#<- this is more for my own peace of mind (there is no peace of mind for me to have when it comes to this guy)

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Part I: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Part I: On her daily morning run, Y/N wonders if she’ll ever have someone who wants her simply company. Spencer promises her just that, the only catch: she has to wait seven years.

Rating: Eventual smut, fluff and longing

Word Count: 3.5K

Series Masterlist | Tell Me What You Think!

My Mind Turns You Into Folklore: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Running, somehow, still made her feel like a child. Perhaps there was something unadulterated and carefree about losing yourself in the pounding of pavement. When Y/N felt the wind rush in her ears and the familiar burn throughout her body, she truly felt alive.

Her entire body ached— no, screamed— as she approached her fifth mile for the day’s session. For Y/N running wasn’t about getting to the destination fastest, but about finishing the race altogether.

She wished she could apply such wisdom to very particular aspects of her life. Namely, her love life. For Y/N, relationships with men were unpleasantly predictable. From terrible blind dates with friends who she honestly can’t tell if they meant well to men with habits so strange Y/N could only plead insanity by a drunken state as to why she entertained even a second glance. Unfortunately, for her the sea of men seemed to solely be comprised of rather the unfortunate sort of men that made her skin crawl.

Her knees burned as her mind ran through the five weddings and babies that were impending. Between cousins, college friends, and even her own sister all either, Y/N never more lonely than when she was surrounded by her people. There was something particularly voyeuristic about watching those you love move along the carousel while you’re left in the dust. She was a casual observer, marooned to the sidelines. And someone where along the way she forgot to even care.

Her chest burned as she wondered where her aunt, a woman born and forged from pure spite and hefty lack of tolerance for anything progressive, would sit her at her cousin’s wedding. Y/N heaved forward imagining what would be worse; the discarded old widow’s table with wives whose husbands’ expiration date had come and passed. Or with her unruly nephews who would have to be wrestled into a tiny tuxedo and bribed with fried food and the majesty of Red40 to maintain the semblance of civility.

Being 27, husbandless, boyfriendless, and childless didn’t usually bother Y/N. She loved her peace. But somehow it put her into this plane of existence where she straddled youth and adulthood. She had one foot jammed deep into the rich, sodden earth of childhood and one toe dipping too all too calm to be safe waters of adulthood. Yet being uncoupled was as if she purchased overnight shipping to the elephant graveyard.

It was antiquated. It was downright sexist, yet there was a small part of her heart and her entire being that craved to be taken care of by a man. She wanted someone to bring her flowers just because, to hug her from behind while she stirred soup for dinner on a chilly day, to brush her hair from her face as he brought her to the brink of pleasure time and time again.

There was only so much her vibrator could do.

But a heart that ached to be loved, that problem didn’t come with a WebMD link. There wasn’t a quick and easy fix to change something that defined her on a molecular level.

She savored the sweet breeze that reminded her of summer and childhood. The houses, various shades of blue, gray, and beige blurred past as she maintained her steady pace.

Y/N rounded the corner and pounded the pavement that led to Betsy’s Cape Cod. She was the Head Librarian and took Y/N under her rather Mother Goose-like wing three years ago when she took the position at the small, sleepy library. A suburb of Quantico, many of the patrons were families in public service.

She even stumbled across someone who quickly became her best friend, Spencer. He was some sort of former child prodigy turned adult wunderkid. After racking up more diplomas than most extended families collect, Spencer worked as a special agent for the FBI. But looking at him, you would never have guessed. He was timid and shy in a boyish way that made him seem much younger than 32. He was tall and lanky, yet despite his slender frame he seemed to completely light up every single room he walked into.

Both Betsy and Spencer buried themselves into the fabric of her life. Betsy sat on the front porch, slowly swaying on the large, wooden swing. A crocheted blanket lay over her lap, keeping her warm under the brisk morning’s chill.

“Y/N!” Betsy called, as she ascended the stairs with a bright smile, “Dearie, it’s far too cold for you to run out here.”

“I could say the same about you, Bets,”

Betsy dismissed Y/N with a coy smile and a wave of her hand. “It’s good for my old bones to get a little chill. Make sure everything is in working order.”

Betsy scooted over on the porch swing, making more than enough room for Y/N to sit.

“That tall kid? Hmm, Spencer? Yes. Spencer. Was in there looking for you yesterday. Poor kid’s entire day was ruined when I told him you were on a date. Now, is there a reason why you didn’t tell me you didn’t tell your best friend?” Betsy asked, not hesitating to ask a question that went straight for the jugular.

Y/N offered Betsy a weak smile. “There wasn’t anything to tell him. He’s not interested in my love life. We talk about books. And work. And… I don’t know…”

Betsy nodded, but her pointed look pressed Y/N to continue. There wasn’t anything romantic between her and Spencer, but that wasn’t to say the connection wasn’t the most important thing in her life. When she met him three years ago he simply waltzed into her life; a tall, gangly man with a large appetite for baked goods and an excellent taste in literature.

“Besides, he has a thing for his coworker. Even though she hardly acknowledges his existence.”

From the time she met Spencer, he constantly was talking about his teammates. Growing up, Spencer didn’t have a stable family life. His mother tried her best, while his father never tried at all. He grown up not knowing what it was like to belong anywhere and now he finally found something resembling a family.

JJ was blonde and skinny and perfect and Spencer was completely enamored with her. Y/N met her only a couple of times, the first after a football game. She shared a plate of cheese fries and gravy with Spencer’s other coworker, Penelope as Spencer attempted to spout an almanac’s worth of facts about football to JJ.

“Hmm,” Betsy murmured, swinging back and forth. “Well, he said he has to talk to you about something. Maybe he’s getting to his senses, finally.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipped some of the ice cold lemonade Betsy handed her, and gave her a pointed smile.

“This isn’t a romance novel, Bets. You’ve been sneaking too many of those bodice rippers.”

She stood up and felt some relief as her weary muscles stretched. Betsy waved another annoyed hand.

“Quiet down, Missy. I’ve had my chance at love. And I fully intend on you and Spencer being an item. My Arnold, may that old bastard rest in peace, never gave me children, so you and that boy are my only chance to fill this house with grandkids.”

“Oh my God, Betsy,” Y/N groaned, her head tossed back, “It’s not like that between us. And I promise you, it never will be.”

Y/N took off before Betsy had the chance to respond. But she couldn’t shake the funny feeling tugging at her heartstrings. She thought that maybe if she just focused her mind on feeling the wind blow her hair and her body burn as the third mile turned into a fifth, she could wash away the thoughts of one or two little children sitting on Betsy’s porch, sandwiched in between her and Spencer.

***

Gary, as it turned out, wasn’t a nice guy. First of all, he showed up precisely 23 and a half minutes late and hardly bothered to greet her as he sat down at their two seater table. He barked a drink order to the waitress, who graciously threw Y/N a sympathetic smile.

“So you work at Walter Reed?” Y/N asked, attempting to make conversation with the man seated in front of her. He was a couple years her senior and an Attending Emergency Room Doctor. On paper Gary seemed wonderful. He had a nice family; older sisters were always a green flag in Y/N’s book and seemed to have a basic grasp of personal hygiene practices.

Gary mumbled as the waitress brought him his drink: whisky on rocks. He downed it in about three minutes and signaled for the waitress to return.

“Sorry,” Gary apologized, his voice so close to resembling being embarrassed, but it, somewhere along the line, made a beeline in the opposite direction, “There was some bitch in the ER today complaining about how her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she was pregnant. Took me a god damn hour to shut her up. Jesus, reminds me why I don’t date.”

Y/N felt her face freeze. It was like his harsh words poured ice water over her shoulders. Her skin practically crawled as Gary’s carelessness settled in. Wasn’t this a date? Or was this simply the means for Gary to get into her pants.

“Hold up,” Y/N said, gesturing with her hand held up to stop Gary’s rant, “I was under the impression this was a date. Is it not?”

Gary shrugged. “As long as there’s a happy ending with you, babe I don’t give a fuck.”

He was crass. Y/N was far from a prude. She enjoyed her time in college and didn’t mind the occasional quick one night stand when the opportunity presented itself, but there would be something completely debasing and revolting about sleeping with the man sitting before her.

“I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression.” Y/N said, her words clipped and stern: there wasn’t room for Gary to mix up any bit of her message. “I’m not looking for a fuck-buddy. And even if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be you. We’ve been sitting here for all of twelve minutes and you’ve already drank two whiskys, been rude to the waitress, insulted a patient, and offended me.”

Gary, in a lackadaisical way that could only be described as a fuckboy with the worst case of Peter Pan syndrome, shrugged his shoulders. He downed the rest of his second whisky, “You’re a frigid bitch anyway.”

He left.

And Y/N laughed. Then she ordered two slices of double chocolate cheesecake and asked the waitress where the closest liquor store was.

***

Silently, she cursed Spencer’s charming love of buildings with character. She bounded up the steps to his apartment, the plastic bag with the two slices of cheesecake banged against her leg. Her other hand clutched the neck of a cheap, screw top rose.

Her date, disastrous, was nearly comical, and she couldn’t wait to recount the details to Spencer.

They share a sort of sadistic penchant for relaying moments for their occasional first dates. Typically, Y/N had more than Spencer. On the rare occasion Spencer did have a date, Y/N found herself trying to explain that any girl in her right mind would attempt to flirt with Spencer, but he refused to see her points.

Not bothering to knock, Y/N opted to use the spare key Spencer gave her. She figured he’d either still be working at the office or would be too engrossed in his latest fantasy novel to bother answering the door.

Spencer’s apartment was painted a dusty, sage green. The farthest wall was lined with built-in bookshelves. A prewar relic, Spencer’s style mixed perfectly with the vintage quality embedded within the walls.

Up until recently, Spencer’s kitchen was hardly used. But Y/N had taken it upon herself to teach Spencer the basics in prepping meals. He was a quick study, as with almost everything he tried. And it gave her some peace knowing he would be able to provide himself something more satiating than granola bars and frozen lasagna.

“Spencer! Spence!” Y/N called out, dipping her head into Spencer’s second bedroom. There was a queen bed in there with a cream colored quilt splashed out on the bed.

On late nights spent watching old, black and white movies or binging episodes of The Twilight Zone and The X-Files, she would crash there. It was a fight for her to even concede to allow Spencer to purchase the queen bed. Y/N claimed that she was fine just sleeping on the couch, but Spencer insisted that she sleep in a bed.

And if Y/N had been born into a braver soul, she would’ve suggested they share his bed three years ago.

Spencer shuffled out of his bathroom, eyes red and weary. He wore a tattered Cal-Tech shirt and plaid pajama pants. He wore his glasses. They rested on the bridge of his nose and made him lose at least four or five years on his already young looking face.

“She’s pregnant.”

“I brought wine. And chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N replied, kicking her shoes off. “And you better have done laundry already because I am not sleeping in this dress. I feel ridiculous in it.”

Spencer’s eyes raked over Y/N’s frame, as if he was internally debating his thoughts on her outfit. His brow furrowed. “You’re date?”

“Asshole.” Y/N said, walking into the kitchen. She plucked two wine glasses from Spencer’s cabinet and two plates. “Arrogant and only wanted a quick fuck.”

His voice disappeared as he went into his room for a change of pajamas. They were freshly washed. She continued to listen to Spencer as she shut the bathroom door and changed behind. His voice was no longer muffled when she came out of the bathroom, but she did notice how Spencer’s eyes still were heavy with something unfamiliar when he looked over her baggy, old pajama-clad frame.

“You’re not the girl for that.” Spencer commented, reaching for the corkscrew. His large hands twisted around the device and the bottle of wine made a satisfying pop.

“You don’t know that.” Y/N countered, her defiance made a crop of red appear on Spencer’s cheeks. “Besides, that’s not the point. JJ’s pregnant. With that New Orleans guy’s baby?”

He nodded. It was as if grief washed over Spencer as Y/N changed the conversation. She knew that Spencer was harboring feelings for JJ. Jennifer was nearly perfect in every way. The only imperfect thing about her was that she didn’t realize how perfect Spencer was. He would’ve adored JJ if he got the chance. He nearly did.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Spencer groaned, pouring himself a healthy cup of rosé. “Unsure. It’s not like I’m going to confront her about this. She’s practically engaged to Will. And now there’s a baby in the picture? A baby who’s very well going to grow up seeing me as Uncle Spencer.”

He sounded exhausted. Y/N touched his hand and squeezed. She understood the pained loneliness that plagued Spencer’s voice. “I don’t love JJ anymore. It’s just, my whole life I felt like I was so far beyond my peers. And now? They all finally have caught up, this time the tables have turned. God, I’m excited when a girl smiles at me, let alone goes on a date with me.”

Weakly, Y/N smiled. She sipped her rose, “So it’s more of feeling like you’re far beyond in life? Despite having two PhDs and like three undergrad degrees? You’re one of the most accomplished men I know, Spencer. And we all move along at our own pace. Don’t compare JJ’s story to yours.”

He nodded, spooning a bite of the double chocolate cheesecake. “It’s just…I’m nearly 32. And now I’m watching JJ and Hotch and Morgan talk about babies and husbands and wives and houses. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get that one day. Sometimes… I think I’m too me for anyone to fall in love with me.”

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces as Spencer’s honest confession striked her entire system. She wanted to reach out and push away the stray curl that hooked itself in front of his eyebrow. She wanted to reach out and wipe away his tears. She wanted to tell her friend that if no one married him, she would.

She stalked off the to couch, needing a stable place to sit. Her chocolate cheesecake stuck to the roof of her mouth and the bitter rosé did nothing to remove it.

“Holy shit, Spencer. Do you not realize that you’d make any girl happy? You’ll find her one day, I know it. And if you don’t, we can just say fuck it and get married. I mean, I know it wouldn’t be romantic love, but we could at least live together. Through a big fancy party and get dressed up nice and getting drunk on mojitos with my best friend. My person? Sounds fun.”

“You mean that?” Spencer asked, half in disbelief and half in wonderment. “You mean that we’ll get married if neither of us have someone…say seven years from now?”

She must’ve drank more than she thought as she waited for Gary to ruin their date. “I meant it. But why seven?”

A smile toyed on Spencer lips. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“It’s my lucky number.”

Her lips were so loose that it threatened to crack open her heart. She had a nasty habit of wearing that on her sleeve.

She gave Spencer a sheepish look as his eyes met hers. He looked half between incredulous and hopeful. His fingers ran across the rim of his wine glass as the wine sloshed around. It mirrored Y/N’s stomach.

“Is this idea like bad shit crazy?” Y/N asked. “I mean it. I mean, why not. It’s not so different from what we do now. Just all the time. And I’d be thrilled to be spiritually required to spend more time with you.”

“Should we….shake hands or something. I’m not the biggest fan of that, but I think my wife would serve as an exception to the rule. To every rule I’ve got?”

Y/N laughed. She felt the wine creep up a nice, warm flush against her skin. It matched the light and easy way her limbs felt. It might have very well been the wine, but there wasn’t much of anything that could trump laughing with your best friend. Especially when that best friend slipped and called you his wife.

Her feet somehow ended up in Spencer’s lap. His thumb rubbed gently against her ankle, barely touching her bare skin. Yet it sent shockwaves that she didn’t quite understand.

The corners of Spencer’s eyes crinkled as he reciprocated that laugh. They shared it and Y/N had the strangest desire to bottle it up. She wanted to store this moment in her mind and come back to it. One day. Some day.

“We’ll get married,” Spencer started speaking as if it was a prophecy that he could set in stone, “if neither of us has anyone, we’ll enter this rather odd, rather complex, yet completely entirely normal and simple marriage in seven years?” His sweet, yet coy smile was boyish, it only reminded Y/N just how far away 35 was for her.

“Should we draft up a contract?”

“Have your lawyers contact my lawyers. I never sign documents without the proper legal support. In the meantime, could we settle on our first stipulation: never watching a new episode of our current favorite show without the other?”

“I agree to the terms and conditions you’ve set out.” Y/N said. She grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch as Spencer turned off the lamp light.

“Oh and I washed the sheets in your room. I used the detergent you like. And your pajamas. The lavender vanilla one with the scent beads?” He flipped on an episode of The Twilight Zone.

She smiled from the way Spencer naturally called the guest room her bedroom. There was something very domestic and peaceful about him using her favorite detergent to wash the sheets in her room in his apartment. It resembled the exact something that she was craving: being taken care of.

She sipped her rose again, watching as her friend smiled at the gray scale painted on the screen. It was too bad she only had to weight over half a decade to feel it and not feel guilty and like she was lying to herself.

—

Taglist:

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @mrs-dr-reid @reid-ingandweeping @candlesandsoftrain @foxy-eva @queermaxwooo

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

[emjayewrites]

All For Us (Lewis Hamilton SMAU)

SUMMARY: Lewis Hamilton secretly dates an older woman with a daughter and the public slowly starts connecting the dots. [smau w/narrative]

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x influencer!OC Bree King (faceclaim is Sasha Exeter)

WARNINGS: verbal/emotional abuse from an ex, drama, age gap romance (Bree is 2 years older than Lewis), formula one b.s., pre-established relationship, step-daddy Lewis. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!

