#sometimes you just gotta giggle uncontrollably

[parttimesarah]

Something different, but I have really been in need of a good giggle and the ending of this KILLS ME! I hope it makes you giggle too!

[somejazzinthemorning]

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

[kyracooneyx23]

take a chance on me

katie mccabe

summary: With the help a karaoke machine and a good song Katie finally confesses her feelings for you.

There was a small group of you currently sitting around on couches in the living room of Katie's apartment. You were in between Lotte and Katie, your head resting on Lotte's shoulder with your legs slung over the lap of the Irish.

Her hands were rubbing up and down your tanned legs causing shivers to go up your spine, you ignored it though knowing Katie was always like this.

Your relationship with Katie was very flirty but nothing more than a friendship. The kisses you'd place on each others cheeks would look like something more to the untrained eye but were completely platonic.

Even though you'd sometimes want it to be more.

But it never would be you and Katie were simply best friends and you know it would always stay that way not even though you'd had a stupid crush on her for so long. She would never reciprocate the feelings you had for her which made it sting even more whenever she'd call you beautiful or get jealous when another girl would speak to you.

You two would never be anything more.

You didn't mean for a sad expression to fall over your face as you thought about it, only realising you did when Katie pulls you out of your daydreams.

'What's wrong love.' you blush at the common pet name she'd call you before turning to look at her.

'Not much, just nervous for the game tomorrow.' You lie.

Teyah hears your comment from across the room and her head perks up, 'I've been shitting myself all week.' She agrees with you and the rest of your friends in the room nod wordlessly in agreement. Katie suddenly moves your legs softly so they're no longer on her lap and stands up walking over to her phone which is resting on the small coffee table. She stands in silence pressing a few buttons before she grins and picks up a microphone that is laying on top of a speaker in the corner of the room.

'Well for now let's just enjoy the night and not worry about that.' She smiles at everyone else before grabbing Lottes hand pulling her up next to her and handing her the other mic. 'It's about time this karaoke got put to use.'

Within minutes, the group of 9 footballers were all up on their feet some people singing loudly and incredibly off key whilst others just danced enjoying the fun. Katie, Beth and Steph were by far the loudest all screaming out ABBA lyrics whilst recklessly jumping around. Kyra and Alessia were in their own world giggling at the craziness. You, Teyah, and Caitlin were forcibly moving Lotte's arms in rhythmic motions trying your best to get the brunette to dance with you. And even though she would never admit to it she was secretly enjoying it.

As 'Take A Chance On Me,' began playing through the room, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes on you. You were currently swinging Lotte's arm and using her hand as a microphone singing into it. You stopped mid lyric at what you saw. Katie was staring directly at you as Steph and Beth continued to dance around her. When she saw you were staring back at her, a smile grew on her face and she began singing.

'Take a chance on me.'

She began making her way over to you, continuing to sing the song.

'gonna do my very best, baby can't you see.'

You were frozen in your spot, butterflies eating away, as you watched your best friend playfully dance her way over to you.

'gotta put me to the test.'

She finally stopped moving when she was in front of you, holding her hands out for you to take just as the perfect lyrics came next.

'Take a chance on me.'

You eagerly took her hands in yours as she spun you into her arm, your back pressed up to her chest. Laughter begun slipping through your lips, Katie smiling uncontrollably as the beautiful sound filled her ears. She brought her kips down to your ear and whispered 'you love me?'

You had to tilt your head to the side in order to look her in the eyes finding her saying the words before she even realised what they were, 'to the moon and back.'

She chuckled and brought her lips back down to your ear once again, 'good... then take a chance on me.'

You looked up at her in shock, not knowing what to say. However even if she wanted to respond, Katie didn't give you the time to. She immediately spun you around again, both of you getting lost into the song with the rest of your friends.

For the rest of the night, that's how it stayed. It may have been childish for a bunch of young adults to be singing all together in such a small space but nobody seemed to care. And by the time everyone was leaving the weight of the pressure for the upcoming game seemed to have disappeared replaced by an air of joy.

But your thoughts were still stuck on the words Katie had whispered to you earlier. You weren't sure what to think, she hadn't had anything to drink so she wasn't drunk, you wondered if she truly meant if.

If all the flirting and pet names hadn't been meaningless, once everyone is gone you find yourself alone with Katie for the first time since that moment.

'Hey.' You breath all words getting caught up in your throat unsure of what to say.

'Hi.' She responds her voice the same soft whisper as yours.

'I'm gonna go home now,' you tell her the tension in the air making you feel stiff 'thanks for having me.'

You were about to turn around and leave when you felt two hands wrap around her forearm. 'Stay, love.'

'I don't know, Katie.' you answered honestly, knowing that if you did sleep here it would be awkward.

'I can't sleep without you.' The irish whined, 'please, just for tonight?'

You wearily eyed the girl, but ended up giving in and following her into the bedroom quickly putting on the oversized t-shirt Katie chucked you and slipping under the covers.

It was strange how an action you had done so many times before all of a sudden felt so edgy. You'd fallen asleep in Katie's so many times that you'd lost count and normally you would fall asleep as soon as her arms wrap around you but now it feels as though sleep is the last thing you can think of.

'Thanks for staying.' Katie spoke happily whilst pulling you closer to her, 'I love you.'

You laughed before shooting a small smile, 'I love you too, Katie.'

'y/n.' Katie softly called out while closing her eyes being met with her response of, 'yeah katie?'

'I love you.' she said repeating her statement from before.

You rolled your eyes playfully and began speaking, 'I know that, you just told me-,'

Her sentence was cut off when katie began shuffling around moving her head to lock eyes with you as she admitted, 'No, y/n/n. I love you.'

'Yes, Katie. I get that you just said-,'

'No, Y/n,' she said again shaking her head at you, taking your hand in hers, 'I am in love with you.'

You swore your heart stopped beating for a moment, that time stopped ticking for a moment. everything stopped for you, and you swore that even if just for a moment, everything in your life aligned. Nothing in you wanted to believe her, scared that your heart could be easily broken if you did. So instead you simply shook your head.

'Why are you saying this Katie. You've never acted like this before,' you stated shakily convincing yourself that Katie wasn't in love you.

'I've always felt like this, I've just been too scared to admit it,' she quietly spoke as her eyes fluttered shut, nestling her neck into your chest once again while intertwining your fingers, 'but it won't matter because you'll never feel the same.'

'I could kiss you right now.' You say and you feel your face form into one of shock just like the one on Katie's face as those words tumble from your lips.

'Do you mean it?' Katie asks her voice hoarse and you feel her heartbeat suddenly pick up. You can't speak too unsure of where this is going, your face burns bright red as you feel Katie's lips softly press against yours.

It felt even better than you'd imagined and fireworks erupt from inside of you. A hand wraps around Katie's neck pulling her closer to you a smile forming on her lips as you do so. She rolls over so that she's on top of you her hands resting on either side of you body, keeping you trapped in between her.

You only pull away when you need air and a smile is permanently plastered on your face.

'You never answered my question earlier?' Katie smirks leaning closer to you, her breath sending shivers down your spine.

'What one?'

'will you take a chance on me?' she asks nerves bubbling in her stomach as she awaits your answer.

'was that kiss not a solid enough answer for you.' You tease making her roll her eyes and reconnect her lips with you.

You'd take a thousand chances on Katie.

[theamazingdigitalraceway]

How would all the characters react if... they get... tickled?

CAINE: This is new. Why is his body spasming? Why does he have the uncontrollable urge to laugh? Why does he feel short of breath despite not needing to breathe? These questions and more will not be answered as he is a crying, laughing mess on the ground. Thoroughly enjoying the close attention.

POMNI: DO NOT THE JESTER! SHE WILL BITE! Seriously, don't.

RAGATHA: She loves tickle fights! Sometimes it's the most she's laughed in a while.

JAX: He will get the attacker on the ground and tickle back until they can't breathe. Don't pick a tickle fight with him. You won't win.

GANGLE: Light tickles only, she gets overwhelmed easily so please stop when she says so.

ZOOBLE: Doesn't react. They're not ticklish.

KINGER: Strangely delayed reaction. He gets tickled, acts like nothing happened for five seconds, then collapses on the ground howling with laughter.

GUMMIGOO: He isn't too ticklish, but get him under the chin and he's in a giggle fit. Brace for retaliation, he has a strong grip.

LOO: She actually isn't ticklish but love to laugh anyway just for the amused reactions.

SETH: You gotta touch him first. Good luck with that. It's like trying to catch smoke. With tickle back just to poof away before the person can react.

ABEL: Anyone who tries gets zapped. No warning shot.

[fairyofshampgyu]

Can’t stop thinking about nipple pierced beomgyu

no bc anon you’re absolutely fucking right about gyu with nipple piercings *#%^$>$!😩😩!!!ajdjfjjs he’d look like such a slut ugh

He comes back home and he’s like “I gotta little surprise for you hehe🤭😌😉” and then he slowly, shyly but still grinning, lifts up his shirt to show his newly pierced puffy nipples and they’re SO PRETTY like imagine the cute heart pink ones in the pic on him ahdjdh and whatever you were expecting, you definitely were not expecting THAT, choking on your drink and he’s laughing uncontrollably at your reaction as you try to calm yourself “o-oh um…they’re…they’re uh nice, beomgyu”

“more than nice?” Beomgyu asks playfully, raising a brow and giggling.

“DEFINITELY MORE THAN NICE WHAT THE HELLJDKG” gushing at how pretty they are and he’s still proudly chuckling and smirking.

Gotta wait for them to heal though or it will hurt though so no fun yet 😔💪, helping him take care of them as they heal and gently cleaning them and he pouts and whines about how they hurt sometimes poor beomie lmao, him saying he needs lots of kisses to compensate for the pain 😒 BUT THEN AFTER A FEW WHILE THEYVE HEALEDD WELL YAYY

start playing with his pretty pink nipples, rubbing your fingers over them, lightly twisting the buds as you kiss down his neck and leave behind bruises, beomgyu letting out embarrassed whimpers and gasps at the feeling because his already sensitive nipples are even more sensitive now that they’re pierced and it just feels too embarrassing for him to feel that good from it, pleading for more and you bring your mouth to his tits instead, sucking and tongue swirling around the cold piercing and his nipple, gyu letting out a surprised stuttering mewl, your other hand rubbing over his other nipple and it’s too much for him already ☹️ and he’s cumming so so much from nothing else but that with a loud gorgeous yelp, eyes dazed and panting, heated face from cumming with no stimulation of his cock and his cum even spurting as far as to his chest, pierced nipples prettily covered in his own cum <3

[whatsurnameblog]

Satoru’s Mother’s Day Gift.

