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ceilidho · 3 months ago

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Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position.

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood.

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache.

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish.

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income.

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air.

“Well, I think—” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him.

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss.

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic.

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt.

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you.

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance.

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job.

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit.

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed.

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.”

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him.

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment.

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone.

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are.

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you.

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you.

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy.

You don’t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking.

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations).

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too.

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man.

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin.

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap.

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind.

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams.

“Not bad,” you squeak.

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #price/reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price/reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you

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wtfaniii · 2 months ago

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oneshot in-ho x reader whos a player not bc of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun? in-ho falls in love w her and protects her during the games (he knew abt her as he had stalked gi hun and his team duh)

thank u🙏🏻

Just when I read this I had just uploaded a one-shot more or less with that theme of the researcher girl.

I love it, thanks for reading🤎

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Paparazzi

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warnings: Just some harassment from this sexy man, violence and inappropriate language. Also, I made a modification to one of the games so that the reader could be with them

Note: Your wishes are my command! Orders will remain open and I will try to respond as soon as possible.

Her job was supposed to be just to do some research, collect names, dates and addresses, but fate had other things in store for she.

—Form lines to advance! It will be harder for the puppet to detect you that way —Gi-hun shouted to the players who were still alive after that massacre.

The girl was shaking uncontrollably. Unfortunately, she hadn't managed to get behind someone and now the doll was in her sights. Her hands didn't stop moving and clearly noticed how one of the weapons from heaven was pointing at her.

—Please... —She whispered shakily, yeah... maybe she was a coward but it's only because survival is not his specialty.

"Player 455" heard one of the guards through his communicator, he aimed directly at the head of the trembling girl but before pulling the trigger he heard the voice of his leader "Don't shoot, let her continue" and without protest he obeyed him order.

In a gilded room, with a huge screen in front of a single sofa and a small table next to it, rested the man who led and maintained order in these games.

Drinking a little more whiskey, In-ho kept his eyes on the screen and with the remote control he focused on player 455, the poor girl was terrified, it was not the first impression he expected from her after having read her entire file.

He had read that she was a great detective, top of her class, she was cunning, intelligent, and had a couple of master's degrees completed, but seeing her afraid of dying almost made him laugh.

It was amazing how being face to face with death changed people.

—Nobody shoot her —he added over the radio without taking his eyes off the screen.

He could see the girl's confusion at seeing thatwas still alive despite moving very slightly.

In-ho knew everything about her, he knew what she was weak on, her strengths, weaknesses, her way of operating, he even knew about that beloved cat she had in his childhood and died of old age.

He had taken the time and dedication to investigate even the smallest details about her, it was the least he could do after almost discovering his identity.

The detective was so close to discovering the entire empire of these games that he had to be her brought together with Gi-hun by force so as not to let her finish the task.

He twisted his lips as the whiskey vanished and the first game, green light, red light, was over.

He didn't want her dead, or at least not for now, until he knew a little more about her, one could almost say that she had the potential to be part of this if she weren't so correct.

He put on his mask and went to the control center.

[...]

Just as she thought, some players approached Gi-hun for advice for the next game, there were only those who believed in his words because some others called him a 'liar'.

Among them was player 001, whose name was claimed to be Young-il. He was no fool, he wouldn't say his real name without being sure how much information she had about all of this.

As night fell in the bedroom everyone was sleeping peacefully, except for the girl who was sitting in the middle of her bed playing with his pillowcase, folding it over and over again and then unfolding it and repeating the same act.

—Are you having trouble sleeping? –001 asked, approaching her, who shifted a little and made room on the bed for him to sit next to her.

—My head works better at night... —She murmured, looking at him and smiling friendly.

He looked down at her hands and how the moved on the pillowcase, her were precise and firm. —You know how to tie good knots.

She had many talents and In-ho knew them all.

Or well, almost all of them.

Her ability to tie excellent knots was developed by her father, who was captain of a fishing boat that she also sailed on from time to time.

They locked gazes again in silence. In-ho considered that long-distance photos were nothing compared to being face to face with her. For two years he had been investigating her, he had sent several guards to follow her closely for one reason only. At first considered her a threat. Her intelligence and curiosity could have unmasked him, but then he started following her out of routine.

Afterwards he just kept his gaze on her out of habit and finally he had her face to face.

—What's wrong? —She asked with a frown as noticed the intense gaze on his person.

—Nothing, you should rest, we must have energy for tomorrow's games.

When he was about to stand up and go to his respective bed but she stopped him by holding his hand. The girl, seeing his inappropriate act and with more confidence than she should have, quickly let him go. —Can we keep talking? Honestly... I'm too distressed to sleep right now.

—Of course...

The two continued to talk about trivial matters for a couple more hours, they tried to keep it low so as not to wake up the other players but every now and then they received an annoying 'shhh' from someone nearby who longed to be able to sleep peacefully.

Until she finally fell asleep with head resting on In-ho's shoulder, he didn't move, instead, he let her sleep and settled down so they could both rest better.

The next day, during the next game, they formed teams of six people.

Once they were all together, along with a pregnant woman named Jun-hee with the number 222, they sat on the floor as ordered and shared the games.

The activity was to play a series of games and each time they won they could advance, all this with their feet tied together.

It would be simple, each one was good at something and that made it easier for them to continue, they were the last players to participate which was good for the girl, so she wouldn't get nervous under the gaze of the other participants and as if heaven conspired in his favor one of the games was about making a rhombus with a rope.

—I did it! —She shouted euphorically showing the perfect rhombus in her hands made with rope and on the first try, the guard made a circle and the voice said "pass"

The others celebrated with her as they advanced, until now they achieved the games at the first opportunity and had plenty of time but when they reached the part where they had to spin a top on the ground Young-il lost his sanity after so many failed attempts.

As she bent down to pick up the top once more and wrap it in the string 001 began to curse and beat himself.

—What the hell is happening to me? I can't do anything right! I'm useless —She looked at him startled every time he hit himself, until she interrupted him by slapping on the left cheek, managing to silence him and making his head turn just a little.

In-ho's fake drama to scare them was going great until this sudden blow happened, he didn't expect it but there he was, looking at her with surprise and astonishment.

—You have to calm down! —She shouted, handing him the already finished top. —Try it again and if we die I swear I'll kill you.

He nodded and took the toy, she used those words to lighten the mood and try to give him confidence (which of course she did) but eyes don't lie and her gaze begged him to do it, she didn't want to die.

Miraculously he managed to spin the top and they moved on to the last game which Gi-hun was about to lose if it hadn't been for In-ho, although the last move was not correct he shouted "he did it" this being a small order camouflaged for the guard to give the affirmative signal.

They didn't know it but at that moment they would have died.

She was ignorant of this, she didn't know that if it weren't for In-ho she would already be dead since "green light, red light"

Unwittingly, In-ho saved her at every opportunity, protecting her life without realizing that perhaps following her had already become more than just a routine.

Little by little she got under him skin, first it was in his mind and now...

#in ho x reader #hwang inho x reader #hwang in ho #squid game x reader #squid game fic #in ho squidgame #squid game #frontamn x reader #squid game season 2 #Young-il x reader #lee byung hun

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yanderedrabbles · 2 months ago

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The Sorcerer & The Witch

Once, in a village deep in the heart of the forest, a witch was born.

On that day, the people of the village rejoiced, for it had been many years since a baby had survived childbirth. They came from hill and glen to see you, to thank the forest and the fen for lifting their curse.

Every man from woodcutter to farmer promised to keep you safe. Every woman from fishwife to seamstress swore to do the same. They called you foxfire, after those glowing forest waifs that light the wanderer's path. You were their greatest hope, their greatest pride.

[If only their love was enough to stop the sorcerer from doing what he did to you.]

When you were a child scarcely taller than a man's knee, a merchant came to your village. Driven more by desperation than greed, he'd reached the end of his route without selling any of his wares and could not bear to return home a failure. So he said his charms and his prayers and set out for your village.

He was greeted warmly, for it had been many years since a merchant had come. He sold all he had to trade, even the tin and lead trinkets that city folk would never glance at. You came up to him when he was drinking and he stared at you with horror, for all the townsfolk on his path warned him that your village was cursed with no children.

But his horror soon turned to delight. You were a bright child and polite and asked him many questions of his travels. The villagers looked at you proudly, to see you impress a man as widely travelled as he.

When he left and stopped at the next town over, he told them of the single child in the childless village. Word soon reached the king and he stroked his beard and summoned his youngest sorcerer.

"It is strange indeed for only one child to have survived thus far. Go and see why that is."

The youngest sorcerer sighed but obeyed. He arrived in your village on the back of a steaming warhorse, his cloak billowing a black cloud behind him. The villagers cringed away in fear, but you walked up to him and bowed and welcomed him.

The sorcerer had a fine eye for magic and he could see a little of it in you. He should have taken you back to the king and had you trained in the craft, but you stood no higher than his thigh and were the only gift these villagers had. He gave you a flower of heart-wood, told you to be kind to others and left.

You grew from a child to young girl. Everywhere you went flowers bloomed.

That spring, a musician came to your village. Driven more by desperation than greed, he'd reached the end of his route without earning either fortune or fame and could not bear to return home a failure. So he said his charms and his prayers and set out for your village.

He was greeted warmly, for it had been many years since a musician had come. He was paid well for all his songs, even the old love ballads city folk would never listen to. You came up to him when he was drinking, scarcely as tall as his chin. He stared at you with horror, for all the townsfolk on his path had warned him that your village was cursed to have no youth.

But his horror soon turned to delight. You were precocious and sweet and asked him many questions about his instruments. The villagers looked at you proudly, to see you impress a man as charming as he.

When he left and stopped at the next town over, he sung about the one girl in the youthless village. Word soon reached the king. He stroked his greying beard and summoned his second youngest sorcerer.

"It is strange indeed for only a single youth to live among so many elders. Go and see why that is."

The second youngest sorcerer sighed but obeyed. He arrived in your village in a brilliant carriage with royal flags snapping in the wind. His guards were dour faced soldiers and the villagers cringed away in fear.

As before, you walked up to him and bowed and welcomed him.

The second youngest sorcerer spent a long time thinking, for your magic had grown and he too had a duty to take you away. But you were not yet a woman and he did not want to steal you from your village before your time. He gave you a flower of fire-heart, told you to be a be obedient to your parents and left.

When next the king heard of you, many years had passed.

People spoke of you near and far - said that animals and trees bowed their heads when you walked past, that flowers grew in your footsteps, that you could heal any sickness of soul or body.

The king stroked his beard - all of it now as white as snow - and summoned the oldest and most powerful of his sorcerers.

"It is strange indeed for a village girl to have such powers. Go and see why that is."

The strongest sorcerer was a man well versed in even the darkest, most arcane magic and had lived through three lifetimes already. He had the face and the strength of a young man, but eyes like chips of stone.

He didn't sigh as the other two did before him. He only smiled in that distant, icy way of his and said he would be glad to obey.

He arrived in your village in the dead of night without horse or guards, a wolf skin cloak wrapped around him. The villagers paid him no mind - you alone noticed him and bid him welcome.