TAGLIST: @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @galatially @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @weetjy @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @blveeeeeee @sugardontbesweet @omgsuperstarg @bluesole16 @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @jasmindaughteroftheworld @motheroffae @hrlzy @xoscar03

A/N: Read the warnings!! This oneshot may be triggering!! Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

Lewis grinned as Bree's face appeared on his FaceTime screen. "There she is! My favorite lady."

"I should hope that's still the case," Bree teased with a wink before turning her head. "Sloane, baby, come say hi to Lewis!"

A moment later, Bree's eight-year-old daughter popped into view, her face lighting up with excitement. "Lewis! Hi!!"

"Hey there, Sloane!" Lewis' smile widened. "Having fun at camp?"

The little girl nodded vigorously. "It's so cool! We went canoeing yesterday and I caught the biggest frog ever!"

"No way, that's amazing!" Lewis played along. "You'll have to show me next time I see you. Which is actually why I FaceTimed..." He glanced at Bree, who gave him an encouraging nod before he proceeded. "I was wondering if you and your mom are still planning to come to my race in Montreal next week?" he asked Sloane. "It'll be my last chance to see you before you go back to school."

"YES!!" Sloane pumped her fist in the air emphatically. "We're definitely coming! I can't wait!"

Bree chuckled fondly and ruffled her daughter's hair. As her eyes met Lewis again over the video call, her expression was full of meaning.

Though keeping their relationship under wraps wasn't easy, moments like this made it worth it to Lewis. Having this slice of domestic bliss, however ephemeral, grounded him in a way he never could have imagined before meeting Bree and her daughter. It was a small price to pay for the unexpected joy of finally finding someone who knew the real him - flaws and all.

Their relationship was still so new, barely six months old, but he felt more at peace with Bree than he could have imagined. Bree understood the punishing demands his career brought in a way no one else could. With her own entrepreneurial spirit and drive, she never asked him to compromise his ambition. If anything, she helped stoke it.

Yes, the secrecy could be tedious at times. But Lewis didn't mind. After a lifetime in the spotlight, he relished having this one thing that was just for him and Bree. At least for now.

Race day arrived and Bree made her way through the hustle and bustle of the Montreal Grand Prix paddock. Despite Sloane's excitement in the lead-up, her father had pulled one of his typical selfish moves at the last minute by insisting on taking her to the zoo that day instead.

Bree felt that familiar pang of disappointment mixed with resignation. Her ex had been more of a sperm donor than an actual parent to their daughter from the day Sloane was born. He only seemed to appear when it was convenient for him, not Sloane.

Pushing those negative thoughts aside, Bree focused on the thrill of being here to support Lewis. As an influencer, she had initially been given paddock access through her partnership with Peroni, but over the last few months, as her relationship with Lewis intensified, racing had become personal.

"You must be Bree!" She spun around at the greeting to see a tall, stocky man striding towards her, hand outstretched. Spinz stood around six-foot-three and was built like a linebacker, with a lightly tanned skin tone. His smile was kind and friendly as he enthusiastically shook her hand. "I'm Daniel, but you can call me Spinz."

"It's so great to finally meet you! Lewis has told me loads about you," Bree mentioned happily.

"Likewise," Spinz replied genuinely. "I've heard so many stories, it's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Lewis and she had been intentionally slow about intermingling friends and family. They didn't want to rush things before they were both exclusive and comfortable, yet now that Sloane had grown so fond of Lewis, it felt right to begin that integration.

"Can't believe my man is finally bringing his girlfriend around the paddock!" Spinz continued, laughing delightedly. "Bout time, if you ask me." This emitted a chuckle from Bree. "Well, since you're finally here, allow me to give you the grand tour," Spinz offered, gesturing for her to follow him. "Lewis is still doing his pre-race routine, but I can show you around until he's free."

Bree nodded eagerly, falling into step beside the towering Spinz as he led them through the controlled chaos of the paddock. He pointed out the various team garages, the hospitality suites, and regaled her with funny behind-the-scenes stories from past races.

Despite the unfamiliar environment, Bree instantly felt at ease with Spinz's warm presence and easy banter. She could understand why he and Lewis had been mates for so long. There was an affable authenticity to him that put her instantly at ease.

"And this...is the sacred ground," Spinz proclaimed dramatically as they walked inside the Mercedes garage. "Though I suppose for you, it's more like hallowed ground at this point, eh?" He elbowed her teasingly.

Bree laughed, shoving him back playfully. "That's one way to put it, I suppose. I have to admit, seeing this side of his life up close is still taking some getting used to."

Before Spinz could respond, a familiar voice spoke out. "Hi, baby."

Bree shifted her gaze to see Lewis walking over to them, clad in his racing suit. His eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses as he pulled her into an embrace. She melted into his arms, inhaling his familiar warm scent.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gorgeous. Pre-race craziness, you know how it is," Lewis murmured, lowering his voice. "But I'm all yours now."

He leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips. Even with the smile on his face, Bree could sense that something seemed a bit off with him.

"How are you?" Bree asked gently.

Lewis let out an exasperated sigh. "Comme ci, comme ça." He made a wavering 'so-so' gesture with his hand to emphasize his point.

Bree's expression was knowing. "Ah, I see." With a slow blink, she decided not to pry further for now.

"Let's not worry about that now, okay?" Lewis gave her a lopsided grin, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Everything good with you? How was the tour with Spinz?"

"Great, Spinz was awesome. Thank you again for the tour," Bree replied, smiling at Lewis' friend.

Spinz waved it off. "No problem at all. I'll leave you two to it. Lew, I'll catch up with you later?"

"Of course, man." Lewis pulled Spinz in for one of their signature dap-up handshake hugs before his friend departed.

"Now that that's out of the way..." Lewis trailed off, snaking his arms around Bree's waist and pulling her close. "I can finally kiss you like I've been wanting to."

"Oh, so it's like that, Sir Hamilton?" Bree teased, removing his sunglasses to gaze into his warm brown eyes. "There, that's better. I can actually see those pretty eyes of yours now."

Lewis batted his lashes exaggeratedly. "You like what you see, huh? I could get used to all this flattery."

With that, he leaned in and captured her lips in a lingering, tender kiss, the troubles of the earlier melting away as he lost himself in her being.

Bree paced near the gate, phone pressed to her ear as she listened to her ex-husband's latest tirade.

"You're really going to let some race car driver try to one-up me as a father figure for Sloane? Come on, Bree. This guy is just a fling - he'll get bored of playing house eventually and leave you high and dry."

She bristled at his condescending tone, upset rising in her chest. Before she could snap back, her gaze landed on Sloane sitting nearby. The little girl was utterly engrossed, flipping through a "Formula One for Kids" book in preparation for their time at Silverstone.

The sight of her daughter's pure, unbridled excitement instantly calmed Bree's anger. She took a steadying breath before responding.

"You know what, you're right - you shouldn't be threatened because unlike you, Lewis actually shows up for Sloane," she stated evenly. "He's been more of a parent to her in six months than you have her whole life."

There was an indignant sputtering on the other end, but Bree kept talking before he could interject.

"Don't project your guilt about being an absentee dad onto my relationship. This isn't about you. It's about giving our daughter some stability and male role model who wants to be present."

The overhead speaker crackled to life, an announcement requesting they begin boarding their flight to Paris. Bree knew she needed to hang up now if they wanted to make it.

"I'm done wasting my time on this. We're boarding now. Maybe next time you can join us instead of just criticizing from the sidelines." She ended the call with a tap before he could respond.

Turning to Sloane, Bree plastered on a brilliant smile, letting the contentment of this new chapter wash over her.

"You ready for our adventure, baby girl?"

Sloane beamed up at her mother, curls bouncing as she nodded enthusiastically. "So ready! This is gonna be the best vacation ever!"

As they joined the line to board, hand-in-hand, Bree felt a swell of gratitude. Her daughter deserved all the happiness in the world - and she'd do whatever it took to provide it, with or without Sloane's father.

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

"No, no, you've got the lyrics all wrong!" Sloane collapsed in a fit of giggles as Lewis dramatically belted out his very off-key rendition of "We Don't Talk About Bruno" from Encanto, which was playing on the TV.

"What are you talking about? This is exactly how it goes!" Lewis protested, bopping around their hotel suite and encouraging Sloane to sing and dance along with him.

Bree watched the scene unfold with a content smile, sipping her coffee as her boyfriend and daughter's musical silliness filled the room. It had been a long but utterly joyful day exploring the magic of Paris together.

As the next song from the movie came on, Lewis grabbed Sloane's hands and started twirling her around in an impromptu dance number. Sloane squealed with laughter, trying her best to follow his goofy choreography.

Bree watched the scene unfold with a content smile, sipping her coffee as her boyfriend and daughter's musical silliness filled the room. It had been a long but utterly joyful day exploring the magic of Paris together.

Despite having to attend a couple of fashion shows, Lewis insisted on making the most of their time together. He had kicked things off with a surprise shopping trip that morning to Dior, allowing Bree and Sloane to play dress-up before walking away with an entirely new boutique-worthy wardrobe.

From there, it was on to take in the splendor of Parisian culture and sights. They strolled along the Champs-��lysées, stopping to snack on crispy crepes and macarons. Lewis delighted in teaching Sloane a few French phrases, though she quickly realized he was cheekily mispronouncing things.

As evening fell, Lewis whisked them away to a breathtaking circus show at Cirque Phénix. Sloane's eyes were saucers the entire time as she watched the daring acrobats and exotic animals perform. When it was over, she kept asking "How did they DO that?!" in awed tones.

Finally, they capped the night off with a decadent multi-course dinner at an acclaimed family-owned bistro. Even Sloane was lured into trying cuisine well beyond her usual mac-and-cheese comfort zone.

Now, lounging in their luxury hotel after baths, it was the perfect way to wind down after a memory-making day. Lewis intentionally kept the mood light and fun, perhaps sensing Bree needed a break from any lingering emotional fallout after her ex's cruel words.

Lewis and Sloane collapsed in a giggling heap on the suite's plush rug, exhausted but elated. Pressing kisses to Sloane's flushed cheeks, Lewis grinned contentedly.

"Best day ever, right team?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

As the Silverstone Grand Prix weekend approached, Lewis became adamant that Bree and Sloane finally meet his family. They would all be in attendance on Sunday to cheer him on at his beloved home race.

"It's time," he stated firmly one night as they relaxed together in bed. "You two are the most important people in my life now. I want my family to really know you both."

Bree felt a flutter of nerves, knowing this was a big step. In all his years as a global celebrity, Lewis had only ever brought one other woman home to meet his parents and siblings - his ex-girlfriend from years ago. There hadn't been anyone serious enough since then to warrant those introductions, until Bree came along.

Saturday night arrived, and Bree smoothed her hands down the summer dress she had carefully selected. She caught a glimpse of her anxious expression in the mirror and exhaled slowly.

Get it together, she scolded herself.

So what if she was a few years older than Lewis, and a single mom at that? His family seemed warm and supportive based on what little she knew. Surely they wouldn't judge her too harshly, right?

The sudden image of them dismissing her as some gold-digging cougar flashed through Bree's mind before she could stop it. She shook her head firmly. Those were her own insecurities talking, not reality.

"You ready, gorgeous?" Lewis' voice pulled her from her reverie. He stood in the doorway, Sloane's little hand clasped securely in his own.

Bree managed a tremulous smile and nodded. "As I'll ever be. Let's do this."

They made their way to the private dining room at Dishoon's, where Lewis' family awaited. The moment they entered, multiple pairs of eyes widened almost comically at the picture before them - Lewis holding Sloane's hand while his other arm wrapped protectively around Bree's waist.

Bree felt her cheeks warm as the hushed murmurs started. Lewis simply grinned, surveying the room with an almost smug satisfaction.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet the two leading ladies in my life..." he began by way of introduction. "This is Bree and Sloane."

What followed was a cheerful commotion of hugs, back slaps and well-wishes as Lewis deftly made the rounds. To Bree's relief, his family seemed just as warm and gregarious as he had described.

If anything, they seemed impressed by her vibrant spirit and career accomplishments. Lewis' father in particular was delighted to discover Bree's Caribbean heritage, insisting they were practically "family already."

At one point, Lewis was gently pulled aside by his mother, Carmen. Concern furrowed the older woman's brow as she studied her son intently.

"So...what do you think of her, Mum?" Lewis asked almost shyly.

Carmen's expression softened as she glanced over at where Bree and Nicola were giggling together. "I think...I haven't seen you look this happy and fully yourself in a long time, sweetie."

She reached up to cup Lewis' cheek, her eyes shining with emotion. "That girl clearly adores you. And you've already taken her little one into your heart as well."

Lewis' smile was beatific as he covered his mother's hand with his own. "She's the one, Mum. I'm going to marry her someday."

Carmen arched an eyebrow, though her tone remained gentle. "Are you ready for that? To be a father to that little girl, and take on all those responsibilities?"

Lewis didn't hesitate. "More than ready," he stated with conviction. "Bree and Sloane...they're my world now. I can't imagine my life without them in it."

Pulling his mother into a firm embrace, Lewis felt his heart swell almost to bursting. For so many years, this kind of profound contentment had eluded him despite all his success. But somehow, fate had brought these two incredible ladies into his life. And he would spend every day showing them how indescribably grateful he was.

As they prepared for their upcoming trip to Grenada, articles started appearing in The Sun and The Daily Mail hinting that Lewis was dating Bree. Twitter was going crazy, with Lewis' massive fandom mostly showing support, especially after photos and videos surfaced of him with Sloane at the Silverstone race weekend. Sloane had been put 'in charge' of caring for Lewis' beloved English bulldog, Roscoe, and both she and the dog were practically attached to Lewis' hip the entire time.

Meanwhile, Sloane's father was up in arms once more about the apparent relationship. Bree's phone rang with the sperm donor himself on the other line.

"How dare you let that race car driver get so close to my child!" he yelled. "He thinks he can just swoop in and play dad now?"

"I mean someone has to do it," Bree muttered under her breath.

"I'm going to sue for full custody if you keep letting that man around my daughter!" Sloane's father shouted over the phone. "You're just a useless whore letting any man walk all over you!"

It was at that moment that Lewis came walking into the kitchen, having just finished playing in the backyard with Sloane. He immediately sensed the tension on Bree's face.

"Give me the phone," Lewis said firmly, holding his hand out.

Bree shook her head, not wanting to subject him to her ex's vitriol. But then the man's voice came through again.

Lewis' jaw clenched and he commanded again, "The phone, Bree. Now."

Reluctantly, she passed it over, her eyes apologetic. Lewis gave her a reassuring nod before putting the phone to his ear. "Who the fuck do you think you are, speaking to her like that?" he said sternly.

"Who do YOU think you are?" the man retorted. "You have no right getting cozy with my kid!"

Lewis' expression hardened. "I care deeply about both Bree and Sloane," he stated firmly. "And I'll be damned if I let you disrespect them like this."

"You think you can just insert yourself into my daughter's life?" Sloane's father sneered. "Playing father figure and getting handsy with her mother? Over my dead fuckin' body."

She opened her mouth to let loose a blistering retort, but Lewis squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"Listen here, mate," Lewis' voice was low but resonant with conviction. "I love that little girl as if she were my own flesh and blood. Sloane is everything to me, to us. And I'll be damned if you try to keep us apart with your selfishness and toxic presence."

Bree's breath caught at the fierce protectiveness in Lewis' words. She covered his hand with her own, lending him her strength.

On the other end, Sloane's father sputtered indignantly before finding his voice again. "You arrogant prick! You can't just—"

"That's enough." Lewis's words sliced through the man's tirade like a whip. "Your disrespect ends now. And if you continue speaking to Bree this way, you'll never see Sloane again."

There was a pause on the other end. "Is that a threat?" Sloane's father spat.

"No," Lewis said coldly. "It's a promise." He disconnected the call and turned his full attention to Bree, wrapping his arms around her firmly. "How long has he been talking to you like that, love?"

Bree let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. "Not long...just when we started getting serious."

Lewis scoffed, rolling his eyes at her ex's audacity. The man had been absent for most of Sloane's life, and now that another man was stepping up, he wanted to play father?

"Next time he does that, record it," Lewis instructed. "Take it to your lawyers. I don't want that piece of shit thinking he can verbally abuse you however he pleases. He's going to fuck around and end up in a ditch somewhere if he keeps going down this road."

Bree searched his eyes intently. "You would...kill for me? For us?"

"Yes." Lewis met her gaze unflinchingly. "I'd do anything for you and Sloane. Anything at all."

The fierceness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

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

Bree sighed contentedly as she gazed out at the pristine Grenadian beach. So much had happened so quickly - meeting Lewis' friends and family, being accepted into their fold almost instantly alongside Sloane, yet it all felt so natural, like the missing pieces finally clicking into place.

