#ch: perfect engine

[faxxmodem]

og post: @dogmotif

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (24) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: hihi ,, sorry this update took so long (>'-'<) hope u like it <3 personally think it could've been freakier but also planning on another extra of pregnant oc n bbydaddy jk fucking LOL so i wouldn't worry abt it... ch is lengthy fyi … also,, bby2’s name reveal 😝

warnings: pregnancy mood swings, hot tub sex (oc is in her 2nd trimester) pregnant oc, jealousy, dirty talk, breast play, some slapping, kissing, and fucking

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

so much happened before the wedding. 

for instance, you two pulled zion out of daycare and enrolled him in preschool. with all your leave time from work, this allowed you to spend more precious moments with him and while still having time for yourself. another thing is that you and jungkook finally pushed through packing up and moving homes. truth be told, you two bought the penthouse a few years ago but paused on the mini renovations due to your busy work schedules and personal circumstances. on top of that, when jungkook came back from new york he talked about leaving the company to start something of his own. 

if that doesn’t feel like a lot… you two got married. 

married. 

in the midst of the aftermath of your wedding and moving process; you and jungkook are expecting another. and wow, does it feel like you two can’t catch your breath. the timing of everything has truly never felt more chaotic yet so right. 

you and jungkook deserve every bit of this new chapter.

this new life. 

so, with everything in motion, you two decided to take a take a moment and slow things down.

to catch your breath, step away, and spend some intentional time together before the next wave of change rolls in. a cabin trip, tucked away from the noise, just the two of them and the growing baby you carry, is the perfect escape.

when the car slows to stop, you take a moment to admire the soft snow that coats the cabin’s rooftop and blankets the surrounding pine trees. jungkook turns off the engine and gazes out the window. as he marvels at the sight, he turns to you and thinks; 

there’s no comparison. 

you catch his gaze and scoff at him. 

“don’t look at me like that,” you warn. “we haven’t even made it inside the cabin. i’m 5 months pregnant, jungkook. i can’t fuck in this audi like—”

“you’re so beautiful,” he leans over and kisses your forehead. “that’s all.”

you tighten your lips and nod. 

he’s been awfully good at making your heart flutter these days… could be the pregnancy hormones. could be the fact that you married the right man. somewhere in between, you can’t even find it in yourself to question it or think any deeper. you’re just thankful. you’re so grateful for him. 

jungkook steps out first.

he inhales deeply and stretches. taking in the stillness of the mountains, the snow beneath him crunches under his boots. he hurries around to open the car door for you. offering his hand, you smile and take it. your gloved finger curls around his as you carefully step out of the car, one hand instinctively resting on your round belly. 

"oh.. wow. honey, this is beautiful,” you murmur in awe. 

jungkook tugs you close and kisses the top of your head. "it's aight. i think you're—"

"oh, my love..." you look down at your belly and pout. "your daddy is so annoying. he's such a yapper. i hope you take after me and know when to shut up."

the first day passes faster than you expect.

after settling into the cozy cabin, you and jungkook decide to explore the small downtown area. it’s a charming place, with snow-dusted streets and twinkling lights in every shop window. you wander hand in hand, stopping to sample street food—warm, savory bites that fill the crisp air with delicious smells. then there’s dessert, sweet enough to leave you both way too full but completely satisfied. by the time you finish, the sun is setting, and you head back to the cabin before 6pm, ready to settle in for a cozy evening.

the two of you curl up on the couch, binge-watching bad romcoms. between the predictable plots and over-the-top drama, you’re both laughing harder than you have in weeks. every ridiculous twist has you snorting, and you spend half the time arguing over the characters’ choices, tossing playful jabs at each other’s taste in movies. you haven’t felt this light, this refreshed in each other's company, in what feels like forever.

it’s a stark contrast to the year before, which was filled with more ups and downs than anyone should have to endure in a lifetime. even now, it’s still hard to look back at those difficult times without a weight settling in your chest. but it’s moments like this—when you’re playing a board game with jungkook, battling over a meaningless win—that make your heart soar.

jungkook, of course, refuses to let you win, which might be the funniest thing he’s done in a while. he’s always been competitive, but when it comes to you, he usually doesn’t mind losing, letting you take the victory just to see you smile.

but tonight?

tonight’s different.

you’re both teasing each other mercilessly, throwing out fake strategies and dramatic groans every time someone gains an advantage.

“you’re really gonna make me earn this, huh?” you laugh, shaking your head as he shoots you a smirk.

“you better believe it,” he replies, eyes gleaming with playful determination.

"does the fact that i'm carrying your baby—"

"no, no, no—d-don't pull the milf card," he panics. "don't be a cheater like that."

"what's it to you? if i'm a milf, you're a dilf."

the back-and-forth banter fills the cabin with warmth, the kind of joy that’s rare and precious.

every time he tries to outwit you, you only love him more for it. this is the jungkook you fell in love with—the one who knows how to make even the simplest moments feel special.

as you look at him mid-game, you think to yourself; you win no matter what.

this is the love you fought for, and right here, in this cozy cabin, surrounded by snow and laughter, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

when the next morning comes, you and jungkook wake up slow together.

over the past 5 months, you’ve been so nauseous, your feet have been swelling (you cried the other day because your old snow boots wouldn’t fit), and your body just... feels less like your own every day.

between the sleepless nights and aching back, you’ve been longing for a break, something to help you feel even just a little bit more like yourself again.

he’s constantly touching your belly and making sure you aren’t bending your knees or lifting a finger. you’ve always known him to be an acts-of-service type of guy, but he surely is a different man when you’re pregnant.

he’s so fucking clingy...

but you are too.

jungkook knows how much you’ve been struggling; he sees it in the way you wince when you stand up too fast, or how you press your hand to your lower back after a long day. when he suggested a babymoon—an escape to a peaceful spa retreat—you didn’t hesitate to agree.

he planned everything perfectly, even down to booking a specialist renowned for her prenatal massages. you both have been counting down the days, excited for the chance to unwind together.

before heading to the spa, you and jungkook decide to grab some coffee.

today, the weather is cool with a crispness in the air that feels refreshing after yesterday’s warmth.

jungkook parks the car at a nearby café on the corner of the street and helps you out. the small bell above the door jingles as you walk in. the vibe inside is laid-back and peaceful—wooden tables, soft lighting, and a chalkboard menu that gives it a homely feel, but the low hum of conversation fills the space with a quiet buzz of life.

you both are a little more sensitive this time around, but who could blame you? between the pregnancy hormones and the life changes, things have been tough. but it’s okay. things are better now.

life has never felt more full.

jungkook squeezes your hand before heading up to the counter to order, while you take a seat by the window, a few tables away from the barista station. from your spot, you can watch him as he approaches the counter, where a young woman with bright eyes and an easy smile greets him.

"good morning! what can i get for you today?" she asks, her voice chipper and smooth, a little too warm for your liking.

maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, but… truly, there’s something in her voice you dislike.

she leans slightly against the counter, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, her attention fully fixed on jungkook. you tilt your head and sit back in your chair a little more. this is interesting.

jungkook offers his usual friendly smile. "one iced americano, and one matcha oat milk latte, please."

the barista starts punching in the order, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "iced, even in this weather? bold choice. i like that."

jungkook laughs softly, the sound filling the quiet space and making you smile unconsciously as you fiddle with the napkin in front of you. you can hear snippets of their conversation from where you sit. the barista's tone shifts just slightly—casual but laced with subtle flirtation.

"so, aside from iced coffee at 8am, do you ever drink coffee at 4pm?" she asks, her eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary. "my shift ends at 4pm. how do you like your coffee then?"

you feel your shoulders tense, a little twist in your stomach forming as you watch. it’s harmless. you know it’s harmless, but something about the way she’s looking at him makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

jungkook, ever the oblivious sweetheart, glances toward you. his gaze softens when your eyes meet. without missing a beat, he grins and says, "with my wife."

the barista falters for a moment, caught off guard. her smile tightens, and she forces a laugh, quickly recovering.

"well, aren’t you… committed. that’s nice to see."

you catch the way jungkook's lips twitch, clearly proud of himself for the quick response. he gives you a little wink, and despite the initial rush of warmth from his words, the insecurity starts to creep in again. you glance away, pretending to be interested in the view outside the window, but you can’t shake the way your stomach churns. it’s a familiar wave of self-consciousness washing over you.

it’s stupid, you think to yourself.

but... why does this bother me?

even if he always says the right things... fuck.

your hand then drifts down to rest on your belly, the growing baby inside serving as a constant reminder of the changes you’ve been going through. the swelling, the mood swings, the way your clothes don’t fit the same anymore—it’s all there. it bubbles just under the surface. seeing someone so effortlessly pretty and carefree—someone who hasn’t been carrying another human for months—playfully flirting with your husband only magnifies that feeling.

jungkook pays, grabs the drinks, and walks over to you, placing one in front of you as he takes a seat.

"got your favorite," he says, flashing you that same smile that always melts your heart.

you force a smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

"thanks, honey."

he narrows his eyes slightly, reading you like a book.

"everything okay?"

"yeah, i’m fine," you reply, taking a sip from your cup, hoping it hides the tiny lie. the weight of your feelings lingers, leaving a heaviness in the air that jungkook can sense, even if he doesn’t fully understand.

for now, he lets it slide, though you know him well enough to recognize that he’s not going to leave it alone for long.

the spa day is as luxurious and blissful as you imagined it to be. 

you tried your best not to let your waves of jealousy and insecurity get in the way of experiencing this with jungkook… but it’s a lot easier said than done. 

you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious the entire time. you couldn’t help but notice the longing gazes the staff had as jungkook walked by your side… it made you feel sick to your stomach. 

… like, yes! he’s handsome. 

but he’s also mine? so close your eyes. 

aside from that, you and jungkook had a great time with the massages and truly felt relaxed. it was so nice to spend time with him like this… which is why a part of you immediately feels guilty when he helps you get dressed at the end of the session. 

“honey, you okay?” jungkook says, as he helps zip up your jacket. 

you look at him, trying to blink the thin layer of your teary eyes. “y-yeah.”

he blinks at you. 

“is your body feeling okay? was the massage too much—w-what’s going on? why are you about to cry?”

“no,” you step closer, your arms slowly sliding around his neck and draw him in. your fingers lace gently at the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft strands of his hair. “it was perfect. thank you so much for bringing me here, honey. i love you.” 

“i love you too.”

instinctively, jungkook leans into you, your forehead almost touching. his gaze softens, and there's a tenderness in the way you hold him. he loves this. it’s like you’re grounding yourself in his presence. even though he knows you’re withholding some truth, he’ll take this for now. 

“you sure?” he attempts once more. 

“mhm,” you nod, making an effort to lighten your tone. “let’s get some dinner, yeah?”

dinner was lovely. 

it was the kind that left your heart and stomach feeling equally full. jungkook had made you laugh so much, telling stories and cracking little jokes that slowly but surely melted away the weird mood from earlier. you’d almost forgotten about the lingering unease as his laughter filled the cozy cabin, a warmth settling between the two of you. 

now, as you both lounged comfortably in the soft glow of the fire, jungkook’s playful grin returned.

“you know,” he said, nudging your knee, “we’ve got that hot tub just waiting for us.” his eyes sparkled mischievously. "let's take advantage of it."

you tighten your lips.

"come on," jungkook grins, tugging gently at your hand. "the hot tub’s waiting for us. you know you want to."

you hesitate, glancing out toward the balcony where steam rises into the cool evening air. the idea of sinking into the hot water sounds tempting, but the lingering weight of your jealousy from earlier makes you feel uneasy. you haven't said anything about it yet, but it sits at the back of your mind. 

jungkook’s eyes search yours, his expression softening as he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“you deserve to relax, honey. this whole weekend is for you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "let's enjoy it."

you want to tell him. 

you want to explain the knot in your chest, the little twist of insecurity that made you feel silly. but instead, you just smile—small and tight—because he's right. this trip is supposed to be about unwinding, about feeling good again, and you can’t bring yourself to ruin the mood.

“okay,” you say, your voice quieter than usual. “let’s do it.”

jungkook’s face lights up instantly, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. 

“love you, mama.” he pulls you in for a quick kiss, his excitement infectious as he heads toward the balcony to get the tub ready.

the outdoor hot tub and sauna sit on the edge of the property, steam rising into the chilly air. as you stand at the edge of the hot tub, you strip down your robe. jungkook, who has been sitting in the hot tub mentally preparing himself for you—is more than delighted to watch you lower yourself into the bubbling water. 

jungkook looks up from the water with soft, adoring eyes. his expression is completely relaxed yet focused, entirely captivated by you. the steam rises around him, but it’s the warmth in his gaze that stands out the most. a kind of quiet affection that radiates with every glance. his lips are slightly parted, and though he says nothing, the way his gaze clings to you speaks volumes. he's utterly consumed by you. every detail of your presence pulling him deeper into that gentle obsession. (gentle… yeah right). his tattooed arm rests casually on the edge of the hot tub, but even with his laid-back posture, there's an intensity in the way he watches you. 

truly, you're the only thing in the world that matters to him. 

offering him a small smile, you finally sink into the water and sit. jungkook moves from his spot to in front of you. he opens his arms and you let out a giggle as he wraps himself around you. you can’t help but giggle… you aren’t blind. 

jungkook comes to you—wet, tatted, and toned. 

as his arms envelop you, the warmth of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine. you can’t help but admire the way the water glistens on his skin and how hot and bothered his tattoo sleeve is making you. for a second, jungkook pulls away to smirk at you… when he does so, it ignites a flutter in your stomach. you find yourself lost in the depths of his eyes. 

you’re convinced that the glint in them can heal your soul. 

in this intimate space, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in your own little bubble. you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he pulls you closer, a reminder of the love you share, a bond that only grows stronger in moments like this. the steam swirls around you, but it’s the connection between your souls that truly warms your heart, making you more and more aware that this is where you belong—right in the center of his gaze.

"this was a good idea," you breathe. “i needed this."

jungkook kisses the top of your head before he moves and slips in beside you. his arm naturally rests around your shoulders. 

“anything for you, mama,” he whispers, breath visible in the cool air. he tilts his head, sneaking a kiss on your cheek. you smile as he does so, feeling like you could melt. “i’m so happy you’re happy.”

you laugh softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "you make me happy.”

jungkook’s face lights up. 

it’s moments like these where he feels his heart is lifted. there’s nothing better than hearing you say shit like that. it’s so simple but it wholeheartedly gives him the will to live.

jungkook’s hand drifts to your belly. 

“i miss zion.” 

you laugh. “even though he’s your number 1 hater?” 

jungkook scoffs at you. though what you said is true, he refuses to accept it. 

“he’s gonna have to learn to love us equally… or at least, need me a little more,” he sighs. “to be honest… i’m kind of worried about when you go into labour and the entire new shift in our family. don’t get me wrong—i think zion is a great kid. as unbias as i can be, he truly is kind. he’s curious and understanding at the same time. he’s funny and sociable… but i’m concerned that if he isn’t into me right now and he’s been awfully clingy with you… w-well, i’m not sure how we’re gonna navigate through that. our baby is going to need you and i want to protect your peace of mind and recovery… but i also want to be an accessible father to zion and leave enough time and things for myself. i d-don’t know if i’m making any sense but—”

you nod, listening to him. everything he mentioned makes sense to you. you feel the same way and have also worried about how zion will be as a brother. he’s completely capable of it and he has shown excitement regarding your pregnancy—but it’s different when it happens.

“i feel the same way,” you admit, taking your hand and resting it on his cheek. “everything is so new and there’s so much more than just welcoming a new baby… all your feelings are okay and i appreciate you being able and willing to talk about them even when they don’t make sense to you. see, when you do and say things like this—it eases me. we’re not going to get everything right. we’re going to mess up and there will be times where our priorities rearrange and the adjustment sucks… but we’ve been through worse and made it through. this is our life together, honey. we’re going to make it work. we’re going to be okay.” 

jungkook takes your words in. 

they give him a rush of comfort and feels instantly better. there’s no other way of describing the kind of relief you give him.

he believes in you so much. 

you reach over and kiss him. he kisses you back, happily and deeply. when you pull away he lets out a sigh of relief.

“in other news… yoongi and his new girlfriend? don’t they remind you of us?” jungkook begins. “like when we were dating and how dramatic we were about always being together? she lives two cities away and he’s constantly driving back and forth.”

you laugh, recalling all the lovestruck texts yoongi sent you. not too long ago, he asked for anniversary date ideas and it made you feel funny. with his past girlfriends, he never bothered to ask for help or even get his friends involved. he was usually quiet about them… but with this new one, he’s on blast. 

you and jungkook met yoongi’s girlfriend a few months ago. just before the wedding actually. she was really warm and brought a brighter part of yoongi out. you’ve never seen that side of him. he would glow while she smiled. it was decided then and there that she would be invited to your wedding.

“yoongi is falling in love again," you say with a laugh. "maybe a little fast but it’s also really nice to see him passionate about someone… and he’s grown.”

jungkook chuckles, nodding. "yeah, he’s head over heels this time."

you pause, then casually add, “she’s really pretty and kind… so i understand why he’s lovestruck.”

the silence that follows is enough for jungkook to realize there’s more on your mind. you glance over at him before finally asking, “she’s pretty right?”

“i’m married.”

“you’re allowed to think other women are pretty… l-like the barista from this morning. she was pretty, right?” you repeat. 

jungkook’s eyes slightly widen. his body stiffens, not expecting the shift. 

“i think you think she’s pretty.”

you bite your inner cheek. “because she was pretty—”

“no.”

“it’s okay,” you attempt to sound cool. “you can admit it. i won’t be mad—”

“i think my wife is pretty. the prettiest.”

“she was pretty—”

he shrugs, eyes beginning to panic. “honey, i couldn’t tell ya—“

“jungkook,” you groan. “be serious—“

“i am,” jungkook lets out a harsh scoff. “are you?”

you feel a little sick. 

not because of the pregnancy but because you know you’ve provoked him. suddenly, his gaze lowers and the unbothered expression he had on a second ago is long gone. 

“___, my love—my wife… you know you’re carrying my child, right? not only have you carried my first, second, and now third—holy shit. i don’t mean to sound so angry right now, but if what you’re insinuating is that i haven’t fucked you deep enough to feel the love i have for you then—fuck. we have an issue here. i am angry.”

you heart stops the moment he mentions your second pregnancy. “no. that’s not what i—“

“tell me now,” jungkook demands. “have i not kissed every inch of your body enough for you to understand how in love i am with it? with you? have i or have i not, huh? or should i fuck you right now so i can prove shit? fuck, ___. am i not a grown-ass man that falls at the feet of his wife—no. don’t look away. i want you to fucking look at me when i’m talking to you.” 

you tighten your lips and look up at him. for a moment, you look down and away. he caught your look and pulled you back into reality. his reality. 

the atmosphere shifts. 

“are you okay?” he asks for the nth time today. “are we okay?”

jungkook chases for your eyes. you look at him and feel overwhelmed. you can’t help it. before you know it, tears stream down your face. 

“i d-don’t know,” your voice shakes. “i don’t mean to pick a fight. i don’t know why i’m so insecure right now—i just… i didn't mean to be so sulky the entire day. please, jungkook... i love you and appreciate everything you've done for this babymoon... and i know that the barista flirting with you this morning was nothing. i know it was nothing. girls have hit on you way more than that but i think because i’m pregnant and she was so pretty—”

you let out a sob. “i know you love me and there are more important things in our life than to be crying over stupid shit like this… but i can’t help it. w-why do you have to be so handsome?” 

you hit his bare chest and he moves back, pretending like it hurt. pouting, you cross your arms at him.

“a-and you can’t blame me. you always flirt with me and get me all hot and bothered but haven’t actually fucked me in 2 months. 2 months, jungkook! what the fuck! this is literally your fault. i look and act like this because of your fucking cum—”

“oh my god,” he hisses. “honey, do you know how hard it’s been for me to not rip your clothes off? do you have any idea how i feel when i touch you and all you do is glow? as much as this makes me sound like a pathetic loser—i’m scared to. if i fuck you while you’re pregnant, i’m literally going to cumbust. i’m going to fall in love with you even more. i don’t know if i can handle that—can you? god, do you know how much this all means to me? you think it’s just me being inside you again—which, fuck, i miss that too—but to me it’s so much more. i can’t even find the words to say how utterly sick my mind gets when i think about us fucking with you pregnant like this.” 

you stare at him blankly.

“you’re pregnant—your body is changing,” he pauses. “... and i’m so grateful for you. for this divine body. you can be insecure all you want and i will do anything and everything to prove them wrong—but the truth is… i’m selfish right now. ___, i love how needy you are. i love how your boobs overflow in my hands. i love the bump. i love how flush your cheeks are. i love that you can’t bend and i get to do more things for you. i love that you want me more. so fuck. sorry if i don’t give a shit if a young barista hits on me or if yoongi has a girlfriend—i’m captivated by you. i only know you and your beauty. i only want you.”

jungkook has always loved you.

over and over again, he has shown, fought, and waited for you with his love like no other. to be frank, it feels like every day there is a new reason for him to love you. 

when you became pregnant with zion, he didn’t know how to function. he was genuinely mindblown and breathless from how much he loved you. then, as you two went through your second pregnancy and continue to heal together from the circumstances, he thinks; this must be it. 

because there is no way he could love you any more than this. 

… but he does. 

there’s something about seeing you pregnant that makes him fall even harder. seeing you in this light—happier and safe… it strikes him differently. the feeling plunges right into his heart and fills it with more admiration and appreciation for you. 

you see, it’s in the little things. 

how you absentmindedly rub your belly when you talk about the baby, or the way your eyes soften when you feel a kick. he’s in awe of how strong you are, how you’ve adapted to every change with grace, even when it’s tough.

watching you carry his child, seeing the way your love has grown to make room for this new life, has only deepened his devotion. to him, you’ve never looked more beautiful, more radiant—more divine.

the steam swirls around you and jungkook. 

instead of saying more, he leans closer. his eyes lock with yours and you gulp. he brushes a damp strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your skin. 

it feels like he’s taking forever to kiss you. 

he looks at you needy and desperate. leaning in, he tilts his head and closes in on you. time stops when his lips met yours. he kisses you with such demand.

opening your mouth ever so slightly, you allow him in. he deepens the kiss, melting away any lingering tension. he pulls you closer, his abs touching your bump. jungkook moans into the kiss and you smile. then, he slides his hands around your waist and his fingers play with the hem of your bikini bottom. you let out a gasp when he pinches your ass. he pulls away from the kiss and laughs, before placing a kiss on your shoulder. 

then, he lifts his face and kisses you again. pulling away once again, you giggle as his fingers tug down your bottoms. 

“need you.”

you scrunch your nose at him.

it’s so strange to you because pregnancy isn’t that glamorous. you aren’t blind and jungkook doesn’t exactly do much to wipe the drool that dribbles down his mouth when he sees you paddle like a penguin… but seriously? the hot tub?

“in the hot tub?”