It's Mother's Day, Satoru just has to make it sentimental, but he'll need a lot of love and help from his only ally.

Giving a gift in the Gojo clan was intimidating. 

They already had everything they wanted.

But Satoru Gojo was always up for a challenge and even though he may not pull it together on time, he was determined to give his mother the best gift ever.

“C’mon Aguri you’ve gotta help me or I’ll die!” the boy whined as he tugged the older girl’s arm.

She was exhausted and the young sorcerer was more than two hands full. Sometimes, she wished to have had a twin to consume in the womb like the great king of curses. Alas, she was simply just the lonely fifth child of a lowly Gojo clan concubine. Something nobody ever brought up, not to spare the girl but because it was such old gossip it became boring to even acknowledge her existence. Satoru, at his young age, had always felt bad for Aguri.

“Satoru, your father would kill me if he even saw you with an empty measuring cup in your hand,” Aguri rolled her eyes and shrugged the young boy off.

“If you don’t teach me how to cook…” he thinks, sometimes of the dumbest things ever. “ I will tell my father you called me Satoru and not ‘Young Master Gojo’” The boy smiles menacingly before wiggling his brows.

“You traitor, you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, but I would Aguri, I definitely would,” he laughs at Aguri’s appalled expression. 

“You’re such a brat Satoru,” her mood lightens. “What’s this for anyway?”

“It’s for Mama,” the boy says simply as he looks at the trail ahead of him.

The two had gone for a walk to the river just before the boy wanted to play, Satoru always found himself enamored by the motion of the water and the small fish that inhabited it. He loved to watch the rice fish scatter when he threw a stone into the water. In moments like this, the adults realized that Satoru was still a child, something the elders hated to admit.

“Fine, I’ll help you,” the young woman finally gave in. “How about we pick some flowers for her too? Make a bouquet and a drawing for her to hold close. What do you think, Satoru?”

Aguri watched his face as the gears turned in his head. He glanced at her, his body full of uncertainty and nervousness. Would those really be good gifts for mama? He thought, and a puddle of nausea pulled at the bottom of his stomach. The boy was always unsure, never ready, mouth always stumbling when asked a question, fingers fiddling when in training, feet shifting during tests. Satoru wished he could fly under the radar, he desired to be placed in the back, something that would never be fulfilled. 

“Y-yeah? That would be cool,” the boy blushed as he pushed forward on the way back home.

“What sort of answer is that? Are you being honest, Satoru?” she stopped in her tracks, waiting for him to answer.

Satoru noticed the loss of footsteps behind him, his six eyes tingling uncontrollably at the lack of company. The boy always tried his best to use it on their hikes. He turned around, blue eyes downturned in thought.

“Mama makes me nervous sometimes. I was just going to eat with her a-and you, and just go to training or something. I wouldn’t know what to say if I gave her those things,” the boy fidgeted with the strap of his satchel. His eyes searched the ground for nothing in particular, making the woman crouch down to him.

“You know you don’t have to say anything at all if you wanted, she’ll be happy just sitting in silence with you,” Aguri smiles.

“No,” he suddenly protested. “I want her to know I love her so… I trust you, let’s pick some flowers an-and get some tools for drawing and…” the boy goes on and on as he skips toward the Gojo estate. Aguri simply giggles and encourages his excitement. They picked random colorful flowers along the path and placed them in the boy’s satchel. The two took advantage of the freedom and playfulness they had alone before being back home. They were more like siblings than the siblings they had.

The duo glanced at each other as they reached the garden entrance to the estate, they straightened out their appearance, posture stiffening in the name of sophistication. The Gojo clan was big on looks, although they valued power way more.

They walked toward the mansion smoothly, the cool air from the river slipping from their skin and clothes and into the wind. It isn’t long before they meet the entrance to the home.

“Okay, young master Gojo, many of the elders and fighters have a meeting with the Kamo and Zenin clans today, so they are away from the mansion. That means we have until sundown to prepare your gifts,” They both walk to Satoru’s quarters swiftly.

“Will that be enough time?”

“We’ll make it enough,” Aguri winks before returning to her calm demeanor. “You need to worry about washing up, something I am sure you can do yourself, and then meet me in the kitchen. You remember where it is, right?”

“Yup-“ Satoru stutters as he fixes himself when a man walks by. “Yes, Miss Aguri,” he bows before the woman and takes off into his bedroom.

As the woman skids off to prepare the kitchen, Satoru gets ready for a bath. He takes off his satchel and gathers the flowers from their trip to place them on his desk. The sun shined bright through the window and fortunately for the young boy, he had a vase hidden behind a stack of blankets near the wall. He was quick to fill the vase with water from the tub in his en suite bathroom and careful to place it on his desk so he wouldn’t slip later that night for a bathroom break from his sleep, not that that’s happened before.

He placed the flowers in the vase beautifully, Satoru had an eye for decoration, if he wasn’t a Gojo maybe he’d be something creative like a painter. Remembering that he left the faucet running, he quickly prepared himself to jump in and as he thought of what to draw for his mom, he nibbled at his bottom lip, stomach full of nervousness.

In the kitchen, Aguri was fast with her movements and grateful for the absence of staff. She quietly gathered the ingredients for Satoru and his mom’s favorite meal, something she had learned years ago from the previous caretaker.

Working for the Gojo clan wasn’t easy. When she first came to the main house as a teen she was bitter toward the conditions her cousin —six times removed—was living in. She always resented the family, but his wife, her aunt, was a sweet lady from the Kamo clan, a daughter they could do without, and, Satoru was just a child. She couldn’t even force herself to hate him. So, instead, she just did what she was told, with no feelings attached. Until she witnessed the nasty abuse the boy and his mother received, and that’s when the girl decided she’d always be on their side. And she promised Satoru’s mom that she’d always be there for him.

“Aguri? Are you here?” The boy whispers as he enters the kitchen in his usual white attire.

“Yes, Satoru, everyone is gone!” The young woman whispers back and smiles at the way his head pops out from the wall. “I’ve already gathered everything, okay? Just pass me the ingredients as we go, and you’ll learn just how she likes it! This is exciting.”

Satoru nods as he comes closer. The young sorcerer was tall the only thing out of his reach was anything farther than the third shelf, so he watched Aguri carefully and without struggle. 

The woman was practiced in her movements, unsurprisingly, and she knew the recipe by heart by now. She instructed Satoru professionally as if she were the head chef of an upscale restaurant, something that would seemingly always stay a dream. 

“You’re so cool, Aguri. I wish I could cook,” Satoru hmph’d as he passed her some pre-diced vegetables.

“Thanks ‘Toru,” there was that nickname that made the boy blush. Aguri was important to him, she was more family than his father and siblings and he enjoyed when they could be this comfortable. “Your mama’s going to love this gift, but I think she loves anything you do.”

“I don’t know ‘Guri, she’s usually so picky,” he pouts and backs away from the sizzling pot. 

“No, trust me, she’s going to love it,” Aguri smiled at him and quickly moved on to the next big pot. It would take her some time to make three portions of the meal, but it was worth it.

The two Gojo’s fall into a comfortable silence with the occasional childish back and forth. Neither can help themselves in the stillness of the house. There’s no one here, most of the staff are in their quarters by now. It was the best time for this they both concluded. Just being together without the watchful and strict eyes of the elders was freeing. Although it wasn’t unusual for Aguri to be here around this time as a caretaker, she was always on the clock.

Aguri’s living quarters were also relatively close to Satoru’s which is how they got so close. Late-night snacks and a few sneaky card games were enough to get a seven-year-old Satoru to warm up to the girl who was simply six years his senior. Like every child he was impressionable, and Aguri was honored to be the “good influence.” 

But Satoru was also a good child, a little bit of a rascal, but he was obedient, not that he had much of a choice. Going against the rules meant punishment for the whole clan. A fact only spoken of in letters between Aguri and one of her siblings, something kept sandwiched between time away from the boy's eyes. Now that Satoru was entering his preteen years, as his thirteenth birthday would be in early December, the topic hadn’t graced the pages of a paper since just as the letters slowly stopped coming.

“That smells so good,” Satoru squeals. “You’re right, mama’s gonna be so happy! Can I tell her I made it?”

“Of course you can,” she gestures for him to come closer. “How about you mix the sauce a little, and we can finish up.”

Satoru smiles and nods eagerly before stepping in front of the stove. Aguri observes him cautiously, not wanting him to hurt himself. She helps him mix it evenly and hums when it's consistent with the meal's expectations.

“Alright, let’s plate the food.”

“Will you eat with us?”

“Do you want me to? I made enough for three,” Aguri smiles.

“Then you’ll eat with us,” Satoru decides.

She instructs him to grab the three plates she had already placed on a counter across the room. She turns everything on the stovetop down and grabs another pair of gloves just in case. Satoru quietly helps her plate the food into three dishes while she turns everything off and cleans up, and when they’re finished, she grabs a tray and a familiar-looking container she had set out earlier to cool. 

“Drinks in the fridge ‘Toru!” he nods and runs to retrieve them.

Aguri sets everything on the tray and waits for Satoru to come bobbling back. He tugged his lip frustratedly, the only options always being water or alcohol and he could only have one. It’s unfortunate that Aguri didn’t make tea but Satoru wasn’t bothered and simply grabbed three water bottles. He slowly closes the refrigerator when he hears Aguri call for him and quickens his movements to rush back to her.

They silently walk towards Satoru’s mother’s quarters, the boy bumbling with anxiety and eagerness. He stops just at the large brown doors before looking back at the girl. 

“It’s okay, you can do it c’mon, open the door, and I’ll go first,” Aguri speaks softly, her voice full of care and warmth and Satoru nods and follows her directions.

Aguri enters the room first, the change in air chafing her skin as she sets the tray on a table near the wall. 

“Come on ‘Toru, don’t leave us waiting,” she calls out as she smiles at his mother. She places the plates around the square table right next to the bed, one chair adjacent to the head and the other adjacent to the foot while a third faces it. Aguri opens the small container quietly, listening for Satoru’s entrance.