Her eyes shielded from the brilliant sun, she watched as Lewis chased the waves with Sloane, both of them shrieking with laughter. He looked utterly gorgeous with his toned, tattooed physique glistening with saltwater, the picture-perfect image of a doting father. The idea of giving Sloane a sibling, with Lewis as the dad, sounded unexpectedly appealing. Though she had a few eggs frozen, she wondered if pregnancy at her age would be difficult, but as scary as that thought was, she couldn't fathom being with anyone else. Their seven month relationship felt more profound than any bond she'd ever known.

Down the beach, Lewis was helping Sloane construct an elaborate sandcastle, patting the wet sand into turrets.

"Lewis?" Sloane piped up suddenly.

"Yes, princess?"

"Do you love my mom?"

He smiled warmly. "Yes, I do. Very much. And I love you too."

Sloane beamed, delighted by his answer. "Will you marry my mom then? My parents were married but then they got divorced."

Lewis' heart melted at her hopeful expression. "You want me to make an honest woman out of your mum?"

She nodded vigorously. "I just want her to be happy."

"I promise I'll do everything I can to make you both happy," he vowed. "But would it be okay with you, if I married your mum?"

"Duh!" Sloane rolled her eyes dramatically. "I already think of you as my bonus dad."

Lewis felt his throat tighten with emotion at Sloane's words. This amazing little girl and her mother had utterly stolen his heart.

Gently, he pulled Sloane into a hug, resting his chin atop her head. "You know I love you like you're my own daughter, right? You and your mum are everything to me."

Sloane nodded against his chest. "I know. That's why you should marry her." She pulled back to look up at him with those big, innocent eyes. "Will you be my dad for real then?"

"Of course, princess," Lewis murmured, brushing the sandy hair from her face. "If your mum will have me, I'd be honored to be your dad in every way that matters."

Sloane grinned, throwing her little arms around his neck excitedly. Down the beach, Bree watched the tender scene with a wistful smile. She could clearly see the love between Lewis and her daughter - it was undeniable.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, Lewis glanced over and raised a hand in a beckoning wave. Bree rose fluidly to her feet and made her way over, sandals dangling from one hand.

"Everything okay over here?" she asked lightly as she approached.

Lewis stood, pulling Bree flush against his side with his free arm. "More than okay," he replied, dropping a kiss on her salty hair. "We're building a sandcastle estate and could use the extra hands, right Sloane?" Sloane was too busy packing buckets full of wet sand into elaborate castle molds to answer and Lewis shrugged. "Alrighty then, let's get to work."

As they worked together under the warm sun, Bree couldn't help but feel grateful for these moments of simple joy with the little family she created.

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was in full swing, and Lewis was basking in the excitement of being publicly "Instagram official" with Bree. He had Bree by his side, and he was so happy to be able to publicly show off their relationship.

It wasn't that he cared what anyone else thought - Lewis had never been one to seek approval or validation from others. But having Bree by his side made everything feel more real, more solid. She was his rock, his anchor in this wild world of racing. These last few months, although crazy at times, were the best memories to experience with Bree.

And she looked stunning as always. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves and her fitted red dress hugged her curves in all the right places. She was by Lewis' side through all the glitzy festivities and parties surrounding the race weekend, including the launch of his Almave pop-up bar. With Sloane spending the weekend with Bree's mother, it was a kid-free getaway, and he intended to take full advantage.

He knew Bree's ex-husband would be fuming seeing pictures of them together online, but Lewis didn't give two flying fucks about him anymore. He was focused solely on Bree and the profound happiness she brought him. Bree's arm was looped through his as they made their way through the crowded VIP party for the race sponsors. He greeted familiar faces with warmth and charm, introducing her to everyone he knew.

"You're a natural at this," Lewis remarked as they headed towards the bar for some much-needed drinks.

Bree laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Please, I'm just winging it."

He shook his head in mock disapproval as they approached the bar. "Don't sell yourself short," he said seriously before turning to order their drinks.

_____________________________________

After dinner one evening at their hotel's high-end restaurant, fans swarmed Lewis for autographs as they exited. "You're a lucky man," one told him, eyeing Bree appreciatively. "She's gorgeous."

Lewis' arm tightened around her waist. "I know," he said simply, pride warming his tone.

Back in their suite, they came together in a heated clash of lips and roving hands, shedding clothes as they stumbled towards the bedroom. Bree reveled in the hard planes of Lewis' body, tracing the lines of his tattoos as he worshipped her with his mouth.

He lifted her up effortlessly and carried her to bed, laying her down gently before joining on top of her, settling between her legs. Their bodies fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces as they moved together in a rhythm that felt almost too familiar now.

Every time they made love was like a brand new experience for them both. They never grew tired of exploring each other's bodies or finding new ways to pleasure one another.

In between stolen kisses and whispered declarations of love, they lost themselves completely in each other until they reached that explosive climax. Afterwards, they lay sated and tangled in the plush hotel linens. Bree traced idle patterns across Lewis' chest as he tucked her against his side.

"Have you thought about getting married again?" he asked quietly.

Bree's head whipped up in surprise. "Here? In Vegas?"

Lewis chuckled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "No, love. No offense to others, but I could never get married here. I meant...in a year or two, maybe. With me."

Her breath caught at the meaningful weight behind his words. "I...actually think about that a lot," she admitted shyly. "I can see us having a future together."

Warmth bloomed in Lewis' eyes. "You can?"

Bree nodded, feeling herself get swept up in the thrilling certainty of what she felt for this man. "Yes. A real future - marriage, forever."

Lewis looked utterly overjoyed as he cupped her face tenderly. "Okay then...future Lady Hamilton."

A startled laugh bubbled up from Bree's lips. "Lady Hamilton? Is that what I'll be since you're Sir Lewis?"

"Precisely." His grin was terribly smug. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"It sounds like some character from Bridgerton!" she giggled, swatting his chest playfully.

Lewis joined in her mirth, nodding wholeheartedly in agreement. "I can see the resemblance."

Bree's laughter slowly faded as she gazed at the man she loved with every fiber of her being.

Her future husband - it had a deliciously appealing ring to it.

The End.....or is it?

#all for us #sir lewis hamilton #emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x oc #f1 x reader

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

[acotarxreader]

Shadow and Flame pt. 1

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: Azriel is down bad in his feelings for Elain when a new female crosses his path. The job of the Shadowsinger is to know all and yet you evade his knowledge.

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello. This is my first time writing a fanfic for this series. I hope you like it ✨

Part Two

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

“Whilst we wait for Lucien, let's play a game. Fuck, Mate, Kill, High Lords edition, our own brother excluded of course. I mean there's days I want to do all to him”

“Ugh Cass” Nesta recoiled at her own mates idea of a bar game, the group laughing. 

“Hardly fair to Feyre when she's done or almost done those to more than two already” Rhys growled at Mors joking tone, the table continuing its howling. Rita's music swelled around the booth of the best friends, lightheartedness well and truly arriving once again to the group. 

“Az you go first”

“I politely decline Cass” protests followed his words 

“Leave poor forlorn Az alone”

“I am not forlorn Amren” the Shadowsinger tried his best to not grit out the words.

“I would consider pining after Elain to be pretty forlorn” Amren gestured with her head to the middle Archeron sister making her way  back to the booth balancing a tray of drinks.

“Stop saying that word” this time Azriel couldn't hide his annoyance.

“-Right well anyways, I think we'd all kill Tamlin -” the group hummed in agreement to Cass as Azriels mind disengaged from the conversation. 

Was that how he'd been feeling? Had the feelings of creeping crawling rising abandonment at the hands of his brothers for their mates affected him more than he thought? Why couldn't he have what they had with Elain? It made sense to him, but why didn't it make sense to the Mother? He shook this from his head as he frequently did. Elain joined the table once again, passing around the drinks. 

Azriel tore his eyes from her movements and landed them on the crowd of dancing Velaris residents, when a new figure approaching the bar top had his eyes transfixed.

He watched the female dip between the crowd so masterfully as if she was made of the same shadows that rested peaceful around him. She effortlessly passed the dancing Fae in candlelight.

“Earth to Az” Cass’ hand waved in front of his hazel eyes pulling Azriel back to the booth for a moment to sweep away his brother's paw. His eyes darted back to the room to find the female gone again. 

“What is it Lassie, Timmy stuck down the well?”

“What does that even mean Cass?” Azriel couldn't ignore the bizarre statement.

“I'm not sure, I read it in a human book once”

“I didn't know you could read” Cass feigned hurt at Feyres comment, the table of friends laughing. 

“Up until about last week you definitely couldn't Feyre” 

“Uncalled for!” Freye laughed hard at Cass’ comeback.

“Anyways, what is it Az….Az?” Cass found the seat next to him empty, the Shadowsinger long mingled into the crowd.

You reached the bar top skillfully, your hand reaching up and retrieving a drink ordered by someone else and dipping back to your side before the bartender noticed. You gave a small smile into the tumbler of icy brown liquor as you turned back into the room, ready to push back off. Your gaze immediately caught the Shadowsingers eyes as he leaned on the back wall watching you. He simply raised an eyebrow with a small smirk. You sighed lowly, replacing the drink back on the bar top next to a tea light candle without removing your eyes from Azriels. You narrowed your eyes at him, the crowd dancing and swirling across your sightline. Azriel finally blinked and found you gone from the spot when his eyes flickered back open. 

You crossed the threshold of Rita's into the streets, a little startled someone had seen you, a new occurrence. 

“You don't care for another drink?” The males voice stopped you in your tracks at the mouth of the adjacent alley. You curled your hands into small fists and exhaled out. Caught. You had been caught.

“Don't go shy on me now” you slowly span on your heel to face the male. Azriel felt his breath hitch slightly at the sight of you in the firelit street lights. He felt a bit dazzled by your beauty, piercing copper eyes previously inhibited by the dim and smoky light of Rita's. 

“Can I help you Azriel?

“How do you know me?” He couldn't hide the hint of surprise in his voice. You closed your eyes gently, sighing deeply at your foolish slip up before opening them again. 

“I don't”

“Why don't I believe that? Who are you?”

“If I told you that, I'd have to kill you” you gave a small smile, angling your head gently, tempting him to step in closer to your magnetic eyes. 

“I'd like to see you try”

“That can be arranged Shadowsinger” he scoffed at your cocky tone. You turned back to face the alley, quickly dipping down it but not fast enough. Azriel flashed before you, sidestepping you to where your back met the cold brick of the alley. 

“I asked your name” he stepped in close to you, your eyes looking to the exit to the side of him, only to have his wings open slightly to trap you inwards. You sighed, looking up through your eyelashes to find his eyes fixated downwards on you. 

“I'm not anyone important”

“Nonsense, every resident of Velaris is important“

“And who said I was a resident of Velaris?” you couldn't hide your smugness from him as he seemed to scan your face further, checking it again the rolodex of Fae in his mind to find a gap in knowledge. 

His shadows leapt around him in alarm at being caught out with a stranger. A true stranger. Who were you? Shadows crossed his face to try to relay information and when they settled again you were gone from in front of him. 

His wings dropped, his head turning uncharacteristically frantically from side to side only to now find you across the street. You gave a small wave with just your finger tips with a small gloating laugh before running down and into the winding streets of Velaris. Azriel moved to follow you only to crash right into Lucien.

“Are you never not in my way?!” Azriel couldn't help but bark at the emissary.

“Hello Azriel, how are you? I'm good thanks for asking? Yes I do forgive you for walking into me, of course I-”

“Just leave it” Azriel signed, ducking around him to run to cross the street. It was no good, you were gone he thought, but how? And who? 

*************

“Az stop pacing, you're not helping the hangover” Cassian ran his hands down his green tinged face, regretting going as hard as he had the night previous. Lucien giving a small laugh to the Illyrian, picking himself up from the sofa to head to the kitchen for tea.

“I have no idea who she was and that's my job. How could I not know who she was?”

“I'm not sure Az but Cass is right, please sit down, you're giving us all motion sickness” Rhysand joined the group in the sitting room of the town house, a soothing tincture for Feyre in his hands. She smiled up lovingly at her mates gesture, more pangs of jealousy passed through Azriel. 

“Let me see into your mind Az, I'll draw her, maybe one of us knows her” Azriel weighed up Feyres offer. He hated letting them behind his shields but he needed to know who you were. He thought of your face in the candle light again, did he want to share you with the world? He weighed up the options before agreeing, Mor having already retrieved a scrap of paper and a pencil for Feyre. 

The group gathered around the sketch of you freshly drawn. One by one group shook their heads, unsure of the Fae in front of them, sending Azriels heart sinking again. 

Lucien strolled back into the sitting room, tea tray in hand. The crash of the tray had the group's startled reaction landing on the Emissary. 

“Oh my Gods seriously! My head” Cassian groaned, covering his face with a throw pillow. Lucien took almost erratic steps over the broken china towards the drawing, snatching it from the knee height table and gathering it into his chest. The group now entirely addled by his reaction.

“Lucien?” Feyre was the first to break the quizzical silence. 

“Nothing! This is no one!” Lucien's skillful way with words was now long gone.

“Who is that?” Rhysand and Azriel almost asked in unison.

“It's no one I said! Leave it! I have to go, sorry for the mess!” He darted for the hallway, Azriel hot on his heels. 

“Lucien, who is that? What do you know?” The Shadowsingers sharp tone tried to stop Lucien in his tracks.

“It's no one, you didn't see her, forget it, stay away from her”

“Which is it, stay away from her or I didn't see her?” this silenced the Prince of Foxes. 

“I have to go!” His panicked tone was betraying him. Azriel went to catch him harshly, Lucien winnowing out avoiding capture leaving Azriel once again confused and alone

*****************

Part Two

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel fic #cassian #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar fluff #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #sarah j maas #fanfic #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron

[eufezco]

civil war!bucky x fem!reader ( angst , fluff ) no use of y/n

based on the captain america: civil war post credits scene

a / n : english is not my first language so yeah 😭 also my request are open for mavel characters (especially bucky and steve)

You had doubted whether to go or not.

You had been up almost all night, the dark circles under your eyes spoke for themselves. You tried to get some sleep but it was impossible. You moved nervously in bed from side to side. After not finding a comfortable position, you got up and started walking around your room in an attempt to calm your nerves but the four walls were suffocating you.

Steve found you throwing up in the bathroom, on your knees, and with tears in your eyes. He held your forehead so you could let it all out and then wiped your mouth. Steve gave you enough time to recompose and when you were done, he sat on the bathroom floor with his back against the wall and let you lean against his chest while you sobbed. You should let him sleep, it had been a long day for everyone, your bodies were still aching from the fight and Steve had enough to worry about. But despite all that, Steve's strong arms held you tightly close to his body, as if he was trying to hold back the part of you that he knew would leave with Bucky.

Steve took you in his arms and carried you to the couch where he placed your head on his lap, wrapped you in a blanket, and caressed your hair until you fell asleep. When you woke up, Steve wasn't home.

You had doubted whether to go or not but in the end, you went because if you didn't, you would never forgive yourself.

—Hi.

—Hey —. Bucky let out all the air he'd been holding in, relieved to see you.

When Steve arrived and you weren't coming with him, Bucky couldn't help but feel bad. He knew it could happen and he didn't blame you for it. You had already lost him twice, you weren't going to take one more, you didn't deserve to go through that again. The idea of being away from you again did not appeal to him either.

Steve, on the other hand, wasn't surprised to see you. Last night you let it all out in the toilet and on his shirt, and you got some sleep, so he figured you would have regained your strength. Or at least you would pretend that you had, the thing was, that he knew you were coming. —I'll go and talk to King T'Challa —. He said and walked out, leaving you and Bucky alone.

You slowly approached the gurney where Bucky was sitting. The metal arm was gone and only the part attached to his shoulder remained. His wounds were treated and on his face, you could finally see a peaceful expression. His brows were not furrowed, his jaw was not clenched, instead he was showing you a sad little smile.

—How are you—? How are you doing?

—I'm good. I'm ready. How are you? —He asked back.

—I'm fine I guess.

After your answer there was silence.

Bucky knew you were lying because of your tone of voice. He was aware of your disagreement with his decision. Steve also had asked him many times if that was what he wanted but this was not about what he wanted or not. Now that he had reclaimed his ability to choose, he had to use it to do what was right, and what was right was to go back to sleep until there existed a way to free him completely from the Winter Soldier program.

—Buck, you know you don't have to do this.

He shook his head at your words. Of course you wouldn't stop trying.

—I can't trust my own mind. —You were going to complain again but he talked before you could. —And as much as I would like to make up for all the time we've lost, I have to do this. Until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing. For everybody.

Now it was you shaking your head. For everybody but you. After all these years you had finally gotten him back, after thinking he was dead, after fighting your friends defending his innocence, you were going to lose him again.