“in the hot tub?” he mocks you. 

you squirm as he successfully takes your bottoms off. he smirks as he tosses them to the side. jungkook then squats and lifts you to switch positions. as he sits, he settles you on top of him. he bites his bottom lip as he concentrates on taking his shorts off. 

"come on," he whines. "it's sexy."

“im pregnant,” you remind him. “i don’t know if i can—”

“you can,” jungkook assures you. “you will.” 

just like that, you fold.

you trust him. 

when he takes his shorts off, he helps you get more comfortable. as you sink into his cock, you plant both of your hands on his shoulders. you wince as you hump and grind on him. 

he feels so big. 

jungkook playfully pouts. “what’s wrong, mama? you were crying about not having me inside you—now that i am, what? what is it? too big?”

you nod as you come down. 

“should’ve prepped.” 

jungkook’s pout turns into a mischievous smile.

“why? this is for me. i like that you’re so sensitive. don’t you? you feel it, right? you’re so tight, mama. can feel you clenching. your fucking pussy has grip… and look at you. fucking yourself onto me like a good girl cos you love this fat cock so much. you love this.”

you nod, feeling his length in your guts. “yes, daddy. love this cock so much. thank you for my baby.”

he inhales sharply before wrapping his arms around you. jungkook rips off your bikini top and stuffs his face into your breasts. he kisses them, taking his time to lick and suck your nipples. when he pulls away, he brings his hands to them. 

he squeezes them tightly and watches the way your flesh spills in between his fingers. your breasts got so fucking big—he loves them. 

“god bless these breasts,” he hums. “you like that, mama? you like it when i play with your tits like this?” 

slap.

“say thank you to me,” he insists. “with my fucking cum, your tits wouldn’t be this delicious.”

you ride him slower. 

“thank you, daddy.”

slap. 

“again. say it like you mean it.” 

you moan as he smacks them once more. 

“thank you, daddy—oh,” you pant as he twists your nipple. he looks at you, mouth slightly opened and eyes darted at you. “t-thank you for my tits. thank you for cumming inside me and always stuffing me full. you’re so big and i’m so thankful. thank you, thank you, thank you—mmfphh—”

jungkook pulls your hair, tilting you back.

he shoves his face back to your tits before licking his way up to your neck. you feel him throb inside you and suddenly think that the jets and led lights in this hot tub add to the tension. it feels so good. 

pleasure is an understatement.

the way jungkook fits inside you is incredible.

it’s near indescribable actually. you must have saved an entire nation in your past life to deserve dick this good. you ride the high, feeling the tightness in your stomach knot more and more. then, finally, jungkook tells you to get off. 

as you do so, he lets go of your hair and takes you by the waist. he bends you over. you plant your hands on the edge of the hot tub as he hisses, smacks your ass, and shoves himself back inside your pussy. 

he fucks you, making sure to have a handful of your boobs as he does so.

it’s what he deserves.

jungkook bites your shoulders as you moan. cheek to cheek, you both begin to pant. he digs himself deeper and deeper, you swear the curves of his dick have engraved themselves into your pussy. 

“f-fuck yeah, mama—t-that’s it,” jungkook murmurs into your ear. “my dirty fucking slut. so needy and bratty when you’re pregnant. you’re my fucking princess.”

“n-not a princess—”

“you are though,” he breathes our sharply. “my babymama… god, i love you. i love this fucking cunt so much. i’m sorry i haven’t been fucking it. practically fucking self sabatoge… didn’t wanna obsess over you even more—f-fuck. you feel so good. i was a fool. i’m sorry, mama. i’m s-so fucking—nghh—”

jungkook slams himself into you harder and harder. the water splashes and the sounds of the hot tub jets are put into second place. you whimper and moan, matching his pace. he feels like he’ll lose his mind soon. 

you sound so pretty.

you are so pretty.

right then and there, jungkook reaches for your clit. he rubs on it, elevating your pleasure. 

"my pretty mama."

"oh my god—"

jungkook lets out a big exhale. “mhmm. feel good, mama? you like the way i touch you? so fucking pretty. the prettiest. f-fuck, ___... daddy’s got you.” 

he lets you enjoy for a few more seconds before bringing his wet hands to cup your cheeks. he tilts your face up and squishes your lips together. he kisses you before moving back to your neck. there, he nibbles on your skin to leave marks. 

“i love you,” he pants. “i love you, mama.”

“i love you too, daddy.”

what bliss. 

jungkook cums first and feeling the way his cum shoots inside you finishes you off. you cum seconds after and reach for kisses. jungkook lowers his face and kisses you. against your lips, he murmurs;

“10 minute break. can we have sex inside for round 2?”

the babymoon turned out to be everything you needed and more after you and jungkook talked (fucked) through your feelings. truth is, all you can really recall is cumming so much you were afraid your water was going to break. for the past 2 months where you two didn’t fuck—he’s made up for it.

once the air was cleared, any lingering tension melted away, and the rest of the trip was filled with small, intimate moments that made you both fall deeper into this new chapter of your lives. there was that one morning when jungkook woke up early, made breakfast, and brought it to bed with the most endearing, sheepish grin. 

“thought we could start the day off cozy,” he said, climbing back into bed beside you. his warmth immediately soothing. you spent that morning feeding each other bites of fruit between soft kisses, the world outside feeling distant and irrelevant.

every night, you two facetimed zion. watching his bright little face light up the screen as he excitedly told you about his adventures with his grandparents. 

“look, daddy, i made a painting for mommy!” he shouted, showing off a messy splash of colors that had you both smiling. 

of course it was a painting for mommy. 

jungkook asked for his and zion said; “i don’t know. maybe baby will make you one.”

during those quiet nights—heads close together, watching zion through the phone or lying side by side, soaking in the peacefulness—you realized just how "married" you felt. this trip wasn’t just a getaway; it was a reminder of the life you were building together, the love that had deepened through every challenge.

as the sun began to set on the last day of your babymoon, the golden light streaming through the windows bathed the cabin in a warm glow. you and jungkook had spent the afternoon doing nothing in particular—just enjoying each other’s company. lounging in comfortable silence, sharing lazy conversations, and occasionally stealing soft kisses.

“hard to believe it’s almost over,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back as you rested against him. you hummed in agreement, feeling completely at ease as if all the worries and stresses from before had melted away during your stay.

“i could stay here forever,” you replied with a soft smile, half-joking but meaning it more than you’d care to admit. “but i miss zion and the mom guilt is hitting so hard right now.”

jungkook chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“do you think he misses me?”

you laugh and then cover your mouth. “did you get funnier or something?”

“haha,” jungkook rolls his eyes. “i really fucking hope this baby likes me more.”

you laugh again, sinking further into him. you rest your hand over your belly. your eyes widen when you feel a kick, you grab jungkook’s hand and place it on top of the spot. 

“i think baby will.” you say softly. "hey, we can talk about baby names on our way home! i’m excited.” 

and just like that, the babymoon comes to a quiet, contented end. nothing dramatic or grand—just the two of you, basking in the love and peace that had surrounded you for the past 10 days. 

as jungkook drives, the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the car windows. jungkook hums to a the music playing. the gentle melody soon turns into him singing softly, his voice filling the car with a soothing warmth.

your hand rested on your belly, and almost as if on cue, you felt a tiny kick. the baby reacts to his singing, little movements following the rhythm. you laugh quietly, placing your other hand over his. "someone’s already a fan of your voice," you said, glancing at him.

he grins, continuing to sing as he squeezes your hand. "oh? i guess i’m the favourite. in your face, mama," he jokes. “finally…” but there’s a hint of emotion in his eyes. as though the simple act of singing to your baby makes everything feel even more real.

you laugh and gaze out the window. 

"yeah. baby likes your voice," you reply, giving his hand a squeeze. 

“you okay?” jungkook asks. “what’s with that look? what’s on your mind, honey?”

"i was just thinking... about names."

jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh? got any ideas?"

you hesitate for a moment, then the name just slips out. 

"zia,” you reveal. “what do you think of zia? i saw it a few times online and in the baby name book… i called her zia once last week and she kicked. the name itself connects to light, family, and brilliance… radiance."

he repeated it under his breath, testing it out. 

"baby zia… i like it." jungkook smiles warmly, taking your hand and kissing it.

you smile back, feeling a sudden surge of love for both jungkook and the tiny life you were bringing into the world.

the name feels right, like it had been waiting for you all along. you can’t wait to get home and share the news with everyone. you can’t wait to go home together, hug and kiss zion, and fall asleep next to your husband.

everything has fallen into place and life is truly so beautiful.

[amirasainz]

Hey could I request one where mini alonso meets the wags and takes a liking to Alexandra and lily zneimer.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Princess Make-Up

The paddock was alive with the familiar hum of engines, chatter, and clinking coffee cups, but today, something — or rather someone — was stealing the spotlight. Three-year-old Yn Alonso, sporting a pair of sparkly play high heels, oversized sunglasses, and a mini Disney handbag, strutted alongside her father, Fernando, with all the confidence of a seasoned model. The F1 paddock, usually reserved for roaring engines and serious faces, had suddenly transformed into her personal runway.

Fernando chuckled as he watched his little girl prance with exaggerated steps, clearly relishing in the attention. "Where did you learn to walk like that, mi princesa?" he asked, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Yn pushed her sunglasses up her nose with a dramatic flair, barely glancing back at her father. "Papá, I'm busy. I need to get to my fans," she replied, her voice full of sass as she twirled around, causing a few members of the pit crew to chuckle.

As they made their way through the paddock, they encountered several drivers lounging around. Oscar, Lando, and Carlos were chatting near McLaren’s hospitality area when they spotted the duo.

"Well, well, who’s this little superstar?" Carlos grinned, kneeling down to Yn's level. "Can I get an autograph?"

Yn looked at him over the rim of her sunglasses, one eyebrow raised in an unintentional imitation of her father. "Hmmm, maybe later," she said nonchalantly, waving her tiny hand. "I’m busy right now."

Lando laughed. "I think you’ve been dethroned, Fernando. She’s got more attitude than half the drivers here."

Fernando took a sip of his espresso, an amused smirk on his face. "Oh, trust me, I know."

Just then, Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend, walked over, giving Yn a warm smile. “Well, aren’t you just the cutest little princess I’ve ever seen?”

Yn's face lit up. "Princess?" she gasped, her eyes widening as she took in Lily’s perfect hair and stylish outfit. She tugged on her father's sleeve excitedly. "Papá, she’s a princess!"

Lily crouched down, her eyes softening. “Of course I am. But I think you’re the real princess here.” She held out her hand, and Yn immediately placed her tiny hand in it, looking up at her in awe.

Yn took a step closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We could be princesses together," she proposed, as if revealing a grand secret.

Lily laughed, absolutely charmed. "Oh, I would love that."

Seeing his daughter’s pure delight, Fernando couldn’t help but chuckle. He leaned back, sipping his espresso with a relaxed smile. He hadn’t seen Yn this animated around anyone besides him.

As they continued their little princess chat, Yn noticed Lily had a compact mirror out, carefully touching up her lipstick. Intrigued, Yn dug into her tiny handbag and pulled out her wooden play makeup set, the pieces worn but clearly loved. She opened a pretend lipstick and began mimicking Lily’s movements with utter seriousness.

“Oh my gosh, is that your makeup set?” Lily asked, amused.

Yn nodded proudly. "Yup! This is my special makeup. It’s got sparkles," she explained, applying her invisible lipstick with practiced precision. "Do you like it?"

“I love it,” Lily assured her, applying her real lipstick while Yn kept at her imaginary one. The two of them giggled and compared "lipstick" shades, drawing quite the audience.

Lando crossed his arms, watching the scene unfold with a look of fake jealousy. “What happened? I used to be Yn’s favorite,” he said with a dramatic sigh.

Oscar nudged him. “Mate, you’ve been replaced. Look at them — they’re a royal duo now.”

Carlos shook his head, sighing. "This is hard to watch," he said with a grin. "I don’t think we’ll ever be able to compete."

Fernando watched, a smirk playing on his lips as he listened to the drivers' banter. "I guess you boys just don’t have what it takes," he said, chuckling.

Lily, noticing the crowd, gave Yn an encouraging look. “Should we show everyone our princess wave?”

Yn, always up for a new challenge, nodded. Together, they held their hands up in that classic royal wave, greeting the imaginary crowds. The drivers chuckled and applauded, while Yn, clearly delighted by the attention, curtsied as best as she could in her little heels.

After a while, Yn seemed to remember something very important. She ran over to her father, practically leaping into his arms. “Papá! Can Lily come with us forever?” she asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Fernando raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. "Forever, hmm? Well, princesa, that might be a bit tricky. Lily has to stay with Oscar, remember?"

Yn looked over at Oscar, clearly considering this dilemma. She furrowed her little brow. "Hmm. Oscar can come too, I guess."

The entire group burst into laughter, with Oscar raising his hands in mock surrender. "Well, I don’t mind being part of the Alonso crew,” he said with a grin.

Lily smiled, patting Yn’s shoulder. “How about I come visit you as often as I can, okay?”

Yn nodded happily, seeming satisfied with this arrangement. She grabbed Lily’s hand and led her back to their “makeup session” while the drivers continued to watch, each one more smitten with Yn than the next.

Fernando took another sip of his espresso, a soft smile on his face. "Better get used to it, boys. She’s got the Alonso charm."

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU)

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: mentions of masturbation WC: 3.4k AN: hello darlings!! another anakin x reader longer fic coming your way!! lmk what you think, and asks/requests are always open!

[Ch. 1], Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 1: Soldering

The moment the competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the department. As soon as he heard about it at the thesis info session of your senior year, his eyes found you in the crowd, because he knew you're his biggest rival, and you're coming for him. He was surprised to find you were looking at him, based on the way his eyes widened, and you found a shocking amount of satisfaction in it. The top prize was 10k and a job at Boeing, after all. The more you surprised him, the more likely you were to catch him off-guard. Not that you would sabotage his work, that was just unseemly conduct for a senior at Coruscant U, but you'd encourage his sloppiness.

The instant after the presentation finished, you rushed to the lab. The thesis lab adjoined the regular makerspace in a continuation of the glass walls and sleek design of the rest of the engineering building. You'd spent the end of your junior year there, when you'd had to submit your thesis proposal (A Novel Method for Glaucoma Detection Utilizing Machine Learning and Mass-Producible Hardware). Anakin was always there too, which made the space just a little more annoying, with the loud music blasting out of his headphones and the hair-raising racket of the band saw.

Last year, you'd decided to admit to yourself, despite your best efforts since you had met him, that okay, Anakin Skywalker was hot. Like, horrendously hot. He was a looker no matter what he did, with those blue puppy dog eyes, full lips, and his gorgeous chestnut hair, which looked so soft that you had wondered on multiple occasions what it would be like to touch it. And, being captain of the university taekwondo team, he was muscular as all get-out. You'd catch a peek at his calves and ass on hot days when he wore shorts, and his biceps and shoulders were almost always flexed in the lab when he was sawing something or bent over the soldering station. One time, he wore grey sweatpants, and you had to literally tear your eyes away. But it wasn't just those features that made him hot. It was, unfortunately, him as a person. The confidence with which he sauntered through the building. His mischievous smile that he'd cast you in group projects, or the clench of his jaw as he wired something finicky. Your roommate, Ahsoka, a junior and also his vice-captain, told you that, oh yeah, he was also really good with younger team members. That he taught kids in the nearby school once a week, too, even though he had such a busy schedule. Wasn't that just sweet.

He wasn't that kind to you. Another thing that made him hot, unfortunately, was his brain, and his wit. He was kind of smart, okay, very smart, and that might make him the one thing standing in your way this year. Anakin also never shied away from a biting comment at you, usually about how if you had done it correctly, you wouldn't have an issue with some wiring. Unfortunately, he was usually right, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

Your rivalry started in freshman year, when your physics professor would choose the best student's homework and post it to the class as an example. You were sure you'd be chosen--your first homework was perfect--but then you saw his name. Anakin Skywalker. The next week, you beat him, but then he came out on top immediately after. And so it went. Always fighting for the top spot, to see who could outdo the other. Now, the department was just paying you to do it.

You were in the lab right after the "Senior Thesis Information Session" presentation, using the few minutes you had before your thermodynamics class to tinker with the 3D print that had just finished. Then, the door slid open with the beep of an ID card. You didn't have to turn around to know it was Anakin. Only he would be insane enough to work on day 1 of the semester. Him, and you.

"So you're seriously competing for this, huh?" He asked, watching you sand off some rough edges off the plastic. His tone was playful, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness. He was sizing up the competition.

"Yup. And I'm gonna blow you out of the water," you said self-assuredly. Your project was too good not to win. Anakin barked out a laugh.

"Sure. Right. We'll see about that," he remarked. His voice was dripping with smugness, just like usual with you. You just rolled your eyes. It wasn't worth it to waste time verbally sparring with him, you had better things to do. Like thermo. So you pushed out of your chair, leaving the print on the shelf that had your name laser cut into wood (a gift you had made yourself after your junior thesis proposal got an A), and heading to Lecture Hall 3.56B. Anakin was, of course, heading there too. You were in lockstep, as always. However, he refused to walk there with you, so he waited precisely enough for you to close the door before he left too.

And so, the first three months of the semester passed in relative peace between the two of you. There was only a handful of people who used the thesis room, and you were the only ones there consistently. It helped because safety regulations meant you had to have a buddy in the room to use any of the really useful machines, so you sometimes found yourself pleased to see him. It meant you could get work done. At night, the engineering building was fifteen minutes away from the dorms where you both lived--in the same building, which vexed you to no end when you saw him in the dining hall--so you both had to make the walk home late at night through the city. Oftentimes, you ended up walking home at the same time. It would be wrong to call it walking together, because that would imply you were near each other, or in each other's company, which would be plain wrong. You were always as far as possible on the sidewalk, and oftentimes you two would end up speedwalking home, not allowing the other person to be faster. Was it childish? Maybe. Did you feel a rush of joy every single time you hit the door to your building before him? Definitely.

In November, as the biting cold chilled the air, you found yourself done before him. All your current tasks were done, and you had to wait for a print to finish before you could keep going, plus he wasn't using any machines that needed a buddy, according to lab rules. It had been a long day, and you'd barely dragged your bones into the lab, let alone through all that work.

"Hang on," his voice called from across the space. He was at the soldering station in his safety glasses, bent over some chip.

"What?" Why couldn't you just go home? To your beautiful bed?

"I don't feel good about you walking home alone, so can you just wait for, like, three more seconds?" He wasn't even looking at you as he said it, instead he was pressing the soldering iron to some metal. You scoffed. Like you were so frail you couldn't walk fifteen minutes on your own.

"Are you serious? Do you think I'm vulnerable because, what, I have a vagina? I've taken self-defense classes, thank you very much." Your tone was poisonous, and you tried to infuse every drop of venom you had in you at his stupid idea. Anakin finally looked up from the bench, turning the iron off and cleaning it in the steel wool, catching your eyes with an angry glare.

"No, dumbass. You're just less likely to get robbed in this part of town if you're not alone. But do what you want, I guess. Have fun getting all your valuables taken!" He shrugged sardonically and turned off the vent fan above him. Anakin was right, it killed you to admit. You didn't exactly feel safe walking home at 3am through this part of town. There were enough reports of students getting hurt. So you planted yourself in your chair and waited. When he saw you, a smug smile grew on his face. Asshole.

"C'mon, let's go home," he said nonchalantly once he'd shut down and locked the woodworking room and the laser cutters. As you walked home, this time at a comfortable pace and with his headphones off, you realized it was almost nice, peaceful to be with him like this. The night was still, not a single thing moving in the dark of the night. You passed the corner store, its graffiti-covered grate down at night, then the Vietnamese restaurant you loved, dark and empty. There was no one on the planet but the two of you at that moment. Much to your chagrin, you didn't mind it at that moment. Anakin looked even more ethereal in the moonlight, lighting up the light parts of his hair a silvery white and casting shadows all over his face. He really was handsome, you admitted reluctantly. When you got home, he wished you a good night, which he had never gone. You found the word escaping your lips out of habit. After that, your walking home at the same time turned into walking home together. On November the 8th, he asked you how you were doing. You told him you were good, your tone clipped. He echoed good into the quiet street, then you lapsed into silence. On the 10th, he asked if Ahsoka was feeling better. She had sprained her ankle at practice the previous day. You told him she was, and he said good again. On the 11th, he asked how your project was going, and, in a fit of weakness, you told him it wasn't great. That you were nervous about your first real test of the finished product, the one that would tell you if the past three months had been wasted or not. He told you that if anyone could do it, it would be you, and you spend the rest of the walk wondering where the insult buried inside the statement was hiding. Later that night, once you had tucked into bed, you realized there wasn't any insult at all, just genuine encouragement. For the next week, your walks were filled with slightly guarded conversation, sometimes about upcoming homework assignments, but sometimes about how the taekwondo team was doing, or if you thought Professor Yoda's ear hairs were a countable or uncountable infinity. But he was still an asshole.

About a week later, you were alone with Anakin in the lab around midnight, working on a piece of the lens, trying to get the refraction just right before the test run, when your phone buzzed. Midterm Grade Posted for PHYS 485: Thermodynamics. Your heart stopped. You had been hoping and praying that the number of hours you'd poured into your thesis wouldn't come back to bite you in terms of classwork, but now was the moment of truth. You opened the notification, then to the Canvas page, where you saw your grade. 38/100. Everything in the world stopped. How could you have fucked up that badly? Your eyes scanned over instructor comments. Average class grade: 40/100. Maximum grade: 49/100. Okay, okay. It would be curved up, and you'd probably get a B, but you were below average for the first time in your life. Fuck. Fuck. How could this happen? You glared at Anakin, who was screwing in a bolt to the metal scaffolding of his project. That motherfucker was probably the one who got 49. The thought made you so angry you bolted out of your chair and went to go grab the materials for your test. That motherfucker got everything. It wasn't fair.

You lined up the small device you made, plugged it into the port of your phone, and opened the corresponding software. Through the external lens, you scanned the two printed-out pictures of eyes, one with glaucoma and one without. You held your breath throughout the loading screen. Please, just let one thing go right. Please. Please. The little loading circle stopped. Both eyes were cleared of glaucoma. A false negative. Motherfucker. Three months of work, and for what? You'd never get the prize at this rate. You'd have to start from scratch. You slammed your fist onto the table in anger.

"Hey, there's hammers for that," Anakin called, teasing from the other side of the room. He looked up at you, mouth open to snark something else out, when he saw your eyes welling with tears.

"Woah, are you okay? What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" His voice was soft, warm. Anakin dropped the wrench he was holding on the table and half-jogged over to you, putting his hand on your shoulder. You jumped at the contact, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. It was kind of comforting, actually, but you were too upset to notice that.

"It's just, it's not working, and I've spent so much time and--" you trailed off.

"Don't cry, it's okay, we can fix it," he said with a shrug and a smile. Why was he smiling? God, was he actually pleased right now? Suddenly, your tears turned to anger, not at yourself or the system or the difficulty of your project, but at him.

