful. i have every intention to basically worship you when i get the chance – and that would stand if you were experienced or not.”

sukuna watches you shiver, the gravel of his voice making the goosebumps prickle on your arms.

“how can i be settling when you’re far too good for me? when you have such a hold on me?”

“sukuna –”

his lips hover by your ear, warm breath tickling down your spine as he murmurs. sukuna’s combined defense of whispering sweet nothings and sending sparks all over your body was never something you can win against. he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttered shut.

“ i know my brother means the world to you – that what he thinks is important – but can you make space for me too? i don’t want to compete with him for your affections or your loyalty, especially when he has no right to make that call anyways. or make you feel uncomfortable in your own happiness – if that’s what this is.”

you cup sukuna’s face with your hand.

“that is what this is.” you murmur.

sukuna presses a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“you make me really happy. i hate that i need so much support sometimes but last time, i just –”

you swallow hard.

“i get in my head a lot. i’m trying not to but it’s hard sometimes. but i like you too much. i’m not just going to give you up like that. you don’t get off so easy.”

sukuna smiles.

“ah. there’s my beautiful princess with a disorder.”

you cross your arms across your chest.

“it’s a joke, dollface. we both know you’re not royalty.”

“asshole!”

sukuna snags the headband out of your hair, before following you out to your bed.

“what do you want to do about yuuji?”

“well, what do you want to do? he’s your brother.”

“and he’s your best friend. you care what he thinks far more than i do. nothing’s going to keep me from you.”

you sigh.

“we’ll keep it a secret. tell him again when – when it’s more solid. not that it isn’t but –”

he doesn’t question it.

“when it’s more solid.” he affirms.

-

next part linked here

an: a wild ronnie has appeared. be nice to me pls.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @wishmemel @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[thecranewivesrpf]

YES they're grown ass men with long term partners that are both women but I'm weak and my imagination is out of my control. I get prophetic visions of them kissing that should be put onto stained glass windows like in old churches or whatever

still thinking about smallidarity rpf. they're so cute smashing them together like dolls

[alaynestone]

FIC RECS for @spnficrecfest - august 10-12 aus and crossovers

i'm attempting to limit myself to just one small sample of the fics that could be recced in every category so that my list is more easily digestible. it's a given that many good fics will be left out but if we keep this up they will have their turn later.

always-a-girl dean winchester

carmen and the devil by glorious_spoon (gen) John raises his daughters in the life.

you feel your heart taking root in your body by paxlux (sam/dean) Then, he can see again, she’s stepped away, taking her little hands with her.

everlovin' baby series by paxlux (sam/dean) This is like premeditated murder. This is like a crime of passion. This is like a suicide pact.

denial series by badbastion (sam/dean) This is another stupid game to her, Dee teasing her little brother. It’s a prank, it’s a game of chicken, just… upped uncomfortably to include sex.

you're the only one that's mine by riyku (sam/dean) Dean gets injured on a hunt and Sam has to patch her up. Things get a little out of hand.

bloodletting by adastreia (sam/dean) Sam's jonesing for blood. Deanna's on her period.

madonna by hellhoundsprey (sam/dean) Things used to be easier. This is on Sam.

my heart's staying put by grim_lupine (sam/dean) It's like Deanna’s been asleep for four years, traversing the highways of her life on autopilot, every joy and every pain muted and numbed. In the months since she got Sam back she's been coming to life slowly, with the pins-and-needles tingling of a deadened limb awakening.

take off my flesh and sit in my bones by oxoniensis (sam/dean) Tiny breasts, like sandcastles washed over by the tide, tan soft and warm like sand; body still bones and promise.

long as i remember (the rain been coming down) by phoenixflight (sam/dean) Deanna’s cycle had always been obvious to Sam.

buccaneer by deadlybride (dean/crowley, dean/omc, sam/dean) With a new Knight of Hell at his side, Crowley should be attending to business. Instead, he's focused on one thing.

the shout of heavy guilt by astoryandasong (dean/castiel) Sometimes you have to live the story.

as we go along and making it up by aesc (dean/castiel) The world didn't end, and sometimes that freaks her out.

like it's the end of the world by xxamlaxx (sam/dean, john/dean, dean/others) Fifty sentences that span pre-series up to the end of season 3.

everybody else's girl by mona1347 (sam/dean) Back when they were kids, Dee would hold and rock him, pseudo-motherhood awkward and too big on the little girl she was.

daddy's little girl series by amiwritesthings (john/dean, sam/dean, sam/dean/john) John and Deanna, through the years.

a simple motion by chinablue (john/dean, dean/others) But watching her - watching her is different. Watching isn't touching, and there's no law against that.

i'll be your mirror by chinablue (john/dean) The girl in his bed isn’t quite his wife, but in the glowy relative darkness she has room to morph.

the found song by necrotype (dean/rhonda, dean/others) It takes a long time to feel content (a disjointed story in five parts).

[reidsrambles]

Something More and Second Chances

Chapter 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader // Second chance

Description: You're stunned when your former friends with benefits shows up at your new job—and nearly a decade after you ghosted him. It turns out, he works in the same building, and he definitely hasn't forgotten about you. Will your apologies be enough? What happens if he does forgive you? Does time truly heal all wounds? (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, friends with benefits, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, condomless sex, IUD birth control, mention of abortion (in the context of being on the same page prior to sex), riding, soft dom M, praise kink F.

This fic is quite emotionally heavy, and both Spencer and Reader delve deep into past traumas. None is current. If any of these topics may be triggering or upsetting to you, please skip this one: child abuse, child abandonment, attachment issues, foster care, adoption, CPS, bullying, trust issues, mental health issues, misunderstandings, ghosting, and Reader mentions that she possibly committed emotional infidelity in the past, thinking about Spencer while with another partner.

Names used: Baby, good girl

Words (this chapter): 4,638

Words (total): 12,462

Spencer… a fed? Law enforcement is the last career you would’ve expected Spencer Reid to end up in. Researcher? Yes. Professor? Yes. He mentioned nothing about the FBI. He never seemed to have an interest in policing. Without the gun at his hip, you would have mistaken him for IT coming to fix that one printer that’s been broken all week. Is he even allowed to shoot that thing? Well, he wouldn’t be in this building with that badge otherwise.

Walking into the quaint coffee shop in the late evening—one of the few non-chain shops in your neighborhood that stays open late—you’re glad that you picked the location. It’s familiar. It’s safe. 

You greet the lone barista as you walk to the table Spencer has secured in the far corner. Steven always works the night shift.

“Hey,” you whisper as you walk up to the table. Any louder would be inappropriate given how silent the cafe is. The only other customers are a group of college kids on their laptops up front.

“I got you a black tea. I hope that’s alright,” he says, gesturing to it. “You used to drink black tea like it was water, so I figured it was a safe bet.” 

“A safe bet, indeed.” 

As you take your seat across from him, you mindlessly dip the tip of your pinky into your tea to check the temperature, finding it to be near perfect. The small bead of tea spreads between your lips as you place the finger against them, sucking it away. Spencer looks at you, biting his cheek to suppress a smirk.

You roll your eyes at him with playful exasperation. “Sorry, I know you always hated when I did that! I know you have your whole germ thing.”He laughs, throwing his hands up to proclaim his innocence. “It’s just funny, all the little habits that haven’t changed over the years. You used to do that with every tea I’d buy you.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to check the temperature!?”

Laughing, he says, “By feeling how much heat is radiating off it, like a normal person? And, I’ll have you know, my ‘whole germ thing’ has gotten a lot better since college!”

With only a few sentences between you, you’ve already fallen into comfortable back-and-forth, again. 

“But a recent study did find that there are an average of over a hundred and fifty bacterial species on the palm of the hand. The underside of the fingernail would presumably harbor even more bacteria.”

“On the plus side, I don’t get sick very often.”

He laughs his adorable, infectious giggle, and for a moment, all is right in the world. For a moment, all you can think about is being under the covers with a 21-year-old Spencer, cuddling and laughing about whatever movie you’re not paying any mind to. He was always more interesting. His mind and body; both, a frequent fascination of yours.

Spencer clears his throat. “So, do you live around here? Is that why you picked this place?”

“Yeah. I moved here after I finished my English Lit degree. I got my MLIS at Strayer. Having my rent grandfathered in is the only reason I can afford to live in Arlington.” You take a sip of your tea, realizing that you’ve already been neglecting it. The temperature is utterly perfect now. A blink lasts a beat too long as you savor the taste and the warmth of it. 

“Do you live in Quantico?” you ask. “I hope the drive wasn’t too bad. I probably should have asked instead of just picking a place. I wasn’t even thinking.”

“I live in the East End of D.C., actually,” he winces. “The long commute isn’t ideal, but it was only a 14 minute drive here, at least.”