Without saying a word you placed your hand on top of the one he had resting on his leg. The sad smile appeared on his lips again and he looked down at your hands. The touch of your fingers on his skin felt nothing like the human contact he had been experiencing these past few years. Your touch was gentle, your fingers rested on his hand delicately, as if you were afraid of breaking him. It was the first time in a while that anyone had cared about that. Bucky flipped his hand over to link your fingers together.

Using your free hand you lifted his chin and you not only made him look at you but also made his lips at the perfect height for you to kiss them. You pressed your lips against his, he squeezed your hand. Yours moved from his chin to rest on the side of his jaw, your thumb caressing his cheek. You didn't know how or when you started crying but you felt the hot tears slide down your cheeks until they mixed with the kiss. Bucky felt the salty taste and after a few seconds, he broke away from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours and let your hand go to cup your cheek and wipe your tears.

—You are making this very hard —. He mumbled against your mouth.

You kissed him again because it was either that or trying to convince him one last time not to do it. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, god, if only he had his two arms and could touch you and feel you the way he wanted. Bucky's lips gladly kissed you back one more time, until you both heard Steve fake coughing behind you.

You parted ways, already missing the feeling of his lips and hand on you. Steve came with two nurses and you knew that it was time. You felt your legs weakening but you could not break down in front of Bucky so you hugged yourself and hid yourself in Steve's chest. Your friend wrapped one of his arms around your body.

—She'll be fine. I'll take care of that.

Bucky pressed his lips together and nodded, thanking Steve.

—I'll wait for you —. You said and Bucky flashed you one last smile. He hadn't asked you to because he didn't want to be selfish but he was waiting for you to tell him so. Hearing you say that you’ll wait for him gave him the peace of mind he needed to breathe in the cold gas filling the cryostasis chamber.

#marvel #bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier angst #winter soldier x you #winter solider x reader #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the avengers #avengers fluff #avengers fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel angst #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #the falcon and the winter soldier

[buckleyx]

Hear me out! Eddie Diaz x reader who swears she isn’t good with kids and is a big “I don’t want kids! I hate babies!” Kinda person but secretly loves kids so much and is so good with them like she honestly gets along with kids better than adults

BABY FEVER E.D

the gif i used is not mine! all credit goes to the owner! @cafecitoeddie

Author’s note: I love this request so much bc I'm secretly the same hehe !

Eddie Diaz x GenderNeutral!reader

Warnings: drunk eddie and reader hehe

masterlist

"Oh come on." Eddie whined playfully. A smirk tugged his lips as his hands danced around your waist. His chin rested on top of your shoulder as he peppered your neck in soft short kisses.

It was a beautiful summer evening and to celebrate the warm weather Maddie and Chimney invited everyone over for drinks and BBQ. The atmosphere was peaceful and everyone felt so relaxed. Kids ran around the yard as adults indulged in laughter and conversation. Moments like these you cherished with all your heart.

You noticed Eddie's eyes on you from across the table as you helped Jee-Yun with cutting up her food. Your smile unintentionally grew wider with every laugh and babble she blurted out to you.

After dinner, while everyone was still chatting away but the sun disappeared more and more in darkness, the garden was lit by beautiful garden lights and candles. Jee-Yun's head rested against your chest as you indulged further in conversation. Her eyelids became heavier as she tightly grabbed the plushie you gifted her earlier closer to her body. As you were chatting with your friends you looked up at Eddie who was talking with Buck and Chimney. He paid no mind to their conversation, only having eyes on you. He took a chug from his beer before giving you a soft smile. He was standing next to the fire pit, the sparks made his eyes shimmer.

All these years you convinced yourself and others you were terrible with kids. But now you felt caught, by your own actions, as the toddler on your lap softly snored away.

As the evening continued and it was getting more late, children were safely tucked away in bed and everyone snuggled closer to the warmth of the fire pit with beers in hand, you and Eddie managed to escape the coziness just for a second. You found each other in the kitchen, getting more drinks to continue the party outside.

As soon as you entered the dimly lit house his hands were all over you. You were both pretty drunk and you knew Eddie long enough to know he could get very touchy when intoxicated. And that's what brought you here. To this moment and conversation.

"Eddie, we talked about this." You giggled as his stubble tickled your neck. "I'm not good with kids."

"Come on baby, we both know that's a lie." He said, slightly tilting his head to prove his point. His hand still rested on your hip as the other one traced his fingers over your jaw. "You are honestly, and I mean honestly," He cupped your face, gently tilting your head so you could look at him. "One of the most beautiful and kindest people I have ever met. And I am sure that every kid will agree." Eddie smiled softly, his eyes filled with love as he looked at you.

Your eyes felt glossy after his words. No one has ever shown you so much love as him. You closed your eyes before taking a deep breath, a loving smile appearing on your lips. "I really love you Diaz, you know that right?"

"Hmh, I had a suspicion." He joked before pulling you in for a kiss.

My requests are open! :)

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Let me know if you want to be added for future work!

#flo answers ✧.* #eddie diaz #911 #eddie diaz x reader #911 show #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz x male reader #eddie diaz x yn #eddie diaz fluff #eddie diaz angst #eddie diaz smut #Eddie diaz one shot #eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz fanfiction #eddie diaz fic #eddie diaz 911 #911 eddie #911 fandom #911 fanfiction #911 abc #911 x reader #911 x y/n #911 fic #911 fanfic #x reader #eddie x reader #eddie díaz #eddie x you #911readercollection

[holdinbacksecrets]

your writing makes me feel safe, thank you. if i could request something? it’s totally ok if you aren’t comfortable but i was wondering how you think seventeen would react seeing their s/o’s self harm scars? but not the act of doing it; i’ve just been feeling a bit unworthy because of my own from my past and my mind wandered (but absolutely no worries if this is out of your comfort zone. i know self harm scars can be a trigger for sure (and you don’t have to reply in that case either)) <3 thank you either way

thank you for sharing kind words and requesting! i'm sorry for taking over a year to answer this... hopefully you still see this >.< i also hope my interpretation of your request is ok. sending you all my love 🥺 i hope you’ve been feeling better these days. you’re deserving of all the good things

seventeen: seeing your self harm scars for the first time

tw: mentions of self harming (no details of the act itself) and scars

seungcheol: he’d trace them with his lips, allowing his love to sink into the scars and caress their edges. he’d ask if they still hurt—if the memories are still piercing

jeonghan: “you turned your scar into a butterfly?” “yeah, it always made sense to get a tattoo, and it’s a reminder that pain and discomfort are fleeting. i’m never stuck.” “you’ve always had a thing for flying, haven’t you?” “yoon jeonghan, i’d exchange my arms for wings if i could.” “you’ll need me for so much more than reaching things on the highest shelf.” “you’re right… not the most practical idea.”

joshua: walks with you through the park after seeing the small x on the kitchen calendar, marking the passage of another year, and the feeling is overwhelming as painful memories flood your mind

jun: “so these aren’t from a bike wreck?” “i can’t believe you remember that…” “everything you tell me… i can’t forget anything.” “it was only our second date. i didn’t want to scare you away.” “you wouldn’t have, but i understand why you worried. i wish you didn’t have to.” “what do you think you would’ve said? would’ve thought?” “i would’ve admired you. i can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to share with anyone, let alone a person you just started dating. i would’ve felt honored that you trusted me with something so… intimate, something that leaves room for conclusions being made that you aren’t in control of.”

soonyoung: he asks if you’re ok now and immediately wonders if that was too simplistic of a question, but he means it. he wants to know if you wake up and feel peace or dread. he wants to know about the cracks in your smile. he wants to know if you’re proud of yourself now. if you were before. if he can do anything to make the dreadful moments with forced smiles easier

wonwoo: thank you for being here is the last thing you hear before drifting off, carried away by a current of warm dreams

jihoon: he cries for you and his childhood friend with similar scars. a man he hasn’t seen in years but thinks about the last week of every october—reminded of his birthday, hoping he’s celebrating well

seokmin: he holds you. he doesn’t want to let go until his tears have stopped. he doesn’t want you to know that the thought of you harming yourself pierces his heart, stops his breath, stays heavy on his shoulders, and keeps him awake while you sleep

mingyu: he wants you to know that no feeling you meet will ever scare him away. you don’t need the reminder, but he tells you anyway: you can always come to me. he will be your solid ground, the maker of comforting words and sweet distractions

minghao: will you believe him if he says you’re the strongest person he knows?

hansol: he doesn’t know what to say, and he’s suddenly afraid of his ability to support you. he hopes you can’t tell because this moment isn’t about him. the last thing he’d ever want is for you to turn to another if he’s unable to give you what you need. “it’s ok. you don’t have to have the perfect words. they don’t exist. i just want you to know. i’m so much better now. i’ve never been happier, truly, but the words were starting to itch and pull me out of present moments. summer’s coming, and i know you’ll see them soon. i just want you to know.”

seungkwan: so many questions roll around in his head. they stick to the back of his throat, and he searches your eyes for any signs of the capacity you have for sharing in this moment. you smile softly and offer a nod of encouragement. he takes a deep breath and asks the first one

chan: “do you ever…” “think about doing it again? i do, but i made a list of things to do instead.” “can i hear it?” “make tea, watch the sky, turn music on, call a friend, think about something yummy to make for my next meal, ride the train and stop as close as i can get to the library… i have a playlist of seventeen videos on my phone too.” “you’ve thought about it that recently? y/n…” “i didn’t make the playlist for that purpose alone. it started out of missing you, but i know it’ll help if i start to slip.” “you can always call me. call me first and call again if i don’t answer.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen blurbs #seventeen fluff #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #joshua scenarios #jun scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jihoon scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #minghao scenarios #hansol scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #chan scenarios

[magnusbae]

Hi! What about "Can you stay with me?" (and if you'd like it my bonus prompt is "drunk") 💗

The initial draft was written while I was quite literally fainting late at night & the second one fully rewritten while I am dazed and out of it. I would say that I was method writing Obi-Wan who is indeed very much drunk in this one, dearest anon. Thank you for the prompt~ 😊💖

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Obikin || 4,004w || Drunk Obi-Wan is agonized by the prospect of his freshly knighted Padawan leaving him behind— and more. 😌 Some flavors of gentle lime in this drink, very light, very sweet. 🍋💖

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"Can you stay with me?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi sounds properly pathetic and he knows it. Grasping at Anakin’s Tabards as he is, mind swirling in hazy circles around the notion he was doing his very best to avoid thinking about for the past few months. It is not long now that Anakin would look at his Master and see him for what he really was. Perhaps even today. Inebriated as he is, he makes for a good serving of disillusionment. All Anakin needs to do is look, and see, and then…

It seems inevitable—his Padawan will leave.

Former Padawan. Anakin is no longer his Padawan, and that is the heart of it, isn’t it? The severed braid was the firs step. Them having each a battalion of their own, stationed light years away from each other with only the occasional joint mission, a second. The third and final step would be for Anakin to finally open his eyes and look, and see.

It won’t be hard to unveil the carefully crafted Jedi Master facade Obi-Wan had cultivated for the past decade. No, it won’t be hard at all. If Anakin were to stop glorifying him, stop shaping him to be what ever form of idol he had needed for while growing up, if only he were to take an unbiased look at him…

There will no longer be, Kenobi and Skywalker.

For the naked truth was, Anakin had outgrown him, had become more powerful and capable than his Master. There’s little left that Obi-Wan could still offer, still teach. He should be proud. The only one still refusing to see it, is Anakin himself. Once that revelation comes to pass however, it will be complete. A true break, as befitting the Jedi way. Obi-Wan finds no peace in the thought, no completion nor satisfaction in the successful completion of his Padawan’s training—a symbol of his own Mastery.

Not when it means losing him. Not then.

Given his state of drunkenness, words slurred and feet unsteady, he thinks that it’s worth putting to question whatever or not he was a good Jedi at all, least of all a Master. Try as he might, he finds it hard to ponder further. His choice to look inward is as always an avoidance, an escape. An easy detour from looking outward, from looking at Anakin. Anakin who’s eyes he can feel like a physical touch, boring into his very soul.

Obi-Wan’s avoidance is nearly as strong as Anakin’s natural magnetism. One is counseling him to avoid looking, save himself the pain of witnessing the exact moment in which the realization dawns upon the boy. The second, stronger still, demands his undivided attention on him, demands him to look. Demands him. 

Obi-Wan looks up, he meets those eyes, his demise.

Anakin’s eyes widen and he blinks, endless blue clearing as if coming out of some sort of shock.

“Can I—” Anakin splutters “—Obi-Wan, even if the council explicitly ordered me to go save the entire karkin universe just now, I wouldn’t be leaving your side— stars you’ve any idea what you look like right now?

Obi-Wan’s tongue is heavy but he parts his lips to answer, something clever to be sure, he always finds something to say.

“No, never mind.” Anakin cuts in before he could speak. There’s such decisiveness in his tone, such confidence. His former Padawan stands tall, his arms are strong and sure as he handles Obi-Wan closer, making him lean more of his weight against his chest. It’s broad and firm. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things, should not be aware of those things. It is a further evidence that his Padawan is well and truly grown. Further evidence of his own failing as a Jedi, as a Master, as a…man. Obi-Wan should not be inhaling and smelling home. Should not be leaning closer, itching all over for more, more.

“You’re so wasted that I am surprised you’ve even recognized me at all.” Anakin continues talking, as if the universe is not shifting beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as it is him who finally looks with his gaze unbiased. “The drunken messages though, those you will be seeing tomorrow” there’s dark mirth in that dear voice. “I bet you wanted to send them to— someone else.” Anakin glances at him, eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan’s offenses at Anakin’s assumption he could ever not recognize him dies over under his gaze, dark and rich, his eyes are captivating. Before Anakin, he did not know that a blue can hold such multitudes. Both the clear morning sky, and the moon lit sky. Beautiful. They loosens his tongue as well as any truth serum would. That or the bottle he had finished on his own finally soaked through.

“I will always—”  His voice comes out so thick that he coughs, starting Anakin from his dark contemplations, whichever those might be. His eyebrows furrow and he quickly snatches a cup of something clear off of a passing robo-waitress’s tray. Irritated with the distraction, Obi-Wan accepts it and drinks if only to make way for the words to follow. He will not let it go. Not now that he’d started. “I will always recognize you, Padawan Mine, drugged, beaten, or otherwise preoccupied— I will always—” “Drugged?!” Anakin cuts in again, arms tightening around Obi-Wan and strangling the annoyed huff at being cut again “You did not mention anything about being drugged, what the kark’ Obi-Wan?!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry, similar to how being drugged would feel. His mind swims and all he sees is Anakin. There’s warmth in his chest, there’s a burn in his gut, there’s a tug in his— 

“It’s hard to tell” he says sheepishly, embarrassed, eyes straying away from Anakin’s strong jaw and up, up to the lights on the ceiling. He should not be thinking of how Anakin’s proximity is enough to replicate a strong drug. How out of orbit he feels around him as of late. “They all start the same, so…” 

Anakin is hardly listening. Instead he is surveying the club with a look of fury that is bordering on homicidal, freeing one hand to rest it on his lightsaber. There’s the distinct feeling of Anakin stretching his force signature out, covering the room, no doubt attempting to locate anyone within their proximity who might have dared drug his former Master. Oh if only he knew that he was the culprit all along. 

Obi-Wan snorts, finding an odd sense of humor in it.

Anakin’s gaze darts back to him, sharp and accusing. He looks so handsome under the colorful, dim lights. He looks so… 

“Ah-nakin.” Obi-Wan sighs out and shuts his eyes lest his spinning head forces him to sober up in the most un-jedi manner.  

“Stay with me,” the request comes so easy, what was it that he was so afraid of? It’s so easy, too easy. Frighteningly so, to reach and touch Anakin’s forearm. There’s skin beneath his touch, warm and human, tense muscles beneath. “Ah” Obi-Wan sighs out in realization. Anakin had rolled the sleeves, so very unofficial for a Jedi and yet so very Anakin of him.

Master Windu would have hated it. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if this was exact reason why Anakin did it to begin with, after all, he was most adept to handling heat and was not bothered by it even while all else were. Obi-Wan really should have reprimanded the boy more often, should have stopped Anakin from executing all those harmless little vendettas of his while growing up.

If only he did not find them to be so endearing, so amusing. If only he was a better Master, a proper Master. He would have. 

His brain is foggy and he had already forgotten what was it it that he had hoped to achieve by touching Anakin, only that his fingers are circling his wrist and touching the spot at which he can feel his life pulsing. What a terrible habit it is, being intoxicated while negotiating. You should only ever drink enough to appear drunk, never more. How is he to get what he wants, when he has no ideas what it was? 

Obi-Wan’s eyelids are heavy when he tries to blink them open and focus on Anakin. There’s the signature frown, so familiar Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. Anakin is chewing his lips, a compulsion he had never managed to rid himself of. He looks torn between the need to locate and deal with the ‘enemy’, and…. Obi-Wan. 

