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helen-with-an-a · 3 months

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I Am An Adult pt 7

Hiiiii. I hope you enjoyed part 6. As I mentioned, this was originally one long-ass story, so please imagine you're reading it as a continuation if that makes sense. Once again, a massive shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out so much and hyping me up - forehead smooches for you. I think technically the final part of the official series, but I do have an epilogue idea that I want to write too, so it's not quite the end of the story (again inspired by @lyak12). This was tough to write emotionally, so just a little heads up.

I just want to say thank you so much for the love and support you guys have given me. It means a lot. Please let me know what you thought of it <3

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Barça Femeni x Reader / Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R faces the consequences of her actions

TW: This was emotional to write, so it might be a little emotional to read.

Word Count: 6k

The next few days were … interesting. It was clear to everyone that you and Alexia had spoken in some capacity. You were still avoiding conversation with most people, but the hostility between you and the captain had eased somewhat. You still partnered with the trainers and remained silent during breaks, but the ice was clearly thawing. It made people approach you more. Not outright, but you weren’t blocked from conversations. The side eyes and cold shoulders were no longer a signature part of training. The olive branches were slowly being offered out; a small praising smile or a water bottle passed your way. No one was brave enough to be your partner just yet, but that was fine. The only ones that weren’t fine were Lucy … and, by extension, Ona. You longed to talk to your best friend … if you were still allowed to call her that. But she remained solidly by Lucy’s side. You couldn’t blame her, though. You had made your bed, and now you had to lie in it.

It all came to a head during the final training session before you travelled to Zaragoza for the Cope de la Reina final. Jona had instructed everyone to work hard but to be aware of their own limits. Everyone had nodded solemnly; the last thing anyone wanted was an injury before a big match like that. Well … everyone, bar Lucy. It didn’t help that you played opposite positions; she was a right back and you a left winger. But so far, Jona had recognised the animosity between you, too, so you had been on the same team to avoid any confrontation … until now, anyway. To his defence, you seemed to both be over it. But, oh, how he was wrong.

Lucy’s anger had shifted from surface-level, emotional, visible rage to that deep, raw, pure wrath. She was aghast at how easily everyone was seemingly forgiving you. To her, you had disappeared on them, leaving chaos and devastation in your wake, returned and with a bat of your eyelids, everyone had forgotten the torment you had caused. Not her, though. Hell would freeze over before she could forget Ona’s heartbreak. Ona’s sobs were frequent in the reoccurring nightmare she had been having the past few days. She was getting little to no sleep, and with that, her ire towards you increased. You were the source of all her issues.

You had become accustomed to Lucy’s hard tackles and unnecessary shoves during training. It was inevitable, even with Jona and the other staff's interference, that you had faced Lucy a little. During rondos, she always managed to step on your feet a little or kick the back of your heel. If you were on the ground at some point during a training session, Lucy’s back was likely the first thing you saw when you looked up. It was starting to get to you a little. But what could you do? You had brought this upon yourself. Your heart sank when Jona called out the names. You were preparing to do a 15-minute 11 vs 11. Jona had pressed the notion that this was a chance to practice the skills and technical formations you had been practising all week. As you stood in your designated place, you inadvertently caught Lucy’s eye. She glowered at you, cracking her knuckles and rolling her shoulders. You were about to die. You knew it. The whistle went, and your team began your press forward. You could see your team's reluctance to pass you the ball; Lucy’s behaviour had not gone unnoticed. But eventually, you had to be included. It happened just outside the makeshift box. You had received a ball from Patri to make a cross for Mariona … or at least that was the plan.

Two sets of sharp studs crashed into your ankle, wiping your feet out from under you. The team watched in horror as you dropped. You landed heavily on your hip before your head hit the floor. You wanted to scream, but you wouldn’t give Lucy that satisfaction. You whacked the grass, biting back the pain. It wasn’t broken. You had snapped your collarbone once when you were still in youth age groups, and this wasn’t like that. But you had a feeling you wouldn’t play in the final. Everyone around you was frozen. Cata and Pina seemed locked in place, half wanting to help but the other, louder half telling them to stay exactly where they were. Marta and Caro looked shocked. Shocked that Lucy would do such a dangerous thing so close to two major finals. Alexia looked a mix of anger and sadness. Anger at Lucy for her behaviour; anger at you for not talking to her about it; sadness that once such good friends seemed to be enemies.

“Lucy. Ya terminaste por hoy. Vete a casa.” Jona’s voice was curt – sounding like the true manager he was. “Todos los demás, tomen un descanso para tomar agua.” No one moved. It was Ona who eventually stepped up.

“Amor, ir a ducharse,” she said softly, like you would to an angry child or wild animal.

“Why? So you can go check on her?” She said it with such contempt and disgust you reeled back, as much as you could, still on the ground anyway.

“I-” Ona began.

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” Lucy stuck her hand up, stopping Ona from talking. “I don’t understand how you can forgive her so easily. What she did was vile. And you’re letting her off the hook like that.” She was shouting now. You couldn’t let Lucy’s anger be misplaced. You couldn’t be the cause of a rift … or potential end … of their relationship. You clambered to your feet, hopping slightly on your uninjured ankle.

“Stop it, Lucy.” Your voice was surprisingly firm. She turned on you. “Don’t shout at Ona when you want to scream at me.”

“You want me to scream at you?” she asked rhetorically. You lifted your gaze to meet hers. “Fine, I’ll scream at you,” she took a deep breath. “What you did was inexcusable. Sure, you got some shitty news. But you don’t get to disappear like that. You are childish and immature. You hurt the people around you, people you are supposed to be your best friends. You can't just run away every time things get tough. Do you think you're the only one with problems? We all have our issues, but we talk to our friends. We don’t leave them behind like they are dirt. What if something had happened to you? Did you even consider how we would feel? No, you didn’t. You were too wrapped up in your own self-pity to think about anyone else. That’s not what friends do. I didn’t sit up every night watching Ona cry herself to sleep because you were missing for everyone to forgive you in an instant. I didn’t watch Cata and Bruna and Jana go crazy driving around Barcelona trying to find you to let everyone forget about what you did. I didn’t watch Alexia phone around hospitals in the area with a description of you to excuse your behaviours as soon as you return. You were selfish and reckless, and you showed us exactly how little we mean to you. We worried ourselves sick, we tore ourselves apart trying to find you, and you didn’t give a damn. Don’t think for a second that you can waltz back into my life and everything will be fine. Actions have consequences, and you need to face yours.” You could tell she had more to say.

You blinked. You felt like you wanted to cry, but no tears were forthcoming. Each accusation struck like a hammer blow, chipping away at your defences. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your stomach churned with a sickening blend of regret and fear. You tried to hold her gaze, but the intensity of her anger made it feel like your very soul was being seared. Her words echoed in your mind, each one a painful reminder of the hurt you had caused. The mention of Ona crying herself to sleep, the frantic search efforts by Cata, Bruna, and Jana, and Alexia's desperate calls to hospitals—all painted a vivid picture of the chaos and suffering you had unleashed. If you hadn’t felt horrific before, you certainly did now. Your throat tightened, and your eyes stung with the threat of tears. You wanted to speak, apologise, and somehow make things right, but you just ... couldn’t. You felt small and insignificant, dwarfed by the level of your mistakes. The raw pain and disappointment in her voice cut through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Got nothing to say?” She asked, chuckling slightly. “You know what … I’m glad Barça isn’t offering you a renewal. You don’t deserve it.” The words cut like a knife, burnt like fire and stung like a thousand wasp stings.

“Enough, Lucia.” Alexia’s loud voice cut across.

“Whatever” Lucy scoffed turning on her heels and walking back towards the building.

No one moved, no one blinked, no one dared breathe.

“Did anyone else see that vein in her forehead? It was massive!” Vicky asked jovially, the tension breaking in an instant.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lucy that angry,” Mariona commented during the enforced water break. She had watched as you hobbled off to the medical room. You had refused help from anyone, and it was painful to watch you slowly trudge inside.

“I remember when we were at City and the doctors were telling her how truly fucked her knee was …” Keira reminisced sadly. “I had thought that was the angriest I would ever see her. She punched a wall in the gym; she was lucky she didn’t break her hand.” She shook her head at the memory. “But this … when Lucy sees the people she loves in pain … she’d burn the world down for them.”

“This is her burning the world down?” Patri asked.

“She’s definitely got the lighter ready, that’s for sure.”

“What happened after Lucy punched the wall?” Salma asked carefully. Keira chuckled, laughing at the memory.

“Gee put a frame around it and added a little label like they do in art galleries.” The whole group let out a tense laugh. Of course, Georgia would do that. “Alex says it’s still there too.”

Your initial assessment was right; you were ruled out from playing in the Copa final. You sighed but accepted the physio’s words with little fuss. You winced a little as they strapped it, grimacing at the movements. Lucy’s words echoed around your head, bouncing across your awareness as they played like a video in your mind’s eye. She had looked so angry … her eyes were filled with so much hurt. Hurt that you had caused. Of course, she thought you didn’t deserve a renewal. You didn’t deserve one. That was a fact of which you were sure.

“Tómatelo con calma durante unos días. Lo reevaluaremos después del partido.," the physio advised, giving your shoulder a final pat before standing up. You nodded absentmindedly, your thoughts far from the clinical room. You weren’t too upset about missing out on the final, to be honest. With all the extra … drama, issues, problems … everything, you didn’t think you should be playing anyway. You rolled your shoulders, hoping to ease some of the tension. Everything ached … not physically, although you were sure the extra time you had spent being sent to the floor was helping, but in a soul-weary, deep, painful way. A way that you weren’t quite sure how to fix. A way that you didn’t know if it could be fixed. You are childish and immature. You were childish. You were immature. God, you had spent so long wishing, wanting, demanding the team look at you like an adult, and this is what you do in return. This is how you repay them? Maybe they are better off without you next season. Your mind drifted back to that conversation with Lucy. Her voice, usually so warm and encouraging, had been cold and harsh. You felt a knot tightening in your chest, the weight of the past weeks pressing down hard. You knew she had every right to feel betrayed, to doubt you. The anger in Lucy’s green eyes haunted you. It was a mirror reflecting your own failures, not just as a player but as a person. You replayed every moment in your head, wishing you could go back and change things and make different choices. But you couldn’t. All you could do now was face the consequences.

And Ona, what about her? Your best friend. You tried not to imagine her face. Her warm brown eyes and wide smile were replaced by devastated, tear-filled expressions and anxious looks. God, what had you done? The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless ache that seemed to have no end. You could almost hear Ona’s voice; her playful teasing turned into something sharper, something pained. You had let her down. She had always been there for you, through the highs and lows, and now… now you had pushed her away too. The one time you truly, desperately, urgently needed her to help navigate this … you had disappeared. Like a ghost.

You weren’t sure how long you sat on the edge of the physio bed. Long enough for the team to have cleared out of the changing rooms, you think. You really should go shower. But you couldn’t move. Everything felt heavy. You were too tired to push yourself off the padded table, too weary to make the short walk back to the changing room, too fatigued to get into the car and drive home. A knock on the door pulled you from your spiral.

“Can I come in?” Ona. You looked up, reminding Ona of a meerkat on patrol. You smiled weakly, nodding and gesturing to the bed opposite. She didn’t take it, just shifting to stand on the other side of the door, ready to run if she needed to.

“Lo siento,” she murmured eventually. Why was she apologising? You were the one that needed to fix everything.

“You’re not the one who should be apologising,” you muttered dejectedly.

“I know, but Lucia is –”

“No, no, no, no,” you rushed out, cutting her off. “It’s me. I’m the one who should be apologising,” you corrected yourself. “I’m a horrible person. I am a truly awful person. I mean, who does that to their friends? Who disappears for days without telling them what was wrong?” You swallowed, taking a deep breath before surging on. “I need to apologise to you, Oni, uh, Ona … um,” you chuckled awkwardly. You cleared your throat. “I am so, truly, deeply, honestly sorry for what I did to you. I hate myself for it. God, now I’m crying again.” you said humorously, the joke falling flat as you wiped tears away. “I’m just so sorry. I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you, to Lucy, to Alexia, to the team. I don’t even know if you want me to make it up to you or if I should just let you live your life without me. You’d probably be better off,” you rambled. “I hurt everyone around me, and I have no explanation for it. Nothing beyond that; I genuinely didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking; I was just so overwhelmed with it all, and being here in Barcelona made it so much worse, so I just left, and I didn’t look at my phone because it was easier not to. It wasn’t happening if I wasn’t looking at my phone. It’s no excuse, and I’m not trying to make one up, I promise. It was wrong, and I know that. I know I fucked up so badly, and I’ve probably ruined the best things to ever happen to me, and now you all hate me, and I’m so, so sorry,” you sobbed. You hadn’t even noticed Ona had moved closer to you, her own tears streaming down her face, until her arms wrapped around you. “No, no,” you pushed her off or attempted to at least. “I don’t deserve your comfort. I am a horrible person, I don’t deserve…” you couldn’t finish as another wave of sobs broke through.

