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inzaynety · 1 year ago

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investigation: start! ⤫

➢ summary: when visiting the third division, there’s never a shortage of questions and confusion about you. a few take it upon themselves to get to the bottom of it.

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 2574 words, nosy officers, jealous hoshina, suggestive at the end, iharu has a crush on you, slight spoilers for the manga for certain instances to make the plans make sense but it’s vague

➢ notes: i was reading thru character profiles and it made writing this a little easier w the interactions 🫡 hope u enjoy

prequel - pt. 1 of slice & dice - pt. 2

The lives of the higher-ups were always a topic of discussion for the members of the defense force. If anything, it seemed to be entertainment and gossip to exchange and bond over between divisions. One of the hot topics includes Commander Ashiro’s childhood, courtesy of Kafka.

The only person they couldn’t get anything on was their own Vice-Commander. He was already an enigma himself with that cheerful yet unsettling grin, and they were all witnesses to the receiving end of his narrowed stares during training. The most they could get out of him was a boisterous laugh that shared nothing. They were getting bored.

But with boredom comes the urge to seek new things. And in this case, dirt on Vice-Commander Hoshina.

There wasn’t much they could see initially–until you came along.

Now, you weren’t an uncommon sight for the Third Division officers. They would see you hanging around Okonogi or eyeing a few of the new officers during training with an intense gaze that they didn’t know if they should feel flattered or intimidated. Most of the time, however, you were in close proximity to Hoshina. During division meetings, the officers never saw a day without the two of you conversing in some way whether it be through words or standing right next to each other. There was no blatant physical contact but the distance between you two was a little odd to say the least.

So some took it upon themselves to start a mission.

Kikoru would never voice her true intentions out loud but it was clear that she was as invested as her companions were if her constant questions about the matter said anything about it. She was influenced by her close peers and their enthusiasm definitely fed that.

Reno didn’t want anything to do with it… at first. He changed his mind after only an hour and he thinks it’s due to spending too much time with a certain someone who loved entertainment. Iharu sneezes in the distance.

Kafka was simultaneously wanting to join the younger members in their antics, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk another week of pushups. While he would admit that his arms were tougher, those exercises reminded him of the embarrassment every time he miscalled his commander. But the thought of having some knowledge about Hoshina was interesting, to say the least.

It seemed they were all bored overall.

Ultimately, they all decided to make a plan and figure it out separately. Your division was visiting for a week and reconvening would wait until the weekend. It was time to investigate.

Minase was the one to kick it off, prompting her fellow members to gain more confidence. It all started with an innocent encounter in the operations room when she, Kikoru, and Hakua passed by.

There were voices inside but the most prominent ones were yours and Hoshina’s. The Vice-Commander was a little surprised to see them when they intercepted at the door but it is quickly masked when you step out, a hint of a smile on your face possibly due to the joke he told you only moments before.

“Now, what’re you three doin’ here?” The Vice-Commander asks, hands in his pockets while you stand slightly behind him with your head tilted.

Minase always had a good ear being a great listener for her peers and was able to hear what he had said to you. It was a flirty quip, but not enough to not be told to a close friend. Upon seeing that she had caught both of your attention, she smiles.

“Good afternoon!” You greet her as well but a silence falls over you five. It’s a bit awkward–Kikoru side-eyes her friend to see what the whole stopping and rushing over here was for, but Minase had a plan already set. “We were actually looking for you, Commander,” she looks directly at you and you raise a brow at the implication of her tone.

“Oh?” You take a step forward. “What for?”

“Some training tips, is all. After the last session you gave us, it motivated us to work on our blade work even more!” Like Hoshina, your preferred way of fighting had nothing to do with the guns everyone else used. You hum in acknowledgement.

The Third was full of promising new officers and it would be a waste to not help them hone their skills even more. But you were sure Hoshina was pushing them enough with his own swordsmanship. You even learned a lot from him yourself.

Hakua stifles a choked sound when Minase elbows her gently, not expecting to be put on the spot just like that. And despite already being told of their group’s plan beforehand and having her outgoing personality, it was still a nerve-racking request.

“Y-Yeah! You seem close to Commander Narumi so we thought you guys would have similar fighting styles.” In your head, you think they’re referring to how he’s the strongest and anyone would want to learn from the best of the best. Gen wasn’t the easiest to get a hold of and you felt flattered they would ask you directly, so of course you would help out.

On the side, Kikoru is tasked with watching the Vice-Commander. Not all reactions were verbal and she was the most observant of the three, but she couldn’t maintain her eyes on him the whole time lest he get suspicious.

But now she thinks her eyes have deceived her. At the mention of Commander Narumi, Hoshina’s eyes peek open. She sees how they darken more as Hakua talks about your fighting styles but just like his initial surprise earlier, that expression left as quickly as it came.

She tucks that away.

Vice-Commander Hoshina had his “Kaiju killing eyes” at the mention of Commander Narumi. Don’t know what that could mean. - Kikoru

That’s jealousy! - Minase

Now you see what I mean about his eyes?? - Kafka

Iharu was infatuated with you from the get-go, though you would say that his first inspiration was Commander Ashiro. Saving him that day was what began his journey into the Defense Force, but it was you who motivated him to alter his fighting style to keep up with Reno.

Speaking of the latter, he was sitting beside him in the cafeteria as the two tried to think of a plan for their part. They caught wind that Kikoru’s group got a promising lead and it was up to the rest to solidify it. But they’ve been stuck for the past hour trying to come up with their own thing and asking for training would be a stolen idea.

Reno watches as more and more officers walk into the shared area and grab their meals from the line. They’re a mix of your division and the Third Division members conversing among themselves and he immediately sits up with his idea. Iharu turns his head in surprise to find Reno’s attention already turned to him.

“What? Got an idea?” Reno nods fervently and brings both of their heads down to speak more quietly. Iharu raises his brows at the proposal and his cheeks turn pink. He’s outspoken, yeah, and confident, sure, but this was you.

His friend pleads with him. He relents.

It’s not too long before you step into the cafeteria with the goal of lunch like everyone else. Spending time with Okonogi was great and all but she fried your brain with data only she and your Operations Leader Sora could keep up with. This was grounds for a well-deserved meal before your joint training session as well.

Iharu watches as you get in line and as he stands up to line up behind you, and like Reno predicted as you grab your tray, you see the officer. To his and Iharu’s surprise, you greet him first.

“Officer Furuhashi, right?” You ask after grabbing your tray. There’s a bright look on your face at the excitement of seeing the man who impressed your previous Commander. He shakily nods and you smile in response. “Commander Ogata said a lot of things about you.”

Iharu lets out a polite chuckle. “All good things, I hope?” He gets a laugh out of you and you both fall into a comfortable conversation as you move down the line. Reno watches the door and he hopes the timing works out, or Plan B would have to be used. At least Iharu was having a good time.

It’s when the two of you reach the end of the line and walk towards Reno’s table does Hoshina appear from the doorway. The red-haired officer doesn’t see him yet and your conversation is at the point when you have a hand on his arm as you’re gushing over his newfound ability with his Kaiju suit. He feels a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder and Iharu freezes, looking to his side to see his Vice-Commander.

“Vice–”

“Afternoon, Officer Furuhashi. Whatcha two talkin’ about?” By then your hand still hasn’t left his arm and he feels Hoshina’s grip get tighter. Iharu places his tray down onto the nearest table and your hand drops to your side but you didn’t notice.

“His new ability,” you answer, “we were talking about it earlier with the operations team, remember? I was just looking for you, Officer Furuhashi, I’m so glad I got to talk to you.” Your answer is so sincere and he feels like he could melt right then and there. But to the side of him, there was also a strange sensation in the air.

It was akin to bloodlust.

“The same here.” Iharu answers and bows, “Please, enjoy your lunchtime.” Before you can say anything more, he turns on his heel straight towards Reno with his head down.

The two sit there in silence as you look on in confusion before Hoshina pulls you along with him for his lunch. They aren’t looking at the two of you but Reno already got what he needed.

Vice-Commander Hoshina almost broke Furuhashi’s shoulder. I saw he also had one of his blades behind him while they were all talking. - Reno

WHAT?? - Iharu

By the way, what was plan B? - Kikoru

Iharu asks her directly if she’s dating the Vice-Commander. - Reno

HELLO?? - Iharu

Hi. - Kafka

Kafka knew he was going to be the last of the bunch to get this done. The digital community board on their group chat was a smart idea by Minase and he was able to see what the younger officers were trying to do with this mission.

Kikoru and her friends got the first response but it needed more. Reno and Iharu got the “more” and all-in-all needed one final piece to set the puzzle. Kafka was proud of them but was currently in a situation with absolutely no idea as to what he was going to do. He thought that was more than enough to assume there was a relationship between the two of you, but Kikoru kicked him for that, too.

Was there any way to get you to confess about it? He thought about asking you directly but even though you were younger than him, you still held a higher title. And he didn’t want to face the potential wrath you could unleash for asking such a question. Were you the type to dish out punishments like the Vice-Commander? Again, he didn’t want to risk it.

He had to do it soon too, you and your division were leaving in the morning and it would be another month or so before you and Hoshina would be seen in the same vicinity.

Kafka sighs and runs a hand through his hair. This was troublesome but they were counting on him.

He looks around the library he’s doing his nightly study session and sees that the time is very close to midnight. He’s shocked and now there’s absolutely no way he’s going to catch you at this hour, not unless you were training anyway. His best bet was to find you early in the morning but even that was a bit of a gamble.

Deciding on his defeat, Kafka puts his books and pens away before heading out into the hallway back to his room. He gets a sense of deja vu when he sees the light of the training room still on and assumes it’s the Vice-Commander again, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch him in action, right?

He walks up to the slightly open door and stops in his tracks at the sight. Both you and Hoshina were holding blades. Your’s were slightly longer and his were the typical ones he used during outside missions. Needless to say, they were the real deal.

In the blink of an eye, you’re lunging towards each other and Kafka thinks if he blinks even once, he’d miss about five slashes shared between you two. Following Hoshina alone was already too much but watching someone match his speed? It was out of this world.

The match only lasts for about half a minute, ending with a knife to both of your throats from the other. A moment of heavy breathing follows before you groan and toss your head back in exasperation, both of you simultaneously lowering your weapons.

“I still can’t get that last one right!”

“It was close! And hey, ya got the blade to my neck.”

“I always get the blade to your neck.” You roll your eyes. Hoshina was the best swordsman there was and it was incomparable to your personal weapon, so of course he would be better than you at it. ‘Whatever, I’m heading to bed.” Hoshina lets out a laugh. You put away the practice weapons and as you head to the door, Hoshina pulls you back to him by your wrist.

“Wait a second,” he says and leans his head down to yours.

Kafka, in the meantime, ducked his head to avoid being seen at least a little longer knowing he was not running away to hide in time. There aren't any more words being exchanged and he thinks there’s something else going on in that small bit of silence.

He pops his head up and makes eye contact with Hoshina’s open eye.

Got pushups. - Kafka

Damn. Sorry old man. - Iharu

So you got caught? Amateur. - Kikoru

Leave me alone! I tried. - Kafka

So you really didn’t see anything? - Reno

Oh, yeah. They kissed. - Kafka

…

What? - Kikoru

I got caught by the Vice-Commander. Scared me. :(- Kafka

…

HUH?? - Kikoru

Bonus:

After Kafka leaves, his head hung low at the premonition of more punishment, your arms stay on Hoshina’s shoulders.

“Did you have to do that?” You muse, playing with the shorter hairs near the nape of his neck. He shivers at the feeling but his eyes open slightly and they’re not looking at you so softly.

“Did ya have to talk about him before training?” He counters back. He knows what you’ve been doing. You scoff.

You also know what he’s been doing. The murderous intention at the mention of you and Gen, the physical warning during lunch at Iharu, and even a mark of possession to the poor older man who was just joining in the fun of his peers.

“Of course,” you bring him down to you, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. You feel his hands tighten on your waist.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

©inzaynety 2024

#kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kn8 x reader #kn8 fluff #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina #fics

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

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whatever you want, my angel | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which your boyfriend calls you a term of endearment from his native tongue. PAIRING. xu minghao x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, a little bit of humour, established relationship WARNINGS. a singular kiss WORD COUNT. 845

requested by anon: Hey congratulations 🎉 on 2k! Hope you grow more (Ik you will!)! Fighting! 💓I wanted to request Minghao + #32 from List 1 (Fluff Dialogue Prompts)💖💖💖 - #32: "Did you just call me (pet name)?”

notes: hao looks so angelic in those photos i found omg going crazy. anyway, thank u sm lovely i hope u enjoy this 🥹🫶 short but cute hehe. this was the first thing ive written in 2 weeks sorry 😭😭

join the 2k celebration!

"Just a few more minutes, tiánxīn."

You never thought you could spin your head around as fast as now, eyes locking on your boyfriend casually stirring a spoon in a pot on the stove, low hums escaping his lips as if he was minding his own business.

Though as you get yourself to squint your eyes, you notice the extremely subtle curve that he has to his lips while the steam swirls around his head.

"Repeat that."

"Hm?" Minghao perks his head back up, eyelashes batting together innocently. "Did I say something?"

You place a hand at your hip, cocking your head to the side as you point a finger accusingly at him. "That. That nickname. Did you... did you just call me tyenshan?"

Minghao nearly bursts into a chuckle at your mushy pronunciation, and you feel your face growing red from the slight embarrassment. He bites his bottom lip, trying to stifle his amusement, and reaches over for the lid to cover over the pot before turning to face you with a small smirk.

"Tiánxīn."

You blink at him, still a bit puzzled. "Tyanshin? Tyen..."

Minghao just quietly watches as you struggle to grapple with the unfamiliar term. There's a hint of teasing in his eyes, but also a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. He wipes his hands on a towel before stepping up to you, letting an arm sneakily wrap around your waist to pull you towards him.

The sudden closeness steals your breath for a moment. Minghao's arm feels warm and secure around your waist, and you can smell the faint scent of spices clinging to him from his cooking. Yet his gaze at you is filled with nothing but affection, even under the dim lighting of the kitchen light, and you can't help but melt into his touch.

"Sweetheart," he mutters casually. "That's what it means."

Your eyes grow wide momentarily, as if taking in the weight of the singular term of endearment. It's such a simple word, yet the way he says it𑁋with such tenderness and a hint of playfulness𑁋sends a warmth radiating through you.

You feel your fingers knead lightly at the fabric of his shirt at his side, and a curl passes through your lips as you get yourself to lock gazes with him.

"Can you say it again?" You ask again, a teasing tone to your voice.

MInghao just chuckles. "Tiánxīn𑁋"

He's cut off when he feels your lips softly press against his. The contact is all too brief, and nearly has him chasing after your mouth when you part away from him. There's a mischievous look blanketed to your features, but he finds himself still caught in a daze at whatever boldness you just unleashed.

"I like the sound of it," You say wistfully. "Tell me another one."

Minghao lifts a brow. He has no idea what you're trying to plot (if anything), but he complies nonetheless.

"Wǒ de tiānshǐ," he murmurs, voice soft yet confident as he gazes into your eyes. "My angel."

Your heart seems to do a tumble and a flip simultaneously in your chest, and grasping onto the urge to teasingly rebuttal seems to dissipate away right under his eyes and his cute ass smile. You can feel your feet practically melt into the floor below, and you resist the need bury your face into his shoulder out of pure, giddy shyness.

"Oh," You mumble bashfully, heat crawling up your neck and to the tips of your ears. "Hao..."

"Ah, and another one," he jests, and you perk up once more. "Bèndàn."

"Bèndàn?" You repeat right after him, before letting out a feigned gasp. "Wait, dàn? Aren't you literally calling me an egg?"

"Mhm," Minghao answers charmingly. "My beautiful, silly little egg."

An airy scoff escapes your lips, the tension dissipating into hearty laughter bouncing off the walls as you swat playfully at his chest with a hand, making Minghao bring his arms up to shield away from your playful attacks.

"Alright, alright," he utters out between breaths as he steps his way back to the stove. "I'm sorry, you know I don't mean it."

All you do is roll your eyes before placing yourself directly behind him and letting your arms wrap around his waist. You nuzzle your cheek against his back, closing your eyes for a few moments to relish the comfort of his warmth coursing through you, a few contented sighs leaving your mouth. You could probably stay in this position for hours and not get tired of it; his presence enough seems to soften away whatever worries you had throughout the day.

"Call me that more often."

Minghao just grins. "What? Bèndàn?"

"I𑁋No!" You lightly flick him with your finger. "Just... more of those other ones, please?"

Minghao lets out a soft chuckle, the rumble travelling through his chest and sending shivers down your spine. He swiftly turns off the heat to the stove, then reaches down to gently squeeze your hand where it rests on his stomach.

"Of course, tiánxīn," he replies softly, affectionately. "Whatever you want, wǒ de tiānshǐ."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @eternalgyu

@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk

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pinkmoontaco · 6 months ago

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It all started at a Set || KMG Pt.1

Pairing: Actor-Idol Mingyu x Actress-Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: This story is a heartwarming slow-burn romance between Mingyu and Y/N, a senior idol. It begins with them being cast as co-stars in a drama where their contrasting personalities—Mingyu’s vibrant, outgoing nature and Y/N’s reserved, composed demeanor—become the catalyst for an unexpected connection. Throughout their journey, they face professional challenges, emotional conflicts, and growing feelings for one another. Author's Note: This is the second story of my series, "It All Started..." As I was writing, the story evolved into something much bigger than I initially imagined, so I decided to divide it into three parts to give it the attention and depth it deserves. To everyone who has supported my series so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your encouragement and feedback have been a driving force behind my writing, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this part of the story. Stay tuned, because there’s so much more to come, and I promise the journey will only get more exciting from here. Thank you for being part of this adventure with me—I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed creating it!

If you have any requests for any member or any other groups feel free to do so

M.list Part one _ Part two _ Part three

Mingyu wasn’t sure what prompted him to accept the role this time. At first, it seemed like any other offer—another chance to showcase a different side of himself. But something about the script resonated with him on a deeper level.

The character's struggle to balance vulnerability and strength mirrored his own challenges in navigating fame. He felt an unspoken connection to the story, as if it was calling him to confront parts of himself, he had kept hidden.

Perhaps that’s why, despite his initial doubts, he agreed to take the leap. Maybe it was the persistent urging of his members, maybe it was his own curiosity, or maybe, just maybe, it was the script that had managed to tug at something deep within him. Either way, he found himself on the set of "Between Us," his first lead role in a drama, both nervous and excited.

The buzz around the project had been immediate, not just because of Mingyu but because of his co-star. Y/N, a senior idol, had been cast as the female lead. She was a name that carried weight in the industry—the leader of her group, a revered idol with an aura of mystery. Known for her icy demeanor and guarded nature, she seemed to embody mystery and restraint, creating an intriguing contrast to Mingyu’s radiant, extroverted charm. While her reserved nature drew admiration, it also set the stage for a fascinating interplay with Mingyu’s infectious energy, sparking curiosity about how their opposite temperaments might evolve together. It was a pairing that intrigued fans and critics alike.

When they met for the first table read, Mingyu was struck by how composed she was. She greeted him with a polite nod, her expression unreadable. Mingyu, ever the extrovert, tried to break the ice with a joke.

“Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” he said, his signature grin in place. “I hope you’re ready for my bad jokes.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile playing at her lips. “I’ll brace myself,” she replied coolly before turning her attention to the script.

From that moment on, their interactions were polite but distant. On set, Mingyu would try to engage her in conversation, but Y/N kept her responses short. It wasn’t that she was rude; she just seemed... guarded. Mingyu couldn’t help but be intrigued. What was she hiding behind that composed facade?

As the weeks went by, they began filming scenes that required emotional depth and vulnerability. The plot of "Between Us" revolved around two people who initially clashed but slowly fell in love as they unraveled each other’s secrets. The parallels between the characters and their real-life dynamics didn’t escape Mingyu.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Mingyu found Y/N sitting alone by the set, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the scene.

“Hey,” Mingyu said, approaching cautiously. “You okay?”

Y/N glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. “I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

Mingyu sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “You were amazing in that scene,” he said sincerely. “I felt like I was watching your character come to life.”

She looked at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thank you. You did well too.”

It was the first time she’d offered him a genuine compliment, and Mingyu felt a small thrill of accomplishment. They sat in silence for a while, watching the sky change colors.

“Do you ever get tired?” Y/N asked suddenly. “Of being... this?”

Mingyu frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Of always being expected to be perfect. To smile, to perform, to never let your guard down,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu thought for a moment before replying. “Sometimes. But I think it’s okay to not be perfect. People connect with us because of our flaws, not despite them.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression unreadable once more. But something shifted that day. She began to open up, little by little. Mingyu learned that behind her icy exterior was someone who cared deeply about her members, someone who carried the weight of leadership with grace but also with a heavy heart.

The rest of the cast and crew began to notice the change in their dynamic. During breaks, they often saw Mingyu and Y/N sharing quiet conversations or laughing at inside jokes. One day, a crew member walked in on Mingyu patiently teaching Y/N a card game to pass the time, his enthusiasm contagious as Y/N, known for her reserved nature, playfully accused him of cheating.

“Cheating? Me?” Mingyu feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m wounded, Y/N. Truly.”

“Wounded or not, you’re still losing,” Y/N shot back with a rare grin.

Another time, during a particularly chilly outdoor shoot, a makeup artist caught Mingyu draping his jacket over Y/N’s shoulders without a word, brushing off her protests with a casual, “You’ll catch a cold.”

The director, amused by their growing rapport, once joked, “If you two don’t win Best Couple at the year-end awards, I’ll be writing to the network myself.”

Even the extras started to notice their synergy, with one commenting during lunch, “Their chemistry isn’t just acting—it’s real.” Mingyu’s consistent warmth and Y/N’s subtle but significant thawing became a favorite topic of conversation among the crew, adding a special layer of excitement to the production. The once distant co-stars were now sharing inside jokes, supporting each other through difficult scenes, and even eating meals together during breaks. Mingyu’s patience and warmth had managed to crack Y/N’s walls, and she, in turn, became a grounding presence for him.

