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#I’m thinking of naming her Cricket
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I mentioned yesterday that my Speckled Sussex baby is terrified of me and won’t let me get close to her, but today she came up to me and even started climbing on my arm with the other chicks! My heart melted, she’s an adorable baby with huge sweet eyes, I hope she learns to trust me a little bit more!
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vigilantejustice · 4 months
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new melb friends were talking about how they were so touch–starved and hadn’t been with a guy in a couple years and i was just like “oh yeah so relatable me too girl” about it because the last sort of tangentially intimate thing in my life was my half–baked high school crush but then found myself very. enamoured? taken? fascinated? by the lady security guard at the barricade and it has been a weird time trying to a) name whatever that feeling was and b) reconcile that with my understanding of myself as someone who has precluded themselves from romantic and/or intimate situations as a rule
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alt-vera · 1 year
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— fine tune ⁀➷
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joel miller get’s a call for help from someone unexpected. he check’s out more than her broken down car.
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♡ | joel miller | 2.7k | ❛ fine tune - miranda lambert ❜
warnings: dbf!joel miller. pre-outbreak. drinking and driving. underage drinking (americans). dry humping. oral (m! and f! receiving). throat fucking. fingering. truck/outdoor sex. unprotected piv. established age gap. mdni.
❝ you flipped a switch, hot wired my gears, yeah you put me in line, and now i’m running right ❞
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TWO IN THE MORNING WAS NOT THE IDEAL TIME FOR YOUR CAR TO BREAK DOWN.
 Pulled over on the side of a dirt road, slight hint of booze still coursing through your veins from the party you had just left, you knew you couldn’t call your dad. He’d kill you for even stepping close to your car after drinking, kill you for being out so late, kill you for waking him up in the middle of the night.
 You felt like you were out of options as you pressed your spinning head against the coolness of your steering wheel. Crickets chirped happily in the farm field beside you, unaware of the inner turmoil you were currently going through.
 You were definitely feeling worse than when you left the house party. You knew it was wrong to drink and drive, but it was summertime in the middle of a heatwave, and you were a dumb college kid. Your friend ditched you for a hookup and you had no other way home than your car, or else you’d be stuck sleeping on some random dude’s couch and would either get the wrong kind of attention from someone, or be puked on in the middle of the night.
 So, you took your chances.
 You couldn’t even call a tow truck, because they’d probably get the cops involved if they saw the state you were in. The longer you sat racking your brain, the more the booze soaked in. You were fucked.
 Then, it hit you. There was one person you could call that didn’t have parental dictation over you, and couldn’t give you proper shit for your bad decisions because he’d driven home after a six pack multiple times.
 Your fingers nervously picked at the seams on the leather steering wheel as the line rang. On the third ring, a groggy voice greeted you.
 “Joel?” You slurred. You ignored the taken aback way he said your name as he answered. “Joel, my car broke down. I can’t call my dad—Can you please come give me a jump?”
 Joel sighed on the other end of the line. Usually he’d be woken up by Tommy asking for a bail out of jail, but he never thought that when he’d be answering the phone this late it’d be you calling. In fact, he didn’t even think you had his number saved.
 “Where are you?” He asked gruffly after a beat of silence. You gave him the name of the random country road you were on, and with that he hung up.
 Joel was there within minutes.
 He sped the whole way there, praying no cops were out prowling and looking for someone to bring in to make their night a little bit more interesting.
 He pulled up a few feet behind your car, your figure popping out of the driver door to come meet him. The headlights of his truck shut off as he jumped out, white tee sticking to his biceps in the humid summer air.
 “Joel!” You cried, pace quickening. Your hands latched onto his forearms as he held you upright. “My car died—I think it’s the battery, or the engine, or something—“
 You reeked like alcohol. “Have you been drinking?” He asked.
 You avoided his gaze, eyes wild. “I…”
 You gulped, eyes slowly moving to meet his. “That’s… That’s why i couldn’t call my dad.”
 Your name came out as a sigh between his lips. You shifted more weight into him, “Please, Joel—Can you help me?”
 The neediness in your voice made his thoughts wander, but he mentally reprimanded himself, attempting to focus on the task at hand. He kept a hand on your arm as the two of you walked to your beat up car, opening the hood. Your eyes never left Joel’s face as he examined the contents of your vehicle.
 “Well, we’ll try jumping it,” He said, eyes shifting to you. “If that doesn’t work…”
 He didn’t finish his sentence. You really didn’t want to call a tow truck. College was already eating up your money.
 You trailed behind him as he walked to the bed of his truck, opening the tailgate and reaching for the jumper cables strewn lazily in the very back. Just as he reached for them he paused, instead turning to look at you.
 “You can’t be doing dangerous shit like this,” He said sternly, gaze hard with seriousness.
 Figuring that you were gonna be there for a hot minute, you jumped onto the tailgate, sitting down to rest your body. “Why? You do it all the time.”
  “I bet you’ve even got a few drinks in your system right now,” You teased.
 “That’s different,” He sighed, hand coming to rub his face in annoyance. “I’m twice your weight and almost twice your age. My four shots is different from your four shots.”
 “Not really,” You shrugged. You leant closer to him, face coming dangerously close to his. “How many fingers am i holding up?”
 His eyes only left yours for a moment to glance at your hand.
 “Two.”
 You playfully rolled your eyes, drunken grin coming to dance along your lips as you pulled away ever-so-slightly. “Whatever, Miller. Just ‘cuz you have good eyes doesn’t mean you’re not half as buzzed as i am. I can still smell the whiskey on your breath; no age, or weight, can change that. And we both know how whiskey clouds your mind.”
 There was one time a few months ago where you had went swimming with Joel at a party your parents were having. He’d been a few whiskeys in, and you’d caught him staring at the way your chest sat perkily in your skimpy bikini top for a bit too long. He’d hopped out of the pool shortly afterwards, tugging at his swim shorts to presumably hide something going on down there. You hadn’t let him live it down since.
 Tired of your teasing, he inched his face closer to yours. His breath was hot against your cheek. “So, what?” He questioned, head cocking slightly and brow raising. “You wanna find out what happens when we’re both a few whiskey’s too deep?”
 You couldn’t hide your grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be jumping my car?”
 “Aren’t you supposed to be helping?” He retaliated.
 Next thing you knew, his lips were on yours.
 “How would your daddy feel about this?” Joel groaned between kisses, moving himself between your spread legs to be closer to you.
 “Who says he needs to know?” You pulled away, wrapping your hands in the white fabric of his tee. “You weren’t going to tell him you came out here tonight to help me, were you?”
 When Joel dodged your gaze and pressed his lips together into a line, your jaw dropped. You let go of his shirt, exclaiming, “Oh my god, you totally were!”
 “Joel Miller, i thought i could trust you! But, no, I guess—“ Your rambling was cut off by Joel’s large hand grabbing the nape of your neck.
 “Just shut up and kiss me.”
 You easily complied, melting into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He slipped his hands in the back pockets of your cutoffs, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer until you were flush against him, tits pressing against his chest and cunt pressed against the bulge in his jeans.
 You groaned at the contact, rubbing yourself against him. You felt him smile into the kiss. “Isn’t someone an eager beaver.”
 “Never again say that when we’re making out. Ever.”
 “Again?” He questioned, his brow cocked. “Who says i’ll ever let you kiss me again?”
 “Let me kiss you?” You snorted, “More like let you kiss me. You’re the man in his late-thirties making out with a 20 year old.”
 He rolled his eyes. “Are you this feisty in bed?”
 Your grin turned devilish. “Only one way for you to find out.”
 You grinded against him again, and he let out a raspy groan, hands coming to rest on your hips as he rolled you against him repeatedly, coaxing you to an orgasm without even taking your pants off.
 “Didn’t know you were so talented, Miller,” You mumbled as you caught your breath, and Joel rolled his eyes, sliding your shorts down your shaking legs.
 “You don’t ever shut up, do you?”
 “There’s only two ways to shut me up,” Your teeth shone under the light of the moon as you grinned, “It’s up to you to figure ‘em out.”
 “I can think of one way,” Joel muttered as his fingers rubbed your clit through your panties, chucking them off soon enough and pulling you closer to him on the tailgate, knees lowering onto the coarse dirt of the road. His tongue poked and probed experimentally, finding your clit to kiss and suck on it, his actions being rewarded by gracefully moans leaving your swollen lips.
 “So sweet,” He cooed, and you felt your face flush.
 “God, Joel,” You called out as his fingers moved to enter inside of you while his muscle continued to lap at your clit, “Please, don’t stop—“
 Your pleads were cut off by your walls clenching around Joel’s digits as you came, struggling to stop your hips from bucking up against his face. He let you ride out your high, using him.
 “Well, you found one out,” You sighed, and you heard Joel chuckle.
 “I think i know the other,” He replied as he rose to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a sweet tang mixed with whatever whiskey was still in his system.
 “You should’ve been a detective instead of a contractor, Miller,” You joked, sliding over to pat the worn plastic of the truck box beside you, “Now hop up, old man. I think it’s time you had a bit of fun.”
 He complied, hoisting himself up onto the tailgate beside you and sliding further into the roomy box. He let you lay him down, fingers dancing along his jeans as you nimbly unbuttoned them, pulling them down. You raised his shirt, signalling for him to take it off. Once he did so, you ran your tongue in a hasty line from his navel down his v-line to where the band of his boxers laid, a thin happy trail guiding your way.
 You heard him breathe out a shaky breath at your teases, and to toy with him more you pulled down his boxers painfully slow, taking your time to unsheathe him before taking his cock into your palm, pumping him as precum leaked from his tip and into your hand. You raised your palm to your face, tongue licking up the salty mess as your eyes met his own, blown wide with surprise and erratic lust.
 “Oh, darlin’,” He choked out, and you smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip before your tongue moved down the vein on the side of his shaft, caressing him as you took him into your mouth.
 He hit the gummy side of your cheek and a deep sigh left him, the warmth melting his calloused attitude as you guided him down your throat, swallowing him as much as you could.
 “Baby, you’re doing so well,” He prided, fingers caressing your cheek as a suppressed cough vibrated through your throat. “Can i fuck that pretty throat of yours?”
 He felt you nod around him, and his hips began thrusting quickly, his dick hitting the back of your throat as he throat fucked you. When he felt himself getting close he pulled out, a trail of spit being left in his wake.
 You whined, causing Joel to laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Need to save myself to fuck you, darlin’. Wanna feel that pretty cunt‘a yours grippin’ me.”
 Your lips upturned at his praises, losing your shirt and turning so that you were on your hands and knees as Joel raised himself to meet your position, pumping his dick and dragging himself through your wetness before inching himself inside.
 You groaned, sinking yourself down so that you could meet his hips as he bottom out inside of you. A hiss left his lips, “You’re so tight, baby. Swallowin’ me whole.”
 You didn’t give him time to adjust to your warmth, wiggling your hips so that he’d get the hint. You heard a hearty chuckle rumble through his chest as he began thrusting inside of you, hand gripping your hips as you sank yourself down to meet his movements.
 Groans tumbled from both your lips as the summer air breezed through your bodies. His arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you up so that your back was against his chest. One arm stayed like that, fingers coming to twist as your pert nipples while the other trailed down to rub at your clit. The simultaneous actions guided you through another orgasm, hips stuttering and word’s incoherently leaving your lips.
 “Atta girl,” Joel praised, hips moving faster and more sloppy as he felt himself reaching his own peak. “So good for me, fuckin’ me so well.”
 You could have sworn there’d be bruises of his fingertips as his hand pulled away from your waist, his iron grip receding and making you cold from the loss of contact.
 You sighed, attempting to compose yourself after being fucked dumb. Your chest heaved with every breath, heart racing. You stole a glance at Joel, who tossed his tee at you as he began to pull his jeans up his legs. You graciously took it, suddenly realizing how exposed you were.
 Joel noticed your silence, the teasing air that usually surrounded you was replaced by a sullen aura, and he frowned. He pulled you into his bare chest, arms wrapping around you protectively.
 “You did so well, baby,” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your scalp.
 “Thanks,” You replied, small smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at him. “You weren’t too bad yourself, considering how long it’s probably been since you’ve gotten laid.”
 There it was. Joel secretly loved how you would pal around with him, even if he was the butt of your jokes.
 “It hasn’t been that long,” He replied with an eye roll, “Besides, you can’t deny that that was probably the best sex you’ve ever had.”
 You sighed, but the smile never left your lips. “Yeah, it was a much needed fine tune. Now that you’ve got me runnin’ right, do you think you could work on my car?”
 In all honesty, Joel had forgotten the whole reason he’d come out here in the first place. He nodded, slightly embarrassed, and walked briskly to the door of your car. The engine revved to life as soon as he turned the key, and he gave you a pointed look as you stood beside him.
 “You’ve gotta kiddin’ me,” You muttered. “I swear, my car just hates me.”
 “Yeah, well, it’s gonna hate you even more because you’re comin’ home with me. I’m not letting you get behind the wheel.”
 “Fine,” You breathed out, complying easily as you locked your car and hopped into the shotgun of Joel’s truck. “But you’re making me food when we get back to your place.”
 “Alright, alright,” He chuckled, hands tapping the wheel as he began to drive, “You’ve worked up quite the appetite, huh?”
 “Shut up,” You giggled, shoving his bare shoulder lightly. “Don’t think you’re all that just cuz you got into my pants.”
 “I didn’t even need to get into your pants, remember?” He retaliated, voice raising to mock yours. “I didn’t know you were so talented, Miller.”
 “I do not sound like that!” You squealed with a laugh. “We’ll see how well you do next time.”
 “You thinkin’ you need another jump soon?” He questioned with a knowing quirk of his brow.
 You gazed out the window, smile painting your lips. “Yup. Thinkin’ my car’s gonna need it’s engine looked at, and i hear your garage is open all hours of the night.”
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ravenromanova · 7 months
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On the run
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Pairings: Bounty hunter Nat x Thief female reader
warnings: Mentions of death, knives, kidnapping, SMUT 18+!!! (Thigh riding, face sitting, oral, fingering, squirting)
Word count: 3.8k+
Summary: Natasha is hired to kidnap you. But when she finds out why will she be able to do it? (I’m sorry this is so late!)
Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!
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Breaking into The White Wolfs office building was a lot easier than you had thought it would be. You picked the lock and ran upstairs without being detected as fast as possible. When you finally found the office labeled “James Barnes” you smiled to yourself and picked the lock. You were able to hack into his computer very easily thanks to your fathers teachings.
Scanning through all the files you smile when you find exactly what you were looking for. You clicked on the filed named ‘The winter project’ and after a quick confirmation that it was indeed the filed you needed, you put your usb into the computer and downloaded the data.
Once the data uploaded you took the drive and put it in your pocket before exiting out of the computer and shutting it down. You opened one of the large windows in the office and housed your grappling hook to scale down the building. You mentally give yourself a high-five as you get into your car and drive back to your apartment which was 5 hours away from the city. And that night you fell asleep peacefully to the sounds of crickets and smiled knowing your plan was in motion.
The next day you got ready as normal and went about your day as you normally do. But as you were walking around town you felt as if someone or something was watching you. It wasn’t until you were walking around the farmers market that you knew for a fact that someone was following you.
You noticed a flash of red which you assumed was the persons hair color as you bought some strawberries. After you paid the lady you wanted to really confirm your suspicions, so you walked down an alleyway. And when you did you heard another set of footsteps. Slyly you grabbed the 3inch blade that was in your belt loop and turned around and held it to the persons throat.
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“Fuck” The woman muttered as her head hit the brick wall behind her. You pressed the blade into her throat more as she grunted in pain.
“Why are you following me?” You spit out at the woman and she pushes you off of her before catching her breath to speak.
“I was trying to capture you.” She says in between gasps of air.
Your jaw dropped and your eyes went wide. “Capture me! I dont even know you! why the hell would you want to take me” You ask as you grip the handle of your blade tighter ready to attack if needed.
“Because i was paid 2 million dollars to” The woman responds as she walks up closer to you. It’s at this time that you really get to notice her features. Her eyes are a light shade of green, She has light brown freckles that litter her cheeks and you cant help but get captivated by her.
You’re soon snapped out of your thoughts as she goes to grab your hand to take you with her. You pull away from her and draw your knife to her throat again before she kicks out your knee and pins you.
“You’re either coming with me willingly or we can do this my way where i knock you out” She huffs trying to catch her breath again.
“What!? Who hired you?” You question as you attempt to free yourself of her hold. She smiles a little evilly at your question and you just grow more confused.
“Did you really think you could break in and steal information from the white wolf and him not know?” She quips and just kinda laughs at her own question.
“Well maybe if he wasn’t a killer i wouldn’t want to steal his information and take him down.” The words come out a little broken as they come out and the woman definitely notices.
“Well your vendetta against him isn’t my concern all i know is that i was hired to bring you to him so he can deal with you himself.” The woman says and she then takes your hand and handcuffs you to her.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” You yell at her and she just simply shrugs and stands up pulling you with her.
“This way i dont lose you” And with that she’s tugging your arm making you walk beside her. At this point you dont even know if you should try to run away since she seems to be much stronger and quicker than you.
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“So you’re seriously going to hand me over to someone you know is a gonna kill me the second you deliver me” Her facial expression falters slightly at your words but she keeps walking. You roll your eyes and just huff as she doesn’t respond still trying to think of a way to get out of this.