“Shhhh,” she whispered softly, her arms tightening around you despite your weak protests. You tried to move away, but the softness of her shirt, the warmth of her body, and the kindness in her voice were too inviting. “What you did … disappearing like that,” she began, her words spoken into your sweaty hair. “Realmente dolió,” her voice cracked slightly; you tightened your arms around her waist in response. “Your actions were bad, yes. But you are not bad,” she said emphatically.

You took a shuddering breath, the truth in her words piercing through the haze of your self-loathing. “I’ve made such a mess of everything,” you murmured, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “I don’t know how to fix it.” Ona pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes.

“You start by forgiving yourself,” she said gently. “Because …” she paused momentarily, “I forgive you. Te perdono. Et perdono.” This set a new wave of tears bubbling up. It was painful and raw but cathartic, too.

You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t help it as you felt a glimmer of hope. It was fragile and tentative, but it was there, a tiny spark in the darkness. You clung to it, feeling Ona’s warmth and forgiveness surround you. The heaviness in your chest lightened just a fraction, enough to allow a breath of relief. Ona’s embrace tightened, and you let yourself sink into it, missing how her hugs had felt, the comfort she brought you just by being close. She pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into the fabric covering her stomach.

“I know you are,” she replied just as quietly.

Every moment of the next few days seemed to blend into the next with dizzying speed, and you found yourself caught between triumph and confusion. Winning the Copa de la Reina, preparing for the Champions League, and waiting for the international announcements - it was a lot of everyone to process. Yet amidst the frenzy, you were quietly trying to mend the fractures in your relationships. Conversations, laden with heartfelt apologies, unfolded with each member of the team. More tears were shed, but you slowly began the painstaking process of stitching what was broken. Even as you sat beside Mapí during the Copa final, her silence spoke volumes, a tangible reminder of the distance still to be bridged. The sparse conversation, a mere trickle compared to her usual torrent of words, served as a reminder of the work yet to be done but also of the hope that lingered in the spaces between.

Then came the chaos of the Champions League final, a rollercoaster of emotions that whisked you from uncertainty to jubilation in the span of ninety minutes. Initially resigned to the sidelines, your ankle injury deemed worthy of rest by Jona, fate intervened as Ona fell. In an instant, the plans shifted, and you found yourself thrust onto the pitch, the weight of the final moments heavy on your shoulders. Yet as the final whistle blew and the roar of triumph echoed around the stadium, any lingering doubts were drowned out by the sheer joy of victory. Despite the bittersweet knowledge that this might mark the end of your journey with the team, at that moment, you refused to let anything dim the radiance of your victory.

The only issue that remained was Lucy. Ona had been careful to keep you two apart, but with the Olympics fast approaching, you knew a conversation was in desperate need. You had booked it ages ago, just after the Nation League finals, when you found out Germany and Spain would be heading off to fill the European spots in the Olympics. At the time, you hadn’t questioned it when you booked a singular hotel room with two beds for the entire two weeks of the competition. At the time, the logistics seemed simple enough – a singular hotel room with two beds, a pragmatic arrangement for two good friends united at WAGs in supporting their respective partners. But now … now everything was different.

And then you were waiting for Lucy in the middle of the Barcelona airport. What should you say? What would she say? Was she still angry at you? Judging by Ona’s actions, she probably was, but you didn’t quite know how bad these two weeks would be. You had decided that if worse came to worse, you would fork out for a new hotel room. It would probably be eye-wateringly expensive and damn near impossible to do, but you would do it. You knew a few of the partners of the German national team fairly; maybe you could crash on their floor? No. You needed to fix this. If not for your sake, then for Ona’s. You could see how hard this was for her, keeping her girlfriend and her best friend away from each other whilst balancing the international commitments.

You needed a plan. Ask her how she is when she first arrives. Let her start the conversation. Buy her a coffee. Let her choose the window seat if she wants it. Pay for the taxi from the airport to the hotel. Ask her if you could talk properly. If she says yes, apologise again. Answer all her questions honestly and truthfully. Try not to cry. If she says no … find another hotel.

You had been so wrapped up in her thinking that you had missed her arrival. She looked tired, but not angry. At least you don’t think she looked angry.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Hi.” You smiled at her. She nodded once, silently gesturing to the check-in desk behind you.

It was the most painfully awkward 3 hours of your life. Every attempt at conversation felt stilted and forced. You were often met with nods and grunts instead of actual answers. She granted you a small half-smile as you presented her with a coffee from the nicer-but-more-expensive stand near the gates. All you could do was keep reminding yourself that you were doing this for Ona. You were here to support Ona, your best friend. And Lena. Sweet, kind, perfect Lena … Ona and Lena, Ona and Lena, Ona and Lena

The room was rather large, you were grateful to realise. The beds positioned far enough apart to provide some privacy for you both, as well as a small seating area. The small balcony outside offered a great view, the hum of the bustling city audible, even from high up in the hotel. You waited for her to choose a bed, hoovering anxiously by the door, your grip tight on your suitcase. Ok … show time.

“Um … Lucy?" you began, the butterflies in your chest increasing when she didn’t look up. “Can we talk? I need … I want to apologise to you properly and talk a little.” Nothing. No reaction. Not even a flicker. This was not a part of the plan. She was supposed to say yes or no. Not nothing. “Right, um …” you wracked your brains, trying to think of what to do now. “Ok, um, if you don’t want to talk, that’s ok too. I’ll… um … I’ll just … I’ll just get out of your hair, then. Uhh, yeh.” Maybe you had come on too strong. Perhaps she needed to settle in for a bit first. You turned to go, your hand struggling to find the doorknob in your haste.

“Wait.” You froze. Every muscle locked as you waited for her to continue. “You’re right; we need to talk.” Turning back to face her, you looked at her properly for the first time in weeks. She looked so tired. The weight of everything was clearly etched into the lines of her face. Her green eyes were darker than normal, the set of her shoulders hunched slightly.

“Here? Or we could go get a coffee? My treat.” You managed a small, tentative smile, hoping it would ease some of the tension between you.

“A coffee sounds nice,” she gave a slow nod, picking up her purse and moving across the room.

The café was very typically French, no doubt redecorated somewhat for the influx of tourists, but the smell of freshly brewed coffees and warm croissants was too inviting to pass on.

“Bonjour,” Lucy smiled at the barista, her order flowing with ease in a torrent of French.

She stepped to the side, allowing you to add in your abysmal French, “un petit chocolat chaud, s'il vous plait,” handing over your card to pay for the drinks.

The seats were wide and comfortable, offering a quiet space for you to talk openly.

“I forgot you spoke French,” you fiddled with the napkin on the side of your saucer.

“Yeh, I didn’t want to lose it when I left Lyon. And it’s been helpful for learning Catalan too.” Lucy smiled weakly.

“How’s that going, by the way? Learning Catalan, I mean,” you started, attempting to break the ice a little

“Don’t. Don’t do that, Y/N. You wanted to talk, so talk.” She cut you off bluntly. Ok, she was still a little angry. That was fine, you could manage that, you think.

“Ok, um, well. I wanted to apologise.” You spoke slowly, thinking of exactly what to say before you said it. “Properly.” You took a steading breath. “I have no excuse, no explanation really, of why I did what I did. Why I disappeared. But … I am truly sorry. I know I hurt you, and Ona, and Alexia, the whole team, really. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you to watch Ona in that state.” You took a sip of your drink to help steady yourself. “I was selfish, and I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I was childish and immature; you were right.” You looked up to see Lucy’s eyes fixed on you, her expression unreadable but attentive. You took it as a sign to continue. “What I did was inexcusable, but I didn’t do it consciously. Lena said either I go to her, or she would come to me, and with the Pokal final coming, I couldn’t let her leave Germany, so I went to her. It all happened so fast, and when I got to Germany, everything was clearer, easier a little, I’m not really sure. But Barça and everything to do with Barcelona was just too much. I know that it might not make a difference, but I didn’t purposefully think about shutting everyone out and disappearing.” You took another sip. “I really am sorry for how I behaved. I completely understand if you don’t want to spend the next 2 weeks in a hotel room with me. I can find somewhere else if-”

“Stop it.” Her voice was quiet but commanding. Your mouth snapped shut, your nervous eyes drifting up to meet her gaze. “I appreciate your apology.” It wasn’t forgiveness, but she had at least acknowledged it.

“I really am sorry,” you cut in.

“Stop saying sorry.” You could tell it was an attempt at humour.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. She raised an eyebrow in response, trying to come off unamused but failing. Your heart lightened a little at the small sliver of the normal Lucy returning.

“I’m not angry at you,” she began. “No, wait, that’s not quite true. I was incredibly angry at you,” she corrected herself. “When I see people I love and care about upset, I get angry, and you really hurt Ona. But … I was also annoyed at the team, including Ona ...” You looked up, confused. “They all forgave you so easily, so quickly. It was like they had forgotten how hard it was for all of us when we didn’t know where you were, if you were safe … if you were still alive. And then I got angry at myself for being angry with everyone and ...” She stopped, looking around at the café you were sitting in.

“Um … they didn’t.” you breathed. It was her turn to look confused. “They didn’t forgive me. I spoke to Alexia after the first training session … I was back for. She explicitly said she hadn’t forgiven me. I still don’t think she fully has,” you licked your lips. “Not that she has to,” you added quickly. “No one has to forgive me if they don’t want to. Um, I guess the others picked up on her changes in behaviour and were following her lead.” It sounded like a question. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why everyone had eased off on you so fast, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I … I didn’t know that.” Lucy muttered, either to you or to herself you weren’t sure.

“And Ona didn’t speak to me until after … that training session. God, I was a total mess. I am an ugly crier, and, bloody hell, was I sobbing,” you tried to lighten the mood.

“I didn’t know that either …” she trailed off. The silence wasn’t awkward, not anymore. But there were definitely things still unsaid that lingered in the space between you. “That makes me look like a total arse,”

“No, it doesn’t,” you said gently. “You were hurt and angry. You had every right to react in that way. I was a total bitch.”

“So was I,” she said wryly. Lucy sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. “It’s just … I didn’t realise how much I was holding onto. I'm sorry if I ... we ... made you feel like you couldn't come to us.”

“Thank you,” you said softly. “But disappearing was wrong. And I don’t expect immediate forgiveness. I want to make that clear. I just want a chance to make things right, to show you that I’m here to stay. Well, not literally, anyway, but … I’m working on it. I’ve started making enquiries for a therapist. I’m really trying to get better at communication and stuff.” You nodded, pushing some hair behind your ear.

“Where are you going anyway? I haven’t seen an announcement or anything.” She took another sip of her coffee, a clear attempt at normalcy.

“Um … Bayern,” you bit your lip. “I think if Barça were to offer me an extension I would have taken it, but I’m excited to move. It’s a new challenge and stuff,”

“Hey, hey, I don’t need the media spiel. I get it. It also helps that a certain someone is also moving to Bayern?” she guessed.

“Well, that’s definitely a perk that other teams didn’t have.” You both let out a soft laugh.

“I really am sorry, Luce,” you said when the laughter died down.

"I know you are. And I am too. None of us were acting very grown up." She smiled at you. You grinned back at her. “Now then, have you got the schedule for Lena’s matches?” She asked, taking another sip and shuffling her chair closer to you, a clear change of subject, yet also a tentative step towards what your relationship used to be like.

Over the next 2 weeks. You truly rediscovered how much you loved football. With good food and good friends, it was easy to fall in love with the sport. The Olympics was special. The energy was electric, and it showed on the pitch. You watched as Lena dominated the field. You were fairly sure you had dribbled a little when she made her appearance with the Captain’s armband on. You were very grateful that the Spain match was later in the day, so you had attended this particular game alone.

“Schatz,” Lena shouted when friends and family were finally allowed over to see the players. “Come here,” she waved you over, holding a hand out for you and helping you over the barrier.

“You played so well, Liebe.” You congratulated her, a hand resting on her bicep as you kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Danke, Schatz. I have some people I want you to meet,” she said as she tucked you into her side, an arm thrown across your shoulders. “This is my mama,” she said proudly, presenting you to the woman in front of you.

“Um …” you blinked and swallowed. “Hallo?” you settled on, a shocked smile on your face.

And then the summer was over. The long, sun-drenched days had given way to cooler evenings, the warmth slowly seeping out of the air as autumn crept in. The vibrant hues of green began to fade, replaced by the rich, earthy tones of autumn. The laughter and chatter of tourists that had filled the streets grew quieter, the city settling back into its regular rhythm. Slowly, forgiveness was shown on all sides. After long talks well into the cool summer nights, an understanding was reached. The scars would probably always be there, but they were not just a faint white line, not raw and open.

“Look after her,” Ona whispered in Lena’s ear as they hugged. The pair stepped back to look at you in a tight embrace with Alexia.

“I will.” Lena promised.

As you held Alexia, you could feel the strength of her emotions mirrored in the tightness of her grip. “Mantenerte fuerte, cariño,” she murmured into your shoulder, her voice muffled. “We’ll see each other soon.”

You pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “I’ll miss you,” you said, your voice cracking a little. “But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Alexia nodded, blinking back tears. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.

“Prometo,” you assured her, giving her one last squeeze before letting go.

“Bye, kid.” Lucy said, stepping forward for her own hug.

“Bye, Luce,” you replied. “Look after Ona,” you whispered to her.