The turning point came during a particularly grueling shoot. It was a night scene set in the rain, with both leads expected to deliver emotionally charged performances. As Y/N sprinted down the wet pavement for a pivotal chase sequence, her ankle twisted, sending her collapsing onto the ground mid-scene. The crew froze, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain hammering down. Mingyu, standing nearby, dropped his prop and sprinted to her side.

“Cut!” the director shouted, but Mingyu was already kneeling beside Y/N, his voice tinged with panic. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

Y/N tried to sit up, brushing off the mud on her hands. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, though the pain was evident in her eyes.

“No, you’re not,” Mingyu said firmly, his worry overriding his usual easygoing demeanor. He gestured for the on-set medic, his brows furrowed in concern. “You need to rest. This isn’t something to push through.”

Despite her protests, Mingyu carefully helped her to a nearby chair, his hand steady on her arm. His genuine concern was clear, and the crew exchanged knowing glances, murmuring about how protective he had become of her. In that moment, something shifted—not just between their characters, but in their real relationship as well.

The injury had forced Y/N to take it slow, and Mingyu took it upon himself to help her. He’d show up to set early to make sure the path was clear for her crutches, brought her snacks during breaks, and even offered to rehearse lines with her to save her unnecessary movement.

“You’re going to spoil me,” Y/N said one day, watching as Mingyu carefully adjusted her chair.

“Maybe,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “But I don’t mind.”

As “Between us” progressed, the romantic tension between Mingyu and Y/N on-screen began to mirror their growing connection off-screen. Their characters, who started out as strangers, gradually developed a deep emotional bond, with Mingyu’s warmth gradually melting Y/N’s cool exterior.

One evening, during a late-night shoot, the scene called for a quiet, intimate moment at the café. Mingyu’s character, Jae-min, had just confessed his feelings to Y/N’s character, Seo-yeon. The air was thick with tension as their eyes met, both characters hesitant yet longing.

“Are you sure you want this?” Jae-min asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he reached out to gently touch Seo-yeon’s hand.

Y/N, as Seo-yeon, looked at him, her expression unreadable, before slowly nodding. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to try.”

In the next moment, Jae-min leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, a gentle but tender kiss filled with the promise of something new. The director yelled “Cut!” immediately after the kiss, but both actors were left momentarily frozen, caught in the vulnerability of the moment.

Mingyu quickly stepped back, awkwardly scratching his head. “Uh, sorry, was that too much?”

Y/N, for the first time in a while, let out a soft laugh, something that startled Mingyu. “No, it was good,” she said quietly, her cheeks flushed. “You just… surprised me, I guess.”

That night, as they wrapped up filming, Mingyu couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the kiss had felt—how it wasn’t just an act but something real that he had experienced with her. Y/N, despite her usually cool demeanor, had shown a glimmer of warmth, and it left Mingyu wondering if the lines between their characters were blurring.

The next scene that stood out was a pivotal moment in the drama, where Jae-min (Mingyu’s character) confesses his love for Seo-yeon (Y/N’s character) during a stormy night. They were supposed to be alone in the café, the rain tapping against the window as Jae-min, drenched from the downpour, walked in to find Seo-yeon sitting by the window, gazing out at the rain.

“Seo-yeon,” Jae-min said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You’re the only one who sees me for who I really am.”

Seo-yeon turned to him, her eyes softening but still guarded. “But you know I’m not the person you think I am, right?”

The tension in the room was palpable as Jae-min walked toward her, his every step determined. “I don’t care,” he whispered, his face inches from hers. “I love you.”

The kiss that followed was more passionate, a moment of release for both characters. The scene was so intense that even the crew stayed silent as they filmed. When the director yelled “Cut,” both Mingyu and Y/N stood frozen in their positions, the chemistry between them undeniable.

During a break, Y/N walked off to the side, away from the set, clearly trying to collect herself after the emotional intensity of the kiss. Mingyu, sensing her discomfort, followed her quietly.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asked softly, standing a few feet away.

Y/N paused, looking at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, just… it’s a lot sometimes, you know?” She shrugged. “This role is… difficult for me.”

Mingyu gave her a gentle smile. “You’re doing amazing. I can tell. I know acting can be hard, but you make it look effortless.”

Y/N looked at him, her walls slowly starting to crack. “Thanks, Mingyu,” she said quietly, her tone sincere.

As she turned back to the set, Mingyu watched her, his heart unexpectedly racing. They might have started out as strangers, but something was beginning to stir between them, something neither of them had anticipated.

One of the final scenes in the drama was another intimate moment between Jae-min and Seo-yeon. The two characters had gone through their fair share of struggles, and in this scene, they finally gave in to their feelings for one another. The script called for a tender, lingering kiss under the moonlight, where Jae-min pulls Seo-yeon into his arms as they both acknowledge their deep connection.

As the cameras rolled, the chemistry between Mingyu and Y/N was undeniable. The kiss was gentle at first, with both characters hesitant, but as the scene progressed, their passion deepened. Their lips met in a slow, sweet kiss that was both vulnerable and full of longing, capturing the emotional weight of everything their characters had been through.

When the director finally called “Cut,” the entire set seemed to hold its breath. Y/N, who had usually kept a distance from Mingyu, seemed to soften in his arms, the connection between them palpable even off-camera.

During the next break, Mingyu found himself sitting next to Y/N, who had become noticeably more relaxed around him since their first interactions. They were both exhausted from the intense filming, but the mood between them was no longer cold.

“I didn’t know acting could be like this,” Mingyu admitted, his voice low. “It’s… more than just saying lines. It feels real.”

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s like… you let yourself be vulnerable for a moment.” She paused, then added, “You’re a good actor, Mingyu.”

Her words caught him off guard. He smiled, not able to hide his feelings anymore. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

There was a comfortable silence between them, and for the first time, Mingyu felt a genuine sense of connection to Y/N—not just as his co-star, but as someone who understood the depth of their roles and the emotions they had shared through their characters.

One memorable day, they filmed a scene where their characters shared their first kiss under a canopy of stars. The setup was breathtaking—fairy lights hanging from the trees, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the soft strumming of a guitar playing in the background.

Between takes, Mingyu leaned over with a grin. “They really went all out for this, huh?”

Y/N glanced around, her lips twitching into a rare smile. “It’s beautiful. Almost makes you forget we’ve been here for hours.”

The scene required them to hold hands, exchange lingering gazes, and lean into a kiss that felt as natural as breathing. When the director finally called, “Cut!” he looked up from the monitor and clapped. “That was perfect! The chemistry was off the charts.”

Another day, they filmed a playful sequence where their characters spent an afternoon at a seaside carnival. From riding the Ferris wheel to playing ring toss, the scenes were filled with laughter and lighthearted moments. While filming a shot where Mingyu’s character won a giant stuffed bear for Y/N’s character, he jokingly handed it to her and said, “This is the closest you’ll get to me spoiling you in real life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’ll cherish it forever,” she quipped, hugging the bear dramatically.

The most challenging yet rewarding scene to film came toward the end of the drama, where their characters finally confessed their feelings after a heated argument. The emotions ran high, and even the crew found themselves holding their breath as Mingyu and Y/N brought the raw vulnerability of their characters to life. By the time the director called cut, there was a moment of stunned silence before the set erupted into applause.

“You really outdid yourselves,” the director said, visibly moved. “This is the kind of performance that stays with people.”

Through these scenes, their bond grew stronger. Whether it was the stolen glances that felt too real or the way they naturally gravitated toward each other during breaks, it was clear to everyone that something special was blooming between them.

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b0ng05 · 6 months ago

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Hi(gh) Milf! Wanda Maximoff x Stoner! Reader Pt.1

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Word Count: 3333

Prompt: Billy and Tommy are coming home from college for winter break, Wanda couldn't be happier. Until they show up with her least favorite guest. Enemies to lovers type of vibe 🥴

Warnings: Age gap, smoking, Angst

Also, Not Proofread 💅

Masterlist

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

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Wanda had always been a supportive mother to her boys, she’ll love them no matter what. They were her babies and could do no wrong in her eyes. Now, just because she’s supportive doesn’t mean she always approves of their choices. Like she didn’t approve of the way Tommy had wanted to bleach his hair over and over, mostly because she was worried about the health of it. Or when she didn’t approve of the boys wanting a pet lizard, but let them have it anyway to make them happy. Or how she doesn’t approve of Billy’s newest choice.

Billy had begun college and he had started making new friends. While that was great, there was one friend in particular that Wanda thought might be a bad influence on her son. Her name was Y/n, and as of late, Billy had chosen her to accompany him everywhere. They were like Dumb and Dumber, but put them together with Tommy when he’s home and it’s the Three Stooges.

From the first day Y/n had entered their home, Wanda could smell the reefer off the younger woman from three feet away. That accompanied with the stupid goofy grin on her face and Wanda instantly knew the girl was stoned. It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t approve of smoking, she just didn’t want her boys getting sidetracked with that new hobby and letting their grades slip in college, or getting mixed with the wrong crowd, nonetheless, she trusted them enough to ensure that themselves. And most of the time when the kids did visit back home with their new friend, Y/n was the only one stoned, and that only fortified the trust she had in her boys.

It was mid December, the air outside had grown cold and snow had begun to coat the ground in cold powdery layers. The Maximoff household smelt of fresh baked gingerbread cookies and a hint of cinnamon apples. Wanda had begun her baking when the boys told her they were driving home for Winter break. She was excited to see her kids for the holidays, to hear what she missed out on while they were away. She had kept herself pretty busy when the boys left home. She appreciated the free time to figure out who she was outside of being a mother, she had always had her own interests, but when the boys came along, they became her whole world. But now, she had time to try new hobbies and adventure out. She was happy, and it was a bittersweet yet tremendous feeling. So she softly hummed out a tune as she mixed together the cookie dough in the kitchen aid before her, lost in a peaceful bliss.

What Wanda’s kids forgot to mention to her, is that they were bringing Y/n with them for Winter break. Y/n had nowhere else to go for the weeks off, it was either go with the twins or be stuck on campus, the second choice didn’t sound too appealing. So, with a stash tucked in her duffle bag, she hopped in Billy’s suv. They had picked up Tommy from his dorm on the other side of campus, and began their journey back to the Maximoff home. The car was filled with the quiet hum of the wheels along the road and soft music playing in the background, the playlist courtesy of Billy. The twins occasionally chatted about school and the freshest gossip, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable.

As the car cruises down the highway, Y/n’s eyes fall to the window, her mind getting lost in a haze that wasn’t weed induced. Y/n felt guilty, of course she did. She may be stoned all the time, but she wasn’t a complete idiot. She felt as if she was invading the Maximoff household; it was clear to her from the first interactions that Wanda wasn’t necessarily the biggest fan of hers. Whether it was due to her poor introduction or whether it was how she dressed and acted, she couldn’t chalk up which one rubbed Wanda the wrong way. She didn’t want to impose herself into their home, but she didn’t have a different home to go back to. Her plan this winter break was to be out of Wanda’s vision as much as she could. Whether she had to hide away in the guest room all break, or if she had to duck out in Billy’s room. Anything to avoid the fake sugary kindness and judgemental glances.

Billy pulled over to a gas station along the side road, grabbing his wallet. He unbuckled his seatbelt, turning in his seat so he can view both passengers easier. “Alright, I’m running in to grab something to drink, you two want anything?” Billy asks, turning to look at Y/n and Tommy, who was sitting in the backseat with a bag of doritos in his lap.

“Redbull,” Tommy says through a mouthful of chips. Billy cringes, turning to look at Y/n, expecting to see the same reaction, instead he’s met with the sight of her staring off into space, lost in her own mind.

“You alright?” Billy lightly taps the back of his hand to Y/n’s shoulder to grab her attention from the dashboard. The woman jumps at the contact, eyes flying up to meet his.

“Y-yeah I’m good. Just- thinking about something. What did you ask?” She sheepishly requests, scratching the back of her neck.

“Want something to drink? I’m running in.” Billy gives a warm reassuring smile. He knew she was a bit spacey, whether it was the weed or her natural demeanor, he didn’t care. To him, she was good company either way. The day they got assigned to that group project together, he didn’t think much of her, just another person that was gonna slack on their end of the work. But as he got to know her, there was a lot more to her than the simple one-track mind that people assumed was in there. When the other two people in their group project had decided to slack off, she had helped him pick up the weight and finish the project with an A. When Billy saw her effort, he decided Y/n was someone worth keeping around. He knew Y/n was smart, the humble kind of smart. She may have put on a facade in front of others but behind it was a beautiful personality that just needs a little more effort to get to know. And in Billy’s opinion, the effort was well worth it.

“A monster would be great, thank you.” She smiles back. Running a hand through her hair to push it out of her face. Taking a deep breath to shake the lingering thoughts from her mind, blinking them out as she turns to face the boys.

“See, she has manners, unlike SOMEBODY.” Billy jokes, whipping his head to look back at Tommy, who comically whips his head to look behind him for the culprit. Billy snorts at his reaction, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Billy, who’s back there?” Tommy asks, his voice quivering, imitating genuine concern. A dramatic, chip-dust covered hand over his chest to clutch his imaginary pearls. His eyes wide and mortified.

“I can’t with you-” Billy bites back a laugh, shaking his head as he gets out of the car. He closes the door before walking into the gas station. Once Tommy sees that Billy has entered the store, he reaches up to the passenger seat, smacking Y/n in the arm with his hand. Y/n gags at the doritos dust he leaves behind in wake of his touch. Quickly wiping her arm clear of any lingering chip dust while grimacing.

“Dude, break one of those joints out.” Tommy requests, a cheeky grin on his face. He wipes his hands off with one of the wet napkins in the backseat, something Billy kept back there specifically for Tommy after a particularly harrowing trip to Wing Stop in the past. Y/n chuckles and rolls her eyes, shaking her head playfully at his request.

“No way, you know Billy is paranoid about his car smelling.” Y/n reasons with a mischievous grin. “Just wait till we get to your place, we can hide out in your old treehouse again and smoke.” Tommy huffs exaggeratedly and leans back in his seat, “Why can’t you be like, ‘sure Tommy, we can go outside the car and smoke?’” He mimics Y/n’s tone.

“It’s cold, I’m not freezing my ass off out there.” Y/n laughs, glancing back at him. He scoffs and retorts, “As if the treehouse won’t be cold.”

“That’s different because we can plug in the space heater up there.” Y/n points out. The treehouse was something Tommy and Billy’s dad had built for them before his and Wanda’s divorce. He put extra care and work into making it the best treehouse the boys could ask for. As over the years Vision’s efforts proved themself, the treehouse had held up tremendously well, only thing different was the red paint that began to fade in shades.

Billy exits the store, a plastic bag in his hand as he enters the car, passing the bag to Tommy to deal out.

“Ew, did you get sparkling water? What are you?” Tommy playfully mocks his twin, passing the bottle up to Y/n so she can put it in the cupholder. At his words, he receives a chuckle from the woman and a glare from Billy through the rearview mirror. “Gay,” Y/n responds for Billy, “He’s gay.” Snorting when Billy smacks her upper arm in a playful scold. Tommy snickers, passing Y/n her monster from the bag before cracking open his own Redbull.

“Says the other gay,” Billy quips, his lips quirking upwards. Y/n grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Takes one to know one.” She jokes, cracking open her can and taking a sip.

Billy and Tommy laugh at her words, settling back in their seats for the rest of the journey. Billy buckles back in his seat, beginning to drive again. Their trip to the Maximoff household is almost complete, only a few more hours ahead of them. The winter clouds brewing a snowstorm above them, dimming the daylight that remained. The heat of the car warmed Y/n’s cheeks, her eyes turning heavy and tired with the comfort. The sound of Britney Spears echoing in the car and filling the silence. Her eyes settled on the fields passing by, and it wasn’t long before her eyes fell shut and soft snores emitted from her.

A few hours later, the tires roll into the driveway, the snow quietly crunching beneath their weight. As Billy pulls the car into park, Tommy reaches up into the passenger seat, delivering a firm but gentle hit to the woman’s arm to wake her. The trio exit the car, collecting their belongings before making their way to the front door. It was painted a bright white with royal blue detailings and a golden doorknob to compliment the colors. A green christmas wreath with bells and ribbons hung from the center. Billy went to grab his keys from his pocket, but before he had the opportunity to pull them out, the door flew open.

Wanda stood before them, a big excited grin on her face as she opened her arms for her boys. She was wearing a grey christmas sweater with black reindeer patterns, a pair of black leggings and fuzzy socks on her feet. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, a small flick of flour littering her cheek. The big grin on her face dwindled slightly at the sight of the familiar y/h/c in front of her. Nonetheless, forcing the grin again to welcome them.

“Boys! Hug your mother!” She teases, pulling the twins into her arms. A small tinge of annoyance tweaked at the back of her mind, not knowing her boys were gonna have a guest with them. Her least favorite one at that. When they pull away from the hug, Wanda gives the best fake smile she can produce. Her green eyes looked the younger woman up and down, taking in her appearance. The younger woman was in jeans, a hoodie, and an old worn out winter hat, no jacket despite the cold temperatures.

“Hi, Ms. Maximoff,” Y/n pipes up with an awkward smile and a half wave. Not really knowing what to do, especially under the older woman’s intimidating gaze.

“Y/n, nice to see you again. Are you staying with us for Winter break?” She asks, praying the answer was no, but not getting her hopes up entirely. She knew that the chances of the girl coming for a quick visit was very unlikely. “Yeah, we didn’t want her to be alone in the dorms for Christmas.” Billy informs, trying to make his mother seek a little empathy for the girl once he notices the look in Wanda’s eyes. At the words, Wanda’s annoyance dwindles slightly, showing some understanding. She gives the warmest smile she can, opening the door to let them all in. “C’mon, don’t want anyone getting a cold, do we?” She says, nodding her head to gesture to them to come in. Wanda slightly grimacing at the whiff of weed on the younger woman’s hoodie as she passes through.

The group piles in, slipping their shoes off by the door before making their ways to set their belongings in their respective rooms. Y/n silently cursing the fact that the guest room was next to Wanda’s room instead of next to the boys. It would make hiding from Wanda a little harder than anticipated. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, mind flicking through anxious thoughts as she eyed her backpack. She grabbed a joint out, making her way into the bathroom connected between the guest room and Wanda’s. Locking both doors and cracking open the bathroom window, Y/n lights her joint. Letting her anxious worries turn into a comforting euphoria as she leaned against the wall, blowing the smoke out the window. Exhaling her worries out with grey puffs. Anxious thoughts dwindling, it wouldn’t be too hard to stay out of Wanda’s way right? All Y/n had to do was stick to the guest room or stick to Billy and Tommy like a parasite. It wasn’t that Wanda was too intimidating to be around. Maybe it was- despite the point, Wanda was stunning. Y/n didn’t do great around pretty women, she turned into a blubbering blushing mess. And especially older women, and Wanda hit both points dead center. She was absolutely stunning, effortlessly so. As Y/n smoked, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander thoughts of the older woman. How cute that speck of flour on her cheek looked, the whimsical pastel gingerbread men on her fluffy socks, every quirk and trait that had Y/n enamored-

'No- no, absolutely not enamored, this is my best friend’s mother for gods sake.'

Wanda was taking the cookies out of the oven, her mind sorting through her thoughts as she set the baking sheets on the stovetop. She began using a spatula to take the cookies off and set them on the drying racks. But the question lingering in her mind is, why didn’t Y/n have anywhere to go? She knew that Y/n never really mentioned her family but Wanda just chalked that up to the younger woman being a rather private person. From what Wanda had observed being around her, Y/n didn’t talk much, only jutting in with the boys when they’re joking around. Wanda knew nothing about her besides the fact that the younger woman was an English major that liked smoking the good kush and was unreasonably good at Mario Kart. That last one she learned when the boys came home for a weekend with her and they all ended up playing a few rounds while Wanda sat on the couch and observed with a content smile. As much as Wanda disliked the younger woman, she was a good kid despite the smoking. Y/n was always a help after supper, offering to do the dishes up as a ‘thank you’, cleaning up after herself, just random chores to help. Maybe, Wanda could try to make peace with the woman. Maybe a few weeks of winter break with her boys and Y/n couldn’t be so bad… Right? She just needed to try to be more understanding, maybe get to know her better. It was for the boys sake, right? Not the fact that she did find the younger woman attractive and a little endearing. Especially with how nervous and bashful she looks whenever Wanda is around, or that cute glimmer in her eyes when she won Mario Kart last time. What was she thinking? It's her son's friend, she can't think like that.

Then the scent hit her.

Wanda ran over to the oven, whipping it open and using an oven mit to take out the last tray of cookies. Slightly burnt and crispy as they clung on to the baking sheet. A small unconscious pout falling on her lips, her brows furrowing as she sets them on the oven. Turning off the oven and shutting it closed. “Damn it,” Wanda mutters, tossing the oven mit on the counter before making her way over to the cookies on the drying rack. Their gold hue mocking the burnt ones. Letting out a sigh, she turned to walk out of the kitchen to give them time to cool down. As she makes her way up the stairs, a faint smile graces her lips, hearing her boys chat in their room as they unpack. She goes to her bedroom to grab her phone off it’s charger, but pauses in her steps. Her nose tipping up as she sniffs the air, smelling something familiar, something burning. Her eyes widen slightly as she makes her way to the connected bathroom, knocking heavily.

“Y/n, you better not be smoking in my house!” She calls through the door, annoyance peeking through her tone.

Y/n freezes, eyes wide in fear and embarrassment of being caught. Quickly snubbing the joint out in the sink and stuffing the remaining half in her hoodie pocket. Panic filling her mind, what happens when she leaves this bathroom? Is she gonna be kicked out? Is she gonna get a lecture from Wanda?

