#had to choose so carefully for a snippet

[effervescentwolf]

snippet sunday

thank you to @playinginthunderstorms for tagging me <3 as always, here's a paragraph from my magical realism post lightning wip:

He’s thinking of a million things now, of the tsunami but not of the helplessness. He’s thinking about holding Chris to him and Chris clinging on, and he’s thinking about Eddie’s face when he had hold of Chris and he looked over his shoulder to Buck, and he’s thinking of Eddie’s body safely held by him when he was bleeding out before Buck got him into the truck, and of Eddie drowning underground and reaching out for Buck and finding him there, and Eddie climbing up the ladder to him when he died, and Buck can’t even breathe with it, all the things he’s thinking and feeling and it’s Eddie, but it’s Buck, it’s Buck and it’s what he feels for Eddie.

sunday's almost over so i'm not going to tag anyone but feel free to join in if anyone has anything they're excited about!

[last-starry-sky]

like – comment – subscribe

alpha!141 x omega!youtuber!reader

[MDNI – MIND THE WARNINGS: 2.5k, poly/pack!141, nothing nsfw, baby’s first omegaverse fic, (mentions of cycles/heats) pls be gentle.]

shorts

It was quiet in the little room. At least, as quiet as a room can be with four large men stuffed inside it. It was nothing special; just an unused office one of them had claimed as an ad-hoc rec room. This base’s rec was . . . okay, but it served all comers. It was too bright; too loud. Too many scents. Too many unknowns. It was just better this way, to be away from everyone else and around only each other.

Despite it’s size, it had slowly collected everything they needed: Soap’s gaming PC shoved in the corner, a recliner for their old man Captain to “rest his eyes” in. A collection of beat down, worn-in, chairs and couches curled around one wall. The perfect place to pile together at the end of a stressful day; to melt into each other’s warmth and scent, for their pack bond to silently strengthen. They wouldn’t call it a den, per se, but it was as close as they could get here. It was a place for the four of them to relax separate from the rest of the base. A place they could forget their bloody, awful work didn’t exist outside the concrete brick walls and dingy lights.

Though they had been working separately, they all had filtered in one by one over the course of the afternoon. Ghost had been first, sprawling in the middle of the jumble of couches in the most comfortable spot. He was absorbed in his phone, scrolling away as snippets of soft music and voices started and stopped, when Soap came in. They had given each other a tired nod, communicating all they needed as the other man plopped himself down in front of his computer. Ghost watched him while he sat back in his rolling chair, rubbed his eyes and groaned. He hooked a pair of old headphones over his head while he waited for his game to load. Ghost scoffed under his breath as he flicked to the next video. He didn’t understand how Johnny could spend all day either behind a computer or a gun, and then choose to relax to both of those things, but he had respect for the man so he let him be. At least he didn’t have to listen to digital gunfire and kids with scratchy mics anymore now that he had the headphones.

Gaz and Price rolled in together. Nothing new there. The stripped down scent of artificial musk and spice wafted in ahead of them. Ghost’s eyes wavered between the two men, down to his screen, then back up. Gaz was literally still wet behind the ears. Price’s shirt was damp where it pulled over his chest and under his arms. Oh. Humph. Had a shower together, had they? He gave the two the same tired nod as they strode in, letting his attention soften back into his phone as they found their places.

Price’s joints popped as he relaxed groaning into his ratty recliner, eyes falling shut as he breathed in deep, even breaths. Gaz chose to slide in next to Ghost, something he didn’t do often. He eyed his lieutenant nervously; big, brown doe-eyes raking over his closed-off form, carefully testing how close the other man would let him get.

Bloody fucking hell, he thought. Still acting all shy and shit? Ghost patted his shoulder, ripping off the band-aid. “Cm’on,” he mumbled with a jerk of his head that kept his low gaze trained on his screen, urging the sergeant forward. “Plenty’f room.”

He complied, pulling himself in close enough to fall against Ghost’s broad shoulder. Gaz relaxed into the larger man’s heat instantly, a low rumble purring out of his chest, his eyes falling closed. Ghost couldn’t help but smile, safely hidden behind his mask. Gaz always was the most tactile of the four of them; constantly seeking out heat and touch and giving it in return. If he wasn’t in need of both his hands at the moment, Ghost would have wound one around Gaz’s shoulders, blanketing him further in the comfort of his warmth and scent.

“Whatcha’ watchin’?” Gaz slurred out half coherently, pressed into the skin of his bicep and exhausted. Suddenly, his head lifted away from his arm. His eyes, already heavy with sleep, zeroed in on the video playing soft piano music in his hands. “She’s cute,” he commented, voice heavy. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Ghost’s eyes snapped down to his phone. He lifted it to his eyes, squinting at the jumble of information crammed on the screen as the video replayed. A woman in fast motion was cleaning her room from the looks of it: stripping the soft pink sheets from her bed, throwing pillows, blankets and plushies to the side until the semi-circle mattress was bare. Both him and Gaz shared a low chuckle at how comical the speed of the playback made her actions look. The woman then got up on her bed, failing over and over to reach for the hook that held up the bed curtain until, with a jump, she finally grabbed it, flopping down onto the mattress with a cheer of success to the camera.

“Yeah. Cute,” Ghost agreed with a rumble, watching as the short finished with her trailing the long, gauzy curtain out of frame before popping back in front of the camera to smile and wave.

“Who is she? What’s her name?” Gaz asked, practically pushing himself into Ghost’s lap to get a better look at his screen, his fingers just brushing the side of the case as the video started replaying.

Ghost jerked his phone out quickly out of Gaz’s reach. “Cool it,” he warned. “Can find it m’self,” he said, staring Gaz down. He felt the smooth screen sliding beneath his bare fingers as he swung his arm back to his face.

Fuck, he realized too late. He had scrolled to the next video. She was gone, the two men realized with matching groans. Disappointed, Ghost still brought his phone up to his face. Happily, he was met with another video from the same woman. The two men sighed in relief together when they saw her smiling face. It was short lived. Silence fell, the room filled with only with heavy breathing and Soap’s clacking controller as the video played.

There was no music in this video. You walked out in front of the camera this time, your pretty, sleepy face and rumpled hair perfectly in frame. You scrunched your face, yawning and stretching in your soft loose PJ’s, your voice-over began as you started some sort of morning routine in fast motion in the video.

“Hi guys,” you cooed, sweet and gentle. Oh, your voice. Your voice was warm and sweet and comforting, like vanilla and cinnamon - like laundry fresh out of the dryer. You washed your face with a white hand towel, lotion smoothing over your skin quickly after.

Ghost felt Gaz’s cheeks flush against his chest, the choke of a soft, “oh” caught between them.

“Because my other short did so well, I thought I would make another one for all you lovely people!” you said as your other self brushed her hair. You were obviously happy, but your voice was toned down. Tired. “This is from my, um, morning get ready with me that I posted last week, if you couldn’t tell,” you said with an honest to god giggle.

“Fuck,” Ghost breathed against his mask, tensing his free hand, hoping to whatever higher power was out there that no one heard him.

“What’s got you two so quiet all of a sudden?” John mumbled sleepily. He popped his back as he stretched, not yet fully awake from his cat-nap.

Neither of them responded. Ghost was powerless to stop the video playing in his hands, the gentle sounds of plastic containers clicking against something hard out of frame continued in the background as you leaned in close, applying mascara. You batted your eyes for a brief second, drying them before dancing out of frame.

“Just simple makeup today: BB cream and . . . um mascara, because I filmed this right before work and I didn’t feel like being too done up. All the products I use are in the description of the original video, by the way, as always.”

Their Captain’s knee pushed into the couch, his hand on Ghost’s shoulder as he leaned in to watch. Price was beyond needing an invitation like Gaz. His presence was always welcome: warm, solid, and inviting. He was just in time to see you flounce back into frame with an outfit on a hanger: a long, soft gray sweater, black leggings, and fuzzy pink socks, then back out. Ghost didn’t need to look up to tell John was already entranced. The steel grip of his hand cutting into the meat of his shoulder was all the sign he needed.

“Don’t you just love those socks? They are SO much pinker in person, believe me. I was sad how dull they turned out looking in the video. But they are SO comfortable. I would wear them everyday if I could. Um, so yeah, just working and then doing some editing today, so I chose something comfortable but also nice enough in case I had a Zoom meeting. Always have to plan for those even though I hate them,” you said with a tired laugh.

The three men let out a collective groan when you stepped back in frame wearing your outfit. You did a little twirl, socks sliding across the beige carpet, before you stepped close to the camera again. Your face craned away; hands masking off the long column of your neck, showing off the three tiered necklaces you were wearing: a black tattoo-style choker, a short velvet ribbon with a star pendant hanging from it, and a long gold chain with a small heart-shaped locket.

Gaz kicked the back of Soap’s chair, knocking him forward hard enough for his headphones to roll off his head.

“SHIT!” he snarled as he turned. “Who fuckin’ did that? Gaz? The fuck-”

“Get over here now,” Gaz hissed at him, voice biting through the air.

Soap obeyed, scrambling onto the couch next to Gaz as your video came to a close.

“I love these necklaces too. Omg, look how they sparkle,” you squeaked. “I have the BEST light in this room. I’m so lucky. Someone asked me where I bought them and I honestly can’t remember! I’m sorry! I know they were all separate and I’ve had that long locket-thing for ages, so they might not even be available to buy anymore. Hit up your local antique and thrift stores though! If the scents don’t both you too much it’s a great place to find pieces like this. Ooo that’s a good video idea! How to de-scent second hand clothes? Let me know if you want to see that! Anyway, that’s all the time I have bye!”

The four of them sat in silence, pressed as close around the phone in Ghost’s hand as their bulk would allow, the video replaying. The mood in their ad-hoc rec room shifted like the tide. It was nothing dangerous, nothing concerning. Just the four of them, so attuned to one another, deciding within them on a single course of action. It was all internal, though; all within that basal, animal part left in them that made them alphas. The first to bring that reaction into their human brain was Soap. He sank sideways into the cushion of the sofa, smashing into Gaz, as he watched you flicker in and out of frame. He groaned when you held your hands up to display your necklaces for the fifth time.

“Nay any mark there,” he sighed, eyes still following you.

“Means . . . means she not-” Gaz rambled quietly, still entranced.

“No claim,” Price gritted out. The three other men groaned in tandem as he said it, something akin to a group howl.

“How?” Soap asked, scrubbing a hand futilely over this face as he tried to snap himself out of the cloud of testosterone filling the room. “How’s a pretty thing-”

“Pretty omega,” Ghost interrupted, plunging the room into silence once again. Soap was first to respond once again.

“No way,” he breathed, “You sure? How’d you know?”

Ghost flicked his thumb down the screen, interrupting you as you leaned in to scrub your face. The previous short began to play. “Look,” he urged, voice grumbling harsh and low, “Lookit the name of the video.”

They all squinted to make out the title in it’s tiny font. “Post-heat/post-cycle bedroom clean with me!” #nest #omegalife #omegasafe A jumble of sighs and keens, of possessive chest rumbles and hisses, rang out. They didn’t mean it. It was an instinct reaction that, even among the pack, they might have to fight one another for you flared before dissipating.

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Gaz breathed, speaking to no one in particular.

“She got other videos?” Soap asked, his hands reaching for the phone before Ghost snapped it away. “Cmon, Ghost. Just lemme look, please? Know she’s gotta-”

“Yeah, cmon, Ghost,” Gaz joined in, forcing the man to fend the both of them off with his arm, his phone curled protectively into his chest with the other.

Price was up off the couch in front of his three men as fast as his sore knees would let him. “Get a hold of yourselves!” he bellowed, snapping them to attention. Wide-eyed, they sat waiting for instruction. “We’re not gotta find shit about this girl fightin’ each other, actin’ like a bunch of dickless welps.”

Three, slow, “yes, sirs” followed.

“We’re a pack. We work together,” he said looking at each of them, hands on his hips. “We all want this one, right?” Price looked from man to man as they all nodded. “Then we have to be smart about it. We use all of our skills to help each other. Divide. Conquer. Reap the rewards. Sound good?”

“Then what’s the plan, Cap?” Gaz asked, breaking the knife-like tension of the room.

Price’s mustache twitched, his mouth squashed into a thin line of frustration as he thought. “First,” he finally said, “Ghost, send that channel t’ each ‘f us.” The large man immediately began tapping away at his phone. A buzz rang out around the room as a link landed in each of their messages. Price hummed in satisfaction before continuing. “Assignment f’ tonight is to watch through everything she’s uploaded. All of them. Take notes. Find what you can. We meet here tomorrow after breakfast for discussion and further planning.”

Soap made to stand up, his eyes glued to the pretty lady decorating the channel on his phone, but Price caught his shoulder; forcing the man to look him in the eye. “Don’t think I need to say this, but you three do not breathe a word about her to anyone else. This does not leave this room, understood?”

“Understood, Cap,” Soap said slowly nodding until Price released his death-grip on his shoulder.

“Good,” he said looking over at Ghost and Gaz still sunk into the couch. “See you all t’morrow then,” he said with a curt nod as he cleared his throat and turned on his heel. “I’ll be in my office.”

[yvnaura]

imagining a fic abt being on his arm at this event and being a brat— teasing the fuck outta him so he angrily fucks you at the hotel,,, CHAT IM ONTO SOMETHING JUST YALL WAIT

———

EDIT: LITTLE DRABBLE/SNIPPET OF THE IDEA UNDER THE CUT — might write the full thing idk yet

you’ve been messing with him a little too much, especially in front of people he really should remain professional in front of. not-so subtle touches, giving him certain glances that could very obviously be seen for what they were, and whispering things into his ear that had him flushed more than the alcohol would’ve.

he’s mid conversation with a group of people, and the way your hand brushes over his thigh gets him really close to his breaking point. he’s very clearly bothered, the smile once on his face replaced by irritation but does his best to conceal the emotion. he takes a sip off his drink before excusing himself from the conversation and walks off with you in tow.

on the far side of the event venue, there’s a hallway that’s a little more secluded than others, away from prying eyes. he’s leading you down said hall and the moment you’re in a safe area, he’s got your chest pushed against a wall with his pressed to your back. he comes in close, his breath hot on your ear as his hand pulls your head back by your hair. you gasp, an amused and mischievous smile on your lips. his voice is stern, his eyes dark and full of anger.

“are you trying to ruin my image? you know how important this is, yet all you can think of is getting that tight little cunt filled. always such a cockhungry little bitch. fucking pathetic.” turning you around, you find your back against the wall now with his hand around your throat. the expression of fake innocence you give him only irritates him more, not to mention the way you moan and bite your lip when his grip tightens. “i’d suggest you choose your next actions very carefully and drop that bratty ass attitude if you value your ability to walk tomorrow.”

———

AAHHHHHHH

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ accidental dates

synopsis: you’ve liked remus for a while, so when you show up to hogsmeade and overhear him saying he can’t be alone with you, it stings. you pretend you didn’t hear, but the night feels tense. when you finally get the courage to ask if he knows how you feel, his answer isn’t what you expected—and it hurts more than you thought it would content warnings: angst, miscommunication, self-doubt, low self-esteem (remus), brief rejection, but ends with fluff

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,488

The chilly air of Hogsmeade was festive, alive with the sounds of holiday cheer. You wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck as you stepped into the Three Broomsticks, your heart thudding harder than it should. You had taken extra time getting ready today—perhaps more than was reasonable—choosing your outfit carefully, doing your hair just right. Not that anyone else would notice, but you hoped one particular person would.

Remus Lupin.

You couldn't deny it any longer—your feelings for Remus were no longer a simple crush. It had grown into something much bigger, something you couldn’t ignore.

You had harboured feelings for him for longer than you cared to admit. He was always kind, always steady, but recently, something had shifted between you. Maybe it was your feelings bubbling too close to the surface, or maybe it was the way he seemed to be avoiding you when you wanted to spend time alone with him. It gnawed at you, a constant anxiety that tonight might bring some clarity—though whether it would soothe or crush you, you weren’t sure.

As you approached the back of the pub, you saw him sitting alone at the table. Your heart leaped at the sight of him—his warm brown sweater bringing out the golden tones in his hair, his eyes focused on the table, fingers tracing invisible lines along the wood. He looked so good that it made your chest ache.

But before you could call out to him, you overheard a snippet of conversation, his voice low but unmistakable.

“…Padfoot, you know I can’t be alone with her. It’s too—”

You froze, a sharp pang of hurt slicing through you. Remus didn’t know you were there. His words hung in the air like a heavy weight, making your stomach twist. He didn’t want to be alone with you? Why? Was it because he knew? Did he figure out your feelings and… and couldn’t stand the thought of it?

But before the hurt could swallow you whole, you forced a smile onto your face. You weren’t going to let it ruin the evening. You weren’t.

Clearing your throat, you stepped forward, catching his attention. His head snapped up, his eyes widening in mild surprise as if he hadn’t expected you to show up just yet.

“Hey, Remus,” you greeted him, your voice light despite the tightness in your chest. You flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You look great.”

And he did. He always did. The way the dim light flickered over his face made him look softer, almost ethereal. You waited, hoping for a compliment in return, your heart fluttering in anticipation.

You hoped that he’d notice the effort you’d made for him. But there was nothing. No smile, no remark about how you looked, not even a flicker of recognition for the time you had spent getting ready.

Remus didn’t say anything. His gaze flicked away from you, tension pulling his features taut, as if being in your presence made him uncomfortable. You shifted nervously, your smile faltering.

“So,” you said, desperate to fill the awkward silence, “where are the others?”

Remus’s jaw tightened, his voice coming out more annoyed than you expected. “Sirius bailed,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “He had an argument with Regulus and needed some space. Peter’s with Mary, and James—” He let out a dry laugh. “—is actually being tutored by Lily.”

You blinked, processing the sudden emptiness of your group plans. “So… I guess it’s just us, then?”

He nodded, but you caught the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. It stung worse than it should have.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

You forced a small laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Well, it’s a good thing I like Butterbeer. I’ll just have to drink enough for everyone,” you joked, though your voice wavered slightly.

Remus glanced up at you, and for the first time that night, his gaze softened. He looked almost regretful, but he still didn’t say anything. The silence returned, and you bit your lip, wondering what to do next. Should you just leave? Was he waiting for you to go?

The silence stretched on, heavy and thick, like neither of you knew how to handle it. You tried to make conversation, but every attempt seemed to fizzle out the moment it left your lips. Remus barely responded, giving short, clipped answers as if he wanted to be anywhere but here, with you.

The knot in your chest tightened, your earlier excitement draining away with every passing second. The thought struck you suddenly, an unwelcome idea slithering its way into your mind—

Did he know? Had he figured out your feelings and was trying to avoid hurting you?