“Oh, good. That’s not too bad.”

You should say more. You should start apologizing. Just say anything of any substance. But staring down at your tea, you just want to take a long sip to avoid having to say anything for even a few seconds longer.

Spencer shifts in his seat. Your lips feel so dry. Would it make it even more awkward if you ruffled around in your purse for your lip chap? 

You throw your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to gather the strength to have this conversation, as if you haven’t had it a million times already in your head over the years. 

“Sorry,” you breathe “I know what I need to say, but I’m just procrastinating.”

“Do you want me to…?”

Spencer’s always been rather direct. You aren’t even sure what he could be alluding to, but you don’t give it more than a second’s thought before you start.

“Where to begin?” you ask yourself aloud, trying to maintain your poise. “Let’s start with my mom, I guess. Remember when you met my mom, because she came into town for the weekend as a surprise?”

He nods. “She showed up that one evening while we were eating dinner.”

By that point, a few months after meeting him, the lines of your relationship with Spencer were already pretty blurred, and he was staying the night more regularly. It was just more convenient that way, you’d told yourself. You didn’t want to kick him out in the middle of the night after fucking him, and it wasn’t like you absolutely hated having him around, or anything.

“So, you met one of my moms. I have two.” You rapid-fire, wanting to get as much as possible out at once. “They’re married. Neither of them is a biological parent, though. I don’t remember either of my biological parents. I was adopted when I was 7, but I was in foster care for 3 years before that. Apparently, CPS workers didn’t find me in the best environment when they came to pick me up.”

The building you survived in for the first years of your life wasn’t a home; Calling it a house would’ve been a stretch too. The situation was downright neglectful. It was abusive. You were only a child, dirtied by the filth of your environment. Marks in shades of red and yellow and purple dotted your body. 

Every sentence is difficult to get out, but you’ve worked to unbury the details of your early life for years. It's not like you'll ever completely heal from that, but you’re more at peace with your origin story than you’ve ever been. Still, every time you’ve shared the stories of your childhood, you’ve had to fight the icky feelings that arise.

You swallow hard, looking down at your hands as you mindlessly pick at the skin around your nails. “Okay, it was really bad. My biological parents were really, really abusive, and my foster mom said it amazed her that I survived it.”

In your peripheral vision, you can see that he’s resting his chin against clasped hands, subtly nodding as he processes the bomb you just dropped. You’ll look anywhere except directly at him. You’ve gotten a lot better at opening up, but you feel like crawling out of your own skin when someone gives you a pitying look. 

“Do you know what my job is at the FBI?” Spencer asks.

“No, but I know you carry a gun, so that limits the possibilities.”

“I’m a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

Now it’s your turn to nod and listen.

“I’ve combed through every memory that I have from those eight months more times than I probably should have. Y/N, I know that I don’t need to tell you what childhood attachment trauma is.” 

Spencer leans back slightly in his chair, his mug clutched between his hands. Though nobody is in the vicinity, he speaks in a hushed voice as he continues. 

“We had a case in recent years where a young girl was murdering the parents of her school bullies.” He tips his head to the side, his raised eyebrows emphasizing his words. “And she had a number of bullies.”

Spencer’s soft, warm tone contrasts his story.

“The local PD probably should have made the connections sooner, but it was a small town. Everyone went to the same elementary, middle, and high schools, so all the victims having kids at the same school wasn’t a factor they even considered until we brought it up. It was one of the first things I noticed when I read the case file.”

“Spencer, are you judging their detective work?”

Your face quickly falls flat. Why the hell would you crack a joke when he’s detailing such a horrific case? Shit.

“It’s hard not to when the patterns they miss are so clear and lives are lost due to their incompetence.”

You can’t even begin to imagine what Spencer sees and deals with at work. You notice—whether because of that realization or to the cafe’s dim lighting, you aren’t sure—that Spencer’s skin is rougher than it used to be. Small, barely noticeable scars mark his body. His boyish glow has faded, replaced by an air of perpetual exhaustion. 

“Anyway,” he says, “as we profiled and uncovered more about this girl’s life, I kept being reminded of little things you did or said that I never paid any mind to.” He brings the mug to his lips, drawing back a sip. He licks the moisture from his lips. “Her parents were fully cooperative. When we brought them in, they described how horrifically abusive her childhood was before her adoption. Her birth parents were in jail for the neglect.”

You push down the memory of the time your biological mother tried to call you from federal prison. How she got that call approved, you’ll never know, but you can only imagine that she paid someone off or slept with them. 

“Her mom said she’d always had trust issues,” Spencer continues. “She used to hide anything that was meaningful to her, even from her own parents. She would wake up in the middle of the night in a panic at least a few times a week. When she’d make a friend at school, she’d sabotage the relationship. As soon as she’d start succeeding academically, her grades would worsen.” 

He could keep listing things, but when his eyes meet yours, the deer-in-headlights look you must have going on makes your recognition clear to him.

“So during that case, you realized that away from you because of my attachment trauma?”

“Well, I didn’t know for sure, obviously, but it became the top contender of my theories.”

A pang of guilt rings through your chest that Spencer has wasted any thought for you since you left, let alone to the extent of multiple theories as to your disappearance. It’s hypocritical to feel guilty, though, when you’ve regularly wondered how he is, stopping short of looking him up or reaching out. You knew he’d be accomplishing exceptional things, but digging into his life would have just made the guilt even worse. It took years before you didn’t feel nauseous anytime he entered your thoughts. 

“Well, now you know, I guess.”

The sense of feeling wholly too well-read is bringing your inner younger, vulnerable self out, causing a prickling heat to bite behind your eyes. You take a moment to practice your calming strategies, mentally repeating your affirmations of safety, and taking deep belly breaths to calm yourself. The pressure in your chest subsides. The warmth drains from your face.

Again, Spencer waits, altogether unphased. You aren’t sure how many seconds pass, but you know from experience that your tone and body language would have clearly read as guarded and closed-off to the layperson, let alone a profiler.

“Sorry about that.”

Sternly, but absent of anger, he says, “There’s nothing to apologize for, and you know that.”

You do.

“I almost forgot that you were never one for forced pleasantries,” you joke.

He simply lifts the corner of his mouth in a half-smile, re-searing the memory of tracing that one dimple into your brain.

“Can you tell me what you felt when you began to shut down?” he asks. “Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”

Without missing a beat, you say, “I felt like I needed to crawl into a shell; like my chest was hardening into a plate of steel to protect myself.” 

You didn’t need to reflect on what you felt, because you’ve felt it so many times and used those exact descriptors with numerous doctors and therapists.

“But I’m sure you already know that,” you say.

Spencer sets his mug down on the table again, not letting go of it as he adjusts to sit forward, forearms against the table.

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me,” he says softly. 

“I mean, I kind of owe it to you after what I did.”

He looks up at you from the table, a twinge of concern painting his face. “First, you never owe anyone that information. Secondly, you do know that how things ended between us isn’t entirely on you, right?”

When you just sit there, growing more confused as to what he could be referring to, he continues. 

“You had a lot going on in your head at that time—that, I was well aware of—and instead of just asking you about it, I clung onto you like a leech. Are you forgetting how many times in a day I’d call you? How many emails I sent you? How often I bugged you to come over?”

Honestly, you had forgotten, until now; until he spelled out those exact memories again. For so long, you didn’t want to think about that time in your life at all. Every memory of Spencer was thrown into a box and locked away in some corner of your head. 

“Y/N, neither of us knew how to effectively communicate our feelings. We were friends first, and then we started hooking up. When you proposed a,” he air quotes with his fingers “‘friends with benefits arrangement’, I agreed, knowing that I was going to fall for you. I knew I wouldn’t be able to shut my feelings off, so I chose to shove them down instead because I didn’t want to lose you being a part of my life.”

“And then I left…” you nod.

He lowers his head. “I just assumed that I had pushed you away.”

“Spencer, I’m so sorry that I made you feel that.”

“I’ve come to realize over the years that there are many reasons, most of them having nothing to do with you, that I jumped to that conclusion. I’ve always been made to feel like an annoyance or an inconvenience. Teachers, peers, coworkers. You were the first person in my life, besides my mom, who asked me to talk more. To share more. You listened to me, Y/N.” His eyes soften and the corner of his mouth upturns into a forlorn smile. “I’m sure that my dad leaving so early in my life didn’t help my clinginess and sensitivity to rejection, either.” 

He blows out a long sigh, as if deflating his lungs will soothe the emotional wound he just jabbed.

He’s so much more confident and mature now. It’s oddly comforting to know that he’s still fighting his own insecurities and self-doubt. 

