#but then just to double down i read back through my old stuff and just see all the flaws in it

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off. 

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema. 

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later. 

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.  

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, a Spanish man, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

-

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock. 

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year. 

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality. 

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?" 

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

-

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

-

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej

#saintescuderia #f1 #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #ferrari formula one #mclaren formula 1 #ferrari formula 1 #formula 1 #formula one #formula 2 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #oscar piastri #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #red bull racing #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #lh44 #mercedes amg petronas #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction

[stylesharrys]

a house isn't a home without you [dadrry]

summary: they’re both still in love and a traumatic experience is what brings them back together.

word count: 3,473

warnings: mentions and themes of stillbirth/miscarriage, please do not read if those things are triggering to you <3

a/n: hey angels, this is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom, all edited and made into a harry fic for you guys :) this also is a bit of a touchy and sensitive fic, so please read the warnings above and i completely understand if it’s not something you can read – take care of yourselves!!

//

Harry pulls up in his driveway—his old driveway. Gracie blabbers to herself in the backseat, chubby hands clapping together as she gurgles a little laugh. Harry watches her through the rearview mirror with a smile before turning to Leo, who sits in the passenger's seat.

Gracie is the spitting image of Y/N—no questions asked. The only thing she got from Harry was his curls. Leo? Harry’s double. He has Y/N’s eyes, sure, but he is his father's son.

“Alright, let's go see Mum!” Harry exclaims in the most excited tone he can, but it pains him so fucking much to know he’ll have to face her again. He thought it’d get easier over time, but it never does.

“Mumma,” Gracie squeaks from the backseat and Harry smiles at her sweetly. “Yeah, baby. Go see Mumma.” Gracie kicks her little legs and claps her hands. Though she is a complete Daddy’s girl, she’s a sucker for her Mum.

“Are you still coming to my game on Wednesday?” Leo asks his Dad, the seven-year-old eager to show Harry how much he’s been practising for the baseball game this week.

Harry nods and ruffles the boy's hair. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, bud. Now, get your stuff while I get Gracie out of the car.” He kills the engine and unlocks the door, getting Gracie out of her seat and holding her on his hip.

She giggles and peppers sloppy kisses to Harry’s cheek, little fingers playing with his dark curls and he helps his son get their overnight bags out of the trunk.

Leo races for the front door and bolts through it, making his presence known. Harry shortly follows, taking deep breaths. It’s been seven months and it’s still so fucking hard. It shouldn’t be this hard.

“Hi, baby!” Y/N calls out, racing for her little boy and scooping him up in her arms. Leo wraps his arms around his mothers neck before she lowers him back to the ground and ruffles his brown locks.

“Hope you’ve been good for Dad.” She sas, hesitantly looking at Harry who still looks just as nervous as she does.

Gracie kicks up a fuss at the lack of attention she’s receiving from Y/N, and she takes her from Harry’s arms, cuddling her into her chest and she coos.

Harry swallows back his nerves or whatever the fuck it is that’s threatening to spew out of him. “She was walking around with her little walker and tripped. She bruised her knee a little but she’s okay,” Harry tells her.

You hum and kiss the eleven-month-olds head, setting her down on the floor and she rushes off, crawling for her toys that she didn’t take with her to Harry’s.

“Leo’s got that game on Wednesday at the school,” Y/N reminds him, but Harry waves his hand with a little smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, don’t worry.” He assures her and she nods her head, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Harry drinks her in for a moment. Y/N’s only wearing a burgundy sweater and black jeans but God, does she look good. Harry struggles to not compliment her, to not kiss her or hug her. And it’s so fucking hard.

So, instead, he asks something that will hurt him even more. “So how was your date?”

Y/N freezes, spluttering that she doesn’t know what he’s talking about but Harry laughs. “Leo told me. Said he heard you on the phone.” He explains.

She nods and takes a deep breath. “Uh, it was okay.” She shrugs, leading him to the kitchen where she grabs two bottles of water from the fridge.

Harry sits at the island opposite Y/N as she leans against the counter. “Just okay?” He raises his brow. Y/N sighs and shakes her head, staring at her feet.

“Harry, we don’t have to do this.” She sighs, trying to divert the conversation to something else, but Harry isn’t having it.

“Yes, we do. We were friends before we got together. Friends before we had kids. Friends before we got engaged. We were always friends first. I’m not losing that, too.”

Y/N stays quiet, tears pooling in her eyes and she shakes her head. “This is hard for me, too.” She whispers, to which Harry scoffs and shakes his head.

“Is it? ‘Cause you seem to be handling it just fine! Going out on these dates and moving on, while I’m stuck tryna figure out where the fuck we went wrong.”

“Harry, stop.”

“No, Y/N.”

“Harry!” Y/N raises her voice, eyeing the two young children behind him and he turns, heart sinking when he sees the horror on his baby's faces.

“Leo, why don’t you take your sister in the garden while I talk to Dad,” Y/N sighs, nodding to the backdoor, and slowly, he guides his sister outside and they sit on the grass, playing peekaboo.

It’s silent between them both and her heart is breaking. “I’m sorry.” Harry rasps, keeping his distance and she turns to look at him.

“You know where it all went wrong, Harry. And I’m trying so hard to get over what happened, to get over you.” Y/N whimpers, tears staining her cheeks and all Harry can do is stare at her stomach. The same stomach that carried Leo, the stomach that carried Gracie and Skyla.

“I miss her, too, you know.” He argues, defensive walls back up again and Y/N turns to him with a shaking chest.

“I never said you didn’t.” She cries, wiping the tears from under her eyes and Harry just wants to hold her, just wants to take it all back and be with her.

“I uh, I better get going,” he whispers, offering a soft smile and Y/N nods, keeping her eyes locked on the floor she’s standing on.

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets, wandering out to the garden and calling for one more hug from his babies.

Y/N watches as they both pounce on him, attacking him with kisses and cuddles and his sweet laughter can be heard from where she’s standing.

He walks away and blows a kiss goodbye to his little girl, Leo too busy playing with the football, but Gracie looks like she’s about to burst into tears. She always hated saying goodbye to her Dad, even though she’d still see him the next day.

//

It’s 7 pm and Harry’s sitting on the couch in his new condo, eyes trailing over the lyrical mess in front of him but nothing’s really working. He’s already had to extend the album release by five months.

He’s been shit out of luck with work recently, and his team are constantly asking him when he’ll be ready to start something new. He tries, of course, he does. He doesn’t want to be in this state of limbo for too long, scared he’ll lose himself in it and the thought of that is fucking terrifying.

Ben sits next to him, laid back on the couch and scrolling through his phone with a beer in his hand, randomly showing Harry stupid memes on Instagram.

Harry’s about to start a live stream when Y/N’s face pops up on his screen and she’s calling him. He knows he should’ve changed her contact photo by now, that it shouldn’t be her massive grin as she holds up her hand and points to what once was her engagement ring.

Y/N’s contact picture shouldn’t be the memory he has of her when she said she’d marry him. He clears his throat and accepts the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Harry, I’m so sorry but you need to come and get the kids.” Harry stands from the couch in worry, brows furrowed as he searches for his car keys.

“Okay, is everything okay? What’s going on?” Ben stares at him in worry, eyes wide.

“You just really need to come and get them, please.”

And the line went dead. Harry panics, completely frantic as he races out of his apartment. He shoots past the elevator, knowing he’ll be quicker if he jumps down the stairs.

He tries to stay calm when he drives, Ben trying to ask what’s going on but all Harry can do is tell him what he knows. That he needs to get the kids right now.

He manages to get to Y/N’s house in record time, jumping out of the car and Gracie and Leo are on the front porch, the door half open and Harry rushes toward them.

“What’s going on?” He asks his son, can see the horror on his face and then he hears Y/N shouting at someone and a shattering of glass.

“I woke up to Mummy yelling at someone to get out and I don’t know what’s happening.” Leo hiccups.

Ben wanders over to the kids, scooping Gracie up which she doesn’t mind one bit, she always did like Ben. He takes them to the car, Harry telling him to watch them and to call the police.

He pushes through the half-open door and follows the sound of Y/N’s voice. She’s yelling, red in the face, and a blond man stands opposite her, angry and not giving a shit that he’s ruining her night and home.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing.” Harry squares up to him, shoving him into the wall and the blond grunts, struggling to shove Harry back.

Harry’s bigger than he is, a bit leaner and a lot stronger. “Oh, so he’s the dude that’s stopping me from getting into your pants.”

With that, Harry throws a fist into his face, his head bouncing back onto the wall and Harry pulls away from him, scurrying over to Y/N and taking her hands in his.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Harry panics, noticing the bruises that are already beginning to form all up her arms.

There’s glass all over the floor, a kitchen stool thrown across the room and Gracie’s toys have been poured out from the boxes and launched across the room.

Y/N panics, tugging on his shirt when she notices James and his sickening grin. Harry turns around, arms out to block Y/N from his sight and all she wants is to hold her babies and tell them that it’s okay.

“Get out James. Just fuck off. I told you, I’m not fucking interested!” She cries out from behind Harry, now standing beside him but behind his arm.

James laughs and takes a step forward. Harry’s trying to push Y/N behind him but she won’t have any of it.

“You scared my kids. My fucking kids! Now get the fuck out of my house before I fucking kill you.” She threatens him, her maternal instincts clouding everything else.

James looks past Y/N and to Harry, skin paling at the hard look he holds. He knows Harry’s about to break his nose if he doesn’t leave, so he scoffs at them both and walks toward the front door.

“No wonder he fucking left you. You’re a worthless piece of shit.” He spits, but Harry is quick to wipe the smirk off his face by delivering another blow to his nose.

Y/N lets out a shriek of shock, flinching at the crunch of Harry’s fist connecting with James’ face, a sickening sound she wants to get out of her head.

“Say something about her one more time and see what fucking happens.” Harry spits back, sick to his sHarryach that someone can say something like that to someone so fucking wonderful.

Just as James is about to run off, a police car skids its way outside the house and stops. Three police officers come bursting out, Harry shouting that James is the guy they called about. It’s mere moments for the officers to take a look around and see what’s happening, and a split second later, they’re putting the cuffs on James.

Harry’s attention is pulled away from the scene at the sound of Y/N’s exhausted sobs, his heart breaking as she collapses into his chest the second he puts his arms around her.

“You’re okay, honey. You’re okay.” Harry whispers, cooing her the best he can but she pulsl away in panic.

“The kids! Where are the-“

“In the car with Ben. They’re okay, I promise.” Harry reassures her, stroking the hair from her face and kissing her forehead.

They both watch as James is being escorted from the house, his head down like he wouldn’t dare breathe another word to either of them.

“Ma’am we’re going to need a statement before we can do anything else.”

Y/N nods, breaking away from Harry. She explains that James showed up at her door and asked if he could talk. Explained how he made a move and tried to pin her to the wall, got angry and smashed up her daughter's toys.

“Were the kids at home when this happened?” The officer asks, a solemn expression on her face and Y/N nods, sniffling into the sleeve of her jumper.

“Yeah, I called Harry straight away to come and get the kids when I realised he wasn’t going to leave.” Y/N confirms, and somehow through the midst of her explanation, her hand had reached for Harry’s and their fingers became intertwined.

“And where are the children now?”

Harry steps in, “Ben, their uncle… he came with me, he’s got them in the car outside.”

It’s another twenty minutes before they take James away in the squad car and leave the premises. Y/N is left with a trashed kitchen, swollen eyes and an aching heart. She can’t bear to look at the mess for much longer.

“You’re not staying here. Pack a bag, you and the kids can stay at the condo with me tonight.” Harry tells Y/N and for once, she doesn't argue.

He follows her upstairs, breathing hitching when he sees the bedroom, the bedroom he hasn’t seen for seven months. The bedroom he made love to her in, the bedroom he’d wake up in every morning.

And nothing’s changed. She still keeps the picture of them both at her sister's wedding on her nightstand. She still keeps the furniture the same. And when they go into her closet to pull out some clothes, Harry still sees one of his shirts tucked into the back, a shirt he knows she loved to wear to bed.

Y/N throws a pair of clothes and underwear into the bag, along with a phone charger and some makeup. Harry watches her from the doorframe he leans on, scared to walk into the room after the fight they both had the last time he was in there.

But then she freezes and breaks into sobs and Harry doesn’t care anymore. He pushes himself forward and holds her close to his chest as she apologises profusely, to which he tells her to stop because none of this is her fault.

He grabs Y/N’s bag and leads her downstairs, helping her to lock the doors and leading her out onto the drive. She can see that the kids are asleep in the backseat, Ben sitting between them with their little heads resting on his shoulders.

She opens the door to the passenger's side and climbs in, turning around to look at her babies and old friend.

“Hi, Benny,” she whispers, a small smile on her lips and he smiles softly back at her, understanding that she’s been through hell tonight.

“Thank you,” she whispers once again, and he shakes his head, tells her there’s nothing to thank him for and that he’ll do anything for his niece and nephew.

When Harry gets in the car, he drives off right away, not wanting to look at that house for another second. Ben watches as Harry changes the gear stick and Y/N takes her chance to rest her hand on his.

It’s like the stars are aligning when their fingers intertwine for a second time and she gives him a little squeeze. Ben bites back his little smile and takes a deep breath, know’s he doesn’t have to worry for Harry anymore, that everything is going to work itself out.

Harry drops Ben off first, bids him a good night, thanks him, and tells him he’ll text him in the morning. After that, it's just his family in the car... family.

By the time Harry pulls up at the condo, it’s almost 10pm and Y/N just wants to sleep, but she knows that won't be coming anytime soon. She follows Harry up the stairs and to his apartment, Gracie sleeping in her arms and Leo in Harry’s.

His condo is nice, homely, actually. Gracies toys are sprawled out everywhere and she even has her own highchair. Y/N follows him down to their bedrooms, in complete awe of how Harry has them decorated. He made a home for himself and the kids in just seven months. A home she’s not a part of.

Y/N kisses the children goodnight and follows Harry into his kitchen. No words are spoken as she takes a seat at the kitchen island and he puts the kettle on, pottering around and making her a peanut butter sandwich. Funny how he still remembers her comfort food.

“I’m so sorry,” she croaks out, disgusted with herself that she let something like this happen. Harry shakes his head and grabs her hands, kissing her cold knuckles.

“You have nothing to apologise for. Just tell me what happened, darling.”

And she does. She tells him that she’s not ready to move on because she’s still so fucking in love with him. She tells him that she cries herself to sleep every night and that nothing smells like him anymore and it hurts.

It hurts to have lost her child, and it hurts to have lost him. All Harry can do is listen and cry with her, just hold her and make her feel safe.

“It was meant to be us five, but we lost her and then I lost you.” Y/N sobs, heart shattering at the thought of their daughter—the daughter they never got to meet. The sister Leo never got to protect. The twin Gracie never got to grow with. The daughter Y/N and Harry never got to fucking hear the cries of.

“I miss her so fucking much.” Harry sobs, clutching onto Y/N like she’s his lifeline, and she is, her and the kids. Y/N holds him like he holds her and for once, she feels okay. Not a lot, but a little.

“And you have the house and the kids all the time, but I feel so alone,” Harry admits and he knows he shouldn't hold it against Y/N, and he doesn't, but she has Gracie and Leo every day and he just feels so lonely.

“A house isn’t a home without you, Harry.” She whimpers, forehead resting against his and he tucks a strand of hair out of her face. “I miss you, Y/N. I miss everything.” Harry sniffles, holding her close.

“Come home. Please, come home.”

He stares at her for a moment, praying to God that this isn’t a dream, and when she presses her lips against his, he knows it’s not. It’s been seven months since he tasted those lips, but God does he remember how sweet they are.

He kisses her back, hands holding the sides of her face and she swears she never wants to forget how good it feels to be in his arms again, to be where she belongs.

“I love you,” she mumbles against his lips, gently tugging on his curls and Harry can’t help but laugh the most joyous laugh ever. “I love you, too, baby. So fucking much.” He whimpers.

Y/N rests her forehead on his and takes a shaky breath. “Then come home. Come home to us.” She pleads, and she knows it’s the right thing to do, she knows it’s written in the stars, her and him.

When they lost Skyla, their whole lives changed, and Harry couldn’t take it. They grew distant with each other until they were just strangers with children, and he left. It didn’t matter that they loved each other beyond words, they were both foolish and hurt.

And now, here she is, realising her mistake and begging for the love of her life to come back home to her, to be a family with her and Gracie and Leo. And no one needs to ask Harry twice. So, he nods his head and smiles wide.

“Okay.”

//

thank u so much for reading! feedback is very much appreciated and if you have anything pieces you'd like for me to write or any ideas, let me know!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

[dollsbakery]

hello, hope ur doin well

i saw some of ya stuff and liked it, and wanted to request a bakugo x reader w like a size kink ig

(idk specifics mb)

thank you

‘ Sweetheart ’ - Dilf!Bakugou x Reader

TW: NOT PROOF READ, Size Kink, Age Difference, Dilf!Bakugou, Manipulation, Exploiting, Slight Noncon, Creampie, Pinning, Penetration, Overstimulation, Cheating, Slight Daddy Kink, Degradation, Manhandling, Praise, Pet Names, Stomach Bulge

“No! I don’t know why you can’t see how wrong it is. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me when I have to tell my friends my girlfriend babysits a Pro Hero’s kid? You spend most of your time at fucking BaKuGo’S hOuSe! Fuck Y/N! It- It’s fucking wrong! I bet you’re fucking him, HAHA! I BET YOU ARE, AREN’T YOU!?”

You roll your eyes, humming along as your insecure boyfriend once again accuses you of fucking another man. Fuck, you may as well be a Porn star by the amount of men he claims you fuck. Besides, your job is not like that! Five days a week you go over to Mr Bakugou’s house, say a simple ‘Good Morning!’, see him off, and babysit his child all day. Sweet little Clem. She’s an adorable little doll, a kind five year old girl, who admires her Daddy very much. Now, you have to admit, Mr Bakugou is a very, handsome man, to say the least. You always shiver when you notice your eyes linger at his… massive arms, for a little too long. The way sweat drips down his husky chest when he gets home from work. The way said sweat makes his shirt cling to his defined abs.

“Y/N! ARE YOU EVEN FUCKING LISTENING? YOU’RE A FUCKING SLU-“

You end the call.

Fuck.

You promised yourself you’d stop thinking about Mr Bakugou like that. For fuck sake, he’s like double your age! Even so, that doesn’t change how fucking fine that hunk of a man is. You sigh, rolling over in your bed as you look at your phone once more.

‘23:47’ It read.

You should probably get some sleep. With a heavy groan, you reluctantly set your alarm on your phone and turn to lie on your back.

Tapping your fingers in a random rhythm on your stomach, you devilishly bite your lip, slightly grinning through it. Your alarm will go off in seven hours, so theoretically… you have enough time for a quick stress relief session with that new Dynamite toy you just bought…

Pulling up to the luxurious and modern house, you step out your car and lock it with a smile.

‘I can’t wait to see Clem today, I’m sure she’ll love that new recipe I found’ you mumble to yourself. Ringing the doorbell, you stiffen up your posture and put on your most welcoming face. The door swings open to reveal a disheveled man.

Mr Bakugou’s still dressed in his sleepwear? His blonde fluffy hair is more a bundle of mess than it normally is. His black sleeveless tee hangs low on his chest, revealing his swell chest, and fucking bulky biceps. Fuck… he looks so good. He also looks… sweaty?

Seeing Mr Bakugou looking so dazed, sweaty, and unshaved for once (You’ve always loved his stubble) was almost too much.

“Good morning Sir, where’s Clementine?”

He bashfully rubs the back of his head, as he leans against his front door, looking down at you. Was he always this tall? You don’t remember ever having to look up at him.

“Fuck, I forgot to tell you. Clem’s spending the week at her Mom’s. That stupid woman decided she’s finally interested in our daughter.” He grumbled.

You pout slightly, you were really looking forward to spending time with Clem today.

“Oh no worries! Uhm, are you okay though? You seem a bit flustered..” the small question filled with genuine concern was enough to earn another grumble from Mr Bakugou.

“I’m fine sweet cheeks, no need to start doting over me.” He chuckles.

His morning voice is so fuckin raspy and deep. Fuck-

“Come in, the least I can do is make you some breakfast for making you get up so early.”

With a gentle smile, you enter the man’s home and make your way to the kitchen. Placing yourself on a stool at his beautiful island, you rest your cheeks on your hands and softly nibble on the inside of your cheek. Bakugou makes his way round to the other side of the kitchen and begins pulling ingredients out. Whilst cracking an egg on the rim of a bowl, Mr Bakugou looks up through his eyebrows towards you. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes linger on his hands.

