#which is good because I’m so far away from home now that I think I’d spiral if I didn’t

[yellobb]

Working from home is very nice because I can wake up at 7am and clock in at 7am instead of 8:30

[thewritingrowlet]

The Tireless Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene

tags: creampie, deepthroat—you know what, just read the whole thing, hm?

length: 8k+

author's note: I speedran this fic so please forgive me if it's too messy; I just wanted to make use of this free time.

p.s. this fic takes place before and after The Determined Wife.

-

Irene walks in the bedroom as you’re gathering your consciousness after a very good, post-sex sleep. “Ah, good morning, my love.” She high steps towards the bed to join you, taking her rightful place in your arms. “Love, on a scale of 1 to 10, how awake are you?” “Seven, probably.” You rub your eyes to see if maybe you can improve that score. “Okay, maybe eight and a half,” you revise.

Irene thinks that it’s not good enough; she wants you to be 100% in the right mind this morning, which is odd. She sits on your lap and starts kissing you passionately, seemingly in high spirits; she’s likely very satisfied with the fact that you’ve granted her wish to be bred.

“Tell me again.” “Nine and a half,” you tease. Your wife rolls her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t play hard to get.” You chuckle. “Aww, come on, love; I just want more kisses.” She puts on the beautiful smile that’s unique to her and only her. “Ah, fine, you win.”

She comes in for one more deep kiss, going as far as invading the space of your mouth with her tongue—it’s unfortunate that she breaks it soon after, though. “If that didn’t make it 10, I’m going to suck you off,” she says. “Sounds tempting,” you tease, “well, maybe later—let’s get to your point first.”

With a smile, Irene fishes something out of her shorts pocket and hands it to you with a closed palm. It is only when she lets go that you can see what it is: a pregnancy test device with two lines on it. “I’m a mother, love,” Irene starts breaking into tears, “I’m a mother, and there’s no question that you’re the father.”

Tears, endless of them, start flowing freely out of your eyes and onto your cheeks. “Y-you’re pregnant, my love?” Your grip on the little test kit weakens as your hand starts trembling—oh, look: a tear lands on the device, right where the little screen is. “I am,” Irene joins you in crying, “thank you for granting my wish.”

You put the small device to the side because you want to use your hands to hug your wife. “No, no, no,” you say, “thank you for giving me such a huge blessing.” Irene starts crying more freely, and you can’t help but do the same. “We’re going to become parents, love—isn’t that crazy?” “It is,” you agree with her, “thank you for making it possible for us, love.”

Irene pulls away from the hug, placing her hands on your shoulders instead. “You need to get ready for work, don’t you, love—let me start your shower.” You shake your head. “Screw work,” you say, “I want to spend this wonderful day with you and only you.” Your words draw a wide smile on her face. “Sounds great, love.”

She turns around before leaning against your chest, placing your hand right on her stomach that’s now occupied by the little one—your little one (the fetus hasn’t formed yet, yes, but the point still stands). Irene giggles as you rub her belly gently. “You’ll need to come up with some names, love.” “You first,” you say, “do you have ideas?” She taps her chin as she thinks of a candidate. “Jihoon-ie if it’s a boy, and Hyewon-ie if it’s a girl.”

You’re a little startled; Jihoon was the name of your little brother who passed away just before he turned 9 years old (you were 13 at the time) due to cardiac arrest. Your parents, specifically your mom, took his passing heavily, falling into what you learned years later as depression, which explained why they weren’t at home a lot—they were busy seeking help from professionals, both at home and abroad.

Irene knows about this story, obviously; you’ve taken her to his resting place a few times. “His memories can live on with our child, love,” she explains the reason behind the idea. “I’m glad that you have that idea, but personally, I think I’d let him rest,” you say, and Irene dares not argue.

“What about your ideas, love?” You take a few deep breaths as you try to come up with some names. “I don’t have any boy names in my head, but Yeseo if it’s a girl,” you say. Irene likes your idea; she thinks that it’s such a pretty and cute name for a girl. “Well, we’ll need to wait until they can tell if we’re having a son or a daughter.”

-

Mr. Hwang, the cook, has made some fettuccine for breakfast, since Irene said that she’s been craving pasta—a pregnant woman shall have what she wants. So, here you are: sitting at the table in the dining room with Irene, ready to fill your stomach with this tasty-looking dish.

Seeing the tall glass of water reminds you of something important that you want to address with Irene. “My love,” you place a hand over hers, “now that we’re going to become parents, let’s stop drinking alcohol, hm?” She nods enthusiastically. “I was about to suggest that idea to you, hon.” You smile. “I’m glad that we’re on the same page.” “About that, though,” she backtracks, “what about our collection? We have some nice wine and champagne.”

You ring the kitchen bell, and Mr. Hwang appears after a few seconds. “Yes, sir?” “Do you drink, Mr. Hwang?” “I do, sir, occasionally,” he admits. “Nice,” you put on a thumbs-up, “would you like to keep our liquor collection? We want to stop drinking now that we’re expecting.” His eyes widen in surprise. “I would be honored, sir, but as far as I know, they’re expensive.” You smile kindly while placing a hand on the side of his arm. “The only thing I care about, Mr. Hwang, is my wife and my child’s health—I don’t care about those bottles.” “If you say so—oh, and congratulations on the pregnancy, sir.”

After convincing Mr. Hwang to keep your collection of liquor for himself, you return to your wife. “Mr. Hwang will take care of those bottles, love; we won’t have to throw them out,” you inform her. “Erm, actually,” says Irene, “can we give the Masseto to my parents, love?” You agree with her request, thus officially marking the start of the transition to a clear-headed life without alcohol.

-

You invite Irene to join you on the sofa because you think that you have some things to discuss with her. “What do you want to talk about, love?” “Which hospital do you want, and how do you want to deliver the baby?” After thinking about it for a while, Irene says she wants to try delivering without surgery but is open to it as the last option. As for the hospital, she chooses the Sacred Heart Hospital, which is a very good hospital that’s also not too far from your house.

��Next up, our stuff,” you say, making Irene confused. “What do you mean?” “Well, we’re going to need a new car; I don’t think transporting the 3 of us in that 911 or your Genesis is a good idea.” “Do you want to sell the 911?” No, you don’t want to; Irene bought that silver speedster as a birthday present for you. “I was thinking that we should just buy a new one—something that can accommodate us and our child comfortably.” She pulls out her phone to search for options, but you stop her. “That doesn’t have to happen today, love,” you say, “we can think about that later on; I was just trying to get it out there, you know.”

Irene moves to sit on your lap. “I have some things to ask from you, love,” she starts on a new subject, “tell me what you think about them, okay?” You nod to get her to continue. “First, whenever possible, please come home early and don’t spend too much time working.” You say yes without hesitation, which satisfies her. Work will always be there, but your child’s growth and other important moments only happen once—wouldn’t want to miss your child’s first word or first step, would you?

“Second,” she puts up two fingers in front of your eyes, “please have mercy on me when we have sex.” You ask her to elaborate further. “I know that we can get rough sometimes, so let’s turn it down a bit to make sure the child isn’t in danger or anything.” “What about the frequency?” You take your turn to ask. “Just the usual, please; I’ll tell you when I want it, and you can tell me when you want it.” Again, without hesitation, you agree to her terms, which apparently serves as a segue for her next point.

“Can I have you, love?” You grin as you feel your cock getting hard. “You certainly can, love—can I have you as well?” Irene giggles cutely. “That goes hand-in-hand, doesn’t it?” “Just wanted to make sure, baby.”

Because of the time and day, there are other people in the house (i.e. the cook and the cleaning staff), so the only place you can have sex in is the bedroom. On your way to the bedroom with Irene in your arms, she taps your chin to get your attention. “Love, Miss Jo wants to take a leave to visit her parents,” she says. “We’ll go out later and get her some stuff to take home.”

You set Irene gently onto the bed in compliance with her request to take things easier during sex. “Ah, my gentle giant,” she comments. She hasn’t used that nickname in quite some time, now that you think about it. That name was given to you by your fellow student council members (including Irene) back in university when you refused to beat up a toilet peeper and would rather have him formally punished by the university and charged by the victims. “I thought you’ve forgotten that name.” She lets out a giggle. “How can I forget, love?”

You come in for a kiss to indicate that you’ve had enough chatter, and Irene welcomes you warmly as usual. “Please, love,” she gulps, “please start already.” You reach for her pajama top and undo the first button. “Patience, baby; I still need to undress you.” She cooperates by undoing her top starting from the bottom button and meeting you halfway. “There, I helped,” she says, making you laugh a little. She then proceeds to pull down her shorts just as you’re about to ask her.

Your gaze lands on her firm belly where your child is being safely kept. “I hope you won’t hate me when my stomach gets bigger.” You shake your head rapidly. “There’s no way I’d hate you for that—you’re my wife and that’s our child in your belly,” you say, and you see that Irene’s eyes are threatening to burst.

You join her in bed after undressing yourself and after she has taken off her underwear. You then pull her into a hug and peck her head everywhere, making her let out that lovely laugh that’s special to her. Once you stop, she places her hands on each side of your face. “I swear on everything I have that I’m so glad that I ended up with you and not with that Kim Junghwan guy.” “He never deserved you,” you say, demeaning. “That is true,” she agrees with you, “you and only you, love.”

You take the bottom position today, letting Irene have her way with you. “I have a feeling that I’d not be able to ride you as well with a big belly,” she comments as she moves to sit on your lap. You’re starting to get ticked off, but at the same time, she’s coming from a good place, so for now, you simply let out a sigh. “Love, please don’t worry about the sex; we’ll adapt as the pregnancy continues. Just focus on your health and stress levels, please.” Irene places her hands on her chest. “That’s touching, love—thank you.”

With your cock in hand, she aims it at her entrance. “Here I go,” she notifies you, as if you couldn’t see what she’s doing. Irene slowly goes down on your shaft, hugging it with her tight and warm walls. You breathe deeply as she starts moving up and down. “Fuck, that’s good,” you praise her to rile her up. “Yeah, daddy?” There it is: the kink that you love the most—Irene has always been quick to use it.

Irene bends backwards slightly and fixes her grip on your knees. After making sure that she’s steady, she starts moving faster on your cock, and you desperately want to hold those bouncing plump tits of hers. “Daddy, daddy,” she chants, “oh, you’re so deep in me, daddy.” “Keep it up, baby—fuck, you’re doing so well.”

Irene might not be the best at working out, but damn is she good at managing her stamina during sex; it feels like she has this extra battery pack that’s specifically used for sex, and as long as praises and words of affirmation keep flowing out of your lips, that battery will never die.

“Oh, no, daddy,” she slows down a little, “I think I’m about to cum.” “I don’t see the problem with that.” You slap her butt a few times to get her to speed up again. “Go on, baby; be good and cum for me.” Irene nods and picks up the pace again, trying to adhere to your command to “be good.”

Irene’s thighs shake violently when her first orgasm hits while her walls are gripping your shaft very tightly, making it very hard to you to not just bust right here. You pull her towards you and hug her. “Good job, love—very good job.” “You—oh, you always bring the best out of me, daddy,” she replies despite the heavy pants. “I can say the same about you, love,” you whisper back.

Without retreating from her pussy, you roll over until you’re the one on top. “You’re so sweaty, love,” you comment while wiping her forehead, “that must’ve been exhausting for you.” Irene shakes her head feebly. “A-anything to make you happy, daddy.” The way she always puts your pleasure as the top priority is touching. “Alright, let’s take a breather first, okay?”

“Take a breather,” you say, but you’re still slowly moving back and forth in her pussy, making her let out soft moans despite the exhaustion. “Ha-have mercy—please, daddy,” she utters faintly, almost too quiet to reach your ears. “Don’t worry, baby; I’m being gentle.”

As you keep fucking her like this, you can feel your orgasm inching closer, so you pause for now. “Okay, I’m going to stop here—I don’t want to cum without your full attention.” “B-but you have my attention, daddy.” You chuckle. “Your eyes are barely open, love.” When you see her opening her mouth to make an argument, you quickly lean in for a kiss to interrupt her. “Relax, love, we have all day.”

You’ve spent the last few minutes kissing (while still being inside her), and Irene is the first to break it. “When are you going to give me your cum, daddy?” You assess that she has recovered enough for you to finish this, so to answer her, “Right now.” You straighten your back and prepare to start. “Where do you want it, love?” Irene scoffs. “Where else?” “But what about your career?” The callback to the career vs. child argument makes her laugh. “I’m literally pregnant right now, in case you forgot—fill me however much you want, daddy.”

You place her legs together on one side of your shoulder and start fucking her. Irene promptly places her hands on her tits, doing whatever she can to add more stimulation on top of that you’re giving her. “Daddy, you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it, you know.” You let out a hum to answer her. “Give it to me whenever, daddy.”

You fasten your grip on her legs as you turn up the pace to the maximum of your ability. Your wife has now been reduced to moans and screams; she no longer has the headspace to play with her tits and instead just puts her hands on each side of her head.

“Love, I—” Before you can finish your sentence, semen escapes your shaft and enters her body, making her let out a long, sensual moan because of the warmth. “Oh, daddy,” she gasps, “oh, God, you’ve filled me again.” You let go of her legs and fall limply onto her body. “I love you, baby,” you say right into her ear. “I love you more, daddy.”

-

As you roll closer towards your house, you see your wife patiently waiting for you in the front garden among the flowers. She turns her head and puts on a smile for you, and you swear to God that exhaustion and stress from work has been taken away, and along with it, your breath.

You quickly jump out of your car, stumbling on your own leg in the process. “Welcome home, love,” she greets you with open arms. You take your rightful spot in her arms, and you can feel her belly bump against yours. “Tired, love?” “I was but not anymore,” you say. “It’s like magic, isn’t it—the moment you see your significant other, everything else just disappears.” “Absolutely,” you agree with her.

Irene invites you to sit on the garden bench with her, but you opt to take a knee in front of her instead. You rub her belly gently to greet your little one, and Irene looks at you with a smile of approval. “I want to say that I’m tired, but it doesn’t feel right.” You furrow your eyebrows. “Why not?” “I mean, it’s you who went to work, not me.” “That’s absurd; you might be at home, but I imagine being pregnant is tiring.” You can tell that she wants to make another argument, but the way you’re looking at her right in the eyes makes her bury that intention.

“Have you eaten, by the way?” Irene nods. “I asked Mr. Hwang to make me lentil soup for lunch.” Lentil soup sounds nice and healthy, which is important for a pregnant woman. “It was so delicious, by the way.” You laugh. “He’d be in deep trouble if it wasn’t.”

You think that this is enough catching up for now and that it’s time to get into the house, so you carry her inside safely. Irene says she wants to watch TV because she’s “tired of being in the bedroom,” so you put her down on the sofa and hand her the remote. You then tell her that you’ll join her after taking a quick shower.

When you get back to the living room to join her, you see that Irene is watching this little documentary on Giethoorn, this beautiful hamlet in the Netherlands where rivers run everywhere. She keeps letting out wows as shots of the area are shown on screen, deeply immersed in the show. “Do you think we can move there one day, love?” “Oh, man, I hope so; that looks like a really nice place to live in.” Irene turns your head towards you. “Maybe if we can’t live in the Netherlands, we can live in some quieter place instead—Damyang or Jinhae, perhaps?” You smile at her. “We’ll see what we can do, alright?” Not satisfied with just words, she makes you make a pinky promise that you’ll seriously consider it.

-

You didn’t know that you fell asleep, only waking up because you feel soft pokes on your thigh.

“Hngh?”

“Love, you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“Please, that doesn’t look like a little.”

“A little lot, perhaps,” you change your answer.

“I was going to invite you to sleep, but you haven’t eaten yet.”

“That’s fine, love.”

“No, it’s not fine—do you want to have food delivered here?”

“Eh, sure,” you accept her offer, “order something light for me, please.”

Irene doesn’t say anything, presumably busy scrolling through the food delivery app to find something for you. “Light, light, light—what’s something that’s light?” “A lamp—haha, get it?” Irene slaps your thigh for your joke. “Daddy is really funny, isn’t he, Hyewon-ah?” Hearing your wife say that name startles you a tad. “Hyewon-ah? Really?” “I don’t know,” Irene shrugs, “I just like that name.” “Oh, I thought we’ve found out if we’re having a daughter.”

Irene focuses on ordering food again, and something finally catches her fancy. “What about some toast, love?” “What toast?” She shows you the available options, from peanut butter toast to kimchi and cheese toast. “Get me one peanut butter toast, please.” She says that it’s a better deal to order at least 3 toasts, so she adds some other toast to the order. “It’ll be here in around 45 minutes, love.” You thank her for the help and then invite her to rest her head on your lap.

“Love me, please,” she says in this aegyo-esque voice. You bend down and peck her on the forehead. “Anything specific, love?” Irene opens and closes her mouth a few times, seemingly trying to judge if she should speak her mind. “You’re so tired, though,” she utters, and you can already tell what she’s getting at. “You want me between your legs, don’t you?” Your wife covers her red face. “W-well, if you put it like that…” “We’ll wait until I have some food in my stomach and see how we can proceed—do we have a deal?” “Yes, deal!” The way her voice cracks makes you laugh. “My, my, aren’t you a cutie?”

-

The toasts are here: you’ve grabbed the bag from the delivery man and put it on the living room table.

You pick up the box with the text “PB” written on it. Irene says that she has bought some toast from this place before and hopes that you’ll like it like she does. You nod in satisfaction after taking the first bite. “I think I know what brand of peanut butter this is,” you comment. She scratches her head in cluelessness. “I don’t know, love; they all taste the same to me.”

You notice that Irene has two hands on top of each other on her stomach and keeps licking her lips while watching you eat. “Want to have a bite, lovely?” She nods timidly. “It looks so good,” she admits, “b-but I don’t know if I should eat.” You tilt your head in confusion. “Why not?” “Erm, I think that’s ultra-processed food—that’s one. Two, I don’t want to gain too much weight.” Weight can be quite a sensitive subject, especially considering that your wife has always been paying close attention to it.

