#somehow. somehow. despite the fact that they only shared one race this year. this is still the longest of these posts by far? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mv1simp · 10 months ago

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Into It ♥️ Part 1 of 3

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

i'm into it, yeah, says she wanna fuck me later, girl i'm into it

the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut but this time with some plot lol, reader essentially is just trying whatever tactic she can to seduce her bf and make mad max come out in bed, size kink, dom/sub elements, 4k WC

PART TWO HERE ♥️ PART THREE HERE ♥️

You look up blissfully at your boyfriend, Max, from where you’re tucked into his side, his strong arm scooping you against him and keeping you warm. You’re rewatching an old classic, Shrek 2, as you wind down from your dinner plans with your friends earlier than evening. Lando and Daniel had joined as well, teasing you and Max mercilessly about how you two were finally together and that the whole F1 grid had been placing bets on when you would make it official.

You had flushed in a combination of embarrassment and giddiness, unable to hold back a matching laugh with Max who had looked over at you with an adoring gaze, his own heart warm with happiness about finally being able to call you his own. You two had run in the same Monaco circles for years - with him as a driver and you on the McLaren legal team. Though initially you only saw glimpses of him through paddock interviews or social media posts celebrating his multiple winning streaks, the two of you had become a lot closer the past couple years through his friendship with Daniel and Lando. Soon enough you were joining them at weekly Padel sessions, leading to you and Max exchanging funny cat memes or popping online to decimate him and Lando on a Call of Duty stream and then eventually onto deeper conversations, from his latest breakups with his model girlfriends or quiet ramblings with a bottle of wine outside a booming party about the pressures of demanding fathers.

Of course, tongues were wagging anytime you two were seen together - especially when Max had his first time in years being single for months before you had gotten together. You couldn’t deny that you had always thought the older Dutch man was incredibly handsome and funny, always full of interesting facts about niche topics, and you found his intensity and passion for his racing career so attractive, as a high powered professional yourself as a lawyer for a luxury car brand’s executive board. But you had always curbed any growing feelings you had for Max, paranoid that it would compromise the strong friendship you two had developed. Besides, given his affliction for dating vogue models, and his respectful gazes or polite touches compared to the much more flirtier ones from other drivers on the grid, you had never thought max considered you attractive.

But somehow, despite both your busy schedules, despite max being across the globe, you always ended up calling each other first to share sad, happy, or even just boring news. You had never once imagined that after winning his most recent championship the first person he came looking for in his celebrations that night was you, his face flushes from champagne and hugging you tightly, his eyes shining with warmth as he told you he couldn’t have won it without you and suddenly you could no longer deny the rapid palpitations of your heart when you looked up at him. And as he looked at you, thumb gently brushing across your cheeks, warm breaths mingling together as your faces drew closer, he couldn’t deny himself any longer either - Schat, all I’ve been thinking about is what I really wanted for my prize instead of this trophy. Can I kiss you now?

And the rest was history. Fast forward a few months and it’s still so surreal to call Max your boyfriend, you think, as you come back to the present, watching him fondly as he chuckles at the movie. Dating him has been a dream - he’s your first serious relationship, your standards too high to waste time with any of the subpar guys you had gone on first dates with before - and wow, did Max know exactly how to knock all of those standards out of the park. He would always drive and pick you up anywhere you wanted, in his sleek luxury cars that had pedestrians gawping, one large hand on your thigh and asking how your day had been. You had literally stopped taking your wallet out anymore as Max always slammed down his black Amex at any opportunity to pay for you - dinners, trips, jewellery and luxurious shopping sprees - and although the staunch feminist in you had initially disagreed you couldn’t help but feel so cared for, so looked after - knowing all you needed on a night out was one hand around his arm and the other clutching a pretty little Chanel purse he had picked up for you at last month’s race weekend, with a matching Dior lip gloss inside. If you were ever having a hard day at work he would always order your favourite foods straight to your apartment, where he would meet you and bitch and vent alongside you about whichever client had been giving you grief.

And my god, the sex - THE SEX with your man had been absolutely amazing. Considering the difference in your past number of relationships, max was keenly aware that he had a lot more experience than you and was so unbelievably sweet and patient - letting you take all the time you needed to go slow and work up the confidence gradually to ask for what you wanted for him. Your first time together had been incredibly romantic, a night at a private house he had booked out for the week on the Italian coastline. After a candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine you found yourself in his lap on the outdoor chaise, soft kisses turning more and more heated, max whispering are you sure, liefje? If you’re not ready-

to which you had cut him off with another deep kiss, pleading for him to make you his once and for all ❤️ His eyes had flickered with a deep intensity at your possessive statement before softening out to adoration again as he gently unlaced your dress and trailed kisses down your body, worshipping you. you’d both cum embarrassingly faster than you’d have liked, high off the feeling of one another, max cleanly finishing inside a condom he threw away before carrying you in his arms to the bedroom inside. Since then, you’d both figured out you had a combined very high sex drive, using every opportunity in your schedules to make love, max never hesitating to always make sure you came first, either on his fingers, tongue or cock. You had the perfect boyfriend. Truly. You couldn’t ask for anything more, yet -

- yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute bitch about the recurrent thoughts that had planted in your mind as you watched max come out of the bathroom freshly showered, getting ready for bed after finishing a gaming stream with his mates following your Shrek 2 viewing. The issue was that your boyfriend - your incredibly hot, sexy, tall Dutch boyfriend - was so stupidly enticing but so oblivious that he has no idea what he did to you. You bit your lip as you looked at him, hair dripping wet, distractingly saying something to you while texting on his phone - but your mind was only fixed on how big and strong Max looked. Your boyfriend was much bigger than you, almost towering over you at 6”1 with your 5”1 frame. His athletic training currently during the season meant he had been looking extra delectable lately, defined abs, thick muscular thighs and a broad shoulder and back that narrowed down to a narrow (or as Lando joked, slutty) waist, highlighted now by the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips that did nothing to hide the sizeable bulge in between his legs. It was undeniable that he was packing, to the point where you had called it his third leg after first seeing him naked, making him laugh but also take even more care everytime he entered you - you were a lot smaller than his previous partners, after all. He always made sure his pace was gentle and slow, avoiding fully entering you too much in worry of causing you pain. Truly, your boyfriend was too sweet - everything he did was to avoid causing your any pain or distress - which is why you felt too embarrassed to ask him directly to be rougher with you when he was simply looking out for your comfort. It has been perfect for you initially, but now you felt more adjusted to his size, and each time you slept together you felt yourself becoming more and more desperate for Max to be just a little bit rougher, a little bit more controlling. What would he think when his usually sweet, happy go lucky girlfriend admitted she actually fantasised about him completely ruining her? So, of course, you being you - an ambitious feminist - have decided to hatch a conniving strategy to seduce your boyfriend into giving it to you just right!! 💕

Starting tonight - you had already planned to spend the night at Max’s, relaxing after the hectic work week you had both had. Often, you wore his comfortable hoodies that dwarfed you and smelt just like him as you cuddled in bed. Instead tonight you wore an angelic pink lace Agent Provocateur nightie, bows and all, pushing your cute tits up on display for him and complimenting your caramel skin perfectly. Enough to drive Max crazy, right? Sitting against the plush pillows, you had been reading one of your steamy dark romance novels - your latest outlet these days while you manifested getting some back breaking sex with Max - but of course had ended up distracted by the sight of your himbo boyfriend emerging from the shower.

-Schat? So what do you think? Max finally looked up from his phone, making you come back to reality and realize you hadn’t been answering his question. Max’s eyes widened seeing your pretty little form on his bed - he had never seen you wear an outfit like that in bed before. He cleared his throat, inconspicuously shifting his stance so you didn’t notice his hard on at the sight of you when you hastily stumbled to reply - Oh sorry maxie, I missed what you were saying, just a bit tired after today

Max immediately came to your side in bed, looking guilty. Of course Schat, sorry, I’m keeping you up with my gaming stream aren’t I? You had such a long week already, we can go straight to bed now. You cursed your own slip up - of course, your sweet Max would put your comfort first over what you were sure looked like mission successful given the rapid hardening of his bulge you had zoned in on.

You try again as Max dims the bedside lamps, taking your book gently away from your hands and setting it to the side. You lean softly in next to him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, tits right up against his hard biceps so that your breasts are basically cushioning his arm right in between them. Your nightie rises up your legs, showcasing your soft, luscious thighs for him. Max smiles lovingly at you, cradling your face before peppering your cheeks with baby kisses. You look so pretty, sweetheart. So sweet to wait for me before falling asleep, mein Schat.

You lean in further, lips pouting in an effort your boyfriend would finally catch the hint but instead you found yourself gently maneouvered and tucked into his side, his large hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as he placed a final kiss on your forehead. Goodnight, darling. Your eye twitched at his definitive words, perplexed at how your plan had been so unsuccessful, but you sighed and wished goodnight to Max, falling asleep and already plotting for another day.

A couple of weeks later you decided to up the ante. A sexy, bold crimson red lingerie teddy set, practically see through and showcasing your tan nipples through the lace and mesh, and a pathetic excuse of some lacy red panties to match. You smirked as you eyed yourself in the mirror - sure, it was quite a forward look, but you had found yourself becoming increasingly more desperate for your boyfriend’s attentions after attending his Monaco race today. You did your best to attend the races you could but with your own demanding schedule often struggled to make it, so were very excited to support your boyfriend this time - especially as you had been keeping track of how this season was difficult compared to earlier years given the poorer quality of the RB car. Your eyes had widened at seeing the events this weekend - a string of bad luck events. First, his engine had stalled during free practise, making him lose precious practise time, and then a red flag had been called as he was finishing an almost perfect qualifying lap, ruining his chances of pole, and finally during the actual race he was clipped on the side by one of the Aston Martin’s, making him spin out but still incredibly go on to get P2. It was amazing result given everything, but what caught your attention was a side of your boyfriend you had only every heard whispers about emerge on the track. In the past, you had only attended races he had easily won, appearing calm and collected throughout the weekends as he cruised to P1 - easily overpowering everyone else. Today though - Mad Max, his fans excitedly cheered and paddock staff gossiped, Mad Max is finally back!! In his villain era!!

And your Max was indeed seething at everyone - competitors, his strategy team, the stewards for not giving Aston Martin a penalty - and you had listened in on the radio to hear him angrily swear and yell to his engineer, seen him aggressively overtake and defend his place on the track, and finally seen the stormy expression on his face as he emerged out of his car, clearly pissed with narrowed eyes as he stalked off to his driver room without a word, not even sparing a glance at you or anyone else. Sure, you should have felt a little hurt that he hadn’t noticed you or seen the perfectly planned designer outfit you had arrived wearing, sending the paparazzi into a flurry, but you completely understood that his career was first on the line today and he needed some time to cool off. And honestly, instead of feeling bad for Max - the sick, twisted part of you couldn’t deny that he had looked sooo sexy completely dominating on the track, authoritatively giving orders over the radio and confidently outmanoeuvring his rivals. You had to catch yourself from biting your lip or squeezing your legs together as his rough accented tones got more and more angry throughout the race over your headphones, imaging what it would be like to be pinned down by his strong arms, to have him lean down behind you and whisper naughty things in your ear, to ask if you liked being a dirty little-

“Oh! Y/N! Can we get a quick word?” The sky sports reporters interruption hastily put an end to the illicit thoughts you had been having. Quickly trying to school your expression into something much more PR friendly, you flashed a dazzling smile, “Of course!”. As expected they tried to rile responses out of you to condemn Max’s aggressive performance. But you had stood for none of it, honestly and clearly stating that your boyfriend had driven very capably and fairly given the circumstances and you were extremely impressed with his performance. “He’s a triple world champion after all. Did you just expect him to roll over and not defend his title? If you don’t agree with it then no need to watch it. At the end of the day he’s the one driving the car over the finish line while everyone else is speculating hypotheticals.” The reporters thank you for your input, stumbling for words at your strong defence of your boyfriend. You wandered off before they could say more, catching up with Max a couple hours later when he had debriefed and collected his trophy, looking a lot more chilled out than earlier.

Hey, Schatje he mumbled gently, leaning down to kiss you on the lips after pulling you from a conversation with the other WAGs. Max! you had exclaimed brightly, congratulating him on his win and letting him know just how proud you were of him. You knew he would be tired - we could go to the red bull celebration yacht party for 30min, show our faces, and then play hooky back to ours? I already put in a dinner order for your favourite lamb kebabs.

Max smiled down at you - you knew him so well, always knew what to say and when he wanted to relax. Sounds amazing, Schat he voiced in agreement. Later, after eating dinner at home, Lando sent him a trending insta reel with the caption “Mate, she’s too good to you, you bagged a queen.” Max grinned, expecting some fanmade memes about you and him as he clicked the link (he has seen all the Queen Y/N and he’s just…Ken Max tweets already. You were a well liked figure on the paddock for years with your well mannered speech, excellent dress style and courteous relationships with most of the staff.)

He was suprised to instead see an interview post race of you defending him staunchly, shutting down any opportunity the reporters used to manipulate your words. He walked into his bedroom to find you conveniently waiting for him in bed again, nose buried in one of your romance models, and started laughing at how effective you were at putting the media clowns in their place. Thanks for sticking up for me always, liefje. You smiled back at him with pure adoration - of course Maxie, that’s the advantage of dating a lawyer, right?

He agreed enthusiastically, so caught up on now yapping about the race as he climbed into bed with you that he didn’t even notice the sexy little outfit you had planned just for him, covering you up with his soft duvet before you could properly twirl around and showcase it for him. Your eye twitched again as he yawned in between statements, grabbing your waist and bringing your back in against him, spooning you while his voice gently trailed off, falling asleep.

Meanwhile, your mind was running at 100 miles a minute, a scowl on your face. This was ridiculous, you had gotten all dressed up in an overpriced beautiful outfit just for your boyfriend to get distracted by a 3min interview you had done with an asshole reporter and then fall asleep instead of ravaging you?? You had tonight would be the perfect night, for you to be the one to support him for once, be the perfect outlet for his stress, to use you and manipulate your body for his own pleasure…heat pooled in your gut at your dark thoughts, and you grow wetter between your legs at the mental image of max having his way with you. Maybe it still wasn’t too late. Sighing gently, you closed your eyes, pretending to drift into sleep but moving your plump, barely covered ass behind you to gently grind up on your boyfriend’s cock, which was now rapidly hardening with your practised movements. You sensed Max had awakened when you felt his arms tighten around you, keeping you still in an effort to stop you from exciting him to much while you were still asleep and he couldn’t act on it.

Mmmhmm, maxie, feels so good~ you moaned, still keeping up the facade of having a wet dream, breathing getting heavier and pushing your tits against the edges of his fingers that were wrapped around your waist. You felt him exhale sharply as he came into contact with your hardened nipples, a smirk on your face. Your grinding had managed to push the duvet partially off, exposing your red lingerie in the moonlight - surely this would be enough to drive any man crazy!!

You heard him sigh behind you, shifting slightly and inadvertently pushing his cock against your skimpy underwear as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck - and you had to hold back a squeal with how hard and big he felt against you, this was it, he was finally going to give in and fuck you awake while he thought you were having a wet dream, he could slide it right in, you were ready for it, for him, you were soo wet already just from imagining it, this was so hot-

Your fantasies are quickly shut down as max easily used his strength to turn you around so your face was buried into his chest again, your ass now devastatingly much too far away to get any action, and began rubbing your shoulders soothingly to get you to fall into a deep sleep again. You almost combusted at the action before deflating and accepting defeat once more. Your kind boyfriend of course would never toe the line of having sex with you in a dubious way were you were asleep. You wanted - no needed, to bring Mad Max out in your bedroom, and you were determined to do whatever it took.

Over the next few weeks you threw countless strategies Max’s way. Leaving your dirty romance books out in plain view, sometimes even opened up to a page right in the middle of a jaw dropping sex scene. Lacier and lacier bralettes and panties left everywhere to prompt him. “Accidentally” deleting his best SIM race time record on his rig. But nothing seemed to be working - max diligently tidyed up the stray underwear, reshelved the books, and generously forgave you for the SIM error before setting a new record later that night instead of fucking you angrily like you had planned. You got more frustrated as both your work schedules became busier, leaving you less time to connect with him. Fuck, last weekend - last weekend you had even thrown out all your boxes of condoms before jumping into Max’s arms when he had come home, laughing and eager to see you. One thing let to another and he was as eager to be inside you as you were to have him inside you, voicing It’s been too long Schat, I’ve missed your sweet body so much, so beautiful for me in between kisses as he reached for the bedstand drawer to grab a condom - only to find it empty. You pretended to have a confused look on your face (truly, you deserved an Oscar for your performance this past month) before oh so innocently suggesting Maxie, we- we don’t have to use one if you don’t want, I’m on the pill -

And there it was - a brief darkening of your boyfriends’ normally loving ice blue eyes, his sharp gaze on you at your suggestion of doing it raw for the first time - before he schooled his features back to normal and gave you a sweet kiss, It’s okay Schat, you’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to feel uncomfortable for my sake, I’ll just grab some from the corner store, da? He was off you before you could protest, promising he would be back soon as you blinked away tears of frustration and denial that yet again your plan had failed. When he finally entered you later that night, ever so gently, condom and all, you closed your eyes tight and imagined how each vein and ridge of his thick cock might feel when fully buried inside you to the hilt, if that goddamn condom broke, if he spilled all of his thick, creamy cum inside you, so much that it spurted out the sides, leaking everywhere, claiming you as his and no one else’s, making such a filthy, filthy mess-

- you came harder than you had the whole month, burying your face in Max’s shoulder to contain the scream that threatened to spill out. You sighed as you came down from your high. Fuck, you needed a drink.

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A/N: Follow along for Part 2 of this 3 part series to see if dear reader will finally manage to uncockblock herself and release Mad Max!! 😚😚

#max verstappen x oc #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #formula 1 #smut

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saduko · 11 months ago

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PAY YOUR DEBT

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.6K words

Summary: Lando's Austrian crash could not have come at a worse time, and now he's scrambling to find someone to replace him in the upcoming Quadrant video. He's so lucky you care, and that you're horrible at lying. Or in which, reader takes Lando's place during Quadrants; 'Spill Your Guts', and they manage to pull some interesting information out of her.

Childhood Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slowburn

Despite having never met you, the cast of Quadrant were more than familiar with your name for one of a few reasons. The first being that, you were of course, a renowned Formula 1 driver beloved by many. The second being their own proximity with another famous Formula 1 driver who so happened to be your Mclaren teammate.

For years they watched from a distance, saw your interviews and watched your races, cheering their team in orange on as the two of you dominated race weekends once again. It was obvious Lando was fond of you just off the way the two interacted on track, but beyond their parasocial concept of your relationship, they knew he liked you because of the sheer number of times your name was mentioned in the Quadrant circle. Lando’s inability to refrain from speaking about you was frankly an ongoing joke at this point. Though they playfully rolled their eyes at every mention of your name, they knew they couldn't necessarily criticize him for it either. Its hard not to talk about people you spend a lot of time around, and naturally, with you two being teammates and all, it wasn’t all that strange for him to want speak about you.