"Like you're not happy about this. I bet you sabotaged it yourself," you spat out and shrugged his hand off your shoulder. He balked.

"Sabotage? Are you serious? I'd never do that." You stood up, incensed, and pointed a finger into his chest.

"Really? It sounds exactly like something you would do--remember in sophomore year when Barriss's robot mysteriously stopped working?" He half laughed, half scoffed, mouth dropping open, then snapped back with his voice raised.

"You've got to be kidding! Maybe if you paid two seconds of attention to your classmates or anyone around you, you'd know it was her wiring! The connections were bad!"

"Sure," your voice dripped with sarcasm as you scoffed at his insult, "And when you told her it served her right? You were so smug!" Your voice was rising. He ran a hand through his hair and bit out another laugh as he retorted.

"And if I was? Like you're not the queen of being smug in this department. 'Oh, my robot's better, Anakin. I got an A, Anakin.'" He raised his voice high, mocking you. His eyes were wild, furious.

"Me? Smug? Look in the mirror, asshole! Pretend all you want, but I know who you are. You can pretend to be oh-so-nice to everyone else, but I see you for what you really are. Just. A. Fucking. Asshole." You emphasized each word with a jab of your finger, getting closer to him each time. The tension between you was turning somehow--were you losing the argument? You couldn't tell.

"Oh yeah? You don't know a single thing about me," he gritted out, right up in your face, jaw flexing. His intense eyes bored into yours, flicking back and forth, and then they dropped down to glance at your lips.

You weren't sure which one of you moved first, but all you felt was his lips against yours and your hands fisting in his hair, which it turned out was as perfectly soft as you had imagined. Bastard. Anakin's kisses were hot, insistent against your mouth as you sloppily made out in the middle of the lab. His arms, warm and firm, circled your waist and pulled you to him while you tilted your heads this way and that to get closer. Your tongue swiped his lower lip, and he treated you to a surprised, low moan that you wanted to hear again and again until your ears bled. He got your hint, though, and started teasing your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth just enough to touch your tongue to his. His arms tightened and pulled you against him so that you could feel his warmth from chest to thigh. The two of you were frantic, like if you got close enough, deep enough in each others' mouths, you'd figure out why you were doing this and why it felt so goddamn good. Your heart was pounding when his hands slipped lower and grabbed you under your ass.

"Jump," he whispered huskily after he reluctantly separated his mouth from yours. You hopped, and he used the hands under your thighs to lift you up and sit you on the lab table. Dutifully, you wrapped your legs around his hips, interlocking your ankles around his unfairly attractive ass, and kept your hands buried in his hair. Anakin was back on your lips immediately. He was sloppy and excited until you shifted your hips against him, and then he became electric against you, even hungrier than before. You were definitely feeling something underneath your hips, a lump. It hit you that he was hard, and that sent a bolt of lightning between your legs. You'd stared a little bit more than you cared to admit that time he'd worn gray sweatpants, and what you'd seen was now pressed against you. You drew in a shaky breath at that idea, and you realized that God, he smelled like metal from his soldering earlier and, underneath that, sandalwood and vanilla.

Sometime around the time his hips tilted forward into yours, a beep echoed through the empty lab. You both jumped apart, leaving you sitting on the table, and the noise continued. Beep beep beep. The insistent noise came from one of the 3D printers in the corner. Anakin's print was done.

The silence of the lab felt deafening as you both panted. What had you done? Making out with your enemy was completely against lab safety guidelines, for one, and your morals, for another. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, despite your misgivings, but you willed those wisps of excitement deep down into some mental box. This couldn't happen. If there was a single person on this campus you couldn't fuck, it was Anakin. Not only was he rude, but if you got too close, how would you navigate it when only one of you won? Most importantly, though, you had hated him for four years. And for good reason. (Though you couldn't remember exactly what it was, or think critically at all, in that moment.)

"We shouldn't do that again, Anakin." Your voice was small in the empty space. For a second, his face fell, but he pressed his lips into a thin line to disguise it.

"Definitely not. I--Sorry." And that was that.

You walked home in complete silence, stealing glances at one another in the dark night. When you got to the door of your dorm, you opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it. Better not. So why, once you separated, did you feel so sad? Why did you want to see him again, to feel that silky hair under your fingers in your bed? You laid awake until the early hours of the night, and told yourself that your fingers slipping inside the waistband of your pajamas wasn't about Anakin, you just hadn't gotten some in way too long. It wasn't about Anakin. Even though it was his mouth and chest and arms you thought about when you came on your fingers, it wasn't about him.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Threes a Formula

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: During a high-energy race weekend, Y/n, beloved in the paddock for her behind-the-scenes content and a lively interviews, captures the attention of both fans and the Wolff family as Mercedes clinches a 1-2 finish; celebrations unfold and emotions run high.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff x Nanny!reader

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff in the beginning. Later; 18+, cursing, age gap relationship, smut, Daddy kink, Mommy kink.

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.5

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Chapter 4: A Place to Belong

The hum of engines filled the air as the pre-race buzz intensified on the grid. Y/n, dressed in a chic Mercedes jacket paired with white sneakers, was soaking in the atmosphere, her smile as radiant as the morning sun. She had been a regular face in the paddock for over a year now, capturing behind-the-scenes moments and supporting the Wolff family with her charm and warmth.

On her hip sat little Jack Wolff, his miniature Mercedes cap slightly askew as he clutched his favorite toy race car. He was taking it all in with wide, curious eyes, his other arm wrapped securely around Y/n’s neck.

As Y/n paused to take a quick picture for her social media, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Ah, there they are—Y/n L/n and the youngest Wolff himself!”

Turning around, Y/n found herself face-to-face with Martin Brundle, his microphone at the ready and a cheeky grin on his face. Susie, just a few steps behind, waved warmly, clearly heading their way.

“Oh, no,” Y/n laughed, holding up her free hand in mock protest while steadying Jack with the other. “You’ve caught me off guard, Martin!”

“Caught off guard? Never! You look ready for the spotlight,” Martin quipped. “Mind if I steal a moment of your time for a quick chat?”

Y/n hesitated, glancing at Susie, who gave her an encouraging nod before stepping up beside her.

“Why not?” Y/n said finally, adjusting Jack’s cap with a soft smile. “I suppose it’s my turn now.”

Martin’s grin widened. “Perfect! Now, Y/n, you’ve been a bit of a sensation since you joined the Wolff family. Tell me, how did you end up in this whirlwind world of F1?”

Y/n chuckled. “It’s been quite the journey, honestly. I applied for a nanny position, thinking I’d just help out with Jack, and somehow I ended up here—traveling to races, meeting incredible people, and being thrown into the deep end of motorsport. I didn’t expect it, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“And you’ve become a fan favorite, might I add,” Martin continued. “Your behind-the-scenes content has given fans a unique perspective on the Wolffs and life in the paddock. What’s been your favorite moment so far?”

She paused, bouncing Jack slightly as he started fiddling with her jacket zipper. “That’s a tough one. I think it’s the little things, honestly. Watching Jack light up when Lewis or George takes a moment to say hello, or seeing Toto and Susie celebrate a win together—it reminds me that this sport is about people, not just cars and races.”

“Well said,” Martin replied, clearly impressed. “And speaking of inspiring moments, Susie, I can’t let you slip away without a word about F1 Academy. You’ve been championing it passionately—how’s the journey going?”

Susie stepped closer, her confidence radiating. “It’s been incredible, Martin. F1 Academy is about opening doors for young female drivers and showing the world their talent and determination. Today, we’re focusing on visibility—getting people talking, watching, and supporting these amazing athletes. It’s more than a race; it’s a movement, and I’m so proud to be part of it.”

Martin nodded approvingly. “A fantastic initiative. And Y/n, I hear you’ve been doing your part to keep the Wolff household well-fed. Is there a secret to winning over a team principal?”

Y/n laughed, her cheeks flushing as Jack giggled on her hip. “If there is, I haven’t figured it out yet! But I will say, Toto does have a sweet tooth, so I might have bribed him with a few batches of cookies here and there.”

“I think you’ve just revealed Toto’s weakness to the world,” Martin teased, making the crowd around them chuckle.

“Oops,” Y/n joked, pretending to zip her lips.

As the interview wrapped up, Martin leaned in conspiratorially. “Last question—if you had to pick a driver to support on race day, who would it be?”

Y/n smiled slyly. “Now, Martin, you’re not getting me into trouble with that one. I support the team, always.”

“Well dodged,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh. “Y/n L/n and Susie Wolff, everyone—a dynamic duo and paddock favorites. And, of course, let’s not forget Jack!”

Jack grinned and waved his toy car at the camera, earning a round of “aww”s from those nearby.

As Martin moved on to his next target, Y/n exhaled in relief, a playful grin still on her face. From the garage, Toto caught her eye, giving her a small thumbs-up, and Susie leaned in with a wink.

“Not bad for your first grid interview,” Susie whispered.

“Not bad at all,” Y/n murmured, bouncing Jack on her hip.

As Y/n and Susie strolled further down the grid, the energy around them buzzed with excitement. Team members and drivers mingled, cameras flashed, and engines roared to life in the background. Jack wiggled on Y/n’s hip, pointing toward one of the Mercedes cars parked in its slot.

“Look, Y/n! Uncle Lewis’s car!” he exclaimed, his voice full of awe.

Y/n smiled at Jack's enthusiasm. “You have a good eye, buddy. Should we go say hi if he’s around?”

Susie chuckled. “I’m sure Lewis won’t mind his biggest fan dropping by for a visit.”

As they approached the garage, Lewis appeared, stepping out from a conversation with his engineers. Dressed in his race suit and sporting his signature sunglasses, he spotted Jack immediately. A broad smile spread across his face as he walked over.

“Jack! My man!” Lewis crouched down to Jack’s level, ruffling his hair gently. “Ready to watch me race today?”

Jack nodded excitedly, holding up his toy car. “I’m gonna race, too, one day! Like you!”

“I believe it,” Lewis replied warmly, giving him a fist bump. He glanced up at Y/n. “And Y/n, you’re holding down the fort, as always.”

“Trying my best,” she teased. “Though this one keeps me on my toes.”

“Sounds familiar,” Toto’s voice interjected, drawing their attention. He approached with his usual commanding presence, though his expression softened as he looked at Y/n and Jack. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Not at all,” Lewis replied, standing. “But I think Jack’s stealing all the attention on the grid today. Watch out, Toto—he might be gunning for my job next.”

Toto laughed, reaching over to straighten Jack’s cap. “If he wants it, he’ll have to fight you for it. How’s my little troublemaker doing?”

“Good!” Jack said, wriggling to be held by his father. Toto took him with ease, holding him close. Jack leaned into Toto’s shoulder, clearly comfortable.

Y/n stepped back slightly, brushing her hands together as she smiled at the scene. She caught Lewis’s eye, and he gave her a knowing look.

“Cute family moment,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she quickly brushed it off. “It’s a team effort,” she replied, her voice light.

Before Lewis could respond, George Russell approached, his helmet in hand. “Are we having a family reunion over here?” he joked, nodding at the group.

“Just making sure Jack doesn’t upstage us all,” Y/n quipped, earning a laugh from George.

The conversation continued for a few minutes, with Y/n seamlessly navigating the playful banter between Lewis, George, and Toto. Susie, standing nearby, watched with an amused smile, clearly enjoying the dynamic.

As the drivers were called away for final preparations, Toto turned to Y/n, his expression softening. “Thanks for keeping him entertained. It’s not easy being on the grid with so much going on.”

Y/n shrugged, her smile warm. “He’s a natural. Besides, it’s all part of the job, right? Besides I had practiced by now. i know how this goes.” She smiles over to him.

Toto hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. “You do far more than just the job, Y/n. Susie and I both see that.”

Susie stepped up, nodding in agreement. “He’s right. We couldn’t ask for anyone better to be part of this crazy life with us.”

The sincerity in their words caught Y/n off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice almost lost amidst the roar of the engines.

Toto gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Now, let’s find your spot to watch the race. Jack needs to cheer extra loud today.”

As the group made their way to the Mercedes hospitality suite, Y/n couldn’t shake the warmth spreading through her chest.

______________________________________________________________

The hospitality suite buzzed with energy as Y/n, Susie, and Jack settled in to watch the race. Y/n had her phone out, snapping candid shots of Jack playing with his toy car and the gorgeous view of the circuit below. She posted a photo of Jack pointing to the track with the caption: Our little race strategist in the making.

“Alright, Jack,” Y/n said with a grin. “How about we do one of those TikTok trends while we wait for the lights out?”

Jack’s face lit up, and Susie laughed. “You and your trends, Y/n. What’s on the menu this time?”

“I’m thinking something fun and easy. Maybe the ‘This or That’ filter?” Y/n said, already pulling up the app. She positioned Jack in front of her phone’s camera while Susie leaned in, both of them laughing as Jack tried to mimic the moves Y/n showed him.

“Okay, ready? Smile for the start!” Y/n instructed as the filter began, asking questions like ‘Hot weather or cold weather?’ and ‘Speed or strategy?’. Jack’s exaggerated expressions and Susie’s playful answers made the video a hit even before she posted it.

After recording, Y/n edited a short clip for Instagram, captioning it: Race day fun with the Wolff crew—Jack’s taking his job as chief strategist very seriously!

As the race began, Toto was entirely in his zone. His eyes were glued to the screens, his headset on, giving rapid-fire instructions to the team. The tension in the room rose with every lap, but Y/n, Susie, and Jack stayed relaxed, cheering for Lewis and George as they climbed through the field.

Y/n found herself snapping more photos for her Story: Jack eating a snack while watching the race, Susie’s proud smile as Mercedes pulled ahead, and a shot of the circuit glowing under the bright afternoon sun. The final caption read: Electric vibes today! Let’s go, Mercedes!

The race reached its thrilling conclusion with a spectacular 1-2 finish for Mercedes, Lewis taking the win and George securing second. The room erupted into cheers, and Jack jumped up and down with excitement, his tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Papa’s team did it!” Jack exclaimed, his eyes sparkling as he hugged Y/n.

“They sure did, buddy!” Y/n said, scooping him up as Susie joined in the celebration.

Moments later, Toto stormed into the suite, his usual composed demeanor replaced by pure, unfiltered joy. His grin was wide, his eyes shining as he made a beeline for his family. He embraced Susie tightly before turning to Jack and lifting him high into the air.

“You saw that, didn’t you, my boy?” Toto said, his voice thick with pride. Jack giggled and nodded enthusiastically.

Then Toto’s attention shifted to Y/n. Without hesitation, he pulled her into the hug, wrapping one arm securely around her shoulders. Y/n froze for a second, caught off guard by the closeness. But the warmth and energy of the moment swept her up, and she relaxed, smiling as Toto held all of them together.

When the crowd’s focus shifted elsewhere—toward Lewis and George celebrating on the podium—Toto’s hand lingered on Y/n’s back, sliding slightly lower than appropriate. She stiffened, her heart skipping a beat, unsure if it was accidental or intentional.

It took her a moment to process what was happening. When Toto’s grip tightened slightly, his fingers resting just on the curve of her waist, a wave of heat rushed through her. She glanced up, meeting his gaze. His expression remained calm, though there was an unmistakable flicker of something in his eyes—something Y/n wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Despite the shock, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let herself lean into his embrace, her thoughts racing. The contact felt…nice, comforting even. It wasn’t until Susie called out to Toto, teasing him about hogging the family moment, that he finally released her, his hand returning to a more appropriate position.

As the podium celebration began and champagne sprayed across the stage, Y/n couldn’t help but steal a glance at Toto. He was back to his composed self, congratulating the team with his usual poise. But the lingering touch stayed with her, and she found herself wondering what it meant.

______________________________________________________________

As the celebrations continued into the evening, the Mercedes hospitality area transformed into a hub of elation. Y/n captured the essence of the moment through her phone, snapping candid photos and videos for her Instagram.

One post featured George and Lewis spraying champagne at each other in the garage, the caption reading: This team knows how to win in style. Another showed Jack sitting proudly on Toto’s shoulders, holding a miniature trophy replica while Y/n wrote: Our little champ stole the spotlight!

By the time the post-race buzz began to fade, Susie approached Y/n with a soft smile. “You’ve been amazing today, Y/n. Thank you for keeping Jack entertained—and us, honestly,” she said with a laugh. “Toto and I are heading out with the team to celebrate. Do you mind staying back with Jack?”

“Of course not,” Y/n replied, adjusting Jack’s hat as he clutched her hand. “We’ll have our own little party, won’t we, Jack?”

“Yeah! Pizza and cartoons!” Jack said excitedly, making Y/n laugh.

“Perfect plan,” she agreed. Susie gave her a grateful nod before leaving to join Toto, who was already rounding up the team for drinks.

Back at the suite, Y/n and Jack settled into a cozy routine. After ordering room service, they shared a small pizza, Jack delighting in picking off all the olives while Y/n laughed at his antics. She recorded a short video of him spinning in circles, his arms stretched out as he pretended to be a race car. The caption read: Driver of the day: Jack Wolff!

Once dinner was over, Y/n got Jack into his pajamas, reading him a bedtime story about a brave little boy who dreamed of becoming a race car driver. His eyelids grew heavier with each word, and soon he was fast asleep, snuggled against his favorite stuffed animal.

Y/n quietly tidied up and sat on the balcony for a moment, letting the cool night air wash over her. The city lights sparkled in the distance, and the faint sounds of laughter from the team’s celebration reached her ears. ______________________________________________________________

It was past midnight when the door to the suite opened, and Susie and Toto stumbled in, laughter spilling out into the quiet space. Y/n looked up from the kitchen counter, surprised to see the usually composed duo completely drunk and far more relaxed than she had ever seen them.

“Toto, shh!” Susie whispered—though it was anything but quiet—pressing a finger to his lips while she tried to stifle her giggles. “Jack’s asleep!”

Toto’s grin widened as he stumbled slightly, catching himself against the doorframe. “Right. Quiet. Like ninjas,” he said in a mock-serious tone, which only made Susie laugh harder.

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle. “Looks like you two had a fun night.”

“It was amazing!” Susie declared, her cheeks flushed as she sauntered over to Y/n, draping an arm around her shoulders with far less reserve than usual. “Everyone’s on top of the world. Y/n, you should’ve been there. We missed you.”

“You’re too kind,” Y/n replied softly, steadying Susie as she leaned into her. “I had my own party here with Jack—pizza, cartoons, and a bedtime story.”

“And you made it all look effortless,” Susie said, her voice dropping into something more intimate, her gaze lingering on Y/n’s face. “You’re incredible. We don’t deserve you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Toto added, his deep voice drawing Y/n’s attention. He stood just behind Susie, his tall frame leaning against the counter, watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. “I knew from the moment we hired you that you were special.”

Y/n’s cheeks burned under the weight of his stare, but before she could respond, Susie turned her fully toward her, both hands gripping Y/n’s arms gently. “We love you, you know that, right?” Susie’s words were slightly slurred, but her sincerity shone through.

Y/n smiled, though her heart pounded in her chest. “I love you guys too.”

Susie’s smile deepened as she stepped closer, her hands sliding down Y/n’s arms. “No, I mean, we really love you,” she murmured, her tone low, her eyes flickering between Y/n’s lips and her own hand, now brushing Y/n’s waist.

Y/n barely had time to process Susie’s words before Toto closed the distance, his towering presence engulfing the space. “She’s not just amazing,” Toto said, his voice lower now, almost a growl. He reached out, his hand brushing the side of Y/n’s neck. “She’s… everything.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as Toto’s thumb lingered against her skin. Susie stepped in closer, her fingers lightly tracing Y/n’s waist, her expression soft yet filled with desire. The air between them was thick, charged with an electricity Y/n had never felt before.

Susie leaned in first, her lips grazing Y/n’s cheek before moving lower toward the corner of her mouth. “You’ve been so good to us,” she whispered. “We want to be good to you too.”

Toto’s hand slid to the small of Y/n’s back, pulling her closer to him. His lips were near her ear as he murmured, “Tell us if this is too much, Y/n. We’ll stop.” ______________________________________________________________ @pand-de-pandora-blog @wonderwolffs @laura-naruto-fan1998 @strangegirl974 @totothewolff @xoscar03 @noooway555 @myescapefromthislife @omgsuperstarg @laur2608 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @cherry-piee @jkdaddy01

[hoardcloneheadcanons]

Stone & Robotnik's Gaggle of Robot Children P1

Based on the Movie Verse

Ivo Robotnik and Agent Stone had six kids among them: Metal Sonic, The Hive, Sage, Belle, Orbot, and Cubot. Not one of them was a human.

Here are their Stories:

Ch1 - Metal and Robotnik

To understand Metal, you have to understand that two incredibly depressed men designed and built him.

His design began when Dr. Ivo Robotnik was recovering from surgery.

Robotnik was fresh from being beaten by Sonic (again) he'd lost his job, and he had not yet regained the ability to lift his arms over his head without shooting pain going into his chest, or to walk for more than 10 minutes without becoming exhausted.

But he was just recovered enough to eat solid foods and move his fingers (somewhat, they were still bandaged in a mitten like formation, and technically-no-longer-Agent Stone kept insisting he stop and rest when he worked for more than an hour, but it was enough, dangit) And it was enough for him to get back to working on robotics.

And the one thing that his mind could wrap around, that he could obsess over and push through the pain for was making something BETTER, than Sonic. Something faster and more powerful, that mimicked him in every way but was a perfected, smooth, obedient machine.

He'd seen biomimicry done before for advancement. Wing designs done based on birds, architecture based on termite hills and bee hives. If that could lead to human advancement why couldn't this? If he couldn't dissect the hedgehog, the least he could do is try to emulate it through trial and error with machinery.

Sadly, his ego was in shreds, he was limited in resources, and there were some engineering problems that he would have struggled to solve even if he was being paid by the government instead of hiding from it.

He could make it fast- but the friction of his creation running would destroy its joints and parts would fly off. It was too loud when it ran. He was struggling to make a processor fast enough for the reaction time needed, and the thing kept running into obstacles and smashing itself.

With each new failure he'd throw the creation against the wall, and leave it for Agent Stone to pick it up, cursing how the Hedgehog was still defeating him, even from so far away. Each time he'd be convinced that he was losing his touch,  and that his best years of building were behind him. He'd fall deeper into gaming or binge watching Novelas, until the sheer emptiness and restlessness he got from not building came back. Then he would go back to fixing Metal Sonic, make some incremental process, fail and repeat his period of depression. Each time his periods of depression got longer and his periods of creativity got shorter until Metal Sonic had gathered dust in the closet and even his stalwart and loyal Agent Stone was starting to show signs of exhaustion and irritation at him.

He should just leave. There was nothing to gain from Dr. Robotnik anymore. No reason to suck-up to him. Robotnik would've told him to leave himself, except that Stone was the only point of human contact he had and he needed him to function, to pretend that one day he could be better. He'd keep Agent Stone on until he figured it out himself. And then maybe even erase his memory so he could go on just a little while longer.