She didn’t know, but boy was she scared to find out. But she took a deep breath, mustering up her courage before unlocking the door and opening it, revealing the brunette before her. Wanda’s eyebrow quirked as the scent grew stronger.

“Hiiii, Wanda.” Y/n drawls out, giving a guilty smile, sheepishly lowering her head to brace for the woman’s reaction. But to her surprise, a small laugh breaks past Wanda’s lips.

That guilty smile tugged at Wanda’s heartstrings in a way she couldn’t help. A small smile that Wanda tried to fight back, and a hint of amusement in her eyes, but she quickly tries to cover both.

“If you’re gonna smoke, go outside.” She reminds, lightly flicking the younger woman in the forehead before entering the bathroom to light a candle to get rid of the smell. Y/n’s eyes widen almost comically, surprised that Wanda didn’t raise her voice.

“Sorry, I know.” Y/n’s cheeks flush pink as she scratches at the back of her neck. Her eyes following as the older woman enters her bedroom again, standing before her.

“It’s alright, just don’t let me catch you again.” Wanda hums playfully, “Now c’mon, I need you and the boys to help me decorate all those cookies, wouldn't want my baking to be for not.” Nodding her head towards the door with a small smile, Wanda heads out into the hall.

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Authors Note- Okay, how are we feeling?

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #b0ng05

711 notes · View notes

zepskies · 27 days ago

Text

UNRAVEL ME - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Afro-Latina!Reader

Summary: In the wake of Vought Tower finally falling, you find yourself crossing paths with Soldier Boy. Rogue, weakened, dangerous, and hunted, he needs a place to hide. You’re not about to offer up your own home to shelter a supe wanted by Homelander and the CIA…but he’s also not going to let you refuse.

AN: Finallyyyyy lol. I know I've been talking about this series for months now, but it was genuinely challenging for me to write this prequel for Lost in Translation (which was requested by various Tumblr friends and anons who wanted to see Soldier Boy matched with a woman of color). I think maybe it's because this is now my third Soldier Boy series, and getting this guy to show character growth is hard to do three different times. 🤣 But let's see how it goes with another post-season 3 misadventure! 💜💙 This series also fulfills a hilarious prompt for @jacklesversebingo!

Song Inspo: “Unravel Me” by Sabrina Claudio

JVB Prompt: Accidental Old Person Acquisition

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, threats, SB being his typical asshole self, obnoxious flirting, racial elements, Ben drinks Cuban coffee, among other ethnic mini adventures in the future. The reader is a mixed-race Afro-Latina with textured hair.

💜 Series Masterlist

💙 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Hot Tamale

Vought Tower is falling.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like: the ground trembling like a Magnitude 7 earthquake, overhead lights flickering, a line of rubble falling on your head as you finally manage to squeeze out of the stairwell and into the main floor's reception area. You take in a large gulp of air, breathing past the oppressive clog of warm bodies, sweat, fear, and a hint of piss.

The walls quake along with the tile floor; you spill onto it hard, hitting your knees, though you curl your fingers fast when a woman from Legal almost steps on them in her dagger heels. Fuck!

Fear and adrenaline compel you to scramble onto your feet and claw your way through the gift shop. Maybe you'll be able to cut through the aisles of overpriced Starlight plushies and Special Edition Black Noir Funko Pops to get to one of the east exits.

It's Vought’s very own 9/11. You were told to evacuate over the intercom, and now you're about to find out why.

It’s taken over an hour to try and escape. You’re still trapped in the building, obviously, caught up in the lobby. It's backed up by the clusterfuck of people squeezing themselves through the narrow exit doorways to the garage, like rats clamoring over one another to avoid extermination. Somehow they've broken through the glass to override the security protocols that had first tried to lock you all in.

Just when you make it past the display of red, white, and blue Homelander mugs, a blinding light catches your eye through the tall windows and the growing darkness of the evening. The light falls and falls, what looks like a tangled ball of red and orange and green.

It explodes into the ground, shaking the very foundations of New York City. You cling to the display table and manage to dive underneath it.

You hide there until the shaking stops.

Tears sting in your eyes as the unsteady screams of your coworkers ring out in the lobby, even though you don’t recognize most of them. You suddenly remember your boss; you lost sight of him on the way down the first five flights of stairs. You morbidly wonder if he was one of the ones who got trampled along the way, or blown off the side of the building in the crash.

When the outside world is quiet again, you crawl out from underneath the table. Everyone who still can is slowly getting to their feet, picking themselves up, some of them helping the people closest to them. You don’t know what the hell is happening, but you have a strong feeling Homelander is involved. He’s been playing at CEO for weeks, now that Stan Edgar has been deposed.

Instead of leaving out the front, you continue your plan of going through one of the east side exits. There’s a narrow alley that leads to the garage farther down. You step out into the evening light, made darker in the alley behind what’s left of the Tower. You know the metal door to the garage isn’t too far away, but before you can get to it, you see a man stumbling right toward you.

It's too dark to see him clearly, and even though you back up a couple of steps, the green of his uniform captures your attention.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “Soldier Boy?”

He glances up at you through furrowed brows. The state of him, ragged and soot-stained, his labored breaths, and the way he’s leaning against the wall—it all tells you that he’s been through some major shit.

“Uh, a-are you okay?” you ask shakily, clutching your messenger bag.

“I’m fine,” he says, though his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your spine prickle with unease.

In record time, your brain collects what little you know about the ancient relic of a supe that’s mere steps away from invading your personal space. Homelander has been calling him a rogue in the press, but even though your role at Vought barely makes you a blip on anyone’s radar, you know enough about what really holds the company together…which means you know better than to believe even one iota of what that star-spangled prick told the public.

Your gaze flits over Soldier Boy, now with some concern despite your wariness.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I said I’m fucking fine. Do I look fucking hurt?” he growls tiredly. When he tries to stand a bit straighter, he almost stumbles against the wall.

Part of you twinges with sympathy, but still, your lips purse at his attitude.

“Dude, you don’t want me to tell you what you look like,” you say.

His eyebrow twitches. He opens his mouth to retort, but that’s when a man’s voice can be heard nearby. You turn your head at the sound.

While you’re distracted, Soldier Boy grabs you with more strength than you anticipated and drags you along with him against the wall. You gasp, but he holds a dirty half-gloved hand over your mouth.

Voices begin to echo from down the other end of the alley, closer to the main road. The supe has already turned his head in that direction, but your gaze flicks there next, your eyes wide and fearful.

“I don’t need a fuckin’ doctor,” says a man. His accent is thick as hell, like a Mary Poppins chimney sweep. Cockney? He’s tall, wearing a long black coat to match his black hair. He’s also arguing with a black man and a skinny white guy. A couple of ambulances zoom by, for a moment overtaking their voices and casting their bodies in the red glow of the siren alarms.

“Considering you coughed up blood on my fucking shoes, I’m dumping you off at the nearest hospital within a mile, and then you lose my number for good. Got that, motherfucker?” says the black man. He’s just as intimidating as the other guy, if not more so, considering the way the Brit's leaning against the wall like he might keel over right there.

The skinny guy breaks the tension between them. “Look, we should go. Annie’s got Maeve, and Homelander could be circling the sky looking for us right now.”

Queen Maeve? What happened to her? She was supposed to be in rehab. Who's Annie? Oh shit. Annie January. Starlight broke Maeve out? No. I should've known that rehab story was bullshit too. Who fucking knows what actually happened there. More importantly, what's happening here?!

Your thoughts tumble into one another while your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Your breathing comes out shallower through your nose, considering the big meaty hand covering your mouth.

If Homelander's looking for these guys, then none of this little scene is good. It makes you a fucking witness. Shit...

Soldier Boy tightens his hold on your arm. Slow and quiet, he opens the door to the parking garage with his elbow, since his other hand is still locked over your mouth. He guides you in.

“Don’t scream, or I’ll start squeezing,” he warns. At least he releases his hand from your mouth, instead, grabbing the back of your neck. “Where’s your car?”

“Wait, come on,” you plead, your voice shaking. “Whatever you did, I don’t want to know, but I didn’t sign up to be your getaway driver.”

Ben’s grip tightens a fraction. “All I need is a fucking ride. That isn’t too much to ask, now is it, sweetheart?”

“Depends on where you’re trying to go,” you say. But you decide that not getting snapped in half is good enough reason to lead him to your car. You rarely have cause to drive it, so it mostly just stays parked here in the garage. For once, you’re grateful that you shell out a portion of your monthly paycheck to reserve this space.

You fish your keys out of your car and unlock the door with shaky hands. Soldier Boy watches you press the button on the small key remote with furrowed brows, but he takes it from you after forcing you in the driver’s seat, so he can enter the car on the passenger side.

The second your tiny blue Kia rumbles pitifully to life, your music blares loud enough to feel the bass in the floor. Soldier Boy smacks the radio buttons roughly until it stops.

You give him a thin smile.

“Not a fan of Bad Bunny?” you ask.

Irritated, he grabs a hold of the small plushie swinging from your rearview mirror. He yanks it off despite your protest, nearly breaking the mirror, and stares in gruff bewilderment at the white fluffy heart. It has a Dominican flag embroidered on the front and a Cuban flag on the back—custom made on Etsy.

The supe raises a brow, but he dismissively tosses it somewhere in the back seat. When you look at his grumpy face, he just reminds you of Oscar the Grouch. He reaches down and shifts the seat back, but he barely has any leg room for those thunder thighs and combat boots.

“Just fucking drive,” he says, his voice like sharp gravel.

Again, your annoyance sparks at his rudeness. Are all supes assholes, or is it just the ones you’re forced to interact with?

“Okay, but where the hell do you want me to take you?” you ask. “The subway? The airport? The Hudson River? What?”

He thinks about it, drumming his fingers against his leg. His uniform is a bit poppier than military green, yet more classic than Homelander’s with the stretch of that silver-plated eagle across the chest.

“Too many eyes at the airport. I need to lie low for a while before I get outta dodge,” Soldier Boy admits. Then he sits back in your passenger seat, adjusting the recline until his broad frame is below the view of the window. You think it’s both for his own comfort and so he’s less likely to be seen.

“Your place should be all right,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Are you for real?”

He just gives you a stern look. He’s not fucking kidding.

“Look, you may be a superhero and all, but I don’t fucking know you! And…” Just then, clarity strikes you as you remember what’s been going on in the news for the past week. “Didn’t, uh, didn’t you…blow up a building in Midtown?”

He doesn’t seem to want to answer at first, leveling you with that stoic, bearded face. His gaze eventually drifts away from yours.

“That was an accident.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “That’s a pretty big accident.”

Again, Soldier Boy doesn’t answer you. You try to focus on the road, but it’s pretty impossible when you have a supe that’s supposedly risen from the dead in your passenger seat, who also exploded 19 people on accident, who tried and failed to kill Homelander.

Speaking of, Homelander himself is looking for this guy…which means you’re helping a fugitive escape. What’s worse, he wants to crash on your goddamn couch.

One of your hands leaves the steering wheel to cover your mouth. You press your hand there until the mix-match of gold and silver rings start to bite into the sensitive flesh of your lower lip.

“Coño su madre,” you mutter the curse under your breath. I’m so fucking screwed.

You unlock the door to your third-floor apartment with a heavy sigh. As usual, it gets stuck the first time you try to swing it open. You throw a little more strength in your arm the second time, and the door finally budges.

You flick the lights on inside and unveil the shoebox that is your home. It’s barely a one-bedroom. The open kitchen lies to the right with a small two-seater table nestled against the wall, while the “living room” lies to the left. There you managed to fit a faded violet loveseat couch from your college days, a bookshelf from Goodwill, and your TV perched on what’s supposed to be a coffee table.

Straight ahead is a narrow hall that leads to your bedroom door on the right side and the one and only bathroom on the other.

Well, this is gonna be fun. Slumber party with America’s Most Wanted, you think, with no small amount of Jesus fucking Christ weighing your steps.

Soldier Boy’s broad shoulders barely clear the open doorway. He shuts and locks the door behind him and takes stock of your apartment with a slow turn of his head. He doesn’t seem impressed, except for the paintings, funky ‘60s style shelves, and other canvases decorating the walls.

“You some kind of artist?” he asks, giving a cursory glance to each one.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” you nod. “But most of these aren’t mine.”

On every wall, there’s a cluster of art, from canvases to pottery, glass, burnished clay, and brass. There are replicas of paintings by Salvador Dalí and Frida Kahlo, Picasso and Basquiat, Monet and Amelia Peláez, even a sculpture of a woman that you tried to replicate from Ana Mendieta. It’s meant to represent the suffering of women. Hell if today doesn’t qualify.

You toss your messenger bag onto the couch and throw up your arms at your sides.

“Well, since the police, Homelander, and probably the rest of the government are looking for you, you should do the whole ‘get outta dodge’ thing in the morning,” you say. You clasp your hands together in the facsimile of a prayer and politeness all in one. “But if you really wanna spend a night on my couch, then that’s okay.”

We’ll get through this. Just one night of insanity and then this’ll all be over.

“That bed looks big enough for two,” the supe says. He nods at your open bedroom door and smiles suggestively, his gaze roaming over your form.

You get that shiver down your spine again, even as you blush. You take a pointed step away from him.

“Uh, how about fucking no,” you snap. “That door will be locked, and I have a taser that I’m not afraid to use on any tender bits.”

He raises a brow at you, but he snorts. He steps toward you, his gait slow and arrogant. You cross your arms while he closes the distance, his hair falling forward across his forehead as he stares down at you with a hint of a sneer. His chin and forehead are still stained with grime, just as his red gloves are scuffed and half burnt from whatever happened in that blast.

Your heart trips up faster. A tremble of fear runs through you, but you refuse to move.

“You do realize that that’s tantamount to flicking me with a rubber band,” he says. His half-lidded gaze runs over you with a note of interest. The corner of his mouth raises in a smirk. “Besides, whatever we might get up to, I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it. Just ask Loni Anderson. Farrah Fawcett. Hell, Molly Ringwald. Love me a fuckin’ redhead once in a while.”

You give him a look that could (proverbially) crumble Empire State.

“Don’t fucking bet on it,” you say.

Yes, your voice is quiet. Yes, you have to work past a swallow. But you don’t ever drop your gaze. You meet him head-on with every bit of stubborn fire you have left inside you.

“If you touch me, I’ll scream," you say, a wary trembling in your chest. "Even if you kill me, they’ll find you that much quicker.”

His smirk falls away. His gaze roams over you again, this time in a different way. Maybe he sees the way your entire body is tense, locked up tight, prepared to recoil and scream if he tries to grab at you. He relents.

“Christ, relax. It’s your fucking loss anyway, sweetheart.” His eyes roll dismissively as he turns away from you. “I need a shower.”

He strides down the hall in search of it. You move quickly to get ahead of him. The last thing you need is him rifling through your bedroom drawers.

“Ah, wait! I’ll get you a towel,” you say. It irritates you to have to treat him like a “guest,” but you don’t know what else to do. The man can literally snap your neck. Even for that big ass bluff you just pulled, you really, really don’t want to die.

You could try calling the police while he’s in the shower, but you don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out. And who’s gonna be quicker on the draw—the human police force, or the literal super soldier?

No, it’ll be more painless to just wait this guy out and see him off in the morning. For now, he doesn’t seem inclined to hurt you. He even took a rejection of you “sleeping” with him pretty well, for a supe. They tend to think they're God’s gifts to humanity. Working at Vought, you’ve been propositioned more than enough times. Though God forbid you say no for a ride on their magical dick. You’d rather not jump on that potential steel trap. You know a guy in Marketing who had his happy place literally frozen and chipped off.

After finding a fresh towel for Soldier Boy, he shuts himself in the lone bathroom across from your room. Soon, the old pipes roar to life. You retreat into your room for a long, slow breath. It’s less steadying than you’d hoped.

You also shut and lock the bedroom door behind you, for whatever good that might do you.

Not much, you realize warily.

You sink your fingers into your hair and blow out a sigh of frustration. What even is my fucking life right now?

Tugging on the knotted curls, you loosen them from the bun you wrapped tightly this morning. For all Vought claimed to care about diversity, your boss once commented on your “wild” hair shedding on the tile floor.

Taking in a few deep, yoga-style breaths before you lose your shit, you dig into the recesses of your closet and dresser drawers. Your most recent ex had left at least one shirt, maybe a pair of boxers. Soldier Boy will have to make do with your favorite sweatpants. They’re stretched out enough from years of wear and washes that they’ll probably fit him.

Juuuuust great. You're really contemplating this asshole wearing your clothes.

By the time you gather your bearings, shove your soul back into your body and leave your room, Soldier Boy is exiting the bathroom, the fluffy purple towel slung low around his hips.

“Jesus!” You jolt and instinctively step back. There’s nowhere far to go in the hallway, so your ass ends up bumping against the hollow wall.

Once again, he wears a smug sort of smile as he stares down at you in amusement.

“Like what you see, huh, baby doll?”

“Put your tits away, please,” you snap, handing him the bundle of clothing while trying not to look at him directly. You can’t help glancing at his muscular frame out of the corner of your eye.

Good lord, it’s like he was chiseled from marble. Make that marble with a golden tan, and a patch of hair across his chest that you could run your nails through.

His lips curve with a cockier smile. You quickly look away.

Great. He caught you ogling for one tiny second. And with that moment of human weakness, all that strong talk you accomplished earlier had probably just withered away into nothing. Is he going to take that as an invitation to slide into bed with you tonight while you’re trying to sleep?

Yeeeah. Who the hell are you kidding? You’re going to tape your own eyes open if you have to, but you’re not dropping your guard around this guy. He doesn’t seem to actually want to hurt you. He wants to use you for convenience’s sake. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dangerous, hunted, arrogant as fuck, and weirdly horny for a guy who just threw himself off a building.

Subtly clearing your throat, you move past him to the living room. There you set up the couch for him to sleep on. He ventures back into the bathroom to get dressed, which gives you a small break. You’re mentally counting the seconds.

He comes back somewhat fully dressed. The shirt is a bit small for him, as are the boxer shorts.

“Christ, who did this belong to, a fucking eunuch?” Soldier Boy asks. “Tell me you’ve got a brother. Because if this was your boyfriend’s, then he wasn’t doing shit for you, sweetheart.”

You begin to blush on reflex, shooting him a steely glare. Those clothes did belong to your ex, but that’s none of his damn business.

“As promised, here’s the couch,” you gesture to the neatly fitted sheets, blankets, and even a fluffy(ish) pillow you so generously laid out for him. “Again, I will be locking my bedroom door, and if you make even a step in that direction, prepare to get tased in the dick. It’s already set on the max setting.”

Soldier Boy smirks. You fail to see how what you’ve said is in any way funny. You’re definitely not laughing, but you do blink in surprise when he takes your hand and brings the back of it to his lips for a kiss. His beard briefly rasps against your skin. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes with his own. The green in them makes you falter.

“Believe it or not, I appreciate the help,” he says, turning on the charm. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Your lips purse. Does he really think hitting you with that Brad Pitt tone of voice is going to work on you? He fucking kidnapped you, and not to mention, is currently holding you on house arrest.

“Oh, now you want to know my name? After conning me into being your Uber driver and your Airbnb in one?” You try to slip your hand out of his, but his grip tightens. He’s still smiling, amused by your struggle.

“Come on, what’s your name?” he cajoles.

You sigh. Despite your better judgment, you give it to him begrudgingly.

"What's yours?" you ask, mostly drenched in sarcasm. Though a small part of you is...curious.

He stares back at you for a moment, something almost like surprise flicking through his gaze. His lips twitch at the corners, wry and humorless.

"Ben," he says, finally letting go of your hand.

“Okay, cool. So nice to meet you, uh, Ben," you reply, gesturing at his overall form. You still can't believe he's standing here like an iron lamppost in your living room. Are you about to step into the portal to Narnia now and continue this fever dream, or fall straight down to hell?

"All right, mind if I go now?" you say, crossing your arms as the snark escapes its cage. "I’ve had a bitch of a day and I need my beauty sleep."

Ben raises a brow.

Shit. You bite your lip.

Okay, you know you’re being a bit too hostile to a man who can all too easily snap you in half, but he’s got this way of pushing every single one of your buttons at once. Not in a good way. In the wish I could fucking scratch your eyes out kind of a way.

You're frankly lucky that Soldier Boy just seems amused by your attitude. Silly woman with her silly fits of belligerence.

His green-eyed gaze slides from the curve of your jean-clad thighs to your hips, over your breasts concealed by a red blouse, and finally up to your chin, your lips, your eyes. You can’t help the way your skin tingles at his scrutiny, even as you frown.

“From where I’m standing, sleep isn’t what you need,” he says. He somehow manages to sound both flattering and suggestive.

Your face flares hotter, and your lips press tightly together.

“Sweet dreams, Soldier Boy,” you say, somewhat sarcastically as you head back to your room. You intend to grab your pajamas and take them with you into the bathroom. You’re going to have to bring your taser and lock yourself in there for a shower, even with the obvious safety hazard. What-fucking-ever at this point, as long as it keeps out Hungry Like the Wolf out there. But his reply makes you pause.

He snorts. “Good night, sweetheart.”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He spares you one final look, less arrogant and more taciturn, before he turns away and lowers himself down onto the couch.

You sigh, but you can’t help peeking around the corner at the supe sitting in your living room. His broad frame takes up the entire center of the little couch. You’re not all that sure he’s going to be comfortable there, since his long legs are definitely not going to fit across the loveseat, but he’s going to have to deal with it until tomorrow.

You watch him rest his elbows above his knees and blow out a long, tired breath. He raises a hand to rub between his furrowed brows. For a long beat, he just stares vacantly at the floor between his knees.

Then he leans back against the couch, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. He seems…lost. Exhausted.

You wonder if he has anyone in his life worth getting back to. Anyone at all.

Shaking your head, you quietly make your way back to your room.

Ben finds himself watching you the next morning. He sits at the two-seater table while you putter about in the kitchen.