And when they consider the fact that your history stems way beyond just the devoted McLaren camaraderie you share, it’s hard to be mad at him when he brings you up. You two did grow up carting together after all, entering every stage of your lives with the other. You were childhood friends.

Except they had also spent a lot of time with Lando. Yeah, you might work with him, but so do they, and they knew he wasn't just talking about you because you were around often. They knew he wasn't just mentioning you because you grew up swerving along the same tracks or because you now wore the same bright papaya orange.

The man so obviously liked you and they all knew it. He mentioned your smile far too often to hide it, and he always seemed a bit too proud when he talked about being the reason you did. Not a single Quadrant member has ever spoken to you before, and yet somehow each one could articulate the way your eyes crinkled tight when you laughed or how your lips pursed hard when you found something funny but didn't want to show it.

He liked you, even if he denied it.

And so the Quadrant cast begged and begged to meet you. Eager to see the woman who has evidently captured the man's attention, despite his insistence to the contrary to no avail. Though, their efforts hadn't entirely fallen on deaf ears; in fact, Lando had been trying to get you in a Quadrant video since he founded the damn company, begging for nearly four years, only to be met with the same dismissive glare from your gleaming eyes every time.

“One day, Lando. Not today.”

One day, you would say. Though he’s starting to think one day is no day at all. In your defense, opportunities away from the relentless gaze of the media are far and few between and the brief moments of peace you manage to find are precious. The thought of spending that private time filming yet another video for millions to watch has never been particularly enticing. As much as you care for Lando, sometimes you cherish your downtime just a little bit more.

But... this time he was stressed, and you could see it. He was supposed to film a Quadrant video this week. Finally home in London for this week’s Grand Prix, at last, he was able to put a little more effort into his personal business. It was one of the very few times a year he was able to participate in the creative side of the brand. The whole video had been planned, written, set up and was ready to be shot. The date was set, it was finally coming together. But then Lando crashed. He crashed in Austria and now his work at Mclaren had essentially been doubled for Silverstone week and he had no time to film. And now all the week’s worth of effort put into preparing the video had been flung out the window. It was supposed to be yet another spill your guts video focused on Lando and his career but now with last week's events disrupting this week's schedule, they were going to have to rewrite all the questions and find someone to fill his spot.

And so you’d watched him for the past few days on calls, asking around to see who could be available on such short notice. Between his team of producers, the other members of Quadrant and possible candidates for the video, on top of the copious amounts of obligations he had at the Mclaren headquarters, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty knowing you were spending all the current free time you had between track work lounging around the Hilton pool. You technically had no reason not to help. Changing the script wouldn’t be an easy task with the little time they had. You knew filling in meant they would have their empty spot filled and they wouldn’t need to tweak the script as much. You were a driver too, the questions they would have asked Lando still mostly applied to you as well. And you knew it’d do Lando a huge favor; lift such a massive weight off his already heavy shoulders so he could run around McLaren focusing on what actually mattered most this week - getting his car ready for the upcoming race.

And so you did it. You smiled so kindly at Lando on that faithful Wednesday afternoon and so calmly announced that if he was struggling to find a replacement, you’d be happy to help him out just this once. It was finally one day, you would take the spot for Quadrant.

Landos face had never expressed so much surprise yet simultaneous relief. And it was only a matter of seconds until Landos arm had reached entirely around your waist and your feet had left the ground. You caught a few questioning glares being sent your way from a couple Mclaren engineers in the garage, but the breath struggling to find its way to your lips at the force of it all left you unbothered. “Y/n, thank you so much, you don’t understand how much this helps me out! I owe you so bad.”

You would never say it to him, but his smile in that moment had almost paid his debt entirely right then and there. All the nerves and doubt about the decision you just made had nearly swept right by as you watched his face light with adoration. But instead you sent him a defeated grin as he placed you down on your heels. “I’m gonna hold you to your words. I better not regret this.”

“You won't, I swear.”

__ Regret this you will. As soon as the quadrant team had received the call that in his place, Lando's fellow teammate would instead be filling in for his absence, they immediately knew this wouldn’t be the video everyone was anticipating. They would take this opportunity to finally squeeze out the information they had been waiting to know for years. This would be their first time meeting you, and god was it a gold's mine worth of an opportunity. Not only would they be able to question you about your life as an F1 driver, they could also question you about your romantic life as an F1 driver, specifically about your relationship with Lando, a topic you successfully eluded everywhere else. But this video was the perfect opportunity. They would have a polygraph on set, and you were doing Lando a favor. You couldn’t leave and most importantly, you couldn’t lie.

The topic of your love life wasn't a new one, and a flurry of greedy journalists digging for a story have attempted to ask about your potential feelings for anyone and everyone on the grid. You always denied ever liking any fellow drivers and kept adamant that your driving and personal lives stay separate. But they had Lando as a secondary source - maybe to a fault - and from everything the man had explained, there was no way you weren't at least a little into him. And they were gonna get it out of you.

Was it a bit unethical? Maybe. Was it manipulative? Perhaps. Had Lando already told them he’d cut their pay if they fucked with you. Absolutely. But he’d be fine once he hears what you would inevitably say. He could thank them after they got you to confess the crush you just had to have on Lando.

So here you were, staring at a set full of very enthusiastic YouTubers, all beyond eager to be sharing a table with the phantom of a woman they had been hearing about for almost 4 years now.

Not only were you a talented and beloved motorsports athlete, more importantly, you were the girl their mate liked. and as a friend, they were curious, but as youtubers, they were out for blood. And if there's one thing a group of Youtubers were going to do, it was get you to admit your deepest darkest secrets for online content.

There would be no filling, only spilling, they'd be sure of that.

Oblivious as you were, despite how nervous you initially felt about participating in the video, it had been smooth sailing so far along. Everyone was nice enough and you could see why Lando enjoyed the company of these people, they were all quite funny after all, and the questions were not the absolute mood draining, time wasters you were used to receiving.

You were nervous coming into this but maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad.

The table settled from their laughter as Ria finally swallowed whatever it was she had been forced to bite into. Bull testicles? You didn’t want to know, and honestly it didn’t really matter all that much anymore because for the third time round, it was your turn again, and you were now being strapped up to the Polygraph machine.

Max Fewtrell's eyes sparked with a menacing joy as they locked with your own. He was hosting this video, meaning he was safe from the contents of the table, but more importantly, he got to interrogate the girl his best mate was into. He was the only person who knew that for a fact thanks to the multitude of conversations Lando has had with him in private, begging for advice on what to do. As bad as he felt about it, Max could never give Lando a straight answer, he didn’t know his fellow driver, didn’t know what it was she felt, and if she truly meant what she was saying in her interviews, it wasn’t looking too good for his friend.

This was finally his opportunity to help out.

“Y/n…” His voice carried menacingly around the room, dragging out each syllable to draw the suspense. You eyed him playfully, keeping your guard up as his eyes flickered from you to the card in his hand and then back up to you a few times. The last few questions had been relatively tame, all relating to your job; who your favorite team really was, who you disliked the most on the grid, (you'd had your fair few arguments with Stroll, but you bit into an 1000 year old egg because you were not going to admit it.)

A part of you hoped they were giving you easy questions because you were a guest - a good friend of Landos at that, but at the back of your mind you knew better. And that’s why when the question escaped Max’s lips, you really didn’t feel all that surprised. “Do you really mean it when you say you like to keep your professional life and your private life separate?”

Simple enough, but you were smart enough to know the implications of the question, so you hesitated. “... Yes.”

A pause, no buzz. “That’s true.” Ethan comments.

“Okay that’s too easy, let me rephrase it.” Max’s gaze bore straight into your own. “Do you really mean it when you say you don’t see any of the boys on the grid as like, candidates? You don’t find any of them attractive?”

The groan that escaped you was so inherently guttural you hadn’t even noticed you made the noise. Everyone laughed at your reaction and it seemed so light hearted on the surface, but inside your mind was beginning to race, heartbeat speeding up as if the peddle was full throttle. This was exactly what you were nervous about.

You had felt a bit uneasy once finding out a polygraph machine would be present, and crossed your fingers that the team wouldn’t get into the topic of your romantic ties with the boys on the grid. You guess your luck didn't really extend past the track. initially, no ties with the other drivers sparked any fears within you at the question. You really didn't have any romantic ideas of anyone, the others truly were just friends, boys you grew up with, some like brothers. None of the boys had ever made your eyes wander, or ever had your heart skipping beats when you made eye contact. There wasn’t a single driver you could think of that had ever made you nervous or left you hoping for anything more than just a friendship. No one except that one boy. That one stupid boy that had led you into this goddamned position in the first place. That one stupid boy who’s mates were all gathered around the table with eager eyes directed entirely towards you, waiting for an answer. This was truly your worst nightmare. Maybe you did like Lando, maybe the moment had awoken within your days in F2; seeing him grow from the scrawny kid on the track to something else entirely. So what of it? No one needed to know that. Curse you and your incessant want to help that stupid boy through his stress. Why did he need to make you care about him enough to do this? Now, you could ‘fill your guts' if you really wanted to, but with a yes or no question like this, no answer is just as much an answer in itself. You had watched this game enough to know how it worked, and so you opted to take your chances against the polygraph machine. “Yes I mean it.” One phrase. A simple phrase muttered through a guilty smile, and yet you could hear your heart through your ribs as you told the lie and it was so, so silent after that. The anticipation felt like the devil himself had engulfed the room in its glory. The faces at the table had your palms sweating further and Ginge’s ability to hold such intense eye contact left you wondering if there was more to this than it seemed. God, was this the longest 3 seconds of your life. But you were good under pressure. If you can keep your heart steady driving at 350 kilometers an hour, you could keep your heart steady enough to lie your way out of this question-

Beep.

Suddenly the room was ablaze with noise, yelling and screaming as everyone expressed their disbelief yet absolute excitement at the answer. Incoherent sentences thrown your way one on top of the other but your brain couldn’t decipher a single sentence, instead engulfed in the thought of how much this would change the way all the boys spoke to you, how Lando spoke to you, now that they knew you did like someone. You could already hear Danny’s teasing voice followed up by his sly, all knowing smirk. Fuck. Was it too late to back out? Maybe you could bribe Lando into deleting the footage.

But as you glanced forward into Max’s eyes, you saw the silent omniscient smirk that trickled on to his face - like the calm amidst the chaos - and you knew there was no going back. You were cooked. Your face fell into the palm of your hands, sheepish laughs slipping past your lips as you spoke in a slow, bashful tone, “No! It’s-.. It’s not like that!” But damage control is useless when the damage is already done. “Oh really?!” Ginges thick accent was next to echo across the room over top all the others, “Cause it seems like you’ve been secretly canoodling with some fast bastards and lying to all us about it!”

Ethan was the first to laugh, and soon everyone else's laughter followed suit, and as defeated as you felt a loud chuckle slipped past your lips at the comment. At the very least they were being funny about it and not trying to make a huge deal of it.

However, for the time being they couldn't prove it but once you admitted it, there was no going back, so you figured doubling down and playing dumb was the best option. “No- like, okay; the boys are good looking, they're attractive but that doesn't mean I necessarily like any of them. I grew up with these boys, you know, they’re like brothers to me. Your machine is definitely bugging out or something.”

“Nah, I think it’s working fine.” The reintroduction of Max’s voice had the room settling once again. It seemed all the quadrant members were on the edge of their seats, like they had been anticipating this the whole time.

“But if you’re sure it’s not working properly, I can try asking a different question, rephrase it a little better for you?" Max's face turned towards the camera. "In fact, we have a little tradition here!” His eyes gazing through the lens as he spoke. “Spill your guts tradition says that guests have to answer the final question and rules are no eating on the last round.” Now his eyes turned to you, “Truth’s only, so I hope you have your answer ready.”

You were just moments away from opening your mouth to protest, the words at the tip of your tongue; No thanks it’s fine,’ or even just a ‘I’ve already answered two questions, it’s not my turn anymore.’ as petty as it was. But the words were never able to slip past your overly gnawed on lips before your heart was sinking to the absolute pits of your stomach. “Who do you like on the grid and why is it Lando?”

Panic. “God! No- no it’s not Lando!” Deny. “Definitely, not Lando!” Deny.

The polygraph machine was silent for a moment as everyones eyes flickered over to the screen, and you endured the tension in real time as your forehead came down, lips pursing. And yet nothing came, no beeping sound to be heard.

To this all the boys are silent, and Ria’s eyes flicker up to Max as the man furrows his brows down. There was no way they managed to make the driver inadvertently admit she liked someone, just for it to not be Lando. You had to like him. All the stories Lando told him, all the words you spoke to him repeated back to Max, all the looks Lando was adamant he observed. All the nights clubbing, celebrating their wins together in videos Max himself saw. Your hands would travel just a little too far up, or your eyes would hold his just a little too long. It had to be Lando. He knows it.

“Okay, okay fair enough. Then I'll ask again, more direct. Y/n, do you like Lan-”

You knew the flaring panic in your eyes was not doing much to help your case, neither were your next words, but by the grace of god, or maybe his pity, that machine didn't beep despite your lie and you had just been handed an out, and lord be damned if you weren't going to capitalize on that inconclusive result. “Wait!”

You need to be smart about this. You needed to give them something they wanted whilst not giving them everything. A little sacrifice to spare a lifetime of embarrassment, and probably a long and testing conversation between you and Lando. “How about I take one bite of every single thing on this table, chew and swallow instead.” Your eyes held so much hope, pleading for an out but Max only laughs at your soft little doe eyed expression and you couldn't help but frown.

“Okay, that’d be quite funny.” Ria’s laugh suddenly bit the air, and you had to silently thank her for subverting the attention elsewhere for a moment.

“I wouldn’t do that for no one, especially not for Lando. Are you sure you don’t like him y/n?” You knew Niran was joking but god did his comment make your hands sweat. Calm down.

Max shrugged, ignoring the remarks of his fellow Quadrant members. “Rules are rules, can’t eat your way out of the last question, you have to answer.”

You have to think fast. “...Okay, well…" Hm. "How about this?” It’s the only thing you could think of on the fly, but maybe it’ll work. “I’ll tell you the details, but- I won’t mention any names. So you get to know the whens and what’s, without knowing the who’s." Your laugh was light hearted, though it sounded more nervous than humorous.

A silence suddenly engulfed the room, eyes darting back and forth as the people on the table thought over the offer. In fact the room was so silent, you felt you could hear the gears turning in their heads and you couldn’t help but feel your heart rate speed up just a little more at the prospect. These people were essentially marketing geniuses. They were youtubers whose jobs it was to get as many views as possible. Whatever the decision, you knew it wasn’t about to be in your favor, but about what favored Quadrant as a brand. You were no good at marketing - you drove fast cars even faster for god sake, but damn if you didn’t hope your idea was good enough for them.

Ginge’s voice was the first to sound. “Nah, nah, stop trying to change the conversation speedy gonzales, you think ‘cause you’re a bloody F1 driver you can- you can bend the rules!? It may slide over there princess but it ain’t gonna slide ‘ere.” His finger pointed down into the table with a glare that almost felt real and you were really trying to think but now you were laughing.

So was everyone else apparently, because it took you a moment to hear Steve’s smooth voice through all the noise, “Alright, but we’re already putting the girl through a lot.” Then finally Max spoke again. He was really starting to feel like the governing power here, “Okay hear me out. Names are easy to find when you have a story. We get the story and then we evaluate.” His eyes bore directly at you, laughing as he spoke. Max knew with whatever story you told, he could just go right to Lando and together they could eventually connect the dots. He wasn’t trying to out you to everyone… just to Lando.

After a moment of deliberation Aarav spoke, “All agreed?” To which everyone seemed to nod in agreement.

Max nodded his head. “Alright Y/n, you win. In that case, this guy you like-”

“-I don’t like him-” “-How long are we talking?... This guy you like.” The last comment had a playful laugh leaving your lips as you brought your nail to your mouth. He was purposefully pushing your buttons.

Your lips, previously curled into a smile, had now pursed at the question. “I don’t like him.” You reiterate. “It was like a small little crush if anything.”

“Was it recent?” Max questioned. “No, god it was years ago.”

Beep. Fuck, you completely forgot about the Polygraph. You could ring that stupid things neck. Come on, man throw me a bone or something. Max smiled at the revelation, glancing over at Ria as she spoke through her smirk. “Must be more than just a small little crush if your heart beat is rising at the thought of him.” To this, your head hung low as your laugh sounded. “I plead the fifth.”

You couldn’t even imagine how you would look to any viewers at home once this came out. They had well and truly cornered you here.

“Well this isn’t a bloody democracy now is it, this is an ambush.” You're very right Ginge this really is an ambush, you thought. There might be no escaping this one.

“When did you first notice you liked this person?” Ria was determined to keep the conversion on track. This is the most anyone had ever gotten out of you regarding your love life, and it being about another driver? Potentially Lando?! They were so close to what they wanted. You were silent for a moment, assessing the people staring on with anticipation. You’d only ever told this story to two people, your mom and your best friend. Were you really about to expose it to the world? The polygraph strapped to your chest said you were.

“I-... I first felt it a couple years back.”

Compliance. They got you.

“How far back we talking?” Max questioned.

“I don’t know…” your eyes flickered up at him. “Maybe early F2 days?” Ria’s eyes just about bugged out of her head as you answered, hands coming down onto the table with a gasp. “That’s like over 5 years ago!” Her reaction had you groaning, face turning a shade red enough to match the ferraris you race against as you sunk down into your seat. “Now I need to know! There had to have been a moment where you felt it! Because you had been racing with these boys for years! There has to be a moment of clarity, or was it like, progressive? Or-?”

“It- It was definitely progressive in some ways but I do remember the moment it kind of.. hit me.”

“Was it sudden?”

“So sudden.” You laughed. “Tell us!” It felt strange to engage in this conversation, you had sworn to yourself that no one else would ever hear about the feelings you had buried away for years now. Was it better to speak or to die? That truly was the question… But, It was out now, everyone knew you had feelings for one of your teammates; at least one of your F2 ones. What more harm could the details afflict? Besides you’d raced against a multitude of drivers in your F2 career, many of which never even made it to the current F1 grid so the chances of anyone guessing who you were even talking about had to be slim. Speak it was.

“We were-” The observant eyes of the Quadrant members beamed on at you as you bit your lip in deliberation, but the debate in your brain was finally over, and so you took a breath in.

“We were in between seasons beforehand, so I hadn’t really seen the boys in a few months. And I remember walking into one of the common rooms, where a bunch of the boys were all sitting around before the race, and again, I hadn’t seen these boys for quite a bit.” Your hands moved with every word you spoke, “And the thing about the F2 is that, we were all about 17 to 18 right, so most of the boys had already had their growth spurts, puberty and all that… except for this one guy.” Your eyes were bright as you recalled the memory, a laugh chasing the ends of your lips as the table fell silent.

“And at this rate - in my 17 year old brain - the only thing that ever really mattered to me was racing. Like I could genuinely have cared less about boys and relationships and all that, I’d never had a boyfriend and I was so disinterested in it. To me these boys were my friends off track and my competitors on, nothing in between. So I remember seeing everyone I hadn't seen for while and not really thinking much of it. But then my eyes kind of looked on and… noticed.. him.” God that sounds so corny but you were trying to be inconspicuous, not give away too many details. It wasn’t working.

