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ramp-it-up · 2 months

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II Most Wanted Pt. 2: Pedal so heavy

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: The feelings are getting real as you make a decision about giving Jake Syverson the time of day (or night, rather) at your 20 year reunion.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Flashbacks, horny teenagers being horny (over 18 tho). Prom night, early 2000's music, mentions of sex acts, "Captain" kink, mentions of teenage pregnancy, divorce, breakups. The Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Reckless driving?

Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the second installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

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May 2024

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

When you heard that, you went into fight or flight mode. Rage, regret, and sadness all flooded your body at once, and Sy’s eyes flicked down to your dominant hand which was curling into a fist. A wry smile started on his lips, and then he straightened up and looked you in the eye as he started to speak again.

“Butter-”

You shook your head, which silenced him. Then you raised your chin, released your fist, and turned your back, walking toward your friends.

—---

Get out (LEAVE!)

Right now

It’s the end of you and me

It’s too late (NOW!)

And I can’t wait

For you to be gone…

Carla and Tiffani followed as you fled to the restroom.

“Why did you even tell him I liked him? I blame both of you.”

You were hurt, so you brought up a 20 year old slight and lashed out weakly at your friends. You were trying to ascribe meaning to your emotions.

How could everything still hurt this much?

Carla wasn’t having it.

“Unh unh. No. Nope. We were sick of you running your mouth all the time about how cute he was. And Jakey boy had heart eyes for you since the day you walked into school, despite Becca the Bitch. After they broke up, we had to put you both out of your misery. It had to be done.”

Tiffani was nodding her head in agreement.

You sighed.

“‘M sorry guys,” you sat on the bathroom vanity and smiled to yourself about your Powerpuff councils in the 3rd floor Central High bathroom all those years ago. Then you grimaced when you thought of Sy.

“I just… Can’t…”

“So what just happened?”

Despite your surliness, Carla was ready to go to war for you.

“He wants me to go talk with him, ‘someplace quiet.’”

“Wow. Your air quotes are kind of aggressive.”

Sweet Tiffani was also calling you out.

“Maybe you do need to talk to him. I heard what happened, and it’s kind of a lot. A hell of a story.”

“Tiff has a point. You forbid us to say his name after you two broke up…”

You interrupted Carla.

“After he found out Becca was pregnant, you mean..”

“...That is a part of the story you need to hear. She did him dirty. They split when he finished his first tour. He asked about you, but you were already engaged to Scott…”

You’d heard that Sy enlisted instead of going to State for football like he planned when Becca fell pregnant, but the bit about the split hit you like a ton of bricks.

But why? And what did it matter now?

“Sy spent the better part of the last 20 years in Afghanistan, and I think it’s because…But that’s not our story to tell. You really ought to talk to him.”

“I don’t have to do-”

Your voice was a little shrill and you closed your mouth when you heard yourself. You stood in the bathroom awkwardly until the familiar beginning of a song wafted into the room:

“Teen drinking is very bad.”

Carla and Tiff started screaming the next line:

“Yo, I got a fake ID tho.”

The beat dropped and they pulled you out of the bathroom onto the dance floor.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four Everybody drunk out on the dance floor Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more Like she a groupie and I aint even on tour...

…..Everybody in this bitch getting Tipsy.

This was your thot song, and after a minute of standing there, fake offended by their dancing, soon you were shaking your ass with your lifelong friends.

—-----

Sy knew how much he was trying it when he asked you to talk, but he had been waiting 20 years for this chance.

Tonight was the night.

And he wasn’t going to let the night pass without shooting his shot. But the truth needed to be told first. He hoped that you still cared enough to let it happen.

When you stared at him blankly, he started to sweat. He knew you lived your life since then. He feared that any feelings you may have had for him were over and done with. But then he saw your hand balled into a fist, and hope entered his heart.

Sy never shrank from a fight; hell, he’d started too many, but he never wished for someone to sock him in the mouth as much as you.

He wanted to fight with you.

And he wanted to make it up to you.

His heart dropped when you walked away, but he decided to let it ride and give you some space. After you disappeared into the bathroom with Carla and Tiffani, Sy ventured into the venue, ready to interact with others now that he had laid down the challenge with you.

—---

You were having a ball dancing with the girls until that song came on. You stopped moving, the hair raised on the back of your neck. When you turned you found Sy staring right at you. You’d managed to ignore him the entire night, but this song and his blue eyes were wearing you down.

I'd sure hate to break down here Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin' I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin' So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now

You walked toward Sy, drawn to him as if on a string. You had that feeling in the small of your back as you stood before him, the one that you hadn’t felt in ages, and suddenly everything felt inevitable.

Just like it did 20 years earlier.

—---

May 2004

On Prom night, you came out of your bedroom and Sy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes never strayed from your face as he murmured,

“You look amazing.”

You blushed and smiled while your mom ‘awwwed’ and went to get her camera. You approached your boyfriend and he took your hand to twirl you around as he appraised the rest of you in your sleek emerald green dress. When you faced him again, he was licking his lips, trying to make the look on his face respectable. You smiled because you could read his mind.

Sy didn’t flinch as your mom called him “Jacob,” and you didn’t have it in you to be annoyed as she took a couple of pictures. Sy’s hand on your waist and his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin at the opening on the side of your dress made you shiver in anticipation.

You were caught up.

Soon, Sy was loading your bag into the back of Betty, and pulling off, your mom having accepted your explanation of staying over Tiffani’s after going bowling with the group after the prom.

In reality, a bunch of the crew were renting a huge chalet in the mountains, 45 minutes away. You and Sy had your own room, and you were ready to give him everything that night. You were distracted, imagining having your way with him that night.

And Sy was right there with you.

“Y’know, Buttercup, we can just head on up to the chalet.”

He cut his eyes over to you to watch your reaction. When you didn’t answer and just bit your lip, that’s when he knew.

“Our suite has its own bathroom with a shower in it. We’re definitely using that this weekend. Can’t wait to see you all soapy and wet. ‘S all I could think about in the shower tonight. Almost jerked off to the image, but I decided to save it all for later…”

Sy knew you too well, and had keyed into how you responded when he talked dirty to you. He was priming the pump for later.

You pictured Sy in the shower, his lithe muscles clenched as he fisted himself, made you suddenly need a drink of water. You cleared your throat and found your voice.

“We have to go, Sy. I spent so much time getting ready. And you look so handsome in this tux….”

You skimmed your hand down his lapel, down his torso to his thigh, and you quickly ascertained his situation. He grinned at you.

“You’re right.”

Sy winked, smiled and concentrated on the road while you tried not to be a slut in the passenger seat. By the time you reached the venue, you had yourself under control. He parked, then turned toward you.

“Let’s have a good time tonight, Buttercup. Think you can keep your hands offa me for a couple of hours?”

You scoffed, and Sy took your hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed your palm, smoothing the joke away because in reality, It was him who couldn’t help touching you.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup right now… might ruin it later tho.”

You whimpered in his grip as he kissed up your arm and you tucked a long errant curl behind his ear.

Sy’s eyes went soft and he held your hands in your lap.

“Y’know, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can dance all night if you want to. Bowl the blue balls away.”

You laughed and Sy fell in love even more. You were so beautiful.

“I love you, Buttercup, and us having sex or not won’t change that, not one bit.”

You melted as you stared at your handsome fella. He was fiddling with your hand, and then you felt something cold on your finger. You pulled your hand back and saw the delicate white gold ring with a tiny perfect diamond in the center that had been his grandmother’s.

You gasped.

“Sy!”

You looked from him to his grandmother’s ring. You’d come across it the first time you were over his house, ‘studying’ in his room on a chilly November night after football practice. You were being nosy and looking at everything you could touch as he went to get some snacks.

Sy was embarrassed when he came back and saw you with it. You thought he was mad at you for snooping, but he wasn’t. He’d told you that it was just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, not worth anything,’ and that no one would want it, but that his Gran had left it for him to give to his future wife.

“But, I’ll propose to someone with a bigger ring than this.”

Sy’s denim blue eyes held yours for a beat. Your heart flipped. You didn’t know why, because you’d only been talking for a couple of weeks and this was the first time you were alone together.

You didn’t know that Sy was repeating something Becca had told him when she turned her nose up at the antique when she happened to see it, and you didn’t care as you took the black box and sat down on his bed. You stared at the ring inside like it was the crown jewels, and after about 5 minutes of studying it, you looked up at him.

“Well. I think this ring is beautiful and precious. The detail is stunning. Your future wife would be lucky to get it.”

That was exactly when Sy realized that he was in love with you.

Back in the Bronco outside of the prom, you were in disbelief.

“What are you doing Sy….?”

All of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. But after only six short months together, Sy knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Calm down, Buttercup, this is just a promise ring.”

He kissed your hand again.

“I know we're jumpin' the gun, and we're both still young.”

Those eyes held you in a trance.

“But one day, we won't be.”

“Oh, Sy…”

“It’s my promise to you, Buttercup. I will love you ‘til the day I die.”

And it seemed kinda crazy. But you believed him.

—-

May 2024

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear An' I'd sure hate to break down here Oh, no

It was either the music, the dancing, or the alcohol, or all three that made your mind up, but you were ready to listen to what Sy had to say.

Stephanie Prince, the class president, was calling the Homecoming court up to the stage, and Sy looked that way. Anger bloomed again inside you.

Damnit, Sy needed to choose you this time.

“You still wanna talk, Sy?”

Your body language that screamed aggression: the cocked hip, the crossed arms that pushed up your tits, the tapping foot in those heels, all made Sy soft on the inside and hard on the outside for you. When he answered you, his voice broke.

“Ye– yeah.”

Christ, you had him weak. But he made a decision, found his strength, and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the Marriott.

You followed him obediently, and that set him on fire. He stopped and turned around when he reached the Bronco.

But he didn’t let go of your hand.

You two stared at each other in the late spring night air, stars winking down on you two.

“So where we goin’, Sy?”

Being this close to him again, and the feeling of his touch made all those 20 year old pheromones perk up again. Damn, this man.

This huge, handsome, hairy man.

“Where do you wanna go, Buttercup?”

What your brain was doing was insane, so you just kept silent.

Becoming mute was one of your tells. Sy was elated that maybe you wanted him, at least physically. He was so thirsty for you.

“Hm.”

Sy grunted, straightened up, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, all while still holding your hand. It was like he didn’t want to let you go.

And he didn’t.

“Tell you what. Let’s take a spin in Betty. See what’s up in the ol’ town.”

Your eyes flicked toward the truck, and you knew it was dangerous.

But you were grown now.

And so was Sy.

Sy led you around to the passenger side door to help you up into the high profile vehicle, leaning over you to buckle you in, only releasing you to put his hand on the door.

“I can’t believe you still have her,” you whispered, indicating the Bronco. “How is she still the exact same condition?”

“She’s been in storage for the better part of 20 years. Thought about her everyday though.”

Sy was looking at your lips, and the memories came flooding back.

“I bet she missed you.”

Sy cocked his head and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His voice came out gruff and he had to clear his throat again.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Sy.”

Any smooth line was lost as his brain short circuited with the concentration it took to not kiss you right now.

“Well, we’re about to have some fun together again, you, me, and Betty. Sit tight, pretty lady.”

Your cheeks heated at the compliment.

“Ok, Captain.”

Sy actually blushed, shook his head and closed the door, leaving you to breathe in the old leather smell of the Bronco with your eyes closed, conveniently leaving him to pump his fist behind the car unseen by you.

He got back in the car, jacket off. And he leaned near you to place it on the back seat, you got a whiff of him, the familiar cologne adding another dimension to your roiling senses.