The sorcerer caught his breath. For you were indeed beautiful, and the trees and the animals did indeed bow their heads to. But more than that, your magic had grown from a trickle to a torrent. As old and immortal as he was, he had met few who possessed as much raw power as you did.

The sorcerer grew wary, for even he could not match your strength. If ever you turned your anger on the kingdom, you could turn cities to ash and armies to stone with a wave of your hand. You offered him some water to drink and as he watched you, he contrived an awful plan.

The sorcerer was a handsome man and could be as chivalrous as any knight if he chose. He gently took your hand in his and begged you to meet him in the forest.

You were sheltered, naive and no man had ever looked at you as he did. You blushed and simpered but made no promises.

The next day, he brought you a heart-wood flower and kissed your hand when he handed it to you.

"Heart-wood for your kiss, my lady."

You were just a village girl and no man had ever called you lady as he did, no one except the sorcerers had ever given you so fine a gift. Still, you did not go to meet him.

The next day, he brought you a flower of fire-heart and kissed your cheek when he handed it to you.

"Fire-heart for the fire of your love, my darling."

Your heart leapt at his touch, at the warmth of his body beside you. In a tumble of thoughts and confusion, you wondered what it would feel like if he kissed other parts of you. Despite the love you were beginning to feel for him, you still did not go to meet him.

On the third day, he brought you a flower of mountain-heart made entirely of diamond and kissed your lips.

"Mountain-heart in exchange for yours, my love."

You were his then, heart and soul, and he knew it. Perhaps it is a testament to his cruelty that he could make you fall for him so easily and feel nothing in return.

That night you set forth to meet him.

The brambles caught at your cloak as you walked, the deer rushed headlong along your path to confuse your way, the foxfire flickered. The whole forest tried to warn you. You were blind and deaf to it all, your mind filled only with thoughts of your handsome suitor.

He met you in a clearing under the moonlight and when you opened your arms to embrace him, he snapped his fingers and bound you to the earth with magic.

You struggled in vain, too frightened and betrayed to think straight.

"You are too wild and dangerous to let live," the sorcerer said, his magic twisting tighter around your arms.

You thrashed and whimpered, moonlight on your skin. The sorcerer was immortal and thought himself beyond mortal cares, but he was still a man.

He watched your dress slipping off your shoulder as you struggled and something began to stir in him. The hunger all men feel when a woman is helpless before them.

He touched his hand to your thigh and shivered at the warmth. "You are such a rare creature," he mused. "Beautiful and dangerous all at once."

He looked at you as no man had ever looked at you before. Eyes full of a desire you couldn't name.

Sweet, naive girl. How were you to know not to trust men sweet smiles but wolf eyes? How were you to know how hot desire burns? It scorches away morals and scruples, burns away guilt.

The sorcerer had his way with you. He stilled your tongue with magic, so you couldn't scream when he pulled your skirts higher up your thighs. He bound your arms behind your back so you couldn't scratch at him when he forced his way between your legs.

You didn't know anything about magic. Didn't even realise you had any. How could you fight against a man with centuries of learning? Countless spells?

When he was done and had laced up his trousers, he looked at you through eyes wicked with guile. Greed whispered in his ear - greed for your power, greed for your flesh.

"I won't kill you, girl. It would be an awful waste of magic." He stroked your cheek and you jerked away from him, unable to stand any more of his touch.

His magic grew tighter around you and he looked at you with an expression as remote and cold as the moon.

"I will instead bind you to me. Make you my servant and my slave for all eternity, able to speak and do only as I command."

You thrashed in your bindings and the earth trembled with your panicking magic. But for all the strength in you, you could not match the skill of the sorcerer.

His enchantment dug through your skin and into your rib cage. You screamed, cursed him and his gods. You would have turned the whole kingdom to ash with your fear if his magic wasn't holding you.

He took your face in his hands and you turned your head to bite into his palm. You bit hard enough to draw blood but he was too deep in his conjuring to either notice or care.

That's what you remember most about that night - the metal smell of his magic and the metal taste of his blood.

His magic was in your heart, in the very core of you. You could feel it like a hand touching the most sacred thing you owned. He was taking what no one else in the world could even touch.

The king's sorcerer wrapped your heart in magic and carefully - for he was afraid of you, despite his strength and his years - linked it to his own. You sagged against your bindings, your strength leaking out of you. He pulled your face up to meet his eyes and all he saw looking back at him was a dull compliance.

"You will listen and obey."

"I will listen and obey," you echoed. Inside your mind, you raged against the chains he'd drawn. But the sorcerer knew his work and when he withdrew his magic vines, you followed him demurely.

In the morning, he announced to the villagers that he was taking you as an apprentice and they all rejoiced to see you climb so high in the world. You hugged them and kissed them goodbye. The sorcerer was adept at his puppeteering and not a one noticed the screaming soul inside you.

The sorcerer held you in thrall. For a decade and then two, you followed at his heels and lent him your magic. He felled armies with a wave of his hand, parted the sea with a breath. Made the humble king of your kingdom into an emperor.

He had you whenever and wherever he pleased - bent over his desk or sprawled in the silk of his bed. Begging him to be gentle and begging him to be rough. He made your body respond to him, made you pull him closer and whisper that you loved him.

Trapped inside a body that you couldn't control, you grew hateful. The sweet village girl was gone, burnt away by the heat of his lips and skin on yours. Fom your awful prison inside yourself, you promised vengeance.

You watched and you waited and you plotted. When the third decade of your imprisonment came, the king passed and the crown prince was named his successor. He was strong and brave, but had little trust in magic and no trust at all in the sorcerer.

The moment he was crowned, he summoned the sorcerer.

"As a show of trust between us, I would have you keep your witch consort here at court," he ordered.

The sorcerer wanted to quarrel with the prince but his years had taught him it was too troublesome to make enemies of the powerful. He agreed to leave you at court while he went about the kingdom on his work. Afterall, what's a single season to an immortal?

For three decades he held the spell on you. Your obedience and the love he made you show had lulled him into a false sense of security. He had forgotten the hate on your face when first he chained you.

He bowed his head in obedience to the new king and gave you your chance to escape.

The king trusted you as little as he trusted the sorcerer and commanded you to stay near his side. From dawn til dusk you followed him. You were beautiful, as unchanged as the day the sorcerer captured you. And despite the prince's wariness and despite his best efforts, he began to fall for you.

On a night when the stars were shining cold and cruel, when the moon was newly hatched and invisible to the eye, you let your hair fall loose around your shoulders and dropped your layers of skirts and petticoats. Until you wore nothing but a white shift that showed the silhouette of your body when you stood in front of the fireplace.

The king found you waiting for him in his room, the firelight reflected off your hair. To his credit, he tried to turn you away. Tried to be noble and honour your virtue.

But he was still a man.

You'd learnt a long and hard lesson about the restraint of men. You laid your hand on his chest and felt the beat of his heart. There were precious few things the sorcerer allowed you to say, but you managed to find some words not restricted by his curse.

"My lord, I'm cold. Will you not warm me?"

The king's eyes grew dark with desire and his noble ideas of virtue crumbled under your touch. You pulled his face toward you and bit at his neck until he did the same to you.

You spent the night with king, teasing him until his restraint broke and he left bruises on your thighs.

The sorcerer came back on the full moon.

He slipped your dress from your shoulders and saw the bite marks littered across your chest. His grip grew tighter and the shadows of the room lengthened.

"Who?" he growled in a voice terrible with anger, "Who has touched you? Who dared to take what's mine and mine alone?"

"The king," you answered, for you couldn't lie to him.

"For how long?" he asked, as hearth fire began to flicker an awful green. "How many weeks has he had you in his bed?"

"Since the new moon," you answered, for his magic forced you to speak.

The sorcerer stood for a moment as still as the dead. Then his rage exploded in a ball of green fire.

It ripped through the walls of the castle, burnt through mortar and brick, through armour and bone. Distantly, people began to scream. In a blink of magic, he moved you both to the throne room, where the king was holding counsel.

The sorcerer clenched his fist and fire ripped through the throne room. It melted the great metal throne and turned the king to smouldering ash in a second.

In his rage, the sorcerer's magic was wild and unstable. With a bite of your wrist and a tremendous pull of magic, you were able to loosen your heart from his curse.

If he were not blinded by jealousy and bloodlust, he would have noticed it immediately.

His magic roared until the great palace was was in ruins, marble melted and running like metal.

Perhaps, were you were still innocent to the cruelty of men, you might have felt guilty. Might have felt horror at the charred husks of the king and his men.

But your years of captivity hardened you and all you cared about was escape.

When it was done, the sorcerer took your face in his palms and kissed you, without a single care for the palace that smoldered around him.

"You are mine," the sorcerer purred, "No matter how much the prince wished it otherwise."

You kept your face as carefully blank as if you were still under his spell and stabbed him in the heart.

It gave you just enough time to wrap your magic around him and bind him to the earth. He roared, pulling and twisting to no use.

You felt his magic weakening and for the first time in three decades, you were able to speak with your own tongue.

"What am I to do with you, sorcerer? For three decades you've held me. For three decades I've been your slave. "

You flicked your wrist and the fire around you flickered to nothing. It was only him and you and the moon, as it had been so long ago.

"For each year that passed, I thought of a different revenge. Cut you into little pieces while you're still alive and feed you to the ravens. Drain all your magic and leave you a wandering madman, entirely reliant on the mercy of others. Burn you at the stake."

Even in chains of magic, the sorcerer was formidable. A tiger waiting for a single misstep to pounce. Even as your prisoner, he looked unafraid.

It made an icy cruelty well up in you.

"No, sorcerer," you said in a voice like tombs opening, "All that is far too good for you."

You reached forward and plucked at the magic that held you to his will. In the beginning, all you wanted was to cut that connection, have total freedom. But you'd had three decades to learn cruelty and now a better idea came to you.

Your magic hooked into his heart, into the very core of his being. You could feel it like a hand touching the most sacred thing he owned. You reversed the spell and took from him what no one else in the world could even touch.

When it was done, you held his face in your hands.

"You will listen and obey."

He was the strongest sorcerer in the kingdom, perhaps in the world. He was the man who tormented you and used you.

"I will listen and obey," the sorcerer echoed.

He was the monster of all your nightmares. And now he was your slave.

On your travels, you heard of a village where babies never survived birth.

When you reached it, you were greeted warmly, for it had been many years since a traveller had come.

A child came up to you when you were drinking, a spright of a girl scarcely taller than your thigh. You looked at her with delight, for all the townsfolk on your path warned you that this village was cursed with no children.

"What are you?" she asked.

"A foxfire witch," you replied.

She mulled this over without fear.

"What do witches do?"

You smiled and conjured a heart-wood flower out of the air. She gasped and took it delicately, startled by it's beauty. More fine than anything in the village.

"I warn little girls about the dangers of the world."

You didn't say the rest out loud, but your thoughts floated on the wind and perhaps she understood the wisps of them.

I warn little girls about the cruelty and the lust of men. So that they are never caught as unguarded as I was.

Behind you, the sorcerer waited patiently with the horses. If his soul was screaming inside him, no one heard it.