After walking for what feels like thirty miles out of town you finally make it to what your assume is her car. You look at her confused since you have no idea hoe the hell to get in the car handcuffed.
“Crawl over the drivers seat and sit down. if you think i trust you to willingly get in the car and not run you’re even more insane than i thought.” The woman says and pushes you into the car. You do as you’re told and crawl over the drivers to get into the passenger seat. She followed behind and got into the drivers seat and started the car.
“This is so fucked up” The words are barley audible as they leave your lips. As she drives off you just stare out the window with your left arm strained as she drives. At this point you fully give into your situation and come to terms with it.
~an hour later~
As you stared out the window as the car was filled with silence. Neither you or the woman spoke to each other for nearly an hour until you felt the car come to a halt.
“Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?” You ask looking out the window and seeing just a bunch of nothing where you are.
“Because we ran out of gas” The redhead slams her hands on the steering wheel in frustration and in turn pulls your arm with her.
“ow! could you be a little more careful” She rolls her eyes at your statement and mumbles a ‘sorry’ “What are we supposed to do now? We are in the middle of nowhere with no gas and the nearest gas station isn’t for at least another fifty miles” She just groaned at your words. The next few minutes are silent as the woman tries to come up with a plan.
“Well i guess we are gonna attempt to hitchhike or find a place to crash for the night.” And with that she’s pulling your arm as she gets out of the car and you obviously follow.
“This is ridiculous if you had just let me go we wouldn’t be here.” You huff and try crossing you arms but fail.
“You know i still dont even know your name random woman who kidnapped me” She laughs at you remark as she grabs a bag from her trunk before she starts walking off.
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“Well i didn’t think we’d be around each other for long but plans change” She replies as you two reach a dirt road to follow. “It’s Natasha” The woman adds with a little hint of a smile on her face.
“It’s pretty” You admit looking at Natasha and she blushes a little.
“Thanks- uh try and see if you have any service and if you do try to find the nearest motel if possible” Nat said clearly changing the topic of conversation. Pulling out your phone you squeal when you see you have on bar. Quickly you go to look up a motel and see one fifteen miles away.
“There’s one fifteen miles down this road should take about an hour or two” You point north and she nods and you both just walk in silence.
The sun goes down as you both tread to the motel and luckily it’s autumn in new york so it’s not hot. Neither of you speak unless you’re giving her directions which wasn’t often. You did however notice how gorgeous the woman was. Granted she was literally delivering you to deaths door but hey at least she was hot.
Natasha stole glances at you here and there as you walked. For some reason she had a pit of guilt in her stomach. Normally she has no remorse for her bounties since most of them are awful people. But here you were this girl who looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly, She couldn’t help but wonder why The White Wolf wanted you dead so bad, What did you steal?
The two hours go by rather quickly even though your legs are indeed killing you. The two of you walk into the lobby of a very shabby motel.
“Hi there! What can i do for you two” The woman at the front desk asks as both of you approach the desk.
“We’d like a room for the night please” You say with a smile and the woman nods and starts typing.
“We have a room with a queen bed for twenty dollars a night will that work dear?” She asks and you look over at Natasha who just shrugs and nods her head.
“Alright dear and if just for the night then it’s twenty even” You nod and pull out your wallet from your pocket but Natasha beat you to it. She gave the woman her card and paid. The woman handed you the room key along with telling you where the room was and you thanked her before walking away.
It was silent as you two walked up the stairs to the second floor. When you reached the door Natasha used the key card to open the door. You walked into the room first and she followed behind. The room wasn’t the worst but it also wasn’t exactly the best. Luckily it was only for a night.
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You were quickly reminded of the handcuffs when your left arm got pulled towards the bed and you groaned.
“Okay listen i know you handcuffed us because you think im gonna run but if i promise not to run will you take them off.” Natasha noticed the pleading look in your eyes as you spoke. She was a little hesitant about uncuffing you both, on one hand she didn’t want you to run because if she lost you’d she be dead, and she also kinda liked your presence.
“If you try to escape i don’t hesitate to knock you out understood” She agrees with a stern look and you nod in agreement. When she uncuffs you she notices how you dont move away from her and you just kinda look at her.
“Uh thanks” You finally spoke breaking the trance you were in.
“No problem. Why dont you go take a shower and then we can figure out how to get back to the city later” Natasha said and it’s then you realize you have no clothes and nothing to shower with.
“I would if i had anything to shower with” Pointing to the lack of bags on your hand. She nods her hand and opens the bag she grabbed earlier before you left her car.
“That’s why i brought these.” And with that she hands you a change of clothes and mini toiletries. You thank her and head to the small bathroom and lock the door.
You turn the small shower on as hot as it can go before getting undressed. Setting the clothes on the sink and stepping into the hot shower you sigh in relief as the water runs down your skin.
While your in the shower Natasha has the most infuriating internal struggle she’s ever had. She knows she should bring you to The White Wolf but she can’t help but feel like there’s something that she doesn’t know. She is determined to find out why he wants you dead so bad when you get out of the shower.
After you wash your body you grab one of the towels from the motel and wrap it around your body. You wipe the fog off the mirror before staring at yourself in the mirror. Your mind wanders off to your father and how he would handle this situation, He’d probably would have already killed this woman, You wish you could call him and ask him what to do…But you cant. So with a heavy sigh you put on the oversized t-shirt and shorts before wrapping your hair in the towel and walking out.
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When Natasha sees you step out in her clothes her breath hitches in her throat. She takes a moment to study your features and take in how breathtakingly beautiful you are, Your hair that flows past your middle back, How long your eyelashes are, How soft your skin looks-. She cuts her own thoughts off as you sit on the bed next to her.
“Thanks for the clothes” Your voice comes out soft and for a moment you forget that this woman is bringing you to your death. Suddenly you feel a sense of fear and your eyes swell with tears. Natasha notices your change in demeanor and puts two and two together.
“If you dont mind me asking…What did you steal from The White Wolf? Why does he want you dead” Natasha asks as she scoots closer to you and gently holds your hand.
The look you give you give her before you speak can only be described as innocent. “Two years ago my father was killed. He worked for The White Wolf as his second in command for fifteen years. He found out that the White Wolf was planning on conducting illegal human experiments in attempt to make something that he called a super solider. My father said that he would report him to the fbi if he did so and then he executed my father right then and there. I had found out from my brother who worked there as well what happened and since that day i vowed to take him and his entire operation down.” Tears start to fall as you recall your fathers death and you just sit there stuck in the memory.
It’s right then and there that Natasha decides she’s not gonna bring you in. You were innocent, You were just trying top avenge your father she couldn’t bring you to deaths door because of that. She just hugs you after you finish speaking. The action takes you by surprise but you accept it and quickly embrace her back.
“I’m not taking you to him anymore- Now that i know why i-i cant do it” She whispers into your hair and you look up to her and start to cry even more.
“He will kill us both if you dont you know” The words are shaky and broken as they come out. She just shakes her head and puts her finger against your lips.
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“I dont care what happens to me. I just wanna keep you safe.” She says honestly and you’re amazed by her. She has only known you for a few hours and yet is risking her life for you.
“Why? You dont even know me…For all you know i could be a serial killer” You joke a little and she laughs and god its the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.
“I guess you’re right. But i’ve done my research on you Y/n killing doesn’t quite seem like your MO” She teases back and you giggle and reposition yourself against the headboard.
“Yea i guess you’re right but still why are you risking your life for someone you just met?” Natasha looks at you and sits down next to while taking your hand in hers again. Her thumb runs over your knuckles and you get this feeling as if you’ve known her for years. It takes her a moment before she responds as she get lost in the moment herself.
“I see something in you and it makes me want to protect you- i can’t describe it” She confess and your heart swells. Before you can even think about your actions your lips on on hers. Natasha is quick to reciprocate the kiss along with grabbing you and having you straddle her hips. You moan into her mouth as she grinds your hips down on her thigh.
“Fuck me” You whisper into her mouth and she’s quick to leave dark bruises on your neck. After she’s satisfied with the marks she lifts your shift off you and moves to your boobs. She moans when she sees your bare chest and you blush as she grabs the soft skin.
“So pretty Kotenok” The words she speaks makes you groan and grind on her thigh a little faster. She quickly takes a nipple in between her teeth and grazes it lightly before sucking on it.
“Oh fuck Nat-Please fuck me” She doesn’t need much more convincing after that. Natasha flips you both so you are underneath her on your back. She rids you of you shorts and underwear and stares at your bare pussy.
“So fucking pretty” Her voice is deep as she drinks in the sight in front of her. Slowly she makes her way to you slit licking from there to your clit and you let out a soft moan. She focuses on you clit and starts sucking on it at a fast pace. She moans at the taste of you as if its the sweetest thing on the planet.
“Oh fuck yea right- right there” You moan and she adds two fingers into your tight hole and you scream.
“So tight baby so fucking tight” She mutters into your pussy sending vibrations to your clit that makes your back arch. Natasha kitten licks your clit and the teasing of it drives you up a wall. Once she adds the third finger that’s when you really fucking lose it.
“Oh fuck yes YES!” You scream and you swear you can feel her smirk into your pussy as she sucks your clit harder. You can feels your walls pulsate on her fingers as she gives you an unrelenting pace,
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“Cum for me baby” She urges picking up the pace and fucks into you harder. You can feel the coil in your stomach grow tighter as you drink up the pleasure coursing through your body. You’ve never felt anything like this before and you know that after this you’ll be ruined for anyone else.
“Fuck-har-harder natty please” Natasha smirks at the nickname and happily obliges and fucks into you at a much harder pace. It doesn’t take long before you’re back in arching and you’re screaming as she kisses your g-spot.
“i-im cumming!” And within thirty seconds you squirt on her fingers and tongue. Natasha groans and continues to lick your pussy clean. When she comes back up for air she sticks her fingers in your mouth.
“Taste yourself baby” And you do as you’re told and swirl your tongue around her three fingers. She pushes them further into your mouth and fucks your throat with them. You gag on her fingers but you dont complain as you relish in this filthy moment. Once you have cleaned her fingers to her liking she takes them out of your mouth and replaces her fingers with her mouth.
“Fuck baby you taste so fuckin good” She praises in between kisses and you moan out a thank you in response.
“I wanna taste you too” A hint of mischief hidden on your words as you scoot down on the pillow. She takes the hint and rids herself of her pants, before she places herself around your head and settles her pussy down on your mouth.
You wrap your hands around her thighs and push her onto your tongue. She grinds her hips on your face and moans as your lips suck on her clit.
“Oh fuck baby” She moan and her hands tangle themselves in your hair as you continue sucking. You quickly add a finger into her already dripping pussy and that drives her crazy. She’s quick to fuck herself as much as she can on your finger. You moan in satisfaction as you feel her clench around your finger, when you add another one Natasha practically screams at the stretch.
“Fuck baby im gonna cum” Her words feel like a challenge to you and in that moment you want to make her cum more than anything. You add a third finger while nipping and sucking on her clit. Her walls clench on your fingers as you hit her g-spot.
“FUCK!” Natasha screams as she cums on your fingers and tightens her grip on your hair. She falls on the bed next to you as she tries to catch her breath. You roll over on your side and look at her fucked out face and smile.
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You cuddle into her side and run your hand under her shirt in soothing motions. “That was amazing” You confess and she looks at you with a dopey smile on her lips.
“Agreed” She says and wraps an arm around you waist. The two of you stay like this for a moment not caring about aftercare right now. The silence is nice as you both enjoy each other’s presence.
“So what happens now?” Your voice is the first one to break the silence. Natasha lets out a sigh and rubs her hand over your hip.
“Well i have a plan but it’s not exactly that well thought out” She admits as you look up to meet her gaze. You nod as a sign for her to continue. “Why dont we just take the money and run? We can go anywhere you want, and we can change our names so The White Wolf doesn’t find us and we make a life together-“ Your eyes widen at her words and she takes that a sign that she’s being crazy and that there’s no way you’ll agree to this.
“Unless you think its a stupid idea, Because in that case ill split the money with you and we can go our separate ways” The words come out anxious and shaky and you shake your head and put your finger to her lips like she did earlier.
“Let’s do it” You smile “Lets be on the run together.” After the words come out Natasha smiles and kisses you with more passion than before.
Being on the run with the woman who was hired to kidnap you? Definitely not what you had on your yearly bingo card but hey… at least you aren’t dead.
~The end~
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I do not give permission for my work to be translated or posted on other sites
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munsonluhvr · 26 days
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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME [PART 1]
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synopsis: modern!cowboy!steve harrington x country!fem!reader | the small town you grew up in became unbearable by the time you graduated from high school. you fled to the big city, far away from farms, southern accents, and cows, leaving your family and friends behind. but, you return back to your hometown for a family wedding, and forced to confront someone from your past - steve harrington. word count -3.7k warnings: angst, complex friendships/family relationships. not spellchecked, but will be tomorrow.
𑁍 part 2 & part 3 coming soon...
Stepping off the airplane, the sun shines brightly in your eyes, acres, and acres of farm land outstretching in front of you. The heat is thick, nearly unbearable after sitting in a nicely air-conditioned plane for several hours. Your suitcase and backpack weigh heavily on your arms; you adjust to make them easier to carry. 
“Y/n,” you hear off in the distance, and you make shade with your hand, squinting to look at the exit of the airport to see who’s calling your name. You see your grandmother, grandfather, and parents jumping up and down, waving their arms. 
It’s been quite some time since you’ve been to your hometown, everything looking so familiar and foreign at once. Already, barely off the airplane, you notice how everything is so different from the city, from the environment, the sweet smell of grass and farm animals, the low hum of crickets and cicadas buzzing around. Even the people are different, the southern accents and cowboy boots, jeans splattered with mud and hard work. You know you’re home. 
You hustle across the pavement, suitcases in tow. Your family rushes towards you with excitement, their arms and bodies embracing you with excitement. “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my granddaughter,” your grandmother says, cupping your face in her soft, wrinkled hands. “I think I’m going to kidnap you, so you never disappear for years and years again.”
You laugh softly, comforted by the presence of your family, the people who know you best. You had fled this small hometown of yours, seeing something bigger and better. Though you had the greatest childhood memories, catching frogs in the creek, swinging for hours on the tire swing, cookouts at your grandparents farm, you felt as though there was something more, something else beyond small-town living.  Though you aren’t sure you ever found it. 
“C’mon, now. We got some surprises waitin’ for you back at the house.” Your grandfather says, ushering you towards the parking lot. All different sizes and colors of trucks filled the parking lot, shaggy dogs sitting patiently in the beds of the car. You groan. “Surprises?” 
You barely had time to think as you and your family drove home, your grandparents and parents chattering and asking you endless questions about your life in the city. You answered each question, your eyes trained out the window as farms pass you by, multi-colored cows and horses looking back at you. The warm summer air blows through your hair, the thick heat causing sweat to accumulate at your hair line. 
Rolling the wheels over the gravel and dirt driveway, your grandfather’s red truck bouncing side to side, you pull up to your grandparent’s large farmhouse, chickens scattered all across the lawn. There’s balloons, tied to the front step banisters, other cars parked alongside the driveway. “How many people are here?” you ask, looking between your family members in the car. 
“Oh,” your grandmother says, looking over at you from the passenger seat, a mischievous smile on her mouth. “Just the whole town.” 
You laugh softly, feeling already drained. 
Your grandfather halts the car, your mom reaching over to rub your arm. “Don’t be overwhelmed.” You nod, biting at your bottom lip. You step out of the car, dusty dirty clouding your shoes. 
“Go on in, I’ll get your bags.” Your father says, gesturing towards the car. You nod again, walking towards the house with your grandparents and mother. The front porch groans under your body weight, the frailness of the aged wood demonstrating how it should be replaced soon. You turn the doorknob, the chatter of voices coming to a halt as you let the door swing open, tens of eyes looking back at you. 
In unison, countless people yell, ‘welcome home,’ bright smiles on their faces. As you look around, you recognize that it’s all of your grandparents friends, all of them looking older then the last time you saw them; some of your family members, your cousin who’s getting married in several days. You also recognize your friends from high school, most who decided to stay nearby after graduation, welcoming you back with excited faces. They all rush towards you, hands grazing your cheeks, soft pats on your back. 
You greet people as they come up to you, your mind aching with overstimulation. The elderly guests tell you how much you’ve grown up, how beautiful you are; your friends catch you up on the latest gossip, what other classmates are up to; your family telling you how much they’ve missed you, how excited they are for your cousin to be getting married, the event bringing everyone together again. 
“I’m so excited that you’re a bridesmaid,” your cousin, Heather, says. “I hope the wedding goes well – we’ve put so much effort into it.” 
You hum, your mouth becoming dry. You feel the need to disappear. “It’ll go great, I’m excited to be a part of your special day.” 
At last, you’re able to escape to the kitchen, searching your grandparents cupboards for a cup. You find one, turning the faucet on to let the ice, cold water rush out. You stick the cup under the faucet, taking sips as the cup fills. 
“Never thought I’d see you again,” a deep voice says from behind you, causing you to turn around. Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach, your skin flushing with heat. Steve Harrington leans against the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest. His blue jeans are splattered with dark paint, his boots stained by grass, a cowboy hat settled low on his hair, covering his infamous, brown hair. 
You swallow, turning around to lean against the kitchen sink. “Steve?” Your heart thumps against your chest, churning begins in your stomach. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him. 