You’re cute, he has to admit, all sleepy and barely awake as you slide around in your fuzzy red slippers. A large Knicks shirt hangs off your body, exposing one smooth shoulder. Your sweatpants are overlarge as well, which only makes him think about the generous curves you’ve got hiding underneath. He took notice yesterday. You had a lot to work with under that little blouse, jeans, and chunky heels.

Yesterday you were put together, even though you’d clearly had a rough time escaping the Tower. Today you've slunk out of your room with baggy pajamas, your hair a mess of curls running down your back.

“Want a cafecito?” you ask.

Ben raises a brow. “If you mean coffee, then that��d be good. Something hot to eat would be even better.”

“First of all, this isn’t a bed and breakfast,” you say, turning to him with an edge to your voice. “Look, I’m exhausted. There’s a bakery down the street. I can pick something up.”

As a matter of fact, your favorite Colombian bakery is right around the corner. You start thinking about all the pastries you’re going to treat yourself with, even though it does make you miss the Cuban bakeries back home. You would absolutely kill for an empanada with guava and cheese right now.

Instead of cold-blooded murder, you set the tiny espresso cup of coffee in front of Ben. His face shifts to confusion and bewilderment.

“I asked for a cup of coffee, black, not this baby doll tea set cup of coffee,” he says.

“It’s a Cuban espresso,” you inform him. “And believe me, you don’t want it any bigger than that.”

Unless he just wants to spend the rest of the day on the toilet. Maybe he needs to clean out his system.

“Just try it,” you encourage. “I think you’ll like it.”

He eyes you with skepticism, but he takes a sip.

It’s sweet, but the rich, robust taste hits him between the eyes. His brows raise high.

“Okay,” he says with a growing smile. “I see what you mean.”

“See? Now you don’t gotta doubt me again,” you nod. He watches you pour one for yourself, stirring in a frankly alarming spoonful of sugar.

“Where are you from, exactly?” he asks.

You glance over at him, taking issue with the way he asks the question.

“New York,” you respond tartly. You're really from Miami, but he doesn't need to know that.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you, Mexican or something?”

You raise a brow, your lips pursing when he begins to smirk.

“I do like me a juicy taco,” he says.

His slutty grin is too much for you. Your hand tightens around your coffee cup.

“Okay, a lot to unpack there, Romeo, but no. Not all of us are Mexican!”

“All right. Calm down, Chiquita. You should take it as a fucking compliment,” he says. He raises a brow at you. “You’re a real spicy one, aren’t you?”

You gape incredulously. “Excuse me?”

Chiquita?! What the hell is that? Is he saying you look like a goddamn banana, or does he actually know a few words in Spanish? Is he actually calling you a little girl? And for the cherry on top, did he really just call you spicy?!

Either way, he’s about to get slapped across his pig-man mouth.

“I’ve gotten with a few Latinas in my time,” he says as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as his thighs splay out a little wider in the sweatpants you let him borrow. “Always with that fuckin’ feisty little temper. But you know what, I got no problem with a hot tamale.”

“Oooh.” The sound is pure and unadulterated FED UP. You down your espresso like a shot. You’re already contemplating another dose, because you don’t have the energy for this.

But you’re also reminded then, that this man came to fame in the 1940s. He was born, what, before the damn Dust Bowl and the Great Depression? He’s literally an ancient relic, a walking black and white billboard of tóxico, and he acts like one too.

You fairly slam your ceramic cup on the dining table as you slide into the seat across from him.

“Just so we don’t have any more conversations like this in the future, here it goes,” you say with a sharp sigh. “My mom is Cuban. My dad is black and Dominican. I’m as mixed as it gets, but I’m in no way spicy. If you’ve got me mad fucking tight right now, it’s because you clearly have no idea what decade you’re in.”

Your insult strikes a nerve, making his eyebrow twitch. Soon, however, his lips curve.

“I’ve got you tight, huh?” he says, cocking his head. A lock of his hair falls roguishly across his brow. “Gotta say, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had that effect on a woman.”

You freeze, another hot blush burning in your cheeks. You can feel it making its way down your neck. “That’s…that’s not what you think it means.”

His lazy, arrogant, salacious smirk really makes you want to slap him, but you have a feeling that it’ll hurt you way more than it would hurt him. You get up from the table and ignore the loud scrape of the chair on tile.

“You know what? Forget it! I’m hungry. Don’t follow me.”

You go back to your room and lock the door behind you. You come back out a few minutes later dressed in what he thinks is your way of teasing him—in some ass-hugging jeans and a shirt that clings to your form. Ben watches you cross the room, smiling at the way you give him some narrowed side-eye while twisting your hair up into a wild ponytail. It’s a simple thing women do that’s always attracted him for some reason.

He also likes the shade of red you painted on your lips.

“You are a feisty little thing,” he remarks, sipping his espresso. “Can’t say I mind.”

“Good. Stay here,” you hotly retort. Or better yet, get the FUCK out of my apartment.

You don’t say that last bit out loud, but he can read it loud and clear in your eyes, filled with that Latina fire. He remembers it all too well.

He grabs your wrist before you slip by him though. He hears the way your breath hitches, your gaze snapping down to meet his. You manage to hide most of your fear.

Maybe it makes some part of him twinge, deep down. You don’t know that he mostly finds you amusing. That he’d rather not hurt you, considering you don’t pose even one fraction of a threat to him. That like it or not, he needs to stay in your rathole apartment until he can figure out how to get out of the city unseen, let alone out of the country.

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” he asks.

You say nothing, but the look on your face tells him what you want to say. His eyes narrow.

“You’re not leaving,” he says.

“Well, I’m not cooking,” you counter. “There’s nothing to cook—”

“Order a damn delivery.”

“You know how expensive that is? Between delivery fee and tipping nowadays, Doordash charges a whole other meal on top of the meal! UberEats isn’t much better. Plus, none of the good places around here deliver like that. Not for breakfast at least. And anyway, I really need to go grocery shopping. What do you expect me to do, open a can of tuna and a jar of olives for breakfast?”

Ben’s not going to pretend he knows what the fuck you’re talking about, but his patience is running out.

“All right, enough. Give me your uh, your phone,” he demands. His tone gains an edge, a warning.

You expel an irritated huff, but you reach into your purse and all but slam it on the kitchen table. He takes it and examines it with some curiosity, but mostly, he retains his stoicism.

“I know for a fact you can get basically whatever you want on this fucking thing within half an hour,” he says. “Do what you need to do to get some grub over here, but you’re not leaving this fucking apartment until I say so."

He raises his brows and meets your eyes in a not so subtle warning.

"Just so you know, I've got a sharper ear than you think," he adds. "If you get stupid and try making a call for help, it's gonna be the last thing you fucking do. You understand me?”

Your teeth grind together, but ultimately, your sense of self-preservation reminds you not to poke the bear anymore. You force your anger and fear to dim to embers beneath your skin, and you nod in agreement. You then lower your gaze, waiting for him to let you go.

When he does, you slip away from him as soon as possible, taking your phone as you go.

For what it’s worth, you lock the bedroom door behind you.

AN: Aaaand we're off! lol Did you expect him to basically force her into house arrest? 😅 We're gonna have some fun on this one, but there's also going to be a fair bit of action and slow-burn moments.~

Next Time:

You suddenly stand from the table, your chair scraping across the floor. You can tell the sound irritates his sharp ear as he glances up at you with a frown.

“You are a goddamn fugitive. You get that right?” you say, regarding him with an incredulous tilt of your head. “Now you’ve hooked me into this. I could get into serious shit because of you, and you don’t even seem to care! What…what kind of fucking superhero are you supposed to be?”

At the same time, you don’t know why this surprises you. Most of the supes you’ve met couldn't care less about the average person. The entire purpose of Vought’s Legal Department springs to mind.

Still, you thought America’s first supe ever—the one who supposedly fought in WWII, pounded Nazis up the ass, and represented the ideals this country was supposed to be founded on—might actually give a shit. Yet again, it stings to be proven wrong.

Ben’s expression had been verging on apathy, but now, he’s irritated and angry. He pushes back from the table and stands up to his full height. Even wearing your ex’s plain gray crew shirt and some threadbare sweatpants, the man’s frame is intimidating. He makes slow steps closer until he’s looming over you.

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: Part 2

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bloodlust-1 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi. So I loved the story you made about Tav revealing she's a virgin to Astarion. You said we could send prompts so when you're back I would love a story about Tav's first time with Astarion under the stars 🌟🥰.

Love your stories

Thank you 🙏🏾

Okay - Fine! I'll totally give ya a part 2 ;* ! A few people actually requested this so it's about time ;p Since this is a virgin Tav, I wanted to be extremely delicate and detailed with Astarion's actions, while also still being sexy. This is some slowburned passionate smut!!

Lets get into iitttt. Hope you enjoy reading anon!

˚ ° A purity like yours ° ˚ part 2

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

Astarion x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

T/W: Smut!, virginity

Summary: Astarion fulfills his promise to make Tav's first time a beautiful and memorable experience, something he believes she deserves. When he surprises her, things get heated and her first time becomes a memory that'll forever burn into her head.

Notes: This is a part 2 to this story. You don't have to read part 1 to enjoy or understand the storyline, but it just hits different for the ones who did :* <3

The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers and the sound of crickets chirping. Astarion had been planning this surprise for weeks and now it was finally time to show Tav. He took her hand and led her through the dark forest, carefully avoiding any fallen branches or rocks.

Tav held onto his hand tightly, and the anticipation was welling up inside her. What was it? She had no idea where Astarion was taking her, but she trusted him completely.

Finally, they reached a clearing in the forest and Astarion stopped, turning to face Tav with a soft smile on his face. "Close your eyes," he whispered, "I have a surprise for you."

Tav did as she was told, her heart racing with excitement. She felt Astarion take her hand once again and lead her a few steps forward before coming to a stop.

Tav felt the warmth of his palms on her shoulders. Then, the pressure of his lips pressing against her neck, "Okay, open your eyes."

Tav slowly opened her eyes and gasped in awe at the sight before her. They were standing in a beautiful pasture, surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers. But what took her breath away was the night sky above them. It was filled with countless stars, twinkling in the darkness.

"Astarion..." Tav spoke under her breath, her eyes wide with wonder. "I had no idea..."

And somehow, the moonlight captured Astarion so perfectly under its shine. A small wind blew softly threw his white curls.

Astarion chuckled at her reaction and helped her lie down on the soft grass. "I knew you would love it," he said, lying down beside her.

Tav couldn't take her eyes off the stars, they seemed to go on forever. "I never knew the night sky could be so beautiful," she whispered.

Astarion turned to look at her, his eyes shining with adoration. "Just like you," he said, a hint of awe in his voice. "Your beauty is just as infinite as the stars above us." He shyly averted his eyes back onto the sky.

Tav's eyes welled up with tears and she turned to look at Astarion with a scrunched smile. "Thank you for showing me this,"

Astarion wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I am just glad you like it, my dear," he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Tav couldn't contain herself, wrapping her arms tightly around Astarion and bombarding his face with kisses. "You're the best," she said between giggles.

"And beautiful!" He exclaimed at her sarcastically, or did he really mean it?

Tav rolled her eyes and shook her head with a light heart.

They lay there for what felt like hours, just enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence. Tav could feel Astarion's steady breath against her cheek, and it calmed her nerves.

Without warning, Astarion's hand slipped down to rest on Tav's hip. She stiffened slightly, not expecting the sudden touch. But before she could react, Astarion's hand moved lower, cupping her ass.

Tav's eyes widened in surprise, and before she could speak, Astarion let out a nervous apology under his breath. Tav could see the panic in his eyes, afraid he had crossed a line.

"No -" She felt herself get flustered, but Tav mustered up the courage to reach for Astarion's face, cupping his cheekbone.

"I-I actually...like it," Tav stammered, her eyelashes battered at him shyly.

Astarion's eyebrows raised in shock before a cocky smirk spread across his lips. "Oh, is that so?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

Tav nodded.

Astarion's fingers trailed up the back of her thighs, tickling her skin. Tav squirmed under his touch, feeling a sudden heat between her thighs.

Her breath hitched as Astarion groped her ass, his touch was surprisingly gentle and soft. Tav felt his breath become heavy and he leaned closer to her, his lips hovering just inches from hers.

"You're such a tease," she playfully scolded him, her voice laced with desire.

Astarion just chuckled, his fingers still teasingly caressing her skin. "But you like it," he whispered, his lips now grazing her ear.

Damn, he's right.

Tav liked the way he made her feel, and the way he touched her. With a sudden burst of confidence, she pulled him in for a passionate kiss, gently climbing on top of his body fully.

Astarion's hands gripped Tav's hips, softly tugging them against his groin. He huffed into the kiss, grinding her hips against him with each needy thrust.

Tav's hands slid up Astarion's chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt. She moaned softly while he continued to grind against her, the lace of his shirt now completely undone and hanging loosely around his neck.

Astarion growled low in his throat, his lips moving from hers to trail kisses down her neck. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "If this is what you really want, my love - I can't wait to feel you."

Tav shivered at his words, her body aching with desire. "I want you," she replied, her hands running through his hair as she tugged him closer.

Astarion's hands traveled down her body, his fingers tracing the curves of her waist before sliding under her shirt. He lifted it over her head, revealing her bare skin to him. He helped her kick off her pants as well.

Astarion lifted her by the waist, pushing her to sit straight up on his lap as he laid, "I want to see you from this angle."

Tav looked down on him in her undergarments. This was the most naked she had ever been in front of him, and it made her shudder with anxiousness.

His eyes sparkled, trailing down from her collarbones, breasts, stomach, full thighs, and then the soft cloth of her panties. She was a work of art, a muse.

His hand snaked up her side, with a swift motion he unclipped her bra with one hand; allowing it to sink off her shoulders.

Tav turned her head timidly, hiding her face in as much of her hair as possible.

As her bra fell, her breasts were exposed to the cool air of the night, and Astarion was practically drooling.

"Pretty." Astarion hummed in approval. He reached out for her breast, cupping the soft skin into his palm.

Tav's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She had never been touched like this before and she didn't know how to react. Astarion's hand continued to roam over her chest, his touch gentle and curious.

"Relax, my dear," he whispered, he took her nipple between his fingers. "I will be gentle."

He sat up, one breast in his palm, and his other hand wrapped around her waist.

Astarion's lips trailed down Tav's neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses. He gave her breast a gentle squeeze. Tav gasped at the sensation, her body responding to his touch despite her nerves.

He pulled her closer, his lips now on hers, and Tav melted into his embrace. Astarion's other hand joined in, caressing her other breast, and Tav couldn't hold back a loud moan.

"There it is. how does it feel?" His breath tickled her lips.

"More - please.." Tav shamelessly lowered her head, allowing her whimpers to flow out softly.

Astarion kissed her deeply, and her worries and doubts faded away. Tav gave in to the pleasure, letting Astarion take the lead and guide her through this new experience.

she was grateful to have him as her first. He was gentle and nurturing to her needs and wants.

Astarion continued to explore Tav’s body, hands hungrily stroking every curve, scar, and stretch mark he could dip his fingers on.

Studying her every move, expression, and whimper, Astarion pinned every spot that made her jaw drop and face burn red. He specifically loved the way her lower lip fell when she moaned.

He felt one thing that he had never felt before: In control. And all he wanted to do with it was please Tav.

He continued to kiss her, lacing his tongue with hers. The excitement started to whelm deep into his stomach and as a result, poking Tav’s inner thighs with a full erection.

Astarion became desperate, sloppily kissing her while their tongues twirled together. Their hold got tighten around each other and Astarion pulled away with a sharp breath for air.

“I wonder how you taste." His lips pulled into a smug look and it burned Tav's heart. He was so shameless and knew exactly what he wanted. Why wouldn't be honest with his love?

He pushed Tav's back onto the grass, hovering over her naked body.

Tav's heart raced, and Astarion looked down at her with dominating eyes. She couldn't believe she was here, at this moment, ready to give her virginity.

As he pulled his shirt off, Tav blatantly stared at his abs. But when he removed his pants, his erection building right up, Tav had a wave of nerves wash over her.

Astarion noticed the panic in her eyes and immediately stopped. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, his hand caressing her cheek.

"It's okay, my dear," he whispered, "I'll take care of you."

Tav's heart swelled at his words. She nodded, giving him a small smile. He would take care of her, surely.

His lips trailed down Tav's collarbones, making their way to her breasts. Tav's breath hitched, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it and sending shivers down her spine.

He then moved down her stomach, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and his hands caressing every inch of her skin. When he reached her thighs, Astarion couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

With a devilish glint in his eye, he spread her legs wide and took a deep breath, "Delicious," he murmured, before teasing her inner thighs with his kisses.

Tav squirmed under his touch, her skin tingling from the grazing of his fangs against her thighs. A soft moan escaped her lips, and a trail of hickeys littered her skin.

But it was nothing compared to the sensation when Astarion finally placed a single kiss on her core. Tav's back arched for more, her fingers gripping the blades of grass. A soft gasp left her lips.

"I think we should take this slow, my dear," Astarion whispered against her sex, "After all, it's your first time."

Again, his lips were on her folds, kissing them until his tongue dragged across her wetness. The slick of her core had a sweet tinge that only made him desperate for more.

The tip of his tongue fell onto Tav's clit. It burned in heat compared to his tongue and he slowly traced in all kinds of shapes. His red eyes glared up at Tav, studying which designs made her moan more, whimper, arch her back, and push her hips closer against his mouth.

And when he did find her spot, Tav's became a breathy mess. Cries and whimpers flowed out her mouth like lyrics to her favorite song. Her ankles quivered to each long stroke of Astarion's tongue.

Her stomach knotted deep within her and Tav hastily grabbed a handful of his curls.

"A-aahhh, Don't..S-Stop." She gritted her teeth and her face scrunched in an intense plea to his tongue.

His name cried off her lips.

With a devilish glint in his eyes, Astarion flicked his tongue and teased her most sensitive spot. Tav's moans grew louder and heavier.

It was like he became almost feral. He pushed his face closer to her core, his tongue working even more intensely against her clit. Tav felt a knot forming in her stomach. Tav's body tensed up as she neared her climax.

With one final flick of his tongue, Astarion brought Tav to her peak, her body released itself, and Tav let out a breathy cry. Astarion looked up at her, nodding in approval as he took in her flushed cheeks and ragged breaths.

Tav was left breathless and Astarion quickly covered her mouth with his, their tongues tangled needingly like a drug. Their tongues and teeth clashed together roughly. Their bodies practically hummed with a desire for more.

Finally, they pulled away, their chests rising and falling, both trying to catch their breath. "Wow..I...never felt that - before," Tav huffed, her eyes fell hazy.

Astarion gazed at Tav with a mischievous smirk on his face. "I could say the same, my love," he replied, before pulling her in for another heated kiss.

Tav moaned between the kiss, "I want to make you feel good too."

"Open your mouth," Astarion commanded as he fit himself perfectly between her legs.

Tav obeyed, and his slender fingers slipped into her mouth. She sucked on them eagerly, wetting them with her tongue. His eyes coldly pushed them deeper into her throat until she gagged.

"You're such a good pup," Astarion praised, his voice husky with desire. He used her saliva to lubricate his cock before placing it at the entrance of her core.

"Are you ready?" His red eyes pierced Tav's, and with teary eyes, she nodded yes.

With a slow and steady pace, Astarion pushed his hips forward, sliding himself into her. Tav clutched onto his arms and winced at the sharp pain, but Astarion's face faded somber at the sound of her cries.

"Shhh...There, there. Try to relax," he comforted her, giving her a moment to adjust to his length. Tav pulled him closer into a hug, tightly shutting her eyes into his nape.

Astarion gently rubbed the back of her head with his hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her skin. Tears welled up in Tav's eyes, but she spoke to Astarion through the pain.

"I can feel you," Tav hummed in a soft voice, admiration.

His heart skipped a beat at her words. They were finally one, and it made him fall in love with her all over again.

Astarion rarely became nervous, but Tav's words shook him, "A-Alright, I'm going to go slow, my love..."

With each thrust of his hips, Astarion could feel Tav's grip tighten around him, and he let out a low grunt of pleasure against her neck. Tav's body responded eagerly to his, and soon they were moving in perfect rhythm together.

Tav's nails dug into Astarion's shoulder blades, dragging lines down his back until it rested on his hips. Tav forced his hips down with her palms closer to her groin.

Their bodies were slick with sweat as they moved against each other, and Tav's moans mingled with Astarion's grunts. At that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of them, lost in their lust.

Astarion grabbed Tav's thigh, forcibly pulling her leg up tighter into his cock. He pumped skillfully into her sex, closing his eyes as his body greedily melted to the sensation.

Fuck, Astarion's mind went blank. Sex was never for pleasure. Not in his world, but in this moment; there was something special about the way his spine shivered and his skin crawled.

Without a word, Astarion took hold of Tav's wrists and pinned them above her head, glaring down at her with carnal lust. Only a gasp left her lips.

"I'm going to take everything I want from you, my love, greedily and passionately."

Wasting no time, his hips rocked against Tav's, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

Tav mewled a loud moan, the roughness of Astarion's thrusts almost bordering on pain. But it was a good kind of pain, one that sent shivers down her spine and made her toes curl.

"Astarion!" she cried out, her voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation. "Fuck...n-nghh!"

Astarion's own moans mixed with hers, his breath hot against her skin as he continued to drive into her with each thrust. Tav's walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper and deeper inside her.

Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, each moan and gasp pushed them closer and closer to the edge. Tav's mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of Astarion's cock inside her.

"Harder, Astarion," she begged, her voice rasped raw with need.

And he obliged, his movements becoming rougher and more urgent and they both approached their climax. Tav's moans turned into cries of ecstasy while her body trembled beneath Astarion's hold.

With one final thrust, Astarion let out a loud moan. His length twitched three times, filling Tav before collapsed on top of her. Their bodies were still entwined.

When he pulled out, a small sheen of blood covered his tip.