#yandere fairytales #Yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc x you #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere male #Reader insert #Yandere wizard #Yandere sorcerer

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scorpiossslut · 10 months ago

Text

pairing: lewis hamilton x Wolff!fem!reader

author’s note: GOD this might be awful but please keep in mind that it’s my first story and english is not my first language :) WILL most probably go through major adjustments.

summary: in which her father, Toto Wolff, has always told her to stay away from the young drivers. He never said anything about the older ones though…

warnings: 18+ smut/nsfw, masturbation(f), oral sex(f receiving), fingering, cursing, size kink, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, age-gap, praise kink, bit of choking.

Being the daughter of a Formula 1 Team Principal never failed to be exciting.

Always VIP treatment, lots of traveling to beautiful countries, numerous job opportunities and getting to meet famous people. You were always grateful for your privileged life but never took advantage of it in a selfish way, although you enjoyed the things it had to offer from time to time. You always refused being treated differently just because of your status. You just weren’t that type of person. You liked working for the things you desired. Your adventurous side always loved a challenge, and that was also the thing your father admired and feared the most about you.

He always encouraged this side of you, ever since you were a kid. If you wanted to learn how to skate, he’d buy you a skateboard. If you spontaneously wanted to spend the next 3 months away from home in another country, he’d book your flight. One day you showed up at his office to show him your first tattoo. You always said you’d never get a tattoo, you didn’t think it would look good on you. But one day you randomly found yourself in front of a tattoo salon and couldn’t resist the curiosity. Your father was never a big fan of tattoos, but he laughed anyway, called you crazy and snapped a few pictures of the tattoo before sending them to your mom.

Toto didn’t have a lot of rules for you. He always told you “Just don’t get yourself in jail, maybe.”. But the most important and unwritten rule was “never involve yourself with the young drivers.”.

He thought they were immature boys and walking red flags, although he deeply respected them for performing in such a dangerous sport as Formula 1. You, on the other hand were never interested in any of them anyway. You befriended a few of the drivers, sometimes partied with them, but no one really caught your interest. No one besides Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis was your father’s most prized possession in the team. 7 times World Champion (or 8 if you ask me), a genuine person, an expert in what he was doing and the best he could get.

Lewis Hamilton emanated power everywhere he went. He always took his work and image very seriously, always told it as it was and his charming personality never failed to impress everyone in the room. Even the drivers looked up to him, hoping to one day be as great as him. Your first encounter with him was when you were only 15 years old, and to say that you were immediately intimidated by him was an understatement.

The nervousness you constantly felt when you were around him was originally a reaction to all the things you heard about the driver. But as time passed, you found yourself intimidated for others reasons. Maybe it was because you were a teenager and your hormones were going crazy, or because of all the books and fanfiction you used to read at that time, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him anymore. Everything about him drew you in. His tall and muscular body, his numerous tattoos that gave him a dangerous and playboy vibe, his soothing but rough voice adorned with the most beautiful british accent, his braided hair and smooth skin… That man was basically sex on legs. One of God’s finest pieces.

He instantly took a very protective role in your life. To him, you were basically a child, especially due to the big age-gap between you. But you were also his boss’s daughter so he naturally felt the need to protect you.

Now, at 23, you managed to keep a close friendship with the driver. He was always there if you needed advice for something, always there to rant to about your crazy life and always there for a good time. You spent a lot of vacations with him and his friends. Went to a lot of road trips, skateboard dates, dinner or breakfast dates, countless movie nights, sometimes just the two of you. And although your crush on him never went away, in fact the adoration and attraction only deepened, he not once tried anything with you. He always kept things friendly between you two, decent.

And it frustrated the shit out of you. Sometimes you would catch him staring at you, or even touching you for a minute longer, but never more than that. And you slowly began losing hope that one day he’d see you as more than a friend and his boss’s daughter.

————————————————————————

It’s Friday night. Since you didn’t have any plans for today and were bored out of your mind, you decided to call Lewis to ask if he would go out with you tonight. He apologized and told you that he wasn’t really feeling like doing anything crazy tonight, but insisted that you could come over and spend time together, maybe watch a movie or something. You accepted immediately.

So here you were now, 1AM in his living room, with your head on his lap and eyes closed. You didn’t mean to fall asleep really, but your fucked up sleep schedule was beginning to take a toll on you, making you doze off at very random times. Plus, the way his hand was mindlessly running through your hair felt too good.

You slowly open your eyes when you feel Roscoe licking at your hand. With a groan, you try to sit up and take in everything that’s going on. How long have you been asleep for? “Suits” is still playing on the TV, the room is almost dark except for the light of the television, Roscoe is sitting by the couch, looking back at you with his tongue hanging out, and Lewis is on his phone, probably reading through his emails.

“Thought you’d never wake up.” He chuckled, locking his phone and throwing it on the couch.

“I’m so sorry, Lewis.” You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands in hope of getting rid of the sleepiness and the headache you just woke up with. “I didn’t mean to, lately I’ve been having trouble with sleep. Maybe it��s because of school, I don’t know. My schedule doesn’t really allow me a healthy bed time anymore.”

He looks worried as he reaches out to you, shaking your arm a little.

“You can sleep here if you want. It’s late, you’re obviously very tired. I don’t want you driving back home in this state.” He proposes.

“Yeah? I can?” You chuckle, placing your hand on his. Your stomach flutters when you feel his soft, warm skin.

He looks rather angelic in the low light. His eyes are shiny but tired, his lips look soft and juicy, and his body is comfortably spread on the sofa.

“You know you can, bunny.”

Bunny. He loves to call you that. Ever since you were a teenager, he’d always call you that. You found it cute.

“Okay, then. Can I borrow some clothes, though? These jeans aren’t the most comfortable thing in the world to be honest.” You say, getting up from the couch.

“Yeah, sure.”

You follow him to the guest room. The bed looks cozier than ever, and you quickly find yourself hopping into it, groaning at the feeling of the comfortable and soft mattress. Lewis laughs and leaves you for a moment, but comes back a few seconds later, throwing some clothes on the bed beside you.

“Got you a shirt and some pants. But I’m not sure the pants are gonna fit though. You’re… a lot smaller than me for sure.” He spoke, crossing his arms to his chest. “Sorry.”

“No, Lewis. It’s all good.” You giggle, waving your arm lazily. “Thank you.”

You take a moment to look at him again. He has a soft smile on his face and his body is leaning against the door frame, the dim light in the room accentuating the muscles in his arms. He looked huge. And delicious.

Jesus.

“Good night.” He gently whispered. You say it back and then he finally leaves the room, leaving you all alone. And frustrated.

With a deep sigh, you grab the clothes he gave you and inspect them a little. A simple tie dye t-shirt(he loves these), and a pair of shorts, probably the smalest he had in his wardrobe. And they still looked big. Making a decision, you throw the pants on a chair and only keep the t-shirt, then start to change out of your clothes.

Once that was done, you floop back on the bed and check your phone real quick, before turning off the lights and pulling the blanket over your body.

————————————————————————-

You woke up sweaty. With a groan, you quickly pull the covers off your hot body to try and get some air. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the massive headache you just woke up with already makes you irritated.

Stretching your body a little, you reach for the phone sitting on the nightstand to check the time. 4AM.

“God dammit.” You curse under your breath, rubbing your face with your palm.

You could feel the faint smell of Lewis’s cologne on the t-shirt he gave you. Le Labo’s Rose 31, his favorite. Biting your lip, you bring the material to your nose and inhale the scent. A moan almost escaped you. You could basically feel him, it was like he was in the room with you again. And that definitely didn’t help your current state.

You start wondering what he might be doing right now. He’s probably sound asleep, spread on his king sized bed with nothing but his boxers on, quietly snoring, like he always does. You wish you were there to see him. Admire him. Touch his skin.

Subconsciously, you let your hand travel down your chest and under the shirt, touching at your hot skin. A shiver hits you, and you curiously start to feel around your stomach with your fingers. With eyes closed, you imagine Lewis touching you like that.

It wasn’t unusual for you to think about him like that. But in your defense, you just couldn’t help it. Everything about him felt masculine. His energy, his body, his voice, his gestures. He was basically the man you always dreamed of having, even for one night. You always wondered what he would be like in bed.

Maybe he’d whisper softly in your ear, call you “sweetheart”, take his time on making you feel good, praising you for how good you are for him. How good you take him. Or maybe, he’d manhandle you, make you do whatever he asks, put you in any position he wants while choking you with his big arms and mockingly slapping your face, degrading you for being such a whore, as his cock would slide in and out of you at an abusive pace, making your juices drip out of you with every deep, harsh thrust.

You don’t even remember the exact moment your fingers started rubbing your clit through your panties. You were definitely soaked, the wetness making a faint noise everytime your middle finger would flick at your pussy down to your enterance. A needy whimper escapes you. You needed more.

With the other hand, you quickly grab at your boobs, softly massaging them one by one and pulling on your sensitive nipples. It was all too much but still not enough. The material of your panties was drenched at this point, so you quickly moved them aside.

Circling your awaiting hole a few times, you insert a finger inside slowly.

“Mm, fuck.” You moan, hiding your face into the pillow so you could hopefully hide the sounds you were making.

You imagined Lewis doing this to you. Sitting between your thighs so he can have a clear image of your creamy pussy as he is pumping his fingers in and out of you. He’d have his mouth on you from time to time, sucking your clit harshly and moving his tongue from one hole to the other. His deep brown eyes would never leave your figure, trying to take in every single inch of you and memorize it, so he can always remember how desperate and ruined he makes you.

“Such a pretty pussy. U’re doing so good for me.” He’d praise.

The squelching sound of your cunt momentarily takes you off the trance. Your hand is wet and you’re working one more finger inside of you now, as your other hand desperately rubs at your sensitive button. You can’t believe you’re doing this in Lewis’s house, especially when his room is so close to yours, but you shamelessly don’t care enough about that right now, not when you’re so close to your orgasm.

“Mphh, Lewis…” You cry out, eyes shut.

As your back arches off the mattress, you start scissoring the fingers inside your pussy faster. You gasp for air as your legs begin to shake violently, your swollen clit throbbing uncontrollably. You moan louder than expected as you come all over your fingers, and the thought of Lewis hearing your needy sounds almost excites you more.

After a few moments, you remove the fingers from your pussy. You needed a shower so bad, maybe it would wash away the shame you were feeling at the pit of your stomach. Were you too loud? Did he hear how pathetic you’ve been, just from his scent and a few scenarios of him fucking you with his mouth and fingers?

Sitting up, you scrunch your face in disgust at the feeling of your drenched and cold underwear. You curse in your head for not taking them off early on. What the fuck were you supposed to wear now?

Deciding to swallow your shame, you finally get up from the bed to make your way to the bathroom that was connected to your room. After washing your hands twice with the expensive soap bar, you look into the mirror to see just how messy you really were. Your cheeks were flushed, your mascara was smudged, skin was glowy with sweat and your hair looked like a bird nest. Basically, it was as if you had just taken part in a gangbang.