Ch 2 - Agent Stone, and the Badniks

Robotnik was dead. And Agent Stone was not functioning well.

Stone. Just Stone now. And that wasn't even his real name.

His one companion was gone, the home he'd shared with Robotnik was flooded, and his old employer was insisting he go to therapy, sending agents to insist he got to a government mandated physician or be put under supervised house arrest.

They were all very happy that he influenced the doctor to save the world. Socializing the doctor and keeping tabs on his more dangerous impulses had been part of his original assignment to him. His obsessive devotion had been an unpredicted component of that assignment, but who were they to argue with results.

Good Job. Have a medal. Now if he could kindly avoid going insane, they would appreciate that very much.

Today was Day 3 of avoiding his clinical assessment and instead getting drunk on the floor of the crab.

He'd managed to get it out of the bottom of the river. It included stealing a crane and scuba gear in a drunken rampage 2 days ago, but he got it out.

Nothing worked in it, and it was an electrical hazard threatening to shock him if he touched the wrong panel, but he got it out. He now officially had a home again.

If he wanted, there were drier homes he could go to, undiscovered safe houses where he could hole himself up and never be found.

But this was the one he lived with the Doctor in, running from the government in a creation that could travel land and sea whenever their location was discovered.

It would've been easier to hide if the doctor wasn't streaming so often. But who was he to argue with the man who'd made the brilliant creation that allowed them to hide so effectively?

( He'd only been the one taking care of him, the trained government agent who knew how G.U.N. worked, the only one who got past the Doctor's emotional barrier, the only one qualified to argue with him about their safety, especially as the doctor was getting more and more reckless and self-destructive. But that was getting harder to judge now)

The badniks were sitting heavy on top of him, flying downwards so he was pressed down into the floor, preventing him from grabbing for another cheap bottle of vodka. He could hear the whirr of their fans like little wasps. They radiated warmth into his chest.

There were five of them. Most of them had been damaged in the same flood that destroyed the crab. These were the little survivors that had made it through the water damage.

Years ago the Doctor had programmed them to register him as just another badnik. A neat little trick that prevented them from shooting him, and allowed them to take cues from him when he was protecting the Doctor.

They had a programmed "survival of the herd" protocol that meant they preserved each other's existence as a secondary priority to completing whatever mission they had.

With no current mission in their programming, "survival of the herd" became their main priority and as a result they were refusing to let him pickle his liver with more booze. They weren't letting him get up enough to grab more alcohol.

He wasn't sure if they understood human anatomy enough to understand that it would kill him or were simply observing a cause and effect of his behavior from the last few days, as he started stumbling, slurring and "glitching out" making more and more irrational decisions.

Either way. He couldn't move.

"I will go drink some water if you all get off me."

They didn't move.

He moved his hand away from the vodka. They still didn't move.

It occurred to him that they were probably running out of charge themselves. They could be from a charging station for a couple of days at most. It's amazing they lasted this long.

The last time they would've been charged was... before the Crab was flooded. They must be scavenging local power systems at this point. The charging stations in the crab were too wrecked to use. There'd be charging stations, or at least the parts for them if he went to any of the safehouses.

"If you let me get up, I will go to the safehouse in Amsterdam to get you charged"

It was the closest one.

They slowly raised.

Ah.  Now he got it. He was breaking "survival of the herd" protocol. They could register him as fixed if he started prioritizing their survival again.

Or they just needed charging more than they needed him to stop breaking himself. Whichever. He could get up now.

He felt guilty that he hadn't thought of their charging in the last few days. They were the last of some of the Doctor's creations, his legacy, he couldn't let them die too.

He stumbled up to get some water. Let no one say he didn't keep his deals.

Ch 3 - Agent Stone, and the Badniks P2

Week 1 in Amsterdam.

The badniks were charged and repaired. Side effect of working for the Doctor: Stone knew the badniks inner workings tip to tail. He'd been there for most of their creation, for every iteration and update. He knew what they were supposed to look like on the inside. He'd done maintenance on them when the Doctor had been too wrapped up in a new project to do it himself.

For the past week he'd been traveling back and forth between Amsterdam and Paris, collecting the drowned badniks and repairing them to the best of his ability.

There were now 11, a few were hovering funny, or couldn't focus their optics. He wasn't quite sure how to fix B-53’s flightpath, and he didn't have the parts to fix B-47's lenses, but they were online, all of them. They were running out of charging stations in the safe house, it was only meant for a small group of them. They'd have to charge in rotation now.

Once he'd finished collecting the repairable ones in Paris, there were a few left on the road he could go after, maybe even some recovered by G.U.N. agents and hidden away in a facility somewhere where assigned agents and government scientists were no doubt stumbling in the dark, trying to figure out how they worked.

Idiots.

Stone found himself coming alive again, bit by bit as he fixed up the droids. It was a purpose. It helped, made him feel like he was apologizing to the Doctor for not protecting him, keeping some part of him alive. He was starting to talk to them again, an old habit he picked up from the Doctor, and used to do when he thought no one was watching, akin to helping plants grow. Maybe it was the loneliness, but he found himself personifying the robots more and more. He was tempted to name them.

(The Doctor would have hated that. “They’re perfect, because they’re not human filled with inefficient emotion, Stone, why would you ever imagine them as more human? Disgusting.")

He hadn't drunk in the past week, and the badniks seemed more cheerful? They darted around him in quick, hummingbird-like movements, always swirling around him like a cloud when he came back to the safehouse with another of their kin.

He didn't remember them doing that while the Doctor was alive, curious behavior. He wondered if there were protocols they had around their creator that they were no longer bound by, or if this was their default setting without a primary mission.

It was nice, and for now, he could pretend they were happy to see him.

"Hello my little darlings! Did you miss me?"

Ch 4 - Stone and Metal

It was at the end of his third week scavenging the drowned crab that Stone discovered Metal Sonic, locked in a closet somewhere, half submerged in water.

Stone was in a hazmat suit of rubber to protect from the electrical shock. He lifted up the blue, scrap-heap of metal, cradling it like a child, and his first thought was, 

“Oh, this could keep me alive a while longer.”

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Lost and Found in Monaco

Note: Helloo guysss, I can't believe it's been so long and so much has happened!! I started working, met new people and now we are good friends. I hope everyone is well and i you all are having a great summer! And OH MY GOD? 125 FOLLOWERS?? THANK YOU SO MUCH!❤️❤️

Sebastian vettel x fem!reader

Warnings: none?

Summary: let's just say one word "Soulmate's"

[⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️]

[⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️]

Part one: The Soulmate's Myth

Sebastian Vettel had always known the stories. Everyone did. From the moment a child could comprehend language, they were told tales of the soulmates—a person born just for you, a perfect match that would make your heart sing. For most people, it happened quickly. A touch, a glance, sometimes even a name heard in passing, and you just *knew*. You’d feel the warmth in your chest, the invisible string tying you to someone else. It was as real and undeniable as gravity.

But for Sebastian, that connection had never come.

He was surrounded by stories of love and fate. He had watched with quiet envy as friends and family found their other halves. He heard about the rush of meeting your soulmate, the sudden certainty that you had found the one person who completed you in every way. But Sebastian, despite all his accomplishments and fame in Formula 1, despite being adored by fans around the world, was left with a growing emptiness.

As the years passed, Sebastian became increasingly convinced that something was wrong with him. Was he broken? Defective? He masked his worries with the thrill of racing, the roar of engines drowning out the silent fears that plagued him. But when the race was over, and the adrenaline faded, he was left with the cold, stark truth: he was alone.

The rumors started, whispers among the media and even within the paddock. "Why hasn’t Vettel found his soulmate?" they asked. Was it possible that one of the sport's brightest stars was meant to shine alone? Sebastian did his best to ignore the speculation, but it gnawed at him, deepening the void.

And then, there was you.

Part two: A Shared Loneliness

You were not so different from Sebastian. Born into a world where everyone had a destined partner, you had grown up with the same stories, the same hopes. But, like Sebastian, you had never felt that fateful connection. The years went by, and with each passing birthday, your hope dimmed.

It wasn't that you were unhappy; you had a good life, a solid career, friends who loved you. But there was a piece missing, a shadow that followed you no matter how bright the day. You were certain that you would never find your soulmate, that you would forever be the one left behind.

People tried to comfort you, to tell you that perhaps your soulmate was still out there, waiting to be found. But you had stopped believing in those words long ago. You went through the motions, attending weddings, celebrating friends' and siblings' soulmate connections, but inside, you were numb.

The idea of soulmates had once filled you with hope, but now it was a burden, a cruel joke that life had played on you. And so, you threw yourself into your work, into your passions, trying to fill the void with anything that could distract you from the painful truth.

It was your love of racing that brought you to Monaco that fateful weekend. As a lifelong fan of Formula 1, you had always dreamed of attending the Monaco Grand Prix, the crown jewel of the racing calendar. The glittering harbor, the streets transformed into a high-speed circuit, the world’s best drivers navigating the treacherous corners—it was everything you had imagined.

You were there to enjoy the race, to lose yourself in the speed and the spectacle. You had no idea that your life was about to change forever.

Part three: The Collision

Monaco was buzzing with excitement as the race weekend began. The narrow streets were packed with spectators, the air filled with the sounds of engines revving and fans cheering. You wandered through the paddock, trying to soak it all in, feeling a rare sense of peace as you lost yourself in the world of racing.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was in a foul mood. The track had always been one of his favorites, but this year, it felt different. The usual thrill was overshadowed by a persistent sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, something important. It gnawed at him, making him restless and irritable.

He was walking through the paddock, his mind elsewhere, when it happened. You were turning the corner, your attention caught by a display of racing memorabilia, when you collided with something—no, someone—solid. The impact sent you stumbling, your heart racing from the sudden jolt.

Sebastian barely registered the collision until he looked down and saw you. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. You were just a stranger, someone he had never seen before, and yet…

You felt it too. That strange, inexplicable pull, like a magnetic force drawing you closer to him. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up into his eyes, eyes that seemed to hold the same shock, the same recognition that you were feeling.

Sebastian blinked, trying to make sense of the sudden rush of emotions. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, was it? He had always imagined that meeting his soulmate—if it ever happened—would be a grand, cinematic moment. But this? This was something else entirely. It was messy and confusing and utterly real.

You didn’t say anything, neither did he. Words felt unnecessary, even impossible in that moment. But as you stood there, staring at each other, the crowd and noise of the paddock faded into the background. There was only you and him, and the undeniable connection that sparked between you.

Sebastian was the first to speak, his voice a low, uncertain murmur. “I’m sorry… are you okay?”

You nodded, still trying to process what was happening. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… surprised, I guess.”

He chuckled, a soft, almost nervous sound. “Surprised would be an understatement.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that felt loaded with meaning. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, the same questions swirling in your own thoughts. Could it be? Was this really happening?

Finally, Sebastian took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t know if this is crazy, but… do you want to get out of here? Maybe grab a coffee or something? I think we need to talk.”

You felt a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “I think you’re right.”

Part four: Discovering the Truth

The café was tucked away in a quiet corner of Monaco, far from the noise and chaos of the race weekend. It was the perfect place to talk, to try and make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that had taken you both by surprise.

You sat across from each other, two strangers bound by a connection you couldn’t explain. The initial awkwardness gave way to a tentative conversation, each of you sharing your stories, your fears, your doubts. It was surreal, how easy it was to open up to him, how natural it felt to be with him.

Sebastian listened intently as you told him about your life, your struggle to come to terms with the idea that you might never find your soulmate. It was a struggle he knew all too well, and as he shared his own experiences, you realized just how similar your journeys had been.

“So,” you said, stirring your coffee absently, “do you think this is it? That we’re… soulmates?”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “I don’t know. Everything I’ve been told about soulmates makes this seem… different. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe we’re not meant to fit into the same mold as everyone else.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. This connection, whatever it was, didn’t feel like the stories you had heard growing up. It was more complex, more real. It wasn’t about instant love or perfection. It was about finding someone who understood you, who shared your fears and your hopes.

As the conversation continued, you felt the walls you had built around yourself start to crumble. With Sebastian, there was no need to pretend, no need to hide your loneliness or your doubts. He saw you, truly saw you, in a way that no one else ever had.

And slowly, the fear that had been with you for so long began to fade, replaced by something new. It wasn’t the all-consuming, fairy-tale love that you had been led to expect. It was something quieter, something deeper—a connection built on shared experiences, on understanding and empathy.

By the time you left the café, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the streets of Monaco. As you walked side by side, you felt a sense of peace that had eluded you for years. You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, you were okay with that.

Sebastian glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “So… where do we go from here?”

You returned his smile, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Wherever we want, I guess. Together?”

He nodded, a look of quiet determination in his eyes. “Together.”

And with that, the two of you walked into the night, leaving behind the fears and doubts that had haunted you for so long. You didn’t have all the answers, but you had each other, and for now, that was enough.

**Bonus Chapter: Future Dreams**

A few years had passed since that magical time in Switzerland, and your life with Sebastian had become everything you’d ever hoped for. The two of you had settled into a rhythm that was both exciting and comforting, filled with laughter, love, and a sense of contentment that you’d never known before.

But recently, you had felt something shift inside you, a new longing that had taken root in your heart. It started out small, just a fleeting thought here and there, but it had grown stronger with each passing day.

The catalyst had been a simple moment—watching Sebastian interact with children at a charity event. He had always been good with kids, but that day, as you stood on the sidelines and watched him crouch down to talk to a little boy who couldn’t have been older than five, something inside you clicked. The way he smiled at the child, the gentle tone of his voice, the easy laughter they shared—it made your heart swell with love for him in a way that was almost overwhelming.

You could picture it so clearly: Sebastian as a father, his strong, gentle hands cradling a tiny baby, his eyes filled with the same warmth and love that he always showed you. The image was so vivid, so real, that it took your breath away.

From that moment on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The idea of having children with Sebastian, of starting a family together, consumed your thoughts. You imagined what it would be like to hold your own child in your arms, to see Sebastian’s smile reflected in their eyes, to build a future that included more than just the two of you.

Sebastian, ever intuitive, noticed the change in you almost immediately. He saw the way your gaze lingered on families when you were out together, the way your hand would rest on your stomach as if imagining what it would be like to carry a child. He didn’t say anything at first, wanting to give you space to sort through your feelings, but he was more attuned to you than ever.

One evening, after a particularly heartwarming day spent with friends and their children, Sebastian gently broached the subject as the two of you were getting ready for bed. You were brushing your hair in front of the mirror when you caught his reflection behind you, his eyes soft as he watched you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “Can we talk about something?”

You set down the brush, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve noticed you’ve been different lately… thinking about something. I think I know what it is, but I want to hear it from you.”

You turned in his arms to face him, your heart pounding. “I’ve been thinking about us, about our future,” you admitted, your voice soft but steady. “About… starting a family.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up with understanding, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing over your cheeks. “You’ve been thinking about having kids,” he said, not as a question, but as a statement of fact.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I have. I can’t stop thinking about it, actually. Seeing you with children, the way you are with them… it makes me want that for us. I want to give you that, Seb. I want to have a family with you.”

His expression softened even more, a look of pure love and adoration filling his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it too,” he confessed, his voice tender. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to bring it up, but I wanted to make sure you were ready.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you reached up to hold his hands, squeezing them gently. “I’m ready, Sebastian. More than anything, I want to build a life with you that includes children, a family.”

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and deep, as if sealing the promise you had just made to each other. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled, that soft, heart-melting smile that had made you fall in love with him all over again.

“Then let’s do it,” he whispered. “Let’s make a family together.”

That night, after your heartfelt conversation, you found yourselves wrapped up in each other, a sense of unity stronger than ever before. As you lay together in the quiet of your bedroom, Sebastian's fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

But there was something more in the air tonight—a different kind of intensity. The love between you had always been passionate, but this felt deeper, more purposeful, as if the shared dream of creating a family had added a new layer to your bond.

You turned to face him, your heart full as you looked into his eyes. "Sebastian," you whispered, your voice a little shaky from the emotions swirling inside you, "I want to start now. I don’t want to wait any longer."

His eyes darkened with understanding, and without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. The kiss quickly deepened, fueled by the desire that had been simmering between you all evening.

Sebastian rolled over, pinning you beneath him with a gentle but firm hold, his gaze locking onto yours. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a raw emotion that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your hands moving to slide under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. “More sure than I’ve ever been,” you replied, your voice breathless with anticipation.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that matched your own, his hands moving to explore your body with an urgency that made your pulse quicken. The world outside your little cocoon seemed to disappear as you lost yourselves in each other, every touch, every caress charged with the knowledge that you were creating something new, something beautiful together.

Clothes were shed quickly, almost frantically, as the desire between you became a tidal wave that you couldn’t hold back. Sebastian’s hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The way he looked at you, with such reverence and need, made your heart swell with love for him.

When he finally settled above you, his body pressed against yours, the intensity of the moment hit you both. There was a brief pause, a shared breath as you both realized what this meant—this wasn’t just another night together, it was the beginning of a new chapter, the start of a journey you were both eager to embark on.

With a whispered “I love you,” Sebastian moved, and the two of you became one, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The passion between you was overwhelming, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love sending you spiraling higher. It was as if you could feel the future being written in that moment, your hearts beating in time as you both gave yourselves fully to each other.

As the intensity built, your hands gripped onto Sebastian’s shoulders, your body arching into his as you both reached the edge. And when you finally tipped over into bliss, it was like nothing you had ever felt before—deeper, more profound, a connection that went beyond the physical and into something almost spiritual.

You cried out his name, your voice filled with love and wonder, and Sebastian followed soon after, his own voice breaking as he whispered your name in return. The two of you held each other tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, your bodies trembling with the force of it, your hearts full to bursting.

When the world slowly came back into focus, you found yourselves still wrapped up in each other, your breathing heavy, your skin damp with sweat. But there was a sense of peace that settled over you, a deep, abiding contentment that came from knowing you were on this journey together.

Sebastian brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes soft and full of love as he looked at you. “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” he whispered, his voice filled with certainty.

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, and you smiled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “And you’re going to be the best father,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion.

He kissed you softly, and then pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, and it soothed you, lulling you into a state of blissful contentment.

——————–———————

Note: hope you like it leve the comments don't be shy tell me bout your day or how is your summer going so far..❤️ ; [AND LOOK AT HIM OH MY GOD HE IS SO HDDHJDDBFHDBGVD❤️❤️]

[borkunlimited]

Siúil a Rúin (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 1

The war has taken fathers, mothers, daughters, and sons and in your little sparrow's home, the seats reserved for her mother and father in the dining table will now forever be vacant. Yet, the winged seraphs can only look away for so long. From the pieces of her broken dreams, you and Sylus will help her make a new one. A Love and Deepspace and Reverse 1999 crossover set in the aftermath of World War 1. Tags: Sylus x Reader, Found Family, Trauma, Implied Domestic Abuse, AU Author's Note: This all started when @cygnuusss and I were obsessing over Sylus and our favorite crew members in Reverse 1999. Enjoy reading! AO3

1: Of Prayers and Silent Vigils

Today, it was your little sparrow’s turn to lead the way to the Union station.

Your usual corner is the third bench from the far right wall of the train station, many soldiers have come and gone, but the station workers have passed by you and your little sparrow so often to know that a small kindness goes a mile, always making sure your spot is vacant once the clock strikes at three in the afternoon.

“Your daughter is very lovely.”

You smile fondly at the kind old lady who compliments your little sparrow, watching her hand her a piece of cookie wrapped in parchment and twine which she accepts, always making sure to say ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ to the giver.

“Waiting for her father?”, she asks and you nod, every conversation a welcome one to soothe your nerves and maybe for her too.

Afterall, anyone who sits in the benches of the Union station waiting for the train that will bring home those sent to European soil are in a temporary state of limbo between the eventual grief or promised reunion.

The presence of your little sparrow seemed to put everyone at ease, always sparking a conversation.

“Have you been a good child to your mama?”, the kind old lady asked her.

You stopped a soft chuckle from escaping your lips and so did your little sparrow.

Still, you aren’t one to miss an opportunity to talk about your little sparrow.

So here you are listing down her achievements from school starting from being able to write in perfect cursive to being able to do simple math.

So here you are quick to show the embroidery of a rainbow, the one your little sparrow sewn together with you in the corner of your handkerchief while both of you are huddled by the window of your home with the leaves of the lone orange tree rustling against the cool, summer air of last year.

So here you are, your eyes shining bright when you share the baked goods you have made together with the kind old lady, telling her how your little sparrow kneaded the dough herself.

The sound of a train engine approaching breaks your conversation and the kind old lady bids you goodbye, telling you she may have spotted her son on a train carriage ahead, and her small form slowly disappears among the crowd of soldiers returning from the Western Front welcomed by their families.

“Do you think my dad knows him, ma’am?”, your little sparrow always asks you, her eyes lingering on a battered soldier embracing his daughter and wife, unbothered that the gesture may have opened his stitches, the white bandages stained with pinpricks of red.

“I am sure he does. Your dad is the best medic, after all.”

“Do you think it is taking him a while because he is still helping the others?”

“He just wants to make sure all the dads of the other little sparrows will return home first.”

Your little sparrow, always quick to give way for the well-being of others, continues to watch families make their way outside of the station and you are sure her wait will be rewarded well but even the best children have a part that becomes slightly envious of the good fortune of others.

They simply choose not to say it out loud, guilty for even having such thought in the first place and in her case, you don’t press her any further, choosing to hold her hand instead.

Your wait is grueling but you are sure hers is more painful.

Your vigil lasts three hours.

The first hour.

You and your little sparrow will play one of her favorite games to pass time where you and her will keep count of the number of items with the color green or yellow.

Her favorite colors.

“Green, three,” she exclaimed, pointing at the dog who leapt out from one of the train carriages, wearing a green vest bearing a red cross.

A casualty dog.

“You have sharp eyes, little sparrow.”

“Scout’s Motto: Always be in a state of readiness!”

“You will be a scout leader in no time, Eagle.”

Her eyes always lit up when you called her by her nickname, a name she picked up after discovering the title of the highest rank for attaining the most badges once she becomes an official member of the Scouts.

“Didn’t you know only boys are allowed to join the Scouting program?”, a well-meaning neighbor once told you when they caught your little sparrow practicing tying her knots.

Perhaps it was the absence of your husband that made you be more confident or perhaps it was your little sparrow’s presence that you finally began to have the semblance of your old self that you replied, “If they give her a chance, she will have the highest rank within less than a year.”

After all, you are her witness to her hard work.

Your little sparrow who stays up late memorizing the Scout’s manual and she will only go to sleep when you remind her that a Scout should have a good night’s rest to have a clear mind.

Your little sparrow who takes a walk with you in the early mornings and with her binoculars, accurately identifies the migratory birds from the local ones.

Your little sparrow who does not hesitate to help and once you received word from school of her tardiness only to find out she helped an elderly lady carry her groceries all the way to her home.