When you opened your eyes, you witnessed him rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms. He caught you ogling him and you gulped and crossed your own arms and legs, angling yourself to look out of the open window.

Sy looked over at you closing yourself off from him, then smashed the gas to make sure that you'd squeal and grab his arm like the good ol’ days as he peeled out of the parking lot, pedal so heavy like you were the two most wanted criminals in town.

—---

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superficialdomina · 11 months

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Missed connection Part 3

Summary: A drink, some smut, and a goodbye.

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: RPF. 18+; smut. PIV, unprotected. Ethical-ish non-monogamy/infidelity. Mentions of alcohol. Language.

AN: Thank you all for waiting. It's so good to be writing again! This is the genuine final chapter. Promise.

As for part 2, this story is happening in a fictional AU where Tom is single, available and a little bit lonely - not his actual, and obviously joyful and satisfying, real life.

Word count: 5.1k (sorry...)

“Whoa.” The word fell from your mouth with a slow exhale, as you took in the beautiful, ancient building in front of you. The Palazzo Intimo. The Intimate Palace.

You glanced nervously down at the elegant, spidery writing on your own business card; needlessly, since you’d memorised the words casually scrawled there. Palazzo Intimo. 10pm.

*****

“I hope we’re not done,” you had murmured, fingertips seeking to pull him close. But even as he had leant in to kiss you softly, you’d felt his body pull away. Confused, you’d lifted your eyes to his face, where sweet concern was etched across a sad smile. …Wh…What?

He had bitten his lower lip, which still glistened with your body’s wetness. “I… I can’t stay, I’m afraid.” You had felt the glow of orgasm begin to fade like the heat of his body where he had moved away. “I’m sorry.”

Wait, what?

“I am… supposed to be somewhere,” he’d continued over your silent perplexion. “I’m already quite late -” so what’s another twenty minutes!? “- And I’d hate to - to rush away... Afterwards.”

Oh.

He had stood then, and, a sense of humiliation rising, you’d tried to straighten your tousled clothing to cover your naked lower half. But he’d laughed affectionately, drawn the loose edge of the bedcovers over you, and picked up the pen on your nightstand. A pile of your business cards, carelessly strewn after the final conference session, lay scattered there; he took one, and wrote in the small space above your name.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He’d asked as he scribbled.

“I-" Tomorrow? "Yes,” you’d managed, breath coming a little fast, still not sure what was happening.

“Meet me,” he’d said, pinning the card back on the nightstand under your pen. His gaze held yours. “Please.”

You wanted to protest; this line was too fine for your clumsy feet. But he had smiled down at you - dazzlingly, beautifully, reassuringly. And so you’d nodded, and he’d kissed you again, and delicately brushed your face with his long, fine fingers. “Tomorrow, then,” he’d murmured.

You had watched him gracefully descend the mezzanine stairs to your kitchen. Watched him retrieve his discarded shirt from your floor, and his still-damp hoodie from the back of your chair. Turning the door handle, he'd looked back up to you, lying still on your barely-mussed sheets, and given you the tiniest wink. Then he was gone, and you were alone in the echoing silence, your skin still tingling from his touch.

He hadn't even taken his shoes off.

*****

Of course, you’d Googled the Palazzo Intimo immediately. "Padua's most romantic hotel". “Dignified, spacious and charming.” “Allegorical frescoes worthy of the Sistine chapel.” A grand, elegant building worthy of a grand, elegant man. A long way, metaphorically, from a tiny apartment above a bustling café.

And yet not, apparently, a long way in reality. The walk across the Old Town had been surprisingly short; you were a few minutes early. Which was fortunate, as your feet seemed to need a moment before they could carry you through the ornate front doors.

Now what? You berated yourself sternly. What’s the rest of your plan? Just walk up to the front desk and ask for him?

The night city was abuzz with energy and noise. Bright street lights illuminated the aged cobblestones, where throngs of pedestrians and bicycles maneuvered by one another in polite mayhem. Music spilling from several open-air restaurants mingled with chatter in a tuneless, though not-unpleasant, mess. The confusion made it hard to think.

It was one thing to invite him to your apartment on a whim, or to silently accept the pleasure he offered in the surreal heat of the moment. But this - arranging to meet him at his hotel room, knowing fully what you intended to do there. This was… deliberate.

Why was it bothering you so much? I am not breaking the rules! you repeated to yourself for the hundredth time.

But you remembered his vulnerability as he’d read you an obscure Ursula Le Guinn passage in a still, quiet train carriage; remembered the longing you’d felt after he’d left your apartment, which was heavier than just residual arousal. You caught sight of your reflection in one of the Palazzo’s large, dark windows, remembering how long you'd spent getting ready to come here. Am I?

The ancient bells of San Antonio’s church began to peel across the city. 10pm. Now or never. You stepped across the precipice into the dark and quiet of the Palazzo.

As you did so, you realised that you still didn’t have an answer to your earlier quandary. What DO I do next? He hadn’t given you a room number, and even if he had, you doubted you could simply walk up to his door. Surely you couldn't just ask at reception? They would laugh you out of the building.

Or maybe they wouldn't, a venomous voice whispered in your mind. Maybe he'd had "visitors" every night he'd been here.

Once again, you spotted him before he saw you, although this time you wondered if he had orchestrated it thus. His long, lean frame leant casually against the far wall, hands in pockets, face shadowed in the romantically low light. You stared at him, warmth humming between your thighs, lips parted shamelessly.

He was - there was no other way to describe it - dressed up. His well-tailored suit pants fit tight to his sculpted lower body. One foot, clad in a dark leather dress shoe, rested lightly against the wall; even at this distance, the solid outline of the quadriceps of his supporting leg was clearly visible through the fabric. His crisp, white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the deep dip of his jugular notch, with sleeves oh-so-casually rolled up to his elbows revealing long, sinewy forearms. Perfectly tousled curls tumbled gracefully across his forehead, and - oh Gods, it was kryptonite - grey reading glasses elegantly rested on his long, straight nose, as he gazed at the floor, lost in thought.

He was utterly, unbearably, beautiful.

Your heart raced as feelings of insecurity blossomed within you. The Palazzo seemed anything but intimate; the high ceiling and dark lighting felt like a cave, and you were small and insignificant in its ancient grandeur. You felt decidedly underdressed in your simple cotton dress and flat sandals. His shoes probably cost more than my entire outfit, that toxic voice whispered again. He hasn't seen me yet. I could still leave...

Maybe he heard your thudding heartbeat, or the snaking voice in your mind. Maybe he had simply heard the peeling of the bells across the city - whatever the cause, he raised his eyes, catching you on the verge of fleeing. He straightened, removing his hands from his pockets, and gracefully strode towards you.

"Hello," he smiled softly as he reached you. "I'm so glad you've come."

His affect was as different to the last time you had seen him as his outfit; decorous, controlled, composed, like a persona he'd put on as he'd buttoned his shirt. You searched his face for a hint of the wildly amorous man who had placed his hands on your hips in your small kitchen. He placed a gentlemanly hand on your upper arm, and leaned in to chastely kiss your cheek. As though his fingers had never been inside me, you thought.

You swallowed, searching for your voice. "Hi, Tom," you stammered, feeling your skin rise in goosebumps at his touch. His smile was easy, but genuine; the peek of his teeth below his top lip made your fizzing nerves begin to fade, replaced by a different low-belly effervescence. He reflexively pushed his glasses up his nose, and your breath caught.

Deliberate.

"Will you join me for a drink?" His hand still on your arm, he indicated a low archway to your left, beyond which you saw a carpeted staircase. You hesitated, confused. A drink? Aren't we here to... to...

"I - sure," you faltered again. He stepped back, his beautiful forearm gesturing you ahead, and you climbed the narrow stairs to a classic Paduan balcony overlooking the thronging street. A small table and chairs sat nestled between flower boxes and wooden shutters. The sounds of music and chatter rose to reach you, but you noted that you were out of the eyeline of anyone in the street itself. Unexpectedly secluded, you thought, with a touch of sarcasm. How romantic.

Angst found you again. This was not what you had anticipated. A quiet knock on a hotel door, whisked into his room before you could be seen; a quick fuck in expensive bed sheets and a hasty, anonymous exit. That was what this was meant to be - wasn't it? You weren't sure exactly what you had expected, you admitted to yourself, but it wasn't this. It wasn't a date.

Eying the flimsy balustrade, you considered how far it was to the cobblestones below, still wondering maniacally if you should attempt an escape.

"Il tuo solito, signore?" A stranger's voice in the open doorway you made you jump. It was a young man dressed all in black, not a hair out of place. Tom was clearly expecting him.

"Si, per favore, Marco," he said, familiarly. The young man turned to you expectantly.

"Ah - aperol spritz, per favore," you added, guessing at his unspoken question and grateful to the staff at your café for their daily language lessons. The waiter nodded politely, and vanished down the dark staircase, leaving the two of you alone. Tom gestured to the chair closest to you, and you nervously perched on the edge of it.

In contrast to your fluttering fears, Tom seemed to radiate confidence. He sat back deep in the wrought iron chair, almost slouching, elbows resting comfortably on its arms, his thighs splayed wide. His face displayed a knowing smile that was just-too-polite to be a smirk, eyes glinting. Player, you thought derisively; 'a perpetual escapee from emotional entanglement', you had once heard him describe himself. And yet, his comfort made you comfortable; in his easy presence, you felt your self relaxing. Maybe he was a player - but tonight he was playing you, and that was oddly exciting.

He was watching you with that familiar, intense gaze. "You look beautiful," he murmured, and you were surprised at how well his voice carried over the noise below; the balcony felt all the more intimate. You felt your cheeks heat, but you held his gaze. Don't look away, you thought. You were not normally coquettish with lovers, and you were determined to be authentic now.

"Thank you," you replied, and your voice was stronger than you expected. "You - you do, too." Ugh. Awkward. You swallowed, willing casual conversation to come to you but finding yourself without the words. Authenticity or not, you still seemed to have nothing to say to him.

Of course, in his easy, cleverly comfortable way, he came to your rescue again.

“Did you finish your book?” he asked you, his hand resting lightly on his chin. You pictured your Bernard Cornwell novel resting on your nightstand, bookmark triumphantly discarded beside it. Had he noticed it there, as he scribbled his invitation on your card?

“I did,” you smiled, not unmoved that he had remembered.

“And? Did you enjoy it any more by the end?”

“I…” You paused, reflecting before you answered. “I did, I think. Some of my favourite characters from earlier in the series returned, and… I guess their motivations became more… real. It was a good ending. I’m glad I stuck it out.”

As you spoke, he absently traced his fingers over his lips, then trailed them down his throat and over his collarbone. You watched, a little transfixed. He was so tactile. You wondered which part of him was enjoying the sensation more - the skin of his face and neck, or the pads of his fingers?

"What will you read next, now that you've finished it?"

"I don't know," you answered truthfully, surprised. "I didn't bring anything else with me. I guess I'll have to pick up something rubbish at the airport for the flight home."

He gave a look of distaste, but was interrupted before he could speak again. The young man - Marco - reappeared, placing a wine glass of blood-orange aperol in front of you, and a squat-sided tumbler before Tom. His glass contained three or four fingers of liquid; from the pale amber colour, you suspected whiskey and water.

"Grazie," you both said in unison; you butchered the pronunciation, while Tom rolled his "r" delightfully, prompting a vivid, unanticipated memory of your body thrashing wildly under his tongue. You felt your cheeks warm again, and the pleasant hum that had lain purring quietly between your legs rose to a gentle roar.