‘His hands are huge compared to that bowl holy shit. He’s like a fuckin’ giant’

Your mind begins to talk and talk, as your eyes stare deeper and deeper at his veiny hands.

“Oi.”

Mr Bakugou breaks the silence.

“What’s up with you, hah?” He grins.

Fuck, did he catch you ogling him?

“Oh, uhm. Sorry. I’m a bit out of it today.. me and my boyfriend had an argument last night.”

Good save. If you could pat yourself on the back right now, you definitely would’ve. Mr Bakugou’s face turns sour, a scoff leaving his mouth. He makes his way round the island and stands behind you. Compared to you he really is a giant. His chest completely conceals you from whatever behind you. Slowly, he leans down, his hand making its way to your thigh, his mouth next to your ear.

“Y’know, I could treat you much better than your childish little boyfriend. Hm? I mean, could your little boyfriend do this?”

Before you could even think of a reply, he spins you round on the stool and lifts you onto his shoulder with a single arm. He chuckles at the squeal you let out, as your fists pound against his back.

“PUT ME DOWN! B-BAKUGOU!”

Using his free hand, he lays a single, harsh slap on your ass, instantly causing you to go limp in his hold.

“That’s Sir to you. Don’t you want a big, strong man to take care of you? Think about it sweetheart, you’d never have to lift a finger, anything you want you’d get. New dress? I’ll take you shopping. Your car broke down? I’ll fuckin’ buy you a whole dealership. Imagine it Princess, you could leave your immature, insecure, weak little boy toy, and be taken care of by a strong, rich man.”

Wiggling in his grip, your ass sways slightly, giving Bakugou a beautiful view as he tilts his head to the side to watch your futile struggles.

“I’ve seen how you look at me Princess. You think you’re slick? Hah, you may as well of just fingered your self in my bed and wait for me to get home and see you like that. You’ve done that before though, haven’t you? Bit of a dumb little slut sometimes hm? Forgot to change my sheets. Or did you leave that puddle there for me to find? I bet you did. Wanna be a little whore for Daddy? Yeah you do”

Two thick fingers begin rubbing your pussy through your leggings, causing you to grip onto the back of your bosses shirt.

“S-Sir! I- fuck~”

You whine, pushing your bottom half closer towards your bosses fingers.

Bakugou began rubbing faster, nudging your clit every so often. With each whine and moan you let out, the deeper his shit eating grin becomes.

“S-Bakugou! Please! I need to- I need to cum!” You cry, tears welling from your eyes.

“Cmon’ pretty girl. Cum for Daddy!”

His praise sends a shockwave through your pussy, as you dig your fingers into his lower back and cum through your panties and leggings.

“Atta’ girl, good~ slut.” He hums, as he carries you through his house and into his bedroom.

Gently, he places you down on his bed and begins stripping you down. Every time his hand went near your pussy, you whined from lack of attention, silently begging for more. Bakugou reaches under his bed and pulls out some red rope.

“Bakugou..?” You mutter.

He grins as he uses one hand to pin your arms above your head, and the other to skilfully wrap the rope around your wrists, binding them together. Instinctively, your earlier struggles return, as you begin to thrash around.

His hand slams down on your throat, pinning you down to the bed firmly with one movement.

“If you struggle one more time, I’ll beat your ass black and blue, understand?”

…

“Yes Sir.”

Bakugou hums in acknowledgment, as he reaches under his bed again and pulls out a vibrator.

“Please~” You sob. Bakugou grins.

“Please what? Use your words baby.”

“I want you! I want your dick not some stupid plastic vibrator!” You whine.

“You need to earn my dick. You’ll cum from this ‘stupid plastic’ toy as many times as i want, then you’ll have my fucking dick. Sluts don’t make orders, they listen and obey, yeah?”

You bite back another sob.

“Yes Sir…”

Flicking the vibrator on, he pushes it right up against your clit, causing you to instantly throw your head back.

“Please~ not there! Not- FUCK- NOT THAT QUICK! T-TURN IT DOWN!” You plead, your back arching to attempt and relieve your pussy from the torturing pleasure.

With a heavy growl, Bakugou places on hand on your stomach and pushes down, keeping you stiffly planted in place.

“Fuck, look at that. My hands big enough it almost covers the entirety of your stomach!”

You look down and notice he’s right, and for some reason, this sends you over the edge. Your toes curl and your legs convulse as you cum for the second time in under 15 minutes.

“KATSUKI!”

He turns the vibrator onto full blast and he feels his cock beginning to strain against his boxers.

“Mhmh, one more time baby, cmon’ I know you can do it.”

Pressing the vibrator slightly harder against your clit, once again sending you over the edge.

“Good~ girl. What a good slut for Daddy, hm?”

Letting go of your stomach and tossing the vibrator to the side, Bakugou quickly slides his boxers off and pulls his top over his head. Somehow he looks even fucking bigger now, and you fucking love it.

Looking up at his through your tears, you whine once more.

“You’re a whiny little bitch aren’t you? What’re you crying about now huh?”

“S-Sir… I don’t know if I can cum again” You mumble through your fucked out state.

Bakugou grabs either sides of your waist and pulls you to the edge of the bed, nudging your pussy with his cock. Just by that small contact, you know he’s fucking massive down there. It should be expected though..

“If I say you’re gonna take my cock. You’re gonna fucking take my cock.”

Bakugou bites his lip as he slips his cock inside you, watching intently as your face contorts from tiredness, to pure bliss. His eyes trail down to your pussy as he watches his dick disappear inside of you.

“Fuckkk~” He moans, as he looks up at her stomach and almost cums right there and then. Letting out an also animalistic growl, Bakugou rubs his hand over your stomach and stares at the stomach bulge. Leaning forward and using one hand to grab your hair and force your head to look down at your stomach, he screams.

“Look. LOOK! Can you see that? That’s me inside of you Princess. Yeah~ you’re right where you belong, below me. Holy shit-“

Slowly, he puts his hand back on your waist and begins pumping in and out of you, picking up speed the more you moan.

“FUCk! You take me so well Princess! I’m gonna mould your pussy so only I can pleasure you. Yeah? You’d like that? Course’ you would you fucking slut.”

With each word Bakugou thrusts harder and harder, indulging in the way you throw your head back and cry his name out.

“Please~ PLEASE.. KA- KATSUKI PLEASE LET ME CUM!”

“Mhmh, cum. Cum for me beautiful.” Bakugou whines, throwing his own head back as you both cum together.

Panting, he pulls out of you, licking his lips at the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy. Sighing with pleasure, he picks you up and places you under the sheets on his bed, climbing in beside you and rubbing the side of your face.

“You were so good for me.” He mumbles.

“So… are we, a thing? You don’t care about my age?” You look up at him, fear in your eyes.

He holds back a smile and kisses the tip of your nose.

“No sweetheart, I don’t care. You’re mine now, besides, Clementine already loves you.” Bakugou chuckles.

…

Thank you for the request! This was my first time using a Size Kink prompt so I hope I did it some justice at least 😭.

I hope it met your expectations!

P.S. I’ll be filling out my other requests very soon :)

#mha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #size difference #smut #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #my hero academia

[hellish-sunsets]

Curses and Blessings - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Summary:

In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless. 

Word Count: 1,554

Read on AO3

------------------------------------------------------------------

In the chaos of Pentagram City, where sinners ran amuck and you couldn’t go anywhere without running into some fucker doing the things that got them stuck here in the first place, no one gave a second glance when some random woman was thrown out of a rundown building into the alleyway. She slammed against the far brick wall with a grunt, but made sure not to fall to the ground. A large beast of a man followed with a glower, but kept himself firmly rooted in the doorway. 

“Get going, bitch! Unless you want to get yourself fucked up for real.”

She glared at him, taking a shaky step forward, one arm clutching at her bruised side.

“The fuck is your problem, man? I paid my rent!”

The man just shrugged, a cruel smirk twisting at his lips. “Yeah, but I found a pretty bitch willing to pay just as much, and she’ll fuck me too.” He said with a bark of laughter. “Looks like you’re out of luck. Now get out of here!.”

With that he slammed the door shut, shaking the doorframe, leaving her on the street. Again.

He didn’t even let her get her stuff, the jackass. Not that there was much. Everything important was in the bag slung over her shoulders. 

She leaned heavily against the brick wall, wincing in pain slightly as she opened the bag to double check everything was there. With a nod to herself, she pushed herself off the wall and trudged through the streets of hell, unconsciously tugging her left sleeve down to cover the mark on her wrist.

Alright, first thing first, get a place to stay for the night. That was easier said than done, of course. It was hell, filled with the worst of humanity. There wasn’t going to be any well wishers or good samaritans to help and plenty of greedy or perverted men. Probably both. She would have to be careful.

God, she was so tired of being careful.

Of course, the big issue was her lack of money. She already gave that jackass everything she had for rent. He most definitely wasn’t giving her that back. 

She sighed, glancing up. In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless. 

Everyone in hell knew about the Hazbin Hotel, the little pet project of one Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer himself. If it was brought up in conversation, it was with stifled laughter and condescension. As if anyone in hell was capable of something like redemption. Did she agree with them? She wasn’t entirely sure herself. If people didn’t want to change, then obviously they wouldn’t stand a chance. Maybe if they got a few people who actually gave a shit it might work out, but that was a big maybe.

Not of that really mattered right now. What did matter was that anyone could get in for free, and it was a hell of a lot better than a night on the streets. She didn’t want to think too hard about what commitment she was making by even approaching the front steps, but it couldn’t be anything too bad, right? From what she’s seen on TV, this Charlie girl seemed nice enough. The worst she could expect was what, some lame exercises? She could handle that. And it wasn’t like she was a shit person herself. She’d only been in hell for, what, three months? It would take more than that to drag her depressed ass down to these people’s level. She could manage this. She could do this, she could do this! She was already debating joining anyways, just to get out of her last building. 

She was dragged out of her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, loud and very noticeable even from this side of the large double doors. She almost didn’t even realize she rang it. She took a few steps back, tugging her sleeve down again, anxiety clawing at her throat suddenly. After a few moments, she could make out the sound of hurried footsteps and voices. They hushed suddenly before the door was yanked open and she was greeted by the bright, warmth-filled smile of Charlie Morningstar herself, recognizable from her time on TV. Next to her was another woman, with gray skin and long white hair, not nearly as bright and bubbly. 

“Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! Come in, come in!” Charlie all but shouted, ushering her inside the well lit lobby. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re here. Wait, I mean, um, My name is Charlie! It’s nice to meet you!” 

Charlie happily extended her hand and she hesitantly shook it.

“Um, Y/N…” she mumbled. “I’m, uh, here for a room? And, uh, the whole… thing you do here, I guess…”

“Great! Of course! Come on, let’s pick a room out for you and I can introduce you to the others! Oh, we can do session tonight! And then-” Charlie happily babbled on about sessions and introductions as she turned to lead the way. She hesitantly gave the other woman a look. She gave a friendly enough smirk and motioned for her to follow. 

“It’s Vaggie, by the way.” She mumbled so as not to interrupt Charlie’s rambling. She nodded in acknowledgement, not voicing her first thought which was how unfortunate that name was, but that wasn’t her place. 

As it turned out, the rooms here were a decent size, about what you would expect from a typical hotel with an attached bathroom. It was certainly a hell of a lot nicer than her last place. And she really didn’t have to pay rent? It seemed too good to be true.

“It’s… nice. Thank you.” She offered with a smile, making Charlie beam. She looked like she was going to say something, but Vaggie stepped in, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Why don’t you settle in, then you can join us at dinner.”

“Oh, yeah! We’re going to have dinner as a group today! Cook together and eat together, bring everyone together, it’s going to be great.” Charlie explained with her usual enthusiasm as Vaggie guided her towards the door. “Though, I guess you don’t have to help with the cooking today. You can join in next time! I’ll send somebody when it’s ready, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good, sweetheart. Thank you again.” She replied politely, earning another beaming smile before Vaggie managed to get Charlie out of the room, closing the door behind them. She heard the girl’s excited voice as she was guided down the hallway. 

Y/N waited for it to be quiet before finally letting out the breath she was holding.

She could do this. 

She dropped her bag on the bed, then collapsed onto it face first with a thump. It smelled like fresh linen and laundry detergent, not even the faintest hint of mold or mildew. That, and the sheer softness of it forced a sigh out of her chest, her body melting into the comfort the blankets offered. Yeah, this would be okay. She just… had to keep herself in check, make sure she didn’t ruin this for herself, and make herself useful.

Just don’t be a burden.

She tensed up as the thought passed through her mind, and with it came the disdain of her fathers eyes. Don’t fuck this up, don’t be a buren. 

She dragged herself towards the pillow with a huff, burying her face in it and holding her breath, focusing on her heartbeat. She couldn’t let herself think like that, not now when she had to meet so many people before long. It would be fine, she was fine, it’s okay.

She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until the knocking at the door startled her awake. She immediately rushed for the door, yanking it open to the sight of a startled snake-like man. 

“Uh, hello! My name is Sir Pentious and Charlie has assigned me the job of escorting you to dinner.” He said, voice hissing with every syllable. She nodded.

“Of course, just, um, let me get myself ready.” She mumbled, leaving the door open as she headed towards the bathroom to look herself over, trying to tame her hair some and mentally prepare herself for what was to come. 

“We made a beef stew!” Sir Pentious offered from his spot at the doorway. “And that mark on your arm is very pretty! Mine isn’t nearly as appealing…” 

She froze at that, looking down at her wrist. Her sleeve must have gotten pulled up while she slept, revealing the array of gold and orange and pink. She cursed at herself and pulled her sleeve down. 

“I, uh, th-thank you!” she shouted back, wincing.

She had… complicated feelings about her mark and the whole… soulmate thing in general. It was just… better if she avoided the whole thing. She took a deep breath to steady herself and went out to Sir Pentious with a smile, at least pretending she was ready to meet everybody.

#lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer magne x reader #lucifer x reader #curses and blessings #soulmate au #hazbin hotel soulmate au #lucifer x reader soulmate au

[sugurusluts]

Zuko x mercenary!reader -part one

Do people still read Zuko x reader fics?

Mostly for my own amusement bc Zukos adorable- longer than my usual stuff! ♡︎

Warnings: none

————————————————————————

They had followed our little gang around the world, so it wasn’t hard to imagine they’d track Aang here, but they didn’t seem in any mood to strike.

I couldn’t help but feel defensive of the kingdom, even if the two were doing nothing but serving tea. I worked as a mercenary for whatever town seemed to need assistance. Despite not knowing any form of bending, I had connections, and that made me an asset.

Having worked around this place more times than I could count, I knew almost everyone. Most of everyone around town were good people, the type to invite you over for dinner just for giving them a hand in the fields.

Knowing someone like Zuko was around them made me uneasy, that was until Iroh approached me.

“Ah, a mercenary! What mercenary wouldn’t want to help a poor frail old man?” He whined dramatically, from behind me.

“Iroh” my hand tightened on my sword, I assumed there was an unspoken rule that neither group would bother eachother if they truly wanted to live in peace. Maybe I misread this dynamic?

“Good to see you too Y/N, you can losen your grip, im not here to fight you. I couldn’t care less about the Avatar, you know that”

I tilted my head in confusion, what else would he be here for? I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was now a hard working humble business man.

“Would you mind talking to me for just a minute, I’ll make it worth your while” he grinned, holding out a few gold coins he scrounged out of his pockets.

I caved from curiosity, following him as he walked me through a crowd, far away from his new little shop, leading me to a small alley.

“So..why did we have to go to an alleyway for this? Are you gonna mug me?”

“No such thing, I actually have a job for you”

I scoffed, the fuck made him think I’d want to take work from him? I turned on my heel, disappointed at the lack of information he gave me.

“Zuko’s lonely!”

I stopped in my tracks, turning back to Iroh, dumbfounded.

“Zuko’s lonely?”

“Painfully so, you know how hard it is to watch my nephew be such an introvert at his age?”

I rolled my eyes, “what does any of this have to do with me exactly?”

“Well, you could possibly help the poor boy out, couldn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking you to ask him on a date”

“…”

“…”

Jesus fucking Christ he can’t be serious right now.

“You want me to ask the guy who’s tried to kill my friend more times than I can count on a date?”

“Precisely!”

“…Iroh, I’m not a prostitute, I’m not asking Zuko out for cash. He wouldn’t even agree to it either, he’d recognize me.”

The man sighed, pulling out a fabric bag filled to the brim with gold coins. God Zuko was a lost cause.

“Lay on the charm, and maybe he will!”

He dropped the bag in my hand, holy shit was it heavy..

“…fine”

I never thought I’d end up asking Zuko, the fire lords son out on a date, but here we are.

I sauntered into the tea shop, greeting locals as I made my way to where Zuko was pouring.

Carefully filling the cup, he didn’t notice as I leaned against the counter he was behind. I rested my chin in my hands, looking him up and down.

It has been quite a while since I saw him last, longer hair suited him.

When he finally noticed me, he took a double take, stumbling while trying to hold the cup steady.

“…Y/N..?” He asked almost timidly, as if he didn’t want to believe I was standing infront of him.

“Hey, you remember my name, aren’t you sweet?”

He went quiet, still staring at me as if he was seeing a ghost. He pushed past me, going to deliver tea to a table. What a good little worker.

He returned to where I was standing, starting to wash dishes, ignoring my presence.

“What’s your name?”

“..what?”

“Your name, you’re not still going by Zuko here are you?”

He flinched as I used his real name, his eyes flicking between mine and his dishes.

“..Lee. Why are you here?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite prince?”

He stiffened at the praise. “…are you planning on fighting me?”

“No, the opposite actually”

He furrowed his eyebrows in a surprisingly cute fashion.

“Going from Avatar hunter to waiter must be a real boring change of pace for you, huh?”

He didn’t answer, still washing dishes.

“How about you let me make it more interesting for you?”

“..what?”

“I’m asking you out Lee”

He didn’t say anything to that. He simply blinked comedically, his eyes wide.

I gave him time, I wasn’t going to rush him. Iroh did not have the same curtsy.

“Ah welcome to our Shop miss, what tea do you fancy?”

“..I’m not the biggest fan of tea, I’m here because I fancy something else”

Zukos face turned an impossible shade of red, I thought steam may come out of ears if I kept this up.

“Oh? And what are you referring to?” Iroh couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Your nephew of course”

“Oh! Well a night out couldn’t hurt, right Lee?”

He whipped his head back and forth between his uncle and I in disbelief.

“Uncle, you know who this is don’t you?!”

Iroh studied me up and down.

“A humble mercenary looking for a date?”

“You’re exactly right” I smiled knowingly at Iroh, despite him technically being my enemy this exchange was a little fun.

“I don’t see why not Lee! Aren’t they cute?” Iroh gestured to me as if this was completely normal.

“Yeah Lee, aren’t I cute?” *i lean over the counter, invading his personal space.

Poor thing was absolutely floored as he whipped his head between me and Iroh trying to figure out if he was the weird one for being suspicious.

“If this is some sort of ploy to-“ he glares me, but it’s hard to take him seriously with such a red face.

“-I’ll pay for dinner, alright? All you have to do is have fun and look pretty. How about I come back at 7?” I didn’t know I had this much game until now. Why wasn’t I using this power for good before?

“The Shop will be closed by then, no reason to decline” Iroh looks up at his flustered nephew. How long would it take for the poor boy to crack?

“..fine..if you’re not here by exactly seven, I’m not going”

What a brat.. this was going to be an interesting date.

“I’ll be on time, don’t worry your pretty little head. I have business to attend to, I’ll be seeing you Lee” I wink at him, amused at how..affection starved he seemed.

He spun back around, his back facing me, but I could see the blush on his face starting to reach his neck..

Iroh was going to owe me much more than a bag of coins for this.

#zuko #zuko avatar #zuko smut #zuko x reader #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #general iroh #fem reader #male reader #nb reader #x reader

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Hii, can you please do the batchlor/ettes with an s/o what can do magic(any) and how willing they are to learn magic(any)

(P.s how you wrote the last 2 of my requests were Amazing! I really like your work! <3

-anon🌙

Bachelor/ettes Whose S/O Knows Magic (+ How Willing They are to Learn It)

Slowly working my way through these requests. Hi, 🌙! Glad to hear you liked my stuff. These are pretty short just because I wanted to get them out. I forgot about the whole monsters being magic part until I got to Abigail's section but i just decided to ignore it because I could not be bothered to rewrite everything.