Steve hums, nodding. “Barely recognize me?” 
You shake your head. “Of course, I remember you. I could never forget you.” And despite that being true, you tried for many years to forget Steve. 
He still looks as beautiful as he did in high school; time has been kind to him. Steve, of course, looks more like a man, his form filling in nicely. His bare arms are tanned, sun kissed, his arms strong and muscley. Even from where Steve stands, you can sense he must work on a nearby farm, his musk tangled with the smell of the outdoors and horses. “I’m surprised,” he says, an edge to his voice. “You ran away so fast after graduation; barely said goodbye.”
You lean against the kitchen sink farther, the edge of the counter cutting into your back. “You always knew that was the plan, Steve.” 
You and Steve had been close in middle school, two peas in a pod. He was a true country boy, finding refuge in the time you both spent at your grandparent’s farm. Steve was always there to ride the horses, riding as far as your grandparent’s property allowed. He was the person you’d build forts with using fallen down trees, who taught you how to fish in the creek, capture lightening bugs in jars. You and Steve spent so many hours outside, seldom coming in before the stars were able to be seen against the dark, black sky, smelling like grass and summer air, fingernails caked with dirt. 
In high school, you and Steve remained friends, but the adventures outside came to a close. You both got your own friend groups, though by living in such a small town everyone was friends with each other. You’d go to small parties; Steve would be there too. You’d watch the football games in the stands, Steve would be beside you, a blanket in his hands to throw over your laps. You always knew Steve cared for you, always be there to swoop you up in his beloved pick-up truck. 
Steve shrugs, crossing his boots as he leans against the kitchen island. “A lot of time has passed, I guess. How’s the big city?” 
You open your mouth to respond, suddenly feeling vulnerable in front of Steve, as if you’ve met the person you feel like you can confess to that the world isn’t particularly great when you get out of your hometown’s limits, but your grandmother comes barreling in to the kitchen; her hands clasp when she sees that you and Steve stand only a foot away from each other, talking for the first time in years. “Look at you two together; it’s almost as if no time has passed.” 
You smile, looking down at the floor, as your grandmother makes her way over to you and Steve. She outstretches her arms, placing them on yours and Steve’s bicep. “I just wanted to tell you Steve that the horses need to be brought in from the pasture, there’s going to be a storm tonight and they should be in the barn.” 
You frown, looking between your grandmother and Steve. “Nana, why would Steve bring in the horses; I can do it.” 
Your grandmother laughs, placing a hand on her mouth. “I guess I forgot to tell you, but Steve works for your grandfather and I now, works for the farm.” 
You nod slowly, your eyes landing on Steve. You suppose you aren’t surprised; Steve always loved the farm as if he was a part of the land himself. Steve nods too, looking towards your grandmother. “I’ll get right on that. I’ll see you around y/n.” Steve steps away from you with a curt nod, exiting the house from the kitchen door that leads out to the backyard. 
“Such a nice young man.” Your grandmother hums, watching the curtains flow with warm summer air. Outside, the sky has darkened inch by inch, dusk beginning to creep over the town. “He’s a hard worker too. Always asks me what you’re up to in the city and what not.” 
You raise your eyebrows, glancing at your grandmother. “Oh?”
Your grandmother smiles when she finds you looking at her, a curious look on your face. “Oh yeah. I think he’s always been in love with you, ever since you were little, out running through the fields like wild things.” 
Your cross your arms over your chest, clearing your throat. “That’s not true, grandma, we’ve always been good friends.” 
Your grandmother hums, then shrugs, turning back towards the living room where house guests still mingled. “You’d be surprised,” your grandmother says over her shoulder, walking out of the kitchen. “How distance makes the heart grow fonder.”
The next morning you wake up in your childhood bedroom, with a raging headache. Mingling with friends and family proved to be an exhausting task, overstimulating too. As you wake up, you look around your room, trinkets bringing back memories in an instant. 
You see your vanity, old pieces of makeup and perfume scattered around the countertop, pictures of your friends wedged in between the mirror and its frame. On your shelves, old, tattered books about horses are wedged in between glass figurines of horses, their sparkly eyes staring back at you. Horse ribbons, royal blue, and bright red, hang from all corners of your room. You feel comforted by your things, the memories like pieces of candy, sweet and savory. 
The window is open halfway, the curtain billowy as it blows in the wind, warm summer air making its way into your room. Faintly, you smell food cooking, bacon and pancakes wafting through the air.  Your stomach growls loudly and you decide it’s best if you get up for the day. 
In your pjs, you creep down the staircase, noticing that everyone else’s bedroom doors are open and vacant. Once you get to the kitchen, you see your parents and grandparents, and the family dog, sitting around the kitchen table. 
“Nice of you to join us,” your mother says, stabbing at a piece of scrambled eggs. “Grab yourself some breakfast.” 
The kitchen is bright with light, slightly messy with bowls of batter, cracked egg shells covering the countertops. “What are your plans for today, y/n?” your grandfather asks, watching you put together your breakfast. 
You shrug. “Heather needs me to do one last fitting for the dress later today but that’s it. I’ll probably just hang around here today.” 
“Might as well go to the barn,” you grandmother says. “I bet the horses miss you.” 
Your father hums, sipping from his cup of orange juice. “That would be nice to see you at the barn again, spending time with the horses. To see you be a country girl again instead of a city girl.” 
Everyone at the table laughs, even you, but your grandmother groans. “I don’t know how you bear living in the city, living in the country is so much better.” You bite into a piece of bacon, the sweetness of it mouthwatering; bacon isn’t this fresh in the city.
You smile as you notice how you agree with your grandmother; your younger self would be so disappointed. “Very true, grandma.” 
After breakfast, you venture up to your room again. You feel like your old self again, almost a glimpse of the past, as you pull your boots on, a pair of throwaway jeans fastened by your old turquoise belt you saved up for in high school. It’s been a long time since you’ve been near horses, or been in a barn, and you’re ready to get your hands dirty. 
You make your way out of the farmhouse, taking the dirty path to get to the freestanding yard out in the field. Though it still looks the same, the red paint has chipped off, exposing the brown wood of the structure. The field is fenced off with white rails, the horses walking happily through the tall grass, bending their long necks down to graze. As you approach the barn, the sweet yet tangy smell of horses accumulates you, tickling your nose. 
Inside of the barn is cool, a nice refuge from the sun that beats down outside. Chickens run aimlessly down the center aisle, clucking with alarm, little bits of hay and grain crunch underneath your feet. You notice some of the horses have chosen to navigate their way inside to their shady stalls. You walk down the aisle, noticing how your grandparents have bought new horses. You get to the end of the barn, looking out to the tree line that meets the vast and open farm property. You look to your right and see a plaque hanging on the door: ‘Dolly’ 
You can hardly believe it as a light brown horse blinks back at you. Dolly is your childhood horse, you’re sure she’s elderly now. You open the stall door, reaching your hand out as the horse greets you happily. You decide to pull her out to give her a groom. 
After tying her to the wall, and getting your supplies, you begin to brush Dolly, each sweep calming you immensely. You work in silence, only the sounds from the farm animals fill the silence. That is until a figure appears at the end of the door – Steve. 
You look back at Dolly, training your eyes on her. Though it’s not line that makes you invisible; Steve clears his throat as he sees you standing in the aisle. 
“Hey,” Steve says, a bag nearly the same size of him in his arms. He plunks it down on several bales of hay and you read that it’s horse feed. 
“Hey,” you say, looking back at Dolly. 
“It’s like I’ve seen a ghost,” Steve says, glancing at you, then picking up a bale of hay, carrying it towards the end of the barn. “Seeing you in here.”
You frown, your arm slowing to moving in small circles. “What do you mean?” 
Steve shrugs, his face obscured from the darkness of the barn, his outline only clear to you. “We used to be in here together all the time, remember? Then when you left it’s been just me. It’s like a flashback to high school when I see you, here and now, with Dolly.” 
You suck your cheeks in, chewing on the insides of your cheek. “Oh.” 
You watch as Steve pulls bolt cutters from his back pocket, clipping the string that holds the hay together apart. “It’s a good thing. I like it.” 
You clench your jaws, nodding slowly. “So, you work at the farm now?” 
Steve nods, pulling flakes of hay off. “Started right after graduation, never stopped.” 
“You always did love the farm; I think even more then me.” 
Just then, Steve laughs, standing up to look towards you. “Remember all the fun times we had? When we’d stay out so late until your grandparents would come looking for us with flashlights? Man, those were the times; I think about those memories a lot.” 
You smile, beginning to brush Dolly quicker. “I also remember when you’d scare me with frogs, holding them up to my face and letting them jump on me. That never stopped in high school either, you knew I hate frogs.” 
Steve hums, a playful smile on his face. “I guess I kind of had a crush on you back then. But don’t worry, I’m over that now.” 
Silence rolls over you and Steve, his confession startling you. Steve liked you at one point? Suddenly you remembered what your grandmother had said in the kitchen last night. How had you never realized that? 
Steve clears his throat. “Are you going riding?” 
You shrug, glancing at Dolly. “I was thinking about it. Want to join?” 
Steve looks at the hay he was disassembling. He shrugs. “I guess I could spare a few minutes.” 
You smile, then nod. “Great.” 
You and Steve tack up the horses in silence, dancing around each other as you grab the saddles. Once you’re set to go, you use a bale of hay to mount Dolly, lining up behind Steve as you both guide the horses out to the pasture. 
Your skin automatically gets hot under the sun, the temperature a big difference from the shade in the barn. The crickets chirp loudly, the breeze blowing the tall grass lightly. You and Steve guide the horses along the perimeter of the fence, going at a slow lope. As you ride along the farm, you remember all the places you and Steve would play, skin slight with sweat as you imagined yourself as a princess and a knight, as cowboys running along the train tracks.
You remember the twinkle in Steve eyes, how his chubby cheeks would turn pink from sun exposure and exhaustion, his knees covered in scrapes and dirt. You smile to yourself, as you imagine the young version of Steve coaxing you to jump from the swing that was tied to a tree branch into the stream, or how he carried you back home when you twisted your ankle, tears threatening to spill out. 
“What’re you smiling for?” Steve asks, glancing over at you, his face shaded by his hat. He holds his reins in one hand, letting his other hand rest on his thigh. He guides his horse close to you, your legs nearly brushing. 
You smile, shaking your head. “Just thinking about the mischief, we got up to when we were kids.” 
Steve smiles, looking ahead of him. “Those were the good days. High school wasn’t bad either. Just too bad you had to leave us.”
You glance at Steve. “Not like anything would have changed if I stayed.” 
Steve shrugs, glancing back at you. “Us not talking for years would have changed.” 
You glance away, looking straight ahead. “I know, I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.” Steve shrugs, shaking his head. “You did what you had to do; I know this town always felt too small for you. Did you ever find what you were looking for?”
You shake your head. “No,” you say simply.  
Steve nods, letting silence come in between you two again. You ride next to each other, letting the memories roll through your minds. 
You ride for the next little while, until you hear a loud bell ring from the farmhouse. Even from far away, you can see your grandmother’s body standing on the porch, her arms waving. It must be time to get your dress fitted. 
“I should probably get back,” you say, beginning to turn Dolly around. “Heather needs me to get my bridesmaid dress fitted one last time.” 
Steve nods, following you as you head back towards the barn. “I’ll race you.” Steve says, kicking his horse forward before you can object. You gently kick Dolly forward knowing Dolly is no match for Steve’s much youthful horse.
Once you and Steve get to the barn and down from your horses, you walk the horses into the barn, retying them to the wall. You work quickly, knowing Heather gets impatient with time. 
“You know,” Steve says, pulling his saddle off, “Jason Carver is having a little get together tomorrow. You should swing by – or I could pick you up.” 
You nod, tossing Steve a smile. “Yeah, sure, that sounds fun. We could catch up too.” 
Steve nods, returning a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, great.” 
You pat Dolly as you return her to her stall, watching as she goes straight for her hay, You walks towards the door, turning to glance at Steve. “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow.” 
Steve waves, watching as you turn around, your legs tanned from the time you just spent out in the sun. His heart squeezes as he remembers you, thinking of the way his younger self would spend all day together, out in the field together, then how he’d go home and lay in his bed exhausted, but his mind would race as he’d replay the day over in his mind. 
Then he remembers how in high school, he would watch you with your friends, how you switched your tom-boy clothes for skirts, and the feeling he had when realized he loved you and that seeing you in skirts made his day. Steve, as he watches your walk back to the farmhouse, how he loved to be near you, the late-night drives home from small get togethers or sitting with you at the football games. How your face lit up against the stadium lights, how you’d cheer, a toothy smile on your face. 
Steve has had so many questions, relying on your grandmother to feed him pieces of information about your life in the city, wondering if you have a boyfriend in the city, if you miss being in the country or miss him. Now here you are, like a gift from heaven. Now you’re back home – right where you left him. 
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queen-of-hobgobblers · 9 months
Text
Pansexual Pavitr Headcanons
tw references to internalized homophobia, societal homophobia
He probably had small puppy crushes on people from cinema
Katrina Kaif, Anushka Shetty, Vijay, Hrithik Roshan, Kajol, etc.
But they wouldn’t really be crushes back then, right? He was seven.
When he was like twelve, he had his first actual crush.
Some boy in his friend group he can’t quite remember the name of who used to play cricket with him and competed with him to see who could make the biggest splash in the lake when they went swimming
Pavitr has always been good at reading people
So by extension he thought he was pretty good at reading himself
And deep down he knew he felt more drawn to him than the others
But he couldn’t quite bring himself to equate that with the way he felt for some of the girls who would play tag with them sometimes
Because such thing didn’t exist right?
And then when he got older he realized that such thing did exist, it was just frowned upon
So he decided that it was just deep friendship nothing more
He liked the way his brown eyes glinted when they raced solely because it meant he had a challenge
He liked the way the guy listened to him ramble solely because he was unused to being listened to
He liked when their hands brushed because it filled him with a pleasant sense of warmth solely because of them being best friends
And eventually he moves on from him
And then moves in general when he leaves for Mumbattan
Definitely flirted a lot with the girls in his school
To varying degrees of success
Noticed several guys
Hung up several posters of Virat Kohli and MS Dhoni (“just because they were cool”)
But pushed those particular feelings deep, deep down
Then he met Gayatri
Who he tried a pick up line on when she moved to the school
And she was the first girl who genuinely flirted back
So his brain shut down
And he definitely fell hard for everything she did
Eventually he worked up the courage to kiss her and she asked him out and life was great
Until he met Hobie
Then it became simultaneously better and worse at the same time
Miguel: You’ll be teaming up with Spider-Punk, of Earth-138’s London.
Pavitr: What?! No! I am not going to work with a Brit-
Hobie: ’Ey, mate. Name’s ’Obie, ’Obie Brown.
Pavitr, dying already: ... I’m willing make an exception for this one.
Pavitr does the same, “This is where the traffic is” spiel with Hobie, and when he gets to “And this is where the British stole all our stuff!” they strike up a conversation about colonialism and Pav is like I really like this guy!
Same thing when he just says Chai
And they get along great. Hobie’s cool, and they have tons in common!
Which leads him to the part where it gets worse: he realizes he’s in love with Hobie!
And he angsts about it like, “Oh, no, no, no, no, no! I can’t be gay! Or bi, or whatever else- what will Maya auntie think?! What will my school friends think?! What will Gayatri- I have a girlfriend! I can’t be in love with someone else-” *Hopeless romantic with terrible luck in his own love life keeps ranting*
Hobie would probably be confused about Pav’s feelings like, “You’re givin’ mixed signals ’ere, mate.”
Pavitr would stumble upon a book or a website about desi queerness
And it would help a little bit because oftentimes people saw queerness as a western import and queer culture always focused more on white queer culture
So it helped him see himself as less of a freak
He would eventually feel comfortable enough to the label pansexual
Because a hot person is a hot person regardless of gender
He would nervously try to come out to Gayatri
And she would be all “No way, bro, same!” (also pan)
And that’s how he first finds out queer people are like magnets to each other
Maya auntie would be hard to come out to
He would probably sneak subtle references to the queer community into conversations to see her reaction
To the point where she was just sipping her chai with a smirk, waiting for him to actually come out to her
(She was fully supportive when he finally did come out tho)
Anyway one day an anomaly would find its way to Mumbattan
And Hobie and Gwen would be sent into help Pav
And during the attack one of them saves Gayatri
And she’s like “... Are all Spider-People this hot?”
Anyway this helps start Miguel’s Nightmare Poly
Speaking of Miguel
Pavitr: Okay, we were all thinking it, so why don’t I just say it? Miguel’s kind of hot.
Miles: HE USED FIFTEEN YEAR OLD ME AS A STRESSBALL!!!
Pavitr, who’s currently annoyed with Miles for calling him “Pav Bhaji” as a joke: Which makes him even hotter, what’s your point?
Definitely watches over the Mumbattan Pride parade from a nearby building dressed as Spider-Man every year
If you zoom into photos, you can see he’s wearing earrings (colored in pink, yellow and blue)
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peachpitlover · 7 months
Text
The Maybank Zoo
Word Count: 941
Pairing: Dad!JJ
JJ Maybank never thought he’d see the day his daughter toddled inside with a toad in her hands. He never cared for the creatures, and you were absolutely terrified of them. So you couldn’t help but shriek when she came inside with a large frog cradled in her small hands.