"I have been thinking about your question," Tom began tentatively as the young waiter left, sipping his drink and placing it back on the table.

You were puzzled. Did I ask a question?

"Maybe it wasn't a question," he continued, as though he had heard your thoughts. "But you made me wonder about my - my favourite words. Ever written." He seductively bit his lower lip. Whore, you thought lustily, arousal thudding through your most sensitive places.

But again, you found yourself surprised and touched that he had remembered your conversation.

"It was something you said," he rushed on, looking down at his hands, "about... About accepting our imperfections, that made me... It reminded me of something I read a long time ago that still resonated with me." His rambling was charming, delightful. Designed, no doubt, to enrapture you, and succeeding. He looked up at you, as though waiting for confirmation.

"Spit it out!" You laughed. "I'm on the edge of my seat."

He grinned, took another drink, and leaned back, gazing up at the night sky, and quoted.

"All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life, is made up of light and shadow."

You were thrown; the words were unfamiliar to you. He was looking at you again, willing you to respond, until your hesitation expanded uncomfortably between you.

"Tolstoy," he added, in explanation.

You shook your head, laughing at his surprised look. "Sorry," you added.

He stared at you, bemused. "You can quote The Dispossessed, but you've not read Anna Karenina?" You shook your head again. His disappointment was palpable.

"So tell me," you urged him, still chuckling. "What does it mean? Light and darkness... Like yin and yang? Two sides to every coin, all things opposite but... but complimentary?"

He smiled devilishly, disappointment fading, and you felt that you had fallen into some trap he had set - or at least, predicted. It was exhilarating.

"Not light and darkness," he corrected, leaning forward again with palms pressed eagerly into the table, eyes bright. "Light and shadow."

"I don't-"

"It is not simply that all things have equal and opposite parts." In his excitement to explain, he interrupted you. You didn't mind - there was such a thrill in watching him lose control. "It is that all things have shadow - all things create shadow." He watched you carefully for a reaction as you tried to understand his meaning. "The sun shines on me, and I cast a shadow - and that shadow is a result of my existence. Is proof of my existence."

There was so much passion in his voice as it rose and fell that he was almost singing as he spoke. Dramatist. But you thought you understood. "I think I see. Our darknesses - shadows - are not just an integral part of us, but exemplify our... our..." You hesitated, and he waited for you to finish your thought, eyes alight. "Our humanity."

"Yes!" he said eagerly. "Sorrow, shame, ego - these are the shadows that make us human. They are evidence of our light."

He sat back, smiling to himself, and picked up his glass again, following the slosh of the amber liquid as he swirled it vaguely. It was hypnotic, watching him, momentarily lost in thought. What are your shadows, Tom? you wondered into the silence between you. All dirt and rocks...

"Ah - a beautiful choice," you muttered awkwardly, realising you were staring. Then you laughed again as an idea came to you. "I really thought you were going to quote something from Shakespeare."

"Why?" he half-laughed, playfully. Then he paused, and you watched a mood transition across his face; playful turned to puzzled, then solemn. You felt the energy between you shift rapidly, but were unsure as to its direction. When he spoke, he did so quietly. "Why would you think that?"

Something in his tone gave you warning. Did I say something wrong? "I..." You swallowed, completely lost. "I... I'd just heard - heard you..." Your words froze in your throat as you realised that this was the first time since you'd met in the train carriage that either of you had alluded to... to his fame.

"I'm sorry," you offered. "I don't understand what... what I've said."

He met your eyes again, replacing his glass on the table with a shaky clink.

"No - no, it's me who should be sorry." He forced a small laugh. "I just... I forgot, briefly, who I was."

At last, understanding washed over you. All his veiled hints of sadness and regret. Of longing for something that had long ago been lost.

"It's a strange thing - fame," he continued hollowly, looking down at his hands. You had the sense that you were hearing words long thought, but spoken aloud for the first time. "There's a guilty pleasure in it, in being known. Being... adored. It's - it's addictive." You held your breath, fearful of interrupting his stream of thought. "But it's - hard, too. Keeping your head down. Remaining aloof. Pretending not to hear your name called in the street. It's almost like the more people say your name, the less you're... you're... there. The less I'm there."

He raised his face to you again. His smile was so deeply sorrowful that your heart broke for him. "For a moment, I felt... here."

You wanted to speak - to reassure him, to comfort him - but your voice remained firmly locked in your chest. What could you possibly say? You are here. I see you.

"The pathetic thing is," he said softly, his pretty, pale eyes full of self-mockery, "if I had the chance to walk away tomorrow - to disappear into obscurity - I'm not even sure I would take it."

His manner was so sincere and undefended, you felt an inordinate urge to... protect him. The hissing inner voice sent you an admonition: these waters are dangerously deep. You're getting swept away in the tide.

But he seemed to have reached a catharsis; having said the words, he seemed... lighter. Finally, you found what you wanted to say.

"Is that pathetic?" you asked. "It sounds... Well, human, to me. To regret something, resent it even, but still be unwilling to let it go. Needs are complicated things." His features began to relax; you pressed the small advantage. "It's not all bad," you added, gently flirtatious. "For the next twenty years, you get to be a generation's answer to the question, 'Who was your first celebrity crush?'."

He chuckled, blushing; stepping back from an invisible brink. Joining in your game, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Keanu - in The Matrix," you grinned. He pursed his lips, pretending to appraise your answer. "Go on then," you prompted.

"Christina Ricci," he laughed, then paused thoughtfully. "Or maybe Anna Kournikova".

That tracks, you thought, affectionately imagining him as an excitable teenager, roaming the outside courts at Wimbledon. How endearing.

As rapidly as it had descended, his mood lifted again. And something else had returned - something that had been absent since he'd kissed your cheek under the somber call of the San Antonio bells.

Swagger.

He downed the last of his whiskey, replacing the glass on the table - confidently, this time - then tucked his chin, so that he looked at you provocatively through the small gap between the rim of his glasses and his striking brow. His blue gaze was electric.

"Come with me," he said, rising from the table.

He led this time, not waiting to see if you would follow as he strode quickly back down the narrow staircase and across the cavernous Palazzo entrance room. Somewhere in the journey he had reached back and taken your hand, and you let him pull you along through the ancient corridors. If you had briefly forgotten the arousal coursing through you with his show of vulnerability, it screamed for attention again now; reignited by his pace and determination as his long legs left you to an ornately carved wooden door.

You saw a flash of the ceiling fresco in the semi-dark as he pulled you inside - renaissance depictions of full-figured, bare-breasted women - before his mouth was on yours, pressing you into the cool limestone wall.

He was wild and tumultuous, kissing you with a storm's urgency, the scent of him filling every heavy breath you sucked in. But he was tender, too - his long fingers tracing the skin of your arms were firm, but gentle. It was not the kiss of a stranger; not the hot-but-detached fucking you had anticipated before your arrival. It was - the word felt traitorous in your mind - affectionate.

His lips left yours and moved to your jawline, then your neck, his hands working over the rough cotton of your dress, his desperation fading into decisiveness. Your own hands were forfeit, gripping his strong, muscular hips, while the caged creature in your belly writhed, urging him onwards. Fuck, you thought, I'm going to come just from his touch.

Hands found the hem of the dress, pulling it up and over your curves, eventually tugging it from you altogether so that you stood, exposed, in nothing but simple lingerie. He stood back, and your heart began to thud hard as he appraised you hungrily.

"Am I... Is this...?" The anxious thoughts could not form a complete question before he interrupted you.

"You are exquisite," he breathed, eyes full of lust, devouring you.

When he touched you again it was slower, deliberate; the howling whirlwind of your initial kisses had passed, though what remained was no less powerful. He guided you through the open-plan apartment like it was a dance; you felt drunk on the thrill of him, and could only trust where he was taking you.

Eventually you tumbled backwards onto his bed, and he stepped back again - but this time it felt almost exhibitionistic on his part, as though he were giving you the opportunity to appraise him. You lifted your torso, resting on your elbows, staring. He kept his eyes on yours as he began to remove his once-crisp, white, shirt, now untucked and disheveled, then undid the buckle of the leather belt at his waist. Elegantly stepping out of his pants, he gave you a small, self-conscious grin.

"May I?" he asked politely.

You gave him what you hoped was a look of playful exasperation, but you were thrumming with exhilaration as he brought his perfect, naked body close to you; ran his soft hands over your curves; looped his fingers in the trim of your panties, slipping them from your skin. You pulled him close, letting your own fingertips trace the ropes of long, lean muscle of his torso as your lips met again.

He let his hands drift to your sex, where arousal had been pooling for hours; he stroked you, hot and wet, easing you apart, his clever fingers deftly playing the strings of your body. You gasped openly as pleasure and desire raged within you, loving his teasing, desperate for more. He gave it, generously, circling and massaging and dipping and stroking, and the precipice of orgasm loomed ahead of you, waiting for you to crash through. Not yet, you begged your body.

Your hands stroked his neck, his collarbone, mimicking the way he had run his fingers over his own skin earlier. Impatiently, you sought and found his hard cock, curving gloriously up towards you; you wrapped your hand around him, and he moaned wantonly into your mouth at your touch. Your breath caught as you noted his girth; your fingers did not meet around him. You moved, palm sliding along his satin-smooth length, as he involuntarily thrust against you; as desperate for release as I am, you thought.

With an abrupt growl, he rolled atop you, pinning you under his broad chest, intertwining his long legs with yours and using the torque to widen your hips. His face was so close that you could see the flecks in his irises; feel the moist breath from his parted lips. His hard length pressed into the crease of your thigh

"Is this alright?" he murmured, intently watching your face for approval. At your nod, he growled again, more ragged this time, and used his hands to guide himself to you. You felt his wide tip nudge at your entrance; you fought the urge to close your eyes as he slid inside you, sank into you, until he bottomed out deep in your channel. Every throbbing inch of him was bliss.

You could sense his urgency returning, and you hungrily pressed your mouth to his as he began to rock inside you. You groaned into his mouth, wordlessly begging him to fuck you harder, faster. He read your body like poetry.

"Please don't stop," you moaned sluttishly, not caring about propriety, lost now to anything but the pleasure of him.

"T--aagh, touch yourself," he grunted, and you let your fingertips toy through your slick folds to massage your clit. You were both losing control now, your bodies a mass of messy thrusts and heady groans as you fell towards release together. He threw his head back, eyes closed; but you pulled him back to you.

"Look at me," you half-begged, half-demanded. His eyes met yours, and he gave a sharp intake of breath.

With a guttural moan and a rush of pleasure, you came. You felt your body give up a fresh gush of wetness, and the flush of orgasm seemed to heat your blood to the tips of your toes. You slumped backwards onto his bed, but didn't take your eyes from him.

His thrusts became messy; eyes closed, mouth agape, filthy grunts falling from his mouth as he chased his own release above you.

"Y-yes. Fuck, yes-"

He came with a long cry, spilling his hot seed into you, his fingers gripping the bedsheet beside you, his face twisted in the agony of pleasure. He chest heaved as he breathed heavily into the afterglow, eyes still closed, hand seeking yours and gripping tightly when your fingers met.

When he eventually opened his eyes, they were full of boyish charm again. He grinned at you, slowly pulling his body off of yours.

"Will you stay?" he asked, fingers still entwined with yours.

"I..." you hesitated. Don't catch feelings. "If that's alright," you said, meekly.

He laughed, his contentment clear, and pulled your body close to his.

*****

You awoke to shafts of light penetrating the heavy bedroom curtains, and the sound of running water splashing off bathroom tile. Morning. You rose, finding your clothes in their discarded piles and pulling them on.