Or worse… was he disgusted by the idea of being with you?

That would explain the avoidance, the discomfort.

And if that was the case… you needed to say something.

You cleared your throat again, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. “Remus,” you began softly, “if you… if you know—about how I feel—then it’s okay. I-I can handle it if you don’t… feel the same way. I just… I thought…” Your voice cracked, your bravado crumbling under the weight of the fear gnawing at you. “I just thought maybe…”

You hoped, desperately, that he would stop you, that he’d say something to reassure you. But Remus’s expression didn’t change, the same distant, almost pained look clouding his eyes.

“It’s just…” He paused, running a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. “It’s better if we stay friends.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t expected them, not really, and yet they were your worst fear realized. You felt your heart crack, the pieces splintering inside your chest, but you nodded anyway, forcing yourself to act like it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

“Right,” you whispered, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay. “I understand.”

Remus shifted in his seat, looking away from you. “It’s not that I don’t… care about you. I do. But… I’m not the kind of guy you need. I’m not… I’m not good for you.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion swirling with the pain that now sat heavily in your chest. “What are you talking about? Remus, you’re one of the best people I know.”

He shook his head, his fingers gripping the edge of the table as if he was holding on to some invisible anchor. “You deserve someone better, someone who doesn’t have… baggage. Someone who can give you everything you want, everything you need.”

The frustration bubbled up inside you, pushing past the sadness. “Who says you can’t give me that?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Who gets to decide what I need? Because last I checked, I get to decide that.”

Remus flinched slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “I’m a mess,” he admitted quietly. “The full moons, the scars, the… the danger. I can’t put you through that.”

You blinked, the weight of his words settling in. He wasn’t rejecting you because he didn’t like you—he was rejecting you because he thought he wasn’t good enough.

“Remus,” you said, your voice trembling, “you don’t get to make that choice for me. I care about you. I—” You hesitated, your heart pounding in your ears. “I want you. All of you. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

His eyes widened, the flicker of hope you’d been waiting for finally breaking through. “You… you do?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped closer, the warmth between you growing in the cold air. “I do.”

For a moment, Remus just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But then, finally, he smiled—a small, tentative smile, as if he wasn’t quite sure this was real. His hand reached for yours, his fingers brushing against yours lightly, testing the waters.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I was… scared. Scared of losing you.”

You smiled through the tears that threatened to spill over, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re not going to lose me, Remus.”

He pulled you closer, his other hand coming up to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. His gaze held yours, his eyes filled with something you’d been longing to see for so long—affection, care… love.

And then, finally, he kissed you.

It was soft, tentative at first, but then it deepened, his hand tightening on yours as if he was afraid to let go. When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, but you were smiling, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Remus murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “I should’ve told you that earlier.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Took you long enough.”

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Matrix's Guide to Choosing (And Raising) A Prime

Having grown increasingly frustrated with the continual failure of its Primes, the Matrix has had enough of being passed around. Determined to pick its own Prime for once, the Matrix has set off to select its chosen.

Well, it would be off doing that a lot more if it didn't have one young Orion Pax to take care of.

(NOTE: This is a snippet and will be a full fic soon :D)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The mythology presented on Cybertron generally depicted Primus’s core, the Allspark, as being a place of peace and respite. By almost all accounts, this idea was supported and correct. Primus’s core was a lovely afterlife for the fallen until the time came for rebirth and a comforting cradle for those yet to be. But for one who was neither living nor dead?

It was the same as being stuck at the bottom of a hole with no real way out.

The Matrix’s initial decision to abandon the surface for a time was made in a moment of calculated rashness. It was tired of the foolishness of its previous chosen bearers and at the time, it had no desire to be passed around and presented only with lackluster options. Sentinel had not been its ideal choice, but Sentinel was all it had to work with during its last stint on the surface.

The Matrix refused to suffer through that again. 

It needed someone worthy, and it was absolutely through with leaving the selection pool up to someone else to create. No, the Matrix was going to find a right and proper bearer this time. It would choose itself and it would mold its champion into the glory of Prima without so many pathetic impurities to tamper with its work.

At least, once it got out of Primus’s core.

The Matrix contemplated for what could have been vorns. It was impossible to tell without access to the surface or the frame of its chosen. However, eventually, the Matrix reached a conclusion. It would ask, then it would adapt. The task was of course, quite daunting. None save for Primes spoke to Primus. The Matrix was a mere forging tool, unworthy of direct communication… but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I shall bring forth a Prime worthy of thy glory. Release me, and I shall not fail you again.”

The Matrix waited, its many failures weighing on it as it felt the attention of its god turn toward it. Primus’s gaze was a heavy thing to bear, and most mortals hardly even noticed it. The Matrix wished it had such ignorance as it sensed Primus sifting through its crystalline core, seeking answers and understanding. If the Matrix had been a living being, the prodding would have likely hurt. When Primus pulled back, it did however ease at the lack of further invasion.

“Seek. Walk amongst my children. Bring forth one who shall stand against the coming darkness.”

Blessed relief washed over the Matrix, memories of prior Primes struck down for their foolishness fading away as the Matrix found itself released onto one of the many winding paths surrounding its god’s core. It lay there, momentarily frustrated with its lack of mobility before it ran a quick assessment of its shell.

Technically, the Matrix itself was a crystalline computation device and sparkless intelligence. It did not possess the necessary components required for full frame functionality. If it had a bearer, then it could make adjustments, but on its own, the closest thing the Matrix had to a frame was its shell. The ancient sentio metalico that made up its shell was moldable, easy to change if the Matrix demanded it. How else was it to bond to its bearer? Some were small, some were large. It had to make some adjustments.

It had never used its shell’s adjustability in this manner before, but again, desperate times called for desperate measures.

After sifting through a few old memories of creatures that met its size categorization, the Matrix shifted. Its shell warped, changing from golden handles and casing to instead create four spindly spider-like legs. Its core was carefully kept encased and served as the centerpoint for its new mobile frame. The change was disorienting for a moment, but soon, the Matrix adapted.

It always did.

Up it went, painstakingly using its legs to pull itself up and through shafts long abandoned. It knew these paths, for Prima had walked them before. After him, Guardian travelled far and wide and Nova went through great pains to know as much as possible for fear for his own life. The Matrix knew what roads to take and marched without regard for the passage of time or nonexistent exhaustion. It did not wither, it did not fade. It was the Prime forger, a tool designed for one purpose and one purpose alone.

Find, forge, and guide Primes to better Cybertron and its people.

Its design pushed it onward, until at last, the Matrix emerged from an old garbage chute. It was dirty, a fact that bothered it to a degree. Potential bearers would not be fond of seeing it in such a state. But first and foremost, its task was to assess and then, if the Recorder Prime still lived, return to him for guardianship. Alpha Trion always listened to the Matrix. It was he that carried the Matrix to Guardian after all.

The Matrix shifted its attention, sifting through memory until it determined its estimated location. Based on the towering and geometric city structure, it suspected Iacon. Outer Iacon at any rate, considering the amount of dilapidated buildings it observed. The trek was going to be long at this rate, but that afforded the Matrix time to observe and learn-

The Matrix halted in its steps as a cry rang out, young and desperate. Its legs tapped as it turned, adjusting its view and scuttling toward the source of the sound. Part of its design was to seek out and guide its Prime to aid the weak and the needy. The Matrix had no bearer, but it could not help but wish to see.

And see it did.

Rounding a corner, the Matrix saw devastation. Fallen crystal spires and toppled sunstone trees littered the area, plant life uprooted and made into little more than rubble. This was absolutely the outskirts of Iacon. These areas had been home to Iacon’s last forest, the only place Sentinel had seen fit to preserve at the Matrix’s prodding. Now it was little more than a barren wasteland, caution tape and markers for new construction already in place.

The Matrix was not living. It did not feel rage. But if it could have felt rage, it would have been seething as it carefully made its way through the ruins, searching for the cry that rang out without end. On and on it roamed, until finally, it came to a pile of rubble. It was largely leaf litter and branches from fallen trees, but hidden behind all that, the Matrix sensed life. Small and fearful, but living nonetheless.

“Be at ease. I mean no harm.” 

The Matrix projected its field, presenting the copied signatures of Prima and Nova, the most empathetic of its chosen. As it did so, a small frame sifted through the mess, lingering by a hole leading into the rubble and glancing out cautiously. The Matrix paused, its sensors picking up something impossibly young.

A sparkling. This one was a sparkling.

Immediately the Matrix folded its sharp limbs away, softening them and shifting until its shell produced optic shutters so that it might make its core appear as if it were an optic, and thus, less terrifying to the little one. If it had a face and vocalizer, it would try to smile and coo to ease the tiny being before it. Instead, all it could do was settle and emit waves of peace, blinking slowly to show its docility. 

The sparkling remained a careful distance away, growling lowly. But after a time, the sparkling came forward, prodding at the Matrix with tiny clawed digits. As it did so, the Matrix could finally get a good look at the distressed sparkling left to rot in fields of destruction. 

The sparkling was still largely matte gray, as was customary for all newly forged little ones. Its optics were a stunning blue of the cycling variety, taking after Amalgamous in design. Its frame type indicated it would be meant for the ground, but the small finials on its helm reminded the Matrix of Thirteen, Prima’s ever elusive visionary. The sparkling’s growls slowly eased into faint chuffs as the Matrix continued to emit soothing waves of emotion, finally letting fangs hide behind a soft smile.

The sparkling patted the Matrix’s shell, gently caressing its core. They were almost the same size, and yet the sparkling was so thin…

The Matrix was not intended to get involved in such affairs without a bearer. But looking around… there were none to care for the sparkling before it. The newspark was bound to extinguish at this rate. That could not be allowed if the Matrix had a say in things.

Hoping for the best, the Matrix carefully unfolded a limb to draw the sparkling closer. The sparkling hissed at first, tensing and batting at the Matrix’s outstretched leg. But after a moment, it accepted the contact, returning to a comforting series of chuffs as the Matrix purposefully increased its temperature and wrapped itself around its newfound ward. It had to go slowly, so slowly in fact that by the time it wound fully bound to its new ward, the sparkling was deep in recharge, nuzzling against the Matrix’s core.

This was acceptable.

Gently, so as to not cause too much distress, the Matrix shifted a limb to hold the sparkling in place, and with its other three, it began the long journey to the Archives. Everything else could wait. For now, it would go to one it trusted and lean on Alpha Trion’s guidance.

The Matrix was a Prime forger, a warrior maker and observer. It did not directly interact. 

But as it felt the sparkling venting softly against it, the Matrix found itself willing to make an exception.

[tinylilacbun]

hiii! idk if you’re requests are open but I was wondering if you could do a daddy wade x little girl reader (i can already hear him call her peanut!)where she skins her knee playing but tries to hide it from him and when he finds out she tells him she wanted to regenerate like her daddy🥹

Just like you

Pairing: daddy!wade x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, fluff, hurt knee, tiny mention of blood, comfort

As a little with a mercenary as a caregiver who's often gone during the day you know how to keep yourself entertained without getting bored, sometimes watching too much cartoons than you were allowed but other than that you were a good peanut.

Another day with Wade being gone and about to earn some money, with the promise to be there for movie night, you were busy playing to make the time go faster.

Looking through your toy chest you pull out a cape, giggling in delight you quickly fasten it around your neck. You also grab two stuffies to play with, rushing to the living room.

Wade was a hero in your eyes, obviously. He doesn't exactly tells you what happens exactly during his jobs, just snippets and not any gory details for obvious reasons, but nonetheless he's your hero. That's why you love to pretend you are a hero yourself.

As you keep playing that you're rescuing your hostage stuffed bunny from a cat you run around the living room, jumping up and down the couch you lose your balance and fall knees first onto the hardwood floor with a yelp.

You sit on the floor, pouting at your now bloody knees and hesitantly touch one and wince at the sting. "Owie..."

But you don't start crying. Your daddy doesn't cry either, he sucks it up and keeps going with the knowledge that he will regenerate in no time. So, with a huff you get up and continue playing as if nothing happened.

A while later you are sitting on the couch watching a cartoon as you hear the front door unlocking and Wade steps inside, still wearing his suit and carries a bag of takeaway.

"Daddy's home!" He loudly announces himself. "That'll never get old." He walks over to the counter that separates the kitchen from the living area to set down the bag and takes off his mask as well.

The second his hands are free you quickly get up and run into his awaiting arms. "Missed you daddy."

He smiles, picking you up by your thighs and kisses the tip of your nose. "I missed you too, peanut. Bet you had more fun than me. You didn't start our movie night without me, did you?"

"Nooo, I could neva! Waited jus' for you." You giggle, eyeing the bag of food your stomach growls. "What's this?"

"I got your favorite takeout." He says, chuckling at the way you're almost drooling at the sight. "Get settled on the couch and I'll be there in a minute, 'kay?"

You nod enthusiastically, rushing back to your previous spot when Wade set you back on the ground.

Soon enough he got changed into something comfortable and you both are eating your dinner on the couch while he tells you about today's job, making sure it's appropriate for your current headspace.

When you finish eating and Wade has put on the movie you got to choose this week you get more comfortable.

Wade sits back down next to you, grabbing a fluffy blanket to cover you both but stops when he gets a glimpse of your knees. "Peanut, what's this?"

"Huh? Oh, that happened when I was playing hero. S'okay, jus' hurts a little!" You shrug it off with a smile.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" He sighs.

"Wanted to be like you daddy." You mumble, looking down at your hands.

His eyes soften at that, a small smile replacing his frown. "Like me?"

"Mhm, wanted to regenerate like you 'cause is so cool!"

"Oh peanut, you're too sweet for this world. Wait here, I'll be right back."

Sure enough he comes back with a pack of hello kitty bandaids, kneeling down beside the couch and quickly unwrapping two of them, placing them carefully on your knees. "There, all patched up. You're still just like me, y'know? You just need a little longer to regenerate than me and that's okay."

"Really?" You ask a little uncertainty, tilting your head.

"Oh, hell yeah. You're just as cool as me and that means we deserve this." He pulls out two lollipops and you squeal, instantly reaching out for it. "Let me unwrap it first."

He settles back down next to you, letting you snuggle into his side before taking the wrapping off and handing you your treat.

He wraps an arm around you, kissing your head. "You'll always be my cool peanut."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ✧˖°

Taglist

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For everything:

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For Marvel only:

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[peachyscenes]

from the gazebo | mafia!werewolf!ateez x fem!reader

note: this is a snippet of a piece that i'm currently working on. it's definitely not finished nor is it halfway completed, but out of the 10k words written so far, this is one of my favorite parts. publishing date to be determined. definitely inspired by ice on my teeth.

San and you spent most of the day walking about the estate. You had most of the layout memorized. Their bedrooms were also in the right east wing, but scattered, half of them on the third floor and the other half on the first floor. Employees slept in the left west wing of the estate. You asked San if you’d be sleeping there as well since you're also an employee.

“You're a Helper. Very different from regular staff.” You cocked your head.

“How so?”

San helped you pour your tea, insisting on doing so even when you told him it wasn't necessary. You mentioned how beautiful the gazebo looked from your floor, so he took you. You’re both currently taking a break from the tour. The Victorian style of it, of the entire estate actually, was hard to describe as just beautiful. It took your breath away, and you couldn't believe that you'd be living here from now on.

The little girl inside you is squealing with excitement. If only you could tell her that the prince charmings that saved you were not your average, good-doing citizens.

“How do I put this… You're like a personal assistant. It's pretty common for therianthropes to have Helpers, though usually they're put in education programs to be more… refined?”

“Oh…,” you look down at your appearance. You left some buttons undone of your sleep shirt, the bandages peeking out of the opening. Seonghwa had given you some ointment to help get rid of the faint bruises that scattered your body quicker. Your hair was also untamed at the moment, too tired to brush it out when you woke up this morning. “I don't think I have the refined part down.” San chuckles, sipping on his own tea before continuing.

“There are special circumstances where someone can spontaneously become a Helper. In this case, when the contract was signed for you to be… given to us…” You notice how he chooses his words carefully. “You became a Helper. It's illegal to give or sell people without a reason, hence why most are labeled as Helpers.”

It makes more sense as to why you weren't taken seriously when you were with Dongwook. You were considered a Helper for him, which you didn't even know such a concept existed until now.

“The werekin world sure is different.” San lets out another chuckle.

“You’ll get used to it.”

You want to say more, because it's obvious that their world is different from the regular therianthrope world. You're literally in the hands of the biggest crime syndicate of your city. There's a prolonged silence between you two, just enjoying the weather and the comfort of each other's company. Some minutes pass by when another thought occurs to you.

“I’m sorry for all of these questions, but when you said I’d be like a personal assistant, do you mean like waking you up in the morning?”

San nods slowly, but you know there's more to it. He seems to hesitate to tell you, but you place your hand on his. There's a small smile painting your face, and though your face looks tired with sunken eyes from being bedridden for so long, he can't ignore the small palpitations of his heart when your eyes reflect stars.

“Helpers are companions. Kind of like…,” he pauses, thinking of the right way to describe your role.

“Lovers?” You finish for him. He nods, feeling a bit bashful. He wants to say more about it, but he doesn’t want to make you anxious or feel pressured.

“I'm sure Hongjoong won't push you to do more than what you're comfortable with, but the average Helper assists in companionship, that's what makes them different from staff.”

You nod, thanking him with a squeeze of your hand. You notice the faint bruises that litter his knuckles and you want to ask San about it, but you're not sure if it was appropriate, so you opt to stay silent.

You both sit together under the gazebo, sharing things about each other. From the window of his bedroom, Seonghwa spots the two of you as he's finishing his phone call with Hongjoong.

“Should I go over the details of her contract with her? She seems to be getting along well with some of them.”

“Some?”

Seonghwa chuckles at Hongjoong's tone.

“Wooyoung said she hasn't met anyone else yet. Only him, Yeosang, San, Yunho, and I.”

“And me.”

“Yes, and you, Hongjoong.” He hears a sigh from the other end of the line.

“I would've liked to go over it with her… but I'm getting some serious information here about Dongwook.” Seonghwa hums. While you have knowledge that Dongwook has been taken care of, it seems that he wasn't alone. He was double crossing Hongjoong, so now they have to find out who he was actually working for. “Not to mention… I sent some people to look into her sister.”

“Her sister?”

“Yeah, I met with Stray and Chan said she looked familiar. Felix confirmed that he bought a document from her parents three years ago for a job and confirmed it was her. Saw her in a family photo.”

Seonghwa looks out again at the garden, this time, someone else has joined San and you. You laugh hard at what Jongho says to you, with San seemingly trying to disprove or defend himself. He gets back to Hongjoong.