“Daddy, look!” She beamed, pushing her hands up toward him.
“What do you have there, bug?”
“A froggie! Uncle B saw it on the boat: he’s hungry, daddy; we have ta’ feed him!”
“Yeah?” He smiled as he pushed her sweaty hair away from her forehead, and she nodded. “What does he eat? Should we get him… pizza?” The laugh his sweet girl let out made his heart squeeze as he tried to commit this moment to memory.
“Daddy! Froggies don’t eat pizza! You’re so silly!” She giggled as she placed the wriggling frog on the dining room table.
You let out a shiver as the small amphibian wiped its eyes clean. “Jesse James, get that frog off of my 
table!”
“No mama! He’s so hungry,” Florence whined.
“You can feed him outside, bug. He doesn’t need to dirty my table,.” you frowned.
“He can’t eat outside, mama! Where is he supposed to sit?”
Yeah, mama, where is he supposed to sit?” JJ smirked as he nudged your arm with his elbow, eyebrows raised.
“On the floor, where he lives!”
C'mon, daddy, we have to find him some crickets!” She smiles and takes his hand before leading him back outside, leaving you alone with the slimy frog.
“Woah!” Florence gasped as John B hauled a huge fish into the boat.
“See that Flo-Flo?” He grins.
“Yup! He’s just so big—he’s huge! Daddy, he’s bigger than my hand!”
JJ can’t help but laugh at her comparison, considering almost everything is bigger than her tiny hand.
“I see that! You wanna name him?”
“Oh! I’m gonna name him Nemo!”
“Nah, this is my dinner, bug.” John B. clarified as he tossed the fish into the ice bucket.
Her face drops into one of absolute horror, turning to JJ.
“But he’s my friend, Uncle B. I named him! I was gonna take him home,” she frowned
and crossed her chubby little arms over her chest.
“What about the other two fish at home? Your two Nemos?”
“They need a friend!”
“Baby, this fish will eat your Nemos,” JJ explains.
Her eyes widen, and she turns to John B. “Eat him, Uncle B!”
As her uncles and dad continued to fish, Florence sat cross-legged with her cute little bucket hat as she named each and every worm in the bucket.
“An’ you’re Mrs. Stretch, ‘cause you’re so long!” She squealed to herself as she placed it to the side. She wiped her hands on her little shorts before she swiped her hand over her sweaty forehead. She stood and wobbled over to where Pope sat with a beer. As she plopped herself into his lap, she raised the hand still holding the fascinatingly large worm up for him to see.
“I named her Mrs. Stretch cause she’s huge! Uncle Pope she’s as long as my foot - yet another laughable comparison.
“I think she’s longer than that, babe! That’s a Whipworm,” he said as he let her place the creature in his hands.
“You playin’ with my bait, bug?” JJ teased.
“‘M not playing, daddy! I’m takin’ care of ‘em,” she said matter-of-factly.
The name bug dates back to Florence’s very first word. Sitting against JJ in the garden, Florence sat in your lap, facing away, as she admired all the new and interesting sights. An ant had crawled up her little leg, and instead of shrieking in horror like most babies would, she smiled, looked back at her parents, and pointed.
“What’s that, Flo?” JJ cooed.
She all but cackled at the insect that tickled her delicate skin as it walked.
“Is that a little bug, Flo-Flo?” You smiled and said, “Is it so funny, baby?”
“Bug!” She exclaimed.
Wha-?” You gasped.
“Did she? That’s her first word? Baby, she said her first word!”
“Oh my god! She said bug! Did you hear it, J?”
“What’s that, baby?” He asked as he took her tiny hand.
“Bug! Ba!” Florence squealed.
“Are you our little bug, huh, baby? Our sweet little bug?” You giggled as you held her up to litter kisses all over her cheeks.
Although you and JJ didn't care for the slimy creatures Florence loved to bring home, you couldn’t help but feel your heart melt at the absolute tenderness she showed each and every animal she found. How could you say no to her beautiful heart?
That’s how you ended up with two cats, a Betta fish, a small minnow, and an endless amount of animal friends needing to spend the night. It’s all worth it to see the way she tucked her hands behind her back and leaned down to press a kiss to your eldest cat’s head as gently as possible. Before whispering goodnight wishes to him. She moved on to climb onto a dining chair to bid your other cat goodnight with a light pet. It was a routine, really; your cats were always first, then she would turn off the lights in the fish tank and smile at her scaly friends before moving onto whatever animal was seeking refuge in your home that night. She’d attempt to tuck the temporary Maybank in and whisper promises of good dreams and being returned home in the morning. You and JJ would watch on with full, proud hearts as she showed such care and respect to the animals in your home.
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sunboki · 5 months
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004. SUNDAY’S PARADIGM — ANTHOLOGY
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PAIRING. Hwang Hyunjin x gn. reader | WORD COUNT. 2.6k & 15 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing | TROPE. college au, friends to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder (lmao), fluff
( ✉️ ) — hi everybody! i’m very happy to announce that this is the last addition to my mini-anthology “METANOIA”, thank you so much for the support this far and for so much anticipation and patience along the way— have a wonderful day!!
He was a cold person. Spiteful and brash to all people too close, scared to let his walls down. Except, to him, you’re a spectacle. A classmate he realizes he can’t exactly find reason to dislike while he sketched you from his stool in the art room.
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Hyunjin knows your habits.
He knows when you’re talking to someone you like your voice becomes higher, knows you prefer to work alone on certain projects, and that you have a low social battery in public spaces. He knows when you're talking to the professor, when you’re anxious, you hold your arms close to your body.
In fact, Hyunjin may know more about you than your friends do. Except, Hyunjin isn’t your friend, nor a stalker or admirer. He’s just Hyunjin and you’re just Y/n, someone he never gets bored of watching from afar without knowing why.
Perhaps it’s the careful sculpting of your nose, the way your eyes perfectly fit with the rest of your face, rose hued lips curling when you smile. Oftentimes he wonders what shade your lips would be if he watercolor painted them. Dusty or dark, pink, or maybe red. He wonders.
And on occasions, he wonders why you aren’t the model for their class while one hand absentmindedly traces you, seated a few stools ahead of him while his canvas successfully blocks the repeated glances in your direction.
Maybe the endless sketches of you in his notebook are the reason he treats that thing like a porcelain vase, held dearly close to his chest as if a mere drop of water would rot the binding.
Hyunjin doesn’t like his sudden interest in you—doesn’t like how he can’t dislike you compared to his usual stark coldness for everyone and anyone, but he can’t help it.
There’s just something peculiar about you that he can’t put his finger on. He doesn’t like that either. But somehow, he can’t seem to get enough.
.
.
.
His lips pull into a frown, the usual one that unconsciously causes the rest of his face to turn grumpy. Oftentimes, Seungmin (the boy occupying the stool to his left) would snap his fingers just to watch surprise cross Hyunjin’s face for a change. He’s a strange kid.
Noticing a friend of yours stumble into the classroom, he can’t help but repeatedly peer from his work, memorizing the small creases of your clothings fabric onto the canvas.
For a moment, Sana (the girl whose name he finally remembered) pulled a small candy from her pocket and popped it in her mouth, urging you to take one as well.
She doesn’t like that flavor, she likes the strawberry flavor better. He thinks to himself.
And sure enough, after delivering a kind smile, you sneakily shoving the treat into your bag when she turns around. Hyunjin bites back the ghost of a smile creeping onto his lips.
Stupid. This is stupid. He tells himself constantly, but still finds his heart beating faster upon seeing you each day.
Really, really stupid, Hwang Hyunjin.
.. .
“I got it!” Sana shrieks, and you attempt to even your sudden panic as the girl begins gesturing wildly. Perhaps Hyunjin isn’t the only one getting surprised on a daily basis.
Frantically piecing together the thoughts circulating around her caffeine dispenser of a brain, she slams her hands down in front of you, another jump scare.
“He’s a ‘look don’t touch kind of guy’, that’s why every girl wants to be in our department!”
Crickets could’ve chirped in the amount of time you blankly stared at her.
She’s fervently nodding, seeming to have discovered an entirely new world in the process of describing your class spectacle as a ‘look don’t touch’.
“..Einstein would’ve stayed in his grave.”
“Would not,” She retorts, pushing her inky black tresses behind her ear and clasping her hands together. “In fact, he would’ve used all of his stone-dead energy to climb out of his grave just to tell me how smart I am!”
“Now that’s just wrong.”
So after more pouting, more glaring, and more unconvinced stares, you finally rise off the bench, shaking the iced coffee in hand.
It’s your lunch, and you would rather not talk about Hwang Hyunjin, but you might just have to give up even trying to avoid the topic at this point.
You don’t dislike him or anything, it just becomes a tad bit irritating once his name has been brought up forty five times in the last two hours, y’know? Because if there’s one thing Sana was right about, it’s that every girl is obsessed with him. Borderline. Obsessed.
Meanwhile, Hwang Hyunjin has no interest. In fact, Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t seem interested in anyone, nor much of anything. That is, unless it’s art.
Back when you had first taken the class the two of you debated on if he was gay, trying to find something that explained it. Although, by the third week you both concluded he acted like that towards everything.
Well, at least he looked bored.
Hwang Hyunjin was hard to read.
Setting your materials in their coordinating places, you steady the easel in front of you, prepared for Ms. Hoon to burst through the door and demand a new mock-up in five minutes or less. She’s known for being spontaneous in all of the wrong ways.
Except, today, Ms. Hoon saunters in, fingers nimbly adjusting her skirt that hangs close to her ankles—close to her tawny leather boots clicking when she walks. She’s pleased, too pleased.
Sana sends you a look saying the same thing you’re thinking:
We’re fucked.
Whipping a random roster from nowhere, her pointed index slides down names before looking up. Right at you.
“For our end of semester project, I want us to explore new options. I’m assigning all of you in pairs to visit different exhibitions around Seoul. Y/n L/n?”
You raise your hand.
“Your partner is Hwang Hyunjin, you’ll be visiting the National Museum of Korea’s Greece exhibition this Sunday,” She smiles, scarily resembling a Cheshire cat. “Infographics are here.” Ms. Hoon finishes, patting the stack atop the podium.
Never has there been so many eyes boring into your back.
And with that, the students either drag their feet or plow through to grab the papers.
Meanwhile, you’re feeling something only recognizable as impending doom.
You’re fucked.
.. .
Hysterically staring ahead, you flinch when a piece of paper is slipped beside you, forcing your eyes off the board.
Can I get your number? It reads, so when you notice Hyunjin’s name is addressed below, you’re convinced you’ve been trapped in some alternate universe. Mere seconds ago Ms. Hoon assigned partners, or did you miss something inbetween the lines?
Your number? Hwang Hyunjin, asking for your number?
Unbelievable.
Instead of darting for the door like you’d planned earlier though, you wait until the classroom is empty to approach him, looking unfairly handsome as always. But before he can say a word, you form a jumbled sentence through fast-blinking eyelids and manically expressive nods of your head.
“Hyunjin I— I’m sorry I’m flattered but I don’t think of you like tha—“
“Huh? For the project?” He replies, and a hundred tons of steel might as well drop on your head at this rate.
Not only are you fucked, but now you’re fucking yourself. And not on good terms.
Talk about a bad first impression.
Opening your mouth, closing it, and opening it again, you chameleon redder and redder the longer he looks at you, shakily typing your digits into his phone to spin on your heel and march out at an alarming pace.
Although, you don’t see the small quirk of his lips, nor how he named “Pretty Project Partner Y/N” as your contact.
“God I’m such an idiot!” Clutching your head, you prop your elbows on the kitchen island while Sana sifts through Netflix on the sofa. She chortles, but lets you wallow in your misery no less.
It’s your secret language, a coping mechanism in its own, sweetly bitter truth.
The day of and you’re still hung up about Hyunjin. Well, your overwhelming embarrassment about Hyunjin—something that kept you up well throughout the night.
Weird. Since when did you care so much about your impression on him anyway? He’s never been a particular stake in your road, but now he’s the sudden speed bump in every once-peaceful moment.
Your pocket vibrates with a notification.
Funny enough, he seemed to live up to that speed bump role.
Hyunjin : Can I come over? Chan’s a bit.. busy
You : Busy?
Hyunjin : Busy
You : Yikes, come over
Hyunjin : Thanks
Sprinting into the living room, you have to stop yourself, hoping to appear composed to the all-knowing best friend of yours.
“Hey, um, could you run to the convenience store for me?”
What a side-eye. She could slice cheese with that glare.
Number one rule? By no circumstances can you have Sana plotting something. Especially not with Hyunjin involved.
“Are you constipated?”
Here goes your ego.
“I’m in denial.”
She taunts. “You poor thing.”
“Aren’t I?”
“Fine, send me what you want and pay me back.” Waving her off, you take the opportunity to attempt at rationalizing what exactly you’ll do, say, look like, act like, and the other billions and trillions of possibilities you only have a few minutes to think about before he arrives.
Real reassuring.
Hyunjin : I’m here
He sends five minutes later, sequentially leading to your phone dropping on your face, slipping on the rug, and giving yourself a once-over (more like a thrice-over) in the mirror, where you greet him at the door.
First thing your eyes are drawn to are the bouquet of flowers held in hand.
Flowers.
Flowers?!?
“Look, they were on sale and it adds to the atmosphere.” He deliberately avoids your gaze. You don’t mention it.
You never took Hyunjin as the guy bringing you flowers. Come to think of it, you never took Hyunjin as a romantic either. Guess this project is teaching more things than just the philosophy of Michelangelo’s sculptures.
Placing said flowers into a vase you miraculously found in the cabinet above the microwave, you anxiously tap your finger atop your thigh.
It’s awkward, until it isn’t. Because Hyunjin is surprisingly good at small talk.
“Why are you like this to me?” Blurting, you wish you would’ve bitten your tongue. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind too much.
Instead, he fixates on your face, noting your details as you speak. Dusty red is their color he decides, the watercolor shade matching your lips best.
“Like what?”
“Well,” You meet his eyes. He memorizes that color as well. “You’re just different in class.”
Leaning further into the opposing loveseat, he shrugs.
“For the record, Ms. Hoon wears that awful perfume every day. Not to mention everyone falls asleep anyway.”
He’s not half wrong.
“Aren’t you observant,” You muse, cheekily giggling to yourself.
He rolls his eyes, ears pink nonetheless.
Abruptly interrupting your teasing, there’s a knock, and you haphazardly edge to peer through the peephole, Hyunjin simultaneously tailing behind you.
“Who is it?” He whispers, uncharacteristic to his usual unbothered demeanor.
Shit, it’s Sana!
Already aware she’d find out something was up one way or another, you find yourself with no choice but to slowly open the door, a hand leant against the doorframe, another covering Hyunjin’s mouth where he hides on the wall to your left.
“Hey you better pay me ba- are you okay?” She hesitates, surveying the sweat on your brow and how off-balance you’re standing, plastic bag in clutch.
“Oh yeah, I just remembered! Did you buy the extra bag of potato chips?” Diverting the conversation, you nervously grin, feeling Hyunjin’s hot breath against your palm when he stifled a giggle.
Squinting incredulously, she scrolls through her messages without answering. Shaking the list you sent right in your face, you wrinkle your nose, putting on the best “please? I promise I’ll buy you lunch for a week” face you can muster.
Like you said. Secret language.
Sighing heavily, you thank whomever above when she slumps away and you excitedly slam the door shut, both releasing exhales of relief.
Checking the time, you glimpse outside, making sure the perimeter is Sana-free. You need absolutely no traces.
Great. Coast clear.
“Shhhh!” Shushing him, you carefully lock the door before running out of sight down the hallway at full speed. Bewildered, he chases along, mini ponytail swaying with each stride.
You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. Unusually, he’s doing the same.
Your unwavering, certainly monotonous class spectacle is laughing.
He’s pretty.
Wait. Duh.
He’s gorgeous.
Yeah. That fits better.
A soft hue decorates his cheeks, and he stumbles down the stairs like a drunkard. Yet, in the midst of your admiration, your foot slips—more drunkard-esque than him—from beneath you. Before your forehead makes contact with the marble floor though, a hand fastens onto your sleeve.
Hyunjin leans down, brows furrowed worriedly. Also uncharacteristic.
“You okay?” He asks, tone soft, voice concerned.
Responding breathlessly from both your near-death experience and how ungodly close you are to a prince, you meekly nod, allowing the boy to ease you upright.
Dear god what is with you?!
Navigating the exhibition tucked away near a library, neither of you waste time getting to work. So as the sky begins dimming to eve and you briefly think of Sana, likely beyond confused back at the dorm, you curve around to the last sculpture replicated, the world renowned “Bacchus”.
“Greek sculptures are beautiful, aren’t they.” He speaks, voice hollow and hardly audible unless you craned close. His eyes flit to every inch of the statue, taking in the precise attention to detail carving the fingerprints lingering on flesh, specific shadows emphasizing pained expressions or that of happiness, fingernails so deliberately intricate it terrifies you.
Hyunjin has a way of leaving you breathless.
“Yeah..” You mutter, scribbling some messy bullet points and getting a decent basis on the overall anatomy of the sculpture.
You often wonder how such masterpieces have remained perfectly intact after countless years. You wonder if Hyunjin is like that too. That, even if you got close to him, he’d stay the same. Bitter, uninviting. To others at least.