The water stopped, and after a moment, he appeared in the bedroom door, a lush white towel wrapped around him. His smile was as breathtaking as it had ever been

You took a deep, steadying breath.

"Good morning," he grinned at you. You could only offer a smile in reply; he began to re-dress while you watched, perched on the edge of his bed.

It would be so easy, you thought with regret, to fall for him.

"I wanted to ask you," he added, "when are you flying home?"

"Ah - tomorrow," you managed, "morning. Out of Venice."

He turned back to you, delighted. He was dressed now, and sat on the bed to put his shoes on. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked excitedly. "There is an operatic production of A Midsummer Nights' Dream at the Teatro del Veneto. We could dine on the waterfront beforehand-"

"Tom," you interrupted him quietly, and his sweet face fell at your tone. "I- I can't..." You willed words to come to you quickly - the look on his face was unbearable. "I - My husband and I - we have an... an arrangement. It works, but only if we follow the rules." He had composed his face into a polite smile; you stumbled on. "I - I'm afraid if I spend any more time with you, I will come dangerously close to... to breaking them."

He nodded, but didn't speak. Was he waiting for you to continue? There didn't seem to be much else to say.

It would be so easy...

"I - I'm sorry. I wish... I could..."

"Stop," he cut you off, smiling at you sadly. "You have nothing to apologise for."

Shoe laces tied, he stood.

"There is breakfast on the table; please stay as long as you need." He walked to the door, then turned to you, still smiling politely. "Thank you for your company, Y/N. It has been a pleasure."

You lifted your chin and swallowed. "Likewise," you said softly.

The door clicked behind him.

*****

The sun had barely risen on your last morning in Padua. You opened the little apartment mailbox to leave your AirBnB key, as instructed, and were surprised to find a small package with your name on it. You tentatively pulled it out. Inside was a gently used book, and a short note scrawled in now-familiar, spidery letters.

I hope this means you can avoid the airport garbage. T.

You turned the book over to read the cover; Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. You swallowed, touched, and not altogether surprised by the prickling in your eyes.

Finally, you turned back to the street, ready for one last walk through the barely-awake city to the train station. It would be a long journey home.

Italian phrases:

Il tuo solito, signore - your usual, sir?

Si, per favore, Marco - yes, please, Marco.

Grazie - thank you.

Tagging some people who enjoyed the first two parts:

@acidcasualties @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokischambermaid @peaches1958 @thomase1 @tomlugirl @vickie5446 @vbecker10 @chantsdemarins @lokixryss @wolfsmom1 @laprofesoratinacita @cabingrlandrandomcrap @hyperlokilover @siriusly--gay @dangertoozmanykids101 @villainousshakespeare @huntress-artemiss @viv-annelore @so-easy-to-love-me @ladymischief11 @kats72 @chokemedaddyloki @cerynas @lokisfavtoy @sititran @faesimps

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut

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babybluebex · 1 year

Text

long lost love: before | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: part one of two! on your first day at the london academy of musical and dramatic arts, you meet a sweet boy, and you quickly grow close. two years of dating go by, but, when you suspect that joseph is cheating on you, you make an irreversible decision. pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader (rpf - don't like, don't read) tags: accusations of infidelity, smut (MINORS DNI) - p in v sex, mentions of blowjobs - jealousy, lots of cute joey, wes makes several appearances, lots of suspect behavior from joe , a poor understanding of how LAMDA operates author's note: hi babes! thanks for reading this fic, and i don't have much to say other than enjoy! only one more part after this!

When you first saw him, your heart nearly stopped.

You didn’t know who he was; nobody really knew anybody else here. It was only orientation, and the room was full of hopeful young musicians and actors that were waiting for their education. The energy in the room was anxious and electric, and your eye was drawn to nearly every person that walked in, wondering what their aspirations were. Maybe some wanted to be directors or producers or music engineers. It was usually easy to spot the real talent in rooms like that, the kids that would really make it far, and you suppose that’s why you saw him almost instantly.

He wore the little badge with his name around his neck, looking cute and sweet with a nervous little smile on his face and a shaggy dark blond hairdo. Eighteen years old; when you thought back to him and looked at old pictures, you wondered if he ever regretted that hairstyle. He wore thick black glasses over his dark brown eyes, a small black earring in his left ear. He was cute, maybe even hot, but there was something about him, something magnetic, and you couldn’t help but wonder what his deal was. You could tell, just by his energy, that he was one of your fellow actors, and you looked at the seat beside you, empty and awaiting someone. Maybe he would sit by you and you could talk to him. Although, knowing yourself, you would be too shy to really talk to this cute guy.

The sweet and cute shaggy-haired boy spotted the empty chair quickly, and he scooted past other people in the row to get to it. He threw you a quick smile— braces on his teeth— and, in a soft voice, asked, “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” you told him quickly, moving over a little bit on your own seat to show just how empty the chair next to you was.

“Thanks,” he said, and your heart slammed in your chest as he sat down. He smelled good, like expensive cologne that he probably got when he graduated from secondary school, and he gave you that smile again before he said your name.

“Huh?” you asked. How did he know your name?

He pointed at the badge around your neck, the one with your name and “ACTING ACADEMY” printed on it, and he said your name again.

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, and you looked at his own badge. “JOSEPH QUINN: ACTING ACADEMY”. “Do you go by Joseph, or, like, something else?”

“Really only my mum calls me Joseph,” he said. “My friends all call me Joe.”

“Joe,” you said. “Looks like we’re gonna be classmates.”

“Looks like it,” Joe chuckled. “What dormitory are you staying in?”

“Umm, I’m not,” you said. “I’m actually from London, so I live with my family.”

“Oh, cool,” Joe said. “We have something in common!”

“Do we?” you smiled, and you pushed your hair behind your ear nervously. “That’s cool. Where are you from?” Before Joe could answer, you added, “Wait! Can I guess?”

“Go for it,” Joe laughed. “Only if I get to guess where you’re from.”

“You’ll never guess right,” you chuckled.

“Oh, I’ll try,” Joe laughed.

The whole day, your conversation never stalled, not even once orientation started. You whispered to each other and giggled like children, even after you were fussed at by the orientation leader, and Joe just smiled and tried to keep his laughter down. Finally, the day ended with Joe stuttering out a request for your phone number. “Really?” you asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “I think you’re… Well, I think you’re fit, and you’re really funny, a-and, yeah… You don’t have to, but I thought I’d ask—”

You leaned in and placed your lips on his cheek for just a moment, just long enough to feel the warm blush he had, and, when you pulled back, his blush had invaded his whole face, even up into his hair. “Sure,” you told him. “I’d love to do that.”

“Cool,” Joe said, and he tugged his phone out of his jeans pocket and passed it to you as he took a deep breath. “That’s cool… Umm, I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good,” you said. “I’ll see you at class, Joey.”

“Joey?” he repeated. “Nobody really calls me that.”

“Well, now I do,” you told him, and you bit your lip and smiled. “Bye, Joey.”

What you didn’t know was that, when Joe got home, he immediately told his mother about the awesome girl he had met. What you didn’t know was that he told his best friend since childhood about you, sighing and saying, “Wes, I met her.” When Wes asked “Her?”, Joe rolled onto his back and imagined your smile and said “Her! My girl, the one I’m gonna be with forever! I met her today!”

What Joe didn’t know was that, when you got home, you told your own mum about him, and you said, “He’s gonna do great things someday. I know it.” When your mother asked, “How do you know?”, you shrugged and said “I just do. Good things come to good people, and Joey… He’s gonna do amazing things.”��

It didn’t take very long for Joe to ask you out. You had talked every day, sharing most of your classes, and he was a great friend, funny and smart and loyal. It was hardly two weeks into the term when he stopped you after a lecture one day and said, “Hey, umm, my friend and I are gonna go to the movies tonight, and I-I was wondering if you wanted to come with us.”

“Really?” you asked. “That’s nice. I’d love to go.”

When Joe picked you up at your house that night, he seemed nervous. His friend, a blond boy named Wes, was in the backseat of his car, letting you ride in the passenger seat, and the three of you talked up a storm. You had fun with them, but the real heart-pounding fun started once the lights went down in the theater.

The movie was fine, suspenseful but predictable, but Joe’s hand kept lingering over to yours before withdrawing, like he didn’t mean to keep touching your hand. You wondered if he would make up his mind— will he or won’t he?— and finally, he committed and held your hand properly. It was adorable how nervous he seemed, and your lips tingled. You wanted to kiss him.

Towards the end of the movie, the darkness around you seemed encroaching suddenly, and you took the opportunity to clutch to Joe’s arm, squeezing his hand. He looked at you and smiled softly, and he leaned in and whispered, “Are you scared?”

“No,” you mumbled. Your face went hot, though, and you added, “Maybe a little.”

“I’ll protect you,” Joe chuckled softly, and he removed his arm from your grasp to sling it over your shoulders, drawing you right up against his warm body, barred only by the armrest between you. He rested his cheek against your head, holding you close as the movie finished, and you caught Wes’s smile as the lights came up.

“Y’know,” Wes started as you waited for Joe outside the restrooms. “You’re all he talks about.”

“Really?” you asked. “I mean, I think he’s pretty cool, and I talk to my mates about him a lot too…”

“He’s been dying to make a move on you,” Wes told you, and the heat returned to your face. “But he’s also kinda a pussy when it comes to asking girls out; I’m surprised he even managed to ask you to the movie. Basically, all I’m saying is… Don’t count him out.”

“I’m definitely not,” you told Wes. “In fact, I… I was planning on kissing him tonight.”

“Good luck,” Wes said. Then, his eyes flicked behind you, and he added, “Shit, here he comes, act cool.”

You laughed as Joe approached the two of you, and Joe asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, umm, nothing,” you giggled. “Wes just made a joke.”

You could feel Wes’s gaze on you as he lingered behind you and Joe as you walked to the car park, Joe’s pinky finger nudging yours every so often. Carefully, you captured his finger with yours, linking you together, and Joe adjusted his glasses as a pink blush filled his face.

The ride back to your house was quiet, all things considered, the tension between you and Joe so thick that Wes could have swam in it, and the tension only snapped when Joe offered to walk you to the door. “Oh, you don’t have to,” you sighed, even though you knew what that meant. You had seen plenty of romantic movies— if Joe walked you to the house, you would exchange an awkward but pleasant conversation before he tried to kiss you. Your heart thudded in your chest as Joe shrugged, and he said, “It’s not a bother.”

In the electric buzz of your mum’s porch light, Joe took your hands and laced your fingers together, and he mumbled, “Alright, so, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now how much I fancy you. And it was nice of you to, like, hold my hand and let me put my arm around you and shit, but you-you don’t have to pretend or anything.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” you asked. “Joey, I’m an actor, but I’m not that good of an actor. I really fancy you too.”

“Do you?” he asked, his eyes rounding with hope. “Do you really?”

“I do,” you said softly. The pounding of your heart was getting overwhelming, and you squeezed his hands. “I really do.”

“Awesome,” Joe chuckled. “Umm, c-can I kiss you? Before I leave?”

“I…” you started, halfway embarrassed about this. “I’ve never been kissed before.”

“That’s okay,” Joe told you. “That’s not something to be ashamed about. Do you want me to kiss you?”

“I… I’d like that a lot,” you told him carefully, and Joe gave you a relieved smile. Slowly, making sure not to move too quickly and scare you, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes slipped closed as your arms moved to swing around his neck, and he held your hips tightly as he titled his head and deepened the kiss just a bit. His lips were soft, and he tasted like cherry Chapstick, and you sighed as you pulled away to break the kiss. As far as first kisses went, you considered it a pretty damn good one, and you laughed softly as you looked down at your feet.