Astarion captured Tav's lips, and his eyes fluttered hazily. He then pulled Tav into a hug and they lay in each other's arms, panting and catching their breath. They may have started as strangers, but in that moment, they were truly one and it was a feeling that he never wanted to let go of.

"You're amazing," Astarion kissed Tav's forehead, "How do you feel?"

"I feel ruined - but in the best way possible." Her mouth hung open, still catching her breath.

Astarion clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Darling, you will be feeling deliciously sore in all the right places tomorrow."

"You really think so?" Tav's glossy eyes widened with a flush of red burning her cheeks.

Astarion was so right. The lingering ache would serve as a sweet memory of their passionate and unforgettable night together.

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

#astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion bg3 #astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 fluff #bg3 #bg3 tav #virgin tav #bloodlust 1 #bg3 smut

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beat-the-morning · 9 months ago

Text

Daddy’s girl || Hozier x reader

Kinktober - Day 1: Daddy kink

prompt list

Tags: daddy kink, oral sex (fem receiving), edging (fem receiving), dom/sub undertones, body worship, couch sex

Summary: Reader has a fantasy and is too embarrassed to tell, so Andrew finds a way to get it out of them.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: I’m finally back and I come bearing gifts, I’m trying to do all the prompts in the list but we’ll see where that ends lmao. Also, I can’t believe no one’s done Kinktober fics with Hozier before, this is outrageous.

|| 💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙 ||

You and Andrew had been dating for a few months now, it was a great relationship all things considered, he was caring and attentive, but he obviously had his moments sometimes, you always tried to be the best girlfriend possible for him, and he tried to be the best boyfriend for you. It was a very healthy relationship, the healthiest you’d had - although that wasn’t much of a high bar -, you both talked about pretty much everything with each other, sex being a big topic since, as you discovered once you started dating, both Andrew and yourself have pretty high libidos. In just these past months you had discovered many things about each other, Andrew discovered your inclination for being more submissive, the way your eyes would light up whenever he took control was something that drove him wild. Meanwhile, you had noticed Andrew’s preference for dominance, how he’d just take control every time and then take care of you once it was over, all this, however, had brought you to find out something about yourself that you didn’t even know you wanted, to call him daddy, you craved that dynamic and the role of being his girl, both in and outside the bedroom.

You had been dropping hints, if you could even call them that, of wanting him to be more protective and almost fatherly with you, but you’d never admit the latter out loud to him, no matter how much you wanted it you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Even though he seemingly had been picking up the hints and had started being more protective and taking care of you more, you still refused to tell him what you really wanted, something he’d obviously noticed.

As you sat on the couch in his living room after a shower, already in your pyjama shorts and one of his shirts, ready to spend the night at his house like you’d been doing practically every weekend for the past month and a half, your mind got clouded with fantasies once more, you could feel yourself getting wet already just from the images in your mind, and then your fantasies started getting deeper, the image of Andrew fucking you while you called him daddy started to become clearer and clearer, you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together, wishing for some friction while, unbeknownst to you, Andrew entered the room. He looked you up and down, his green eyes taking in your figure while he stood just out of your sight, your legs rubbing together, your breathing hitching every so often, your eyes glazed over while your mind was somewhere else, and the way you were biting the tip of your thumb, all while you were sitting on the corner of the sofa, almost curled up in a ball while his shirt made you look smaller than you were. To say he was entranced was putting it mildly, he quietly approached you, sitting next to you on the couch in a way that his left arm was on the backrest and his torso was facing you, his weight shifting the cushion and bringing you back to reality.

“Something on your mind, baby?” He asked once your gaze turned to him.

“No,” you lied.

He tilted his head to the side, his left arm moving to caress your cheek. “You’ve been a bit off lately, do you need to talk about something?”

You shook your head lightly, not wanting to outright lie to him again but still unable to tell him what had been on your mind for weeks now. Andrew frowned for a fraction of a second before he caught himself, his expression now firm. “Are you really going to make me have to guess what this is about?” He asked, his right hand moving to your hip.

“It’s nothing bad, just some thoughts I’ve been having,” you said softly, not knowing if you wanted him to drop the subject or dig deeper into it.

“What kind of thoughts?” His expression turned slightly worried as he spoke, “you know you can talk to me about everything, love.”

“They’re… uhm… sexual thoughts.” You admitted, Andrew smiled, breathing a sigh of relief at your words.

“You want to try something new?” He asked with a smirk.

“Kinda… I don’t want to say it out loud…”

“What if I get it out of you?” He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your lips as his hand started drawing shapes on your hip.

“How?” You asked.

“You just lay back and let me do my thing, you’ll say something eventually.” He started peppering kisses on your neck. “Would you like that, baby?”

You were unsure of what to answer, you didn’t know if you wanted to admit to your fantasy yet, but you were also extremely horny right now, so you agreed. Andrew’s hands moved to the hem of your shirt as his lips kissed along your neck and towards your lips. He kissed you deeply, your hands instinctively moving to tangle in his hair pulling him even closer. Slowly, he grabbed your shirt and pulled it off you, throwing it somewhere on the floor before going back to kissing you, his tongue pressing against your lips, asking for entry. You parted your lips ever so slightly, his tongue darting in and exploring your mouth as he pleased, his hands explored your body, one of them playing with your nipple while the other moved to pull off your shorts. You moved one of your hands to help him, taking off your shorts and underwear in one quick motion.

Andrew pulled back for a second, his eyes roaming your figure, taking in every curve to memory like this would be his last time with you. He moved his hands to your legs, pulling at them so you’d be laying down on the couch instead of sitting. He took off his shirt, letting you reach out and touch his bare chest and abdomen, you squeezed his man boobs and the slight bit of chub he had on his tummy with a smile, he chuckled. “You’re always doing that, I don’t get it.” He said as he leaned in to start kissing your neck again.

“You like my tits, can I not like yours?” You teased, moaning softly as his beard scratched your throat.

“‘S’not the same,” he retorted before leaving a small hickey right under your ear, making you whine in pleasure.

He left a trail of kisses from your neck to your mound, stopping for a while on your breasts to tease and suck at your nipples before finishing his journey. He parted your legs, smirking at the sight of your glistening core. “Someone’s excited,” he teased, “are you going to tell me what the new thing you want to try is?”

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. “You’re not finishing until you do, princess.” He stated, and before you could even ask what he meant by that his head dove between your thighs and he started eating you out like it was his last meal. He sucked on your clit while his fingers teased your entrance, your soft moaning was the only sound that mattered to him in that moment. He plunged his finger inside you, pumping a few times before inserting another one, his tongue pressing against your clit as he hummed softly, making it vibrate just enough that your moaning started becoming louder and louder. His fingers moved at a relentless pace, bringing you closer to the edge every time they bottomed out. You were trembling from his touch, the pleasure was overwhelming you in the most perfect way, and just when on the verge of release, Andrew pulled away, leaving you empty and needy, you whined, calling out his name in a needy voice while pouting, but he didn’t do anything other than kissing your thigh every so often

After your body calmed down, Andrew dove right back in, this time his mouth was on your entrance, his tongue going in and out of you as he moved his head just right so his nose was brushing against your clit. Slowly, your moans picked up again, now taking a more whiny tone since you were slightly more sensitive than before, the way his nose pressed against you while he moaned from your taste was driving you wild, you could feel your orgasm approaching once more, your hands went to tangle in his hair once more, pushing his head slightly into your pussy. But it was in vain, since he pulled away again the moment he could feel you on the edge of ecstasy. You whined again, but louder this time. “Andyyy…” you cried out. “Please let me cum.” You begged in another whine.

“We’ll see,” he smiled mischievously.

He repeated this same thing over and over again, bringing you to the brink of climax before taking it away and starting again once your body had calmed down. Over the course of what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to an hour and a half, he brought you to the edge around six or seven times, perhaps more, but you had lost count after the fourth, your mind clouded and your eyes full of tears from frustration. You had begged Andrew over and over again to just let you orgasm, him doing this so you would tell him what it was you wanted to try was a distant memory now, your brain was a mess, your body was on fire and the only thing in your mind was the need to finish.

He dove back in again, and the feeling of his mouth on you made something snap in your mind, you started begging again for release. “Please… please just let me cum… please daddy.”

Andrew stopped his ministrations the second the word “daddy” left your lips, he lifted his head from between your thighs while you repeatedly cursed yourself in your head, you closed your eyes, you couldn’t even dare to look at him. “Baby,” he said, an audible smile in his voice. “What’d you just say?”

“N-nothing,” you stuttered.

“Look at me.” He ordered, and you obeyed, your eyes opening and looking into his. “Say that last word again.”

“Daddy…” you repeated yourself, his eyes looking right into your soul, you’d never felt so exposed before now. Your desire for the earth to swallow you so strong that you didn’t even notice the way he smiled or how his eyes were dark with lust.

“Is that what you wanted to try out, baby?” He crawled on top of you, already knowing the answer. “You want me to be your daddy?”

You nodded, Andrew practically moaned in response, his lips clashing against yours. He deepened the kiss as you returned it, his hand moved back to your core and he inserted two fingers inside you while his thumb played with your clit. You started whining again, but you didn’t speak this time. “Cum for me, baby,” he cooed softly, “cum for daddy.”

Pleasure quickly overwhelmed you, his words made ecstasy run through your veins as he fingered you. You came in less than two minutes, covering his fingers with your juices. “Good girl,” he said softly, kissing your forehead while you were still riding out your orgasm on his fingers.

“You… like being called daddy?” You asked, slightly out of breath.

“I fucking love it,” he answered in a loud whisper, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to your mouth. “Clean them up, baby, be a good girl for daddy.”

You did as told, taking his fingers into your mouth and sucking them clean, Andrew looked at you intently, taking deep breaths to stop himself from pouncing on you just yet.

“And do you want me to be your daddy all the time, or only when we’re having sex?” He asked, pulling his fingers out of your mouth with a pop! sound.

“All the time,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heating up as you finished speaking.

“Does that mean you’ll be daddy’s little girl?” Andrew questioned while his hand cupped your face, caressing it softly. You nodded, he smiled. “Good girl.”

He reached down to unbuckle his belt, “do you want daddy’s cock, baby? D’you want daddy to fill you up?” He asked, and you nodded again, making him shake his head and chuckle. “Use your words, princess, beg for it a little bit.”

“Please daddy, please fuck me…” you begged, looking up at him with sad puppy eyes.

“Much better,” he smiled, taking off his pants and boxers in one gesture, his cock springing free, his tip flushed and glistening from the precum. “Open your legs, baby, let daddy see you properly.”

You opened your legs more, Andrew smiled, he leaned closer, rubbing his cock against your entrance to lube it up slightly before slowly pushing in, inciting quiet gasps and moans from the both of you. He bottomed out, “Fuck.” you moaned softly, throwing your head back onto the sofa cushions.

“That’s it, baby, such a pretty little thing.” He cooed, his hands holding tightly onto your hips. He slowly started moving his hips, helping you get used to the stretch. He kept a slow consistent pace, low moans escaping him every so often. You whined, asking Andrew to go faster, but he didn’t. “Ask properly, baby.”

“Faster, daddy, please.” You begged softly, and Andrew obliged, his pace quickening to an unholy speed, the sound of skin against skin louder than ever. Your mind was completely clouded, you could barely form a sentence as his cock slammed into you over and over in the most perfect way. His hands explored your body with wild abandon, travelling from your hips to your breasts, teasing and pinching at your nipples, eliciting loud and obscene moans from deep within you. He leaned down, kissing your neck and collarbone again with a reverence and softness that starkly contrasted the hedonistic way in which he fucked you.

You moaned loudly as his grip on you tightened, your own hands reaching out to pull him closer, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss, he moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching inside you ever so slightly. One of his hands moved from your hips, leaving a faint mark on your skin that would only become more noticeable as the night progressed, his fingers found your clit, the feeling made you hiss with pleasure. His movements became slightly erratic, his thrusts turning less consistent and stronger as he lost himself in you. You buckled your hips up to meet his as pure lust ran through your veins, his fingers on your clit moving faster with each passing second.

“D-daddy, please, I’m gonna…” you moaned, begging for his permission to cum, Andrew smiled, leaning to speak in your ear.

“Gonna cum, baby? ‘S that it?” He teased, his fingers moving faster on your clit as he fucked you. “Come for daddy, baby. Be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock.” He whispered in your ear.

That was all you needed to come undone, your orgasm washing over you with a blinding pleasure that made you see pure white for a few seconds, your body tensing up as you screamed in bliss. Your pussy tightened around Andrew’s cock, his own resolve crumbling as he released himself inside you, he kept slowly fucking you through both of your orgasms until the threat of overstimulation was present in your whines and his moans. He stilled himself inside you, buried to the hilt in your warmth, not wanting to move just yet.

You were breathing heavily, your mind slowly coming back from wherever it had wondered off to while Andrew fucked every thought out of you. He was kissing your neck again as his own way of coming back to reality, “‘m gonna pull out now, gonna need you to keep my cum inside you until I can clean you up so my couch doesn’t get completely ruined.” He said between kisses, “think you can do that for me, baby?” You nodded, then, slowly, he pulled his softening member from you, trying not to make a mess on the couch.

He put himself back in his boxers, leaving for the bathroom and coming back with a damp washcloth a few moments later. He cleaned you up as best he could, retrieving your panties from the floor and putting them back on you. Once you were clean, he picked you up and laid down on the couch with you on top of him, your head laying on his chest, his left hand held you tightly by the waist while his right played with your hair

“I would’ve started calling you daddy sooner if I’d known that you’d react like this,” you teased lightly, nuzzling your head in his chest.

“We’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he teased back, his hand moving lower to squeeze your ass.

#hozier smut #hozier x reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #mornfic #hozier #kinktober

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bweirdart · 1 year ago

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#mARTch 2024

text version (with more info!) under the readmore! please check it out if you're confused about anything <3

F.A.Q

do i have to draw every day? no!!!! there are skippable days built into the event, please use them whenever you need them! i really don't want anyone getting a wrist injury!

can you share my art? yep! i try to share entries to @bweirdevents daily during the event!! the tags can get busy tho so i might miss some posts OTL sorry

what are the tags? #mARTch is the main tag, but this year you might find posts in #mARTch2024 too!

wait, i'm confused about a prompt... full breakdown of all the prompts below ↓ with helpful hints if you're stuck!

_____

INTRO WEEK

this week is all about your artistic identity ... technically, you don't have to draw anything new this week if you have some art that already fits. the starter days are:

1 ⭐ self portrait who are you? it doesn't have to be you IRL .. if you feel more comfortable drawing a fursona or mascot, that's fine too! if you don't wanna draw, you can also just share old self portraits today and talk about why you drew yourself that way!

2 🤍 inspirations see how this day doesn't have a star? that means it's optional and you don't have to do it at all! but if you really wanna- tell us all about what inspires you to create art! this could be anything from the people that inspire you, the shows you like, the pins on your big messy pinterest board, or concepts that you're drawn to! you can draw something about it, talk about it, or just post your inspirations! anything is fine

3 ⭐ fav thing to draw what do you like drawing most? backgrounds? animals? one specific animal? bust of your oc facing left? cars? the same anime boy over and over and over? no judgement!! show us :)

_____

STUDY WEEK

this is the week we actually start drawing from reference! polished art is not required at all, quick sketch studies are fine! please don't burn yourself out

4 🤍 plant

5 🤍 body

6 ⭐ animal

7 🤍 object

8 🤍 food

9 🤍 face

10 ⭐ hand

these ones are pretty self explanatory! you can do them as realistic studies, or adapt them into your own art style, it's all fine! you can reference from your own photos or from resources on the web.. have fun!

_____

COLOUR WEEK

this is the week for playing with palettes and working on your colour theory skills! if you're really struggling with these ones, don't worry about drawing scenes or characters, you can just have fun splashing colours around on an abstract canvas!

11 🤍 RGB a set or primary colours typically used in digital/screen art - red, green and blue!

12 🤍 CMYK a set of primary colours typically used in traditional/print art - cyan, magenta, yellow ... and key (black!)

for both of these days ↑ you can add in black and white. and feel free to combine the two days into one, if you're struggling with a three-colour palette! use all six!

13 ⭐ WARM COLOURS the warm side of the colour wheel, reds oranges and yellows!

14 🤍 MONOCHROME monochrome doesn't mean black and white ... it means one colour! that can be any colour at all- shades of red, shades of purple, shades of green .. or yeah, grey if you really want!

15 🤍 COMPLIMENTARY complimentary colours are the ones opposite each other on the colour wheel! they're kinda married

16 🤍 YOUR FAV COLOURS pick any palette that works for you! where's your comfort zone? what looks nice to you? what colour combos do you always go back to?

17 ⭐ COOL COLOURS the cool side of the colour wheel, purples, blues and greens!

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CREATIVITY WEEK

this week is all about vibes! try to create something that matches the mood of the prompt .. they're vague on purpose! don't overthink it, just draw from the heart!

18 🤍 SMALL you could draw something that's really small, like an ant .. or draw on a canvas that's really small .. or use a really small brush .. get creative with it!

19 🤍 DANGER try to capture the adrenaline .. the rush .. the fear that you associate with the word danger!

20 ⭐ SOFT soft colours, soft textures, soft vibes ... whatever makes you comfy!

21 🤍 MIDNIGHT darkness and secrecy .. spooky witchy vibes .. the tranquility of a forest at night .. the fun of a late-night party .. there's lots of ways you can take this!

22 🤍 POWER what does this word make you think about? superpowers? control and oppression? literal electrical power? something else?

23 🤍 CHILL chill as in calm? or chill as in cold? who knows .. it's up to YOU!

24 ⭐ LOUD try to draw something that feels LOUD! BRASH! IN YOUR FACE! how can you convey sound through art?

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FUN + GAMES WEEK

this week is just for enjoying yourself! take it easy and have fun! also .. another reminder! there are skippable prompts! if you're tired and struggling to get to the finish line, please don't hesitate to skip a day!!! or multiple days!! as many as you need!!!

25 🤍 TRY A NEW ART STYLE copy the art style of a show you like, ask a friend if you can try their style, draw the eyes a new way, develop a totally new style on the spot... whatever you want!

26 🤍 DRAW WITH YOUR NON-DOMINANT HAND righties, draw with your left! lefties, draw with your right! ambidextrous nation ... our time to show off!

27 ⭐ DRAW WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED don't peek! try to draw something without looking! if you really want, you can colour it with your eyes open after you draw the lines/sketch with your eyes closed... but please try not to cheat with the actual drawing part!

28 🤍 RE-DRAW SOMETHING OLD find some old artwork you like, or something you feel like you can do better on now, and give it another go!

29 🤍 RE-DRAW A MEME find a silly picture on the internet to redraw .. do you have any in-jokes with your besties?

30 🤍 DRAW A GIFT FOR A FRIEND create something for someone you love <3

31 ⭐ FREE CHOICE final day! you can draw anything you want today! show off your skills! draw something you've been meaning to draw! whatever!

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please refrain from reblogging this post after march ends - next year's prompts will be different, thank you! if you have any additional questions, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!

#mARTch #events

946 notes · View notes

herstoryheaven · 10 months ago

Text

Lando Norris x Reader: Driven By A Promise

Prompt: You make a promise with Lando, if he wins the Zandvoort Grand Prix you’ll go on a date with him.

Reader: Female

Word count: 2643

Average reading time: 9 min 35 sec

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The roar of the engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the festive atmosphere of Zandvoort filled the air. It was race day, and the stakes had never been higher for Lando Norris. The young driver stood by his McLaren, helmet in hand, glancing over the bustling pit lane with a determined look in his eyes. But today, his focus wasn’t just on the race, it was on something or rather someone else entirely.

That someone was you, Y/n. Over the past few weeks, Lando had made it no secret that he was into you. His flirty remarks, cheeky smiles, and lingering glances were all aimed your way. You had played along, keeping him on his toes, but deep down, you were starting to feel the effect of his undeniable charm.

“Y/n.” Lando’s voice drew you from your thoughts, smooth as the rumble of his car’s engine. He walked up to you, that boyish grin tugging at his lips, the one you were getting far too accustomed to. His eyes, usually so focused on the track, now held yours with an intensity that made your heart race more than any Formula 1 car could. "How about you finally let me take you out?" He asked, his tone teasing yet laced with sincerity. "You know I’ve been asking nicely for a while now."

You rolled your eyes, feigning nonchalance, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Lando, you know the deal.” you replied, the words almost playful but with a hint of challenge. “You win this Grand Prix, and I’ll let you take me wherever you want.”

His eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and mischief, the green flecks in them shimmering like the track under the sunlight. “Anywhere?” he asked, stepping just a little closer, his hand brushing against yours ever so slightly, a touch so brief yet so planned it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Anywhere.” you confirmed, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your composure, giving him a look that dared him to take you up on the challenge. “But only if you win.”

Lando’s grin widened, his expression softening as he leaned in, closing the gap between you until the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering traces of fuel and rubber. He reached out, his fingers lightly grazing the back of your hand, tracing an invisible line that left your skin tingling. “Well then.” he murmured, his voice dropping to a tone so low it was almost a whisper, his breath warm against your ear, “I guess I’ll just have to win, won’t I?”

You felt your breath hitch as his words hung in the air, charged with promise and anticipation. His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, a touch so intimate yet tender that it felt like a silent vow, a promise of more to come.

And then, in a gesture so simple yet so filled with meaning, Lando lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, his lips lingering against your skin just a moment longer than necessary. When he finally pulled away, his eyes found yours again, filled with a confidence that made your pulse quicken.

“Wish me luck, Y/n.” he said, his voice playful again, but the intensity in his gaze told you that this race, this moment, meant more than just a possible victory on the track.

As he turned to leave, helmet in hand, you couldn’t help but watch him go, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the upcoming race.

-----

The race started with Lando on pole position, and as the lights went out, the chaos of the Grand Prix began. Your heart raced as you watched from the paddock, your eyes glued to the screen. The roar of the engines, the squeal of tires, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, it all melded into a symphony of speed and skill that held you captive. Almost immediately, Max Verstappen surged ahead, taking first place and leaving Lando not far behind him.