The way Anakin looks, that should not be reminiscent of the targets Obi-Wan opts for charm as the main form of negotiation with. Should not stir the excitement of a hunt, of a game to be won. Obi-Wan should not use his looks to achieve his goals, he should not use them to get what he wants, he should be a better man than that.

Obi-wan is not a better man. 

Licking his own dry lips, he let’s go off of Anakin’s wrist and reaches for Anakin’s cheeks. There’s a tremble in the touch, his, Anakin’s? He is not certain. 

“Dear One, you can chase your enemies tomorrow.” He speaks in a hushed murmur, he hopes he sounds soft and alluring “Tonight, will you guard this drunk Master of yours?” he looks up, through his lashes, breathing shallowly, feeling hot, hot, hot all over. 

Anakin let’s go off of the lightsaber. It’s an answer enough to what he had picked. It still is deeply gratifying to feel the boy’s hand cover his own, guide it until he wraps his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. It’s an awkward angle, with Anakin being taller than he— he cares very little for it when Anakin wraps an arm around his waist. 

“Let’s go.” He is tight lipped and determined, guiding Obi-Wan out and into a speeder that is parked not far off. If Obi-Wan was even slightly more aware, he’d realize just how much attention the pair of them had draw, how all of the eyes had followed them out. Sometimes he forgets, how famous they had become during this accursed war. Sometimes, he is glad to not remember. 

Anakin is terribly efficient at getting them to the Temple. One blink of an eye they’re flying through the busy highways of Coruscant, the next he is tossed unceremoniously onto a bed that feels and smells familiar. His bed.

They’re in his quarters. Their quarters until very recently. He is breathing harder and he does not dare to think of why. If he does not think, it does not exist. He is self aware enough only to feel how disheveled his robes feel on his body, how messy his hair is, how hot his skin feels all over. He is a mess. 

“Dear one?” he questions. He refuses to acknowledge how his own tone drops, refuses to admit he is rolling his vowels in a way he knows thickens his accent in the most attractive of ways. He doesn’t know why he is flirting with Anakin Skywalker when the boy is barely out of his knighthood and is Anakin. His Anakin, his Anakin on whom he just looked in a way he really should not be looking at, through his eyelashes, with a heavy, wanting gaze. 

The redness of Anakin’s cheeks is evidence enough that he hears and understands the situation well enough. That he is very much aware of what his Master is doing. That he is… perhaps affected. 

Obi-Wan swallows, trying to push himself up to his elbows. He needs to sober up, he must tell him that he is merely jesting, that it is all a little tease, a little laugh, nothing more, just….

Anakin cuts him to it. Before he can excuse, or joke, or explain.

“Not while you’re drunk.” Anakin bites, sounding frustrated, lips swollen red from biting. Obi-Wan startles, surprised. 

What did Anakin just say? Imply?

Blatantly threw straight into his face, more like. 

Yes, but not while he is drunk.

Absurdly, a swell of pride fills his chest to the brim. Anakin’s manners and chivalry surprises him, pleases him. He had raised him well after all, he did not fail him, at least not in this.

His pleasure must bleed into the Force as Anakin regards him with a dark, baffled look. It’s so dark, most would find it intimidating, but for Obi-Wan it’s… dear. He can see the gentleness in that look, the care. There’s warmth in the force when Anakin insist on tucking him in, fingers methodical in the short, careful gestures. Tucking him in as if he was a child. Him, his Master. Former. 

Obi-Wan was tucked in only once in his lifetime, at least as far as he can remember. His first night in the Jedi Temple. So tense he was, so out of his depth, that the he was taken pity of, tucked in with a quiet promise of everything making sense soon. It helped.

It had never happen again. 

“Ahnakin.” he tries to protest, tries to pull a face of offended indigence. It’s hard to do when he is practically shining within the force. A single look from his apprentice is enough to quiet him down. 

“Master.” Anakin replies, and there’s a little eyeroll there. His cheeks are still flushed but he seems as determined as Obi-Wan to not address the Bantha in the room. “You really should be more careful” he lectures him in a way Obi-Wan can distinctly remember doing a few years back, when Anakin had gotten drunk for the first time. 

He leaves then, without a word. Obi-Wan’s throat closes and there’s a pang of pain in his heart. No this. He remembers now. Him. Leaving. That was the whole reason, that was why—

“Master?” Anakin sounds concerned, a glass of water and a container of what looks to be painkillers in his hands. “Are you sick?” a few strides and he is by Obi-Wan’s bed again, placing he glass and container at the bedside table. He looks well and truly worried. 

Unthinking, Obi-Wan sits up. So sudden that he does feel sick from the motion. He ignores it. He reaches for Anakin’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks with a grip that is too strong, too desperate. A Jedi should not hold onto things with such fervor. 

All it takes for him to lean is to Anakin, is to stop resisting if only for a moment. Anakin’s pull was always there, stronger and stronger until it had become a daily challenge to ignore it, to pretend he does not feel it. All it takes is to stop resisting and his lips find Anakin’s, pressing against that plush softness, inhaling his exhale and finally, finally feeling anchored, inside the orbit he was always meant to circle.

He tilts his chin, leans in, knowing his beard will scratch pleasantly against the smooth jaw, kisses in deeper—

“Mahster—!” Anakin gasps into the kiss, a pang of shock and uncertainty clouding the force around them, sipping through the open nerves of their broken bond.  He does not want to take advantage of his Master, does not want him to end up hating him, does not want him to wake up and be disgusted, appalled— but he wants, he wants so badly. 

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breathes out, unsure if it’s endearment of relief that fills him up with warmth, with lightness. One thing he is certain of, no one had ever been, or will be, as sweet, as kind, as dear as Anakin is to him. “I could never hate him.” There’s a drunken lisp to his voice, he needs a moment to correct himself. “You.” He manages, meeting Anakin’s eyes and not blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment. Wanting to see the exact moment in which Anakin realizes he is serious, that he is the most honest he’s been in years. 

Anakin seems to be realizing it too, his eyes widening and cheeks coloring a deeper red than before, he bites his lip.

“I might be…” Obi-Wan’s gaze drops to Anakin’s lips and he thinks about… “intoxicated…” he forces himself to look up, away from temptation, away from sin. “Drugged, possibly.” He is still not fully certain if he is, or it truly is just Anakin with a touch of alcohol. “But I am very much aware that…” he smiles before completing the sentence, it widens so much further with the words to come “…my Padawan simply cannot take advantage of his Master…” there’s really no need to be using this many terms of belonging, especially when they are outdated and irrelevant, but he just cannot… “On the contrary, I am the one who should be deeply ashamed for…mnnn-” 

Anakin’s lips quiet him up, he was never a patient listener, never could hear his Master finish a thought. This is the most effective he had ever been at cutting Obi-Wan’s line of thought, by far. He kisses him in a way Obi-Wan would have never guessed him capable of— it’s soft, sweet, patient. A tender thing, careful, loving. Obi-Wan gasps. Thinking, dazedly of how Anakin will grow to be an amazing lover, so attentive, a beast holding back his fangs in favor of gentle lips… 

The thought sets a burning coil of arousal deep in Obi-Wan’s gut.

Not good. Beyond not good. He should…. 

The thought is present and yet he licks at Anakin’s lips, asking for permission. He is granted one without resistance, without hesitance. Anakin’s lips part and he can taste him and oh, oh. Obi-Wan groans, muscles tensing as he shifts to sit straighter, moving a hand to Anakin’s nape and pulling him closer.

He nearly chokes when the boy sucks on his tongue, arousal shocking him into near soberness. 

“Anakin…” he knows, there’s not enough alcohol in the universe to convince him that this is not going too far, he knows and yet… 

He kisses Anakin again, a little hungrier, a little more wanting.

He must stop this madness. To think that he had started it, to think that he had taken advantage of his trusting, sweet—

“No, Master.” Anakin answers, and Obi-Wan wonders just how much of his shields is truly left if his thoughts can be read so easily, so plainly. “You’ve asked me to stay, and I will stay.” That assuredness is back, firm and leaving no space for argument. This is the same man who leads men on a battlefield, who commands, who leads. Obi-Wan finds it impossibly, undeniably, devastatingly attractive.

“You will sleep.” Anakin decides then, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan long enough to gesture at the lights, turning them off with the force. “And I will stay with you.” His eyes land back to Obi-Wan, dark mirth dancing in what Obi-Wan can still see of him. “To keep you safe, Master.” He is teasing him, the little devil.

“How will it even…” Obi-Wan doesn’t want to mention how narrow the bed really is, Anakin would know, with his constant complaints about how leg room and… 

“Don’t worry about that.” Anakin answers, confidence so cocky, so boyish that Obi-Wan huffs a surprised laughter, breaking into giggling when Anakin practically falls on top of him. They struggle like that, laughter mixing, limbs tangling, hair in a mouth and fingers against sides— Anakin captures him then, they’re on their sides, Anakin’s back is firm as he pulls Obi-Wan all the way to himself, forming….

“Absolutely not!” Obi-Wan’s voice raises and breaks a little, attempting to wriggle out of the trap he inadvertently fell into. There’s still some pride life in him. He will not permit this Jedi Knight, his former Padawan no less, big spoon him, 16 years his senior and former Master. Force be his witness, he will not allow it.

Anakin makes a suffering, exasperated exhale when Obi-Wan manages to slip out of his grip— only to be yanked back by the force. All he manages is a choked gasp of protest before the air is knocked out of him, his back hitting a firm chest a little too hard. There’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction in hearing Anakin chokes out a surprised exhale too, clearly, he did not account for the impact being this strong.

“Karkin’ hell…” he hears the boy muttering and snorts out, laughing even while Anakin wraps his mechno-arm around him, pulling him back into the not-as-offensive as before little spoon position. Fine, he thinks. He’ll allow it, just for this one night…. 

His eyes close and he shudders when Anakin’s nose press against his nape, he can feel the slow, deep inhale— can feel the content exhale that follows. 

“Finally.” Anakin breathes out, as if he was waiting for this moment longer than the few minutes  just now. Like he needed it, himself. Like it was not Obi-Wan, pathetic and alone, messaging his former Padawan while drunk beyond reason that led him here, but his own needs, own wants. Like he needed this too, him. Like he needs him. Obi-Wan. 

“Oh Force…” Obi-Wan calls upon it without realizing, without meaning it. Only the force can stand witness to this moment, judge it, measure it. Guide him, tell him right from wrong. “Force.” His voice trembles with it, realizing for the first time that Anakin does see him, in truth, does and still…

“It’s fine with it.” Anakin remarks, nonchalant, amusement coloring the timbre of his voice. “You don’t have to shout at her, I don’t think she like it very much” Anakin refers to the Force differently every time, Obi-Wan suspects he does it simply for the joy of throwing off the younglings.

It unsettles Obi-Wan as well, he will not admit that much, though. Anakin’s connection with the force was always stronger, always different than anyone else’s. If he’s saying that the Force is not finding this offensive…. Obi-Wan will trust him. Anakin enjoys messing around at times, stretching the truth about how the Force works, but he’d never lie about this, not to him. 

Obi-Wan’s body relaxes so completely that he practically sags into Anakin, relief, so much relief. It feels…. Good. There’s rightness to it that even without the Force humming pleasantly in his ears, he’d recognize. Like sharing a sleeping cot in the war zones, minus the blood and gore and pain… it feels secure, it feels…good…. 

He feels himself being lulled to what he suspects will be a long and restful sleep. Such a luxury as of late. “Mnh..” He jolts a little when a hand moves across his side, resting at his hip bone and then back up to his side. He should not permit Anakin this much leeway with him and yet…. He likes it… oh he likes it.

So he doesn’t comment it, allowing him to continue, to stroke him and care for him, and hold him. He is not leaving. 

Sleep comes ease, as easy as an inhale. One moment he is aware of all that surrounds him, the scent and warmth, the weight and touch. The next he is sinking into the open embrace of rest. Distantly, he feels the touch of a Force Signature he knows as well as his own. It is the only half of it, after all. Accepting it, is as easy as breathing too. 

There’s a distant shift, even in sleep he can feel the bond snapping back into place, like moons falling into a familiar route, circling a singular sun. Maybe it was not Anakin who was the sun around which Obi-wan was revolving all along, but their shared….

#I realize that the smarted thing would be to revisit this one once I slept off this fever and actually give it a proper revision however-- #the force demands I post it here and now. #obikin #obikin fic #star wars #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #anakin #obi wan #sw fic #buns.w #buns.all #anonynous #msg #prompt filled #me:i'll do quick drabbles for those prompts #also me: so here's a thing i nearly fainted over because i forgot what drink and food was #i hope you enjoy this~ I didn't write Obi-Wan POV in a whiiiiilllleee I wanted it to be a push and pull of conflicting emotions and needs #Fair warning as mentioned before... I rewrote it almost completely from 2k to 4k without actually editing over the rewritten one #there might be some hefty mistakes there so you know ggs

[bendycxmet]

Pierced—Vash the Stampede

Summary: How did Vash get that hoop in??

Word Count: ~1.2k

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Content: fluff, a lil angsty, Vash deserves his sense of self ok

a/n: @aboveweirdest gave me this wonderful idea while we were analyzing this man to death! tyty was thinking about this when i got another helix piercing done recently so i whipped this up before bed

In recent days, you’ve seen Vash eyeing you. At least, more than what is normal. It was unsettling everytime you felt his gaze on you whenever you tried passing the time by creating something out of scraps you found into jewelry, specifically earrings. 

For instance, he was doing it now, as your hands worked the small pliers expertly to transform a piece of gold wire into a hoop. You either usually pierce your own ears with your creations, or sell them in town for some extra cash you both could use for bullets or food. Vash wishes he could be as good as you on the artsy side, but you always remind him that he is good with his hands. No one can beat him in marksmanship.

“Like what you see there, gunman?” you tease, side eyeing him for a split second. Caught in the act, Vash blushes a lovely red that reaches the tip of his ears. You love getting a rise out of him.

“Do you wanna learn? Is that it? Because you’ve been a little too curious these past couple of days.”

“Mm.. ‘s not that. I just… How many piercings do you have?” 

The question comes out of nowhere for you. You think it’s obvious, since mostly all of them are on your ears. Doing mental math, you count what you have on your ears.

“Uh, around 11? I’m thinking of doing more, but we’ve been too busy lately.”

He simply nods, humming to himself as he visibly thinks through your answer. 

“Why do you pierce your ears?” You quirk your eyebrow at him. “Don’t mean that in an offensive way!” He quickly puts his hands up, offering a sign of peace. You laugh at his gestures. “I just been noticing lately that your usual customers are people with loads of piercings, and I never gave it much thought before to get one of my own, but I think…they look so cool on others. They seem so happy with them too, expressing themselves without even saying a word.”

Your hands still at his words, something dropping in your stomach and twisting at his solemn expression. Vash never revealed much about his past, and you never probed him further. Anytime anything connected to his past came up, you could clearly tell whatever happened had left its scars on him, physically and mentally. You respected his decision to close up those details, and reminded him that whenever, if ever, he was ready to share that load with you, you would be there.

You look back down at the gold hoop in your hands, an idea coming to mind. You quickly add the finishing touches, putting a little more effort into it as it was for someone special now. 

“Hey, what do you think of this?” You hold up the hoop to Vash’s eyes, catching the glimmer in his eyes at your recent creation, like that of a thief spotting expensive items through a window. Greed and envy swirling together.

“It’s beautiful! You always amaze me with how you turn a piece of trash into such a pretty object. That one’s gonna sell fast Mayfly!” You warm at his praise and nickname for you. His confidence and support for your skills potentially outweighed yours for how he handled his gun.

Yet, you can’t stand the fake smile he plasters on his face, masking the jealousy he feels for the future owner of the golden hoop.

“Think I’m gonna sell it for free. It’s for someone close to me.” Vash simply cocks his head to the side. You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. “How about letting me pierce your ear for you?”

The change in his demeanor is quick. He straightens his back, eyes shining brightly, nodding eagerly at you. “I’m in your hands!”

Grabbing a small threading needle from your kit, you order him to sit close to you on motel bed. Cleaning your hands and the needle, you search his face, looking for any signs of regret. 

“You sure about this? Do you know where you want it?”

He’s pensive for a moment, eyes looking past you. He hums, pointing at his left lobe. How perfect, you think, same side as his cute little mole. 

You fidget, rethinking piercing his ear. You’ve only ever pierced yourself, so now that you have someone else in front of you, you feel like a total amateur. 

“Hey. Get out of your head there. I know what you’re thinking.” Vash’s voice breaks through your brain fog. He wraps his hand around your raised arm, poised and ready to pierce him. He gently tightens his hold on your waist. “I trust you.” You feel your heart twinge at the soft vulnerability in his eyes.

“Ok, this will be a slight pinch. I know you’re used to pain-” you interject, noting his slightly raised eyebrow, silently telling you been there done that. “-but just follow my rules. Ok, breathe in for me.” You raise the needle to his ear. “And breathe out.” As you feel his breath ghost your arm, you push the needle as quickly as you can through his ear, quickly adding the hoop to his ear. 