“Spencer, I was never annoyed by you. Not once. In my mind, everything that went wrong between us was because I realized that I was in love with you, too. I self-sabotaged because I didn’t know how to have a secure relationship with anyone, not even my own moms. 

“When I was a teenager, I was downright verbally abusive towards them. I was a horrible child, angry at everything and everyone. My parents never wavered, though. They truly loved me unconditionally and always told me so. And I still treated them like shit because I was terrified that if I let myself feel entirely safe with them, they’d leave me. If my own flesh and blood couldn’t love me, how could they?”

This is the most you’ve opened up to anyone, let alone all at once. 

“I truly apologized to them for the first time at 24 years old, and that was only after I got myself into therapy. The therapy I had as a kid didn’t do much. I was too volatile; downright hostile sometimes. I’m amazed my parents never institutionalized me,” you quip. 

Spencer doesn’t laugh or smile or at all react to your half-assed self-deprecation. 

He removes his hands from his mug and slides them ever-so-slightly forward on the small table. Subtle enough that an onlooker wouldn’t notice, but you do. 

You want to touch him again. That much, you know for sure. With your tea gone, your hands feel frigid, and, though it’s probably in your head, you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

Before you can think yourself into a spiral, you push the fear of rejection down and embrace the trust in him that you’ve found tonight. Sliding forward a few inches, Spencer’s waiting hands take yours. 

Your eyes flutter a moment—from the soothing heat of his hands wrapped around yours or the shock of the contact, you aren’t sure.

He doesn’t comment on the temperature of your hands. He just softly rubs them, the gesture causing your brain to go blank. It feels so right.

“What’s going through your head?” he asks.

Your hands tense with a jerk at his question, and he loosens his grasp, allowing you to pull them back if you need to.

Looking into his eyes, you still don’t sense any judgement or hesitation. No apprehension or alarm at your jumpiness. 

As you relax again, Spencer resumes the soothing rubs.

“Did you know that this is the most I’ve opened up to anyone in a long time?” Your chin dips with a wistful smile, and Spencer lightly squeezes your hands in response.

You continue with another question that doesn’t require a response. “Did you also know that you were my only friend in college?” 

Spencer smiles softly and laughs. “Ditto.”

“I actually have a really good group of friends now, and it’s something I’m really proud of. It took a lot of self-reflection and a lot of inner work to allow myself to be honest with them. I got really lucky, and I found some incredible people who supported me, knowing how difficult it is for me to share. They embraced me with open arms whenever I opened up, a little at a time.”

Your voice, a mixture of hope and sadness, thickens as you speak. “I’ve thought a lot about what my life could have looked like if I had been able to trust you; if I could have let you in and not shut you out.”

Spencer responds, “I studied psychology, and it wasn’t until working with the BAU that I actually started to really understand people’s behavior. Even still, being personally involved in a situation blinds us to the things that are easily observed in hindsight. You couldn’t have fully trusted me back then, regardless of how much you wanted to, and we both know that.”

“I just want you to know that I do take responsibility for the way I left you. I don’t want this to come across as some sob-story excuse,” you frown.

Spencer huffs out a soft laugh.

“Isn’t it kind of ironic that we both thought that we were the reason things ended between us? Y/N, if it helps to hear it, then I forgive you for anything you did back then. But I don’t think you need forgiving. At least, not from me. We were both 21. Of course, we’d do things differently if we could go back. We often tell victims suffering from survivor’s guilt that they did the best that they could with the resources they had at the time.”

That sentiment resonates with you a lot. It’s also applicable to basically every guilt-laden memory from your youth. You were dealing with a lot. You were surviving, but you never hurt anyone on purpose. 

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You fight the urge to ask what for, choosing to accept his gratitude instead.

The kids have gone home for the night; when, you don’t know. You don’t glance at your watch, but it must be about ten. Usually, you’d be crawling into bed around this time. With the lights dimmed, you’d be flipping through a book, occasionally getting so absorbed in it that you forget about the tea to your side. 

You’re familiar with how quiet it gets in here at this time of night, especially on a weeknight. In college, you were downing so much late-night coffee in here, especially around exam season, that they started to regularly slide you an extra one, on the house. But this silence is heavy. 

The weight of the guilt you’ve carried for so many years is gone, and everything that you came here to say has been said. This silence should be calming, but it’s crushing. 

Speaking now is like taking a sledgehammer to a sheet of plate glass, but the longer you wait, the worse it’ll get. “Are you—” you blurt out.

At the same time, Spencer says something that you don’t make out, before he cuts himself off with a fumble.

You apologize, wishing you had never even started, but Spencer insists.

“No, please. You go first.”

You pull your hands from his, crossing your arms in front of your body.

Again, unable to meet his eyes, you ask, “I just figured I’d shift to a lighter topic and ask if you were seeing anyone these days? That’s all it was.” 

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you add, “Sorry, that was probably way too forward—”

“Y/N, I’ve been single for a long time,” he laughs. “One-night stands aren’t a particularly desirable concept. I went on some dates, but none of them developed into anything.”

“Really?”

“You act surprised.”

“I am.”

“What about you?” Spencer asks. “Are you seeing anyone?”

His voice is slightly huskier and free of any gaiety. You haven’t heard his voice like this since… probably since that morning you left. It stirs you at your core. The conversation is innocuous enough, but your body says otherwise.

"I’ve, uh, been single for about three years now? I just haven’t had the energy to put into going out and meeting people. I’m not 21 anymore. Bars and clubs aren’t really my scene. I did one speed-dating event, but it was a disaster.”

“How so?”

“I was the youngest one there, and all the guys were over 40. As you’d expect, none of them had any tact about it, even if I had been considering a fifteen year, plus age-gap relationship. Which, to be clear, I wasn’t.”

Spencer tries to suppress a laugh, and you follow suit. 

“Maybe I just picked the wrong event,” you add, “but it definitely turned me off of ever doing a speed-dating event again. I wore a low-cut top and a push-up bra that day, and the percentage of men who commented on my ‘nice rack’ was above half.”

It’s nice to be joking and laughing with him again. Even though you’re wearing the same modest long-sleeve turtleneck you wore to work and Spencer’s firmly keeping his eyes above shoulder-height, you can sense the attention you’ve drawn to your chest. But you want him to look. You want him to touch you again. 

Memories of sleeping with Spencer have faded with time, but having him in front of you, in the flesh, again has brought some clarity back.

Memories of his soft, hot mouth sucking at one nipple while his fingers pinched and rolled the other one. His hands are rougher now, but you can remember that hand trailing down your bare stomach, the featherlight touch of his fingers causing you to ache with anticipation. Those eyes. Seeing that hazel brings back memories of Spencer’s face, begging you to let him cum. It was your favorite way to see him; feeling so good that he was pleading for a release. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

Well, that’s fucking embarrassing.

“Sorry, yeah. I was just a bit distracted.”

A smirk crawls up his face. “Oh, am I boring you!?”

“No, of course not!” you quickly spit out. “I’m sorry. That was so rude to just check out like that.”

The glimmer of laughter in his eyes and the grin lighting up his face only add fuel to the fire of your desire. 

Shit. You actually want to fuck him again, don’t you?

 “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have teased you about it. What was on your mind?”

Are you really going to do this? This is probably your best shot, right? 

With a slightly lowered voice, eyes locked on his, you say, “You, Spencer.”

He seems… surprised? A bit startled, maybe? 

You grasp on to the fleeting bravado, trying to avoid letting any embarrassment cross your face. The ball is in his court now. A blush blooms beneath your skin, heating your cheeks and chest. The hand in your lap is shaking, so you clasp your hands together under the table, squeezing as tight as you can.

You’ve come onto guys for hookups before, but this isn’t just flirting with a random guy at some bar to try to take him home. This is saying, “II’ve shown you all the ugly parts of me and of my life. Do you still want me? Because I want you.”

When the initial shock wears off, Spencer blows out a puff of air and runs a hand through his hair.

His eyes aren’t returning to yours yet, though, and he hasn’t said a word. Have you been reading him wrong? Maybe he was just being friendly? Is he unattracted to you now? Maybe it’s deeper than any of that. You already broke his heart once, and then, while apologizing, you explained just how messy your life is. Not exactly boner material.

Trying to keep your tone steady and failing, you add, “It’s totally cool if you don’t feel the same way, just so you know. My feelings won’t be hurt.” Lie. “I literally just dumped all of my trauma on you, so this was probably poor timing on my part. I just thought you should know that I’m still very much attracted to you.”

This turtleneck feels like it’s choking you. You bring your hand up to the collar and scratch underneath the fabric, trying to free yourself of at least one excruciatingly uncomfortable sensation.