But Lando wasn’t one to give up so easily. With a determination that left you breathless, he pursued Max, lap after lap, his McLaren a blur of orange streaking across the track. Every turn, every maneuver was executed with a precision that bordered on artistry. You could feel the determination through the whole paddock, as he fought not just for the win, but for something far more personal.

By lap 18, he reclaimed the lead. It was a moment of triumph so intense, it sent a thrill down your spine. Your heart leapt as you saw him take the lead, the car responding to his every command, moving with a grace and aggression that left no doubt, Lando Norris was in control. Once he had the lead, there was no looking back. He widened the gap, pushing his car to its absolute limits, knowing full well what was on the line, what promise lingered on the edge of victory.

As the race reached its final lap, the tension was noticeable. The checkered flag waved, and in a moment that felt almost surreal, Lando crossed the finish line with a significant margin of over 20 seconds, victorious. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices rising in a symphony of celebration. But amidst all the noise, your own emotions drowned out the world around you. Your heart soared with pride and excitement, not just because he’d won his second Grand Prix, but because you knew what was coming next.

And then, over the radio, despite the buzz of the pit lane and the celebration of the team, Lando’s voice cut through. But it wasn’t his usual, happy tone, this time, it was demanding, almost urgent. “Get Y/n on the radio. I want to speak to her, now.” The intensity in his voice sent a jolt through you, his need to share this moment with you clear as day.

The engineer, slightly taken aback, quickly patched you through. “Y/n, are you there?” Lando’s voice came through the static, and suddenly, the entire world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, connected by the invisible thread of his victory and the promise that had led him here.

“I’m here, Lando.” you replied, your voice shaky with emotion. You could hear the roar of the crowd in the background, but it all seemed distant compared to the closeness of his voice in your ear.

“I did it.” he said, his voice breaking into a breathless laugh, half disbelieving, half euphoric. “I won. And do you know what that means?”

A smile spread across your face, your eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy. “I do.” you whispered, feeling the warmth of his victory wrap around you like a physical embrace.

“Good.” he replied, his tone softening, becoming almost tender through the crackle of the radio. “Because as soon as I get out of this car, I’m coming for you, Y/n. And I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The weight of his words, the raw emotion in his voice, left you breathless. As the team surrounded his car, celebrating his win, you knew that this wasn’t just about the race anymore. It was about the promise you had made, the connection that had grown between you both, and the future that now lay wide open before you.

The moment he climbed out of the car, victorious, sweat-drenched but utterly triumphant, his eyes immediately sought you out in the crowd. And when he found you, standing there with your heart in your throat and your emotions worn openly on your face, he smiled, a smile that held all the promises of the night ahead.

-----

Lando didn’t waste any time. After the podium celebrations, where he couldn’t stop grinning, he quickly showered and changed into a crisp white button-down and black trousers that fit him perfectly. The way the fabric clung to his frame, still slightly damp from the shower, gave him an effortlessly handsome look that made your heart skip a beat.

Meanwhile, you slipped into the short orange dress you’d brought with you just in case Lando actually pulled off the win. The color was a reference to his McLaren, a playful homage to the vibrant energy of the race. The way it hugged your curves made you feel confident and beautiful, each glance in the mirror reminding you that tonight was going to be unforgettable. You knew Lando would appreciate the effort, but when you finally walked out to meet him, the look on his face made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

Lando’s eyes widened, his breath catching as he took you in. His admiration was evident, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. “Wow, Y/n, you look… incredible.” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine awe as his gaze lingered on you, drinking in every detail.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” you replied, your voice soft, your smile widening as you took in the sight of him, so dashing, so charming. It was a side of him you didn’t see to often, and it made your heart flutter.

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. Offering you his arm like a true gentleman, he asked, “Ready for our date?” His tone was playful, but his eyes held a sincerity that made the simple question feel weighted with unspoken promises.

“I am.” you replied, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm, the contact sending a spark of electricity through you. The warmth of his body so close to yours made the world around you fade, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of anticipation. “So, where are we going?”

Lando’s smile turned secretive, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s a surprise.” he said, his voice a low murmur that made your pulse quicken. “But trust me, I think you’ll love it.”

He had planned everything in advance, confident not only in his victory on the track but in winning your heart as well. He led you to a secluded, charming restaurant overlooking the beach, where the waves gently lapped against the shore under the golden glow of the setting sun. The scene before you was breathtaking, the table was set for two, with candlelight flickering softly, casting a warm, intimate glow over everything. The entire evening felt like something out of a dream, carefully crafted to sweep you off your feet.

“This is perfect.” you whispered, your voice filled with awe as you looked around, touched by the thoughtfulness he’d put into the evening. It was more than you had expected, more than anyone had ever done for you.

Lando smiled, his gaze tender as he pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he took his place besides you. “Only the best for you, love.” he said softly, his hand immediately reaching over the table to take yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, the connection between you clear as day, his touch gentle yet firm. “I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his words, your cheeks flushing with warmth. “And I’m glad you did.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This… this is really special, Lando.”

His smile deepened, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re special, Y/n. And I’m going to spend every day making sure you know that.”

The evening unfolded like a beautiful, slow dance. As you talked and laughed, sharing stories and dreams, the chemistry between you grew, an undeniable force that pulled you closer with every passing moment. Lando was attentive, his gaze never straying far from yours, his hand never letting go of yours for long. He was a perfect mix of charm and respect, his every word, every glance making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

As the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. Lando’s hand slipped from yours, tracing a slow, steady path along your arm, his touch sending a thrill through you. When he reached under the table, his fingers lightly brushing against your leg, the sensation was electric. His hand lingered there, resting on your thigh, his touch warm, possessive, yet tender.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Y/n," he began, his voice a soft whisper, "I don't think you realize just how much you mean to me. Every time I see you, it's like everything else fades away, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to have you in my life."

His words were raw, filled with a sincerity that made your breath catch. "You're not just beautiful," he continued, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're the person I look for in every room, the one who makes everything feel right even when it's all falling apart."

Lando's voice trembled slightly, the vulnerability in his tone tugging at your heart. "I’ve been wanting to tell you this for so long… You’re everything to me, Y/n. My best friend, my anchor, and… the person I can’t stop thinking about."

He paused, his lips brushing against your cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. "I don’t know where this is all going," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, "but I know that I don’t want to face it without you. I need you by my side, now and always." His words hung in the air, filled with a quiet desperation that left you breathless, your skin tingling where his lips had touched, as if the world had shifted and everything finally made sense.

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his, the air between you charged with a tension that had been building all night. The world around you seemed to slow, the gentle sound of the waves fading into the background as Lando’s hand tightened slightly on your thigh, his touch grounding you, pulling you into the moment.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I first got the honor of laying my eyes on you.” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, before leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft yet full of the passion that had been simmering between you. His hand on your thigh tightened, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, the kiss deepening as the night and the ocean whispered their approval.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, the moment suspended in time. “So, love.” he said, his voice still a little breathless, his eyes soft as they searched yours. “Was this date worth the wait?”

You smiled up at him, your heart full, knowing that this was only the beginning of something truly special. “It was worth every second.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press another tender kiss to your forehead. “Good.” he whispered against your skin, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. “Because I’m already planning the next one.”

As he walked you back to your hotel, the stars twinkling above, his arm around your waist, you couldn’t help but feel that you were on the verge of something extraordinary. The warmth of his hand on your side, the way he held you close as if he never wanted to let go, it was a promise of more, a future filled with moments like this.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: [email protected].

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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ctrl-alt-bucky · 6 months ago

Text

♡ Release ♡

Simon Riley x Female Reader [Requested prompt!]

The team finally has time to rest after months of hard work. Pent up, you and Ghost find a good outlet for release— each other.

Heed the warning below! There isn't much kink to this one tbh, just a mild hint of public play. If you want a spicier fic, check out the last one I wrote in this mini series. Ao3 and everything is in the notes at the end.

Enjoy! ;)

Word count: 3,479 | Chapters: 1 | Tags: Fempov, missionary, slow build, risky

Long, sleepless nights weren't an uncommon occurrence for you. It wasn't often you got respite during times of high tensions and potential war. Echoes of gunfire tarnished your dreams; stains of blood penetrating your body bone-deep, even when it's scrubbed clean of any signs; a reminder that you were forever marked by death.

As for Simon, he knew the experience all too well.

Words were hardly exchanged, just knowing looks and observations. You tightly wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the edge of a couch in the common room, the digital clock mocking you with the ungodly hour. Simon, his tired eyes and partially masked face, standing by the counter waiting for the coffee pot to start bubbling.

It started a few months after you got assigned to taskforce 141. You piece together from Ghost's slow acceptance of your presence that he's done this a while now— snuck out of the barracks in the middle of the night to make coffee or simply sit in the silent, empty room. But it wasn't empty for long. You'd make it to the room after him, often times. At first, you wouldn't acknowledge him, assuming Simon wanted it that way. But then that turned into small nods of greeting, then to sharing a pot of coffee while you two leaned with your backs to the counter, and then, somewhere in the mix, a bond grew.

It wasn't an every night occurrence. While deployed, your relationship with him was business as usual, and when you weren't shipped off to God knows where— well, it took days to recover. Days spent alone and half-asleep in a dark room with stashed weapons for all of the ‘what ifs’ your mind could conjure.

Dark circles sag under your eyes, matching Simon's. The team had been stationed here for a week now, and it was only just tonight that you decided it wasn't worth tossing and turning until daybreak.

A steaming mug of weak coffee sits on the counter. You greet Simon with a barely-there smile of appreciation and wrap your hand around the ceramic curve, your fingers curling over the handle. It has a marines logo on the front, faded and stained from time. Amusing, to say the least.

Simon is sitting down at the small fold-up table with his own mug, the liquid half gone. Something about him seems… off. He's more jittery than usual, and that's not the caffeine speaking. His eyes bore into the tabletop, his eyebrows pulling together; tense. The lower half of his face is covered by a black mask, missing its iconic skull design. It makes it hard to tell what he's thinking or feeling. You suppose that's the point.

“Price mentioned an intel mission earlier. Looks pretty secure, if we can get it in time.” You murmur quietly, breaking the tense silence.

Ghost nods his head, but doesn't look up from the table. He makes a small “mmn” noise in agreement and you figure he's not talkative tonight. No big deal. He usually isn't one for talking during these late nights anyway. You usually aren't either, but you're worried. You can't help it.

Sipping from your mug, you approach the small couch facing away from the table. There's a small, old tv in front of it, balanced on top of four crates with a board laid across them. There isn't enough funding distribution for a tv stand or good mattresses, but there's an endless shipment of coffee to keep your team functioning. Go figures. You're not one to complain though; You're lucky you even get entertainment in this place.

The tv is set to low, playing a random movie from the 80’s. You spot a VHS tape in one of the crates and wonder who the hell brought that along for a set up like this. While the intro to a murder mystery plays, you hear footsteps behind you, and Simon appears in the corner of your eye.

His gaze is on the tv, reading the title screen that flashes in bright colors and a font that’s distinctly from that era. You shuffle over to provide more room, and he hesitates before taking a seat, one arm staying propped on a small couch cushion wedged into the corner. He's man-spreading, but you don't mention it. The way your knees just barely brush against each other— it's the closest you've gotten to him outside of the occasional encouraging pat on the shoulder before a mission.

It's been ages since you've last felt someone's touch.

You curl your legs in so that they're tucked underneath you, your cold hands keeping the mug steady. Simon’s watching you from the corner of his eyes. It makes your heartbeat quicken.

Fifteen minutes go by. When you next bring the mug to your lips, you realize it's empty, having disappeared while you idly drank and stared in the general direction of the tv. You couldn't bother paying attention right now.

"Do you need help?" You ask quietly.

Ghost looks at you. He blinks.

“You look jittery.”

“I’m not jittery.” Ghost grumbles.

You raise a brow and he lets out a defeated sigh and looks up at the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, he puffs out a soft breath, calm and controlled, and shakes his head like he’s shaking himself free of the endless turmoil bubbling inside his head.

“Whaddya have in mind?”

✩⋆---⭑✧⭑---⋆✩

It starts out with cards.

Poker; Cribbage; Go Fish. Ghost has an unfair advantage with poker because of the mask, but he refuses to take it off when you point it out to him, so he ends up switching the game before you two even start.

Holding your set of cards like a fan, you peer over them as Ghost stares at the tabletop with an intense look of concentration.

Slowly, he reaches for a card in his own little pile (you expected him to be neat with his own cards, but he’s not. It’s chaotic. Nevertheless, it suits him)— and he glances up at you, his voice gruff when he asks, “Any queens?”

You pretend to study your deck. You know you have none, but you still take your time. Something in you doesn’t want this to end; To go back to your bunks, exhausted and alone, and wait until the next time the universe grants you both a respite.

Sighing, you can’t help but smile as you finally answer, “Go fish.”

Ghost draws from the deck, but you reach your hand out before it’s fully across the table. The touch is electric, and it causes Ghost’s eyes to flick up to meet yours. You realize just how brown they are. A deep brown, with hints of hazel. They stand out amongst the black of his mask— even more so when he’s got black paint smudged around his sockets out on the battlefield. You never really noticed it until now. Goosebumps rise on your arms, hidden beneath the sleeves of your sweater.

You were meant to say something, anything, but you can’t find the words.

Ghost finds them for you.

“You’re bored.” He says it like a statement, not a question.

You nod, slowly.

Ghost makes a humming noise of agreement and nods too. Then he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, his gaze idly watching your fingers slightly twitch. The air feels charged and heavy and tinged with uncertainty. You find it difficult to properly breathe, your chest tight and body tense; your mind a race of he’s touching me, he’s touching me and I can’t handle it, he’s touching me and I can’t remember the last time I felt this— have I ever felt this?— would it even matter?—

You haven’t a clue what’s going through Ghost’s head, but you can see that something is affecting him. His chest rises and falls faster, those broad shoulders taught with a newfound tension you hardly recognize. Preparing himself. Ghost isn’t like this unless he’s looking down the sights of his rifle. All poise and concentration, he tightens his grasp like he’s pulling a trigger and he’s dragging you out of nowhere, guiding your upper half across the short table under you’re leaned over and inches away from his face.

You say nothing. Hell, what could you say? Stop? Don’t?

You want this.

Fuck, you need this.

You use your free hand to tug his mask under his chin and you kiss him.

It’s firm yet hesitant, and your mind races with all the ways this could backfire. But Ghost is warm and his stubble is rough, scratching against your chin and lips as he leans into it, pressing into you as though he’s giving himself permission to allow this.

The kiss breaks when you run out of breath. You pant as you try to catch up, your eyes blinking open to find Ghost’s half-lidded gaze searching your face with a sense of desperation. Realization has set in: the floodgates have opened, and there’s no going back now.

You lead this time around, scooting yourself out of the shitty metal chair and rounding the table to him. Ghost stands, his eyes never leaving you once, and he’s tall and broad, towering over you, even as he bends his head down to meet your lips with a feverish kiss. You taste the coffee on his breath and the warmth from his tongue as it glides against yours clumsily. His hands grip your hips and suddenly you’re pulled upward like you weigh nothing and set down onto the tabletop with your legs spread. Ghost fits himself between your knees, his hands trailing down to grip your thighs, squeezing the flesh.

A rush of heat fills your body. You can feel a blush on your cheeks, heat prickling the back of your neck. The space between you and his chest is hot as well, practically radiating off of his body— the body that keeps you trapped against it with your legs locked and hands scrabbling at its shoulders; the body that’s firm and muscular and alive under your touch, reacting to each grind of your hips as you desperately rock against him.

“Fuck.” Ghost murmurs against your lips, low and breathy.

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes. You’re giddy with the feelings knotted inside your chest. This is happening. Holy shit. And you can’t come to terms with this, that’s it’s taken so long to happen. The tension wasn’t not there. Subtle glances and lingering looks were just the start, not to mention the jokes Soap, Gaz, and even Price made about you two— about how similar you were; quiet and brutal and deadly, two lone wolves watching their pack’s back.

Even so, Ghost has more resilience than this. You thought you had more— hell, if your self control was hanging by a thread during the last mission, then it’s practically been snapped now, and by your own two hands.

You’re tired of feeling tired. And Ghost is more than eager to quell the chaotic energy inside of you both.

His teeth catch your bottom lip as you tilt your head and grasp for the back of his neck. You flinch, the pain incredibly brief, and he makes a low groaning noise that sends a bolt of heat straight between your legs. Your thighs clench around him, and he soothes the nip with his tongue as an apology, but all it does is make you whine with need.

Lips tingling, you break the kiss to the sound of a zipper. Ghost bites his bottom lip and follows your eyes down to where your hips lay flush together. His boxers are exposed, belt flayed open, and he’s hard and he’s big too. Bigger than you anticipated— and you haven’t even properly seen it yet.

You slide a hand down his chest and palm the bulge with deft fingers. Ghost groans again, and it’s right then that you decide you want to hear more of that noise.

It takes some maneuvering, but your cargos find the floor in no time. The tabletop is cold against the backs of your thighs, but Ghost's hands are burning hot against your skin. His eyes remain between you, looking down at the (frankly embarrassing) pink panties you're wearing. There's a hint of amusement in Ghost's gaze, like he's tempted to make a comment on it, but instead he just presses his thumb to the front of the fabric and rubs, slow and precise.

For all of the training you've had— the long night's waiting hours in the cold for the perfect moment to strike; the torture that you stayed resilient through; the second-hand nature of your brain thinking logically over what you actually wanted— seemed to be all in vain in this one moment.

Whether it was a long time coming or not, you struggle to even stay still as Ghost’s thumb presses harder, seeking out the shaky breaths leaving your parted lips. It sinks even lower, to a forming wet patch on the thin fabric, and Ghost practically rumbles when he sees the evidence of your desperation.

He wastes no time in pulling the fabric to the side and adjusting your position, pulling your thighs up until you're resting on your lower back with your legs bent and bowed out. Ghost murmurs something that sounds like praise, but you're too caught up in the sound of your heartbeat thumping away in your ears.

First, it's just a finger that enters you. Ghost’s hand trembles so slightly you almost miss it, and he pumps the digit in and out a few times before eagerly adding another. You aren't quite prepared for it. The burn of a stretch would otherwise deter you, but now— now, all it does is drive you up the fucking wall.

“Ghost.” You whine, voice warbly.

Ghost curls his fingers and your head tips back, eyes squeezing shut.

“Simon—”

Now that causes Ghost to falter.

You open your eyes and glance down your body to see his reaction, afraid you might've crossed a line. If his eyes were any indicator, you have a feeling you just skirted the line. You also realize he shed his own cargos at some point and pulled down the hem of his briefs to his mid-thigh, exposing the long, hard curve of his cock. It reaches his navel, the tip wet and catching the dim sterile light of the room.

“Simon.” You repeat carefully.

Ghost pulls his fingers out, grabs under your hips, and drags you even closer to the edge of the table. You yelp, but it's no deterrent. He's feral in a way you've never seen— desperation and nerves and frustration all coiled into his determined expression, truly like a wild animal. It isn't often you get to see under the mask. What doesn't make sense is why he's letting you while he's vulnerable like this.

Your eyes meet as he lines up and rubs the tip against you, hot and slick.

And then he pushes in, and your eyes close once more as every feeling in your body narrows down to just this. This stretch, this heat— everything. The way Ghost’s chest vibrates as he groans, how he feels inside, thick and real; it's so much to handle, all you can do is lay back and try to catch your breath until he reaches the hilt.

Buried deep inside, Ghost grinds his hips and grunts when you whimper in response. His hands are gripping under your thighs, right below the bend of your knees, and he's using the contact as an anchor to drive himself in and out like he has no time to waste. And with how you've been treated lately, there really is no time to waste. God knows how late into the night it's gotten, but the thrill of what if—

And oh god. What if.

*What if someone comes in?*

The windows are foggy with condensation, the frames coated with dust and grime and who knows what; But you can see the beginnings of a washed yellow peeking through the thick trees outside, right past Ghost's shoulder. You catch a subtle reflection from the overhead light bouncing off the glass pane, transfixed by his rippling muscles as they bunch and strain while he practically pounds into you with all his might.

Arching your back, you dig your heels into his lower back and shudder when the angle changes, his cock brushing past the sensitive bundle of nerves buried inside of you. Ghost notices that you're distracted, but it's clear he doesn't know why. You can't tell if he's irritated by it or curious, but the worry doesn't stick around very long— he presses his thumb to your clit before you have the chance to regroup yourself, and that's all the stimulation it takes to stoke the fire burning in your gut. It's all you need to stop caring about the risk of you two getting caught. You both deserve this— surely, the team would understand.

You feel yourself pulse around Ghost's cock, an orgasm so treacherously close you can feel your thighs shaking with the force of its foundation.

They'd better understand.

You might die from this feeling. Forget the trenches, there's nothing that makes you shake, cry, and beg so easily.

“That's it,” Ghost grunts. The words, among the first he's spoken almost all night, prod at a part of your brain you thought was long shut down by now. And he keeps doing it, encouraging you with low, growly breaths and strained words; a mixture that makes your head spin— beyond the fact that you're nearly upside down with how high your back is arched, your temple nearly pressed to the tabletop.

Ghost bends over you to get a better hold, and then he's rapidly thrusting like a fucking rabbit, and oh God, you can feel it— it's too much, too quick and too overstimulating, but he doesn't stop, he doesn't slow down, and suddenly Ghost's hand is covering your mouth as you practically wail your release. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, all-encompassing and fueled by years of restraint.

Your pussy spasms around him, walls uncontrollably rippling, even fighting to push him back out. But Ghost only drives in deeper, and in one, two, three thrusts, he seats himself fully to the hilt and groans against the sweat-slick skin of your neck as a warm, dirty feeling floods your insides.