You keep chewing as you think of a reasonable answer—well, here it goes: “I’m sure that you have good intentions, but I’m almost certain that one toast won’t hurt you or Hyewon-ie.” You can tell that she’s starting to get swayed, as proven by how she has a box with “CHOCO” written on it in her hands. “Forgive me, Hyewon-ah, but I really want this toast.”

You panic a little when Irene sheds a tear after taking a bite. “Oh my, are you okay, love?” She nods again. “T-this is so good, but I feel so guilty for eating this—oh, I’m so sorry, Hyewon-ah.” You put down your and her toast on the table so that you can hold her hands. “Love, love,” you try to get her to focus on you, “it’s okay, no one is yelling at you for eating one toast—not me, not Doctor Shin, and certainly not Hyewon-ie.” “A-are you sure?” “Yes,” you say in a resolute tone. “We’ll be just fine, trust me.”

Feeling decently comforted and assured by your words, Irene asks if she can have her toast again, so you give it back to her. You make sure you don’t forget to wipe that random tear off her cheek while you’re at it. “Thank you,” she utters softly. “You’re welcome, my love,” you say equally softly.

-

After finishing those tasty and quite filling toast, Irene asks if she can have you between her legs, so you stand up from your seat and stretch your body to warm up. “I apologize in advance if I finish too fast; I’m kind of tired.” Your wife shakes her head. “As long as your load is mine, I don’t really see the problem with finishing fast—I’ll probably finish before you, anyway.”

There’s only you and your wife in this house right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that sex should only happen in the bedroom for the next 6 to 7 months; it’s more comfortable for her and safer for your child.

After getting undressed, Irene asks to be helped sit on the stool that she prepared earlier today. “It seems like you have an idea,” you comment. “Yes,” she says, “I want you back there.” “What happened to turning it down?” “This isn’t our first time, is it—just remember to be gentle.”

You open the bedside drawer to find the lube and see that it’s not there. “We don’t have lube?” Irene looks away to hide her red cheeks. “Erm, I might or might not have used it earlier.” You furrow your eyebrows. “You used it? For what?” She shyly admits that she fucked herself in the rear with a dildo this afternoon. “I-I wanted to prepare for you, because I know you like it when I think ahead.”

It’s not strange or new to you that your wife is lustful; you’ve known that for years at this point. That said, you’d think that being pregnant would turn that lustfulness down, but it doesn’t seem like it so far—in fact, it feels like she’s more lustful than ever.

You stand in front of her and hold her chin. “Oh, love, what would you do without me—who could satisfy you if not me?” “I don’t know, daddy; it’s always been you since day one.” You reward her with a kiss for answering correctly. “May I, then?” Irene giggles slightly. “Certainly.”

You walk around and look for your target. “I’m pulling this plug out, alright?” After getting a nod of approval from your wife, you gently tug on the plug. “Ngh!” Irene clenches her fists when she feels her rear being stretched by the wide part of the plug. “Relax, love—it’s almost out.” With a pop, the plug is finally out of her tight ass, and you quickly put your mouth on it for the first time ever in this marriage, making your wife gasp in shock. “Daddy, no, I’m dirty there.”

You ignore her and keep running your tongue on her puckered hole; quite fun, you must admit. Occasionally, you try parting her cheeks apart so that you can put the tip of your tongue in her rear.

Feeling weak, Irene starts tumbling forwards, but you catch her just in time to save her from going face first onto the floor. “God, you’re so crazy, daddy.” “Your new task, baby, is to keep it clean all the time—is that clear?” Irene nods in obedience. “Y-yes, sir; I will try my best.” You squeeze her butt cheek lightly. “Good girl,” you praise her.

You get on your feet and hug the panting woman from behind. “Are you alright?” “Y-yes—fuck, you’re fucking crazy.” You pinch a nipple, more surprising than painful. “That’s not how you speak to me, woman.” “S-sorry, sir, b-but you are indeed crazy.” You kiss her on the back of the head. “I hope you didn’t mind, by the way.” Your wife shakes her head. “Not—oh, not at all.”

“Sir, daddy,” Irene can’t choose between the two, “would you fuck my ass, please?” “Thought you’d never ask, baby.” You stroke your shaft to make sure that it’s properly hard and ready while your wife spreads her butt cheeks to give you access. You place the tip right on the entrance of her forbidden hole. “Are you ready, baby?” “Yes—oh, God, fuck, yes.”

You waste little time and go deep right away into her warmed-up hole. “Fuck, you’re always so tight right here.” “Hngh! Ngh!” Irene can only let out grunts as she’s getting overwhelmed by the stimulation you’re giving her. “No one can touch you like I do, hm?” She shakes her head weakly as a response, still unable to say anything back.

You hook her arms backwards as you get ready to fuck her to make sure she doesn’t fall off the stool. “I’m yours, daddy—fuck me however you want,” she says, as if it was ever a question. “Bet.”

With this steady posture, you start fucking her ass roughly, forcing Irene to scream with each thrust delivered. “My husband is fucking amazing—Hyewon-ah, daddy is fucking amazing,” Irene thinks as the sounds of your hips crashing against her butt enter her ears.

As time goes on, everything starts to get blurry for Irene, and it doesn’t help that from this position, she has no control over how fast you’re fucking her. “P-please stop,” she says weakly, hoping that it’ll still reach your ears amongst the clapping sounds. It doesn’t seem like you heard her, though; you’re still fucking her ass recklessly, which leaves her no other choice but to just yell out loud. “DADDY, STOP—PLEASE!” Hearing her scream makes you stop abruptly with more than half your shaft still lodged in her ass. “Daddy, please, let me breathe,” Irene begs.

Still panting, you gently retreat from her gaped ass. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you just realize how rough you’ve been. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, love,” you repeat to show sincerity. You pull her into your arms and take a seat on the edge of the bed, and the sight of your wife crying (from getting fucked in the ass, nonetheless) twists your heart like nothing else. You keep repeating apologies while rubbing her stomach gently, hoping that doing so could also tell Hyewon that you’re regretful of your actions.

Irene feebly reaches for your face. “I-it’s okay; it was good until it became overwhelming, daddy.” You lie her down on her side and inspect the result of your recklessness—it seems like she didn’t get injured by your shaft. “I think you’re fine, baby.” “Great,” she replies, “so what are you waiting for?” You blink rapidly in confusion. “I thought you were in pain?” “I never said that,” she shrugs. Seeing that you’re silent, Irene piles on. “C’mon, look at yourself, daddy: you’re still hard and ready to fuck me—let me finish the job, please.” “Fine,” you give up, “I’m not getting in your ass again, though.”

Irene says that you have a deal and asks you to lie down so that she can take control, which is fine by you; you’ve had enough “fun” being dominant tonight. You keep an eye on your wife as she aims your shaft towards her entrance from the cowgirl position. You grit your teeth when Irene slowly sits down on your cock—you’re in her ass again. “Oh, fuck, welcome back, daddy.” “I thought we had a deal.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irene deflects, “anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride, hihihi.”

Irene rests her subtly bulged belly on your body while her hips are busy bouncing up and down along your length. She keeps chanting “you’re in my ass” as if you can’t tell that you are indeed in her ass. You reach around and slap her butt. “Go faster.” Having planted her hands on your chest, Irene tries to bounce faster on your cock. “Oh, oh, yes—how’s this, daddy?” It’s you who can’t respond this time; just like earlier, the way her muscles are squeezing you prevents you from thinking straight and coming up with words to say.

You rest your head on the pillow while your wife is busy fucking herself on your cock (while moaning so freaking freely), and for some reason, your eyelids feel like they weighed 100 kilograms—what the hell are they so heavy for? “You must be close, daddy,” Irene makes a keen observation. “Uh-huh,” are all that escape your lips. Hearing that you’re close serves as fuel for Irene to keep up the tempo and make you bust with her ass; this tireless woman can be very crazy in bed, pregnant or not.

“Love, I’m about to—oh, fuck, I’m about to bust,” you warn her. “Yeah?” Her voice is barely heard thanks to the endless clapping noises. You grip the pillow your head is resting on as your cock starts twitching wildly in her rear. “Baby, please,” you let your desperation to cum be known to her.

Irene slams herself down onto your body, and you instantly erupt, surprising the both of you at the same time. She throws her head back as your warm semen floods her ass. “Oh, oh, yes, daddy.” It was her who did all the work, but it’s you who’s panting heavily.

“Love, thank you so much.” Irene removes you from her ass and lies down next to you. “Even when tired, you’re still so strong,” she praises while her hand runs along your length. “What’s your secret, daddy?” “You’re my secret; if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be like this.” You let out a low moan when your wife manages to squeeze the last bit of semen out of you. “You’re so cute, you know that?” You chuckle. “No, I don’t.”

-

It feels odd to not have Irene welcome you at the driveway, especially since she’s been doing that consistently for the past few weeks, too. Her Genesis is parked neatly in the usual spot, so she must be at home, but where is she?

“I’m home.” You close the door behind you and scan your surroundings—still no sign of your wife, making you wonder if perhaps she’s asleep. You make your way towards the bedroom, and your jaw drops immediately when you see her kneeling on the floor while being almost entirely naked. Irene buckles a little, presumably because she feels a fetus kick. “Even Hyewon-ie doesn’t approve,” you comment.

You rub the side of her face gently. “What on God’s green earth are you trying to do, love?” The ball gag in her mouth prevents her from answering, but she has this little spanker in her hands that she’s trying to hand over to you. “Love, please, what are you doing?” Irene just looks at your feet while her hands are on her thighs. “This isn’t how a woman in her second trimester is supposed to behave, is it?” You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to get yourself together. “Fine, I’ll play your game.”

Your wife steals some glances as you undress in front of her, and when you’re finished, you take the time to take off her bra, exposing her tits that you swear have grown bigger recently. You then lift her onto her feet to remove her panties, and Irene instantly drops back down onto the floor after you’re done. “Oh, you’re that serious, aren’t you?”

You pick up the slim paddle from the floor and prepare to swing. “Wait, where do I hit her?” You look for places to hit her on, but the more you think about it, the more that you don’t want to do it. That said, you imagine that it’d disappoint her if you chicken out, so you decide to play along until she taps out.

You hit her on the right shoulder once. “Ngh!” Irene lets out a yelp of surprise when the paddle lands. “That’s one.” You move the paddle to your other hand and hit her on the left shoulder. “I’ll count until 29, okay?” Irene nods in response, and that’s when you look for other targets.

You ask her to show you her palms and hit them successively. “Any ideas?” Your wife taps her thighs, indicating that she wants to be hit there, so you hit those two spots, harder than you’d like to admit, making her grunt in pain. “Sorry.” That sounds less sincere than you’d like, but it’s okay, you’ll make it up to her later.

Before you continue, you join her on the floor and unlatch the gag. “This doesn’t look comfortable, so I’m taking it off,” you say. Irene relaxes her mouth now that she’s free. “Thank you, master.” You sigh. ���Master? Really?” Irene nods enthusiastically. “Yes, master.”

You stand back up and swing at her tender breasts out of nowhere. “Fucking naughty, aren’t you?” As Irene opens her mouth to say something, you hit her breasts again. “You’re pregnant, and this is how you fucking act? Explain yourself.” You tell her to explain herself, but you don’t give her the chance to do so, interrupting her with a hit on the forearm. “M-master, please.” “Please what?” You subconsciously raise your tone. “Please punish me; I-I’ve been naughty.” You roll your eyes. “Fuck it, we’re going back to zero.”

You hit her on different places in rapid succession, and Irene screams after each one. “How many?” “S-six, master.” “Good,” you praise her emptily, “count to 18, slut.” You initially chose 29, which is the date she was born, but changed it to 18, which is the date you were born. As much as you’re putting on a cold charade for her, you don’t have the heart to hit her 29 fucking times.

You tell her to get on her hands and knees to expose other parts of her body. You smack her on the back a few times before moving on to her butt and hitting it a few more times. “How many?” Irene chokes up momentarily before she manages to get her answer out. “T-twelve, sir.”

To end the show, you give her some hard hits on the back of her thighs. “E-eighteen, master.” “On your knees,” you command, and Irene obeys right away. “Explain yourself, or else.” “I-I was just trying new stuff,” she says. “Is that it?” Irene just nods, and you can’t help but sigh, feeling somewhat frustrated by her simple answer.

“Love, be honest with me: why are you acting like this?” After taking a deep breath, Irene proceeds to explain the whole thing, from how she tore the left rear tire of her car against an elevated curb while trying to pull into a gas station this afternoon, to the fact that she touched herself thrice while thinking about you. “L-like I said, I’ve been very naughty.” You exhale deeply. “Those few things don’t require punishment—especially not of this sort.” Your wife shakes her head. “But I want to be punished,” she insists.

“Have you had enough, or what?” Irene slowly shifts her gaze to meet yours, and you know that she knows that you’re aroused, as shown by your erect cock. “Do whatever you please, master,” she says, hiding her excitement behind the façade of obedience.

Still kneeling in front of you, Irene eases you into her mouth. You place a hand on the back of her head and pull her towards you, forcing your cock deeper. She’s taken you deep plenty of times, so this is neither new nor difficult for her. “Hold it there and count to 10.” After finishing her count, Irene retreats until only your tip is in her mouth. “Very good—now do it 9 more times.”

Irene does as you command, doing each repetition passionately, much to your satisfaction. “That’s very good, love,” you make sure you don’t forget to praise her. You retreat from her wet mouth to let her breathe, and she promptly inhales sharply. “I-I hope I did well, sir.” You smile kindly. “Of course; you always do everything so well.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed while you wait for Irene to get herself together. “Anything else, master?” A lit bulb appears over your head. “Is it just me, love, or have your breasts gotten bigger?” She takes a quick look at herself. “I-I think they have indeed grown, master.” “They look so soft, don’t you think?” She nods to your question. “Would you like to touch them, sir?” “I have a better idea,” you say, “put them around my cock.”

Irene crawls towards you and places your cock right between her extra plump tits. “Like this, sir?” You moan in a low voice as your shaft grinds against her tits. “You—oh, fuck, you’re so good at every-fucking-thing.” Your wife blushes. “I aim to please, master.” “Oh, trust me, I’m very pleased right now, love.”

Much to your pleasure, Irene presses her chin against her chest and catches your tip with her mouth every time it pokes through her tits. You pet her head gently. “Good fucking job, baby—fuck, I’m about to bust.” “Please, give me your cum, master.” Irene moves her tits faster, eager to have your first load of the day.

You throw your head back and close your eyes as semen spurts out of the tip of your cock, landing all over her face and chest. “Oh my, very thick,” she comments. “I love how you taste, master; your diet works well for me too, you know.” You chuckle. “Good to know, baby.”

You invite Irene to lie down in bed with you. “You haven’t cum yet.” “Yes, I have; I told you I touched myself a lot today.” You get your tie from the messy pile of clothes. “Hands above your head, please.” She puts her hands together above her head, and you tie them together. “Are we ready?” Irene looks at you nervously. “Please have mercy, master; I’ve had a lot of orgasm today.” “That wasn’t my doing, was it?”

Irene gasps in shock when she feels your hand on her little nub. “Sensitive much?” “Please, master.” “Please what, baby?” “I need to cum again, master—make me cum with your hands, please.” “Well, since you asked so nicely.” You use one hand to stimulate her nub and use the other to play with her tits, going fast and fervent right from the gate.

In the moment of high stimulation, Irene accidentally kicks you in the head—how did that even happen? “That’s not nice.” “I-I—fuck, I’m so sorry, master. I didn’t mean it.” “That’s strike one, Miss Bae,” you warn. To punish her behavior, you increase the intensity of stimulation on her pussy, making her jolt around more. It’s fine if she were to kick you again; you have some more ideas in your head to get her back.

Your wife keeps moaning loudly and freely as her fourth orgasm looms ahead. “Master, master,” Irene begs for your attention, “I won’t last too long, master.” “Oh, is that so?” You plunge two fingers into her pussy and finger-fuck her, and Irene can’t help but moan, possibly until her voice disappears.

Your hand starts getting tired, but as timing has it, she’s also very, very close to orgasm. With an ear-piercing scream, Irene explodes: her legs are shaking violently, and her juice is coming out torrentially. “Very, very good, my love—you’re such a big bomb, aren’t you?” You free her hands and move to barrage her sweaty head with pecks. “We’ll wait until you’re relaxed before doing anything else, alright?”

Amid all this, you notice that you’re getting rock hard again. You start stroking your cock with the sight of your naked wife in front of you. Irene, in her exhausted state, looks at you. “Don’t waste your cum,” she says vaguely. “What do you mean?” “Put it somewhere in me, master,” she clarifies. You stop for a moment. “You’re very exhausted, love. I don’t want to burden you with more sex.” Your wife shakes her head. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

You take a position in between her legs, aiming your cock at her pussy in the process. You announce that you’re going in, and Irene moans weakly at the first contact. She tells you that you need to do all the work this, citing her exhaustion. “Never thought I’d hear such words from you; you’ve been tireless recently,” you say, earning a little chuckle from her.

You kiss her while your shaft goes in and out of her, dropping whatever charade you’ve been using these past few hours. “I love you, baby—I love you so fucking much.” “I-I love you more, hon—you’re the best for me.” Her warm words make you smile. “I’ll stay by your side until death do us part, my love.” “You have a deal.” You hug her tightly when your second load of the day enters her body.

“We’ll rest a bit, if that’s okay with you.” “Sure,” Irene says, “I can’t even stand up right now.”

-

You feel rapid taps on your chest, making you wake up crassly in surprise. When your eyes are open enough to provide vision, you see that your wife is seated in bed with Yeseo in her arms. “Yes, love?” Irene doesn’t answer your question and instead, starts breaking down in tears. “C-can you take care of her a little? I-I want to rest.”