TW: Injury mentions, break-up mention, mental crisis mention

Bachelors:

Sam

I feel like Sam does and doesn't believe in magic. I don't really know how to explain it. I mean, we know he has an interest in UFOs because of the book in his room, but I don't know about magic per se. I think he would be very excited to find out it's real, though. He would immediately want to know all the cool stuff you can do with it and what it's capable of. Expect him to ask you to teach him.

Sam is very willing to learn magic. He's a risk-taker; he's gotten his fair share of cuts and scrapes over his life. What's a little magic gonna do?

"Woah, what was that?"

Elliott

I think if any of the bachelors were to already be aware of magic it would be Elliott. He lives alone in a shack on the beach right next to where the ghost of the Old Mariner lives, so surely he's seen him at least once, right? And if he has, he'd know not everything is what it seems. So, when he finds out you do magic, he's a lot more relaxed--still surprised, but relaxed.

He's a little hesitant to learn magic, simply because of how dangerous it can be. But with the right guidance, he'd warm up to it. Deep down he wants to learn it, too. Imagine the writing possibilities!

"Careful, dear! Doctor Harvey won't be happy if you hurt yourself!"

Sebastian

Sebastian does not believe in magic. Does he enjoy stories that feature it? Yes. And does he want it to be real? Absolutely! But he just doesn't think it is. So, when he finds out it is and his partner is someone who uses it, he's very, very confused. Expect Sebastian to sort of back up a bit when he finds out. He trusts you, but not the magic. Just give him time and an explanation.

Sebastian is less willing to learn magic than Elliott or Sam. He's read enough fantasy books to "know" the dangers of it. He's worried about you using it. Definitely don't use it at home--he doesn't want the house to burn down.

"So...How does this work?"

Harvey

Harvey's very science-based; he's a doctor, so his whole job (and life by that extension) revolves around being scientific. As such, he doesn't believe in magic. But like Sebastian, he'd like for it to be real. So, when he finds out his S/O is actually magic, he has a bit of a crisis. Depending on what type of magic you practice and how it affects you and other people, he'll be very worried about people's health and will likely "ban" you from using it around others (or even in general!).

So, yeah, Harvey's going to be very hesitant to learn magic. He does not want to mess around with the risk of hurting himself or others. The only magic you'd probably be able to get him to do is something much safer. Perhaps plant-based magic? All he'll be hurting is a shrub, as long as it won't hurt him too bad.

"Are you--are you sure you want to do this?"

Shane

We know from his dialogue in the game that Shane does not believe in magic at all. He's more science-based than Harvey. He doesn't really believe in anything other than nothing. So, he has an even worse crisis when he finds out magic is real. And that crisis is doubled by learning his partner was well aware of it and even used it! You need to give him a lot of explanation.

Unlike Harvey, however, I feel that Shane would be much more interested in actually learning magic once he gets over his crisis. He doesn't care as much for his health, so if it's just him it's affecting he doesn't really care. And who doesn't want to be able to shoot fire from their hands?

"Holy shit! Did you see that?"

Alex

I headcanon Alex is really gullible. If you have a good enough way of words, he'll believe magic is either real or not real (though he leans towards not real). He's still confused as all hell when he finds out it's real-real, but I digress. He's still worried for your health, but he's definitely excited at the same time.

Alex would love to learn magic! He'd think it's so cool. When you offer he accepts immediately. He likes to show off his strength when he's practicing. He probably doesn't even use magic to help him carry things just so he can boast his raw strength.

"Hey, Farmer! Check this out!"

Bachelorettes:

Penny

Penny's a big believer in magic. She has been ever since she was a little kid. Fairies are her favourite magic creature, but she likes anything involving it. So, when she finds out her partner practices magic, she's over the moon!

Penny also believes magic takes a lot of skill to master, so she's a little shy to start learning it. But deep down, that little girl inside of her is ecstatic. Eventually, she warms up to the idea and decides to learn it. Though, there is a lot of screaming involved every time the fire comes a bit too close.

"Sugar, I'm not so sure about this."

Leah

Leah doesn't believe in magic, but like many others on this list she'd like for it to be real. I know I headcanon Leah as a very relaxed person, but she's still pretty shocked to learn it's real. You definitely have to do some explaining. Of course, Leah wonders how magic could be integrated into her art. Could she make a living artwork?

So, she naturally accepts the offer to learn. I think Leah would pick it up really quickly for someone who previously didn't know of its existence. She's got an open mind and has an easier time grappling the concepts of learning it. It still takes time, but she gets there.

"Hey, look at this magic sculpture I made. It's dedicated to you."

Abigail

Abigail does believe in magic. She's one of the few people who's taken the time to research ancient monsters and actually know that what they're capable of isn't normal. It's part of the reason why she wants to go into the mines; just to witness it. So, she jumps at the idea to learn magic and is astounded to find out her partner knows it.

Abigail's pretty rusty compared to other people learning magic. But she doesn't let that stop her! Her determination is through the roof. She'll practice all day and night--save for snack breaks--for as long as she can. You might even get annoyed at all her nagging to learn more.

"Do you think I could enchant my sword?"

Maru

Maru, like Harvey, only knows science. Her whole world is basically flipped upside down when she learns her partner of all people is a magic-user. Expect a lot of confused noises when she catches you spinning water to clean the dishes. You have a lot of explaining to do. Why--how is this real? And why didn't you tell her?

Once everything is explained to her and she gets some time alone to process it all, Maru's excited to learn magic. She may not understand it fully, and that may cause a lot of discomfort for her, but she still wants to learn. Like Leah, Maru wants to know how she can apply it to her craft. Could she make working machines without having to use any power? And how could this better the environment and humanity?

"What...What was that?"

Emily

Emily is at least super spiritual. Whether she thinks it's possible for people to lift water out of the river without anything touching it is a different question, but she does think that singing to plants helps them grow on a relationship basis. Emily probably has the easiest time understanding it all. She just wants to make sure you're safe using it.

With her open mind, she has an easier time understanding everything. Emily's most interested in learning telekinesis. Imagine how useful that would be! Being able to move things with your mind would help drastically in both everyday life and also just for fun! But any magic she gets to learn is magic enough.

"Oh, I knew it!"

Haley

Haley is the opposite to her sister. Where Emily is kind and understanding, Haley is rude and black-and-white. At least at first. By the time she's gotten a partner, she's a lot more open-minded. But don't let that fool you; she's still not having an easy time understanding it all! To be honest, she probably reverts back to her old self for a period of time to cope with it all. She might even consider a break-up!

Once she gets over it all, though, she slowly works her way towards learning it. She's definitely not super keen, but it seems useful enough. To be honest, part of her is thinking of shoplifting some expensive clothes with it. But she quickly brushes that thought away. Once she gets the hang of it, she enjoys showing off her skills to other people (if they can know).

"I'm sorry, what?!"

-~-~-

I'm trying to put the quotes back into my posts because they were fun to make. But it's hard getting back into the characters' headspace to do so. Hopefully I'll get to it, though!

#ieatsmallorphansnamedtom #🌙 anon #anon #sdv #stardew valley #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons #stardew #stardew headcanons #x reader #sdv x reader #stardew x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv sam #stardew sam #stardew valley sam #sdv elliott #stardew elliott #stardew valley elliott #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #sdv harvey #stardew harvey #stardew valley harvey #sdv shane #stardew shane #stardew valley shane #sdv alex #stardew alex

[hyukasmiles]

can u pls write abt dom tutor taehyun x reader … it’s been on my mind all day 😓😓

—Taehyun—

Description: I couldn’t decide on a subject so let’s just say math

Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW// he makes fun of you// possessiveness// unprotected sex// NOT PROOF READ

—

“Are you just dumb?” Taehyun laughs, looking over your paper. “It’s not even that hard.” He hands you back the practice sheet filled with little red marks and a giant 40 on the top. “I honestly don’t know how you’re passing.”

Tears well up in your eyes because you actually tried really hard this time! You even bailed on one of your friends to finish it in time for today but it still wasn’t any good. You bite your lip and look at him through your eyelashes, hoping maybe he’s just joking but all he does is sigh and take his glasses off. “What was so bad.” You sniffle, looking over the paper again.

“Everything.” Taehyun pulls out a giant textbook and opens it up to a random page. “Let’s get started hmm?” He pats his thigh and you comply immediately settling in his lap. “You know the drill, baby, one whole page and I’ll fuck you.”

You nod and spread your legs for his large hand. “Where do you want me to start?” He points at a paragraph halfway down the page and you’re not sure it’s even remotely related to what you’re doing in class but you start anyway, reading off the words- failing to process a single one of them. Your breath hitches when he pulls the neckline of your tank top down until your boobs fall out of the fabric, nimble fingers playing with the hard buds.

“When did you stop wearing panties around me?” Taehyun laughs, tucking the hem of your skirt into the waistband, laughing again when he drags his fingers across your already wet cunt. “God you’re pathetic.” He tuts at you, collecting your slick and shoving his fingers into your mouth, interrupting your reading. “How far did’ya get, baby?”

Your fingers are shaky as you point at a random point on the paper, hoping he wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. But he was, because of course he was, and in response he takes his fingers out of your mouth and grabs you by the chin. “Don’t lie. You know how I feel about lying.” You slowly shift your finger up the page to where you actually left off.

Surprisingly he lets it go, his hands going back to groping you as you start reading again. It’s hard to focus though! Especially when his fingers are lightly tracing over your clit. You whine and try to roll your hips even though you know you shouldn’t, ready for him to lift you off of him and leave, but he must be feeling extra forgiving today because all he does is wrap a hand around your middle and instruct you to keep going.

Every light touch and barely there kiss has you desperate for more, every other word cut up with a little whine or plea for him to let you off just this one time but he doesn’t let up, instead he doubles down, tilting your head back and whispering in your ear. “Reread that one baby, I'm not sure you fully understand it.” Of course you didn’t! How could you understand anything with his mouth sucking pretty marks up and down your neck.

“Tae- I can’t think- I have to cum.” You grab his arm with your manicured fingers, nails painted in the color he requested. “Please!”

“Is this how you’re passing your classes, babe?” Taehyun, slips a finger into your desperate hole, providing a slight relief. “Do you open your legs for all the old men that teach you?”

“No! Just for you! I don’t even have a boyfriend!” You squeal, spit falling onto the pages below you.

“Of course you don’t. You’re so pretty though, I bet you could… wouldn’t have to be stuck with me if you’d just let one of our profs fuck you.” Taehyun’s never talked about this stuff before, his serious tone surprising you.

Even more surprising is the fact that he pushes the book away from you and presses your chest against the table. Behind you you can hear the metal clang of his belt buckle as he pulls his pants down to his knees. “But you won't, will you?” He grumbles, palming at your ass. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Love it!” You gasp as he pushes the fat tip of his dick into your cunt.

You’re basically putty in Taehyun’s hands as he fucks you into the wood. “Course’ you do.” He grabs your hand and pulls you into arching your back. You’re moaning and squeezing your eyes shut as he hammers his hips into yours. “Why’d you stop reading?”

Your brian freezes as he drags the book back in front of your face, somehow pointing at the exact word you left off at. “What?” You gasp, tears slipping down your face as he points at it again. You open your mouth to start because all you want is to make Taehyun proud but you can only get through the first syllable.

“Cmon, baby.” Taehyun laughs, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You want some help?” You nod at the offer, not sure what he’s going to do, hoping he’ll just push the book away again. And when he starts sounding out each word one by one you almost sob in frustration.

If you could think you’d probably be impressed with the fact that Taehyun is able to fuck you so well while steadily reading out the text, but all you can register is the fact that you can basically taste your orgasm. One of your hands slips down your body and one light touch against your clit has you folding in on yourself, your head falling onto the brick of a book.

You continue to play with your clit until you’re drooling, high pitched whines tumbling out of your mouth as you cream on your tutors dick. “Pull out, hyun.” You pant, slumping onto the table as Taehyun fucks himself into his orgasm. He grunts and slips out of your cunt, fucking his fist until he cums all over your back.

“Start reading again.”

#txt #txt smut #kpop smut #taehyun #taehyun smut

[warriorofdragons]

New Beginnings

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Language, Spiderperson! Reader

Summary: Miguel finds out that his wife might be pregnant and struggles to both confront her and come to terms with being a father again.

Notes: I only know some broken Spanish, but I did double-check the words I used, sorry if my grammar’s not the best.

Miguel walks into the kitchen where the love of his life is busy tying up a garbage bag. She starts to heft up one of the three bags at her feet grunting in the process and Miguel stops her, “What are you doing?” he asks. “Taking out the garbage?” she asks. He places his hand over hers and slips the strings out of her fingers, “I’ll take it out.” She smiles up at him, “Well, I guess I’ll go ahead and get started on supper then.” Miguel lifts up the other two bags easily lifting them all with one hand. His wife turns the water on in the sink and stares at him sideways shaking her head at him, but still smiling nonetheless. “You didn’t really think I’d let you carry all of this by yourself?” he asks. “Well, hurry up and get back so you can help me with dinner,” she laughs. Miguel laughs too, and then he turns towards the door to their apartment. He opens it and steps out and then locks it behind him. He almost always takes the trash out so he’s not sure why she was already in the midst of doing it herself. Especially since it appeared to be rather heavy for her, it’s not like he particularly minds this chore either. He walks down the hallway and takes a right. Come to think of it, she took the trash out last week too. He remembers he had just been heading back home when he turned the corner and saw her trying to lift a particular heavy garbage bag into the shoot opening. He had immediately rushed forward to help her and asked why she didn’t wait for him come home first if the bags were too heavy for her to manage by herself. She had seemed briefly startled by him and though he knows she’s not as strong as him, he’s never made her feel like she was less than him because of it. Miguel takes a left this time and spots the trash shoot. She did express wanting to do things herself sometimes, although oddly enough she didn’t protest him taking it out this time. Miguel hefts the first bag of trash and opens the shoot and sends it on it’s way. He lifts the second bag and as he pushes it into the opening of the shoot, the bag catches on one of the sharp metal edges and rips it open, spilling it’s contents onto the hallway’s floor. Miguel groans, great. He pulls the bag back from the shoot and more trash spills out, and he sets the entire bag down on the floor, before grabbing the third bag and carefully placing it into the shoot. Miguel then stoops and turning the bag upside down so that the drawstring part of it is now on the bottom, he starts filling it back up again. “¡Carajo!” Miguel sighs as his fingers come into contact with something sticky. Now he’s going to have to wash his hands when he gets back inside. He tries to carefully put the gross bits of food back into the bag by grabbing old napkins and tissues and scooping it up. At least there’s a lot of bathroom trash in this bag so there’s not as much really gross stuff to worry about. Miguel scoops up another of handful tissues and an empty pink box clatters away from him. The bright color draws his eye and he reaches for it next, but just as he’s about to put it back in the bag, something about the label catches his attention. He reads it. And then he reads it again before it dawns on him what it is. He looks inside the box to find it empty and then looks back at the front of the empty pregnancy test box. Miguel then sets the box down on the floor and starts searching through the rest of the trash on the floor and when he doesn’t find it, he searches through the rest of the bag. One of his neighbors opens their apartment door clearly dressed to go somewhere and when the old woman spots him, she eyes him still currently crouched on the floor in a pair of flip flops rummaging around through his own trash. “Uh…I lost my ring,” Miguel lies even though his wedding band is still clearly on his finger. The old woman shakes her head at him as she shuffles past him towards the elevator. When she’s gone he sighs heavily and continues searching. And only when he’s searched the whole bag twice does he realize that the Actual Test is not there. That’s strange considering all of the bathroom trash is in this bag, and they only have one trash can in their bathroom. Miguel looks back towards the shoot and briefly considers going all the way down to the trash room just to see if one of the other bags might have the test, but he quickly thinks better of it. He stuffs the rest of the trash back into the bag, she’s probably wondering what’s keeping him. He saves the pregnancy test box for last and looks at it one final time. He desperately wants to know what it said. There’s a part of him that realizes it could have been negative and she didn’t want to get his hopes up, but another part of him is nagging at him and telling him that it’s not a coincidence that the test and the test box ended up in two separate bags. Then he remembers that she took out the trash last week and he about drops the trash bag as he drives the heel of his left palm into his forehead. He literally Helped her throw away the evidence! He was her unwilling accomplice. And now she’s the only one who knows what it said. He looks back in the direction of his apartment and then back at the box and throws it into the bag before tying up the torn edges of the garbage bag as best he can. He tosses it down the shoot finally and quickly strides back to his apartment. If she would go to these lengths to hide it from him, it must have been positive…right? It couldn’t have been negative, so she would be pregnant. Is she really pregnant? With his child? She’s always told him how much she wants to be a parent and they both adore her nephews. Miguel is certain that she would make a great mother…he’s just not so sure that he would make a great father. Miguel pauses as his hand hovers over the door handle and tries to calm his rapid breathing. Whatever the truth is, she clearly hadn’t wanted to tell him she even took the test. He can’t exactly blame her, even with all he’s talked about it and her helping him sort through his feelings along with his therapist, Miguel’s still not sure he’s prepared for her to tell him that she’s actually, genuinely pregnant. If he had the chance to hold this baby right now he still doesn’t know if he’d be prepared for the reality of caring for and raising another child. He blinks and wets his lips, his mouth gone dry and is oddly comforted by the fact that that’s a thought many first time parents have had even though…he is not. But his situation has been shared by others before him as well, perhaps not quite the same. The only difference in his case is that the questions are: Do I deserve this? And will I be good enough? Miguel looks up towards the door as he makes out the faint sounds of his wife’s humming and chopping of a knife on a cutting board. He wonders how she feels about all this? If she truly is carrying his baby and shouldering the responsibility all alone, something she has warned him about time and time again being Spiderman, and all because he can’t handle it? Then he feels he isn’t being a very good partner to her.

Miguel takes a steadying breath and tries to steal his nerves and finally opens the door. She instantly looks up at him and smiles that lovely, bright smile of hers that he adores so much. And for a moment he’s able to quell the painful churning in his chest. “What took you so long?” she asks. And Miguel is reminded of his discovery as she glances back down at the vegetables she’s chopping. “Bag split open,” he says in an even tone, “Trash went everywhere.” He watches her carefully and he sees there’s a small flicker of nervousness on her face as he says this, but then she turns away and dumps the vegetables into the pot. And when she turns back around it’s gone completely, “Eww, gross. I’m sorry, Miguel.” He closes the door behind him and slips off his shoes and makes his way over to the kitchen sink, “I bet you’re glad you didn’t take out the trash now.” “I mean…a little, but now I feel bad that you had to pick up trash,” she says throwing him a sympathetic smile over her shoulder. Miguel washes his hands thoroughly glad to be rid of the sticky food substance on his fingers, but also still focused on the task at hand as he dries his hands on a towel and turns to stare at her back as she returns to her chopping. Setting the towel back down he steps towards her, busy with dinner preparations, and then lightly touches her waist first before wrapping his arms around her. She stops chopping for a moment or two when she feels him touch her, and as his hands rest themselves comfortably against her stomach, she begins chopping again. Miguel presses his chest to her back and leans down and presses his nose into her hair. “You know…you were supposed to be helping me with dinner,” she begins, “But seeing as you had to clean up trash, I’ll let it slide.” Miguel hums in response as he inhales her scent. He can smell her shampoo and the spices that have wafted up into her hair from the soup she’s making, but other than that, she doesn’t smell any different. She smells like she always does…wonderful and like home. He strokes over her stomach, it’s too soon for her to start showing. She giggles as her head turns slightly, “Baby?” And Miguel realizes that she’s finished chopping as he continues to cling her. They often say that pregnant women are glowing. Is it just because they’re happy? Or is it hormones? Miguel reaches around her and takes the cutting board for her, “Let me get that,” he says and then unwraps himself from around her and steps over to the pot on the stove and dumps the ingredients in. He looks back over at her and she’s smiling softly and gazing at him very lovingly. She always looks happy to see him. She then turns and puts the knife in the sink and holds out her hand for the cutting board, and Miguel hands it to her and she rinses them both off before stepping over towards him by the stove. She seasons the food and then takes the nearby wooden spoon she set out and stirs everything together. He smiles at her and presses himself to her back again and bends down to pepper her neck with kisses. She giggles softly, “Miguel. I’m trying to cook.” “Mmm and you’re doing a wonderful job of it, Mi Amor,” he hums. She reaches up her free hand and runs it through his hair. He closes his eyes gently and enjoys the soothing strokes against his scalp. This is going to be harder to figure out than he thought. Of course when this day started this is not even close to the dinner he’d thought he’d be having tonight.