“Let's not tell her anything. At least not until we have confirmed information.”

They bid each other goodbye. Seonghwa turns back around to look at you and his breath hitches. You're staring up at him and once you both make eye contact, you wave up at him. A small smile spreads on his face, and he waves back. Seonghwa leaves the window, turning towards Wooyoung and Yunho. Wooyoung looks bored as he lays on Seonghwa’s bed facing up. Yunho is leaning on his vanity, picking at his nails. Seonghwa had to hold back from scolding him as his perfumes were moved.

“Hongjoong sent some people to look into it already, but I need you two to look into her sister as well.”

“Huh?” Yunho quirks an eyebrow. “How come?”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrow as he purses his lips in thought. To be frank with himself, he's not quite sure either. But after having Yeosang look into your family history and your connection to Dongwook and what he's been up to for the last couple of years behind their backs, it's likely that you have eyes on you. From who? He can't say.

“It's just a hunch. I’m not even sure myself, but we need to keep her safe.” He looks back at the window. If he's quiet enough, he can hear your laughter.

“We made a promise to her. No harm will come her way.”

[tgmsunmontue]

A picture is worth 1000 words - 13/?

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE

PART THIRTEEN

                He ends up at the zoo, and it’s not a place that had ever crossed his mind as a likely destination when he agreed to come and visit Hangman. He’d never thought of Jake away from a fighter jet. Has never spent any period of time with him that hasn’t been a deployment or a mission, barring downtime in bars near base, where it had simply been a continuation of work-like interactions with fewer higher-ups watching on. He’d never imagined Jake away from work. Until he started using fucking Instagram, and he’d then seen little snippets of his life and he’d… wanted.

                Hangman has a family who love and adore him. Who he clearly loves and adores back and he’s so good with the kids. Effortlessly easy-going and loving and nothing like the persona he puts on at work. He’s still cocky and arrogant, but he’s soft with the kids. He’s never seen that softness before and he wonders if Hangman picks and chooses very carefully who to show it to. Bradley feels like he’s been inducted into an elite club and granted permission to see him like this.

                It makes him want more.

                He’s pretty sure that he’s wanted back, which is why Jake invited him. Or rather, let his sister invite him and then simply went along with it. Hangman has never gone along with anything he didn’t want to though. So he wants Bradley here. With him. They’ve walked around the zoo, and it’s big, and they’ve gotten two lots of ice cream and he’s brushed hands with Jake twice and it had been accidental both times, but the looks they’d exchanged definitely hadn’t been, licking of lips and eyes dark with something and he doesn’t ever remember feeling like this since he became an adult.

                The only thing that sort of comes close is when he was a teenager discovering sex for the first time, the sheer thrill of someone else’s skin touching his, even just the promise of it had gotten him hard. Fortunately he’s got a lot more control over things like that now. Then Jake’s looping his pinky finger with his and squeezing and his cheeks flood with warmth. He squeezes back, leaving their fingers hooked and it feels sweet and chaste and he supposes this is like a first date, even as Lexis and Andy act as unknowing chaperones and force them to move from enclosures with more speed than he’d usually like.

                It’s good, makes for a nice day but he’s hoping that maybe the night may be even better.

FOUTEEN

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Omg you have no idea how excited I am for the new George fic, a NOVEL!?! You spoil us, you truly do. May I please see the tiniest of snippets? Don't wanna ask for too much !!

Yeah, it's so wild to consider that I wrote a novel in a week, but a short novel (or a novella) is 40k and the fic is 50k in total lmao. Because once I started writing these characters, I couldn't stop. Also, I have even started working on a companion piece for this fic with ideas that I wanted to use but couldn't find a place for in the main fic. So... I might be releasing two fics in this verse. Who knows. I am just soooo obsessed with this George x Slytherin Reader dynamic

NOW POSTED - Part One of the fic is now posted <3

(and if you are reading this after April 2025, Part Two may be posted as well and it might already be complete. it's a two part fic)

I'm Not Angry (Anymore) - George Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader (Enemies to Lovers) - FANFIC PREVIEW

Warnings: There's not much in the way of warnings for this small section, but the fuller fic will have more emotions, more elements of angst - including themes of blood purity, family betrayal, and all the themes that come with the war times in Harry Potter (death, torture, killing people due to personal prejudice); the longer version of the fic will also have smut - a lot of it. This section only has some descriptions of slightly creepy masks, the horrors of working in retail, and Fred being rude toward the reader character being her back. Also, the reader character goes by she/her pronouns, but most of the pronouns used throughout the fic will be you/yours.

Word Count: 1,700

If you want to see the full fic when it comes out in a few weeks, go over to my writing blog @sundrop-writes and follow me there (but it will be reblogged to this blog as well, so you can follow me here if you want to)

...

“Um, excuse me, Miss?” 

You were distracted away from your work when someone called for your attention - you had been opening and unpacking a new box of Screaming Yo-Yos, but you put that aside for now. You looked up and put on your best (rather fake) customer service smile, the shelf in front of you still half empty, only halfway done as you abandoned it to help the customer. 

You rose up from your back-aching kneeling position on the floor and wiped your hands on your apron - an ugly, obnoxiously bright orange one with the Weasley W on the chest, your uniform. A bit of public embarrassment to go along with the forced nicety that you had to participate in while doing the job. You straightened yourself to better speak to the person - a woman in her forties who most definitely wasn’t the regular clientele for the shop. 

“Yes?” You said, your voice bright in a very forced way, your fake smile continuing to beam toward her as she responded with a grin. 

“My son absolutely loves this sort of stuff, and I was wondering if this would be a good gift for his birthday?” She asked, gesturing toward a large fireworks display behind her. 

Your eyes wandered toward the obligatory ‘must be at least sixteen years old to purchase’ sign that the twins had put on the fireworks display. One that Hermione had been down their throats about adding after multiple of her first and second year students had nearly taken fingers off from lighting the fireworks and then holding onto them as they exploded, despite the clear instructions on the packaging. 

“How old is your son?” You asked, trying to sound politely curious rather than cautious. You knew better than to scare away a potential customer. 

“He’s ten. About to turn eleven. I wanted to get him something for his big day.” She said, clearly beaming with pride. 

“Those are a bit, uh… advanced.” You said, choosing your words very carefully. “I think I know something much better for someone his age.” 

You put a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her over to a section of products that the twins had recently come out with - animal themed masks with animated, moving features that made genuine, loud animal sounds when the wearer put them on. They were a big hit with younger kids, especially for sneaking up behind people and scaring them with a loud sound. Even if you found the display to be loud and annoying, you did have to admit that it was adorable to see smaller kids put the masks on and get so excited to become their favourite animal. 

“Morph-O-Masks.” You said, motioning toward the display with an outstretched, showy arm that felt far too familiar of your red-haired bosses. They were rubbing off on you in a painfully obvious way. “They make genuine animal sounds, have moving tongues and ears, and we just released a Hungarian Horntail-” 

“Oh my little Gareth would love this one,” 

The woman said, clearly excited, picking up the classic lion mask with the large, furry mane and the mouth that opened wide to let out a loud, realistic roar. 

“He’s been hoping to get into Gryffindor, just like his father. I didn’t go to Hogwarts myself. I’m American, you see, so I went to Salem. But I moved here when my Walter proposed. And we had sweet little Gareth a few months later. Fat little baby, he was-” 

“That is our best seller,” You commented with a nod, trying to gently cut off the woman’s rambling. 

“Thank you so much, dear.” The woman thanked you, and much to your internal annoyance - she then pulled you in for a tight hug. 

You rolled your eyes sharply over her shoulder, your fake smile dropping into a harsh scowl where she couldn’t see, and you were simply thankful when the hug lasted no more than a three count (because you most definitely were counting in your head). When she pulled away, you directed her to the cash register where Fred was waiting and got back to stocking the yo-yos. 

Your thankfulness quickly ended the moment you turned around and found the other twin waiting for you. George was lingering behind you, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

“‘That’s our best seller’,” He repeated your words, mocking you in a girlish tone that did not at all sound like you. 

“Shut up,” You griped, rolling your eyes again, shoving your hands sharply into the pockets of your apron in order to resist the urge to hit him. You had to force yourself to remember that it wasn’t your school days anymore, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job as much as you could afford to lose a few house points over your petty squabbling. 

“No, really, that was great.” He continued on, still grinning with an intense satisfaction - it made you want to slap him. Not because you didn’t like to see him smiling, but because it felt like he was mocking you. “You’re finally settling into the job now, eh?” 

“It’s work,” You shrugged, eager to end the conversation. 

You attempted to move around him to get back to unpacking the yo-yos - but with the isles cramped so tightly together and with his body so stupidly broad, he easily blocked your way as he leaned in closer, forcing you to take a step back as he moved to grab something off the Morph-O-Mask display. 

You hated that you caught a whiff of his cologne along the way, during the moment that you were a bit too close to him as he moved toward the display and you couldn’t move away fast enough. The scent was far too strong, a cedarwood and lavender that you hated, and even so, his hard day’s work was causing the slightest bit of sweat to seep through - it was truly awful.

(That’s what you told yourself, anyway.) 

“I see you still haven’t sold any of the serpents yet.” He chimed, holding up a scaly bright green serpent mask from the display. “If this was a house war, I would say that Gryffindor is winning,” 

You knew that it was no coincidence that the original line of masks had consisted of a golden yellow lion, a green serpent, a bronze eagle, and a black and white badger (one that let out a very terrifying snarl and had rather creepy beady red eyes - that was the reason you hadn’t sold many of those, not due to any lack of loyalty from Hufflepuffs). It wasn’t your fault that kids were more attracted to the ones that came in the secondary release - different types of dragons, a spider with snapping fangs and dozens of eyes, even the black cat that purred and flicked its ears sold out more often than the serpent. 

“Did you consider the inherent bias?” You posed, tilting your head at him. “This is a shop owned by two Gryffindors, therefore you are bound to have more Gryffindor customers - especially due to the bias of your grassroots marketing back at Hogwarts, which only took place primarily within Gryffindor Tower,” 

George’s face knit with intense thought as you explained this, and you were glad that for once, he was pensive and taking in your words, rather than cutting you off with some kind of joke. 

“And even unconsciously, you put more care and thought into the design of the lion mask, so it did turn out to be the best one,” You hated to admit it, but it was true. 

Between the quality of the fur and the intense beauty of the eyes - the way it raised its mouth and let out the deep intimidating roar - it was beautiful.

“And it’s the one you have used primarily for marketing,” You pointed to the front window, where the lion mask was on a stand advertising the new product. “It’s like you set up the serpent to fail. And then you blame it on a poor stock girl for not shilling it hard enough,” 

You ground intense sarcasm into your final words, taking the green mask from his hands and tossing it back onto the shelf with the others, finally skirting around him as he stood there shocked into silence. He was genuinely impressed by the amount of thought you had put into it. He finally snapped out of his shock by the time you had knelt back down beside the box of yo-yos, continuing to neatly stock the shelf with them. 

“Well, perhaps next time we should consult a Slytherin for further research and development,” He said, giving you a grin. 

“Let me know when you find one who’s willing to donate her time,” You replied, brisk and cool, grabbing the finally empty cardboard box from the yo-yos and shuffling back to the storage room, thankful to have an excuse to finally flee away from George and escape the conversation. 

You were behind the thick wood of the storage room door by the time that George wandered over to the front counter. 

“That was smooth.” Fred breathed out, entirely sarcastic. 

“Oi, that was the longest we’ve ever gone without her insulting me. I am making progress.” George replied. 

“Yeah, at this point, you’ll be going on your first date in your fifties and be married by the time I have grandchildren,” Fred joked. 

“You don’t even know if Angelina wants kids,” George prodded, eager to navigate around the subject of his pathetic crush. 

“Yeah, but at least I know she wants me. At least I’m not hung up on some stone cold Slytherin bit-” 

“Hey!” George chastised, knowing that he would have easily hurled that kind of language at you during your school days, understanding why Fred rolled his eyes. “Maybe I like cold.” 

“Then go stick your cock in the ice box,” Fred sighed. “Maybe it’ll help you get over this nonsense so you can actually pick someone who’s good for you.” 

George didn’t say anything further, not daring to voice the words to a brother who just couldn’t understand. There was no one else for him, no one else who lived in his heart - no one else but you.

...

NOTE - This is just a small preview of a longer fic that will come out later. If you want to see the full fic when it comes out, go and follow my writing blog, or follow me here, as I will reblog the fic here when it's posed.

[thepenultimateword]

The Un-Gingerbread || Secret Santa 2024

I participated in the Secret Santa writing event again this year! This snippet is for @gingerly-writing! I hope you enjoy! I know you said I could choose just one topic buuuut I ended up kinda combining them all together!

magical girl powers (especially for villains)

something cute and Christmassy turned deadly/bad (Christmas card full of blackmail, evil snow powers, etc)

super niche/useless superpower saves the day

“They’re Christmas cookies,” Hero said blandly.

“They’re suspicious.” Villain tapped the edge of the platter with the tip of their snowflake wand. Little swirls of frost spread over the surface of the plastic wrap, clouding over the little gingerbread faces.

“Some caroler or neighbor or someone trying to be spread Christmas cheer casually left a plate on your doorstep. End of story.”

Hero had never been the imaginative type. It was a little annoying actually: the power of disbelief. One of the only things that had ever rendered Villain powerless. It didn’t always work, especially now that Hero had seen Villain’s work up close so often, but when Hero got thinking too much about the laws of gravity, the improbability of a transformation sequence, the energy mechanics of magic, Villain found themselves dropping like a stone. 

In those moment they just had to hope Hero was close enough to catch them–practically a guarantee–and empathetic enough not say a word to anyone else. …Less likely.

Villain tucked the wand into a reality pocket–Hero was nice enough not mess with that one today-and swished their capelet around them as they turned toward the fridge. The next thing they knew, they were pouring a glass of milk just so they could look away. The hero’s dry gaze already felt like a drain on their powers without this extra dose of exasperation. 

“Look at the clothes,” they said.

Hero raised an eyebrow, but began to peel up the first layer of plastic wrap.

“Don’t unwrap them!” Villain cried, then as Hero’s eyebrow did a higher, more quizzical leap into their hair, “We don’t know what’s in them.”

“I don’t think this shoddy wrap job is keeping in any dangerous toxins,” Hero said.

Villain stomped a heeled shoe. “Don’t say such dangerous things out loud!”

“For that to work the cookies would have to actually be toxic. Which they aren’t.” Hero’s eyes flicked up and down before returning to the cookie plate and the unwrapping process. “Did you seriously do a complete transformation over this?”

Villain warmed a little. They didn’t make a habit of inviting heroes to their apartment, but something about this had shaken them. Something about those sugar pearl eyes peering up at them had felt…wrong. Though they’d claimed, even internally, that Hero was simply the first name to pop into their head, maybe…maybe they’d chosen them on purpose. Maybe they’d wanted a bit of logic to asway their anxiety. To tell them everything was truly alright.

“I’m just being prepared,” Villain said, then nodded at the plate.

The gingerbreadpeople were dressed like them. Not the comfortable, baggy outfits they wore as a civilian but their magical version–silver pompadour shoes with a snowflake sprinkles for the buckles, long icy blue tailcoat and capelet with a carefully iced imitation of the frost pattern emroidery, and whipped ruffles—so many ruffles, in the cravat, in the white undershirt, in the peeking cuffs of the sleeves; the Ginger-Villains even held their wand, complete with silver edible glitter so the snowflake head sparkled in the light.

“Coincidence.”

“Coinci– Hero! That’s me!”

“Yes, and half the city is convinced you’re some sort of ice fairy.” Villain could hear the eyeroll in their tone. “This isn’t the first cookie I’ve seen with your face on it.”

“But they are the first to show up at my door.”

Hero let out an enormous sigh. “Ok, honestly? Yes, it’s weird. Yes, it’s creepy. But I just don’t believe anyone could have figured out who you are let alone where you live. You’re ok. Throw them away if you’re so worried.”

Villain folded their arms poutily. “I’m sure that’s exactly what the sender wants me to do. One moment I’m dumping cookies, the next I have giant radioactive rats breaking down my door.”

They swished their cape again, more dramatically this time, making the full breadth of their displeasure known. 

Hero sighed again. They did that so much it was a wonder they had any breath left.

“Do you want me to take them?”

Villain blinked. “Really?”

“You’re just going keep calling me otherwise, right? And I have no worries about throwing them away in my trash.”

Villain picked up the platter hesitantly. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt on my behalf…”

“I know it’s Christmas but quit with the fluff. Hand them over.”

Hero thrust out their hand, waving their fingers impatiently. 

Well, if Hero really wanted the creepy cookies, who was Villain to stop them. They were a grown, capable adult who knew how to take care of themselves, and they were enemies anyways, so Villain didn’t need to feel guilty at all if–

Villain’s thoughts stopped short, plate half extended. The platter trembled a little in their fist.

“Are you really so freaked out that you’re shaking?” Hero said.

“I-I’m not.”

Something on the platter was moving. 

As the first Ginger-Villain rose to its feet, all Villain and Hero could do was stare. 

When the second one popped up, Villain threw the platter across the room.

The decorative plastic cracked against the wall, and about two dozen cookies scattered every direction.

The wall clock ticked a second of peace, and then the cookies were back up, faces smudges, bodies cracked, or a gory scene of cookie arms and legs and sugar pearl eyes littering the tile.

One cookie who was lucky enough to escape the throw with no more damage than a lost eye and a smeared tailcoat waddled determinedly forward while several others limped or dragged themselves behind.

Villain cursed. "What is happening?"

"It's not real. it's not real. it's not real," Hero muttered like a ritual beside them. But the cookies were real. And whatever disbelief Hero had been suspending was broken.

Fine. If Hero was going to be useless... Villain reached into the air and yanked their wand out of its pocket and back into reality.

They flicked the wand once, sending a pale coating of slick ice over the living cookies, stiffening their limbs and freezing them to the spot.

"There," Villain said, letting out a slow exhale. "Now I think we should burn--"

Crack.

Crick, crack.

Crick, crack, crackle, crack.

Steam wafted up from each cookie, and as they pressed forward, little fissures spread up the weakened ice-coating.

"Are they...getting hotter?" Villain said.

The embroidery detailing and facial features dripped down the cookie's bodies as they moved pooling in little sweet puddles at their feet. A few cookies picked up the nearby limbs and melded them into the now soft stumps.

"That shouldn't be as disturbing as it is," Hero muttered.

"Ok, I was going easy on you all because you're made of flour," Villain said, "but why don't you try escaping this?"

Villain swished their wand in a circle, this time encapuslating the cookies in a large, solid ball of ice.

Crack.

Villain conjured another layer.