His feet were soft and nervous on the ground as he walked in. He gulped as his eyes set on his mother in all her beauty, her face was full of color today, and she looked like she was sleeping more than dying. The beeping machine tracking her heartbeat, among other things, was taunting. Satoru hated the sound, but he loved his mom, so he could bear it. And he would, as long as she was still here, and even though Satoru had lost hope over the last couple of months, she was still here, and he’d be right next to her for as long as she stayed.

To Aguri, Satoru was still a young child, and to his mother, he would always be her baby. Satoru couldn’t disprove either of those things. At this moment, he felt like both. He felt so small.

He walked towards her bed, the vase of flowers he acquired on the way to her room now placed on a table near the door and a quick drawing of a water iris with a short poem etched into the left side of the paper under his arm.

A spoonful of your love is enough for me to live through infinite lifetimes.

A hug,

A kiss,

A laugh,

A tear,

A smile,

A sigh…

As simple as it seems, it’s enough.

“Happy Mother’s Day, mama,” the boy smiles, tears gathering in his eyes as Aguri holds out her arms to embrace him, a gesture he easily recognizes.

And as they all enjoyed this moment together, they never thought of a future where a love like this didn’t exist. But if they had, maybe they would have been better prepared.

If you're reading this, I hope you've enjoyed it, and thank you for reading.

© whatsurnameblog 2024, do not copy or repost anywhere

[lafortis]

what were the most memorable elden ring moments for you?

tough call but obviously malenia resting her nuts on my chin for international womens day (and intl womens day pt 2, and pt 3, and etc. ...) was up there, as was spending 6 on stream hours killing the fuckign horse. astel starborn ranks up there as just an insanely unique boss design, it visually really stuck with me. original radahn boss fight was sick design, that was really enjoyable and stuck for sure. the sense of discovery regarding nokron was goated in general, first going down the well and realizing how much farther down it goes than you expected, then second when the meteor opens up a fuckin hole in liurnia and you just keep going down it, both absolutely stuck.

lemme think. patches finally just giving up the game and sending me straight to fucking hell (i.e. telling you to go to the iron virgin in raya lucaria and then it sends you to the pits of volcano manor, which like, might as well be actual biblical hell) made me laugh uncontrollably iirc. like that's always been the vibe but this time he just up and does it. just tricks you into going straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. just boom, seventh circle. see ya nerd. fucking hilarious.

honestly i mean it's a really fuckin memorable game imo. pretty much every demigod i can vividly remember, except maybe morgott, he's got a sick visual design for his real fight but he's a little undercut by having already fought him kind of, but everyone else i can call moments from to mind. maybe rennala gets second bottom slot on memorability, she was relatively standard fair, but visually the second half goes hard as fuck so that's fair game. fire giant goes crazy, maliketh goes crazy, mohg is maybe after rennala in terms of memorability but honestly NIHIL NIHIL NIHIL still sticks. then maybe godrick, who gets a bonus for being your first, then the ones i've mentioned, with marigon/radika being somewhere in between because you don't get any character but FUCK does the visual design go soooo hard.

there's probably more that i'm forgetting, it can't be understated how much i love elden ring. i'd struggle to argue that any game ever made is consummately better, more engaging, more lush and rich, or just more fucking fun than elden ring. like no glazing it might be the Best Game Ever.

oh also i didn't mention anything from the DLC because a. it hasn't been out for 2 years so i haven't measured its memorability as thoroughly b. it hasn't been out for 2 years yet so spoilers, but rest assured there's plenty in there. rellana is maybe my favourite non-demigod boss they've ever done, st trina and her whole thing is just so deeply fromsoft i love it so much, messmer fucks heavy and the phase change cutscene will stick with me for a long logn time, midra's shtick and cutscene and shit fuck so so so heavy, exploring the new areas was exactly what i needed out of an elden ring dlc it's so fucking DENSE, and then finally, of course, [REDACTED], Consort of [REDACTED] is stupid and can go fuck himself and is also so fucking cool it's unreal. the unique death status from the hug? absolutely incredible lore wise and gameplay wise. made me giggle fr. there's some overtuning in there tho, but tbf all it did was make me actually use all the tools at my disposal (which is completely fair enough, i can't just keep dodgeroll charged R2ing forever, sometimes there's gotta be some other other bullshit in there lol).

anyway thank you for letting me relive the greatest game on earth in my head real quick before work <3

[super-predictable98]

The Galaxies of Gallifrey

Chapter 2: This is Ace

Word Count: 1,8 k

Warning: SPOILERS FOR THE GIGGLE

2023: Guarujá, Brazil 

"Not bad, huh?" The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and then held his wife's hand as she followed. "Seems like a nice place. Perfect for our very very very belated honeymoon. Do you like it?"

"I love it, Doc," Gallifrey wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lovingly. "I can't believe we are finally getting some peace and quiet... it's like a dream." 

"We just gotta keep the TARDIS nearby to translate for us, Portuguese is not one of the languages I speak."

"But I do," she nudged his arm. "My father was Brazilian. I've been here before, that's why I suggested it." 

"You have? What other secrets have you been keeping from me?" The Doctor stared at her in disbelief. 

"Guess you'll have to find out... if I remember correctly, there was a pizza place with the best pizza in the world, we can order that later. And I need to find the Cafe I used to go to, they have the most divine cake, just a ferry ride away. Oh, look! The bakery and the newsstand are still here, it's been ages!" 

"Alright then, for once you're the one leading the expedition," he chuckled as he looked around, taking in the scenery and the delicious smell of the sea.

"How about we have a walk on the beach then? I miss it so much." 

"Sounds good, but we need to be careful. I don't want sand in the TARDIS."

"We don't need to go back to the TARDIS so fast... My grandma has a flat right there, we can stay for as long as we want."

"Gal! What else don't I know about my wife? A whole flat? We'll need to bring Mel, Donna, and the family sometime."

The couple held hands and made their way to the seashore. For the first time in their lives, they felt normal, a normal couple enjoying their time together without worries. 

"Are you going mad already? Regretting your decision?" Gallifrey asked before picking up a shell off the sand hoping to find a hermit crab inside.

"Not one bit, this is our new adventure. Living one day after the other, having our family, finding jobs, buying a house, having your mother over for dinner, visiting Donna... I never thought that's what I wanted, but I've been fighting all those battles and now I know what for. I've never been so happy in my life," the Doctor smiled, genuinely satisfied with the feeling that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

"Speaking of my mother, we should probably call her soon, she's been worried. I can't imagine her as some fearless, rebel adventurer."

"Your mother was insane, she wasn't scared of anything! Well, almost anything. I often had to tell her to back down, or she would've exploded the universe already."

"That doesn't sound like her at all! I need to see this side of her... I admit I'll miss adventuring, we had some awful times but some really good times as well. We can never forget it, never let these memories die." 

"Don't worry about that, I have an exceptional memory, I remember every second with you," he wrapped his arm around her. 

"Every second?" 

"Every second." 

*

Late 2006: London 

Gallifrey Gale McShane woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, her Charitable Earth shirt was soaked and she cried. She sobbed uncontrollably, enough for her head to hurt.

"Mama!" 

"Gallifrey!" Dorothy barged into the room and took her daughter in her arms. "Gallifrey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" 

"It hurts, Mum! It hurts my heart! My chest feels like it's on fire." 

"Did you have a nightmare, sweetie?" 

"Not really..." she took a deep breath and coughed before being able to talk. "There was a beach in Norway, the Bad Wolf Bay, there was a blonde girl, she was crying. There was the man in a suit, he disappeared. I don't know what I was looking at, but I know it hurt. It was forever." 

"Forever? What was forever?" 

"Their goodbye." 

"Aw, Galli... it was just a dream. You're always dreaming of the man in the suit, he can't hurt you."

"I don't think the man will hurt me, Mama, he wouldn't. But I can't reach him, he's in my dreams and I can't reach him. I feel like I'm meant to be there, I'm not meant to be here!" 

"You're meant to be in your dream with the man?" Dorothy chuckled. 

"Yeah! He's... he's the answer." 

Gallifrey was a very sensitive girl, she had just turned 20 and had plans to start university pretty soon. She wanted to study history and maybe teach or... or end up working in her mother's charity as Dorothy always had planned, no pressure of course. 

"Sweetheart, you're half asleep, you're not thinking straight. Just let me get you a new shirt, and you can get some sleep. The man in the suit won't come back." 

"That's what I'm scared of. He needs to come back. He can't leave me here." 

"Mummy's here, love," Dorothy kissed her forehead. "Now let's get some rest, big day at the charity tomorrow." 

Gallifrey switched her shirt and fell back against her pillow. It had been over a year since she started having those dreams. Dreams of other worlds, time travel, aliens... and love.

The next morning Gallifrey was feeling very tired, she wasn't able to rest at all. Not after that dream. She just cried and cried for hours until she practically passed out. 

"How are you feeling, Galli?" Dorothy asked. 

"Like hell." 

"I'm sorry, do you wanna skip the event today? Get some sleep." 

"I can't sleep right now. I wanna go, it'll keep me distracted. Just give me ten minutes and I'll be ready." 

Gallifrey fixed her hair in a ponytail, she put some makeup on and a dress. It was December so her mother warned her to get a coat. 

"Can I borrow that blue one you have?" She asked. "It's the only one that matches this dress."

"Of course, it's in the wardrobe," Dorothy mindlessly said.

The wardrobe looked the same, it had the same clothes as always, but this time... this time Gallifrey's hand didn't find the blue coat, instead it was instantly attracted to the very back where she found a black jacket covered in patches and pins.

"This is so cool," she breathed before putting it on. "Wow, who knew Mum could be cool?" 

Having that jacket on felt different, it felt electric. So much energy surging through her and she had no idea why... couldn't possibly be the jacket. Right?

*

Early 2006: London

"Jesus Christ you scared me!" The Doctor jumped when he entered the TARDIS and saw her standing there. "Wait... where's Rose?" 

"Rose? I... I don't know. Where the hell am I? What happened?" 

The Doctor analyzed her carefully and suddenly his face lit up.

"I know that jacket... you know Ace!"

"Who?"

"Ace McShane of course."

"I don't know who that is. This is my mother's jacket, you must be mistaken."

"Your mother?"

"My mother, Dorothy McShane from Charitable Earth, you might've heard of her."

"Ooooh yeah, I get it," the Doctor nodded, remembering what happened and how Ace's memory was wiped before she was returned to Earth. "What's your name?" 

"I'm Gallifrey," she mumbled. "Wait a second... You're the man in the suit!" 