You slap yourself as hard as you can for leaving your wife to sleep and, in turn, forcing her to tend to your child alone. “My goodness, I’m so sorry, love.” You open your hands to receive your daughter who is wrapped snug with a little blanket, and Irene immediately falls flat onto the bed—she’s still crying, though. “Go to sleep if you can, love; I’ll keep her safe.” “I’m such a bad mom,” she insults herself unnecessarily, “I can’t even stay up for my daughter.” “No, you’re not a bad mom—trust me, you’re not.” To offer her some peace, you tell her that you’ll be in the living room with Yeseo until morning. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You give her a peck as a parting gift.

“Yeseo-yah,” you whisper softly, “while mommy catches her breath, we’ll hang out in the living room, okay?” Having been born just a few weeks ago, Yeseo can’t respond much aside from a small head movement, which you’ll gladly accept as an answer. “We’re going to get along very well, aren’t we, sweetie?”

You turn on the TV to watch something in an attempt make sure you don’t fall asleep, and that’s when you see the time: 02:09 a.m. “We’re staying up late, sweetie—I hope you won’t make this a habit when you’re grown up,” you comment.

You make sure that the TV is muted so that it doesn’t startle your daughter when this video starts. “Oh my, look at that place, Yeseo-yah.” A shot of beautiful countryside scenery in Jeju steals your attention, and it’s very hard to resist the temptation to move there with your family. “What do you say we move there, sweetie?” Yeseo lets out a small squeal, and you guess that she’s interested in living there. “Aha, great minds think alike, hey?”

You remember your wife asking if the family can move to somewhere quieter to raise Yeseo in, and now that she’s actually here, you’re really contemplating the opportunity. In your head, you try to think about what work would be like if you lived in a place like Jeju, which is even farther from the big capital. Your brain suggests stepping down from your post and earning from dividends, which sounds like a sound idea. Irene had stepped down from her position of director of risk management two months before Yeseo was born, so it’s not the craziest idea to follow suit.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and mommy, Yeseo-yah.” You want to say that you’re willing to die for them, but Irene’s words enter your mind: why die for family, if you can be healthy and stay by their side instead? You laugh a little as you recall that exchange. “Mommy is an amazing person, sweetie. Sometimes I can’t believe I ended up with her.”

-

Irene wakes up around 6 hours later, feeling somewhat refreshed after a decent night’s sleep. The first thing she does is obviously to check up on her husband and daughter.

“Look at you: sleeping with Yeseo in your hands.” Irene unlocks her phone and takes a picture of you sleeping with your mouth wide open while Yeseo is chilling in your arms. She gets teary eyes looking at this scene in the living room.

She never had the idea of being childfree and has taken a more neutral stance about it, but at the same time, having Yeseo is quite the surprise turn of her life.

Irene quietly joins you on the sofa to not disturb your peace. “Love, love,” she whispers, trying to get you to wake up, “wake up, please; it’s time for work.” “Screw work,” she hears you say, “I’m stepping down.” She knows that you’re referring to your job. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” you reply again, “we’re moving to Jeju.”

Before getting too excited, Irene makes sure you’re awake. “Love, seriously, wake up.” The way you’re suddenly looking at her with eyes wide open makes her jump. “Yes?” “Were you serious about moving to Jeju?” You nod. “I’ve talked with Yeseo about it, and she agreed.” Irene bursts out laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Sure, she did.” “Just ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

She plays along with your joke and asks Yeseo about her opinion on moving out of the big city, to which she replies by crying out loud, taking the two of you by surprise. “What, what, what,” you panic, “is she hungry? She’s probably hungry, right?” Irene unbuttons her pajama to expose a nipple Yeseo can latch on, so you hand your daughter over to her to be breastfed.

“Sorry, love, but these tits aren’t solely yours anymore,” Irene quips. You start laughing out loud, finding it difficult to stop. “What—what are you talking about? Why did you say it like that?” Your wife joins you in laughing. “I don’t know—it just felt right to say it.” You shake your head, highly amused by your wife’s odd statement. “It’s fine; I’m totally content with sharing them with Yeseo,” you clarify.

-

You take one last look at your house that is now empty. “We spent a fortune on this house, didn’t we, love?” You nod in agreement. “It’s crazy how much we bought this place for,” you reply. “I hope you won’t regret moving out,” Irene expresses her concern. You look at her right in the eyes while your hands are on either side of her waist. “We’re doing this for Yeseo—this is bigger than just the two of us, love.”

You walk with her outside towards the driveway, where Yeseo’s stroller is parked. “Isn’t she so cute?” “She is,” you say, “I swear I will do and give everything for you and her.” Irene puts on a big smile.

“We’ll give her a good life and a bright future, love.”

“We absolutely will.”

[deadsetobsessions]

“I think I’m going to move to Gotham,” Jazz’s tapped away at her laptop, clicking through her college acceptance letters. Danny sat up from where he was scrolling through his phone and stared at her. “Thoughts?”

“And prayers,” he sassed. “Because you’re going to need them. Why the would you pick Gotham when Harvard accepted you?”

“Gotham has Arkham. And Doctor Quinzel.”

“Isn’t she Harley Quinn? The Crime Princess of Gotham?”

“Yeah, and an acclaimed psychologist with hundreds of published work that revolutionized the mental health field! Sure, she’s more criminally inclined now, but I’d kill to pick her brains.”

Danny grinned. “Interesting word choice. You’d fit right in. It’s just weird that all of their psychologists turned into villains.”

“Okay, but I won’t. You’d stop me.”

“Or I’d join you,” Danny rolled back onto the floor.

“Don’t you dare, Daniel Fenton. You’d better stop me if I went villain.”

“But I feel like you’d have a pretty good reason for it though?”

“I appreciate the trust, dumbass, but I’m always this close to loosing it.” Jazz rolled her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Danny.

“Hah! You’ll fit right into Gotham!”

Jazz hummed. “So, Gotham?”

“Yeah, why not?”

——

“Danny!”

“Little busy!” Danny dodged a blast from a GIW agent.

“Why’d you pick up, then?”

“You don’t call often- hey, can you guys knock it off? I’m on a call!” Danny shouted. Surprisingly the agents stopped.

“Woah. You guys actually stopped?”

“We’re anti-ghost, not rude cavemen. Finish your call, Phantom, so we can get back to capturing you.” The agent with red hair said. Her partner nodded their head.

“Riiiight.” Phantom floated away a bit. “What did you want to talk about?” He asked Jazz.

“So, Dr. Quinzel-”

Danny heard a further off “Call me Harley, darling!”

“Harley,” Jazz continued seamlessly. “Is dating Ivy, a meta! Which, totally cute and their relationship is so healthy. Goals, honestly-”

Danny heard another far off comment, “Awe, thanks, Jazzy-wazzy!”

“But long story short, they got in touch with the Justice League about the GIW and they’re getting pulled back! And disbanded! Are you fighting the agents? Can you see if they’ve got the order to pull back?”

“Wait, seriously?” Danny perked up, the exhaustion from the fight all but gone. “I’ll ask.”

Danny turned to the two agents, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Hey! Did you guys get orders to stop hunting me? I heard the Justice League got involved.”

“What? We didn’t-”

“Shit, wait, we got orders.” Her partner jabbed their phone at her.

“Fuck. This isn’t over, Phantom!”

“Yeah, yeah! Shoo!” Danny watched them peel away. “Thanks, Jazz! Maybe I’ll finally get a peaceful school year.”

“R.I.P.” Jazz solemnly intoned.

“Dead-ass.” Danny replied, just as seriously before the both of them broke. Cackling, Danny said goodbye to Jazz.

“Maybe I should get some gifts? Hm… Undergrowth has some rare plants.” Danny muttered as he flew back home.

[babyleostuff]

── HOME

✩ THEME: fluff, attempt at humour + a bit of angst mainly due to jungkook being away in the military ✩ PAIRING: idol!jungkook x fem!reader ✩ WORD COUNT: 871

“bam!” you yelled out, “stop scratching the door and come for dinner, baby!” 

it was weird to say the least. usually, all you had to do was to pass by the food bowls for bam to be on high alert and ready to be served lunch, tail wagging and ears pointy, but now… he was nowhere near as interested in the 99% meat protein boosters mixed with the whole grain chicken clusters (jungkook loved buying bam all of the funky and fancy food) as he was in the entrance door. 

you sighed, as you heard another scratch. “bam,” you said for the twentieth time in the last five minutes, “dinner is ready,” you crouched down, and placed his bowls on the feeder stand. “if you don’t eat it, i will,” you muttered under your nose, and lowered your head to rest it on your lap. 

these were the moments when you missed jungkook the most. 

as if bam could sense the sudden shift in your mood, he slowly padded over to where you were crouching, his nails tapping against the wooden floors, and nudged you with his snout. “finally changed your mind, hm?” you giggled, scratching your big baby behind his ears. almost as if he could understand your words, he nodded his head excitedly, nearly knocking one of the bowls over. 

“okay big boy, let’s calm down and eat.” 

but before bam could even get a sniff of his food, a quiet, yet very familiar sound drew your attention back to the entrance door. the doberman didn’t waste a second and started barking like crazy, which did not help your paranoia that something was off. jungkook made sure that bam underwent all the necessary training to avoid situations like this one, and never since you’ve met bam had he acted so chaotic and unlike himself. besides, you couldn’t open the door to your apartment with the code anymore since the touchpad was broken, and the only people with keys were you and your boyfriend. 

and jungkook was far away from here, so… 

technically bam could protect you and jungkook in case of a break-in, but you didn’t want to be left without a weapon, so you grabbed the nearest candlestick so you could stab the intruder with a half burned candle. 

“bam, come here,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. 

you managed to grab him by his collar just as the intruder slowly opened the door, so much so that you could take a peek at one of the black military boots that was… oddly familiar. then the person threw a large backpack inside. that’s probably where he’d pack all the things he planned on stealing from your home. mhm, over my dead body. the only thing you were ready to give away were jungkook’s underwear - they took way too much space in the closet. 

you held onto bam a bit tighter as the intruder grunted, and threw inside another duffel bag. wow, so this was a big heist. 

“don’t move!” you shouted out, and raised your hand with the candlestick. “i’m armed and i have a doberman, so if i were you i’d find another place to rob.” 

but before you could unleash the beast in the form of a scaredy-cat doberman though, you heard a giggle. and not any giggle. 

it was the giggle you fell in love with after hearing it for the first time. it belonged to you best friend, to your one and only love, to your comfort person that you’d look out for in any crowd. 

but it was impossible because he wasn't supposed to be home for the next month.

the intruder pushed the door so you could finally take a proper look at the person who was about to rob you. expect for- “hi, baby,” jungkook smiled, and crooked his head in amusement taking in your form. 

with a candlestick in your hand, and crouched over the dog holding onto him for dear life, jungkook couldn’t think of a better welcome back home. “it’s good to know the apartment is safe in your arms,” he laughed, as the realisation hit you. 

he was there. jungkook was standing right in front of you. 

you dropped your makeshift weapon and squealed, quickly making your way over to your boyfriend. “what? why?” you breathed, and threw your hands around his shoulders, that seemed even wider now. as much as you hated being away from him, god - he looked hot as fuck in the uniform. “what are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask. 

jungkook circled one of his strong arms around your waist, keeping your feet off the ground, and cupped your cheek with his other hand, stroking it gently. “you’re really here, aren’t you?” you slowly pulled the cap off his head to get a better look at him, and ran your hair through the short, black strands that were sticking in all different directions. the scar on his cheek, the mole under his lips, the doe eyes.

“i am,” he smiled. jungkook didn’t have to say how much he had missed you - you could see it all in his eyes, and that meant more than a thousand words.

[leaentries]

let them eat cake | nico hischier

SUMMARY: when mrs.cap learns that cake can serve more than one purpose

WARNINGS: food play, slight boob worship, slight nipple play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, swearing, not proofread

WC: 2.97k

A/N: guess who’s back from the dead ! i hope you will take this nico fic as a form of apology for my lack of content recently !

the captain’s girl masterlist!

The familiar blaring of an alarm broke through the warm, golden atmosphere of the bedroom. Sunlight bounced amongst the beige walls, as the air slightly blew against them. Realizing Nico must have left the balcony door open, you managed to peel an eye open to gaze at the sleeping man beside you. 

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths, signaling he was still locked in his restful slumber. You took a moment to admire the youthful lines of his shaven face, taking note of every mark he had. The straight swoop of his nose, or the curve of his eyebrows; you swore to commit them to memory. Your eyes trailed down to his neck, where his chain dangled loosely to the side. A sweet smile found home on your lips as you watched his nose scrunch slightly in his sleep. 

However, your morning bliss was interrupted by Nico’s phone, which, once again, began to scream with that god-forsaken alarm. 

Very carefully, you lifted your body onto your left arm, maneuvering yourself to grab his phone and hit the “stop” button. As it would be, you didn’t quite make it that far before collapsing halfway onto the sleeping boy.

Nico’s body jolted at the sudden weight, hands immediately going to hold your hip and the arm that now lay limp across his chest. 

“Jesus, schatzi,” His voice rumbled with sleep, “What are you doing?” 

You sheepishly grinned at him, “‘M sorry, Neeks. I was trying to turn off your alarm so it wouldn’t make you cranky this morning.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Cranky? I’m never cranky in the mornings. I think you’ve got me confused with someone else, baby.” 

“Ah, so you're not the guy who almost chucks his phone at the wall every morning because his alarm is so obnoxiously loud?” 

Nico gave you a deadpan look. 

You shrugged at him, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Yeah, yeah” He quickly flipped you over, his heavy body now pressing into yours, “I’d be careful with what you say.” 

His lips placed slow, hot kisses down your jaw, only stopping once he met your earlobe. He bit lightly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. 

Nico’s voice came out in a rough whisper, “After all, I’m very cranky in the mornings.” 

Nico removed himself from you, taking away the warmth of his thick muscle. Making his way to the bathroom, he gave you a quick wink and a smug smile. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to control the ache that now resided in your core. 

“You suck, Hischier!” 

Well, happy birthday to you.

  -

While Nico took his time in the shower getting ready for the day, you took it upon yourself to start making a big breakfast for the two of you. 

Although it was your birthday, you still wanted to do something sweet for the both of you to enjoy. You had been looking forward to sharing an intimate meal with him first thing in the morning. Yet, if you were being honest, you never cared to make a fuss over your birthday. 

It just never occurred to you to care so much. 

As you scraped the last bits of your breakfast out of the pan, you heard Nico’s heavy steps approaching the kitchen. 

“Mmmm,” He sniffed the air with a dog-like fervor, “Something smells good.” 

You nodded towards the two plates, that now sat full, on the island top. “I made us a big breakfast this morning. I thought it would be nice to spend some time together today. Especially since you’ve been busy with all the away games the past few weeks.” 

Nico walked up behind you, hands circling your full waist with a squeeze. 

“That sounds perfect, schatzi.” 

Grabbing your hand, Nico helped you make your way into the high-top seat, carefully pushing you in before finding his way next to you. He gave you a quick peck, reaching to pull your legs to drape across his lap. 

Your stomach argued with hunger, prompting you to finally satisfy your morning needs. You closed your eyes in bliss at the warm taste of your favorite breakfast. Ever since you were a child, you had this same meal every year. Yet, it never failed to bring back the same excitement and nostalgia as it did when you were little.

“Fuck,” Nico mumbled under his breath, “Don’t make that face, baby. It’s too early for me to be hard.” 

You fluttered your eyes innocently, “I don’t know what you're talking about.” 

However, you most certainly did. And the evidence was currently pressing into your calf. 

A low groan escaped his mouth as you dragged your legs slowly from his lap. Grabbing the empty plates, you made a show of your hips in the short walk to the sink. Carefully placing them in the metal confinement, rough hands came to pull you back. 

“Oh!” A squeal echoed into the kitchen as Nico walked your body back to the counter. His large fingers gripped your wrists, pinning them to the cabinet above you. Nico’s face dangled teasingly too far for your aching lips. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, schatzi.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, “Swaying that pretty ass in my face.”

Nico shook his head in disapproval, “‘S not fair to me, baby.” His deep eyes only seemed to grow bigger, “Why are you being mean to me?”

You furrowed your brows in a pout, “‘M not being mean.”

“Oh yeah, you are.” He moved one of your hands back down to cup his heavy length straining against the fabric of his sweats. “Think just because you’re the birthday girl, you get to be a brat? Is that it?”

You huffed in annoyance. You should have known Nico wouldn’t give in to you so easily, even if it was your special day. Deciding to continue your ploy, you gave him your best puppy eyes, “No, Neeks.” You bit your lip, “I just want my favorite birthday present.”

Nico didn’t miss the way your eyes scanned his body, your orbs lingering on his throbbing erection. He could feel his resolve faltering at your sultry gaze, his body naturally leaning in to press against yours.

Although, just as Nico’s lips were about to finally slot on your awaiting ones, his phone blared loudly for the umpteenth time that morning. Nico’s forehead dropped to your shoulder in defeat.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He mumbled, “Gotta go to morning skate.”

Even though you knew he had to leave, you couldn’t help but feel slightly dejected. You nodded understandably, acknowledging his predicament.

Nico picked his head up, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, “I promise, I’ll make it up to you when I get back, birthday girl.”

-

As soon as Nico had left and the remnants from breakfast had been cleaned up, you easily found yourself falling into a peaceful nap on the couch. Yet, as quickly as your eyes shut, they opened again at the feeling of warm lips trailing your shoulder. 

“Wake up, schatzi,” Nico’s warm voice soothed your sleepy mind, “I brought you something.” 

Intrigued, you lifted your head to meet his gaze. 

‘Wha’dya bring?”

Nico’s mouth quirked up, “Come with me to the kitchen and find out.” 