To you, he’s different. You like it.
Or, he’d change.
Perhaps become sweeter, lace his tongue in honey when he spoke to you.
You quickly force the thought away.
However, what you don’t realize is that you leave Hyunjin breathless all the same. Because with your attention being elsewhere (for a second occasion), you hadn’t noticed his gaze landing on you when he said beautiful.
.. .
Hyunjin is a gentleman. And in all honesty, this occasion, despite the fact you’re simply visiting an exhibition, feels more like a date than anything.
He’s geared you to the left of him while he shields the road on your walk home, he brought flowers, and even saved you from a catastrophe. You’d count that as a pretty gentleman-type move.
Arriving at your complex and promising to text more details to each other tomorrow, his hand—stirring déjà vú in your stomach—grasps your sleeve for a second time.
Gently turning you around, his thumb reaches up to lightly press against your bottom lip, index hooked beneath your chin.
You’re certain you’ve forgotten to breathe by now.
“Hyunjin.. What're you doing….?” You hesitantly drag out, phrase muffled.
Absentmindedly clicking his tongue, he maneuvers your head left and right, a slow smile crawling onto his cheeks upon witnessing your flustered state.
“Making sure I get the color right,” He responds nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t mere centimeters away from your lips.
Dusty red, he was right.
Leaning his head down with a small tilt, his breath barely ghosts over your face, mischievous smirk beginning to grate your nerves the longer he holds that smug cockiness.
“See you tomorrow?” He muses, shoving cold hands into his pockets while ensuring you get inside safely.
“Yeah Yeah..” You grumble, praying he doesn’t notice you trip up the stairs, mind buzzing wildly.
He does, and he laughs.
Hyunjin knew your habits, and now, in the middle of your coincidentally ideal project, he finds himself learning again and again. There’s so much to you, so many layers he hopes to uncover, so much that becomes hard not falling for.
He can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
.
.
.
“Y/n?”
Sana knocks on your room’s door. You hum in acknowledgement.
“Where did you get those flowers?”
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> SERIES TAGLIST. @phtogravi @liknws @luckieleaf @jhstayy @meloncremesoda @chans1aptop @eternitywaveshello @meanergreener @ladylexis @love-gy-u @hanjingin @idkluvutellme @dark-anxel @yubinism @rachabreathing @seung-scrittore @fylithia @skzsupremacy @alrm02 @ener-energy @koliki @anskiiz @dprkbyn @bellamuerte1987 @ylixbok @hanjisung-enjoyer @youngunknownwitch @hwangflora @starlost-andfound @taeriffic @flwerfield
sunboki, may 2022 ©
264 notes · View notes
venusjeon · 7 months
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faith
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a rock god drabble
jungkook drags you back to the convent after having some drinks.
♔ PAIRING: rockstar!jungkook x novice!reader
♔ GENRE: 80s au, angst, fluff, humour
♔ WORD COUNT: 1k
♔ WARNINGS: religious themes, drinking, swearing, referenced non-consensual sex
♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: 16.3k wasn't enough for these two so they're back! i actually planned this for the main fic but bc i felt it was getting too long i discarded it. here it is though<3 it takes place sometime before that fateful mass...
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1986
The cloister looked so beautiful at night with the moonlight raining down on the grass, the crickets singing, the columns’ shadows dancing on the floor… Wait, how were they dancing if they were the columns’? Oh! That shadow was yours, and that one Jungkook’s.
You pointed at them, slurred, “They’re ours!”
Jungkook chuckled, “Nothing gets past you, Sherlock. But keep your voice down and let’s go.”
He was dragging you by the hand through the convent, having previously dragged you from the car and before that from the venue where he performed hours ago. Jungkook had insisted you snuck out to see him again, and you had to say, this time the show had been nothing short of stellar.
“I think I tolerate your music better like this.”
“What, wasted?”
“Let’s go with merry.”
It was your first time getting drunk. The venue had stayed open after the concert—drinks on the house for Bangtan since they’d lured in so much clientele—and when your face expressed hesitance Jungkook promised fun, that he wouldn’t take a single sip to drunksit you and later drive you to the convent. Accepting had proved to be a good decision, even if right now you couldn’t remember half of the night. The one clear thing in the mist of your mind was the seductive way that guitar player had eyed you through Rock God.
“Y/N? Jungkook?” A voice made him halt and curse under his breath.
“Is it Father Jimin?” you asked in what you’d intended as a whisper. Jungkook shook his head, so you turned around to be met with Sister Daeun walking over, and started giggling at the fact that you’d confused her voice with the abbot’s. Obvious you were drunk, the shock on her face at the two of you being out of bed at such hour turned into outrage.
“What in God’s name is going on?!”
You gasped. “Oh my god, I’ve never thought about that... What is God’s name?”
Jungkook would’ve normally laughed, but this time led you to the stone base between the columns some footsteps away and had you sit, lean on one. “Stay here,” he ordered calmly and you nodded, then watched him return to Sister Daeun. “I can explain, aunty.”
“How can you possibly? You took her out and got her drunk!”
“She’s fine, she just had a few drinks. I monitored.”
“Have you forgotten she’s a novice? And what if it had been Father Jimin that woke up for a glass of milk and not me?”
“Father Jimin is not a glass of milk man.” Jungkook assured her, and you burst into giggles again.
“Tell me the truth, Jungkook.” Sister Daeun hugged herself. “Where were you taking her?”
“Well, to her cell. Where else would I–” He saw in her eyes a glimpse of the apprehension she was trying to suppress, and it took him aback. “Nice to know you think me capable of that. What, is it because I have tattoos? Because I’m in a rock band? I guess I was fucking stupid to believe you’re any different to mum and dad.”
Half of Sister Daeun felt ashamed, but the other half jumped to argue, “I see you dragging a drunk girl in the dead of the night, what do you want me to think?”
“That I’m looking out for her!” Jungkook shouted without thinking, his voice echoing across the cloister. Sister Daeun closed her eyes and prayed he hadn’t been as loud as to wake anyone up, but he didn’t care, scoffed at the lack of a response. “If you don’t trust me, take her to her cell yourself, then.”
He turned to leave and with a sigh, his aunt held out a hand to you. “Come with me.”
“No, I want Jungkook…” you whined like a kid, rushing to his side to curl your arms around his left one. Despite how mad he was, he didn’t shake you off or snap at you, instead stopped walking not to pull you into tripping.
“Y/N…” It didn’t take her long to realise separating you from Jungkook would take at least three nuns. “Fine. But we’ll have a word tomorrow.”
She left and Jungkook led you away, hands held softly but a tension lingering in the air—and not the fun one he so liked to summon. You wanted to make him feel better, but it was hard to think straight, and before you knew it you were entering your cell in pitch-black darkness.
“Goodnight,” he whispered once he’d found the bed by touch and helped you lie on it. You reached for his hand in time and pulled, forcing him to sit down.
“Don’t go yet…”
He chuckled lowly, “Scared of the dark?” and you giggled again. Gosh, why was everything so funny when drunk? Well, if you thought about it, you always found Jungkook funny. Sometimes it seemed he went out of his way to make you laugh. He was so nice to you… “Hey, YN…”
“Huh?”
It was dark, but you didn’t need light to see he was nervous. “Listen, I’m sorry about before. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you to drink. I’m not the best influence…”
You started playing with his hand. “You didn’t push me. I had lots of fun with you and Bangtan.” Especially when Hoseok and Taehyung kept insisting you sainted them, and you kept explaining that it was sadly not in your power to do so. “I’m glad you were watching over me, because I trust you.”
Jungkook didn’t say anything else, just caressed your hands back. Only once you’d fallen asleep did he leave, the pain in his heart from earlier somewhat lessened.
Hopping into his bed, he thought it was crazy that you had that effect on him. Well… not so crazy. He’d allowed you to have it, given it to you, the one person who seemed to have faith in him. It made him scoff, how ridiculously head over heels he was, and as he thought of that he finally drifted into sleep, a comfortable smile settled on his lips.
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chosoniisan · 4 months
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A risk worth messy reward ↠ kamo choso
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↠alternative title: swapping spit with choso, literally
↠pairing: kamo choso | sorceress!reader
↠setting: post canon, not at all compliant
↠genre: nasty, nasty fluff
↠caution: suggestive; height/size difference ("my" choso is over 6ft); unhealthy-ish/complicated relationship; kinda owner/pet dynamics; coercion (?); lots of tongue
↠summary: after yet another rural-steeped mission, your first priority is finding the nearest bed to fall into; conversely, choso has other things on his mind
↠authoress' notes: my initial plan had been to write a hc about the oddities of choso, how he has some bizarre and inexplicable habits, but writing hcs (without plot) isn't my strength, so I opted for what could be considered "snapshots" instead :')
also, the context, setting-wise, for this is that once the dusts settles post canon, the high-ups (the smattering of them still kicking), let choso live conditioned on you acting as his controller at all times, lest you risk ending up on the execution chopping block, too. . .
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A ripely full moon, and the air’s refreshed with a slight chill:
by all means the sort of mid-autumn night you’d want to bottle up and take with you.
You might just have to overlook the chunks of entrails sticking to your soles, though. And maybe you can pretend that it’s the crickets droning in the grass and not the crisping of bone dissolving into nothingness. As if on cue, you resist the urge to sigh to keep the tang of death, thoroughly worn over, from invading your lungs any more than it already has.
It’s not quite how you’d envision your evening—but beggars can’t be choosers. And on the bright side, at least you’re fully intact, all your limbs present and accounted for despite enough close calls to last you a lifetime. Sure, you might have said the very same thing last time (i.e. a handful of days ago), and you’ll no doubt mirror that sentiment next time too (i.e. in another day or so), though you take your blessings when you can get them.
Granted, your good luck quickly runs its course since there’s hardly anything fortunate about the strain of curses the far-flung reaches of the countryside seem to breed to no end. Who would have thought that the higher you climbed the rankings the more acquainted you’d become with woodland critters the size of your hand (excluding cursed spirits, mind you). Then there’s the persistent feeling of otherness crawling over you like a second skin the longer those prying eyes rake and rove over you. (If only they knew that a city girl and her dutiful charge were the last bit out of place in these parts.)
“I mean it when I say that you’re a lifesaver, Choso.” Your poignant ring is all the encouragement he needs to scrap making sure that dead is actually dead this time around and squeeze himself back into your sphere again. Crunch, crunch, crunch goes the tall grass giving way to your missing piece because obviously solace by another name is your side. Leave it to him to be over 190 centimeters of delicately endearing. “I wasn’t expecting that other special-grade, but, of course, you’re always covering for me in a pinch—I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
In that moment, you’re the stargazer of him; a face lighting up the pearly night beyond measure. “I’m always following your lead, though. You’re a lot more experienced than me, too, so the best I can do is try to keep up. Because I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” A dash of sheepishness colors the downward wisp of lashes brushing against his cheeks, but that isn’t enough to distract him from the sway of you in his shadow (even if he has to really drop his head to horde that eyeful for himself). “I’m glad we make a good team,” his brief lull is beseeching, the tilted head even more so, “at least I think so.”
For the sake of his tenderly bleeding heart, your nodding doesn’t miss a beat. “Yep, we sure do. . .! And every good team needs some rest, so I should go ahead and text our supervisor and let him know we’re finished up here.” Another thwarted attempt at a sigh, so you settle for a mild quirk of your lips amidst reaching into your pocket for your phone spared from the fray. “We’ll have to stay the night in town, which isn’t ideal, but we can take the first train back home in the morning.”
The faster you can confirm the rendezvous spot, the faster you can sink into a warm bath and then beneath a cozy comforter, so you’re already a few rapid-fire texts deep when Choso pulls on your sleeve.
“Wait. Before that. . .” he begins, slow, measured as if he’s taking the time to taste every word before it leaves his lips. Like that’s not enough to prod at your attention, you’re especially perceptive to rose stain swashed across the expanse of his face, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think him too innocent to sell his soul to the devil for a life of strife alongside you. Though perhaps innocence in its purest state is wetting his hands in blood, bearing your burden of nocturnal calamity with the occasional slip of diffidence. “Can I. . .” Gulping down that lump in his throat. “Can I have my reward now?”
It's your turn to sound things out for good measure.
“Your. . .reward?” (Emphasis on the furrowed brows there.)
He bobs his head once, meanwhile you’re rifling through the pages of your mental archives in search of this reward, whatever it is. A contemplative hum sifts through you at the recollection of saying something in the realm of treating him once this mission wrapped up; admittedly, it was the sort of remark made in passing, but if it’s Choso, you don’t mind staying true to your word. Besides, you have an inkling of what he might have in mind (or you hope you know him well enough to make that guess. . .there’s only one way to find out).
“You’re talking about the souvenirs near the station; I think you were looking at the sweet dumplings, yeah? I don’t know if that shop is open this late, but we can go over and check—”
“No, not that.” Vehemence strums in his tone, so much so that you start a bit, setting off the ripple effect of him offering you a repentant look in return, one that’s still very clearly brimming with fervor. “I did a good job, right? And you promised I could have a reward if I was really good.” As a matter of fact, he’s not wrong, but his moonstruck gaze, expanding, plants an unnamed sensation between the open spaces in your chest. (You’re not daunted by him, it’s just that unpredictability has never been your forte.) “. . .So I was thinking that I wanted you.”
Doesn’t have a chance to click together in your brain until the warmed heart of his palm envelops your entire cheek, and even then you’re still too many steps behind by the time he’s level with you: face-to-face, eye-to-eye, lips. . .dangerously close. Inhaling a mingling of dried copper and powdery musk doesn’t help you figure out what he means by wanting you, having you; rather, with each fanning of his breath over you in crests, you’re gradually unraveling into something entirely unlike you. Something a lot more nerve-ridden.
If you had intended to chime in after scrambling to make sense of the situation (or not), the reality is that you’re simply opening the door for him to carve a place inside you. Literally. Considering it’s not the sound of a mildly articulated concern that echoes in the air, but a muffled squeak when he catches his lips on yours, inviting himself into the niche of your mouth before you can try to recoil. Even when you do think to reel away, his arm is already circled around your waist, seizing you into the bulk of him to the point that you can’t tell where one of you begins and the other ends.
You’ve long given consideration to the fact that Choso’s spent more time sealed than unsealed, that to this very day he’s still working out the kinks of what it means to be mostly human—but this. This goes beyond his idiosyncrasies of not knowing the particulars of kissing. No, this is nothing of a kiss and everything of devouring you whole.
As susceptible as you are, he has no trouble crowding his tongue against yours, which is the difference between tasting him and choking on him. Testing the waters is the last thing on his mind (you suspect it had never been there in the first place) when he’s using the anchor of his hand to steer you right where he wants you, because how else could he map the ridges of your palate without you shrinking like the violet you’re steadily flowering into. Intrusive is him eating away at your lips like a man starved, but it’s also the blooming of heat curled through your insides with a particular penchant for the midst of your tummy.
The compulsion to stagger back is second nature to you, except he’s unnaturally folded into you, so there’s really nowhere for you to skitter off to, especially not with the fixation given to a mesh of sticky pink. And it feels foreign, sinfully so, as he overwhelms you with broad, saliva-rife sweeps of his tongue, undeterred by your stagnate self, too paralyzed by the knotting in your core, the blistering up of sweat at your temples, and the uncut wildness—or is that obsession?—of him before your very eyes. Either way, it’s just the push needed to send you over the edge of quiet bleating. . .that finds its premature end swallowed into him for safekeeping at the bottom of his stomach, just like every other morsel of you.
Heady appreciation is quick to follow on your heels by way of a long-winded moan from him, to you by virtue of his snare. The stammering in your chest is the clear mark of being caught off guard, and Choso in all his fevered glory capitalizes on your lapse of self to plunge his tongue as deeply as it’ll reach. Nevermind the fact that there’s no stifling the stuttered heave around him or the full-bodied quaking against him, either, he’s still singularly focused on partaking in the mess of you. Willingly or not, you can’t help but indulge him when you’re varying shades of fluster, and it’s the gilt reflection of your disarray that has you clamping your eyes shut. Too bad for you, darkness doesn’t temper the dizzying sensation clambering through your veins that’s becoming more, and more, and more intertwined with him.
(You don’t know how much longer you can weather the storm of him, or if you’ll even be able to mend what he’s already bitten through, and maybe it would have been preferrable if he had taken your skin & tissue with him. He took something far more softly perverse.)  
Though in the end, it’s of his accord, only, that he spares you of the kind of smothering that’ll have you icesheet cold against him in no time flat. And you use spare loosely because he simply moves to sucking and nibbling on your bottom lip as if parting from you means imminent death. If he’d give you a chance, you could assure him that his fears of relenting are unwarranted, but in the thick of hungry fascination, he’d rather stripe his tongue along the corner of your mouth to gather up a stray bead of slick. Whether yours or his, you don’t know—you do know that when he’s done, it’s every bit of his tacky memento etched on your skin.
His gift to you for letting him have one of your deepest intimacies.
As expected, he doesn’t keen over from unlacing himself from you—truthfully, his hand is still palming at your cheek, so it’s not a full untethering—though you’re certainly not boasting a modicum of stability yourself. If that unyielding hold around your middle is anything to go on, you suspect that he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest; you might even say that he’s savoring in the ruby-rich reliance of his handler.