"I suppose I am. Gallifrey?" He chuckled, a big goofy grin on his face. "Guess she didn't completely forget me after all." 

"What am I doing here? What is this place?" She started freaking out a bit. "I was just in my mum's bedroom, I blinked and I was here. How did that happen?" 

"You're in the TARDIS, time and relative dimension in space. It's my ship, it travels anywhere and to any time you want. Usually I have a companion, but she seems to be lost right now..." 

"Is your companion the blonde girl?" 

The Doctor nodded, hating the way her voice trembled. The idea that something might've happened to Rose broke his hearts.

"Have you seen her?" 

"Yes... in my dream. I- I'm sorry, she's gone. To another world." 

"What? When?"

"Last night, December 20th." 

"Gallifrey, today is February 5th." 

"2006?" 

"Yeah, you saw my future and somehow changed my present, but how?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. If there was a way to get Rose back, he would take it, but if their future was a bitter goodbye in which she was forced into another world... did he even want that? Wouldn't it be better to save them the heartache? 

"Rose went to another universe? So it's possible her existence was completely erased from this one. Her time with me... it's all a memory."

"Maybe we can find her!" Gallifrey suggested. 

"We can try, but the timeline is already fixing itself. It required someone to fill her place and you were just soaked with time travel radiation because of the jacket. So it sent me you, the TARDIS knows you." 

"Radiation? Is that dangerous?" Gallifrey looked down at herself terrified. 

"No, it's completely harmless. It's just the sort of radiation that accumulates as a result of one traveling in time. Your mother had lots of it and she must've passed it onto you too."

"My mother? She traveled in time?" She laughed, it was such a ridiculous notion. Her mother, the biggest homebody she knew, the most cautious person ever!

"Oh yeah," the Doctor grinned. "With me, when she was younger and went by Ace. We were best friends!"

"Yeah right..." 

"Why else would you have the name you have? Do you know what your name means?" 

"No, always thought she got it from a fantasy book or something."

"Gallifrey is the name of my home planet, I'm a Time Lord. Unfortunately, I can't show you since I'm all that's left of that planet, but she knew about it. Her memory was wiped but in the back of her brain she remembered." 

For some reason, she wanted to believe him. She did believe him. It was like somehow she knew him of old, like they were connected by this invisible string. The man in the suit wouldn't lie to her, she was sure of that just as she was sure he wouldn't hurt her.

"So what now?" Gallifrey asked.

"Now we look for Rose like you said, it's worth a try... I'm the Doctor by the way." 

"Doctor, Doctor who?" 

"Just Doctor." 

"Alright then, Doctor. Let's find Rose!"

"You seem excited already," he teased. 

"Well, I finally found the man in the suit I've been looking for in my dreams for a year. This is ace! Let's go, Professor."

"What did you just call me?" His eyes widened.

"Um, I don't know..." her brows furrowed, but she shrugged with a smile. "Wicked."

Tag list: @jozstankovich

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxxi.z: Coke, Blood & Handguns,  I turn around and she was standing there, somewhat bashful ... So! Uh … I’ve never hired an escort before so uh … cash or credit? Paypal? “*Tsch* Omg shut the fuck up! … ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?? DO I LOOK LIKE A WHORE TO YOU??” You don’t, not look like one “HA!!! Fuck you asshat … You are such a hopeless human being” she said followed by a little giggle. She went and sat on the side of my bed just as I did before … I joined her. She then said in a very bashful and shy way “You don’t gotta be rude all the time you know … we can be … not that as well you know?” caught a little off guard and confused I reply. Oh!? I didn’t mean … you don’t actually look like a hooker! That was a joke … you look good, really good. “I know that, I mean you know … we don’t have to sling insults each other's way every time… although it is fun, I mean we can also compliment each other… be closer … you know?” Yeah I mean is that not what we do already? “*Sigh* you are so lucky I’m the one here with you right now … you know any other girl would have ditched your stupid ass for not understanding what I’m saying, you fucking introverted fuck” W-WHAT The hell!? What am I missing here!? “Shut up you absolute idiot *snicker*” You shut up! … you … pretty dress wearin, strongly opinionated … heartwarming … shit stain. She looked at me … I looked back … and uncontrollably big smiles started to form on our faces until we Burst! Into laughter. “W-wow … that was … I just” I know … my brilliance can sometimes be … overwhelming. She wide-eyed and with a smile said slowly “‘Heartwarming … shit stain’?” Yeah! yeah … sorry! I don’t make the rules but that is what you are … and sorry … but everyone says that about you so … just letting you know. “*Laugh* Oh really!? … well how nice of them … you know what they say about you?” God knows I probably don’t actually wanna know … and boy have I heard some choice thoughts about me already that I wish I hadn’t … but … noooo what? “That you are kind … that you are … caring and understanding … someone to rely on and someone to care for and trust … someone who soothes a lot of pain just by being there” … Wow … well that’s … that’s nice to hear … you must talk to different people than I do haha. She leaned into me, placing her head on my shoulder. “I don't … I talk to all the same people you do … and I must say … the way you talk about how others feel about you … well … simply just isn't true based on what I've gathered.” She smiled and eyed me down. *tsch* Maybe so … I can be a bit … hypercritical. “Understatement” Yeah yeah. “But I want you to be careful with everything ahead of us … you and J … me and you … we all have to take down that asshole ok? Not just you … and we all have to take it one step at a time, together.” Yeah, no I understand … I'm not looking to go guns blazing … not looking to throw safety and stability to the wind, and just sacrifice it all to blow down a singular asshole … I'm not looking to be … Wrathful … I'm new now … I'm all better now. “I Know … just … don't get lost in all this … please?” I won't … I'm me after all. … … … we sat in silence for a while as she wrapped her arms around me, and rubbed my shoulder and upper arm in a soothing manner … she then gave me a kiss on the side of the temple. Thanks, M. “No problem … just sharing what you give me you know? … doing the same thing back … something everyone should do. I want you to promise me, to try and do something for me ok?” Yeah sure! anything, what? ... [To Be Continued]

[transk0vsky]

Some writing just figure out how I want hypotonic insanity caleon to be :P also Casey is nonbinary and uses any pronouns so I switch between the way I refer to their pronouns in this lol

Leon sat next to Casey on the concrete and sighed softly “….i feel like I just got a Pap smear done” he remarked before wiping some blood from his nose that stupid purple dragon punk almost bashed his nose in. Casey giggles loudly leaning against his golf bag “That good, or bad?” The vigilante teased, Leon shot a glare over at Casey “you ever had a good feelings after a Pap smear?” Casey laughed before pausing “Oh okay. Just makin' sure, I wouldn't know, never been to a gynecologist.” The blacked hair vigilante mumbled softly

“EVERYONE WITH A UTERUS NEEDS TO GET A PAP SMEAR CASEY!” Leon shouted “you need to see a doctor! You…..have you heard of cervix cancer?” Casey snickered waving off Leon’s worries completely “ohhhh Whatevah, I'm fine. I don't need a doctor to tell me that. I think I'd know if there was somethin' wrong down there cause it's my body right?” Leon rubbed his temples in frustration “One of these days you’re gonna get a uti I swear to Christ! Jones your supposed to go to the gyno every year?” “I drink a lot of pineapple juice, so I don't think I'm gonna have a uti anytime soon. That helps right? Or is it oranges? I dunno.” Casey shrugged rubbed the back of their head

Leon blinked in disbelief “I think pineapple juice is something else……” Casey chuckled in response “oh What is it for then wise guy? Enlighten me.” “Fuck if I know” Leon replied back snappily he groaned as his shell cell went off “oh great” Casey raises an eyebrow getting slightly annoyed by Leon’s dismissal of their questions “So what is it? Pineapple helps with something. What is it huh?”

Leon covered Casey’s mouth with his hand “hush! April’s calling” Casey takes a deep breath and tries to hold in her laughter but can't, as she bursts out laughing uncontrollably and begins kicking her feet in the air. Leon rolled his eyes to the high heavens “Jones quit it before I punt you all the way over to Jersey!” Leon hissed in an annoyed tone before April on the other line immediately decided to hang up.

Casey giggles and sticks her tongue out “What what if I doooooon't stop? What are ya gonna' do then?” Casey taunted keeping her tongue stuck out to annoy Leon on purpose though it sorta hurt her tongue piercing at the same time, Leon huffed in frustration “Oh shut the fuck up jones” Leon replied with another roll of his eyes his noses scrunching up in annoyance. Casey grinned at at him in amusement before making finger guns and shooting the finger guns at him. “Oh whatever nicoleeeeeee.” Leon scoffed softly as he leaned in close enough to kiss maybe the kiss would finally happen “ey cool it jones don’t need the whole block hearing you spewing out my middle name!” Casey's heart started to race at the thought of kissing him, as he leaned forward a little bit his lips slightly apart, waiting for Leon to respond and give him that kiss they've been dreaming of for months.

Leon pulled away and got off the ground “see ya around jones I gotta go help don with a science thing” Casey sits there, a bit stunned by his sudden move to get up and leave, her heart beating rapidly and her lips still slightly apart in confusion and disappointment. “...See ya.” Leon looked back and gave a huge smile to Casey “come over to my place for dinner sometime jones I have some killer recipes I know more than just paranormal stuff!” Casey blushes as the words hit her, her heart beating even faster and her heart skipping a beat, giving a nervous smile “..Sure, that'd be... nice.”

[angelfic]

— SECRETS AND SKATEPARKS.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: you have a sneaking suspicion about your best friend and will apparently go to any lengths to prove yourself right.

warnings: mentions of violence/bruises, kissing, basically just a bunch of pg13 fluff, friends to lovers au.

author’s note: very much enjoying the andrew garfield spiderman love recently (don’t know where you all were 9 years ago but that’s not my business) so here’s a fic for my favourite spidey! i don’t think i’ve written for marvel in over a year and my writing is kinda rusty, but enjoy nonetheless!! ♡

“I wonder what Spider-Man looks like,” you absentmindedly mumble, scribbling down the answer to the Calculus question you were working on.

This piques your best friend Peter’s interest and his gaze quickly shoots from his own homework to you. “What, why? Wh-why does that, uh, matter?”

“No, I’m just saying, y’know?” You shrug, not thinking anything of it until you catch his expression. His head is tilted in confusion and he resembles a lost puppy with curiosity painted plain as day on his face.