“Thanks, Joey,” you told him. “Umm… Do you wanna be my boyfriend? Y-You can say no! But I just really fancy you and—”

Joey kissed you again to stop your blathering, smiling against your lips, and, when you pulled away, his glasses were a little bit askew. “I’d love that,” he said. And that was it. Easy peasy.

From then on, you and Joey were inseparable. You hung out between classes, had dates every Friday night, stayed over at each other’s places for the weekend. It wasn’t long before Christmas holiday came, and you kissed your first boyfriend at midnight as the new year rang in. Joey was your first everything: he was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, the very first boy you ever loved.

He was also your first time, which was a point of contention. By the time the new term rolled around, you knew how impatient he was getting. He never would have admitted it to you and would have denied it to the ends of the earth had you asked him, but he was a, by then, nineteen year old boy— he probably had wanted to fuck you since the first day you met. But you were nervous, and kept postponing it. You had done little things to try to alleviate some of his waiting, rubbing him through his jeans and letting him feel up your shirt, but going all the way was daunting. You told him as much the first time he tried to get in your pants, and Joey was understanding. “We can wait,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me, truly. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Finally, summer holiday came, and you decided that enough was enough. By now, Joe and Wes were renting a flat not far from campus, and you spent most of your time there, but now that you were unencumbered by classes, all of your time was spent there. You had practically moved in with them— you kept clothes in Joe’s closet, a toothbrush by the sink, tampons in the bathroom— and, one night, Wes packed a bag. “I’m staying at Liam’s for the night,” he told you when you inquired, and you childishly puckered your lips and made kissy noises at Wes as Joe cooed at him teasingly. Liam was Wes’s current boyfriend, and Wes had gushed to you about how he thought Liam was “the one”, and you poked at him absolutely relentlessly about it, but you were just happy that Wes was happy.

“Have fun,” Joe called as Wes left the flat, and no sooner was the door shut and locked than were you straddling Joe’s waist and kissing him. He grunted in surprise and grabbed at your waist as he kissed you back, and it was only once you broke the kiss that he asked, “Darling, what’re you doing?”

“I’m fucking done with being scared,” you told him. “I know that you’re good, that you won’t hurt me or anything like that, and virginity is such bullshit anyway, it’s not real, so who cares?”

“Love,” Joe said lowly. “Are you really sure? Because we can wait if you want, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, I’m okay waiting however long you want.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” you told him. “I want you.”

“Alright,” Joe sighed. “Okay. Fuck, all my condoms are old, I don’t—”

“I’m on the pill,” you told him softly. “Got on it just for you.”

“Oh, don’t say that, you’ll give me an ego,” Joe chuckled. “And a boner, but that’s already happening.”

“You’re so funny,” you told him, and you kissed him again. “Make love to me, Joey.”

That night, Joe did as you asked, and he made love to you for the first time. He undressed you slowly, taking his time to care for you and love on you, sucking on your skin and feeling you in his hands, and he laughed softly when you carefully took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. “You look so handsome like this,” you told him, and Joe eagerly kissed you, spreading your legs to wrap around his waist.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” Joe told you, and you kissed him deeply.

Joey held your hands as he slid deep inside you, shushing you when you whined at the unfamiliar stretch and burn, and he rested his forehead against yours and watched you react to every roll of his hips. His eyes stayed locked on yours intensely, heightening every sensation, and each panted breath was met with a kiss. Before long, you felt that knot tightening in your belly, and you whimpered, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too,” Joe huffed out. “Want you to cum first.”

It wasn’t much longer before you were squeezing your legs around his hips and throwing your head back as his fingers met your throbbing clit, and you moaned as you came, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach invading your head and taking your breath away. He wasn’t far behind you, pulling out just in time to spill all over your stomach, and his reddened chest heaved with heavy breaths as he pulled himself out of bed and found a towel to clean you off with. “You alright?” he asked, wiping at the remnants of himself that laid on your belly and chest, and you threaded your fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss.

“I’m alright,” you told him. “I…”

“Yeah?” Joe asked expectantly.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and the flush in his chest crawled up his neck to his cheeks and ears.

“You do?” Joe asked, his eyes big and round and hopeful. You loved his eyes.

“Of course I do,” you told him. “I’ve loved you for a long time, I’ve just been… I don’t know, too scared to tell you until now. But I’m not scared anymore. About anything”

Joey leaned down and softly kissed you again, and he mumbled, “I love you too.”

If you thought you were inseparable before, nothing compared to that summer. Most of your time was spent in each other’s arms, fighting off the heat in bed together. Now that every boundary had been broken down, you weren’t afraid or hesitant anymore, and Joe liked it. He was more affectionate than before, always trying to kiss you or hug you as you cooked dinner, dragging you into bed whenever he got the notion, and you indulged him every time.

Also that summer, Joe turned into a man. He invested in contact lenses during the break, got his braces off, cut the ridiculous mop on his head, and took out his earrings (you cried, because the earring was just so cute) and your boyfriend’s burgeoning maturity only made you want him more. God, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. He was better than those stars in the movies that he took you to see on date night, and he was better because he was yours.

When the term started back, you noticed something about your boyfriend. Before, girls didn’t really take notice of him. Maybe the lone girl who giggled at him when he goofed off in class, but everyone knew that you and Joe were an item. You were the “it” couple at LAMDA, everybody knew you, but, with all of the physical changes that Joe made, came more competition. Suddenly, girls were trying to talk to him more often, pair up with him for breathing exercises or short film projects— you were almost twenty by now, you were an adult, but jealousy still flared in your stomach.

And Joe. Your sweet Joey never really saw it. He mentioned it off the cuff a few times, mostly joking when you were sullen after finding out that he had been asked out again by some girl— ”Aw, baby, are you jealous?”— but you never let him know the full extent of your jealousy. He didn’t need to know. You were just his girlfriend, not his controller. If he wanted to talk and flirt with other girls, that was his business; after all, he was fucking you and not them. You were never worried that he would cheat on you, because you knew his heart was good and that he would make reasonable decisions.

In retrospect, you both should and shouldn’t have been worried.

Just after your two year anniversary, weeks before Joe’s 21st birthday, an opportunity fell into his lap. “An audition,” he told you excitedly. You sat on the couch in his flat, legs drawn up under you as you read the email on his computer that he had presented you, declaring that a new BBC show was casting young men ages 18-25 for a role in their new period piece. “I got an audition.”

“Oh, Joey!” you crooned and put the computer aside, sitting up and hugging him tightly. “You remember our audition class last year? You aced it! You’re gonna do great, I know it.”

“I’m so nervous,” Joe admitted, rubbing your back as he buried his face in your neck. “What if I don’t get it?”

“But what if you do?” you asked. “Baby, you can’t discount yourself, you’re perfect for this! I always knew you’d do great things, and this is just the start. And so what if you don’t get it? The fact that you even auditioned is amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you so much,” Joe whispered. “Thank you for sticking by my side.”

“Of course,” you told him.

The next week was his audition with the BBC, and you fretted all day. You felt sick and called out from class that day to stay home and wait, and, when the door to the flat opened and Joe bustled in, you couldn’t wait anymore. “So?” you asked eagerly. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” Joe said simply, unwinding his scarf from around his neck.

“Just good?” you asked. “Tell me all about it! Who was there, what happened—”

“Well, love, I’m under contract, I can’t really talk about that,” Joe said, and you sighed.

“Yeah, but I’m your girlfriend, contracts don’t count when—” and you stopped yourself. “Wait, contract? What contract?”

Joe was quiet, but his smile was a mile long. “A BBC contract,” he said finally. “They offered me the role at the audition.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You screamed and jumped up, and you flew into Joe’s arms and squeezed him around his middle. “Oh my God!” you cried, kissing him all over his warm and pink face. “Joe! No way!”

“I have a job,” Joe said, proud of himself, and you kissed his lips before you laughed.

“What did I tell you?” you said. “Don’t count yourself out! Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you! What’s your character’s name?”

“Arthur,” Joe told you. “Arthur Havisham.”

“Arthur,” you repeated, and you kissed him again. “Oh, my sweet boy, I knew you could do it.”

To celebrate his accomplishment, you went out to dinner that night, leaned in, smiling and laughing together as you shared a bottle of wine. When you got home, the flat was empty— Wes was at Liam’s again— and you went down on Joe. His hands clutched your hair and he filled your mouth, and he reached down and kissed you, whispering “I love you” as you swallowed his spend.

The show, a quaint period piece called Dickensian, started filming in the new year, and you were excited for him. In the weeks preceding the shoot, he had costume fittings and hair and makeup tests, and you went with him to everything that you could manage while still attending your classes. He was the talk of the town at LAMDA— a third year acting student getting cast in a large-scale BBC production didn’t happen often— and everyone seemed to know him and, by extension, you. As much as Joe had a role to play, so did you: the supportive girlfriend. Of course you were proud of him and never said otherwise, but he was all anybody wanted to talk to you about anymore. “How’s Joe? What’s he doing? What’s it like on set?” You answered all of their questions and more, but, little did they know, trouble was brewing.

It started with little things. Joe would tell you that he would be home from set at a certain time, then text you minutes before, telling you that they were running late and not to wait up for him. Then, he’d lumber into the flat late at night, not even bothering to greet you some nights before he passed out asleep in bed. He would wake up early, for his call time was always fairly early in the morning, and he’d slip out of the flat without waking you to say goodbye.

One of the bigger incidents was when he flopped into bed one night, leaving his clothes on the floor, and, when you went to gather them, found red-colored stains on the collar of his shirt. “What is this stain?” you asked him, running your thumb over the stain.

“Why d’you care?” Joe mumbled, grabbing his pillow and shoving his tired face in it.

“I need to know if I need to treat it before I wash it,” you told him, then, under your breath, added, “Since I do the washing up around here, apparently.”

“It’s, umm…” Joe started sleepily. He yawned, then said, “Makeup. They make me wear a lot of makeup.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, and Joe sighed.

“Yes, fuck,” he grumbled. “Let me sleep, love, I had a long day.”

Red makeup. Why would he be wearing red makeup? You swiped your thumb across it, and it came back a little waxy. Lipstick. You knew that he was lying, but you dreaded a fight, so you kept it to yourself. Lipstick on Joe’s collar; it made your stomach turn.

Another incident came on Joe’s birthday. He wasn’t filming that day, but he was still out all day. You were awaiting his arrival, tired and lonely and just wanting some time with your birthday boy, and you sighed when the door finally opened. “There you are,” you smiled, and you opened your arms for him. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Joe said, coming into your arms and kissing you gently. “Sorry, my mum wanted to take me out.”

“No worries,” you said as alarms went off in your head. You had called Joe’s mum earlier in the day to try to get her recipe for Victoria sponge so that you could make it for dessert after dinner (you had succeeded, and a completed cake sat on the counter in the kitchen), and, in the conversation, it came up that Joe’s mum regretted not being in London for Joe’s birthday. “I’m in Liverpool for the week,” she told you. “I guess we can celebrate when I get back.” If he wasn’t with his mum, where was he?

Finally, the nail in the coffin came. On a cold March night, your skin still rippling with the feeling of Joe’s tongue, your boyfriend asleep next to you, he mumbled in his sleep. He did it every so often, mainly when he was stressed or nervous about something, but it was usually little things, things that you couldn’t discern. But this was discernible, and it made your stomach turn. “Amelia…” Joe mumbled, and he turned away from you in his sleep.