“Oh, yellow, four,” you smiled, pointing at a woman handing out sunflowers to soldiers stepping out of the train carriages, a yellow ribbon tied on each stem.

“Those are very lovely.”

“Do you want us to buy one before we go back to your home?”

“You don’t mind, ma’am?”

You can never say no to her smile and even when it is difficult to make ends meet because of the war, you will always find a way to have another penny in your wallet if it means you can purchase gifts just for her.

In the first hour, your worries are placed in the background and all you can hear is her laughter amidst the bustling station.

The second hour.

You and your little sparrow will open the wicker basket filled with orange sandwiches, granola bars, and a tin of tea both of you packed together before leaving your home but it was mostly for her since-

-You cannot will yourself to eat, even when you want to join her,   the bread suddenly becomes tasteless, your arms cold even when you have bundled up for the winter when the sharp ring of the station’s clock makes you realize you are halfway through your vigil.

“Ma’am?”

Adults will say that all children are naive but they have forgotten that children are always quick to pick-up discomfort and such small hearts will immediately retreat, not wanting to add more to the burden of those who are taking care of them but your little sparrow, she grew up too fast for her crutches to help her chase her dreams had been taken away from her too early.

She’ll huddle closer to you, holding your hand while she continues to take slow bites of her granola bar, her attention now at you and not at the doors of the train carriages opening.

“Ma’am?”, she calls out again.

“I am here,” you answered and then you smiled at her fondly, “I am just excited to meet your father.”

“I am sure my dad would like you.”

You hold on her hand a little longer, selfishly, for when her father returns, so will your husband and when he does, the idyllic days filled with quiet love in your small home will be gone just as fast as it arrived for you and she must go back to your normal lives.

Eagle back at her home with her father and you back at your own house with a husband who bears a heavy hand.

She asks you many times if you and the man you call your husband can come over to her home for she is sure that since you are a lovely person then surely he is too but in your own offhand way (or perhaps it is a small cry for help) that you tell her that not all men are like her father.

“Does that mean we can no longer see each other anymore?”, she will ask after and you are quick to ease her worries, not when you see the look of disappointment in her eyes.

“I’ll always find a way, little sparrow, I promise,” you told her.

You are sure your husband will not be too happy seeing you spending time with a child not your own, especially one being raised by her father alone and his punishment would be severe for breaking rules only he is allowed to break.

Even when you already know your skin will once again be covered with black and blue bruises upon his return, you are not one to break your world you sealed with a pinky promise.

Good wives will pray for their husbands’ safety but your husband had told you more than once that you aren’t so-

-You prayed for the safety of every soldier except his, if it meant you can finally have the happiness you always yearn for.

The third hour.

The Union station experiences a sudden urge of new arrivals at this hour, labor workers, employees, and soldiers all stepping out from the train carriages and then the wide building suddenly became too suffocating. 

Once, a passerby handed you a daisy to hand to the heroes of the Great War but you plucked each petal instead to curb the unpleasant thoughts of your husband’s return-

“Is he coming home?”

“Is he not?”

“Is he coming home?”

When the last petal tells you he will be, you tell yourself instead it is Eagle’s father who will and if the flower tells you otherwise, then you assume it is your husband instead, then you let out a sigh of relief but today, the passerby is nowhere to be found and you can only assumed the person they have been waiting for has arrived home or-

-they received the dreaded letter instead.

Eagle will be more alert at the last hour, her eyes darting at the face of every man who wears an olive green tunic, some missing a limb, an eye, bandages still fresh.

How about you?

Your eyes will be on your shoes, countdown to ten, repeat, until finally the clock strikes at six, and only then your erratic heartbeat will return to normal.

You should be helping her look for her father, the man you always see in the photos of her home but you are afraid your eyes will meet your husband’s instead.

After the third hour, you and your little sparrow will finally take your leave, two set footprints upon the snow, further, further, and perhaps it isn’t too bad serving your sentence in this limbo if all that heaven is asking from you is three hours of heartache so you can keep her a little longer.

(Selfish. You’re very selfish for hoping the days will stay as is while your little sparrow longs for her father, her actual parent, to return home.)

Yet, all cycles must come to an end, all debts can be cleared and all prayers will eventually be granted audience.

A quiet voice spoke.

Only Eagle looked up.

“-’s daughter?”

“Yes, sir.”

Eagle’s hand around you tightens and even when you are far, far away from the shore of consciousness, too deep in the ocean of worry, you squeeze hers back.

When a man in uniform stands in front of you and calls for your attention, he only brings one announcement.

“Are you sure?”

“That’s my dad’s name, sir.”

Third bench from the far right wall of the Union station, between three and six in the afternoon, a promise of reunion was made long ago sealed between her dad with their pinkies locked together and a scout should never break an oath so spring, summer, autumn, winter, your little sparrow dutifully waits.

Determined.

Obedient.

Disciplined.

She almost has all the qualities of a perfect child but even the most polite child has a fragile heart and it only takes one phrase, even unintentionally, even if spoken out of goodwill-

“I need to tell you something.”

Only Eagle heard his next words, the barking of casualty dogs too loud, the station bell clapping more than it should and the conversations around you as if from a defunct radio station with dirty audio.

-To break it into a million pieces.

“You’re lying!”

Suddenly, the noise of the station crashes like a tidal wave, the small hand that anchors you has left your side prompting you to look up and it is only when the owner of the voice and you finally meet each other’s gaze.

You will always recognize the hair of the color of driven snow and even when war has taken his right eye, his crimson gaze still holds the silent determination of a stubborn man who doesn’t bow even to death.

The two men you and your little sparrow were expecting did not return, one you will mourn together with her while the other one you will celebrate quietly even when the weight of his heavy hand now cold is replaced with guilt.

Everyday, you pray for your husband to never arrive home and everyday, your prayer ends with a plea for forgiveness for even asking but prayers will be eventually heard and there are prayers that heaven chooses to answer.

In a distant town by the sea and vibrant orange trees of the sprawling orchard of a long time past, the man who shattered your heart into million pieces has returned instead and now-

-He stands before you as the man who carried out the wishes you sent to the seraphs.

────────────────────

Author's Notes: I love all the stories of crew members in Reverse 1999. In this case, I supposed Eagle's story struck me the most being a child who lost her father in WW1 and how she is rejected several times by BSA (There were no Girl Scouts yet back then). Also yes, don't worry, we will touch that part in the later chapters. Always happy to share stories with everyone here. Thank you for reading! See you in the next chapter. AO3

[miffysrkv]

Catalyst

Pairing: Jayce x Reader x Viktor Genre: Slow burn, mature, romantic tension, polyamory, hexcore Tone: Tender, obsessive, emotionally charged Warnings: a slightly un-hinged Jayce here :p Mel cares for you

Chapter 4 – Control Systems

Navigation: CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 (you’re here)

You hadn’t seen sunlight in days

You honestly don’t remember the last time you even tried to leave the lab.

But that fact wasn’t entirely your fault. Jayce and Viktor had practically barricaded the lower lab with new biometric locks, layered security, and a coded keyphrase known only to the three of you.

And if you were being truthful… you didn’t want to leave.

There was something about the space now— the shared energy, stolen touches, long silences broken by labored breathing and soft gasps against cold tables and warm beds—that it was starting to feel like home. You were studying magic, yes, but you were also being studied. By both of them.

Jayce with his blazing, physical intensity. Viktor with his quiet, consuming need and the way he used his words.

They hadn’t left your side.

Not once.

And Mel noticed.

She always had a knack of knowing and even noticing things when they weren’t so open to the naked eye.

When she appeared at the lab’s upper entrance, her presence sliced through the walls like a scalpel.

“Jayce,” she said, voice as smooth as ever, “we need to talk.”

Jayce stiffened beside you. His hand—warm, calloused—was on your lower back, and for a split second, he didn’t move it. He just stared at Mel with something you didn’t recognize.

Possessiveness.

For a moment, it was quiet, both councilors challenging each other with their gaze before he spoke again.

“No,” he said. “We’re busy.” his voice sharp and full of authority that you’ve grown to love.

Mel’s eyes flicked to you, her voice steel beneath silk. “She hasn’t been in Council sessions. She missed the last engineering roundtable. And your last three status reports are blank.” You and Mel had been close once. From the time when she first arrived in Piltover to when you found each other again, rather this time she was a councilor and you a well accomplished scientist. The two of you would always find time outside of Council and Laboratory duties to share with each other on how your days had faired.

But those times seemed to fade when she had caught wind of your newly found relationship with Piltover’s creators of Hextech.

Viktor was already there—calm, unreadable. He stalked slowly to your other side, cutting off Mel’s line of sight like a shadow closing in.

“The Council doesn’t need to know everything,” Viktor said simply. “Not yet.”

Mel’s gaze shifted over to the lankier man. “This is about the Hexcore, isn’t it? It’s doing something to you… to all of you.”

Jayce stepped forward, voice low. “Be careful, Mel.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I always am.” She sent you a conflicted look before turning away from the trio.

When she left, the silence in the lab was suffocating.

Later, when the doors were locked again and the windows darkened, Jayce paced like a storm trapped in a cage. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wild.

“She’s going to ruin everything. She’s going to drag this into the Council chamber and—”

“She won’t,” Viktor interrupted. “You’ve made her feel important. She won’t burn the bridge she still hopes to rebuild.”

You blinked, snapping your attention towards Viktor.

“You knew?”

“I know everything,” Viktor murmured, stepping closer to you. “You think I’ve spent all this time watching just the Hexcore?”

Jayce looked between the two of you, tense.

Viktor tilted his head, eyes trailing down your form like you were an equation only he could solve. “She’s not the problem. We are.”

Jayce moved forward. “And what does that mean?”

“It means,” Viktor said, his voice soft and dangerous, “that I’m done waiting for you to realize how fragile this is. How perfect. And how easily it could break if we let fear get in the way.”

You’d never seen Viktor like this.

Confident. Commanding.

He turned to you. “Come here.”

Your breath hitched.

Jayce stepped in too, possessive as ever, pulling you into him with a growl. “She doesn’t take orders from you.”

“No,” Viktor said, stepping behind you, voice at your ear. “But she wants to.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine. You liked this side of Viktor, and gods you couldn't help the heat that was growing in the pit of your stomach.

Their hands found you at the same time—Jayce’s rough, strong, gripping your hips like you’d vanish. Viktor’s fingers slid around your throat, feather-light, tipping your head back until you were between them.

Owned.

Adored.

Studied.

Jayce kissed you hard, urgent and devouring, as if he needed to mark you before Viktor got his turn. His mouth trailed heat down your neck, down your chest, until your breath hitched into a moan, your hands trying to find purchase.

Viktor, ever the strategist, waited. He watched you break apart first. Then, when Jayce pulled back to look at you—flushed, breathless—Viktor took your chin in his hand.

“You’re more than ours,” he whispered. “You’re the axis. And if anyone tries to take you from us—”

Jayce finished the sentence. “—they burn.”

Later, after the steam had cooled and the lab was thick with sweat and magic and promises whispered into skin, Viktor stood alone by the Hexcore.

It pulsed like it was breathing. Like it had felt everything.

He reached toward it—fingers trembling, reverent.

“I will not lose her,” he whispered to the Core.

“I will not lose them.”

Behind him, you slept between tangled limbs and silent promises.

And the Core pulsed again.

Stronger.

Hungry.

Awake

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 10 (Captain Price Fic) - THE DATE (FINALLY!!)

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9  Chapter 11 (Last Chapter)

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal @marmaladespread02 @poohkie90 To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments) A/N: Well, look at you now—on a date with the Captain! No escape, I'm afraid! Is this going to be good? Bad? Or very good? (Spoiler alert: it's probably the latter... 😉) Find out below and brace yourself! LOL! Warning: side effects include excessive giggling, spontaneous squealing, and an undeniable urge to swoon. You've been warned! 😂

----------

John’s large hand remained firmly entwined with hers, his grip both steady and commanding. His palm was warm against her skin, and the strength in his hold left no room for argument—or escape. Despite her half-hearted attempts to resist, he led her through the crowded bar with an ease that made her feel as though she was being swept away, her protests as inconsequential as leaves in a current.

By the time they stepped into the cool night air, her cheeks were flushed, not from the temperature but from the mix of frustration and the undeniable charge in his presence. His hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance—or a warning—that he wasn’t about to let go. The parking lot was quiet, the distant hum of passing cars the only sound breaking the stillness, but even that seemed to fade into the background as they approached his vehicle.

Her eyes landed on his 4x4, sleek and imposing in the dim light. The black paint gleamed faintly under the glow of the streetlamp, and the sturdy build seemed a perfect reflection of the man guiding her toward it.

“John,” she started, her voice laced with exasperation. “Can you at least—”

But her words were cut short as he stopped beside the passenger door and turned to face her. His broad shoulders loomed, casting a shadow over her smaller frame even in her heels, and she was suddenly reminded of just how tall and physically commanding he was. Her heart gave a little jolt as his free hand reached for the door handle.

Without releasing her hand, he pulled the door open with an easy grace. Standing between her and any possible escape, he tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes fixed on hers with that maddening mix of amusement and quiet intent.

“After you,” he said, his voice low and edged with something unspoken.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. His unwavering determination, combined with the way he blocked any route of retreat, left her with little choice. “Fine,” she muttered, stepping into the 4x4.

The interior was as polished as she might have expected: clean, organized, and exuding an understated practicality. Her gaze swept over the dashboard, where a metallic tumbler sat snugly in the drink holder, its surface worn from frequent use. The faint glow of the touchscreen lit up as the vehicle came to life, showcasing a neatly curated playlist. A soft, earthy scent filled the interior—woody, warm, and slightly smoky, like the forest after a rainstorm mixed with the comforting heat of a fireplace. It was undeniably him, a scent that seemed to settle into the very air around her.

As she adjusted herself in the seat, the door shut with a firm click, enclosing her in his world. John rounded the front of the vehicle, his steps purposeful, and climbed into the driver’s seat with the same quiet confidence that had her pulse inexplicably racing.

He pressed the start button, and the engine rumbled to life, a steady vibration that seemed to echo through the small space between them. The low hum of the music filled the silence, and as he shifted into gear, she cast a sideways glance at him, her frustration battling with an undeniable curiosity.

The scent of him, the closeness, and the easy control with which he handled the vehicle—it was all too much, too intoxicating. He hadn’t just taken her hand back in the bar; he’d taken the lead, and now all she could do was follow.

----------

As they drove, she realized she still had no idea where John was taking her. Any attempt to ask was met with a hum, a grin, or one of his teasing comebacks that seemed designed solely to get under her skin.

She found herself staring at him, her thoughts drifting. How long had it been since she’d been intimate with anyone? A decade? Maybe more. Her gaze lingered on him—handsome, rugged, and undeniably sexy. But then, her mind turned cynical. Men like John were all the same, weren’t they? They wanted one thing, and she knew it.

Not that she minded. A man like John Price was as good a candidate as any. Sex with someone that attractive couldn’t be all bad. And with her... particular preferences, it could even be convenient. Anal, oral, fingering—it didn’t matter. She was technically still a virgin, and that was her secret to keep. A secret no one, especially John, needed to know. Maybe he’d even prefer it this way—no messy entanglements, no risk of pregnancy, no scares.

The thought crystallized in her mind, and before she could stop herself, she made the offer.

“John?”

“Mmm?” His hum was low, his attention fixed on the road, though his lips twitched in that insufferable smile.

“If I have sex with you, would you stop this silly act of courtship and dating?”

His head turned toward her, his expression shifting as his eyes darkened. The car slowed to a stop at a red light, and he leaned against the steering wheel, studying her with an intensity that sent heat rushing to her cheeks.

Her confidence wavered, but she pressed on. “We could get a room, you know?” she purred, her hand daring to slide over his thigh, testing the waters.

“Mmm.” His raspy voice was all he gave her, a sound that was neither agreement nor denial, as he turned his attention back to the road.

She leaned back, interpreting his silence as a quiet acceptance of her proposition. Yet, somewhere beneath the surface, she couldn’t shake the faint sting of disappointment. Perhaps she was right, after all. Men like John always wanted the same thing.

The drive turned quiet, save for the soft hum of the vehicle and the occasional glance John threw her way. She swallowed hard when they pulled into the drive of a boutique hotel nestled near Hampstead Heath. It was the kind of place that exuded quiet luxury, the kind she’d never have chosen herself.

Her pulse quickened. This was happening. But she had made her choice, hadn’t she? Might as well go along with it and enjoy the ride.

John stepped out of the 4x4 and rounded to her side, opening the door with that maddening confidence of his. Without a word, he reached for her hand, his warm, strong grip wrapping around hers, leaving no room for argument. He helped her down and, just as before, his large hand stayed entwined with hers as he led her forward. His other hand still clutched her bag, a silent reminder that escape wasn’t an option.

They entered the hotel, its lobby a serene blend of polished wood and ambient lighting. As they approached the reception desk, she tugged slightly at his hold. “John, hand me my bag or open it. They’ll need an ID…” she muttered, glancing toward the check-in counter.

He didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t even slow down, his grip firm as he strode past the reception desk without so much as a glance in its direction.

Her brows knitted in confusion. What was he doing?

The answer came soon enough. John steered her toward the hotel’s restaurant, its warm glow spilling into the lobby. A host greeted them with a welcoming smile, and John’s deep voice cut through her bewilderment.

“Table reservation for Jonathan Price.”

“Ah, yes! Right this way, Mr. Price,” the host said, retrieving two leather-bound menus before motioning them to follow.

She blinked, her confusion giving way to a mix of relief and irritation as the pieces fell into place.

Upon reaching their table, John pulled out a chair for her, she sat down, her eyes sweeping across the restaurant. The space had a warm, rustic charm, with dark wooden panels lining the walls and framed artwork adding personality. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and an ornate chandelier cast a soft, inviting glow.

Tables were set with flickering candles, creating an intimate atmosphere, while cushioned benches along the walls offered cozy seating options. In the center, a polished wooden bar stood as the focal point, its shelves stocked with an impressive array of bottles. The soft hum of quiet conversation and the clinking of glasses completed the scene, making it feel welcoming yet refined.

It was the kind of place you could easily lose yourself in—whether in good food, good company, or something more.

John took the seat adjacent to hers, murmuring a polite thank-you as the server handed them their menus. He quickly scanned his, his eyes darting over the options with practiced ease.

She narrowed her gaze at him, skepticism laced in her tone. "Weren’t you supposed to take me to bed? You know, you didn’t have to butter me up with dinner first."

John’s brow arched, and he slowly closed his menu, his piercing eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her gulp. He sighed, the sound more weighty than annoyed.

"I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, Y/N," he said firmly.

Her response came quick and sharp, laced with playful incredulity. "Oh, so you want to be ‘friends with benefits,’ then?"

John blinked, his exhale turning into a laugh despite himself. "No!" he exclaimed, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the absurdity of her suggestion. "What is wrong with you?" His voice was lighthearted, but the exasperation was clear.

"You’ve really put me in a box, haven’t you?!" He let out another sigh, this one tinged with reluctant amusement. "No, I want to do this properly—this silly thing you call courtship and dating." His hand gestured as though he were spelling it out for her. "I don’t just want sex; I want all of you."

He looked at her, his face caught between a smirk and a frown, as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh at her or be offended by the entire exchange.

Upon hearing John’s words, Y/N froze. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell slightly open in surprise. It wasn’t the first time someone had claimed to want her, but experience had taught her to expect disappointment soon after. Yet, there was something in the way John Price said it—calm, steady, and unflinchingly sincere—that felt undeniably different.

She bit her tongue, her lips pressing together as if to keep her thoughts from spilling out. Instead, she glanced down at her menu, finding its polished pages suddenly very interesting. She had been here before, in this liminal space of hope and uncertainty. If John’s actions didn’t match his words—if this thing they were trying didn’t work out—it would be a letdown she didn’t want to think about.

Y/N let out a soft sigh and mentally braced herself, forcing the flicker of vulnerability to the back of her mind.

John, however, didn’t miss her hesitation. His perceptive gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his large hand enveloping hers. His warmth was immediate, grounding her in a way she didn’t expect.

"Y/N?" His voice was low, a thread of concern woven into it.

"Yes, John?" she replied, her voice quieter now.

"Is there something the matter?"

"No, no... it’s nothing," she said quickly, brushing off his concern with a weak smile. She gestured toward the menu, eager to redirect the moment. "Let’s just order."

Dinner began with appetizers—crispy buttermilk fried chicken and delicate mushroom tempura. The rich flavors seemed to mirror the gradual softening of Y/N’s demeanor as John coaxed her into conversation. He started with simple, light-hearted questions: her favorite color, film, book, and other personal quirks.

By the time the main course arrived—a beautifully slow-roasted beef served with gravy and Yorkshire pudding—the ice had melted completely. Their dialogue deepened, revealing surprising commonalities: shared interests, aligned values, and even a few obscure hobbies they both enjoyed. Y/N found herself genuinely enjoying the exchange, caught off guard by how much they had in common.

When dessert was still being prepared, she surprised him further by ordering a specific whisky, neat. The amber liquid arrived in a crystal tumbler, its smoky aroma wafting gently through the air.

"You fancy whisky?" John asked, raising an intrigued brow.

Y/N grinned, swirling the drink lightly in her hand. "Ah, yes, of course! I’m a collector. I bottle samples, sell them, sometimes even trade with other enthusiasts." She took a small sip, savoring the warm, peaty burn that followed. "Want to try?" she offered, holding the glass toward him.

John blinked, clearly not expecting this from her. “A petite lass like you? A whisky connoisseur? Didn’t see that coming.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Why not?" she teased with a playful smile.

“Maybe another time,” he replied, his tone teasing but resolute. “I’m driving, remember?”

She chuckled and nodded, amused by his restraint. “Fair enough. Another time, then.”

By the time dessert arrived, the conversation had evolved into shared laughter, punctuated by their stories and jokes. The warmth between them felt natural, as if they had known each other for far longer than a single evening.

John leaned back slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You look like you’re actually enjoying yourself."

She giggled, shaking her head as she wiped a stray tear of laughter from her eye. "Unfortunately, it does seem to be the case."

He leaned forward then, his expression softening as his fingers toyed absently with the edge of his napkin. “You know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “I said I’d leave it at just one date if you weren’t enjoying yourself... but I don’t think I can let it be a one-time thing now.”

His blue eyes locked onto hers, their intensity sending an unsteady rhythm through her chest. It was as if he could see straight through her, catching the flicker of warmth she had been trying to downplay all evening.

For a moment, she was speechless, searching her thoughts and feelings for clarity. Her gaze lingered on John, who watched her patiently, the sincerity in his expression unyielding. Finally, she let out a sigh, nodding slightly. "Alright," she said, her voice steady. "We can... exclusively date."

John’s grin widened with a boyish charm, and he gently took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was so tender it sent a flutter through her chest.

“Just so we’re clear,” she interjected, narrowing her eyes playfully, “we’re still in the dating phase. This doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship yet!”