God, why does your best friend have to be so cute. Okay, maybe a slightly inappropriate thought to be having, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone! Other than yourself, that is, by not having your feelings returned. Collateral damage.

“He’s, like, super strong right?” you ask, turning back to your homework. Mostly to avoid looking at Peter, but also because you aren’t quite as good at calculus as him. He hums in answer, prompting you to continue. “Which means he’s probably super ripped. And if he’s super ripped, he’s gotta be like…”

You trail off, thinking he gets where you’re going. But when you look at him again, his brows are furrowed and you can’t help chuckling. “Spider-Man is probably really hot.”

Peter chokes on air.

“That’s not even-“ He cuts himself off, shaking his head which causes his hair to fall into his eyes, bringing more attention to the blush creeping it’s way onto his face. “I’ve always thought he was too… lanky.”

“Pfft!” You look at him like he’s gone crazy. “He’s not lanky. He’s tall. Tall guys are hot. He’s clearly got muscle. Probably was a popular jock or something in high school.”

“Yeah,” he says through a grin. He goes back to his homework and smiles like he’s sharing a private joke with himself, most likely at your mindless ramblings about Spider-Man. “That sounds about right.”

“And have you seen his ass?”

Peter chokes again.

“You good, Pete?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow at how awkward he is at the mention of Spider-Man’s ass. Just another aspect of his personality that you find irritatingly endearing.

“Just peachy,” he replies, through a strained voice.

You try, you really do, to keep in your laughter at his word choice. Unfortunately, you’ve never been good at that and as a result, you burst into a fit of giggles. Peter realises why you’re uncontrollably laughing soon enough and he groans, yet is unable to stop the corners of his mouth lifting. “You’re a child.”

“I can’t believe you said that. Of all phrases,” you say breathlessly, wiping a tear and finally calming down. This lasts a full five seconds and you don’t stop laughing again until you hear the click of a camera going off. “Hey!”

Peter had a habit of randomly taking photos of you, sometimes with him but mostly candid ones where you weren’t aware. A lot of the time he would print them out and stick them onto his collage inside his wardrobe, much to your protests.

“Delete that, I probably look hideous,” you whine, getting up to grab the device out of his hands as he looks at the picture he took, grinning. “Let me see!”

“Nope.” He pulls the camera out of your reach last minute, making you fall onto the bed with an indignant huff. “And you’ve never looked hideous a day in your life,” he mumbles under his breath, a hint of a scowl playing at his lips.

Pretending not to hear this, at the risk of him seeing your burning hot face, you go back to your homework. Curse Peter Parker and his stupid offhand comments that he doesn’t even know have an effect on you.

Somewhere in the eventual comfortable silence of your bedroom, Peter’s phone goes off and he shoots to his feet, collecting all his things into his backpack.

“Forgot I need to, uh, help Aunt May with some stuff,” he explains, already rushing out of the door, offering you an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay see you-“ The door slams shut. “Later. I guess.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving your stupid heart still fluttering.

You see him the next day in school, just before second period. He missed first, as per usual. He never used to be late to class, but recently you’ve been catching him in the school hallways rather than outside your window on the fire escape so you can walk to school together.

“Parker!” you yell to get his attention as you make your way to his locker. He looks up, grins and gives you a little wave. There goes that heart again.

Just as you reach him, some girl bumps into you as she rushes to get to class, causing you to stumble and fall on Peter.

Immediately, Peter catches you by the waist, where you would otherwise have fallen face first. His hold on you is strong and steady, nothing like his old, clumsy self. That being said, your hand grips his upper arm and you gulp at the hard muscle beneath his jacket.

Woah, you think to yourself. When has he even had time to work out?

While you aren’t completely surprised since you’ve caught glimpses of his arms and peeks of his stomach as he’s taken his hoodies and jackets off in the last couple weeks, you didn’t think he was this jacked.

“Uh, fast reflexes there, Parker,” you nervously chuckle, still in the same position.

Your words seem to break him out of a trance and he clears his throat, gaze flickering down to your lips for a nanosecond and you almost miss it. You don’t, of course, since your face is mere inches away from his and you’re about to pass out from the smell of his intoxicating shampoo.

“You okay?” he asks with wide eyes, pulling you back up and you use everything within you not to complain about the loss of contact.

“Yeah, I’m f-“ you cut yourself off, properly taking in his face this time. A bruise is forming under eye his, directly on his cheekbone, and you gasp, tentatively reaching a hand out to trace it. Peter furrows his brows in confusion until you speak up, but your voice doesn’t raise above a whisper. “Peter, what happened…?”

“This little thing?” He looks away, pulling his hood up higher over his face, giving you a sheepish smile. Probably as an attempt to calm you down. It doesn’t work. “It’s nothing, really. I just… had a skating accident.”

“You didn’t have it last night!” you insist, struggling to see how and when it could have happened. “You also didn’t have your skateboard last night when you left, and you couldn’t have done it this morning because it’s already starting to bruise.”

Peter stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Since when did you become a detective?”

“That’s not the point! Did someone do this to you or something?” you demand, crossing your arms. “Because if they did, I’m going to seriously kick some ass!”

You can already imagine the steam coming out of your own ears, but when Peter starts to hide a smile behind his hand, you become furious.

“Is something funny about this?” you seethe, narrowing your eyes and taking a step closer in an attempt to intimidate an answer out of him. His smile grows.

“You’re just cute when you’re trying to be scary,” he says, grin on full display now. “Especially when you’re like, this tall.”

He looks at the tiny space between his fingers, showing you too.

“I can’t help it if you’re a tree,” you mumble angrily, practically looking up at him.

“Wasn’t it you who said tall guys are hot?” Peter rubs a hand across his jaw, pretending to be in deep thought. “Are you saying I’m hot?”

“Oh, shut up, you know you’ve got that hot skater boy thing going on. Don’t act like you don’t see those girls at the skate park ogling you! They don’t even skate!” you scoff, probably a little more annoyed than you should be at the idea of girls looking at your best friend. To your surprise, Peter looks like he’s just received brand new information.

“Those girls look at me?” he asks slowly, pointing a finger at himself. Then, as if he’s just taken in your words, he blinks. “You really think I’m hot?”

Spluttering, you refuse to answer the question, imagining the million ways that could go wrong. “Don’t change the subject, Parker! Now tell me h-“

“Shouldn’t you two be in class right now?” You’re interrupted by one of your teachers, looking at you expectantly.

“Y-yeah, sorry ma’am,” Peter quickly apologises, seeing his way out. You almost curse aloud when you remember your second period isn’t with him.

“This isn’t over,” you hiss, not looking back at his reaction before rushing to class. Unfortunately you can’t afford to have a detention on your record this early in the year.

You spend the whole school day without seeing Peter - big shocker - and when you get home you don’t bother inviting him round to study since he’s probably just going to be busy anyway.

Sighing, you throw your bag onto your bed and sink down into your desk chair to look at the news for a few minutes before inevitably getting lost in a Netflix binge marathon. The first thing that pops up is obviously the new vigilante and friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, a clip of last night that was recorded by some passerby on the street.

Captivated by the way he swings around effortlessly, you marvel at him holding his own against eight grown men. That’s not the only thing you marvel at, remembering your conversation with Peter yesterday and laughing to yourself.

The footage is shaky, but shows clear as day every web shot by Spider-Man and the one hit he receives. That’s gotta hurt, you think, just as one of the guys swings a metal bar into the vigilante’s face, right under his eye.

That’s definitely going to bruise, you shudder, before switching it off and pulling up Netflix.

You’ll probably text Peter in an hour or so to check on him and make sure he’s putting ice on his own bruise.

Wait. His bruise… that’s in the same spot as where Spider-Man got hit last night…

No, you scoff. That’s just a coincidence. You’re just being fanciful because there’s no way your best friend is Spider-Man.

He would tell you, right?

Just like he told you where he got that bruise, you realise, swallowing harshly. You cant believe you’re even considering this, but he has been weirdly secretive. And it’s been around the time Spider-Man first started to show up. That explains the muscles and the weirdly fast reflexes and how he isn’t as clumsy as he used to be and how he doesn’t wear his glasses anymore.

“Contact lenses, my ass,” you mutter to yourself.

You look at one of the pictures you have of Peter pinned to the cork board above your desk. You had taken it recently with his camera, insisting that he had too many of you and you wanted some of your own. Studying the way he covers his face and his stance, you’re hit with the startling realisation that he has the same build as Spider-Man. The same height, the same lean body…

Oh, you’re going to kill Peter Parker.

An idea hits you with all the weight of a freight train and you abandon your laptop and Netflix plans to head to the skate park. Once you arrive, you head to the top of the ramp, thankful there’s no one there right now.

Whipping out your phone, you drop a quick text to Peter.

emergency @ skate park. get here quick.

You wait a couple minutes, looking down at the bottom of the ramp to calculate how badly you’d be injured if your suspicions weren’t correct.

Your internal debate over whether or not this whole thing is worth breaking an arm over is interrupted by Peter running up to join you on the ramp with a terrified expression on his face.

He definitely wouldn’t have gotten here in time if he wasn’t Spider-Man.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” he practically yells, grabbing hold of your shoulders to inspect you. You almost break and tell him that you’re fine and you just wanted to test your theory. Until you see the bruise on his face again.

Taking his hands off your shoulders, you take a small step back, wobbling on the ramp. His worried eyes only narrow in confusion slightly, probably still shook up by your text.

“Here goes nothing,” you say, stomach churning as you turn your back to the edge of the ramp and fall.

You catch sight of Peter’s face about to yell out for you, but he doesn’t waste a second before starting towards you.

If your breath wasn’t already caught in your throat from falling, it definitely would have been when the webs shoot from his wrist and latch onto you.

Despite expecting this, you gasp, breathing heavily. Shit, you think. You had not thought about the rest of this plan.

Pulling you up with ease, Peter pulls you by the webs attached to your shirt and into his arms. “What the hell did you do that for? Were you trying to break your neck? What if I couldn’t have caught you? God, I hate you for doing that to me, I literally thought my heart was about to st-“

“You caught me,” you say, voice muffled by the fact Peter is holding you tightly against him. That doesn’t stop you from rambling though. “You actually managed to catch me with- with your webs. Oh my God, I was right.”

Pulling you away, he holds you by the arms in front of him, his mouth set in a grave line. “You knew? That I’m… that I could…”

Shrugging, you laugh nervously. “I mean, I had a suspicion, but I didn’t know that you’re actually- holy shit. My best friend is actually Spider-Man.”