“Uhm,” Reticence returns with a vengeance despite having just rooted through you mere moments ago; the moonlight glancing off traces smeared across his lips a testament to that. “. . .Do you we could see about those dumplings now?”
And of course you’ll oblige him—even knowing you’re complicit in preserving his devotion.
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bunnys-babies · 6 months
Text
Talk To You, pt. 2
Megumi Fushiguro x gn!reader
wc: 1.2k
pt. 2 / ?
warning(s): mentions of puke, mentions of taxidermy - so if any of that really icks you out tread lightly :)
a/n: it’s been a while, but if anyone recalls pt. 1 of this, it’s just a continuation 🥰 (feel free to read hehe) but it’s not necessarily required! Could be read as a stand alone :)) just a silly and nervous first date 🤍🤍 reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! I hope you enjoy :3 also, I am very behind on JJK, please do not spoil anything in the tags because I do see them! So if this is “canon divergent”, that’s why LMAO
pt. 1
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He’s going to puke. He’s absolutely, 100%, sure of it.
He’s so sweaty that he’s certain he must stink, he hates his outfit, and why is his hair so frizzy? He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Kugisaki and let her “do him up”.
The bus seat vibrates beneath him and emits one of the most brain piercing rattles he thinks he’s ever heard as he impatiently waits for his stop.
Oh god, they aren’t gonna think I’m a loser for taking the bus, are they?
Sighing and picking at the cuticle along his thumb nail, he does his best to focus on keeping track of the colors of the cars passing by. What good would dwelling on your perception of him do when it’s only making him continue to profusely sweat anyways?
It’s been a week since he got your number. Well, since Yuuji got your number for him, sort of.
And over the course of that week, Megumi’s convinced himself he’s done nothing besides behave like a fool.
He’s spelt your name wrong, twice, and then wondered why he even felt the need to address you by name in text. He sent you a list of options for dates, listing location and expected cost, as well as sending them in order of “most to least active”. And then, when you surprisingly agreed and made a choice, he sent you a calendar invite.
Nothing about this even seemed remotely out of the ordinary to him until Kugisaki asked how you both ended up deciding on going through a “local, close up walkthrough” of a taxidermist’s home.
“Huh?” Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open after she spoke, eager, and a little scared, to hear Megumi’s response.
“Well, out of our options, it was the most cost effective and productive choice. Lots of conversation starters. They seemed pretty interested.”
Doubt and embarrassment began to knot his stomach at the lack of response from Kugisaki.
“What? They picked it. So clearly they wanted to go to this thing.”
Still no response.
“Right?”
Crickets.
“Kugisaki.”
Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she stops her relentless fidgeting over Megumi’s hair and clothes and crosses her arms over her chest instead.
“Fushiguro,”, she spoke slowly and softly, “couple questions. One, did you offer this idea? Two, if so, what were the other options?”
Something about the way she spoke only increased his anxiety.
Oh, he messed up.
Unfortunately, after explaining himself, there wasn’t any time left to get some sort of reassurance from her that he hadn’t completely fucked this all up.
And god, why did he have to approach this so… professionally?
He stopped himself from letting out a groan before the brakes squealed at an alarming volume as the bus came to a stop.
Muttering out a nearly silent thanks to the driver, he takes a step out onto the darkened sidewalk. It must have rained earlier.
It takes him about 20 minutes to locate and walk to the house, his shoes covered in a shine from the dew still fresh on the grass.
As he waits, part of him is wishing you just don’t show up. This has just all played out in the worst way, and he’d rather take the embarrassment of being stood up than being around you for an hour, possibly multiple, while you pretend he isn’t a freak and that you aren’t showing up out of anything but pity.
His stomach churns at the sound of a car door shutting, and he’s back to that god forbidden feeling like he’s going to hurl, when he hears a soft “Fushiguro?” being called out to him from his left.
A visibly strained smile is offered to you as Megumi turns to greet you.
God, you knew this sweater was too gaudy.
“How was the drive for yo-“
“Looks like it rain-“
Awkward laughs are exchanged at the sudden silence you both sit in after accidentally interrupting each other.
After, Megumi silently insists you continue to speak with a few hand gestures and nod of his head.
“Yeah, I was just gonna ask how the drive was for you! It rained pretty hard where I was coming from, and I swear my wipers were ready to fly off.”
Damnit.
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t drive.” He turned his body to face the front of the house, hoping his embarrassment was less visible from the side of his face.
“Oh nice idea, I hate driving in the rain. I totally should’ve considered that.” Turning to face the house yourself, you wait for him to take the first steps before walking forward.
A mixture of relief and bashfulness wash over him at your simple response and unexpected, but welcoming, flattery.
Nice idea.
Fighting back the small smile and pride swelling in his chest, he begins to walk forward, doing his best to strike conversation as you make your way to the front door despite the nagging stomach ache he’s gotten.
He’s never been so nervous before.
Kugisaki has no idea what she was talking about, this is going to be simply lovely.
The vomit covering the top of your shoes as you rub the spot between Megumi’s shoulder blades is staring at him. And if it could laugh and point it’d probably be doing that, too.
“You okay?” You speak so soft he almost doesn’t hear you ask.
No, he’s not okay.
He just blew chunks all over both of your shoes (and the eclectic man’s maroon carpet), vomited again at the smell, and then nearly tripped his way down the front steps as he continued to puke into the Taxidermist’s front lawn.
“Yeah, ‘m fine.”
Maybe it was a little more than just his nerves making him nauseous.
“Y’know, if I knew you were gonna get this freaked out over the ‘Pope Mouse’, I would’ve gone with the bird watching option instead.”
It takes him a minute to realize you’re joking. You’re actually joking with him and trying to salvage whatever this is.
Whether it was out of shock, sympathy at your mediocre attempt of a joke, or the image of that poor dead rat dressed up as the pope, he let out a low chuckle.
He kept his posture leaned over and his head down, waiting to make sure he truly was all done, when you realized your hand was still rubbing gentle circles into his upper back. Gingerly, you lifted your hand and placed it in your pocket, trying not to focus on the vomit on your shoes.
All things considered, you really were having a great time.
He’s strange, definitely a little shy, maybe even abrasive, not the best at conversation, has interesting ideas of fun, and literally threw up on your shoes, but he was such a sweetheart. It helped he was more than nice to look at sure, but his nervousness and slightly off-putting personality did nothing but attract you even more.
You’ve never been on a more eventful date, that’s for sure. And you’ve never met someone who clearly put so much thought into spending time with you, and his anxiety was more than obvious. Did he really like you that much?
Regardless, you thought he at least deserved another chance at a second date, one where you could actually get to know more about him other than the fact he might have a weak stomach.
“If you promise not to puke in my car, and help me clean off our shoes, we can try again. Probably somewhere we can sit and chat instead of stare at poorly done taxidermy.”
Unfortunately, before you could offer up any good ideas, he was back to busying himself with vomiting.
At least he’s really cute.
——————
taglist: @plutowrites @lunarsap @alonezz @softjaegerhours @onismikasa (if you’d like to be removed/added please let me know!)
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adriennebarnes · 1 year
Text
There’s A Frog In My Hand
Masterlist
Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Hispanic!Reader
Summary:after scrolling on TikTok, Enid decides to try the trend on Ajax and tells Y/N to do it on Xavier so Enid can compare their reactions.
Warnings: Boyfriend!Xavier because he’s just the cutest, very fluffy, implied Ajax x Enid
Y/N was walking to the quad when she heard someone yell her name. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, I gotta show you something!” Y/N turned around and saw that it was her best friend, Enid. Enid tan as fast as she could and almost bumped into Y/N. “Sorry. I was on TikTok and I was looking at couple trends so I can do some with Ajax, and look at what I came across.” Enid told Y/N. They both sat down at a table in the quad before Enid played the video.
In the video, there was a couple on the bed, the first girl said to her girlfriend that there was an invisible flea in her hand and that it was going to do 3 backflips. After doing the backflips, the first girl asked her girlfriend to hold his little hat as he does more backflips. Then the first girl asked her girlfriend if she really believe that there is a flea in her hands. The girlfriend says no and the first girl asks “then why are you holding his little hat?” And the girlfriend answers “because you asked me to!”
“It’s literally so fucking cute!! You should try that with Xavier.” Enid tells Y/N. “Do you really think Xavier will go along with there being an invisible flea in my hand?” Y/N asks. “Well it doesn’t have to me a flea, I’ve seen people say there was a frog in their hand, a cricket, it could be anything really. I’m gonna try it with Ajax and see his reaction. I’m gonna say flea because I’m a werewolf so that’s easy.” Enid commented as she puts her phone away.
“Then I guess I’ll choose that there’s a frog. I’m naming the frog though.” Y/N commented. “Only you would name an imaginary frog. I wonder how different Ajax and Xavier would react to having an invisible animal in our hands.”Enid said. “I honestly think Ajax would just be asking a lot of questions.” Y/N said, the girls started laughing and that’s when Y/N felt someone cover her eyes.
“Guess who.” The voice said. “Could it be Nevermore’s resident tortured artist?” Y/N guessed and Xavier uncovered her eyes and gave her a forehead kiss. “I expected you so say your super hot boyfriend but that works too.” Xavier said as he sat down beside Y/N. “What were you girls talking about?”
“About nothing, cariño. My parents wanted me to invite you to dinner Saturday night, by the way. My mom is making tallarines saltado, It’s gonna be really good.” Y/N mentioned. “That’s spaghetti, right?” Xavier asked, making sure he got his Spanish right. “Yeah, It’s spaghetti. So is that a yes?” Y/N asked hopefully. “Yeah for sure. I gotta go find Ajax, see you later, angel.” Xavier said, kissing her forehead. When Xavier was far from the table, Enid started talking again.
“So I was thinking you record the video on your phone, and then you can send it to me so I can post it on my gossip site. I will also post my video with Ajax and we’ll have a poll of who’s the better boyfriend. Do you accept the challenge, L/N?” Enid said, holding out her hand to Y/N. “Challenge accepted, Sinclair.”
After classes were over, Y/N went to Xavier’s dorm. “Mi amor, It’s me, Can i come in?” Y/N asked. Xavier opened the door so she could come in. They greeted each other with a kiss and Y/N walked in and sat on Xavier’s bed. “To what do I owe the pleasure, milady?” Xavier said in a bad British accent as he bowed down. Y/N laughed and hit him lightly on the arm. “No seas payaso (don’t be silly), Enid showed me this couples video today, do you want to try it with me?” Y/N asked Xavier.
“Sure babe, let me take a shower then we can do it, okay.” Xavier said and kissed her forehead before he went to the bathroom so he can shower. Like 15 minutes later he’s out and dressed. “Okay I’m ready.” Xavier said. “Great, I’m gonna record it if that’s okay to prove to Enid I did it” Y/N said and Xavier nodded his head. Y/N propped her phone on his dresser, leaning against his cologne bottle and Y/N pressed record.
“Okay, Xavi, so there’s a frog in my hands, okay? His name is Rogelio.” Y/N said. “Why is his name Rogelio?” Xavier asked. “I was watching Shrek 2 in Spanish, okay. Anyway, Rogelio is going to do 3 backflips.” Y/N said, keeping her eyes on Xavier. Xavier nodded. “Okay Rogelio, do your thing, buddy.” “1, 2, 3” as Y/N counted Rogelio’s backflips, she also moved her head as if following his backflips, Xavier did the same.
“Can you hold his jacket for him?” Y/N asked, showing Xavier her cupped hand. “Yeah sure, Rogelio must be feeling hot after doing 3 backflips in a row.” Xavier commented, he went to your hands and moved his hands as if taking the jacket off of the frog. “He’s gonna do 3 backflips again. 1, 2, 3.” Y/N said. “He did a double backflip at the end! Rogelio, you are a very talented frog, you must be exhausted.” Xavier commented, Y/N wanted to laugh so bad, Xavier is just the cutest. “Does Rogelio want his jacket back? It’s a very nice jacket, actually.”
“Okay, Xavi, here’s a question for you. Do you really believe there’s a frog in my hands?” Y/N asked him. “Well you told me there’s a frog in your hands and I’m holding his jacket. He’s probably an invisible frog.” Xavier said, Y/N giggled. “Querido, how would I get an invisible frog?” Y/N asked him. “I Can anímate anything I draw and you’re asking me if it’s possible to have an invisible frog?” Xavier countered.
“We’re getting off the subject. Do you really think there is a frog in my hands.” Y/N asked. “Probably not.” Xavier said, finally. “Then why are you holding Rogelio’s jacket?” Y/N asked. “Because you asked me to, love.” Xavier said laughing, Y/N laughed too and hugged Xavier, hiding her face in his chest and Xavier kissed the top of her head. When they were done, Y/N stopped the video.
“Did I do the video right?” Xavier asked Y/N. “Yes, you did it perfectly, mi vida.” Y/N said. Y/N grabbed her phone and sent the video to Enid. A free minutes later, Enid replied to her
Enid: AWW 🥰😍🥰😍 HE IS THE SWEETEST!
The next day, when Y/N was walking to the quad, everyone stared at her, mostly the girls and all she heard was “you’re so lucky!” “He’s so sweet!” “Your boyfriend is adorable.” And so on. When Y/N at a table, Xavier approached her. “Hey, love, did you see Enid’s gossip site?” Xavier asked. “No, not really. I knew she was gonna post it but I didn’t know when, why?” Y/N asked.
“Everyone is commenting that we’re the best couple. That and that I’m totally whipped for you. I mean I am, but still.” Xavier said, putting his arm around your shoulders. “At least now everyone knows we’re dating, that should keep your jealous fits in check.” Y/N commented and Xavier just laughed. “Ha ha, very funny. Come one, let’s go to class.” Xavier said as he grabbed Y/N’s backpack to carry it for her and held her hand while they walk to class. Maybe Xavier is whipped for Y/N but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Should this be my brand? Just writing Hispanic Reader fanfics? Let me know!
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talkfastromance4 · 9 months
Text
Timeless–Jake Seresin oneshot
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author's note: this idea was inspired by a few things. I was at a farm that hosted a Blue Hawaii Elvis night and there were string lights placed all over the grounds. Couples were dancing in the barn and when I looked outside at the other string lights, I imagined a couple out there dancing alone. Then, last night at my 10 year high school reunion, I was with my first love again, we dated when we were 13. So there's a lot of truth of him and I in this oneshot, call it a love letter to him, but I'll always love him forever. I hope you enjoy.
warnings: allusion to sex, some sadness, but mainly fluff and love, an OC is used
word count: 2.4k
Likes, reblogs and comments mean the world!
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Apart from seeing his parents, there was one other person Jake loved seeing whenever he came back home and that was Cricket. Her real name is Daisy Baker and they’ve been childhood friends since they were twelve. She’s also his first love. 
Like most first loves it was a whirlwind of ups and downs while navigating that newfound feeling at the age of thirteen. They were best friends first until one day in science class he wrote her a note telling her he liked her. Cricket is the only one where Jake is himself, he always leaves Hangman at base when he’s with her.
Throughout their teen years they broke each other’s hearts equally. She broke his first because she was scared of getting so close to someone and he broke hers when they departed for college. On holiday breaks they met up at the local town bar and shared a few drinks and memories of their past. 
They were a flame that never went out, a forever flicker of love, fondness, and adoration for each other that burns a little brighter when together. 
“How long are you gone for again?” Rooster asks Jake when he comes out of his room with a suitcase and a carry on. Rooster’s sitting on the couch in their shared condo, it’s near base and has a pool out back.
“Two weeks.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to your high school reunion. I hate high school.”
“Yeah well, reunions are a staple in Southern States,” Jake pockets his wallet, keys, and phone. 
“Is what’s-her-name…” Rooster snaps his fingers as he thinks, “ladybug gonna be there?”
“Her name is Cricket, and yes, she’ll be there.”
“Ahh I knew it,” Rooster grins, “you and your high school sweetheart are gonna knock some boots, huh?”
Jake grabs the nearest thing to him–a roll of paper towel–and chucks it at Rooster’s head. 
“Shut up. Don’t burn the place down with your cooking.”
***
Jake’s one of the first to show up at the bar for the reunion, his eyes scanning the room for Cricket. He was quickly distracted by an old classmate, Ted, who shook his hand and started prattling off about Jake’s old football stats. The compliments weren’t helping his ego and Hangman was brought out as he boasted about his wonder years to anyone who would listen. 
Conversation quickly turned to his time as a Naval aviator and he feigns modesty when he relays he’s the only active duty pilot with an air-to-air kill. 
“You always were so humble, weren’t you?” a quiet voice he would know anywhere says behind him. 
Jake turns and smiles immediately when he sees Cricket before him, her big eyes looking exceptionally pretty and glittering. 
“I’m as humble as they come,” he grins leaving the small fanclub he sequestered behind. 
“So is that why you wore your service khakis?” her fingers tug on the collar of his shirt, the lilt in her voice is teasing. 
“You know me, I hate having attention drawn on me,” he smirks.
“Oh yeah, you hate it,” she rolls her eyes and they share a laugh.
“Hey Cricket,” he finally greets her by name. 
“Hey Jake,” she sighs. 
They chit-chat for a while before they’re both pulled away to converse with other classmates. While they’re split up they each glance over to one another periodically, Jake is watching how much she’s drinking. 