After supper is done and they’ve finished eating they spend some time curled up together on the couch and continue watching the movie they started yesterday. Miguel had kept a close eye on her at dinner to see if she had any changes in appetite that might be another indicator on whether or not she was carrying his child. But she ate about as much as she usually would although she did complain about a little bit of heartburn after their meal. But that could also be contributed to the fact that it was a spicy dish, and she did add just a little bit more of the peppers she was using than usual to make it spicier. It wasn’t too spicy for Miguel’s taste of course and it didn’t overpower or cancel out the other flavors in the soup, and it was her idea to add more not his, and she didn’t even drink more to douse it. Right now he’s having a hard time following the plot of the movie they’re watching because he’s too busy hyper-analyzing her every move. He tries to pull his focus back to the film, by assuring himself that she would tell him. But not even a minute passes by before the seeds of doubt take root once again. “Miguel?” she asks softly. “Hm?” he hums. “Did you hear what I said?” she asks. Shit. Miguel’s mind races as he tries to remember what she said and failing that he tries to guess, but his mind is blank, “Um…” he mutters instead. “Did you just not think it was funny?” she asks, disappointment creeping into her voice. “No, Mi Vida-¡Carajo!” Miguel curses, “I meant no, I didn’t Hear you.” He glances up at the tv and notices that it’s paused. How long has it been like that? She turns in his arms and stares up into his eyes, “You seem very distracted tonight, Miguel,” she whispers and then she reaches up a hand to stroke his cheek with her knuckles. Miguel’s eyes slip closed and he ponders for a moment. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” he answers meeting her gaze again. She studies his face for a few moments, looking him over and then locking eyes with him again, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” She can read him like a book and knows better than anyone when something’s eating at him, especially when he’s afraid to tell her what it is. And normally he would tell her. He would cave to her soft eyes and voice and they would lay here and he’d tell her all about what’s bothering him and his anxieties for the future and she would listen. But his words get caught in his throat just as he opens his mouth and he can’t. He can’t say anything, because the fear takes hold in his heart of everything that could go wrong, and nothing comes out. There’s too much and it all gets caught in the tightening of the dam in his chest and nothing gets past it. She blinks slowly as she looks at him and then her eyes close and she leans up and gingerly presses her lips to his. Miguel closes his eyes and softly moves his lips against hers. And as they part he can’t stop the pair of tears that slip from his eyes. And even though she doesn’t know why, she still swipes them away with her thumb anyways. “Let’s go to bed,” she says gently. She slowly rises from the couch, takes his hands in hers and pulls Miguel up with her. The movie is turned off and the tv forgotten as she ushers him to their bedroom. They brush their teeth silently next to each other and then Miguel strips out of his clothes to sleep in his boxers as she picks out one of his shirts from the dresser to change into. The light is turned off and the covers are pulled back and Miguel wraps himself around her and presses his face into the crook of her neck. He focuses on her heartbeat under his lips at her pulse point and listens to the sounds of her breathing for a long while. His fingers stroke over her stomach lightly before he pulls them back sharply and then places his hand overtop hers, suddenly fearful of his sharp claws somehow sinking into her abdomen against his will. Which is a ridiculous thought he realizes almost as soon as he has it because he has great control of his claws and this isn’t even the first time today he’s held her. So why would he now? But the longer that he’s awake the more the anxiety gnaws at him. That he won’t be able to take care of her. That he won’t be a good father, that he’ll ruin everything again, that he’ll do this or that, and a thousand other things. Miguel lifts his head up and carefully extricates himself from her. And only when he’s sitting up in bed does he realize his chest is heaving. He swallows and the lump passes painfully through his chest. So he gets out of bed and starts putting on his suit. But when he starts to put his arms through it a soft voice calls out, “Miguel?” And it would seem she wasn’t as sound asleep as he thought she was. “Where are you going?” she asks. He finishes putting on his suit and turns to face her, and with his heightened senses he can make out her features perfectly and the confusion in her eyes is as plain as day. “Lyla called me in to check on something,” he lies. She starts to sit up and pull the covers back, “Do you need my help?” “No,” he says quickly, “It shouldn’t take long, go back to sleep.” She hesitates for a moment, but starts to lean back into the mattress and he watches the confusion be replaced by disappointment. “Okay,” she relents, “Miguel?” “Yes, Querida?” he asks. “Be safe,” she says. A smile tugs at his lips as he places his palms on the bed and leans over to her and kisses her desperately…and then he pulls away.

He feels guilty for leaving her like that and he feels angry at himself for lying about it as he swipes through footage from across the multiverse. There’s nothing pressing that requires his attention, but he knew there wouldn’t be. “Lyla, can you get me a better view on Hobgoblin-2103?” he asks. There’s a flicker of yellow light in his peripheral and he continues swiping away at his screens. He’s sure there are bags forming under his eyes and his feet ache from standing for so long, but working is the only thing keeping his mind off of his anxieties. He needs to keep busy or it’ll just consume his thoughts again. Usually work is the thing that’s stressing him out and spending time with his wife is what eases his mind and heart. But not this time. He realizes then that there’s been no response from his chatty A.I. assistant which is very unlike her, “Lyla-“ But as he turns to look at her, Lyla has her arms crossed and has fixed him with her strongest glare. “Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Miguel ask raising a brow. Lyla looks at him for a moment and then looks at all of his open screens, nearly a dozen in total, and waves her hand at them and closes all of them. “¡Oye!” he exclaims trying to reopen them. Lyla immediately closes the two he opened again forcing him to look at her, “What gives?!” he demands. “What Gives?!” she repeats indignantly, “What gives, is that you’ve left her wondering where you are and when you’re coming home.” Miguel winces as the guilt washes over him, “I just needed some time to think.” “You’ve been here four hours, Miguel,” she says narrowing her eyes through her heart-shaped sunglasses, “I think you’ve done enough ‘thinking’,” she says bending her index and middle finger for emphasis. Miguel rubs the back of his neck, “Has it been that long already?” “Look you’re tired, she’s worried, just go home already,” Lyla says her face softening. Miguel sighs, “What do I do if she’s really-And I’m going to be-“ he stops and then wets his lips as he turns his gaze downwards and shakes his head. “Look, I can’t answer that for you. I just know that whatever you do, you’ll do it together,” Lyla says. Miguel looks up at her flickering image. “That’s what a partnership is all about, yeah?” Lyla asks with her usual optimism returning. “I tried earlier to talk to her, but I just…couldn’t get the words out,” Miguel says lifting and lowering his shoulders in defeat. Lyla seems to think for a moment, “Well, just start by telling her that you found the box. If it turns out she is pregnant, chances are she’ll have a lot to say to you too.” Now Miguel is thoughtful for a moment, for an A.I. with no family and only programmable feelings, she certainly has picked up a thing or two about interpersonal relationships from him and other members of the Spider Society. “But what if-“ Miguel begins “Blegh!” Lyla exclaims throwing her hands up and blinking out of and back into existence for a split second, “MIGUEL! You’re stuck trying to solve Only Half of an equation,” she says holding up one hand in front of her, thumb pointed towards herself, “Hm?” she hums and then she lifts her other hand and does the same and then slowly joins her palms together, and then she gestures with her clasped hands towards him, “Hm!” “You’re right,” Miguel says. “Good, now don’t come back until you’ve talked to her and had at least eight hours of sleep,” she says turning her back to him and opening a screen in front of her. He goes to open his mouth again, but she stops him by lifting her hand, “Up, up!” “Gracias, Lyla,” he says as he steps off the platform.

When he quietly creeps back into his bedroom, her back is to him. He slips out of his suit and peels back the covers and shifts over to her. Wrapping an arm around her waist he tries not to disturb her too much, but she stirs anyways. “Baby?” she asks voice heavy with sleep. “I’m here,” he whispers into her hair before pressing a kiss to her temple. Her body goes lax again and she more than lets him slip his hand under hers to rest against her stomach. Miguel rests his face in the crook of her neck once again and breathes a deep sigh. And when he wakes it’s to the sound of retching.

He quickly throws back the covers and leaps out of bed, taking only a moment to notice that the sound is coming from the bathroom, and as he reaches for the door the toilet flushes. Turning the knob slowly, Miguel peers into the bathroom. She’s sitting on the floor with her cheek pressed to the cold surface of the nearby tub with the toilet lid up. She’s so dazed, she doesn’t even notice him come in. Miguel grabs a washcloth and runs it under some cool water before wringing it out. She looks up finally when his shadow passes over her and he pulls her hair aside and places the rag on the back of her neck. She sighs in relief and Miguel takes a moment to press the back of his hand to her forehead. She’s very warm and obviously still reeling from her upset stomach. He sits down on the floor next to her, making sure not to block her path to the toilet. “Not feeling well?” he asks even though the answer is obvious. It takes a moment for her to respond, “…yeah…” Miguel pushes the hair that had fallen away from her face and she adjusts her cheek pressed against the tub. He stays like that with her for a few minutes, rubbing her back soothingly until she’s ready to stand. He helps her up, keeping one arm wrapped around her middle. She lets out a sigh and he takes the washcloth off of the back of her neck as she heads for the sink. Miguel carefully lets her go, keeping a hand on her back to make sure she’s steady on her feet before setting the washcloth down on the edge of the tub and lowering the toilet lid. She washes her face with cool water and then rinses her mouth out by cupping water in her hands. “Do you need to go to a doctor?” Miguel asks brushing his knuckles over her cheek and she leans into his touch. “No, I don’t think so,” she says slowly. He feels like he’s holding his breath as he stands on the edge of a building not knowing if he should take the leap and ask her if she’s pregnant and if this is morning sickness. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?” Miguel asks instead, “Or do you not feel like eating anything yet?” he winces, realizing his mistake. She looks up at him quizzically, “Miguel, that was breakfast. It’s almost two p.m.” “Oh,” he mutters. “What time did you get in last night?” she asks. “I don’t really remember,” he admits, “Just late.” She dries her hands and face with a towel. “You don’t remember me crawling into bed next to you?” he asks. “Vaguely…I know I woke up to you holding me so tightly it was hard to wiggle out of your grasp so I could go to the bathroom,” she laughs placing a hand on his cheek. “Sorry,” he chuckles. He then bends down and presses a kiss to her forehead. After Miguel gets dressed they make their way to the kitchen and after she gets something to drink, she starts snacking on plain chips not even five minutes later. While Miguel sets the soup pot back on the stove to warm up for lunch and as he’s waiting he sees her perk up when the smell wafts through the apartment. She looks a little less weary and her movements stop being sluggish by the time Miguel turns the heat down and fixes himself a bowl of soup. “Can I have some soup too?” she asks stepping next to him with a bowl already in hand. Miguel smiles at her and spoons some soup into her bowl for her, “I see you’ve got your appetite back.” She smiles sheepishly, “Yeah.” And as they sit down to eat, while last night where her appetite had been fairly normal, today it is voracious. She almost scarfs it down and only slows down after she goes back for a second bowl. And he’s almost convinced she’s going back for a third bowl, but she places it into the sink instead. And then she does something that surprises him, she places her hand on her abdomen and caresses it, even letting it linger there for a good second or two too long. Miguel stands up from his chair and walks towards her, but she stops when she hears his chair scrape across the floor. She smiles up at him lovingly and he hands her his bowl and she places it into the sink too. He moves to cover the soup pot with the lid and remove it from the burner. He should say something. Anything at this point. He can’t keep going on like this not knowing, but he looks to her and instead of saying anything at all, just stares at her in awkward silence. She purses her lips as she places her hands on her hips and shifts uncomfortably. “Did you…want to try watching that movie again?” she asks. And Miguel is mostly certain the suggestion is just to break the tension. “Yeah,” he nods, “That sounds nice.” She smiles up at him and he smiles back at her. So they sit back down on the couch and start the movie again from where they left off, and Miguel is very confused by what’s going on in the movie and ends up asking several questions. He really wasn’t paying attention to it last night. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder as she leans against him and after answering yet another question from him, she’s quiet for roughly a minute or two. But then she leans forward to grab the remote and she pauses the movie. Miguel looks down at her as she shifts in his hold to stare up at him. “Is everything alright?” she asks concern lacing her tone. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Miguel asks. She narrows her eyes at him, not very convinced, “Because…you were really distracted after dinner last night and then you left me in the middle of the night.” Shit, that does sound concerning. And to be fair he is having a crisis. “You need to talk to me, Miguel,” she says, placing her hand on his chest, “I can’t help with whatever it is you’re dealing with if you don’t tell me, Sweetheart.” He takes one of her hands in his, “I’m sorry for making you worry. I didn’t even leave this dimension, I just watched screens until Lyla told me to go home.” He can see in her eyes that this new information raises alarm bells in her head. She knows how prone he is to locking himself away and only focusing on work as a means to cope with the rampant thoughts in his head. “Miguel, talk to me,” she whispers insistently, “Por favor, dime lo que está mal.” Miguel swallows , “I…” he pauses to exhale a breath, both of his hands now gripping hers tightly, “Yesterday when I took the trash out…one of the bags split open…” And she nods at him. “And I found an empty box for a pregnancy test,” he says watching closely for her reaction. Her eyes grow wide and her lips part as she stares up at him in complete shock, a similar kind of shock that he had felt yesterday when he made this discovery. But her silence is making his heart clench painfully as the seconds tick by. “Mi Vida, are you pregnant?” he asks. She subtly nods, “Yes.”

Miguel inhales shakily as all the nerves of the past two days catches up to him. And he’s relieved somewhat to finally have an answer to his question, but then a dozen more pop up in it’s place. Questions he’s been trying to hold at bay when he didn’t know for sure and now they’re all rushing to the surface. But one in particular sticks out above the rest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks unable to keep the hurt from creeping into his voice. Her eyes grow watery, “I-I didn’t know how to tell you,” she answers quietly, “I’m sorry.” “How far along are you?” he asks next. She takes a shaky breath and Miguel cups her face in his left hand and tilts her chin up to meet his gaze from where it had slipped down to his chest. “Almost two months?” she questions almost uncertain herself, “I just know I should have had my second period by now.” Miguel clenches his jaw and inhales sharply. Two months? Two Months?! Almost- He blinks as the tears start to form in his own eyes, “I’m sorry, I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me-I didn’t mean-“ She clutches at his chest bunching up the fabric of his shirt in her palms, “No, no, no, Miguel Baby, I don’t want you to blame yourself.” “But it is because of me?” Miguel asks quietly, “Isn’t it?” The tears fall freely from her eyes as she shakes her head at this, her eyes squeezing shut, “I didn’t want to get your hopes up is all, in case…I wasn’t or couldn’t…and it wasn’t just about how you felt about it, it was also how I Felt about it, because I’ve wanted this for so long and what if I mess it up or I’m not good enough or-“ She’s rambling at this point so Miguel leans forward to press his forehead to hers and he strokes her cheek with his thumb to try to quiet her sobs, but his own tears finally slip past his closed lids and he cries too, “It seems like we’ve both been thinking the same thing, I just wish you hadn’t tried to do this on your own and for so long too." She presses a kiss to his palm, “I didn’t know right away, things have been so busy, but also so good,” she sniffles. He brings her in close to his chest and then presses his face to her hair, “I will admit I am scared shitless though. I’ve been spiraling since yesterday, because I didn’t think a good thing like this would happen to me again.” Her fist tightens on his shirt, “Are you happy?” “So happy, Amor,” he whispers, “Now that I know for sure.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you,” she says with her cheek pressed over his heart. He pats her hair and tucks her head under his chin, “We have to remember to be there for each other and part of that is opening up and talking about what’s bothering us. You taught me that.” She nods against him, “You scared me, when you left last night.” His arms tighten their grip around her and he pulls her fully into his lap, “I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry for that.” She sniffles again. “You know Lyla actually yelled at me,” he says. “She did?” she asks picking her head up to stare at him, “She never yells at you, roasts you sure, but?” “She does when I fuck up. Remember when I was trying to propose to you and I couldn’t work up the nerve?” She laughs lightly, “She’s right though you can’t do a proper proposal over what is essentially an inter-dimensional phone,” she says a smile finally finding it’s way to her lips. “True, but that’s how nervous I was you would say no,” Miguel says. He then leans down and kisses her softly. As they part she brushes her nose against his fondly, “I was going to tell you, and I finally figured out how I was going to do it too.” “How?” Miguel asks curiously. She smiles and extricates herself from his embrace and stands. He watches her walk over to one of the bookshelves by the tv, the one that houses her romance novels and moves a few of the paperbacks out of the way. And behind one of the rows that Miguel didn’t even notice was askew, she removes a small silver box with a white ribbon tied around it. She steps back over to him and sits in his lap again and hands it to him. He looks from the box to her and then gingerly pulls on the ribbon. Lifting the lid, Miguel stares inside the box at the pair of absolutely tiny baby socks with the classic Spiderman’s mask design printed on them. He chuckles breathlessly as he picks one up and rubs the fabric between his fingers, before looking up at her again. “There’s a little note too,” she adds, nodding to the box. Miguel turns his attention back to the box and underneath the other sock is a little piece of paper. He picks up the handwritten note and on it reads: “Miguel, I’m pregnant, and pretty soon our home is going to be filled with the pitter patter of our very own little Spiderbaby!” Miguel smiles and swipes more tears from his eyes. “I know it’s kinda corny,” she says covering her mouth with her hand. He sets the note back inside the box and then holds both of the baby socks in one hand, in awe of how tiny they both are in his large palm. And then he looks at her, “I like corny. And this? This is perfect,” he says softly. “What would you say to getting a little matching onesie?” she asks. “Is this your way of telling me you already bought one?” he asks. “No,” she says indignantly, “…but I did consider it.” “Hmm…it might be a bit too much,” he says. “Oh come on, you know you’d love it,” she says poking him in the chest. The corners of his mouth tug upwards the tiniest bit, the only indicator that he is sort of on board with going all out on silly outfits for their infant. Her smile drops suddenly along with her playful demeanor, “I hope you know I’m not trying to replace her,” she says seriously. Miguel nods his head, “I know you’re not, Querida. But this child you’re carrying isn’t just mine or ours, it’s also yours. I don’t want you to feel guilty for something so beautiful as giving life to another being.” She leans in and quickly presses her lips to his. And though Miguel still holds guilt in his heart for his daughter and perhaps always will just as easily as he still loves her, he’s also so incredibly happy to be able to soon welcome a new child into his heart. After all, the love of his life is carrying his child and there’s so much to prepare for and do, and so so many new memories to make. And even with his fear of the future looming in the distance, it’s been banished from this particular moment. He wants to live in the present with his wife who is his home and the child she’s carrying for him. And as the two finally dry their tears and curl up on the couch once more, with Miguel laying on top of her, he rests his cheek against her stomach and with his enhanced hearing, and the close proximity…he can can hear two strong heartbeats.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #marvel

[marvel-fanfic-writer-8675]

Eucalyptus

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: fluff, cursing, innuendos

Summary: gardening, and someone showed Bucky tik tok

You loved gardening, your boyfriend on the other hand…he definitely did not have a green thumb, that’s for sure. You once left him in charge of your plants while you were on a mission and he killed them all, even the cactus, you were only gone for 3 days.

You had gone to the nursery (plant store) to look around and find a new plant for your garden in the back of the compound. Your garden was enjoyed by everyone, they all loved being able to go out and sit on the bench you had in there, and relax, let all their past bad experiences melt away. It was like the team’s own secret hideout from the world. You came back from the store super excited to show the team your new finds.

“Honey! Can you please come help me get the plants out of the car,” you asked your boyfriend, Bucky. “Of course doll, let me go grab Steve and he can help us too.” After bringing all the plants to the garden the team had come out to see what would be added to the special hideaway.

Natasha, believe it or not, was one of the most excited about the new additions, especially when she saw one specific plant. “Is that, Dagestanian Spleenwort?” She was wide eyed and almost tearing up. “Bless you…?” Tony answered, confused at the long, hard to pronounce name. “Dagestanian Spleenwort,” you responded, “a fern usually only found in Russia but they had one at the store I went to and I thought it would look nice.” Nat smiled softly and went to touch the fern. “Back in the Red Room they had a bunch of these outside in the outdoor training area, I would spend the little free time I had hiding in the plants, they gave me a feeling of comfort.” You set a hand on your friend’s shoulder, “I’ll be sure to take extra care of it, and you can help me if you’d like.” Natasha nodded and you went through more of the plants you had bought.

“I also got a lemon tree for that bare space in the corner,” you continued. “We can make lemonade!” Thor shouted excitingly, it was one of his favorite Midgardian drinks. Everyone chuckled and you agreed that yes, you could make lemonade. After you had finished saying all the stuff you’d gotten everyone went back to what they were doing beforehand, leaving you to plant your new plants. Bucky stayed back a minute to say goodbye, but was surprised when you told him to wait for a minute.