✩⋆---⭑✧⭑---⋆✩

It takes you a while to catch your breath. Ghost is right with you, propping himself up on his palms, hands on either side of your trembling body, as his cock pulses the last ropes of cum inside. He slowly pulls his hips back until there's a rush of hot liquid gushing out onto the tabletop.

Your thighs are a mess— hell, your whole body looks more run through than some of the exercise regimes you and the team are forced to do every couple of weeks. You definitely feel a lot sweatier, though the lack of mud, blood, and grime in general is a plus.

Your face burns with a sense of embarrassment as you look between your legs and notice the mess he left behind. Ghost's cock is still half-hard, but he carefully smears the tip along your inner thigh (and holy shit that imagery will never leave your mind from now on) and stuffs it back into his briefs, then zips up his jeans before adjusting the belt, each movement precise.

You half expect him to just leave you there, but Ghost's hands are gentle when they grab ahold of your arms and pull you up into a seated position. Knees bent, your legs hang off the table, feet a foot or so from the cold floor. Ghost says nothing as he quickly snags the blanket you dragged in from off the back of the couch and wraps it around your shoulders. He helps you shuffle side to side so you can adjust your panties until they're properly on again, and he even goes the full mile to help guide your feet into the pant legs of your cargos until they're on as well. Not like you can wear these again, considering how stained they'll be in the next few minutes.

“Feel better?”

It's the only thing you manage to come up with to break this weird, tense silence. Your voice is hoarse, but with a little more coffee, it'll repair itself in no time.

Ghost's eyes crinkle slightly, and something tells you that he's far more amused than the faux annoyed huff he gives to your little question. It eases the knot in your chest, and you can't help but smile as you help him adjust his face mask.

“Yes,” Ghost admits anyway, his fingers brushing yours gently, “Feelin’ better. Now come on, up you get. We've got some work to do.”

I'm so down bad chat. As soon as I finished writing this, I thought of a follow-up shower scene I might write next if y'all want it 🫣 Ao3 link is here! (I crosspost over there) Requests/prompts are currently: open! Thanks for reading :] And thank you Jax for the prompt!! ♡♡♡

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oonajaeadira · 5 months ago

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Patricio Keeps a Journal, Pt. 1: Winter

Good. Things. Take. Time. is a series that grew out of prompts–the whisper of a character, the asks of readers. And now, to get myself back into PATS’s head, the prompts are coming from @fanfticionoverload’s Seasons of Life challenge.

What you’re about to read are some excerpts from Patricio’s journal. Heads up they probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the ongoing series.

Each excerpt is just that–snippets that pertain to the story, taken from his presumed wider journal, each notated where it lands in the series and follows the chronology of the series.

The rules of the challenge ask for 250 words per prompt. I thought it would be a little less forced if I didn’t worry so much about that, so some may fall short of that number. And I’ll say that these aren’t heavily edited nor are they anything other than basic reactions, precisely because I wanted them to feel like the unfiltered thoughts one writes in a journal.

Let’s say that it was Shell’s orders for him to keep a journal in the first place. If his practice is his way of dealing with his demons, if he’s not going to go to traditional therapy, then “the least you can do is just offload before bed, and not the kind of offloading you do with your dick. I’m not gonna read it, but I’ll want to see words on those pages. Write a fucking play for all I care, write a manifesto about your love of pasta, I don’t give a shit what. Just write.”

I don’t have anything to write. I’m not a fucking poet. Shell says use the pen, get the words out of your head, just write anything. Anything. Anything. Tables have turned. Now I’m the one practicing letting it all out. Trying not to think too hard. Anything.

EXCERPT 1: SNOW

TIMELINE: a few days before Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

#39 gifted me four tickets to the game at her last session. It’s Neils’ birthday. I’ll surprise him and Dan with a guy’s night out.

Got a new client coming in on Thursday. #48. I wasn’t going to approve her. Nothing in her application hints at any lingering trauma that she can’t just get treated at a legit clinic. But Shell was pushy about this one. She's got a knack for these things and hasn’t been wrong yet. Official referral diagnosis: pain is psychological tension from a recent(?) divorce. I guess it’s worth a shot. If nothing else, divorcees are usually just in need of a good fuck so it’s an easy fix. Good photo. I like her style. She’s going to make pretty faces.

Thinking about taking some time off after that. Rare confluence of three clients ending their run at the same time, it’s slow season at the office and the guys can handle a week without me, I should get out of town. Someplace quiet. Or fuck, I don’t know, someplace distracting where I can get out of my head. Maybe I should book a massage. Look at me, I’m hilarious. Who massages the masseuse? I’ll have Shell find me something. Keep it interesting. Place yer bets: seedy and cheap or golden toilets and happy endings? As long as it’s somewhere warm.

Renee posted the pictures from her honeymoon. Skiing in the Alps. She always used to hate the snow. Guess people change. Change can be a good thing.

She’s better off.

___

EXCERPT 2: SCARF

TIMELINE: The night of Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

Shell hit the jackpot on this one. Perfect plaything. She’s like I custom ordered a client. Recurring cluster knots all down her starboard teres major, needs a hand getting in under the port shoulder blade…can’t do it alone. Needs my hands. She needs me. Follows directions, trusts completely. Has a good imagination. That will open up more in time. I expect a challenge out of this one. Surprised the shit out of me with the beautiful thing though. Maybe shouldn’t have let her have that. Maybe shouldn’t have gone down on her. It’s fine. She’s clean. Tastes good smells good ass for days. I can get a good handful. Everywhere.

And perfect inside. Tight but not too tight, good control with the right assistance, takes direction like a dream. I’ll be able to get her to sing if she keeps listening. Mierda, her skin. My hands want to eat it. Oil it up and map it out and scarf it down. Her muscle structure is -just- amazing. I haven’t been this amped in months. This one hits the spot.

Giving her Thursday across the board might have come off too eager. Well, if that didn’t, offering up extra days on call probably did. Jackass.

Not gonna worry about that tonight. Bowling with the guys tomorrow night. Hope they’re ready to eat their damn balls. I’m fucking invincible.

She called me beautiful. She’s [sentence scratched out]

Forgot to note in her file–she said she hasn’t had anyone make her come in over a year even though info says she’s only been divorced a few months. What kind of an asshole just walks away from that her? How could anyone share a bed or a house or anything with that and resist for a year? She deserves to get fucked every day. Why wouldn’t you want someone that just falls into you so willingly and fucks so pretty? Great. Now I’m angry. Not my concern. Just my gain.

___

EXCERPT 3: COZY

TIMELINE: weekend evening, after installment #2, relieving period cramps

…

Keep thinking about Thursday. It’s not about the blood. It is and it isn’t. It’s obviously that she needed relief. It’s good to see her trusting. That can be tricky for some women. Beaten into them that they have to hide what their body does. It’s a body. It’s a unique mechanism. It has shit and blood and needs a good release now and then. Or every day for some people...another truth for some of us that the world wants hidden away.

The blood’s messy. It’s primal. It’s brutal and nobody blinks an eye if it comes from a punch to the face or a slice of the thumb. But the minute it comes from the minute it shows you what a woman’s body is capable of… But it’s also the harshness of the color, a signal that if there’s pain then it’s real. It’s a helpful focus.

She just LETS me. There's beauty in that pliability. She trusts, she follows, she heals. The way her face just relaxes when the knots are gone. It’s almost as good as the orgasm itself. Beautiful.

Got her all warmed up in the bath, all cozy in bed. Fell asleep like a worn-out kitten and I had an urge to kiss her forehead. Poor thing just needed it today. Successful session.

___

EXCERPT 4: FIREPLACE

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks later, evening, after installment #3, the treatment for migraine and anxiety AND includes this six sentence ficlet

…

Well shit. There’s a coincidence. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.

Thursday came in tonight tight as a screw, migraine a good 7 or 8. I had to take it slow. Asked her to focus on some bright spots in her life, like her favorite things. I might have guessed the animals and reading, but the fanfiction was a surprise. Cute. It was best not to talk about what was causing the stress because

Her family coming to stay.

Fuck if I don’t sympathize.

Mama got here two days ago and all she can do is complain about her hotel and American food and how everyone speaks too fast for her to keep up. It’s cold here. The hotel should have a fireplace. Why don’t you take time off Patricio? You have an extra bedroom, why can’t your mama sleep there?

I love her. But I get it. There are just some boundaries that are hard. I get you, Thursday.

Preciosa.

Fucked her five ways til Sunday. She fucked ME five ways till Sunday.. She drew blood. Didn’t even care. Mark me up, girl. Glad I could help, but damn that might have been more mutually beneficial than I’d originally planned.

___

EXCERPT 5: HOT CHOCOLATE

TIMELINE: night of installment #4, with the undergarment ripping and the thigh-highs

…

I didn’t expect to get to play this much. I’m usually so focused on the pain and making sure the client can come in their condition that there’s not a lot of room for fun and surprises. I got to take Shell out last weekend and might have bought her too many beers and pull-tabs. It took her about three bottles to get profound. She wants to know who "therapies the therapist" and told me I should remember that it’s okay to put my own priorities first sometime. She said that people in the industry of care need to be taken care of too. She said it’s okay to have a client that gives as good as she gets. Then she went home and threw up and texted me the next day that she’s drinking nothing but hot chocolate from now on. Haha

Shit. Thursday feels good when she walks out of here. She looks like a million bucks. I did that. I DO that. THAT’s what I need. So yeah. Why shouldn’t I enjoy that? Cute tonight. She wanted me to rip her panties. All she had to do was ask, but I think she was embarrassed to?

So the new diagnosis is lack of confidence and the treatment is for her to speak up for what she wants. We’re going to get her to a place where she can ask–or demand what she needs. We’ll work on her trusting that I’ll give her anything she wants–anything.

She’ll be able to walk out of here and conquer the world when I’m done with her.

___

EXCERPT 6: FREEZING

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks after the previous entry

...

[….] and Niels can go to hell though because I don’t care how low key it is or how good the whiskey is, I’m not giving up my Thursdays to fill in the hole in his poker night. His basement is freezing and I have warmer places to be.

Although speaking of, Thursday canceled again. It’s been a couple of weeks. Crunch time at work for her I guess. Her portal messages seem pretty stressed. She’s apologetic about missing sessions. I can tell her she doesn’t need to apologize, I’m getting paid whether she shows or not. And honestly, it just means we’re going to have to work that much harder to get her malleable again and I can hardly complain about that. A build up’s a hell of a thing. As long as she doesn’t mess up her rhombs again. We were just making headway on that. I should ask her about her desk chair.

But I’d be lying if I said that I gave a shit about the pay. I’m allowed to enjoy my clients and be disappointed when I don’t get to see them.

At least Jean’s back on Friday. It will be nice to see her again. Now that her latest surgery’s all healed up, we can find her some good positions for her to take home. I know her partner’s skittish about the discovery phase. But she’s almost done and when the reconstruction’s over, he’ll thank me for it. He SHOULD thank me for it, she’s got a good laugh and good tits.

Jean’s a perfect example of learning to speak up for herself. I can do the same for Preciosa. Lucky for her she doesn’t have Jean’s level of pain to work through. But she’s gotta show. up. for. it. Come on, girl. I got you.

___

EXCERPT 7: MARSHMALLOW

TIMELINE: directly after installment #5, all pent up and feral

…

Now THAT. Was a successful fuck. We’re making headway here. Little slapping, little biting, she got a good few hair yanks in there. She’s learning that not only am I not a marshmallow…neither is she. Good girl. Pretty high praise response, but she’s also got a little fight in her. She’s a switch and doesn’t even know it. She will.

There were some real emotions tonight, real anger, real tears. But when she let go I nearly wept myself. It was beautiful. She’s working too hard and she knows it. But she also knows I’ve got her when she does. Hopefully that will preempt some of the stress next time. Not even upset about that shoulder blade. We’ll just start from the beginning on that.

[....]

Just reminded me of Renee nagging about working too hard. I just remembered that I had a dream about her a few nights ago. Not really about her. She was in the background somewhere and not even angry that I didn’t stop to say hello. Then she picked up her purse and left. The light kind of shifted like, I don’t know. Felt like it was the last time I’d see her. Not in a bad way.

It’s good. Like a door really closing.

Maybe I do work too hard. But I like it. It’s who I am. It’s my choice.

____

PATS in winter by @d4rm4nd4

SERIES MASTERLIST

#good things take time #pedro across the street #calls fanfiction

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estrellami-1 · 1 year ago

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Steddie Week 2024

July 3rd Prompt: Mutual Pining

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

@steddie-week

“Robin,” Steve hisses, swatting at her arm with wide eyes.

She flails. “What?” She hisses back, slapping at his hand.

“Him,” he says, jerking his head towards the front door of Family Video. Robin frowns when she sees Eddie.

“What- oh, for fuck’s sake, Steve, will you quit with the high school shit? I thought you were past that.”

He looks hurt. “What high school- oh!” His expression clears and he shakes his head. “No, not- not that, you know I’m past that. Robbie.” He puts his hands on her shoulders. She tries not to squirm. “Robbie, his hair is up.”

Robin looks at him again: hair up in a bun, cut-off jean shorts, those weird tank tops with the stretched armpits that Robin didn’t understand unless she could see hints of a bra underneath. She turns back to Steve, still frowning, then suddenly her expression clears. Oh. “You like him!” She crows.

“Robbie,” he pleads. “I- I don’t- I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know how badly Nancy broke me-”

“I know,” Robin quickly says. “I know, your heart’s on your sleeve only until you brush up against someone else and they steal it, I know, Steve, but if there’s one person who falls harder, faster?” She points out the window. “It’s that fucker.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “but that doesn’t mean I can talk to him.”

“You might not have a choice,” she says, watching as he grabs the door handle. She nods at him, and Steve whips around as the bell above the door rings.

He whips around just as quickly, and Robin’s suddenly faced with two choices. She could either take over, let him hide in the back, or- “I’m taking my break,” she says brightly. “I’ll grab us some drinks from the corner store.”

“Robin,” he hisses, futilely grabbing at her as she dodges out of his grasp.

“Hey, Eddie,” she greets as she approaches the front door. “You’re just in time, I’m taking my break to grab Steve and I some drinks from the corner store.”

Eddie grins at her, then glances at Steve and his smile falls. “Yeah,” he says, “is he feeling okay? He looks red.”

Robin looks at him and turns to Eddie with a concerned look. “He does. Would you be able to stay here, just in case, while I run and grab those drinks?” He gapes, so she brightly says, “thanks!” As she runs out.

She’s a genius.

“See ya, Birdie,” Eddie says on his way out.

Steve doesn’t speak to her for half an hour, which is a record for them. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I thought I’d give you a chance to talk.”

He buries his head in her shoulder. “I think he hates me.”

Eddie calls Gareth once he gets home. “Gareth.”

“Edward.”

“Not my name and you know it.” He sighs. “I think he hates me.”

Gareth sighs. “Are you talking about Steve again? Dude, he doesn’t hate you. I think that’s actually physically impossible.”

“Trust me,” Eddie says darkly, “it’s not.”

“Okay, well I swear on my mother’s life he doesn’t hate you, does that make you feel better?”

“Have you actually spoken to him in the last month?”

“Well, no.”

“Ha!”

“But I’ve spoken to Robin.”

Eddie groans. “Okay, but recently?”

“Uh, does Sunday count as recently?”

“Okay, in the last twenty minutes.”

“No, but I can. I’ve got a video to return anyways.”

“Huh,” Eddie says, “I always thought you got them from Robin.”

“Yeah, but I’ve gotta give them back, too. I don’t always catch her before work.”

Eddie’s head spins. “Okay, could you talk to her, actually? Just… confirm that he either does or doesn’t hate me, man, I feel like I’m going crazy-”

“If it helps,” Gareth says, “last time we spoke, she said he was being a dingus about you.”

“That’s no help,” Eddie retorts, “I don’t think she even knows what that means, you realize that’s one of her nicknames for him?”

Gareth sighs. “Okay. I’ll go talk to Robin and try to get an answer for you.”

“I owe you my life.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll marry you.”

Gareth hangs up on him.

“Hey,” Robin says when she sees Gareth coming. “Wanna take the rest of the day off? My treat for royally screwing up?”

Steve blinks at her, then smiles. “Only if you come over later.”

“With all the ice cream I can carry,” she promises, laughing. “Go, get out of here, I’ll clock you out with me.”

“Thanks, Robbie,” he murmurs into her hair, leaning in for a hug. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“This is my fault,” she reminds him. “Now go, already, you’d better enjoy this one-time offer.” She grins at him, and he grins back as he walks out, greeting Gareth on his way to his car.

“Emerson,” Robin says.

“Buckley,” Gareth replies.

“Did I royally fuck up?”

“Ah,” Gareth laughs, “I should’ve known this was your fault.”

“I didn’t think anything would happen! I thought, y’know, they’d talk!” She balls up her hands in her hair.

“Well, Eddie thinks Steve hates him.”

“Oh,” Robin says, “that’s okay, then, because Steve thinks Eddie hates him.”

“They’re idiots.”

“They’re our best friends.”

“So what does that make us?”

They both laugh, and Robin takes the tape to scan it back in. “How’s Aunt Betty?”

“Same as always,” Gareth shrugs. “How about Aunt Melissa?”

Robin sighs. “As hippie as ever, I think. She’s talking to me about marriage.” They both shudder. Robin looks at the screen. “You’re late,” she tells him.

He rolls his eyes. “By, like, a day, Binnie, can’t you just…” he wiggles his fingers at the computer, “write it off?”

She glares at him. “The things I do for family.”

Gareth snorts. “Speaking of doing things… what are we gonna do about them?”

Robin sighs. “Your idea of locking them into a closet is sounding more appealing by the minute.”

Gareth snaps. “I’ve got it! Blind date.”

“With each other?” Robin makes a considering noise. “It could work. It would have to be in Indy.”

“Talk to Eddie about places to go,” Gareth entreats. “Where you can be yourself.”

Robin snorts. “You can say gay bar, Nicholas, it’s not a bad word.”

Gareth screws his face up. “You know I hate my middle name.”

“I know, and I don’t know why, and anyways you started it with fucking Binnie.”

He flips her off, then stares expectantly. “So you’ll talk to Eddie?”

“Mhm. I’ll tell you what he says. Then you’ll tell Eddie and I’ll tell Steve?”

“Deal.” He holds his hand out to shake. “Oh, and make sure Steve wears the yellow sweater.”

Robin cackles. “You’re an evil genius. Will do, but only if Eddie wears his battle vest.”

They shake on it.

She speaks to Eddie later, about places to go, things to do, and comes to a decision. She speaks to Gareth that same day, who talks to Eddie the next day, the same day she talks to Steve. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Am I gonna hate it?”

“No!” She pauses. “I don’t think so? I’m setting you up on a blind date.”

“No.”

“Then you’re gonna stand them up, and do you really want that?”

Steve huffs out a breath, pinches his nose. “Fine. What is it this time?”

Robin claps and jumps. “Yes! Okay, it’s called Jake’s BBQ. Super accepting place. He’ll be in a denim vest.”

Steve cocks his brow at her. “He?”

“I thought it might help,” she said. “Oh, and I told him you’d be in a yellow sweater.”

Steve throws his hands in the air. “I guess all my choices have been made for me.”

“Please, there’s plenty of time to dazzle him with all your polos after the first date.”

Steve snorts. “When is it?”

“Friday, seven o’clock. I’m taking your shift.”

Steve raises both his brows. “You really want me to go.” She shrugs. “Alright, Robbie. No promises it goes well.”

“It’ll go great,” she assures him.

Three days later finds Steve on I-40E, getting closer and closer to Indy.

He finds the restaurant without too much trouble, grimacing when he realizes he’s going to have to be very careful not to spill on his sweater. He walks in, head on a swivel, doing a double-take when he sees Eddie sitting alone at a table. “Eddie?”

He looks over. “Steve?” His face hardens. “Look, if this is your idea of a joke, you can just-”

Steve shakes his head. “Joke? Robin sent me on a blind date.”

Eddie shuts his eyes on a sigh. “Did she happen to tell you anything about your date?”

“Uh, he’d be wearing a denim vest.” Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s chest, where his battle vest is on display. He grimaces. “Want to help me murder Robin?”

“Only if you help me murder Gareth after,” Eddie snickers, leading Steve back to his table. “C’mon, you drove all this way, you might as well get something to eat.”

Steve sighs, picking at his napkin. “What were you told?”

“Ah.” Eddie blushes. “That he’d be wearing a yellow sweater.”

Steve frowns. “I don’t understand that, actually, why this old thing?”

Eddie smiles. “Why the vest?”

Steve blushes. “With a shirt? I don’t know.”

Eddie’s eyes spark. “And without a shirt?”

Steve stares for a minute, then forces his eyes away with a quick shake of his head. “Why are we here, man?”

Eddie sighs. “I think Gareth just wants to humiliate me, honestly.” He stirs his straw in his drink, listens to the ice cubes clink. Takes a breath that shakes a little in the middle. “I, uh. Kinda have a really unfortunate crush on you.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “I thought you hated me!”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “No, I- I could never-”

“Well don’t say that, you did hate me in high school.” He shakes his head. “Why? Why me?”

Eddie laughs, loud and fake. “Listen, Harrington, I’ve had enough humiliation for today, thank you very much.”

“No, that’s not- Eddie, I like you too!”

Eddie blinks at him. “You- what?”

Steve nods. “That’s why Robin set me up with you.” He blushes. “And why I’ve been acting so weird,” he admits. “The last day you came in to Family Video, with the tank top? And your hair up?” He shakes his head, palms flat on the table, leaning over the edge of it. “I thought I was gonna die, dude.”

Eddie grins, pulling his hair back. “So, let’s say if I were to do this…” he pulls a hair tie off his collection of black bracelets, pulls his hair into a messy approximation of a bun.

Steve’s face is on fire. “Yuh- yep,” he says. “Y-yeah, that, that’s, uh.” He covers his face with his hands. “I need you to take your hair down before I do something that lands us both in jail for indecent exposure.”

Eddie chokes. “Rain check?” He jokes, taking his hair down. “And, uh. I brought the van. If you need to get it out of your system.”