“Him?” Max smirked.

“Him.” You doubled down. “The person.” You glared as a light laugh sounded. “He had always been a bit more on the smaller side, I guess? A 'late bloomer.'” The phrase came to you. “And I don’t know what the fuck happened in those four months we were away but god did puberty hit that motherfucker like a truck.” This time the laughter was a lot louder and you leant back, suddenly a little more comfortable now that the weight had been lifted off your chest. “It was like, he had gone from this scrawny little kid everyone used to pick on to this… man in the blink of an eye and my brain could not comprehend it.”

“Moment of clarity.” Ria laughed and you laughed alongside her.

“No really! Like that’s really what it felt like. I remember hugging everyone because I hadn’t seen them in so long, but when it came to this guy, I just, like- stared and nodded at him and he gave me the weirdest look cause I'd never done that before!” Your voice was thick with embarrassment as you chuckled, and everyone joined in your laughter. Then you stuck up your pointer finger. “But it gets worse.” You swallowed. “So my brain’s already kind of short circuiting in that moment and I guess he thought my odd behavior just wasn't worth his time because then he just goes on, puts his hands down and takes off his shirt-”

“What?!” Ethan yelled.

“Because we were racing soon and they always would! They would change around the paddock all the time! It’s so normal, they still do it, and I never, ever thought anything of it, like it never phased me. But this one time, when he just lifted his shirt over his head and I was already feeling things I’d never felt before, I was already confused, and oh my god. I don’t know what happened to me.”

Once again the table was booming with laughter. “No, it was so bad. Definitely one of my worst moments. It got to the point where one of the other boys; no names - had to smack me alongside the head and tell me to stop glaring.”

Max’s eyes lit up as he heard the last part. “Wait, people noticed?” “Not people, just the one, I think. If anyone else did, they never said anything.”

“Huh.” Max nodded. “And you don’t feel this way anymore?”

The word came without hesitance, “No,” you shook your head.

Beep.

Max had just found his jackpot moment. He had the information he needed.

What a week it had been. Between the guilt of Austria, the subsequent frantic Mclaren schedule leading up to Silverstone and the stress of the Quadrant video, Lando felt he could truly take his first breath of fresh air knowing at least one of those problems was officially resolved.

The day was nearing its end meaning you were probably just about done filming with his crew and were likely headed back to the hotel for some well deserved rest before a hectic day of simulation practice and debriefing tomorrow.

He knows he has already done it 1000 times over, but he really needed to thank you for the favor you did him this week. No matter how much you spoke of all free time you had, he knew you were really just as busy with race prep, it wasn’t the simple ‘schedule squeeze’ you had made it out to be and he was more than grateful.

“What time did you say Y/n was coming back?” Charles’ voice rang loud throughout the room as his eyes flickered up from his phone. A few of the drivers had decided to spend a not so usual night in Max's hotel room sharing a few drinks. Camaraderie and all that, especially after the tension of last week.

“She should be finishing up now.”

“Is she coming back here?” Charles continued, still glancing between his phone and Lando’s eyes, fingers tapping briskly over the screen.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to her. Why?” Landos eyebrows furrowed down as he asked.

“Nothing, Alex was asking, that's all. I think she was going to stop by if so but I’ll tell her don’t worry.” To this Lando hummed. As much as he hoped you would stop by - hoped you would have a few drinks with them because you always got a little touchy and so much more bold with your advances when you did (and he’d be completely lying if he said he didn’t love it everytime) - he also knew how exhausting a day of filming was. Further, he knew his friends, and as much as he had scolded them - put them through the ringer about not messing with you, he knew them well enough to know they would do it anyways. You would probably go straight back to the room, and while he understood, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

Distracted with his thoughts of you, he had almost missed the buzzing of his phone on the table besides the couch armrest he had been leaning against, if it hadn’t been for Carlos’ voice breaking the trail his mind was wandering. “Lando compadre, your phone.”

Snapping his eyes to the side, Lando quickly reached out and turned it over to see Max Fewtrell's name splayed across the screen. And being too lazy to pick up the phone and assuming he was just calling to assure him that filming went well, he swiped his finger across the screen and pressed the speaker button to talk.

“Yeah mate, how’d it go?”

“She has feelings for a driver.”

Woah. No hello, no how are you, not even a build up to the revelation? It felt as if the world had stopped spinning as every single person in the room froze to look back at Lando with wide eyes.

“W-What?” Landos heart felt still in his chest as he spoke.

“We got her to talk about her relationships on the grid-”

“-You dickhead! I told you not to-”

“-I know you told us not to push her, but It wasn’t me!”

“You’re telling me she just admitted that on her own?” Landos voice was laced with sarcasm, a scoff of knowing disbelief leaving his throat. Bullshit.

“No! … Ria did it.”

“Max you muppet, she was doing me a favor! She probably hates me now.” Lando sighed into his hands before peaking through his fingers to glance around. All three boys; Charles, Carlos and Verstappen all had their heads turned towards the phone with wide eyes.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Max laughed. “Maybe not! She said there was a driver she had a crush on during her formula 2 days, she wouldn’t admit who and when we asked if she still liked them she said no, but the buzzer went off. She was lying, Lando.” The silence in the room seemed deathly thick as the words left Fewtrells mouth, the three other boys blinking at the words they were hearing. They were sure to be experiencing the same emotions Lando himself had been. Shock, confusion, maybe a little intrigue. The boys had been teasing you for years about your relationship status. You had been single for so long, yet constantly surrounded by men so it was inevitable that the conversations would arise; you had to like someone. Nevertheless, you always stood firm, exclaiming that always being around the boys just made it even easier not to.

After years of the same answers, with absolutely no indication to suggest otherwise, it was hard not to believe the words you spoke. And when you started dating your then boyfriend a few years ago - now ex, thank god for Lando - and bringing him around the paddock; a random guy none of the boys knew very well, the teasing well and truly died down. You really didn’t like anyone on the grid.

But now here they were hearing that the years of teasing, the years of questions, of loud drunken debates and near screaming matches had all been in effort to hide the truth they all suspected. A truth you had been hiding for over 5 years apparently.

The silence must have stuck out to Max Fewtrell beyond the phone, as he seemed to continue talking in the absence of a response. “Here’s what we managed to get out of her. He was an F2 driver that raced with her. She was close to him because he was one of the first people she saw after off season. She had raced with him before, so it wasn’t a new driver. And get this, he was a ‘late bloomer'- was one of the smallest in the comp before he shot up.”

Suddenly it was as if the gears were beginning to turn in Lando’s head, and he couldn’t help but pick up on the obvious smile Fewtrell definitely wore behind the phone. A late bloomer? There weren't many of those by the time they had reached Formula 2, and if there was one thing Lando was, it was a late bloomer. And it seemed everyone else had put the same cogs together, because now all the boys seated around were looking at him with sly smirks and cocked brows.

God, there was no way. Not a single chance! Lando had spent the past however many years of his life stumbling after this girl, chasing your shadow in hopes for just a single moment of something more between you. That you would glance at him from a distance for as long as he did you, yearn to talk to him as much as he did you, sit up and think about him as often as he did you. He had liked you for as long as he could remember, and while he admits it may have been more akin to puppy love back in his teen years, that innocent crush quickly developed into something so much more intense as he got to be close to you. He wasn’t really afraid to admit he had feelings for you, and while he's never really said it out loud, he also made no attempts to hide it either, and it quickly became obvious to all your mutual friends that he liked you.

The two youngest single people on the paddock that grew up together, now teammates, who were forced to be around each other everyday but somehow were still never apart, even when it wasn’t required, together anyway. Except one was obviously in love and the other would never like a driver, personal life and professional life were strictly separate.

Beep. Lies.

Fuck, no, he couldn’t get his hopes up like this. It’s something, but it also doesn't really mean anything.

“Okay but, there were a lot of damn drivers on the f2 grid. There were a few late bloomers, and she was friends with plenty of the other guys that never made it to Formula 1. She- she could be talking about a lot of people.”

“You didn’t think I'd call you with all this doubt, Bob?” Max’s voice was smug and mischievous and Lando couldn’t help but wince at the dumb nickname. “Respect my name. I wouldn’t leave without something to attest. Apparently she was caught staring at the guy by another driver. Another driver knows, or at least they noticed.”

“F2 years you said?” Verstappen's voice rang loud, it almost made Lando jump from the change in bass.

“That’s what y/n said.”

Verstappen's eyes seem harsh as his brows move down to come over his lids. “Coming back from the off season?”

“...Yeah?” Fewtrell agrees.

In the blink of an eye Verstappen’s tense face had quickly fallen into a bright and humorous expression, eyes squinting tight as his head fell back in a loud laugh, “Oh my god!”

“What?” Lando questions.

“Oh my god, Lando, It’s you!”

A chorus of ‘what’s’, and ‘huh’s’ course the room as Max leans over to give Lando an exhilarated slap on the back of the neck. Lando’s eyes are wide as he leans forward in a wince. Though, wether he was wincing at Max’s sudden motion or the revelation he’d just been subjected to, he wasn’t sure. You? Liking him?!

“It was me who noticed!” His laugh boomed as he spoke. “I remember it because I thought it was funny at the time, and for a while after it I thought she might have liked you because it was so unlike her. But she kept denying ever liking anyone and then she showed up with that prick of a boyfriend after that and I just let it go. I always knew it was something!” Max’s voice went raspy as he spoke in a loud, joyful tone, he was no doubt excited at the news. He loved you and wanted to help you wherever he could. And though he would never say it out loud, watching Lando pine over you; the way he cared for you, the way he would defend you when the media had negative things to say; he did think Lando would be a good match for you.

Now, Lando on the other hand, Lando’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he struggled to conceptualize the bomb that had just been dropped over him. He had spent so long pining after you, thinking you saw him as nothing more than just a teammate or worse, just a friend. The idea of you possibly liking him back was a concept he had spent night dreaming of yet never did he think the day would actually come. He was so unconvinced of it ever happening he almost felt unprepared, unsure of what to do or how to act now. Yet, here it was. The room seemed to buzz with a newfound energy, the boys' playful teasing barely registering as he tried to wrap his head around the idea.

"Lando, you okay?" Carlos asked, his voice softer than usual, breaking through Lando's thoughts.

Lando blinked, looking up to see the concerned yet amused faces of his friends. "Yeah, just... processing."

“She likes you mate!” His best friend's words sounded unreal to him. You like him. You like him too. All this time trying to form something with you, not realizing what you already had.

Crashing that goddamn car may have been the best fucking thing that's ever happened to him.

If he’d known this would have been the outcome of DNFing he’d have sent his car straight into the track barrier years ago. Sacrificing pole position if he had to.

He truly thought nothing could have taken him away from this moment, not a single other thing could pull him back from his thoughts of you. Nothing except you. And the sound of his phone beeping with the tone of an incoming call really did pull him back to reality. Because it was you. You were calling!

The boys incessant chatter had immediately come to a halt as Lando shot up. “She’s calling!” His head turning left to right as he frantically looked around at the boys around him. “She’s calling, what do I do?”

Fewtrell’s voice couldn't have come through any clearer. “Answer you knob!”

And so he did. He analyzed the buttons and clicked the one that ended the call with Max and sent it straight over to you instead.

His heart stuttered as the line went silent, anticipation pulsing through every inch of his veins. The boys sat back in their seats, eagerly eavesdropping on a conversation that could potentially bring a whole new meaning to the word WAG. But Lando didn’t care, more so he didn’t notice, he truthfully had been so sucked in by the letters of your name he forgot the boys were even there.

What was he even supposed to say? You didn’t know what he knew, maybe he shouldn’t have answered. And yet he found his voice shakily as his teeth clasped his bottom lip.

“Hello?” His breath stuttered as he spoke, and the line sat silent for just a moment too long for Lando’s liking. Y/n? “Lando, you owe me so bad!”

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #lando imagines #f1 x reader #ln4 #formula 1 imagines #f1 imagines #f1 #lando norris x you #quadrant #quadrant x reader

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gotta-winwin · 6 months ago

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childhoodbestie!chan x reader

a/n: putting an angst warning + spoiler here right now so be warned ❗dino just gives off downbad!childhoodbesties! vibes sooo hard + a shameless parallel to the beloved laurie from little women. my love you will always be famous.

childhoodbestie!chan who’s been following you around like some gremlin since birth. It helped that your two families lived awfully close together, leading to you bumping into Chan every time you went out.

childhoodbestie!chan who has been in your class at school from preschool all the way to your senior year of high school. some people mistake the two of you for twins and teachers have long since been used to the fact that the two of you came as a duo. It’s not uncommon for you to be asked “where’s chan?” whenever he wasn’t right next to you - as if you’re somehow supposed to know where he wandered off to. (you usually do)

childhoodbestie!chan, who has been copying off your homework since homework was required. It’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t even need to ask, shamelessly copying your work from the other side of the desk. He’s mastered the art of reading upside down just to copy off of you easier.

childhoodbestie!chan, who shares all his food with you without complaint. It’s second nature, how he unconsciously offers you anything he’s eating, not even pausing through whatever anecdote he was ranting to you about.

childhoodbestie!chan, whose friends are naturally your friends. You don’t really remember when he got adopted into a massive friend group of 12 other boys, but hanging out with them became natural and you integrated into the group as a vital member.

childhoodbestie!chan who still cries into your shoulder every time someone breaks his heart. His childlike innocence and sweetness has not changed despite the constant mishaps with love, and neither has his instincts to run to you every time he needed a solution - or a hug.

childhoodbestie!chan who ignores how he’s loved you since he first learned how to ride a bike. He pretends he doesn’t remember the way you teased him for not knowing how, racing past him in the purple bike his parents had given you for your birthday. He ignores the fact that he’s been in love with you since you were both six.

childhoodbestie!chan, who leaves his house no matter what ungodly hour it may be to go pick you up. He never questions why you need a lift, never mentions the puffy eyes and pouting lips you sport as you shuffle into his car. He knows you’re both still young and stupid and figuring things out - he’s fine waiting, waiting for the day you really see him.

childhoodbestie!chan, who knows you still see him as the same little boy who you had to defend on the playground. No matter how hard he tries to remind you that he’s grown - fending off jerks for you at the bar, loudly bragging about his sexcapdes to remind you he’s a full grown man (albeit not his brightest move), even carrying all your luggages up the stairs in one go - he knows it’s not enough.

childhoodbestie!chan, who has a cute story behind every gift he’s ever gotten you. Whether it was for your birthday or christmas or even valentines (he was your valentine one year for fun and he still cherishes that moment), he has a little backstory and anecdote for why he got you it.

childhoodbestie!chan, who knows your likes and dislikes by heart. It’s gotten to the point where his friends find it a bit concerning, when he will randomly point at something and go “oh, Y/N loves that” or “Y/N would have killed to see that.” His friends know his heart is cracking a little each time he brings you up so casually, knowing it’ll never be in a you talk about your girlfriend all the time type of way.

childhoodbestie!chan who watches as you fall in love with someone else.

childhoodbestie!chan who can only listen and watch as someone else treats you right, feeling happy that you’re happy yet still feeling a little slighted. He can’t help but admit to himself that maybe he actually thought you’d fall in love with him one day.

childhoodbestie!chan who’s the only male bridesmaid at your wedding. He makes sure the day goes perfectly, despite feeling like he wants to die in the process.

childhoodbestie!chan, who admits to jeonghan one night half-drunk and through tears that he could've sworn you'd love him eventually. that 20 years was enough to love him. right?

childhoodbestie!chan, who knows childhood bestie is all he’ll ever be.

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cute-n-curious · 2 months ago

Text

Monster Dating App [2]: Surprise Me #2

[Author's note: this is a direct sequel to the previous story. Highly recommend you start with that one. This was written for the few people who were disappointed that the previous story ended just as he was whippin' 'em out.]

"Oh you mean these?" he replies, unzipping his pants.

Your eyes widen as you see it, a bouquet of cocks, bristling out from where his manhood should be. Each one is unique, varying in size, shape, and color. Some are thick and veiny, others smooth and long, and a few have a girth that makes you drool. They all look eerily familiar, reminding you of past lovers, friends with benefits, and even a couple of one-night stands. It's as if every cock you've ever encountered had been meticulously studied and replicated.

"This one," he says, grasping one that's a bit longer and thicker than average, "was the original template for this body." He winks, "But thanks to your memories, I've got quite the collection now."

You can't believe it, your mind racing with the implications. You've always been a bit of a size queen, and now you have a veritable smorgasbord of dicks at your disposal. He seems to read your thoughts and says, "I hope you don't mind, I just had to try them all out."

The cheekiness of his statement sends a jolt of arousal through you, and any last shred of embarrassment or shock dissipates. You're not a prude, you've had your share of fun, and the idea of seeing and feeling all those memories in one go is exhilarating.

You fling the blanket off with a newfound energy, your naked body glistening in the moonlight. Your knees come up behind your elbows as you spread your legs wide open, eagerly awaiting the feast about to be laid before you. "You know how to use those?," you purr in challenge, your voice thick with desire.

He chuckles, his arms reaching out to stroke a few of the cocks. From their roots they shift around, sliding effortless past each other like the barrels of a gatling gun. "How about we start with this one?" He selects one that's a bit larger than the rest, a deep shade of tan olive with a tip glinting with a silver bead of precum at the tip. You recognize it from a wild night with a guy named Tarun, a cocky friend of a friend who backed up all his boasts when he couldn't keep his hands off your ass at an otherwise dull New Years Eve party.

As he guides it towards your hungry pussy, you feel a strange connection, like your body is shuffling through a coital rolodex, trying to set the right expectations for familiar penetration despite how deeply, thrillingly strange the current situation is. The anticipation is palpable as the head of the purple cock nudges against your entrance.

"You don't have to pick just one, you know," he says, his voice somehow both seductive and matter-of-fact. You feel the hypnotic pull of suggestion again as he pointedly asks "How many should I use?"

Your answer surprises you with the speed and confidence it comes out with. "All of them. Every last one. Stuff the smaller ones in two or three at a time if you can." You feel a vibration through the stiff cockhead pressed into your puckered labia as the cocks around it rotate and shuffle themselves into a new formation, surrounding Tarun's long straight beast with far more modest pick and brown members, as if respectfully clearing room for their leader to take the plunge.

He nods, his eyes scanning over his collection. "Anything else?" he asks, seemingly sensing the deeper yearning you only didn't express because he had not asked.

"Yeah." you respond, swallowing hard, "Cum inside me. All of them. Flood my pussy like every man I've ever fucked was running a train on me here in my bed." You pause momentarily, hunting for a specific erection in the arborising bloom of cocks just in front of your pussy. "And make sure you save your 'original' for last. He's new, and has to earn his place in line…"

Without waiting for another word from you, he presses Tarun's wide cockhead deeper into your pussy. As it plunges in, you feel the bizarre sensation of almost two dozen more erect dicks grazing and rubbing and grinding against you, dragging hot streaks of precum across the undersides of your thighs, depressing against the plump swell of your ass cheeks, and one well-placed pole grinding agonisingly across the surface of your clit.