You ran out to your car and grabbed one final, secret plant you had gotten. “What is that doll?” Bucky was very curious at the bushel of green you held in your hand. “I found some Eucalyptus at the store for only $2!” “Eucalyptus dick,” Bucky shouted. You just stared at him in shock. “Eucalyptus dick!” He doubled down on the joke. “Honey, who showed you tik tok?” You asked with a slight smirk at the idea of your 107 year old boyfriend on tik tok. “Peter showed it to me when he saw a funny captain America video,” he admitted. You shook your head and set the eucalyptus down. “What am I gonna do with you,” you pondered as you gave him a kiss. “Love me eternally?” He responded like a cute puppy, enjoying his kiss. “I suppose,” you said, smiling up at him, as he pulled you in for another kiss.

You spent the rest of the day with Bucky out in the garden. He had brought out his favorite book and was reading while you worked with your plants. After you had finished you sat next to him, your head leaning on his shoulder. “All done doll?” You nodded, leading him to the new plants. “Looks beautiful doll, just like you.” You blushed at the compliment, elbowing him softly for his cheesy statement. “I love you, you dork,” you teased. “Good, cause I love you too, my little garden fairy.” You both laughed, walking hand in hand back inside, just in time to join the team for dinner.

Steve had made some chicken recipe he found, he loved to make food for the team, it was his way of showing he cared. He had a book with all the team’s likes, dislikes, allergies, etc. You and Bucky sat down in your usual spots, greeting the rest of the team. “So, how did planting go?” Clint asked. “It was great planting the eucalyptus..” Bucky smirked at you as you said eucalyptus and at the same time, him, Sam, and Tony all yelled “eucalyptus dick,” and burst out laughing. You just raised your eyebrows at your boyfriend as he looked at you, pretending innocence, “love you doll,” he tried. “Sometimes I question how we ever ended up together,” you sighed, kissing his nose, making him blush. The conversation then moved on to how Tony blew up part of his lab…again.

After dinner, you and Bucky volunteered to clean the dishes. You put on your shared playlist and got to work on the mountain of dishes. After the dishes were done, you still had water on your hands so you decided to start a fight, you flicked the water at your boyfriend who immediately turned to you, “oh doll, you don’t know what you just got yourself into…” he took the faucet and sprayed you quickly with the water. Laughing, and soaked, you moved and gave Bucky a huge hug, getting him soaked in the process. While hugging, you grabbed the faucet and sprayed Bucky’s back. You then started running towards your shared bedroom, but against a super soldier, you had no chance. He caught up to you, wrapped you in his arms and dipped you, giving you a kiss in the process. “Really thought you could run away doll? You started this fight,” he smirked. “Yeah and I was gonna finish this in the shower, but if you don’t want to join me then…” Bucky’s face lit up, “no, yeah, let’s go shower, gotta get off all the dirt from the day ya know.” And with that you both showered and got ready for bed. Some nice, warm cuddles in your boyfriend’s arms was just what this day needed to end perfectly.

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #Bucky barnes fic #bucky x female reader #fluff #fluffy fic #marvel fanfic #james bucky barnes #James Bucky barnes x reader

[mikage-rehoe]

A Bouquet of Red Roses (but make it a hundred)

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.7k

tags: post-timeskip, office au (office workers to lovers), mutual confession (is that even a thing? 🤔), Japanese honorifics are used, one cheesy chemistry pick-up line is used, LOTS AND LOTS OF RED ROSES!!!

a/n: dedicated to mami @quirrrky (ayiiiiiiiiiiieeeeee 😏♥️). Based on a request drabble by another Kuroo-simping moot @jotatetsuken from my old blog, rewrote and expanded it into a full-fledged fic. The original version’s been betaread by @krystalgaia, and this expanded version’s betaread by my fellow residents @unknownspecies @blackfire2013 @kenslilove at @enchantedforest-network—thank you 🙇🏻‍♀️ heart dividers by @cafekitsune 😘

Kisa’s General Taglist

RIIIIIIIIIIIING! “L/N-san speaking, yes! …yes? …a package for me? Hm… I don’t know… Hmm, mhm… I’ll receive it there at the lobby, thanks.” You placed the phone receiver back on its cradle, ending the call before quickly saving the worksheet you were doing on your computer.

“Going for a break, L/N-san?” Your co-worker Kuroo asked, face peeking from behind his cubicle across yours, his brown eyes looking curiously at your figure, while you shut down your computer and fish out your phone and wallet inside your bag before standing up.

You shook your head and grinned, fetching your coat from the back of your office chair and draped it around your shoulders. “Ah, no! Kikutani-san from the reception area just called, saying a delivered package of some sort that’s addressed to me came in, and I was to receive it at the lobby today.”

“‘Of some sort’, huh…,” he hummed, looking a bit perplexed. “I wonder what kind of package that is… Hope it’s not some weird stuff some random dude just sent it to you.”

You sighed vexingly. “Same here… though I don’t remember ordering some stuff online these past few weeks.” You started heading towards the double sliding doors, waving at Kuroo. “Kuroo-san, if someone asks for me while I’m away, please tell them I’ll be quick!”

He waved back, grinning softly. “Okay! Be careful on the way~” 

At the office lobby…

“...ah, L/N-san! Here are the papers you need to sign on for the package,” the senior receptionist, Kikutani, said while handing you a clipboard and pen. She rested her chin under her intertwining hands, pouting. “Lucky you, receiving such a sweet gift from your darling~ I’m envious!” She continued on rambling dramatically. “Ahhh~ when will the day of meeting my own Prince Charming finally come?”

You stopped midway through signing upon hearing her and turned to look at her. “Pardon?”

The receptionist then glanced sideways, which you followed suit, at a seemingly large bouquet of red roses sitting on the far right of the front desk, slightly obscuring the brass nameplate of the company’s logo on the wall.

“Wow… what a sight…,” a fellow employee who happened to pass by the lobby muttered, subtly taking a picture of the huge red-colored package from their phone’s camera. “Lucky~” A few other employees also followed suit.

“W-Wait a second, Kikutani-san… you don’t mean… these are mine? This whole bouquet of roses is mine?!” you blurted out in confusion, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” Kikutani nodded in reply as she watched you pick up the card from the bouquet. “All ninety-nine red roses.”

You stopped yourself from opening the card and reading its contents, side-eyeing the senior receptionist. “Wait… how do you know they’re ninety-nine in total?”

She winked amusingly at you. “I counted them earlier while waiting for you to receive them.” You shook your head in disbelief as you gently opened the card that was attached to the bouquet and read: “‘Forget hydrogen. You’re my number one element ♡’” You softly chuckled at the cheesy chemistry pick-up line written on the card. Cute. Whoever wrote this knows their science stuff very well and how witty of them to incorporate it into a good pick-up line.

“You know, in the language of roses, even the number of roses have their profound meaning, too,” the receptionist said out of the blue. “Receiving a bouquet of ninety-nine red roses from a special someone means that they’ll love you until the day they die.” She added thoughtfully, “…it’ll be wonderful if you were to receive a hundred red roses, though.”

You gently felt the soft-rough texture of the petals with your fingertips, and hummed, “Is that so…?” But, if there are ninety-nine roses in the bouquet… where is the one-hundredth rose, if ever there is? you asked yourself.

You then looked at Kikutani in a nonplussed expression. “But, Kikutani-san, how can I receive such a beautiful and expensive bouquet when I don’t have a lover yet? Much less a suitor…”

The receptionist stood quiet for a few seconds, staring at you. “You haven’t?”

“Since birth,” you replied, nodding in embarrassment.

Kikutani blinked once before clearing her throat. “Oh Lord... I’m sorry I misunderstood, dear,” she apologized.

You quickly dismissed it, waving your hands in front. “Ah, no! It’s okay, Kikutani-san, you don’t have to apologize. It’s just… this is my first time receiving a bouquet of roses so I feel kind of overwhelmed for a bit,” you chuckled softly.

“Oooohhh~ L/N Y/N-chan from the IT Department getting a bouquet of ninety-nine red roses from a dashing secret admirer, huh? Pretty romantic, if you ask me~” she said in a singsong voice, before her eyes noticed something behind you and smiled sweetly. “Ah! Speaking of dashing…”

“Oya? What do we have here?” You jumped on your feet and turned around to see your ‘dashing’ co-worker approaching the front desk, practically surprising you.

“Eh? Kuroo-san, why… what are you doing here…?” you asked in puzzlement.

“‘Why,’ you ask…?” Your tall male co-worker with bedhead hair then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. “I… I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all…,” he muttered; you failed to notice the faint red tinge coloring his cheeks as he said that.

“Ne, ne, Kuroo-san, did you hear?” The receptionist clapped her hands, drawing both your and Kuroo’s attention to her, and pointed her thumb at you. “L/N-san’s got a rich secret admirer and sent them a huge bouquet of red roses!”

You’re exaggerating a bit, Kikutani-san…, you thought, shaking your head.

Kuroo cocked his head on one side and looked at the card in your hands, feigning disinterest. “Uh-huh… a ‘secret admirer’, huh…”

You leaned your head into your hand and laughed, looking flustered at the thought. “Kikutani-san, even if there exists a ‘rich secret admirer’, I don’t know who would spend their money buying such an extravagant gift for me…”

“Hmm… I think I know of one—me,” he admitted, magically producing a single long-stemmed red rose from his hand, and gave it to you, smiling genuinely. You heard Kikutani gasp in the background and say, “A single red rose… it means ‘love at first sight’!”

You stared at Kuroo, your cheeks getting redder and redder, the beating of your heart pounding louder and louder.

“W-what’s the meaning of this, Kuroo-san?”

Earlier…

You started heading towards the double sliding doors, waving at Kuroo. “Kuroo-san, if someone asks for me while I’m away, please tell them I’ll be quick!”

He waved back, grinning softly. “Okay! Be careful on the way~” As soon as you were out of sight, he opened his cubicle drawer and carefully plucked something red from inside the drawer.

Kuroo stood up from his seat, took a deep breath and straightened himself up. “Good luck, me… you can do this!” he said to himself before heading out.

He opened his lips. “L/N-san, I like you… ever since the day you were assigned to our department months ago. When I first laid my eyes on you, I thought I was blown away with your cute looks, but then I also witnessed your adorable personality that’s uniquely you. You’re charming, sweet, kind and down-to-earth—good traits that I love about you.”

Suddenly, he gently placed his hand over your head and ruffled your hair a bit. “I also love your clumsy side, too…,” he added teasingly, pulling his hand before you swat him away.

“L/N Y/N, I’d be more than happy if you would go out on a date with me.” Kuroo held your hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss while looking sincerely at you. Then he began to panic and pulled his hand away from yours, his face a flushing red. “A-ah, sorry! Was my confession straightforward? Did it weird you out?”

You giggled and shook your head in reply. “No, you didn’t… and I would gladly accept your offer for a date with you!” you said, happily accepting the rose from him before placing it together with the other ninety-nine red roses. “I’m also glad you’ve confessed that you like me… because I like you, too, Kuroo-san.”

Both Kikutani and Kuroo were stunned at your sudden confession, with the latter asking: “…you like me, too?”

You shyly nodded in response. “…it was also a love at first sight for me. You’re really sweet and always helping me out! A true gentleman… Also you made me giggle with that cute chemistry one liner you wrote on the card.” You brought the card to your lips and chuckled softly. “I love it!”

Cute… you’re so damn cute… I swear to God you’re gonna be the death of me, L/N-san, a blushing Kuroo thought, quickly clutching his chest to stop his heart from beating past the normal rate.

“Ah! I don’t know if you remembered but… you helped me before, during my first month here…” You then pointed at a nearby snack vending machine, and smiled at Kuroo. “You know, the stuck bag of chips?”

“Eh!? Is that you?”

“Mhmm… I was so hungry at that time—I forgot to bring my bento from home—and I couldn’t get myself to go out to the nearest restaurant without sacrificing my precious lunch hour,” you said to him. “So, I resorted to buying some chips at the vending machine for lunch. But just as I dropped some coins and turned on the knob, it stuck between the coil mechanism and the glass wall…”

“…that’s why I found you teary-eyed and kneeling in front of the machine and pounding your fists on it,” Kuroo continued, reminiscing about that fateful encounter with you. “Then, I remembered kicking one side of the machine and you get to eat that bag of chips…”

“I was so happy that time, and I was going to thank you but you’ve already left. I forgot to ask for your name or from which department you were part of. So…” You and Kuroo continued to chat some more for a while in front of the reception desk.

“A hundred red roses—‘a gesture of commitment and supreme devotion’...,” the now ignored receptionist murmured, sighing dreamily as she looked at the both of you getting all shy and lovey-dovey in front of her, chatting away.

Bonus, a few minutes later:

“Shoot! I forgot to finish signing the receipt form for the bouquet earlier.”

“What?”

Likes are okay (but useless), reblogs are nice, reposts and plagiarism stuff are frowned upon 🥰 | ALL WORKS BY MIKAGE-REHOE © 2023

#enchantedforestnetwork #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kitty☆writes

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER TEN: RABBIT

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm, fatphobia, body dysmorphia

This is chronologically the tenth chapter in the series.

Read beneath the cut...

Napalm is the slow fire of waking from a terrible dream, blind, gasping, burnt. The pain, though delusive, is made actual by the action of nerves.

Only a hand at your shoulder, vigorous in its attentions, hauls you up from the putrescence of slumber into the light-dark of four in the morning. You find Hannibal's shape through lashes gummed with sleep's adhesive.

His face is as impassive as a star, but his hair, ever coiffed, is displaced from the friction of his pillow.

“You were screaming,” he says, as you sit, stunned, in his arms. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”

“No,” you say, although the scenes remain briefly in your vision, doubling like silk screen prints upon the walls.

Hannibal fills up a glass with fresh water and bids you to drink, his eyes pensive, unconvinced.

Only the notion that he may suggest you share his bed or else intrude upon yours impels you to honesty.

“I dreamt that I was trapped in one of the Silicone Lover’s dolls. That he was trying to squeeze me inside, and I wouldn’t fit. He said, ‘You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you. I’d better do something about that.’

“Then he started cutting me up with kitchen scissors, and I couldn’t stop him.”

You pause, choking on a breath, a verbal stagger.

Dr Lecter offers you the water again, which you take in both hands and drain to its end.

“Take your time,” says Hannibal. “When you’re ready, go on.”

Lying will fail you before the all-seeing eye, so it is with a flat honesty that you say, “It wasn’t what the Lover did in my dream that scared me. It was what he said to me. Because he was right.”

You reach down to pull the quilt up across your stomach, which Hannibal, with a subtle gesture, prevents.

“To agree with such a statement there must be some basis of comparison for you,” he says. “You knew the person standing in as the Lover in your dream. Can you name him?”

Hannibal could guess it, from the little you’ve told him of your unclean past, but if memory conjures the name from the gully of silence he does not say so.

Instead, he comments, “I think it’s unwise for you to sleep again until your mind is settled. Perhaps we may take advantage of the hour to continue your therapy, in an informal fashion.”

He sits in a chair by your bed, producing a notepad and pen from a pocket of his dressing gown.

You see that he will not move.

"What if I don’t talk?” you ask, softly. “What if I say I'd rather take the punishment?"

Hannibal's slender lips upturn.

"I wouldn't be inclined to take such a claim seriously.”

In sullen defeat you flounce back against the pillows.

Dr Lecter takes his cue.

“I’m curious about the friendships you’ve formed throughout your life. Have there been any notable examples?”

“Not many,” you answer, looking at the raw edges of your fingernails. “I was kind of the weird kid. It was like looking through a dusty museum window at everybody passing by, not really knowing how to get out there and talk to people. Like I was too old and too young at the same time.

“I got bullied, kind of. Nothing worth talking about. Just dumb kid stuff.”

“Even persecution of a childish nature bears painful resonance in later life,” Hannibal comments. “Moreover, isolation from one's peers may disrupt development in those vital years.”

You think of dolorous hours patrolling a fallow playground alone, three hundred children staring through you with adult hostility.

“I did make one friend,” you say. “First year of high school. Amy Glass. She was a weird kid, too.”

Hannibal scratches deftly on his notepad.

"Describe how you met."

Closing your eyes, you find your way back through the forests of the past to a corridor whose tiled floor squeaks under your shoes. You smell textbook paper and saccharine body spray. The sweat of young bodies, and the stale cafeteria fare you’d never tasted throughout your time there.

“Between classes Amy would sit in a window listening to music, or reading,” you say. “Stephen King, usually. Sometimes Ann Rice. She seemed to be up there all the time. I don’t think she was getting shit from the other kids or anything; she just preferred hanging out on her own.

“I wished I was like that, not caring. I wished I was her, period.”

“In what way?” asks Dr Lecter, and in the hallway of your mind a slender figure appears, brown of skin and eyes, blue hair cut roughly to the chin, its roots seeping in atop it like a stain.

Amy.

“A lot of ways,” you say. “Before I really knew her, it was about how she looked. She had piercings— ears, lip, nose, eyebrow. Teachers would tell her to take them out, then the second she was out of their eye-line she’d put them right back in. And even back then she had these awful stick and poke tattoos of bats and crosses she covered up with band aids for classes.

“She did all of them herself with a safety pin. God knows how she didn’t get an infection or anything.

“Then there was the fact I knew we liked some of the same music because of the patches on her bag, and her t-shirts and stuff. Nothing you’d approve of,” you add, as interest touches the face of your listener. “Jesus, I can’t even imagine playing stuff like that in this house. Anyway, I didn’t want to just be like, ‘hey, you like that band, too’. It would have been too weird. Stalkery, maybe?”

“Music isn’t such a terrible way to form a connection,” says Hannibal, amused. “I was once approached in friendship through a shared taste in cheese.”

Picturing his restrained derision you cannot help but laugh.

“Oh, god,” you say. “What were they thinking?”

“It was a naive assumption of commonalities. Besides, my commitment to professionalism would never have allowed us to be as close as he would have hoped.”

You give a little start of affront.

“You’ve made friends with other clients.”

Dr Lecter’s smile remains.

“Only with those whom I feel my presence benefits.”

“Benefits you, you mean,” you say, pettishly. “Whoever it was, you just didn’t like him that much. That’s why you turned him down. Or maybe he was too like you.”

Without appearing offended, Hannibal turns a page in his notebook.

“I'm unconcerned with debating my personal relationships, little one. Let’s return to Amy. Who initiated the friendship between you?”

“Amy,” you say. “It was after this councillor was trying to get something out of me, and I didn’t want to talk. I walked out that room feeling so... heavy, and grimy, and embarrassed. Then there was Amy, heading to the same office I just walked out of. She looked at me, scrunched her face up, and said, ‘Wish me luck.’ Next time I saw her I made the same face back and asked, ‘how was it?’

“‘The worst, just like always,’ she said. ‘Where’d she get her certificate, anyway? Clown school?’

“I burst out laughing. ‘She’s so bad, right?’

“And that was it. Friends. We went everywhere together. Amy really liked me. I don’t know why. I think maybe she thought I was sort of mysterious and interesting rather than just depressed, probably because I didn’t want to talk about what was going on with me.

“She told me everything about her. How her dad didn’t believe in mental health issues even though he was just like she was, and how her mom just ignored everything, hoping it’d just... go away. But I didn’t tell Amy even one little thing about me, really. Not one.”

Guilt you’ve never truly confronted falls like a petal from a late summer bloom, cloying the dark with its flavour.

“Did Amy ever indicate that she’d recognised your particular illness?” prompts Hannibal, and you shrug glumly.

“A couple of times. I ignored every hint. Changed the subject. Acted like it wasn’t a thing when it obviously was. I knew that she knew. That was the dynamic. She was softer, around me. She got it. She got me.”

Suddenly your breath feels very high in your chest, catching on a rib.

“I can’t help but notice your use of the past tense,” says Dr Lecter. “Might I assume that you are no longer friends?”

“We grew apart after school,” you mutter. “I think she would have liked it if I stayed in touch, but then sometimes I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking, and maybe she didn’t care all that much when we drifted apart and stopping talking.

“I have her on Facebook. That’s all, really. She was never a social media person anyway, but still. I could have tried harder. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Hannibal allows the silence between you to ferment before he speaks again.

“Looking back, what do you think prevented you from maintaining contact?”

“I felt like after school was over she’d find other friends, and I’d just end up being left behind. So I got out of there before I had to see it happen.”

"You abandoned a friendship on the basis of a prophecy that might never have come to fruition."

"It would have,” you insist. “All my life I've had senses about things. Like, if I get a feeling something will or won't happen, I'm always right. Like I was right about you."

Swanlike, Dr Lecter’s hands move across his notebook, tactfully punctuating a note.