Giving in to the curiosity, you rose from the couch and followed your boyfriend into the homey room. You felt your breath stop for a moment at the lopsided cake that now sat center on your island. It wasn’t the prettiest or the most shapely, but you didn’t care. With the icing slightly running down the sides and the half-cut strawberries, it was perfect. 

“You made me a cake?” 

Nico shuffled bashfully, “Yeah, I tried to, at least. I-I know it’s not the best, but-” You cut him off before he could finish. 

“It’s perfect, Neeks.” You looked at him with sparkling eyes, “Thank you.” 

“Anything for my birthday girl.” 

You turned back to admire the pink cake once more. Nico’s warm body came to lean against your back, his arms wrapping around to cage you in. You watched as his right hand moved to swipe some of the fluffy icing from the side onto his finger. 

“Open up, baby.” 

You obliged gratefully, taking in his sugar-covered digit. You swirled your tongue to gather as much of the sweetness as possible, sucking lightly. 

“Fuck..” Nico’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper. 

You could feel his hardening length pressed snuggly against your cheeks, taking the opportunity to tease him a bit. Jutting your hips backward, Nico groaned at the pressure. He pulled his finger from your mouth, a trail of saliva still attached. His hand moved to grasp onto your heavy breast through the material of your t-shirt.

Nico’s fingers danced across your peaked nipple, before quickly turning your body in place. He swiped another bit of the icing, letting your mouth eagerly accept his offer. His eyes grew with dark lust at the sight. Nico’s cock twitched with desire at the feeling of your tongue. 

He removed his finger suddenly, drawing a whine from your lips. However, you were quickly cut off by Nico grabbing your thighs to hoist you onto the countertop. The cool sensation of the marble ignites goosebumps all over your skin. His mouth immediately found your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down the supple skin. His hands toyed with the hem of your t-shirt, before managing to discard it completely. 

“Look at these, baby” His eyes were glued to your breasts, “Been thinking about my girls all day. Always sit so pretty for me.” 

His fingers were cold as they grazed over your bare nipples. Nico didn’t waste any time as he lowered his mouth to take one into his mouth. You bit your lip to suppress a squeal. His teeth bit the pebbled bud lightly, sending shocks of pleasure to your core. You leaned your head back as a whine echoed into the kitchen. 

“Mmm, fuck,” You panted with arousal, “Missed this so much.” 

Nico raised a brow, “Yeah?” He mumbled as he took in the other nipple, “Missed me sucking on these gorgeous tits?” 

His accent grew thicker as the pure need for you flooded his senses. Your body felt like it was on fire with each lick and suck Nico gave to your swollen breasts. You could have sworn you’d cum from just that alone. 

Nico pulled up, his own chest heaving with desire while he ripped off his shirt. As if a lightbulb went off in his mind, his lips grew into a wicked grin. He gripped the backs of your legs, yanking you forward on the counter. You sucked in a breath, undeniably hot and bothered by his manhandling. Nico kept his hand on your leg, while he reached to pull the platter of cake closer to the both of you. 

You watched him quizzically as he, once again, dipped his first two fingers into the icing. Nico looked back at you, smirking at your questioning face. He answered with a sly wink, before smearing the icing down the length of your chest and abdomen.

“Nico!” You exclaimed with a laugh, “What the hell?” 

“It’s okay, schatzi. I’ll clean you up.” He gave you another smirk, before bending down to trail his tongue along the stripe of frosting. “Always taste so sweet.”

 He took his time, making sure not a single bit of the sticky substance was left. The air ran cool against your skin as Nico’s tongue traveled further down your body. You found yourself panting with arousal. He pushed your shoulder slightly as he signaled you to lay back. 

You gasped, back arching against the cold countertop. He took the time while you adjusted to the temperature to rub some more icing along the insides of your thighs. Your legs parted subconsciously, letting Nico slot his body in between them. 

A whimper escaped into the air as you felt his warm muscle flex against the plush fat of your thigh. He ran his tounge teasingly closer to your throbbing core, but only to trail it back down. Your chest heaved with anticipation, the tension overbearing, and raising a sheen layer of sweat over your skin as he continued his mistrations around where you needed him most. 

Determined to have you begging, Nico pulled away completely. Watching your flushed breasts rise and fall at the pace of your rapid breathing. He had to suppress a groan at the sight of your perked nipples still covered in his spit. His eyes met yours as you looked at him desperately. 

“Nico,” You whined, “Why’d you stop?” 

He smirked at you, “I want you to beg for it, schatzi.” 

A fire lit inside of your stomach at the authority in his tone, yet you couldn’t help the bubble of stubbornness that arose with it. 

“Why should I?” You inquired, propping yourself up onto your elbows, “I mean, it is my birthday. Don’t I deserve a present?” 

Nico almost smiled at your rebuttal, but he also needed to make sure you knew who was in charge. He leaned forward, his rigid abdomen pressing into your soft one. His mouth latched onto your nipples one more, this time sucking harshly. 

You cried out through the mixture of pain and pleasure, your slick practically dripping onto the counter by now. Your hands moved to grip his shoulder roughly, your nails leaving angry red marks in response. Nico only pulled away once he heard your needy cries and felt the way your hips bucked up into him. 

“Ready to stop being a brat?” 

Normally, you’d put up more of a fight, but with Nico’s relentless teasing all day, the thrumming need that pounded through every vein in your body had you complying with his wants. 

“Yes,” You breathed, “Please, Neeks.” Your body began to squirm as he dragged his clothed cock along the wetness pooling from your cunt, “Fuck, please do something.” 

His head tilted at you, hips still moving torturously slow, “But I am doing something, baby.” 

Your head fell haphazardly against the cool marble, an exasperated sigh leaving your throat. It was agonizing what he was doing to you, and he knew it. 

All you heard was a low chuckle before you felt Nico’s body lower and the sound of his knees thumping down against the hardwoods. Your eyes fluttered closed as Nico’s lips began to leave light kisses closer and closer to your clit. 

Nico’s right arm moved across your leg to gather some more icing before prodding at your closed mouth. Right as you opened to accept his fingers, Nico plunged his tongue deep into your soaked hole. 

Your body convulsed at the sensory overload. You felt your eyes roll back as the sweet strawberry cascaded over your taste buds and the surging pleasure Nico provided pulsed through your core. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, determined not to leave a single bit of the treat left.

Nico’s fingers fell from your mouth as you moaned almost pornographically at the intense sensation of him lapping at your velvet walls. His nose nudged against your clit with every pass he made, causing the onset of your orgasm to show its head. Your hands tangled themselves into his thick hair, tugging in an attempt to ground yourself further onto his face. 

Nico moaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves up every limb. Your body felt as if it was floating, tingling with the utmost euphoric sensations. That familiar burning only increased as Nico replaced his tongue with two fingers. He plunged them brutally, not bothering to start slow. 

“Fuck!” You cried as your back arched off the counter. 

Nico’s mouth sucked skillfully on your clit, drawing fast circles. You could feel your climax approaching impossibly fast, your cunt beginning to spasm around your boyfriend’s fingers. 

“Close already, schatzi?” He mumbled against you.

You nodded helplessly, overwhelmed by the searing pleasure in your lower stomach. You could feel the blood pounding in your ears as you were hit with one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had. Your hips bucked against Nico as he continued his abuse through the duration of your high. 

Your mind felt like it was spinning, the weight of your climax taking the breath from your lungs. Your vision went white as your eyes clenched shut. Nico’s finger slowed to a stop, his mouth now leaving gentle kisses to the side of your knee where he rested his head. Your jaw fell slightly, lungs burning from the lack of air. 

All you could feel was Nico carefully removing his fingers, and the weight of his body moving to now stand. His warm hands caressed your hips soothingly, coaxing you back to reality. 

“Come back to me, pretty girl.” 

You eventually managed to peel open your lids, eyes clouded with dreariness. 

“There’s those pretty eyes,” Nico smiled lovingly at your fucked out state, “Let’s go take a quick shower. You’re all sticky from the icing.”

A laugh bubbled up, “Yeah?” You started at him accusingly, “And whose fault is that?” 

Nico just rolled his eyes at your attitude, helping you off the counter and into the bathroom. 

Once you were situated under the scolding water, Nico slid in behind you, arms wrapping around to pull you into his front. 

“Today is my favorite day of the year,” Nico stated.

You lifted your head from his chest, looking at him questioningly, “Why?” 

“Because it’s the day you were born.” 

You felt your cheeks go red, a bashful smile turning up on your lips. You shoved your face back into his toned chest, hiding away from his gaze. 

“Neeks,” You whined with embarrassment. 

Nico just laughed, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “Happy birthday, schatzi.” 

[pupyuj]

Need ur thoughts on baby daddy ive unnies 😊

since i’ve already covered jiwon and yujin before i’m only gonna do gaeul, rei, and wony here! 💕💕

[cw: pregnancy, lactation kink]

gaeul would be the sweetest baby daddy ever :(( i like the idea of the two of you being a long term couple who everybody always assumes that are married but actually aren’t 😭 and naturally gaeul would want a kid with you but due to thinking that you might not want one yet or ever, she ends up just staying quiet about it until you bring it up, in which her eyes literally light up as soon as you say “i’d love to have your baby” one night during a heart to heart 🥺🥺 after that talk, the two of you would then try to get pregnant every time you fuck! there’d be a different kind of hunger in gaeul’s eyes every time she’s on top of you—she fucks you in a way that feels good for you and her and to top it all off, she’s making sure not to waste a drop of her cum 😵‍💫 promises you so many sweet things in your ear after every thrust 🥺 things such as: “i’m gonna give you however many of my babies you want” and even taunting you almost?? “you want that, hm? you wanna be a mommy, my love??” 🤤💕 of course countless nights spent fucking and being a nightmare for your neighbours results in you having a perfectly healthy child in your belly months later 💞 now ik ya’ll were expecting something nasty and allat but gaeul is just . the angel ever so this was mostly just soft hours 😭

rei and her baby daddy moment would come as a welcome surprise methinks 🤓 getting you pregnant was neither planned nor unplanned 😭 yes, she frequently daydreamed about starting a family with her one true love but she wasn’t actively trying to knock you up every time you fucked! in fact, reibear is very careful and strict when it came to protection bcs the last thing she wanted to do was give you a baby you didn’t ask for 💀 so she was shocked in the best way when you gave her the big news with the happiest look on your face 🥺💞 rei would hug you, spin you around, then jump about the room with you before stopping abruptly to ask you if you really are happy with all of this and when you answer “yes” (bcs of course!!), she would jump around with you again 😭😭 ah, rei would be so happy that she’d just pick you up, put you on top of her desk, and give you the best head she’s ever given you in all your years of dating 🥰 and she’d honestly have an obsession with eating you out throughout your pregnancy and it is not just because she’s addicted to your taste! there’d be this whole misunderstanding where you’d start thinking that maybe rei was starting to get the ick seeing your stomach get bigger as her child grows inside you when really she’s… scared to do anything else 💀 hell, you’d even catch rei jerking herself off alone in your shared bedroom and she’d explain that she’d just been afraid to fuck you properly bcs she didn’t want to potentially hurt you and the kid ☹️

ofc you’d reassure rei with both words annnnd… riding her reverse cowgirl style and proving that you can be safe having sex while pregnant! 💕 and now onto actual baby daddy stuff; rei takes it all very seriously to the point where it’s so endearing 😭💘 she’s always on high alert when it comes to your needs and there’s never a moment where she’s far away enough to not immediately be there when you need her, such a sweet girl 🥺☹️ she’s giving your baby bump kisses, caressing it, staring lovingly at you while you take a nap in her arms… SHE’S JUST A WONDERFUL MOMMY UEUEUE 💔💔

wonyoung acts like a kid who has just been given a new toy when you drop the news on her head in the middle of a lovely friday afternoon after coming home from a doctor to confirm that yes, you are in fact pregnant with jang wonyoung’s child! and when i tell ya’ll she’s locked tf IN throughout your entire pregnancy.. 😭 actually leaves work to always be in the house and take care of you, never ever leaves your side, actually loses her mind when you so much as trip on air or get a paper cut, and is clingy and overprotective to the point it’s kinda annoying?? 😭 like you would actually have to sit her down and tell her to not stress about you and the kid bcs she’s already doing so much for the two of you 🥺 ofc she’d calm down then and be a bit more tame around you! 😭💞 ugh, wonyoung would be so sweet… constantly talking to your stomach in this baby voice and getting so happy when she puts her hand on it and feel your baby kick 🥺🥺 seeing you so happy carrying her child just makes her want to make more! and this is where her clinginess became rlly adorable bcs she’d just stare at you with shining eyes and a lil pout… you’d think she’s just being cute for no reason but nopeee~ let your eyes wander down a bit further and you’ll her cock fighting against the fabric of her jean shorts 🤤☺️

wonyoung would absolutely not let you do anything that requires you to do too much so she would actually have you sat on the couch while she’s standing up with her dick all hard and up in your face 😵‍💫 and even though you’re only using your hands and mouth on her, wonyoung is still asking you if you’re doing okay, praising you endlessly, and rewarding your hard work with the loveliest of moans, whines, and the softest hair pulling 🥰 cums all over your face, neck, chest area, and your tits… the sight of her seed dripping down your breasts just gives wonyoung the idea of her newest obsession! wonyoung + lactation kink is just a match made in heaven okay?? it’s impossible to not picture her just getting absolutely turned on at the idea of getting a taste of your breast milk and then actually going ahead to do exactly that when you decide to entertain her fantasy 🤤🤤 and she cums in her underwear while she does it. oops 🤭

[dumbseee]

stalker. pt.4.

previous.

charles leclerc x reader. / carlos sainz jr x reader.

fc: lalisa manoban.

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, landonorris and 3 719 000 others.

y/n: when you tell him paris is your favorite city so he takes you to paris the next day 🤭

_

fan1: charles could never

liked by y/n.

fan2: carlos is the real deal

fan3: my girl is thriving and i’m here for it

fan4: i don’t know if i want to be y/n or carlos tbh

fan5: god i see what you do for others…

fan6: i need a carlos

fan7: y/n stayed with charles for three years and homeboy never took her anywhere, but in a month only carlos managed to take her to her favorite place

fan8: that’s what you deserve girl

fan9: i’m so jealous

landonorris: i can fit in a luggage so next time hit me up mate

carlossainz55: i’d probably ship you to nicaragua on purpose

landonorris: and that’s why i prefer charles over you

fan10: not lando and carlos fighting in the comments lmao

fan11: carlos came out straight off a book wtf

view all comments.

carlossainz55 just posted a story!

caption: vacation with fam <3

"can i talk to you, dear?" reyes warm tone made you smile, you sat up from your deck chair and made some place for the woman. she sat next to you and smiled. she was so kind to you, even though you met a few hours ago, she welcomed you into her family with open arms. "are you enjoying yourself, bella?" the nickname made you chuckle as you nodded, you didn’t know why but next to her you felt like a kid. "don’t be shy!" she laughed, pushing you slightly with her shoulder. "sorry. spain is amazing i really like it." reyes nodded. "great, because it seems like you’re going to be around here often now." she winked at you which made the both of you laugh.

"you know, you’re the first girl carlos brings home." that actually surprised you, carlos always had that don juan image in your mind which made you think he’d have way more exes. "believe it or not but carlito is pretty shy, and before you he always declined the blind dates his father would set him up for." the woman smiled and looked at her son who was fishing with his father a little bit far away from them. "he told me about you way before you two started dating though." "really?" she nodded and took your hand. "it was love at first sight for him." you could feel your cheeks getting hotter and red, you looked up at carlos who was now dancing with a big fish in his hands, he turned around and showed it to you and reyes. "look what i got!" he shouted, you clapped for him while his mom was laughing. "when i see him like this, it reminds me of when he was a little kid, running around and messing with his sisters." you didn’t know what to say so you just squeezed her hand. "you like him a lot, i can tell. if my son has been in love with you for so long, that means that you’re a good person too. so i trust you with him."

liked by carlossainz55, anasainzvdec, reyesvdec and 2 810 001 others.

y/n: congratulations to the newlyweds 🥺🫶🏼 may your marriage be fulfilled with love and happiness!

_

anasainzvdec: you’re an angel y/n, thanks you!

carlossainz55: 💛

fan1: y/n being accepted by the sainz warms my heart for some reasons

fan2: awww she was invited too

fan3: carlos and y/n next 🤪

liked by reyesvdec.

fan4: not reyes liking all the comments about y/n and carlos, she’s so cute

fan5: yellow is your color!

fan6: noooo but carlos inviting y/n to his family vacation and to his sister’s wedding is so cute

fan7: omg y/n blonde era??

fan8: this girl can pull off every colour it’s insane

fan9: meanwhile charles never took y/n to meet his family, they had to accidentally run into each other in monaco to actually meet…

fan10: y/n really is glowing these days omg

fan11: y/n post charles is my favorite y/n

view all comments.

charlesleclerc just posted a story!

caption: 💭

taglist: @ferrariloverr @kimi240302 @rosekar16 @ironmaiden1313

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {2}

Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: Alcohol leads to some bad decisions and a big fight threatens to tear the family apart. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, protective big brother, alcohol, daddy issues, angst WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three

Round Twelve - Belgium 2022 A sponged microphone was shoved in your face and you barely stopped yourself from smacking it away out of reflex, but you did startle back a bit before recovering.

“You look a little wound up, Spitfire,” Lando commented with a laugh. “Ready to call a truce.”

“You wish, Norris. You may have won the battle but I’m going to win the war.”

The microphone picked up the exchange and the reporter cast a glance between the two of you. “Is this battling on the track?”

“With his tractor? No way,” you laughed, nudging Lando with your elbow and a smile to ease the blow. “Someone thought it would be funny to wake me up with a fire extinguisher, which I am totally blaming on Charles because I know you couldn’t come up with that on your own.”

“Hey!” Lando whined with a pout. “I…can’t come up with a lie right now.”

“That’s what I thought. Charles, watch your back and you both better sleep with one eye open.” You turned your attention back to the reporter and signalled with your hand for them to do their thing while you dutifully did yours for yet another Media Day.