It really is like having a train run on you, or at least as close to it as you've ever imagined. He pistons and hammers his star cock into you with the frenzied urgency of a man who only cares about cumming as hard and fast as he can. Usually you would take this as a mark of selfishness, of a man so fixated on his own pleasure he doesn't care to pace himself to ensure you're having a fulfilling time. But that isn't a concern tonight. He's bucking with the uniquely inhuman urgency of a being whose main concern is having too much cock to spare, trying to resolve the inherent tension of having so many cocks, each desperate to fuck, and only one dripping pussy poised to accommodate them.

It was a buyers market, and you were eager to corner it.

Unexpectedly, the desperation of the act builds you up as fast as him, and you find yourself cumming and clamping down with usual speed, only to be met by the redoubling stimulation of his first cock erupting inside of you, painting your insides with splashes of hot watery cum, just like you remember Tarun doing. Twice in fact, technically in two separate years that same night. He groans with uneven pleasure as he empties his icebreaking cock inside of you, and no sooner do you feel the still hard flesh slide all the way out of you, do you feel the tip of a second, slightly smaller but obscenely and refreshingly curved cock, push in through the dripping cum to take its place.

As he pumps away, you reach down and grab a pair of addition 'free' dicks in each hand. Its an embarrassment of riches. More penis than any self-respecting woman should be exposed to in a single sitting, but their collective smell, feel and look as they bounce and drip together with the pounding of his hips is simply intoxicating.

You moan and arch your back as he cums hard, again, and swaps out the curved cock for a stubby but gratifyingly fat member. God, you appreciated each of these dicks in their own times, but feeling them back to back is giving you a new-found appreciation for the nuances of the male organ. The sensation keeps changing, and that novelty keeps the pleasure intense. There is no time to habituate, no room for boredom. He's giving you the best each penis has to offer, like the condensed highlight reel of a lifetime of fucking, all at once.

This goes on for what feels like an hour, him switching between cocks, each one (or two, or three at a time) bringing back memories of past lovers and the sensations they brought you. And the cum, god, the cum, the increasingly obscene wet slapping as a small waterfall of cream gushes out of your well-used opening. Each dick aggressively pumping out the deposits of its predecessor, churning the thick spunk like Amish butter, mixing and pooling with your own juices inside you. It's a whirlwind of pleasure, and you can't get enough, even as you feel delirium and fatigue overtaking you.

You recall looking through heavily lidded eyes, as he lines up the one remaining erect penis out of a sea of shrinking away former lovers. His dick, the new one, his 'original' that he 'inherited'. Only as he slides the new dick inside of you does it really register for you. His body is all human flesh, just reworked and reshaped by some alien force. This face and this cock must have belonged to a human man at some point, now copied, or perhaps taken, by this strange and amorous psionic creature that was fucking you into an incoherent stupor. Before you could question it further, the underlying biology of the meat, the smell, the heat, this river of cum, your eyes rolled back in your head from another orgasm being jackhammered into your swollen womanhood. This is it, it is too much. You black out…

When you awaken the next morning, you're mind still swims with the blurry memories of the one man (or rather, one monster) gangbang that you had so brazenly called down on yourself the night before. What a first date… Werewolves and minotaurs be damned, you'd definitely hit the jackpot. You'd asked the app to 'surprise you', and it had delivered in a big way.

You're not surprised to find yourself tucked into bed with care and comfort, after all that is how he'd intended to leave you after the initial finger blasting, before you'd invited him to descend on you with a cyclone of cocks. You run your hands down your naked flanks, and gently touch the hood of your stiff puffy and overworked clit. People joke about 'not being able to walk the next day', but you're seriously considering emailing into work and telling them you can't come in on Monday.

"Can't come in Monday, got camed in on Saturday" you imagine yourself typing, with a sensible chuckle.

But the minute your fingers wrap around your phone, you thumbs take you straight back to the app. No one wants to seem like the needy girl, cloyingly reaching out immediately after a date that went well. But when a date goes THIS well, a certain enthusiasm is warranted, no, demanded. You need to see him again, as soon as he's able. If you're still sore, maybe he can sprout the tongue of every snide bitch whose ever insulted you and then spend the night licking apologies into every inch of your skin… Fuck, you don't even know what he is, but you need to see him again!

Encountering an inhuman creature, a monster, in the flesh is the kind of experience someone would usually describe as 'horrifying'. But a sense of horror only sinks in for you as you tap back through your date history, to 'most recent', and click on your amazing lover's profile.

ACCOUNT SUSPENDED - NON-COMPLIANCE WITH DATE CONDITIONS

Your mind reels. This wasn't you, right? Did he have another date earlier that same night that he fucking ate or something? At this point, you're fairly certain that wouldn't even put you off. Frantically, you look back at your own dating profile and recently entered preferences, and it hits you like a ton of bricks:

✓ Monster/Non-human - subtype: "surprise me"

✓ Open to: fucking (non-violent)

✓ Penetration preference: receiving (no anal)

☓ Agree to being bred

The little red "X" next to "being bred". You hadn't even thought of it in those crass terms, but you had begged him to cum inside you after setting a specific request in text for nothing of the sort. And sweetheart he was, he complied something close to 30 times, enough 'breeding' to knock up a city block.

A cold dread sinks in your stomach as two very unpleasant realisations dawn on you:

1) There is a chance you'll never see him again…

2) The app somehow monitors the kind of sex its users have…

With no way of contacting your shifting-limbed hookup, the next couple of weeks grind by with all the energy of a slowly deflating balloon. For the first few days, you checked the history tab of the mysterious app over and over, hoping that like an online video with a copyright strike, you may come back to find there had been some overzealous error and his account has been reinstated. But the same message greets you every time: ACCOUNT SUSPENDED - NON-COMPLIANCE WITH DATE CONDITIONS. And every time, your heart sinks that little bit further.

Every time you remember your encounter, your skin flushes and your crotch begins to moisten and tingle, only to immediately fizzle out with the memory that this was your fault. You had specifically requested to not be 'bred', then begged him to fill you up over and over, the contradiction not even occurring to you, and now your sweet compliant.. whatever he is, has paid the price for giving you the fucking you asked for.

You weren't sure what to make of the implication that the app, and whoever is behind it, somehow immediately knew exactly what the two of you had done. A lot of things about the app didn't quite make sense, and it feels like your mind actively resists any attempt to think about it clearly. Things only became more jarring when, only 11 days after your fateful encounter, an unsolicited notification popped up from the app:

YOUR EMBRYO HAS NOT IMPLANTED. ZYGOTE WAS HUMAN.

Feeling surveilled and unmoored, you wasted no time in grabbing a handful of off-the-shelf pregnancy tests on your way home, and after three negatives in a row, you had verified that the app was right.

You knew from moment one that you had no interest in having some bizarre monster's baby. Shit, you don't want any baby of any sort at this stage of your life, so this kind of near-miss is rattling, if admitted a bit exciting. The thing that gives you deeper pause, more because it was unexpected than anything else, was that little detail: "ZYGOTE WAS HUMAN".

Your date had fucked you with some version of every cock you'd ever handled, plus one, but is that how it worked? Had you been magically fertilised by one of your exes, through the unlikely proxy of a very amorous and obliging shapeshifting monstrosity? That would have been a Maury Povich episode for the ages, but luckily, it didn't take.

With the consequences of your own lustful actions gratifyingly dodged, you find yourself checking the app again. Not only has he not been reinstated, but his profile isn't even listed any more. Has he been wiped from their records permanently? Or has he been allowed to start a new profile from scratch? Either way, the man who so profoundly rocked your world feels less available than ever, and a part of you resolves to simply bite the bullet and move on. If the random shuffling of fate and preference brought you together once, perhaps it would again…

[While you can't find this guy, there's plenty of fish in the sea. Part 3 has been released.]

#bouquet of cocks #monster fucker #breeding k1nk #monster smut #monster x reader #monster x human #first date #teratophillia #monster romance #0rgasm #multiple 0rgasms #smut #x reader #monster breeding #cr3ampie #monster dating app

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geekgirles · 1 year ago

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The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 1: Desperate Measures

Word Count: 9339

Read on AO3

Next Chapter

Summary: In a reality where the Eliatropes arrived at an already populated World of Twelve, their presence and the concerns it rises amongst their people have forced the twelve gods to act. After all, they too had their motives for considering the portal-making race a potential threat, especially their king, Yugo.

In an effort to placate both their visitors and worshippers, Sadida is tasked with repeating a feat from the Primitive Era: create a new Divine Doll to seduce the Eliatrope King with and bring peace to the World of Twelve. After all, he is an Eliatrope and she is a Sadida Doll; they're falling in love is inevitable.

The arrival of the Eliatropes turned their world upside down.

Until then, the inhabitants of the World of Twelve, consisting of both the followers of the twelve gods and the many other races that coexisted with them, lived in perfect harmony. Beyond a few, mostly harmless stereotypes, the Twelvians knew peace and prosperity under the six Primordial Dofus created thanks to Sadida’s intervention.

Their world was prosperous and lush, encompassing large continents filled to the brim with opportunities to settle down, make a living, or even set out on countless, unforgettable adventures. All thanks to their gods, who, despite their own mischievousness and unpredictable nature—just ask Ecaflip’s followers…—, were always looking out for their people.

Such peace and happiness couldn’t last forever, however. One day, practically out of nowhere, the horrifying sight of an enormous mechanical contraption, as big as a mountain, descended from the heavens, wreaking chaos among the Twelvians.

Nobody understood what was going on. Did something happen? Had they somehow offended the gods and now they were being punished for their insolence with certain doom? Was it really the end?

Turns out, it truly was the end. The end of an era.

The falling monstrosity they saw falling from the sky wasn’t any form of divine retribution, but the Zenith, an advanced mothership belonging to a whole different race from a whole different world: the Eliatropes.

Unlike the Twelvians, the Eliatropes did not follow any of the twelve gods, they didn’t worship any of the deities populating the World of Twelve, for that matter! No. They were actually descended from the Great Goddess herself, the creator of all life in the Krosmoz! As such, they shared her innate, intimate knowledge on wakfu and, more importantly, her portal-making ability.

Finding out wherever they went they could never be able to escape their unexpected visitors did not help soothe the Twelvians’ already frazzled nerves.

And yet, despite how eerie, how otherworldly the Eliatropes were, they were nothing compared to their leaders. The Council of Six, consisting of the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons. Indeed, not only did the Eliatropes bring six dragons with them—which were revered as some of the most powerful creatures in existence—, but they were actually semi-divine. As it were, the Eliatrope Council were demigods, and especially rare ones at that, too! Each of them was gifted with a unique ability or skill they mainly used to serve their people, but not for that were they any less formidable.

And because that wasn’t enough, they even had their own set of Dofus and their knowledge on wakfu allowed them to both manipulate those sacred artefacts to their full potential as well as develop incredibly advanced technology. Because, apparently, they needed further advantages over the Twelvians to thrive.

When the Eliatropes formally introduced themselves—by crashing an official meeting of the Council of Twelve meant precisely to discuss what to do with them, in fact—, they insisted they simply wanted a place to settle down after their homeworld had been devastated during a most ruthless war. They had been voyageing the Krosmoz for years until they finally found their world, and now all they wanted was a place they could call home and thrive in.

Unfortunately, despite swearing up and down they meant no harm and even wished to ally themselves with the world’s native nations and play by their rules, the council only became even warier of them. Especially when they proved their demigod nature when the World of Twelve’s greatest heroes and warriors—having been sent to cow their unwelcome visitors into submission—were soundly defeated by the Eliatrope King and greatest warrior himself, Yugo.

After that, most Twelvians quaked in their boots whenever they believed to see a spark of blue from the corner of their eye—more than one poor, unsuspecting Feca had found themselves subjected to a beating as a result of their hair colour. A market’s jovial if busy atmosphere became awkward and stuffy the moment anyone caught a glimpse of an Eliatrope hat or, even worse, their portals. For their part, while they genuinely wanted to have a peaceful coexistence with their new neighbours, the Eliatropes chose to try avoiding further conflict and isolate themselves in Oma Island, where they’d built their new civilisation.

Even so, the Twelvians’ paranoia only grew each passing day, and with it, their gods’ concerns. Fear and distrust reigned supreme, so much so, ever since the Eliatropes’ arrival, the only prayers the gods received from their worshippers were asking them to please do something about those outsiders. Some asked for them to be kicked out of the planet, while others begged for their gods to find a way to protect them or at least ensure the Eliatropes wouldn’t try anything to harm them.

Unbeknownst to their worshippers, however, the gods had their own reasons for being wary of the Eliatropes. So much so, it didn’t take them much convincing to decide to convene on what to do with them.

....................................................................................................................

Far, far away, deep within Inglorium, the land of the gods themselves, the reigning divinities their followers owed their powers and appearances to were gathered within the Communal Palace. Seeing as it kept the recorded life of every single mortal, regardless of their alliance to which god, the palace was the only place where no god had greater power or influence than the rest. Thus, the reason why their war room was located there, as everyone would be forced to listen to what their fellow deities had to say while they remained seated around the same table.

And at that very moment, a very heated discussion was taking place.

“I simply do not understand why we don’t just annihilate them!” Bellowed Sram, who had grown tired of his cohorts dismissing his ideas as ‘too impulsive for an assassin god.’ “No creature has ever been known to withstand the full power of a god, not even demigods! This whole ordeal would be over already if all of us joined forces to vanquish those outsiders!”

“They are not simple demigods, however. Which is exactly what turns them into such dangerous foes.” Cra reminded, her voice poised and collected, but that, much like the Great Huntress herself, belied a cunning mind and nerves of steel.

“Besides, have you already forgotten the reason why our dear Iop isn’t with us anymore?” Ecaflip added sarcastically, leaning back in his seat to jab a claw towards the empty chair the god of war used to occupy.

“Indeed. As much as it hurts my pride, there is no guarantee we will actually be victorious if we were to battle the Eliatropes.” Sacrier agreed from her chained position, letting out an almost imperceptible wince at the familiar sensation of one of her worshippers exchanging their pain with her.

However, Xelor himself was in agreement with the assassin god. “While it is a high gamble, the Eliatropes’ presence threatens the very balance of the world! Their mere existence is unlawful, who knows the kind of chaos they might unleash were they to stay?!”

Ecaflip raised an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses, using two of his arms to lean in closer to the god of time while the remaining pair filed his claws disinterestedly. “Look at you, talking about gambling! Last time I checked, that was my specialty, Cuckoo-clock.”

“Then perhaps you should start living up to your reputation and take more risks, god of chance.” Xelor fired back, sneering derisively at the feline deity.

For his part, Ecaflip couldn't help but think privately how having to look down at someone’s chest to notice their eyes narrowing in on you would never stop being weird. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

“Except Iop’s absence is precisely the reason why sparking a confrontation against the Eliatropes would lead to disaster.” Feca spoke up, her clipped tone revealing her irritation at some of her cohorts’ shortsightedness. “Iop was the physically strongest one among us. What chance do we have of beating opponents equally adept at combat without him?”

“You seem to be underestimating us, Feca. After all, while their prowess over wakfu is certainly versatile and impressive, we are still gods. Each one of us possesses a varied array of powers that go beyond human comprehension. Compared to us, they are nothing but a one-trick dragoturkey.” Eniripsa countered, looking down at her nails as if this whole conversation was beneath her. As if to prove her point, she conjured a scroll written in a long-lost language, one only she and her followers could still read, of course.

“On the contrary, my dear fairy.” Enutrof said, uncoiling his golden, serpentine body to make use of his height and rise above the rest, drawing every eye to him. “Feca is merely trying to point out that we should not underestimate our opponents. After all, there is much to lose.” His red eyes glinted menacingly when he said that. As the draconic god of fortune, there was nothing Enutrof hated more than losses.

“And why don’t we simply welcome them to our world? With enough bamboo milk, the more the merrier!” Pandawa suggested, taking a generous sip of the aforementioned beverage as if to prove her point.

As the gods kept arguing about which course of action to take, whether to face off against the Eliatropes to drive them away from their world or to try looking for a different solution, Cra’s trained eye noticed how Osamodas and Sadida had yet to say a word. What’s more, while the chimeran tamer remained composed even under all the in-fighting, not even Sadida’s mask could hide the gravely air around him, especially when the green of his skin seemed to have lost its lustre.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, the Woodland Beauty opened her mouth to force her fellow gods to confess what they were undoubtedly keeping hidden from them. “Pray tell, Osamodas, what is on your mind? Is it possible you have already drafted a plan?”

Despite her open attempt at turning the other gods against him, the Master of Beasts remained unperturbed. His tail flicking around as he stroked his long, silver beard, a wry smirk graced his features. “As a matter of fact, dearest Cra, I do have an idea that might help us keep the Eliatropes in check.”

“We expel them from our world to never return, correct?” Sram ventured, a devilish smirk stretching over his face.

Osamodas shook his goat-like head. “That course of action could bring forth unforeseen consequences, I’m afraid.”

That made Sram pout.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Sacrier asked, sharing a worried look with Pandawa.

“Same thing we did to bring peace and harmony to our world the first time.” He smirked.

This time, it was Ecaflip who chose that moment to chime in, voicing everyone’s thoughts. “Um… Last time we created the Dofus. Are you suggesting we create more to drive them off? Wouldn’t that unsettle the balance?”

As his fellow gods voiced their agreement with the King of Fortune’s summation, as well as voiced their disagreement with what they interpreted as Osamodas’ plan, Sadida broke them all out of their own thoughts when he spoke for the first time since the meeting began. His voice, while naturally rich and deep, lacked the usual vitality associated with the god of nature.

“Our goal would be to prevent them from unsettling the balance by ensuring they have no reason to use their Dofus.” He said somberly.

“And how do you propose we do that, exactly?” Xelor questioned, his eyes narrowed in suspicion—and causing Ecaflip to shudder in disgust yet again.

The smug look never left Osamodas’ face. “As I was saying, we simply must follow the same procedure as with the Primordial Dofus: we seduce them.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, almost every eye in the room settled on Cra, scanning her curvaceous body from head-to-toe. Flinching at the unexpected scrutiny she suddenly found herself in, the Master of the Bolt snapped, “What?!”

“He said we ought to seduce the Eliatropes, and since your beauty is known for bewitching anyone but your followers… I suppose that means it is up to you, my dear.” Enutrof sentenced. With a snap of his claws, he conjured up a very revealing red dress and a matching pair of heels that Ecaflip presented proudly to her with his four limbs and a winning smile on his face.

Her eye twitching at the offence, Cra’s immediate reaction was to materialise a series of light-based arrows she wasted no time firing at her fellow gods. With a yelp, Ecaflip dropped the clothes right before he and Enutrof scrambled to try in vain to avoid the goddess’ wrath.

All Osamodas could do in response to that was let out a long-suffering sigh, one hand pinching the bridge of his non-existent nose in vexation.

“None of us shall seduce the Eliatropes, you fools!” He bellowed, catching their attention as he slammed his hands against the table. “Have you already forgotten what we did to create the Dofus?!”

“It has been a long time, I would know…” Xelor muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest—ehrm, face? “And, again, won’t seducing the Eliatrope dragons result in more Dofus? What about the balance then?”

“Ah, but I never said we would be seducing their dragons, now did I?” Osamodas pointed out, wagging a finger in the air.

The gods’ eyes widened. They exchanged mistified glances with each other, silently asking if anybody knew what the Master Tamer was trying to get at.