You turn around to wash your hands. “And there you go! Your first piercing ever! Crazy, considering that you’re like 150- hey don’t touch-” you catch him as he’s going to finger his new piercing, staring straight at the mirror on the vanity opposite the bed. The warning dies in your throat at the sight of him nearly in tears.

“I…I love it,” he says in a warbled voice.

“Oh Vash, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? I really tried to be careful. Always with you.” You sit beside him, leaning onto his shoulder, rubbing his back in comfort. He sniffs. 

“It’s not you. It’s just…this is the first time I feel like I’ve done something for myself. I feel like my own person. With just a hoop.” Wet tears trail down his cheeks. You press your fingers to his cheeks, wiping his tears. You know how he’s been burdened with his past, no doubt still feeling the shadow of his brother and the destruction that’s come from his actions. Perhaps this earring meant more than you could ever imagine, perhaps it finally binded him to the present, and to his own future that he can create. 

“You’ve always been Vash to me. Never your brother. Just you. Vash the Stampede. The most amazing gunman to ever walk into my life.” He turns to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his face into your neck.

“Thank you. Now, I feel like everyone else. Maybe they can see me as one of them. Not this humanoid disaster.” You nuzzle into him, hands returning to their rubbing against his back.

“You look nice by the way. It suits you really well. The gold complements your blue blue eyes,” you tease, hoping to get a chuckle out of him. 

He pecks your cheek, another thank you from him. He presses his face tighter to you, jolting suddenly. “Ow!”

“Yeahh, it’s gonna be a bit tender for a bit.” 

masterlist

divider by saradika

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader fluff #vash the stampede x reader fluff #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #trigun x reader fluff #tristamp #vash #vash the stampede #bendycxmet writes

[seyvia]

Nikolas sets off to focus on his inner peace following his elimination. Three weeks have passed since the event, and Nik is completely unaware that today is the airing of his elimination episode. His phone is suddenly overflowing with sympathy and messages of support, and Nafisa? He can easily find every detail about her online. However, instead of being a virtual fan, he rather take it a step further and get to know her face to face! He's coming back to the dating scene with a fresh perspective and sharper skills. And ever the optimistic he noticed they have a lot in common, both enjoy yoga, mornings, and if she's self-absorbed, then she wouldn't mind his nosiness right? ( ^ω^ )

Is Nikolas Nafisa's knight in natural linens? Or will this dueling interest yogi, face rejection once more? Find out at @flocy-sims Nestled with Nafisa!

More below:

Name: Nicholas Knight. Age 28 (he-him)

Aspiration: Inner peace. Traits: Goofball, Vegetarian, Nosey.

Likes: coffee, green, brown, mischief, gossip, wellness, mixology, guitar, boho fashion, deep conversations, sunrises and bike rides. Her hair, like that's a goddesses hair!💕(going to like calling her goddess/angel)

Dislikes: eating meat, "boring sims"(small talk), sleeping in, arguing, violin. the nick name Nik-knack-patty-whack...

Extra: Nik completed the master of mischief asp at 21. currently living in a cute blue trailer he got half priced. He believes scarves are an extremely underrated accessory. He grew up in Windenburg. He got a really bad haircut as a kid and has been styling his own hair eversince. His parents resent him because he "wasted all his potential". Grew up in a well-to-do family where they didn't like it if you exploded the toilets, not even a little!

let me know if you want more info, hope yuh like him💕 (^///^)

I CAN'T BELIEVE I Robbed y’all by not showing Nickolas's hair down before!!! My deepest apologies! ❤️┗( T﹏T )┛

#also him and cherry ended things really well<3 as friends I imagen they text each other juicy gossip from time to time :) #nestled with nafisa #nickolas knight #ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #seyvia's sims #ts4 bc challenge #bc #ts4 bachelorette challenge

[y-rhywbeth2]

"I had a brother, named Sarevok, and out conflict was brutal. I am not destined to a peaceful end, Cernd. I am fuel, not an heir. That is my secret"

And that there is something that bothered me in BG3 in Durge playthroughs: despite Larian kinda portraying it like they are and it's some sort of commonly accepted fact, Bhaalspawn are not considered or intended to be the heirs to the Throne of Blood, it wasn't on Alaundo's prophecy, and they are in no way ever truly intended to actually take Bhaal's place. Bhaal sure as hell never had that in mind, unless it was for them to seize his old mantle so he could hijack them.

Sarevok got the idea from an ex-priest of Bhaal who missed his status and was trying to make a new god for himself, and it later turned out that Charname was part of a larger prophecy that might allow them to take Bhaal's place. Sometimes Bhaal lies about things to manipulate you into doing what he wants.

"Heir" implies legitimacy, the only way godhood is on the table is by a loophole.

Even if Durge is special and daddy's favourite and everybody isn't just lying and telling them that to make them play along, Bhaal would still never actually share power unless he's the one in total control, basically ruling through them. And as they themselves say in the prayer for forgiveness, their end purpose is still to die.

(Also considering the WotC timeline... yeah. That second line is brutally true.)

Cernd: "If you succumb to his taint further, I will act, for it may be more your own doing. A god is a god, but they are only as strong as the power we give them." Charname: "Wise words, but still only words. You don't know, and can't know, what it is really like."

This however, I do feel was a little better portrayed in BG3. Cernd isn't wrong that Bhaalspawn have responsibility for their own actions, but the struggle with Bhaal was mostly "tell don't show" bar a specific stretch of the game and could've used more willpower rolls and equivalent. (So could BG3, but at least it had them.)

#BG2 and WotC cannon aren't compatible though. #What. #...actually BG2. WotC and BG3 aren't compatiable with either of the other two #bg2 spoilers #bg2 playthrough shenanigans #babbling #long post #griping

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗹

paring: amy march x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, cute, kinda spicy towards the end but it mostly fluff and cuteness and amy kinda worshiping r, period piece, wlw established relationship

warning(s): hint of smut/spicy, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.1k

note: A little Amy March appreciation post. I just... I guess the Bridgerton hype is getting to me and with that comes the Amy hype back again. Hope you all enjoy this one, it's kinda based off of titanic (if you couldn't tell). I love you, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

“What are you doing?” you whispered right into her ear, causing Amy to jump on the spot a little. 

“Do not do that, Y/n,” she said, clutching her hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I apologise,” you said, chuckling as you kissed her temple. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just trying to find something to paint.”

“What are your options so far?”

“Well, this bowl of fruits,” she pointed to her left. “Or that one,” she pointed to her right.

“Again?” you asked, scoffing and raising your brow at her. 

“I guess I could paint that vessel with the yellow flowers, they are nice, aren’t they?” she said, lost in her thoughts.

“You know, the other day, Aunt March showed me some French painting…”

“Did she now?” she said, gathering her things to paint the flowers, only half listening to your words.

“Yes, they were quite… interesting,” you said, mischief filing your voice.

“How so?”

“Well… they were lovely women, beautiful really…”

“Yes?” Amy was paying attention to you, she was trying at least, but her brain chose to focus more on the flowers in front of her. 

“And they were… um… naked.”

Amy stood still for a second at your words, but then continued on as if it was nothing. Because in reality it wasn’t, the French had a thing for the human body, so what? It annoyed her, just a little, that you saw other women naked. But as long as her body was the only one you would touch, then she could do peace with it.

“They were fascinating, breathtaking even. Imagine being immortalised that beautifully.”

“Mmmh,” Amy agreed. 

“I would love for someone to do that for me…” you said, enough with the playing around and getting to the point.

And then you had Amy’s whole attention. “Are you saying that you would stand, naked, in front of a man, just so he could paint you? That you would gladly expose your body?” she said sternly.

“No! God, no,” you scoffed. “You would paint me.”

You smile as you watch her cheeks turning red. It was no surprise really, you had lost count of all the times you and Amy had seen the other naked, did things while at it. But despite Amy’s strong personality, deep down she was as shy as a baby deer.

She cleared her throat. “I think I have heard wrong, it was as if you wanted me to paint you—.”

“Like a French model,” you finished for her. “Yes, you heard correctly.”

“Naked?”

“Yes, that was the whole point of this conversation,” you chuckled, as you stepped closer to her and took away the paint brushes from her hands to warm them with your own. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, Ames,” you peck the back of her hands. “I just thought… I was not really thinking, actually. You said you were looking for something to paint, and the pictures Aunt March showed me just came to my mind. But if you do not wish to—.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” she interumped you. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your lips.

“How do you want me then?”

“You remember the pictures, right? Just do as you please, but… um… naked,” she winked at you, turning around to find her paintings, a new canvas and her favourite paint brushes. 

You took the opportunity, as she wasn't looking, to undress yourself. As you peeled off piece by piece off your body, you felt the temperature in the room shift and realised it was a bit cold. But as you settled in your position and Amy finally looked at you, you felt your whole body burning with fire. 

“Is this okay?” you shyly asked. 

Her eyes trailed down your body, taking in every curve, your soft skin, your chest. She could even tell how hard and heavy your breathing had gotten, which caused a shiver to run down her spine. It was silly, really. She would wake up to your naked body as many mornings as she could, but seeing you in that perfect golden light, exposed for her eyes only, took her breath away.

“Perfect,” she managed to word out somehow. 

She took a deep breath, and let her mind thrift away, only one thought remained in her mind and that was you. She allowed herself to be taken away by her light brush strokes, she let herself capture the intensity in your eyes, the softness of your body, the sun kissing your skin. 

She was extremely immersed in the painting, that she felt as if it wasn't you who she was painting anymore. Sure, you were naked, the piece would tend to have some sexual appeal, but Amy felt as if she was painting something —someone— too pure to ever be turned into just a mere object of lust. She was sure she was painting the vivid image of an angel, and she couldn't believe that she had gotten so lucky to love and be loved by this angel.

“Almost done,” she muttered after what felt like ages, but really it was the fastest she had ever worked on a piece. There were still some more details to add, some lighting to be fixed, some shadows that looked odd. But she didn’t need you to keep on posing, to keep on being naked in the cold room. 

“Is it finished?” you asked in disbelief. 

“Not yet,” she chuckled. “I’ll keep on working on it later, I don’t need you to stand still.”

“I like being still if I have your eyes on me,” you grinned at her.

“I like it as well, but I can’t have you catching a cold,” she said, as she wrapped you around some warm coat she had lying around for the cold days.

“Thank you, for doing this,” you said, pecking her lips. 

“I have you to thank, my muse.”

“Oh, so now I am your muse,” you playfully scoffed, your arms snaking around her shoulder while hers found your waist.

“You always have been,” she muttered as she left a kiss in the corner of your jaw. “I just guess it’s now official,” she chuckled, her uneven breath sending chills up your spine.

“Is that so?” you giggled. “Then, please do tell me more about it,” you said, throwing your head back giving her access to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“I don’t feel like talking right now,” she bit your skin. 

“What do you feel like doing?” you were already breathless.

“Well…” she said as her hands drifted away to the belt securing your coat.

“Oh, I see,” you laugh, bringing her lips to yours. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#amy march #amy march x reader #amy march x fem reader #amy march x you #amy march x y/n #florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #little women #littlexscarletxwitch's fic

[libby-for-life]

Could you do a yandere lucifer x yandere lilith x adam oneshot, please

Maybe adam goes back in time to eden and realize he wants nothing to do with those two. But lilith and lucifer noticed the change and decided to do something about it.

.....mmmmm. Oh, this feeds the soul!

Adam fucking hated this. That bitch cyclops just had to kill him, didn't she? And now? And now he was in some cruel twist of irony and he was back in the Garden of Eden. He was back with her and Lucifer and he couldn't stand the sight of them.

He had already seen the glances they'd been giving each other. Acting as if he was stupid and couldn't feel the sexual tension between them.

Well, he already had his week of existential crisis and his meltdown. Now? Now he just wants to avoid all of them altogether. They want to have their shitty love story? They can have it! Just don't expect Adam to watch it!

With that in mind, Adam decided to ignore and avoid them. They can get kicked out of Eden for all he cares. Just as long as they aren't near him.

Lilith notices it first. She was always trying to find a way to avoid Adam. He wasn't cruel or mean, he was just...well, to be blunt, boring. He seemed so much like a...an empty vessel more than a man. Lilith was put off by it and always found excuses to be away from him. He believed her every time and she shoved the feeling of guilt for lying but....she couldn't be with him.

Then she realized she hadn't seen him in two weeks. Seeing Lucifer in secret had never been easier. She found it...odd. Usually by now, he would be calling her name and clinging to her like....like the monkeys that swung in the trees. Sometimes...it was far too tight and she just wanted some space.

Now, as she basked in the afterglow of what she and Lucifer just did, she couldn't help but question it.

"Lucifer?"

"Hm?" Lucifer replied, looking at her with the most caring and loving eyes. Lilith couldn't help but smile.

"Have...you seen Adam around? It's been a while." Lucifer cocked his head. Probably because Adam was never really brought up in the conversations they had.

He hummed before answering. "Now that you've mentioned it, I haven't seen him. That's odd. He'd usually be looking for us by now."

They both shared a look. Well, she supposed it didn't matter. Adam must be doing his own thing.

Another week passes and now Lucifer is getting worried. "You're both under my care." He said to Lilith. "I don't want something bad to happen to him. I'm going to go look for him." Lucifer searched Eden and found him on the other side of the garden. Far away from Lucifer and Lilith.

He was sleeping under a pile of animals. Wolves. All of them were huge compared to Adam’s slimmer frame. He looked so peaceful. See? Lucifer told himself. You were worried for nothing. All the same, he walked over to wake him up. Adam would be overjoyed to see him!

Adam woke up to someone poking his cheek. He mumbled and snuggled back into Metallica's fur. A baritone laugh made him sit up. Lucifer. He stood over him with a gentle smile. Adam ignored the feeling of nostalgia when he saw that smile directed at him and instead leveled the archangel with a blank look.

"Yes?"

Lucifer looked down at him with surprise. What, Adam's no longer vying for affection and you can't understand it? Tough titty.

"Uh...I was just checking up on you! I haven't seen you in a while! How are you?"

Adam held back a scoff. He's been avoiding them for three weeks and only now has Lucifer decided to check up on him?

"Fine. You can go now." Lucifer tilted his head and flinched. "You...want me to leave?"

"Yes. You're bothering me." Adam said standing up. He was smaller than his former angel form but he was taller than Lucifer. "You know what? I'll just leave." And Adam walked away with the rest of the wolves, leaving Lucifer to stare back in shock.

"He just left? He didn't want you there?" Lilith questioned, completely taken aback. This was NOT the Adam she knew.

"I was surprised too. He said I was bothering him." Lucifer looked down in thought and a bit of hurt came across her vision. Lilith hugged him and looked up at the sky in thought. Perhaps she should try? Adam was always happy to see her!

It took her a while to find him but she caught sight of him climbing a fruit tree, oranges, and she smiled. He had a look of determination on his face. A wolf pack surrounded the tree and she smiled and petted one. "Hi, Adam!"

She should have known better than to startle him. Lilith watched with horror as Adam lost his grip due to surprise and fell from his branch.

Quicker than what she thought possible, she ran forward and caught the First Man in her arms. Adam clung to her in surprise and a bit of fear crossed his features.

"Well, that could have been a nasty fall!" Lilith said, letting out a laugh. Adam was a bit smaller than her by a head so it didn't feel awkward to hold him like this.

Lilith watched in fascination as a red blossomed over Adam’s cheeks and he looked away. "C-can you let me down?"

Lilith held back a smirk but let him go. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." All traces of his blush were gone and Lilith looked at his indifferent face with shock. He...had never looked at her that way before.

"I'm going to go now. Don't follow me." Lilith was too stunned to do anything but gape at Adam as he walked away with the wolf pack. This was DEFINITELY not the Adam she knew!

"He's different. I didn't know how, but he is." Lilith said to Lucifer. "What do you think made him change?"

"I don't know. But we're going to find out." For the next month, they followed Adam and observed him. He seemed the happiest with animals and played with the wolf pack constantly. Adam would run when they approached so they stuck to following.

He seemed so...carefree. Happy. The two of them would smile as they watched the First Man just live his life and was perfectly happy with being alone. But...things really changed when Lilith and Lucifer saw Adam touch himself for the first time.

They were watching him sleep, when did they start doing that, and watched as Adam’s penis became erect. What was he dreaming about? Lilith and Lucifer couldn't help but blush when they saw it.

Adam woke up to his problem and he sighed. With a blush staining his own cheeks, he grabbed his penis and began stroking himself.

A moan tumbled out. They didn't realize how...sensitive he was. Lilith bit her lip as she watched slender fingers grip his manhood and rub it. He was...cute doing this. Lilith's blush deepened when she accepted that thought.