You shake your head. Unable to bear it any longer, you say, “I’m sorry. We can just talk about—”

“Y/N…”

Your heart stops and every muscle in your body freezes in place. You catch his knuckles white, then flushed pink as he releases a clenched fist on the tabletop. He straightens again and leans closer to you, over the table. 

His face is closer to yours than it has been all day. His gaze finally lifts from the table; first to your lips, then to your eyes, before falling back to your lips.

His lip quivers as he opens his mouth. Speaking barely above a whisper, pain tinges his voice. “I need to touch you.”

Besides being more turned on than you thought possible while sitting in a cafe, the sheer relief of not being rejected further emboldens you, fueling your next question. 

“Do you want to come home with me?”

Not taking his eyes off of your lips, he asks, “Just to clarify, you mean—”

Leaning in, you cut him off and whisper, “Yes, Spencer, for sex.”

He swallows hard and nods dumbly, eyes still firmly planted on your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[forgetmenotsassenach17]

Seven Sentence Sunday

A day late but I think it will be worth it! Thanks my dear @flyinghome-againstthewind for tagging me to share.

Here we have a snippet of Claire and Jamie spending time at Lallybroch for the most recent Time Comes in Roses 🌹 chapter I have been working in (as in you will probably forget you read this by the time it is posted 😅).

Claire had a hunch that the orderly way Maggie ran her zoo - with clear sections for each animal, regular feeding times, and each group of animals getting an equal amount of affection - were not dissimilar to the way Jenny Fraser ran her household. Maggie introduced Claire to each of the nearly fifty plastic animals, telling her their names and their backstories. Claire marveled at the little girl’s creative mind and true love for all of the animals. The pair played for nearly an hour, Claire learning how to be Maggie’s assistant zookeeper, before wee Jamie came bursting into the room to tell them that breakfast was ready.

The two kids ran excitedly to the kitchen, obviously hungry, while Claire moved at a more leisurely pace. She sipped on the cup of coffee Jamie had brought her while she took in all of the different pictures and paintings that decorated the upstairs hallway. It was a true archive of Lallybroch’s long, rich history, with paintings that Jamie told her dated back to the 1700s and pictures that showed the generational history of the Fraser family.

Nudging @lara-frasers to share a bit of the fic she’s working on. 🥰

[peachy-panic]

for the five sentence fics:

I know it hurts, but you have to keep still.

“I know it hurts, but you have to keep still.”

Elijah grit his teeth and pressed his head harder into Grayson’s chest.

The doctor—probably unlicensed, definitely on Myles’s payroll—pretended not to hear the quiet words of comfort as he wove the last few stitches on Elijah’s leg. It was the first time Myles ever got so carried away that he needed to call in reinforcements to keep his prisoner from bleeding out.

Elijah was surprised he had even bothered, and even more so that he had allowed the procedure to happen in the basement, where he could have the solace of Grayson at his side during, but he was grateful, nonetheless.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The way I learned it, salt is taking a character’s canon actions or behaviors and applying reasonable consequences, and bashing is exaggerating or outright fabricating faults to justify disproportionate consequences. Take the comedic pervert character for example, a salt fic might have them get pulled aside by an authority figure, called out by a peer, get in trouble with employers/school administration depending on the setting, etc. A bash fic might establish that not only do they leer and make creepy comments, they are a molester and a rapist, so it’s okay that the hero beat them to death with their bare hands or they were sentenced to fifty consecutive life sentences or whatever.

Interesting definitions, though I feel like it still leaves a lot of room for issues and shows why I greatly dislike the term "salt". What is a reasonable consequence that's salt vs a reasonable consequence that's just a good story?

Using your character getting called out example, a fic where he's just called out vs a fic where he's called out and changes are both going to be called "salt" by some people while other people would say that only the first is salt. And some people would say it's only salt if it's a big part of the plot vs a minor throwaway line/scene. It's just a really weird thing to see a fandom try to police. Bashing makes total sense to me. Salt makes me scratch my head.

[elismor]

He should have seen it coming.

Once again, I modified the sentence a little. I remain unrepentant.

He should have seen it coming --everyone else sure had. But Command Track was full of tactics and sims, regs and procedure, weapons specs... No room for what to do when confronted by grey-blue eyes and ginger hair. By compassion. By hope. Rex's comm is terse, but heartfelt (as always). " 'bout kriffing time, Codes. Almost lost fifty credits to Kix."

This is for a Six Sentence Fic Challenge. If you would like, drop me a sentence in my asks (with or without a pairing, but please keep it to SW) and I’ll write 5 more. There are two open spots left!

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Reveal

PAIRING || Boyfriend!Young!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Pregnant!Fem!Reader & College Student!Natasha Romanoff x College Student!Bruce Banner

WORDCOUNT || 5.6K

SUMMARY || Your life is turned completely upside down when you discover you're pregnant despite not even being together with your boyfriend for a year. Despite this, everyone in your direct circle of friends and family is nothing short of happy for you both, and you're very fortunate to have such a strong support system around you during this time in your life.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || No powers AU. College AU. Pregnancy AU. Future Dad!Tony Stark. Established relationship. Use of nicknames. No use of Y/N.

WARNINGS || Pregnancy. Positive pregnancy test. Pregnancy reveal. Sonogram. Finding out the gender/gender reveal. Swearing.

SMUT || Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Praise. Teasing. Nipple/breast play. Grinding. Oral (M receiving). Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Multiple orgasms. Cum swallowing. Creampie. Aftercare.

A/N || This one-shot takes place during the events of 'A Small Miracle' and will give a small sneak peek into the spin-off of this AU, called 'Fifty Shades of Brutasha'! This story is proofread by the amazing @ccbsrmsf1, and I cannot thank you enough! 💙

A/N 2.0 || This is my last fic for the next week or two, as I'll take a short writing break! I can't wait to come back after my break with more stories for you all, but for now I won't be posting anything for the foreseeable future. Thank you all for your understanding and support!

EVENTS Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Wild || Free Space Masterlist || @multifandom-flash Compliments || I'll Take That as a Compliment

Photo: Source || All graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist || AU Masterlist

"My Love? Can I talk to you for a moment?" you ask as you're seated on the large bed in his dorm. Tony has been working behind his desk while you were reading, and you've been mulling something over. You have to talk to someone about it. Thank God the person you trust more than anyone is in the room with you.

"Of course, Sunshine. What's on your mind?" he asks as he turns around and wheels his desk chair towards the bed. He gives you a reassuring smile, but it quickly falls when the following words come out of your mouth.

"What would you do if I get pregnant?" you ask him with a straight face, and you have never seen someone's expression change that fast. He goes from confused to concerned in about 10 seconds, and before you know it, he's on the bed with his hands on your belly.

"A-are you-" he asks, his thumbs running softly over the flesh of your stomach. His gaze is locked on yours as he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"I-I'm not sure, actually. I might be..." you say as your voice trails off near the end of the sentence.

"Is there anything that has you entertaining the idea of you being pregnant?" Tony then asks with an undying love in his voice, and you show him a small smile before casting your line of sight down to where his hands are on your belly.

"Yeah," you whisper, your hands finding their place beside his.

"If you are pregnant, I would welcome them with open arms. I know that our situation is far from ideal right now to have a baby, but if you are, I will do anything in my power to ensure they have all the care and love from us they could have," Tony tells you, and you can't help but tear up a little at his words.

"I think we should do a test before we do anything else," you offer up, and Tony chuckles because he knows you're right. He tends to go overboard when he's excited, so you definitely need to pull the brakes a bit.

"Yes, you're right, sorry," Tony says as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hands running through his hair as he thinks about possibly becoming a Dad.

Almost an hour has passed since you first mentioned the possibility of being pregnant, and you're standing in the bathroom with your boyfriend's arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as you both wait for the timer to go off. Your heart feels like it will burst out of your chest as time passes, your nerves making you tremble in your boyfriend's hold.

"It's going to be okay, Sunshine. No matter the outcome, we'll be okay," Tony whispers in your hair. Now that there's a genuine possibility that you might be pregnant, he is secretly hoping for it to be true. Timing may not be on your side, but he doesn't care. He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, which also fits into that picture.

You get startled as the timer goes off, and Tony quickly releases you so you can pick up the test. It's lying upside down so you can both find out simultaneously, and there it is: the result of your test is loud and clear.

You're pregnant.

"I- I can't believe- I'm pregnant, Tony! We're having a baby!" you say excitedly as tears run down your cheeks and a burst of nervous laughter bubbles up in your throat. Tony can't help but shed tears as well, as he will have a family with the woman he loves - you.

"We're going to have a baby, Sunshine! A baby! I can't believe it, oh my god!" he says as he holds your face in his hands, and his lips crash on yours instantly to celebrate the test's positive result.