“Of course.” Her arms tightened fractionally before you let go. "Look after yourself too, yeh?" You nodded into her neck, laughing as she tried to ruffle your hair.

All three of them separated themselves slightly as you and Ona came face to face.

“I’m not going to cry,” you said defiantly, your voice already wavering.

“Me neither,” Ona echoed the sadness in your own. You pulled her forward, arms wrapping around her shoulders as you pressed a kiss to her hair. The embrace was long and tight, both of you reluctant to let go. You could feel the slight tremble in her body. You were sure you were shaking, too.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you whispered, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay composed. Ona pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I’ll miss you too,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But we’ll stay in touch ... every day.”

“Every day,” you promised her, pulling her into another tight hug. You held on for a few more precious moments before finally, reluctantly, letting go.

Lena approached you then, her expression soft but determined. “Ready?” she asked, holding a hand out for you to take.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m ready.” You placed your hand in hers, cementing the notion that you were doing this together.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you said, trying to inject some lightness into your voice. “And when I am, it’ll be for the Champions League, and we’re going to crush you,” you jested.

Ona smiled, a tear finally escaping down her cheek. “Oh, please. We’re Barcelona,” she said.

“Yeh, we’ll we’re Bayern. Feel our wrath.” You stuck your tongue out, a similar tear rolling down your face. You paused, reluctant to turn away.

“Look at you.” Alexia smiled proudly. “Getting a new job. Moving to a new city. Moving in with your girlfriend. A proper adult now.”

“Not too adult, though. I still need you.”

I hope you enjoyed the story and the series as a whole. Please let me know what you though <3<3<3<3

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room-surprise · 7 months

Text

Addendum to Dungeon Meshi Age Calculations, and Thistle's age estimate...

This is sort of a sequel to two posts of mine, How to Calculate Comparative Ages of DM Characters and How Old Is Thistle?

I've seen some people claim that the age scale between elves and tall-men where elves age 5 times slower than tall-men can't be used accurately for elves that are very young or very old. I've also seen people claim that the half-foot age modifier is wrong.

I'm not a mathematician, but so far I have not seen any actual evidence that the 5:1 scale doesn't work, and a good amount of proof that it does, and I think the confusion about half-foot aging is a translation issue.

Please keep in mind, information about Marcille's age does not apply to any of this, because [SPOILERS].

WHAT ABOUT VERY YOUNG ELVES?

Here's something we know about the babies from the different races, which comes from Ryoko Kui's blog:

1 year old elven, dwarven and gnomish babies can only lay on their backs. Tall-man and half-foot 1 year olds can both stand, though the tall-man is not as good at it as the half-foot.

This lines up with real-world development milestones, human children can usually stand on their own somewhere between 9 to 12 months. Half-foots age faster than tall-men, so it makes sense that the half-foot would look more balanced and steady while standing.

A 2 year old elven baby has just gained the ability to sit up, while the babies of other races are walking or running. Normal human babies can sit up with help at around 5 months.

2 divided by 5 equals 0.4, that's 40%, and 40% of one year equals 4.8666666 months. That's 5 months.

I think it's very likely Kui herself is using the 5:1 ratio in order to calculate her elven ages in order to get this very specific 5 month developmental milestone to line up this way. So we can confirm that any elf over the age of 2 years old should have an age that is calculable with the 5:1 ratio. I also think it's not crazy to assume Kui may be using the numbers I calculated in my age post to work out other character's ages as well, since she's clearly doing it for the elves.

LET'S TEST IT WITH HALF-FOOTS

Human children learn to run between 18 and 24 months, so around 2 years old, like the chart shows us. 2 years divided by the half-foot age ratio (1.1428571429) equals 175% because they grow faster than tall-men.

175% of 2 years is 1277.5 days... Which is 3.5 years. So a 2 year old half-foot has the maturity of a 3.5 years old human child. 3 years old is when human children are expected to run and jump easily, and climb stairs without help.

That sounds about right to me, since the half-foot child in the drawing looks like they can confidently run around without balance issues. One foot is off the ground, and their arms are pulled in closer to the body than the tall-man child's arms.

Meanwhile the tall-man child is more unsteady, both feet firmly planted, standing with their arms held out as far as they can go to help with balance.

DOESN'T 29=50 FOR HALF-FOOTS?

Kui says that Chilchuck would be about 50 if he were a modern day human (which he isn't, he's a medieval half-foot), and then she says that half-foots in the time of Dungeon Meshi only live to be about 50 years old on average.

I'm pretty sure she's telling us that if Chilchuck were a human in our world, he'd be past middle-aged, and then for contrast, she tells us that most half-foots in Chilchuck's world die by age 50. Not that Chilchuck's 29 years is equivalent to a 50 year old modern human.

Chilchuck is 29 years old, and he had his first child at age 13. The average age of death for half-foots is 50, then that means middle-aged for a half-foot is 25.

Chilchuck is 4 years older than that, which makes Chilchuck past middle-aged. It does not make him developmentally the same as a 50 year old modern human though.

Using the numbers I've worked out, a half-foot would be developmentally 50 years old when they're 44.

Kui says that although Chilchuck wants to retire from going into the dungeons, if he did, it would be premature... Just like it would be premature for a 33 year old to retire.

In the real world retirement ages are connected to the average age of death. As that number goes up, so does retirement age. Because modern humans live until around 72, as a global average, retirement age is somewhere in their 60s.

So since half-foots average lifespan is 50, a normal age for Chilchuck to retire would be in his 40s.

WHAT ABOUT OLD ELVES?

The average age of death for tall-men is 60, however we know that tall-men can live into their 80s because Marcille's father did.

The average age of death for elves is 400, but they can live up to 500 years.

There's no reason to think that DM tall-men aren't like real world humans, and can't live into their 100's if they are lucky and wealthy enough. Even in the real medieval period, some people lived into their early 100's.

The thing that makes average death ages low in real life is usually issues like high infant mortality, starvation, war, lack of medical care, and lack of sanitation.

In the real medieval period, the average age of death was 30 not because people dropped dead at 30, but because SO MANY children died young that it pulled down the average. In medieval times, if you managed to live to 25, you had an average of 23 more years of life ahead of you, which is 48 years old.

I think Kui raised the average death age to 60 for tall-men to account for the fact that even tall-men have access to more advanced medicine and healing magic in DM, so infant mortality isn't as high and the adults live more than a decade longer.

The elves naturally have a longer lifespan since they live 5 times slower than tall-men. However they also probably have a far more advanced society than any of the other races in Dungeon Meshi. Fleki calls the Eastern Continent a "primitive land", and it's mostly populated by dwarves, gnomes and tall-men.

If elven culture was developmentally the same as tall-man culture, I bet elves would only live to about 300, which would be 60 for them, maturity wise.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

80x5 is 400. That seems correct to me, a 400 year old elf would be considered elderly and getting close to the end of their life. An 80 year old tall-man would be considered VERY old, having lived past average expectations... But those expectations, as I said before, are based on poor living conditions, not biological certainty. 100x5 is 500, so the two maximum ages (100 and 500) also line up when you use the 5:1 ratio.

POSSIBLE MAXIMUM AGES FOR OTHER RACES

Using the same math, if gnomes and dwarves had the same culture as tall-men, they'd only live to be 150-ish instead of 240/200...

This is only a theory, but dwarvish and gnomish maximum possible ages should probably be around 250, if you multiply their age modifier (2.5) x100 like I did with the elves.

The current difference between their average age of death is probably attributable to lifestyle and cultural differences (gnomes use a lot more magic, and so they live longer).

Then, just to do the rest of the races:

Half-foots and orcs theoretical maximum age is 88. Ogres theoretical maximum age is 94. Kobold theoretical maximum age is 81.

Keep in mind, these numbers are based on the idea that "around 100 years old" is the oldest a human being can get. The oldest human to ever live survived until they were 122 years old... But obviously that is rare, and happened in the modern era.

Point is, there's wiggle room at the top end of the age limit, for some of the races that may be a matter of extra days or months, for others it could be an extra decade or two. But I'm using 100 for simplicity's sake.

Sorry for the long post! I hope this answers people's questions, and if I messed something up let me know!

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #theories #dungeon meshi and aging part 2 #chilchuck #chilchuck tims

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

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Irresistible {4} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: It’s your first race weekend and having to share Charles had never been so hard. It’s a good thing another driver tries to keep you company. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 3.5 F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

“Who are you and what have you done with my Charles?”

“I’m still your Charles, ma biche,” he chuckled as he closed the door behind him and pulled his facemask off. A tired smile played at his lips as the first day of practices came to an end.

You rolled your eyes and closed the distance between you, toying with the red sleeves of his race suit knotted at his waist. “That’s not who was out there,” you argued softly, teasing a barely-there kiss along his jawline. “They called you Il Predestinato.” You circled around him and kissed his shoulder, feeling the heat radiating off of his body and onto your lips before you rose in your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Are you my predestined too?”

He turned and pressed his body along yours, caging you against the door he had entered. A smirk grew on those tempting lips and your stomach tightened at the look in his eyes. “I’m everything you need me to be.”

A knock pounded into your back and you closed your eyes as the stolen moment was taken away once more. Since arriving in Austria things had changed, subtle shifts that left you uncertain of what you were to him. You were constantly trying to reconcile the Charles out there and the Charles in here. Moving aside, you watched silently as he pulled his face mask back into place, hiding his pout in an instant,

“I’ll see you tonight,” he promised before turning the handle and slipping out of the room. He had a key to your suite and had used it in the dead of the night, sneaking across the hall from the suite he shared with Charlotte. You had never felt so alone.

You waited for Charlotte’s voice to fade away before leaving Charles’ private room and following the signs to the exit and out into the open air. The mask on your face was suffocating but it did give you some anonymity as you walked around the paddock in search of the car park. You should have asked for a map when you arrived because now you were forced to ask for directions.

“Hey,” you greeted a stranger that you thought was one of the drivers Charles had mentioned. He was in the same kind of race suit that Charles wore, but his was dark blue and he didn’t look too pleased to have been interrupted.

“Alright,” he sighed as he draped an arm over your shoulder, “take the photo. I’m already late.”

“Photo?” You shrugged his arm off and stepped away. “I don’t even know who you are.”

The man’s blue eyes narrowed in doubt before he scoffed. “Sure. Okay. Then how can I help you?”

You narrowed your eyes back and mirrored his stance with your hands on your hips. “Don’t bother. I don’t want your help now.”

You turned and picked a random direction to search and marched off before quick steps followed. A hand grabbed your arm and you turned to face the dirty blond man who now looked apologetic.

“It’s been a long day,” he said in what you assumed was the closest the man came to saying sorry. “I’m Max.”

You looked at Max’s hand and left it hovering between you as you crossed your arms. “You’re the one that Charles has been racing since you were kids?”

He dropped his hand and shrugged. “There’s a few of us, but yeah.”

“I’m Y/N.”

Recognition lit his icy eyes and his eyebrows lifted as he scanned you once over. “Charles’ step sister, right?”

You hated that term, the constant reminder of why you could never have what you wanted most. “Technically our parents aren’t married yet.”

Max shrugged, obviously not caring about the technicalities like you did. “So if you didn’t want a photo, or an autograph, what did you need help with?”

You looked down at your feet sheepishly and kicked at the loose stones. “Finding a way out of this maze.”

“Ah,” he chuckled. “It feels like that sometimes, but you’ll get used to it - most of the paddocks have the same layout. I’m leaving now too so you can walk with me.”

The car park was far emptier than when you arrived and you easily found the pristine white Ferrari that had been ready for you outside the hotel. Charles and Charlotte were driving an identical one, the two seater sports car limiting the ability to carpool.

“You should probably have my number,” Max said as you reached the car and he opened the driver's door for you. “In case you get lost again.”

You bit your bottom lip as you thought about the consequences of exchanging numbers. Maybe this man didn’t get your heart racing with a single glance, but his eyes smiled when he did and he was quite funny as you found out along the walk.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you admitted as your phone vibrated and you saw a message from Charles.

Seeming to sense it, Max chuckled and stepped back. “Because of your big brother?”

Your nose wrinkled in distaste and your lip curled with it. “Charles is not my brother.”

“Of course,” he said with a dip of his head. “You are not related at all.”

“Exactly.” Your words were too strong and you realised he had noticed it, so you did what you thought you needed to do and distracted him. “I guess it won��t hurt having your number if I get lost.”

Max’s eyes wrinkled with the smile beneath the mask and slipped his phone out of his pocket, trading it with yours to enter your numbers in. “It’s a matter of safety now, especially since Charles left you here alone.”

Ouch, that hurt your heart but he wasn’t lying. The Charles that the public saw was so vastly different from the man you had fallen for in the privacy of home. Everything was structured and curated for show, his eyes barely glancing your way when there were cameras in the room. He was on display, and so was Charlotte - they just lapped the attention.

Maybe they were perfect for each other.

“Do you want to go to dinner?” Max asked, leaning in closer as his voice dropped. “Or are you planning to eat with Charles and Charlotte?”

This man knew your weakness no matter how coy he acted but the only question you had was ‘why’. “Is this some ploy to undermine your biggest rival?”

“My biggest rival is Lewis,” he corrected before he stepped back to check his phone, seeing that time passed too quickly when he was with you. “You are beautiful and I have enjoyed your company. Is that reason enough?”