With a sigh, you take off your panties and run them through the water, trying to wash away the sin you had just committed. Getting lost in thoughts, your stomach almost startles you as it begins to growl loudly. The little amount of energy you had left and now you felt hungry, and incredibly thirsty. Balancing your options, you wonder if you should leave the room to go get something to eat from the kitchen. Your panties were still wet and you couldn’t imagine wearing them now, but you knew you’d never be able to fall asleep again if your stomach constantly demanded food. Plus, drinking tap water was never an option.

“Fuck.”

Slipping your underwear back on, you inspect yourself in the mirror a little and pull on Lewis’s t-shirt, making sure that it covers enough, just in case.

The whole penthouse is silent as you walk to the kitchen. A few lights are still on, but that’s just how Lewis prefers it. You assume Roscoe is in his room fast asleep as well, because you don’t run into him on your way. Opening the fridge, you immediately grab a bottle of water and place it on the counter, before scanning for some food. The indian takeout boxes were really calling your name right now, so you grabbed two of them before closing the door with your foot.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You almost drop the boxes from your hands when you hear his voice. Turning around, you find him staring at you, with a little smirk on his face.

“You almost shit your pants, bunny. Did I scare you?” He laughs, approaching you.

“Jesus, Hamilton. Almost gave me a heart attack, could’ve died right here on your kitchen floor.” You exhaled, dropping the boxes on the table and placing a hand on your chest, trying to see if your heart was still beating.

“I’m sorry. Won’t do it again.” He chuckles and briefly massages your shoulders, before pushing past you to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. After he takes a few sips, he speaks again. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” You bite back, drinking from your own water, almost gulping down the whole thing.

The thought of what you just did a few moments ago creeps into your head again, and you suddenly wish the ground would swallow you. What if he heard? You get self conscious remembering that you’re only wearing his shirt and your destroyed pair of panties that were still wet and uncomfortable, so you pull on the hem to hopefully try and cover yourself as much as possible.

His top lip twitches for a second, then he smiles and shrugs. “Was thirsty.”

He looked absolutely delicious now, with nothing on but a pair of grey shorts and his braids down. His abs were shining underneath the dim lights, and all you wanted right now really was to drop down on your knees and lick them. You couldn’t look further down though, you feared you might pass out if you saw the imprint of his dick in his pants.

You had the opportunity to take a peek, though. Multiple times. Especially on race weekends, when he would just grab his dick in his hand and struggle to readjust himself through the racing suit before hopping in the car. You knew he was big. You fantasized about how he would feel on your tongue, heavy and large. About how he would fuck your throat rough, making you choke on his cock. About how he would hardly be able to slide into your tight, warm pussy, but when he would finally make it, he’d rip you apart with it until you were left a crying, overstimulated mess.

“Why are you so red, bunny? Are you ill?” He asks, furrowing his brows.

When you finally snap out of your filthy thoughts, he’s already in front of you, checking your temperature with the back of his hand, looking concerned.

“N-no.” You almost sound unsure, your voice cracking a little.

“No?” He shakes his head, cupping your flushed cheeks in his hands.

You couldn’t make eye contact with him, even though you knew he was intently watching you. He was so close that there was almost no space to breathe anymore, and you couldn’t take it, so you hesitantly backed off.

A cheeky smirk was plastered on his face though, and he quickly looked you up and down before grabbing a fork and digging into the food left on the table. You just stood there, petrified. No thoughts behind your eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” He spoke again.

Well, the hunger disappeared, that’s for sure.

You shake your head then clear your throat. “Not hungry anymore. I think I’ll just go back to bed.”

“Hm.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you grab the bottle of water and make your way past him, whispering a “good night” softly. After a few seconds, he speaks again.

“Maybe this time you’ll be able to get some sleep instead of moaning my name while you’re touching yourself.”

Your stomach drops. Maybe you’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve gone crazy. But there’s no way this was happening right now. This can’t be real.

You’re stuck in your place for a few moments, calculating your possibilities of escape. Throwing yourself out the window sounds like a good idea now. But you feel cornered, and you can’t think of what to do or say. You were doomed, for sure. But you choose to play dumb instead, so you anxiously turn to him and speak.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been asleep the whole time.”

He says nothing, and that worries you even more.

Then he throws the fork in the sink and finally faces you. He lifts his eyebrows and leans on the counter, with his arms folded to his chest.

“No, you weren’t.” He spoke. “Come here.” He gestures with his hand.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you decide to listen to him and get closer.

“Please don’t tell dad.” You beg. There was no point in denying anymore. He knew.

He chuckles then, and furrows his brows, looking at you funny. God, you just wish all this would be over already. It felt humiliating.

“You think I’d tell Toto about how his daughter is pleasuring herself to the thought of me?”

His words come out as a whisper as he carefully moves a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know…”

“What were you thinking about?”

You finally get the courage to look into his eyes then. You’re not sure you heard him right.

“What?”

“I think you heard me just right, princess. What were you thinking about when you had these pretty fingers deep inside your pussy?” He asks, lifting your hand and pressing a few kisses to your fingers.

A whine almost escapes your mouth while you’re watching it happen. You’ve never heard Lewis talk like that, especially towards you, and it both sexually frustrated you as well as made you impossibly shy. A deep shade of red is present on your face and you seriously don’t know if you should just risk it all and tell him about your little fantasies or act dumb about it.

“Y/n”

You snap out of it. “I-I don’t know what to say, Lewis. This is so humiliating.” You sigh deeply, covering your face with your hands.

“Hey, hey.” He shushed you, pulling you into his arms. He smelled so good, and his skin felt hot pressed against yours, even with the t-shirt you were wearing as a barrier. “No need for that, bunny. It’s just me.” His words come out as a whisper as he is moving his hand up and down your back. “…Just us.”

Lifting your head slowly, you look into his eyes and bite your lip. This was all you ever wanted. For him to want you back. And now that he finally hinted that he might be into you in that way, had you at a loss of words and action.

Fuck it, you thought. It’s been too long. Too much time spent on secretive glances, crushing, overthinking, masturbating to the thought of him. Maybe you could finally get something out if it.

“I was thinking of you… Touching me.”

“Good girl. How was I touching you, hm?” The praise goes straight to your core as his head falls to your neck to press a few wet kisses, and you swore you could die right there on the spot. His hands squeeze your waist a little before traveling down to your ass, massaging patiently, waiting for you to respond to his question.

You moan at the action, getting lost in the feeling of him touching you like that. In a second, he lifts you up by your thighs and you unconsciously wrap your legs around his waist. He sits you on the counter then positions himself between your bare legs. His warm hands touch the insides of your thighs, making your breath hitch. You still can’t believe this is happening.

“You look so good in my clothes…” He mumbles, lifting one of his hands to your shirt and squeezing your skin a little. When he reaches your breasts, he squeezes harder.

“Mm… Lewis…” You whine pathetically, waiting for more.

“That’s what you were moaning a few minutes ago, baby?”

You look up to find him staring at you intently with his teeth pulling at his lower lip. His eyes were darker, full of lust. You enjoy having him like this, you realized. A man, the man you dreamed about, about to pleasure you.

“Yes.” You confess sincerely, batting your eyelashes at him.

“You’re such a naughty girl…” He whispers, touching your soft cheek with his finger.

His other hand starts wondering further underneath your shirt, and you find yourself opening your legs wider, waiting desperately for his touch. You can feel one of his fingers pressing against your clit only a few seconds later, and you can’t help but moan already. He rubs tight, circular circles on your sensitive button and groans, pushing your body back. You lean back and let him lift your legs on the counter.

“Shit, bunny. You look so delicious right now."

He reaches the band of your underwear and pulls on it urgently, leaving you bare in front of him. Normally you'd get self conscious everytime a man saw you naked, but for some reason that wasn't the case now. The desire to have Lewis eat you out was much bigger than any insecurity you may have. You grow impatient already just thinking about it and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing. He notices.

“I’m going to eat this pretty pussy.”

“Please.” You say immediately, eager to feel his tongue on your most sensitive spot.

He pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and gets on his knees, holding onto your shaky legs. You played this scenario in your head over and over again so many times, and you craved to see it finally happen. You really need to see him.

Standing up a little, you think you might just pass out. There he was, propped between your legs, licking a fat stripe of your pussy. He makes eye contact then and moans, connecting his lips to your puffy clit and sucking, hard.

Your body twitches on instinct and you whimper, pushing your needy pussy into his face. He moans and starts licking up and down your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you from time to time.

“Yes… Just like that.” You manage to say.

He’s hungrily lapping at your cunt like he hadn’t eaten in days, collecting all your sweet essence with his eager mouth. You can’t help but yelp a little when you feel two of his thick, long fingers pushing inside your tight pussy. It stings a little, but he doesn’t let you adjust, instead he pushes them deeper and curls them, making your eyes roll and your jaw drop.

“Oh my god." You gasp, arching your back so hard that you think it might break in half. His mouth is still attached to your sensitive clit, pressing torturous licks on it.

He pulls away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers push in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were glued to your pussy, like he was hypnotized by the sight. And he was. Suddenly, his eyes snap to yours and you think you’d never seen something hotter in your entire life.

“Look at you, baby… Hear the sounds your pretty pussy is making for me? You’re so fucking wet.” He humms and gives your puffy clit a sharp slap, fucking his fingers faster inside you.

You scream his name, like you always dreamed of doing. You’re desperately trying to hump his hand to get more, already feeling the familiar tightness in your lower stomach building rapidly. He doesn’t like that, so he quickly pushes your hips down with his free hand, keeping you in place. You don’t get to protest, because then he curls his fingers right on your g-spot, having your body tense immediately. You’re almost breathless and trashing your tiny body on his counter, and when he gets his hand on you and starts to flick your clit with rapid movements, you know you’re done for.

“That’s it. Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

You don’t hear anything for a few seconds after that. Your ears are tingling, your toes are curling and your whole body is shaking violently. Your orgasm washes over you in an instant, your pussy clenching down on his two fingers.

While you’re busy trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t stop. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, a bit slower now, and he reattached his mouth to your pussy, licking it slowly.

Feeling overstimulated, you immediately jerk away from his touch, twitching uncontrollably.

“N-no… too much!” You whimper, pushing his head back.

“Mm.” He slowly removes his fingers, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing. He’s chasing a trail of cum that your pussy is pushing out with his tongue and moans. “Such a sweet pussy. Sweetest I’ve ever had.” He praises.

You don’t say anything. Mostly because you can’t. Your whole body feels like jelly, still shaky from the powerful orgasm you just had. But you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. No, he gets up and grabs your chin forcefully, smashing your lips together. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes your head spin and your pussy leak. Again.

When he finally pulls away, he takes a moment to look at your fucked out expression and humms, licking his lip.

“Was it good, bunny?” A smirk creeps out on his face.

“Yes…” You reply, the shyness taking place in you again as you batt your eyelashes at him.

“Good…” He whispers softly, tugging slowly on your bottom lip. “God, I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

God, the things this man makes you feel. He just fucked you stupid with his mouth and fingers and now he wants to fuck your pussy? It had to be a dream.

You want to take advantage of this moment for as long as you can.

“Fuck me, Lewis. I want it.”