Crick, crack.

Another.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Another.

The ice ball grew and grew, but for every layer of ice Villain threw up, the cracking only seemed to quicken.

Great billowing clouds of steam filled the room, obscuring the ice prison from view and Villain backed warily toward the living room, grabbing Hero's arm as they went.

There was one final crack; ice shot around the room like shattered glass and a wave of chilly water washed across the floor, seeping through the seams of their shoes.

As the cookies had heated in their prison, they'd mushed together, replacing two dozen zombieish Ginger-Villains with one enormous, thoroughly burnt Ginger-Creature. One beady sugar pearl stared down at them from the gooey burnt icing face.

"Hero, do something!" Villain shouted, digging their nails into the hero's arm.

Hero paused their muttered chant long enough to roar, "I'm trying!"

"What, a walking cookie is too realistic for you?"

"It reminds me of a horror movie! It's hard to disbelieve in things that have that sort of hold in my mind!"

The Ginger-Creature stepped toward them.

Villain waved their wand toward the pool of water on the floor, freezing it into a slick sheet. Unfortunately, they hadn't thought about their own half-submerged feet. As they attempted another step back, they found their blocky heels frozen to the floor.

The creature slipped a little with its next step, but ultimately its heating power left indents in the ice wherever its giant feet moved.

Villain lurched back, but the attempt was fruitless.

"Take off your shoes!" Hero cried, already in their socks and crouching down at Villain's feet and fumbling with the intricate snowflake buckles.

"They're magic shoes," Villain choked. "They don't come off."

"Then detransform! Do something! It's coming!"

Villain grabbed Hero by either side of their face, forcing them to look up at them.

"Hero, I need you're annoying, unimaginative, logical brain to start asking the big questions right now."

Hero stared at them wide-eyed. "I...I..."

"Come on! You always think of something aggravating! Like...how can this cookie see us when its eye is just sugar? How does the light pass through? And even if it does, how is that light processed? Does it have a cookie brain? That doesn't make any sense."

"How can it heat itself?" Hero said, voice a little trembly. "Nothing in gingerbread can conduce its own heat."

"Yeah, and why did the cookies have heat powers anyway when they were supposed to be copies of me?"

"How did it know how to shape itself? It's messed up, but it's still sort of a person. Do all the cookies have a sense of humanity? Do they have separate thoughts? Or are they one cookie hivemind?"

The smell of burnt sugar and ginger was suffocating now. Villain could feel the heat wafting off it as it's burnt foot came into view a mere couple of feet away.

Hero spread their arms out in front of Villain and looked up into the towering cookie's face. “You're not real.”

The gingerbread froze in place. It's entire body shuddered, and then abruptly it crumbled into a pile of blackened cookie dust. The sugar pearl rolled across the floor and into Villain's knee.

They both stared in silence.

Then Villain laughed.

They couldn’t help it. Emotional response maybe. They just laughed and laughed and went weak against Hero's side, grasping for balance around their waist. Hero hugged them with one arm around the head. Villain wasn't sure if they even knew they were doing it, or if the simply needed as much support after that conclusion as Villain did.

"I did it," Hero gasped.

"You did it!" Villain said giddily. "You're so boring, you fantastic stick in the mud you!"

Villain picked up the sugar pearl, rolling it between their thumb and forefinger a couple times, before popping it triumphantly in their mouth. As soon, as the sweetness hit their tongue, words sprang across their mind unprompted.

Merry Christmas, Villain. I'm sorry you didn't like my treat. My next one will be better.

[muiitoloko]

Had an idea for an Alan Rickman story. He and his girlfriend or wife, she’s either the same age or younger as I don’t know what age he could be, find out she is pregnant with their first child. Obviously overjoyed that they are having this child and the story goes through snippets of the 9 months. Like how she is coping during the pregnancy, buying clothes and furniture for the baby, the classes etc. Then it gets to where the baby arrives, could be a little early or the due date. Then to get ahead of the paparazzi breaking the news to the world, they choose to do it instead.

Just an idea.

Title: Tiny Fingers, Big Love

Summary: As Alan meets his newborn child, he is overcome with awe, humor, and the terrifying realization that he is completely at its mercy.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request. I hope you like it.

Also read on Ao3

Alan sat beside you on the bed, his fingers wrapped tightly around yours, warm and reassuring, but you could feel the tension in his grip. He was nervous. So were you. The pregnancy test lay on the nightstand, its small screen face-down, as if that would somehow keep the answer at bay.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribs. “How much longer?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

Alan glanced at his watch, his hazel eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Another minute,” he murmured, his baritone voice steady, but you could hear the way he cleared his throat, the telltale sign of his own nerves.

You exhaled slowly, squeezing his hand in return. “I hate this part.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’d say I enjoy the suspense, but I’d be lying.” His thumb traced small, absentminded circles against your palm. “Feels a bit like waiting for reviews after a premiere. You hope for the best, brace for the worst, and pretend you’re not absolutely terrified.”

You huffed out a weak laugh. “I don’t think critics ever made you cry in the bathroom, though.”

Alan made a thoughtful noise. “Oh, I don’t know. There was that one time The Guardian called my performance ‘alarmingly unsexy.’ Nearly broke my spirit.” His voice was teasing, but there was a softness beneath it, a quiet attempt to ease the weight pressing down on you both.

You leaned into him, letting the familiar scent of him calm you. “They were clearly blind. And tasteless.”

Alan chuckled, a low, soothing rumble. “A woman after my own heart.” His lips pressed briefly against your temple before he sighed. “You do feel different this time, don’t you?” His voice was quieter now, hesitant. “The dizziness, the nausea, the… the late period.” He didn’t say it out loud, but you both knew what he meant. The hope.

You nodded, though fear still twisted in your chest. “I do. But I felt it before, too.”

Alan’s jaw tensed, and you could see the way he was schooling his expression, keeping his emotions carefully in check. “Yes,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “But if it’s not this time, it will be the next. And if not the next, then the one after. We will get there.” His words were firm, but his voice carried a weight, as if he were convincing himself as much as you.

You let out a small sigh, forcing a smirk as you nudged Alan’s shoulder. “Well, at least the process was enjoyable.”

Alan’s lips quirked into a half-smile, his fingers still entwined with yours. “Mmm,” he mused, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt. “I suppose if we must endure such hardship, we might as well take pleasure in the—shall we say—methodology.” He lifted an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. “Perhaps we simply need to work a little harder. You know, make it longer. More thorough.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head as warmth spread through your chest. “Oh, for science, of course.”

“Precisely.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, though he pressed his lips together as if to maintain a stern facade. “Diligence is key. Can’t rush perfection.”

You playfully smacked his arm, but before you could respond, your phone’s timer erupted with a sharp chime, slicing through the moment.

Your heart stuttered, the room suddenly thick with silence despite the alarm still vibrating on the nightstand. Alan inhaled deeply but didn’t move. His fingers around yours twitched, betraying his carefully controlled composure.

You swallowed hard. “Do you want to look, or should I?”

Alan’s jaw flexed, and for a brief second, he hesitated, but then he shook his head. “Together.”

With your free hand, you reached for the test, fingers trembling as you turned it over. Your breath hitched. The tiny screen displayed a single, simple word.

Pregnant.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, time slowing to a crawl as the weight of the word settled between you. Alan’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you finally turned to look at him, you found him staring at the test, his expression unreadable.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, a breathless laugh escaped his lips—soft, disbelieving, utterly overwhelmed. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, raw with emotion. “We did it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, a choked laugh bubbling up as you nodded. “We did.”

Alan exhaled sharply, as if the breath had been stolen from him. And then he was pulling you into his arms, burying his face against your neck, his hold almost crushing in its intensity. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, his voice thick.

You clung to him, feeling the way his body shook ever so slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “Me neither.”

He pulled back just enough to cup your face, his thumbs sweeping gently over your cheeks. His hazel eyes burned with something fierce—something indescribable. “You’re going to be a mother,” he murmured, wonder lacing every syllable.

“And you’re going to be a father,” you whispered back, watching as the words settled into his soul, into the very core of him.

Alan let out a shaky laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “God, I love you.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. “I love you too.”

His lips captured yours in a kiss that was all-consuming—filled with joy, relief, and something else, something deeper. A promise. When he pulled back, his hands drifted to your stomach, hesitant, reverent. “Hello in there,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet awe. “I hope you like Shakespeare, because you’re going to hear a lot of it.”

You let out a watery laugh, placing your hands over his. “I think they’ll love it.”

Alan let out a breathless laugh, his hazel eyes shining with unrestrained joy as he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. "Do you realize what this means?" he asked, his baritone voice thick with emotion. "Our child will have absolutely no sense of style because I will let them wear whatever they bloody well please." His lips curled into a grin, his fingers brushing over your cheeks. "Even if it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. Stripes and polka dots? Sure. A cape to the grocery store? Why the hell not?"

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest as you pulled him into a tight embrace. "Oh, Alan, you’re going to be the most indulgent father, aren’t you?"

"Completely," he admitted without hesitation, his arms tightening around you. "I’ll be utterly hopeless. A lost cause. Our child will walk all over me, and I won’t even mind." His breath hitched slightly as he pressed a kiss against your temple. "God, I can’t wait to meet them."

And just like that, time began to move differently. The days blurred into weeks, and the weeks into months, each one filled with small moments that built the life you were creating together.

The first few weeks passed in a haze of disbelief and quiet excitement, as if speaking about the pregnancy too loudly might shatter its fragile reality. Alan, despite his usually unshakable composure, was almost reverent in his cautious joy, watching you like you might vanish if he blinked too long. He doted on you in quiet, thoughtful ways—bringing you ginger tea when the morning sickness hit, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your lower back when you winced after standing too long, murmuring Shakespearean sonnets against your skin as you drifted off to sleep.

By the time you reached the second trimester, the secrecy became a delicate dance, a thrilling little game between the two of you. Every time you stepped outside, Alan was meticulously careful, positioning himself in front of you when necessary, offering you his coat when your growing belly threatened to show. It was both frustrating and endearing—especially when he got too into character. “I feel like I’m sneaking around with a forbidden lover,” you teased one evening as he maneuvered you behind a strategically placed café menu.

Alan smirked, his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. “A scandalous affair, indeed,” he mused, fingers brushing the back of your hand beneath the table. “Perhaps I should start wearing disguises. A trench coat, dark glasses, a terribly suspicious hat…” His voice dropped into a low, theatrical whisper. “You can be my femme fatale.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the grin tugging at your lips.

At home, though, there was no need for secrecy. The nursery became an ongoing project, one that Alan approached with his usual meticulous attention to detail. He spent hours assembling furniture, grumbling under his breath when instructions were less than clear, though you caught the satisfied glint in his eye every time he finished a piece.

“You’re really quite good at this,” you mused one evening, watching as he stepped back to admire the crib he’d just finished assembling.

Alan arched an eyebrow. “Are you implying I had no prior experience with a screwdriver?”

“Not at all,” you said sweetly. “Just that I’ve never seen someone read an instruction manual with such… dramatic intensity.”

He hummed thoughtfully, folding his arms. “It’s all about commitment, love. If one is going to build a crib, one must do it with the same passion as, say, delivering Hamlet’s soliloquy.”

Your laughter filled the nursery, and when Alan pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple, you felt a warmth settle deep in your chest—contentment, love, the quiet joy of building something together.

As your belly grew, so did Alan’s fascination with it. He would rest his hand over the gentle swell while the two of you lay in bed, murmuring quiet endearments, his baritone voice lulling you to sleep. When the baby first kicked, his reaction was immediate—a sharp inhale, followed by a look of pure, unfiltered wonder.

“Again,” he whispered, pressing his palm more firmly against your skin. “Do it again, little one.”

And when the baby did, Alan laughed—a deep, breathless sound that made your heart clench with love.

The parenting classes were another adventure entirely. Alan, ever the perfectionist, took diligent notes, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he practiced swaddling the dolls provided by the instructor.

“This,” he declared one evening after another failed attempt, holding up the lopsided burrito he had made out of a practice blanket, “is utterly humiliating.”

You tried—and failed—not to laugh. “I think our baby will appreciate the effort.”

“Our baby,” Alan muttered darkly, “will escape this swaddle in mere seconds and proceed to judge me for the rest of my days.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll just have to practice, won’t we?”

And practice he did. He swaddled dolls. He swaddled pillows. One night, you woke up to find him swaddling a loaf of bread in the kitchen. “Don’t say a word,” he warned, but his lips twitched when you burst into giggles.

By the third trimester, everything was becoming real. The nursery was ready, the tiny clothes neatly folded in drawers, the baby’s arrival no longer just a distant dream but an imminent reality. Alan still read to your belly every night, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns over your skin, his voice soft and reverent.

One evening, after a particularly strong kick, he sighed dramatically. “Our child is already protesting my monologues. A true critic before even being born.”

You grinned, placing your hands over his. “Or maybe they just want a different story.”

Alan huffed, pretending to be deeply offended. “Impossible. What could be better than Shakespeare?”

“Winnie the Pooh?”

He gasped, scandalized. “Blasphemy.”

The media had no idea. Despite every public appearance, every carefully coordinated outing, no one suspected a thing. You and Alan relished the secrecy, knowing that when the world finally found out, it would be because your child was already safely in your arms.

And as the final weeks approached, as Alan held you close every night, his hands never far from the life you carried, you knew one thing with absolute certainty—this baby would be loved beyond measure.

The day of the birth arrived faster than either of you had expected. One moment, you were waking up in the middle of the night to a sharp, unmistakable pain, and the next, Alan was a flurry of action—grabbing the hospital bag, helping you into the car, muttering half-coherent reassurances in between trying not to panic. By the time you arrived, his composure was hanging by a thread, though he refused to let it show. He stayed by your side the entire time, dressed from head to toe in hospital scrubs, his hazel eyes sharp with a mix of worry and awe.

“You’re doing brilliantly, love,” he murmured, squeezing your hand, though his own grip was noticeably clammy. “Far better than me, in fact. I think I might faint.”

Despite the pain, you let out a breathy laugh. “You better not. I need you conscious.”

Alan swallowed hard, nodding quickly, before turning his attention back to the doctor. “Yes, quite right. Conscious. Very necessary.” But even as he spoke, his free hand rubbed absentmindedly at his chest, as if he were trying to steady the frantic beat of his own heart.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, a sharp, piercing cry filled the room, and suddenly, the world shifted. Alan froze, his entire body going rigid as he turned toward the tiny, wriggling form now being cradled by the doctor.

A girl. A beautiful, perfect baby girl.

Alan barely breathed as they wrapped her in a blanket, his gaze locked onto the impossibly tiny creature, his brain struggling to reconcile the enormity of what had just happened. When the nurse turned to him expectantly, offering the baby, Alan took an instinctive step back.

“Oh. No, no, I—” He gestured weakly toward you, looking slightly horrified. “She should hold her first. I—I’ll just… watch.”

The nurse blinked, clearly confused, but then nodded, carefully placing the baby in your arms. Alan let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like relief, though his eyes never left his daughter’s face.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered, overwhelmed with emotion as you traced a finger over her impossibly soft cheek.

Alan exhaled sharply, nodding. “Yes. Quite alarmingly so.” His voice was thick, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “God, she’s… she’s ours.”

You turned to look at him, expecting to see pride, wonder—perhaps even tears. But instead, Alan looked absolutely, utterly terrified.

He wanted to hold her, you could tell. It was there in the way his hands twitched, the way his gaze remained locked onto her tiny fingers. But he wouldn’t do it. Not yet. He was too afraid—afraid of hurting her, of doing something wrong, of being too big, too clumsy for something so delicate.

“Alan,” you murmured softly, nudging him.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, then he cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders as if he could will himself into confidence. “Later,” he murmured. “I’ll hold her later.”

And you knew he would. When the fear gave way to something bigger, something deeper, he would hold her, and he would never let go.

The baby had been taken to the nursery for routine tests and cleaning, and as much as you wanted to keep her in your arms, exhaustion was pulling you under. You knew Alan wouldn’t leave your side voluntarily, not when your body was still being tended to, so you gave him a pointed look and whispered, “Go with her, Alan. Make sure she’s alright.”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around yours, hazel eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Are you sure? I can stay—”

“Go,” you insisted, squeezing his hand. “She needs her father.”

That seemed to shake him. Alan let out a slow breath, nodded, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Alright, love. But if they try to take any of your organs while I’m gone, do let me know.”

You snorted at his deadpan delivery, but it was enough to ease the tension in his face before he reluctantly let go of your hand. A nurse helped him out of the hospital scrubs, murmuring reassurances as he stumbled slightly, clearly still overwhelmed.

Once free of the disposable blue gown, Alan strode out of the delivery room, his long legs carrying him down the hallway at a clipped pace. He was a man on a mission. And outside the nursery, waiting for him, was a familiar figure.

Emma Thompson.

One of the very few people who had known about the pregnancy.

She was leaning casually against the wall, her face lighting up when she saw him. “There he is. The new father.”

Alan exhaled, a breathless, still-dazed sort of laugh escaping him as he approached. “Christ, Emma,” he muttered, running a hand over his face before pulling her into a tight hug. “You came.”

Emma squeezed him just as tightly, murmuring against his shoulder, “Of course I did, you idiot. You think I’d miss this?”

Alan let out a breath, stepping back, his hand still gripping her arm as if grounding himself. “She’s perfect,” he said, his voice thick with wonder. “Absolutely perfect. And I know every father says that about their child, but in this case, it’s objectively true.”

Emma smirked. “Naturally.”

“She’s got the tiniest fingers—impossibly small, really—and she makes these little noises—” Alan made a vague, helpless gesture, his eyes shining. “I don’t understand how something so small can exist.”

Emma laughed. “Alan, darling, that’s how babies work.”

Alan ignored her teasing, his expression suddenly turning serious. “She has my nose, though,” he admitted, grimacing slightly. “Poor thing.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Your nose is distinguished.”

“Mm. That’s one way to put it.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Come on, you have to see her.”

Together, they approached the nursery, Alan practically pressing himself against the glass, scanning the rows of newborns with growing urgency. His hazel eyes darted from one tiny, swaddled form to another, searching, searching—until his brows furrowed. His chest tightened.

Where was she?

Panic flickered in his eyes. His hands braced against the glass. “Where—where is she?” His voice was sharp, tinged with something close to desperation. “Emma, I don’t see her—what if—” His voice dropped, horrified. “What if she was switched?”

Emma blinked at him. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

Alan’s fingers twitched. “They wear bracelets, don’t they? There are supposed to be bracelets!”

Emma barely suppressed a laugh. “Yes, Alan. They didn’t just dump them in a pile and hope for the best.”