You could feel your phone vibrating again but ignored it as you gave him your hotel name. “Pick me up at 8.”

You slipped into the leather seat before you could change your mind and Max closed the door, a smile warming his voice. “I’ll see you then.”

It wasn’t a date, at least that’s what you told yourself. There was laughter and an openness between you and Max, but he wasn’t Charles and he would never be Charles. He couldn’t make you tremble with a delicate kiss, or make your heart skip a beat when your eyes connected.

With lockdown and no reservation, dinner was a bust - even for a famous F1 driver. But the night didn’t end with one set back. Instead you had gone to a supermarket and Max grabbed cheese and crackers, fruit pastes and little cakes, and strawberries with chocolate. You had found yourself back at the Red Bull Ring, high up in the empty stands with a paper bag full of the snacks balanced on your lap.

“What was it like before covid?” you asked as you looked out over the track. Workers still toiled about making sure everything was ready for tomorrow but most people had left a while ago.

“Busier.”

You snorted a laugh. “Wow, never would have guessed that.”

Max laughed and leaned back in his seat, popping a chocolate strawberry in his mouth to chew while he contemplated. “It was livelier, even the teams have scaled back who travels with us. There’s hardly anyone in the factories. It’s like watching one of those zombie apocalypse movies.”

He actually sounded happy and you turned to see a small smile on his lips. “You’re weird,” you said with a laugh. “Most people wouldn’t be happy in a zombie apocalypse.”

He rolled his icy blue eyes and nudged you with his shoulder. “You’re weird.”

“And you have the comeback of a five year old.”

“Hey, I worked hard to come up with that,” he joked, making you laugh even more, the sound drifting out over the evening air. “I like that it’s quieter, there’s less media duties, less theatrics. We get here, we race, then we leave.”

“Ah, you’re antisocial!”

“I like socialising,” he said with a pointed look between you. “I just don’t give a shit about the ‘famous’ part we are meant to play. I’m a racer not an actor. There’s some that enjoy the spotlight though.”

You felt the dig at Charles but you swallowed down a response with a cracker slathered in sweet quince paste. After seeing him change the second he stepped out of the private plane with Charlotte on his arm there was no way to defend him.

“I guess you’re right,” you admitted. “So if you’re not antisocial, what do you like doing other than racing?”

The sun set as conversation flowed but eventually you had to concede that it was time to leave the grandstand. This time when he walked you to the carpark you smiled as he opened the passenger door to his Aston Martin.

“Are you going to tell Charles about our date?”

“Is that what this was?” Your smile negated the baiting words and his lips curled up in a smirk and he reached across the gearbox to hold your hand.

“I think it was something I want to do again.”

“No,” you murmured as you looked out at the passing scenery, but your hand stayed in his. “I wasn’t planning on telling him.”

“You should know, nothing stays secret in F1 for long. With the cameras and the fans…the truth always comes out.”

The inside of your cheek hurt as you chewed on it nervously. You couldn’t tell if he was talking about him and the not-a-date date or you and Charles. “Thanks, Max. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You hadn’t been able to sleep after Max had dropped you off at the hotel, and it seemed Charles hadn’t either. His green eyes were as wild as his untamed hair and he paced the living room of your suite. When the keycard beeped for his entry at 2am he had found you sitting on the couch, watching infomercials fill the room with white noise as you awaited his arrival.

A photo had already been posted from the track.

It was innocent enough. Max had noticed your skin prickle with goosebumps as the sun descended and draped his jacket over your shoulders so the date could keep going. It looked more intimate than it was.

“I left you alone for two minutes and you’re out on a date with Max Verstappen!”

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t a date but the instant attack had a fire scorching in your belly and all the resentment that had been building since Charlotte interrupted your paradise exploded.

“Exactly! You left me alone,” you shouted back, rising to your feet and stalking your way across the floor to him. Your forefinger screamed in protest as you poked his hard chest. “You left me. For her.”

Instant regret filled his eyes and his hands reached for you. “That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair, Charles,” you sighed as you opened the door, sending him a clear message as he saw his room number on the other side of the hall. “But it is what it is.”

“You want me to leave?”

“No, but I think it is best if you do.”

Charles grabbed the door and tugged it from your grasp, slamming it closed without a care for who would wake along the hotel corridor. “I’m not going until you want me to go,” he promised as he cupped your face and crashed his lips against yours. “I’m not going until you tell me you don’t love me.”

You knew your tongue was too heavy to ever voice those words and your lips too swollen from his kiss. He knew it, and he knew it well as he led you to the bedroom. “Tell me to go,” he dared as he gripped your hips and pulled you flush against his body. “Tell me.”

“I can’t!” you growled, biting his bottom lip enough to draw a ragged gasp from him. You pushed him back as you reached the bed and he let himself fall upon the luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets. His eyes darkened and he ran a thumb over his tender lip while he watched you climb his body. “I want to, but I can’t. You’re mine, Charles. Il mio Predestinato.”

There was nothing gentle in the union of your bodies, it was merely a release of the tension and a distraction from what was to come when he returned to his room. You would never tell him how cold it was when he left your bed, how you clung to the pillow that held the scent of his shampoo, or how you cried until the sun broke the horizon. It was your burden to bear, and keeping it to yourself was proof of how much you loved him. You were saving him from the guilt he would feel with your pain.

The reflection in the mirror was unrecognisable and you were happy when the steam of the shower erased the image in a cloud of condensation. Charles had messaged to say he was heading to the track but you hadn’t been able to reply because you weren’t sure if you were going to follow or not.

A frown formed when a knock sounded at your door and you checked your phone to see if he had messaged again. Maybe he knew your reservations and had come to pick you up. Hope filled you but it was quickly dashed when you opened the door and it wasn’t Charles waiting for you.

“Ouch,” Max said with a shake of his head. “Not who you were expecting?”

You tried to remove the disappointment that had fallen over your face and gave him an apologetic smile. “Not exactly. What are you doing here?”

“I thought I might save you from getting lost. Did you want a ride to the track?”

You looked down at the robe you were still wearing after the long shower in which you had contemplated all your life choices that led you to standing under the stream to hide your tears. “I’m not sure I want to go.”

Max looked down the hall before stepping inside and closing the door. “Because of Charles?”

“Not everything in my life revolves around Charles,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes.

“So what’s wrong then?” He chuckled after a moment of silence and nodded to himself. “You should come with me.”

“Why?”

Max shrugged innocently. “Well, I like spending time with you and you are obviously lonely too.”

Something, not a flutter or a spark, but something piqued your interest and your eyes lifted from the carpet. “You’re lonely?”

“I told you I’m not antisocial,” he laughed. “I miss having people around that don't want to talk about my job.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Why would anyone want to talk about your work? It’s the most boring sport I have ever seen.”

“See,” he smirked. “You’re the perfect fit.”

You felt a little lighter as you made the decision to join him. “Just for today,” you said with a pointed finger. “And if it’s boring then I’m leaving.”

Self assured cockiness that seemed a fundamental characteristic of all drivers settled on his features. “Deal. Now go get dressed, schat.”

Your nose wrinkled. “What did you call me?”

“Nothing bad.” His smile grew at your doubtful look and he nodded his head to the bedroom. “We should get going.”

You quickly changed but each layer of cloth made your stomach turn and you tried to take a calming breath before stepping out of the room. Charles had been more angry at the fact it was Max you had been photographed with than anything, so you knew he wasn’t going to be happy when you arrived with him. For a moment you were torn between hoping he didn’t find out and hoping he did.

Guilt smacked the smile off your face.

“I’m actually not feeling very well,” you muttered as you joined him, an uncomfortable weight sitting on your chest. “I don’t think I can go with you today.”

Max looked disappointed but nodded in acceptance and reached for the door. “You do look tired, schat. You should get some sleep.”

The weight lifted with the click of the door closing and you soon found yourself back beneath the blankets that still smelt of Charles.

You woke to soft kisses on your shoulder and the tickle of stubble in your neck.

“Ma biche,” he whispered across your cheek.

“What time is it?” You wondered if you had slept all day but given how bright it was outside, Charles couldn't have finished his work for the evening.

“1.30,” he answered as he snaked an arm over your waist and curled his body behind yours. “Qualifying is in two hours.”

He relinquished his tight embrace to let you roll over and face him, seeing his eyes close with a tired sigh. “What are you doing here? Where’s Charlotte?”

“Shh, I don’t want to think about her right now,” he hushed softly and he stroked your cheek with his fingertips. “I wish we could just go home. I miss the days we spent like this.”

You sighed longingly and leaned into his touch. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

He smiled sadly and kissed you sweetly as he drew your leg over his hip. “Please come with me. I need you by my side, Bambi, cheering for me.”

Your fingers danced down his sponsored shirt, tracing the brands that aided his team before you reached his belt. His tongue peeked out between his lips and wet them as you unclasped the buckle and dared him. “Make me.”

Charles acted as if he didn’t have anywhere important to be, like qualifying. He took his time as if he hadn’t felt your body beneath him in years. You felt his kiss on every inch of your skin and your head spun after falling drunk on the high he gave you.

“Please come with me,” he begged as the weight of his spent body collapsed upon you, better than any comfort blanket could.

“I suppose you made a decent effort to persuade me,” you teased as you brushed his damp hair back from his forehead.

“Decent,” he echoed with a laugh, both of you moaning at the sensation it had with him still inside you. The feeling subsided as he withdrew and saw the time, a seriousness falling upon him. “We should shower and go, ma biche.”

“Tell me it’s going to get easier,” you whispered before he could pull away completely.

“It’s going to get easier,” he swore. “I will make it easier for you, my love.”

And he did.

After the race, Charlotte ‘chose’ to return to Monaco for the rest of her summer break and Charles brought his suitcase across the hall to your room. He kept his promise and you kept yours, cheering for him from inside the Ferrari garage.

“You found your way back,” Max said in passing at the following race, one of the rare times he found you without Charles.

“Yup, no more getting lost,” you chuckled, though you were sure you were talking about different things. “You were right, all paddocks are the same.”

“Good,” he said with a forced smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But if you do get lost, or find yourself alone…you have my number, schat.”

You nodded with a sense of shyness and smiled at your feet. “I found out what that means.”

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?”

“I don’t know.”

His smile finally reached his eyes and you realised you should have said yes, but you were being selfish. “Well, when you do know…call me.”

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n

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hotluncheddie · 5 months

Text

Day 4: Edging

"Bi Freak"

Ao3

wc: 3.5 | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, bisexual Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington, mean dom Steve Harrington (kinda), degradation, sub top Eddie

written for @subeddieweek <3

📸 📸 📸 📸 📸

‘Jesus, are you hard?’ Steve asks, incredulous at how fucking ridiculous Eddie’s cock can be at times. Even walking just behind him Steve must spot how Eddie’s hands shift to tug at his belt buckle, the way his gait is a little more awkward than usual.

Eddie freezes, readjusting again as Steve saunters past. Cheeks feeling a little hot over being caught. He was Subtle, or so he thought, but his jeans must just not be tight enough to hide his boner.

They're walking back to the beamer after eating at the diner in town. A few familiar faces around since its summer. The two of them included, back over from Indi for a visit to see Wayne for his birthday.

Unfortunately, seeing Wayne means staying with Wayne and while that is wonderful, the walls of the trailer are still, absolutely, the width of paper mache. So, Steve had decided the concept of sex was much too mortifying in those conditions. A different consensus from when they first got together, Eddie had pointed out. But, Steve had just laughed and kissed him, in that condescending way that just made the whole situation so so much harder, figuratively and literally.

Its been a week, basically, and Eddie’s getting desperate, and Steve is getting mean.

Eddie jogs to catch up to Steve's long strides. ‘Did you see her though? Christ Steve she, she's a vision. A fucking goddess dude.’

‘I saw I saw.’ Steve shoves his hands in his jacket, Eddie looming in close at his side.

‘Like she was something then, but now? Bigger and better, did you see? You saw them right?’ Eddie moves his arms around, cups his hands, clenches his fingers. A horny interpretive dance.

Steve sighs, faux wistfully. ‘Every day I almost forget how much of a tits guy you are, and everyday you just gotta remind me, huh? Munson? What's up with that?’ Steve jabs his elbow into Eddie’s side. Grins at the cackle it elicits.

‘You know I fundamentally disagree with that question, Stevie. No one should be subjected to a choice like that.’ Eddie laughs, swooping in close to Steve's neck for a moment, in that way he loves. Steve’s elbow coming out to make him back away.

Steve pulls his keys out of his pocket, the car coming into view, parked in the furthest corner.

‘Your tits are amazing by the way.’

Steve laughs again. ‘Thanks dude, I know. Lucky for you my ego is big enough to handle your crazy libido.’

Eddie grumbles, kicking at a can. ‘Only crazy because of the damn “no touching” rule you set.’

‘Aww’ Steve coos, ‘baby cant handle a little teasing anymore?’ He smirks at Eddie, unlocking the car but not opening the door, instead watching Eddie slump over, pouting.

Steve stalks around to the passenger side, opening the door for him and pulling his arm, shoving Eddie down onto the seat with a hand on his head.