The way you just look up at him so innocently but so seductive at the same time, with lips swollen, slightly messy hair and smudged mascara, makes his dick twitch. It isn’t the first time he’s rock hard for you though. No. You never knew this, but he had his eyes on you too. For the past few months, at race weekend, everytime he’d see you, you’d have him losing his mind. Walking around in short skirts and crop tops, or those lovely sundresses you adore so much. It made his dick throb, and he had to make up some excuses a few times just to run back to his driver’s room and touch himself. But he wasn’t only attracted to you because of those things. Your energy captivated him completely, and he knew he wasn’t the only one dreaming about having you. He wasn’t blind, nor stupid. He saw the way the other younger drivers or random people in the pit crew looked at you. How they smiled at you or tried to make you laugh, subtly touching you. It made him feral.

Toto was his boss. They go way back. Lewis admired your father, in many ways, and the bond they formed through working together was tight, for sure. He knew about the stupid rule he had for you, about dating or messing around with the drivers, and he respected that. Up until recently, when he started looking at you in a different light, and the rule suddenly frustrated him deeply. He never had a problem staying away from you. The need to protect you was the only thing on his mind. Then he started to finally see you.

How smart you were, how much joy you bring when you walk into a room. How everyone stops to look or listen to you when you talk. How adventurous you are and openly emotional without a care about what other people might think of you. The way you’re always there for people, the warmth you possess. Your unintentional seductiveness. Your charm.

Now, he had you exactly where he wanted. He wasn’t sure at first if he should tell you that he heard your sweet sounds when you masturbated to the thought of him, but he became desperate. All he needed was confirmation that you felt the same way about him as he felt about you. And he got it. He wasn’t gonna let you slip away this time. And he was done thinking about how complicated the situation is with your father.

Grabbing at your hand, he helps you get off the counter. You look at him confused, scared that he might realize that everything was a mistake and he’d changed his mind. But the thought quickly vanishes when he starts kissing your neck and nipping at your skin, lifting your shirt with his hands.

“I’m not gonna fuck you in a kitchen. My sweet baby deserves a bed, no?” His raspy voice sends goosebumps on your skin and you nod, letting him walk you backwards to his room, as he finally manages to get rid of the only material left on your body.

When you get to his room, he carefully pushes you on the bed, with him on top. The cold air in the room hits your sensitive flesh and makes your nipples harden. Licking your lips, you raise your head from the soft pillow to look at him. His gaze is darkened and his bottom lip sits between his teeth, pulling at it desperately, like he was trying so hard to keep his control. You wanted him to lose it. All of it.

“Please, Lewis… Fuck me. Wanted this for so long.” A whine escapes your lips and you pout, caging his body between your legs as your legs wrap tightly around his torso.

Your confession made him groan. He wanted to keep this moment in his memory forever. How needy you are begging for him to fuck you, how pretty you looked all spread out on his bed, with your hair tousled on his pillow, your lips puffy from his kisses and your eyes glossy and dazed.

Finally, he gets rid of the shorts he was wearing, pulling them off along with his boxers. You're left speechless as you shamelessly stare at his very erect cock. It's thick and you can spot a few angry veins almost popping, running up towards the head. It's standing proud and tall glued to his pelvis, almost reaching his belly button, and it has your mouth water.

He notices how you stare at him with your cheeks flushed and your lip between your teeth and smirks, tapping your thigh a few times to get your attention.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"It's so big..."

"Yeah? Never had a real man before, princess?" He asks, raising your leg to his shoulder and pressing soft kisses on your soft skin while maintaining eye contact with you.

You shake your head timidly.

"Gonna make you feel so good. You trust me?"

"Yes." You respond immediately, squirming under him.

"Just hold on for a sec. I gotta have some condoms in here." He lets go of your leg and leans towards his nightstand to search for the condoms.

"W-wait." You stopped him, pressing a hand to his chest. You were anxious when your next words left your lips. "I... I'm clean, and on birth control, so if you want, there's no need for that."

He turned his head to look at you and stopped in his tracks.

"Want me to fuck you bare, bunny?" He reached a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you lovingly, with a grin on his face.

"Mhm." You mumbled, nodding your head. "If that's okay with you, of course!" You rushed the words out.

"I'm more than okay with that." He hummed, caressing your hip with his thumb. "Come 'ere."

He pulled you lower on the bed and leaned forward, gripping your cheeks and smashing his lips with yours. He kisses you slow at first, taking his time to taste you. Then, as his hands start to explore your naked body, it turns wild. You feel dizzy as you wrap your hands around his neck to bring him even closer and your hot bodies stick to each other. It feels so intimate, you've never experienced something like this with someone before. His erection is standing right between your legs and it makes you raise your hips eagerly. You want him inside already.

"So eager." He whispers and smirks, pulling away a bit.

You glance down and lick your lips as he lines himself up, watching him tap your clit a few times with his cock, then pushing his head through your sensitive folds to collect all your juices. It sends jolts of electricity through your body and you whimper, spreading yourself a bit more. When he finally slides in, it's so overwhelming that you let your mouth hang open with a loud moan. The stretch is stinging a lot, but there's another sensation that comes with it that makes it so pleasurable at the same time.

Lewis watches you carefully and stills his movements, to let you adjust to his size. Your eyebrows are slightly furrowed as you try to relax as much as you can to accomodate your thight walls around him. Once you feel the pain diminuate a bit you nod your head, letting him know that he can move further.

He slips in a little more then and lets himself moan at the heavenly feeling of your bare, tight pussy squeezing him tightly.

"Doing sooo good, baby. Taking me like a pro." He praises, moving your damp hair out of your face.

He bottoms out inside you and you whimper. He's so deep that you could swear you felt it in your stomach, but you want more.

As if he could read your mind, he slowly pulls out a bit then pushes himself inside again, making you let out tiny mewls and moans as you got to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. Lewis humms and buries his face in your neck, leaving wet, hot kisses all over it before going down to your breasts and taking one of them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around your hard, sensitive nipple. He starts to thrust his hips in a steady rhythm while taking your other breast in his mouth and all you can do is arch your back and whine, overwhelmed by the intense feeling.

"So fucking tight." He hissed, leaning back to grab your thighs and lift them on his shoulders, the new position allowing him to hit your spot better. You felt so full of him, and you were ready to cry from the pleasure.

"Lewis." You let out a loud moan and touch his abs, scratching them as he suddenly surprises you with a rougher pace that makes you roll your eyes back and let out a cry.

“Shit.” He curses, groaning when he feels your pussy clench around his fat cock. “Thought about fucking this pretty pussy every single day lately. And now look at you, all fucked out on my bed.”

His words make your head spin. You had no idea he thought about this just like you did, so many times.

“Y-you thought about me?” You manage to ask between moans, looking down for a second to catch a glimpse of his dick sliding in and out of you at a fast pace.

He went in for a messy kiss then pulled back a little, looking at you with half closed eyes. “You have no idea.” He mutters, grabbing your neck softly.

The sounds in the room are intoxicating. It’s filled with heavy breaths, moans, skin slapping repeatedly and the filthy sound of your impossibly wet pussy getting filled to the brim by Lewis. Your gaze is locked with his and it feels like there’s just the two of you left in this world. Nothing matters anymore. Not your dad, not your age gap, nothing. It’s so intense and intimate that it almost has your heart burst out of your chest.

Your thighs are trembling as he folds them to your chest, and your hands are frantically searching for something to grip onto, while incoherent sounds are dripping off your lips.

“You wanna cum, princess?” He asks, smirking down at you.

“Yes! Yes, please please don’t stop.” You beg, shaking your head as short screams leave your mouth.

He’s quick to drag a hand down to your pussy and starts rubbing your clit harshly with his thumb to force your release. The added pleasure makes you pulsate rapidly around his cock and you find yourself arching your back off the mattress again, struggling to breathe as your orgasm is nearing quickly.

“Come on, want you to make a mess on this cock, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head pathetically and yelp when he pinches your swollen clit, letting out a loud cry as your orgasm washes over you. It hits you so quickly and so violently that it makes your breath get stuck and your eyes squeeze shut while your legs are uncontrollably shaking. Your juices are dripping down Lewis’s cock and onto the mattress underneath you, and it’s a sight to die for as he watches it all happen.

“Good girl. Did so good f’ me.” He coos, but doesn’t stop the movements of his hips, although he slows down a bit to let you come down from your orgasm.

When you open your eyes to look at him, you find him already looking at you, with an enamored expression on his face. His hand is softly caressing your thigh while he is admiring the post-orgasmic glow of your skin.

Soon enough, he is picking up his pace again and you whine in discomfort and overstimulation, furrowing your brows.

“Can’t. Please. Can’t.” You squirm underneath him.

“You can, baby. Come on, just a little bit more.”

Using his arms, he spreads your legs wider so he can have more access to you. His thrusts quicken again and his fingers attaches themselves to your clit again, pressing into it in circular motions. You were squeezing him so tightly that he could barely move inside you but he pulled through, ramming his hips into yours with brutal force, trying to chase his own release.

“Oh.” You gasped and glued your eyes down to where your cunt was greedily sucking him in. Your milky essence is visible at the base of his cock and the sight is downright filthy.

“Fuck.” He grunts, also watching where you two are connected before he lunges towards you and grips your neck more tightly and yanks you forward a bit. You prop up on your elbows and look at him with wide, doe eyes, moaning uncontrollably. “Where do you want it, bunny?”

“Inside!” You respond immediately, placing one of your hands around his wrist. “Want you to come inside me. Please.”

Your eagerness to take his cum inside your tiny walls makes him shiver with enthusiasm. His tip hits your g-spot with every powerful snap of his hips and it made you part your lips in bliss. Lewis takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you messily. You suddenly start to feel a different kind of pressure at the pits of your stomach and you wince, pulling back from the kiss.

“Lewis… I think there’s something wrong. Feels different.” You slurred, your eyes widening in fear.

“It’s alright, baby. I’m here. Give me one more, yeah?” He grunted, flicking at your clit with his palm rapidly.

The bed is moving with the rhythm of his aggressive thrusts and you feel your muscles contract and twitch with every move. You’re fluttering around him desperately as you scratch down his back with your polished nails and he moans deeply.

“Fuck. Gonna stuff this cunt. Come on, come for me. again, baby.” You know he is close by how much you can feel him throb inside of you.

With a particularly sharp thrust your orgasm washes over you, and you scream, letting your back fall on the mattress as you squirted, your juices making a mess on both you and Lewis. The sight makes him burst instantly and he groans, throwing his head back while he stills inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.

You’ve never done this before. I mean, you definitely heard of squirting, but no one was ever able to get you to this stage. You quickly become self conscious. What if he didn’t like it? What if he found you disgusting now? Terrified, you look up to him only to find out how wrong you were. He is already looking your way, with a huge smirk on his face.

“Look at that. My girl squirted all over the place.”

You blush deeply at his words and cover your face with your hands, but he is quick to grab them and pin them to the bed around your head.

“Why are you hiding? What’s wrong?” He chuckled, amused by the childish action.

“I… I’ve never done that before.”

“Did it feel good though?” He asked with a smug grin.

“Mhm…” You bite your lip and writhe slightly, making him moan at the sudden movement.

He carefully pulls out of you and leans back on his heels, only to see both of your releases slowly drip out of your cunt. He humms and brings two fingers there to massage around your hole, and then he pushes them inside, fucking the cum back into you.