"I love you, Tony, oh my god, I love you so fucking much," you say between your happy tears and hiccups that keep interrupting you, but the main feeling you have is pure joy. You never thought you'd become a Mom at this age - you at least thought you would have finished college first -but now that it's happening, it's like you're on cloud nine with your boyfriend and your baby.

"I love you so much, Sunshine, God I'm so fucking lucky. I'm the luckiest man on earth!" he says as he falls on his knees and lifts your shirt until your belly is exposed, and he peppers it with soft kisses.

"And I love you too, little Munchkin; I cannot wait to meet you," he whispers between tears, your stomach wet from them, but you don't care. You're enjoying that you're pregnant now and growing a tiny human inside you.

"I love you both so much," Tony says before kissing your belly and getting back up. As the initial shock dies down a little, you can start thinking straight, and the situation begins to sink in. Tony gently cups your cheeks again, his thumbs softly rubbing over the tear tracks on your cheeks.

He leans in to give you a soft, small kiss that instantly makes you want more, but he doesn't give it to you yet. Instead, he smiles as he looks into your eyes while you look up at him, his eyes glimmering with hope.

"Let's make love together, Sunshine; I want to celebrate our baby by doing nothing but making soft, slow, and sweet love to you for the foreseeable future," Tony whispers as he nudges your nose with his, and your breath hitches in your throat at his words. You nod, and he allows his hand to drop to interlace it with yours.

Tony takes a seat on the edge of the bed before pulling you to stand between his spread thighs, his hands softly rubbing over the bare skin under the length of the dress you're wearing. Your hands are lying on his shoulders as he leans forward to softly press his face into the flesh of your stomach with a big smile.

"We're going to have a baby together, Sunshine. Can you imagine it? I can't help but hope they look like you," he says as he looks up at you, his dark brown eyes glimmering with excitement.

"That will be a problem then, My Love. I hope they will look exactly like you. I wouldn't mind having a mini version of you running around," you tell him, your smile not moving even an inch.

"Maybe they will look like both of us," he says, and you nod.

"I would like it if our baby looks like both of us," you agree with your boyfriend. His hands move in such a way that he can pull you onto his lap instead of having you standing between his legs, and he immediately captures your lips with a deep, passionate kiss that has you grinding on his lap, where you can feel that he's getting hard already.

"Tony," you whimper when the fabric of your panties gives you just the right amount of friction, especially combined with the way his erection presses against your sensitive flesh. Your high is quickly building as he keeps working you over his clothed member.

"Cum for me, Sunshine, fuck! So gorgeous when you cum for me," he spurs you on and praises you, which ultimately pushes you over the edge. With trembling legs and feverish kisses, Tony carefully works you through it until you're back on earth again.

"You did so well for me, Sunshine, such a good girl for me," he whispers as he peppers your cheek and jaw in small kisses. Then, he finds your earlobe and nibbles on it to earn himself the cutest of moans from your lips.

He keeps this up for another few minutes before he takes the zip pull on the back of your dress and lets it glide down to expose your back to the room. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he pushes the shoulders of your dress down your arms, only to be greeted by the fact that you're not wearing a bra.

He gasps softly when your breasts bounce in front of him, and it's now that he's noticing the fact that they have gotten bigger, although you haven't been pregnant for very long yet. It only makes him wonder what else you've been hiding from him now.

"God, they will be so beautiful when they're full of milk, just dripping when they're too heavy to keep it all in. Are you gonna let me drink from them, Sunshine? I want to taste your sweet, amazing milk so badly," he almost whines, shivering down your spine.

"Yes, fuck yes! Want you to drink from me, Daddy," you whine as he takes one of your sensitive nipples into your mouth, his fingers kneading the other breast with careful squeezes, making you squirm on his lap. His cock twitched when you called him Daddy, and he couldn't help but smile as well.

"Call me it again, Sunshine," he almost growls after letting go of your nipple, ready to give the same amount of attention to the other one.

"D-Daddy," you say, biting your bottom lip when you see Tony's reaction. It's enough to almost send him headfirst into his orgasm, but he manages to keep himself together just enough to not cum.

"Love it when you call me that, especially now that I'm going to be a Daddy," he says in a breathy voice, leaning up to capture your lips with his once more. Tony's hands wander from your breasts to your sides and then down to your hips, only to catch you off guard when he's turned you around, and you're suddenly looking up at him while your back hits the mattress.

"That's it, you want to be Daddy's good girl, don't you?" he asks, his voice seemingly dropping a bit when he calls himself Daddy.

"Yes," you tell him, and not even seconds later, your dress has been pushed up to reveal the fact that you're wearing nothing but a pair of tiny, flimsy panties that are ripped off your body without any effort whatsoever. His shirt also finds its place on the floor, and you can't help but ogle your boyfriend's delicious body with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

"It's almost like you wanted me to rip them off you, Sunshine," Tony tuts before opening the button of his pants and pulling down the zipper, pushing them down and off his legs until he's completely bare. His cock is standing at attention between his thighs, and the veins adorning it have you drooling in no time.

"You like what you see, don't you? My little cockhungry slut," he says in an endearing tone, brow quirked and a smirk on his lips. You can never have enough of him and his cock, and you both know it. He decides to keep the teasing to a minimum this time, instead opting to slide in immediately with lots of moans and groans from you both.

Tony lines up with your entrance, his round, flushed tip sliding into your slick, dripping entrance without a single bit of hesitation. Your warmth and tightness welcome him in as you envelop him, your body moving up and down in time with his thrusts.

"So beautiful, Sunshine. I can't wait until your belly is round and showing with my baby. You're going to be the most beautiful mama I've ever seen," Tony tells you. Your back arches into him, your nails digging into his biceps as he works more of his length in. Together with the words he tells you, you're nearing the edge faster than you ever thought possible.

"Tu sei il mio sole," he whispers as he bottoms out, and your gaze is immediately locked onto his. This is the first time you've ever heard him say anything in Italian—you know he was brought up bilingual because Maria is from Italy—but it only strengthens your love for Tony.

"I love you, Tony," you say before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a soft kiss. Tony sets a slow, leisurely pace that has him hitting your sweet spot each time, and your eyes roll into the back of your head every time he speeds up a little.

"I feel you squeezin' me, Sunshine; you're close, aren't you?" he asks, and you nod. You don't need much to fall over the edge, and without saying another word, he brings his thumb to your clit to rub small circles, making you clench around his cock as your orgasm washes over you with a loud moan of his name.

"That's it, fucking milk me! 'M gonna cum so fucking hard for you, Sunshine, 'm gonna fill you up with every last drop of my cum. If you weren't already pregnant, I would fuck you every single day until you were, oh my god. Feels so good when you milk my cock-" he says, suddenly cut off when you land a smack on his ass that catches him off-guard but also sends him headfirst over the edge.

He keeps rutting into you in short, uncontrolled strokes as he rides out his orgasm, all while still being mindful of you, and when he's nearing overstimulation, he pulls out with a groan. As he lets himself fall next to you on the bed, he pulls you to his side, his hand rubbing soothing circles over your exposed back.

"I love you so much, my beautiful Sunshine. 'M forever lucky to be calling you my girlfriend, and now my baby mama too," he says with a big smile, and you can't help but smile up at him as well.

"We're both lucky, My Love, and I can't wait to meet our baby when it's finally time," you tell him. Once you're both strong enough to stand, he pulls you into his shower, where he takes extra care of you, from washing your hair to lathering your favorite soap all over your body; he does it all for you.

While your conditioner is doing its thing, Tony stands behind you and places his hands on your belly. His thumbs rub up and down as he does, and you can't stop smiling.

"What do you hope it'll be? A boy or a girl?" Tony asks, and you shrug.

"Both are okay with me; I know I will love the little Munchkin no matter what," you tell him, and he nods in agreement.

"Though I have already thought of some names, I just never thought we'd get to use them so quickly," you say with a chuckle, and Tony turns you around.

"What are they?" he asks as he cups your cheeks, and you look up at him with an excited reflection in your eyes.

"I'm thinking if it's a boy, we can call him Hudson, and if it's a girl, I love the name Orion," you say softly, and Tony smiles widely at the names.

"Hudson and Orion, hm? I think they're both perfect," he tells you before leaning in and kissing you softly. Your hands are on his waist as you enjoy the moment—just you, your boyfriend, and your baby—nothing more and nothing less.

"How're you feeling, Sunshine? Nervous?" Tony asks as you're seated on his lap, his arms wrapped around you protectively. His hair is still wet from the shower he just took, and he's wearing comfortable clothes while you're wearing one of his football jerseys, which is practically a dress on you.

"Yeah, but I think I'll be fine. She's at work, and she knows we'll call, so I have faith that it'll be okay," you say to Tony, who nods. Your parents aren't in a good place now, so you have decided together with her that you will call her while she's at work.