A couple hours later when he’s standing at the bar talking with a girl he sat next to in Study Hall, he feels small hands and a warmth on his bicep. He looks down and sees it’s Cricket’s cheek pressed to his bicep, her nails stroking the fabric of his shirt delicately. 
“Hey you,” he says.
“Hi, can you buy me a drink?” 
“Sure, what are you drinking?” he asks and looks for the bartender. Cricket tells him her drink of choice just as the bartender comes up.
“Can you buy Jane one as well?”
Jake turns his attention back to her about to say no but when he sees her doe eyes and pouty lip, he simply can’t refuse. 
“Sure thing, darlin’.”
“Thank you,” she smiles and bounces on her feet in happiness. 
They converse some more before someone else pulls their attention and it isn’t until midnight Jake finds her again. She’s standing at the end of the bar with a classmate and her husband. Two other men are there, older men, that Jake doesn’t recognize and he becomes on high alert. Cricket is smiling and sipping on her drink as they talk and the guy closest to her leans his body against hers.
Jake stands up straighter, what the hell?
The guy stops leaning on her but is still invading her space a little by stepping closer to her. Cricket leans away and takes small steps back so he’s not crowding her space as much but the guy won’t let up. Just as Jake is about to head on over, Cricket points behind herself and then makes a beeline for him. She rests a hand on his shoulder and starts talking quietly while Jake is glaring at the guy.
“That guy says he wants to be my wingman for someone here because I’m too pretty to be here alone and he said he’d try a shot with me but he’s too old and I don’t know what to do,” she rushes out.
“Just tell him you’re with me,” Jake responds quickly. 
“I already mentioned you that you weren’t available. I’m just going to stay here and hopefully he’ll leave.”
“Not a problem,” Jake guides her to the bar stool in front of him. He helps her onto it and blocks her with his body from the other guy. “How old is he anyway?”
“His fifties I think. He said he graduated from our school too but five years before,” she shakes her head. “It was so weird.” 
“Stay by me, I got you,” he rests his arm on the bar around her.
The older men finally went to the pool tables and Jake excused himself to the bathrooms. He was stopped again by classmates he hadn’t spoken to yet but made sure Cricket was in his sights. She was talking with that married couple from before but still looked a little uneasy. 
Jake joined her again sitting in the stool next to her and Cricket immediately leaned into him.
“That guy keeps coming over, gesturing to me to come to the pool tables with him. When I’m done with my drink I’m gonna head home, can you walk me to my car?”
“Absolutely, I won’t let him near you,” Jake glances over at the guy who’s already staring at them. 
Cricket sucks down her drink quickly then hops from the bar stool. She hugs and says goodbye to the few stragglers that are behind and Jake follows her up the steps towards the entrance. She waves to one of the bartenders and Jake recognizes him.
“Hey, that’s the one who gave us free shots the last time we were here on our ‘date,’” Jake says.
“Ugh man, he probably thinks we’re for sure together now,” Cricket laughs. 
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he smiles and breathes in the summer air. It’s quiet outside as they walk across the dirt and pebbled lot. 
“I’m across the street,” she points.
Maybe it’s because he’s slightly intoxicated or maybe it’s because he’s so comfortable with her that he doesn’t even give it a second thought, Jake holds out his hand to her. 
“For old times’ sake.”
She snickers and laces their fingers together. As soon as their palms touch Jake feels a sense of completeness. Her hand is much smaller than his and yet it fits so perfectly and he’s reminded of holding her hand down the school hallways. They bump into each other on the walk over and he wishes it was a longer walk to her car. 
She unlocks it and opens the driver’s side and tosses in her small purse and phone onto the passenger seat. She shuts the door and faces him. 
“It was good to see you,” she says. 
“Good to see you, too,” he says and pulls her into a hug. Her arms are around his neck and his are wrapped around her waist, he breathes her in the same time she breathes him in. “I miss you, Cricket.”
“I know, I miss you too,” she sighs. “Why do you call me Cricket?”
“You would always hum at school and I could tell if something was wrong when you wouldn’t. Made me think of crickets, they chirp if they’re happy and stop when they sense danger. Plus, I’m the only one who calls you that and you seemed to like it, so I never stopped.”
“Oh,” she giggles in his shoulder. “I do like it.”
They hold each other and start to sway slightly, neither one wanting to let go but she does first. She’s always pulled away first.
“How long are you home for?” she asks.
“Two weeks.”
“Are you busy?”
“Not really,” he smiles, “I’d love to see you before I go back.”
“I’d like that, too.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the way she’s looking up at him, maybe it’s the way she feels in his arms or maybe it’s all three that causes him to lean down. She leans up as well and they both pause just before their lips touch. When they kiss it’s like coming home. It’s familiar and comfortable and just feels so right.
Jake squeezes her waist just as her fingers curl in his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly. It sends shivers down his spine and he presses her against her car. 
“My roommate’s not home,” she whispers when they break free for air. He pecks her lips quickly.
“Yeah?” he smiles squeezing her and never wanting to let go.
“Yeah. If you’d like to come over.”
“Let’s go.”
He lifts her from the ground and walks around the car opening the passenger side so she can get in. He closes the door and settles in the driver's side but before he turns it on, he leans over the console to give her another kiss. 
They spent the next two weeks together in pure bliss. Going out to dinner, the movies, a baseball game and spent a decent amount of time between the sheets. She came over to his parents’ house for dinner. On his last night they stayed in bed all day, neither of them wanting to sleep. 
“When will you be home again?” she asks playing with his fingers. She’s on top of him, naked and beautiful, their hands placed on his chest. “The holidays?”
“I doubt it,” he shakes his head. “Heard through the grapevine we’ll be deployed on a ten month mission.”
“Oh,” her eyes are downcast, watching her fingertips trace over his own. Jake notices she puts an extra circle on his ring finger. 
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t picture marrying her. He could see it all, her in a beautiful white dress, a home of their own and then three or four little munchkins. Jake never really wanted kids but Cricket’s always wanted to be a mom and he would absolutely want a family with her. But it’s always so hard leaving her and he doesn’t want to put her through that kind of worry. 
“I’ll let you know when I’ll be home next,” he assures her. He pinches her cheek affectionately. 
“Will we be able to talk in between now and then?”
“Maybe, I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I know,” she sighs heavily, resting her forehead on his chest. 
Jake rubs the back of her hair and when she lifts it back up, tears roll down her cheeks. 
“Baby,” he sighs and swipes them away but more come. 
“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to see me cry,” she whispers and tries to wipe them away as well. 
“It’s okay,” he soothes. 
They roll into a hug with Jake on top of her and she clutches him tightly to her. She sniffles in his ear and he lets her cry into his neck, her long staggering breaths breaks his heart and it reminds him how it always comes back to this. Breaking each other’s hearts. When her breath is steady and normal, he pulls away and stares at her.
“I’m not gone yet. Let’s make the most of it?” he asks and she nods, their lips connecting in a wordless agreement.
THREE YEARS LATER
“The bride and groom would like to have one last dance before the night is over, so if we could clear the dancefloor please…” the DJ says into the microphone. 
Crickets are chirping in the balmy summer night as the dancefloor is cleared in the large backyard. The string lights create a warm and inviting glow to all the tables and the dancefloor. The photographer gets into position as the happy couple walks in the center of the floor.
Jake spins Cricket and she picks up the bottom of her dress as it twirls up and grabs Jake’s hand in perfect timing just as ‘Love me Tender’ begins to play. Their guests fall into a quiet hush as the newlyweds begin to dance. Cricket is humming along the crooning voice of Elvis and Jake kisses her forehead. 
“Can you believe we’re finally here?” he asks. 
“No, it feels like a dream. A wonderful dream,” she sighs. “I always knew we’d end up together.”
“You did?”
“You didn’t?” 
“Of course I did,” he shrugs. “I knew it the moment I met you in seventh grade.”
“Seventh grade?” she scrunches her nose. “I had braces.”
“And you were the cutest girl. Still are,” he winks and spins her out. There’s soft applause from their guests and he pulls her back into his arms. 
They change their dancing position to the informal way with both her hands behind his neck and Jake’s on her waist. Their foreheads are touching and they sway in one spot soaking up each other and the moment of their special day. 
Love me tender, love me dear
Tell me you are min
I’ll be you through all the years
Till the end of time
Love me tender, love me true, 
all my dreams fulfilled, 
for my darling–
“I love you,” Jake sings along.
“And I always will,” she joins him in the last verse. 
When picking out a last song to dance to, this one popped into both of their minds because the lyrics rang true to their relationship. Through all the years and relationships in between, they’ve always loved each other and always will. They dance into the night, sealing their whirlwind of a love story into a new beginning of their life without fear or regret or doubt.
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bonanzabox · 1 year
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Sacraligious
DemonNat! X reader
Warnings: corruption, dubious content, it’s demon sex outside a church
(Happy birthday @caroldantops >:3)
Growing up, you were never one to go out of line, even dip one toe out into where you weren’t supposed to be. Living in a religious small town instilled the literal fear of God into you; you were a good girl, always doing what she was told. Graduated with honours, got accepted into the accelerated program of a nursing major, succeeded in every step you took in life. And yet, when you went off to college, nothing really changed, except the morbid curiosity you had as a child only grew. What would it be like to disobey, just for a minute, and revel in it…
You were visiting home for the month, almost done with your degree. The sleepy town you grew up in was still hazy in early summer, the crickets still chirped in the evenings and fireflies danced in the small hours of night. You had chosen to go to church early, walking the trails of the back garden with its flood of white lilies.
That’s where you saw her for the first time.
She almost slipped from your vision, she was so deeply intertwined with the shade. Her red hair blended with the leaves of the maple trees, the dark leather of her jacket mixing with the shadows that hid her. The thing that caught you were her eyes: dark green and piercing with…you couldn’t place what exactly, but they were intoxicating.
She was next to you in a superhuman second. “Hello there. Haven’t seen you around here before.” Her voice was gravelly and deep, but sweet enough to set your heart on fire.
“I’m-I’m home for the summer. Don’t get to come to church here that often anymore.” Your voice quivered with…fear? Anticipation? Though you weren’t sure why, she seemed passable enough (though not many people wore leather to church anymore).
“How interesting.” A hand snaked its way over to your shoulder and started petting it. Her nails were long, almost clawlike to your eyes, and her touch made you swoon slightly. “My name’s Natasha. What’s yours?”
Your name comes out in a stammer, and she smiles wide when she hears it. She tests it out a few times, and hearing your name come off her lips makes your heart skip a beat or three.
“Absolutely delectable. You don’t seem like the general…population that comes soaring through these doors. What makes you so different…”
Your whole body feels like it was set aflame, and you back up slightly, only for Natasha to pin you to the back wall of the church. A warm feeling settles in the pit of your stomach and starts travelling lower.
Natasha notices your blush and bares a wide smile. “Did I say you could leave yet, precious? No no, I have much more to say to you, and by the looks of things, much more you can do for me.”
“But service will be starting soon-”
“All the better, I think.” Her lips are suddenly crashing into yours, biting your lip and sucking on your tongue. Then it occurs to you, her tongue is forked. It hits you all over…she isn’t all human. Natasha sees the realisation on your face and smirks. “That’s right doll, I’m not your average churchgoer. Now you can walk in there and forget all about me. But I don’t think you want to do that, I think you want to stay out here with me and have a real good time.”
Your brain is screaming “leave, go be with your family” but your body won’t move. That morbid curiosity is tying you here, wondering just what she could do to you on God’s holy ground. You give a careful nod, whispering, “Okay…I’ll stay.” There was a brief moment where time seemed to pause, as if the universe was taking your name on the dotted line.
“Good girl.” Natasha’s lips were on your neck now, fangs slightly nipping into your skin. “Goddamn, angel, you taste so fucking good. And this is just your neck, I wonder what the rest of you tastes like.”
A guttural whimper escapes your mouth and your hips meet Natasha’s thigh, grinding slightly at the contact. She only tsk’s slightly, taking the time to tease your want by slipping her thigh further between your legs. “Naughty little thing you are, trying to rush me before I’m ready. I shouldn’t indulge in your neediness…but you’re just so tempting.” Your hips buck wantonly on her thigh, the ache between your own legs only growing stronger each second. You’d never felt this strongly before about anything, but you needed; you didn’t know what it was you needed exactly but you knew that only she could give it to you.
Natasha wasted no time in popping the buttons off your blouse and exposing your chest to the quiet summer sun. Her nails tiptoed their way up the middle of your chest to your collarbone, and one finger slides down and runs its way around your hardened nipple. The little gasps your uttering only make her smirk more. “So pretty, little one. I can tell no one has made you feel this good before, so sweet and innocent. All mine right now.”
A little cry erupts from your mouth as she leans down and latches her mouth around your nipple, forked tongue flicking over the sensitive skin and fangs just slightly piercing; not enough to break skin but enough to make you feel even more intense.
Suddenly you feel the wall of the church at your back as you’re being pinned there, arms above your head with one hand and Natasha, still latched on your chest, is putting one hand up your skirt, pushing aside your underwear and one delicate finger pushes into your wet heat. You’re practically dripping down your legs and her finger enters you just as an audible moan escapes from your lips. “Pplease-“
“Oh now, little one, careful what comes out of that pretty mouth. The window is open and someone could hear your sinfully beautiful moans,” Natasha purrs in your ear, finger still buried deep in your cunt, almost teasing you to see how needy you could get. You don’t dare move, the pressure between your legs is so intense you could scream but the woman before you was far too imposing to try being a brat about this whole situation.
Suddenly you’re left empty, as Natasha takes her finger and licks it, keeping her smile wide and her eyes on you as she does. “Fuck angel…I knew you were going to taste good but, damn, I never thought-I was going to fuck you but I need more of that sweet cunt first.” And then she’s pulling your skirt and white cotton panties down and your legs instinctively fall open. If anyone saw you now…but you couldn’t think about that, your head was too fuzzy with arousal. She positions herself between your legs and the first lap of her tongue on your cunt makes your legs go weak. Her nose bumps that nose sensitive spot between your legs as her tongue licks and sucks everywhere it can. When it enters you, deeper than it seems it should, you cry out, muffled by the singing of the hymnals in the building. “Please, I need…more…so good Natasha, it’s so good-““I know, precious.” Her voice echoes in your ear, though her mouth is busy between your legs. “I can feel you want to come, sweet thing. Go on, indulge me; come for me.”
It washes over you like a heatwave; the sensation is new and exciting and your legs start to crumble from the sheer pleasure of it all. Natasha holds your legs up, licking every drop of liquid that gushes from your cunt. You can hear the choir reach a high point as you tumble over the edge again; Natasha hasn’t stopped the onslaught of her tongue as she pulls a second orgasm from you. You could swear her rhythm matches the sway of the music bellowing from the windows, but then again, there was a demon buried in between your thighs; anything was possible.
Time slows down as the redhead pulls herself away from your leaking cunt and licks her lips c a wicked grin forming on her face. “You precious thing, moaning along to the choir as if you were there yourself. I’ll have to play with you some more sometime.”
“You-you’re leaving? After that?” You’re bolder than you were however many minutes ago, considering what just happened. You didn’t think you’d challenge a demon that just gave you a taste of corruption and let you live to tell the tale.
Natasha is suddenly pinning you against the wall again, but more intimately; her hands croon the sides of your face and her tail sweeps along your skirt hem, almost in a preening manner. “Don’t you worry angel, you haven’t seen the last of me. After all…fucking a demon outside a church isn’t getting you anywhere but in between *my* thighs next time.” A whimper slips out of your mouth but before you can say anything more, she’s gone. Almost on cue, a familiar voice calls out behind you, asking where you’ve been since the service started! You don’t give an answer, only a simple “dunno” as you walk in the building, trying not to let the flames inside you burn even higher.
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The Night We Met
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[Astarion x Named Tav]
Astarion gave her a beguiling smirk, his body moving fluidly as he waved his hand about, “Darling, I’m bored out here in the wilderness. I’m only trying to gossip.” “Then read a book. We found plenty.” She narrowed her eyes, hinting about the giant stack Gale had built near his tent with his finds from the crypt. Astarion's curiosity was genuinely peeked now. Was this little bard hiding a deep, dark, dirty secret? He kept his mouth closed as he ran his tongue over his teeth.
or...
Astarion tries to flirt, to keep setting his nice, simple plan in motion but fails, only succeeding in touching a nerve.
_
Can we all say a thank you to Larian for blessing us with patch 5? Cause omg
Also the song Phayelynn sang in the last chapter and the song I named this chapter after is "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron. I really love that song, and I think it's perfect for any Tav/Astarion relentionship, or even any Tav/companions. It's just a really cute song ❤️
(word count: 3,604)
Read on AO3 or below :)
Masterlist for Phayelynn's adventures here
The Night We Met
Phayelynn had found a little secluded spot for herself down by the river that ran by their camp. The moon reflected against the easy current, giving the air a soft glow, and for a moment, she felt at peace. The only sounds were cricket chirping and the crackling of the campfire a little ways away. 
She let out a deep sigh, willing away the tension that had been building up within. The peace only lasted a moment. She found herself growing restless again, her mind already spiraling on thoughts of back home. Her uncle- she didn’t want to think about what he must be going through right now after her disappearance. He was smart, and it wouldn’t take long for him to realize what had happened to her. They had arrived just outside of Baldur’s Gate a few days before the Nautiloid showed, and he knew Phayelynn’s curiosity for the city would’ve lured her in while he was getting word on their next job. 