Alan, however, was already turning toward the nurse on duty, his expression a mix of commanding and barely restrained hysteria. “Excuse me,” he said, his baritone voice dropping into that sharp, unmistakable timbre that made directors go silent on set. “Where is my daughter? She was just brought in, and I—”

The nurse, thoroughly unbothered by his dramatics, simply gestured toward the far end of the room. “Right there, Mr. Rickman. Second from the left.”

Alan turned—and his entire body sagged with relief.

There she was.

Tiny, wrapped snugly in a soft white blanket, her tiny fist curled against her cheek. The little plastic bracelet on her wrist read Baby Girl Rickman.

Alan let out a shaky breath. “Oh. Oh, thank God.”

Emma snickered. “That was genuinely one of the most unhinged things I’ve ever seen.”

Alan ignored her, his eyes glued to his daughter. “She’s alright,” he murmured, his fingers touching the glass, as if he could reach through it. “She’s perfect.”

Emma softened. “Yeah, she really is.”

They stood there for a long moment, Alan utterly transfixed, his fear melting into something else entirely. Something deeper.

“I’m going to be completely useless,” he muttered after a while. “Utterly wrapped around her little finger.”

Emma grinned. “Oh, obviously.”

Alan inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling as he exhaled. Then, after a pause, he turned to Emma with a smirk. “Would now be a bad time to tell the world?”

Emma laughed. “You mean before your wife even gets a chance to recover?”

Alan hummed, considering. “Perhaps. But I am rather eager to let the world know that my daughter is the most exquisite creature to have ever graced the earth.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Then go on, Shakespeare. Make your grand announcement.”

Alan smirked. “Don’t mind if I do.”

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Indulgence: Something Sweeter

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: E (Explicit) 18+, MDNI/NSFW Warnings: Kind of porn without plot, but most of the plot is in the previous section of this. Fingering, oral (m receiving and GN receiving), finger licking/sucking, nipple play, penetrative sex in orifice of your choosing, biting, predator play if you squint really hard. Summary: Halsin has always struggled with indulging in the more pleasurable aspects of life. However, with the shadow curse lifted and your group now on the road to Baldur's Gate, you and Halsin find time to indulge in a bit of fun and a sweet treat before retiring for the evening. Word Count: 12.8K (7.5k of which is smut about 1/3 of the way down) a/n: As usual, this took me significantly longer and ended up much wordier than I had originally anticipated, but that seems to be my thing. I tried my best to keep this as gender neutral as possible and I think I did well with it, but keep in mind that I just self insert my Tav when writing so if there are mentions of a gendered reader, I'm very sorry. Anyway, this is a follow up to another fic I posted a little while ago, but you don't have to read that in order to read this one. This one is main all about the smut, but if you'd like to know the context behind some things as well as the tension build up, you can find the first part linked below! I've written smut before and I've posted a few snippets here and there, but I've never posted an entire fic for it so I'm about to post this and dip out for the night. Thank you so much to everyone that has left love on the first part of this!

Read on AO3 here if you prefer! Part 1 of this fic can be found here. Masterlist

The area surrounding the town Rivington was uncomfortably hot and incessantly muggy, days of rain left the air humid even after the sun had long set below the horizon. Given the heat of the day and the exhaustion that had come with it, you and your party had decided to camp early for the evening, ready to get a good nights rest before arriving in Rivington and ultimately into Baldur’s Gate. The last remaining rays of sunshine had turned a vibrant orange with streaks of gold, giving you barely enough light to see what you were doing without causing injury to yourself.

Sweat lazily rolled down the back of your neck, tickling the hair at the nape as you focused on steading your hand. The sharpened blade of your knife gently sliced through the soft, malleable wax of the honeycomb you were carefully trying to harvest from the beehive hovering above you. You turned your blade slowly as you cut, gently nudging the occasional honeybee out of the way with the tip of your finger as to avoid harming them. You were precariously balanced on the stump of a dead tree that you’d pulled to the hive and wedged between the roots of the tall oak that you stood before. 

You managed to slice a decent sized chunk of honeycomb from the tree, holding it carefully between your fingers to keep from crushing it as you bent your knees into a squat. You dropped the fresh honeycomb into a glass jar that that sat nestled between your mud covered boots, your fingers clutching the bark with your nails to keep yourself steady. As you stood back up to collect more of the honeycomb, you could hear the ever growing buzz of the bees you were dangerously close to upsetting. You stuck your knife back into the wax, beginning to slice again as you heard a slow stride of footsteps approach.

“And how many stings have you collected this evening, my friend?” The deep rumble of Halsin’s voice carried through the silence of the forest. He referenced your run in with a hive of angry bees from a few nights prior, having been stung multiple times in an attempt to get a jar of honey after a strong craving for something sweet. By the end of the night, you wound up sitting cross legged in Halsin’s tent as he meticulously pulled bee stingers from numerous welts across any bit of exposed skin.

“Your humor escapes me sometimes, did you know that?” You asked as you peered over your shoulder, offering a playful smile  to Halsin as he joined you, standing by your side as you attempted to balance yourself on your tree stump. Your balance was unfortunately short lived as a bee zipped by your head, making you duck as a reflex. Given that you weren’t the most graceful person to walk amongst your group, you quickly lost your footing and starting the quick fall backwards.

Thankfully, like he had done at the pond a few nights prior, Halsin managed to catch you before you left the top of your stump. However, instead of taking him down with you, Halsin’s stance was firm and was able to support your weight. His hands quickly grabbed the back of your thighs, which were at chest level for him because of the height given to you by your makeshift stool, and held you firmly. With a light shove, he pushed you back into your stool and held you until you had regained your footing.

“Just as caution escapes you.” He said as he continued to brace his large hands against the back of your thighs, holding them firmly in his grasp. Your heart fluttered as you felt him pressing against you, clearing your throat before returning your knife to the honeycomb. You sliced another chunk from the hive, dropping the sweet treat into the open jar as Halsin offered it to you, having taken it from between your feet. Satisfied with the fullness of the jar, you cleaned your knife on the rim before sheathing it back against your hip.

“I’ll have you know that you’re the only reason I’m here.” You said as you hopped down from your tree stump, sticking your fingers in your mouth to clean them of any remaining honey.

“If my memory serves me,” he said as he wiped the rim of the jar with his finger, “I don’t believe we declared a winner for that little game of ours. Instead, you toppled into the lake and took me with you.” You chuckled at the thought, remembering night fondly. You had promised each other a jar of fresh honey for whoever could skip a stone the farthest across a lake at your previous camp, but the night had ended with you both in the lake and aching for a kiss. You had longed for more with Halsin even before that fateful night, but since then it had been a burning desire that gnawed at your heart. 

“We didn’t, but we both know I certainly win that little game. And I’m afraid we’re running out of time for another chance.” Your eyes remained on his finger, watching as it circled the rim of the jar and cleaned it of any honey that had dribbled down the side.

“I’m afraid it does.” Halsin said softly, a hint of sadness flickering in his voice, suggesting he shared your sentiment. You both stood there quietly, unsure of what to say next or where to take the remainder of the evening. 

The shine of the leftover honey on Halsin’s forefinger caught your eye, tempting you to take a taste of it for yourself. You eyed the thick droplet of honey that threatened to drip onto the forest floor below, gently biting your lip as you tried to fight back the urge that had suddenly come over you. Unlike Halsin, you always had much less self control over your actions and frequently dove into impulsive thoughts with reckless abandon. With that in mind, you took Halsin’s hand in your own, eyeing the thick, amber colored syrup on his finger for a moment before sticking the entirety of his forefinger into your watering mouth.

They honey was sweet and thick against your tongue, a delightful treat that briefly alleviated the stress of day. Given just how sticky and fresh the honey was, you were unable to quickly clean Halsin’s finger of the substance. Your tongue wrapped around the tip of his finger, swirling the digit briefly before pressing the extremity to the roof of your mouth and suckling gently. Your eyes flicked upwards to meet Halsin’s, holding his stare as you diligently licked and sucked the honey from his finger teasingly slow. 

Halsin’s heart beat rapidly against his chest, pounding against the inside of his ribcage as he watched and felt every second of your tongue dancing across his skin. Your tongue was soft and wet, caressing every bit of skin you came across with a delicate touch. However, there was a bit of roughness from time to time, the feeling of your tastebuds prickled against him as you continued to lick. With your tongue pressing his finger to the roof of your mouth, you had created a deliciously tight suction around his finger, making it throb in tune with his steadily pounding heart. The suction was strong enough that even if he wanted to, Halsin would have had difficulty removing his finger from your mouth.

Halsin felt the all too familiar of tension of arousal forming in his shoulders and neck as his skin began to grow warm. The promise that you had made to each other for a secluded night away to indulge in each other had yet to come to fruition, something always interrupting the peaceful camp nights to prevent you from sneaking away, and you both were growing restless. You and Halsin had almost made it a game of seeing how worked up you could get the other, all with the hope of the following night to finally be the night where you could drop all responsibilities for a few hours and simply lose each other in kisses and caresses. 

Halsin was much better at the spoken teasings. His words were able to quickly make your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, leaving you longing for more of his praises and composed flirtations. You, on the other hand, were much more efficient at teasingly soft physical contact; a sweeping brush of your shoulder against his bare arm as you walked your path towards Baldur’s Gate, your thigh just barely touching his own while sitting around the campfire, and even a lingering touch when you happened to brush hands with each other. This, on the other hand, was the most forward you’d been since you had both skipped stones together a few nights prior. You were growing impatient with waiting; you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

After you were certain his finger had been thoroughly cleaned of any remaining bits of honey, you slowly pulled your mouth from him, making sure that when he finally passed through the tight ring of your lips there was a resounding pop. You looked over your work, making sure you were satisfied with the cleanliness you’d offered before letting his hand drop back to his side. He cocked his head at you with a look of disbelief, surprised at your boldness only a few meters from your campmates.

“What?” You asked playfully, “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.” You offered a coy smile to Halsin before turning on your heels, promptly making your way back to camp to join your other companions for the march ahead in the morning, leaving the druid standing under the heavy cloak of the oak tree with a blush on his cheeks and a sudden tightness in his trousers, the jar of honey still in his hand. 

Halsin was sure that if he didn’t act now, a chance of having a night alone with you under the stars would never happen. Tomorrow, you and your team would arrive at Baldur’s Gate, the end of your journey together rapidly approaching each day that passed, and very soon he was certain you would part ways. You had both been waiting for the ideal moment when the camp was asleep and you could slip away together quietly, but the opportunity had yet to present itself. Between attacks from lingering cultists and interruptions from whatever creature lurked in the artifact you carried, a peaceful evening where you could indulge in the other was nearly impossible to come by. Halsin wanted a night with you, desperately, and he was sure you did as well, but if that were to happen it needed to happen now.

You felt Halsin’s hands secure themselves around your waist with a grip that wasn’t firm enough to actually hurt, but enough to maneuver you around as he wished. He pressed your back along the rough bark of the tree, far enough away from the still calm beehive that you could no longer hear the faint buzzing of the residents inside. Your foot knocked against the jar of honey he had dropped when he reached for you, leaving it to the ground for now as you came face to face with the druid. Halsin’s pupils had dilated when you looked up to him, noting that the pulse point in his neck was thumping rapidly.

“You have been teasing me with that touch of yours for days now.” Halsin’s voice was low against your ear, a slight waver to his voice as hot breath that came out in quick pants tickled the hair on your neck. He loomed over you, his forearms braced against the tree as his mouth hung teasingly close to yours. You could see his chest heave with each breath, pressing against the fabric of his camp clothes with each carefully controlled inhale. Despite his usually calm demeanor, you could see the self control beginning to crack and the long suppressed warmth of excitement begin to peek through. 

“And yet,” you whispered, “you’ve done nothing about it.” Halsin cocked his head slightly to one side, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Although you weren’t completely incorrect with your statement, he took no offense. You were both aware of the lack of opportune moments that the road to Baldur’s Gate offered since your night together in the woods, so if anything, he took your words as an invitation to finally act on long suppressed impulses.

“Then I believe it’s high time I change that, hmm?” Halsin asked softly, your own heart beginning to increase in speed as the reality of the moment set in. Halsin’s eyes closed as he readied himself to steal the kiss from you that he’d been fantasizing about for weeks now, but you hadn’t quite finished in your teasing of the druid just yet. Before his lips could brush yours, you ducked under his arm, rolling against your shoulder until you pushed off the tree and out from under his frame before flitting around to the opposite side.

Halsin’s head lifted, a quizzical look crossing his face as his gaze followed the path you had taken around the tree, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of you. He kept this hand along the bark of the tree, dragging it along as he walked around, surprised to see that you had seemingly disappeared. Although you were not as sneaky as some of your other campmates, you were light on your feet compared to Halsin, giving you an advantage in the game you had started. 

With his attention still focused on finding you at some point along the tree, you had managed to quietly slip around the whole of the oak, quietly stepping behind the druid. You ran the tips of your fingers lightly against the top of his hand, noting how the hair on his arm prickled at your touch. Halsin swung his body in the direction you had come from, his heart rate picking up when he realized you were teasing him even more. He was met with another empty space, finding that you had vanished yet again. Taking a few steps forward, Halsin creeped along the tree the best he could, hoping to find out on the other side.

A tingle ran up his spine when he felt your nails lightly scratch over his lower back through his tunic, a low growl coming from his lips as he quickly reached one of his large arms behind him in an attempt to grab your arm before you could scurry away again. However, you had evaded him once more, leaving him to begin his hunt around the tree yet again. Halsin’s ears perked and his gaze flicked to a nearby tree at the sound of a soft whistle, smirking to himself when his gaze finally landed on you. You had managed to dart to a tree further in the woods, lazily leaning against the trunk as you waited for him to follow. 

Halsin’s fingers lingered on the tree as he stepped away, slowly approaching you in your new spot. Your eyes fell to his hips, entranced with the way they swung with his distinctive gait. His manner of walking was always something that grabbed your attention, having learned early on that there were a few traits from the bear that bled into Halsin’s day-to-day life and his walking pace was certainly one of them. As he stepped closer to you, your eyes traveled up from his waist and met his eyes, which were filled with an equal mixture of lust and excitement. When he finally made his way, Halsin reached for you with a hand that trembled ever so lightly with excitement.

Before his hand could make contact with you, you had taken a step back and disappeared behind a tree once again, clearly set on continuing your little game. You both quickly fell into a rhythm of teasing touches and quick darts to the next tree. As much as you enjoyed simply teasing the usually calm man reaching out for you, you had other reasons. You wanted to get far enough away from camp so you could indulge in a bit of privacy if things processed the way you expected, not wanting to be disturbed by a feathered companion or someone coming to investigate any peculiar noises emanating from a bit of shrubbery.  

You twirled and weaved your way deeper into the forest, the sounds clanking pots and laughter filled conversations from camp were slowly dying down, gradually replaced with the soft, lulling sounds of a warm night. The approaching silence made it much harder for you to scamper away undetected, allowing for a few close calls of being caught in the large hands of the druid steadily pursuing you. Admittedly, this only added to the excitement of the evening. Something about narrowly escaping from a man who spent a large portion of his time as a predator stirred something in your abdomen, leaving you with a light tingle at the thought.

Your game continued for quite some time with you leading Halsin further and further into the forest. By the time you had reached a large willow tree seated by the edge of another pond, you were satisfied with your distance from camp. You pressed your back along the trunk of the tree, allowing yourself a quick moment of rest while you listened for the footsteps that had been following you. However, you were only met with silence. You heard or saw nothing from Halsin, realizing now that you were no longer in control of your little game.

With your back to the water you peered around the trunk of the willow, curiously looking for any signs for the elf that had previously been hot on your trail. You found no signs of Halsin, beginning to think you had potentially left him behind a few trees back. The forest was peacefully quiet, save for the choir of crickets chirping in the distant grass and the occasional croak of frogs somewhere closer to the water. You stepped slowly and quietly around the edge of the tree, your breath leaving your mouth with silent exhales so you could keep yourself hidden in the darkness that now surrounded the area, the sun having set quite some time ago. The forest was seemingly empty as you circled the tree in its entirety, still stepping lightly as you began to leave the willow so you could circle back along the path you’d come from.

A firm set of hand suddenly gripped you firmly by your waist, much rougher than before, pulling you back suddenly and pressing you against the willow with enough force to cause a soft grunt to escape your lips. Halsin’s body was now pressed against yours, holding you securely to the tree. He quickly pressed his knee between your legs, rubbing against your inner thighs and effectively keeping you in place. You gasped lightly at the contact, the feeling of his body against yours after so many nights of teasing and yearning had set your limbs ablaze. And, given the feeling of something warm and quite firm pressing into your leg, you could only assume he felt the same. 

“You should change up your pattern next time, my friend,” he said softly, “it’s easy to learn.” His hand came to rest at the base of your throat, his thumb gently caressing the top of your collar bone as the rest of his fingers grazed the back of your neck.

“Clever bear.” You said with a slight chuckle, your voice tapering to just barely a whisper. Your own hands came to rest lightly against his biceps. 

When Halsin’s lips finally met yours, he let out a soft moan as his eyes closed, losing himself in your embrace. Your lips were soft against his, gentle and caring and everything he had dreamed about. Halsin had longed for your touch and ached to feel your lips against his, often thinking about their taste and feel while alone in his tent. He could feel a raging heat rise along his neck and into his face, even reaching to his ears after a moment. His hand left the softness of your neck, instead replacing it with the roughness of the bark behind you. His nails dug into the tree, trying to find something to distract him from the call of the beast that was beckoning him close to the edge of losing composure.

“You’ve been eating honey, haven’t you?” You asked between kisses, picking up on the faintest taste of honey as your tongue darted across his lips, “I can still taste it on your lips.” 

“I have, but I've made sure to save some for another night. I want to know what it tastes like on your tongue and on your skin.” Halsin rasped, “But tonight, I want to taste something sweeter.” You shuttered at his response, tightening your grip on his arms firmly as you felt his tongue swirl against yours, taking your breath from you with each passing second.

With his hands placed securely along your hips once more, the druid pulled you away from the tree he’d pressed you against, lips still heavy on yours as he led you to a pretty patch of grass by the waterside. You followed him blindly, trusting in him completely as your fingers began tugging at the ties on the front of his camp clothes. Halsin smiled against your lips, thoroughly pleased by your enthusiasm as he followed suit and slid his hands underneath your own shirt. His hands caressing and stroking your bare skin under your shirt caused you to shiver and a tingle to settle in your cheeks. Halsin’s touch was slow and gentle, allowing him to truly take the time to appreciate the feel of your supple skin against his hands.