"I know we'll be okay. She will love the news about our little Munchkins," Tony reassures you, and you nod as you think about the two babies growing in your belly. It has been a few weeks since you found out you're pregnant, and you have gotten the fantastic news that you're carrying twins, which makes you even more excited now.

A few minutes later, you get a text from your Mom saying she's ready for the call—she had an appointment with a client first. You quickly press call on FaceTime, and before you know it, a giant smile greets you and Tony, together with your Mom's soothing voice.

"Hi Buttercup, hi Tony! How are you guys doing over there?" she asks, and you both tell her everything's okay, but you have some big news to share with her.

"Mom, you're going to be a grandma in about 7,5 months," you tell her shyly, a deep red blush on your cheeks as you feel Tony hold onto your belly. It's silent on the other side for a few seconds as the news sinks in with Virginia.

"I- I- I'm going to be a grandma? Are you pregnant? I'm so happy for you two! I can't believe I'm going to be a grandma!" she says excitedly, wiping tears from her cheeks. They're happy tears, but you can't help but tear up.

"Oh my God, Buttercup, I'm so happy for you; I know you've always dreamt of becoming a Mom! Have you been to the OBGYN already, or do you have your appointment soon?" she asks, always being practical.

"Yeah, that's the best news still. We're having twins!" you tell her, and she completely loses it and sobs on the other end of the line, all while you are crying right along with her.

"We haven't found out about the gender of the babies yet, but I have to say, it was quite a surprise to find out she's pregnant, to begin with, but to get two at once is even more unbelievable! It still feels like I'm living in a fairytale if you ask me," Tony says, and Virginia nods, unable to say anything now.

"I love you both so much, you know that? And I am so happy to hear you're pregnant, Buttercup," Virginia says after you have talked a bit more about your pregnancy and visiting her soon as well.

"I love you too, Mom. I can't wait to see you again soon," you say before she has to go and get ready for another appointment with a client. Running her law firm comes with its fair share of things to do, and she loves it with all her heart, but she's also glad she made time for you.

With a last goodbye, you hang up and put your phone on the desk before curling into your boyfriend's hold. Your knees are pulled up to your chest, and his long arms are wrapped around you protectively.

"I'm so happy she knows, and I'm also glad she's the first one we told. She's missing out on so much now that I moved to the other side of the country, and sometimes I feel bad for not calling more often," you tell Tony, who nods in understanding.

"I get how you feel, Sunshine, but you're already calling as often as possible. But the good thing is that we'll be visiting her soon so we can look forward to that," he tells you, and you know he's right. You give him a soft peck on his lips before getting off his lap and grabbing yourself a snack as you're getting hungry again.

"Do you want a snack too, My Love?" you ask, but Tony chuckles mischievously.

"The only snack I want is standing right here and wearing nothing more than a football jersey," he says with a wiggle of his brows.

"Alright, but I will have to eat something first. After that, you can feast on my pussy as long as you'd like," you tell him with a smile and Tony's more than content with that compromise. For now.

You're about 18 weeks pregnant, lying on the treatment bench with your now very much pregnant belly exposed and your boyfriend by your side as he holds your hand. Your gazes are fixed on the small screen, on which you can see both your babies and the sounds of their hearts beating, echoing through the room.

"Everything looks good in there. They are the size they're supposed to be, and they're both developing well, so all that's left now is to find out their gender. Do you two want to know, or do you want it to be a surprise?" the sonographer asks, but you already know the answer.

"We want to know today," you tell her with a large smile. Then you look over at Tony, who's starting to get a little antsy as he looks at the screen.

"You are having—" she stops for a moment to confirm her suspicions—fraternal twins! This means you will have one of each! Congratulations, you two! I'll take some photos for you to take home, and after that, you're free to go!" She says, but you don't hear anything after 'fraternal twins.'

Tony has gotten up and cupped your cheeks before kissing you fiercely through the tears streaming down his cheeks. His world is complete now that he knows he will have both a boy and a girl, which is more than he could have ever expected. They might not have been planned, but they're already incredibly loved by you both.

"Now we can use both the names you love so much Sunshine. We can name them Hudson and Orion Stark," he says, and you nod. Their names go together perfectly, and now your babies officially have their names. Tony eventually lets you go, but only because he has to - if it were up to him, he would have held you for the rest of the day.

Not long after your appointment, you're on your way back to Tony's dorm room, where you spend most of your time nowadays. While Tony drives you two back, you invite Natasha, Wanda, Bruce, and Clint out for dinner tonight, and they all happily agree.

"I'm excited to tell them, Sunshine. Now we can finally tell everyone about our babies without having to hide anymore," he says as his hand caresses your thigh, and you sigh in relief.

"Me too," you say as you look at Tony with fondness in your eyes, a smile dancing on your lips.

"I love you so much, Tony. I'm thrilled to be going through all this with you," you tell him, and he smiles back at you.

"Me too, Sunshine, me too."

Once you arrive at Tony's dorm, you're both getting ready for dinner with your friends and already have the perfect dress to wear tonight. You grab a light blue dress that is wide enough to hide your growing belly, which is ideal for tonight.

Tony opts for dark jeans and a pink shirt, making the combination you two are wearing perfect for your little reveal in the restaurant. As you're putting your hair up in a simple ponytail, you look at Tony, who's getting ready beside you, and a burst of butterflies goes through your stomach as you take in his appearance.

"You're beautiful, My Love," you tell him out of nowhere. The color on his cheeks suddenly turns from a beautiful cream to bright red at your words, as he's not used to being complimented despite you constantly doing it.

"Not as beautiful as you, though. You're carrying our babies, which makes you infinitely more beautiful than I could ever be," he tells you, making you smile wide with his words. A warm feeling spreads through your body as he kisses you.

"I love you, Sunshine," he whispers against your lips before giving a few more pecks, leaving you feeling more loved. As you pull away, you notice the time, and if you two don't hurry, you'll be late, which you don't want.

Suddenly, the way to the restaurant seems to fly by in a blur. You both take an Uber to the restaurant and when you're only a few minutes away, the others let you know they're already there. They have gotten a table, so they will be there once you two arrive.

"I can't wait to finally tell them the good news. I couldn't hide it much longer anyway, but now I'm glad we can finally show everyone about our love," you tell Tony as you're rubbing your belly lovingly. Every chance you and your boyfriend get, you either rub or touch it, especially when one or both are kicking in there.

"Give me your hand, My Love," you say, and Tony does. He gasps softly as he feels one of your babies kick, and neither of you can stop smiling until you're at the restaurant.

As soon as you're both inside, all four of your friends greet both of you with many hugs, and it's always fun to get together. Even though you're just drinking water, the drinks are flowing plenty, and the food is delicious while the conversation continues. That is until it's finally time for dessert, and you look at Tony for strength and reassurance.

"Can I have everyone's attention for a moment?" you ask Nat, Bruce, Clint, and Wanda, and suddenly everyone's gaze is focused on you.

"Tony and I have some wonderful news to share with you all, which is why we brought you here today. As of today, we have found out we're having fraternal twins because I'm pregnant!" you say excitedly, and Nat and Wanda immediately hang around your neck to hug you.

"Congratulations, man! I always knew you'd be the first to knock someone up," Clint jokes as he pulls in Tony for a hug.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Barton," Tony jokes before letting him go and being congratulated by his oldest friend, Bruce.

"We're all very happy for you both. You both deserve it," Bruce says, and Tony thanks him profusely. It doesn't take long for everyone to congratulate the two of you, and before you sit down, you can't resist showing off your belly to everyone.

"It's a miracle I've been able to hide it from all of you this time because I feel huge!" you say jokingly as you show off your belly, and Tony comes to stand beside you, pulling you into his side. He places a kiss on your temple before giving everyone a proud look. The happiness is practically dripping off you both, and the fact that everyone is happy about the news is the cherry on top.

A week has passed since you told your friends about your pregnancy. Yesterday, you both told Howard and Maria the good news, and they were absolutely over the moon about their two grandbabies. Many tears were shed during that afternoon between all four of you, and they were nothing short of supportive when you both told them.

Today, everyone's invited to have a little party/get-together at their house, and while you and Tony have a shower, Howard and Maria are decorating their garden for what will soon be your baby shower.

"That's it, Sunshine, takin' me so well in that beautiful mouth," Tony groans as he grabs your hair in a sloppy ponytail, the water falling on you both as you're on your knees for your boyfriend. Your hand is wrapped around the base of his cock as you work him up and down, and your lips are wrapped around his sensitive tip.