“We know you and Max have a, some would say, unhealthy amount of competitiveness on the track but outside of that you are very protective of each other…so, how has he reacted to finding out you’re on the dating app Raya?”

You winced at the question and saw the guys get whiplash with how fast their heads turned your way. All along the line the question echoed. Lando, Pierre, Charles, Daniel and finally Max, ten beady eyes staring at you with a mixed array of emotions.

“What? You all get to date, why can’t I?” you asked defensively as you crossed your arms. “Gotta find something to do for summer break.”

“Hiking in the Alps,” Charles offered.

“Or sunbathing in the Maldives,” Pierre suggested.

“Please never refer to dating someone as ‘something to do’,” Max huffed. “Or better yet, never mention dating at all. Adopt some cats.”

You looked at Lando and quirked an eyebrow. “Do you have anything to add? Since everyone else seems to think they actually have a say in what I do.”

His eyes darted around the guys who were expecting him to pitch in but all he had was a squeaky and unsure, “No?” 

“And that’s why you’re my favourite.”

“Why do you want to date anyway?” Daniel asked, and you swore there was more than just curiosity in his tone.

“You guys have girlfriends, and I want one too.”

“A girlfriend?” he asked with far too much enthusiasm.

“Maybe,” you replied with a wink. “I’m not ruling out 50% of the dating pool.”

“So how have you been finding the app,” the reporter asked, “any connections made?”

You huffed and shook your head, a few sighs of relief sounding down the line but you didn’t see who they came from. One was definitely Max.

“I’m an athlete. I train and I sweat so the last thing I want to do when I get home is do the laundry or cook a healthy meal. But my experience so far is that men think it’s the woman’s job to do that, so I need a guy that’s up for sharing responsibility. Is that too much to ask?”

“I’d cook for you!” A man called from the crowd and you sat up straighter trying to see where it came from. 

“What about laundry?” you fired back.

“Security,” Max called with a finger pointed to the good looking man who put his thumbs up in the air. 

“Ignore him. What’s your name?” you asked as you pulled out your phone. It only took ten seconds to find Martin’s social media accounts and you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “This is why I have trust issues. I hope your girlfriend sees this and dumps you.”

Three days later You had failed to finish the GP after an embarrassing pitstop left one of your wheels rolling down the lane. The replay footage kept popping up wherever you went, even at the restaurant before the afterparty, and Max had the audacity to laugh. “Nice trike, zusje.”

“Shut up and get me another drink,” you grumbled as you drowned your sorrows.

He soon returned with two gin and tonics and huffed as you took them both. “I’m not carrying you back to the hotel if you pass out,” he warned before going and getting another drink for himself.

“That’s fine, I can always call my new friend, Martin,” you said with a grimace as he took your phone off the table and shoved it in his pocket. “Bonnie Tyler was onto something. Where have all the good men gone?”

“They aren’t at the bottom of your glass,” Max said as you tipped the drink back. “So you can stop looking there.”

“You’re right. I’ll see you later, bro.” 

“Where are you going?” he asked as he watched you push your chair back and head for the door.

“Taking a page out of P’s favourite book,” you said over your shoulder.

Christian sat back in his chair as you left and asked Max, “What’s P’s favourite book?”

“We’re Going on a Bear Hunt.” Max sighed and rubbed his temples, making Christian laugh with a shake of his head. 

“Should I send someone to keep an eye on her?” 

“It’s fine, we have family share so I can see her location-fuck! I have her phone!” Max leapt from the table and rushed out of the restaurant. He looked up and down the busy street but he couldn’t see you anywhere and combed a hand through his hair, wondering what he should do.

He hardly used his social media accounts, leaving it to his PA to monitor that side of things, but this would be the exception. Opening twitter, he put out the message asking that if anyone spots you to send him the location. Almost immediately he got bombarded with replies of concern and his anxiety spiked when he realised he would waste his night with the time it would take to go through and find any messages that were actually helpful.

A familiar face spotted you on the dancefloor of the club you found yourself in and you grinned when he made his way through the crowd to you. 

“Dance with me, Lando,” you shouted over the music.

“Your brother’s looking for you,” he replied, leaning closer so you could hear him. 

“Please don’t tell him where I am.” You could already feel your mood deflating and he bit his lip as he was torn between loyalties. 

“Okay, I won’t,” Lando promised, earning a bright smile that made him feel better. “But I’ll let him know you’re with me so he can stop freaking out.”

You didn’t bother to correct him, because Max would never stop worrying. He took his role as older brother too seriously, something you often found stifling since you had grown up without it and still struggled to accept it.

“I’m getting a drink, do you want one?” you asked as while he was busy on his phone, messaging Max.

“Uh, yeah, rum and coke, please.”

You slipped away to the bar, stumbling more than you would like to admit, and leaned against the bar top as you waited for some service. You hadn’t been there for more than a minute when an arm draped over your shoulders and you spotted the Forza Ferrari bracelet on the wrist.

“You have got twitter going crazy, chérie,” Charles said with a chuckle. “There’s quite a few people out hunting for you.”

“And I found her first,” Lando said as he brushed the arm off your shoulder and stood at your other side.

“Well,” you chuffed as you draped your arms over their shoulders and pulled them closer, “I’m on a hunt of my own and I could do with some help. A girl has needs and you two are going to be my wingmen.”

They both looked at each other and you could see the mental conversation they were having, each long passing second leading you to pull back. “No, don’t call Max. Lando, you promised.”

“We can’t just let you go off with some random,” Charles said as he caught your hand before you could escape the bar, “what if they are a serial killer?”

You tugged your hand back angrily and struggled to keep your balance when you were suddenly freed. “If I were a guy we wouldn’t be having this argument. Why can’t I have fun too?”

“We just want to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” you laughed bitterly and held your hand out. “Fine, give me a condom, I know you carry them around in your wallet.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Lando argued as he pushed your hand away. “You’re not sleeping with a stranger.”

“Is that you offering then?” You looked between Charles and Lando, watching their necks turn pink as you crossed your arms. “That's what I thought. I’m going to another bar, this one’s full of assholes. Hasta luego, pendejos.”

“Great, she’s been hanging out with Carlos,” Charles grumbled as you walked away.

“He’s better company than you two,” you shouted over your shoulder before you hit the exit. 

Cold air rushed into your lungs and you realised two things. One; you should have worn more clothes, and two; you were sobering up. There was only one way to solve both problems so you marched your way down the street to find another bar.

Your head was pounding and your stomach turned when you woke up to the first day of summer break. The hotel room was elegant and luxurious, but it wasn’t yours and you didn’t know how you had come to get here.

“Coffee?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you sighed with relief as Lando walked into the bedroom with two cups in his hands. “Where’s my clothes? Did we have sex? Wait, no, you wouldn’t cheat and I’d definitely remember that.”

“They’re in the dryer, and no we didn’t have sex,” he said as he handed you one of the cups. “You were soaked when we found you.”

You frowned as you tried to remember what happened but came up blank. “We?”

“You went for a swim in the fountain of love in the city centre. It was a ‘part of your hunt’, apparently. Charles helped me get you back here before anyone called the police.”

“Oh, great,” you muttered as you pulled the sheets higher. “Hey, you’re doing my laundry. It’s a shame you’re not single. Then again, you can’t cook for shit.”

“Be glad you’re single. The grass isn’t always greener on this side of the fence,” he said with a sigh.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’d rather not.” Lando suddenly looked guilty as he took the half drunk coffee back and placed it on the side table. “I should probably warn you, I called Max after you took off from us last night.”

“I was with you and Charles?” Your brows pinched together as you started to recall being angry at them before embarrassment followed. “Shit, I called you assholes.”

“It’s fine, but the only reason we found you again was because of some clips on Instagram.”

You could imagine another lashing from the Red Bull PR, it wasn’t the first time you were involved in drunk misadventures and it was caught on camera. Usually it was some dare or competition involving Max where neither of you wanted to admit defeat and things just got out of control. He’d probably enjoy hearing you get ripped a new one by Christian while he got a pat on the head for being the golden child.

“What did I do this time?” you asked, knowing it was easier to just rip the bandaid off.

“It isn’t what you did,” he said with a wince. “It’s what you said.”

“Well?” you prompted when he shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“You said Charles’ listens to Nickelback.”

Your head fell back with a laugh and the sheet fell down as you let go of the cotton to clutch your nauseous stomach. “Well at least I wasn’t spouting off a bunch of bullshit.”

“And that there were three drivers you would date if you got the chance.”

“Ah, well…” you cleared your throat and scrunched the bedding into your hands, ignoring the way his eyes trailed over your bra that was on display. “That is a lie. There’s only two. It’s just my luck they are both in relationships. Did I really use the word date?”

“You said fuck but the meaning was there.”

You pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin on them with a heavy sigh. “I’m a mess. I’m surprised you didn’t try to prank me while you had the chance. Or is there a dick in permanent marker on my face?”

“You wouldn’t have been coherent enough to appreciate it,” Lando teased as he took a seat at the edge of the bed. “I told you this last night and I know you’re lonely, but you're looking for love in all the wrong places. You’re not going to find someone who will treat you right in a shitty nightclub when you’re too drunk to even give consent.”

Tears of embarrassment stung your eyes and you swallowed the lump in your throat before climbing off the bed and wrapping the sheet around you. “Thanks for the concern, but I’m not going to take dating advice from the guy who clearly isn’t happy in his own relationship.”

There would be no way to erase the image of how hurt he was by the words so you turned your back and left the room, grabbing your damp dress from the dryer and pulling it on. Thankfully your shoes were beside the door so you swiped them up as you left, the heels dangling from your fingers as you pushed through the sickening feeling and left the hotel to break into a run.

People stared in the street, some even pulled out their phones when they recognised you but there would be no autographs. You focused on your breathing, focused on the cold slap of your bare feet on the pavement, focused on anything but the look in Lando’s eyes.

“Where the fuck were you!” Max shouted as you reached your room and found him already there, rising from one of the armchairs like the godfather. “I have been worried sick.”

“Jesus, you sound like Jos when you shout. Relax before you have a heart attack and leave me with no competition.”

“You’re more likely to lose your seat the way you’re going, and leave me without any competition.”

“Dream on, I just had a moment.”

Max cocked an eyebrow up and crossed his arms. “Yeah, and what was last weekend and the one before that?”

You sucked your teeth at the reminder and dropped your shoes to the floor. “That wasn’t my fault, I didn’t start the prank war. And I really didn’t think the smoke bomb would set off all of the sprinklers, just the one in Charles’ room. Plus, I paid for the damages and repairs.”

“Throwing money around doesn’t mean you can act like a spoiled brat,” he said as he fell back into the armchair. 

“I am not a spoiled brat,” you growled. “I didn’t grow up with money like you and Vicky. I was the dirty little secret, just a bi-product of Jos' affair, that had to scrounge around for second hand parts just so I could have a working kart. So, fuck you, I’m allowed to enjoy the money I have earned.”

“And what about your mother? Do you think she doesn’t see those videos going viral of you drunk out of your mind, letting some klootzak take body shots off you? Does that make her proud?”

Fire burned deep in your gut as you felt attacked from all sides and the angry words spilled over before you could stop them, “I hate you.” Your feet stomped across the carpet to swipe your phone up from beside your stunned brother before you grabbed your backpack from the race which still had your passport and wallet inside. "I never needed a big brother, so you can stop fucking trying and just leave me alone."

“Where are you going?” he asked as he watched you head to the door. “The plane doesn’t leave until this afternoon.”

“Fuck you and fuck your plane. I’ll find my own way home.”

There was only one person you knew you could always count on, the first teammate you had when you made it into F1, and you were already dialling his number as you walked out of the hotel in tears.

“Pierre,” you sobbed as he answered. “I need you.”

Click here for part three.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

LOVED your reader tamaki haruhi. Can I have some ideas for excuses haruhi would make for tamaki? Like laying it on thick that he's such a sweet and caring person (and rich and powerful)

Also, for a separate idea, do you think haruhi would manipulate tamaki / the host club in reader's favor? Like getting them to buy reader's stuff. Thanks I love your writing!!!

Yandere Haruhi Fuijioka and Tamaki Suoh (2)

Of course

Tamaki has so much power and money 

He’s a force to be reckoned with even among the upper class

So if at his suggestion a certain student might be expelled or even drop out of the school because of bullying

If you even begin to suspect that Tamaki is behind any of this Haruhi will assure you there’s no way

Taking a page out of Kyoya’s book she’ll create some mad up reason as to why this is completely unrelated

Or when the classmate who confessed to you 

 was called away by Tamaki later on in the day 

And somehow ended up having drowned in the fountain

It wasn’t Tamaki

No no 

Haruhi will cite some other students who bullied them that must have gone too far

Though it’s not likely he’ll go that far normally

But sometimes love just makes you do crazy things

She won’t tell you about all his great traits 

Otherwise you’d notice far too fast

For so long she’s been pushing him away 

She can’t possibly stop now

Besides she kind of likes the hurt look he gives her when she writes him off

But she absolutely is willing to manipulate Tamaki, The Host club, Lobelia 

Anyone she needs to if it means spoiling you

She’ll harp on anyone’s desire to gain her favor by practically demanding they invite you too

But if you’re busy she’ll just try and bring home things you like

“Oi Tamaki.”

“Yes Haruhi?”

“Did you get my fancy tuna?”

“Yes of course I did!”

“And (Y/n)’s favorite food?”

“Yes how could I forget~”

“Good boy.”

Or she’ll convince the host club if they’re still fighting for her affections to practically smother you with attention

What better way to chase off confessors and make the host club look strange in your eyes

“Y’know I think I could be in a relationship if I knew my partner could care for (Y/n).”

“But I thought Haruhi only loved (Y/n)?”

“....I’d be willing to be in a relationship with anyone who can care for (Y/n).”

“…”

“...”

“...”

“Move I’m going to find them first!”

“Not before me!”

“Fighting is so immature. You should just let your senior do this.”

“That’s right which means (Y/n)’s mine!”

But don’t forget about Tamaki 

Before Haruhi came along those in the host club are loyal to him

He’s their over caring leader of the Host Club

That and he’s oh so great at schmoozing

Whether you’re into that or indifferent like Haruhi

“Come (Y/n) allow me to show you the glorious love of the Host Club!”

“Oh uh okay…”

“Don’t worry I will let you hold my hand if you’re nervous.”

He’s not as composed as Haruhi

He’s a lot more unhinged

He might of cried when someone else kissed Haruhi 

but it would not be the same with you

After officially gaining Haruhi’s love he’s not all that willing to wait again

Aren’t you his darling too 

Wouldn’t you like him too spoil you with fancy tuna too or whatever you like

But refusing won’t end well 

He’d much rather you try and get food or money from him than just outright refuse him

Without Haruhi’s intervention he’ll end up flying you to some island and moving you into another mansion of his

But thankfully Haruhi’s convinced him to at least let you live out your school years

But the duo are truly a force to be reckoned with

You won’t be getting away anytime soon

And neither will those that try and take your attention from them

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰

Thomas Shelby as a Father

Tommy x Fem!Reader

Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.

What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.

We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.

Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.

When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.

Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.

That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.

He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.

Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.

His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.

The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.

All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...

Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.

They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.

Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.

Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.

[dykeknightrises]

US

A/N: I'M BACK! This is the third and final piece of the falling series, finally making it's appereace! While I'm not super happy about it (which is probably because I feel a bit weird writing dialogue and this one has much more than the last two), I feel like this is the closing I wanted for it! I truly hope you guys enjoy it!

PART 1: FALLING

PART 2: PROMISES

Having Alexia look at you like that took your breath away. Her hazel eyes looking at you like you were the only thing in the world gave you goosebumps. It wasn’t until a frown made it’s way to her forehead that you realized she was talking to you.

“I said: ‘I was hoping we could have our usual Thursday? I have a lot that I need to say to you.’” She said, before frowning ever deeper before adding, “Where are you going? It’s Thursday.”

“D-Date. I’m going on a date right now.” You replied, cursing the stuttering at the hasher tone she used on the last sentence.

“I didn’t know you were going on a date today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to inform the team captain of such personal affairs.” You snarked back.

“That’s not what I meant and know it.”

“I don’t know, Alexia. For the past few months, we’ve only spoken as teammates. I don’t think it was wrong of me assume that this is how we were now, nothing more than teammates.”

“This is not fair, Y/N. You said we were okay.” Alexia gritted, pushing past you into your apartment.

“I thought we were too! I wasn’t the one who kept cancelling every week.” You scoffed.

“But you can’t just go in date like that!” she bit back.

“Excuse me? You know what, forget about it. Just leave, captain.”

“I can’t! I can’t let you go on that date before I tell you how I feel!” The Catalonian yelled.

“The last thing I need is to hear how much you don’t care about me!” You yell back, pushing past her and leaving her alone in your apartment.

***

The blonde’s words rang in your ears as you drove late to the date. The restaurant wasn’t very far, but you chose to drive to ground yourself. The argument with the Spaniard and the quick conversation that followed made her eyes turn glassy as she blinked to try to see the traffic better.

Trying to find the teammate that Leah set you up with was a downward spiral. Not being able to locate whoever it was, Y/N could feel the stress and the frustration leak through her cracks. A hand gripping your shoulder brought you back to the moment, making you turn and face soft brown eyes.

You could feel the warmness emanating from your former teammate as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Dressed in a high waisted pants, a very nice blouse and ready to kill, Lia Walti stood smiling at you.

“Leah outdid herself this time.” The Swiss laughed with you.

“Now a lot of things are making sense.” You agreed.

Following your friend to the table the English captain reserved for you two, it was easy to lose yourself in the conversation, as you caught up. It wasn’t easy, however, to do it completely, with a very specific person occupying such a bug part of your thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about her or are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“The second option.” You pout back.