You were awake all night. Amelia. Who the fuck was Amelia? The same girl who had left the red lipstick on his collar? The same girl he had spent his birthday with? You didn’t want to feed into delusions and jump to any sort of conclusions, but everything seemed so damning to you. You were scared and anxious and looking for any answers, and the girl’s name gave you an answer. Joe was cheating on you.

By the time Joe’s alarm woke him up at 6am (you even doubted his call time now; was he leaving early to see her?), you were up and packed. You lived with Joe and Wes now full-time, and you sniffled as you tried to think through your options. You could move back in with your mum until you found accommodations, or you could shack up in a hotel somewhere, or move in with a friend, or... Anywhere but here. Joe stumbled out of the bedroom to find you on the couch, jiggling your leg nervously, biting your fingernails down to the quick, your bags by your feet. “Darling?” Joe mumbled, scratching his blondish curls. “Wha’s’this?”

“I’m leaving,” you told him simply.

“Is everything okay?” Joe asked with a start. “Has something happened?”

“You know, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you,” you said, your eyes narrowing as you held down your tears. “When we were eighteen, our first day at LAMDA, and you came and sat next to me, I’ve loved you since that moment. And I only thought that you felt the same way.”

Joe’s eyes nearly burst out of his skull behind his thin glasses. “I do!” he said quickly. “Love, what’re you talking about? Of course I love you!”

“Then, have the decency to break up with me before you start dating another girl!” you hiccuped. “At least spare me the heartbreak of hearing you say her name in your sleep.”

“What did I say?” Joe asked. “Darling, what name did I say?”

“Does it matter?” you asked. “It’s not mine, and that’s what matters. The lipstick on your collar was the biggest tip off for me, and I-I let you explain it away! I should have left you the very moment I found that shit!”

“Please calm down,” Joe begged you. “You can’t leave, you can’t, what am I supposed to do without you?”

“You should have thought about that before you went and cheated on me,” you spat. “I hope Amelia makes you really happy, because you’re all hers now.”

“Amelia?” Joe repeated. And he laughed. The bastard laughed at you. Anger ran hot in your chest, and you gnashed your teeth and grabbed the handle of your bags. “No, wait, darling, let me explain! Amelia isn’t— She’s my—“

“I don’t care who she is,” you told him. “I’m done being lied to and deceived. I’m just fucking done.”

What you didn’t know was, as soon as you left, Joe fell to his knees and wept. His heart pounded, and he clutched his chest, trying to dig his poor heart out. He was still on the floor in the living room when Wes came home from Liam’s, his sobbing still as heavy as when it started, and, when Wes too fell to his knees and asked what was wrong, Joe sniffled. “She left me,” he said. “Just packed up her things and left.”

What you didn’t know was that, the day you found the red makeup, Arthur had been beaten, and had reddish-purple bruises on his face, and some of the painted makeup had gotten on Joe’s collar. What you didn’t know was, when Joe spent his birthday out, he was at a jeweler’s, looking at engagement rings. What you didn’t know was that, at that moment, Joe’s heart was irreparably broken, and he clutched his childhood best friend as he sobbed.

When you first got home to your mother that day and told her what happened, she sighed and held you as you cried, and let you curse Joe’s name over and over. “I thought he loved me,” you sobbed. “I thought he loved me!”

Luckily for you, the end of term came while Joe was still filming, and he missed most of your shared classes. Word got around quickly that the "it" couple had broken up, and, while nobody asked you about it, you knew they were gossiping. But no matter. You had your own career to deal with, signing up for auditions and sending out self-tapes to anybody that was accepting. You got a role in a small teen sitcom on BBC 3, just a three-episode arc, and you were elated. Your first job, right out of school! You were proud of yourself, but the victory felt hollow; you had nobody to share it with.

You only saw Joe in person one other time, at your small graduation ceremony in the spring. He received special honors and was chosen to be class speaker, and you held back your tears as you listened to him talk about perseverance and hard work. “And, truly, I couldn’t have done it without someone special,” he said, and he locked eyes with you for just a moment, just long enough for your heart to soar, then he looked past you. “My mum.” You clapped with everyone else, and wiped away a tear.

He approached you after the ceremony, holding his diploma under his arm, and you shouldered your purse as he gave you a small hug, the most awkward show of affection in the world. Your hand nearly went to the nape of his neck, the way you knew he liked, but you stopped yourself. “Hey,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’m still proud of you, you know.”

“I know,” Joe said. “I heard you got cast in something.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just, umm, some stupid sitcom. Three episode arc, you know how it is.”

“That’s still cool,” Joe said. “I just wanted to… Congratulate you, I guess.”

You nodded silently, brushing off tears again. “Wes told you to come speak to me, didn’t he?” you said softly. “You didn’t wanna come talk.”

“You know me so well,” Joe said, with no hint of humor in his voice. “Be good, okay?”

“You too.”

At Christmas, just as filming for your show ended, you were flipping channels on the telly, looking for something that wasn’t A Christmas Story on a loop. You thought back to this time last year, pulling crackers with your lover and unwrapping thoughtful presents, and your heart hurt just as you flipped to the BBC, and suddenly Joe was on your screen. No, not Joe; Arthur. Arthur Havisham, incensed about something. You leaned forward closer to the television to try to get a better look, and you watched as his face pulled up in that way it did when he was trying not to cry, and he said, “Didn’t you hear him? I have no home.”

“Mum!” you called, and you clutched the throw pillow to your chest as your mother came from the kitchen. Your eyes stayed glued on the screen as it flipped to a different scene with different characters, and your mum asked just what was the matter to have you yelling halfway across the house, and you sniffled. “I hate him, but I’m proud of him.”

“Who, love?” your mum asked.

“Joseph,” you mumbled. “His show is on the telly.”

“Oh,” your mother said softly. “Well, turn it off, then.”

“No,” you said as he came back onscreen. He looked so handsome, his dishwater blond curls done just right, his eyes big and expressive, his lip trembling— you tried not to imagine what you would be doing if you hadn’t broken up. You probably would be sitting in his lap and kissing him silly every time he came onscreen, and he would be laughing and protesting even watching it in the first place. Wes would be at your side, maybe Liam too, and you would be one big happy family. But he had ruined that, ruined it with—

“Amelia Havisham.”

Your heart stopped. Amelia. The girl onscreen answered to that name, and you wanted to throw up. Amelia. Amelia was a character on the show. Amelia was Arthur’s sister. “Oh no,” you whispered. “What have I done?”

You grabbed your phone and dialed Joe’s number, and you waited for him to pick up. Only, he never did. The call rang for ten rings, then sent you to his voicemail, and you cleared your throat. “Hi, Joe,” you said softly. “It’s me. Umm, I just wanted to let you know I’m watching Dickensian, and you… You did a really good job. Well done. And Amelia…” You weren’t sure exactly what to say, and you gently added, “I’m sorry. Call me when you get this; I just wanna talk.” You hoped that he understood what you meant.

In your heart, you knew that you had done Joe badly, not letting him explain his point of view when you broke up, but, getting confirmation that he in fact did not cheat on you only proved to you how truly shitty you had treated him. And now he wouldn’t answer his phone when you called. He didn’t have an Instagram that you could stalk, and you were certain that even Wes would avoid your calls, and your heart seized up. You ruined it. Not Joe, you. You had ruined the only good thing you ever had. You had surely broken his heart, and it made you sick to think how badly you had treated the only person who loved you totally unconditionally.

Joe never called you back. You never saw him again— not in person, anyway. Every few years, you’d be watching television and come across him. A random role in Game of Thrones, a small part in a time-travel show, a not-so-small role in the BBC’s Les Miserables adaptation. Your heart never really healed, and every time you saw him only opened the wound a little more.

And then, one day at work, your world turned upside down. Literally.

taglist: @eddiethebloodiedhand, @zestychili, @tlclick73, @chickennug90, @etherealglimmer, @phyllosilicate-s, @cinnamoncunt, @stardancerluv, @birdysaturne, @joeqnz, @freakymunson, @winchester-angel, @wordscomehither, @icallhimjoey

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn rpf

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russilton · 1 month

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Genuine question! people on here get so pissy at anyone asking what their thoughts on the drivers sexualities are but you’ve blatantly put the pride flag on a George post so would that not be the same thing?? Like I’m genuinely not trying to be a douche but I just don’t understand the double standards (I’m also not singling you out as I’ve seen other users get pissy at ppl asking but your post just happens to come up aha)

That’s fair anon and it’s good of you to ask this as a genuine question to find out rather than just get frustrated and assume it’s all hypocrisy. You wouldn’t be the first, so thanks for asking instead.

Here comes a read more because I’ve done my best to explain it, and if you wanted a shorter version you shouldn’t have asked me

Tl;dr: Because one is a joke based on a known fiction presented to an audience in on the joke, and the other either isn’t a joke and thus an invasion of privacy, or steps too close to the line for people to feel comfortable engaging in

It all comes down to engaging in the joke vs genuine, harmful speculation. Putting a rainbow flag on a post of a guy hanging out with his girlfriend, who I genuinely do like, is what I HOPE is a clear joke.

What makes it a joke is that I do not believe with any conviction that George and Lewis are actually fucking. I would LOVE it, but they aren’t.

The core tenant of acceptable rpf is being able to separate fiction from the real life that feeds it. We are playing make believe with characters who happen to be based on real people. That’s why most of us will tell you to keep this stuff entirely on tumblr/ao3, so there is a barrier of separation between drivers and fic, and why I do my best to clearly differentiate between when I’m talking about serious topics, and when I’m engaging in very dumb ship talk.

I will also point at the name of my blog, my tag line and my blog title all make it clear I’m not a serious place, I’m here talk about an rpf ship, and occasionally give my fan opinion of motorsport. People shouldn’t be coming to me for unbiased news. I have never been unbiased in my life.

In my posts here I’m leaning into the bit of the entirely fictional ship I enjoy. Of course George isn’t indicating he’s gay by driving a purple Mercedes in LA. That’s a joke I’d hope all of my followers are in on. It’s also a play on how celebrity couples are debated and how real queer people are treated by the world at large.

For example when I came out, both times, the reaction I got most from friends and family was “we already guessed you were”— now while they may think that’s a good way to respond… no they didn’t. They made assumptions based on stereotypes about queer people and applied it to me at an age where I didn’t even know what I was or liked. We’ve all seen the tweets from genuine idiots going “I don’t trust men ordering dessert, that’s for women” or “I think men who wear scarves are a bit gay”, but those are just an extremely concentrated form of stereotypes we’ve seen for decades. If a man enjoys crochet or a woman loves woodworking, you bet your ass Instagram comments will be saying they’re clearly gay.

We also see it all the time around celebrities— people harmfully assuming based on a hair style, a pet, or an attitude that a driver is gay and that they’ve “figured it out”, or even just because you saw two people hanging out a few times they MUST be together. Look at the Lewis and Shakira incident— they never once confirmed a relationship but some people will treat that as absolute fact. We have all seen both Lewis and George separately receiving hate under the assumption they are gay men by homophobic fans- Lewis for his piercings and fashion, and George for having long eye lashes and a slightly effeminate build. Shit, Nelson Piquet, ex f1 champion, has made on broadcast homophobic comments about Lewis that the Brazilian government fined him over. That is how common this idea is to most people.

The only way to know someone is lgbtq+ is if they tell you they are, and the only way to know what relationships they’re in, is if they tell you. It doesn’t matter how much you want to know or what evidence you’ve found, that’s a privacy everyone should be allowed, even celebrities. You do not know until they confirm it. I don’t care if someone came up to me and said they’ve seen George blow a guy, unless he says he’s queer, I don’t know shit.