"O-oh God, I'm close! Fuck-" is all he can say before you take more of him into your mouth, the salty taste of his cum coating your tongue before you swallow every last drop of it with a hum, your eyes closed as he works himself through his orgasm.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, Sunshine, but I'm glad I did," he says as he helps you up, being mindful of your pregnant state. Once you're up and steady on your feet, he captures your lips with his, and you never want this moment to end.

"You deserve everything life has to offer and more, My Love," you tell him, and he smiles before capturing your lips again. Once you're both done in the shower, you braid your hair into a simple Dutch braid to keep it out of the way. You decide on a short green dress for today, as you will just be having a party with Howard, Maria, and your friends, so you opt to keep it simple.

Tony has decided on dark jeans and a green shirt to match your dress, and you two look stunning together.

"Ready? I think the rest is here already," Tony asks, and you nod. He grabs your hand before leading you down the stairs and into the garden, where you can see everything being decorated with blue and pink decorations, and you can't help but laugh.

"I thought we were keeping it simple today!" you say to Maria, but she chuckles. She enjoys going all out for everything, and the celebration of her grandchildren is something she takes seriously. She has been prepping food for everyone - including a few snacks to accommodate your current cravings - and there are presents as well, and your friends will bring more later on.

"But this is simple, amore mio!" she states with her hands on her sides, and Howard looks at his wife with a raised brow before shaking his head in disbelief. He walks over to his wife before wrapping his hands around her and kissing her softly.

"I love you very much, amore mio dolce, but this isn't simple, and you know it," he says. Maria starts to glow as he calls her 'my sweet love,' and it makes you smile. You wish you and your boyfriend will one day share the same type of love as them, and just when you're about to say something, he stands behind you. His arms wrap around you to place his hands on your belly again, and you smile before leaning into his touch.

"Let's just enjoy today, Sunshine. You can sit down and let everything happen to you, as it's all about you and our babies," he whispers before kissing your temple, and you agree. The weather is beautiful, and the sun is shining bright, so you pick the comfiest chair in the garden to make your place for the afternoon.

Tony helps Howard set up some more while Maria goes inside to prepare the last things for the food; when everyone arrives, she lets them all in.

"Thank you for hosting the party today, Mrs. Stark," Bruce says as Maria shows them the way to the garden. She smiles broadly in response before saying there's no need to thank her, and they can all sit down.

It only takes a little while for everyone to have a drink as they sit and munch on the snacks. Clint and Tony are the only ones brave enough to try some of your weirdest cravings, which range from pickles smothered in hot sauce to hard-boiled eggs with Nutella, and it earns loud laughs from everyone as they find out they do not like it, even a little bit.

"Good, that means there's more for me!" you say. Not long after, you and Tony are opening presents, and they range from lots of baby clothes in blue and pink to matching onesies and stuffed animals. You will have enough to last both of them at least a few weeks after they're born.

"Thank you all so much for everything; your support means a lot to us," Tony says after opening every present, and you agree wholeheartedly. The rest of the afternoon is spent laughing, eating, and generally having fun, and it is an afternoon always to remember. You have everyone close to you with you, and this day couldn't be more perfect if you tried.

Meanwhile, behind the shed in Howard and Maria's garden...

While everyone is enjoying themselves, Natasha has pulled Bruce to the side because something has been on her mind for a while, and she can't hide it any longer. They're standing behind a large shed in Howard and Maria's garden, where they can have some privacy.

Bruce is standing with his back towards the shed while Natasha is pacing back and forth, and his gaze follows her with every step.

"Mylaya, can you please stop pacing back and forth for a moment?" Bruce asks Natasha, and she stops dead in her tracks. This was the first time she'd ever heard him speak Russian, but her cheeks flushed at the nickname he gave her: Sweetie.

"What's on your mind? You seem a bit... off," Bruce asks after pulling her close, and she casts her eyes down. He lifts his finger to her chin before meeting her gaze and smiles reassuringly.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I- I don't know how-" is all she says before he leans in and carefully captures her lips with his. The feeling of her soft, pink lips has the butterflies in his stomach go crazy, and Natasha wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer until they're standing chest-to-chest.

"I'm in love with you too," he whispers, their foreheads touching. He has known this for a while, and her reaction to calling him Sweetie cemented it for him. She has feelings for him as well, and Bruce couldn't be happier about it.

He tucks a piece of Natasha's flaming red hair behind her ear, and he can't stop looking at her flushed cheeks and pink lips before meeting her green eyes again. The moment it all sinks in is when she meets his lips for a kiss this time, and they're glad they have finally told each other how they feel.

This will officially start something new for them, but they're both very excited to see where it goes. As long as they have one another, they know everything will be okay, and they can get through everything life throws their way.

[annawayne]

Annaaaaaaaaaaaaaa T^T I hope you're doing alright today! Did you bake anything new recently!

For the writer's ask btw: 1, 4, 5, 8, 12, 14, 15, 23, 27 :3

Do it, tell me all about it! And I hope you have a great week :3 Thank you for blessing us with all your beautiful art and love T^T

Moon, hello (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Thank you a lot for asking, and OH MY, that's a lot, but don't get me wrong, I appreciate your interest a lot T^T

Let me first tell you about baking: I baked only the plum pie recently, and it's already gone... But I plan to bake pumpkin muffins with orange cream soon :3

As for the questions:

1 - the last sentence you wrote

I've already answered this one a bit earlier here, but as I got around to answer your question, here's another sentences that I actually wrote the last one:

"I wonder, why can’t we notice… until we’ve lost it already?"

👀

4 - a story idea you haven’t written yet

Oh, I have this one story idea in my mind, based on this one art...

Can't say much without spoilering , but this story has some angsty development. Like, very angsty.

Other than this, it's also a story about how AruAni met and fell in love, so some kind of strangers to lovers, with a lot of immediate attraction and interest, all set in Switzerland, 1911.

The caption in the original post - "It was the love at first sight" - is a leitmotif of this whole story.

I've been thinking about it while working on this drawing, and I didn't consider writing it, but the more time passes - the more I think that, eventually, I'll write it...

5 - first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

Uhm... Well, I think, the chapter 10 of MYLYSW counts for now, yes? If yes, so here we are:

"How to breathe without feeling the burden of the mission to be fulfilled; how to sleep without all the images of the world through the eyes of others; how to say a word without feeling obliged to remember a promise to come back; how to look at the sun and see in it the beauty of another day borning out of the velvet darkness of the night into the golden sunrise, and not to cross out another twenty-four hours out of one hundred and thirteen thousand nine hundred fifty-five hours of defined expiration of her."

Me and my damn love for the long sentences...

8 - if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Oh, good question! I don't really have a lot of fics, but I think I would love to write for Neverland of (Our) Desires, the Fort Salta oneshot-sequel, where AruAni are caught in feelings and have an awkward-silly conversation about their boat *adventure*, with all these emotions and feelings of having the life ahead of them and not knowing what to do with it... Oh well, oh well, such a potential 🤌

12 - a trope you’re really into right now

Hm... Honestly, I've been into Forbidden Love or Star-crossed Lovers tropes recently...

It's quite canonical AruAni, to be honest, and I just love to think about it in different AUs and canon-compliant too, so yes, I would say these ones! And here a remark, that Forbidden Love/Star-crossed Lovers don't mean that it's a tragic ending - more like obstacles and a lot of angst, which challenge the characters and their love, and how it all develops within the plot.

14 - where do you get your inspiration?

You know, I thought I had a proper answer for it, but when I started typing it, I realized, that, in fact, I don't.

If I'm totally honest - I don't think I even have something special as "inspiration". I have ideas that pop up in my mind on their own, and then, I turn them into story or a moment in the fic, but I never particularly searched for it. I suppose, it's also a consequence of my constant art and literature involving, where I read/observe/study something, so I have this almost never-stopping source of new experience and knowledge, which leads to ideas and inspiration to create my own stories/drawings.

So, I think that my inspiration is constant studying and sources of knowledge.

15 - favorite weather for writing

Answered here :3

23 - pick three keywords that describe your writing

Moon, what a question *sigh*... Let's say:

evocative, raw and poetic

I thought of what to answer you on this particular question because it's a bit difficult for me to evaluate my own writing style, but I also remembered the words I received about it (including your wonderful feedback), and I guess, it helped me to pick these particular keywords.