“No, no, no,” Peter puts his face in his hands, very clearly stressed. “This is bad. This is very, very bad.”

“Yes, it is,” you scowl, snapping out of your shock and remembering that he never told you. “You should be very scared for your life right now. Because trust me, Peter Parker, it’s a mystery as to why I haven’t killed you yet for not telling me you’re a freaking superhero!”

You smack his arm which probably does more harm to your hand than to him. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Do you realise,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Just how much danger you’ve put yourself in by knowing I’m Spider-Man?”

“Peter, you don’t even realise how stupid you sound right now,” you shake your head, laughing without a trace of humour in your voice. “You are quite literally putting your life at risk every. Single. Day. And I had no idea! I can’t even imagine what I would do if you d-“

“Me?” Peter chuckles, incredulous. He groans, tugging on his hair in frustration before waving his arms around trying to get the words out. “Y/N. I can knock over 12 tonnes with a barely forceful poke of my finger. People are trying to kill me every. Single. Day. And failing. If they find out that the girl I’ve been in love with ever since I can remember even exists and is without superpowers?”

Peter cuts himself off, turning his back to you and standing deathly still.

“What did you say?” Your voice is hoarse when you ask this, not quite believing your ears. “The girl you’ve been in love with?”

“Forget I said that,” he mutters, still not looking at you.

As if.

“What about me, huh?” you demand, stepping around him to make him face you. “The guy I’ve been in love with my whole life is getting beat up every night by thugs with metal pipes and there’s nothing I can do to stop-“

“Stop talking,” Peter’s eyes flash and he webs the front of your shirt again. This time he pulls you impossibly close to him and presses his lips against yours feverishly. You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat before reaching up on your tip toes and relaxing into the kiss, your hand snaking up into his hair. Peter’s lips move perfectly in sync with yours and you don’t know if it’s been seconds, minutes or days when you pull away for breath.

Resting your forehead against his own, you can’t stop the smile spreading on your face, mirroring Peter’s. He’s the first to speak, brushing his nose against yours. “You love me.”

“Yep,” you confirm, hand still playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “So just be glad those girls weren’t here staring at you again. Otherwise I would probably have gathered the force to knock over a few high school girls with a very forceful poke of my finger.”

“Noted,” Peter nods in mock seriousness. “You should also be glad those guys that usually skate here to impress you, aren’t here today either. Otherwise I would probably web ‘em in the face.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “You were always a better skater than them anyway. Probably to do with your superhuman abilities and all.”

“Hey, I take offence!”

“Kidding, kidding,” you laugh, grabbing your bag off the floor and holding Peter’s hand, leading him off the ramp. He doesn’t even try to hide the way he looks at you anymore and it kinda, sort of makes your insides melt. “So… can you swing me across the city now?”

“Absolutely not.”

© angelfic 2022.

[holdmytesseract]

First Word 》 The Baby Fever AU

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Request/Idea: "Ella saying her first words, first words obviously being “dada” since she’s such a daddy’s girl" - by @aagn360 😄

Summary: Ella speaks her first word, causing Loki to get quite a bit emotional...

Warnings: nothing, this is suuuper fluffy

Word Count: 1k

a/n: Aww! I love this so much! Thanks @aagn360 ! And I also love auntie Nat! 🥰

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @theaudacitytowrite @lady-rose-moon @aagn360 @fictive-sl0th @mostclevermiss

If you want to be added to my Loki Taglist, please let me know! 😊

The Baby Fever AU Masterlist

"Here comes the plane!" I said in a playful voice, while manoeuvring the little plastic spoon through the air - like plane, before heading for Ella's mouth. My way of feeding her the mashed carrots caused the little girl to giggle uncontrollably - what in return made me laugh as well. "Baby girl, you are supposed to eat, not giggle." I laughed, tickling her belly. She kicked her legs, smiling like a Cheshire cat and wriggled about on her high chair, making it even more difficult for me to feed her. I shook my head at my daughter with a smile. "Princess, you gotta eat this. Mommy cooked it especially for you and you haven't eaten that much yet." I scooped up again some of the mashed carrots, feeding it to her. "You still need to grow big and strong." Another spoonful of carrots found its way to her small mouth. "One spoonful for daddy..." I tried to feed her with this 'tactic' - and to my surprise it really worked out quite well. She stopped to kick and giggle. "And one spoonful for uncle Thor..." "Don't forget the spoonful for auntie Nat!" The voice of my best friend suddenly urged to my ears, making me smile. I was feeding Ella in the communal kitchen today. I did that sometimes, just to get a bit out and see the others. I turned in my chair to face her. "How could I ever forget the spoonful for auntie Nat?" I stated with a giggle. Natasha stood at the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, before she walked over to us, smiling. "Hey, sweet girl!" Ella's big, blue eyes focused on Natasha; a happy squeal leaving her tiny lips. She gave her a toothy grin and waved her hands around like crazy - which caused her mop of tiny black curls to bop; visibly happy to see the spy. "Someone's happy to see you, Nat." My best friend smiled at me. "Seems so, yeah. I am excited to see her too, though." She sat down beside me and Ella and let the baby girl hold her thumb in her hand while she ate. "She's grown so big already... Unbelievable..." "I know! Lokes tells me that every day! I can't believe she's already babbling since months. I can't wait to hear her first proper word!" "Me too, honestly. It's so sweet, when she's trying to talk." We exchanged a look and a happy smile. "I am wondering what her first word might be." "Dada - I'm to 100 per cent." "Really? You think?" "Yep." I nodded, plopping the p. "Ella is a daddy's girl through and through. And Loki is also trying to encourage her to say dada, so..." Natasha just laughed and shook her head. The two of us sunk in a deep conversation - as usually, while I fed Ella, with her babbling away happily.

"Yeah, it's very difficult to reconcile everything, but we are trying. Loki tries to take me out on dates at least once every two weeks. So far it's working out pretty well, but not always." Nat nodded. "I can absolutely believe that. Having a baby isn't always easy." I shook my head. "No, but Lokes is an amazing dad and helps me wherever he can. I definitely married the right guy." I giggled. "But isn't Loki-" "Dada!" Nat stopped dead in her sentence. Both our heads snapped to the little girl, seated in the high chair. She smiled broadly at us. "What... What did you just say?" I looked at my best friend open mouthed. "Did she just...?" "Dadadada!" "She did!" We both said to each other at the same time, before literally erupting into cheers. I immediately darted forwards to lift Ella out of her chair and into my arms. "Babyyyy! You just said your first word!" I peppered kisses all over her chubby cheeks, making her giggle once again. "Say it again, sweet girl!" Encouraged her Natasha. Ella looked at her with big eyes. "Dada!" "Yes!" We had a big grin on our faces, but mine vanished as fast as it came. "We got to get Loki! He needs to hear this! Friday!" "Yes, Miss Y/N?" The A.I responded immediately. "Can you get Loki, please?" "Certainly, Miss Y/N." "Thank you!" I squealed in excitement, causing Natasha to laugh. "I am going to go now. I promised Clint to help him buy a birthday gift for his wife." "Well, off you go then. Don't let the man wait." I giggled and watched as she stood up. "Say bye bye to auntie Nat, Ella." The little girl just squeaked happily. My best friend winked at her, smiling, "Bye!" and left the big community kitchen.

A few minutes later, a sweaty, red-faced Loki sauntered into the kitchen. Strands of his raven curls stuck to his forehead. He clearly had been in the gym to train. "Darling? Friday called me; told me to go into the kitchen. Is everything alright?" I beamed at him. "Hey babe! Everything's actually more than alright! Ella spoke her first word a few minutes ago!" Loki's eyes widened, mouth agape. "S-She... she did?!" I nodded quickly. "Yes!" "Oh norns... Really?!" "Yes!" "Which word was it?!" I looked down at the small girl, sitting in my lap. "Baby are you going to speak to daddy as well?" Ella's oceanic blues switched from Loki to me and back, until she babbled out: "Dada!" His eyes widened even more - if that was possible, before they started to fill up with tears. "Princess..." Loki whispered, stepping immediately closer and squatted down in front of us. "Dada!" Ella smiled, her small hands reaching for her father. Loki's lips quivered, as the first tear ran down his cheek. "My baby girl's first word is 'dada'... I can't believe it..." Loki reached out his hands as well, wrapping them both around her middle and lifting her in his arms. "Oh my princess... My sweet, sweet princess." He peppered every inch of her face with kisses and cuddled her close against his body. I just watched those cute, beautiful scenes unfold in front of me with a smile and tears in my eyes myself. "Daddy's so, so proud of you, Ella. So proud."

[purple-babygirl]

Bucky’s little is obsessed with him tickling her ❤️

Pairing: Daddy!Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Warnings: ddlg dynamics, fluff turned smut, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), nsfw content, 18+ content.