But it’s still incredibly common, and most queer people experience this, and have opted to reclaim the joke. I will point at George sitting funny and cuffing his jeans and go “see! He’s just like us, the bisexuals”, because that’s a way queer people will joke you identify bi people. And when you read that back, it’s very clearly a joke. You can’t discover someone’s sexuality based on their sitting style. I do the same thing as an autistic person, because we are ALSO heavily scrutinised based on other ideas of what autism is. You don’t know how many fuckin people decide it’s appropriate to tell me “but you don’t seem autistic to me” because I don’t fit their standards. If someone tells me my eye contact means I’m not autistic, I can say George lining up his trains as a kid is a point for autism.

It’s also a joke derived from a genuine lack of representation. Humans like to see themselves represented. There’s no publically gay people on the grid, or autistic folk, so it’s pretty fair for us to decide that fuck it, until there is, I’m grabbing the guy who acts like I do and pretending he’s my rep. That’s how gay slash as a concept really began, honestly. If you don’t give people ample access to something, they’ll make their own, and sometimes even if they have it, they’ll do it anyway because it’s creatively enjoyable.

People get “pissy” (be careful using that word, it’s a lot more patronising than I think you intended it to be) about GENUINE speculation, because its not the acceptable joke we’ve all agreed to. Now you can argue about where the line for the joke should be, or if there should be one at all, but most of us have settled in a similar spot and talk with people who agree with that line. If that makes you uncomfortable, it is okay to leave or block someone. I have been blocked by more than a few het George fans. That is their right.

I think personally that pinning a sexuality to drivers is always going to be seen as genuine speculation unless it’s within the context of a fic where you set the boundaries, or a joke. Personally, if I wrote an entire list out and genuinely put thought into the sexuality of drivers on the grid, that is speculation, and there’s no way around that because I’d be making those assumptions based on stereotypes. Any of the drivers could be queer, none of them could be. We do not and likely will never know because we don’t live in a society where there are 0 ramifications for sharing your sexuality.

All the drivers could be bi but are in straight passing relationships and are happy that way for all we know. We literally have no way to tell unless they chose to share, which is unlikely given that 10/24 of this years races occur in countries where gay marriage is not recognised, and it is explicitly illegal to practice homosexuality in several of those. Even in the remaining countries, Florida, Texas and England have all introduced increasingly hostile anti LGBT legislation — F1 as a sport may try to say otherwise, but you cannot say that it is a queer friendly sport while also travelling to places where if a government decided to act on their laws, many fans could be put in serious danger.

Would you want to come out in that? Especially turning over something so personal and often painful to a public mob who will debate it?

While we all engage in our games here, it can be taken out of this space very quickly, and if someone made a post speculating on driver sexuality, it could spread, get ripped and posted on twitter, and grow into something far uglier very fast. Would you want to see a joke driver sexuality post spread like that? We all saw how the Fernando and Taylor swift joke went so far, so fast, until the fuckin aston admin had Fernando on a tiktok with Taylor swift audio. I’m not gonna make a post I already think is based on a flawed idea, about drivers I don’t care about, with that at risk.

You could argue again that our jokes could spread like that, but in the same way every post can be considered in bad faith when twisted the wrong way, it’s the gamble we make posting here. Trust me— I’m the guy who had his art posted in an Instagram hate collage by max fans— nothing is safe from the wrong eyes here.

I have also seen first hand the awful examples of people actually making those lists to coddle their faves. I have seen the posts where people genuinely think max is bisexual and autistic. They are infuriating.

Because I hate that, I frequently remind myself sometimes to be clearer when I’m being a rpf fan boy making a joke, and when I’m critiquing my drivers genuinely.

I can’t stop other people blurring or forgetting the line between joke and reality, but I can refuse to do it myself. I am only responsible for myself, and for making sure my jokes are clear enough most people will get them.

So that’s why yeah, I’ll make limp wrist joke about George, becuase I’ve been the target of them, but I’m not going to speculate on sexuality. I hope that helps.

#asks #anonymous #wank/rants #tw: homophobia #tw homophobia #some people will agree with this- some won’t #that’s fine #but anon came to me and this is how i see it

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juurensha · 5 months

Note

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "juurensha "?

Thanks if you want to answer....

Ooooo such a fun question.

Top 10 fics ever:

Something Borrowed by rageprufrock - the best IwaOi fic, I love it so much, the characterizations are just stellar here (is it ABO, yes, but shush, I love it)

家教 - or - Domestic Education by rageprufrock - the best Guardian fic I've ever read, and I love the Shanghai-ness of it all!

as to which may be the true by susiecarter - identity porn at its best (I was going to pick tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter originally, because fake dating, but I've reread this one more, so I think it has to count as my favorite SuperBat fic)

Excessively Clever by astolat and Champion by astolat - I know nothing about Transformers, but astolat's fic made me absolutely adore these robots

The vates series by Lightning on the Wave (starts here ) - just because it takes the HP series world and completely blows it up and adds so much cool lore of its own. Yes, yes, all the characters are basically OC's at this point, and the Drarry gets a bit too much come Year 4, but my god, that lore.

a simple thing by iridan - lovely Mandalorian fic that gives both Din and Boba peace (and ignores the later seasons, thank god)

ships that pass in the night by beethechange - okay, okay, I know it's RPF, and let me caveat by saying, I think the real Ryan and Shane are just good friends, but I really enjoyed the hilariousness of this fic and the innate wistfulness and yearning to it as well.

it's about time that you just unwind by fuckener - idk, I just love two middle-aged snarky guys figuring out their sexualities and working out their trauma together, despite the fact that I have watched It entirely through gifsets

Lithograph by romantic_drift - the Nirvana in Fire fixit fic we all DESERVE

And now I'm going to cheat and stick a few extra under the readmore

Play It Again by metisket - all I have ever wanted is for all the Hales to be alive, so I deeply enjoyed this Sterek AU

Fealty by astolat - Person of Interest was pretty formative for me, and I love nothing more than devotion

Out of This Place by Sineala - sort of fake dating, and I do love Eagle of the Ninth so much, despite it being kind of a terrible movie

Dooku Captured, Pt 2 by DarthNickels - the Stars Wars AU we all deserved

#bakudeku by rageprufrock - it's not a BakuDeku story, its a TodoDeku story, and I love it because it's hilarious

An Unexpected Gift by Miko - an oldie but a goodie, I am still so fond of the Silver Pair from Prince of Tennis

And as for my username juurensha, this all stems from juu's weeb phase (that she never grew out of exactly, so it's actually quite fitting!) Tiny 13/14 year old juu was quite into Bleach and Naruto and was of course coming up with OC's, and specifically for Naruto, wanted to come up with a girl from a weapon's family. Googling random Japanese terms online yielded

銃連射/じゅうれんしゃ

meaning rapid weapons fire/or hail of bullets.

13/14 year old weeb juu: close enough!

So, that was my Naruto and Bleach OC's last name. Yes, and then I proceeded to use this super cringe name as my Ao3 username because I assumed that no one else would have used it yet, and here I am!

...I still really like it :DDDD

#juurensha

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whatudowhennooneseesyou · 1 year

Note

i saw your discussion post about hypersexualization and i wanted to give my two cents on it since it sounded interesting and ive had this internal conversation with myself on the ethics of it.

going on anon but the only necessary things to know about myself are that:

1) i write and draw fanart of these people that are both sfw and nsfw

2) im somewhere in the aromantic-asexual spectrum

in an objective sense, these idols and artists are definitely being hypersexualized by many fans. there are many who thirst, who definitely try and chase to see the idols in more skin and tight fitting clothes not just for the aesthetic appeal but also because it satiates an inner sexual desire. imho this isnt limited to kpop since celebrities of different backgrounds and industries get similar treatment (exhibit a: pedro pascal) but to be very real, its super prominent in kpop.

i find that bit unfortunate. whenever i consume official content from the kpop artists that i love and admire, i always try to consume them in ethical ways and i always want to humanize them. thats why i always think twice when i buy merchandise directly from stores because im very critical about capitalism and consumerism (im not getting into that now though lol). i genuinely only think that its a real danger or that lines are being crossed when these fantasies are trying to be realized or brought to light in front of the artist. thats why i cringe at fanservice and adjacent things: youre pushing your y/n fantasies on the artist when i feel like you should know if theyre even comfortable about it first. :/

where the lines start to blur is when we talk about rpf (real person fiction) ethics. i personally engage in rpf and even rpf nsfw, which probably should contradict what i just said earlier: i think its a little more different than that. whenever im in these spaces, its like a switch turns because at this point, i dont see any of the “idols” as the artists, but instead i see these as characters based on their onstage personas. does that make sense? for example, if im reading mingi smut, i see the “mingi” in this story as a completely separate entity from kpop boy group rapper song mingi from real life, and this “mingi” is instead a character who shares his name and onstage traits but is altered in many ways. in the same vein, i feel less comfortable reading idol!aus because it seems too grounded in reality when i generally mentally and emotionally separate the two things. these characters in my head and personal interpretation of the fics and art that i create and consume are just versions of the personas and characters that these idols play up onstage. honestly, lets face it—mingi in ateez’s lore universe is a character and not a true reflection of mingi, so in the same vein, the versions of mingi that i write and draw about are characters who are explicitly not reflections of how i see mingi in real life.

thats why in concerts and fanmeetings, no matter how close i am to interacting with these people, i never behave out of my limits as a fan. i always separate fandom or at least this subset of fandom from its source aka real life. i read a quote somewhere where an artist commented on fanfiction (i cant for the life of me remember who said this, i think hes from a rock band, oh my god im so sorry) where he said something along the lines of “its not something i should see since its not made for me, its made by fans for my fans.” that quote stuck with me becauss, even if other artists such as kpop idols may perceive this differently and may not be as comfortable with fanfiction and such, the objective point stands that this should be “from fans for fans,” and not “from fans for the artists and their fans to actually get together and smooch.”

sorry this is long! just wanted to chime in. have a nice day :)

Hey, im just about to go to bed so I can't give a detailed response to this but the points you make are very valid and I'm grateful that you sent posted this in.

I'm going to pop a pin in this and then can you just sent through again on the 1st of May so I can add it to the discussion?

Thank you, and if you want to DM about this. That's okay too.

#whatudowhennooneseesyou anon asks #whatudowhennooneseesyou answered asks

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dreaminghour · 11 months

Text

Hayden/Ewan RPF - Secret language

Event: @domaystic Fandom: Star Wars RPF Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: 24 Secret language Ship: Hayden/Ewan Disclaimer: References to real people are used fictitiously. Do not share this with them! Context: Present day. Ewan is visiting Hayden on his farm. Immediately follows this ficlet (Learning something new, 1.5k), which honestly you should read to get the full ship feels for this one. Normally I'm chill about this but this is the LAST PART of the series. You can find all the rest of this series here on my blog. Words: 656

When Hayden gets up the next morning, the guest bathroom is already occupied. After a late night talking, not just about Hayden's book but Ewan's various projects, Ewan said he needed to get some sleep if he wanted to be on the road early.

Hayden doesn't want to say he's used to their rhythm, it's been barely two weeks, but he feels off balance with Ewan up already. Still he goes about his routine and when he makes it downstairs, Ewan is already there, frying eggs the way Hayden likes them, coffee freshly brewed.

"Morning," he says, smiling that same old smile which still manages to make Hayden blush in response, it warms him like sunshine.

"Hey," Hayden replies, voice rough from sleep. "All set?"

It's barely gray outside. Normally Hayden would let the sheep out first, then wait for Ewan to come downstairs before making breakfast and then head out to see what needed to be done while Ewan lingered over coffee and the news.