Halsin pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it to the side before returning his hands to your body, focusing his attention on working pulling open the ties to your trousers. Despite the looming size of his hands, his fingers were fast and nimble as they loosened your laces just enough to allow your trousers to easily slide down your legs along with the remnants of your small clothes. Your boots were kicked off somewhere between Halsin pulling your trouser ties open and the same trousers colliding with the ground, although in the heat of the moment you couldn’t recall exactly when. 

You, however, were not as skilled in freeing the druid from the confines of his camp clothes, unsure of what tie opened which flap and just where the seam of his trousers started. Halsin chuckled softly, finding the confidence you had carried all evening quickly leaving as you struggled with his clothing. Being merciful, and a bit impatient, Halsin stripped himself of his garments, tossing them along with yours off to the side, his sandals having long been flung in different directions. 

Halsin took a step back from you, both hands still holding yours as he simply observed your naked form standing before him. You were breathtaking and beautiful, more than he could have possibly imagined in those long, lonely nights in his tent, and imagine he did. A warmth spread to you chest as he drank in your body, suddenly feeling shy by being bared in full to him. You took the time to observe him as well, more than impressed with the man that stood before you. Simply given the size of his arms, you knew he was muscular and well built, but it was different when actually seeing him in person.

With a gentle tug you were pulled towards him, your chest pressing against his as Halsin kissed you again. He groaned softly into your mouth, his eyes sliding closed as his hands roamed along your back and sides, lightly squeezing as he felt you beneath his fingertips. Your own hands traveled along his chest and arms, feeling the definition of muscles from years of fighting and roaming, but you could help but noticed just how warm his skin was. He always ran on the warmer side from what you could tell, but now he was almost hot to the touch.

He pushed away from you suddenly, arching forwards as an all too familiar heat rose in his chest. You took a step back, unsure of what was going through his mind as you watched Halsin grit his teeth, a light snarl and plea to Silvanus for guidance. It didn’t take long for you to figure out what was happening as you watched him fall to all fours, erupting in a familiar flash of golden light. The hulking frame of the elf was soon replaced with one of a cave bear, panting with heated breath and emitting rumbling growls. You knelt to the ground, knees touching the tender grass as your eyes remained fixed on the bear before you, your hand reaching out slowly to try to make contact. Your hand brushed against his wet nose, which was still blowing out warm breath with each pant. 

“It’s all right,” you said softly, “you’re all right.” Your hand slowly moved to the snout of the bear, your fingers running through the coarse fur in an attempt to calm him down. It took some time, but soon enough the frantic breathing of the cave bear finally calmed and settled into a steady rhythm. Before long, the bear erupted into another flash of light, leaving Halsin before you once again.

“I-I’m sorry,” Halsin stammered, “the beast is difficult to control at times, especially if blood runs hot. I lose myself and it takes over. Forgive me, please, the urges are just too strong at times” Halsin remained low to the ground, leaning on one knee with his back still hunched. His palms were facing you and his hands had the slightest of trembles. His mind raced as he knelt before you, emotions swirling and settling in his chest, cursing himself for allowing all control to be lost in such an important moment. 

“Halsin,” you said softly as you reached out again and placed a hand over his chest, “don’t ever apologize for that. It’s not a beast and neither are you.” His chest was unbelievably warm, but had cooled slightly, and his heart beat frantically against his chest. It was more than just arousal that caused the reaction in his body; it was fear. You glanced to his face and saw nothing but a mixture of panic and regret. Your heart ached at the sight, having never seen the strong man reduced to genuine fear in front of you.

“It’s in your nature. You of all people should know that.” You moved your hand from his chest and rested along his cheek, cupping it softly in your hand, “Don’t ever feel ashamed and don’t hold yourself back on my account.” His hands once again made purchase on your hips and pulled you closer to him, much lighter than before, as if he was afraid that touching you would change your mind.

“And, if I’m being honest,” you continued, “I quite like the bear.” You saw his eyebrows knit together slightly, head cocking to the side before he spoke again.

“The bear?” He said with a bit of hesitation, “You…like it?” You smiled with a slight chuckle. The back of your fingers softly caressed his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin against yours as you tried to soothe any worry that lingered in his mind.

“I do,” you said softly, “but I’ll indulge the bear another night. Tonight, let me indulge in you.”

Halsin’s lips were on you before you could barely get your words out, hungry and firm against your own. His hands cupped your face, pulling you as close as possible to him as he took your breath away. With his lips to yours and your words still echoing in his ears, Halsin relaxed, feeling safe to be himself around you. You accepted him the way he was, even with a seeming lack of control at times, and it was almost euphoric. The weight of shame and guilt having been lifted with your words and soft touch. It wasn’t long before one of his hands cradled the back of your head and the accompanying arm ran down the length of you back. He used this position to gently lower you onto the grass below, quickly topping you with his own frame.

The grass was soft against your bare skin, the blades tickling your back as you felt Halsin settle above you. The druid’s hips settled between your parted legs as the length of his body rested just above your own, lightly grazing when either of you moved. Your hands ran along the expanse of his bare chest and shoulders as his lips met yours, his large arms resting by your head. You felt Halsin’s fingers weave their way through your hair, softly scratching at your scalp as he took his time exploring your lips. It wasn’t long before he deepened the kiss, moaning against your lips as his tongue asked for them to part. You happily obliged, letting his tongue easily slip into your mouth and explore to his hearts content. One of his hands left the tangle of your hair, settling along your cheek and jaw. Halsin’s thumb tugged at your lower lip, keeping your lips parted ever so slightly for better access. 

After some time, Halsin’s lips left your own and slowly moved towards your jaw, giving you the chance to catch your breath as he focused his tongue on other areas of your body. There was no rush or sense of urgency in his movements as Halsin kissed his way down the column of your throat, simply enjoying and relishing the moment he’d been waiting to share with you for so long now. Your skin was warm from the night air and the blush that had started to grace your skin, radiating against Halsin’s cheeks as he pressed soft kisses against you. He suckled gently against the tender skin of your pulse point, feeling the steady pounding of your heart beneath his lips until a light bruise had formed before moving to your collar bones.

You heard a gentle growl come from Halsin as he kissed your sternum and felt the soft placement of tongue tickling your skin before his lips followed suit. His movements were slow and gentle as he made his way lower, fully content with savoring every moment of you underneath him. He loved the subtle reactions your body gave when he kissed and licked a new spot, taking note of what you favored. The way your heartbeat quickened as his hands traveled lower along your body, how your fingernails would brush against his shoulders and lightly scratch as his own teeth would graze your skin, and the quiet sighs that would escape your parted lips when he found a particularly sensitive bit of skin; all of it a symphony to the druid that was slowly losing himself in you.  

A shaky moan broke the quiet serenity of the forest when you felt Halsin latch on to your nipple, taking the hardened bud between his teeth and giving the lightest of bites before soothing it with another kiss. Your back arched off the softened patch of grass and lightly into the air as your head rolled to the side, more gasps and sighs spilling from your lips the more Halsin serviced your nipple. You felt his hand slowly slide from your ribcage to the arch of your back, pressing you closer to his own frame all while caressing your sweat slicked skin. It wasn’t long before he switched sides, your body tingling at the ministrations of his teeth and tongue against your sensitive skin. Your eyes closed as your hands explored what you could reach of his upper body, eventually coming to rest along the top of his head.

Your fingers brushed along the tips of his ears as you explored his body, which earned you a sharp bite to your now swollen nipple and a tightening grip along your waist. Your eyes reopened and looked down the expanse of your body, admiring the glistening of kiss marks in the moonlight against your skin. Halsin’s eyes were focused on your features, meeting your eyes with a lustfully clouded gaze. You bit your lip with a devious smile, realizing just how much the faintest touch against his ears had excited him. With a slightly firmer touch, you ran your fingers along his ears once again, letting your nails graze ever so slightly. Halsin responded to the touch with a low moan and giving an involuntary thrust against the ground.

The druid continued his descent downwards at a slightly faster pace, having been spurred on by the teasing to the tips of his ears. He continued to hold your gaze as he kissed down your body, feeling the rise and fall of your stomach as you inhaled deeply and released with each shaky breath. His hands grasped your hips, softly squeezing and caressing the soft flesh there as his mouth finally reached that lovely spot that rested at the apex of your thighs. Halsin planted gentle, loving kisses to the sensitive skin surrounding your entrance, teasing you ever so slightly as he took his time in exploring your most secret of places. 

Your thighs instinctively wanted to close and press themselves against Halsin’s head as he teased and tasted you, wanting to keep him there as long as possible. Your hips rolled under his touch and your back arched further, desperate for his contact on your most sensitive spot. You felt him chuckle against your skin, causing a deliciously sensational warmth to begin to pool in your lower abdomen. His hands traveled from your hips to your outer thighs, caressing and grazing with his fingertips as his lips found the velvety soft skin of your inner thighs. After a few more kisses and even a light bite to the soft skin, Halsin’s hands gently pried your lightly trembling thighs from the sides of his skull, pulling them wide until they were kissed by the grass beneath your body. He kept them open by resting his heavy arms on your thighs, giving his hands the opportunity to focus on more important matters. Halsin teased your entrance with a finger and tongue, lingering for just a moment before finally granting you the satisfaction of slipping inside.

“Halsin…” His name slipped from your lips as nothing more than a whisper as you felt him taste you, the bulk of your breath having been taken away when he first teased your entrance. Your hands desperately searched for any part of your lover to cling to, but given just how high the arch had gotten in your back, you were struggling to make purchase. You settled for winding your fingers in the grass beside you, pulling and tugging at the tender blades until they ripped and you needed to find more. 

Halsin glanced up to you, his mouth and tongue still working their magic on your body as he added a second finger, curling at just the right spot to make your body quiver in bliss. He smiled as best he could at your expression, considering that his lips were occupied. Although pride was not something the druid typically felt, it coursed through him as he watched your mouth open and close with soft gasps and the way your eyes knitted together tightly in time with each exhale. Watching you, the normally well put together leader of the group of misfits he’d so eagerly joined, melt into a puddle of whimpers and moans by his touch was enough to make his already painfully hardened cock throb and weep at your image.

Your back rose and fell with each roll of your hips against his teasing, surging with pleasure with each swipe of his tongue as you flitted closer and closer to the blissful edge of release. You felt teeth, tongue, lips, and fingers; anything and everything Halsin could use at his disposal to bring you to your first release of the evening. He held his hand along your abdomen, slowly sliding up towards your chest so he could feel as much you beneath him as possible. Halsin wanted to feel you writhe and squirm under his touch and wanted nothing more than to feel the shakes and convulsions your body would offer when you finally reached your orgasm. You quickly released your grip on the grass you’d ripped out by the root, replacing the handful of foliage with Halsin’s own hand. Fingers were soon intertwined and you held to him tightly, your knuckles turning white as the contact grounded you and allowed you to focus on the tightening coil deep in your belly. Each exhale turned into a breathy moan that only increased in volume as Halsin intensified his efforts, determined to swiftly bring you the release you desperately wanted with a flick of his tongue. 

Your legs began to tremble under Halsin’s arms as he brought you closer to the edge, heat surging in your abdomen as your muscles along your thighs began to tighten. A sudden rush of warmth and indescribable satisfaction washed over your quaking body, jolts of pleasure fired through your muscles as you finally broke the barrier. The sensation made your mind cloud as you rode our your orgasm, still feeling Halsin’s tongue and lips tending to your sex. Your eyes closed as the final waves washed over your body, your breath coming in deep inhales as the feeling subsided much too quickly for your liking. The feeling was euphoric, but you wanted more.

Halsin kissed up along your body quickly, leaving your tingling lower half to bring his face to meet yours once again. Your mind still reeled from your orgasm as you felt his lips against your heaving body. Halsin kissed you gently on your cheek, brushing stray strands of hair from your face as you continued to come down from your peak. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as you tried to regulate your breathing once again. His skin was warm under your touch, the lightest layer of sweat forming along his back from the heat of the night air. Halsin kissed along your jaw until he pressed his lips against yours once again, tender and soft when compared to frantic movements just moments ago. 

“More?” He asked after breaking from your lips, taking the time to wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as your eyes finally opened for him.

“More.” You said with a nod between pants, your body still trying to regain some sense of composure from the feeling you just experienced. Halsin’s mouth returned to your skin at your words, licking and sucking along your neck as he waited for you to settle once more. Your skin was pleasantly warm, a combination of the heat of the night and your exertion having caused the change in your body temperature. He adored the blush that had settled on the apples of your cheeks and poured onto your neck and along your chest, the sense of pride returning to him as he admired the state of your body all due to his touch. Halsin could still taste you on his lips as it mingled with the sweat from your neck, finding the taste to be almost intoxicating.

Halsin was still lazily planting wet kisses along your body, tasting as much of you as he could as he moved to your chest. When you felt strong enough to move again, your hands and fingers ran along his neck and shoulders, feeling the definition of the muscles that lay just beneath your fingers. Years of roaming nature had toughened his skin thanks to the touch of the sun, but in your exploration you had found a few spots still supple. You traced behind his ears and along the back of his neck, feeling his skin prickle and twitch under your touch and you found yourself wanting to feel more. Given that he was distracted, you took the opportunity to have the upper hand. You playfully shoved Halsin’s shoulder from you until you had the druid pressed onto his back in the grass with a surprised grunt, throwing your leg over his hips until you had him straddled. 

“I believe you’re stronger than you let on, my friend.” Halsin said with a sly grin, impressed at the swiftness of your movements given your previous orgasm.

“I am when I need to be.” You said softly, adjusting your position in his lap as Halsin sat up just slightly, leaning back to place his weight along his forearms. He simply enjoyed watching you above him, seated ever so nicely in his lap as you took your time exploring with your fingers. Your chest was still heaving slightly from your orgasm just moments prior and the druid had his eyes glued to your form, drinking you in and memorizing every dip, curve, and blemish that adorned your body. With the soft light of the moon behind you, illuminating you in a glowing halo, he watched as a bead of sweat rolled from the side of your neck, lazily rolling over your collar ones and onto your chest before getting lost somewhere in the skin above your navel.

“The Oak Father truly broke the mold with you,” Halsin said softly as his eyes continued to wander across your naked body, “I’ve yet to see anything in nature that compares to your beauty.” If you weren’t already blushing, you were now. You leaned forward, kissing his lips as an appreciation for the compliment. 

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You murmured against his lips, taking the time to kiss them once more before moving your way down his neck. Both of your hands rested on his shoulders, beginning to move along his chest as you kissed and nipped lightly down his throat, searching for more tender expanses of skin. You felt him shudder with each light graze of your teeth against his neck, a satisfied hum coming from you with each nibble. With a light touch, you ran your fingertips across the expanse of his chest, feeling every bit that you could reach while still slightly leaned over his frame.

You returned to your previous position, pressing yourself up from his chest while allowing yourself to marvel at the hulking elf beneath you as your fingers continued to roam, feeling and caressing with a gentle touch. You traced along the thick veins in his arms, feeling the firmness of the surrounding muscles of the biceps that could easily have their way with you. His heart beat steadily in his chest when your fingers grazed over his pectorals, enjoying the feeling of the thick hair that coated his chest. While your fingers enjoyed their exploration of his chest, making sure to graze over and toy with his hardened nipples as your eyes traveled further down his body. He hissed at the contact, but loved every moment of your teasing fingertips along his skin.

Your gaze followed the line of coarse hair that trailed between the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen and came to an end at the base of his cock, which was seated nicely between your thighs. You smiled to yourself as you watched his member twitch and bob under your touch when you ran over a particularly sensitive spot, resisting the urge to tickle those areas when you came across them. Your forefinger ran along a nonsensical path around his abs, simply keeping the hand occupied as the opposite finally reached his throbbing cock, which was steadily dripping his arousal in a long stream along his stomach. With a quick flick of your gaze to Halsin, you dipped the tip of your forefinger in the pool of his spend, rubbing small circles to coat the digit before you finally brought your coated appendage to your lips.

“Something sweeter, you said?” You asked with a feigned innocence as you held his gaze, finding the anticipation in his face quite amusing. You could feel his muscles tighten beneath you as he anticipated your next move, his eyes flicking between your half lidded eyes and your coated finger hovering mere centimeters from your lips.

You ran your tongue along your coated finger, engulfing the entire digit in your mouth once you had reached the tip and the first taste of Halsin’s arousal had touched your tongue. You took your finger to the knuckle, cleaning the appendage quickly. Halsin’s hips bucked upwards as he watched your finger slowly slip from your mouth, thrusting you forwards until your hand collided with his chest to keep you from falling flat against him. 

Halsin’s shifted his weight to rest on one of his forearms, using his now free hand to grasp your jaw, pulling you into a heated kiss with a quiet growl. His tongue was in your mouth in an instant, tangling with yours in an attempt to feel as much of the mouth that had teased him all day. With your tongues dancing with one another, you slid your hand down his chest and stomach before ghosting your fingertips over the weeping head of his cock. Halsin released his mouth from yours to as his breath caught in his throat, his grip leaving your jaw as he fell back onto both arms.

You returned your lips to his body, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses along his chest, steadily working your way lower as you followed the trail your fingers had previously taken. You could taste the sweat that had formed on his body as your lips traveled lower before you finally pulled away, admiring the trails you’d left along his skin. Your fingers had gone from simply teasing the sensitive head to stroking along the length of his cock in long, fluid movements. He pulsed in your grasp as you continued your stroking, squeezing in varying strength along his cock, stopping occasionally to rub small circles along his oversensitive cock head. 

“That touch of yours will be the end of me one day.” Halsin whispered as his head tilted back against his shoulders, his eyes closing slowly as he allowed himself to enjoy your movements. You watched as his chest heaved with each stroke of your hand, his breath coming in and out through his nose as he tried to keep himself collected and under control. Halsin felt his muscles tense and his heart pound under your touch, his body finally indulging in your long sought after touch, and he wanted the feeling to last as long as possible.

“Is that a promise of more nights like this, then?” You asked with a curious look, wiggling your way off his hips, choosing to settle between Halsin’s thighs to give yourself a better position for what was to come.

“Many more, if that is what you wish as well.” Halsin managed to choke out between sighs and soft groans as you stroked your hand along the length of his throbbing cock at a steady pace. Each flick of your wrist became easier over time, the slick that had fallen from the weeping tip giving you plenty of lubrication to work with. With lust filled eyes you looked up towards the druid as you began to lower your head to meet your hand.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin’s low voice wavered as he spoke, a shudder wracking his body as the flat of your tongue ran along the underside of his cock. His eyes reopened and he lifted his head long enough to watch as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip. Halsin finally dropped to his back, his arms giving way underneath him as your tongue swirled the cock throbbing in your mouth. Like you had done with his finger earlier in the day, you pressed the tip to the roof of your mouth, creating a firm pressure to the overly sensitive head. 