Rising from his crouched down position over his hind legs, Osamodas began circling around the others counterclockwise, his hands to his back as he finally shared his plan in full detail. “Objectively speaking, each and every one of the Eliatropes is a potential threat, especially the members of their council. However, it should be noted the biggest threat by far would be the one they call their king and greatest warrior, Yugo.

“Given his battle prowess and divine nature, it would be unwise to make an enemy out of him. As for his people and their interactions with ours… Well, it is undeniable their help could be crucial in the development of our world…”

“What are you suggesting, Osamodas?” Eniripsa queried, the fluttering of her wings betraying her genuine interest for how this would all play out.

“Much like Pandawa suggested, it would be much more beneficial for us to have the Eliatropes as our allies, instead of our enemies. All we must do is ensure they feel no need to assert their dominance over our worshippers.” He explained, though the enigmatic nature of his answer didn’t do much to dispel the other gods’ doubts.

“That’s great and all…” Sram waved a hand dismissively. “But what does that have to do with seducing their king?”

Just as the assassin god posed his question, Osamodas reached Sadida, whose forlorn gaze was fixed on the table before him. Lowering his torso slightly to speak as face-to-face as possible with the nature god, the chimaera simply said, “Would you care to do the honours, my friend?”

Sadida’s face contorted into a pained grimace. It looked as if it took every ounce of his strength not to break down right there and then. In fact, he seemed to be in so much pain, Cra was already on her feet to reach out to him and console him when he finally spoke.

“I shall craft one last Divine Doll specifically to be gifted to King Yugo.”

A series of loud gasps echoed throughout the room, though no one was as alarmed as Cra.

“You desire to create another Divine Doll, and to seduce the Eliatrope King with her?! Sadida, surely you don’t mean that...”

“It worked with most of the primordial dragons, and the boy has draconic blood running through his veins.” He retorted simply, although he didn’t seem to be able to look the goddess in the eye. “Besides, unlike dragons, men are simple creatures. And I intend to make my eleventh doll my masterpiece. If he falls for a gift we made specifically for him, then he should have no reason to ever turn against our world.”

“Conversely, upon discovering we entrusted the Eliatrope King with one of our own, our people should eventually feel more at ease. Since it would appear we do not consider them a threat.” Sacrier concluded. As the other gods spoke, she had been quietly connecting the dots.

“Is it really such a good idea, though?” Enutrof questioned, still nursing his behind, where Cra’s arrow hit. “Divine Dolls are essentially your daughters, Sadida, which makes them demigoddesses in their own right. So is Yugo, and a powerful one at that. Do we really want to risk them siring a child together?”

Away from their eyes, the masked god clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles almost turned white. “That is precisely why offering one of my dolls is the best course of action, old friend. Unlike your children, they cannot bear offspring.” Then, noticing the uneasy looks they were sending him, he added, his voice low and serious. “I will make sure of it.”

A heavy atmosphere fell over the gods after that. All they could do was exchange nervous glances. Cra in particular was trying desperately to lock eyes with Sadida, worry for her old friend overwhelming her senses. She was about to close the distance between them to try to talk some sense into him when Ecaflip clasped all four of his hands.

“Well, I like it!” He declared, smiling broadly. “We’re betting it all on love; is there a better, or riskier, game than that? Count me in!”

“Now you sound like yourself, you fleabag!” Xelor laughed, clasping the feline on the back.

One by one, each and every god eventually gave their consent, seeing as it truly was the best idea any of them had come up with since the Eliatrope issue first appeared. Eventually, seeing herself outnumbered, even Cra had to give in, but not without making the resolution of talking to the nature god about it first.

.....................................................................................................................

“I already made up my mind, Cra; so did the others. Even you cannot impose your will over a unanimous decision.” Sadida sighed, not even turning around from his table at his atelier to look his old friend in the eye. If he did, he knew the Woodland Beauty would be able to see his resolve crumble like dust.

“Technically speaking, it wasn’t unanimous. Iop wasn’t there to vote.” She said matter-of-factly, trying to relieve the tension with that wry humour they had in common. The small smirk on her face at her observation fell when not even that elicited a response from Sadida.

After the meeting, the archery goddess wasted no time following Sadida back into his lands, despite knowing she possessed no power there, and into the hutt he used for his creations, which wasn’t unlike his people’s houses on the top of the trees. Seeing as the nature god hadn’t told her to leave despite having already taken out the materials he would need to first design and then create his newest doll, Cra took her chances. With measured steps, she made her way over to the Leafy God, placing a delicate but firm hand on his shoulder to get him to look at her.

She put on her most reassuring smile. “I am simply worried about you, my friend. There is a reason why you haven’t made any more Divine Dolls ever since the end of the Primitive Era.”

“The reason being there was no need; we already had six Dofus and that was all we required to bring peace to our land.” The masked god scoffed matter-of-factly, turning his head away from the archer.

“We both know that is not the only reason…” Cra said testily, before realising her slip of the tongue.

In an instant, Sadida had swirled around to face her with the most furious expression she had seen from him in centuries, not even his mask was enough to hide the depth of his anger. However, even without her prodigious sight, she knew deep down he was more hurt than angry. Still, knowing he was a few seconds away from kicking her out of his workshop—an order she would have no way to refuse, seeing as these were indeed his domains—, Cra was quick to act.

“My deepest apologies, my friend. I should have known better than to reopen old wounds.” She said placatingly, though not any less sincerely. “I…I just… I merely worry about you. I do not wish to see you get hurt.”

With a glance at her genuinely remorseful face, obscured by fallen locks of her long, golden hair, Sadida’s own expression softened considerably. With a heavy sigh, he hung his head, before bringing a hand to his mask as he reprimanded himself for his callous treatment of his friend.

His earthy fingers taking hold of her gloved hand startled the archer out of her thoughts. “Please, forgive me, my dear Cra. It is not you I am angry with, but myself.”

Understanding the reason for his anger without words, only the long-lasting bond they shared, Cra ventured. “Then why give in to Osamodas’ request? We found a way to make Eliatrope pay for her crimes, we can find a way to deal with her people too!”

“Because her people are not any more at fault for what happened than ours, Cra.” Sadida’s solemn declaration made the goddess gasp in surprise. “It would not be right to punish them for a crime they did not commit. Just as it would not be just of them to vent any residual fury they might be feeling towards our actions against our followers.”

He let go of the Great Huntress’ hand, his eyes fixed on the floor as he reflected. “As much as it pains me to admit it, Osamodas and Pandawa are right. The best way to protect our people is by not giving the Eliatropes reasons to attack them. And if creating an eleventh Divine Doll is the way to achieve that…” He shrugged, although the action wasn’t enough to dispel the burden he carried over his shoulders. “Then so be it.”

“If you have truly come to terms with what needs to be done, then why do you look so troubled by it?” Cra challenged.

Sadida’s answer broke her heart, especially because she knew nothing she could say or do could dissuade him.

“Because I will still be sending my youngest daughter elsewhere shortly after being born with no guarantee of her ever returning.”

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At first, everything was dark. A black abyss presented itself before her and, despite having the feeling she would not be harmed, the fact that she didn’t know how to navigate the darkness was still alarming. However, those fears were slowly but surely disappearing the more her newly acquired senses developed.

First came touch. She could feel herself being seated over something smooth, yet porous. Sturdy, but light. The more she connected with her sense of touch, the more she awakened other, more refined abilities. After a while of marvelling at the sensations, a startling realisation materialised itself in her mind, unbidden: wood; she was sitting on something made out of wood. But why did that wood feel like a part of herself?

Then came the sense of smell. Taking a deep breath, soon she was enveloped by a myriad of aromas that immediately put her mind at ease. On the one hand, she perceived a waft of something rich and earthy, and she immediately gained a deep understanding of concepts like blades of fresh grass or wet, fertile soil after a delicate spring shower. But on the other hand, her nose was assaulted by far more delicate, though not any less pleasant, fragrances; a flower’s perfume, the aroma of fruits and vegetables, aromatic herbs and plants she couldn’t quite identify but had a feeling she would soon.

When sound finally arrived, the first thing she registered, even before opening her eyes, was the cacophony of warm, loving voices echoing all around her.

“Oh, she truly is marvellous, Father!”

“I really like her overall shape; it’s really cute.”

“Says the doll that could be mistaken for a loaf of bread…” Another voice said, her tone somewhat derisive.

“Not all of us can be shaped after adorable bears like you, Lophapharo.” The second voice countered with a hmph!

“Personally, I believe she could use some more mushrooms in her overall design, but the end result is quite pretty as well.” This voice was prim and proper, though the tiniest bit judgemental.

“Oh, hush, Razeriana! She is not for you, but for the Eliatrope King. It is him whom she must please.”

“In that case, I don’t think her lack of mushrooms will matter. Eliatropes are essentially humans; they are far shallower than dragons and our sister looks… like this.”

“Ibago! Are you suggesting Father’s creation is imperfect?!”

“Oh, don’t get your stitches into a twist, Sallydally.” A scoff. “I’m merely trying to look out for our sister’s well-being; as she is right now, she will be lucky if the Eliatrope King takes her in as a pet.”

“Ibago!” All voices exclaimed in unison, scandalised.

“Now, now, my dolls. I assure you, your sister is as gifted as all of you. After all, she is mine.” A deep, rich, masculine voice—how did she know that?—cut through the others. Just then, she could feel herself be scooped up in two mossy hands and raised high above. Whoever was talking to her used his thumb to rub gentle caresses on her cheek. “Come now, Amalia. Try opening your eyes slowly.”

Amalia… Is that my name? The little doll couldn’t help but ask herself. Still, compelled by her creator’s encouraging tones, she did as she was told. With slight difficulty, she unglued her eyelids, wincing at the burning sensation caused by the unfiltered light making contact with her retinas. Thanks to a few slow blinks, she finally regained her senses, only for them to be flooded again at the explosion of colour that greeted her upon setting her gaze on the figures in front of her.

Wherever she looked, she was assaulted by wide, curious eyes. Some of them belonged to three beautiful humanoid women with plant-like features, be it the colour of their skin and hair or the clothes they wore. Others she found on the faces of six nature-inspired… dolls? They certainly looked like dolls —and the masculine voice had described them as such—, even if she couldn’t understand how she even knew what those were; with their small, stumpy bodies, that somehow didn’t detract from their own unique beauty. And yet, as dissimilar as the nine creatures before her were, they all had something in common: they all proudly displayed a series of stitches going up and down their skin.

But what truly got her blinking in amazement was the imposing yet oddly loving figure right in front of her. The same one that had scooped her up in his palms and commanded her to open her eyes.

He radiated unmistakable power, a kind of power that, weirdly enough, she could feel herself responding to, resonating from her very core. His body was lean, yet his muscles firm, not unlike tree bark; the ebony tone of his skin coursing through his shape until it reached a loincloth, hiding what lay beneath; or his hands, covered by moss and fungi, and a lighter shade of the same bark comprising his body; and his head…

Despite her limited understanding of the world around her, Amalia was sure she could not see his face. All she could see was a large, green and orange wooden mask with both ends donning completely different decorations. The lower end gave way to a white, scruffy goatee; while the upper end was adorned with rows of palm leaves and even luminescent mushrooms that ended in brownish leaves hanging from matching golden rings on each side of his head. Truth be told, the holes in both eyes and mouth made it a very impressive mask, but it still wasn’t an actual face.

For a second, Amalia couldn’t help but wonder if she too had a mask instead of a face and that was why—what was her name…? Oh, that’s right!—Ibago found her ugly before. She gulped in horror at the mere thought.

The figure chuckled, the sound reverberating from his throat with fondness and mirth. “Worry not, my dear. I can assure you, soon you will be one of the most beautiful creatures to walk the World of Twelve. If your suitor isn’t careful, he might find himself having to fight off hordes of young men and women vying for your affection.” Even though she could tell that it was meant to be a light-hearted joke, his tone darkened slightly at the mention of her ‘suitor.’

Speaking of which…

“What is a ‘suitor’?” She found herself asking and, goodness! Was that her voice? Was that really how she sounded?

“Someone who wishes to sweep you off your feet.” The figure explained. Then realising it might be too soon for her to understand metaphors, he corrected himself. “Someone who wishes to make you fall in love with them. Although in your case, your own suitor has yet to realise that…”

“How is that possible?” She questioned, not sure she understood the strange new rules the world she was in seemed to be run by.

“Uh… I shall explain it all in due time, my dear, but first, let me introduce myself and your sisters.” Carefully passing her from both his open hands to just one, he used his new free hand to gesture at himself. “I am Sadida. God of nature and patron of the tree people inhabiting the World of Twelve. And these are your sisters: Maminala, Lophapharo, Belladona, Peparava, Yopo, Razeriana, Ladysally, Ibago, and Dathura;” he gestured to each and every one of them as he listed them off, “they’re all Divine Dolls, such as yourself, my dear.”

“A ‘Divine Doll’?” She tilted her head in confusion. “What is that?”

“My creations.” He responded simply. “I am your father and you, my dear, are my masterpiece. And you were created with a very specific purpose. But before going into detail, allow me to tell you all about the wondrous world you’re about to discover…”

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Despite the relatively short amount of time their race had inhabited Oma Island, their history, their culture, their very essence as people have already been engraved onto each and every nook and cranny composing the area. The inside of their rulers’ place of residence was no exception; the corridors inside the Eliatrope palace were an architectural marvel. Covering the expanse of the tall, sturdy walls were murals depicting their people’s history, with the Council of Six and their dragon siblings front and centre.

In that very moment, walking down the path connecting the council room with the throne room were four figures; three of them looked quite similar and humanoid, while the fourth one stood out thanks to his reptilian, if still bipedal, appearance. What they all had in common, however, was the brisk pace at which they marched, although one of them, the one leading their little group, was visibly more ruffled than the others.

“This is unbelievable. Just… unbelievable! The natives treat us like monsters for months on end, the gods don’t even acknowledge our presence—”

“Which we must not forget might be for the best.” The voice belonging to the reptilian silhouette cautioned wisely.

“—and now, out of the blue, they send us—no, scratch that—they send me something called a ‘Divine Doll’ to take as my bride?! Just, who does that?!” The agitated voice belonged to none other than King Yugo of the Eliatropes, whom anyone would be able to tell was at the verge of losing it from just one look at his face.

The reason for his ire and disbelief was simple. Shortly after arriving at the World of Twelve and choosing the distant Oma Island to settle down and restart their civilisation, the Council of Six, composed by him and his siblings—Adamaï, Qilby, Shinonomé, Nora, Efrim, Glip, Baltazar, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Mina, and Phaeris—, had come to the decision that they needed to introduce themselves to the other races populating this world and show them they meant no harm.

Originally, they simply wanted to establish a mutually beneficial relationship between them all in order for their respective civilisations to thrive. However, their hopes of fostering positive relationships were dashed when the natives immediately responded to them with nothing but scorn and distrust. No matter their attempts at proving they only wished for a peaceful coexistence, the Twelvians regarded them as outsiders. Even worse, as invaders just waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

They kept trying to reach out to them for months on end, to no avail. The fact that the Twelvians sent their finest warriors specifically to drive them out only cemented what they already knew.

They were not welcomed.

Unfortunately, even if it would have been better to just leave this world and look for another place they could call home, the Council knew it would not be possible. Their people had already spent decades navigating the Krosmoz, looking for the perfect substitute for their own world, and in all that time the only planet that met all their requirements and would be able to satisfy their needs was the World of Twelve. Who knew how long it would be until they found their next candidate? And what if they couldn’t stay there either?

No, it was better to remain where they were and limit themselves to only interact with the outside world when strictly necessary.

Considering the uprise and unrest their arrival caused, the Yugo and his siblings were fully expecting this world’s gods to intervene, probably even cast them out or at least force them to fight for their right to have a place to belong. They even dared hope the deities might intervene in their favour and convince their followers to give them a chance. But it was all for naught. No one came.

Which made the fact that one of their guards was forced to interrupt a council meeting to inform their king something called ‘a Divine Doll’ had been sent directly from Inglorium as his bride-to-be all the more infuriating.

“And what’s more!” The Eliatrope went on to say. “How can they just assume I need a bride? How do they know I’m not already married, or betrothed?!”

Adamaï perfectly understood where Yugo was coming from. He was his very own dragon twin brother, after all. As with most council meetings taking place indoors, he was making use of his humanoid yet draconic form to walk beside his brother inside the palace. Even if he understood how his brother felt, however, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a sigh at his words.

“Yugo, they are the gods of this world. They probably oversee everything that happens here.” He was quick to remind his king. “Meaning, they’re most likely aware you are very much single.”

“Have been in all your past lives, as a matter of fact. A few, several-years-long flings here and there, but you have never taken a queen in the entirety of our history.” Another voice chimed in, sounding somewhat amused.

Said infuriatingly smug voice belonged to an older-looking Eliatrope clad in a long, white tunic over brown pants and shoes, its hood resembling a pair of horns that ended in a tuft of dark fur at the back. He had a long face that culminated in a braided beard the same hue as his long, dirty blond hair. A small pair of round glasses over his nose only amplified the sharp intellect reflected in his hazel eyes.

“Thank you, Qilby.” Yugo groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes in frustration at his brother’s need to remind him of every single event that had ever taken place in the course of their many lifetimes. “My point is, whatever it is they’re trying to do, it won’t work. The only reason we’re not sending that thing packing is because Mina and Phaeris advised us against it.”

“As much as I agree with you, brother, Mina and Phaeris believe doing so will only be worse, as it could be taken as a declaration of war against the gods themselves. And I’m afraid they’re probably right.” Nora spoke, her pink eyes trained on the path ahead of them.

Her hair as pale as her porcelain skin, it was mostly covered by a long, magenta cloak that reached down her knees. Whenever her movements would force the cloak to open and reveal what lay behind, a matching magenta, form-fitting, sleeveless suit and fingerless gloves up to her forearms appeared. Despite their initial role as their people’s joy-bringers, the war against the Mechasms had hardened both her and her dragon brother Efrim into capable warriors in their own right.

“Nora, is right, Yugo.” Adamaï said, putting a claw over his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t have to take the Divine Doll as your bride, but it would not be wise to rudely reject a gift from the gods, either.” Then, a small gasp leaving his throat as he came to a realisation, he added, much more enthused. “What if this ends up being the chance we were waiting for? What if this is the key to convince the Twelvians we are not a threat?”

“Not even them would be able to reject our presence for much longer if they learned we have their gods’ blessing.” Qilby pointed out.

“I know, I know.” Their king said, running a hand through his hair from under his own hood in frustration.” You’re all probably right, I just… I don’t know… I mean, what even is a Divine Doll?!” Yugo wondered aloud, his mind racing.

Without even having to look at him, Yugo could just feel Qilby perk up in excitement at the prospect of explaining something. And then Glip was supposed to be the teacher…

“According to my research on this world and its lore,” the bespectacled Eliatrope began, “Divine Dolls, also known as Sadida Dolls, for that is their creator, the god of nature; were created for the sole purpose of making this world’s primordial dragons fall in love with them to get them to produce Dofus.