You whine and he stops, looking back at you.

“Wait here for a second, hm? I’m going to draw you a bath.”

You nod and thank him quietly, watching him lovestruck as he gets up from the bed, collects his boxers from the floor and pulls them on, then disappears to the bathroom.

Few minutes later you’re both in the tub, your back is pressed against his chest and your eyes are closed in relaxation while he is lazily running his hand through your hair.

Even though the silence is comfortable, you can’t help but start to overthink. What was he thinking about? You didn’t necessarily think he regretted what you did, but what did it mean? Was he going to ghost you after that? Act like nothing ever happened? You wouldn’t judge him, especially considering the situation with your father, but you hoped that it wouldn’t be the case. Part of you was convinced that he wouldn’t just leave you in the dark like that. That wasn’t Lewis. Could never be Lewis. But your insecurities are still eating you alive.

Then he takes you by surprise again by reading your mind. “What are you thinking about?”

“I was actually wondering what were you thinking about.” You chuckle, leaning your head back a bit to look at him. God, how can this man be so beautiful?

He smiles softly and nuzzles his nose along your cheek, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to it.

You let out a breath and sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation. “I was just asking myself… what now, I guess.” You shrugged, with a heavy heart.

He furrows his brows and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “What do you want?”

You gulped and licked your lips, looking at him through your lashes. “I want you.”

“Then you have me. And you know I want you too. But it’s going to be a lot more complicated than that.” He whispers to you and you feel your heart drop on the spot, afraid of what he might be insinuating.

Noticing the broken look in your eyes, he quickly places his hands on both your cheeks and leans forward. “What I mean by that is, that we should be careful. I know keeping things a secret isn’t healthy, but giving the circumstances, I don’t think it would benefit either of us right now if someone found out about what we have going on. I promise that it won’t last forever, I would never keep you a secret, but for now that’s just the way things are.”

You take in his words. You know he is right. And you’ll take anything as long as it means that he’ll be finally yours. Even though the thought of keeping a secret like that, especially from your dad, makes you feel uneasy. But you’re so ready to give it a shot, just for him. What if everything turns out alright in the end?

“I know. And I understand.” You nodded, closing your eyes and pressing your lips against his in a tender kiss.

When you pull back, he gives you a quick wink and a smile, tapping the inside of your thigh lightly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #lh44 #lh44 x reader

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the-cimmerians · 1 year ago

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It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

#fannish shenanigans #fandom history #rare ass personal post

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timmydraker · 4 months ago

Text

During a patrol in Gotham one night, Red Robin comes across a strange sight.

A young woman stands over a crumpled body with a sling shot primed and ready, aimed a man with a rather large hand gun. It’s clear she’s protecting the woman who looks like she’s been hit over the head and had her bag nabbed, as it’s ripped and contents are spilled everywhere.

The girl sits shaking, she isn’t scared at all, standing strong with a shard of glass aimed at the man’s crotch.

Tim jumps down and disarms the man smoothly before turning to the young girl, who upon closer inspection seems to be around thirteen years old.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and stares at him for a moment with awe in his eyes before her eyes widen and she turns to the person behind her, “But she is! That guy was cornering her and I tried to help but he hit her and-“

“Alright, I understand. Would you like to help me get her to the ER a few blocks away?”

The girl nods with a determination Tim remembers seeing in Dick and Jason in their Robin days and he smiles.

He doesn’t ask her what her name is because side he knows he’ll follow up and find something to feel guilty about, but the girl seems to have her own plans.

She shows up a couple of days later, standing on a tall building with a cheap Robin outfit on.

Tim is confused before he drops down and she gives a big grin and mock salute, “How can I help?”

Tim smiled a little before shaking his head, “Taking the title of Robin, are you?”

She nods, now more bashful, “Well, I want to help people. I don’t want to fight exactly, but… well, sometimes you bats are too busy with the villains to notice the little guy and- bro to say you’re a bad hero-“

“You’re right, it’s okay. We can only do so much and sometimes preventing more damage being done saves more lives, but there will always be a cost.”

She smiles, bright orange, and impressively curly, hair getting in her eyes and sticking to the poor quality glue of her fake domino.

“I want to help. I… can help, please.”

Tim answers after a solid minute of silence, “What is your name?”

She frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to have a secret identity?”

He smiles in answer, “Yes, but I know what you look like and I can find out, I’m asking out of politeness.”

The girl looks like she could pout and Tim feels strangely old at the sight, even if he’s still got a few months before he can even legally drink.

“Carrie. Caroline to be specific.”

Tim smiles, “Well, Carrie, here’s the deal. I will meet you here or somewhere like here every night and until, and only until, you can land a hit on me will I agree to let you help.”

While Carrie doesn’t look pleased she nods, a clear sense of hope in her eyes even as she looks nervous.

She looses the first fight, and the second and third and fourth, but she gets better and better.

Tim doesn’t tell anyone about Carrie Kelly, nor does he tell her that he does end up doing a back ground check and finds two dead beat parents more focused on weed than their incredibly skilled daughter.

When she proves to be relentless in her desire to save lives he sends her to a teacher to help her stay hidden and safe. He’s not like Bruce, he doesn’t send her overseas to some dangerous people, but close by and to someone he trust to not hurt her nor tell anyone else about the strange young girl whose managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Selina Kyle is more than happy to take in the girl when she watches her sling shot fire crackers at muggers.

When Carrie comes back and meets Tim on a rooftop, she not only manages to hit him but knocks him off his feet.

Tim grins at her, pride filling his mind and making him understand Bruce just a little more.

But unlike Bruce, he isn’t throwing her into the fight at all.

Tim Drake is the one who pays for her school pills while her yippie parents refuse to work or spend money on her, and sends her real time footage of medical lectures in various collages across the country.

Carrie doesn’t become Robin, nor did she even wear that suit after the second night and he gave her a basic training outfit that properly covered her eyes and hair, but she does become something else.

She becomes Cardinal, the vigilante that swoops in to save civilians and provide the medical care that saves hundreds of people and allows the ambulances and hospitals to have a chance.

When she makes her debut the other bats worry about a new kid making bad choices, probably inspired by them, but Tim ignores it if only because he’s actually proud of her and trust her in a way he hasn’t trusted teammates in years.

After a year of this, a young girl asks for a meeting with Mister Tim Drake at his company and, purely so he wouldn’t have to do more pointless numbers, he lets her in after she passes the security check.

The girl who comes into his office is barely ten, cute little clips in her dark bob hair and a big book bag almost half her size behind her.

Tim recognised her instantly once he sees the bright yellow shoes she’s wearing.

This little girl, name Mia Mizoguchi, has been stalking him and Carrie for a few months now.

After he enrolled Carrie at Gotham Academy, the young girl nicknamed ‘Maps’ had been asking Carrie a lot of questions. Carrie had been good at avoiding incriminating answers, but had fallen for the younger girls clever trap as she casually spoke out infomation that could help with cases and Carrie delivered it back to Tim.

As soon as he realised that Maps had done exactly what he had done and figured out who Carrie was he was impressed. Because even if Carrie was new to the game, she had a skill for tricking people into looking away from her and had done well to stay low.

Maps had made the connection back to Tim, apparently.

Luckily, unlike Bruce, he wasn’t ignorant to their little stalker and actually knew her family from a few galas and charities. To be fair, Tim also wasn’t clouded by grief, but as he lets the girl explain how she totally doesn’t know who Red Robin is but if she did know who he was she would want him to know that a new drug trade route was actually being covered by a cotton candy company and she has over sixty pages worth of proof.

When he shows up to The Nest (named by Carrie) with Maps behind him, he finds Cardinal waiting with an excited gleam in her eyes.

Due to her being so young, Tim doesn’t allow Maps to go into the field until she’s the same age as both he and Carrie were, but she’s quick to show her worth taking over coms and doing an insanely detailed level of detective work that Tim can’t help but be a little jealous of.

Just like Carrie, who has been trying with Selina about only becoming Catgirl if Catwoman stops being a criminal for a few weeks now, he sends her to someone else for mentor ship.

Maps is a sweet girl, but she loves to talk and has a lot of friends who have most of the same interest, so he sends her to the one bat member he trust most.

Cassandra Cain immediately tells Tim that he has to adopt both of them and can’t quite understand why them both having living parents matters.

It’s Cass who gives Maps her vigilante name, Sparrow.

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kashverse · 1 month ago

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(misspellings are intentional to reflect yuuji's age, i wrote him as a 3-4 year old in mind)

it started with yuuji waddling into the apartment, clutching his tiny fists like he’d just returned from battle. he puffed his cheeks, brows furrowed in intense focus, before dramatically exhaling and declaring,

“papamin, it’s an emergengy.”

nanami, mid-sifting flour in his pastel pink apron (because real men wear pink, and real dads keep the household running), barely had time to process before his son—his sweet, sunshine boy—grabbed his hand with his chubby fingers and led him toward the crime scene.

“the bad boys outside—they call me a… a… a baby poop head.”

nanami, blinking down at his child, sighed deeply. he set down the mixing bowl, dusting his hands off like a man preparing for war.

“yuuji, what did i say about using words instead of fists?”

“i know, papa.” his son sniffled. “but my words not working. they just laughing, and then they say you prolly wear a diapee too.”

nanami was going to kill a third grader.

so there he was, the strongest dad in the trenches, still in his flour-dusted pink apron, walking out to the communal park outside their apartment complex where a group of grade schoolers had gathered. yuuji pointed, voice hushed with the weight of the situation, “that’s them, papa. the gang of doom.” they were just three mildly feral-looking children in graphic tees, but nanami knew that to yuuji, this was serious business. standing to his full height, he crossed his arms and called out, “excuse me.”

the gang of doom froze. one of them—clearly the ringleader with his messy cowlick and untied shoelaces—blinked up at nanami. “uh. yeah?”

“i heard you’ve been bullying my son.”

cowlick snorted. “we just playin’! he a baby poop head.”

nanami exhaled through his nose. there were many things he had patience for, but disrespecting yuuji was not one of them. he placed a firm hand on his hip, leaning slightly down.

“do you know what happens to kids who pick on others?”

the gang of doom exchanged glances. one of them—glasses kid—pushed his frames up. “they go to jail?” nanami smiled thinly. “worse. they grow up to be adults with bad credit scores.”

there was a silence as the weight of his words settled in. cowlick gulped. “what’s a credit score?”

“exactly.” nanami straightened, adjusting his apron. “you don’t know, do you? and that’s dangerous. imagine you’re an adult, trying to buy a house—”

“i don’t wanna buy a house!”

“—and suddenly, the bank denies your loan. why? bad credit.”

glasses kid gasped. “bad credit?”

nanami nodded solemnly. “it starts young. first, it’s bullying innocent kids. next, it’s missing payments on your first car. before you know it, you’re drowning in financial instability.”

cowlick shuffled back. “w-we were just playin’.”

“oh?” nanami quirked a brow. “was it fun?”

the three boys rapidly shook their heads.