Steve stares at him. “Get the check. We’ll get fast food on our way back.”

Eddie cackles, waves his hand for the waitress, and soon they’re in the van, Eddie’s hair back up.

Some time later, Steve calls Robin. “Hello?”

“Buckley, I’m going to murder you.” A pause, “Eddie’s helping. You want twin plots with Gareth?”

Robin shrieks. “I told you!”

“Yeah, yeah. Still gonna murder you.”

“As long as you and Eddie are done pining.”

“We done something!” Eddie crows, cackling, jumping back when Steve swats at him.

“Ew,” Robin says, “please kill me so I don’t have to witness that, actually.”

“Robbie,” Steve says, then sighs, suddenly serious. “Thank you.” He smiles at Eddie, who smiles back and moves in to wrap an arm around Steve’s waist.

“Are you happy?”

He looks at Eddie, smiling at him, tapping his finger on Steve’s hip to the sound of the music coming from the speakers. “Yeah,” he says. “I am. Really happy.”

#steddieweek2024 #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #gareth #Whoever said Gareth’s last name is Emerson is 100% correct actually #So kudos & credit to whoever coined that #Also I’ve seen ‘Gareth & Robin are cousins’ and I’ve never acted on it so today. I acted on it #starambles

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gotta-winwin · 7 months ago

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downloading... nana vlogs ep 1 : wishes in wells

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

[NANAVLOGS𐙚] - Wishes In Wells (우물 안의 소원) EP. 1

word count: 2.3k TW: shit ton of fluff, some hate italics are in english this vlog series is written from the pov of the yt video lol / format might be wonky on phones

Cyana's seen fiddling with the camera lenses, wiping it gently with her sleeve, blocking the view for a spilt second. She smiles, satisfied and waves to the camera.

"Caratdeul~ Hello~" She smiles, excited. "Welcome to Nana's Vlogs! You're surprised right? I'm surprised too. I didn't think I'd get my own series on Seventeen's Youtube channel so soon."

Flipping the camera, she pans across her room. "Cyana's room reveal for the first time~" She laughs shyly from behind the camera as she moved around, showing Carats her living quarters. "I room with Hao but he's not home right now." Flipping the camera back, she gave viewers a cheeky grin. "Today's our day off so I thought I'd turn on the camera and take you guys with me! We're meeting with Seungkwan, Vernon and Dino for a fun day out."

Humming as she walked towards the full length mirror in her room, she flipped the camera to show Carats her outfit. "Outfit of the day! We're wearing a blue flannel to match our jeans and white sneakers so I'll be comfortable walking all day. Okay- let's go!"

Cyana poses for the camera, joined by Seungkwan as he waves a peace sign towards the camera.

"Hi Caratdeuls~" Seungkwan throws an arm causally around Cyana's shoulders. "Our beautiful Cyana's paying for our meal today!"

Cyana frowned, pushing Seungkwan off her and out of frame. "Since when? I didn't agree to that?" Seungkwan could be heard laughing off camera.

Cyana turned to the camera, addressing the viewers. "Guys, don't be fooled. Seungkwan's been lying a lot recently. Must be all the influence from living with Hannie oppa." She muttered the last part, side-eyeing Seungkwan when he let out an indignant hey! "Sorry, Hannie. Don't watch this please."

Turning the camera, Vernon and Dino are seen watching the pair, amused. Pushing the camera close to Vernon's face, the viewers are greeting by an up-close and personal shot of Vernon's eyes and nose.

"Vernon, say hi to Carats." Cyana prompted him, holding back a snicker when she saw Vernon's eyebrows furrow at the strange angle.

"Hi, Carats." Vernon deadpanned, nudging the camera towards Dino. "Dino, say hi to Carats."

Dino waved. "Hi~ We're going to go eat lunch right now." Taking the camera from Cyana, he began conversing to the viewers, throwing TMIs out into the wild. "Seungkwan said he's been craving food from a restaurant we used to frequent as trainees, so we thought we'd bring Nana to show her around. We haven't been back in this neighbourhood in awhile."

"I wonder if the lady running the place still remembers us." Vernon mused, remembering the amount of times she had fed them years ago.

"The food there is soooo good." Seungkwan practically moaned in recalling the memory. He shook Cyana, as if to get the point across. "Soooo good."

Cyana gave him a small smile. "I'm sure it is, Kwan. There's no need to shake me." There was a hint of amusement hidden in her tone.

Dino pulled her next to him, grabbing her arm to loop it with his. "You can walk with me, Nana. I'm much safer."

She snorted at the statement. "Who was it that was making me skip down the street with him last week?"

"Ai~" Dino tried defending himself. "Wasn't that cute though?"

"Our second maknae doesn't want to be cute, Dino." Vernon had a big grin on his face. "She's into being nonchalant."

"Nonchalawhat?" Dino exclaimed, confused. "You can't just spring an English word on me like that." He frowned at the camera when Vernon and Cyana just laughed. Removing his arm from Cyana's hold, he moved to join Seungkwan instead, pouting. "Never mind. I'm walking with Seungkwan."

The restaurant was bustling with energy when the four of them entered, having put on masks before walking in. Cyana had regained possession of the camera and was busy filming the little water fountain and pond they had at the waiting area.

"Wahh~" She marvelled quietly, Seungkwan getting them a table in the background. "This is so cool."

Vernon moved into frame to join her. "We used to make wishes here, before we left."

She turned to look at him, a teasing smile on her face. "Did any of them come true?"

Vernon thought about it before nodding. "I think we all would always wish for success. And to have fans who loved us." He sent an embarrassed look to the viewers. "So I guess our wishes all came true."

"Ooooo." Cyana pointed a finger at him. "Vernon's flustered~" She turned to the camera, as Seungkwan motioned to them that he had gotten them a table. "Only Carats can make Vernon flush like that, y'know. He's so sentimental."

Sitting down, Cyana set the camera in front of her as she opened her menu. Scanning it, her face grew more confused as she read. Poking Dino, who was sat next to her, she hesitantly slid her menu over to him. "I can't understand anything." She mumbled, a little sad.

Dino pouted. "It's okay, I'll read it for you." He scanned the items before looking at her. "What do you want? Rice? Noodles? There's rice cakes too."

She frowned, hesitating.

"You can choose anything." Seungkwan reminded her from behind the camera, sitting on the opposite side of her. "No diet, remember?"

"Noodles, then? Please."

Dino nodded. "Okay." He began listing out the options for her to choose from.

Feeling indecisive, she motioned for him to pick. "Just pick something you'd think I'd like. You've been here before."

Dino frowned. "That's a lot of pressure."

"Get her the Kalguksu." Vernon suggested, knowing Cyana would like the lightness the dish had.

Once ordering, Cyana waved at the camera. "I'm gonna turn the camera off for a bit- sorry~." She gave them a little wink. "We're gonna update each other and we've got a lot of.." She paused trying to find the right words.

"Tea." Seungkwan butted in, proud to showcase a new vocab word Cyana had taught him.

She laughed. "Yes. Tea. Be back soon!"

"Oh! Ajumma!"

Cyana fumbled to turn on the camera as Seungkwan called out to the lady holding their bill. She turned the camera, just in time to catch Seungkwan hugging the elderly woman gently.

"Oh, Seungkwan-ah." The restaurant owner pinched his cheek endearingly. "Wah, you've grown so big. So handsome."

Seungkwan's ears turned pink. He bowed, thanking her. "We needed to come back to have your food again, ajumma. We missed it so much."

She smiled happily at his words. "Oh! Chan! Hansol!"

Cyana watched the interaction with a big smile on her face, heart warmed to see the boys so comfortable and smiling. She assumed they must've all felt like kids again, meeting someone who had fed them with so much love.

"Oh- who's this?" The grandma turned to her, head tilted in confusion.

Cyana passed the camera wordlessly to Dino, bowing in greeting. "Hello, I'm Cyana. Your cooking is delicious, I had enjoyed it so much."

She smiled, thanking her before turning to Seungkwan and whispering, "Is this your girlfriend? Or is it Chan's?" She frowned at Dino before continuing. "You're too young to be dating, Chan-ah."

"Ajumma!" Dino protested. "I'm 20 now."

She seemed surprised at the age. "Already? Well, still. Is this your girlfriend then, Chan? You should've brought her to me sooner." She chided.

Both Cyana and Dino's eyes widened at the assumption. "No, no." Cyana corrected her quickly. "I'm their new member."

The grandmother's eyebrows furrowed. "Hm. Seventeen has a girl member now?"

"Yes, ajumma. She's very talented." Seungkwan replied.

Cyana was touched at how quick he was to defend her.

The grandmother waved her hands at Seungkwan's comment. "Ah, I'm not saying she isn't. I'm sure she is, if she's working with you boys." She turned to Cyana and smiled. "It must be hard, but congratulation! The boys are such lucky people. You are lucky too- they're so sweet, even as kids." She patted Dino's cheek. "This one used to come to me crying whenever he was scolded."

Dino's face flushed. "Ajumma-" He protested once again, whining. "Don't expose me like that."

As they got up to leave once paying, the grandmother pulled Cyana aside, allowing the others to go first. Vernon had possession of the camera now, busy telling Carats childhood memories they had at this place.

"Listen to me, young lady." The grandmother said quietly. "I basically raised most of them, they used to come to me for everything- not just food. Hurt any one of them and I'll learn how to use SNS just to find you." Her narrowed eyes softened when she paused. "But- I suppose if you were to go anywhere, Seventeen is the best place. The boys are very loyal to anyone they love. You will be safe and very lucky with them." Her eyes seemed to go far away as she continued, as if sucked into the past. "They used to make wishes at the fountain- you know the one in the front."

Cyana nodded. "Yes. Ver- Hansol told me."

"I told them the fountain was magical, that the water was connected to a spring up in the mountains that gods had blessed before. They were young and innocent, they would've believed anything I told them." She laughed at the memory. "They'd come and throw a coin in- making a wish with all their might. I wanted it to give them hope, purpose. I doubt they still believe in it now, but back then- some of them used to save up that coin to make a wish instead of spending it on a comic book or a video game. Seungcheol came back a couple years ago when they debuted and told me the fountain had worked, even if he knew I had made up the story. Said I was the one who made it magical. He always had a way with words, that one." She sniffled a bit.

Cyana patted her back, trying to comfort her. "From the way they were all talking about you on the way over here, you did make it magical. They said you got them through it all."

She smiled, patting her arm before letting her go. "Take good care of them. My lucky boys."

"I will." Cyana promised.

Walking to join the others, she noticed Vernon lingering near the fountain. She moved to join him, fishing out a coin from her jacket pocket and handing it to him. "Make a wish."

He let out a laugh. "The camera's with Seungkwan and Dino outside. What are you doing?"

"Not for show." She reminded him, urging him to take it. "Make a wish. Like when you were kids."

Vernon hesitated, taking it before handing it back. "You should do it. I've done it hundreds of times as a kid."

"Are you sure?" Cyana asked.

He nodded. "You'd use it better, I'm sure."

Closing her eyes, she grasped onto the coin tightly, reaching for all the belief she had in the world. A lot of it had died as a kid. Opening her eyes again, she flicked the coin into the water.

"What'd you wish for?" Vernon asked after a beat.

Cyana shrugged. "I'm not supposed to say it out loud or it won't come true."

"I didn't know you still held childish beliefs."

She laughed. "I don't. Just thought I'd allow myself to act like a kid for once."

He nodded. "Okay. Keep your secrets." Pulling her into him, he led both of them out the restaurant, catching up with the others.

"Hello~" Cyana was back in her room now, arriving home after a long day with the others. "Sorry I didn't film much after the restaurant." She said sheepishly, plopping down on her bed. "Dino insisted we go to a playground to 'relive our youth,' so I didn't film much. We had fun though! I'll post some pictures we took on weverse later."

She paused for a moment, trying to remember what it was she had wanted as her outro. "Anyways," She smiled shyly at the camera. "This has been the first episode of Nana Vlogs, I hope you had fun- I know I did."

The door opened from behind her as Minghao stepped in. "Oh-"

"Hao!" She exclaimed. "Perfect. It's so awkward doing an outro by myself." She got up and dragged him closer to the camera. "Say hi and bye to Carats~"

Minghao waved, amused. "Hi Carats~ Did you have fun with Cyana today?"

"They took me to the restaurant next to Samseong Jungang Station. I made a wish at the fountain." She updated Minghao excitedly.

His eyes widened in recognition. "Ohh, the one with ajumma." He smiled fondly down at Cyana, who was grinning happily. "Well, that means you're officially one of us now, if you made a wish."

Cyana nodded. "I have so much to tell you-" She rambled, happy he was finally home. "And I want to know about where you and Jun disappeared off to."

Minghao could only laugh at her enthusiasm. It was rare to see, but he assumed the outing had brought out her childlike self again. "Okay- but first, say bye to Carats."

Cyana flushed. "Whoops." Grabbing the camera and lifting it to eye level, she waved goodbye. "Bye bye Carats~ See you next time!"

....end! cyana will be back in ep 2

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

COMMENTS:

dinonara okay i'm coming around to her uribooo she's so cute! svtvan if having her in svt will give us more content like this im sold ⭒ kpopstan1 right? the interaction w ajumma was so cute! i miss predebut svt haoswife literally only watched this for the 2 minutes of hao at the end menadyou came for maknae line stayed for cyana dinosaurus why is she always clinging to a member tf? ⭒ lachimolala no fr its getting annoying minwoocrumbs did you see 9:54 - why is she here if she can't read korean yukilovesdino dino- my heart wonusglasses she trying way too hard omg ⭒ cyanagotu let her live!! omg!!

author's notes: first nana vlog - complete! hope you guys enjoy! nearly made myself cry writing the ajumma part - old ladies being nostalgic always makes me emotional (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

#seventeen ot13 #seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen #idol oc #idolverse #seventeen 14th member #female idol #kpop oc #kpop imagines #kpop #kpop addition #svt carat #seventeen maknaeline #cyanawritings #svt x oc

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ilovetopgunsstuff · 1 year ago

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overdue

joe burrow x reader

prompt: joe cancels last minute on you because he got caught up at work, and he makes sure you know how he feels about you when he gets home.

warnings- smut and fluff

a/n- promise i will be answering some of my requests soon. this is prolly ass because i wrote it kinda fast but i love it thx bye

Joe was a busy guy. It was always something. He had practice, or a meeting, or a conference call, or something. Of course you couldn’t blame him. He was pretty busy during the season, but was practically glued to you when he didn’t have anything to do.

The last few weeks, though, Joe was sooo caught up with work. When he got home for the night, it was so late that you were usually already asleep. If you weren’t, you knew he was too exhausted to do much anyway. He’d give you a kiss, head to the shower, and pass out next to you shortly after. He’d always apologize, but you knew he really couldn’t control it. So despite your frustration and loneliness, you said nothing.

Today would be different, he pulled some strings to get home around 8 so y’all could have dinner, watch something on TV, and enjoy each others company. It had felt so long since you did something like this, so it felt like a special occasion. Tonight, you were cooking his favorite meal. You grilled chicken, made potatoes, and sautéed asparagus. It was about 7:30, and you would be done right when he got home. Your phone rang, and seeing his name on the screen, you perked up.

“Hey!,” you said cheerfully into the phone.

“Hey…” His voice was soft and already apologetic. You knew the news before he even told you.

“You’re not gonna make it home?” you sighed into the phone. Your voice was almost a whisper. You wanted to cry. How was it every day that this happened? Was he doing it on purpose, trying to send a hint? Was something else going on than work? Tears already brimmed in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry. Something came up way last minute. I can’t make it, baby. I’ll be home late.”

“Okay.” Your voice cracked, and you knew he heard it. That’s all you could say. The silence on the line was so loud. What else did you have to say? You sat with your phone to your ear, the excitement in your posture leaving you. Your shoulders slouched and you could hear his breath still on the other line. Self-consciousness swallowed you. Was this a sign that it wasn’t working? Was it only a matter of time? “Well I guess I’ll see you later tonight.” Your voice was quiet.

“Yeah.”

Without any goodbyes or anything, the line disconnected. You weren’t sure who it really was that hung up. You were just in a haze. You finished dinner silently, eating alone standing at the counter. You made sure to still make Joe’s plate, though. You put the perfect amount of everything he liked on his plate, making sure no foods were touching like he liked it.

Maybe it would give him a small surprise when he got home, as he didn’t know you were cooking it. He could eat it when he got home and you were inevitably sleeping. It wouldn’t be as good as eating it with him, but hopefully he’d still like it.

You packed up the food to put on the fridge in a silent, melancholy state. You placed his plate on the oven for him to find when he got home. It was in the shower that you cried, shoulders wracking with heavy sobs of loneliness and fear of losing him. You were so frustrated. You couldn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still upset. You sunk into the soft sheets of the bed after putting on pajamas, slightly cold without his body next to you. Hot tears slid down your face silently as you dozed off.

Joe’s POV:

As silently as I could, I unlocked the door. I dropped my bags on the floor and the clock on the kitchen wall said it was 1 AM. I stretched and rubbed my eyes, exhausted from work and weighed down with guilt. Of course I couldn’t control being busy, but i shouldn’t have promised her that I would’ve been home if I wasn’t completely sure. I did, though, cause hearing her pretty excited voice on the phone after telling her I’d come home brought me to life, but hearing it get quiet after I called it off earlier made my chest hurt. It was dark in the house except for one light on in the kitchen. It was the light on top of the oven. There was something there.

I walked closer to the oven and my heart dropped to my stomach.

Fuck.

There, on top of the oven, was my absolute favorite meal, made by her. You could tell she plated it with care, the food not touching exactly how I liked it. My stomach hurt and so did my chest. Guilt surged through me painfully. There was a note too, and it made me want to quit my job entirely.

I’m sorry you couldn’t make it home. This is for you if you’re hungry. I love you so much. We’ll find the time.

Her pretty cursive carved my heart out with its sweetness. You wished she would just yell at you, tell you off for taking on too much and upsetting her. But she never would, cause she’s an angel, and supports me through whatever I do. How will I ever make this up to her?

Regular POV:

Joe crept up the stairs, trying not to wake you up. You had an ear for him though, and roused when the door creaked open.

“Oh hey,” you mumbled at him. “How was work?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he murmured. He stripped down to his boxers, and crawled into bed. He dragged you under him and engulfed you with his arms. “I’m so so sorry,” he said into your hair.

This sudden intimacy and affection was unexpected, and your eyes immediately watered with tears. “I’m sorry, Joe. I know your so tired and I don’t want you to feel bad.” You voice cracked to a whisper as you started to cry.

“Hey..” he said gently as he flipped you on top of him to look at you. You sat on his lap, tears streaming down your face in the moonlight from the window.

“I just miss you,” you breathed, crumpling onto him as he held you. Your body shook slightly with quiet sobs as he held you.

“I know, angel.” He rubbed your back and whispered on your ear. “I miss you so much. You know I love you more than anything don’t you? Huh?”

He grabbed your face, holding it gently with both hands as he looked at you. Your watery puppy eyes looked up at him, and his heart tugged. He wanted you to know that you really were his priority.

“I have been a very bad boyfriend. I’m so so sorry,” his blue eyes looked earnestly into yours as his blond hair messily fell in his eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m doing this for no reason. I know we can get through this. I’m working like this because I want you to be able to have whatever the fuck you want every time you want it. You deserve it. I know it’s so hard. I’m really trying for us. And I want you to know it’s all because of you. “

It felt like you were melting into him.

“This is for you, and you only. If for one second I thought I’d lose you over this, I’d leave in a heartbeat. You have been a saint about this whole thing. Please just give me a little more time. Don’t give up on me. I love you so so much.”

Your hiccuping sighs were all that was left as you stared up at him. “I would never give up on you. I love you.” You relaxed fully on to him, cherishing what he feels like to touch and smell and experience.

It didn’t matter where you were, or what time it was, or what was happening around you. He was the only thing you could focus on or care about.

He pulled you in and kissed you gently. Running his hands across your middle, seemingly trying to memorize everything. He went under your shirt and cupped your breasts, lowering his kissing to your neck. He removed his hands from your shirt and placed them on your hips, which he firmly gripped as you lazily grinded on him. Small whimpers escaped his mouth as you did this, encouraging you in your lovesick state.

Joe gently unbuttoned your pajama shirt, the silk material sliding down your body slowly when he undid the last one. He caressed you gently, in no rush to savor you.

“So beautiful,” he whispered into the cool air of your bedroom.

You couldn’t respond as you focused in on his gentle touches. You were so honed in on how lightly he caressed you, afraid that if you didn’t savor it, you’d miss them. Small, quiet moans escaped your lips in ecstasy. You sat up to drag his boxers down his soft skin to where they didn’t limit your contact with him at all. You sat up, shorts still on, and ran your hand across his length, honing in on his tip. You massaged him, and his head lolled back onto the pillows.

“Yes,” he whispered.

The slowness of both of your actions was torturous and incredible at the same time. Endless touches and whispers disappearing into a night that was only your own. You slid down your shorts, anxious to finally have him. Joe looked angelic, soft tan skin glowing in the twilight. The blue of his needy eyes was nearly palpable. His roaming hands never stopped for a second. You lowered your self onto him slowly, a gasp being released by the both of you when you finally reached his hilt.

He pulled you into him, wrapping both arms tightly around you on top of him. He thrusted up into you, allowing you to remember every inch. Neither of you spoke, though you doubted either had the ability at the moment to form words. Your breathy moans filled the room, pleasure mixing together as you clung to him and he clung to you. The air was thick with need. For eachother, for touch, for everything.

Everything seemed to morph together despite the slow pace. It had been so long since Joe could show you how much he loved you, and god were you overdue. Finally, his thorough thrusts quickened slightly as he came. Your nails left trails down his back as you reached your high. All you both could do was cling on to each other, repeated “I love you’s” said into the air.

The work was worth it for him, so worth it.

#joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #cincinnati bengals #fanfic

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