A mischievous smile crept across his face as he held her gaze. “Oh, I know,” he replied, his tone teasing. But in his mind, the thought was resolute: She will be mine.

----------

After dinner, once the bill was settled and they left the restaurant, the shift between them was unmistakable. This time, she clung to his arm willingly, her hand looped through his, her posture relaxed. Her bag, which Price had been holding hostage all evening, was finally back in her possession—though it had taken a mix of playful convincing and shameless flirting on her part to retrieve it.

“Alright, alright,” he had relented earlier with an amused shake of his head. “Fine, take it,” he’d said with a mock sigh, handing it over. “But only because I’ve grown rather attached to it.”

“Should I be worried you’ll start carrying a handbag now?” she teased, her grin sly.

“Only if it matches my boots,” he shot back, earning a laugh from her.

As they strolled to the car, her head rested lightly on his shoulder, and her hand settled comfortably on his arm. The gesture was natural, easy, yet it sent a warmth coursing through him. John couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips, but he tried—poorly—to hide it.

When they reached the car, he opened the door with an exaggerated flourish. "Your chariot awaits, my lady," he said with a playful bow.

“Very dramatic,” she quipped, stepping in.

But when he leaned over to fasten her seatbelt, she batted his hands away with an exasperated laugh.

“John! I can manage a seatbelt, thank you!”

“Just being thorough,” he shot back, grinning cheekily before closing the door and circling to the driver’s side.

Once he settled in, he turned to her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So… are you going to tell me where you live, or am I supposed to play MI6 agent and figure it out myself? Not that I’d mind—it’s kind of in my wheelhouse.”

She rolled her eyes, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Alright, fine. I live in one of those old converted flats along the Thames.”

John drove her home, parking in the lot below her building before accompanying her upstairs. He insisted on walking her to her door, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets, exuding his usual calm confidence.

At the threshold, she turned to him with a playful smile, leaning against the doorframe. "Care for a nightcap, Commander?" she teased, her tone flirtatious.

John grinned but shook his head. “Tempting, but no. I’m not about to be seduced into your bed.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm, her laugh light and genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, Price!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, flicking on the lights as they entered.

The space was inviting, a perfect blend of industrial chic and rustic charm. Though medium-sized, it was carefully designed, exuding warmth and personality. The living room featured a small, cozy fireplace, plush seating, and a curated mix of textures and tones that made it feel lived-in yet stylish.

Through a large open archway, her workshop was visible—a creative haven that clearly reflected her skill and dedication as an artisan. A sturdy table held drying clay projects, different tools hanging on the wall, with a turntable on one side and a kiln neatly positioned on the other. Another area was dedicated to glass and metalworking, with tools and materials organized with meticulous care. A desk featuring a large drawing tablet and monitor highlighted her work in design, seamlessly blending traditional craftsmanship with modern techniques. Every corner of the studio showcased her artistry, demonstrating her talent and attention to detail.

“Sit,” she commanded, guiding John to the sofa. He complied, watching her disappear through another arch that led to the kitchen. She returned moments later, holding a small sample bottle of one of her prized spirits.

“Try this,” she said, handing it to him with a smirk.

John raised a brow, uncapping the bottle and giving it a curious sniff. But before he could say anything, she added with a teasing grin, “And now, you may go.”

He stood reluctantly as she tugged at his arm, though he resisted just enough to draw out her efforts. “You’re heavier than you look,” she muttered, swatting his arm again when he chuckled.

She gave him a playful tug, leading him to the door, but when it swung open, she refused to release his hand.

John paused, turning to her with a quizzical look. "What is it now?"

"Really, Price?" she said, her eyes holding a teasing intensity, as if she expected more from him.

John raised an eyebrow and smirked. "What? Did I forget something? Should I be calling a cab for myself?"

Y/N sighed, standing on her tiptoes to plant a sudden, soft kiss on his lips. John froze for a moment, surprised, before his strong arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground and pulling her closer. Her hands instinctively moved to his shoulders, deepening the kiss as her heart raced.

They broke apart at the same time, their breath coming in short bursts. Y/N swatted him lightly on the chest, and he chuckled softly. She gave him a playful shove toward the door, and with a mischievous grin, closed it with a gentle yet firm thud against his face.

John stood outside for a moment, laughing under his breath, as the soft echo of the door closing lingered in the air, leaving him with a silly grin and a heart full of warmth.

John made his way to the elevator lobby, sighing contentedly as he glanced down at the small taster bottle of whisky in his hand. The kiss still lingered on his lips, and he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He was practically glowing, already imagining the next date, his mind already plotting how to make sure she couldn’t possibly say no.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Oh, she’ll be mine. I’ll make sure of it."

His thoughts were a blend of determination and excitement, and already, he could picture the next move in his mind. The only thing left to figure out was how to make it as irresistible as tonight.

She may have closed the door on him this time, but John was resolute—she would be his, and he’d make sure of it. Not just for another date, but for something lasting, something real. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, imagining her rolling her eyes at his persistence. But he didn’t care. One way or another, she was going to be his partner—his forever.

A/N: Talk about sweet moments! John is just so thorough, so decisive—you don’t even know what hit you! 😏 The following chapter(s)… well, as promised, things might get a little sexy, spicy, and seductive. Hold on tight, it's just the beginning… and it’s about to get very interesting… because now, my dear, you’re officially at the mercy of John Price! 😈🔥

Edit: On to the last chapter!!!!! 😈🔥 ------->

[freesia-writes]

Ch 28: Party Hard and...

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.1k Author's Note: Time for it to hit the fan a bit. Hunter's just not having a great time. At least he's trying? Oh boy. Remember, kids, when you’re faced with a difficult situation, you can pause and respond intentionally or you can react without thinking. 😉

Couldn’t resist releasing this one early. Happy Saturday!

THIS SONG IS THE PERFECT VIBE; I'd suggest starting it halfway through (I'll mark it below): David Guetta & Bebe Rexha - I'm Good (Blue) [Official Music Video] (youtube.com)

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Luci’s gigantic floppy hat nearly hit Hunter in the face for a third time as they made their way into the transport station. It was perched on the side of the island, with equal access to a small landing pad as well as docks below, providing passage by air or by sea depending on the destination. After purchasing their tickets, they wandered down the stairs to the boats, scanning the numbers to find the right one. There were only a few routes available – one to each of the nearby islands – and Plata was by far the most popular destination. 

Wind ruffled his hair as the sound of engines grew louder, and Hunter looked up to see the shuttle coming in for landing. It was the same one he’d taken to Keytoll, and he squinted at it harshly as though the ship itself were to blame for all the strife he’d experienced. Something caught his eye, though, as it turned and settled onto the landing platform – a small tracking beacon stood out against the otherwise dull and dingy hull of the shuttle. The shiny little dome-shaped piece reflected the sunlight from its perch beneath one of the lateral wings, hidden to the casual onlooker. His brow furrowed, old habits kicking in as he wondered who put it there and for what reason. Hundreds of people had taken the shuttle to and from various places since he and Lyra had been on it; he was undoubtedly being paranoid to think it had something to do with them. But still…

“Time to go!” Luci’s bright voice called him back to the present as she took his arm and pulled him into motion. Her sundress fluttered in the breeze, and she entwined her fingers with his, coaxing him on with an affectionate gaze as they walked along the dock. They boarded the boat to Plata, tucked into some seats at the rear, and then they were off, skimming across the waves and leaving the weight of the world behind.

* * * 

“I am not wearing that!” Hunter laughed, giddy from a delicious dinner and the bottle of liquor they continued to share as they had returned to their hotel room. “You already got your way with the hair.”

“Come onnnn,” Luci insisted, waving at him like a flag. “You’ll fit right in.”

“I don’t want to fit in with that!” he protested, taking a swipe at it but missing as she jerked it out of his reach.

“Well then you can just go naked!”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you,” he said, slurring his words a tiny bit. 

“I mean, yeah!” she giggled, throwing her hands in the air in surrender. “Okay, we’ll compromise. Just wear the shirt. Keep your stupid jeans.”

“It’s not even a shirt!” he complained, shaking his head with a dumb grin on his inebriated face. 

“Just put it on so we can go,” she said, exasperated. She began to tug his shirt up and over his head, biting her lip at the way his hair scattered across his face once the shirt was free of his arms. A few fingers traced across his chest and stomach, and with just a look in those emerald eyes, he was drawn in for a kiss. When she released him, she pushed the “shirt” into his hands with a mischievous smile. “Go on.”

“This is beyond ridiculous,” He muttered, pulling it on and staring at her in disbelief. 

“You look sexy!” 

“I can’t…” 

“Ssshhhhh,” she pressed a finger to his lips, then stepped back and took another swig from the liquor bottle before handing it to him. He followed suit, set it on the counter with a loud clank, then turned to look at the tiny mirror on the back of the hotel room door. 

“Son of a Hutt…” 

His reflection stared back at him, almost unrecognizable. He was mercifully still wearing a plain pair of jeans, but that was where the common garb ended. Luci had pulled the top half of his hair into two slightly crooked little tufts atop his head and, once they were secured with rubber bands, had tied his bandana in its usual place below them. The “shirt” she’d insisted on looked like a fishing net. In fact, he was fairly certain it was made from a fishing net. There was a faint sense, somewhere deep inside, that he was embarrassed, or should be embarrassed… But it was quieted as Luci spun him around to face her. 

“Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

Fanart by @that-salmonberry-punk

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Music blared from each doorway they passed as they pushed through the crowds in downtown Plata. Much like Xylo, the island was small enough to have only one main town, but Plata was broad and flat, with tall buildings stacked neatly beside each other from end to end. It was tiny compared to Xylo, yet far more densely populated and full of art, culture, and nightlife. Luci’s outfit seemed as ridiculous as his own, and yet she strutted with full confidence. She’d opted for a pair of low-rise, baggy black pants with stripes down the sides and some kind of cropped moto jacket that hung open. Beneath that was just… underwear, as far as he could tell – a bright red bra and strappy thong that came up above the waistband of her pants that barely clung to her hips. But she’d insisted it was a proper outfit, and at that point he was a bit too tipsy to care.

She found an alleyway off the main street, pulling him into it and beaming at him from dewy, flushed cheeks. It was a warm and humid night, and the sheer number of people crammed into one area did nothing to help the claustrophobic vibe. But the temporary relief of quiet and darkness in the alley was a welcome reprieve, and Hunter exhaled, starting to run a hand through his hair before hitting the spiky little pigtails. Luci laughed, straightening them with playful little tugs, and she tickled his nipples where they poked out from his netted shirt. 

“What the kriff are we doing?” Hunter muttered, eyelids rather heavy as he regarded her with rummy fondness.

“Having fun. Plain and simple,” she answered with a shrug, tugging her red top down a bit to plump up her cleavage. Hunter was overwhelmed as it were, and when she gave them an extra little jiggle, laughing at the way his eyebrows shot up, he was about ready to call it a night. 

But Luci had other plans.

“I thought we might start the night off right…” she purred, biting her lip as her eyes roved from his recently-firmed abs to his broad, shapely chest. “If you’re interested…” He watched curiously as she produced a small capsule from her pocket, opening it to reveal some nondescript pills. “These are nifty little things… Basically, they bring you fully into the moment. It’s like you’re totally yourself, totally present… And you don’t remember any of it the next day.”

Hunter balked at that, jerking his chin down in scrutiny. “That sounds… scary.”

“Don’t you wish you could forget, sometimes?” she asked, somewhat profound all of a sudden. “To just press pause on all of life and enjoy each minute?”

“I mean, yeah, but not remembering…?”

“It doesn’t make you do anything crazy. I think it just releases who you are, at the core. Without inhibitions. Without all the pressures and expectations of everyone else. Just you… and me… and a night to be free.” She shrugged, taking a pill and showing him how it melted on her tongue. “You can try just one – it will just be mild… if you want.” 

He watched her put another one into her mouth, feeling equally apprehensive and enticed. Out of the blue, Lyra’s face flashed across his mind, causing an immediate revolt from all his senses at once. Something inside of him felt odd, as though it were slashing through thick vines and roots to try to free itself. But it felt foreign, too… distinctly “other”. It was a tumultuous sensation, almost beyond his control, and he found that he did not like it one bit. 

He took one of the pills, sniffing it out of habit before swallowing it without further question. 

Luci smiled.

SONG TIME: David Guetta & Bebe Rexha - I'm Good (Blue) [Official Music Video] (youtube.com)

She pushed him until his back was flush against the wall, head spinning and heart racing. Her hands were heavy on his chest, his neck, his cheeks... She cupped his face with fervent desire, gazing affectionately into his eyes before closing her own, tilting her head, and pressing her lips to his. 

Her hands began to roam again, stroking and caressing, pulling feelings and yearnings and urges from him that had been dormant for so long until she’d awakened them. An initial resistance welled up, adding to the constant confusion, but it was soon diminished beneath her passion as she kissed him again and again. 

Heat flushed Hunter's body from head to toe, and he opened up to her, his fingers gripping her waist as he leaned in. A feminine, breathy sigh escaped her as the intensity grew, their faces pressed together, lips caressing and tugging. She opened her mouth more, sliding her tongue against his, and tingles coursed through his veins as he met her fervor with his own, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and losing himself to the ardor growing in his core. He didn’t notice the already-melting pills she’d moved from her mouth to his as she continued to ravish him.

She ran a hand up the back of his neck, digging it into his hair and tightening her grip, pulling back for a moment to regard him with unbridled lust. "You are so kriffing hot, you know that? Damn, the things I want to do to you..." she murmured, heavy-lidded eyes following the contour of his face as he opened his eyes to meet hers, smoldering with intensity. 

A small smile curved her cheeks, and she bit her lip before leaning in again. He was reeling from the sheer overwhelm of it all -- her scent, her breath, her body, her sensuality, her uncomplicated want for him. This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? Freedom from responsibility, freedom to pursue a future of his own, freedom to release the burden of every possible consequence and to simply enjoy life on life's terms...

Her hand slipped beneath his shirt, his muscles tensing against her touch and fanning the flame where her fingernails gently raked up toward his chest. Soft lips trailed to his jawbone, below his ear, down the side of his neck, setting him on fire inside and out. Hunter tilted his head away, feeling her consuming desire spreading through his own chest. He felt as though he were spinning in place; every taste, scent, touch, and sound was amplified and improved.

This was what he had wanted. This was the right choice. 

Wasn't it? 

* * * 

Fanart by @clownbloody

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Stairs, so many stairs. Luci’s voluptuous curves moving ahead of him in serpentine mystery. Loud music and flashing lights. The rhythm thumping inside his chest. Bodies jostling against one another, loose and free. Weaving through the crowd, laughter and liquor and sweat and salt all blending into the beat. 

Deep green eyes finding his. Gentle arms around his neck. Her hips in his hands. Her breath and pulse melding into his. The music was what moved him; he was just a willing participant. Everyone was together and yet separate. Blending in seamless surrender to hedonistic folly.

He chased Luci along a side street, stumbling as people leapt out of the way. The cold night air burned his lungs, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body until he plunged into water beside her. They floated on their backs in a large fountain, surrounded by music and laughter. Lights flashed from a nearby rooftop party, and the next thing he knew, they found themselves there. 

A sparkling disco ball scattered beams of light across the area, refracting every color into splintered shards of rainbow on people’s faces, drinks, chests, and backs. A tall Twi’lek with a metallic gold dress slithered up behind Hunter as Luci was grinding against his front, his hands on her hips as his head tilted back, and the strong green body pressed against his back, swaying in perfect time. Luci glanced back, laughing in delirious joy, and reached her arms over her head, red curls scattering everywhere as she lost herself in the music.

He pressed her against the wall in the hallway, jostled by people making their way to and from the refreshers. Her lips were hot and heavy on his neck, hands pulling his waist ever closer, until she paused for a moment, pulling back to regard him with a suddenly serious expression. Tears in her eyes, a frown on her lips. He bent his head down, touching the side of his face to hers, and she whispered in his ear. 

“Sometimes it all just feels so empty.”

And then she was on him again, coaxing sensations that threatened to overtake him.

Small red lamps glowed on each table in the center of each booth in the dimly-lit room. It was a temporary reprieve from the jam-packed chaos of the streets and clubs, and the food tasted like nothing he’d ever had before. The textures of each bite came alive in his mouth, flavors combining effortlessly – sweet and spicy, savory and tart… Luci climbed into his lap, banging the table as she straddled him. She held up a piece of cheesy bread in her fingers, inviting him to eat it from her hand, which he immediately did. With a giggle, she buried her hands in his hair, tugging it free from the pigtails, and bent over him to bring her mouth to his. 

The rest of the night was a blur.

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I stole the inspo for his hair from this post by @raevulsix 😂

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[inevitably-johnlocked]

A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Ahhh, so I saw this Fanfiction Bingo Card by @swissmissing going around, and even though I wasn't ever tagged, I wanted to do some recs of my own because, like, that's my whole brand LOL. I hope no one minds...🙃 I needed to have a list ready for this Sunday, and this was perfect, LOL.

And because I'm always trying to overachieve on these challenges, I'm going to do full black out, BOTH tropes in each square.

This will be a Combination of my read fics and "to read" fics [to fill in spaces I don't have tags for], which I will append the latter with (MFL) just like so, for those of you who only want fics I've personally read. And apologies, I had to remove some of my standard links to fit them all within Tumblr's link limits, so author names aren't clickable AND I've removed all series' links, so be sure to check out other stories by the authors!!

AND FINALLY, this is a rare list that I DON'T have in word-count order, just so y'all know! I hope you guys like the fics I've pick for y'all. Literally random picks from my lists, based on tag searches, LOL.

AU: A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Amnesia: I Need You To See Me by Mssmithlove (E, 12,625 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Amnesia, Soldier!John) – After going back to war, John is yet again invalided home, this time with a broken ankle and a chunk of his memory missing, unable to recall the last five years he's spent being Sherlock Holmes' partner and husband. Part 9 of Happiness Awaits

BDSM: Lock and Key Series by 221b_hound (E, 59,509+ w. across 14 works || Series WiP || Post-HLV, Tattoos, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Hand Jobs, Captain John, Cuddling, Sherlock's Scars, Possessive Johnlock, Exhibitionism / Voyeurism, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Sherlock in Panties, PWP, Dirty Talk, Sexual Fantasies, Restraints, Photographs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Assorted Kinks, Sherlock in a Sheet, Sex on Furniture, Domestic Fluff) – John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had. Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is.

Bodyswap: Inexplicable by emmagrant01 (E, 34,664 w., 6 Ch. || Body Swap, TSo3, Magical Realism / Artifacts, Infidelity, Angst) – So what was in that matchbox, anyway? John and Sherlock find out, the hard way.

Crossover: Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Star Trek Fusion || Established Relationship, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Crack: Fucking Cake by Random_Nexus (E, 12,965 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Humour/Crack, Inanimate Object Smut, Frottage, “For a Case” / “Experiment”, PWP / Kinky, Mutual Pining, Fluff) – Sherlock brings home a chocolate cake, John finds him about to have sex with said cake, then exceedingly weird hijinx ensue. Part 1 of "Fucking Baked Goods" - Sherlock BBC

Domestic: Back to the Start by slashscribe (M, 14,088 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pining Idiots, Fluff, Domestics) – Sherlock hasn't played the violin since John's wedding (which is long since over), and when John returns to 221B, Sherlock relearns the violin as he and John relearn each other. Post S3 fic with an obscene amount of pining, idiocy, and attempts to pawn off tea duties.

Disability: Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w., 34 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis/Disabilities, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sherlock, Mental Health Issues, Drug Use, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

Established Relationship: Caught In The Act Series by ShirleyCarlton (E, 9,217 w. across 7 works || Established Relationship, Unintentional Voyeurism, Alternate POVs, Humour, Blow Jobs, Walking in on Someone, Switching, Public Sex) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

Enemies to Lovers: Synchronicity by Calais_Reno (T, 46,424 w., 10 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, POV John, Bullying, Coming Out, Forgiveness, Drinking/Bars, Boarding School, Drunk John) – John and Sherlock meet again, years after they were school boys together. John hasn't forgotten why he still hates Sherlock Holmes. (MFL)

Future: Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w., 4 Ch. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn't. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

Fluff: A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Gen: Octopus by glass_rose_paperweight (G, 705 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Bed Sharing, Limpet Sherlock) – A week after Sherlock and John finally get together, and John is finding sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes to be ... difficult, sometimes. If not downright suffocating.

Genderswap: Cockscomb by birdie7272 (E, 115,302 w., 32 Ch. || Femlock / Gender Swap || Light Dom / Sub, Sensual Play, Cocks, Lace, Safe Words, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Truth or Dare, Slow Burn, Feminism, Relationships, Sexuality Crisis, Cheating, Power Play, Manipulation, Control) – Lace, whiskey, and a case full of cocks leads to a brand new kind of adventure. AKA The One With All The Cocks… When There Are No Cocks (MFL)

Historical: Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w., 23 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / Virgin Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy. (MFL)

Humour: Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E, 3,834 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple's costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn't agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Illness: Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Imprisonment: THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w., 24 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John's kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John's sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Jealousy: The High Tide Series by stardust_made (E, 15,269 w. across 3 works || OMC, Angst, Jealousy, Developing Relationship, First Time, Romance) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, afluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it.

Jilted: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Kids: The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) –Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

Kink: John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times Series by wendymarlowe (E, 247,051+ w. across 45 works || Series WiP || Short Stories, Assorted Tags with Assorted Genres, PWP) – A collection of short imaginings of how Sherlock and John might finally allow their relationship to become physical. Don't be afraid of the giant cloud of tags - each fic stands alone and you can read them in any order.

Long: Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest? 

Love Triangle: Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Magical Realism: The Frost Child by twistedthicket1 (M, 9,994 w., 2 Ch. || Frozen-ish AU || Magical Realism, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Powerful John) – In a world where people are born with a Gift of varying levels, simple John Watson is the last person one might look at when thinking of any strong Magick capabilities. Hiding comfortably in the shadow of Sherlock's brilliant deducing abilities, John is content to keep it that way...

Major Character Death: I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

NSFW: Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.” 

Next Gen.: If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3 (E, 31,156 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Family, Retirement, Grown Up Rosie, Angst, Reunion, Loneliness, Sussex, Fluff, Sexy Times, Happy Ending) – Sherlock fled London a couple of years after John left him in hospital with nothing but an old walking stick and a half-hearted goodbye. Rosie grew up thinking that Sherlock died when he committed suicide in front of her father by jumping from Barts' roof. So it's somewhat awkward when they run into each other in a Sussex general store between the loaves of bread and the Mars bars... (MFL)

Omegaverse: A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w., 26 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Only One Bed: The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Conversations, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Domestic, Platonic / Sleepy Cuddles) – Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left...one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn't developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise. Part 1 of Dreamscapes

Parenthood: Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Platonic: The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w., 15 Ch. || Case Fic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...