Your tongue was softer than velvet against Halsin’s cock, swirling and suckling around the tip with enough pressure to make him squirm in pleasure. He moaned softly with each swipe of your tongue, his hips thrusting upwards ever so slightly to create more friction against your warm, wet mouth. With his tip still securely pressed to the top of your mouth, your tongue worked wonders on the underside of his member, focusing on the sensitive space on the underside of the tip. You suckled away on his cock while your hand continued to stroke lazily along his base. As he did with you, you took your time in exploring his cock with your mouth, listening to the delightful moans and sighs that came from above you.

Halsin let out an exasperated sigh when you finally released the suction from his cock, which allowed you to begin your teasingly slow descent. Your lips were pressed tightly around his cock, still creating a light suction as you worked your way down, although your pace wasn’t entirely due to just wanting to tease the man writhing at your touch. Given just how large of a man that Halsin was, you were under no illusions that his member would be anything less than large, but you truly weren’t prepared for just how impressive his size actually was. You took your time in an attempt to service his length in a way that was pleasurable to both you and Halsin. 

You took him further into your mouth, his tip beginning to slip into the tightness of your throat as you focused on not choking along his length all while keeping a steady breath. Halsin’s fingers found their way into your hair, settling on the crown of your head as he felt you lower yourself to your limit, a light gag coming from your throat before you pulled back up. His simply rested his hand along your head as you began to bob along his cock, gradually picking up speed as you became more comfortable with your limits. He didn’t pressure you further than you wanted or tried to change your pacing, but simply needed something to grasp onto as he worked his way through waves of pleasure. He wanted you to enjoy yourself as much as he was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel pressured to go beyond your limits. For this, you were thankful.

You soon found yourself in a rhythm, guiding your head up and down along the length of his hardened cock with ease, occasionally ending with an audible gag if you pushed yourself too far. For now, he was too large for you to comfortably handle, so you made use of your still slicked hand to stroke and toy with the portion of his shaft not covered by your mouth. From time to time you’d pull away, allowing yourself a few sucking breaths of air before your lips returned to him in some way either through licking any neglected areas or sliding it back into the heat of your mouth. His spend was salty against your tongue, yet something you swallowed eagerly. 

Halsin’s breath hitched and the urge to buck wildly into your warm mouth was becoming too much to handle as he felt a tingling warmth begin to settle in his groin. His fingers grasped at your hair lightly, desperate to anchor to something more substantial as he fought the urge to spill into his own orgasm. However, he resisted, wanting to save that wonderful wave of pleasure for something more intimate than your teasing mouth. Your eyes met Halsin’s once again as you continued your ministrations to his weeping cock, your gaze tender yet blissfully hazy.

You felt his fingers untangle themselves from your hair, dragging along your cheek with a loving touch. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm as best you could, your mouth still fully occupied with pleasuring the cock that was dangerously close to spilling over. Halsin gripped your chin gently, pulling you up and off his pulsing member with a shaky breath. His eyes were drawn to the line of spittle that still connected your reddened lips to the tip of his length, gently wiping your lip with his thumb as your breath came out in pants. You struggled to catch your breath as he held you in his grasp.

“If you keep going like that,” Halsin said after he’d regained some of his composure, “this night will be over much sooner than either of us would wish.”

“We have all night, do we not?” You asked as your tongue flicked across your lips, collecting any remaining spittle that lingered.

“We do, but let us hope that the sun is slow to rise.” Halsin murmured quietly before closing the gap between your bodies. He took your lips with his once more, tender and sweet as he came forward, urging you onto your back for the second time before parting from you. Your body settled into a fresh patch of grass that was slick with the beginning touches of dew forming on the blades. You sighed happily into the night air, your body succumbing to the gentle touches of the druid. Halsin’s hands softly grabbed the underside of your thighs, giving them a light squeeze as he parted your legs for him. 

Your heart fluttered as he crawled up the expanse of your body, his arms and hands surrounding you as he knees knocked your legs open a bit further. His kisses and touches had become light and feather soft, caressing your lips and body with a touch so gentle you almost couldn’t feel it. He was holding back as if touching you any more firmly would thoroughly break you. You had to admit that you understood his concern, given that the bulk of his frame was currently looming over you and he was a bit larger than you had anticipated.

“You don’t have to restrain yourself with me,” you said between kisses, “I’m sturdier than I look.” You brushed stray hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear and out of the way. You knew Halsin wanted something a bit more rugged. He was more than content with slow, languid kisses and soft touches, but you also knew that he had been pent up for quite some time between suppressing his own emotions for years and your own teasings as of late. You wanted him to enjoy himself just as much as you were. 

Holding back his feelings was something Halsin wasn’t accustomed to doing on a day-to-day basis; he wore his heart on his sleeve and made his emotions clear. You, however, were the one exception. He had been attracted to you for quite some time before either of you had made it to your current situation, yet he was hesitant to come forward with those feelings. Decades of denying himself something more meaningful and vulnerable simply couldn’t take a priority over his duties, so now that he was presented with the opportunity, Halsin had hesitated. But now, you both were here in each others arms, fully exposed and having tasted the other in some fashion; now was not the time to restrain feelings.

“I have no doubt about that, believe me, but either way I promise to be gentle.” Halsin said with a slight chuckle, “At least for now.” Halsin wanted nothing more than to hold you down and have his way with you until you were a puddled mess, but he also knew when the time was right. Although you were more than ready to try and take him, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in his overeagerness. Instead, he opted to take things the more gentle route until he was sure you were up for something more vigorous. 

He pressed his lips to yours once again in a lingering kiss, moaning softly against your mouth as he lined the tip of his cock up with your well slicked entrance. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his warm, throbbing tip pressing against your eagerly awaiting entrance, the feeling of him being so close made your muscles melt beneath him. As slowly and carefully as possible, Halsin eased his way into you, earning a sudden gasp from your kiss swollen lips. He moved his own lips to your ear, cradling the opposite side of your face as he guided himself deeper into you.

His lips were soft and tender on your temple, kissing lightly when you hissed or made a gasp that sounded more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Halsin took his time, guiding his movements in accordance to your body’s reactions than his own lusts. From time to time you’d press your palm against his hip or stomach, quietly asking him to wait until you could adjust. When you did so, Halsin listened, waiting until you were ready to continue as he peppered your cheek with more kisses and whispered praise or encouragement in your ear. You moved your hand from his hip when you were ready to continue, whimpering softly as he continued the slow movement into your heat.

When Halsin had fully seated himself inside you, he released groan from deep within his chest, savoring the feeling of you around his hardened cock. You were warm and tight, which was everything he had expected from you, but the actual feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. With everything you had done for him so far, you had once again exceeded his expectations. With this, he wanted to begin moving against you and feel you expand and contract around him, but he paused. Halsin remained still inside you, waiting for your approval before continuing. He knew you needed time to adjust and he would allow you to take as much time as you needed. In the meantime, he simply enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

Your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply, adjusting to the size of the length buried inside you. He was large, but not uncomfortable. Halsin was exceedingly gentle with you, not wanting to hurt you with his size, but you were ready for more. You met his haze once more before giving a gentle nod, urging him to continue.

“You have been more than worth the wait.” Halsin murmured in your ear as his hips began to move against you, taking your lips once more with his before you could respond. Your moaned against him, the feeling of his cock slowly slipping out of you before nuzzling back in made a light warmth settle on your cheeks and made your heart flutter with anticipation. You stayed like this for some time, your arms wrapped around each other while connected by your lower halves, taking everything slow and steady until your body had grown accustomed to the size of the cock nestled deep inside you.

However, it wasn’t long before you felt comfortable with his size. Your hips rolled against his, asking him to begin picking up the pace as any discomfort quickly subsided and was replaced with pleasure and ecstasy. Halsin eagerly complied, pulling his arms from you slightly so he could rest along his palms, his hips rolling against yours as he kept his thrusts light, but just slightly faster. Your hands ran down his chest like they had done earlier, feeling his muscles flex under your fingertips with his movements. Halsin was correct, he and this moment were more than worth every moment of teasing and waiting that you’d experienced. He was worth it.

Halsin sat back, resting his weight on splayed knees so he could watch you from above. His hands explored and grasped at the expanse of your thighs as he watched your body writhe and roll under his touch, desperate to meet his cock with a roll each time he sheathed himself fully into you. His eyes searched your body, unsure of which part of you to settle on for more than a few seconds. He wanted to take in every bit of you as he thrust his hips into your warmth. Your face and chest were covered in a deep blush and glistened with sweat against the glow of the moonlight, parts of you bounced each time his hips snapped to yours and became almost hypnotic if he started too long, but in the end he decided that the most delicious part of you to watch was simply just how well you took his throbbing cock. His eyes traveled to where you both were joined, mesmerized by how your entranced stretched with each thrust to accommodate his size, but so early accepted him back in each time he fully entered you. The view combined with the feeling of your heat squeezing around him was almost enough to send him into a frenzy.

Halsin gripped the underside of one of your thighs, lifting it from the ground until the back of your leg rested against his broad chest, opening you up more for him, but also allowing him a better view of his cock disappearing into your heat. His lips and tongue found the skin of your leg and left sloppy, wet kisses along the sweat soaked skin as his fingers pressed firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh. His other hand traveled to your lower half, feeling your muscles tighten in your abdomen as your released neared. He used his fingers to brush across your most sensitive spots, a playful smile gracing his lips as you responded deliciously to his touch.

Your body was on fire, aching and throbbing with heat as Halsin snapped his hips to yours with each thrust. The sound of wet skin smacking against skin and mingled with grunts and moans filled the quiet evening air, making any animal in the area scamper off quickly at the noise. Your cheeks burned with exertion and desire, a feeling that was equally matched in the fire that was ignited in your lower belly. You could feel the string of pleasure begin to coil, knowing it wouldn’t be long before it snapped once more. Your hands grasped and squeezed at your chest, fingers flicking across and occasionally pinching your hard and sensitive nipples, eliciting sharp moans into the air that sent shivers down the back of the druid.

“More,” you gasped out as you felt the coil deepen, “please.” Your voice was almost a whine, needy with desire and lust as Halsin continued his movements.

Halsin moved instantly at your words, pressing forward until his chest met yours, your leg still pressed against his chest as your knee now rested close to your face. He moved your other leg to rest on his other shoulder, his hands shaking at the feeling of you practically halved beneath him. His arms kept your legs from slipping off his sweaty shoulders as his hands came to rest by your head, one of them tangling in your hair with a firm grasp. His lips found your neck and offered a light bite to the soft flesh, making your mouth fall open at the contact. Halsin thrust into you more firmly, knees and toes digging into the grass beneath him as his pace increased. 

Your own hands found purchase on his body, one resting on the side of his warmed cheek and the other tangling with the knot he kept tied at the back of his head. Your body trembled beneath his as your second orgasm starting coming to a peak, knowing it wouldn’t be long until it crashed over your body. Halsin’s eyes remained locked to yours, entranced by the look of pleasure that covered your lovely face. You panted against each other, breath mixing together and only adding to the heat of the moment.

“You’re almost there, my heart.” Halsin panted against you as his forehead rested along yours, “Let go. Let me feel you.” The new use of a pet name and his coaxing send sparks flying through your body, awakening some sort of arousal you’d have to explore more at a later time. For now, however, his words and movements were enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking with a delicious heat and pleasure as your legs trembled against his shoulders. Your orgasm rushed through your body, sending bolts of electricity along your spine as you rode it out. You tightened your hold against Halsin’s cock, which was still thrusting into your sensitive entrance. The sudden grip on him almost caused his to experience his own release, but the druid held firm and made the feeling subside. As much as he wanted to feel his own pleasure course through him, he wanted to take you one final time before indulging in his own pleasure. You moaned and whined, your body twitched and shook under the last remaining licks of your orgasm, your mind hazed with pleasure and exhaustion.

With a swift movement, Halsin removed your trembling legs from his shoulders, pulling them to the side as he flipped you to your stomach. While still in your daze, you felt his hands press against your chest and around one of your legs, easily lifting your still trembling body from the ground and a better position so you could lay comfortably on the ground before pressing you firmly into the grass beneath you. You were taken by surprise, your mind swimming with enough pleasure and haze that you hadn’t fully processed his movements until your cheek was met with a patch of grass, leaving your arms pinned between your own chest and the ground. Halsin’s hands gripped at your hips, swiftly tugging them upwards and towards him with an almost desperate pace. 

You let out a moan at the sudden change of position, letting Halsin rearrange your limbs with ease as you still were reeling from your orgasm. Halsin parted your legs once again, settling nicely between them as he realigned himself with your still trembling entrance. He entered you more quickly than before, still taking note of not being too rough with you, making sure you were comfortable with how he was seated within you before he began his thrusting once again. You whimpered as he picked up the pace, your swollen sex still sensitive from your climax as it tingled and clenched around the druid’s impressive length.

Halsin's hand traveled the length of your back as he steadily and firmly snapped his hips to yours, knocking you forward just slightly with each thrust. Halsin admired the beauty of your body, even from a less than flattering angle. The way your hips curved into your waist, the small dips in your lower back that lead to a steep curve in your spine caused by his movements, and the taught muscles in your shoulders that were defined from battle all enticed him even more. Halsin had admittedly fallen for you based off your merit and kindness, but he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful inside and out, especially when splayed out underneath him.

Your skin was hot beneath his touch, both from exertion and the heat of the night, and your body glistened under the moonlight. He had longed to feel your skin in his grasp for some time now, the thought alone keeping him up many nights as he struggled to subdue his own feelings for the sake of duty. The thoughts that would plague his mind of the caress of your hands had only intensified with your recent teasings, making the feel of your skin slapping against his all the more pleasurable. As his hand caressed the skin of your hips and back, Halsin had enough sense to flick the pieces of grass and dirt that had stuck to your skin from your previous position, lovingly brushing you clean as his hips were mercilessly slamming into yours. You felt his hand grip your shoulder, desperate to hold you in place as he chased his release. 

Your breath hitched as you felt Halsin’s hand firmly grab your shoulder, giving him better leverage to thrust into you from behind. The sudden change of pace from soft and loving to frantic and rough wasn’t quite what you were expecting over the course of the night, but it was a most welcome change. Up until now, Halsin was focused on your pleasure and release over his. He was attentive and loving, making sure your had expended yourself to your limits, even denying his own release when he felt the luscious feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

But this was different. It was still caring, given that Halsin wasn’t ramming into you with his full strength, but this was for him. He was finally allowing himself to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh that he had denied himself for so long. He was desperate to make it last, to have this night make up for years of denial and longing, but you could tell he was nearing his end. Your ears were greeted with a symphony of grunts and growls rumbling deep in his chest the harder he slammed into you. Although you were met with no discomfort, just a delicious feeling of being pressed into the ground by your lover.

Halsin’s grip on your shoulder was strong, simply given the size of the druid, but not quite enough to keep you from shifting underneath him. He released your shoulder, which was now slightly red from his hold, and slid his hand to your back once again, resting between your shoulder blades with his fingers splayed wide against your dampened skin. You let out a moan and a wheeze as you felt the air leave your lungs, leaving you with a deliciously pleasant sting as Halsin pressed into your back firmly, lifting himself slightly to apply as much pressure as he could without causing you harm. You were now securely pinned to the ground, allowing the druid to slam into you without the inconvenience of you slipping out beneath him.

You both let out a pleasurable moan at the new position, the angle allowing Halsin to slip fully into you and pound away at the wonderfully sensitive spot deep inside you that made your vision blur each time he made contact with the tip of his cock. Halsin was practically hovering over you, taking in every bit of your body as he barreled towards his own release. He watched the way his cock slipped in and out of you effortlessly, given his size, and the way your body graciously accepted him. Halsin could feel his legs begin to shake and the pacing of his hips begin to falter, stuttering every few thrusts as he came closer to his orgasm.

“Look at me, my heart.” His voice was gruff and shaky, but it was more of a plea than a command, one you happily complied with. Your haze was a bit foggy, but you looked over you shoulder as you remained pinned to the ground, your mouth hanging open in an attempt to breath as best you could with the pressure on your back. Your lips tugged into a slight smile as you peered up at the druid, the sight of him coming undone because of you brought you more joy than you could have previously thought. You met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, but there was more than just lust behind them and Halsin could see this as well. There was no doubt that your pupils were dilated with lust and pleasure from both your orgasms, but there was something more meaningful. There was trust, admiration, acceptance, and if Halsin’s own lust fogged mind could be trusted, perhaps even the faintest hint of love behind the beautifully bright eyes staring back at him.

Your gaze and the feeling of your warmth clenching around his cock was the final act that sent Halsin over the edge. An uncharacteristically loud curse left his lips as he hunched forward, digging his heels into the dirt as he thrust into you a final time. His hand lifted from your back and collided with the ground beside your head to keep from crushing you beneath his weight and it allowed you a sucking breath as Halsin spilled himself deep inside you. His opposing hand was still firmly gripped to your hips, holding them in place as his body shuddered with each contraction of his muscles. Each warm rope that spilled from his cock sent waves of pleasure down Halsin’s back, making his muscles twitch and tense with each burst. He released a low grunt every time he spilled, each one landing deep inside you, filling you with a gentle warmth.

Halsin fell to his forearms as he slowly fell from his peak, his head coming to rest softly against your shoulder as he panted against your skin. The druid finally released your hip from his grasp, the desperation and intensity behind his grip had finally softened as his body began to relax against yours, softly rubbing your sweat soaked skin to soothe the marks he’d left on your posterior. He littered your shoulder blades with a string of slow, loving kisses, placing a few to the back of your neck. You both lay there for a few precious moments, simply enjoying the feeling of being so close to the other while still connected, your minds slowly falling down from the blissful peaks you had climbed towards.

After giving a final kiss to the area between your shoulders, Halsin pulled himself from you gently, knowing you both were now a bit sore and rather sensitive. You whimpered softly as you felt him slip out of you, already missing the fullness he offered. With the bulk of his weight now off your frame, you finally managed to pull one of your arms out from underneath you, bracing it on the ground before hoisting yourself onto your hands and knees. Halsin went down to his side, pulling you with him with a quick roll as he settled for the evening. Your head rested along the expanse of his bicep, rolling to rest your cheek to his skin as you lay along your back, one knee coming up to bend and help you adjust. 

“Are you all right?” Halsin asked as he brushed more bits of grass from your cheek with his free hand, plucking blades from your temples and your hairline.

“Very much so.” You hummed softly, your eyes becoming heavy as you melted against his touch.