"It's common for sufferers of complex post-traumatic stress disorder to misinterpret their hypervigilance as psychic premonition. A heightened awareness of your surroundings and the behaviours of people in your vicinity develops in order to predict danger before it occurs. Pattern recognition is more mathematical than clairvoyant."

"What about my dreams?" you ask, sharply. “Are they math, too?”

"You've had other nightmares?” asks Hannibal, and leans forward, poised to digest you answer.

Canny, you hoard the matter like a serpent its glittering lair.

Hannibal accepts his defeat with grace.

Gathering up his notebook and the empty glass, he says, "That's enough therapy for now, particularly so early in the morning. I'll make you some tea, and you may return to sleep. Peacefully, this time, I hope."

*

Later, there is a meal that sits, sinking in a bath of bronze on Dr Lecter’s dining table, so much of it that you’re gorged merely from the arithmetic of its makeup.

“Arroz de Cabidela,” says Hannibal, as he pulls out his own chair. “A Portuguese dish made with rice, chicken, or rabbit cooked in its own blood. Today I’ve chosen rabbit. Have you ever eaten it before?”

It occurs to you that he expects you to be disturbed by the notion, but you are not. Meat is meat, all of it equally cruel. That life must end for the furthering of your existence has driven you to veganism many a time.

Little chance of sustaining such a diet now that you sleep in the devil’s slaughterhouse.

“No,” you say. “I’ve never tried rabbit. I heard it’s really... gamey.”

Your palate is scarcely educated enough to comprehend the statement. Still, it is apparently accurate, for Hannibal makes a low hum of agreement.

“It has similarities to poultry, in flavour, though it’s rather lean and dry. The blood stew adds a richness you’ll find complimentary, however.”

The scent is certainly inviting, but you are so committed to rejecting whatever is served to you that you feel lightheaded, succumbing to the altitude of starving heights.

“Couldn’t you have given me a smaller portion?” you ask, piteously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s so... much.”

Hannibal glances from your plate to his own, his visage neutral.

“I’ve served you a great deal less than I’ve given myself,” he says. “That said, I’m sure we can settle our differences. I’m not unyielding, if I can see some effort is being made.”

You look him in the eye, hoping you appear more bold than frightened.

“Dr Lecter, you make me all these courses, and they’re crazy even for a normal person. I feel like you do it on purpose. And afterwards my stomach hurts.”

“That’s normal, after a period of fasting. Your body will adjust. Now, please eat.”

You don’t. The cut on your plate makes you think of the Lover’s dolls, how even at your slightest you wouldn’t have fit into such a shell. How, changed as you must be through Hannibal’s cooking, you would ooze over every edge.

“I could use the feeding tube, if you’re unwilling,” says Dr Lecter, rising from his chair to stand at your back. “It would be relatively easy for me to administer. But I’d hate to sour an otherwise pleasant meal with brute force.”

He cups your throat in his smooth hand, and you envision how lovingly he’d coil about you in restraint, guiding the pipe down through you as you choked and flinched in his grasp.

“I’ll eat a quarter,” you say. “That’s it. Then... then nothing else until tomorrow. I won’t sneak out of bed, and I won’t do anything that breaks the rules. Please, Dr Lecter. Uh... Daddy?”

Your confusion between roles endears you to him, as does your breathless, eager willingness to beg.

“Should I allow you to barter?” Hannibal muses, still caressing the wand of your stiff neck. “It’s a symptom of your illness, after all.”

“Just let me choose how much and I’ll try anything you offer me.”

Dr Lecter releases a small breath of laughter.

“I wouldn’t like you to eat your words, little one.”

Gnashing your teeth, you say, “I won’t. I can do it. Please let me. You’re supposed to dote on me, aren’t you?”

You feel Hannibal’s lips against your hair in a kiss of paternal indulgence.

“Always so spirited,” he says. “Very well. I cannot deny my little beauty her request.”

What beauty does he refer to? You’ve only recognised it in the mine shafts of furthest hunger, mistaking a shadow for some precious stone.

Yet clearly you are not so low quality as you believe if both men have fucked you so freely over other women, whom they could conceivably draw into the net of the house.

Then again, there is no accounting for the tastes of madmen, and mad they both are, even Hannibal in his gelid divinity.

From the topiary of his language and flippant games you are beginning to see that you interest him in your very opposition to his being. Were you to succumb completely you would not be so worthy: all men bow to Hannibal, after all, seduced and deceived until they’d lick his fingers like lambs for the milk of his approval.

You, like Will, resist and evade enough of his passes to set yourself apart from the flock.

You may yet throw a halter over the head of the horned man, if only in as much as he allows himself to be reigned.

Quartering your meal as neatly as you're able, you glance up at Dr Lecter, afraid that, by some caprice, he’ll break his code and force you to eat down to the bare plate. But he merely stands by, retaining his honour, and as you look at him you picture his mild hands breaking the neck of the rabbit to drain as though for a ritual of blood.

*

Frequently through your days with Hannibal he immerses himself in hobbies and work about the house, cultivating a necessary solitude after the long hours of ingesting others’ anxious thoughts.

He reads, or writes music, sketches, telephones his friends and past lovers—of whom there are many—or else sets his pen to journals, having seen you safe to your locked room, where he need not prepare for misdemeanour.

In this way your residence in Hannibal’s home does not impede upon his individual pursuits, but rather compliments them, an accent of his sempiturnal glamour.

You are, after all, but one of his many pastimes. It is indulgence, then, when he insists on attending your evening bath.

As he kneels beside the tub to dampen a washcloth his intentions surface, another infringement upon the flesh.

“I don’t need you to help me,” you mumble, arms taut across your chest. “I’m not your baby.”

“Your inner child wails for the tenderness your illness has long obstructed,” says Hannibal, calmly. “Your independence would have you die like an infant abandoned to the forest. Let me carry you, at least in this small act of service.”

You look at him with eyes as dull as old blades and picture the futility of your struggle, his lithe arms holding you, kicking and airless, beneath the foam.

“Don’t you have your own daughter you can do all this with?” you ask; you’ve not yet needled him on his familial relations, and feel yourself more than entitled to know.

Hannibal begins to work the flannel over your naked form, paying no heed to your twitching affront.

“Abigail would have served the role admirably,” he says. “But it wasn’t to be. As for my own children, I have none.”

The revelation passes you without surprise. It’s only possible to imagine him having elegant, adult offspring, absent of the soiling indignities of rearing an infant.

“So you took me away for you and Will to raise,” you say. “Guessing he doesn’t have kids, either.”

The washcloth folds beneath the water, and you gaze studiously at the opposite wall so as not to think about the hand behind the fabric, how it has touched you in other ways, pleasantly, horridly.

“Will is also childless,” says Dr Lecter. “He has never known family, as you have. His mother left him when he was only an infant, and his father was a distant figure, though present. Now it seems that they’re estranged from one another. One can only imagine the loneliness Will has known in his life. Perhaps, with your assistance, this will change.”

Cloth, skin, hands, touch. Gentle and beguiling their trap, to distract from the permanence of this suggested triptych as fingers play against you underwater.

Unsteadily, you ask, “Is Will your boyfriend?”

Hannibal turns you an indecipherable look.

“Do you perceive our relationship to be romantic?”

A strange question, considering the violation with which you were inducted to their company. But not once did either man kiss or grasp the other— a technicality, certainly, yet one, it seems, that holds weight.

“Yes,” you say. “For you, anyway. I don’t know about Will. I know he thinks highly of you. He just sees me as something that’s in the way.”

You kick a foot testily, splashing water over the rim of the bath.

“What are you in the way of?” asks Hannibal, as he begins to lather your hair.

“Not sure. Your friendship, I guess.”

“Do you believe him when he implies that you're only an obstacle to him?”

Water pours over your head, and you close your eyes, enduring the sensation.

“He told me I’m unwanted,” you say.

“When you attempted to kill him?”

Fear bowls over you with a black suddenness.

“He told you?”

“I came to my own conclusions. You weren't quiet, either of you, that night."

You look at Hannibal, at the stag man of your dreams, and taste something like dirt, something like blood, at the back of your mouth.

“Had you seriously injured him or succeeded in your bid to end his life I would have been forced to conclude our treatment,” he says. “But you did not. I’m thankful to have been provided with a truth I hadn’t yet drawn from you: I know that you are not a killer, at least not at this present moment.”

In a strengthless whisper, you ask, “What do you mean?”

Hannibal draws a comb through your hair, unmoved by the conversation.

“As time changes the continents, people come apart through circumstance into new being. That shift may one day lead to the birth of murder’s country.”

A thought stings you like the cold: Will and Hannibal want you to be capable of killing, if not of them, then someone of lesser consequence, the hereditary illness emerging in the child.

That is the secret under this house, the whisper in the walls, its present haunting.

“I hope that never happens,” you mumble. “Never. No matter what you do.

“And yet the whetting of your blood thirst didn’t begin with Will and I,” says Dr Lecter, mildly. “Until you admit your liking of its flavour you will remain unsatisfied, little one.”

You do not ask how he knows you’ve thought of killing, once before, which you yourself had forgotten; having been in your home, the chill sanctum of your childhood bedroom, he may have learned, of you, a myriad, his interrogation merely a practice in contextualising his findings.

“I’d rather starve,” you say, at last, and sink your chin beneath the water.

Dr Lecter takes a razor from a nearby cabinet and begins to shave you with slow precision. He does not ask if you wish for it, only glides the razor across your underarms, groin, and each leg until you run silken beneath his hands.

That done, Hannibal rises, brushing unseen dust from his knees.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes,” he says, and leaves the room, a ghost departing the stage.

You look at the razor, entrapped in its plastic guard on the rim of the bath.

Had you a pair of scissors you might have cut the metal free to make a weapon, or else an escape into realms unknown to the living. Though its edge is still wickedness manifest, it would take a great deal of pressure to pursue death by this angle, though it would not be impossible.

It is not death you want to meet, however, but another, nameless coward.

You take the blade to your arm, and the pain is like eating, a sin that sates the freak of misery.

The bathwater turns like a devil’s baptism, and though they are but shallow cuts you feel suddenly faint. Lying back, you lay your arm against the porcelain, thinking murky thoughts of your mistake.

Hannibal returns carrying a muted lilac dress and pale stockings, stilling at the sight of you, of the water, red as autumn mud.

He sets down the clothing and kneels beside you again.

“Let me see.”

You let him take your arm and touch the crude little gashes softly.

“Shower, quickly. Then I’ll treat your wounds. Fortunately, they aren’t so deep.”

How gentle he is with you, this beast dressed as a man in his pressed shirt and waistcoat, guiding your numb form about with a soothing authority. You’d once yearned to be handled like this, to be absolved and set free of any and all expectation. That it comes from him is like being spit in the eye by the Fates, one after the other.

Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos: what have you done to so offend them?

It’s only after having bandaged your forearm and settled you, dummy-like, upon his bed, that Hannibal speaks again.

“What motivated you to do this?”

“You know.”

“Elaborate.”

You lie, face down, in the pillows. The cotton smells like him.

“To feel better,” you say. “Amy said it helped her, sometimes. Cleared her head.”

The mattress tilts slightly as Dr Lecter sits down beside you.

“You mirror her pain to feel closer to love lost. Has it helped you?”

“No. I feel stupid. I feel—”

Restless, you turn onto your side and feel a tear, compelled by gravity, mark your jaw.

“I feel like a kid,” you say. “It’s humiliating. I hate that I always feel this way. Don’t make me live like this.”

Dr Lecter presses a tissue into your hand, as much to save his bedclothes as to comfort you.

“Fighting the expression of necessary emotions will only stunt them further, little one. Will and I would dearly like to see you flourish. Amy would surely wish that for you, too.”

Cradling your wounded arm to your chest, you flick the used tissue to the floor with the other.

“Screw you,” you say. “Both of you. That’s what Amy would tell me to say to you, Dad.”

Hannibal stares at the tissue, and you sense the inward twitch of his irritation as he bends to pick it up from the ground.

“Your parents called again, this afternoon,” he says, offhandedly. “I informed them that you were struggling with your treatment. I advised that we continue your residence here a month longer than previously agreed.”

He casts you a pitying look, and you’re reminded of the futility of going to war with Hannibal Lecter.

“It seems that I made the prudent choice,” he says. “Don’t you agree?”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal fic #yandere hannibal lecter #manna fic #tw eating disorders #tw fatphobia #tw self harm #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #hannibal darkfic

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 16 - Fight!

Summary: Y/N fights Midoriya and Shouto in front of an audience. Is she able to win against the two top heroes and go back to being a hero? We shall see.

Feat. Present Mic and Aizawa!

Warnings: Swear words, Katsuki makes a few horny comments here and there, mentions of Shouto’s PTSD, one broken rib. Or two. Or three.

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, welcome to the battle of the year!” Present Mic yells into his speaker with utter enthusiasm. Why is Present Mic here? You have no idea, but you can’t wait to get a signature because you freaking love his talk show. “Y/N versus Midoriya and Todoroki! Yeaaaaaah!”

The whole building cheers.

You heard it right. The whole building. It’s a fucking full house.

The whole agency is here except a few who decided to stay behind to keep the business going (Katsuki had to give them a double hourly wage to make them stay at work, by the way.), which doesn’t surprise you as Katsuki’s team is quite known for being overly enthusiastic when it comes to mock battles and hero stuff, then there’s Mina, Kaminari, and a shit load of people from the wedding, possibly Katsuki’s old classmates and friends, all sitting in one corner and cheering for both teams which doesn’t make any fucking sense, but okay. Next to the famous Present Mic there is a grouchy black haired man with a massive white scarf thingy around his neck; he has a camera by this left side and a notebook on his lap.

“Why. Just why.” The man mutters under his nose; thankfully you are amazing at lip reading, so you don’t actually need to hear him to know what’s up. His face is contorted into a frown as he stares at the blond with nothing but pure judgment.

“Oh come on, sensei! Have some fun!” The guy snickers but “sensei” only rolls his eyes at that.

“I’m here to take notes and to film the fight for Midoriya for analytical purposes. I’m not here to have fun.”

“We are here to have fun, let’s go, Mic sensei wooohooo!” Kaminari yells and the whole audience cheers at that.

Dang. You’ve never had a stage fright before. Needless to say, now you do.

“Deku, what the actual fuck, do you want to die, you idiot?! This is not what we’ve discussed!” Katsuki clearly felt the nervous vibes coming from you and is absolutely fucking livid right now.

“Kacchan, I swear it wasn’t me. I only asked Aizawa-sensei! No one else!”

“Why is Auntie Inko hiding behind the pillar then?!” Katsuki tries his best to look less aggravated as he waves to the shy, green haired woman with a forced smile on his face. Midoriya then stares at his Kacchan with nothing but gratefulness, tears prickling his eyes from seeing his childhood rival being nice to his one and only mother he loves so much.

“Mum doesn’t count, does she? She’s family.” Deku mutters, ready to have his face blasted off.

“Do you see my shitty family here, Deku?! Huh?!” Kacchan yells at the poor guy; Midoriya points right where his mum is with a barely concealed smile.

“Yeah, they are right behind my mum.”

“The fuck?!”

Katsuki is having a brain fart moment. He’s so fucking confused it’s kinda hilarious.

“It’s my fault, Katsuki.” Kirishima comes over with guilt deeply etched into his face. “I accidentally told Denki about it and then… well, you know him. I’m sorry.”

“Fucking hell.”

“My family isn’t here.” Todoroki adds. The guy didn’t make a single noise until now so you kinda forgot he’s also here.

“Shouto, you are not helping, but thank you for trying.” Izuku, who’s clearly used to Todoroki’s miserable attempts to save the day, leaves a tiny kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

“10 minutes until show time, are you guys ready?!” Present Mic’s voice comes through the speaker again as the light around the outer edges of the building dramatically go down.

“If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking overpowered energizer bunny.” Katsuki grabs the green head’s shirt by the neck and pulls him closer with a sneer. “One fucking bruise and…”

“Kacchan… I respect you but I’m here to win. You wouldn’t want me to go easy on her, would you?”

Katsuki only contemplates for a few seconds, the tips of his ears coated pink as he lets go of the poor guy, completely defeated.

“I can cauterize wounds if things get out of hand.”

You’ve never seen Katsuki so terrified in your whole life. His face is pale like a sheet and he looks five seconds away from throwing up all over the floor.

“Nope. We are not doing this. We are going home. Nope. Fuck this.” Katsuki is about to pull you towards the exit but Izuku jumps between the two of you.

“Shouto, you were doing so well...” Midoriya sighs and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, Katsuki. I swear I won’t do any serious harm to your girlfriend. I also think she can protect herself and she’ll be able to keep up with us with no problems. Please, sit down and enjoy the show.” Midoriya pushes you to the side slowly, but Katsuki’s grasp on your hand is relentless.

“Come on, bro! I heard Auntie Inko brought you some muffins!” Kirishima chimes in, pulling him towards the seats, his hands massaging the blond’s shoulders. “Come on now!”

“Just one minute and I’m going.” Katsuki tears himself out of Kirishima’s grasp. Todoroki and Midoriya make their way towards the other end of the battlefield while Kirishima takes a few steps back to give you some privacy. “Kick their asses, baby. I fucking… I fucking believe in you. I love you and shit. Fuck.”

The whole audience gawks as Katsuki snuggles into the crook of your neck like a little kitten looking for attention. You rake your fingers through his messy hair out of habit, playing with the strands and leaving tiny kisses on the top of his head until he finally looks up and lets you kiss him properly, right in front of the whole fucking building.

“Oh my god! What a day to be alive! Bakugou Katsuki aka Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight just got a kiss from the mysterious hero! You go, lover boy, good for you!”

“That’s his girlfriend!” Kaminari yells into the air helpfully. “He’s in love, sensei!”

“Oh my god, dear listeners! The beast has been tamed! I’m so proud!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Katsuki mutters into your neck, his whole face probably the color of a ripe tomato.

“He said shut the fuck up!” You yell to the interpreter with a shit eating grin on your face.

“Ahh, well, there is a lot of things I can do but that ain’t one of ‘em!” Mic giggles and the whole audience roars.

“That’s true.” Sensei mutters with a nod and Mic makes an offended face at that.

“Five minutes to go. Are we are ready, dear listeners?!” Present Mic yells again and the audience cheers. Loudly. Dang, they are really fucking excited for this shit.

“Keep your eyes on me, loverboy.” You wink at your boyfriend; he visibly shivers under your confident gaze.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you even if I’d try.”

… damn, you two won’t sleep a wink tonight, that’s for sure.

~•💥•~

“Three, two, one… go!”

The two heroes charge at you right away, their movements completely synchronized and clearly planned out; needless to say having two heroes that are so used to each other fight against you should be a huge disadvantage for you but here’s the thing; you can do whatever you want. And by whatever, you mean you can literally just…

“Goldfish.”

Deku’s movements halt right away, his face contorted into a confused frown as he looks at his partner in pure terror.

“Goldfish is a quirk that makes the other person forget what they were about to do a few minutes prior. It’s quite harmless unless used… well… in cases like this. Well done.” The “sensei” steals the speaker from Present Mic who’s completely bamboozled by seeing the number one hero so lost on the battlefield. This would be the perfect time to counterattack but seeing how many people have gathered here today you decide to give them a little show instead; Todoroki comes out of his own stupor and charges towards you while Midoriya slowly tries to put himself back into the present but suddenly, his quirk changes sides in the most literal sense; his right side becomes his hot side while his left side starts to frost over rapidly; having such a change is already quite a pain in the ass but here’s the thing - to be honest this was a bluff but it clearly worked -; while his quirk swapped sides, his body didn’t, hence why his body is now affected by the effects of the quirk.

“Fuck!” Shouto yells as the flames start to burn his heat-sensitive skin…

“Y/N, stop! Anything but that. Please.” Izuku begs and he looks so horrified you cancel the quirk right away. There is something in his eyes, something painful and deep and you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to see that you somehow managed to touch a sensitive topic here. You look at Katsuki who’s standing by the side of the battlefield; he looks at his friend apologetically, his eyes somehow regretful.

“This is good practice.” Shouto’s sudden grin surprises the whole audience. “Sometimes, you need to face your biggest fears and if this would be a real fight, there wouldn’t be a pause. On the battlefield, there is no time to dwell on the past.”

“Is pro hero Shouto giving a speech in the middle of the battle?!” Present Mic screeches. “Also, how many quirks…?”

“All of them. Her quirk is called ‘quirk manifestation’. It’s the strongest quirk in the whole world as she can use several different quirks at the same time for as long as she wants to. Until she can stay focused, she’s unstoppable.” Sensei answers with a deadpanned face.