Lucifer was watching with hooded eyes as Adam went on all fours, ass up and head down as he touched himself. He had been turned on before but this was something else. It was on par with Lilith. A glance at her told him that she was turned on as well. Her face matched his. The face of someone watching prey and Lucifer bit his lip as smirked.

"Are you liking what you're seeing?" Lucifer asked and Lilith turned to him, eyes burning. "Yes."

"I am too." They both watched as Adam’s form arched and cute whimpers left his plump lips. He came on the ground, thighs trembling from being in that position for so long.

They watch him get up and walk away, presumably to wash himself. Then, Lilith turned him and gave him her look. The look she gave him was one of want and desire.

"I want him."

They decided to ambush him while he was bathing. They watched with smiles as he played in the water and swam around. Lilith bit her lip as she walked from the bush she was watching from and slipped in. Silently moving forward, she stood behind him as Lucifer's naked form came into view of Adam.

"Lucifer?!" Adam cried out and Lilith smirked at the blush that creeped all the way behind his neck and ears. Adam was so cute flustered like this.

"Taking a bath? Mind if I join?" Lucifer said, slipping into the water. "Uh—um," Adam stammered and backed up. Right into Lilith's awaiting arms. She hugged him from behind, pushing her breasts over his shoulders so that his face was cradled between them.

"I'm going to join too."

"Hu?!" A high whimper left Adam making the two others smirk. Aw, he's embarrassed!

"Hm. I think you missed a spot." Lucifer said, swimming forward. Adam watched him with a furious blush as the archangel brushed a hand over his toned stomach.

"Wa? Missed? I didn't miss anything!" Adam protested as the two chuckled. "Why don't I show you then?"

Adam would have jumped if Lilith wasn't holding him so securely because Lucifer licked a strip of his stomach with a devious smirk. Lilith cooed and kissed his cheek as Adam hid his burning face to the side. He was really quite sensitive!

"No! Wa—mm! I—ah!" Adam protested but Lucifer kept licking up and up his body and Lilith bit his ear at the same time teeth found their way on a nipple.

"Ah~!" Adam moaned loud and clear. They continued exploring his body as Adam writhed in Lilith's grip. "Oh, isn't he just the cutest?" Lilith said as she bit alongside his neck. Adam's breath met her breasts as he tried to hide from Lucifer's piercing gaze.

"He really is," Lucifer replied. "Carry him to the bank? I think we'll need to give him the attention he deserves."

Lilith scooped up Adam easily and he hung in her grip loosely, far too lost in his pleasure to realize they were moving. Lilith sat down and placed Adam on her lap before kissing him.

Adam's eyes widened in surprise and she easily took control. Making sure that she held an arm around his waist, she brought him close.

They broke apart, a string of saliva the only thing connecting them as she stared deeply into his eyes. She smiled when he whimpered in confusion.

"Lucifer. Want to try? He's a good kisser." Lilith watched as Adam’s face was turned to the side and Lucifer kissed him deeply. She moaned. Watching as Lucifer dominated Adam was...exhilarating.

He also said he wanted to try having sex with him. Lilith was confused at first as to how but Lucifer explained it to her and she was determined to see it for herself.

Once they broke apart, Lilith shifted Adam until his face was lying on her breasts. He looked at her with a small and wobbly smile, his eyes glazed.

"Aw. Did Lucifer make you feel good, Adam? What him to make you feel even better?"

"Yesh..." Adam slurred making the two coo at him. Lucifer bent down and licked at his pink bud. Adam's eyes widened but Lilith was quick to shush him and allowed him to bury his face in her breasts as Lucifer tongue fucked him.

Moans and whimpers filled the air, even more so when Lucifer entered him using something much bigger.

"Ah! Ah! So...big!" Adam moaned out, drooling on Lilith. He slumped in her grip and Lilith smiled and kissed his forehead. "That's it. Be good for us. No more running away. Understood?"

Adam nodded, far too lost in the sticky folds of his pleasure to understand Lilith fully, but the First Woman was happy nonetheless.

"That's right Adam," Lucifer growled. "You're ours!"

"Y-yours?" Adam slurred out. "But...why?"

Lilith tilted her head. "Because we want you."

"Ah! D-didn't want me, mmmm, before...."

Lilith winced. She really did hurt Adam by avoiding him. Well, he won't have to worry about it anymore.

"Then how about we prove it to you that you're ours?" Lucifer said before increasing his speed.

Adam clutched onto Lilith and cried tears of pleasure. Lucifer must have been hitting that special place called the prostate. Apparently, it made Adam feel immense amount of pleasure.

"Lucifer! Lilith! Yesh! Yesh!" He slurred out and moaned high when he came. He passed out, his face slumping into Lilith's breasts making the First Woman hug him close. Lucifer slipped out and kissed Adam’s neck before kissing Lilith.

"Wow....he felt so good!" Lucifer said and Lilith nodded eagerly. She gently transferred him to Lucifer so he could hold their Adam. She stretched and began washing off the semen. "He's ours now," Lilith said as she sat back down. "Ours."

Lucifer nodded and they both shared twin looks of possessive desire. Adam was theirs and Heaven help anyone who tried to take him away.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #adam x lilith x lucifer #send asks #yandere lucifer #yandere lilith

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

How Umemiya Hajime Loves | As Told By Tarot

cw. gn!reader, tarot, headcanons pairing. umemiya x reader notes. normally, i stop at 4 cards per character but i've been thinking about doing more lengthy, in-depth readings with multiple stacks lately. so i figured, why not give this a shot with my newest obsession? if you have any characters you want me to cover, let a girl know deck. prisma visions tarot & true black tarot

three of wands, the hanged man, two of wands, two of chalices

When Umemiya Hajime falls, he falls. There's no resisting the waves as it envelops his person; instead he allows himself to be full submerged. He allows you to see him for who he is, all that he has been and all he will be and you allow him to do the same. You're his person. Hajime loves everyone he calls family and treats them all kindly but even among them you are special. The moment you are someone he sees he has a future with, he works towards that future little by little through connecting with you and cultivating a love that will last indefinitely. He isn't the type to seek short-term relationships, Umemiya Hajime wants forever.

ten of pentacles, nine of chalices, the high priestess, seven of wands

It should also be no surprise that he wants a large family. How this family is ultimately is obtained is of little importance to him but he wants a family. Kid running through the house to wake you both up to watch whatever their favorite morning cartoon is, little fingers covered in pancake batter as his little helper valiantly helps him make breakfast, the whole nine yards. That future is a dream come true for him who has always wanted a family of his own. Of course he is aware it takes hard work to get to that future let alone maintain it, but he is prepared for that challenge. Hajime is someone who thrives in large groups but for him to really be happy, you have to be happy as well. He's great at reading you and piecing together what you want but he isn't a mind reader, tell him what you want and need and he'll always be happy to reach a compromise where you are both satisfied.

the emperor, three of pentacles, the lovers, two of pentacles

Rather than constantly go back and forth fixing a leak to push his town in the right direction, Hajime decided to rebuild the entire house and relay the foundation brick by brick. He approaches self-improvement and relationships in the same manner. Words aren't enough, you need action to back them up. His actions more than speak for themself. You know he loves you in the things he does grand and small. He goes above and beyond to make sure you never have to question how he feels. Hajime fights that much harder when something he loves is on the line. Love is the very source of his strength. A joyous feeling that cloaks the two of you in a freeing dance of self-expression and intimacy reserved solely for the two of you. Together the food tastes that much better, the drinks that much flavorful and the hues of the world that much more vibrant. He wants you to feel the same way when you're with him.

nine of cups, the hermit, ace of cups, two of cups

For Hajime, this love feels like a luxury. Both of your glasses will always be full, overflowing with wine that he has grown with grapes from his very own garden. His pockets may not be overflowing in gold but if one could be paid in emotional wealth, Hajime is richer than the greatest king. It has taken much introspection to become the man he become today. A lot of pain he has had to overcome. Yet despite that pain, like how the scarred dove continues to fly so does Umemiya Hajime. His love continues to flow and pour onto the garden that is his relationship with you, carefully cultivating a living mosaic that encompasses your relationship. War and disruption does not exist in this man, thus it does not exist in your relationship. There is only peace and harmony bathed in a soft glow. Yours is a relationship that continues this soft dance for as long as time allows.

#look she's writing #headcanons #tarot #windbreaker #wind breaker #hajime umemiya #umemiya hajime #umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Cant help but notice krubus stardew in the requests,,, so if i may,,,

How about a oneshot/headcanons, whichever ya think works better, for a farmer Reader who's roommates with Krobus, and Shane ends up visiting the farm, and accidentally finds Krobus and the reader is trying their best to calm the situation down or smthn? :]

Ofc you dont have to do this!!

Salt anon (have a good day also!!! always lovely to see ya on my dash :] )

YES MY TWO FAVES <3333

Got carried away but I had so many ideas for this one

.......

'I should check the coop. The void chicken could be hungry, and [y/n] may appreciate me stepping up. But...what if a human saw me? Oh Yoba...I hope there's no surprise visitors today..'

As Krobus paced around your cabin, he kept looking outside the window at the snowfall, the coop just within his sights. It was the second day of winter, and all of the animals you've been raising were huddled inside for the season, the hay keeping their bellies full.

But something told him that the void chicken you recently introduced to the farm felt lonely, a misfit among the "normal" chickens. She wasn't too sociable around them, and that worried Krobus.

Of course he, of all people, could understand why.

To this very day, the shadow monster couldn't fathom why you'd take him into your home..when his existence alone scared humanity and could damage your reputation with the town.

What would the villagers think if they learned you're housing a beast who once dwelled in the mines?

Many weren't anywhere near as brave as you were when it comes to venturing deep into shadow monster territory....and the few who had the guts to made it their personal mission to slay as many of his people as possible.

Or at least..what remained of them after the elemental wars.

Surprisingly enough, some of the brutes began visiting your farmland at night, and Krobus would see them hiding in the foliage, behind trees..or even rummaging through your crops, yet never taking anything for themselves.

He wishes he could greet them normally, ask what drew them to the surface, or try to reason that you're a good human who shouldn't be attacked.

Yet in the back of his mind...he feared being branded a traitor for siding with the species that hurt so many of his own people.

What would they do if they noticed his pendant and realized a human gifted it to him?

Surely they would freak out, coerce him into coming back to the mines where it was "safe"...or worse, they'd kill you and make him watch. He couldn't let his presence be known, lest they discovered you were housing him and destroyed the life you built here.

You would think he betrayed you and brought a siege upon your land--after all you've done to shelter him from the cruelty of the world.

Not even Yoba would forgive such a sin.

Even though he felt his connection with his people drifting with each passing week, he was content with his choice to live with you. He wouldn't trade your kindness and generosity for the world.

Plus, you've told him over and over that you knew what you were signing up for. You knew it when you first bought a void egg from him. You knew it when you and the wizard broke up his fight with Dwarf. You knew it when you created a space in your home that suited his environmental needs.

All he could offer you was a stardrop in return, but it was more than enough for you.

Krobus vowed to contribute to the farm's many tasks how ever he could..when it safe for him to step outside of course.

On this cold winter's day, he figured checking out the coop would be a great first step.

He peeked into your bedroom, discovering you to be sound asleep and looking rather peaceful.

Indeed, it was a stark contrast to how battered and bruised you were last night, having returned from the Skull Caverns at midnight. None of his people ventured there, considering the desert climate would be unbearable for them to live in, but while sharing meals he'd listen to your tales of serpents, mummies, and even dinosaurs living down below.

By comparison..the monsters in the mines seemed tamer and were somewhat civilized, and at his request you managed to avoid fighting them if you could.

The beasts you encountered in the Skull Caverns were brutal and unforgiving, and you had no choice but to defend yourself.

This trip in particular took quite a toll on your body, as you had to use a warp totem to get home...and even then, you were limping from sheer exhaustion. So much so Krobus had to assist you up the stairs and into your bed. He ran the the risk of being seen, yet his concern over your health took priority.

Sleep didn't easily come for him, but it only did after he prayed and thanked Yoba for bringing you home.

He didn't like the idea of you pushing yourself to work so early in the morning, so he decided he'll help lighten that load.

Starting with the coop.

Opening the door, he breathed in the crisp winter air, relieved to not see any humans in sight. There was your pet, who was initially frightened by his sudden arrival, but now warmly greeted him as they climbed the steps.

Krobus laughed softly, crouching down to pet them. "Good morning, little one." He whispered. "Enjoying the snow? I like it very much..but I can't say our chicken friends will agree."

He stood and continued on his way to the small building, eager to check up on your animals and see to it that they're fed.

But unbeknownst to him, a human arrived onto your farmland at that same moment, only seeing a dark figure creeping into the coop.

And he just so-happened to be the man who cared for chickens more than life itself.

......

Shane arrived at your farm, holding a small envelope with a letter inside. It contained a recipe for some dessert--not one that he made or discovered, of course, but rather one he tore out of a magazine.

His first thought was of you, knowing you liked gathering fresh produce and made your own meals..compared to him, a lazy bum who microwaves processed garbage in a plastic dish and called it "dinner."

It wasn't much, but it was the least he could do for a friend who pulled him out of such a dark place..

You were taking a shortcut to the sewer when you found him near the cliffs...where he was truly at his lowest. He doesn't remember much of what he said, but you told him that he considered ending his own life, yet changed his mind after you told him some comforting words.

All the strength you've gained down in the mines allowed you to drag him to the hospital, where you stayed by his side the entire night. Even when Harvey assured you he'll be okay, you refused to abandon him.

Shane never thought anybody in this town would care if he just up and disappeared, yet despite his rudeness towards you...you managed to break down his walls and show him that you cared.

And all it took were some peppers, pizza, eggs, and stupid amounts of persistence.

It really hit him that he almost did something he couldn't reverse..and he never wanted you, Jas, or Marnie to see him get that bad again.

So he promised to make some serious changes, see that counselor Harvey recommended to him, and cut back on the hours he spends at the saloon after work.

The last time you both talked, you mentioned Robin upgrading your coop's space, and Shane was thrilled. So he figured he'd come visit and see how the animals were doing in this cold weather.

He was also curious about that "void egg" you got from a merchant...and he wondered who it was if not Marnie.

Obviously he'd feel like a jerk if he came emptyhanded, or awkward if you weren't actually home right now, thus he decided to bring the letter and recipe just in case. A small surprise "gift" for you to come back to later.

As he approached your mailbox, however, he noticed a dark figure opening the door to your coop. He couldn't tell who it was as they quickly went inside, as though afraid of being seen.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep making him see things, but-

"Huh? What kinda tracks are these..?" He looked down, finding footprints in the snow that didn't belong to any human's.

In fact, they seemed to have clawed toes..

Just like a monster's.

At the saloon, you recounted tales of how you've encountered slimes, plant monsters, bats, and even shadow creatures on your farmland at night--as well as your adventures down in the mines with skeletons, ghosts, and more.

Most of the regulars were 99% certain you were drunk, but others believed your stories and were fascinated by them, as you'd show them gems as proof of your excursions. Sebastian in particular was intrigued by the frozen tear you discovered, flattered that you allowed him to keep it.

Shane, on the other hand, merely dismissed your tales with a "buh" and an eyeroll before sipping away at his beer. He was never a strong believer in the supernatural..convinced that only slimes, rock crabs, flies, and bats dwelled in the mines and nothing else.

Living Skeletons? Metal Heads?? Shadow Shamans???

You HAD to be either drunk, on drugs, or both at the same time.

Although he's become more open-minded to your stories since befriending you, he was still skeptical...yet the footprints he was seeing in the snow didn't match up to any animal he knew in the valley.

Whatever it was, it must've figured out that your coop was an all-you-can-eat-buffet.

That thought alone made him break out into a cold sweat, picking up a stone before rushing towards the building. He didn't hear any noise inside, and that made him all the more concerned.

You helped him when he needed it most, and now he'll repay you by defending your chickens...even though he knew nothing about fighting monsters.

Upon opening the door, he was stunned to find a shadowy humanoid creature holding your void chicken in its arms. It had a goopy smile on its face, looking down at the bird-

Before there was a furious shout.

"HEY! Put that chicken down!"

.........

"HEY! Put that chicken down!"

Just as you were tuning into the Oracle's channel on TV, you were startled by the sound of Shane yelling at someone-

Wait..

'What's Shane doing on my farm? And at this hour, too?? I thought he sleeps in all the time..' Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked around the house.

"Krobus? You in here? I may have a visitor."

No response.

You checked the monster's room, and sure enough didn't find him in there.

Normally he'd freak out and hide beneath your bed if he even caught a glimpse of a human outside. You'd always tell him ahead of time if a friend was coming to visit just so he knew when and how long to stay hidden.

Of course, you never liked having to keep Krobus a secret, yet you understood why he believed that was for the best. He was so, so afraid to go with you even after gifting him the void ghost pendant--a precious amulet from his culture, symbolizing unity and devotion to another.

His worst fear was you being shunned and getting hurt because of him. But you promised to make things work, and so far you've had no problems.