Eddie whimpers, feels pre-cum leak out of his tip and soak into his boxers. Fuck, he’s hard - worse now. Steve’s not let him have more than a peck, more than a nighttime spoon, for days.

‘Wanna know a secret?’ Steve asks.

Eddie’s slumped on the passenger seat, feet still on concrete. He rubs his hands over his burning cheeks and peeks up at the sunshine being blocked from above. Steve leaning a forearm in the car hood, looming over Eddie, caging him in.

Steve steps right up into Eddie space, shoving his knee onto the seat right between Eddies thighs. crushing his cock. Steve leans in even closer, breath ghosting over Eddie's ear, making him shiver.

‘I know how she tastes.’

Eddie feels like all his air gets gut punched out of him, feels his fucking pupils dilate so much his vision goes blurry. He makes a strangled sort of moan. His boxers flooding with cum.

‘…Did? Did you just?’

Eddies panting so hard all he can really do is nod his head.

‘You’re so pretty.’ He slurs, staring up at Steve, haloed and lovely and how did Eddie get so lucky?

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, but he smiles down at him, strokes his cheek and looks at him with eyes full of stars. ‘You can go again through right?’ He asks.

Eddie beams. ‘Fuck yeah!’

Steve laughs, shaking his head. He closes Eddie’s door and gets behind the wheel. Puts on his sunglasses and lays his hand on Eddie’s thigh. ‘No touching while I’m driving. Let's go break into my parents house.’

Eddie leans back in the headrest, grinning. ‘By break in, do you mean use the spare key?’

‘Sure do baby. They won't even be there.’ Steve says, and pulls out of the diner parking lot.

Back at Steves Eddie sprawls out in his bedroom, familiar in its ugliness but the mattress has always been to die for.

Eddie listens to the sound of Steve moving through the house, not sure what he’s doing. But they’ve fallen into routines like this before, Eddie waiting upstairs while Steve did whatever it was that made a big empty house like this run smooth. He works the same magic on their apartment; structuring Eddie enough to not get overwhelmed by chores and eventually listening to Eddie’s please to not do it all himself. Steve could work himself to the bone and still ask if Eddie needed a glass of water. But now they have a chart, and Eddie’s always had a knack for laundry.

But, at times like these, brain directly attached to his dick and almost nowhere else, Eddie wants to be directed.He wants Steve to do exactly as much as he wants, do so exactly as he pleases, Eddie almost an afterthought.

Yeah, Eddie wants that. He shivers, hears Steves footsteps on the staircase.

‘Unzip your jeans but don’t take them off.’ Steve says, coming into the room, searching for something.

Eddie complies quickly, standing. Steve walks out of the room.

Steve walks back in with his shirt off. Looking Eddie up and down, face blank.

He lifts the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt and shoves it in his mouth, saliva soaking the fabric between his teeth, cool air hitting his exposed nipples. ‘Show me.’ Steve says, calm and neutral, like Eddie is his doll to play with.

He pulls at the waistband of his boxers and his eyes burn as he watches Steve. Refusing to blink, refusing to miss the look on his face once he sees the mess.

Steve’s eyes roam Eddie’s face for a moment, steely and almost cold. He looks down, raises his eyebrows. Eddie feels his cock twitch at the attention, at the judgment.

Steve looks back up. ‘Look at it.’ And Eddie glances down, breath hitching at the sight of his cock covered in his own cum, some of it starting to crust but the tip still shiny and wet, leaning against the sodden fabric of his boxers.

Eddie looks back up at Steve, sees that he watched his whole reaction. Pupils blown wide and Steve's hand has migrated up to tweak at his own nipple. Jealousy burns in Eddie’s gut; that he’s not allowed to touch Steve like that, not yet.

Eddie whimpers again, he wants to kiss him, wants to eat him.

‘Fuck’ Steve murmurs, like he can read Eddie’s mind. Maybe he can, or it’s just how good Steve has gotten at reading Eddie’s face.

‘Colour?’ Steve asks.

‘Super fuckin’ green.’ Eddie says around the fabric, grinning, watching Steves smile bloom right back

‘Good’ Steve pecs his top lip. Eddie surging forward, chasing, letting the wet hem fall.

Steve stops him with a finger on his chest. His expression smoothing back into one of mild disgust. ‘So needy.’ Steve drawls. ‘Take off everything but your boxers.’ And he’s gone again, leaving Eddie to struggle out of his clothes in a rush.

Steve walks back in, now only in his boxers too, Eddie can see the outline of his cock through the material and it makes his mouth water. It takes him a second to register that Steve’s holding the Polaroid camera now too.

‘Show me, like you did before.’ Steve says, fiddling with the camera, waiting.

Eddie does as he’s told and he feels goosebumps dabble over his skin, heat rushing south so fast it makes his nipples hard.

Steve takes a photo of eddies cock covered in his own, slightly crusted, cum. The flash taking Eddie’s breath away.

But Steve just leaves again, without a word. Eddie stands stock still and hears the shower turn on, the faint sound of the camera again.

Steve comes back in flapping the polaroids. He sets the camera down and walks back over to Eddie, handing him a damp wash cloth.

‘Clean yourself off.’ He says, leaning on one hip, looking board. ‘And fold your clothes on the desk, boxers on top, they need washing.’ Eyes flashing to Eddie’s, bitchy and judgmental. Eddie moans, even more heat rushing south, his gut churning.

But Eddie does as he’s told, ignoring the heat between his thighs, Steve’s eyes on him as he settles the clothes in a neat pile. ‘Good. Now grab a pillow and kneel down. You’re gonna watch my photos develop while I shower. That sound okay?’ He asks, condensing, but the question is laced with sweetness, infused with the knowledge that Steve knows Eddie loves him like this, loves being talked to like this. But he can end it any time. Any time either of them want.

Eddie just nods, bites his lip, turning to the bed to grab a pillow and situate himself on the floor.

Steve bends and lays the photos in front of where Eddie’s kneeled. Then strokes his cheek with a thumb, making Eddie preen, blinking his eyes closed slowly.

The crack of the slap registers after the feeling, Eddie’s head turned slightly to the side. Low moan distant to his own ears.

He blinks his eyes back open, looking up at Steve’s and his pretty face. He thinks there must be spit sliding down his chin, because Steve’s thumb comes to wipe something away, dipping into Eddie’s parted lips gently, for a moment.

And then Steve turns swiftly for the door, stopping just at the threshold. Eddie eyes snapping back up from where they were looking at his ass and Steve’s stifles a smile. Eddie’s own growing slow and dopey on his face.

‘You can touch, I want you hard once I’m back. But if you cum again I’m not doing anything with you for a week.’ He says and Eddie blinks at him. Nodding as the words filter through his brain.

He closes his eyes once Steve leaves and the water turns on. Lets his fingers dance towards his cock, cheek hot and tight and he moves it at the same time he wraps around himself, shoulders hunching around another guttural moan.

Then he remembers the photos.

He looks down and laying in front of his bent knees there’s two polaroids. The one of Eddie is almost fully developed, his dark thatch of hair speckled with globs of his own cum, white in contrast and just as noticeable in half crusted patches over the pink flush of his cock. It’s a mess.

Eddie works himself at the sight, getting to full hardness with a strangled gasp. Remembering Steve eyeing it, remembering what he’d said that caused Eddie to finish so quick.

The other is still only half developed. But the photos edges are rendering sections of the familiar Harrington bathroom, white tiles and blue walls, shower curtain and the edge of the large ornate mirror. Tan skin starts to become clear, Steve’s big hand holding the camera aloft, taking his own photo using the mirrors reflection, the back of his head.

Eddie’s hand speeds up and he watches, wide eyed, as Steve’s broad shoulders come into view, the arch and strong length of his back. Eddie bites his lip again, harder, as Steve’s back ends in his bare ass perched on the counter.

The dark ring of a plug just visible between his cheeks.

Eddie strangles a cry, gripping himself hard at the base, stifling his orgasm and feeling tears spring at his eyes. Steve’s must’ve been wearing that all through their time at the diner, all through the day. Stretched and wet and Eddie clenches his thighs together, covers his mouth with his palm and squeezes his eyes shut.

‘Fuck. Fuck!’ He mumbles behind his hand, breathing shakily through his nose. Steve is something else.

Finally the shower shuts off and Steve returns. Eddie still kneeling, panting heavily, cock hard and leaking between his thighs. Still coming down from the brink. Steve just smirks at him, running a towel through his hair.

He lays down on the bed, settling against the headboard. He trails his fingers over himself, tracing his nipple and stomach before giving his cock a few tugs, getting it hard.

Eddie watches the whole thing, hands still gripping his thighs.

Eventually Steve’s eyes slide open, that little smirk on his face. He opens his arms for Eddie, motioning him in.

Eddie scrambles up and into them, kissing and sucking at Steve’s neck and shoulders. Cock already grinding desperately between Steve’s damp cheeks.

‘You liked the pictures baby?’ Steve whispers, smile in his voice, mouth hot on Eddie’s ear.

Eddie shivers and pulls back, disbelief on his face. ‘I can’t believe you.’ He gushes.

Steve smiles at him and his cheeks are flush from the shower, his damp hair is falling into his forehead. ‘Fuck, you’re so pretty.’ Eddie says, always always amazed by Steve. He needs him, wants to be inside.

He grinds again, catching Steve’s hole, relishing in Steve’s eyes rolling slightly. ‘Get me wet first.’ Steve demands pulling at Eddie’s hair, shoving his head away.

Eddie bites his lip, cock twitching, he pulls at Steve’s thighs, bending him in half. Dips low to lick a long wet stripe across his ass. Tongue pressing at Steves hole, breaching the already stretched muscle and fucking his tongue in until there’s spit sliding down Steve’s crack.

Eventually Steve pulls Eddie off by his hair, chest all flushed and nipples hard.

Reaching over Steve gets the condom and lube from his bedside table. He doesn’t live here anymore, hasn’t for years. But the remnants of their sneaking around before Steve up and left with Eddie and Robin are still there. He never completely fell out with his parents, but he didn’t really tell them where he was going either. They continue to essentially ignore Steve and Steve continues to sneak into their house whenever he’s in Hawkins and fuck his boyfriend in whichever room he pleases. It’s not ideal, but it works.

‘Gonna show me what that useless cock can do?’ Steve goads, sitting up to roll the condom onto Eddie and slicking him with lube.

Eddie whines.

He hitches Steve’s thighs up, forcing him Back flat, hands beneath his knees. Steve sighs into the touch and Eddie watches his length get slowly swallowed by Steve’s tight, wet heat.

Eddie bottoms out, watching his length disappear. He feels his balls draw up, ears ringing and he’s so close. He’s so close.

The slap makes him stutter, eye wide as he stare at Steve. ‘Do not cum.’ Steve seethes, finger in eddies face, like he’s a misbehaving child. Eddie moans, gripping Steves thighs to hold himself still, breathing deeply through his nose to stave off his orgasm.

He stays buried in Steve, willing himself back down. Panting, he feels tears prickle at his eyes again. ‘That’s it.’ Steve soothes, hand coming up to stroke over the red mark he left on Eddie’s face.

Eddie breaths, eyes closed, feels the tendrils in his gut uncoil slightly. No longer right on the brink.

Eventually he opens them, Steve’s eyes on him. Eddie leans down, hands either side of Steve’s face. He starts moving his hips again, building a steady pace.

‘You should’ve touched yourself in front of her today.’ Steve says, looking up at Eddie with that closed off look again, haughty and judgmental. Eddie moans. ‘What do you think she would’ve done? If you got your stupid needy cock out in the diner, you think she would’ve laughed?’ Steve asks, voice mean and even, the only sign of arousal the flutter of his eyelashes as Eddie thrusts especially deep.

‘Fuck Steve.’ Eddie pants, thinking about it. ‘I used to think about that while you were at Scoops’ He admits, eyes watching Steve, watching his smirk broaden.

‘Yeah? You would’ve got your big dumb cock out on the counter for me while I scooped ice cream?’

Eddie’s hips stutter, he’s getting close again. ‘Yeah, used, u-used to go jack off in the bathrooms after seeing you at that mall. In that outfit. Fuck Steve, wanted you so bad.’ Eddie whines.

Steve coos, finger trailing up Eddie’s sweaty neck. ‘Who knew the freak would be so needy’

Eddie whimpers feeling a blush spread down his chest. He moves his hips faster, wanting to get in deeper.

Steve cracks, moaning. ‘Fuck, make me cum baby, get me there.’ Steve says, gripping his own cock now. Other hand holding him in place with the headboard. Eddie going faster, deeper, grazing that spot he knows so well inside Steve.

Steve throws his head back, releasing all over himself with a shout, soft hair splayed across the pillow and cheeks flushed pink. Eddie slows, grinding. He’s so close again, so achingly hard he can feel his pre dripping out, filling the condom.

‘I think I would’ve let you. Maybe Played with your cock while I worked.’ Steve pants. ‘But only if you cleaned up after yourself.’ And he scoops up some of the cum from his stomach and chest, feeding it into Eddie’s slack mouth.

Eddie sucks, swallowing and tasting salt, flooding his mouth with saliva, some slipping out down his chin. ‘’Teve.’ He pleads, garbled. Begging for permission. His eyes wide and wet, hips unable to stop.