“Wow, you did your research.” You yell back to him with a grin. Thankfully, the mood is slowly shifting back to relatively normal now.

“I’m Eraserhead. I work underground. Gaining intel is my virtue.” He mutters smugly. “But for this intel I must thank my former student, Midoriya. His notes on you were quite… detailed.”

“Quirk me again.” Shouto suddenly yells, completely ignoring his old teacher. Midoriya looks at the guy like he just lost his mind and by the absolute manic grin on his face, he might be right about that.

Also, can we stop for a moment and talk about the fact that Todoroki Shouto is wearing his emotions on his face? You are a taken woman, but damn, he should do this more often.

“Are we going berserk? Plus fucking ultra then.” Midoriya grins back and by the random eye fucking those two just did a few seconds prior you are quite sure they’ll also have a long night after this.

“Come at me you gay disasters.” You give the two a manic grin and… well… they do.

First, Todoroki somehow finds a way to use his quirk even with the disadvantage. You manage to slip on the tiny, almost invisible ice he manages to sneak under your legs; the ice travels further up, pinning you to the ground but not for long; with your quick thinking you manage to counterattack with pink flames, because why the fuck not, melting the ice on your legs then charge forward towards the half and half hero but you change your stance last minute; you attack Midoriya instead, your emotions concealed with a quirk you just came up with to not trigger his danger sense; he catches your hand with black whip but you make your body intangible and slip out of the grasp; he tries to save himself by using his Smoke Ray but it’s all in vein as your favorite quirk is X-Ray Vision; Midoriya also made a massive mistake with using this quirk of his as he also made it impossible for his partner to see you, basically rendering him useless for the next few minutes until the smoke dissolves.

“I really want to gossip about the sexual tension between the two boys on the battlefield but… what a mistake! Todoroki’s lost in the smoke and Midoriya is just about to get hit by… uuuuh, that must have hurt!”

You just landed a massive hit right at Midoriya’s ribs using a mixture of Kirishima’s hardening and super strength while Todoroki is still wandering in the smoke, trapped and probably extremely frustrated.

Something cracked. Fuck.

“Izuku!” Todoroki finally emerges from the smoke, putting on a massive ice wall right between you two.

“She broke my fucking rib, Shouto.”

Suddenly, a furious Todoroki jumps through the wall, shattering it into pieces as he lands a massive hit on your shoulder and you fall to the ground.

“Midoriya is OUT! Nothing is as strong as a fury of a wounded lover, though! Get her, Todoroki!” Present Mic yells, exhilarated.

Katsuki looks like he’s about to pass out which is quite understandable to be honest. This fight is fucking intense.

“Was that really necessary?!” Todoroki yanks your wounded arm and pushes you down.

What he doesn’t know is that you are not actually in pain anymore; you already healed yourself but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You know I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Ten more seconds and Todoroki wins!”

“What kind of monster are you?!”

“The one on the good side. The one who really fucking wants to go back to work and save people.”

It all happens really quickly. You use a slime quirk to get out of Todoroki’s intense grasp and blast his face using your own version of your boyfriend’s quirk; the pink, cotton candy scented one you used to bully Katsuki with. You make sure to not use too much power this time and mostly just blind the hero for long enough to use your own version of Midoriya’s black whip - it’s quite a useful quirk as it’s heat and frost-resistant, basically indestructible. In only a few seconds, the half and half hero is rolled up like a little burrito, surrounded by black whip everywhere but his face.

“Sorry about triggering your PTSD in the beginning. I’m also sorry for hurting your boyfriend. I’ll heal him as soon as this is over.”

“Ten…”

“It’s fine, it has been ages since I’ve been challenged by someone. Felt fucking nice.” Todoroki tries to wiggle himself out but it’s all in vain. It’s game over for him.

“Five…”

“You guys are amazing. If this would have been an actual life or death situation I’m quite sure you would’ve won.”

“Three.”

“Stop flattering me, you literally took that hit on your shoulder just to be even.”

“One.”

“Anyway… it was a great fight. Thank you.”

“Todoroki is out, Y/N wins! WHAT A FIGHT! Congratulations!” Present Mic yells while the whole audience whistles. Midoriya’s mother is crying so you make a note to yourself to apologize to her later.

Todoroki is by Midoriya’s side the moment he’s free. You are just about to go over to heal him and say sorry when Katsuki jumps on you from behind, turns you over to him and kisses you with so much fervor your legs almost give up under you.

“You fucking madman.” Katsuki grins, his worried eyes long gone in exchange for pure exhilaration. “You don’t know how to hold back, do you?” Suddenly, Katsuki’s lips skim your ears. “Why don’t you go all unhinged in bed with me tonight? I want to see what else you can do…”

“Katsuki, this is not the time.” You reprimand with a little giggle. “I need to take care of your broken friend first.”

“You can take care of my…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you horny weirdo.” You put your palm on his face and push him away playfully in the middle of his sentence. The shit eating grin on Katsuki’s face is so fucking adorable you kinda want to kiss him but this is really not time for it.

“Y/N!” Todoroki yells, frustrated. By the look of it, it isn’t just Midoriya’s rib that’s broken but his mind as well; he’s mumbling to himself, still sitting on the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the facility. Needles to say, he’s crying.

“Let me reboot the crybaby.” You grin at the big lump on the floor while most of the audience goes back to work. Katsuki’s friend group and the two senseis are still seated, probably waiting for you guys to wrap up and listen to their feedback.

This will be a long fucking day.

… Next Chapter!

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Potato ramble:

- I know. This is fucking late. Honestly, I had the busiest two weeks of my whole life and I only had one day off which was the 25th and that was all. I don’t remember the last three days. Like I actually don’t think my soul was in my body. I have no recollection of the days either so yeah, I’m sorry folks who always tell me to chill the fuck out, I definitely did not listen this time. 😂

- Midoriya’s grave mistake and the whole drama around his behavior will be explained in the next chapter. Aizawa will give him a harsh feedback. 😂

- I’m really excited about the last chapter because it will have Steven in it. I fucking love Steven. I will miss him so much.

- The next chapter will be the last official chapter, then there will be one extra part and that’s probably it! BUT! If you guys have any ideas for possible extra chapters I’m more than keen to listen and maybe one day I’ll come back to this and write some cute extra chapters for you guys! So even if you read this months after I posted this, feel free to leave a comment about what would you like to see and stuff!

- Also, I’ll will start posting the Kirishima spin-off a few weeks after this one ends so if you want to be on the tag list, leave me a comment!

- I got myself a really aggressive looking cactus today. He has MASSIVE spikes all over and he looks like he could literally kill a person. His first thing after I bought him was to prick my finger. So obviously I named him Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight because he’s a prickly little fuck like him.

- I’ll shut up now. Happy new year and all that jazz. 💜💥💜

TL: @sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs @p4ndawrites @yao-ai @porusuniverse

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugo x you #shenanigansbypurplepotato #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki

[ladykailitha]

The Promise

Just a little sweetness to break up the absolute angst fest I’ve been working on. I’ve have cried so many times writing the next few parts, my little romantic heart needed a break.

So I jumped on the “they met as children” bandwagon.

Or you can read it here on AO3

*

Eddie wandered around Steve’s bedroom as Steve went to answer the phone. He wasn’t surprised to see that the room held little personality. Not because Steve was a blank slate by any means. No, it was more that judging from what Eddie knew about Steve’s parents and the way they forced conformity on him.

So the book shelf was a bit of a surprise. Four neat little shelves crammed with books.

Steve opened the door and asked, “Hey, what are you doing?”

Eddie looked up from the bookshelf feeling caught out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. It’s just everyone says you don’t read, so the bookshelf was a bit of a surprise.”

Steve scoffed. “They only say that because I don’t read fantasy or science fiction. I read other stuff.”

“What’s wrong with either of those two genres?” Eddie asked, moving away from the shelf to sit on Steve’s bed.

Steve shrugged. “I guess I never found the right kind of fantasy, especially since you told me that there are so many sub-genres. I guess I got overwhelmed.”

Eddie nodded. Not every fantasy book was for every person. He would have to go through his books and find a nice variety for Steve and figure out what he liked.

“And what about science fiction?” he asked.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “I hate it. And I’ve read all of the supposed greats, too. Jules Verne, Isaac Asimov, Frank Herbert, Robert Heinlein, Ray Bradbury. They all spend so much time on the science that they don’t get to the fiction. And it hurts my head.”

Eddie sighed and cocked his head. He couldn’t fault that. “So what do you like?” Steve cocked an eyebrow at him and he laughed. “I didn’t get to read any of the titles before you came back.”

Steve still eyed him skeptically but came over to sit on the bed next to him. “I like biographies. Mainly sports but a couple historical figures too. Winston Churchill was interesting. Diary of Anne Frank. But mostly I like mysteries.”

“Mysteries? Really?” Eddie said lightly. “Will wonders never cease. So who’s your favorites?”

“I like Agatha Christie, of course, Nero Wolfe, Sherlock Holmes...” he trailed off. “The classics, I guess.”

“Nothing wrong with the classics,” Eddie said. “What’s your favorite Holmes story?”

Steve hummed. “I would say ‘The Adventure of the Silver Blaze’.”

Eddie frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard of the that one.”

“It’s where a horse goes missing right before an important race and the trainer is found dead,” Steve explained, starting to talk excitedly for the first time since he caught Eddie going through his bookshelf.

“Whoa!” Eddie teased but Steve laughed. “Why do you like it so much?”

Steve blushed. “It’s one of the few times that Dr Watson finds an important clue.”

Eddie lit up with interest. “Yeah? What was the clue?”

“That the horse tracks start coming back about half way through.”

“And Holmes was so focused on seeing the clues in front of him that he forgot to look to the side?” Eddie guessed.

Steve nodded. “It’s really cool.”

“Now here’s the really important question...” Eddie said, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. “Poirot or Marple?”

Steve who had leaned forward before Eddie asked the question, threw his head back and laughed.

“Poirot hands down!”

Eddie put his hands over his heart. “No! Say it isn’t so!”

“Afraid so,” Steve said with a grin. He leaned over the bed to pull out his favorite book. “Elephants Can Remember.”

“It’s about a girl who’s future mother-in-law wants to find out if insanity runs in the girl’s family because when she was a little girl her father was with her mother both found dead on the top of the cliff near their home. Was it a double murder? Murder/suicide? And if so, who was the one that killed them both, the mother or the father?”

“So this old bat comes to Poirot to find out?”

Steve nodded. “It’s really good.”

“Huh,” Eddie said. “That does sound interesting.” He began leafing through the pages when a piece of paper fell out. “What’s this?

Steve shrugged. “Just a piece of paper I use as a bookmark sometimes.”

Eddie eyed suspiciously. Steve was far too causal about this little piece of paper.

He turned it over. There was a circle around a heart and a little note that said, “This is the best ring I can do right now, Love E”

“What’s this?” Eddie asked, his breath catching in his throat.

Steve blushed. “The first person I ever kissed.”

“Eleanor Jackson gave you this?” Eddie asked. He had heard the story of course. Everyone had. How when Steve was ten Eleanor declared him to be her husband and would kiss him every day on the playground. Everyone thought it was cute. Personally, it made Eddie gag. Mainly because no one had asked Steve what he thought.

But Steve was shaking his head. “She was the first girl I kissed.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me, what?”

Steve looked down and began picking at a loose thread on his comforter. “I don’t even remember what his name was and since he only signed it as ‘E’ I guess I probably never will.”

Eddie looked down at the note again. “Tell me about this boy.”

Steve bit his lower lip. “When I was eight, my aunt took me out to one of the lakes to play on the beach. I don’t even remember which one. But there was this dark haired little boy making a sand castle too close to the water and would get frustrated every time a wave came up and destroyed his hard work.”

Eddie grinned. “Sounds cute. Even if he seems a little dim.”

“I asked why he didn’t simply move further up the beach,” Steve said, remembering with a fond smile. “He said that he had. Twice!”

“Oh the poor little bastard,” Eddie said, nearly doubling over with laughter.

“So I convinced him to make little soldiers instead for the waves to deliberately carry away.”

“Awww...” Eddie said. “Did he agree?”

“We made a game out of it,” Steve said. “Who could build the fastest army before the wave came back.”

Eddie was cackling now. “So who won?”

“He did by a landslide,” Steve said. “I could only manage to make three or four but he made ten!”

Eddie shoved his hair in his mouth to try and stifle the laughter. “Oh god, you are so competitive. How on earth did you handle that?”

Steve tipped his head back and sighed. “I pouted.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie said.

“It’s how I got my kiss though,” Steve said. “So I really couldn’t complain.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “And how did that work?”

“When he saw me pouting, he kissed me,” Steve murmured. “Said that he had seen his mom do that with his dad when his dad pouted.”

“Cute!” Eddie said giggling.

“I kissed him back in retaliation,” Steve said. “He was just so sweet.”

“He really sounds like it,” Eddie said softly, looking down at the note. He crossed his legs and looked up at Steve. “When did he give you the note?”

Steve mirrored his position. “Just before him and his parents left. He told them he had forgotten something. He rushed back to me and gave me the note.”

“That’s real sweet, Stevie,” Eddie said. “So you just told everyone it was from Eleanor Jackson and kept it safe all this time.”

Steve nodded. “Everyone thought it was so sweet that she wanted to marry me, but I hated it.”

“Because you were already engaged to someone else,” Eddie teased. “Oh my what would Nancy think? You were cheating first!”

Steve protested, “Hey! It wasn’t like that!”

Eddie grinned. “I know, big boy. I’m only teasing you. You look so pretty when you blush.”

Steve pouted.

Eddie leaned over and pressed his lips to Steve’s.

Steve gasped. “Eds?” he asked, unsure.

“I learned that from my mom,” Eddie whispered as he worked a ring off his right hand. “Sorry it’s late, darlin’, but I finally got you a better ring.”

He slipped on Steve’s ring finger on his left hand.

Steve stared at the ring on his finger in awe and something softer, more dear.

“Did you know the whole time I was tell the story that it was you?” he asked, suddenly shy.

Eddie shook his head. “Not at first. I didn’t remember the sand castle or the little soldiers. Remember the kiss, though.”

Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Yeah?”

“Of course I remember the first person I ever kissed, Steve,” Eddie cried. “Like you, I didn’t remember the boy’s name. I don’t think you ever said.”

Steve blushed. “Probably not,” he admitted still shy.

Eddie kissed him again and Steve melted into it. “So pretty boy: gay or bisexual?”

Steve frowned for a moment, thinking. “I want to lean more to toward bisexual because of Nancy, but the more I think about our relationship and how we are much better as friends, I start to wonder. And then there’s Robin. What straight or bisexual man suddenly stop having feelings for a girl just because she said she liked her own gender?”  

Eddie nodded. “You’ve dated women pretty exclusively, did you feel anything for any of them? A spark, a floppy feeling in your stomach?”

Steve shook his head. “The closest I ever got to that was with Nancy. I was happy with her. Maybe no sparks or fireworks or anything like that, but she made me happy. So I thought that’s what love was.”

Eddie smiled, “And now?”

“Happiness is just a start,” Steve said, pulling Eddie back for another kiss.

Eddie grinned against Steve’s lips. “Well you make me pretty happy.”

Steve looked down at the ring on his hand. “We haven’t even dated and we’re already engaged,” he said with a laugh.

Eddie moved to sit next to Steve and picked up his hand to admire the ring. “I didn’t think I would find you again. And even when I entertained those thoughts, I would come up with scenario after scenario where we hated each other because we become such different people.”

Steve blushed. “My nightmare scenarios where were I found you again only to find out you were already with someone else. Or you tell me that it was a youthful indiscretion and that didn’t mean anything.”

Eddie kissed the ring gently. “Turns out we were both wrong.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m glad we met when we did, Eds. Again, I mean.”

Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek with his other hand. “Why’s that, sweetheart?”

“I think our nightmares would have come true,” Steve said softly, closing his eyes and leaning into Eddie’s touch. “Only it would have been me telling you it was a youthful indiscretion so Tommy would still like me. And then we would have hated each other. And I can’t stand the thought of that. Not now. Not now that I’ve gotten to know you.”

Eddie smiled softly. “I know what you mean, baby. And I’m grateful, too.”

Steve kissed him again and let Eddie lower them on to the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” Eddie whispered. “You were beautiful then and you’re even more so now.”

“I love you, Eds,” Steve murmured. “I think I always have.”

Eddie grinned. “Me, too,” he murmured against the skin of Steve’s neck. “Me, too.”

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #met as children #ladykailtiha writes

[qsmp-lore-dump]

Have we finally found who is using the black shulkers????

An abandoned Fed lab of experiments:

Many books written by "E". Up until now i could only think of ElQ, which never felt right, but was really all i had to go on. But now... NOW we have Elena.

Elena says that she knows the experiements the Fed does are unethical but says they are justified by a "greater good". So... is the abandoned Fed base where she first worked? are these her notes before it was shut down? its possible.

The black shulkers have left me so god damn confused for ages. and for the purpose of this starter theory, i think i need to lump in the regular chests that are found with cellbit through out his missions using black shulkers as well. (or we can go down further side theories of other parties intercepting his missions, which... another time..) theres going to be some loose parts here, just stick with me and well say hopefully the unanswered parts line up in the future. Day 106:

after the final election debate when cellbit takes himself out of the running, he finds book in a regular chest outside of his house.

NOTE: "us" . this is why i thought it had to be the rebels for so long. but the Rebels use black chest, which cellbit never got during this time. the Rebels on-going report of cellbit state they hadnt contacted him until just before purgatory. this was not from them.

Day 107/108

a chest apears in the Fear room, taking him to the ship the Brazilians arrived on.

Now, the color of this shulker is very much in question. i could not see it pop up in cellbits WAILA. there is a day Forever find it later on but i have not found that vod again to see if it shows the color.

this puzzle deciphers to follow the blue bird blah blah or lose your sone forever. we all know this stuff. then, day 109, The Jaidens. we know all of this. Jaiden is sent by Cucu to deliver the items. Cellbit is sent to follow behind and collect all the evidence.

so why send cellbit to collect this evidence? was the purpose for him to read it? to learn something? im not exactly sure yet.

Day 128: here is where it confirms for me that the black shulkers and these normal chest ARE the same person(s)

The use of "interesting performance" is a clear call back to day 106. And "common enemy", we can look to my old "Cucu secretly wants to escape the fed", and now update that to ELENA instead. anyway, this long trail ends in finding the code sword and as we know, "no trrace left behind" ultimately rewards Cellbit with a home office presented by Cucurucho!

Delivers the evidence to a chest on black wool or concrete, not sure. and then the coordinated for his home office appear. ... plan all along, intercepted, or... one of my theories of cucu wants to escape the fed, a double agent Rebel cucu, a code cucu. anyway, getting distacted here.

But now, Baghera. Baghera is where it seems strongest that Elena is tied to these black shulkers, which makes stronger the questions on what her purpose is with cellbit. ...

Day 165: Bagz finds a black shulker along with a flower that leads her to her childhood room on the island. flowers on shelves, just like Elena.... Elena who knows all about the unethical experiments done by the federation. like human hybrids....

Day 199: baghera arrives at coordinates for BioLab 3 (led here by info in her childhood room). She finds reports on hybrid experiments, herself specifically, and reports written in french.

i thought these were written by kameto, because we had learned he was a french translator for the fed. but do you know who else is french, Elena.

Day (???) spefic date unclear, but the day christmas decorations began, Streamed on Day261

Elena has a warp for biolab 3. huh. interesting. So, Elena feels guilt about the experiments she been part of but see that the means justify the end. Did she feel Bagz deserved to know the truth about her past? Is that why she was sent to discover these things? We know it wasnt the rebels, Bagz's on-going report in crabro mention no knowledge of the hybrid experiments. They are not the ones who sent Bagz to recover her memories, the way they sent Bagi to recover her memories.

And if the rebels are recovering Bagis memories..... why are they not the ones doing the same for Cellbit? Does this mean Cellbit also is a Federation test tube baby -- this would mean bagi is too then?? And does that mean Follow the Blue Bird, and the long mission ending with the Code Sword are related to HIS past?

~~Happy Loring~~

#qsmp thoughts #qsmp theory #qsmp cellbit #qsmp baghera #qsmp bagi #qsmp resistance #qsmp rebels #qsmp federation #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp elena #qsmp osito bimbo #qsmp lore #qsmpblr

[changingplumbob]

Coming this rotation, a new High School!

In my mod frustration I took a break from gameplay and rebuilt my old very square high school. I changed the time of day for taking photos and cheated the weather to sunny about 5 times but it kept raining so we're just going to roll with it. I mean at least it shows off the covered walkways?