“good. then i suggest you find a new game. perhaps, one that doesn’t involve making my son feel bad. do you understand?”

the gang of doom nodded so hard their heads might’ve flown off. nanami gave a satisfied hum before turning to his son. “come on, yuuji. let’s go home.”

yuuji, who had been watching with wide eyes like he’d just witnessed a masterclass in warfare, let out a deep, impressed “whoaaaa.” he grabbed nanami’s hand, giggling as they walked back inside. and that night, during dinner, yuuji climbed onto his chair and dramatically recounted the entire event to you.

“—so then! papa said, ‘bad cwe-edit,’ and the gang of doom got real scawed! like, so scawed! and then papa was like, ‘do you know what happens next?’ and they was like ‘nooo, please, we so sowwy, we don’t wanna go to the bad cwe-edit jail!’”

nanami sighed as he took a sip of wine. “i never mentioned jail.”

“and then—” yuuji smacked his hands on the table, voice full of wonder. “—papa walked away, and he didn’t even look back! it was like… like a movie! i think you the strongest dad in da world, papa.” his little face shone with admiration, and nanami, feeling a rare moment of sentimentality, reached out to ruffle yuuji’s hair.

“… thank you, yuuji.”

his son beamed, stuffing a piece of bread into his mouth.

then, with the crumbs still on his face, he pointed a chubby finger. “also, what’s a cwe-edit score?”

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elierlick · 7 months ago

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Pundits keep claiming that there are no trans men competing with other men. In reality, there are dozens of amazing trans men playing in the men's leagues, including some impressive Olympic athletes. Here are 5 trans sportsmen who recently joined men's divisions:

Japanese champion boxer Shindo Go generated much interest when he announced he was rejoining the ring in the men's division after transitioning. He just had his first trial fight in December, narrowly losing (29-27) to his opponent. He's set to return professionally this year!

Brazil's champion table tennis player Luca Kumahara began playing against other men in December. He quickly became a finalist in a national competition, defeated only by the championship winner. The 29-year-old trans man is currently providing commentary at the Olympics after playing in the 2012, 2016, and 2021 games.

Loui Sand is a Swedish handball player. He thought he would have to retire in 2019 when he transitioned but Kärra HF contracted him to play on the men's team shortly after! Unfortunately, like too many trans athletes, he had to end his career early in 2022 due to harassment.

Danny Baker started boxing when he was just 14. After transitioning in his 20s, he became Britain's first professional trans boxer in the men's division. He's already won several matches against cis men and continues to fight his way up the ranks!

Finally, fencer Bobbie Hirsch joined his college men's team last year as their first trans male fencer. He placed in the NCAA regionals only weeks after starting. I want to highlight Bobbie because, like many other young trans men, he will undoubtedly make history with his athletic skills.

Know anyone else who didn't make it onto this list? Let me know in a comment or reblog!

#olympics #athletes #sports

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obeymeluv · 20 days ago

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We Had a Baby! (For a Grade?) - PT 1 -Malleus

Putting a divide up and a notice that Malleus' part WILL reference what he looked like in his younger fae form. For those that have made it through book seven, you know. For those that haven't made it to book seven, well...maybe skip this part.

Also...I thought these would be on the shorter side and I'd fit in multiple people but I guess Malleus is special. I'll try to be shorter with the other parts to get more people in.

Finding "Mal" names were hard, man.

Note: in this piece, book seven hasn't happened so this is the first time that Silver and Sebek are seeing fae eggs.

I'm trying out a hybrid style for this because it would be waaaay too long if I just typed it all in story form. Some story, some bullet points.

Not proofread. Need to give my eyes a break. Will review it later.

Malleus

The idea seemed positively strange to the Dragon Prince--people of your world treating sustenance as children? That didn't seem very productive of society at all! How were you to thrive as a species? What would a bag of flour do for you when you fell ill in old age? How could a potato assist you if you could not eat it?

Professor Crewel was also intrigued with the idea, so much so that he made it into an assignment. The puzzling introduction of your society's fondness for turning food into family quickly became a monologue on culturing fortitude, overcoming challenges, and assuring the class that this assignment met the 'general life skills' criteria expected of NRC and their excellent mages.

Crewel wouldn't admit it for anything less than a foolproof spell that could make Crowley competent, but he, Trein, and Vargas had bets on what the children would look like. They also had their preferred parents, of course. Given that he was the instructor of the class, he could pick as he pleased.

And he would. And he did.

He was very intrigued with the idea of fae offspring, as he had encountered (and rescued) only smaller species over the course of his potion-making career. Malleus was of impressive size and rare lineage so what would a baby version of him look like?

Like the rest of the class, Crewel was silent and stunned when the two of you stepped out of the summoning circle to see five shiny, pebbly eggs. The eggs were quite large and they had an iridescent sheen to them that could almost pass for a trick of the light. Upon closer inspection, the eggs had almost a geometric, scale-like pattern to them. Some spots thinner than others, giving a suggestion of something curled up inside.

Something warm and joyous roared in Malleus. A jolt of...something...struck deep at his core and all his nerves sang at once. Was this the parental instinct? He felt his eyesight sharpen, honing in on his clutch. His pointed ears flexed, somehow taking in the myriad of sounds around him to the point where he could tell Epel's nose was stuffed and Trey had a dry throat. Magic radiated off of him, sensed but unseen as it seeped into various objects around the room and things began to jump and float.

You picked up the nearest egg and he found it positively endearing. It was nearly as big as your torso! "We got eggs?" you were absolutely confused and held it out to him as if he could explain.

"Indeed! A fine bunch!" Malleus scooped up the other four and excused himself. The specks of green magic had just died when he returned with a basket woven from black briars. Humming and glittering with magic, Malleus gestured for you to put your egg in the vacant spot. The briar vines were alive, curling carefully around the other eggs--thorns facing out--and acting as individual holders.

Something in you said no and you weren't sure why. You just...didn't want to let it go. The egg seemed to pulse against you. "No," you shook your head as Malleus re-wove the briar vines to wrap around his body like some sort of vest, "my egg."

He let out a peal of laughter, head tilted back. Fae were nothing if not protective of their young. Dragon fae were a league above. Perhaps the eggs had cast an enchantment on their magicless parent? Or were his tendencies rubbing off on you? Either way, it was precious.

He'd want nothing less out of his partner.

Anything Crewel said was lost on Malleus, the future king looking over his shelled children as if they were the most precious jewels. His attention was recaptured by the sight of Deuce helping wrestle the assignment binder into your bag. Realizing this was the class that didn't have Lilia, Sebek, or Silver, he requested the class NOT breathe a word to the other Diasomnia students.

It was meant as a request but it came off as more of a decree. A command.

He wanted to give Lilia a proper scare. It was only fair, given his constant nagging and fretting over eggs. The old bat was more than due for a good startle.

"Come, Child of Man!"

You were surprised Malleus wanted to walk to Diasomnia instead of teleport. He explained that dragon eggs were nurtured by the same things that created them--magic and love. The basket was steadily infusing the eggs with his magic, strengthening the children aiding in proper growth. Teleporting may startle them and bursts of magic weren't really suitable for egg development. "So, wait, you love me?"

Your smile was teasing but no less beautiful to him. "Of course," he said with an honesty and ease that hinted at his sheltered upbringing, almost bewildered that you couldn't understand that yourself. "Ceaselessly. That's why Lilia separates us. It would be far too easy to make eggs. Advantageous, though. You can never have enough dragon fae!"

All you could do was blush. Malleus was quite happy with himself. The eggs wiggled and clattered softly against each other, their version of bouncing with delight. You were quite a fertile partner! It was rare enough to sire one egg every few hundred years but you had five!

If you became fae, how many clutches would you have? Malleus wanted a big family, personally. Perhaps one day a Draconia would rule each dorm at NRC! He at least wanted enough that no one felt sick trying to eat a birthday cake.

Malleus flung the door to Diasomnia open with enough force that it ricocheted off the stone, unable to control his strength in his excitement. "Behold, I have sired!"

Sebek was the only noticeable victim, midway through a sip of tea. He practically sucked the cup dry and began to choke. He didn't know whether to lean between his legs and let things drain or throw himself over the back of the couch and clear his throat. Lilia dropped his cup and saucer, tea spilling onto the couch and cup splintering on the floor as he took to beating Sebek on the back. The poor boy was basically being ground into the stone.

You wondered if Lilia looked terrified at the idea of Sebek choking or the sight of the eggs in the basket. His hair was more pointed than usual, seeming to float in distress. Silver had been jostled awake but couldn't quite understand what he was looking at.

These three didn't have potions until later on in the week so Malleus spoiled the lesson for them. Poor Lilia still looked like he wanted to have a heart attack. "We should tell Queen Maleficia."

"Perhaps when they hatch," Malleus was already looking for things to make a nest. It was imperative that his children were comfortable and guarded. You as well! He actually had the brilliant idea to build the nest with you at the center so the children could feel the love you emitted. Yes, you may be a different species and there would be many things to discuss about handling fae but he had no doubts of your capacity to love them.

Your nest was finished off with a fine, fluffy blanket that was surprisingly warm. Far warmer than it looked. "It is made of dragon scale," Malleus explained as he fanned it out over you and the clutch until he was satisfied, "we dragons can repurpose our shedding into things with magical properties."

"These blankets are usually familial gifts," Lilia added as he swept up the pieces of his broken cup. "They're handy for fighting the hibernation instincts when the colder months come."

"What if it's too warm for the kids?"

To hear you say the word 'kids' sent his stomach curling and churning in a way that left him oblivious to your worries. He's surprised a sixth egg didn't spawn, honestly.

What if they couldn't handle the heat as well since you were human? Wouldn't it, like, cook them?

"Fear not, my child of man. Draconias require heat, as we are a fire-breathing variant of dragon fae. They will be fine."

You hummed interestedly and resigned yourself to laying there for a while. It was weird to feel the eggs wiggling and pulsing around you. When you slipped out to grab your binder and see just what this assignment entailed, you were delighted to find Malleus almost stubbornly sticking himself under the blanket. It was for a constant infusion of magic, he said, but you were sure he just didn't want to leave the children alone. He looked obscenely happy to be around the eggs, squishing his lanky form down to touch all five.

The assignment was pretty basic---watch the kid (or kids) for a week and fill out some pages on height, weight, favorite activities, foods, and have them work on a few worksheets so Crewel could review their cognitive development. There were even spots to put handprints and footprints!

"How long do dragon fae even take to hatch?" you asked as you flipped through the assignment. "What if they're not hatched in a week?"

"It's an advanced spell so I'm sure the incubation process will be sped up, too." Lilia rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But dragons hatch at different rates. There's a lot of factors involved."

"Which is why you should come back to the nest. Maybe they'll hatch faster if we're together." Malleus peeled back a corner of the blanket for you, eggs already clustered in his lap. You humored him, sliding back in and taking two of the eggs. The blanket was pooled around you now, eggs on full display. Silver and Sebek hovered at the edge of the nest, wanting to touch the eggs but a little hesitant.

"Only a little," Malleus cautioned them, his eyes bright. "I don't know if they would funnel your magic."

"Nonsense, my boy," Lilia returned with a thick book and tapped it on Malleus' head gently. "I held you plenty and I was fine. The eggs need to be exposed to all kinds." his clever ploy of handing Malleus a book of names in exchange for an egg almost cost him an arm.