The only other place he'd go besides your cabin was the coop, having grown fond of the animals there and the void chicken you were raising. The winter allowed him to bond with them.

But if he's there right now..and you just heard Shane yell, then-

'Oh fuck.'

Throwing on your boots and jacket, you rushed out the door, damn near slipping on the pathway to the coop.

You opened the door, finding Shane staring down your terrified roommate with anger, ready to throw a stone at who he believed was a monster trying to eat your livestock.

But as he reeled his arm back, he was confused by your hand grabbing his wrist. "Huh?! Hey! Let go!" He grunted.

"Shane, what the hell are you doing?!"

For a moment, he blinked and stared at you as though you had several heads. "What does it look like? I'm....that thing was trying to eat your chickens!" He pointed to Krobus, who was now curled up in the corner, having let go of the void chicken long ago.

"That's one of the monsters you were talking about, right? Don't you have a sword or something that could-?"

"He's not a threat."

Shane froze. "..huh?"

"His name is Krobus. He's a shadow person I met in the sewers." Letting him go, you opted to stand between the two. Krobus immediately got up and latched onto your shirt, hiding behind you for protection.

"The sewers? Jas and Vincent said they saw a monster through the grates, but I thought it was some imaginary friend."

"Well news flash, he's real. And right now he's more scared of you." You huffed. "Now please..put the rock down."

After some hesitance, he complied and dropped the stone. "Fine..sorry. I thought it--he was trying to-"

"I would never harm one of Yoba's precious creatures!" Krobus snapped, despite his voice trembling. "Especially not one that [y/n] so lovingly raised."

"You...understand what I'm saying?" Shane looked astonished.

"Of course.." The shadow monster calmed down a little, but redirected his anger to you. "You..we had an agreement. You promised to tell me if someone was coming."

"I didn't know he was here at all." You frowned. "You could've told me you were checking out the coop."

"But you were so weary from last night, and I thought you'd appreciate sleeping in-!"

"Look..if it helps, I can just leave and pretend none of this ever happened."

Both of you looked at Shane, who was slowly making his way to the door, only for him to stop as you sighed.

There's no way you could hide this now..

"Stay. This isn't something you can "pretend" never happened. Let's all head back to my house and I'll explain everything. Maybe we can come to an understanding without any violence. Whatdya say, boys?"

Shane and Krobus briefly glanced at each other, before silently nodding.

.........

"So basically...you got chased out of your home by Dwarves, had some great war with them, got cozy in the sewers...and [y/n] just...stumbled upon you?"

"Erm..slight correction, the local librarian had a key to the sewers, which [y/n] obtained. And only then they stumbled upon me-"

"After I donated like 60 artifacts to the museum, of course." You added on as you stood by the oven, watching the timer.

For a brief moment, you looked back at the two people sitting awkwardly at the table:

Shane, who was still wondering if the shadow monster sitting across from him was really a monster, a hallucination from his withdrawals, or just..someone in a SUPER convincing costume.

And Krobus, who stared at this scruffy, tired man who desperately needed a shave and a new jacket--the only other human he's spoken to aside from you and Rasmodius.

"Wow..I'd say I need a drink, but um..I'm in recovery right now. So I gotta cut back on those." Shane admitted, scratching awkwardly at his hair. "Do you like living on this farm with [y/n], Krobus?"

"It was...a difficult transition. Something I never expected to happen." He fidgeted with the pendant around his neck. "Our existence..terrifies humans. They attacked us when we came to the surface to make peace, so we stopped and hid back underground. We learned the world wasn't kind to those who were different. But [y/n] showed me that not all of them are like that...and I'm grateful for all they've done for me. I don't regret my choice.."

Then he looked to you, suddenly bashful. "A-As long as they don't regret it, of course..sometimes I feel like all of this is a dream. Or some foolish prank.."

"It's no dream or prank, Krob. I have no regrets becoming your friend." You smiled and patted the monster's head reassuringly, before glancing at Shane. "Just like I don't regret befriending this guy."

"Yeah..I was uh..in a pretty bad place myself." He mumbled, suddenly finding the weather outside more interesting.

"You said your name was "Shane", right?"

He blinked, looking back to Krobus. "Uh yeah?"

"Did you know that means "gift from Yoba"?" His eyes lit up, smiling from ear-to-ear as he clasped his hands together. "You should be proud of it! You are a blessed child of.....um...what's with that look?"

Shane's expression abruptly shifted to one of discomfort, and he couldn't help but shrink back. "Did..I say something wrong? W-Was I out of line?"

"No, no. I probably should've mentioned this sooner, but I'm actually atheist."

"....as in...you don't believe in Yoba?"

Reluctantly, Shane nodded and averted his gaze once more, expecting some kind of lecture or change in his friendly tone that would make this his first and last conversation with him.

Nobody liked it when he mentioned how he stopped believing in Yoba long ago, especially after what happened with Jas' parents and how his life just plummeted into a downward spiral since then. He feels like his name was cruel joke, and he had a pit in his stomach whenever he was reminded of it.

So now he was fully expecting this devout monster to spew something vile and call him a "horrible nonbeliever"-

"Why the guilty face?"

"..wha?" He did a double-take, seeing Krobus' smile return.

"I've observed humans long enough to understand their religious preferences, or lack thereof. We have our beliefs, and you have yours..and that is okay." He reassured. "No need to feel ashamed, Shane."

It took the man a few moments to process his words..before a small smile appeared on his face as well, shoulders less tense than before. "Whew..thanks. Seriously..you're somehow more understanding than all the people in my life." He chuckled dryly.

Krobus was about to respond, when the ding from your kitchen timer made the two pause their conversation, seeing you take something out of the oven.

It was a dessert that had a shimmering purple hue.

"Oh hey..you actually made it?" Shane blinked. "The infamous "Strange Bun"?"

"Yep! It actually looks pretty.." You smiled, setting it on the stove so it could cool down. "I almost don't wanna eat it...but I'm sure we can split it three ways."

"I recognize that dessert." Krobus gasped. "It's considered a delicacy among my people! How I've longed to taste it again....but how did you come to possess its recipe?" He looked to Shane, who simply dug out a crumpled magazine page from his pocket.

"Right here. It looked good, and [y/n] likes cooking stuff and finding the ingredients themselves..so I figured it's something new they could try."

"And it came out fantastic." You chuckled, bringing over plates of the strange bun and sitting down at the table, passing them to your friends. "Dig in, boys."

While Krobus was actively drooling and devouring it with his bare hands, you took a few bites and instantly felt rejuvenated....whereas Shane kept awkwardly poking at it with a fork, eyebrows furrowed.

"You sure this is safe to eat? Like..I'm not gonna keel over, am I?"

"...you're acting like Jas when she doesn't wanna eat her vegetables."

".....shut it." With a grumble, he rolled his eyes before finally taking a couple bites. You and Krobus watched him in anticipation, studying his reaction.

Only to be met with disappointment.

"Eh..I think I'll stick to frozen pizzas, but thanks. Here. It's all yours." He pushed the half-eaten bun towards Krobus, who gleefully finished it up.

"Thank you..this was delightful." The shadow monster swallowed, looking up at you both, frowning slightly. "But I do fear..now that one more person knows of my existence, word may spread to the town and-"

"I won't tell anyone."

"....really?" He looked at Shane, surprised.

"I used to not believe in "shadow people"..I actually thought you guys were just stuff of fiction. But no, you're actually pretty cool. And...I get that feeling of being stuck in a dark place, thinking you're a pest and a burden who has no future to look forward to. It sucks, but [y/n] here..." He paused and gestured to you with a smile. "They pulled me out of that funk, and it seems they'd pulled you out of one, too."

"They have..I-I find this hard to believe, but it seems we have more in common than I first thought." Krobus chuckled softly. "I'm glad we could come to an understanding, and that you embrace my existence, Shane."

"Yeah, uh...glad you can..embrace mine as well." He mumbled, already kicking himself mentally for how weird that sounded. "But tell me..you like caring for chickens, too? I saw that one with the black feathers and red eyes."

"Indeed, that is a void chicken! I've carried their eggs for ages, but the mines weren't suitable enough to raise chicks in. Then [y/n] showed me the coop, and now I know they're in good hands."

"Ah...did you wanna meet Charlie sometime? Or one of my blue chickens?"

"......chickens can be blue?" Krobus had such a starry-eyed look, as though he had just been told the secrets of the universe.

Meanwhile, you were just cleaning the dishes, listening to their conversation delve into chicken care, eggs, and more. And you could only smile, glad to see that your monster roommate was finally warming up to humans.

Only a select few will get to see him, as you didn't wanna compromise his safety...

But for now, Shane is the only one you could trust.

#clanask #salt anon #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #sdv shane #sdv shane x reader #sdv krobus #sdv krobus x reader #platonic #the only connection these fellas have is the 'strange bun' and once i figured that out- #i got back on track to writing this heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[qvnthesia]

in action. (a tbb hunter one-shot)

a hunter/jedi!reader (afab) fic.

the pitch: seeing hunter in action inspired a different flame in you, one that you wanted everything to do with.

a/n: okay look — i know i know i was supposed to update my tvd fic but IT’S HUNTER COME ON this man has captivated my heart my soul my body my legs—*ahem* anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic! dedicated to @/xajnie on tbbtwt, thank you for fuelling the hunter admiration <33 i’ve had to change the plot 4 times — FOUR TIMES (fuck writer's block) — so, once again, i hope you enjoy this fic!

word count: 1, 426

theme/warning: fluff, and references to smut. implied enemies to lovers dynamic. reader is an adrenaline junkie <33 (yes i’m projecting yes i’ve become a whore for this man yes i’m not ashamed) — putting an 18+ warning just to be on the safe side 💗

You were staring.

Here’s the thing—Jedi weren't supposed to stare like that. They were supposed to observe, analyse their environments and maintain peace and harmony accordingly.

Granted, you had spectacularly failed at that mindful endeavour when you had stormed through the Zygerrian stronghold. You cut through hordes of clankers with a brazen and bold strut, freed civilians fleeing behind you for cover as you advanced forward. You supposed your lightsaber would have yielded some ‘yielding’ results from the enemy, but your master’s warning about your thrill-seeking tendencies rang in your brain, and you were too late. Now enslaved to the cruel species, you didn't have much of a leeway, much to your amused chagrin, with a shock collar saddled around your neck, sharp electric cords having forced you on your knees with your bound wrists lying between your legs.

Now, however, you weren't regretting being bound at all.

There was a reason the clones had more advantages than the Separatists. They were men, they were alive, they were people who had thoughts and dreams of their own. Every trooper you had been graced with the privilege of serving alongside with had their own quirks, distinguished by their own art, moral and valour.

The sargeant was more.

As the de-facto commanding officer of the Bad Batch, Hunter had had his initial doubts about you. He was a man who wasn't used to deferring his leadership, especially not to someone who had gone from Captain to Commander to General within a span of months. But you were a Jedi, and he never voiced his doubts even though you could still feel the bitter edges of his annoyance and his purposefully positioned distance reduced to nothing but professionalism and workplace discipline.

You thought that being a Jedi, you’d stick to the military civility and get the job done.

But the Sargeant made it hard to be a stickler for the rules.

You centered yourself in the Force, ignoring the deep tug from your pulsing womanhood as Hunter battled a horde of Zygerrian slavers, hand-to-hand.

This wasn't the first time you’d watched him fight. Sure, he fought for the good of the Republic, but you’d be lying if you said watching him kick ass wasn't a scrumptious treat for your sore eyes.

Aside from the clankers begging for mercy, he spared none as he sank his knife into the droids. His pauldrons strained against his biceps as he wrapped his arms around the commando ones until their circuitry sparked and fizzled into haphazard disassembly. There were moments where it was just comfortable silence, you working on your lightsaber again while he kept twirling his knife until he sheathed it under his forearms and got up to receive the latest mission briefing. Your veins always swam with his every move, your gaze drinking every smug tug of his chapped lips as he gave a two-fingered salute and decimated battalions, his fingers curling in the exact way you’d imagined him inside you.

It was as if the war suddenly ceased to matter, your Code rendered obsolete within a span of seconds as he brgan filling your thoughts. His breath mixing with yours, fingers tangled in his hair, all resistance forgotten, his skin on yours, bodies joined, his light inside you, rendering you delirious and needy with pleasure. His smoky voice filling your ears with the filthiest of murmurs as he claimed every inch of you, gazing down upon you with a dark, heavy-lidded stare that he’d directed at you whenever he disagreed with you and your near-suicidal yet successful strategies.

You’d committed his every move to your memory. It wasn't hard to forget, being sensitive to everything down to the molecules around.

It was then you sensed it, panic flooding your limbs as a yellow whip cracked the air.

“HUNTER—”

Your warning died, lips parting in sharp, rippling surprise as the whip curled around Hunter’s arm. The electricity travelled up his body, and you struggled against the bonds, being hit with electricity tailored to make you kneel.

That’s when you heard it. A low growl. The strangled primal voice ripping out of Hunter’s throat as he stood up on his two feet. Your mind practically exploded as you stared openly, mental shields frayed from something between pain and admiration, the kind inspired by a promise of the forever you’d sworn not to chase.

Gripping the blazing whip, Hunter yanked the Zygerrian man towards him, stopping an imminent collision as he bent the slaver’s wrists with a painful wrench and delivered a sharp kick to his chest, careening the scum across the dark bridge of the facility until his body collided with the console and fell to the floor with a useless crumple.

You let out an exhale, relieved. Your legs were trembling from the exertion employed from resisting being beaten into submission. But you stood up on your two feet, shaky.

“Right on time, huh?”

You met his helmet, stark, and sighed again.

“Okay, I know you're mad and yes, I should’ve take the offer for backup—”

You’re cut off as his helmet hits the ground with a thud and he makes straight for you. Before you can say anything, his fingers rip off the collar your neck and undo your restraints.

“Hunter—”

Your confusion muffles into shock as he pulls you towards him and brings your lips into his.

Your heart nearly explodes, its pace picking up as your eyelids instantly droop shut, your palms pressing his chest plate, arms snaking around his neck until your fingers threaded through his dark locks. His fingers grip under your thigh, feet shuffling until he pins you against a wall, his solid body trapping yours under his heat. His mouth slants over yours, and he groans into the kiss as your tongue meets the hot wet of his mouth. Your back digs against his hands as they roamed across the expanse of your robes.

He was so close to you, so unbearably far away with the layers between as you snaked one leg around his waist and his length pressed against you. You arched your back at the contact, flames igniting up your body as you grinded against him, the lines between need and want blurring so intensely between your desires to be one with him and have him stay just like this.

His hands cupped your face and he flinched. Your brows stitched together as he drew back, hurt tautly woven on your face.

Hunter probably sensed your emotions, he always did, always on the lookout for something different, something hopefully not life-threatening. He simply held out a hand now coated with your blood. His eyes roved over to the bleeding gash from the side of your face, and he let out a weary sigh.

“When will you start listening to me?”

“Now where’s the fun in that, Sarge?” you grinned.

“Tsk,” his other hand traced the edge of your jaw until his thumb pressed your lower lip. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your grin grew wider and you let out a breathy laugh, your tongue flicking out to give his thumb a lick. A thrilling shiver ran down your spine, your mind hazy with your victory, once his intense brown-grey eyes refocused on you.

“Call it a favour, Hunter.”

He hummed, “What if I don't see it as a favour, Mesh’la?”

Your smile melted, the fire in your blown-out eyes sparking brighter, your gaze flickering between wonder at the use of that endearing term.

A handful of seconds passed between the two of you, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your scent had been on him the entire campaign, driving him into absolute overdrive everytime he watched you cut down enemies with your saber and decimate battalions as if you were cutting through butter and not fighting an intergalactic war. But today, he’d had trouble fighting against those slavers with the thoughts that were running in your head and driving him wild. He’d felt the weight of your gaze on his soul, the curiosity turning into animosity masking your passionate frenzy. And he would be a fucking fool if he didn’t admit not a day went by where he hadn’t thought of doing things to you that turned your bratty self into a whimpering, moaning mess all over him.

He noted your evidently aroused state, the warm blood rushing beneath your skin, and the wetness pooling your trousers.

This was going to take a while, and Hunter wasn't going to waste a single second of finally getting to have some action with you.

thank you so so much for reading! please do point out any grammatical mistakes if there are any. this is the first time i'm writing for hunter so i hope you enjoyed this fic!

if you'd like to be added to the hunter tag list (since i do have a shit ton of fics planned—this man has a chokehold on me as bad as hayden does), drop a comment below! reviews are extremely appreciated 💗✨

this fic has NOT been cross-posted to my ao3. any/all forms of plagiarism will not be tolerated.

#the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter the bad batch #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x you #sergeant hunter #tbb x reader #tbb hunter x you #sw tbb #the bad batch #hunter bad batch #star wars the bad batch #enemies to lovers #tbb hunter #hunter #clone force 99 #star wars tbb #tbb