“Well, I know why Leah set this whole thing up but, in all fairness, I’m not ready to go all in again. With how things ended between me and her, it still stings, you know? I mean, the whole summer fling was nice, but ‘real world’ wise I’m not there yet.”

“Oh, thank God. I’d hate to ghost you after this.” You joke at her, making her roll her eyes.

“Asshole!” She laughed, throwing a balled-up napkin in your direction.

With the underlining expectation of the night becoming nothing than a hang out between friends, you two relaxed considerably and dug deeper into the mess she had been in and the one you were now.

Dropping her off in her hotel after you both agreed on telling Leah the date was great so she wouldn’t set up either of you again, at least for a while, you drove back home. Talking to Lia about Alexia was very good, as she was removed enough from the situation to have convinced that maybe the last thing you yelled to the Catalonian was unfair.

With that happy though in mind, you got ready to bed, preparing yourself for an unruly night filled with Alexia, as usual.

***

Having a flat tire on your way to the Camp Nou was most certainly not a part of your plan and only served to make a bad day even worse. First you missed you alarm after only being able to sleep as the sun started peeking from the horizon. Then, you ran out of literally everything that was your usual breakfast food for Game Day. And now, a flat tire after already being late. Yay.

Leaving the car after parking and now even glancing checking where you were, an Uber arrived only a few minutes after and dropped you off on the wrong side of the stadium. Another check for bad day.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! The alarm, then the food, then the car, the Uber…” You apologized to Jona and the rest of you team, after finally making to the Locker Room.

“Uhh, don’t worry, Chica Amante!” Lucy teased.

“Oh, how do you say that in Swiss German?’ Mapí joked.

The team quickly joined in, clearly having heard details from Lucy and Keira, who Leah unquestionably gossiped to. Rolling your eyes, you started getting ready. It didn’t scape you that the only person who didn’t join in was Alexia, who had been lacing the same boot since you walked in.

“Ohh, Y/N, you can be late for game after a deliberate session of Seven Minutes in Heaven in the closest empty room!” Someone joked.

“Bonus if you don’t need all the minutes!” It was added.

As the girls kept poking fun, you could see Alexia get more and more tense, until she finally got up rather abruptly, mumbling something about needing more tape. As she closed the locker room door behind her, the glassiness in her eyes made the decision you had been struggling since the day before much easier.

After not finding the older woman in the most obvious spots, Y/N went to their spot, the little Video room for any last-minute adjustments. Alexia was sitting in the first row, right in front of the projector, as if she was waiting to watch a game tape.

The blonde had her head down, on her hands, shoulder shaking, and sobs barely muffled by her hands. Choking down her own sobs at how hurt Alexia was, Y/N made her was quickly through the room, sitting next to the Spaniard, pulling her into a hug.

“Shh… First, we get thought this, then we talk.” You whisper, cutting her protests.

With her safely tucked in your arms, you two stayed like until she was ready. Holding her for what felt like forever, Y/N felt more in peace than she had felt in the past months.

A small part of her brain kept reminding her that this was one of the most important game of their careers, but Alexia was far more important. It was almost a full hour before the Spaniard was ready, slowly untucking herself for the safe spot that hid her from the world. It was several minutes later before she even managed to look in your direction. It was even longer before she spoke.

“I’m sorry.” The blonde broke the silence, with her voice trembling and oh-so-quietly that Y/N had to strain her ears to hear it properly.

“Alexia…”

“No, I’m sorry. For everything, really. You deserve so much more than what I’ve done to you.” She whispered, before adding with a broken voice. “I-I hope the date yesterday went well.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m stupid.”

“Alexia.”

“I was scared. After Jenni, I was completely broken. Then I let myself open up and she broken me too. Hell, a part of me was still broken when you came along. In the beginning of the year, I promised myself that right now I just needed to focus in getting better, so I closed myself for any shred that could lead into something more. But then you came and made me yours without me even realizing. When I did, I got terrified. I-I was certain that you would break me too, but I couldn’t take it. Not from you.” She cried softly.

“So, you took a step back before I could do anything?”

“Yeah. I thought that if you didn’t know you couldn’t break me too.”

“Ale…”

“No, it’s okay. I can get over it, is not even your fault that I completely fucked everything up.”

“Well, I really hope you don’t. I spent almost the entire “date” yesterday talking to Lia about you, about how much I love you.” You said, caressing her jaw, getting yourself lost on her honey gaze.

“Oh…” She gasped. “But..”

“Well, we agreed on telling everyone it went well because we were not interested in doing that again, but with a stranger. Neither one of us were ready to move on.” You chuckled.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

You nodded, leaning forward, and meeting her lips. In that moment, everything was right again. Hearing her breath get caught up, her hands caressing your waist, the warmness of her skin. Everything was Alexia. You were undoubtedly hers.

Getting lost on her was far too easy. It always was. It took you every ounce of self-awareness too pull back, only to be allowed after a shred of pecks and nips. Eyes closed, breathing the same puffs of air being expelled from your heavy breathing, you felt like you were dreaming again. Too afraid to open your eyes and wake up, you remain basking in her.

“Can I have another chance? I need to make it right, to be yours and make you mine forever.” Alexia asked, hazel eyes looking through heavy hoods, as if you’re the only thing in the world.

“I don’t know if I trust you.” You whisper, feeling you vision blur though unshed tears.

“That’s okay. I want to earn it back, it’s the most important thing for me. I want your permission to work for it, but if you don’t want it, I swear to leave you alone.”

“Don’t you dare doing that.” You tell her, kissing her cheek.

You two stay there for a few more minutes before getting up, finding you way back to a very panicked locker room. Turns out that vanishing for over an hour right before a match made everyone very worried.

Making up with Alexia was easily the peak of the day but beating Lyon and kicking them out of the Champions League in a packed Camp Nou, after losing to them on the away game, with you two having the game of your lives surely made its way as a second peak of what started out as a bad day.

The next few months were spent with you two thick as thieves once more, the team back on the comfortable routine. It was the next year’s pre-season when you gave her the green flag that you trusted her, and it was exactly a few after she gave you a bar of you favourite chocolate that she asked you to be her girlfriend. It was also then that she told you that she bought all the chocolate of her favourite store.

The Sun made you feel warm, loved, cared, cozy, at home, yourself and so many more things that you weren’t quite sure that could be described as feelings. But right now, buried under and completely surrounded by everything her on their home, Y/N would vow on whatever entity that existed that Alexia the Sun itself.

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne, Dec. 31, 2011

Ha! I sent the last letter of the year! How satisfying victory is.

Anyway, I know exactly what ‘incriminating’ means! I just really wanted to talk to you. It’s been five years since we last saw each other, let alone talked to each other, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Life is- It’s different out here. It’s so much bigger than we thought. There’s so many people and things and places to explore! I didn’t have anyone to talk to when I first got here. I wasn’t about to let you go through this huge adjustment alone. I know I waited a year, but we’ve already established that I’m a coward.

I’m curious, though, about the research you’ve done. What was it for? A project with father? Your own interest? Pray tell.

Questions! You flipped them back at me, so I hope my answers are to your satisfaction, ahki! Though, I don’t exactly remember what questions I asked, so I’m going off of your own answers.

My parents, as I assume you’re wanting to know about them, are less parents and more fosters. They haven’t ever offered to actually adopt me, but they haven’t thought of sending me to a different foster home. Not that I’m really complaining. There are places a lot worse than this place that I’d rather not risk going to, especially because these guys are the perfect example of where Grandfather and Mother would never think of looking for me if they had even an inkling that I was still alive.

Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton are who I’m staying with. Not quite as famous as father and you and your siblings, but they are still quite well known for all the wrong reasons. They’re known as crackpots in the scientific community; laughing stocks. I have to admit, though, that their research is interesting. I don’t believe a word they have ever written or spoken about the subject, seeing as they have almost no proof of any of it, but it’s interesting. I recently got to see the little phial of “proof” that they have. It looks exactly like the Pit Water. Best to keep Grandfather and Mother as far away from them as possible.

Jazz, short for Jasmine, insists that I call her big sister. I would say it out loud, but it feels weird. I’ve never had a big sister before, are they supposed to be this pushy? She’s been studying psychology and reading parenting books since about two months after I got here. I’m worried. She won’t listen to me, though. Says that she’s older, so she knows best and that I shouldn’t worry about anything because she’s got it handled. She refuses to understand that I lost the option to be a “normal” kid when I was born.

I live in Amity Park, Illinois, a few miles from Elmerton, actually. I didn’t want the Drs. or Jazz getting ahold of our letters, and I couldn’t set up a P.O. Box here in Amity for some reason, so I went and set one up in Elmerton! The Drs. don’t really notice me and Jazz too often, I actually think that they literally forgot that I was neither their child nor adopted, so it’s really easy to take a bike out of town. Sure, it’s almost two hours each way, but it’s more than worth it. Then again, I also have a delivery deal set up with one of the staff there, so I don’t always have to go all that way.

Going to school was a good idea at the time, but now I just find it unnecessary. Like you, none of the others can really keep up. I don’t want to call attention to myself, though, so I’m not gonna complain too loudly. Though, keeping my grades exactly average is a really fun challenge. I hate P.E., though. Way too boring. If I could, I’d sleep through it. I’ve two friends, though! Tuck and Sam are cool. Tuck’s my ride or die, and Sam mostly hangs out because her parents disapprove of our friendship. She says she’s sticking it to the man, which I get.

I want to get a dog, but I don’t think it’d be safe to stay in the house. Or on the property. The Drs. seem to think that lab safety is a suggestion. OSHA’s a good topic to stay far away from. On the bright side, though, Jazz won’t have to pay taxes when she grows up, so...

Lets see, I don’t have a lot of hobbies; nothing ever really caught my interest after I got here. I didn’t really actually relax until just before we turned ten. Constant vigilance doesn’t leave time for anything else. Though, I still like the stars. Jazz got me an encyclopedia about stars and space and stuff last year! There’s so many more stories I’ve learned that I want to share with you!

Have you met Martian Manhunter? Or Superman? Or Green Lantern? What am I talking about, of course you have! I’m so jealous. Do you think you could get me an autograph from them or something? No, that’s a stupid thing to ask. You guys are technically coworkers. Boo.

I’m glad you still have it, though I don’t know why you’d keep it on you; It’s wooden! It’s not very sharp, either. More likely to break before it broke skin.

I guess weapon making could be a hobby? But I haven’t really indulged since I left. Sure, I’ve whittled a few shanks, but those are easy. Would you like another dagger? One that’s actually sharp and more likely to do damage to your opponent?

That’s cool about the holidays and stuff. I was kinda hoping, last year, to get to learn more about American cultures and holidays, but I don’t think the yelling and fighting and the food biting back are normal. Me and Jazz did a gift exchange, though! She got me a rocket puzzle and I got her the Chronicles of Narnia. I want to celebrate the Solstice next year, though. Both Summer and Winter.

Were my answers to your satisfaction, Your Highness? /j

Danny Fenton

***

In a town as small as Amity Park, the New Year Celebration was a big deal. Any holiday that involved fireworks was a big deal, but New Years happened to be the biggest one. The biggest park in the city, right in the edge of the residential area, was decorated for the occasion, just as it was for every holiday. Black and gold streamers lined the fences; the pavilions were all decorated to the T; food and drinks were set out buffet style, every family having brought something to share; picnic blankets and lawn and camping chairs had been scattered around the place; people mingled; children ran around every which way; and the fire department had set up a pyrotecnic’s area in the road to shoot off fireworks as soon as the time switched over into the New Year.

“A shame Sam’s stuck in Washington,” Tucker said between sips of his hot chocolate.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, “Amity Park has the best New Years celebration.”

“I know, right! We get to set off fireworks! Do you know how many other places in the world celebrate New Years with fireworks?”

Danny knew. Of course Danny knew. Tucker told him the same thing every year. It was almost like a tradition at this point. “One?”

“Zero-!” He blinked. “One?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. China ushers in the new year with fireworks to ward off evil spirits.”

Tucker grinned. “That’s so cool, dude! How do you know that?”

Because they have this exact conversation every year. “I like mythology. A lot of it ties into the stars.”

Tucker snorted, “Of course. Don’t you ever get tired of learning the same things about space? Most of it is empty anyway.”

Danny shook his head slightly, very happy to get to talk about his special interest. “That’s why it’s called ‘space’, Tuck. And, no, none of the stories are the same across mythologies and cultures. Some are similar, sure, but none of them are the same.” He pointed to a cluster of stars. “Like Orion the Hunter. In Greek Mythology, he declared that he’d kill all of the animals that roamed the Earth. Gaea, Earth Herself, obviously didn’t like that, so she sent Scorpio to kill him. When Orion died, Zeus turned him and Scorpio into stars, forever locking them in battle. But, in Chinese Mythology, Orion doesn’t have a story. Instead Orion the Hunter is called Shen Xiu, ‘Shen’ meaning ‘Three’ and ‘Xiu’ meaning ‘Place for rest’. The three stars that make up his belt are where the moon rests in Chinese Myths.”

“What about the Zodiacs?”

“Which ones?”

“Um, the Twelve Zodiacs? You should know about them, man, since you’re obsessed with stars and stuff.”

“I am not obsessed!” Danny defended, “And, yes, I do know the Twelve Zodiacs, but China has different Zodiacs they recognize.”

“Well that’s not confusing at all.”

“It’s really not.”

“Sarcasm, dude.”

“I know, but they aren’t that hard to keep track of once you know all their stories.”

“Yeah? Then please, enlighten me.”

Danny settled into his seat, shifting to look better at his best friend. Tucker, who was almost done with his hot chocolate, also turned to face him better. “Okay, so, I’ll start off with the Chinese Zodiac because their story is easier to explain. Millenia ago, the Jade Emperor, Yudi, the ruler of heaven, decided that there should be a way to measure the passage of time, so he created a calendar. He invited all earthly creatures to participate in a race. The first twelve to cross the finish line would be granted a place on the calendar. The Rat knew its size would be a disadvantage, so it convinced the Ox to carry it. At the last moment, the Rat leapt off the head of the Ox, taking first and forcing the Ox into second place. Next were the Tiger and the Rabbit. Then, despite its ability to fly, the Dragon came in fifth because it had stopped to help some villagers on the way. The Horse was startled into seventh place when the Snake slithered past it into sixth. The Sheep, Monkey, and Rooster worked together to cross the river, finishing eighth, ninth, and tenth. The Dog, who had stopped to play in the river, finished eleventh. The Pig came in twelfth because it stopped for a snack and a nap. However, the Rat and the Cat had been best friends. The Cat liked to sleep in during the mornings, so the Rat had promised to wake it for the race. Some renditions say that the Rat forgot to wake the Cat, others say that the Rat tricked the Cat into missing the race.”

“I was gonna say that we could totally be the Rat and the Cat,” Tucker sighed, “But I don’t want to be either.” A half beat. “You wouldn’t be the Rat, right? You’d tell me if something important was happening?”

“Of course.” Was Danny’s immediate reply.

Tucker narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion before nodding. “Alright. What about the other Zodiac?”

“Well, unlike the Chinese Zodiac that cycles every year, the Western Zodiac cycles every month and almost none of their stories connect.” He shifted in his seat again. “They’re separated into four categories: Fire, water, earth, and air.”

“Like Avatar?”

“Like Avatar. Aquarius the Water Bearer, Pisces the Fish, Aries the Ram, Taurus the Bull, Gemini the Twins, Cancer the Crab, Leo the Lion, Virgo the Virgin, Libra the Scales, Scorpio the Scorpion, Sagittarius the Archer, and Capricorn the Sea-Goat. Air, water, fire, earth, air, water, fire, earth, air, water, fire, earth.” He took a deep breath, almost sighing his exhale. “In Greek Mythology, Aquarius is said to be the representation of Ganymede, the son of Trojan king Taros. He was so beautiful that Zeus granted him immortality and brought him to live among the gods as their cupbearer. In Babylonian Mythology, Aquarius is said to be the god Ea and is associated most with the violet floods they suffered.

“Pisces, also Greek, is one of the oldest known constellations. In order to escape the titan Typhon, father of all monsters, Aphrodite and her son Eros - Venus and Cupid in Roman myths - transformed themselves into fish. Another ending says that the fish carried Aphrodite and Eros to safety. Yet another myth says that an egg fell into the Euphrates River and was rolled to shore by two fish, where doves sat upon it until it hatched, out of which came Aphrodite. As thanks, she added fish into the night sky, tied together by a ribbon.

“In Babylonian history, Aries was first known as ‘The Agrarian Worker’ or ‘The Hired Man’. Then, in Egyptian Mythology, after the transition in depiction from a man into a ram, Aries became associated with the god Amun-Ra, who’s depicted as a man with a ram’s head. In Greek Mythology, Aries is associated with the Golden Ram who rescued Phrixus and Helle on Hermes’ orders.

“In The Epic of Gilgamesh, Taurus the Heavenly Bull is sent to kill Gilgamesh for spurring the advances of the goddess Ishtar. To Egyptians, Taurus was regarded as sacred, associated with renewal of life and spring. In Greek Mythology, Taurus is identified with Zeus who took the form of a magnificent white bull to kidnap Europa, a Phoenician princess.

“Gemini the Twins: Castor and Pollux. In Babylonian stories, they are regarded as minor gods; The One Who Has Arisen From The Underworld and The Mighty King. In Greek, Pollux is the son of Zeus and Leda while Castor is the son of Tyndareus and Leda. When Castor - who was a mortal - died, Pollux - a demigod of Zeus - begged his father to give Castor immortality. Granting his wish, the brothers were reunited, living on as stars.