Queer: Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Quest: Licence to Kiss by fellshish (T, 13,739 w., 4 Ch. || Post-ASIB, Sort-Of Bondlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Angst and Humour, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock loves John, and John loves... James Bond. He only made Sherlock watch every single film. Tedious. And now John's birthday is coming up. Sherlock can't tell him how he feels, but he can organise an amazing gift: John's very own spy adventure. Sherlock begs Mycroft for a real case with some extra gadgets. And perhaps some actors pretending to be criminals. What could possibly go wrong?

Retirement: Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Road Trip: Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Rel., Road Trips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk. “Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

Soulmates: The Heart On Your Sleeve by flawedamythyst (T, 5,441 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmate AU || Sherlock POV, Heartmarks, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Semi-S1 / S2 Canon Compliant, Reunion) – Sherlock stared at the imperfect circle on his left wrist in horror, then sat down on his bed with a bit of a thump. After over thirty years, his heartmark was finally showing activity. This was not good.

Slow Burn: Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

Teen AU: The Sky is Full of Fiddles by agirlsname (T, 25,659 w., 6 Ch. || 1895 Teenlock || Romantic Fluff, Bed Sharing, Swedish Folk Music, Dancing, Sherlock’s Violin, Poetry, Skinny Dipping, Summer Love, First Kiss, Proposals, POV John, Gay Surprise) – It's 1895 in the heart of Swedish folk music and dance. During certain weekends, boys are allowed to visit girls at night, wooing them with fantastical poems. If a girl lets a boy into her room they can share a bed all night, fully clothed, to talk and eat caramels together. John is seventeen and looking for a girl to marry like everyone else. He's very surprised when another boy suddenly stands outside his door, wanting to share his bed… (MFL)

Time Travel: The Engine by stitchy (T, 8,294 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Post-HLV, ASiP Do-Over, Sci-Fi, Time Travel) – Shortly after the events of His Last Vow, Sherlock has an opportunity to revisit the night of A Study in Pink and get some perspective on the destiny of he and John's relationship.

Undercover: The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

Unrequited: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Vampires: Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (E, 87,987 w., 14 Ch. || Vampire AU || Bonding, Vampire Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Magical Realism) – John isn’t exactly surprised to discover that Sherlock isn't human. His vampirism doesn't pose a problem, even when their relationship gradually grows into something more. That is, until a deadly revelation about John’s blood sends their lives spinning dangerously out of control.

Villain POV: Genesis by pasiphile (M, 19,521 w., 1 Ch. || Graphic Violence, Moriarty’s Past) – Before he was Jim Moriarty, he was just Jimmy, a street kid with more pain in his past and more ambition in his head than he could handle, and only one other person he could bring himself to trust. Part 6 of This Life Is A Trip (When You're Psycho In Love) (MFL)

Whump: Trapped and Upside Down on the M6 by BootsnBlossoms (E, 4,256 w., 1 Ch. || Whump, Car Accident, Hurt / Comfort) – Everything felt wrong. His hair was going the wrong way. His arms were bent in ways he wouldn’t choose to bend them. His neck hurt and he couldn’t really feel his toes. Something was dripping on his face – and rolling up. A car crash. He had been in a car crash.

Werewolves: John Watson’s Moon by patternofdefiance (E, 11,314 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Creatures || Werewolf John, First Time, BAMF John, First Time, Anal, Fleeting Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock finds out John is a werewolf and wants to see the transformation. It, uh, gets really kinky.

Xenomorphism: Forest King by Elphen (E, 141,856 w., 27 Ch. || Magical Realism / Omegaverse AU || Mythical Creatures, Group Sex, Body Worship, Drinking / Impairment, Dubious Consent, Anal Fingering/Sex, Transformations / Shapeshifting, Mpreg, BAMF John, Possessive Sherlock, Celtic Mythology, Paganism, Sherlock’s Violin, Frottage, Illnesses, Caring Sherlock, Netherworld/Underworld, Coping Mechanisms, Paternal Lestrade, Defensive John, Big Brother Mycroft, Insecurity, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Mild Jealousy, Pregnant Sex, Male Lactation, Birthing, Emotional Support, Parenthood, Family History) – After falling out with his sister, John ends up in a Cornwall Midsummer’s Eve celebration in the middle of a forest that’s rather…different. After the hazy night of magic and passion with a pale-eyed man, he goes home to London. He’s in for a surprise when his stomach starts growing and buds appears on his head. Not one to just accept things, he returns to Cornwall to demand an explanation. When he meets the forest king, Sherlock, again, he has to come to terms with not only what’s happened to him but what kind of magical world he’s been thrust into. Plus, there’s the questions of whether he trusts the antlered man and how he'll survive being apparently pregnant. Sherlock isn’t much help. That doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to somehow make John understand his feelings, however, even if he’s greatly hampered by being Sherlock. They slowly move forward but problems beyond their control may arise from an act done with the best of intentions. How will they cope, separately and together? (MFL)

Xmas: Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Zombies: The Hollow Ones by antietamfalls (M, 100,244 w., 23 Ch. || Walking Dead Fusion || Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Build, Emotional Constipation, Protective John, Hurt/Comfort) – The dead walk. Mangled corpses of the deceased rise and mindlessly feast upon the flesh of the living. John wakes up, alone and confused, into the remnants of a city gone mad. He will search for answers. He will find Sherlock at any cost. And he will learn that the living are far more dangerous than the dead. (MFL)

Zoomorphism: How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w., 31 Ch. || Changeling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he's destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

[amirasainz]

Oh, I'm sorry, but my ideas for Leclerc's stepsister are in my head and there are so many of them, I don't have the nerve to send them all, but... I just want her to be very different from baby Sainz, she was very independent, hardly accepted help, was a little (and sometimes a lot) shy, defiant, but at the same time for the Leclair brothers she was a princess, and their parents wanted to enjoy the fact that everything was fine

With love from CH 💜

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl ♥️

No Part 2!

Independent, but Loved

It was a typical sunny afternoon in Monaco, and the house was alive with the sound of chatter and laughter. Yn was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her manicured nails clicking against her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media feed. The comments on her latest post were already piling up.

@queenYnislife: “She fixed her car and still looks better than me. HOW??”

@monaco_royalty: “Yn, the real princess of Monaco. Bow down, everyone.”

She smirked at the comments and tapped her nails thoughtfully against her chin. "You know," she said, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, "I should start a DIY YouTube channel. 'Fixing Cars with Yn.' I'd show everyone how to slay while being a mechanic."

From across the living room, Arthur groaned. "Yn, you didn't fix the car."

She raised an eyebrow at her 19-year-old stepbrother, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Excuse me, mechanic Arthur. I literally fixed it myself. My nails were covered in grease for days!"

Lorenzo, the oldest at 25, laughed as he walked into the room, carrying a tray of drinks. "Oh, princesa, you really think that car is still the same one?"

Yn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arthur leaned forward, unable to suppress his grin. "We got you a new car."

Her jaw dropped. "No, you didn't!"

"Yes, we did," Lorenzo confirmed with a shrug, his grin widening. "Do you honestly think you ‘fixed’ a blown engine with a wrench and some nail polish remover?"

Charles, who had just walked in after a training session, leaned against the doorway with an amused look. "To be fair, you were very convincing with your grease-smudged selfies."

Yn stared at her brothers, utterly scandalized. "Wait a second. You mean all my TikToks about ‘fixing’ the car were based on a lie?"

Arthur snorted. "Pretty much, yeah."

"You guys distracted me?" Yn accused, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Charles.

Charles threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Guilty. But it was Lorenzo's idea!"

Lorenzo chuckled, clearly unbothered. "You deserved a better car, princesa. That old one wasn’t safe anymore."

Yn crossed her arms and pouted, her glossy lips forming a perfect little scowl. "You could have told me instead of treating me like a clueless baby."

"You're not clueless," Arthur said quickly, his tone softening. "We just wanted to make sure you were safe. You know we only do these things because we care about you, right?"

Her pout melted into a small smile. "Fine. But I'm still mad that you lied to me."

"We'll make it up to you," Charles promised. "How about dinner on me tonight? Wherever you want."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

Yn grinned, her previous annoyance already forgotten. "Okay, but you’re paying for dessert too."

"Deal," Charles said, ruffling her hair.

---

That evening, as they all sat around a table at Yn’s favorite restaurant, their parents, Pascal and João, joined in on the fun. Pascal raised his glass, a proud smile on his face. "To my incredible children. I love seeing how well you all take care of each other."

"Even if it means pulling off elaborate car heists," Yn teased, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

João, always the peacemaker, smiled warmly at her. "They just want to make sure you're happy and safe, filha."

"I know," Yn said, her voice softening. "And I love you guys for it. But don’t think this gets you off the hook for messing with me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Great, here we go."

Yn smirked, leaning back in her chair like the queen she was. "Just wait until I prank you back. The internet will love it."

Lorenzo groaned. "Please, no more viral chaos."

"You should know by now," Yn said with a wink, "I am chaos."

Charles sighed dramatically. "And we wouldn’t have it any other way."

As the evening went on, the teasing and laughter continued. Yn, their sarcastic and fiercely independent little sister, was their princess. And while she might never let them forget their sneaky car replacement, the love and bond between them was unshakeable.

They were, after all, family.

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 7

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: descriptions of anxiety + guilt, piv sex WC: 7.8k AN: hello my darlings!! i am back!!! (from the dead aka first semester of my PhD) i've missed you all so much. this chapter took sooooo long to write because i wanted to get everything just right, but we have now entered phase 2 of the fic, where new shenanigans begin. stay tuned!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, [Ch. 7], Ch. 8

Chapter 7: Burning

"Need to talk to you," Anakin blurted out loudly over the music, obviously catching you by surprise based on your empty, blinking face. The guy who was upsettingly close to you shot him a look equal parts murder and possessiveness, and Anakin's lip curled in disgust. His face looked eminently punchable, and Anakin could just imagine the satisfaction of his fist in the guy's cheekbone, or the way he would buckle after one good hit to the stomach.

Somewhere, a rational part of him reminded him that this was not caveman times, and that you had agency and were allowed to make your own choices, but Anakin silenced it. Feeling angry was easier than admitting that it felt like his organs were being torn out when he saw you flirting with anyone else. Thinking about kicking the shit out of some random guy was easier than admitting that knowing you had put this outfit on for someone else, someone other than him, was killing him.

"I--" You began, half-yelling over the noise, then your face twisted into something Anakin couldn't read. Annoyance? Hatred? Pity? "Fine. Let's talk," you finished. The man, who looked like if all the finance bros in the university were merged together into one terrible Pokémon Evolution, scoffed his annoyance, but you ignored him.

Anakin didn't even try to suppress his smugness.

You pushed past the guy, then past Anakin, all the way to the staircase tucked in the corner of the room. He was enchanted, brainless when he followed you. The air got warmer, stickier, and the number of couples making out along the walls increased dramatically. Anakin remembered when that would have been the two of you. That night at TKD. How he wished he could turn back time to that night and just live it in a loop.

Just like then, you were divine in front of him. Your legs climbing the stairs, the gentle sway of your hips that he had fantasized about. He couldn't help it. He'd be noticing these things forever.

You slipped into a bedroom, and it smelled a bit disgusting, but he couldn't care less because he was with you. Anakin closed the door with a decisive thump, then turned to look at you.

You had that look on your face, that one he hadn't puzzled out yet. Your perfect eyebrows were scrunched together, and he could see you swallow hard. He couldn't care less if you hated him. If you pitied him, wanted him gone. At least some small part of you would have still cared. He had prepared a whole speech--telling you how sorry he was. How much he wanted you. That he hadn't felt this way about anyone before, and that he wanted to make you fall for him the same way he'd fallen for you. That he wanted more than whatever the two of you had been. That he wanted to be your boyfriend. Long-term, preferably.

Anakin was ready to get on his knees if he had to.

He opened his mouth to start, but you interrupted him.

"No, I have something to say." The words came out shaky, and dread clawed in his stomach. Were you going to say you wanted him to leave your life? That you had moved on with the finance bro downstairs, who had a trust fund and probably said slurs? That you were excited to never see him again in four months, when you graduated?

Then, you sighed and said something he never would have expected.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

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It set in later than it should have. Much later.

All throughout finals, you were desperately trying to stop thinking about him. That horrible feeling in your stomach when his face popped into your mind. Which it did, all the time. It was a sticky, terrible pit that opened up whenever something reminded you of him. The lingering smell of him on your pillow. His hatred of orange Skittles. You'd been angry before, but this was different, worse, somehow.

But you pushed it down. Exams mattered more right now. So much more.

Sometimes, the wave of nausea hit you a little too hard, like when you thought about how badly you needed a hug, and how you didn't really want a hug from anyone but him. When it got too hard, you'd leap out of your desk and march to the corner store, just to buy a Red Bull and maybe some chips. Something crunchy, something to puncture the silence of your suddenly suffocatingly empty room.

On the walk through the biting air, you would let yourself think of him. You'd let that pain in your heart blossom, and you'd just pretend you'd said something, anything else. That either of you had made different decisions. That you'd be walking back to your room and he'd be sitting on the bed, giving you that crooked smile, ready to quiz you on fluid dynamics. It was the cold that made your eyes water, you swore.

And then you'd arrive home, and you had to get back to work. Anakin Skywalker was not an allowable topic of thought at any other times. You pulled yourself through finals like a zombie, not letting yourself think beyond the next meal or next exam.

That was not the brightest idea, it turned out, shockingly. When you left your last final, you were blank, empty. You went home and collapsed on your bed, and you finally let yourself imagine his arm wrapped around you as you drifted off.

When your alarm went off at nine PM to remind you to get to the airport, the pit was back. As you stuffed things in your suitcase, then rushed out the door, you felt like there was bile clawing up your throat.

It was a disgusting feeling. You'd been mad in your life, but this was different. It made you want to jump out of your skin just to be free of it.

Around a third of the way through the red-eye plane ride back home, everything was dark and quiet, with only the whir of the engines disturbing the cabin. You slipped out from your aisle seat, just to stretch your legs and use the bathroom, and then you passed him. Or, at least, you thought it was him. But it wasn't. The stranger sitting in 16C had Anakin's nose and curls, but his eyes were all wrong, and his hair was just a smidge too light. He didn't have those little dimples on the side of his mouth.

But just the same nose and the same curls were enough to light that painful burn in your heart. How many times had you looked at those features, traced them, even before all of this started? Why, why did your heart leap for a second, hoping that he'd followed you, like in some 90s romcom, to declare his undying, hopeless love?

That pit in your stomach you thought was bad before was swallowing you whole now. Your skin felt hot, clammy. You willed yourself to move one leg, then the other, heavy like bags of sand, just to get somewhere private before you imploded.

By the time you slid the lock closed on the bathroom door, you were bawling. Big, heaving sobs ripped from your chest, and you couldn't place the emotion. Anger, sadness, guilt--it was all mixing into a knot that kicked the breath out of you.

What had you done? What had you fucking done?

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Things got a little better at the airport, when you got to hug your family. On the drive home, they occupied you with anecdotes about the neighbors--the house across the street had apparently put up a garish snowman--and questions about your semester. And it was nice to recount some high points. A couple of times, you were tempted to tell a story that involved Anakin, but you held your tongue.

When you got home, and it was around time for bed, you tossed and turned, but all you could think about was him. That feeling in your gut was unbearable, and you were debating whether you should just go retch over a toilet to get it out of your system. You only managed to fall asleep by putting on Criminal Minds, and even then it took you two episodes.

The next night, the same thing happened.

And the next. And the next.

The next time you were in bed, you made yourself confront it. Just for a second. That feeling that came up whenever you thought of him.

For years, he was just some guy who got everything he wanted. You knew the department was stacked against you from the start--being in classes where only four people weren't men was symptomatic of the department culture. But when Anakin interacted with the professors like that, got all the internships, you wondered if you could do the same thing. If it had been you networking with the professors, would you have gotten the same reaction? And you didn't know.

Anakin was frustrating. So, so frustrating for years. Because everything just came so easily to him. It was like he waltzed in every day to your freshman lab course and made breadboard circuits that were even neater than the professor's. And when he did so well on every exam, he didn't make a secret of it. He gloated about how his projects were used as examples. Initially, that rivalry was one-sided. You'd do anything to beat him. Later on, when you'd worked on more than a couple projects together, you could see it in his eyes. He knew you were a threat, good competition.

And when he was clearly closer with the professors and got accepted to an internship you didn't get, it was whatever. It annoyed you to no end and you complained about it to your friends, but it wasn't terrible. Those were minor things. Your theses were major. This was what you'd present to employers, to the world. This was what you were going to do for the rest of your lives. And he'd gotten it from somewhere.

If even this was stacked against you, why did any of it matter?

You were still furious. You felt like you wanted to punch something or scream into your pillow at how unfair the world was, how you just wanted something to be easy for once.

But the worst part of it all was that you knew that, in his place, you would do the same exact thing. Or, at least think about it a lot. You'd feel like shit about it, granted, but you might do it. That feeling of trying and failing for months to get the perfect idea that was equally attractive to employers and the thesis committee, to get something that even worked, was probably the most frustrating cycle you'd ever experienced. If someone gave you a ticket out, what would you have done?

You probably would have taken it, if things were bad enough.

And that meant Anakin wasn't a bad person. Just a desperate one.

You knew he wasn't a bad person, though. You'd seen him smile at you with such openness, such sweetness. You'd seen him coach freshmen, including your own roommate, to become good athletes. You'd seen him get you food when you were too out of it to do it on your own. You'd felt him put his jacket around you when you fell asleep in the library.

But there was always that fear that, just maybe, your first impression had been right. That he was an asshole. That, one day, the mask would fall off, and you'd realize he was just pretending. That your relationship didn't matter to him as much as it did to you. That if you told him that you wanted more than sex, he'd laugh.

And, when you heard from Barriss of all people, that maybe he was exactly what you had thought he was, a liar, it felt like he was stabbing you in the back and twisting the knife.

Looking back at it, it still felt terrible, but you couldn't move the image of Anakin helping you, keeping you company in the library. He wasn't scheming against you when he took the idea, he was just scared and desperate.

It was the department that had pitted you against each other from the start--curves, calling out the best homework solution, TAships, and thesis competitions. None of it was made by him. He was just like you, trying his best.

You also hadn't heard all the details. The idea for the hand had been his, just the idea to scale it down had been someone else's. Just like you'd asked professors to help you choose between ideas early on in the process.

The more you thought about it, the more it felt like your heart was being carved out with a blunt spoon.

You impulsively opened your phone. The texts he had sent you.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

How could you not trust him? How could you have watched him cry and just left? What kind of a person were you?

Fuck, what had you done?

You were gasping for air, the tears rolling down your face and onto your pillow. You had ruined something perfectly good. Just because you were blaming him for everything that had gone wrong.

It was too much. It was all too much. The stress climbed up your throat and choked you, and you writhed in the sheets to try to escape the feeling. To just go back to a time when things mattered less, when you were purely happy and never worrying about GPAs or rankings.

Fingers shaking, you opened Ahsoka's contact and smashed the tauntingly green 'Call' button.

She wouldn't answer you anyway, you reasoned. It was the middle of the night, after all.

The ringing was painfully loud in the empty room. The tone sounded one, two, three, four times, and you were about to give up when Ahsoka's tired voice mumbled your name.

"'Soka--I--Can I talk to you?" You managed to spit out the question despite the thick cottony feeling in your throat.

"Hey, woah, what's the matter? Are you okay?" The grogginess left her voice as she fretted on the other end of the line, and her protectiveness made you feel the tiniest bit better.

As you spilled your guts to her, she made comforting noises at the appropriate places, and grossed out noises when you described that you'd had sex with Anakin. Soon, your breathing stabilized, and she said exactly what you'd been thinking, too: you needed to apologize, stat. Preferably, in person.

You fell asleep on the line with her.

In the morning, everything felt better. Manageable. You just needed to collect yourself before you returned home, and then sit him down and talk to him--actually talk.

For the remainder of the break, you immersed yourself in the everyday. Your holiday traditions were familiar, calming. The constant clamor of your family to get this and that from the store kept you busy. You'd wake up late, eat some lunch, get some coding done, scroll Instagram, eat dinner, then pass out in front of the TV. And just like that, another day slipped by. And another. And another. And another. And then it was Christmas, and all you could think was that Anakin was opening presents right now, somewhere far away. You opened your texts again, trying to draft a message that seemed right--Hey or Merry Christmas both seemed slightly weird. But maybe hearing from you would mess up his day, or maybe he'd realized what you had, that you were in the wrong, and now wasn't interested in talking to you. As you were debating, the roiling guilt in your stomach grew, and, when your father laughed particularly loudly, you were relieved to turn off your phone and pay more attention to the breakfast table.

In the back of your mind, there was a subtle thrum of guilt that never really went away. It only got worse as the break came closer to ending, and you realized you hadn't really gotten anything done on your thesis in weeks. You set a countdown on your phone homescreen, just to keep you on your toes. All it did was make you feel worse.

On New Year's Eve, when you were watching the ball drop with your parents, your phone chimed.

It was Anakin. The world stopped, and your mouth went dry. happy new year. What could you even say to that?

Happy New Year. I miss you.

Happy New Year. I'm sorry for everything.

Happy New Year. Wish you were here

Happy New Year! How are you?

All of them felt wrong. But then one of your parents said your name, trying to get your attention, and you locked your phone.

That night, while having your nightly stew on your feelings, you resolved to talk to him in person after lecture. Otherwise, you were worried you'd never bring it up.

On the first day of classes, you were resolved to catch him before or after lecture. Any time would work, really. You'd have two chances that Monday, and then two more on Wednesday if you chickened out. The fact that you acknowledged you might chicken out was a bad sign, but you ignored it.

You got there ten minutes early, an act that was generally considered psychopathic in college, and you were ready to zone out while the professor said some things about the goals of the course for just long enough for class time to end before speaking to Anakin.

Would he say something to you? Would he try to sit next to you? Would he even notice you?

You kept your eyes firmly trained on the board, and tried not to look too desperate as you snuck glances. Then, finally, he arrived, and you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. You made a point not to think too hard about how he was more handsome than you remembered and not to wonder if he wore that shirt just for you. That wasn't your place. You needed to apologize, not ogle him. You expected him to sit down somewhere in the middle of the seats, somewhere distinctly Anakin, but he crossed the room entirely. He even sat one row in front of you. Did he not even want you in his periphery? Your heart sunk. Maybe he had a change of heart after you didn't respond to his New Year's Eve text. Maybe he was just done with you. Maybe maybe maybe, your mind chanted.

The second that the professor was done, you rushed out.

The same thing happened again in your afternoon class, and you walked home regretting every life choice that brought you to this moment.

The next day, when you got home from your class, you entered your living room to find Anakin on the couch. Immediately, that nausea that had been plaguing you punched you in the throat.

There he was. Looking so unbothered, so casual, like him being in your room didn't make him think back to the last time you had been here, entwined on the bed. Like it didn't make him think of how you'd ruined it. All you could hear was static.