Word count: 1,720

A/N: this has been in my WIPs for like at least 3 months because i suck like that. Nonnie, if you're still here, i love you and never meant to make you feel ignored i apologize:"💜. Please enjoy xx

~~~

tickle time

She loved so much about being Bucky’s little, one thing being the privilege to be tickled by his long, fast fingers at any given moment. She was obsessed with the way his nimble digits stroked over her sides, spreading goosebumps throughout her body as her delighted screams reached the ceiling.

And Bucky would never miss a chance to be the cause of her uncontrollable giggling.

“Tickle time!” She announced out loud before plopping herself on Bucky's lap.

He let out a dramatic “ouff”, making her chuckle cutely, before his fingers put down the book they were holding, and with a sly smile on his face, found her sides to tickle her.

Barely a minute in and she was laughing, screaming and thrashing; begging to get away even though she'd asked for it.

Bucky wouldn't let her though. He carefully slid her off his lap and on the couch, got on top and started tickling her harder, burying his smiley face in her neck, his slightly chapped lips tickling the soft skin there, “where do you think you're going?”

His metal fingers glided with ease as they stroked her over the thin material of his shirt. Her head was thrown back and her legs involuntarily kicked as she squealed, “dada!”

~

Whatever the time or place, she was ready to get tickled till she’d lost her breath and Bucky was always more than happy to give her just that.

“Tickle time!” Bucky heard her giggle before he felt her wrap her arms around his waist from behind.

He grinned silently, setting the spoons he was tossing the salad with down. He wiped his hands on the towel slowly, knowing she was waiting.

“Dada, it's tickle ti-” Her own startled shriek cut her off when Bucky turned and in the blink of an eye she was in the air and tossed over his shoulder.

She squealed and swung her legs lightly as he carried her to the bedroom, laid her down to tickle her and pulled the loudest laughs from her chest.

“Oh, no, where do you think you're going?” Bucky laughed and pulled her back to him by the ankle when she tried crawling away to avoid his torturous, determined ministrations.

“Dada!” She screamed out yet another laugh, her smaller hands trying to push his big ones away from her sides. Her cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

Her shirt has ridden up from all the squirming and Bucky immediately put his mouth on the showing skin, gently biting at her tummy, his fingers never stopping as she giggled louder and writhed harder.

Bucky’s lips then sucked on her flesh before letting go, making her blush and giggle at the sound. He liked the reaction too much not to repeat it.

“How’s that feel, doll?” Bucky wondered, pecking her belly button.

“Feels tickly. Tingles everywhere,” she panted, giggling again when Bucky nuzzled her tummy and nibbled on her flesh.

“I’ll take that,” he mumbled and the vibrations from his lips tickled her more.

~

It was like that almost every day, sometimes more than once in the same day and Bucky cherished those happy, sweet moments with her more than anything.

“Dada, what time is it?” She asked as she stood by the door to Bucky's office.

“It's almost two, dol—”

“'Ts tickle time!” She ran inside, putting her arms in the air.

“That’s like the third time today.” Bucky smirked as he lifted her up to seat her on his desk.

“It's tickle time, daddy. I don't make the clock.” She shrugged seriously, making Bucky laugh aloud before laying herself down on his desk and letting out a quiet giggle in anticipation.

Bucky calmly put his papers back inside the clear file, before he stood up and planted his hands on either side of her, caging her between him and his desk.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He shook his head, his stare was slightly different and it had her cheeks warming up.

“Dada,” she whispered bashfully as Bucky leaned forward.

“Shh, doll, it's tickle time,” Bucky confirmed in her ear before pecking it.

He slid his hands under her shirt, holding her sides and she shuddered in expectation.

She was so soft and so beautiful and all his.

She felt Bucky slowly blow hot air on the side of her neck. She let out a small giggle, her head leaning towards her shoulder to hide from Bucky's tickling breath. He softly blew down the column of her neck again and she giggled louder, jerking away.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to her warm skin and started lightly sucking on the spot behind her ear.

A different type of goosebumps pricked her skin, but Bucky’s fingers gave her no time to react as they began their sweet, languid torture on her sides.

Feeling both the metal and flesh directly on her skin along with Bucky’s lips on the sensitive spot behind her ear, she couldn’t stop the moans bubbling out of her chest with her giggles.

“Dada,” she sighed when Bucky’s fingers slowed down their movements, her small hands clutching the end of Bucky’s desk.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky questioned teasingly against her neck before bringing his face to hers and pecking her lips.

“I feel tingly.” Her breathless, low, timid admission made Bucky smirk as he bit down, her body already putty in his hands.

“Here?” he asked, squeezing her sides where he’s been tickling.

She shook her head shyly.

“Here?” Bucky’s lips brushed against her ear.

She shook her head again, her eyes shutting as Bucky’s hands inched further up under her shirt.

“Here?” He peppered kisses up and down her neck.

“No.” shook her head, her breath picking up as Bucky’s right hand squeezed a boob.

“Where then?” Bucky hummed, his thumb rubbing over her hardening nipple.

“Dada,” she whined, her clutch moving from the desk to Bucky’s muscly arms.

“You’ve gotta tell me where, doll. Or otherwise I won’t be able to make the tingles stop.” Bucky pecked the side of her mouth teasingly.

She took his metal hand out from under her shirt, the other still playing with her nub, and pressed his open palm between her legs, right on her mound, “here.”

She could hardly hear her own voice, but Bucky did. He’d heard her clearly and his satisfied grin was proof.

“You want daddy’s help, doll?” he dragged it out while he had her exactly where he wanted her, the tips of his fingers mischievously caressing her covered core.

She was already wet and he could feel her, hot and slick behind the thin panty.

“Yes, please, dada.” She swallowed, awaiting Bucky’s relieving touches.

“You got it, baby.” Bucky pecked her lips one more time before taking off her underwear.

“Let's see.” He gently pulled her lips apart using his thumbs to 'take a close look'. Her tight hole closed around nothing and Bucky felt his cock strain in his pants.

He let out an actual moan at the sight of her bare, open core, all wet and glistening and needy for him.

“You feelin’ tingly here, doll?” Bucky pressed his thumb to her button, rubbing lazy circles over the tiny bud.

“Y-Yes, dada. Please.” She breathed, her eyes watching her Daddy’s every move as he brought his face closer to her pussy.

“I can fix that,” Bucky whispered, his warm breath sending tickles up her spine and she opened her legs more, biting her lower lip.

Bucky pressed his tongue to her entrance, slowly licking up her silky lips, groaning at her taste. Her head fell back on the desk as a mewl escaped her.

Her whines were uncontrollable the second Bucky got his lips around her throbbing clit. Her fingers were tangled in Bucky’s hair as she writhed a different kind of writhing because Daddy was giving her a different kind of tickle time filled with different tingles.

Bucky kept his mouth on her clit, his lips sucking on it while the tip of his tongue massaged it, making her moan and wiggle on his desk. She tasted so good and he couldn’t get enough, his tongue sliding down to her core to lick her sweet arousal.

“Dada, plea-ah you’re making it more tingly,” she moaned, tugging on Bucky’s hair, making him hiss.

“But I thought you liked being tickled, baby?” Bucky asked against her core, the vibrations from his lips making her eyes roll as her clit pulsed even harder.

“Please,” she whispered, her jaw going slack as she felt Bucky’s finger poke inside her pussy.

He slid it in up to the knuckle before curling it upwards and her back slightly bowed off the desk, “what about now?” Bucky teased, pushing another finger inside her, his teeth softly nibbling on her clit.

All she could do was beg, a string of pleads leaving her mouth. Her fingers tugged harder on Bucky’s strands as she succumbed to the pleasure. The spot Daddy kept poking at inside of her made her feel the evil, yet delicious tingles everywhere from the back of her neck to her cunt. Even her toes were tensing with her abdomen.

The tip of Bucky’s tongue found the head of her clit, swelling and peaking from underneath the hood and kept flicking it again and again until her thighs were closing around his head and her fingers were pulling hard at his hair.

“Daddy.” One broken moan and she was gone, stars exploding behind her eyelids as their fire burned inside her.

Her pussy wildly contracted around Bucky’s relentless fingers as her back fully arched off the desk.

The pleasure was too good, the tingles too much and she screamed, her legs wrapping around Bucky’s head and trembling.

Bucky let her clit go, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive nub as his fingers slowly slipped out of her pulsing center.

Her back was on the desk again and she was panting. She closed her legs shyly, pressing her thighs together, her clit still throbbing.

She was already looking fucked out but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Where do you think you're going? Now it’s time to fix daddy’s tingles,” Bucky said, one hand palming the bulge in his pants as the other stroked up her shin, “open those legs wide for me, doll.”

~~ Tags: @harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs

[onyxino]

Jealousy: Levi x Reader

Cw: None, well maybe, reader and Levi making out a lil bit?? Reader and Petra also make out kinda??  MDNI tho bc I don’t want your baby asses on my tumblr, I will block u, go play Fortnite.

Word Count: 1k

Being placed in the Special Operations Squad wasn't all intense training and serious situations.

Sometimes it was lighthearted and happy especially when you and Petra had an opportunity to mess with Oluo.

It was super obvious that the man was head over heels in love with Petra. He showed it in the weirdest ways, such as: trying so hard to be a knock-off copy of Captain Levi the man Petra was head over heels for.

-

"C'mon, Petra, Oluo is absolutely smitten." You say a goofy grin painted on your face.

"Oh no, not at all, he's just a stupid guy, who thinks he's all that" She protested.

"I don't know, Pet." You pause "He just acts a certain typa' stupid around you."

"I mean you're right...." Petra said resting her head in her hand.

"I HAVE AN IDEA!" You stand from the table and exclaim a little too loud for it being three in the morning.

"Oh? What is it?" Petra askes hastily.

"Okay so, we'll put this theory to the test!" You say proudly "I'll act like your girlfriend all day tomorrow and see how he reacts."

Petra immediately blushes, like fire spreading across her cheeks.

"You actually cannot be serious right now." The ginger replies sheepishly.

"Oh but I am!" You reply a devilish smirk playing on your lips, "Everyone thinks we shack up anyway!"

"They do?!" Panic coating Petra's reply.

"Nah, but I mean we are extremely close...and there was that one time where we made out after drinking a whole bottle of wine..." You say scratching the back of your head.

"Okay I'm in." Petra agreed.

--

The next day rolled around and as perusal You and Petra were glued to the hip as you two helped continue the cleaning efforts on the temporary HQ.

But this time you two were a little more touchy with each other.

This did not go unnoticed not by just Oluo but the raven haired man standing not too far away on the other side of the yard.

"What the hell is goin' on with you two?" Oluo came over hands on his hips nose in the air "You two are all over one another!"

"Oh? Are we?" Petra questioned turning to you.

"I guess we are." you say back "Though that does make sense considering, she's my girlfirend."

Oluo nearly bit his tongue off.

The shorter man not too far away almost faltered and dropped his rake.

"What!? When did this happen!?" He half yelled.

"It's always been." Petra bluntly stated.

The ravennette with his back turned to you guys, over hearing  everything knitted his brows together in confusion. "sense when?" He thought to himself.

"You two gotta' be pullin' my leg!" Oluo exclaimed shocked laced in his voice.

"Nope." you giggled "She's all mine." you confirmed leaning over to the ginger and sliding an arm around her waist.