“Apparently, there are ten dolls and ten dragons, but only six of them succeeded in their mission. Meaning, much like us, there are only six Dofus native to this world.” Although he finished his retelling, Qilby was clearly not quite done, for he pushed his glasses up with one finger before adding, “Considering they were created by Sadida himself, despite the unconventional means behind their conception, they are regarded as demigoddesses in their own right. In fact, they are said to be the only ones besides the gods themselves that get to live in Inglorium.” At his siblings’ astonished expressions at that piece of information, all he could do was shrug. “Yes, it appears they’re that special.”

“So all the more reason not to be disrespectful towards our guest. Just wonderful…” Yugo let out a tired sigh.

“Look on the bright side,” Nora said, a wry smile dancing at her lips, “that means you at least won’t have to worry about your different lifespans. All demigods are virtually immortal, after all.”

Knowing his sister and her love for messing with him, Yugo only narrowed his eyes at her, unamused. As terrible a thought as it was, this doll living for as long as he did only meant he would not be able to rid himself of her until he died, when normally, he would have only had to wait a few decades before being free. Again, just wonderful.

“I don’t understand, however.” Adamaï said, his chin caught in between his thumb and index finger pensively. “You said Sadida Dolls were meant to seduce dragons.” A nod from Qilby. “Then why would they send one to Yugo, instead of one of us, Eliatrope dragons? I don’t like this…”

Nora’s expression sobered up at the grim reminder. “All the more reason to keep our eyes peeled for anything.”

Right as she said this, they reached the door leading them into the throne room, where they had been informed the doll would be waiting for them. Taking a deep breath in a feeble attempt to reign his thunderous emotions in lest they came out in full force and risked offending their uninvited guest, Yugo sent a nod towards the guards positioned at either side, silently signalling for them to open up the doors.

As the gates creaked open, the three Primordial Eliatropes and the dragon accompanying them could finally take a good look at the creature waiting for them inside. As his eyes registered her form, all Yugo could think of was how this… wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

Standing in the middle of the room was the tiniest thing he had ever seen in his life—a thought he kept to himself in case Qilby felt like correcting him on how a baby singing whale he saw back in their 3215th reincarnation was actually the smallest thing he had ever seen, or something. Looking back at him with wide, brown eyes—he thought they were brown; it was hard to tell with her size and the distance between them— was a simple, dark brown rag doll. Her shape could not have been any more complex than a figure with a body, four limbs with no discernible fingers or toes, and a big round head with a small mouth shaped like an ‘o’, the aforementioned pair of brown eyes, and a leafy tuft of green hair on her head.

As his siblings exchanged confused glances and he heard Adamaï muttering ‘This are the famed Divine Dolls that made dragons fall in love with them?’, despite himself and his best attempts at being cordial towards the poor thing, a disbelieving Yugo could only blurt out, “If this is supposed to be my bride, then I don’t think the gods know much about our anatomy…”

His words broke her out of her trance, an embarrassed blush making its way over to her cheeks. She really had intended to present herself in the same elegant, refined manner her sisters had suggested, to display her divine heritage in its full splendour. In fact, ever since she was guided to the throne room to await her suitor—as Father called the Eliatrope King—, she had been discreetly rehearsing what she would say and how she would present herself.

But the moment the large, beautifully detailed doors opened to reveal the Eliatrope King, her mind skidded to a halt at the same time as her little heart skipped a beat. Walking towards her was the most handsome man she had ever seen—granted, she hadn’t really met that many, but there was still something very special about him. Even if he wore a long, blue cloak and his head was covered by a wabbit-shaped hood, his chiselled body was easily discernible underneath. His every curve and muscle was only accentuated by a dark blue, tight, fingerless body-suit with golden detailing.

What little she could see of his face didn’t disappoint either. Despite his chiselled features, he had this boyish quality to him, something that made him extremely endearing. Only hammering this fact were his sharp and alert, yet big and kind dark brown eyes and his short, messy dirty blond hair.

But when his words registered in her mind—why did his voice have to be attractive, too?!— Amalia couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious about her body. For a moment, she feared Ibago’s warning against humans, especially men, had been right and her appearance would pose a problem. But just then, her eyes glinted determinedly as she remembered both Father and Dathura’s teachings: as the eleventh Divine Doll, she was not as restricted by her physical form as her older sisters.

Moreover, she had an ace up her sleeve.

But first things first.

“Greetings, Your Majesty and members of the Council of Six. It is a great honour to be here.” She bowed politely, her body bending ninety degrees. “My name is Amalia. I am Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. The gods send me as proof of good will between their followers and your people.”

Just as Yugo’s mind scrambled to understand what she meant by ‘eleventh doll’ and the implications behind it, the doll in question—Amalia—interrupted his train of thought. “It appears my current physical form is disconcerting. Please, allow me to rectify that.”

Before anyone present could even utter a word, a veritable hurricane of pink flower petals came to surround the little doll, swirling around her and hiding her from view. Despite himself, the breeze that originated from it was so strong, Yugo couldn’t help but avert his eyes as he covered his face with his forearm, his siblings following his lead.

When he finally felt the wind dying down, the Eliatrope tentatively lowered his arm. Blinking slowly, he finally allowed his gaze to settle on Amalia and, eyes widening at the sight, promptly lost all ability to form a single coherent thought.

The first thing he noticed was that her eyes were indeed a warm, chocolate brown, as well as big and doe-like, luring him in with their siren song. The second most eye-catching thing about her was her hair, elegantly framing her face. It was almost paradoxical, how such an untamed, forest-green mane could also look so silky, which also created a wonderful contrast with her smooth mahogany skin, not a single blemish in sight. Her green locks were pulled back in a high ponytail by a wooden, forked headband that circled around her head only to then rise up beyond her forehead, emulating two antlers or even the branches of a tree.

Yugo couldn’t understand why then, but at the sight of it, his hands itched to just reach out to her hair and touch it. To see for himself if it was truly as silky as it looked. Then, almost as if drawn to it, his eyes couldn’t help sweeping down her body and taking it all in, drinking her in.

She was clad in what at first glance looked like a dress but that, upon closer inspection, the copious amount of skin it showed proved it was actually a two-piece joined together at the front and with several straps on her thighs and back. The upper half consisted of a top made from orange leaves adorned by a rather large white daisy in the very middle. Said daisy was then connected to a leaf the same colour of her hair that went down her equally orange leaf skirt, the same as the one covering her posterior. She was adorned in matching green anklets and armlets that reached up to her shins and forearms, respectively.

At the sight of her silhouette, Yugo, the Eliatrope King and greatest warrior his people had ever known, could only gulp with slight difficulty. Her exposed legs were long and toned, going all the way up to her invitingly mouthwatering hourglass hips. Despite her modest bosom, her petite frame managed to imbue her alluring figure with a certain sweetness that somehow only highlighted her undeniable beauty. Just as sweet was her round, symmetrical doll-like face, which he assumed was to be expected since she was a doll, only now he was beginning to understand just how truly divine she truly was.

As he stood there, drinking her in, all his admittedly short-circuited mind could think was that she was the loveliest flower he had ever seen. He had a feeling not even Qilby would be able to correct him on that.

Adamaï could only blink blankly at what had just happened, astonished. Sure, as a dragon, he was no stranger to shapeshifting, but seeing an unassuming rag doll turn herself into a wild beauty with only the help of a torrent of flower petals was a stretch even for him!

He was about to comment on the change with his brother, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, when he had to do a double take at the state his twin was in, his own mouth hanging open in silent shock.

Yugo was staring intently at Amalia, his whole expression speaking louder than a thousand words. He stood there, slack-jawed, eyes wide and unblinking, and the most furious blush Adamaï had ever seen on his brother’s face had erupted all over his skin.

He looked more like a hormonal teenager seeing his crush naked than a centuries-old king.

Remembering Yugo’s comment right before Amalia literally stole his breath away—seriously, he didn’t look like he was even breathing—, Adamaï couldn’t help himself and leaned in closer to whisper to Nora. “I’d say the gods certainly know what they’re doing…”

“If he doesn’t want her, I’ll gladly take her.” Nora whispered right back.

Qilby simply raised an intrigued eyebrow at this development.

Their whispering, coupled with Amalia’s face contorting in the slightest confusion, was enough to finally break Yugo out of his trance. Clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant, and failing miserably, the king stepped closer to his guest to say, “It…It is an honour to have you here with us as well, Amalia. Although I believe you can imagine how unexpected this all is…”

“Oh, yes. Father did warn me you were not originally aware of my imminent arrival.”

Nora refrained herself from saying something rude about a god, especially in front of what was essentially his daughter. Everyone else in the room could already tell what she was thinking, after all. Efrim in particular must have felt it from all the way over to the opposite end of the palace.

“Nevertheless, I trust your stay with us will be a pleasant experience for you.” Yugo went on, trying very hard not to lose himself in those brown eyes of hers for what he had to say next was very important. “Amalia, if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly were you told you are to do here?”

The question seemed to take her aback for a moment, her cheeks colouring as she gathered her thoughts. Shyly tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, she answered. “I was told I am to remain by your side for as long as you permit me, Your Majesty. Hopefully, that will result in you falling in love with me.”

Adamaï almost choked.

Before Yugo had time to get his heart pumping blood again, Amalia added, a little bashfully. “Though, truth be told, I do not even fully understand what ‘falling in love’ is, let alone how I am supposed to achieve it. Father calls you my suitor, but I still don’t fully understand what it means, let alone what it means that I am to be your bride.”

Oh, so she had no idea what she was even supposed to do here. That made things easier somehow.

Yugo panicked when Qilby began to speak.

“Well, you see, my dear, a bride is a woman who is either married or about to be—.”

“Thank you, Qilby.” Yugo said loudly through gritted teeth, at the same time as both Nora and Adamaï clamped their hands over the eldest Eliatrope mouth to get him to shut up. Turning back to Amalia, he willed the heat to leave his cheeks. “Um, yes, brides and marriages usually go hand-in-hand.” Then, grabbing her hands to get her to look him in the eye, his voice turned serious. “However, Amalia, there is no guarantee you and I will get married.”

Her brow furrowing in confusion had no business being so cute. “Why not? Is it my appearance? Is it not to your liking?”

Yugo’s heart stopped. That was definitely not the problem. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He hated how strangled his voice sounded, and he especially hated his siblings chortling at his expense. What was the point in being king if it didn’t save you from brotherly teasing?

“Then what is it?” She pressed on. At the same time, she stepped a little closer to him, and suddenly all the Eliatrope could see was her beautiful face.

Oh, what did he do to deserve such sweet torture?!

Mustering every ounce of strength he possessed, he took one deep breath before looking her straight in the eye. But seeing her big, doe-like eyes staring back at him in wonder deflated his resolve somewhat. With a sigh, he settled for explaining things from a different angle.

“It’s got to do with what you said about making me fall in love with you.” He settled on. “Love is a very complicated thing; there’s no guarantee that will ever happen, therefore, it would be foolish to marry only to be miserable.”

Eyes widening slightly in realisation, Amalia had the strange feeling something inside her broke. Weird. She had been born recently and Father was a master craftsman. She should be in perfect condition. She shook her head and with that those wayward thoughts; now it wasn’t the time for that.

She looked back at the king. There really was something magnetic about him, even if she couldn’t tell what it was.

“Then I suppose I should make my way back to Inglorium and explain the reason for my return to Father. You have my deepest gratitude for your time.”

Just as the Divine Doll let go of his hands and bowed down to them yet again, turning around to abandon the Eliatropes’ territory, Yugo and his siblings panicked, terrified at the prospect of the twelve gods taking their fury out on them.

While Adamaï and Nora sent him pointed looks and gestured wildly at Amalia’s retreating form (Qilby just shrugged), Yugo acted without thinking. He pointed one hand at the floor beneath him, creating a portal underneath his feet that immediately transported him right in front of the Sadida Doll, who could only take one startled step back in response.

Eyes glimmering in fascination, looking him up and down, all Amalia could say was, “Incredible…”

Taking advantage of her stupefied state, Yugo reached out for her hand again—was it weird how much he’d been doing it in the sparse few moments he had known her? Should he be worried?—; with her attention back on him, he rushed to say. “However, even though there is no guarantee love will ever blossom between us, I meant it when I say we are honoured to have you here. And if the gods expect us to spend our time together, then it will be my pleasure to be your friend, Amalia.” Then, he added. “Oh, and if we’re going to be friends, you can just call me Yugo. I was never good with formalities.”

“You have my thanks, Yugo.”

Her smile was so blinding, Yugo had the feeling his subsequent reaction to it was not a good sign for a perfectly platonic relationship.

After that, he formally introduced his siblings, with promises of letting her meet the remaining members of the Council and tours around the palace, and maybe even the island. They had to part ways relatively soon since Yugo and the rest still had some urgent matters to attend to, but he instructed some of his guards to guide Amalia to what would be her room from then on.

As he walked back to the council room, flashes of Amalia’s smiling face materialising in his mind, Yugo couldn’t help but wonder what awaited him now that the Sadida Doll was here to stay.

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queenshelby · 2 years ago

Text

Our Little Secret (Part Nine)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Minutes later...

Danielle still lay sprawled across the king-size bed, draped in satin sheet covers, the gentle rhythmic snores confirming she hadn't stirred even since Cillian had left the room. She must have been exhausted, leaving Cillian free to explore his urges undetected. Even now, hours later, her breath rose and fell steadily, unaware of the turmoil raging below her slumbering form.

Cillian joined her in bed again, still carrying your scent on his skin. He moved closer to where his wife lay, barely perceptible in the dim moonlight streaming through the window.

His mind was turmoil, filled with a mix of regret and guilt. His heart raced. Innocent tears trickled down his cheek, echoing his inner conflict. One part yearned for family and stability while the other half craved both, desire and lust for the unexpected and forbidden.

Danielle murmured in her sleep, turning onto her side, throwing her arm around Cillian's chest instinctively.

He cautiously placed an arm around her waist, trying to find comfort in her embrace despite his wandering thoughts. However, deep down, he was troubled. His mind kept drifting back to the passionate encounter he shared earlier with you. Cillian couldn't help but compare your encounters—one full of desire and hunger, the other shrouded in guilt and secrecy. How did he end up in this situation? Why was he drawn to you?

Was it because you represented everything Danielle lacked, including, passion and freedom? Or perhaps it was simply the fact that you shared an intense chemistry and mutual understanding that went beyond mere carnal desires.

Cillian tossed and turned, struggling to find solace in the arms of his seemingly content wife. Danielle remained oblivious to the internal battle raging within her husband, her peaceful demeanor serving as a stark contrast to the chaos brewing beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, Cillian wrestled with his conscience, torn between loyalty to his wife and the burning desire for the woman who consumed his thoughts. He wondered why fate had brought them together under such tragic circumstances. What made him choose to succumb to temptation, knowing fully well that their encounters could lead to dire consequences?

The answer eluded him, haunting him with its absence. The intensity of his passionate rendezvous only served to fuel his growing obsession, further complicating matters between him and Danielle.

Cillian knew that, realistically, his marriage was over. It had been over for a long time, ever since they lost their first baby. The pain of that loss pushed Danielle to seek comfort elsewhere after Cillian sought solace in his work. Unaware of the depth of Cillian’s feelings and during his absences when filming, she started frequenting bars and clubs in search of distractions. It was there that she crossed paths with a man named James, a charming entrepreneur who showered her with attention and helped her forget her sorrows temporarily.

She soon fell pregnant again, but the child was not Cillian's and didn't take long for rumors to circulate among those close to them that Max wasn't actually his biological child. When confronted about this, neither confirmed nor denied the allegations. Instead, Cillian decided to treat and love Max as if he was his own and somehow, the couple managed to convince everyone in their circle, presenting themselves as a doting couple raising their new bundle of joy while, for many years, trying to fall pregnant again.

Their relationship became a carefully orchestrated facade designed to hide the truth from friends and family and this, especially, made sense for both of their acting careers.

They maintained this image publically, but privately they often argued about the state of their union. While Danielle felt secure in the structure provided by her marriage, she also grew tired of having a spouse more interested in his career than in her. Their sexual routine began to lose steam, replaced instead by resentment and frustration. They rarely talked openly about these issues, suppressing them inside, building a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

Whilst, for the past eight years or more, Danielle had been faithful to her husband, Cillian never really forgave her and now you were in the picture as well and he craved your company.

Desire and infatuation had clouded his judgment, leading him into dangerous territory. With each meeting, he sank deeper into the quagmire of betrayal and adultery, his morals crumbling beneath the weight of his passion, and it was this passion which kept him awake until the early hours of the morning.

Unable to sleep, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead.

He couldn't ignore the profound impact you had on him. His life was spiralling out of control - he lied to everyone and every moment spent with you tormented him with guilt and shame. It was as if he had become addicted to something he once considered repulsive, losing all self-control in the process. Yet, he was unable to stop wanting you – needing you.

In moments of clarity, he vowed to put an end to this madness.

But as he rolled restlessly onto his side, he recalled your touch, the taste of your lips, the soft whimper you uttered when he entered you. All these thoughts invaded his consciousness like an unwelcome army taking residence in his brain. Each memory inflamed his body, making his groin throb with arousal. Every fiber of his being demanded release, yet he knew that succumbing to it would bring nothing but misery.

He also knew that, eventually, this had to end. There was no alternative and, with that in mind, he made a choice. He had to choose his family over you, regardless of how broken it was.

As hard as it might be, he owed it to Danielle and Max to try and salvage whatever remained of their fractured bond as, even though he wasn't Max's biological father, he loved him dearly. Thus, it was the right thing to do. It had to be done and it could not wait any longer.

***

Hours later, dawn broke softly through the windows, casting warm golden light across the room. He could hear birds singing cheerfully outside. Cillian dragged himself out of bed, reluctantly pulling on some clothes. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed that dark circles rimmed his eyes, testament to his restless night.

He splashed cold water on his face, trying to wake himself up completely. As he dressed, his gaze shifted involuntarily toward the bedroom door, mentally calculating whether he should tell Danielle about his indiscretions or not. But then, reality struck him like a hammer blow to the head. This wouldn't merely damage his reputation, it would destroy his entire world! He shook his head furiously, banishing the thought before it took root. Besides, the risk was too great. Danielle was unpredictable and capable of causing serious harm to someone she perceived as a threat. She already threatened to take Max away on several occasions and, even to you, she could be a threat.

As he walked out of the bedroom, he passed by Danielle's sleeping figure, her face serenely relaxed amidst pillows. There was so much left undiscovered, hidden behind the closed doors of marriages. He tried to shake away these thoughts, knowing they led nowhere.

And then outside, in the living-room, there was his brother, holding a cup of coffee in his hand, looking pensive.

"What?" asked Cillian, attempting to maintain eye contact.

Frank lowered his eyes slightly and offered him the coffee. "You look like you need it man!" he said.

Cillian accepted gratefully, feeling exhausted both physically and emotionally. The scalding liquid coursed through his veins giving him a brief surge of energy. He sipped it slowly, savoring the rich flavor. He looked questioningly at his brother.

"Nothing," said Frank finally, "It's just… I know things have been difficult lately. And we haven't really spoken about it."

"Spoken about what?" Cillian asked before draining the remaining dregs of coffee from his mug.

"You and Danielle. You have been fighting a lot, haven't you?" Frank asked quietly while sipping his own coffee. "Yes, we argue constantly," admitted Cillian with a bitter laugh. "We never agree on anything anymore."