The worst part was that you couldn't stop ogling him, even though you felt terrible about it. He must have been working out over the break, because his arms looked incredible in that shirt, and his jawline was etched even more strongly than usual. The haircut he'd gotten over break left his hair falling just over his forehead in those perfect waves. It caught in the light as usual, and when he turned to look at you all you could see was blue blue blue.

And then you realized he was looking at you--at you--and his eyebrows furrowed. You could see him swallow, hard, as he looked at you. Was it a glare? Was he angry? Was he about to storm out? Who knew?

But this was your opportunity. Class didn't work out--this was it. You had to talk to him now.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe "Hey guys, can I talk to Anakin for a second?" or "Hey, can we talk?" or "I think I like you a lot," or literally anything, but nothing came out. The static in your ears got louder until it was deafening. Your stomach roiled and, for a second, you were worried you'd throw up instead of saying anything.

"Hey," you croaked out. The awkward silence sat between you three, and you didn't see his expression change. Fuck. He didn't even say "hey" back.

You had to get out of there. Had to. Right now. You bolted into your room and closed the door behind you, then dove into your bed and screamed into your pillow.

Motherfucker.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your next attempt to apologize came at practice the next day. You hoped to catch him at the end of it, maybe pull him away and talk in some empty stairwell. You crept up to the room, but, the closer you got, the more that tidal wave of terrible feelings threatened to wash you away. Through the door to Aerobics Room 1, your eyes found him in the crowd immediately. They were practicing some kind of form (pumsae? the exact name escaped you), and Fives made some sort of comment to Anakin which sent him cackling.

He looked light, and with the afternoon sun casting its rays into the room, he almost became angelic. When he laughed, and his eyes crinkled in that way that made you soft, you lost all your nerve. He was never like this when you were in class together, or that time he was in your apartment. Whenever he saw you, he got that look on his face.

But now, he was all smiles and laughs as he playfully smacked Fives, who repeated whatever he'd said and sent a bunch more athletes into fits of laughter.

Dappled in the sunlight, his face split with an enormous smile, Anakin was so perfect in that moment. How could you ruin it by making him have a hard conversation?

At the same time, you felt the anger at yourself build up. You said all those awful things to him, and you had the nerve to delay your apology?

But you knew that, if he heard your apology and didn't forgive you, that would ruin the day for him. He was just like that. And you didn't have the heart to do that to him.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself, as you took one last look tracing the contours of his jaw and lips.

As you turned to go, you didn't notice that he'd turned to see something moving in the windowed doors to the Aerobics Room.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ahsoka was fucking tired. There were approximately two people she cared for most on the campus, and they were both huge dummies. They'd proven that over and over. She knew something was amiss from the day the two of you fought/broke up/ended things/whatever, when you started sulking in your room alone and consuming an upsetting amount of caffeine. She started gently probing right when the worst of finals was over. She didn't want to rush anything, but a well-placed "hey going to go get some food, want anything?" might soften either of the two of you enough to let her know what happened.

She found out when you told her on a phone call. And, yes, it wasn't great. It was, perhaps, morally dubious and a little misguided, from what she could tell, but it wasn't clear to her why this was such an issue. Wasn't taking advice from others and collaborating the whole point of academic research and theses?

But she also knew you had gotten feedback from multiple professors after you'd submitted your initial proposal, trying to pick between several approaches, before one of the faculty nudged you in the direction of 3-D printing instead of plastic molding. And, sure, Anakin was a little more than nudged, but he came up with the idea for the mechanical hand in the first place. This was just a different application, right? And yes, it wasn't super duper ethical that the idea was just given to him, but what would you do in his shoes?

Ahsoka told you exactly that, and you sounded like you were choking on the other end of the phone. You told her about how horrible you felt, and that you felt like you didn't know if he even wanted to ever see you again, and she groaned. Of course he did. He was the biggest simp she knew.

So Ahsoka did what she did best: she meddled.

It started small, with mentioning the taekwondo team in front of you once the semester had started. Sometimes an anecdote would include Anakin, and she made sure to casually drop his name, just to gauge your reaction. You didn't even flinch when she said it, which seemed like a good sign. But the pulse in the hollow of your neck jumped. When you confessed that you'd failed to talk to him in class, because it just felt too awkward in public, Ahsoka nodded sagely, like she wasn't already scheming to give you a private time to chat.

Within five minutes, she had texted Anakin to invite him over to plan the competitions they would be attending that semester. Like she hadn't already discussed it with him in December, but whatever. A meeting between the captain and the vice captain wasn't out of the ordinary. And it just so happened that her room was free. Crazy, right?

She really couldn't have made it turn out this well if she tried. When you entered, and Anakin looked like he might fall off the couch, Ahsoka had to suppress a smile. You looked like you wanted to say something, like maybe you'd built up the courage, and she was about to say that, actually, she had forgotten an incredibly important errand she had to run at a cafe for 30 to 45 minutes, but then you just said "hey" and walked into your room. Ahsoka grumbled internally. What was so hard about just apologizing?

Two days into classes, Ahsoka had not-so-subtly hinted to Cody that he should host a party, just in case her other meddling didn't work. It was her backup plan, and, apparently, she needed it. So, after giving you a pep talk that this would be the perfect time to talk to Anakin because you weren't in class or a meeting, and after digging out some dress in the back of your closet for you to throw on, the two of you were off.

Once you arrived at the party, she watched you do a sweep of the room instantly. She knew what you were looking for, and rolled her eyes. He probably hadn't arrived yet, but she texted him anyway, just to check.

In the two seconds she was looking down at her phone, she watched you talk to some sophomore from the business school. He looked douchey, but he was cute enough and said something that made you laugh. Come on, Anakin, she thought, praying he'd arrive soon before she had to watch this guy flirt with you any longer.

Again, she realized she was great at meddling when Anakin showed up and beelined to Cody. She pushed her way through some people, and came to greet him, drag him to get a drink, but he'd already taken a beer from Cody, then insisted that they go dance.

At every opportunity, Ahsoka tried to hint that maybe they should go over there? Toward the other side of the room? Get some more drinks, maybe?

It took ten minutes, but Anakin finally agreed. He didn't see it, but Ahsoka was smiling like a maniac when she saw him take you in. When he started marching over, she was practically cheering. It was show time.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

As you walked to some quiet(er) room, your heart was pounding. This was more nerve-wracking than the first time you slept together, than anything you had done together before. When he just appeared in front of you, looking so intense, it took you a minute to get yourself together enough to form words. Was he mad at you? And now the moment of truth had come.

You pushed into a room which belonged to someone who had more weed than deodorant, and was covered wall-to-wall in dingy band posters. You didn't want to even look down to see how stained the carpet was.

But none of that mattered. Because right now, he was here. And you finally had the opportunity to say what you needed to say.

Before you started, you drank him in one last time, just in case. His deep eyes, the peek of collarbone through his shirt, his broad chest. A quick mental catalogue.

And then you started speaking.

"I'm sorry, Anakin." You weren't sure what gave you the courage. Maybe it was because he approached you first, so you couldn't hide behind the excuse that he didn't want to see you anymore. Maybe it was the slightly awkward conversation with that dude downstairs who seemed to have way too many takes on types of beer. Either way, you'd finally done it. You'd said it. Just apologizing to him made you feel lighter, but that was drowned out by the anxiety of hearing his response.

You were trying to read his expression, the draw of his eyebrows, the purse of his lips. This was the weirdest angry face you'd ever seen.

"Wait--huh?" Both of you were probably wearing the same expression--sheer confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be mad at you? What? You watched his eyes trying to read what you meant, and his plush lips were the tiniest bit open.

You continued anyway. It had to be said, even if he was just going to tell you to stay away from him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, you didn't deserve it. Not everything was your fault, and I've been feeling so guilty over the whole break that I just--I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I chickened out every time. I wish I hadn't… ended things. Between us. I'm--I'm so sorry." Your voice came out more confident than you felt, comfortable in the words you had been rehearsing for weeks in your mind.

Once again, the room went quiet. Anakin stood, as still as a statue, clearly trying to process. Behind the pounding of your ears, you could hear the bass line downstairs and the chatter of people, and you tried to remind yourself that if this goes badly, you'll just go back home, time would pass, and you'd be able to heal your broken heart in peace.

Then, suddenly, Anakin pulled you into a crushing hug. You couldn't breathe from the weight of his head on your shoulder, and the tight squeeze of his arms around your waist. The sandalwood of his shampoo was comforting, familiar. He smelled like home as he buried his face into your neck.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry too--I wish I could take it back, that I just never entered this goddamn competition, then you never would've been mad at me and--" His voice came out broken and shaky.

"Anakin, hey," you interrupted. Had he spent the whole break feeling like this? He should be mad at you, not just upset with himself. You could talk to him about that later, but right now you could feel his desperation to just be near you again, mainly because you felt the same way. You wrapped your arms around him until your hand found his hair. Burying your fingers in it felt so good, so natural. How could you ever have ended this?

"It's okay," you said as you rubbed his back. You could feel his breaths were ragged, and he squeezed you even tighter. "I shouldn't have been that mad at you in the first place--I just got so upset that you had some sort of upper hand, and I went crazy," you continued.

"Fuck," Anakin muttered against your skin. The shift of his lips over your collarbone reminded you of the last time he'd kissed up and down your neck. You took a deep breath. Now was not the time to get horny.

Anakin pulled away, but kept his arms wrapped around your waist. Your heart clenched when you saw the mix of anguish and relief dancing across his features. His eyes were swimming, and a tear rolled down his cheek, then another, then another, until he was crying.

"Fuck," he mumbled again as he pulled one hand away from you to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, almost as if he was embarrassed. Despite it all, you found him immeasurably cute.

"Uh, I was gonna come up here and beg you for another chance--I just couldn't watch you move on or talk to that guy downstairs, it hurts too much," he confessed. His eyes met yours and you felt that familiar jolt of joy that he brought, this time over the idea that he was jealous, possessive even, over you.

"I'm not moving on." It was a risk to say it, but you did it anyway. It was definitely true, but it came out more careful, more tentative than you wanted. Because there was a chance he didn't mean it that way, and you'd just shown your hand.

Fortunately, he had a terrible poker face. Even streaked with tears, a little bit sweaty, and standing in a room that stank like weed, Anakin's smile burst onto his face and shone like the sun.

You'd forgotten how many butterflies that smile gave you. Tentatively, you moved your hand from his shoulder to his jaw. His eyes slid closed and he leaned into your touch, like you might disappear if he didn't keep you there.

Then, someone hollered in the hallway, something about a round of shots, and Anakin's eyes snapped open.

"Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk more?" You asked. "We can walk back home or--" Anakin cut you off.

"Um, if you don't hate me right now, and I don't--I could never--hate you, can I just--" His hungry eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew immediately that the answer was yes. Yes. A hundred times yes.

You didn't think too many brain cells were firing, so you just nodded. His smile widened, if that was even possible, and he pulled you into him just like he had so many times before.

As he got closer, your heart started pounding, and your palms got sweaty, like this was a first date. And, in a way, it kind of was. It was your first time kissing as more than just enemies who fucked every once in a while, but as something else, something more.

When his lips met yours, he was so heartbreakingly tender, you melted under his touch. Anakin was so warm when he held you this close, and you were half expecting him to start deepening the kiss when he pulled away so that your foreheads were touching.

"I fucking missed you so much," he whispered reverently, then immediately kissed you again, deeper this time.

His kiss was all-consuming, like a whirlpool sucking you in, until you'd forgotten everything except how he felt against you. Your kisses grew deeper, until you felt his tongue gently brush your lips, and you immediately opened them.

Everything felt new, gentle, and you relished it. One of his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing gently, and you felt yourself get wet. You'd been pent up for weeks, and the simultaneous relief of being with him again and the way he had all but told you that he had feelings for you were making you dizzy with want for him.

Your hands grasped anything they could, his shoulders, his hair, his arms, as much of him as you could reach. Did he even know what he did to you?

He broke the kiss, just for a second, and you were about to protest when he pulled the two of you back until he was sitting on the twin bed shoved into the corner of the room. You stood between his legs, his hands trailing down the backs of your thighs.

You swung one knee over his hips, lowering yourself until you were straddling him. Anakin watched you, his eyes dark and mischievous, and let out a small "fuck" when you were finally in his lap. He was a sucker for this position, you knew. This was exactly how you'd gotten together, at that stupid night of truth and dare. The memory filled your heart with warmth.

As you settled onto his legs, you felt a familiar hardness under you, and the butterflies returned. You loved doing this to him, making him care about nothing other than the moment you were sharing. You not-so-subtly shifted your hips as you kissed him again, and you were rewarded with a low moan.

His hands kept teasing you, running up and down the sides of your thighs as he captured your lower lip between his teeth gently. You groaned loudly into his mouth, and he used that moment to slide a hand up your inner thigh, until he had passed the hem of your dress.

Using all the willpower you had left, you pulled away. You were both panting, and he was a vision when you looked at him again, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and wet from your kiss.

"Anakin, are you sure this is okay?" You desperately wanted him to say yes, because it felt like you might implode if you didn't have him inside you tonight, but if he was this emotional, you had to say something. Give him an out.

Instead, Anakin looked at you like a man starved. His pupils were wide, and, even through the tears, he looked ravenously hungry for you. Like you made his world spin.

"Yes--God, I've thought of you every day, all the time. I don't want to wait any more than I have to, unless you don't want to, or if you think you'd regret it--" He was rambling. It was adorable.

"I've never regretted you," you said, cutting him off. "But are you sure you're sure?" You stared into his eyes, looking for any trace of worry, or hesitation. All you found was desire, and something softer. Affection, love, maybe.

He rolled his hips, pressing his hard cock against you.

"Can't you feel how much I want you?" Usually, a line like that would make you roll your eyes, but with the mischief in his eyes and the feeling of him hard underneath you, it only served to make you wetter.

You immediately grabbed his shirt to pull his lips to yours again, rocking your hips over and over until he matched your rhythm. The hand on your inner thigh crept upward, until it reached your clothed pussy.

You'd forgotten how well he knew your body, like he'd been made to touch you. His fingers found the perfect angle to stroke your clit, and you became a mess, your kisses sloppy.

After he'd teased you for a long enough time to make you a wreck on top of him, Anakin pulled your underwear aside. He dipped just one finger inside, and he groaned at how soaked you were.

"Can I fuck you, baby?" He asked, as if the answer would be anything but please. You nodded as hard as you could, and he started unzipping his jeans as fast as he could while keeping his eyes on you. You weren't sure he'd ever look away.

Meanwhile, you stood up off of him just enough to pull your soaked panties down your legs and kick them off. As he pulled his cock out, you vowed to give him head the next time you were together, because goddamn, you'd forgotten how nice of a sight he was like this.

He pulled a condom out of his pocket and rolled it on, still looking at you and only fumbling a couple of times in his trance.

"C'mere," he grabbed your waist and pulled until you were straddling him again, right above his cock. He grabbed your hips with one hand, and lined himself up with the other, then slowly started guiding you down onto him.

As he split you open, you forgot how to think, or talk, or do anything other than feel him inside of you. Every ridge, every inch. You let your head fall back as a keening moan erupted from your throat. He kissed everywhere he could, up and down your throat as he grunted against your skin.

You realized you couldn't even draw a steady breath, you were so overwhelmed by the feeling of being with him again.

His breath fanned your collarbone as he finally rested his forehead there and groaned your name. It was music on his lips.

The hand on your hip started guiding you to move, and you gently rocked your hips. God, had it ever felt this good before?

The feeling washed over you like honey, drenching your limbs and making your fingers tingle. Almost on their own, your hips picked up the pace, spreading the feeling everywhere in your body.

As you rode him faster, he pressed his face into your neck, letting the wetness from his crying earlier rub onto your skin. He was groaning at almost every thrust, incoherent mixtures of yes's and your name falling off his lips with every breath.

You were holding on for dear life, fingers fisted in his hair, when he grabbed under your thighs and stood up, slipping his cock out of you while you were still in his arms.

Anakin turned around and laid you down on your back as he busied himself throwing off his shirt and pants until he was bare in front of you. Within two more seconds, he was inside you again, this time thrusting into you from above.

He was holding himself up on his elbows, so his face was right above yours, eyes locked onto yours. You could see every reaction, every groan fall from his lips.

Usually, he was rough and made his hips smack yours, but, today, his thrusts were slow and languid, like he was trying to make it last as long as possible. You could live in this moment for the rest of your life. A particularly strong twitch of his cock made you whimper.

"Fuck, baby. You're so gorgeous like this," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead tenderly. You locked your legs around him, holding him close, so that this wouldn't end. So that you could always stay here.

His breath hitched, and you knew he was getting close. You loved that you knew things like that about him, that only you knew that about him right now.

"Shit, fuck. Your pussy is so fucking good, like you were made for me," he groaned into your ear, speeding up until he was going faster than you thought he could. The intensity made you grasp at his back desperately, your nails catching on his skin. He hissed loudly. Anakin's cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was seconds away from his release. And you were even closer, that delicious tension building with every thrust.

His hand came between you to rub small circles on your clit, and then you were gone. Your mind went blank, and everything became just sensation. Warmth, all around you. Him, everywhere.

Somewhere far away, while you were still twitching around him, he groaned, low and loud and raw, as he came while sheathed deep in your pussy. Anakin laid his head in the crook of your neck while he recovered. His breath hitched as he took a shaky exhale, then pulled his cock out of you.

You didn't need to say any words, you both knew what you wanted. He pulled you into his arms like you were the most precious thing on the planet, then let his eyes slip closed. All the tension that had been building in your body was released, gone into the wind. All that was left was him, and the rise and fall of his chest as you lay against it.

"I missed you, too," you ventured after a few seconds of comfortable silence. He hummed, letting the hand trailing through your hair cup your jaw and pull you up for another kiss.

This one was tender, not about fucking, not about anything but his feelings for you. It was addicting, and, when it stopped, you almost pulled him in for another round. But it was midnight, and every muscle in your body was screaming.

Anakin said something about cleaning up and getting out of here, and you nodded, but you found you were having trouble with coherent thoughts at the moment. Anakin gently kissed your forehead and then rolled out of bed.

"'Kay, I'm gonna go look around for a bathroom, be back in a sec!" He called out, putting his clothes back on quickly, but not quickly enough that you didn't have time to check him out.

Even when he left the room, you were still smiling. You grabbed your phone, discarded somewhere near the bed, and sat back down. You wanted to text Ahsoka to thank her for bringing you to this party, for introducing you to Anakin, hell, for being born, when your homescreen reminded you of something.

54 Days, 18 hours, 27 seconds until Thesis Due Date

That pit opened in your stomach. You thought you had gotten rid of it, but there it was again. Everything went tight in your body, and suddenly all you could think was how could you have let yourself get this far behind? You had to get to work.

Something bumped your leg. It was Anakin's hand. You hadn't even heard him come in.

"Everything okay?" Anakin asked, with that gentle smile that hadn't really left him since you'd made up.

You looked at him, the man who you kind-of-sort-of-definitely had feelings for, and you shot him a half-assed smile as you locked your phone.

"Yeah," you said, your voice tight as you put it away. But, for the rest of the night, even when he walked you home and kissed you in front of the building--in public--it echoed in the back of your mind.

54 days.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[deconstructthesoup]

All right, Fantasy High Leverage AU (which I still need a name for) commence:

Riz is the group's mastermind---a guy who quit his job at an insurance investigation agency after he found out that his father, who'd worked for the same agency and was thought to have died in an accident, actually got killed on the job. In the years since, Riz has kind of fallen into himself a little, trying and failing to get a private detective business set up as his mental health slowly gets worse... until he gets approached by someone who claims that something of his was stolen, and Riz is the only person he can trust to lead a team of highly prolific criminals to get it back. And this, of course, kicks off the formation of his new crew:

Gorgug is the group's hacker-slash-engineer, though everybody looks at him and assumes that he has to be the hitter. He grew up learning the ins and outs of computers and machines as a kid, and once he got the gist of it, he started figuring out what exactly he could and couldn't do---never because he was malicious, just because he was curious. This, of course, got him into a lot of legal trouble, and he's kind of gotten wrapped up into the criminal lifestyle because of it. He's the sweetest person ever, of course, which means that a lot of people tend to trust him.

Kristen is the group's hitter---a cocky wildcard who, after getting kicked out of her parents's house due to being a lesbian, didn't have a lot of other options besides joining the military. Though her rebellious nature got her into a lot of trouble, her ability to take a lot of hits and hit just as hard also got her noticed... by the wrong people. Needless to say, she's got a bit of a past, which she easily covers up by cracking jokes and acting as unhinged as possible. Underneath it all, though, she's still crawling out of a pretty dark place, and she both softens up and calms down once she finally starts receiving some actual external validation and support.

Adaine is the group's thief, though, again, people look at her and assume she's the hacker. She and Aelwyn both grew up in an old-money household and spent a lot of time around priceless antiques and art---and eventually, both of them responded to their parents's awfulness by taking up crime, though Aelwyn stole stuff for the Abernants and Adaine stole stuff from the Abernants. As time went on, the two sisters became incredibly talented thieves, all the while pretending to be your typical rich academics... until, of course, Adaine got caught and was promptly disowned by her family. Undeterred, she escaped, and managed to get quite the reputation in the criminal underground under her belt. Weirdly enough, she's also one of the most levelheaded and practical members of the group.

Of course, once their first heist goes wrong and they all realize that they've been tricked, Riz has to pull in some outside help in order to right their wrongs. And he does that by inviting a pair of stepsiblings that he'd run across when he still had his job...

Fig and Fabian are the two most accomplished and renowned grifters that the criminal world has ever seen, and nobody is still quite sure what their origins are---just that they're clearly not biologically related, and that they specialize in stealing art from rich people who can afford it. Fig's the kind of person who's incredible at improvisation and tends to act on the fly, and even her more impulsive actions wind up yielding results (though sometimes, there's unintentional consequences). Fabian, meanwhile, takes careful time crafting the perfect identity to sway his mark, and while Fig warns him about getting in too deep, he's never had that problem... yet. Both of them think very highly of Riz---hell, Fabian even had a thing for him before he realized that Riz wasn't interested in any of that---and both of them are more than happy to add more people to their crew. (And yes, their dynamic in this is partially inspired by Chirp and Squak---hey, two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou, meet other two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou.)

As for some of the others---Ragh takes the Jack Hurley route of being a mark that eventually switches to their side and becomes their lovable best friend, Ayda is a bookkeeper and researcher for Riz's old company who gets accidentally roped into one of their cases and winds up becoming an ally (and Fig's girlfriend), Tracker is a fellow hitter and an old "friend" of Kristen's, Aelwyn's the Archie Leach equivalent who's still semi-working for the Abernants, the Seven all start out as clients and form their own crew over the course of the series, and the Ratgrinders are a crew who start out as actual bad guys, though many of them eventually start working alongside Riz's crew. (Oisin's the hacker, Ivy's the thief, Mary Ann's the hitter, Ruben's the grifter, Kipperlilly's the mastermind, and Lucy's their old friend who hired Riz and everyone else to stop-slash-help them.)

So... yeah!