‘You wanna cum baby?’ Steve asks, holding Eddie’s jaw with his spit slick fingers, fucking his own hips down onto Eddie’s cock.

Eddie nods, whining, digging his fingers into the sheets, trying not to think about what will happen if he comes too soon.

‘What are you baby? Are you my little freak, my little perv?’ Steve teases.

Eddie shivers, nodding, his whole body shaking in an attempt to stave off his orgasm. Shame writhing filthily in his gut, threatening to spill.

Steve pulls Eddie closer, kissing his cheek and letting him burrow his face in Steve’s neck. Eddie licks over his moles, wants to mark him, burrow his cock inside and never leave. ‘Thats it, my dumb thing, fucking me so good.’ Steve pets over Eddie’s hair as his hips speed up, thrusting into Steve harder, the sounds of skin slapping echoing through the house.

‘Cum for me.’ Steve whispers, hot breath sending shivers down his back. Eddie’s rhythm turning sloppy and desperate as he thrusts deep one last time. Cumming and crying out into Steve’s neck, tears slipping onto Steve’s skin and Eddie clenches his teeth so hard his jaw cracks.

He cums for so long he’s almost numb, shaky and boneless as he falls on top of Steve.

Steve holds him close, threading his fingers through Eddie’s sweaty hair and whispering praise in his ear.

Eventually Eddie moves slightly from on top of Steve, letting his softening cock slip out and his head rest on Steve’s chest. Listening to his heart beat. ‘Good boy, you’re my good boy Eddie.’ Steve says softly, threading his fingers into Eddie’s curls to massage his scalp.

Eddie groans, boneless and satiated. ‘Was I too mean?’ Steve asks from above him.

‘Fuck no. Made me cum my whole brain out.’ Eddie slurs, pressing his forehead between Steve’s hairy pecs.

Steve tsks him, tugging at Eddie’s hair. The sharp pain making Eddie hiss and he sucks one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, clamping down on top of him so he can’t wriggle away.

‘Okay, okay! Quit it, you monster.’ Steve laughs, shoving Eddie’s face off.

Eddie sits back in his heels, laughing, finally taking the condom off and tossing it onto the floor. ‘You want another shower before we head back to Wayne’s?’ He asks, petting distractedly at Steve’s pink hole, still shiny with lube.

‘Ye just gimme a sec.’ Steve says, stretching, making Eddie’s fingertip slip inside. ‘And quit playing with that, what are you, a perv?’ He asks, smirking up at him.

Eddie grins, lunging back on top of Steve and biting his shoulder.

Steve yelps and Eddie scoops him up, carrying him bridal style to the bathroom.

‘Oh! Stevie, remind me to put those polaroids in my wallet. I think I’ll get a lot of use out of ‘em.’ Eddie says, dumping Steve on the closed toilet and turning the shower on.

📸 📸 📸 📸 📸

Tag List: @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

#longer one today #the doc for this used to be called 'bi freak wet and needy'#so had to keep the history #its finally done omg this has been on the back burner for SO long #i hope u enjoy 🥺#hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #sub eddie week #subeddieweek #my fic #<3

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 6 months

Text

神話 - "Ardent Dragon Rests Upon Resplendent Cliffs"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which the Traveler and Paimon unknowingly come across a mysterious adeptus by the name of Sky Weaver while the two are exploring near the sparsely populated cliffsides of Mt. Mingyuan. Or; In which the long-forgotten tale of the adeptus Sky Weaver is uncovered by Aether from the lips of the various Adepti of the Nation of Liyue and the people who know them.

🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞

The cliffs of Mt. Mingyuan were a dangerous place for any person to fool around on, but even more so for a child. Yet it made for the perfect place for tuning into nature and taking in the sights of the surrounding terrain, such as a magnificent view of Yilong Wharf, Mt. Lingmeng, river Jademouth, and the distant silhouette of Chiwang Terrace, the ruins of Fort Charybdis and Lumidouce Harbor in Fontaine. The most notable sight that one could witness upon the cliffs of Mt. Mingyuan however, was a breathtaking view of the sky that suffered no light pollution despite the proximity to Yilong Wharf.

Although, for a certain ochre-eyed child, Mt. Mingyuan was the perfect place to sneak off whenever he wanted some distance from his family or to practice his passion for wushu dancing.

Gaming had once again climbed up the mountain, carrying with him the hollow costume lion head that was many sizes too large for him at his current age. The costume head is held over his own to prevent it from collecting stains by being dragged along the damp mud and grass as he walks. Occasionally it tips forward and obstructs his view, causing him to stumble to regain his footing and tip the object back to its original position.

Today was particularly different from other times he had come up the mountain. This time, instead of grinning with excitement and running up the familiar path to reach the grassy plateau-like area he usually practiced at, he frowned with tears collecting on his lower lashes as he glumly dragged his feet along as he walked. Earlier, not even an hour ago, Gaming had gotten into an argument with his father; the older man telling him that his dream was foolish and that he should focus on continuing the family tradition of being a tea farmer.

Now, here he was, curled up around the costume lion head with his back to the trunk of a tree. The dew that rested on the grass beneath him soaked into his shorts but he couldn't bring himself to care. The fur of the costume head was damp with his tears, the wetness causing the faugh fur to clump together in places.

“...Mortal child, it is dangerous to dwell upon this mountain unaccompanied is it not…?”

A soft but masculine voice just to his left gently called out to him.

Gaming flinches in shock as he whips his head in the direction of the voice. His red teary eyes widened in shock and confusion at the abrupt appearance of another person. Once the ochre-eyed boy really took in this person's features, however, his jaw dropped in awe.

A man, likely in his late twenties, who had long h/c hair with streaks of misty blue that were braided in certain places and seemed to reach his knees, long, thick lashes that hung over beautiful e/c eyes, and a peculiar blue symbol on his forehead. The man was draped in an elegant four-layered silk robe; the outermost layer being white with a navy blue and desaturated green bamboo leaf pattern. He was possibly the most beautiful person that the aspiring wushu dancer had ever seen before.

An amused chuckle from the mysterious and handsome man pulled the ochre-eyed child. from his thorough observation and reminded him of the question that was asked of him.

“Well, I'm not alone since uncle is with me now.”

Gaming answers, shyly averting his eyes from the stranger's face with pinkened cheeks at the embarrassment of being caught staring.

The man tensed for a moment –from what the brunette child could tell from the other's body language– at the word uncle, but quickly regained his relaxed but regal posture. It seemed that this enigmatic stranger wasn't too fond of strangers, how ironic.

“Uncle, you called this one? Is that not a term reserved solely for those that one trusts?”

The long-haired man asks with apprehension, worried that the child in front of him would find himself in trouble due to being too trusting.

Gaming giggled at the man's contorted expression, it was rare to see an adult become shy around him, so he couldn't help but find it a bit funny. He grinned at the stranger, his previous sadness momentarily forgotten as he focused all his attention on the man to his left.

“Well yeah, you're older than me and I don't know your name. Plus, you seem really nice. You wouldn't have asked if I was alone if you were a bad person. So, you're uncle.”

The ochre-eyed child chirped, giving the man a close-eyed smile so bright it could put the sun to shame. He pauses, however, eyes opening with curiosity as he asks the stranger a question.

“Actually, what is your name, uncle?”

The e/c-eyed man, still registering the child's first and very worrying statement, doesn't answer. He heard the question, but his mind was preoccupied with his increasing worry for the previously crying boy, so he paid it no mind.

“Mortal child, this one's name is not of importance at the moment. What this one concerns one's self with is that you trust far too swiftly.”

The robe-clad man expresses his worries, his face holding a mix of pity and concern as he takes a step closer to the boy; his posture growing more protective.

Straightening his back and stretching his arms above, causing the costume lion head to roll off his lap, Gaming stands from the damp ground. He sends a quick glance to the low-hanging sun to the west, letting him know that he should probably make his way back home within the hour lest he worry his mother. Picking up the costume head off of the grass, he turns to the beautiful stranger as he pulls the costume head over his own.

“I'll think about what you said, Uncle Měilì. I have to start heading back though, or mom will get worried about me.”

The brunette child smiles warmly as he balances the lion's head properly.

The man, now dubbed ‘Uncle Měilì’ raises a brow at the boy in confusion. That certainly wasn't his name. By reflex, he sweeps his gaze around to check if there are any other people present, but, of course, there aren't.

“Měilì? Is it this one that you are referring to, mortal child?”

‘Uncle Měilì’ asks the boy as he points at himself with an air of disbelief and amusement.

Gaming turns to him with a pout, annoyed at the robed man's question. The ochre-eyed boy had already asked for his name, only for the inquiry to be ignored. He huffed and turned away from the man as he began to walk back the way he came.

“You said your name wasn't important, so I gave you a nickname instead. I can't just keep calling you Uncle, y'know. Also, my name is Gaming, remember it, okay?”

He called out as he continued walking down the mountain, the costume lion head held up above his own with his little arms.

Stopping when he doesn't hear a reply, the child looks behind him to see no one there. Only a retreating spectral-like mist could be seen, sweeping through the sky in majestic arcs and swirls as it climbed up the mountain.

The cliffs of Mt. Mingyuan were a dangerous place for any person to fool around on, but even more so for a child. However, for a certain ochre-eyed child, Mt. Mingyuan was the perfect place to sneak off whenever he wanted some distance from his family or to practice his passion for wushu dancing. It also served as a wonderful place where the boy met someone who would be a shoulder to lean on in his time of need.

Mt. Mingyuan is where a young Gaming first met that mysterious adeptus known as Sky Weaver.

🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞•♡•🏞

Footnotes:

Sky Weaver's appearance is heavily based upon the character Chuyi Flower Cake from ‘The Tale of Food’. I was actually going to add Cloud Retainer in at the very end, but changed my mind since this half chapter was already twice as long as the previous one. The word Měilì or 美麗 means Beauty, it's a simple nickname that I just grabbed on the fly.

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Genshin Masterlist and Series Masterlist!

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! #thetaleofskyweaver @itztaki @sassy-cat-in-town @xharisrealm @lupicalbestwolf @pjmsies @just-here-reading @chibiduck @dellalyra @kiiyoooo @heavenlysilence0vx @2nd-number @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mshope16 @paastaboi @a-little-pebbl

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dahliacatalogue · 5 months

Text

Karma Prospero

Bloom size: 4-6 inches, likely on larger end

Height: 3.5-4 feet

Type: waterlily

(image 1: https://www.pureindulgenceblooms.com/shop-1/p/karma-prospera, image 2: http://www.verwer-dahlias.nl/karma/prospero_en.html, image 3: https://www.canadiangardener.com/product-page/dahlia-karma-prospero)

#karma prospero dahlia #waterlily dahlia #4-6 inch bloom #3.5-4 feet #pink #bi pink purple #light pink #mauve

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mistyresolve · 1 year

Text

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 5)

Word Count - 3.8

Summary - Honestly, there isn’t any plot to this one. Just sex.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ SMUT, Fingering, P in V, Oral, Unprotected sex, Edging, Size kink, Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - I’m back baby...maybe

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3 ❤︎ Part 3.5 ❤︎ Part 4

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

It was just your luck that there was no hot water, and by the time you washed out the soap from your hair, your teeth were chattering uncontrollably. You could have sworn a minute longer and you’d have ice forming on the tips of your lashes. You couldn’t get dressed into your civi clothes fast enough, a thin but warm sweater and a plain pair of sweats. You packed for warmth and practicality, not seducing husky men, and some small bold part of you wished you had.

Simon was already in the barracks waiting for his turn for a shower. His gear was in a neat pile next to the cot, and he had just pulled off his combat shirt when you entered the room.

He truly was all power and strength, all solid muscle and hardened skin. He was built and bred for the battlefield and imbued with cruel intent. The tattoos that travelled from wrist to bicep were stark against his skin. If you stepped outside yourself for a moment you could see why so many men feared to cross his path. Yet, here he stood 15 feet away from you and not a single thought was one of dread. With you, he was softer, calmer. Even his usual rough tone settled into a smokey version of itself. He still carried a dominating edge with him but he never misused it with you.

And…

And you were staring.

He was crouched down at his pack when he finally looked over his shoulder at you. He had removed his mask and he looked just as good as he did when you saw his face earlier. If not better. If that was possible. His dark hair was unruly like he had just woken up from a nap. His face was dirty with a mixture of paint, sweat, dirt, and more likely than not, blood. He was unkept but more in a charming, alluring way.

Oh, you were in deep. He had you wrapped around his finger and he was well aware he had that much sway over you. Still, he would not make a move until you made it very clear and unmistakable what you want from him. He would give you everything and anything you wanted, but not unless you told him.

“There’s no hot water,” you willed the words to sound anything but bothered.

His gaze dripped down your body, watched as your body shivered from the lingering bone-deep chill, “I needed a cold one anyways,” he tossed the dirty combat shirt into his pack and picked up the fresh one. Even in the low light, you could see every dip and angle of his muscles as he bent down.

The summer night air might be warm but it wasn’t warm enough to warrant a cold shower, “Who would take a cold shower on purpose?” you made your way to your own pack, readying to set up your sleeping bag.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he grabbed whatever else he needed from his bag before disappearing into the small shower room. On his way past you, you threw a clean pair of balled-up socks at him, which he unsurprisingly caught before throwing them back at you, “Smarten’ up.”