“Zeus, king of the Olympian Gods, slept with Alcmene, giving birth to Heracles, Roman name Hercules. Hera, goddess of marriage and Zeus’s wife, turned her anger onto Zeus’s child, causing him death and suffering for a lot of his life. When Heracles made it to adulthood, he married the princess Megara and they had several children. Hera then provoked a fit of madness upon Heracles, in which he killed his wife and kids. As penance, the sibyl - oracle - of the Delphi Oracle - high priestess of the Temple of Apollo - ordered he perform ten labors. Eurystheus, Heracles’ cousin and judge for the ten labors, deemed two of them invalid because they couldn’t be done without help, resulting in the famous Twelve Labors of Heracles. During his second Labor - killing the Hydra of Lerna - Hera sent the giant crab Carcinos to assist the Hydra. Enraged, Heracles killed the crab before killing the Hydra with the help of his nephew, Iolaos.

“Another one of the earliest recognised constellations, Leo was known in Babylonian astronomy as The Great Lion. In Greek, Leo is identified as the Nemean Lion which was killed by Heracles during his Twelve Labors.

“In most stories, Virgo is depicted as a virgin maiden associated with wheat. In Greek and Roman, she is related to Demeter, Roman name Ceres, and Persephone, Roman name Proserpina. The myth of Parthenos tells of how Virgo came to be. In another Greek myth, Virgo is associated with Erigone, the daughter of Icarius. In Egyptian Mythology, her presence is marked as the beginning of the wheat harvest. In Christianity, the birth of Jesus to a virgin mother is symbolically linked to Virgo.

“Libra has almost always been associated with law, fairess, and civility. In Babylonian astronomy, Libra is called ‘scales’ or ‘balance’ or ‘Claws of the Scorpion’. The scales were held sacred to the sun god Shamash, patron of truth and justice. Ancient Greece also recognised Libra as the Scorpion’s Claws. All the ‘claw’ names are because Libra was a part of the Scorpio constellation until the Romans made it its own.

“Orion the Hunter was a giant who proclaimed that he would kill every creature that roamed the earth. Gaea, Earth Herself, didn’t like that, so she sent Scorpio the Scorpion to hunt and kill him. Now, even after killing him, Scorpio hunts Orion; One constellation rises when the other sets, forever locked in chase.

“Sagittarius is known to Greek Mythology as Chiron the centaur. He is most known for mentoring heroes such as Achillies, Jason, Heracles, and Asklepios. He is the wisest of the centaurs, whose higher intelligence forms a bridge between Earth and Heaven.

“Capricorn has been depicted as a fish-goat since the Middle Bronze Age. He was used in Babylon as a symbol for the god Ea.In Greek, he is sometimes seen as Amalthea, the goat who suckled baby Zeus after Rhea saved him from being devoured by his father, Chronos. It is also said that his broken horn was turned into the cornucopia, AKA the horn of plenty. Another Greek rendition says that Capricorn depicts the god Pan while fleeing from Typhon via the river.”

There were a few beats of quiet between the two, the noise of the people around them filling in the space. Danny took a sip of his now too cold drink before putting it down with a frown.

“Wow,” Tucker finally said, “That’s a lot. How do you know so much?”

Danny smiled again. It was small and melancholy. “I’ve loved the stars for longer than I can remember.”

“Can you read them?”

“Can I read what?”

“The stars. Can you read them?”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom said that people used to use the stars to track where they were and where they needed to go. So, can you read them?”

“Yeah,” was the answer. He and Damian had been taught by Mother herself how to navigate via the stars. “I can navigate via stars. It’s not hard once you get the hang of it.”

Quiet settled back over the two as Ticker let himself get lost in thought for a minute. Danny let himself people watch while he waited. What was left of the food had been packed up about an hour ago, leaving simple snack foods and drinks out. There was just under an hour before the year would change over. Maybe they could call Sam for a minute? That might be a nice surprise for her. Or she could be busy and they’d piss off her parents. 

Calling Sam it is!

Just as Danny was turning on his phone, Tucker said, “Do you think we could write a computer code using the stars?”

Huh? “Huh?”

Tucker blushed and hid his face in his scarf. “Well, I’ve always wanted to try coding something that not even the best of the best could get around. And, if we used something like the stars, then it’d take at least a while for someone to crack it because no one would ever guess they’d need a map of the stars to hack something.”

Danny thought for a moment before a grin split his face. “Tucker, that’s genius!” he exclaimed, “I could kiss you!”

Tucker blushed deeper and buried himself more into his scarf, mumbling something that Danny couldn’t hear.

“We don’t have the stuff on us to do anything now,” Danny said, “But we could totally start work on it Thursday. What’d ya say?”

Slowly, Tucker brought himself out of his makeshift turtle shell. “Tomorrow should be good. My place?”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Mom and dad  got this new ‘breakthrough’ a few days ago. They’ve also gotten it into their heads that me and Jazz want to and can be down in the lab. Neither of us really want to go down there, but are you going to tell the crazy scientists ‘no’?”

Grimacing, Tucker shook his head. “No thank you.” A beat. “Should we call Sam?”

“And rub it in her face that we’re having so much more fun than her?” His grin turned feral. “I was thinking the same thing.”

*

“Why do we gotta be the ones to clean up the lab?” Danny complained.

Jazz huffed from where she was putting their parents’ papers into folders. “I don’t know, Danny. Just like I didn’t know ten minutes ago. Or twenty minutes ago. Or thirty minutes ago. I don’t know what goes on in mom and dad’s heads!”

He cringed back, keeping the broom between himself and his sister as if it could stop her from suddenly attacking him. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just,” His gaze wandered over to the empty, still being built, portal. “That thing gives me the creeps.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? A ten foot tunnel with LED lights and glowing walls is giving you the creeps?”

He spluttered. “Well, I-” He groaned in frustration. “You haven’t been inside it. When dad pushed me in, it was a lot darker in there than it looks out here. Like, you’d think that it'd be brighter, seeing as there’s only one place for the light to exit, but it wasn’t. It was like all the light was being absorbed instead of reflected.” His grip on  the broom handle tightened. “And when I tripped, I could swear that I heard a voice.”

“A voice?” Because of course that’s what gets her attention. “Danny, hearing voices isn’t a good thing.”

“It’s not-!” He sighed and began sweeping again. “Just forget it. Let’s get this done so that I can get back to my project.”

She followed his lead. “What’re you working on?”

“Tucker had the idea to use a star chart as a guide to code something. In order to do that, we need a star chart, so I’m making one.”

Jazz smiled as she put the folders into the middle drawer of the desk, each one labeled accordingly. “That’s nice. Are you guys gonna let Sam in on it?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe, maybe not. Probably will. She has to come back for that, though.”

“She’ll be back soon, you big mother hen, stop worrying.”

“Only if you stop reading those parenting books.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Then it seems we’ve reached an impasse.” Danny hung the broom up on the wall of the landing at the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, Care Bear. You’ve got concerning books to read and I’ve got concerning friends to worry about. Besides, the sooner we get outta here the sooner mom and dad can ruin all our hard work.”

Chuckling, Jazz followed her brother back to the main floor of the house. “Why’d they even want us to clean down there?”

“Because they didn’t want to?” He shrugged, “Maybe they’re renovating? Who knows.”

She hummed. “I guess we’ll never know. Want a snack?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Positive?”

“As my blood type.”

“Your blood type is AB-.”

“Exactly.”

“Danny.”

“What?” He was halfway up the stairs now. “Look, I’m fine. No need to nag me, mother hen.”

“Shut it, greedy chick.”

*

Waiting for the next letter was almost as bad as waiting for the letters before it. Was this anxiety ever gonna lessen, or was this a thing he’d be stuck with until he and Damian met face to face? If. If he and Damian ever meet face to face. ‘If’ is…decent.

Though, if they ever did meet up again, in person, where would they do it? Would they meet each other’s family? He didn’t mind the thought of introducing Jazz and Damian, and he figured it would be nice to meet his father, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Damian or his family to meet his parents. That would be an embarrassing disaster waiting to happen and Danny would like no part of that, thank you.

Starting a group call with Tucker and Sam, Danny only had to wait a ring and a half for someone to answer. “I am beyond ready to be back!”

“Hey, Sam. Nice to talk to you, too.” Danny joked.

“Don’t snark me, asshole, I can still kick your ass from two-thousand miles away!”

“Two-thousand twenty-three miles, actually,” Tucker joined the call.

“Yeah, yeah,” she scoffed, “Technicalities and shit. I was only off by twenty-three miles.”

“You would not believe the distance that covers, though.”

“La la la! I’m not listening!”

The three laughed after a moment, their usual dynamic falling easily into place despite the distance. After a few minutes, the line delved into a comfortable quiet, white noise from each side filling the space.

“So,” Tucker said after a moment, “What’d ya call for, Danny?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. ‘S just bored.”

“You could always come get me from Starling City?” Sam offered.

“And pull you from your rich person parties?” Danny feigned distress, “I could never!”

Tucker laughed. “Yeah, and I don’t think he’d be able to cross state lines, especially in a stolen car that you’re not old enough to drive.”

“An extraction plan would be easy,” Danny chimed, “Sneaking across state lines would be a bit more difficult, but not too bad. The real problem is when your parents report you missing and there’s a manhunt launched in Washington to find you.”

“You’re right,” Sam relented, “Though it’d be hilarious to watch the manhunt from the comfort of my own room.”

“You mean one of our rooms?”

“You’re grandma would probably help,” Tucker added on, “She’d probably even fund the thing!” The three laughed again.

“Does this mean you’ll come save me?”

“Nah. If you haven’t died already then you’ll be fine until you get home.”

“What’re you gonna do when I get home?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The two boys said at the same time. Then, Tucker added, “Have you seen the Arrow?”

“The who?”

“The Arrow!” Tucker exclaimed, “He’s like, the coolest hero ever, and he’s based in Starling City!”

“Really?” Danny wondered.

He just knew that Tucker was nodding his head so fast that he wouldn’t be out of place at a heavy metal concert. “Yeah, dude! And he definitely has a tech guy. I, for one, would die- perish, if I got to meet either Arrow or his tech guy.”

“What about other heroes and their tech guys?” Sam asked, humor in her voice. “I’d like to meet Green Lantern or Wonder Woman. They’re both known diplomats; I’d love to pick their brains.”

“What about you, Danny?”

Batman would be the obvious choice. However, “I’d like to meet Martian Manhunter and Superman. Can you imagine how much I could learn about space from actual aliens?” He sighed dreamily. “I could die a happy boy.”

“And risk coming back as a ghost?” Sam snorted, “You’d really disappoint your parents like that?”

Again, Danny shrugged. “I’m a disappointment in life, I’ll be a disappointment in death.” He heard the front door open and shut, his parents’ loud voices carrying into the house. “Sorry to cut this short, guys, but my parents just got home.”

“Speak of the devil,” Tucker said.

“I think I’d rather deal with him.” he sat up, “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Are you still coming over tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see ya then.” He hung up, cutting his friends’ farewells short. Heaving a heavy sigh, Danny stashed his phone in his back pocket and crept into the hall, meeting his sister at the top of the stairs. They didn’t share anything other than a look as they watched their parents haul linoleum floor tiles and metal wall sheets down into the basement lab.

“How does Tasty Burger sound for dinner tonight?” Jazz asked quietly.

“Sounds good.” Danny responded in the same volume.

***

Danyal Fenton     Jan. 4, 2012

You’re insufferable, you know that, yes? Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed to survive any situation, especially not social ones. You need to work on written communications, but you should broaden your horizons and work on all forms of communication, just in case.

Yes, before you get too far, you did answer sufficiently. Must you act like I tortured you for information? Honestly, Danyal.

I understand your want of communication, though I don’t blame you for waiting for so long. I would’ve done the same, had I been in your shoes. Mother, for the most part, has left me and father alone, and our contact with the League is few and far between. Meeting in person, though, would be the best and most secure way of communicating.

I’d hardly call you sending your letter on the last day of the year a victory, but if your life is as mundane as you’ve been portraying it as, then I’ll allow you to relish in whatever you can get. Also, would you mind explaining what ‘/j’ means? I am unfamiliar with it.

The research I mentioned was about twins. There were some interesting studies that I happened across during some research for a project with father, and I read through them on my own time. I’m sure you have the same results as me. Emotional states are not shared between twins, but, more often than not, one twin can tell the emotional state of the other. It was an interesting rabbit hole, as Drake called it, to go down. I recommend looking into it if you’re bored.

However, there are cases of twins being able to tell when the other is in physical distress. We were not allowed to be close as children, though I always thought you were alive because I did not feel you die. I did not understand it then, and I still do not understand it now, but I am glad I was correct.

You’re family, to change the topic, sounds like a handful. Why does Jasmine not have to worry about paying taxes when she’s older? And why do the Drs, Fenton disregard lab safety? Are you in danger? Has their carelessness hurt either you or Jasmine?

I understand that calling another your sibling is weird. Call her however you are comfortable calling her. If she truly cares, she will understand and she will refrain from pushing you to call her something else.

I must say, I’m not sure I like Samantha, based on what you’ve said about her. To be friends with someone just to go against her parents does not sound like a healthy relationship in the slightest. Tucker, as I assume that’s his full name, on the other hand, sounds like he’s a good friend. Does he recuperate the sentiment, though? Are you his ride or die, just as he is yours?

Yes, I have met Superman and Martian Manhunter. No, I will not get you an autograph if I see them again. Green Lantern, at least the four that work with the Justice League, are all Earth Born.

Weapon Smithing does count as a hobby, yes. It’s unfortunate that you’ve been unable to keep it up, though I do encourage you to pick it up again. You were quite proficient when we were younger, and you will only get better.

I would love another dagger. Until then, though, I will keep the one I have on me. When you have created another, I will put the wooden one in the display case. But, only when you have given me another.

Celebrating the Summer and Winter Solstices sounds like a wonderful idea. The Summer Solstice, according to my research, is the celebration of the return of light, life, and fertility. The Winter Solstice is the celebration of rebirth, renewal, and the return of light. So, similar meanings, but celebrated differently. I think I will join you in celebrating, though we won’t be able to do so together properly until we meet in person.

Resorting to name calling, peasant? I thought I taught you better.           Damian Wayne

Part 2 Part 4

[midnightsnyx]

beautiful things p2 | mat barzal

my masterlist & part 1 pairing: mathew barzal x singer!reader summary: the aftermath of the interview. warnings: not edited, a lil angst but mostly fluff! please let me know if i missed anything. word count: 972 author note: i refuse to call twitter X. also there are most definitely inaccuracies but i hope you guys like anyways <3

“Hey, we made it on People Magazine’s Twitter,” Mat says eagerly, and you look up from the journal you’ve been jotting lyric ideas in. He has an endearing and adorable smile on his face as he looks at his phone.

Still, you can’t help but look at him, titling your head slightly “You haven’t been in People Magazine?” 

He laughs but his smile doesn’t waiver. “Not all of us are insanely talented musicians.”

You roll your eyes affectionately and lean over to press your lips firmly against his. The past few months have been nothing but bliss, since you replied to his DM. You were scared to open your heart again after your last relationship but Mat has shown you thus far that if you find the right person, it’s okay to let someone in.

“I don’t know,” you tease, pulling away. “I’ve seen you with a guitar.”

He blushes and tries to hide it by kissing you again. You let him, mainly because you’re enjoying it but also because you don’t want to push. 

You’re floating in pure euphoria right now, enjoying every moment and you don’t want it to end. 

“You’ll come to tonight's game, right?” He asks, brushing a loose piece of hair out of your face and resting a hand on your shoulder. One thing that you’ve learned about Mat is how tactile he is. He always wants to be touching you somehow, whether it’s an arm around your shoulder or holding your hand.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you promise.

. . .

You love coming to Mat’s games, but some of the girls are still iffy about you which is understandable. You’ve only been dating Mat for five months and you are also in the media which brings a lot of attention. Sometimes unwanted attention. 

You also love your fans but they have a love/hate relationship with your relationship with Mat. Also taking into account his fans, and sometimes it’s too much. Like tonight. 

Everything starts great, there’s not much trouble getting to the stadium, but there are always fans waiting to hopefully get to see a hockey player or get a picture before the game. Someone sees you and then you’re back on Twitter and not the good side of Twitter.

You manage to get to your VIP suite pretty easily, Iris and some of your other friends with you. 

“I’d say I told you so, but you’d probably fire me,” Iris says dreamily, staring at the jumbotron that is showing a live feed of you. You’re not sure if it’s something you’ll ever get used to. You imagine this is what Taylor Swift feels like when she goes to Travis Kelce’s games.

“You just did,” you reply dryly but there’s no malice to your tone. You know exactly how Iris is and you love her for it.

Your eyes go back to the jumbotron, looking to see if they show Mat. You think you can see him on the ice from your current view, but you’re never sure unless he looks up and waves. 

“I’m glad I did, though,” you say and she looks at you for clarification. 

“Message him back. You were right.” 

She doesn’t say I told you so, or say any funny comeback. She just smiles and nods towards where the game has started. 

It’s a tight game and you’re on the edge of your seat for most of it but the Islanders win in overtime with a victory of 2–1, with Mat scoring the overtime goal. You watch the team celebrate on the ice before they head back to the locker room and you pull your phone out, shooting a quick text to Mat letting him know you’ll meet him at his place. With your security and his postgame interviews, it’s usually best to just meet at either of your houses.

You’re sitting with a glass of wine, watching the highlights from other games when Mat gets home. You can hear him drop his bag by the door and toss his keys on the counter before making his way to the living room where you are waiting. Max, your golden retriever is sitting by your feet but his tail starts wagging when he sees Mat. 

“Hey pal,” Mat mutters, bending down to greet the pup before plopping down on the couch next to you. He sighs, staring at the ceiling like he’s thinking hard about something.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, putting your glass on the table and turning towards him. He turns his head towards you and opens and closes his mouth a few times. You’re starting to get nervous when he speaks.

“Move in with me,” he whispers and you freeze.

“Mat-”

“Look, I know it’s only been five months but we spend all our time together anyway. We’re just bouncing between houses.” He reaches out and takes one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “Let’s make it one house.”

The thought of moving in together absolutely terrifies you, but when you think about it, he’s right. If he’s not away for games or you’re not doing shows, you’re together and when you think about the future, Mat is standing next to you.