Your skin had finally cooled after the activity from the night, leaving you with tacky skin, but free from beads of sweat. Despite the heat coming from Halsin’s body, you were pleasantly warm and thoroughly satisfied for the evening. You lay together, wrapped in each others embrace on the forest floor, listening to the lulling sounds of the night as you simply enjoyed the silence. Halsin’s free hand traveled along your body, gently caressing and mending any wounds that may have appeared during your rougher moments. 

“Can I offer you a wash?” He asked after a moment, having run along your body several times. You looked to him, offering a gentle smile with tired eyes. 

“That sounds lovely,” you murmured, leaning up to leave a slow kiss to his lips, “but let’s stay here for a spell. I’m not quite ready to return to camp just yet.”

Halsin tugged you closer to him, your bodies fully pressed to the other as the arm you were resting on had wrapped around your shoulders. You tossed your leg over his, tangling your legs together as one of your arms wrapped around his midsection. With the sun still below the horizon, you had a few hours of darkness left before returning to camp was a necessity, giving you a few precious moments together to simply be. You and Halsin spoke softly, whispering sweet words and blush worthy compliments to each other, caressing and touching and learning the details of the other. Eventually, the low rumbles of Halsin’s voice filled you with a sense of peace, causing your eye lids to droop and fall heavy. You fought the feeling, simply wanting to stay awake to enjoy the moment.

“Rest, my heart,” he whispered against your hair, “we’ll find more moments for each other.” He placed a single, gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away when your eyelids finally closed for the evening and your mind began drifting off to a moment of restful sleep.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear ,@beardedladyqueen, @pixie-in-a-moonlantern, @ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian, @ouranyaoi @galeofyourwaterdeep @mskinkyafro @jenn-majima @blobs-away @halsinsnaturepocket

[frotees-corner]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63170740

I meant to wait until tomorrow, but it turns out I'm not that patient.

Chapter 1 of the Regency Romance AU is up :D

Snippet:

“Come now, Caterina, surely things cannot be so dire as all that! You are very spry for your age. I am certain you have many good years ahead of you, and there is simply no need to have us rush into marriage.”

Illario Dellamorte had donned his most charming smile as he tried to reason with his way out of his marital obligations.

“Rush you?” Caterina Dellamorte raised an impervious eyebrow. “My dear boy, you have had well over a decade to indulge yourself while carefully keeping an eye out for a suitable wife. That dilly-dallying ends now.”

“Ah, but you cannot expect us to just pick the first debutante to catch our eye, can you? After all, the lucky ladies would become part of the family, and need to properly represent the Dellamorte name. Such a choice must certainly be made with care.” Illario dramatically put his hand over his heart, trying for caution instead of compliment.

“And I trust that you will take the utmost care in your choosing, but you have a full season and countless opportunities to do so. And don’t try to tell me it will be impossible to pick in so short a time; dozens of eligible young debutantes enter society every year, and only a fraction manage to make a match in their first season. There are plenty of suitable candidates to choose from. I will happily prepare you a list, if it is required.”

Illaro winced.

“Just imagine then, if you will, having to actually arrange two actual weddings within the same year! The expense and effort required to make sure that the events credit our house… would it not be much more sensible to space them out a bit, maybe concentrate on seeing to your heir first?” He threw a sideways glance at Lucanis, earning himself a glare for his efforts.

“Don’t be ridiculous boy, I am perfectly capable of handling two weddings. Though I would deign to accept a lengthier engagement period if it became absolutely necessary.

But you will both find wives this season, and that is my final word.”

Illario sighed, accepting defeat.

“Yes, Caterina” both grandsons answered in unison.

[its-avalon-08]

heyy can we please have a fic where the reader is feeling insecure about maybe her height or body, thinking she’s not enough for him (could be any driver but maybe lando or logan, please?) he realizes something is off and reassures and comforts her? sorry if u already wrote something like that, i found ur acc recently x

you are everything (ls2)

✦ pairing - logan sargeant x female!reader

✦ genre - self doubt, comparison, tears, fluff, logan being cute

Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Logan into the paddock, her heart pounding in her chest. The sun was shining, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement, but all she could feel was a growing sense of dread. As they made their way through the crowd, she saw the other WAGs gathered near the team garages, laughing and chatting effortlessly.

Her eyes darted from one woman to the next. There was Carmen, George Russell's girlfriend, chic and graceful with legs that seemed to go on forever. Y/N's own height, which she had always considered average, suddenly felt inadequate. She straightened her back, trying to stand taller, but the feeling of being smaller, less significant, nagged at her.

Then she saw Kelly Piquet, Max's girlfriend, with her perfect smile and flawless skin. Y/N's mind spiraled, thinking about every blemish and imperfection on her own face. She unconsciously raised a hand to her cheek, feeling the rough texture of a recent breakout.

As she looked at Alexandra Saint, Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, with her stunning physique and effortless style, Y/N couldn't help but compare her own body. She was thin, but now she felt scrawny rather than elegant. Her clothes, which she had chosen carefully this morning, now seemed plain and unremarkable compared to the chic outfits around her.

Logan squeezed her hand, pulling her back to the present. He smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling with affection. "You okay?" he asked, his voice warm and reassuring.

Y/N forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, her stomach churning with insecurity.

As they walked closer to the group, she could hear snippets of their conversation, the easy way they interacted, as if they belonged in this world of glitz and glamour. Y/N felt like an outsider, an imposter in a world she didn’t quite fit into. She tugged at her top, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her outfit. She wondered if the other WAGs were judging her, comparing her to the standards they all seemed to effortlessly meet.

Why did she have to look so plain? Why couldn't she be as glamorous and perfect as them? Her thoughts were relentless, a storm of self-doubt that she couldn't escape. She felt like everyone was staring, scrutinizing her every move, even though she knew logically they were probably just focused on their own lives.

Logan stopped to talk to a few people, and Y/N stood by his side, trying to look composed. She felt Logan's hand on the small of her back, a comforting gesture, but it did little to soothe her turmoil. She glanced at herself in a nearby reflective surface, critically assessing her face, her nose, her figure.

The voice in her head was relentless. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck why did I choose this outfit? Your nose is too big. Your skin isn’t clear. Your body isn’t toned enough. You don’t belong here.

She wished she could disappear, blend into the background, but with Logan being who he was, that was impossible. The pressure of being in the spotlight, of feeling like she had to measure up to these other women, was overwhelming.

Y/N’s heart sank. How could she ever be enough for Logan when she felt so insignificant compared to the women around her? She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the insecurity gnawed at her, a constant reminder that she felt out of place.

I just want to be enough, she thought desperately, her eyes flicking to Logan. He looked so at ease, so confident, and she wished she could share in that feeling, even if just for a moment.

a few days later

Logan leaned against the counter of his kitchen, sipping his coffee and glancing at the clock. Y/N was supposed to be back from her morning run by now. He frowned, worry creasing his forehead. She had seemed off lately, quieter than usual, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering her.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Y/N stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the workout. Logan's heart did a little flip, as it always did when he saw her, but today it was accompanied by a twinge of concern.

"Hey, babe," he greeted, setting his mug down and walking over to her. "How was your run?"

Y/N managed a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It was fine."

Logan took her hand, leading her to the couch. "Sit with me for a bit?"

She nodded, sitting down and folding her legs underneath her. Logan could see the tension in her posture, the way she seemed to be trying to make herself smaller.

"Y/N, talk to me," he said gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You've been quiet lately. Is something wrong?"

She hesitated, biting her lip. "It's nothing, Lo. Really."

He shook his head, his expression soft but firm. "It's not nothing if it's bothering you. Please, tell me what's going on."

Y/N sighed, looking down at her hands. "I just… I've been feeling really insecure lately. Being in the spotlight, with everyone looking at us, at me… it's overwhelming. I keep thinking I'm not good enough for you."

Logan's heart ached at her words. He cupped her face in his hands, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Baby, you're more than enough for me. You're everything. Why would you ever think you're not good enough?"

She shrugged, tears brimming in her eyes. "I see the way people look at us, at me. I'm not a celebrity, Lo. I'm just… me. And sometimes, I feel like I don't measure up to the glamorous world you're part of."

Logan shook his head, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears while his own turned glossy at hearing the love of his life think she wasn't good enough. "You are perfect just the way you are. I don't care about the glitz and glamour. I care about you. You're stunning, inside and out, and I love you for who you are, not for what the world thinks you should be."

Y/N sniffled, leaning into his touch. "But what if I can't handle the pressure? What if I'm not strong enough? What if I crack?"

Logan took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Y/N, love of my whole fucking life, let me tell you something. You're one of the strongest people I know. Just because you feel overwhelmed sometimes doesn't mean you're weak. It's okay to have moments of doubt, to feel scared. But you don't have to face it alone. I'm here for you. Always."

He continued, his voice filled with love and determination. "Every day, I see how amazing you are. Your kindness, your strength, your beauty—it all shines so brightly to me. The way you care for others, the way you light up a room just by being in it—those are the things that matter. Not what the media says, not what anyone else thinks."

Logan's words flowed from his heart, each one meant to reassure her. "You know, there are days when I feel like I can't live up to the expectations of being a driver. But then I think of you, and I remember why I do what I do. Because you believe in me, and that gives me the strength to keep going. I need you, Y/N. I need your love, your support. And I'm here to give you mine."

He paused, taking her hands in his. "As long as I'm with you I've got a smile on my face and I know we can face anything. You don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to lean on me, to let me be your strength when you need it. We're a team, and I wouldn't want it any other way."

Y/N took a deep breath, Logan's words slowly sinking in and easing the knots of insecurity in her heart. "Thank you, baby. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, beautiful."

Y/N laughed softly, the sound like music to Logan's ears. "I guess I can live with that."

Logan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "Good. Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Y/N. And I won't let anything make you feel otherwise."

As they sat there, wrapped in each other's embrace, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her. She wasn't alone in this. With Logan by her side, she knew she could face anything, and together, they would shine brighter than any spotlight ever could.

[alchemistaxolotl]

I found @cuppajj beast au recently and decided to write little snippets from the questions that got asked in the blog that peaked my interest :3

I was gonna write for some of the other beasts ancient but my brain is very fixated on pure vanilla/saint vanilla atm but I will probably write some small one shots in for the others in the future!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Saint Vanilla in Dark Cocoa Kingdom

Saint Vanilla hummed a quiet tune as he walked through the frigid lands of the Dark Cacao Kingdom; it truly never did seem to stop snowing here snowstorms were about as common as rain.

 

Saint Vanilla turned his attention to a cookie that seemed too frozen in ice. He tilted his head slightly out of curiosity, so this is what happened to his people.

 

He couldn’t help but feel a little bit of irony he remembers how his old companion cared so much about his people only for now, then being frozen in ice.

 

He moved his hand over their head slowly, placing it down like he would if you were giving a kid a head pat. He waited to see, could he bring salvation to these poor cookies??

 

Only for nothing, not even a single piece of dust appeared, and Saint Vanilla's face turned to one of sadness, It seems that he could not bring these cookies to enlightenment.

 

He did not dwell on it for long, though instead choosing to continue moving on. It truly was a shame that he couldn’t bring them to salvation like he did the others, but maybe one day he’ll find a way to get through that thick ice without harming the cookies inside.

Saint quickly moved along he’s aware it seems neither the licorice sea or the king of very fond of him being in these lands judging by what he seems through the flowers

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Touch starved Saint vanilla with moonlight Lily

Saint let out a small sound as he leant into the hand holding his cheek, cherishing moments like these where he gets to not have to worry about anything and just enjoy the touch of his dear Midnight.

 

The garden was peaceful there was not a sound other than each other’s breathing and song that Midnight was humming, she always seemed to hum that specific song whenever they were together in the garden.

Midnight Lily began to run her hands through his hair slowly but carefully, getting out any of the small knots that had appeared throughout the day, causing saint vanilla to become like putty in her hands, closing his eyes, just letting her do whatever she wanted to his hair as long as he got to enjoy the feeling of her touch.

A soft smile appeared on his face as he just let his mind empty and just focused on the feeling of her touch, a part of him somewhere deep down wanted more. He wanted to feel more of her touch other than just on his hair or his cheek, but he did not vocalise these thoughts, instead choosing to keep them deep down.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Please ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes I am writing this very late at night lmao and hopefully I did saint vanilla and midnight Lily justice they were a lot of fun to write!!

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @everlastingday @henrygrass @nisbanisba @whatsintheboxmh @alrightbuckaroo @carlossreaders

An idea for a future/Jonah fic merged with Ranch Fic which I believed I've shared a bit of before. It won't leave my head. Here is a snippet from a chapter in which Jonah starts preschool and brings home a gift in the form a stomach bug they all get to take their turn with. Look how happy the little guy is with himself.

Thus this snippet is also me jumping aboard the Carlos Sickfic train whoo Niz you're still the captain and the driver I'm just joining the ride for a bit! Warnings for descriptions of nausea and a mention of throwing up but no more than those exact words.

He kind of wants to check in on Jonah and TK, wants to say goodbye to Jonah before he leaves for half the day but his eyelids are already drooping and the nausea still sits on the edge of his consciousness. He feels like he has a small window of time wherein if he just moves very little and goes to sleep soon he might be able to skip the next bout of nausea.

His wish is granted anyway as the bedroom door opens, Jonah entering first along with TK’s voice reminding him to be gentle, TK himself emerging last.

“He wanted to show you the dragon he chose,” TK says as Jonah climbs carefully up the bed to sit next to Carlos.

“Hey Jonah," Carlos says, fighting to keep his eyes open as he pushes Jonah’s bangs away from his forehead. He’s gonna need a haircut again soon. “Did you choose a good one?”

“Look!” Jonah says, pulling at the hem of his shirt and puffing his chest out, proudly showcasing the pink dragon on the front.

“Wow, mijo, that’s a really good choice,” Carlos says, making Jonah beam up at TK at the confirmation that they chose right.

“Are you gonna wear your pajamas to work, Carlos?” Jonah parrots TK from earlier. He does that a lot these days. Sometimes it makes him say weirdly wise things that sound way too adult coming from his four year old voice which always makes Carlos laugh.

“Carlos gets to stay home and sleep some more, because he’s sick, remember? Just like you stayed home when you were sick.”

“Did you throw up?” Jonah asks, turning to Carlos with wide eyes. He looks a mix between concerned and intrigued.

“Yeah, but just like you I’ll feel better again in no time,” Carlos reassures with a out upon smile. He hopes he's right.

“Do you want an ice pop?” Jonah asks, remembering that had made him feel better.

“Maybe later,” Carlos smiles at him. “But that was a nice thought, mijo. Thank you.”

Jonah looks like he’s thinking hard trying to come up with something else that will magically heal Carlos. He’s so sweet and caring, just like his brother. TK interrupts him before he can suggest any more remedies, heartwarming as they are.

“Okay, buddy,” TK says. “Time for breakfast I think, so we can get to preschool on time.”

“Can we make omelets?” Jonah asks, sufficiently distracted. Carlos usually lets him ‘help’ when he makes omelets in the morning and Jonah loves being delegated with small but very important tasks.

TK chuckles. “Sure. I don’t know if I can make them as good as Carlos though,” he says. “You’ll have to ask him for the secret ingredient.”

“What’s the secret ingredient Carlos?” 

Another time Carlos will tell Jonah how to make his favorite omelet, but right now Carlos can’t bear the thought of pronouncing the word of any food related item. “Love,” he says instead, ruffling Jonah’s hair, trying not to show that even the act of lifting his arm feels like a tremendous effort. Jonah frowns for a moment before he giggles like Carlos just said a super silly thing.

“Love? You can’t put love in an omelet Carlos!”

“Sure you can,” Carlos says. “You just have to make the omelet for someone you love and that’s how you put love into it.” He doesn’t know where the spontaneous pocket philosophy comes from and he hopes he hasn’t made a mistake in case the omelet TK and Jonah whip up for some reason isn’t to Jonah’s liking.

Kids don’t think that deep, he tells himself. Jonah will probably have forgotten about it in the time it takes them to go from the bedroom to the kitchen. And besides he fully trusts TK’s abilities when it comes to cooking. 

His jumbled overthinking is interrupted by Jonah making his heart grow two sizes and do a little dance in his chest. “Then we have to make some for Carlos too TK! So we can put love in it!”

Unfortunately his stomach seems inspired by his heart to start matching its little dance routine. Thinking anymore about omelets, let alone one being made for him that he has to eat, isn’t helping. He feels his little window of time starting to close as the nausea begins tauntingly closing back in on him. Luckily TK seems to read it on his face. Or maybe he’s just turning visibly green.

“We’ll make some for him to save for later,” he says. Planting a soft kiss to Carlos forehead he tells him “You should try to finish that glass of water though, if you can. I’ll bring you a new one before we leave.”

Turning back to Jonah he says more loudly, "Now, can you say bye to Carlos so we can let him sleep?” to Carlos he says softly “You look ready to, baby.” 

Carlos only hums in response.

Jonah rises up from his knees on the bed, putting him at eye level with Carlos as he wraps his little arms around his neck. “Bye, Carlos. Feel better,” he says before turning back to TK, putting his arms in the air to be lifted off the bed.

Carlos musters his last energy for a sincere “Bye Jonah. I love you,” But Jonah has apparently already moved on, or rather back to discussing what to put into the omelet, beside love.

“And ham,” he says as TK lifts him under the armpits and sets him back on the floor.

“And cheese!” he says, “And eggs and pepper and-” 

“Okay buddy,” TK interrupts quickly, sending Carlos an apologetic wince before quickly ushering Jonah out of the bedroom, as he keeps listing ingredients. 

Once the door is closed behind them, Carlos takes a few steadying breaths, the nausea thankfully retreating back to the peripherals. Having learned to listen to TK when it comes to medical advice, he sips the water until the glass is almost empty before he gingerly lays down, foregoing his own freshly clean pillowcase in favor of TK’s, and pulling their shared blanket up and over his body. He shifts a little to make himself as comfortable as he can and then closes his eyes.

He doesn’t hear when TK creeps in half an hour later to replace the near empty glass of water, or the front door opening and closing as they leave to drop Jonah off at preschool.

OPEN TAG

And tagging @herefortarlos @emsprovisions @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @ironheartwriter

@bonheur-cafe @ladytessa74 @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @lemonlyman-dotcom

@rangersoup @theghostofashton @everlastingday @henrygrass

@freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21 @carlossreaders @chicgeekgirl89

@the-126-family @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @whatsintheboxmh @tailoredshirt

@nisbanisba @nancys-braids @your-catfish-friend @rmd-writes @goldenskykaysani

@captain-gillian @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye

@carlos-tk @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @pimento-playing-hopscotch @firstprince-history-huh @thisbuildinghasfeelings

@never-blooms @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland

I finally made a taglist so lmk if you want to be removed from it or added to it!:)