"Isn't it exhausting?" asked Frank, sympathetically.

"Absolutely," agreed Cillian, "but we just go along, maintaining appearances." He paused briefly, thinking back to his recent trysts with you. Would anyone guess? Probably not...but he couldn't help wondering whether his behavior was suspicious especially as you ran past them both, still wearing the same nightgown which you have worn last night, your hair disheveled.

"Is Y/N alright?" Cillian asked as you failed to acknowledge him and, much to his brother's surprise, Frank mentioned that you were feeling sick.

"Sick? She seemed alright last night, and she sure did not drink too much," Cillian said, concerned.

Frank nodded in agreement. "True, but sometimes people don't realize they're ill until it hits them full force. Maybe she got some bad food yesterday evening," he told his brother who couldn't help but worry about you.

Tags:

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader

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milkb0nny · 2 years ago

Text

Sweater Weather

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

Comfortember Day 2: Sweater Weather

Summary: You finally had the chance to meet the Winchester brothers again after weeks. Due to their hunting lifestyle you hadn't caught the chance to unite with them the past days. Today you accepted the invite of Dean, agreeing to have some drinks with them. Unfortunately you assessed the weather wrong, leaving you freezing in the cold night air.

Note: I went way over my anticipated word count for this one. Somehow my hands were writing faster than I realized. Anyway, fun with this wholesome prompt!

Warnings: none

word count: 1.203

The past few days the hot summer vanished into cooler mornings and fresh breezes of wind. The temperature gradually dropped, signaling the end of the season where shorts and crop tops had been the norm. While many expressed a sense of melancholy as summer waned, you couldn't help but revel in the changing weather.

This year's summer had been exceptionally long and you found yourself eagerly anticipating the arrival of the rainy season. Since July, you had been yearning for the perfect opportunity to sit on the wide windowsill with a steaming cup of tea, a cozy blanket draped over your shoulders. Finally, the time had come to count raindrops as they raced down the glass and to admire the beauty of autumn.

This morning Dean had invited you over to go drinking in the evening with Sam, on which you readily agreed on. Time spent with the Winchester brothers was precious to you, and you held a special fondness for shared moments with Sam. The tall, enigmatic brunette had held your admiration for some time now. Still, you never had the courage to confess to him, or even hint your attraction.

You were well aware of the fact that they were hunters, a life fraught with danger and uncertainty. Dean had shared with you the painful memory of Sam’s late girlfriend, an experience that had left deep scars on his heart. You refused to stir negative emotions, putting your needs back and loving him from a safe distance. Perhaps this was one of the reasons why you found the cooler seasons so appealing—the longing for warmth and the comfort of an embrace.

As you prepared to meet the Winchesters, you took a moment to check the weather one last time. The weather report had stated that today would be surprisingly warm compared to the days before. Therefore you decided on wearing your favorite pants, combined with a fitting shirt and a thin jacket. In case it would rain the jacket could protect you.

The moment you put your keys into your small backpack, you heard the humming engine of the Impala in front of your home. A flutter of nervous excitement coursed through you, causing a subtle flush to color your cheeks. You would see Sam again after weeks of not seeing each other.

Despite the slight outbreak of sweat, something you were likely the only one to notice, you got overran by happiness when you witnessed the smiling faces of the Winchesters. Eager to be reunited with Sam, you slid into the backseat of the Impala, the door closing with a gentle thud.

The Impala's iconic black exterior and the familiar scent of leather and old books enveloped you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you.

Sam turned his head around, trying to get a pleasant look at you. He said, “Hey y/n. It's been too long. We missed having you around.”

Dean agreed with his brother, repeating that they’ve missed your dearly appreciated company.

Your heart jumped and a bright smile spread over your shy face.

“I missed you guys too. It's good to be back,” you admitted.

The ride was over after five minutes and Dean parked in front of a typical bar. When the three of you entered the heavy smell of alcohol sneaked into your noses. A smell which reminded you of the brothers, a smell you hadn’t liked until you met them.

The evening unfolded in a delightful blur of shared stories and laughter, the comfortable ambiance of the bar enveloping you all. Drinks were poured and clinked together in unison, a ritual that signaled the beginning of an exciting evening. The hours passed in a whirlwind, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the warmth of the Winchester brothers' friendship and the deep sense of belonging you had found in their company.

As the night slowly drew to a close, you left the bar with a heart full of cherished memories and a bond that had only grown stronger. The crisp coldness of the night breeze hit you, sending a shiver down your back. Sam, who cautiously watched you, noticed your discomfort immediately.

“It's gotten a lot colder than I expected," he remarked, his breath forming a slight misty cloud in the chilly night air.

You agreed, looking up to him, “Yeah, I’m freezing.”

You didn’t want to indicate something, though it sounded exactly like it. A firm kick in the shoulders from Dean’s side reminded you of your sometimes oblivious behavior. You gazed back to Sam, who apparently didn’t notice the tease of his older brother. Relieved, you continued your short walk to the Impala.

However, Sam started to shrug out of his big sweater, a worn and comfortable garment that held the faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of his presence.

"Here, take this," he offered.

His brother didn’t want to partake in your romantic interaction, leaving the both of you behind and starting the engine to warm himself up. Sam’s eyes remained fixated on you.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to inconvenience him, but the cold was undeniable. Therefore, you gratefully accepted the offered sweater.

As you slid your arms into the soft fabric, you couldn't help but notice the subtle fragrance that clung to it - Sam's familiar scent, a mixture of the outdoors and a hint of his cologne. It was a scent that felt like home, like safety, like Sam. You pulled the sweater closer around you, savoring the warmth and comfort it provided.

"Thank you, Sam. I really appreciate it,” you thanked him.

Sam thought you looked adorable in his clothes, though he didn’t admit that right away. His dreamy eyes, glued onto your silhouette, expressed his thoughts already. He surely did notice your reddened face, and he absolutely acknowledged your awkward fidgeting with the sleeves of the sweater. You looked cute, so cute Sam wanted to pick you up and lay in bed with you all day.

Nevertheless none of you broke the silence and you began to continue your way once again. At one point, as you walked close together, Sam's fingers brushed against yours. It was a small, subtle touch, but it caused an explosion in your head. You stole a glance at him, and your eyes met for a fleeting moment. There was a depth of emotion in Sam's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had grown between you and him.

He suddenly stopped, resulting in you turning around. Still clung on the sweater, your curious eyes met his more serious face, or rather passionate. Before you could say a word, he placed his big hands on your cheeks, cupping them.

Without hesitation a kiss traced your lips, morphing the feelings of the two of you. You felt the hotness rush through your whole body, making you blush heavily. Your freezing body warmed up the moment his gentle lips met yours. Sam pulled away, though still remained so close you could feel his breath and his palms remained on your cold skin.

“Perhaps it's time we make our way back to Dean, Y/n. What do you say?”

#sam x reader #supernatural sam #sam and dean #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam x you #spn fanfic #comfortember #supernatural

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nanaminokanojo · 2 years ago

Text

00:00:01

Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | You

A spin-off to this.

TW: angst without comfort | mcd

I went to my personal Instagram account where I thought I won't see Satoru on my reels, but suddenly, this edit of his high school days comes up and the song was Lamp's "Yume Utsutsu" and I go, "Oh come on! I just stopped fucking crying!" Anyway, please enjoy and suffer with me.

~*~

You truly are alone now.

It was a selfish thought. It was uncalled for in that situation, unjustified even. Everything was at a standstill as the scales tipped over in favor of the curses. And in the middle of it all, Gojo Satoru, the only honored one between heaven and earth, has fallen.

The strongest has fallen. To everyone else, at least, what was palpable was the fact that the odds just became more daunting without him. If Gojo himself was defeated, lying in a pool of his own blood, what hope was there for anyone else?

It was the truth, but you couldn't process that at all, everyone else be damned. The whole world could be on the verge of exploding and the whole human race could go extinct in a blink of an eye. Still, all you could feel were the cold hands of loneliness as it slowly wrapped its icy fingers around your heart.

Gojo Satoru was your best ally in all sense of the word, one of the two dearest friends you have left. Above everything else, he was probably the only one in the world who fully understood the weight you carried all those years ago. It was a burden you shared with him, and somehow, it was easier knowing there was someone else who knew your pain in its molecular degree. It comforted you that for once, when he said he knows, you believed it.

And yet, you stood behind multiple screens, watching the only person in the universe who truly knew you. You've never felt lonelier in your life.

One last time, you saw the glory behind those impossibly blue eyes shine their brightest before turning glassy and dark as the life in them drained out, amplified by the red that began to surround his snow-white hair. The Gojo Satoru that you knew lay in tatters in the midst of the rubble, a patch of blue sky in a field of crimson blooms.

This time, no one will sit with you and hold you together while you drown every semblance of feeling like you did when Geto Suguru died by his hands. No one will know you well enough to know what to say or do. No one will comfort you enough to ease the debilitating pain that rendered you an inch towards death on the inside.

Your only true ally was gone.

"Brave of you to come here alone," the voice of your former lover said, coming like jagged spikes through your chest, knowing that it wasn't really him who was talking to you. "But I guess, I understand why you're here."

Geto Suguru, or rather Kenjaku, beckoned you over with a flourish of his hand, gesturing towards the chair across from him. It wasn't hard to look for him, having been too accustomed to the life force he possesses, one you would recognize without a doubt even if it was tainted and violated by a dark presence.

You did as you were told, glancing over the destroyed wall of what remained of the high-rise cafe he chose to witness the battle between Gojo and Sukuna. You merely stared down at the chaos below, merely recognizing the spot where Gojo currently lays.

"You mourn..."

Your lifeless eyes shifted towards the man before you, very much like the one you knew in your youth, loved and cherished with everything that you are, the same man Gojo Satoru calls his only best friend. The only thing that told you outright that it was a different being before you were those cursed stitches on his forehead, and yet you tried your very best to look past them.

An exhausted smile etched itself across your lips as you looked into those eyes, trying to find the amber in them despite being muddled in a darker color. He looked disconcerted as he regarded you.

"The day you died, I..." you started, swallowing the lump in your throat. You breathed in deeply, drawing as much courage as you can muster in your current state. With a sigh, you said, "Satoru and I mourned your death, you know."

"Geto Suguru cannot hear you."

You chuckled. "We were both such a mess." Again, you glanced at the spot where you knew Gojo would be, ignoring the vicious words that cut you deeper than any slashes Sukuna could ever inflict. "From the moment you decided you didn't want to stand on the same side with us anymore up to that moment you declared war. Satoru was way better at dealing with his feelings. Always have been, but I cannot say he didn't struggle to figure out where to start picking up the pieces, too."

Tears started pooling in your eyes, but you still smiled despite all the hurt. "No one understands us more than each other where you're concerned. And even in his last conscious moments, I bet he's thinking of you."

Just then, a hand covered yours, a familiar warmth surging in through every pore of your skin which it touched. Those fingers squeezed yours, reassuring albeit weak. It was gone before you could make sense of it, and you were met with the smirking face of Geto Suguru, a concealment of the fleeting sorrow that crossed his features.

You hung your head low, closing your eyes as memories of your youth with both Gojo and Geto started flashing before your eyes. And when you raised your head, your tears had finally fallen. "And now...the only person I share that with is also gone."

You took a deep breath, letting the painful truth of it all sink in and engulf every cell in your body. Gojo Satoru, who had been your rock through everything, wasn't there to hold you together like he did before even if he himself was falling apart back then. You wished you could have at least held his hand as he was lost to the world, made sure he knew he wasn't alone like he did for you back then. But what can you do?

"I'm going to miss him terribly no matter how annoying he is," you murmured through hollow laughter. "I couldn't even thank him."

You grinned bitterly. "I thought he couldn't hear me."

Kenjaku – you choose to call the being before you for who he really is – shrugged. "I must say Geto Suguru's spirit is just as hard to break as it is to face Gojo Satoru. It's not easy possessing this body like any other. I see why they're the strongest."

"You should instead see why they are friends," you corrected. "They're not just 'the strongest' as you put it. Shame you had to pit them against each other for the second time."

"I..." Kenjaku choked the word out, a single tear falling from his left eye. "Y-y/N..."

You nodded, directing your gaze down to where Gojo was. "I know, Suguru. I know. I'm sorry, too."

"Enough –"

Kenjaku can't seem to take full control as his face contorted into confusion and frustration, so you took your chance.

"You did your best for Riko. I'm proud of you, I hope you know that." Your tears flowed freely now. "Satoru did his very best for everyone, too, and I know he's just as proud of you for doing what you can until it got too much to handle. You two just grew up too fast, but I guess you can both rest easy now."

Again, you met his gaze. "Sorry we couldn't do as you asked us – live long and happy – but know that we both wanted to. Even if you weren't there anymore."

You stood up and crossed the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his dark locks one last time. You were half expecting to die at that very moment, but that moment didn't come even as you stayed longer than you could ever hope to do so.

"But at least Satoru can keep his promise to meet you again now." You kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sorry if I might take a bit longer, but I'll make the same promise Satoru did..."

You drew back and walked towards the edge of the open wall, and with a wave you said, "We'll meet again."

~*~

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anika-ann · 6 months ago

Note

for the blurb game;

dungeon master

Oh hi! As you wish 🥰

Thank you for taking part in this ask game! But also phew, this one gave me thots I could never hope to deliver on paper 🤭 I was feeling like writing fluff and allusions to smut, I hope you will enjoy🥰

Also, since you listed no character and I saw you reblog one of my few Andy Barber fics, I took the liberty to choose him.

Dungeon Master

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader WC: 1000 (I'm not even trying anymore, I'm afraid, to fit it into 500 words, let alone 5 lines) Type: fluff and humour with droplets of smut, canon-divergence Warnings: mentions of kidnapping and murder (very brief, lighthearted, promise), mentions of bondage and dom/sub, mentions of alcohol, allusions to smut, Andy Barber being a complete menace, soft dark if you squint very very hard

“Uh-huh, nope. Not going down there the with you,” you said resolutely, eyeing the stairs down to the cellar, all luxuriously rustic stones illuminated softly – or perhaps creepily.

You’d heard this story before. A party at a rich prick’s house – or simply a wealthy friend or an important client in this case – a woman and a man together. You were not going walk this path, pun intended, despite the gently arched eyebrow and the amused quirk of his lips. Handsome, handsome man, slightly disappointed, respectfully amused.

You shouldn’t have had that glass of wine; with a lopsided smile like that, neatly-trimmed beard awaking all sorts of fantasies, in that well-tailored suit and smelling so damn alluring, Andy Barber could talk you into virtually anything. You might even let him get away with murder.

But perhaps not your murder. For that, you’d have to had drunk at least a glass and a half.

“Why not? You were the one who said we should get away from the crowds for a while and I completely agree,” he reminded you, eyes sparkling with a dangerous promise. “And the wine cellar is the best hiding place and was the perfect excuse since the host told us to head down there at any time to pick whatever bottle we wanted…”

He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath brushing over your lips, an achingly tempting reminder of the first kiss you had shared just a few nights ago; and his train of thought must have been exactly the same, because his eyes, dark like the stormy skies, flickered down to your lips, warm fingertips tracing a line up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake and your heart racing like mad.

“Come with me, honey.”

You gulped, finding yourself pulled into his orbit with magnetic force, heat stirred in your belly as your own gaze was attracted by his lips.

Dangerous, dangerous man, large warm hands, mouth made to devour you, to turn you oh so pliant and have you shatter for him should his lips wander much lower than before, break you in the best ways, la petite mort-

A small death, the French reminded you, causing you to breath in sharply, your hand landing on Andy’s chest – oh so deliciously firm--- no.

“No. I--- no. I know how this goes,” you reasoned, with yourself more than with him. And only partly joking. “I listen to true crime podcasts, you know. This is the part of the first date where a woman, drunk on expensive wine and--- and unfairly charming handsome man, follows him to the basement and gets murdered--- or worse! Gets dragged into a creepy dungeon, chained up and told to call him master as he makes her into his basement wife! I’m not falling for that, sir.”

You waved your index finger in front of his face to prove your point, as if the rest of your body hadn’t somehow, traitorously, moved closer to his, legs aligned, hips and chests mere inches away.

Andy raised his eyebrow, his smile widening, barely contained amusement dancing in his irises.

“I… admire how your mind works and for the sake of your safety, I am glad you are being cautious. But honey, we’ve know each other for over a year and this is, in fact, our second date.”

“Same diff--difference!” you stuttered as he inched even closer, hand cradling your jaw tenderly, playing so damn dirty as his lips brushed yours, a taste of heaven, infinitely more delicious than the most expensive wine in your client’s collection no doubt.

“Don’t you trust me?” he coaxed, sinful words falling from his lips only to be caught by yours, your conviction melting away under the burning heat stirred in your abdomen, evaporating with every short breath released from your rapidly rising and falling chest. “Let’s hide away for just a moment… be together without our colleagues bothering us, stealing my attention from the gorgeous woman on my arm. You deserve to be admired with undivided attention. Let me, honey…”

The breathless yes was rolling off your tongue without your hazy brain consenting to it, Andy’s lips properly pressing against yours, drinking all air from your lungs the sweetest reward.

“So good for me, honey,” he praised softly as your lips parted with a wet pop, thousands of butterflies erupting in your stomach. Dangerous, criminal man. “Let’s go.”

You licked your lips as you accepted the hand he so graciously offered to you to assist your descend into the cellar – and into madness. Your heart thundered in your chest, a chill running down your spine.

“But only for a moment. It’s going to be pretty cold down there-“

You had not even finished speaking and Andy stopped in his tracks, shrugging off his suit jacket smoothly, helping you slide into it instead with ease; the woodsy notes of his cologne enveloped you along with instant warmth, your shiver having nothing to do with cold this time.

He hummed in appreciation; distracted by the heat in his gaze, you missed the next step and stumbled a bit, caught firmly in his hands and against his chest, your faces mere inch apart, front pressed to front. The firmness and more than evident hardness of his body had your breath stuck in your lungs, unbearable desire stirred in your core.

“Sweetheart,” he husked, dextrous fingers slipping under the jacket and the strap of your dress alike, a glimmer in his blown pupils as you didn’t protest against it one bit. “I’ll keep you plenty warm.”

“Andy…”

It was the damn wine and the painfully charming man Andy Barber was, you were sure; your hips buckled forward on their own, his fingers flexing in your flesh with a barely audible groan.

“The things you do to me, honey, the things you make me want to do,” he whispered, mouth attaching to yours again, a hint of teeth on your lower lip this time, causing you to seek more friction on instinct, a coil already twisting in your core as his large hand landed on your hip to encourage you to do it again. “But don’t worry… we’ll save that chains and masters for our third date.”

Whelp 🥹🫠 this turned a dirtier turn I expected, I truly meant for this to be fluff and humour. Ah well ✨

Thank you for reading and potential feedback!

You can find my other works on my masterlist, should you be interested 😇

Divider by @firefly-graphics.

#reply #asks #anika replies #anika writes #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber imagine #andy barber #andy barber fluff #defending jacob au #defending jacob #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #dungeon master #anika ann

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ya-zz · 1 year ago

Text

TRADE

This was a trade I did with @uncoveredsun back in August/September!