Levi stopped all motion and slightly turned in order to see the actions taking place, he felt a slight pang of jealously in his chest as he turned just in time to see Petra and you locking lips.

"What in the holly hell?" He questioned face contorting in confusion.

Although seeing the two women locking lips like that sent heat straight to his crotch, it also made his blood boil with rage. That however, was an issue for a different time, currently the woman he had sought after was holding and kissing someone that wasn't him.

He knew he was thinking crazy, you weren't in anyway his...but deep down this feeling he couldn't shake was getting stronger.

Oluo had about fainted at this point and you and Petra were giggling uncontrollably.

--

Later that night, you seemed to be the only one left awake, finishing toweling off the last of the dinner dishes and carefully setting it in the cupboard before quietly closing the door.

You turned on your heels and were confronted by your captain standing less than 3 feet from you.

He dawned his night clothes, empty tea cup in hand.

"Evening, Captain." you greet with a smile.

The captain said nothing and just kind of stared at you, you could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes.

"Tch, I had no clue you were into women." He stated bluntly.

Your face contorted visibly, you were very confused and shocked at the sudden statement then it dawned on you, this was about earlier.

"OOOOH!" You exclaimed waving your hands in front of your chest in defense, "It's really not what you think, Levi."

"Then what is it like?" He asked.

"Me and Petra aren't a thing, we were trying to get at Oluo, who is obviously whipped." You explained scratching the back of your head.

The knot made of pure jealously and anger had faded in Levi's chest, he exhaled.

"So, you're telling me.." he cocked an eyebrow "That you and Petra made out in front of everyone this morning to screw with Oluo?"

"And it worked too!" You exclaim proudly, "Man's been screwed up sense, and he had a nosebleed for like an hour after."

"Tch." Was all he muttered.

"Oh why? Was little Levi jealous that I got to lock lips with Petra before he did?" You teased.

Levi tightened his grip on his teacup if he had squeezed any harder the porcelain vessel would have shattered.

"You're an idiot." He muttered.

"Oh c'mon, it was a joke!" You rolled your eyes and that gesture only proceeded to piss him off more. In one swift movement Levi placed the dainty teacup on the counter and had you pinned against it.

He shoved his lips aggressively into yours. You gripped his shirt tightly as the kiss deepened and he slid his tongue across her bottom lip.

Not asking but demanding entrance.

You complied and allowed his tongue which tasted of black tea and peppermint explore your mouth.

You both fought for dominance, but in the end you relinquished all control to your captain. Your grip on his shirt only tightened as he slid a hand down cupping your back side pressing both of your bodies closer together.

A grunt emitted from Levi's throat as you bit gently on his lower lip. The need for air soon became apparent and you both pulled away from one another gasping and panting.

Your cheeks rosy red, gaping at him, your knuckles turning white as you continued to hold a death grip on Levi's white night shirt.

"I wasn't jealous of you, brat." He spat " I was jealous of Petra."

[james-was-never-here]

So, I have to preface this with saying my fiancé/my kids mom is a black woman. And fairly dark skinned at that. Which means that, unlike my white, English born ass, she doesn’t blush obviously. She might go red, but her skins dark enough you can’t tell.

She doesn’t embarrass easily, cause honestly she’s a tough, feisty woman. She’s not the type to embarrass easily. Let me tell you all, God meant for this woman to have kids with me, because he was well aware that my children would turn out to be too much like their daddy when he was a boy.

That being said, let’s move on to today.

It’s only a month into the school year and my son comes to me and tells me all about his new girlfriend. He’s seven.

“What do you know about having a girlfriend?”

“Lots daddy. You say nice things to her and tell her she’s pretty, even if she doesn’t look pretty sometimes.” He just sits there and colors away as he’s telling me this.

“Is that so?” His mother is behind him washing dishes in the sink. I’m supposed to be helping the kindergartner with his homework, but he’s in the bathroom.

“Yes. Oh yeah you also go on dates.” I laughed and he raised an eyebrow at me. “Dad, why is this funny.” He only calls me Dad instead of daddy if I annoy him.

“What in the world do you know about dates?”

“A whole lot!”

“Okay, how do you expect to pay for them.”

“You don’t HAVE to, Daddy. You and mama don’t always pay for them.” He’s not wrong. “Sometimes you guys just call someone and they come play with us while you guys go for a picnic.” Bethie in the back giggles and scrubs her pan.

“Okay so seeing as you’re so educated on dating, how does a date go?”

“Daddy, that’s so easy. I see you and mama go out lots.” He picks a new color and says “First you gotta call someone. Like Uncle Seth or Aunt Rea or Aunt Lily or uncle Jimmy or sometimes uncle Harry-“

“Right and then what?”

“Well, then mama gets all pretty and daddy puts on a suit and you guys go and leave while I get to play with the babysitter.”

“Out of curiosity, baby, what do you think Daddy and I do on dates when we aren’t home?” Bethie looked at him and he didn’t bat an eye

“Lots. I hear you guys talk about dinner or sometimes I hear you talk about movies. You’re gone a long time so I think you do both.” Smart kid. “Sometimes you even go get ice cream. I see the Blizzard cup in the garbage when I go to get the kitty treats.” Oops.

“You know, he’s got it pretty spot on.” I leaned back in my chair and picked up my coffee with “even down to the part about you looking super pretty.” She rolled her eyes and went back to that pan. My son was quietly coloring for a few minutes in silence then he said, “I forgot something.”

“What is it?” My youngest has come back and was now working on his little sheet of homework. “Don’t forget your name, son.”

“You and mommy sometimes applaud.” It was my turn for an eyebrow raise.

“We…we applaud.”

“Yes.” Bethie turned to look at me and I shrugged, then asked “what are you talking about?”

“Sometimes when I have to go potty at night, I hear you guys in your room afterwords. When Uncle Harry stays with us he sleeps over.” My brother is 18 and doesn’t have a car yet, so I drop him off at my parents usually after he sits for me. “You told him last time it was a fantastic date.”

“I did.”

“Well I knew it was cause you were in your room clapping for yourselves.” It took a moment but it dawned on both of us just EXACTLY what he meant. I tried so hard to keep a straight face, but Bethie behind him had began nervously giggling uncontrollably behind him (telltale sign she’s embarrassed) and covering her face with her hands.

I cleared my throat and before I could say a word, his little brother, who’s five, said “No, stupid. They’re clapping because they were wrestling, and it’s fun.” Bethie quit laughing and looked horrified and I tried to ignore her.

“That’s stupid. How can you clap and wrestle at the same time?”

“Oh, that’s right!”

“And you call yourself a fan.” My seven year old rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust. Crisis averted, I return to my coffee.

“So then if you’re so smart, what we’re they doing?” Five year old crosses his arms and glares at his brother.

“Easy, they were probably having sex.” I choked on my coffee. Bethie left the room. Immediately she was gone with the quickness.

“Excuse me?” He looked puzzled. “What do you know about sex?”

“Only that’s how babies are made.”

“Ha see you’re stupid! Mamas already pregnant!” The five year old said. “Daddy wants sex?”

“…do your homework.”

“I told you it’s how babies are made.”

“But how does it work?”

“You’re not ready for that conversation yet. Trust me.” I got up and went to find her in the living room covering her face.

“How do they-“

“Babe I don’t know.” I sat next to her and sighed. “But we’re going to soundproof the fucking bedroom.”

And no, for the record I have no clue how they know what sex is. They don’t know how they know. But they’re my kids, so they’re probably screwing with me somehow.

Although, hilariously enough they still don’t know how sex works, so they have determined that Beth and I have played “Patty Cake” to get the baby in there.

And the kicker is we’re having another boy so that means I’ve got four boys and one girl. Four of these dorks.

I’m in so much trouble.

[stormflypirateskin]

Hiya :] May I request 707 with a S/O who's name is a planet (doesn't gotta be a specific one) and they're obssessed with space just like him and love to ramble about space facts and give him space gifts :D

Alternate Request: S/O is a artist who draws him a lot in their sketch book :}

Saeyoung with a reader who is obsessed with space and is named after a planet! & Saeyoung with an artist reader who draws him a lot!

Hello! I did both cuz both are cute and I LOVE writing about Saeyoung. I also wanted to push myself to write somehow because I haven't in a while hhhh.. Thank you so much for requesting and tell me if you wanna change something~!

<3

Saeyoung with a reader who is obsessed with space and is named after a planet!

-Oh man, Saeyoung is EXCITED! He thinks your name is pretty cool and also really likes that you also like space like him! Saeyoung can easily get into your interests but he really loves how both of you have something in common!

-You two love to stargaze so freaking much! It pretty much happens every single night at this point, sometimes you have both slept there under the so so many stars. You two literally won't stop talking about space and facts and so many things related to it and it's a really nice bonding experience between you two, he loves how much you rant!!

-Give him gifts and he is gonna give you like.. ten more back, it's pretty much a battle of gifts between you two! Your shared room is definitely filled with space related objects and other cool things about space, both of you won't throw away anything, really. Everything you give him and everything he gives you? Your shared room it shall stay!

-Chatrooms are usually filled with photos of space and planets and anything like that, sometimes you two spam each other with memes there and while it might be tiring for the other members, they are very glad that you two have so much fun. He sometimes sends very cursed stuff about space that has you two laughing so hard as you watch another member leave the chatroom, it's pretty fun!

-Pretty much you two always ramble about space and even look for new facts and cool stuff! Even your wedding was space themed and well, he didn't lie! He did marry you at the space station! He loves you so much and you two always cuddle as you look for space theme shows and movies. It's chill, fun and you two laugh so much as you share affection through it all.

Saeyoung with an artist reader who draws him a lot!

-Saeyoung is always fascinated by your art skills, even if it doesn't look good for you, he always loves it and supports you all the way. He can watch you forever as you draw, the way your hand moves to add all these details and even simple drawings, he can't get enough of them, he loves them all!

-So when you showed him drawings of HIM, well.. he was honestly speechless! He felt tears on his eyes as he looked at every line and everything you did, he loves it so so much! And of course he blushed so hard since you love him that much. It honestly makes him feel so warm and nice inside, he feels so loved by you, his precious lover.

-He loves to hug you from behind and even have you sit on his lap as you draw, he feels so relaxed to be in your presence and not to mention the small but satisfying to his ears the noises your pencil or anything that you use makes, he sometimes falls asleep on top of you as he has his arms around your waist tightly, it's really cute honestly.

-Saeyoung definitely gives you ideas about drawing him in a maid suit or even Vanderwood in a.. maid costume, this boi definitely has some wild but funny ideas for sure. He literally wouldn't stop giggling when you actually agree to draw it. In the end, you end up giggling uncontrollably like him as you kept hearing him and now as he holds you and you both now are gazing at each other and oh my god you two are wheezing now-

-He really adores how much skill you have and he always showers you in kisses and hugs. He loves you so much and loves to spend time with you like this, he'll never get enough of watching the way you draw and if you feel bad about it, he showers you with praise and even helps you out by looking up good tips and anything you need, he helps you with it! Not without a lot of his affection, of course~!