As you walk on to the grounds the building on the right is the first stop. It is the reception area of the school and features the first aid room and principals office. We may or may not see the principals office depending on how evil a certain sim will be once they age up to a teen.

If you exited the office and went past the picnic tables to a side walkway you would find the basketball court (yes this is 100% here because @matchalovertrait character Dulce played basketball which made me remember most high schools have a court). The end of the walkway has a group cheer mat which Onyx may or may not use, obviously not in this weather, they like their hair too much. Opposite this is a proper sized pool inspired by the wonderful high school build done by @stargazer-sims (seriously wanting a pool even close to yours was a main drive of redoing the place).

What? We can walk from the pool to the main building without getting rained on? How convenient in this deluge! As we turn to look back at the pool notice how the watcher solved the empty space problem by chucking down a whole skating rink. Back into the main building and we're greeted by a pride flag because this is an inclusive school even if the principal is an arse gosh darn it!

I thought I couldn't get a more colourful cafeteria then I went and built it! Please notice the pride flag wall (please let me know if I forgot any key ones and I'll add them), colourful menus and a security camera to keep track of who really starts those food fights.

Double doors lead to an outside eating area, once again covered and- who put a waterslide back there? Seriously questionable building taste (it's me, I have questionable building taste). There's also a couple of swing sets because you're never too old for swings.

The other set of internal double doors lead to the library which is kindly being modeled by the default principal. Space for group study and comfy reading. I liked the idea of taller tables and normal height tables coexisting in the space. Room to work on projects together or study alone.

What's that you say? I've never looked into voidcritter lore despite owning kids room stuff? Me neither my friend. Didn't stop me from decorating the locker section with them though. If we continue clockwise- oh look, a full length mirror! How convenient for image obsessed teens without them clogging the bathrooms. You can also see the space on the opposite side of the cafeteria where there is a mural outline in case sims want to fill it in (I'm looking at you art lover Carson who still managed to get a low boost to his exam despite not having art knowledge). Anyway back to clockwise, this is my math class. Math diagrams because math.

And then we come out of the side hallway where the entrance to math was and face back towards the front entrance. Let me just take a minute to highlight that all bathrooms here are unisex individual spaces. Gender is a social construct and honestly making a group of young people who are already self conscious get changed in the same space is... not a great plan. The bathrooms in the pool also look like this. Down our second side corridor and I wonder what could be here. Oh look at that art, it kind of looks like something @eljeebee reblogged yesterday... silver and yellow... (I swear I forgot about seeing it until after I finished the build and I rechecked tumblr and saw it again. It's not my fault Lana is being an influencer)

Through the door you will find the graphics studio/art class. Hopefully it can inspire the students a bit. Alas not much room for easels but in graphics in high school all we needed was blank paper and a good desk.

Then we have business class right by the front entrance. Why is it so feminine I hear you say? Because business is for women to! Eliza is proving that. And I fell in love with the colour scheme and ran with it... And I wanted to try different style individual desks in different classes. Have you noticed this is the third room with different style desk? Probably not as this is the first time I'm mentioning it.

To the other side of the entrance we have two more classes (these are bordering the cafeteria). First up, computer science! Not a single computer in sight! Because when I tried to put computers at desks the students just sat in a huddle by the door and all got yelled at by the principal didn't they (I am sorry about that detention Onyx and Carson, my bad). Next we have social studies, one of my school favourites! Broke out the dino wallpaper and some maps to go with historic pieces. Fun fact, I'm useless at geography, couldn't find anywhere on a map really.

Now upstairs may seem a bit of a jumble... But that's just because it is. The main landing connects with a small workout area. Here we have a punching bad, some yoga mats, and the traditional exercise machine and treadmill for those before class tasks. Of course we have a sneaky bit of unicorn art as tribute to the queen of unicorns @azuhrasims herself.

In one of the upstairs corners we have our Language Studies room. And look, there's the big blank spot on the wall I couldn't decide decor for, oops. I have a film poster in here because my English teacher had film posters up and I loved them! Then we have a chill hang out space with a variety of comfy seats to choose from. These wall murals really set the vibe I wanted. A place to relax indoors that wasn't the cafeteria.

Next corner we have the science class where I definitely did not go overboard with green, nope not me. I wanted to chuck some chem labs in here but I also wanted each class to be able to sit 10. When I play the Pancakes next both teens will need to be in the same class so I'm going to run that week with a larger mixed class, they'll each have 4 friends of their own age in their class for company. Then we have what I assume was the builder's attempt at a Foreign Language classroom? Between quilted floor tiles and gingham walls I'd guess they were out of ideas by the time they got to this room (yeah I kind of was, plus I just don't know what to put in a foreign language class when all simlish is foreign to me)

And finally we have Olive Grim! Wife of the reaper who is kindly testing my build out for me in the photography save. I should have had her test a shower in the bathrooms but hindsight is 20/20 or whatever the saying is. She's chilling in the most bland boring room I could make for my sims to have to sit exams in. No inspiration and no cheating off classroom posters!

Thank you for coming on my tour. Once again I am sorry about the rain! I even skipped forward a whole other day and it was still there... at least we're putting the covered walkways to use I guess?

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #sims 4 builds #sims 4 build #BuildOrReno #show us your builds #sims build

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Shuffle With Me, Houston Stranger

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Curtis keeps a busy life between helping out on the farm and running the garage. There are some moments and places that give him reprieve, though, and one of them happens to be a bar where a certain sweetie works.

Word count: 3,386

Content/warnings: not many, mentions of drinking and alcohol, bar setting, weird vague emotional states, another guy hopelessly head over boots (what else is new, y’all should know this is how I write all my love interests at his point), menacing foreshadowing

Author’s Note: this takes place at the same time as chapters 3, 4, and 5 of YCMBWH and chapter 1 of The Rainmaker. You can technically read it alone, but the other stories help fill in some gaps. Check out the rest of the AU!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Outta Nowhere AU | Series Masterlist | Next >

Curtis walked into the shop with sore shoulders and a slight ache in his heels from a long day of unexpected work and standing. His cousin had called him in to help out with a few chores at the farm since she had to run the Friday farmer’s market, so the day was long and tiresome.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was go through and double check his books for the auto body shop, so he decided against it. Even if he went through everything tonight, it’s not like it would be quality work.

He figured he’d just quickly make sure everything was in its place in the office and the garage to make paperwork easier for him on Monday and work easier for the guys in the morning. Then, he’d be able to join his cousin and her new farmhand at the bar.

Curtis was organizing his socket wrenches by size when he heard a rattling sound become louder behind him. He turned as he sensed it coming closer, seeing an old truck pull into his garage.

He looked down to check his watch. The shop had been long closed by now, and he had places to be. Based off the noise though, he couldn’t deny something was definitely wrong with the vehicle. If Curtis weren’t such a good man, he would’ve turned the patron away, but there was no saying how far a truck that sounded like that could possibly get.

He tilted his head, examining the vehicle and attempting to peer through the glare in the drivers side window when the engine turned off and he saw a pair of old, comfy shoes step down from the cab. His eyes traced up the body before him and Curtis was speechless. Your hair was just tucked under an old ball cap, nothing fancy.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind, I’m not sure what this sound means and was hoping you had time to take a look at my truck. I know you guys are closed, so it’s no rush, but I’d really appreciate it. I’d rather know where my car is than get stranded out in the middle of nowhere.”

Curtis continued to stand there, mesmerized by you until he shook his head back into the present. “Oh, um, sure. I think I have the evening free, so let me just check on a few things real quick and I can take a look at it.”

Curtis pulled out his phone to text his cousin that he wouldn’t make it to the bar tonight.

He stuffed his phone in his back pocket, going to grab a chair from the front office as you followed. “Never good when a truck that old makes a sound like that.”

You nodded along. “Oh trust me, I know. Darn thing’s even older than me. Usually I’m able to figure out the minor stuff, but this is beyond what I know.”

Curtis nodded when he went to set a metal folding chair down by where you had pulled the truck onto one of his lifts. It scraped against the concrete floor, and he was surprised by the way you simply looked at it, as if you were offended that he’d want you to sit down.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Curtis, I own this shop.” The mechanic stuck out his hand, cleaner than you would’ve expected, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

“Ah, it’s nice to meet you. One of my coworkers actually suggested I come here when the truck started acting up. Said his best friend was the big cheese.”

Curtis laughed. “Um, he used those exact words? Or are those yours? Where are you from?”

You shook your head. “Oh no, sorry, those were my words. I think he just called you the boss, he’s the bouncer at the bar?”

Curtis clicked his tongue as he walked over to the hood of your car, propping it open. “Okay, you’re talking about my buddy, Edgar. Yeah, I’m glad he sent you to me. He works some shifts for me now and then. So you’re new to town? I go to the bar pretty often, I’ve never seen you there.”

You nodded your head tentatively. “Yeah, didn’t think it would be so noticeable I just moved here from Houston, but I’m really from here and there, lived almost everywhere. Been working at the bar for about a week now.”

Curtis nodded as he looked deeper into your engine, testing the tightness of parts and how full each fluid was. “Well how about that. Yeah, we don’t get too many people moving here, but I’m sure it’s a nice change from the city.”

You nodded and hummed, walking over and leaning under the hood of the car with him. “Agreed. I don’t think many mechanics would be this patient with me out there.”

Curtis lightly chuckled as he looked up at you over his shoulder. “Well I’ll be honest with you, patience is one thing, but you probably won’t think I’m very kind when I tell you this truck probably wont survive the next time you take a far journey if you plan to move…”

His small smile was replaced with a grimace. Maybe if he knew you were leaving soon like you seemed to do so often, he could hold himself back more. He could tell himself that there was no point in being attached, being himself for you to see. He’d hold off on the kindness that poured out to everyone he knew and loved, because it would hurt for you to take it and leave.

Your face held a small smile, though, despite his look of worry. “Well what if I planned on staying?”

Curtis looked back into the engine in an attempt to hide the redness in his cheeks. He was warm at the thought of you sticking around. He jiggled the loose part he found, grunting from leaning over so far, before he spoke up, partially avoiding your question.

“Well, you see this right here. I’d replace it and say it would be good for another couple of years.”

You beamed. “That’s good news!”

Curtis stood up to his full height and for the first time, you noticed just how towering his stature was. Anyone else would be intimidated from a distance, but from this proximity, you could see the kindness in his eyes.

“Yes and no.” It came out softer than he had intended. “I’ve gotta make a special order, and it will probably take at least a week to come in. Do you have another way to get to work?”

You nodded. “Yeah, my apartment isn’t too far from the bar. Walking shouldn’t be an issue.”

He looked at you skeptically. “Are you sure? I know you guys have some pretty late shifts.”

“Curtis, I’ll be fine. I’m tougher than I look.” He sighed in response.

“Alright, if you say so. I’ll put in for that part and in the meantime, your truck can stay here.” He walked over to the workbench and scribbled on a piece of paper, tearing it off and handing it to you.

“Here’s my personal number. In case you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me. I could even set up a ride for you if you change your mind.”

You took the paper, creasing it in the middle and stuffing it in your pocket. “Well, I’ve got a shift tomorrow and I think I might get there on time if I start walking now. Bit of a ways to my place from your shop. Any chance you could drive me home so I can sleep?”

Curtis sighed and checked his watch. “Yeah, I guess so, considering I’m holding your car captive. Come on, I’ll close up and we’ll get you home.”

As you waited for the new car part to be delivered to the shop, you kept working. Bills had to be paid. You had to keep living.

You were surprised the next day at work when Edgar had offered to walk you home after your shift, and every night after then, but didn’t question it. You were just appreciative to have a nice coworker you could trust.

Another surprise was the amount of take out orders that you’d have to give out from the bar. Most of which were going to a certain handsome mechanic.

It was Wednesday night, and the fourth time he’d come to pick up dinner this week. The man must really like cheese curds. You didn’t question it, though, as you handed him his order, asking for updates and waving goodbye with a somber smile as he left too soon, and spoke very little.

What you didn’t know was that Curtis had food at home, sitting in his fridge as he opted for the extra opportunities to see you. You also didn’t know how much he feared opening up his mouth and exposing himself by saying the wrong thing to the first person to make him nervous in a long time. Curtis was generally steady, driven, easygoing, but he could feel that world, that demeanor, start to tilt.

Curtis had a long week. A week much longer than he expected with the extra work he had to do out on the farm instead of in the shop. Sure, he was getting along better and better with Bucky, but that didn’t change the fact that there was too much going wrong.

Cole, that little shit from high school, was back and Curtis’s cousin had gotten stuck in a mine. There was no time for sleep, let alone stopping by the bar with this much of a crisis going on.

As soon as the rocks collapsed in the mine, Curtis was freaking out. “We have to call the police, the fire department, someone to get her out of there. She might not be injured now, but I can’t say the same if there’s a secondary collapse. We need to do something. Now.”

Bucky grabbed him by his collar. “No. No police. It’ll ruin everything.”

Curtis put his hands up in surrender. “Okay then, what do you suppose we do, big guy?”

Bucky paced back and forth, biting his thumbnail with worry. “Gimme a second. I’m figuring it out.” He stopped in his tracks. “Who all knows about the mines?”

“What? What does that ha-“

Bucky cut Curtis off. “Who. All. Knows?”

Curtis shook his head and shrugged. “I-I don’t know, not many people. Me and her, her college roommate, and Jake. That’s it, I think.”

Bucky rapidly reached into the pocket of his jeans and handed Curtis a card from his wallet. “This is my associate Sam. You’re going to call him and tell him those names. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

Curtis immediately pulled out his phone, trusting the judgement of his new friend. He called Sam, telling him everything he could about those who were close enough to have heard of the mines. After that, he got to work.

He assessed what all would need done in the next day and did as many small tasks as he could, staying up until he could greet the helpers on the way.

All Curtis wanted to do was sleep, this was taking a toll on him, but he did his best to not let it show, to not become a grump. He just put his head down and made himself useful while Bucky waited back at the mine. At the first available opportunity, he was going to drop into a bed and nap. This week was stretching him thin.

Meanwhile, you continued to work at the bar. After seeing him for several days in a row, it was concerning that Curtis seemingly fell off the face of the Earth. Surely that wasn’t your business, though. Maybe it was just a coincidence he was ordering food so often before. He had better places to be, like work, or maybe on a date.

Why would you care, though? He was just the nice guy fixing your car. There was no way he was going out of his way to visit; probably just had some late nights at the shop and that’s why he picked up dinner, not to see you. Anyway, work was always busy enough for your mind to be occupied. You’d at least see him again hopefully once that coveted car part came in.

After a much easier Saturday at the farm, Curtis was ready to have a nice, relaxing time at the bar. As the crew he came with went inside, he hung back to talk to Edgar. He clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

Edgar patted him back. “Good, I’m good. Been walking your girl home like you asked. She’s working tonight.” A smirk crept onto his face as Curtis looked down.

“But besides that, what’s going on with you?”

Curtis sighed and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. He turned a picture of Cole Turner towards Edgar.

“Um, I’m alright. A little stressed, but I’m hoping you can help. I’ve got something for you.”

Edgar looked up from the piece of paper. “What’s this?”

“Someone who we need to make sure stays out of here. And if you see him, you let me know, okay?”

Edgar nodded. “Sure thing. Have fun with your girl.”

Curtis rolled his eyes and walked through the door to catch up with everyone else.

You were pouring out drinks for the group that came in when a familiar tall, broad form approached from the doorway. You took in the way his shoulders pushed at the flannel fabric of his shirt as he sauntered into the room. You couldn’t help the way the smile already on your face grew to see him again.

“Oh hey, if it isn’t the big cheese.” He laughed at the nickname, shaking his head as he moved to take a seat at the bar.

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t been in for awhile. Had some family matters to attend to. Speaking of which, that’s them over there.” He gestured toward the group who had just ordered food and drinks from you before heading towards the booths on the far side of the room.

“Ah! Okay, in that case, this is for you.” You grabbed a short rocks glass from the lower counter in front of you and set it up on the bar top in front of Curtis. The glass made a small thud against the finished wood as you looked at him.

Curtis tentatively grabbed it and sipped. After swallowing he hummed.

“Sweet. Like a cherry.”

You nodded. “Oh yeah. That’s because it’s got extra cherries. Your buddies over there said you’d drink whatever, so I made you my favorite.”

Curtis lowered the glass and looked at you deeply with his warm, burning sapphire eyes. His voice grew low and raspy. “I wasn’t talking about the drink.”

He winked at you and you had no idea how your legs didn’t fail you right then. You were able to quickly recover, though, shooting a remark right back.

“Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll let you test that conjecture.” You could see his cheeks grow warm at the suggestive statement. You grabbed your rag and threw it over your shoulder, leaning closer to the towering man who was just confident, now evidently bashful.

“Curtis, are you…blushing?”

His eyebrows were quick to arch as his attempt of a scowl failed to break through past a shy smile. “No! Blushing is fake. It doesn’t exist. That’s just an old wives tale.”

You looked at his skeptically, not even attempting to hide the laugh that burst out. “What do you mean you think it’s fake? You’re so red right now.”

Curtis’s eyes shifted around the room, unsure of how to respond. “I just feel really…warm…when I look at you.” He muttered so low you could barely hear it.

You wanted to keep pushing before his embarrassment made him turn away from you.

“Hey listen, I’ll be back. I’ve gotta check in with the group, but keep this stool saved for me?”

You nodded. “Sure thing.”

As soon as Curtis returned, he was glued to his chair. He spent the entire evening chatting with you, asking about your life, and telling you about his on the farm and at the shop.

You were honestly grateful for the one bit of peace on a busy bar Saturday night. Every chance you got, you were leaning against the counter by him to take a breath, watching his friends ride the bull and dance together. What a group of great people.

“So, have you been able to make it home alright this week? I’m sorry that truck part still hasn’t come in yet.”

You nodded as you poured a line of shots for a group of girls waiting on the corner. “Yeah, it hasn’t really been a problem. Edgar’s been insistent on walking me to my door, which helps me feel better when it’s that dark out. Just makes me feel bad, though, because I think I finish a little later than his shift time is supposed to be.”

“Well that’s nice of him. If you want, I can drive you home tonight. Might take some of that load off if you’re worried.” Curtis’s eyes watched you slide the shots to the patrons as you came back to his seat and sighed.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you staying here later than you have to, either. It’s really okay. I can definitely take care of myself.”

Curtis shrugged. “I don’t doubt that at all, Cherry. But I’m offering. And I’d be a fool to prematurely end one of the best nights I’ve had in awhile. I really don’t mind.”

“Okay, then. Sounds like a plan.”

As the night was winding down, and Curtis’s group had already come over to close out the tab, the two of you watched the remaining people prepare to head out. Who was Curtis that he knew someone with a black card? Supposedly they were business associates of the farm. Was farming really that lucrative? You guessed so.

You rejoined the present as the last few slow songs came on the juke box and Curtis held out his hand.

“You know how to dance?”

You scoffed, “Curtis, I’m still working. But yes, do you think I could’ve gotten by all this time without a little bit of knowledge?”

He shook his head. “I would’ve been worried if you did. Come on, there’s hardly anyone left. Shuffle with me, you little Houston stranger.”

You sidestepped the bar and walked out the small half door to join Curtis on the dance floor, holding both his hands and looking up into his eyes. “I’d say we’re hardly strangers now. You don’t learn nothing after hours of talking like that.”

You began to swing to the twangy music, holding each other close. Curtis twirled you and pulled you into his chest where your ear could hear his racing heart. The warmth and the scent of his cologne were comforting. His arms blanketing you, shielding you from all other thoughts besides this moment. As the song faded out, you realized you two were the only ones left besides the other employees doing the final tidying up before shutting down for the night. You reluctantly pulled your body from Curtis, left only holding each other’s hands.

“I should probably go help with the closing duties. Can you wait for me by the door?”

Curtis nodded. “Of course. I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Curtis watched you go back to your cash register as he walked back towards Edgar, keeping an eye on you the whole time.

“So, anything interesting happen tonight?”

Edgar nodded with with wide eyes. “Um, yeah. That guy you gave me a picture of, he came by. Threw a fit when I wouldn’t let him in. Some dude in fancy clothes and a mustache was with him, too. Not sure what that was about, but they at least respected the badge.”

Curtis huffed and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

This was not good. Curtis pulled out his phone and texted Bucky.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Tbh, even I don’t know where this story is gonna go, but I love Curtis a lot and will need some time to find a niche plot that will do him some justice.

I hope you enjoyed. Comments, reblogs, and likes are sooooo appreciated.

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