It was lovely working with you despite the work schedule slowing me down!

---

Reaper x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4381

Talon had been going for several years, and you had joined two years after the official start date. While things were were still new, it was a major learning curve for many. An agency tasked with building a stronger race, something of which Akande sought every day whilst leading the team. By creating chaos and profiteering off of the damages they had caused, they kept going, raking in the money and fame around the world.

You joined a month after a certain someone, a man who nearly everyone avoided, but somehow, something was drawing you to him. It was a little confusing at first for you, but as time went on, you realised there was something a little more to it.

He felt the same way.

While the two of you were talking one day, listening to each others stories before joining Talon, hands brushed against each other, a spark flying between the two as you gazed into his amber eyes and him into yours.

It was gradual at first; he’d ask you out for coffee some days, and sometimes he’d bring you one when you were working on reports up in your quarters. The soft smiles you would share as you passed each other in the hallways never failed to make your heart flutter and then there were the days where you’d give him space as his demeanour was anything but friendly.

Something inside of him was glad that you would give him the space when he needed it without him asking, it’s like you knew just from a look. Whether he’d figure it out or not that you did indeed know from the look of his face and the height of his shoulders, it was saved for another conversation when you two were alone.

Months had passed and by that point Gabriel and you were in each other's personal space more often than not. Bodies pressed against each other, hands gliding across skin, tracing scars and all senses heightened. Lustful eyes staring at each other, lips locked like it was the end of the world. Soft moans and deep groans filled the quiet spaces, whether that was one’s quarters, a stock room or a quickie in the meeting room.

But there was no solidarity. You weren’t his girlfriend and he wasn’t your boyfriend. It was more a… sexually beneficial relationship. He never asked the question, you didn’t either, it was just hands grabbing the other and dragging their body into the nearest room and fucking them senseless.

It somewhat pained you that nothing was official. You loved the man, more so than anyone you’ve ever loved before. The glances, the touching, his words, the sex… all of it was perfect - all of him was perfect. His arms would hold you tightly, whether that was during or after he’d fuck your lights out. Soft fingers tracing over the imperfections on your skin. Rough lips touching your neck, soothing the spots he’d bitten. Gabriel was a dream, soft hazel eyes that hide pain and anger, scruffy hair that always stuck up after wearing his getup and the muscles that were hidden for everyone else, only came out for you. The fact neither of you had even bothered to ask one out fueled something within you. Sadness, maybe. It is just a work fling. Nothing serious.

The days turned into weeks and those weeks into months. Nobody found out, but you were certain that the longer it went on, the riskier it was becoming. Meetings were becoming more frequent, time away from each other getting longer. Every second counted when you were with Gabriel.

That was, until sudden news shocked you. After feeling sick the last couple days, wanting nothing more than to just stay in bed all day and rest, finding out you were pregnant sent alarm bells ringing. The only man you had sex with this last year was Gabriel. Your commander.

So many thoughts ran rampant through your head. Of all people, of all times, it had to be with him.

While the thoughts came and went, you weren’t exactly upset you were pregnant with his kid, but the news would come as a shock to him and then to everyone else when they inevitably find out.

Time. That’s what you needed. Time to think about the future. What happens next? What happens to you and your job? What about Gabriel?

What about Gabriel?

“Shit…” You murmured, laying back down on the bed. “If he loses his job because of me…”

Doubt set in. Doubt about your life. Doubt about his life. Too many thoughts but not enough time. You’d have to tell him sooner or later, preferably before anyone else started noticing the change in your body.

“It was just… just a work fling.” You spoke to yourself, arm covering your eyes to protect them from the incoming sunlight from the window. “It was supposed to be just a fling.”

You couldn’t deny the fact you loved him, though, because you did. He was the last thing you’d think about before sleeping and usually the first thing when you woke up. He was a plague that you messed with, and now you’re infected. Love and a kid.

There were options, of course there were options. But the panic was rising and the tears were falling. Nothing was making sense and you had so much to think about. You felt like you were going to be sick. You didn't know what to do. It felt like you were drowning and you needed to calm down. You needed to think, to make a decision, but you couldn't think straight. You were scared. You were too overwhelmed. You didn't know what to do.

Days went by and you didn’t say a word. You avoided him the best you could, dipping into random rooms to avoid him whenever you were about to pass him. It felt wrong.

You had to tell him at some point, but right now, you wanted to think. What is the best course of action?

Gabriel had noticed, however. The avoiding glances, the hiding. It was annoying him and he wanted to speak to you, but no matter how close he got, you disappeared a moment after.

Each time he’d spot you, he’d try to grab you, but something always caught his attention. After a long few weeks, he managed to get close.

He pulled you to the side after nearly a month of avoiding him. He was pissed, hand gripping your wrist as he nearly dragged you into an empty meeting room.

“Why are you avoiding me?” His tone was deep, clearly angry as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not.” A lie.

“Yes, you are. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not avoiding you, Gabe.” Another lie.

“Quit the lies.” He took a step forward, trying to intimidate you. “You are avoiding me. Why? And don’t say you’re not.” He sighed before continuing to speak. “Every time I spot you, I turn for a millisecond and you’re gone. You’ve ducked into each and every room trying to hide. You won’t even talk to me in passing. Tell me.”

Gabriel watched your face shift, one of fear, hesitation and guilt.

“What’s wrong?” His face softened, arms falling to his side. “Tell me, [y/n]…”

Your eyes darted around the room before settling on his. Confusion and fear.

“I’m pregnant.”

Gabriel looked at you. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.” You repeated, seeing his eyes fill with panic, but also mixing with something else.

“Who-“

“Yours.” You cut him off. “It’s yours, Gabe.” Your hands reach for your pocket, pulling out the test and handing it over to him. Each and everyday you carried it with you, a reminder of what was going on within your body. “It’s still early, there’s time-“

“What are you talking about?” He questioned, looking down at the test in his hands before looking back up at you. His hands reach for your shoulders, pulling you towards him as he pulls you in and embraces you.

Returning the gesture, you hold onto him, nuzzling your head against the crook of his neck.

“I… I didn’t know what to do…” Tears fall down your cheeks as you sob, hands gripping his shirt tighter.

“We will figure it out together, okay?” He speaks softly before planting a kiss to the side of your head.

“I didn’t want you to lose your job…”

“To hell with my job. You’re more important than this shithole of a place.” He gently rubs your back, calming you down. “[y/n], can I ask you something?” There was a hint of nervousness in his tone. When he felt you nod silently against his shoulder, he continued to speak. “Let’s make this official- us official.”

The words caused your eyes to widen as you pulled back, looking at the man before you.

“Wait- what? You mean it?” Despite his warm smile, there was a disbelief running through your veins.

“Of course I mean it. Why wouldn’t I?” There was a slight humour to his voice as he spoke. “You have been the one woman on my mind for weeks, months even. In fact, you have been on my mind since the first day I saw you.”

“That was… nearly a year ago. We both joined around the same time.”

“Yeah. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and now this… well,” He pauses, hand caressing your cheek. “This is more the reason to love you.”

You swore the temperature in the room elevated, cheeks growing warmer by the second as you stared at the man before you.

Gabriel leaned in, planting a kiss to your cheek. He chuckled as he pulled you back towards him. “I love you, [y/n].”

A smile appeared on your face, eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. “I love you too, Gabe…”

The pair of you stayed in that cupboard for a little while longer before he pulled back. Reyes stared into your eyes before kissing you softly. Lips connecting with yours in a passionate manner, tongues touching and playing with each other.

“Gabe…” A breathy whimper escaped you before you rested your forehead against his.

He hummed in response as he pulled back once more. “Come, [y/n]. Let’s figure this out.” He paused. “Together.”

You nodded, entwining your hand with his as the both of you exited the cupboard. Luckily, the coast was clear as you left with your boyfriend, hand in hand.

Everything changed from that day onwards. Reyes didn’t try to hide his affection towards you. It did come as a surprise to you, however, when the other members of Talon spoke out how they “kinda guessed that you were fucking him”, their words exactly, which made you red with embarrassment.

Though the higher ups were questioning his ability to work clear headed now, he basically told them to ‘fuck off’ and walked out of the door. He still had his job, which was a relief to both you and him, though his missions were getting less and less as the months went by.

Due to Talon's contract, you were within their care. Weekly check ups were mandatory to the baby’s health and Reyes was with you during each visit. Everything was fine - you were healthy, the baby was thriving and Reyes couldn’t be anymore happier.

As time passed, the bump grew larger and the pain in your back worsened. Walking long distances began to feel more like a challenge. Headaches and cravings were becoming more common, but no matter what was going on, your partner stayed by your side.

His soft spot for you continued to grow, yet he still had his dark demeanour when talking to the other officers and soldiers around the base. It was amusing to you, watching him be direct and intimidating to those he worked with and then be all loving and soft with you a moment later.

Gabriel wanted nothing more than to see you healthy, staying with you during the bad cramps, he’d snuggle with you most nights when you needed the comfort. His hands would wander, stroking your bump, rough fingers against soft skin. He was ever more careful with you, not wanting to cause you any discomfort or pain.

During the nights, he would lay with you, raspy voice soothing your head, hands roaming and massaging your body. Occasionally he would feel movement within, a gentle kick here and there would make him chuckle.

“Are you okay?” He’d ask, wanting to truly make sure you weren’t in any pain.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You’d respond, hands wrapping around his torso as you’d pull him close. His scent would fill your nose, heavy yet sweet. It was like a calming agent to you, one that dispelled any negative thought. Your hands would ruffle and play with his hair as he’d lay next to you, soft groans would escape him as he shifted deeper into comfort.

Being this soft and vulnerable around you made him feel strange. It wasn’t like him at all. The cold and dark man was always so strict and pissed off all the time, but with you, he felt safe. He felt like he could be himself around you which made him love you more. His love for you grew each day and he just couldn’t get enough of you.

Especially now, he wanted to be with you. He wanted to raise that baby with you, watch it grow into something. A part of him and a part of you bundled together. This kid, whether boy or girl, would be loved dearly, and Reyes would try his absolute hardest to make sure that his kid, your kid, would be brought up in a safer world than what he was raised in.

He would go through hell and back for you and for his newborn. Reyes wouldn’t stop at anything to make sure his kid was safe and sound each night. He’d be strict, of course, any father would be, especially considering who he was and the enemies he had made throughout his life with Blackwatch, Talon and those in the military, but that wasn’t going to stop him from putting all of his love and care into his child.

He wondered who he was going to pick as the kids god parents. Maybe his close friend Jack could step in should things go south… Maybe Cassidy- No, not that hotheaded cowboy. Perhaps Genji- Never in a million years. Godmother Moira- If that witch even gets close to my child I won’t hesitate to kill the bitch.

While he was busy thinking about an emergency parent, you wondered how the hell you were gonna tell your own family. You hadn’t seen them in years, hell, they don’t even know what you do for work. All they know is that you have some mundane office job, and while that wasn’t entirely false as most of the time you were sat at a desk filing reports, you felt bad for lying. But, you knew that if they found out you were working for Talon, they’d for sure keep you locked down at home, making sure that their darling daughter was safe.

It irked you, knowing you couldn’t trust your parents, but then again, they never trusted your decisions either. This would be one hell of a shock to them when they found out.

You shook your head, dismissing the thoughts of that day inevitably coming and instead focussed on your breathing. It was getting harder to breathe more naturally, especially laying down. You feared that you might suffocate whilst sleeping, so you were extremely glad Reyes made permanent arrangements to have you stay in his quarters.

His room was awfully bare, almost no character to it. Bare, solid white walls that housed no photographs or decor. His shelves were empty save from a few books dotted here and there. His desk was scattered with papers and reports alongside ammo and his weapons.

The bed you both laid on was comfortable, yet plain. Grey sheets envelope you both, and while warm, it didn’t necessarily feel like home.

Though… Gabriel knew.

He knew you didn’t exactly feel at home, so he had made arrangements without you knowing. It was a little surprise he had been waiting for, and he couldn’t wait to show you.

When that day finally came, he felt almost nervous, a slight anxiety rising within him. What if you didn’t like it? No, of course you’d like it, but what if-? Stop it, Gabe. She’d tell you if something was wrong… right?

Endless thoughts rattle through his head as he drove you out of Talons headquarters. The radio was playing, a distraction for his mind as he stepped on the gas, wanting to hurry up and show you what he had prepared.

“Gabe, what did you do?” It was a question you had been asking all morning but no matter how many times you’d ask, he wouldn’t answer. It was starting to irk you, even more so since your hormones were heightened the longer you were heading into pregnancy.

“Shh, you’ll find out in an hour.” He finally answered, hands gripping the wheel a little tighter as he looked over at you.

The roads were empty, so he had time to gaze at you. The way your eyes lit up in the morning sun made him feel warm, the sparkling glints making him smile as he admired you. He watched you rub your stomach, the bump larger than ever before. He was anxious you were in pain, but he knew your pain tolerance was high.

He saw the way your eyes softened, a smile embracing your face as you stared out of the window, watching the scenery pass by with speed. Gabriel only kept falling in love with you more and more each day.

As the drive continued, the anxiety only bubbled more, both in him and in you, but that didn’t last long when he pulled up in front of a house, the sign outside reading “SOLD”.

“Gabe?” You stare at the house from the car window before looking back at your partner. “Gabe, what is this?”

“Home.” He stated, hand reaching for yours and rubbing his thumb over the top of your knuckles. “Our home.”

“What…?” The sparkle returned to your eyes, tears threatening to fall.

“I pulled some strings. It ours. Me and you and our kid…” His eyes softened, free hand stroking your bump while looking up at you.

“How-”

“Enough questions. Let’s go inside.” Gabe leans over and kisses you before getting out of the car. He was quick to walk around and open the door for you, offering a hand to help you out.

A gentleman, truly, as he escorted you towards the house, arm wrapped with yours to make sure you were stable. You were quite far along and he was beginning to worry about you going into labour at any given day. Any new father would be worried.

As you both approached the door, he slowed down, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys. He turns to you.

“I want you to have the honour.” Gabriel smiles at you, the sun casting a soft shadow on his face from under the shelter. He lifts your hand and places the keys in your palm.

Looking up at your boyfriend, tears pricking your eyes, you look down at the keys that had been placed within your palm, fiddling about before putting one into the lock. With a short twist, the door clicks. It was an emotional moment as your hand pressed against the door handle, twisting it before pushing the door open.

Gabriel let you in first, hearing and feeling your emotions as you wandered through the hallway and then into the living room. It was already furnished, it already began feeling like home.

“Welcome home.” He speaks out from behind you, a wide grin on his face, crinkles next to his eyes.

The moment you turn to face him, tears streaming down your face, you nearly trip making your way over him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you sob.

“Thank you…” You whisper quietly into his ear, wetting his cheek with your tears as your grip gets tighter.

His own arms wrap around the small of your back, pulling you as close as he can as he tickles you with his beard against your neck. The room was silent save from your quiet sobs and his reassurance.

It was perfect, everything was perfect. He showed you around the house, the dedicated room for the baby, already filled up with various toys and necessities to bring the child up. The bedroom you’d be sharing with him was done up, similar to how yours was set up back at base.

Gabriel planned everything and the look on your face made him know that he succeeded in doing so.

Time went by slowly inside of the house, comfortable talks in the kitchen, hands and fingers playing with each other and smiles and laughter filling the room.

“What happens now? With work?” You eventually ask, fingers brushing over your lover's knuckles.

“Time will tell, I suppose. One thing I know for sure is that the moment our little angel is born, I get to spend my days and nights with you.” He watches you smile at his words. “My phone will get shut off and all my time is yours- Sweetie, what’s wrong?” The change in facial expression alerts him.

“My water just broke.” Panic set in. Pain began to rise suddenly, causing you to cry out and hunch over in your seat.

Gabriel was quick to stand, arms wrapping around your shoulders as he tries to get you to stand. “We need to go. Now.” His voice was commanding yet still gentle as he helps you stand, walking towards the door and out of the house. He helps you to sit in the car before rushing to the driver's side and flooring it to the base.

He keeps his hand on yours as he passes through every red light imaginable, foot pressed so hard on the gas that he flashed the three speed cameras as he went by. He was panicking, you were panicking. The pain was rising within you and his worry only grew the more laboured your breathing got.

“Breathe for me, honey. We’re almost there.” He squeezes your hand, swerving as he narrowly misses a car.

“I would if you would drive properly-“ you yelp out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Gabriel!”

He keeps his focus on the road, exclaiming apologies before he turns and slows down slightly. There was an awkward smile on his face as he turns to look at you.

You shake your head in response before wincing, the pain growing.

“Hang on, sweet.”

Not too long later, he pulls into the garage just underneath the base. Some agents saw the frantic look in his eyes as he stopped the car next to the door, not even bothering to park it. They knew it was time.

He demanded everyone to move as he pulled you out of the car, hands gently holding onto you as he escorted you through to the medbay. The pain and panic continued to rise throughout it all, but he never left your side.

Gabriels hand never left yours as you laid down on the bed, his other hand brushing your hair from your forehead. The doctors and nurses were quick, conducting their exams and procedures before exclaiming that you were in fact going into labour.

The room was filled with excitement and screaming, a natural phenomenon that many enjoyed. Tears spilled from your eyes, a smile appearing here and there and your grip was excruciatingly tight on your partner's hand.

He didn’t mind, he just wanted to make sure you were okay, that the baby was okay.

—

It was a long few hours, you passed out moments after giving birth, breathing frantic and panicked nurses. When you came to not long after, Gabriel was still sitting with you, stroking your head to soothe you. Sweat dripped from your face and the cries of a newborn rattled your ears.

One nurse approached you holding a small bundled blanket that was screaming for you. The moment the nurse places the baby in your arms, the crying slows to a stop.

“It’s like she knew you were her mother.” The nurse smiles. “Congratulations, she’s a healthy baby girl.”

“She’s got your smile.” Your lover whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“She’s got your eyes.” You whisper back, fingers delicately brushing your daughter's cheek.

“Have you thought of a name?” The nurse asks.

Gabriel looks at you, his eyes soft and caring. “We’ve got time to decide.”

You nod in response. “Do you want to hold your daughter, love?”

He felt his heart stop, but he opened his arms, accepting the small bundle of life. Bringing his daughter up to his chest, he felt his feelings overflow, the tears falling down his cheeks. For once, seeing your man cry brought a smile to your face. He looked so caring and tired all in one. He looked like a father.

Gabriel looks up at you, moving a hand to the back of your head as he pulls you in for a kiss, his lips having the same tenderness as his grasp.

“I am so proud of you.” He whispers before pressing another kiss to your damp forehead. “So very proud of you.”

“I love you, Gabriel��” Your hand brushes his as you place it on the blanket your daughter is wrapped up in.

“I love you too, [y/n].”

A picture perfect moment, one the nurses were quick to capture as the two of you held your daughter together.

The news had spread quick, words of congratulations, gifts and cards filled the room over several days and eventually, you and your lover and of course your daughter were soon headed home.

Home. Where a mother and a father will begin to raise a daughter together. One filled with love and hate, arguments and joyful memories. A family returns and a family stays.

—

KOFI

#overwatch #reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #overwatch reaper #gabriel reyes #reader insert #overwatch fanfiction #yazzfics

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