“Okay,” you say and his eyes widen. 

“Really? I thought I was going to have to get on my knees and beg,” he says and you’re not sure if he’s kidding or not.

So you shrug. “You make valid points. Plus, I think Max would like not to be shuffled around so much.”

He grins and leans in to kiss you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you murmur when you pull away and then Max jumps up on the two of you as if he knows a decision has been made and Mat almost falls off the couch but you have never been happier.

tag list: @ilyrafe

[jolalibrary]

iii - just say that you need me

javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

You should say yes more. 

to you or to my pop 

To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me. 

you sure about that 

I’d bet my next paycheck on it. 

for you I’ll say yes to him once

Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was

shit. going with the hard hitting questions today

Just getting you to share, open up

probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live

They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.

baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop

I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question

she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar

Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.

yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either

So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it. 

you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you 

Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will. 

thanks, what’s yours?

Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.  

he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up 

You haven’t seen me, remember 

statement still stands 

Stop being so charming.

you still eating

No.

then I can flirt

Most of the time, he ignores the mail. 

Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.

The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.

This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream. 

Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from. 

His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again. 

“Fuck.” 

Folding it, he swallows. 

Shit.

Motherfucker.

He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.

But it's there.

The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you. 

It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it. 

But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone. 

There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.

so apparently talking to you is costly  Oh, you've had your bill. I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it? 

It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips. 

He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.

This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.

Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.  

yes just didn’t expect it  I had my phone bill the other day. I get it.  did your heart fall out your ass No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month.  We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much.  would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you  You’re such a flirt. 

He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined 

Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie.  I remember don’t worry 

He remembers as soon as you remind him.

Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted. 

In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been. 

Nice things do usually come with a tag. 

you decided on sweet or salty  Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword?  if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day  You sure? more than sure have a great time 

“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”

He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t. 

A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised. 

 “Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?” 

Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”

“I’ll meet you at the truck?” 

And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads. 

When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks. 

It’s performative. 

The old version of him coming out from a hidden place. 

Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too. 

It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.

For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway. 

After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.

He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.

Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it. 

That is until his phone vibrated. 

Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird. 

His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.

Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:

not weird, you drunk I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it. good cause i miss you too

you never said how the movie was

As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.

that bad

Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly. 

I’m sure they won’t mind 

Depends on the length of my nails I guess. 

some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations

You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi? 

if the situation is right, yes 

What about in your hair?

now who’s being a tease 

I’m learning so much tonight. 

and your putting images in my head 

I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.

beautiful, you look beautiful 

My face is burning. 

your day been ok

Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough. 

you want to talk about it

Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.

you do have two to make up to me

Best get giving me the clues then, Javi. 

four letters, begins with f 

Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword 

baby, cmon 

Fuck?

fork 

someone’s in a dirty mood

You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue. 

There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.

Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say. 

Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.

An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).

The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.

Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before. 

That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies. 

morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee

He doesn’t expect to hear from you.

Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.

But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.

Even a little disappointed.

finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn

You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.

His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.

I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok

A part of him had worried this would happen.

That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.

He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.

And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.

Copious amounts, in fact.

Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.

hermosa I’m really getting worried now

He doesn’t want to call.

Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.

His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.

His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.

Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—

Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone.  shit hermosa, you scared me.  almost called you.  Really? yeah  Would you? what call you Yeah?

[Dialing number…]

you declined  I did

His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets. 

Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us. 

Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.

Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate. 

Staring, willing the phone to ring.

Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—

And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing. 

His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook. 

“Javi… that you?”

Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.” 

Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead. 

Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.” 

“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”

“And a few more.”

He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?” 

He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.

“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“

You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”

Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”

“Better, honestly.”

“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.” 

“From when you were in Colombia?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…” 

“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.” 

“That so? Who’s flirting now.”

You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.

Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”

“Oh my god, Javi.”

He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.

"I'm wearing nothing."

"Hermosa, you tease."

You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.

"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."

"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."

You snort, "Javi, stop."

He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.

Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."

an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you

[jrow]

May Prompts (16)

Day 15 here. Day 17 here.

Experiment

“It’ll be an experiment!”

He grimaces. Linda’s over-the-top cheeriness hardly breeds confidence, but she is his favourite nurse so he’ll give her a bit of leeway.

His recovery is going decently well, but his amnesia around the evening of the fall persists. It’s hardly surprising or worrying—these things take time his doctors keep saying, and it’s only been a couple days. But, his inability to remember what happened is eating away at him. He knows Sherlock isn’t sharing the full story.

He had mentioned his frustration to Linda and her eyes had lit up. She claimed to have had some success with helping patients with memory through guided visualization and said she would be happy to help John.

It’s funny that her calling it an experiment is what got John to finally agree. It reminded him of the type of argument Sherlock would make (although he would be far less peppy).

Linda lowers the lights before asking John to close his eyes and focus on his last memory from before waking up in hospital.

“I said goodbye to the staff at the nursery and Rosie and I started towards the tube.”

“Good, good. Tell me about what you remember about that moment.”

“The street was busy.”

“With who?”

“Oh loads of people. Looks like people going home from work.”

“Good, good. What’s the weather like?”

“Fine.”

“You can do better than that, John.”

A sigh. “It’s chilly, of course, but no wind. There hasn’t been a cloud in the sky all day. It’s nice…good weather. I hoped it would stay like that.”

“Why did you want it to stay like that?”

“Why wouldn’t …” A pause. “I’m nervous about rain.”

“Why, John?”

His heart starts racing. “If it rains, or god forbid snows, it’ll take longer to get to Baker Street. I don’t want to be late.”

“Late for what?”

“Meeting Sherlock for his birthday.” He tries to push ahead in the day, tries to remember meeting Sherlock, but he can’t. He hates it.

“Stay there, John. I can see you’re getting frustrated but it’ll come. You’re doing great. Just focus on getting to the tube.”

“I need to wrap his present before I go,” he blurts out without thinking. “Oh god.” He opens his eyes. “Sherlock’s birthday gift.”

“Are you okay?” Linda asks, gently, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder.

“Yeah, I just …” John says before trailing off. “I just remembered something,” he adds after a pause.

Before collecting Rosie he hadn’t been sure he’d have the balls to give Sherlock the gift, but in that moment he had decided. And once John Watson was sure of something … well nothing could have stopped him.

Nothing except a fall off a roof possibly. Possibly?

But, Sherlock said they met at the flat before heading out for cake. Which means John must have brought the gift. Which means …

There’s no way Sherlock opened it before John fell because they didn’t have cake. Gifts after cake, that’s the rule. So, either Sherlock opened it sometime in the last couple days and or it’s sitting unopened in the flat.

Either way Sherlock hasn’t mentioned it. That can’t be good, right?

“Why don’t you rest,” Linda says, interrupting his thoughts, knitting her brow.

“No, no, let’s keep going!” he says, closing his eyes tight. He needs to remember!

Linda chuckles. “Not now. Sadly, I do have other patients. And you should rest. I promise rest will make it easier.”

He huffs, but doesn’t argue. He opens his eyes and Linda gives him a smile before opening the door.

The constable who’s standing guard outside the room—he’s there on Greg’s orders officially, although everyone knows Mycroft is pulling the strings—pops his head in. “How are you doing, Mr. Watson?”

“Fine.”

Linda tsks. “Better than fine, I’d say. He is starting remember a bit. Not the events before the fall, but it’ come.”

“Oh?” Says the constable, eyes darting around the room. The man is visibly surprised and wonders what Greg has been telling the Yard about his injuries.

Linda smiles wide. “Only a matter of time.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty

[freedomfireflies]

iFall For Harry

Part Two to this request!

Summary: Turns out, the stranger in your phone is kind of funny...

...and kind of sexy, too.

Oh, my god. 

Harry, did you hear the news?

It takes exactly three and a half minutes for those familiar little bubbles to pop up.

Well hello to you, too. 

No, what happened?

You struggle to contain a rather giddy grin as you begin to type, A cheese factory exploded in France!

Wait, really? Shit, what happened?

I don’t know. But all that was left was…de brie.

Exactly sixty seconds pass before he begins to type.

Fuck.

I think I just snorted. 

That was…goddammit that was good.

You don’t even know what he looks like, but you chuckle at the idea of him laughing so hard he can’t help but snort.

Thank you, thank you. 

Took me two weeks to come up with that.

I’m impressed. 

Little offended, too.

Oh? Your heart sinks.

Yeah. 

Kept me on the edge of my seat for two fucking weeks wondering if I’d hear from you again.

Shit. 

You smirk to yourself as you flop down onto your sofa and think through a response.

Hey, it takes two to tango, pal. You could have texted me, too.

The bubbles make your heart pound.

Alright, that’s fair. 

In my defense, I didn’t have any more cheese puns.

Oh, is that all this is, then? 

You just use me for dad jokes?

Psh, nooooooo…

Then, another text.

Although, the jokes do make my days…cheddar.

 You laugh a little louder, suddenly very aware of the flush in your face over some stranger in your phone. 

No, wait. How do I erase a text?

I hated that. 

Seriously, how do I make it go away? 

My failure is staring me in the face, and I hate it.

You giggle under your breath.

Easy, Grandpa. 

Relax, just press down until the options pop up.

The conversation goes quiet for a brief moment before you watch his previous text vanish from the screen with a dramatic, poof!

Then, he begins typing again.

Hold on… 

Did you just call me Grandpa?

…psh, noooooooo

Oh, so that’s how it is?

That’s how it is.

Wow, and we had such a nice thing going, too.

To be fair, you never told me your age, and you don’t even know how to delete a text. 

What am I supposed to think?

First of all: rude. 

Respect your elders.

Second of all: this deleting shit is NEW, okay, and I just updated my phone, like…a week ago, so I never learned. 

Uh-huh. 

No, yeah, whatever you say, Grandps.

He responds with the emoji that’s rolling its eyes.

You smirk.

For your information, I’m 29.

Okay, which is a cool, hip, fun, and very fresh age.

Yes, I believe that’s the slogan for the retirement home, too. 

“We’re cool, we’re slick, and we might break a hip.”

There’s a longer pause between your text and his response. You hope it’s because he’s laughing. It’s not your best work, but you think it’s funny.

And then, you get the notification.

Dammit, that place sounds so much cooler than the retirement home I’m in now. 

Send me the address? I’ll wheel myself over.

You got it, Old Man. Will you need any help crossing the street?

How thoughtful of you. Yeah, that’d be great, and then you can finally earn your Girl Scout badge.

Oh, my God. How did you know it was the last one I needed?

Cause I’m old. And therefore wise.

Oh, right, right. No, that checks out.

Yeah. 

You lean back, forcing your eyes away from your phone to finally get a moment of reprieve from the excessive smiling. Why is this so fun?

I guess 29 isn’t so bad. Just…three years older than me.

Ah, another piece to the Cheese Girl puzzle. 

You’re 26.

Indeed.

26 was fun. 

I liked 26.

Yeah, it’s not too bad so far.

Just wait until your bones start to creak whenever you get out of bed.

I’ll keep a can of oil on my nightstand.

You grimace to yourself. Your worst joke to date, and you just hope you haven’t blown it.

Probably smart. 

My preferred method is lube, but…

Whatever works.

Your eyes widen.

Oh?

Yeah.

 My bones might creak but at least I can still fuck.

Well…shit.

You readjust your position on the sofa, desperately working to find a cool and relaxed and equally mysterious reply.

…so, no pressure.

Just be careful with all that lube. 

Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall.

Hope you’ve got Life Alert on speed dial.

Oh, I absolutely do. They love me over there.

You smirk to yourself, fighting yet another laugh. 

Yeah? Thank God.

Boy, I bet you’re a real stud with the ladies, huh?

Damn fucking right. 

This grandpa has moves.

I bet. Yeah, women love a man that squeaks when he thrusts.

They do, actually. I happen to squeak quite sensually.

Is that right?

It is.

Damn.

Might need to hear that for myself someday.

It was bold. Perhaps a little daring, and you don’t give yourself a chance to overthink it before turning your phone off and tossing it onto the other side of the sofa.

You give it five minutes before checking to see if he’s replied.

Thankfully, you have two notifications, delivered 3 minutes ago.

Yeah?

So what’s stopping you?

What is stopping you?

Probably a number of things, but instead of pointing out that he’s a complete stranger and could very well be a catfish (or even worse…that he might not even find you attractive) you decide to go with another joke.

All these Girl Scout cookies I gotta sell :/

Shit.

Yeah.

What if I bought a hundred boxes?

Then you’d have to hand deliver them to my door, right?

Your eyes roll playfully as you sigh.

That IS the Girl Scout policy, yes.

We pride ourselves on good service.

Fantastic, then I’ll take 100 boxes in the flavor of you.

Your lashes flutter as you reread the text, over, and over, and over. But before you can spiral…he’s sending another.

…shit, that was meant to be smooth.

Get it, cause…like, you know, get a taste of YOU. Like…if you were a cookie. 

Cause…I wanna taste you…

Explaining it makes it worse, doesn’t it?

 It should make it worse, but for some reason…he’s funny? And charming? And making your thighs squeeze together—

I think that can be arranged, yeah.

I’ll package them up nice and pretty, just for you.

Equally as cheesy, but apparently…cheese is where you both shine.

You hope he’s at least somewhat amused, and when he finally responds, your stomach flips.

This conversation is bad for my health.

Yeah?

Why’s that?

Because I’m in a meeting and I’m about to have a heart attack.

…why are you about to have a heart attack?

Oh, right. I forgot that happens at your old age.

Ha.

Funny.

Good thing you have Life Alert on speed dial.

Yeah, I don’t think Life Alert is gonna be able to help.

No? Why not?

Cause only one thing can save me now.

Cookies.

Your cookies.

To be exact.

See? Cheesy.

Wow, I was almost turned on and then…

Nope, there it goes.

Oh, is that what we’re doing? We’re trying to turn each other on?

Well, why didn’t you SAY so?

Hold on, I’ve got a few good ones.

Oh god.

Alright, here we go.

So…

What are you wearing?

…really? That’s all you’ve got?

Work with me please.

My gosh.

Clothes.

I have clothes on.

Yeah?

That’s a shame.

Two minutes go by without him adding anything else, and you can’t help but laugh when you realize that’s all he’s got.

Wowwwwww…

No, that was so good. I’m…holy shit, you just took my breath away. I’m so turned on right now.

I mean, my panties just FLEW across the room!

You’re THAT good!

Okay, very funny. 

I wasn’t done.

No, really. You gotta warn a girl before you just completely rock her world like that.

Honestly, I feel a little faint.

Where did you learn such a masterful technique? Really, you should teach a class on sexting, cause that was just…phew.

Listen, I was just trying to take it easy on you.

You know, ease you into my seduction before I gave it to you good and hard.

The last bit of his sentence has you stumbling over a gasp, but you simply clear your throat and work to find a response.

You have two options:

Either you tease him a bit more…

…or you ramp up the tension.

Well, by all means, Harry…

Give it to me good.

And hard.

He doesn’t respond for quite some time to this. And while you’d like to tell yourself that it’s because he’s just so turned on by your response…

…it’s more likely that you definitely fucked up and he wants nothing more to do with you.

But then…your phone dings.

Is that what you want then, hm?

Want it rough?

Shit, shit, shit.

Yeah.

If you think you can keep up.

Trust me, sweetheart, that won’t be a problem.

If you want it rough, I’m more than happy to oblige.

Is that why you texted me today?

Needed my help?

Truth be told, you don’t know why you texted him today, but you certainly aren’t upset with how things are going.

Me? Needing YOUR help?

Cute, but I think my fingers and I can manage just fine.

His response comes so fast, your head spins:

…fuck.

You smile.

Shit, okay now this conversation is REALLY bad for my health.

I might keel over right here in this meeting.

My death is on your hands, Cheese Girl.

Worth it.

You watch the bubbles float onto your screen for a good thirty seconds before they disappear.

Then, they appear again…just to dissipate before you can get your hopes up.

Finally—finally…a text.

Okay, listen, you don’t know me.

And I don’t know you.

I get that.

I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger.

But…

And hear me out…

What would you say to a phone call?

Your pulse stutters as you stare at his proposition, but he’s already sending his next text before you can decide if you’re really that stupid or not.

I know that’s asking a lot, but…

If you promise that you aren’t a 90-year-old man, and I promise I’m not some kid playing video games in his mom’s basement…

We could at least…have a real conversation.

And make sure that we really are who we say we are, you know?

And I could be assured that I didn’t just get a fucking boner in the middle of a busy boardroom cause of some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.

You hesitate.

Despite yourself, you are intrigued by the idea.

Worst-case scenario if he is some loser…you can just hang up and block his number.

And if he’s not…and he’s half as hot as you’re starting to hope he is…

You swallow.

Thickly.

I am not some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.

I’m just a regular creep that makes cheese jokes.

Promise.

And…yeah. 

I would be okay with a phone call.

As long as you do in fact promise I won’t regret it and that it won’t result in nightmares that haunt me for the rest of my life.

Ah, well…

Can’t say much for the regret…

But I do promise that I will try very hard not to give you nightmares.

God, are you really doing this?

Are you really doing this?

Alright, then…

Oh, so you’re doing it. You’re really that dumb. You really just let a complete stranger convince you to call him, even though he could be a serial killer, or a psycho, or—

Your phone rings.

You see his name pop up in large print as the cellphone just about flies out of your hand.

Scrambling to keep it steady, you lurch forward and collect a deep breath.

You can do this.

You can do this.

You’ll give him thirty seconds. And if he seems creepy…you’ll hang up, and you’ll move on.

And you’ll never get random boys in bars numbers again.

You press your thumb into the button on your screen and slide it to the right.

Here goes nothing.

“…hello?”

~ iFall for Harry pt. 3 (the third part to this!)

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ More Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tag List:

@tinyhrry @supersanelyromantic @lomlhstyles