“I would like to know,” you quipped just before he closed the door. It’s not like you’d die without an answer you just wanted to have the last word. The only reason he let you have it was because he needed to get out of the same room as you as soon as humanly possible. He needed the cold shower to

The cold shower was null once Simon came back out into the room. The moment his eyes locked onto yours, he was just as frustrated and deprived as before. You could practically taste his want from across the room. Could see it in the way he stalked back to his side of the room, his attention locked on you.

He changed into a regular green t-shirt, the colour faded around the seams and fit snugly around his shoulders and chest, and green army-issued sweats. His still-wet hair was pushed back and away from his face.

“You clean up nice,” you tested as you slid into your sleeping bag, your head tilting to the side.

There was a flash of white teeth in the low light, “Keep that mouth of yours shut for me?” his words were more of a plea than an order. He moved to turn off the propane lamps, replacing the light was a singular red light torch which was better for concealment and stealth because it was harder to see from a distance.

“Easy, big boy,” your grin was fiendish, “I’m only making conversation.”

“Yuh huh,” he grunted back at you as he checked the locks on all the doors and windows. The final window was right above your head and after he checked it he crouched down beside you, the torch dangling in his hand between his legs, “You gonna be warm enough?”

“Are you offering to keep me warm, Riley?” you shifted into a kneeling position, and still you didn’t match his height, your knees were almost touching his feet.

His answering smile was wolfish, “I was offering you an extra blanket.”

“And,” you said slowly, “What of you?”

“I’ll be fine,” It was hard to discern whether this desire was coming from someplace genuine or if it was the result of missing him and needing a distraction from today's events. Perhaps it was both. It was evident that he was wondering the same. You could see it in his eyes. The way they turned inquisitive each time you returned his attention. The way he would slow his approach and wait for your response, gauge your reaction.

Your gaze fell to his lips, imagining how they’d feel on yours, on your skin. His grin shifted to something more shy and he looked away, looking into the room's darkness. Another moment watching you and he would have jumped on you like a deprived animal. Which is why you had to take the first move.

Gently you pulled the torch from his grasp, placing it up on the floor beside him. He turned to face you once more. With hands made of air, your fingers drove into his hair. The space between your lips felt too wide and too close at the same time. I felt like time itself was yours, like you were holding it in the palm of your hand, warm and heavy. This moment was well overdue.

It was a whisper of a kiss. A timid gesture that the both of you leaned into. Pressed into. With trembling hands, his fingers curled around your waist, digging into the supple flesh there. The wanton groan that rumbled deep in his chest was gasoline to a fire. Your hands slipped down to the hard muscles of his chest and pushed him back into a sitting position. His free hand caught him just in time to break the fall. You were quick to move into his lap, straddling his hips.

“Woah,” he huffed, the crooked grin returning, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You always have something cheeky to say?” you hummed, hands encircling the back of his neck, running the expanse of his shoulders, his chest.

“I’m working on that,” he leaned back on his hands, allowing you access to all of him.

You lifted his shirt, just enough to sneak your fingers underneath. His skin burned and his muscles twitched beneath your touch, “A rather new development?”

He was all enchanted compliance and keen submission for you, “It’s taken the back seat as of late,” his chest rose and fell rapidly as your hands grazed lower before returning to his chest.

“Never took you for a procrastinator,” Your lips connected with his jaw, trailing lower and lower.

The man underneath you was a complete juxtaposition from the man who prowled the battlefield and lurked in the shadows. Even with everything he was capable of, you felt safe with him. Felt secure. Protected.

“I can’t think when you’re touching me, Darlin’,” When you pulled away his head was tilted back and his eyes were mere slits, foggy with lust.

Right now, he was docile, but you wanted to see him get wicked for you.

You lowered your hips onto his and rolled them. You were met with hard arousal and the compromising heat between your legs shot up your spine and into your throat. There was a synchronized moan that bounced between you and like a knee-jerk reaction a hand was braced at your hips. Your motions quickly turned feverish, both trying to match each other's desperate rhythm. It was all gnashing teeth, open-mouthed kisses, and shared breath.

With shaking fingers you tugged at his shirt, “Off,” you could hardly manage the single syllable. And who was he kidding, the few seconds he had to pull away from you to remove his shirt made him regret ever putting it on.

You paused as you traced the hard tissue of his numerous scars, and wondered which was he acquired during his service and which ones he received from his father. He remained utterly still, even his chest ceased to rise and fall with breath. He was waiting for you to reject him, to recoil from all the imperfections.

You leaned down to press a kiss to one of them, one that looked like it never had time to properly heal. Like the wound was ripped open over and over and over again. Then another kiss to the scar next to it. You couldn’t tell if it was your own heart or if his was so beating so loud you could hear it from where you sat. When you lifted your eyes to him you decided it was probably his you were hearing. His eyes were wide with shock and his swollen lips were parted in awe.

“Simon—”

“I want this,” he gasped, “But if you’re not sure we have to stop now.”

You would have to stop now because it’d kill him if he had to stop later.

Your expression turned sultry and you removed your sweater from your body, revealing nothing but bare, tingling skin, “Be good to me.”

He moved on you like lightning, and with quick practiced maneuvering you were on your back with him cradled between your legs. Gone was the man who let you dominate him a few seconds ago. Calloused hands ran the length of your sides, up to your throat and held you in place. Though he didn’t squeeze your neck hard enough to choke, it was a tight enough grip to let you know that he was in control now. He sucked bruises into the sensitive skin of your collarbone, your chest. His tongue flicked out to lick apologies into the marks he left behind. His teeth scraped against your breast and your breath hitched in anticipation.

But he pulled back, his head tilted to the side, “Since day one,” he murmured before raising himself to a kneel, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his own eyes, “Since the day I met you I’ve wanted you like this,” his heated gaze flicked to your face, your expression no doubt matching his, “Like that,” his voice trailed off and he lowered himself back down to you, “I’ve wanted you…”

His skin against yours wasn’t close enough, it never would be. You needed him like you needed air. Like you needed laughter. You were starving for him. You were starved of him. There wasn’t enough time in the night for you to be rid of this carnal need for him.

His mouth was back on your chest, nipping and sucking at you. You arched your back into his touch in a plea for more. More. More.

His breath caught between his teeth, his fingers lingering on your thigh. With anguished hesitance, he traced the scar and his head dipped to your leg. Your heart was hammering against your rib cage, begging to be let out so it could wrap itself around his. There was no need for words for you to understand what was going through his head right now. The guilt and bitterness that rolled off him heated your skin.

“I thought you were dead.”

You were sure he was talking about when your vehicle blew up with you inside of it, “Me too,” you murmured into the dark room, fingers finding his jaw, guiding him back to looking at you. It was all you could do to offer him a weary smile, “But, I’m not. Because of you.”

The man used his own body as a shield for you, carried you to safety and brought you back from the brink of death. Without him, you weren’t entirely sure if things would have turned out the same. Not that you wanted to think about it in the first place.

His lips parted, his brows furrowing in preparation for an argument. You didn’t give him the chance to make one, bringing him back down to you for an open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue licks at him to open for you, “No more talking, Riley.”

His answering grin was enough for you, his thumbs hooked into the hem of your pants and pulling them until they were on the floor. He hissed at the sight of you, completely naked, before him. Those tortured dark eyes take in every curve and dip of your body. His dopy smile told you all you needed to know about how truthful he was when he said: “Since day one”.

He placed a chaste kiss on your mouth but quickly moved down the length of your body. It was like he couldn’t get between your legs fast enough, his previous hesitation had melted away with the heat you two made.

“Oh,” you gasped as his tongue found your center, licking a languid swipe up. He placed a heavy hand on your chest meant to keep you still, while the other wrapped around your thigh to keep your legs open for him. You cover the hand over your chest with your own, squeezing and digging your nails in as he licked and sucked at you. You rolled your hips into him, legs curled around his shoulders and panting in desperation. He flattened his tongue against you, and you could feel your arousal and slick leak from you. Eyes squeezed shut and throat constricting with a moan.

You were fiendish for him. You’ve been with men and women before, had both good and bad sex, but this…this was different. This was a release. Within seconds he had you at the edge, but he didn’t let you fall. Instead, he kept you there teetering back and forth.

He added a single thick finger, tracing the outline of your cunt before pushing it inside you. His mouth never stopped working at you, circling your clit. His digits curled inside you in perfect rhythm with your own motions. He was following the lead of your body, listening to the sounds you made and each reaction.

Another finger stretched you, and your legs instinctively closed around his head at the feel of them pressing into your G-spot.

“Ohmygod,” you tossed your head back, arching into his touch. You were shaking and twisting in his arms, your climax was right there.

His fingers left you feeling empty, his arms forcing your legs from his head. You were spread out, soaking, and aching beneath him. Annoyance and discomfort bubbled up into your throat, “You fucking–” you started only to be cut off when he dove back into you, his wet tongue exploring the inside of your mouth.

No more talking.

He didn’t need to say the words. He pulled back only far enough to pull his cock out from his pants. You had your fantasies and imagination to guess the size of him but whatever you would have come up with wouldn’t have compared. For a second you contemplated backing out. He was going to split you in half. You swallowed, the arousal between your legs becoming unbearable.

You needed him. Now.

“I’ll be slow with you,” he huffed, his eyes following yours. He wrapped a hand around himself, making long, slow strokes. Precum beaded at the head. Any other day you’d take your time licking that up for him.

Words betrayed you and it was all you could do to nod at him.

“I need to hear you say it, darlin',” he groaned, his entire body quaking with deprivation.

You dipped your fingers to your core, dragging the slick across your stomach, “Please, fuck me, Simon.”

His answering moan was beyond seductive. He rocked into your cunt, wetting himself on your arousal. Back and forth. Back and forth. Sliding across your pussy, pausing where he would have bottomed out if he were inside you. The tip of him reached your belly button and you slid your fingers up the slit at the head of his cock. He jolted, pulling back ever so slightly. Then he lined himself up with your opening. He pushed just the tip in, stopping there to allow you time to adjust. Pulling out. Pushing in a little further. Pulling out.

You wrapped your leg around him, forcing him in all the way. He swore at the sensation of you being around him. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and the stretch burned.

“You okay?” he immediately cupped your face in his hands, eyes searching your face.

With an experimental movement of your hips, you managed, “Just move. Just move.”

Simon heeded your plea, drawing out before sliding back in. You could almost feel him in your throat, you felt so full of him. You had to time your breath to match his rhythm, if only so his reentry wouldn’t knock the air from your lungs. He leaned down to you, his arms on either side of your head. With every stroke, you could feel him hit your cervix, and every time it elicited a crude moan from you.

“Atta girl, you’re taking me so well,” his gaze burned at where you two connected, watching himself disappear and reappear. You pushed his dark hair back from his face, wanting to see every micro-expression he made. His attention whipped back to you, a roughish smile spreading across his lips, “You’re so beautiful.”

His speed picked up, his breath catching with every pump. You felt your climax swell up again and you clamped down around him. He licked a stripe up the column of your throat, placed burning kisses up the curve of your jaw, and sucked welts into the sensitive skin on your neck. Sweat beaded on your chest like the firey heat inside your core was making it’s way to your skin.

He wrapped his arm underneath you, arching you further into him. His large hands encircled your waist, pulling you into his cock. The angle was too perfect. Your eyes rolled and it made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, the absolute ecstasy ripped any sort of coherent word from your tongue.

His thumb came to rub fast tight circles on your clit, ushering you to your orgasm. You twisted in his grasp, writhing at the sensation. It was too much and not enough. He was too much and not enough.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Show me how good I make you feel,” his slightly pained expression revealed his own proximity to his ruin. He’s been waiting for this moment since the moment you met and he’s been on edge around you the entire time. He was struggling to keep himself railing you into the floor. Until there was nothing left but tears and whimpers. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not yet. You needed more time to get used to him. You needed time to memorize the shape and size of him.

The band he pulled taut inside you finally snapped and your body stiffened. Your orgasm crashed into you so hard that you forgot your name. There was only one thing on your mind and it was him, the feeling of him. The sound that came out of you was one of crazed bliss and pleasure. Your body developed a mind of its own and you tried pushing his fingers away from you, the stimulation quickly becoming too much for you to handle.

He shifted his position, one hand holding your legs around his hips and the other supporting his weight, fingers gripping at your loose hair. He leaned down, burying his face in your neck. His breath was warm on your skin, sending tingles all the way down your legs. You clawed at his back, nails leaving behind angry red lines. He relished in the pain. Prayed whatever marks you left on him would never heal over. He would keep coming back to you for more. He was inside you and still, he felt like he needed you closer. He needed you under his skin. In his lungs. The mere thought of you made him half wild. His relentless pace never allowed you the time to recover from your last climax as another rose from the depths.

He murmured sweetly in your skin, “One more.”

Like the words were gospel, you obeyed them. Tightening around his length you came again. His own release followed, pulling out the last possible second. With a strangled moan, his hot cum covered your stomach and dripped down the sides of your thighs.