She could only hope that’s what he assumed was her reasoning for venturing into the city alone. No god would save her from his wrath if he found out her true reasoning. If she survived this, she’d never speak of her attempted foolish endeavor and rush back to him and pretend non of this ever happened. 
Phayelynn let out another sigh, leaning back so her palms rested flat against the dirt floor and she could get a clear view of the starry night sky. Her hand came into contact with a scrap of paper, and a smile flashed across her face. She picked up the piece of parchment, eyes glancing over it once more. 
It was the story Mirkon had written for her, his way of thanking her for saving him from the harpies. The way his face lit up as she thanked him, encouraging his creativity was worth the scolding she had gotten later on from Shadowheart. 
The cleric had been furious, to put it lightly, when she had learned of their detours. She berated Phayelynn like a child. It was embarrassing- more embarrassing than her and Gale’s first meeting only a day ago. 
Why had she slapped his hand? That’s clearly not what he had meant. She shook her head and cringed at the memory. 
At least Lae’zel had her back. To an extent, of course. She’d been vocal since entering the grove that the druids were a waste of time. While in the marketplace, Lae’zel and Shadowheart had come across the tiefling Zorru, the gith had mentioned. He marked their map with the location of where there’d been Githyanki sightings. Phayelynn saved time by insulting Kagha and refusing help from their healer. Finding her people and a creche should be their only focus. 
Gale had intervened, telling them they should all rest and turn in for the night, having finished putting away their food supplies. He’d offer to cook, to which their stomachs had been grateful. He could sense Shadowheart’s desire not to drop the subject, and Astarion only encouraged her, egging her on at Phayelynn’s expense. As her companions started trickling off to their respective tents, Phayelynn made sure to shoot Gale a thankful look before heading off to her little spot. 
“It’s quite a sight.” 
Phayelynn jumped, shuffling where she sat at the sudden voice. She turned her head, eyes wide, her heart slowly settling when she saw that it was just Astarion. Her relief didn’t last long as she gave him a questioning look. 
What did he want now? 
Astarion wasn’t looking at her, standing a few feet away, staring out into the night sky. He finally craned his neck down, looking over her face with a grin. He waved his hands out towards the scenery before them, “The stars, I mean. I could take or leave your chin.” 
Phayelynn gave him a sour look, letting out a huff. She turned her back to him, not in the mood. She narrowed her eyes at the parchment in her hands when she heard his chuckle, followed by his footsteps against the gravel of the riverside shore. 
“Am I disturbing you?” He asked once he stood next to where she sat, looking down at what she was reading. He leaned down slightly to get a better look. 
“Actually, you kind of are,” Phayelynn said without looking up. She tried to focus on Mirkon’s words, on anything besides him. 
“Hmm….” Astarion began reading over her shoulder. “Very strong…killed the harpies in one blow-Ha! Want to be just like the greatest bard ever. Well, I guess embellishing the details comes with the profession, so he has potential.” 
Phayelynn folded the paper so he could no longer read it. She still didn’t want to meet his eye, knowing that he was being purposely nasty to her now at this point. She had thought they might be friends, but now she wasn’t so sure. 
However, something about him made her want to know more. To not completely toss out the idea of friendship. She could read this performance from a mile away. Why he felt the inclination to put on an act for her, she didn’t know but it was indiscreet,  She’d been doing the same for years- pretending to be someone she wasn’t. 
She gave him a pensive look, studying his face as his eyes met her at her folding of the parchment. They were all still practically strangers. They didn’t owe each other the truths of their backstories. She definitely wasn’t willing to share hers yet, so she couldn’t expect him to be ready to share his.
She could indulge him for now. 
With a playful shrug, she settled back comfortably. “I don’t know, I think it’s very cute. And sweet,” she gave him a teasing smile, and he tilted his head, amused and intrigued, “You’re just jealous there’s no mention of a grumpy pale fellow.” 
“A grumpy pale fellow?” his own smile straightened out with a huff, “Really?” 
“Well, I’m just saying,” she shrugged, turning away from him to look out into the water. “maybe if you’re a little nicer to people, you’ll get a story written about you someday.” 
“And will you be the one to write it?” he smirked, looking her up and down before moving to sit on a nearby stone not too far from her. He looked back out into the sky. 
“Like I said, maybe if you start being a little nicer. And if I don’t have anything better to do,” she kept the airiness in her tone. She didn’t sound too seriously invested in the conversation, but she also made sure to make herself not sound bored either. 
He let out a loud chuckle, his head falling back. She quirked an eyebrow. It had seemed rehearsed. Scripted. She bit back a frown, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. 
She rested her head on her knees as she looked over his features. His strong jaw, deep, ruby red eyes- the way his hair curled around his face. He looked too flawless. Too perfect, she settled on. It was drawing her in. 
What was he trying to gain from her with this? He wasn’t this way with the others. She got a flash of dread and panic but hid it just as well. 
“Did you want something?” she asked before he could speak. He opened his mouth, caught off guard by her question. She could tell this was already derailing from how he wanted this conversation to go. She continued, “It’s just, I thought you’d still be brooding after today.” 
Astarion laughed, this time seeming a little more genuine. He gave her another once over before looking away. “No, no, I just wanted a quiet place to think. Gale’s snoring- terrible.” he shuddered at the thought before looking back at the girl. “I wanted to reflect on the events of the day; how you have the irresistible urge to trifle in other’s business despite my best advice.” 
Phayelynn couldn’t stop the dramatic roll of her eyes. 
“You didn’t have to help.” She sighed, feeling a smidge bit guilty. He had gotten pretty diced up in their fight against the harpies. Shadowheart, thankfully, was able to heal the claw marks sliced across his face without leaving scars. The bitterness from earlier returned though, his and Shadowheart’s ganging up on her at dinner still not blown over. “I think you’ve all gotten your point across for the day.” 
Astarion loosened his shoulders. 
“I supposed,” he raised a hand, motioning about before clenching it into a fist, dropping his down to his lap, “It’s not an awful trait to have- rather too noble for my tastes, but I guess what you did for that boy and the little thief could be deemed admirable to most.” 
“I-I-” she stammered at first, “I couldn’t just stand by and not help. I’m sorry. I have a soft spot for kids.” 
“Noted,” Astarion nodded. “So our little trip to the old woman’s house should have no hitches.” 
Phayelynn couldn’t help but laugh, remembering Shadowheart mentioning that tomorrow she wanted them to meet with a woman she’d met in the market, who promised something that could help them. They only had to travel to her home at the edge of the woods. 
“Shadowheart says I’m the bad one.” she giggled. “Ten gold this woman she’s talking about is a witch or a hag- some fairytale creature. I mean, seriously? A little old lady who lives alone in the woods? I know she’s suffering from memory loss, but Shadowheart seems to have read at least one children’s tale as a child?” 
Astarion laughed heartily in agreement.
“Well, darling, I supposed you’ll be the one tomorrow to make Shadowheart eat her own words then?” 
She smiled. 
They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the fire, crickets, and occasional owl hooting returning them to a calm. 
Astarion shifted, not wanting to sit in silence for long. 
“That song, the one you sang to break us out of the harpy’s spell?” he asked, “Did you write it?” 
“Oh, that? No,” she blushed, her hands suddenly needing to play with something. She started to fiddle with the parchment, bending it back and forth, forcing herself to stop so she wouldn’t wear it out and rip it. She started picking at the itchy fabric of her tunic. “My father wrote it. I- er, I have his journal. He was a bard, too, he traveled a lot. He’d write about his adventures, and then some of the songs he wrote are also there. He had written that about my mother.” 
Astarion felt her hesitation on the subject, hinting at an all too evidently unoriginal backstory for her. Boring, he hummed to himself, but he concealed it well. His hand trailed up to play with a curl behind his ear, having seen her eyes trace over them earlier. He gave her a specious smile, “Tell me, you’ve mentioned living with an uncle? Let me guess, you were orphaned at a young age, and all you have left is your father’s journal. You aspire to be just like him. Hmm?” 
Phayelynn looked uncomfortable, and Astarion had to keep himself from showing his panic. Maybe he dug deep a little too fast. He saw her shift, grasping at the paper and shoving it in her pocket. She was about to stand. 
He could easily still save this.
“Wait-” he stood as she did, reaching out a hand to keep her in place. Her jaw clenched, an ugly twist to her pink lips. He laid a hand against his breastbone, his shoulders pulled down low. “I’m not good at this. What I was trying to say, in a long, looped-around way, was that it was beautiful. Your voice was…” he paused, his voice growing deeper as he spoke. “beautiful.” 
“Oh,” she said dumbly. She bit her lip, nervously and stupidly falling for his charm. Part of her told her it was an act, but another voice told her this part wasn’t. She felt a slight itch. It was her tadpole reaching into his. 
Beautiful. 
Sincere. 
“You’re not far off.” She admitted, swallowing the lump in her throat hard. Maybe he would do the same if she opened herself up to him only a little. “I wasn’t that young. I was about 16 when I lost them.”
“Darling, I’m over 200 years old. That is young.” He laughed. He tried to gauge her age. “You’re a half-elf, but you are—-young? If 16 isn’t young to you, you can’t be more than a few decades old.” 
“I’m 28,” she confirmed sheepishly. 
“That does explain a lot.” he snickered as she rolled her eyes again at him. 
“My lack of self-preservation?” she cocked an eyebrow. 
“So you do listen to me when I talk?” He took a step forward, leaving less space between them. 
He recounted her back with the tiefling children when they had returned to Mirkon and went into their little cave hideout. She had said she knew what it was like to have to steal to survive. Her self-proclaimed soft spot for children- he was starting to paint a clear picture of her to work with. 
“What did you mean, back when we dropped the boy off? I take it you and your uncle didn’t live comfortably?” 
Her eyebrows pinched together, giving him a too-quick smile. She was unable to hide her caution. He was asking too many questions. Too many specific questions. She doubted he cared to learn about her. She felt a flare of nervousness. 
Did he know? 
Her eyes squinted at him. She tried to pull through to him through their connection, but she felt him close himself off to her. She tilted her head, and he did the same at her, knowing she had caught him. 
No, hells, there’d be no way he would know. 
He stood up straight, lightly scolding himself for not expecting her sudden shift in tone. He was only a few days out of Baldur’s Gate and already out of practice. He pulled a beguiling face, his body moving fluidly as he waved his hand about, “Darling, I’m bored out here in the wilderness. I’m only trying to gossip.” 
She narrowed her eyes a second time.
“Then read a book. We found plenty.” She hinted about the giant stack Gale had built near his tent with his finds from the crypt. 
His curiosity was genuinely peeked now. Was this little bard hiding a deep, dark, dirty secret? He kept his mouth closed as he ran his tongue over his teeth. 
“I touched a nerve,” he said flatly, leaving the statement up to her interpretation.
“Fine,” Phayelynn said abruptly, crossing her arms against her chest. “My mother got sick.” her voice was tight, never staggering as she gave him the gossip he wanted, “She died a year into her sickness, and my father was murdered by some asshole a few days later. My uncle took me in. We were constantly traveling, trying to make money to survive. We stole a lot. We had the whole act down. I would distract the audience with my playing, and then my uncle would go around pit-pocketing the crowd. Not very noble, but it kept us fed. That boy, Mattis, and his sister were using a charmed coin. It changes to whatever side the person who cast the charm says. It was one of the first tricks my uncle taught me. That’s how I knew the girl would steal from me. Every time I said heads or tail, and Mattis repeated after me, it was pretty clear what they were up to. Now, anything else?” 
She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to ask her one more question. 
“You can’t just end it there!” His eyes lit up, a little too delighted. “Murder? Your little thieving days? I want the details, darling! The most important parts are clearly being left out!” He pouted. 
She scoffed at him. She shouldn’t have put it past him to be this insensitive. 
“I told you everything you need to know. Maybe if you tell me more about yourself, I’ll be more inclined to further expand.” 
“What’s more to tell? I’m a magistrate back in the city- rather boring in comparison.” He sighed, looking at his nails. He quickly changed the subject. He gave her a nod, “I guess I should be giving you more credit than I have. When this little adventure of ours is over, will you return to your days of thieving and conning the innocent?” 
Phayelynn let out a heavy sigh. That was a question she hadn’t wanted to think about. It was almost more terrifying than the tadpole wiggling in her head. 
“I don’t know.” she looked to the side, back to the water hitting softly against the shore. “I left for Baldur’s Gate on my own. I had business there I wanted to do on my own.” 
“So the mystery behind the great bard continues,” he smirked slyly. 
She huffed; she didn’t owe him an explanation. She turned to face him, looking him over teasingly and with a mischievous grin. She could work this conversation just as well as he was trying to. “Why? Are you going to be sad when our little adventure together is over?” 
Astarion allowed her to change the subject, “Ha! You are quite the ally- even with the little hiccups we’ve had thus far on our journey. I guess the tiefling child did have some proper idea about you. Traversing Avernus? Surviving the crash? The Goblin pack? Standing up to the druid and then facing off against a flock of harpies?” he listed off on his fingers, titling his head side to side in a sing-song way to each. When he was done, he put his hand down, looking her square in the eye, making her breath hitch. “Jokes aside, I’m not easily impressed by people, and when I am, I don’t know how to really show it- and we do have our rather different views on things, but all that being, I have to say, out of all our companions, you’re the one I’ve grown to trust and want to stand by the most.” 
He blinked a few times at her, his face softening. 
Sincere. 
Phayelynn took a breath as their tadpoles connected again. 
“I don’t know if I want you to run off from me just yet.” 
Phayelynn let his words sink into her like the harpy’s song. Her face flushed. “Oh, I thought you didn’t like me.” 
Why was she suddenly so shy? 
“You have your quirks, but I rather not beat a dead horse,” he admitted, seeing her fall but he only allowed it for a moment. “You have your charms as well.” He looked at her with a dangerously pretty smile on his lips. He lowered his voice, “More than you think.” 
Phayelynn felt her heart start to beat fast. Uncontrollably so, for that matter. She tried to tell herself not to take too much stock in his words, but how could she not? Not when he said them while looking at her the way he was looking at her. Like she was some precious thing, and under the moonlight and stars to add to it.
“We could still travel together.” She pipped up before she could think about her words.
“A delicious thought,” Astarion said, making her heart flutter. He pulled her eagerness back, “But,” he trailed off, giving her a moment to jump in, seeing her flustered face at his choice of words. 
“I’m just joking. ” she tried to back peddle. “I have to return to my uncle once this is all said and done. And I’m sure you have some big life back in the city. Being a magistrate and all.”
Her comment threw him off as if he had forgotten he’d told her that. He quickly gathered himself, “Yes, of course. I can’t spend the rest of my life gallivanting in the wilderness. I miss civilization. A firm bed, plush pillows, good wine-” He tried to pick himself back up, but thoughts of what was actually waiting for him back in the city started to plague him. He let out a tired sigh. “Darling, I enjoyed this chat, truly, but I’m getting tired. I’m going to go rest my head.” 
“Oh,” Phayelynn looked a little surprised by his sudden shift. “Okay.” 
He flashed her one last smile for the night. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight.” 
“You too,” she frowned as he rushed off. 
She took a few minutes to replay the conversation, a sour feeling bubbling in her stomach. She felt entranced by their private moment alone, but also something felt wrong about the entire thing. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it anymore. She was getting tired. 
She stood and started heading back towards her bedroll near the fire, not realizing the chill that ran up her arms now. It was dark, the light of the fire not too far off, she couldn’t wait for her head to hit her pillow, she was so tired-
“We meet again, as I predicted.” 
“Hells!” Phayelynn nearly jumped out of her skin for a second time that night at the sound. She let out a shrill scream, surely alerting the others in the camp as she turned her head towards the direction of the voice, seeing the being from the dank crypt that had come out of the sarcophagus. 
Maybe Astarion was right; she missed civilization. 
___
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miloformula123fan · 3 months
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I was wondering if you could possibly do Mark Webber as a girl dad I just finished reading Oscar as a dad and it got me thinking about Mark as a dad
i am so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth - rediscovered how much homework i had to do and cricket carnivals, but do not worry - regular updates are resuming now :)
Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.
also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better
alright here we go
mark webber as a girl dad
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Okay Mark webber as a girl dad
Let’s just say he would be amazing when you’re pregnant
Absolute angel
He would just tell Oscar to not do anything stupid and spend the entire time with you
When he finds out your pregnant with a girl he is so excited
Like when the pink cake was revealed, you looked at him and thought he was pissed
And then he burst into tears and you’re really worried
He reassures you that they are happy tears and then the party really begins
Already looking at karts for her
He would make an amazing nursery for her
He would barely let you do anything without him
To protect his girls
The second she can crawl, he makes her pick her favourite colour
And then repaints her whole room that colour
Oscar is godfather
It would’ve been seb, but multi 21 (i’m aussie and wasn’t even following f1 at the time and im pissed about it)
She makes her paddock debut at like 6 months
Besties with Will Buxton’s kid (i think her name is Isla, and she is adorable)
Someone says something sexist asking where her mother is and Mark just loses it
Spends the next 10 minutes criticising them
She is in a kart asap
She’ll make it to f1, no doubt
She’ll be better than her dad because she will actually get a championship
Maybe with red bull just to annoy her dad
She plays other sport too
Netball and some cricket
She stops netball when her friend tears her acl
But is always playing grade cricket during f1 off season
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