"Instinct," Malleus apologized, letting go. His cheeks were tinged with pink.

"Likewise," Lilia gave him a cheeky smile, egg now cradled to his chest. He held it with both hands and bounced it a little. "This one might be a boy. Feels as heavy as you did!"

The book fell open to the 'M' section and you found it a bit curious. It was even weirder when you realized it fell open to MAL as if this section had been searched for a thousand times. "We Draconia have a tradition with our names," Malleus explained, pointing to his. "As followed by my mother," he pointed to 'Maleanor', "and her mother before her," he pointed to 'Maleficia'.

Thus began a discussion of names. Sebek and Silver were more than happy to give their input. They were quite handy in making sure the names weren't TOO weird. After hearing some of the ones that came out of Lilia's mouth, you could tell Silver was happy to get off with such a simple name. "I was actually thinking of renaming you at one point, you know," Lilia looked at the silver-haired boy, "too many people thought your name was too close to 'iron'. They thought you'd be unlucky."

"I like my name." Silver mumbled quietly.

After what felt like hours, you settled on five names: Malachite, Malum, Mallar, Malchus, and Malric. Lilia had picked up all the eggs and was convinced they were boys. You weren't sure how fae could judge gender from an egg, but he'd been around a lot longer than you. Malleus was so engrossed in the name exchange that he hadn't noticed Lilia sneaking the eggs off his lap to give them to Silver and Sebek. The sight of everyone holding an egg was sweet, you thought.

And realistic. If Malleus ever did have children, Silver, Sebek, and Lilia would be crucial in their lives.

The egg in your lap began to rattle. A deep crack formed at the top. Malleus quickly put it next to his. Three eggs hemmed the two. Hatchings usually happened together, you supposed, because the cracking of the first egg seemed to cause small cracks in the one next to it.

These little eggs were practically hatching in your lap and you were too scared, to in awe, to move them. You saw glimpses of wet scales, tiny horns, little claws, and maybe a tail before they started climbing out of the eggs. It was a very slimy affair. "A double! OH SEVENS, A DOUBLE!" Lilia practically inhaled a piece of eggshell when two little dragons climbed out of one egg. Malleus separated them gently, holding one each by their tender little bellies. He cooed at them.

"This one smells different," Malleus narrowed his eyes at the one in his right hand. Lilia gave it a cautious sniff.

"It's a girl!" Lilia, Sebek, and Malleus gave the others another smell in case the missed the gender. End result: five boys, one girl. 'Malin' was a maybe name that became a real one. Lilia ran off to tell Maleficia--somehow? You weren't sure how. Couldn't imagine a Queen having a cell phone--while the four of you started trying to get...claw prints...for the assignment.

Human babies, you had an idea of. Fussy when hungry, wet, and practically anything else but dragon babies were on a different level! You felt like you were wrestling a big cat! They were on the playful side, thankfully, but touching their claws and tiny pads earned gummy nips and a lot of writhing.

Silver was having the easiest time, somehow. Sebek had already been tail-slapped and gummed. A second dragon was climbing up his back and pawing at his hair. You had huffy, smoky protests and some scratches from the one in front of you; the other was currently chewing on your shirt and pulling at it. Malleus was locked in the growl version of a 'yes-no' as his dragon baby rolled every which way but onto the paper correctly.

This was going to be a long week.

Your week consisted of:

Trying to find a way to differentiate them. You tried painting their claws a certain color but that went as well as trying to get a print for the assignment. Tying cute little bandannas and things around their necks just caused a bunch of shredded mess to be cleaned up. You finally learned to tell them apart by the slight color difference in their bellies

Malric and Malin getting into fights consistently, tangling themselves into a big ball of scales and snarling and nipping at each other. The other three were usually a casualty. Malachite figured out he could separate them by flopping on top of them when they rolled by.

Malum was a biter and Mallar was a head-butter. When the twins turned on Malachite (as they often would), Mallar would come out of nowhere to headbutt Malric. You don't know how Malin escaped practically unscathed when she was literally half the problem. Malchus was your 'they're doing it again!' alarm child.

Lots of baby dragon ambushes. You're only holding ONE of them? HOW DARE YOU! You will soon find yourself besieged by baby dragons as they crawl over each other to cuddle and get attention. It doesn't matter what you were doing or holding before the onslaught.

Finding random piles of equally random things. Malleus says they're trying to build their hoard. Random 'hoards' you've found include: socks, silverware, pens, pencils, buttons, and several Diasomnia hats.

They learn to blow smoke at each other when they have their dragon arguments and it's not uncommon for windows to be opened to air Diasomnia out. Malleus is highly amused.

Zoomies at night. Because they're dragon fae, they're nocturnal and they don't understand you need to sleep. They usually sleep in a supervised pile in Malleus' room but will cause an UNGODLY amount of noise if they're not entertained.

They have cuddle piles when they sleep. Silver is main cuddle pillow. He's practically smothered by baby dragons but they all make these tiny, happy chirps when they nap with him. Sebek tried to wake Silver up and got three clouds of smoke blown at him all at once.

Taking them to NRC on Day 1 was a terrible, terrible idea. They were after anything that wasn't nailed down (for the hoard), wanted to climb everything, and would randomly squirm out of your arms to follow the students if something interested them. Idia about pissed himself when he noticed one had followed him to flying class.

Making it through a day of classes was almost impossible. Lilia, Sebek, and Malleus were constantly texting each other to do a kid count after Idia brought Malachite back. You didn't even know that Mallar had disappeared (you had Malin and Malum) until you heard about Sebek interrupting one of Cater's lives to snatch the baby dragon from him! After nearly giving Trein a heart attack and politely rescuing Lucius from Malin, the teachers agreed to make all of your assignments 'take home' until the kids were more...controllable.

You want to try socializing them again on Day 2 but Lilia insists they're still too feral and he doesn't want a repeat of Day 1. He has found immense joy in the laser light Idia gave him. It keeps him AND the kids occupied!

You and Malleus are doing constant kid counts. More than once you've only found five instead of six and Lilia is usually the culprit. Malchus is the number one victim.

They get their human form on day 3. You're not too hurt that they look like copies of Malleus. It's a spell and he's the one that has magic. He argues that some of the kids have your eye color, though. Malum has your hair color.

After Day 3, things get considerably easier. Feeding them is no longer a thing where you might have to write your will in advance. They're more open to trying things and quit trying to eat off of each other's plates like they'll never see food again. You think you see some sharing!

They speak in small sentences and prefer to point to things they want. Their favorite thing to do is to hang off of someone's shoulders (usually Malleus) and just guide them to what they want.

Malric likes spicy food, Malin prefers salty things, Malum is your unexpected sweets kid, Malchus devours all things citrus and sour, Malachite will eat a whole loaf of bread if you don't watch him, and Mallar is the pickiest eater.

Malum is your gentle cuddlebug

Mallar has physically fought Lilia over dinner because he didn't want to eat what Lilia cooked. He was the first one to breathe fire and almost burned Lilia's nose.

You measured the children for the assignment and was surprised to see that Malum was tallest. He spent so much time cuddled up to you that you didn't notice. Malachite is second-tallest, Malric just after him, with Malin and Mallar being tied for shortest.

Silver takes them on a walk through the woods every afternoon. He makes everyone hold hands. Malleus isn't far behind and usually steals one to ride on his shoulders.

Despite how loud he is, none of the kids really listen to Sebek. Malleus and Lilia make them listen. Malachite is the first to leave room when Sebek gets loud. Malin is most likely to comfort him and make an effort. She coaches him, to your surprise ("People would like you more if you weren't so loud.")

Lilia invites Baur over to see the children because he just has to brag. Something about the intimidating crocodile fae sends Mallar into a hissing, gouging mood and Baur is most amused. He play wrestles with them (as much as a stern-faced ex warrior plays) and thinks they'll make fine fighters one day.

Malin accidentally scratched a scale off of him and got a little worried. Baur and Lilia were in shock. "A fine princess! You'll take after your grandma one day!" Lilia smiled.

Day 4 is a visit from Queen Maleficia herself and you don't know what to think. The kids have all huddled around you--protecting you--as they assess this new dragon. You expected her to be much harsher, getting the anti-human warnings and all, but she's nicer than anticipated. The most she said to you was 'Impressive clutch size' but that counted, right?

Malchus, your favorite kitchen helper, caught what he thought was a look from her. One aimed at you. He looks her dead in her face and says, 'If you don't like them, I won't love you for a thousand years."

She laughed so hard you didn't know what to think. Neither did Lilia.

Queen Maleficia brought them little trinkets and snacks from Briar Valley. Their favorite thing was a back-scratcher. They sat at her feet for hours, just letting that rough weird brush go over them. The dragon vocals were in full swing and she answered them in dragon speak. She was impressed with how they helped Lilia set the table and had a good laugh at Mallar saying, "If you don't let Lilia cook I will love you for a thousand years."

It was an unexpected visit but it couldn't have gone too badly because there was no lightning involved (according to Lilia).

Day 5 saw you trying to integrate the kids into NRC. It went much smoother this time but there were still disappearances. And favorites.

Malin seemed to like hanging out with Jack and Trey the most and got in trouble more than once for trying to pick pieces of fur off of Crewel's coat.

Mallar liked Cater and Kalim; Mallar was actually one of the more outgoing kids.

Malchus found company with Epel and Jamil. He'd go on and on about how Epel talked funny and Jamil made the most delicious food ever.

Malachite thought Idia's hair was cool and wanted to know what all of his 'strange stuff' did. That discussion led to Rook butting in and saying how cool Science Club was, so Malachite ended up following Rook around to learn things after Idia's people battery was drained.

Malric was heavily influenced by Ace; the two had gotten in trouble for letting the flamingos out but he didn't care because he got to ride one. He promptly stole Riddle's tiny crown while the redhead attempted to lecture him and only gave it back after Malleus literally dragged him to the throne room of Heartslabyul and held him up by the back of his shirt like a sad puppy.

Malum liked to stick with Silver but was encouraged to get to know Riddle while learning to ride horses. The young dragon was impressed by what Riddle knew and asked him a million questions. Riddle suggested he get to know Azul, but Malum quickly decided that friendship was not for him. Azul smelled funny and he had an overwhelming urge to bite him. In the end, his favorite person on campus was Lucius (even though that doesn't count).

They wrote down who they hung out with, what they liked, and what they did for Crewel before taking their assessments.

The end of the assignment saw you and Malleus with an A; the kids were healthy and strong. Their assessments were all above average but Crewel could see that only Malachite and Malum actually tried. Malric did it because he was nagged, Malchus was told he'd sit there for however long it took (no interest whatsoever), and Malin did it with such disdain her papers were actually singed.

Before the kids disappeared, you were presented with a bunch of scales and shedding. It was heartwarming. Lilia did say the sheddings were familial, after all.

They disappeared in a puff of smoke and you let everything settle. You survived five days with dragons! That was impressive! As if he could read your mind, Malleus said, "Grandmother was impressed, too. She looks forward to her great-grandchildren coming around again."

#Twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Malleus draconia x reader

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