27 - your favorite part of the writing process

Answered here, too :3

Thank you a lot for your interest and support, Moon, I wish you all the best and take care🖤

[anamelessfool]

Illustration by Edward Gorey for a John Bellairs story (my favorite childhood author and greatest creative influence)

A Naming (Part 5 of 5)

Rated Teen, Papa Emeritus II’s Son and Family

Tags: Halloween Hijinks, Eldest kid anxiety, Suburban Dad Secondo, Disabled Secondo, Post-retirement life, Magic Rituals, Dark Family Secrets, My AU with Secondo Being Papa from 2001-2008, Note: I have my own timeline of canon events

CW: Underage Drinking, Strong Language

It’s done! Thank you @kissingghouls for the idea. I was thiiiiiis close to naming their cat Mormor in your honor but I’m going to leave the Greatest Ghost OC up to you. I’m on AO3 the samee name with all my other fics but this site gets mad at me when I post links. Check out #anamelessfool Halloween tag for prev chapters. Comments on this post include links to prev chapters. #anamelessfool Halloween start is the beginning of this fic.

We ending on an ominous note because that’s my brand!

November 1 (Saturday)

There were two sounds that woke Paul a little too early for his liking. First, the distinctive urgent ring of the On-Call phone. Then, the roar of the old minivan in the front driveway positioned just outside his window. It was an ugly brown color and had recently hit enough miles to make it halfway to the moon. In its past life it drove kids and tubs of orange slices to soccer practice, but now it was retrofitted with latches to secure a gurney.

“Two hours left to my shift, and I get a hospital pickup call, isn't that the way,” Sandra fussed in the hallway at her husband while she hastily put on her pickup-appropriate clothing and paced. She rapped on Paul’s door. Paul groaned to the wall.

“Get up, be glad I'm not making you come with me,” his mother chided through the door. It wouldn't be the first time. It wasn't the body that disturbed him, it was more the prospect of staring at a brick wall while parked in the service lot for an hour while Sandra did paperwork. The bright side of one of those punishment drives would be no nagging from his mother on the way back; no drama while a guest was in the van, Sandra’s rules.

Paul finally dragged himself up from his bed and met his mother’s frown of disappointment in the hallway. “Honestly Paul, I gotta watch you all the time?” She was adjusting her sensible flats and brushing lint from her practical dress. “I'll be back in a couple hours— dammit will you get that phone, Sike?!”

The house phone in the kitchen rang mid-sentence, injecting the scene with an unpleasant urgency. The car warming up in the driveway, the fact she couldn't find her scarf, and the mopey look from her guilty son added to her irritation. “Just you wait, Mister Leider,” Sandra said stiffly but didn't forget to plant a quick peck on the top of his head before leaving him alone.

Paul heard the gentle murmur of Secondo answering the phone. “Yes. Yes hello. Hm. Interesting.”

He didn't want to move, preferring to stand in the hallway while sleep tugged at him. If he moved he'd catch his father’s eye and whatever interrogation would begin. House arrest, starting now.

Secondo continued. “Yes. I see. Well. Hm.”

If not for a sugar-crash stupor from all the candy his younger siblings would probably be running around the living room right now. It was just him, alone, trying to remind himself that he actually conjured some sort of ghost last night. He wouldn't know exactly until he approached his father. Until he actually faced his crimes.

“I hope we speak again in different circumstances, Marian,” Secondo stated into the phone. “You as well. Goodbye.”

The phone clicked into its cradle and Paul heard the hiss of the glass patio doors slide open as Secondo shifted to the outdoors. Day fifty thousand or whatever of his father’s weather journaling. It would be a good time to finally speak with him. He’d be in a more pensive mood.

Paul bided his time in the kitchen, wringing his hands and composing his apology in his head, his eyes drifting towards the magnets and photos on the fridge, fixating on one in particular. It was the only photo of his uncle that Paul knew about— Terzo, sitting on their couch holding his infant nephew Sam. The man had a haughty expression, his human eye as steely and daring as his Infernal one. Dark black veins radiated from the cursed eye, tracing his neck and slipping under his open shirt collar. The Eye, the same one that his own father had. Secondo’s awful black marks crazed up his spine and down his leg, hidden most of the time. His father's go-to answer for his ailments was a stroke. But Paul knew better.

His family had a dark past, a cursed past. And Paul knew at some point he'd hear the whole truth. But first…

Paul stepped onto the patio. Secondo was standing there staring at the sky as usual but instead of pen in his hand a cigarette dangled from his lips.

Secondo regarded his son with slightly raised eyebrows, a close enough expression to surprise that Paul was going to get. “I'm only having one. Promise.”

“Mom wouldn't like that.”

A small smile changed the shadows across Secondo’s face. “Hm. Now we're both in trouble.”

Paul gave a weak grin back, then began the pain of his apology. “About yesterday—“

“Simple apportation incident,” explained Secondo. “An entity moving items from one place to another.”

“And I…I made that happen…”

“Whatever ritual you were up to failed. But you called it out. Made it see you.” Secondo transferred his cigarette to the other corner of his mouth, blowing a puff into the sky. “They're interested in…large groups of teenagers. All the hormones.”

Paul felt hot behind the ears. “Oh.”

“You were more at risk attracting them being in a playground compared to a cemetery,” Secondo said. “Whatever you did got its attention. And your fear empowered it.”

“I really was afraid,” Paul admitted. “But you helped me. With all that…naming stuff.”

“Simplest magickal exercise. But powerful. There’s a lot of power in a name. The one you have, the ones you bestow on yourself and others.” Secondo paused, taking his time to consider his next words. He gave a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. “I was haunted by entities several times throughout my life. When I turned eighteen. Once I became Papa Elect. When your grandmother died. They were entities that wouldn't let go. That fed on me.”

“Why did they want you?”

“Rage. Confusion. Guilt.” Secondo turned slightly from his smoking to regard his son. “I opened the door to the unknown without an understanding of who I really was. Unknown dipping into the unknown. And the things haunting the shadows fed on that.”

“I'm…sorry. For stealing your things.”

“Be more sorry for letting the weak part of you win,” Secondo replied. He stamped out his cigarette and automatically reached for another, halting for a moment. “I’ll consider ‘Terrorized By A Paranormal Entity’ proper punishment if you only tell your mother about only one of these cigarettes.”

“Uh, sure,” said Paul. His father was subtly nervous last night, but now doubly so. Nervous enough to break his eighteen-month clean streak. Paul felt the hair begin to rise on the back of his neck. “Who was that on the phone?” This strange moment of vulnerability from his father made Paul table his own fears about his stunts last night. And he was even more surprised by how frank Secondo was in his reply.

“Terzo is out. Your grandfather Nihil is Papa now.”

Terzo, leering from the photograph. Paul didn't know much about his uncle but his smug smile in the photo said it all. “When did this happen?”

“Last night. At a performance. He was removed from the stage.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. It's not my place anymore to know.” Smoke curled from his mouth and nose in an imperceptible sigh. “I expect that now you realize why I didn't want that life for you.”

“I'm sorry,” Paul collapsed into his official apology. “I'm sorry I tried to do magic.”

“Magic? Magic isn't the thing to worry about in that place.”

There was shouting from the kitchen. The door slid open once more and their grey cat leapt out, the two younger children running after him. “Jimmy! Jimotheeee!” Yelled Sam. He was barefoot in the grass and jumped over a soccer ball in the yard. The cat darted under the fence. He’d cruise around today and return in the evening.

Eden eyed her father up and down, scowling. “You’re not supposed to do that anymore,” she chided.

“I know,” admitted Secondo. He gestured with his head out towards the yard. “Go kick the ball around with Sam, I’ll make you all breakfast soon.”

Eden threw him a smug smile and leapt onto the lawn. She kicked the ball once, yelled about her foot hurting, then her pain was all but forgotten when Sam expertly stole the ball from her. Back and forth the little ones ran, Paul wishing for a moment he could join them, carefree. But there was too much brewing in his mind. Last night with his friends— were they even friends anymore when Monday came around? And now with the cryptic words of his father.

Secondo reached out his arm, gesturing for Paul to come close. Paul sank into Secondo’s side, his head on his shoulder. Secondo rested his large hand on his son’s head, and the weight of that gesture coupled with the oddly comforting scent of the burning smoke soothed Paul, at least for now. “You do so much for me, son.” Paul felt the words deep in his father’s chest. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s nothing,” said Paul, but Secondo’s words were everything.

“Paul, promise me you’ll look after your siblings,” said Secondo. “Help them. Even when you’re not sure how.”

“Are you going to help uncle Terzo?”

“I don’t know,” replied his father. “But no matter what I swear all of you will be safe. It’s what I’ve done for a decade. And it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

Eden and Sam collapsed onto the grass, laughing, then jumped up to scream about their pajamas getting damp with dew. Their voices were muffled in Paul’s ears as he thought of his father’s words. In his solid arms he felt safe and his father was an honest man for better or worse. Yes, he’d protect them. Even if he didn’t know how. But somehow he sensed he did.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Paul asked, his voice a near whisper.

“Who knows,” said Secondo. He stubbed out his final cigarette and stared at the sky. “But I sense dark clouds rolling in.”

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