The two of you stayed like that, entangled in each other, fighting for breath. He placed a tender kiss on your jaw, then another on your mouth, “You feel way better than I imagined you would.”

You grinned at him, “You think about fucking me a lot?”

“Only every time I jerk off,” he leaned back on his heels, his eyes devouring you, “I think about you all the time actually…” he tilted his head to the side, “and not just about how good you taste,” using his discarded shirt he began to clean up the mess you two made. Wiping all the fluids and cum from your body. He was so gentle with you. So delicate. Like he was afraid that if he spoke too loud or moved too fast you turn into dust. Blow away with the breeze.

You sat back up, bringing his face back to yours, “Shower?” Your hair was still damp from the last one you took, but circumstances called for it.

His face seemed to light up at the invitation, and his eyes darkened with mischief.

Masterlist

A/N - Just recovering from a minor surgery my bad for the delay

Tag List

General - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @meaganjean ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @mymommy ❤︎ @mychrysanthemum ❤︎

His Foresight - @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎ @aquarose38 ❤︎ @xheera ❤︎ @unsatisfiedanddisappointed ❤︎ @okayyadriana

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rapunzelbro · 7 months

Text

A Sacrifice For a Friend Angel Dust x Reader 3

Sorry for the long delay. I had a new cowriter help me with this. Enjoy! Tysm Cresent!

Masterlist Taglist

1 2 2.5 3 3.5 4 5 6 Statement

Darkness, followed by light, before darkness again. It all happened so fast.

When a demon dies, they're not supposed to come back, so why did you go from being drawn in by the light, back down to where you started? Darkness. All the memories that once filled you with joy, or even sorrow, disappeared without a second thought when you saw that light.

When you arose from darkness, a moth-like man sat in the room you were in, a lit cigarette that blew red smoke in one hand, a phone in another.

He had an amused look on his face when he noticed your arrival. Standing up he slowly walked towards you. A translucent colored chain appeared in the man's empty hand, you realized it was connected to a collar around your neck. “You thought you’d be magically saved by heaven after sacrificing yourself? For fuck sakes you’re naive aren’t you?” Sharply pulling the chain you struggle as you’re jerked towards him, losing your balance, you land on your knees in front of him.

He just smirks as he looks down at your pathetic state, as you look up at him, a confused look in your eyes. “You and I made a deal, Y/n. Your ass is stuck, you got that right? You sold your soul to me!” He yelled before narrowing his eyes at you “We might as well put that pretty little face of yours to work, since your ass got rid of my money maker.” He crouched down to get a good look at you.

You had no clue who he was, or what the hell he was talking about. How did you even end up here? Who was Y/n? Your arms were covered by small, glowing pink cracks that seemed to link together with the chains that surrounded your neck. “W-Who.. who are you? Who is Y/n?” your voice wavered, as you hesitated in front of that taller man.

You tense up, thinking he would be annoyed, mad, or shocked if anything, but he just stood silent for a moment as if he was trying to figure out what to say, before giving a smile observing your features “Oh Pequeño, I’m just someone who is trying to help.” He stood up again, allowing you to finally get to your feet before taking your hand, kissing your knuckles. “My name is Valentino, Vixie my Estimado~”

Vixie.

That was your name, according to Valentino, but why did Y/n sound…right?

“But who is Y/n?” You repeat yourself, desperate for an answer to that question.

Valentino rolled his eyes clearly annoyed by your desperate pleas, as he took a drag of his still lit cigarette, narrowing his eyes as he blew a heart shaped smoke towards you “Just someone who will no longer be a problem for you and I. Now how about you forget about that name?” You cough as you inhale the smoke, your mind once again going blank as the sweet but sharply acidic scented smoke fills your senses.

A few weeks went by after your first meeting with Valentino, within those weeks, he wasn’t lying about ‘putting your pretty face to use’. You quickly had to get used to the smell of strawberry lube, cigarettes and sex, that lingered in the studio. Your film was scheduled to be released in a couple hours, to say you were anxious was an understatement. You were terrified. You never had any experience with anything of the sorts, and even if you did, you wouldn’t have remembered anyways. You were sitting in your dressing room, face flushed from your previous shoot you had just a few minutes ago, when your phone, given to you by Valentino, buzzed. ‘New video from Porn Studios: VixieStick’s First Time’ “The fuck? It dropped early?” You muttered, clicking on the video curiously.

The video was roaring in views almost instantly, as well as the prude comments from the videos. It was going viral. After reading a few you had to stop yourself, it was becoming all too much. A knock comes from your door soon after placing your phone down. “Come in” you responded, too tired from the shoot to stand up on your own. The door practically swung open at your response as Valentino stood in the door frame walking inside towards you, with a smirk on his face

“How does it feel to be a Star, Pequeño?”

Pequeño= Little one

Estimado= Dear

Angel Dust tag list: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @satansmanager @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness @fizziepopangel @saitisfied @the--rebel--fae @mcueveryday @rainbowbunny15

Series tag @apollobean @kaoyamamegami

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eilorow · 3 years

Text

Civic Transform - Nude Beach

It was a bright and sunny May day when Loïc decided to spend his afternoon at the beach. He still had to study for his finals, but liked to do so in the sun whenever possible. He put on a plain blue T-shirt and jean shorts, along with his sandals, and hopped into his car. The student always wore a shirt at the beach, not that he was ashamed of his body, but simply that he disliked showing any skin to strangers. Even wearing shorts and sandals was a whole ordeal, and he was actually looking forward to fall, when he could safely wear his beloved long-sleeved shirts. Although he wasn’t ashamed of it, his body was still average, at most. Pale and relatively skinny, he never really did exercise, being busy with his college classes. He had semi-long messy brown hair, wore glasses and, at 20 years old, stood at a middling 5’8. Finally, his 3.5-inch long dick, hard, was just enough for him.

When Loïc arrived at the parking lot, it was already halfway filled with cars. “Busy day,” he thought. As long as he could find a cozy, quiet spot, he would have a good time anyway. He grabbed his towel and the book he was planning to read, and headed out to the coast. As he stepped out onto the sand, he saw a clear area with very few beachgoers and no-one splashing around and making noise in the water, which was perfect for him. However, as he was walking towards it, he spotted a big sign only a couple dozen feet away, and went to check it out. It read: “BEYOND THIS POINT YOU MAY ENCOUNTER NUDE SUNBATHERS”. He grunted, annoyed, at its sight. He definitely didn’t want to be next to the “freak zone”, as he called it, but as he looked around the clothed side of the beach, he really saw no other good spot other than the one he was headed to. He decided to go there anyway; he would simply have to permanently look the other way. Loïc eventually laid down his towel on the warm sand and took out his notebook. He made sure to sit down facing the opposite way from the nude beach, and tried to forget that it was even there.

However, as the young man was going through the pages, he found it progressively harder to focus. Something was nagging him at the back of his head, but he couldn’t figure out what. He shuffled on his towel, annoyed, and thought about the nude beach again, and how unpleasant it was to be near such freaky people. He kept trying to read, not noticing how his cock had gotten hard at the thought. It was of no use, though, as the image of the nude beach sign popped up inside his head. His dick started stretching, reaching up to 4 inches long. The words were jumbling up inside his head, letters mixing until he couldn’t read anymore. Loïc got really frustrated; he really needed to review these notes for the upcoming exam. His cock, now thicker and 4.5 inches long, was promptly tugging at his crotch. Feeling pressure in his pants, he looked down and gasped at his bigger meat that was begging for attention. Pretending to ignore it, the student decided to take a break and walk around for a few minutes.

He made a few shy steps around before heading confidently, if unwillingly, towards the sign. As he walked, he started feeling hotter and hotter in a way that became almost uncomfortable. Also, his shirt started clinging tightly to his torso, more so than it had ever done before. It was hugging every curve in his pecs and biceps, which were clearly bigger than earlier. Loïc did everything to keep his privacy, and his clothes on; he disliked those show-off dudes who were always prancing around with their shirts off. However, after tolerating it for a while, the junior simply couldn’t take it anymore; he hurriedly took his T-shirt off and threw it on the ground with no further regard. Finally freed, his muscles grew even more. His biceps and forearms bulged while his shoulders broadened. His torso expanded out to support his inflating pecs, as his abs tightened into a six-pack. His back also grew out and stretched, gaining 2 inches and bringing the growing young man to 5’10.

Still hot, but feeling much better, Loïc still paid no attention to his muscular upper body. It was natural, after all, to be shirtless at the beach. He felt something tight at his left hand, and looked down to see he was still wearing his watch. His wrist, larger since the growth spurt, was now too large for the instrument. With a carelessness he could’ve never had towards it before, he unclipped it and let it fall to the ground. As he did so, he watched his fingers slowly thicken, elongating in front of his eyes as his hands broadened and stretched. He, however, had to quickly thrust them behind his head; he bit his lip as he watched his dick stretching half an inch longer, reaching 5 inches long, and making it especially difficult to keep his bigger, powerful hands away from it. The growth subsiding, he relaxed his arms back to his sides.

Although no longer feeling hot under the sun, Loïc still felt something wasn’t right. “Why am I wearing shorts on top of my swimsuit?” he thought, “I’m at the beach!” As he said that, muscles started growing in his legs, his quads and ass plumping up and tightening his legwear. Undoing his belt and slipping the piece of clothing down, he revealed what was under it; a tight, almost skimpy, white and red striped stretchy swimsuit he definitely didn’t put on that morning, that showed every detail of his new larger bulge. The bathing suit seemed perfectly usual to Loïc, who didn’t notice it, nor his legs growing further, his quads enlarging while his ass was blowing up and his calves were thickening. As he stepped out of the jeans, his legs stretched 2 inches longer, bringing the confused student up to 6 feet.

As he kept walking, he felt the need to remove his sandals. What was a good day at the beach without feeling the sand between your toes? Without hesitation, the 20-year-old boy slipped off his footwear, leaving his sandals behind him, half-buried into the ground. As he did so, his feet started elongating, arching slightly as his body grew another inch, bringing him to 6’1. The now fit student kept walking towards the nude beach sign, almost becoming eager to reach it. The young man barely had any clothing on, at this point, but as much as his body had changed, his face remained practically untouched.

Seconds later, Loïc was fidgeting with one of the last things he still had on: his chain. It was a present from his parents, who gave it to him when he started high school as a good-luck charm for his studies. He had never removed it as part of a tradition, and also to take every chance he could to be successful. However, now, he felt confused as to why it was so important to him. What was the big deal about studies? Sure, it could help you get a good job, but those jobs were usually boring; the real world was out there, meeting new people, not crammed in some classroom learning about cells and stuff. Playing with the lock, at the back, he clipped it off and watched as it fell on the warm sand. He raised his shoulders and kept walking, not noticing his thickening neck. Suddenly, he gulped loudly, feeling his larger Adam’s apple bob. As he brought up his right hand to feel it, he also lifted his left hand towards his face to feel the changes happening. His nose straightened up and poked out further, his lips plumped up, his cheekbones rose up slightly, his chin pushed out a little, and his jaw broadened. He now looked objectively handsome, with straight white teeth and a sneering grin to match. While his hands were still busy feeling his face, he brusquely let out a deeper groan as he felt his body cramp up again, his muscles thickening up slightly while his spine stretched out an extra inch, bringing him to 6’2. He also let out a weak moan as he felt his dick lengthening slowly, girthing up as it slowly grew an inch longer and reached 6 inches long, leaking out pre.

The growth having finally subsided, Loïc, feeling slightly dazed, stumbled on the sand and caused his glasses to slip off his wider face. As he bent over to look for them, he blinked a few times and noticed he could see perfectly without them. Nonetheless, when looking on the ground, he spotted a pair of colored sunglasses that he recognised as his. He swiftly picked them up and put them on, readjusting his eyes to a more comfortable level of sunlight. The glasses also caused a few changes to his body, spreading a tan over his skin and a dusting of hair around his arms and legs. A well-kept stubble grew out around his jaw while his hair styled out, retracting back inside his head while fluffing up at the top.

His body and mind truly those of a beach jock, he finally reached the sign at the limit of the nude beach. “Well,” Loïc thought, “there’s only one thing left for me to take off.” The fit 20-year-old quickly took off his bathing suit as he had done dozens of times, pulling it off in one swift motion while keeping it in his hand. He gripped the post as he moaned deeply, his dick going through its last growth spurt. The former A-grade student shuddered slightly as he watched his cock slowly stretch out, while also thickening and plumping up, becoming slightly chubby as his balls dropped down. After a few seconds of slow, pleasurable lengthening, his dick reached 2 inches further. Loïc barely had time to take a breath before he started cumming repeatedly on the sign.

With an 8-inch long cock of seizable girth, Loïc was well equipped to get any guy he wanted. The 6’2 fit, tan and handsome guy definitely didn’t care about school anymore, or about hiding his body. He stood, catching his breath next to the sign. “Whoops,” he thought. “I’m not quite on the nude beach yet.” He put his swimsuit in front of his genitals, more as a tease than anything else, and looked over the area. “I won’t miss this side of the place. I don’t know why I even went there in the first place, through all the boring people. The real fun’s on this side!” he thought again, grinning widely before turning back to join those he used to call freaks, exposing his plump backside for the whole place to see.

#male muscle growth #jock tf #CivicTransform

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