"Just one last thing," Ewan says in that tone of voice that hides trouble.

Hayden's stomach lurches because he knows better but he can't help himself. The last two weeks — last several months really — have made him reassess what he thought Ewan wanted. And what he thought Ewan could give.

"What's that?" Hayden asks while paused in the middle of his kitchen, not knowing where to stand.

"Cooking you breakfast!" Ewan says cheerily as he switches off the stove and plates their food.

Breakfast is quiet as it usually is, except for some final comments about traffic and weather. But there's also something reluctant which Hayden can't name, but it's possible he's just projecting. He feels different and he's feeling as though a chance is slipping through his fingers.

All too soon, Ewan heads up stairs for a final pass, the first pit stop before the first leg of his long journey home.

He comes down looking much like he did when he arrived, but his beard is trimmed and he smells better. He looks better too: well rested.

"So this is it," Hayden says at the door, hand gripping the side as though it needs to be held open.

"Don't make it sound so final," Ewan teases. "You'll see me again soon."

"How do you know?" retorts Hayden.

"Cause you'll come visit," Ewan says with absolute certainty.

"Alright," Hayden acquiesces, as though he has a choice.

"I'll see you then," Ewan says, gripping Hayden by the arm and leaning in, leaning closer until he's pressing his mouth to Hayden's. It's a brief kiss, almost perfunctory but for the way Ewan lingers for a hairsbreadth, almost long enough for Hayden to do more than purse his lips in reply. It lasts long enough for Ewan's lips to soften and for Hayden to remember with burning fire that he'd once wished he could feel this again just so he could put old questions to bed. And afterward, Ewan doesn't pull away as quickly as he should, he stays close and their eyes meet and it's almost a question, almost an invitation or request, but this is the wrong time for that and they both know.

So instead of something else happening, Ewan smiles, a bit lop-sided, walks down the stairs, climbs onto his bike and before Hayden forgets he says: "Drive safe!" And then the engine is roaring to life and Ewan waves, puts on his helmet and drives off.

It was only a goodbye kiss, no more than Hayden's gotten before, but he still feels the imprint of Ewan's hand on his arm. It was only— but for the way he looked at Hayden after as though he didn't want to leave. Hayden wants to curse at the shadow Ewan's left behind. He said Hayden would visit and then all but assured he did.

Hayden watches the last glimpse of Ewan disappear down the road before he closes the door.

~~~

And thats all for now! I want to write a sequel to this but I'm probably gonna post that straight to my AO3 (where this one will get prettied up and posted as well). If you did enjoy this, it would mean the world from me to hear from you.

#domaystic2023 #2023day24 #dreamy does fic #dreamy does domaystic #star wars rpf #hayden x ewan #ewan x hayden #haywan

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gaypiratebrainrot · 2 years

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This is not so much a question as it is me screaming about the secret fic. Probably not for the last time.

I wanna talk about how you swapped the names of the actors with the characters they portray. Ok, maybe I do have a question--did the idea for the name swap come during the early formation of this story in your mind, or did that come later, after you'd been writing for a bit?

It's just--we so often lean on names in fanfic not just as indicators of identity but as stand-ins for/signifiers of intrinsic elements of entity*, so while it's RPF (but is it lol) it's also like you've set up this series of mirrors so you can't tell if you're looking at the projection or the real person

which also sort of begs the question, is it all a projection

and basically you're amazing because you do all of this within the recognizable structure of an explicit one-off fanfic, complete with brain-melting smut and an emotionally satisfying (if also 'unhappy') ending. I can't even.

*See end of this interview https://krauseessayprize.org/winners-2/mary-ruefle-interview/ with Mary Ruefle where she talks about identity vs entity; see also every fanfic with the line "he smelled/tasted like [noun] and [noun] and something uniquely [NAME]"

Ok here's the quote from the Ruefle interview because I can't resist:

"Literacy is a blessing and a curse. Increased literacy means increased self-consciousness and we all know where that ends. Gertrude Stein once pointed out the difference between being an entity and having an identity: an entity is an entity but has an identity. An identity is bestowed from without, it is given to you socially. It’s your resume. But an entity is your being, and for many people, they have no entity without an identity, they confuse the two, and therein lies a great deal of anguish and suffering. Language and literacy are ambiguous because they invest one with entity at the same time they accessorize one with identity. That’s what I mean by being both a curse and a blessing. The moment someone learns to write their name, they become someone else, someone other than who they were before. A whole world opens, and a whole world closes. Who am I? I am one person when I am answering interview questions, and I am another person when I am alone on a plastic float in the middle of a lake. Which is the real me? Damned if I know. But the tension between the two creates my life."

ok first thank you so so so much for this incredible message and amazing quote, truly truly a gift to me.

the story of the conception of this fic: in the wild fields where fic ideas and masturbatory fantasies are not easily distinguished, my mind kept producing the rpf scenes that are now in the fic. i had very little interest in writing rpf (though i came into fandom through rpf and don't have problems with it), especially bc i knew there would be wank, but the scenes just kept coming.

so then i was like, okay, how far would i have to go to turn these scenes into an actor AU, and that was the slightly cursed day i asked myself "what really is the difference between a rhys/taika-coded actor au and a stede/ed-coded rpf?" i was too lazy to come up with the actor AU, and then the idea of just switching the names was really funny to me, AND THEN i was like but what do i call david jenkins, and sat on the floor weeping with laughter for a very long time at javid denkins, and the rest is now history.

one of the most fascinating parts to me is that i wrote it with their names being stede and ed, and then there was a stretch where i wasn't sure the meta aspect was working and almost swapped the names back (there exists a google doc where they are called rhys and taika). i had to grapple with feeling like i wouldn't have written it if i'd actually called them rhys and taika from the start, but that feeling is so so so interesting to me, cause like, damn, the power of a name!

anyway, i think excessively about the nature of identity, so this is just a bonkers great time for me to have folks engaging in the conversation that runs constantly in my mind <3 <3

#asks #thank you thank you #water flowing underground

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valyrfia · 9 months

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Hi. I saw your post about people taking Lestappen shipping too far and I have to say that I haven’t seen anything of the sort. Like people have unhinged thoughts, sometimes. We are human and fickle and we get carried away. I seem to remember yourself asking for people to send unhinged lestappen thoughts to you a few weeks if not a few months ago.

I mean yeah, it is wrong to post about Lestappen on spaces such as X and Instagram and tag them and their girlfriends, friends family members etc. But this is tumblr people have all soughts of takes on different things. Besides, Charles definitely knows about Lestappen with the way he’s active on Social Media trying to look up what is being said about him. Max may know because of Lando or Charles or even his girlfriend. Let’s also not forget about the posts both Scuderia Ferrari and Redbull make about them which give the connotations of wink, wink, nudge, nudge. And are we forgetting the F1 LV post and the caption? It’s everywhere.

The other thing is saying they are not together and never willl be. Call me delusional but no one knows their real life situations. They could be together or not. You say they are not friends and aren’t even close but you don’t know that. It is clear from their interactions they are friends, they have a few mutual friends and even didn’t Max mention they meet at dinner sometimes? I mean idk what that means but they are closer than we think and it’s none of our business. Whatever we see on the media is not a clear depiction of their relationship. Max is vilified a lot and Charles is beloved and that has nothing to do with who they are as people or their relationship, whether good or bad. The thing I know is they clearly moved in from their childhood rivalry and they know just about every small detail that relates to the other person. There’s a lot out there to support that.

I agree with you that people need to create boundaries when it comes to RPF but let’s not act like it’s not okay for people to express their headcanons in spaces such as tumblr and leave it here. The only people who know the truth about their relationship is Charles and Max. Yeah maybe they can’t stand each other and play it for the cameras, maybe they wake up wrapped up in each others arms, maybe they are just friends or not. But they are the only ones that know. So let’s not gatekeep people from expressing their thoughts in the right way and in the right spaces. Just as you said not so long ago, you ship Lestappen because you don’t like Kelly or something akin to that.

So yeah people will ship and say what they want and they can’t be stopped. But it should be done in a good way that does not infringe upon anyone’s life. But let’s also let people have fun. And if anyone is unhappy about certain takes. Block people, I know I have.

Hi anon! Just want to say thank you for your time in typing out this ask, I appreciate it must've taken a while.

First of all, to clarify my words and clear my name. Yes I asked for unhinged takes, and most I received were very fun and lighthearted in the way we usually are on here. I want to clarify that there is nothing wrong with delusional takes for the most part and I'm sorry if that's what you took away from the little reality check post because I love the delusion. I think it's just also our our duty to be responsible for our delusions and reality check ourselves. For example, I did not respond to a couple who pushed it a bit far, such as trying to give Max's opinion on Alexandra. Or, to give an example that I'm also a fallible human being who needs a reality check, I got halfway through replying to one about detailed analyses of their respective mental healths relating to each other before I checked myself, realised that that is intrusive and made myself close my tumblr tag and delete the ask. Yes I do not like Kelly, and I have given my reasons for it. I have never once said I ship Lestappen because I don't like Kelly, those are two unrelated opinions of mine. I like being delusional about Max and Charles's dynamic, and I dislike Kelly for her politics.

Tumblr is definitely the safe space for RPF and I agree with that and I was not trying to shame people away from that. The point of my post was to ask people to think a bit more, because tumblr doesn't exist by itself in the social media ecosystem. I've seen my own posts shared on tiktok and twitter (I refuse to call it X I'm so sorry anon), without my permission. I see takes that started here on tumblr start to crop up on tiktok, twitter, and instagram where they multiply and spread very quickly due to the nature of those sites. My previous post was very much a plea to keep the RPF within this well-defined fandom space of tumblr, where we're governed by the peaceful rules of tagging and not an unfeeling, hungry algorithm. Max and Charles may know or may not know about Lestappen, but it's also not their jobs to set their boundaries about what is and isn't okay.

In terms of the wording I used in my post (ie. will never date). I used those words for a reason because reality checks work the best with absolutes. Can I say I know for all certainty that my statement is right? Of course not, I can't provide you with anything that is 100% true, but the absolutes help to provide some cognitive dissonance between the people we see on the screen/irl and the people we are delusional about on here. I have been in RPF spaces before and I've noticed a pattern that things started going south when people started being like "99.9% sure they're not together....but what about that 0.1%". Not at all criticising you for making that point anon, but I'm explaining my choice to use such high modality language in a reality check.

As a last note, if my words seem overly harsh it's because of my past with RPF where I've witnessed things like the 0.1% delusion, the tumblr to other sites jump of headcanons and opinions. Sure there was one thing that pushed me over the edge to make that post but in the past couple of weeks especially, I've been getting a dreadful feeling of deja vu which puts me on edge. I am very paranoid about the whole thing, I am a fallible human being. If you think I'm too harsh or you don't like my opinions, feel free to block me I really don't mind.

#anon

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filet-o-feelings · 1 year

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Fic Origin Story

tagged by @stereopticons @smallumbrella369 and @jesuisici33

What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?

I'm fairly certain the first fics I read were Hanson (I remember a fic specifically with a lot of Phil Collins references???), and the first fandom I wrote for and made friends in was Good Charlotte. I have thankfully since moved on from RPF. The first non-RPF fandom I read fic for was Sherlock, briefly, but I didn't write anything.

What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it?

Uhh I don't remember and I don't want to dig through my livejournal accounts (I started new LJs constantly lol) trying to find it, but it was probably a GC Billy/Benji. I'm guessing my reason for writing it was that I wanted to make the pretty band boys kiss. The first fic I specifically remember was for The Used/Mest crossover about Quinn mysteriously showing up in town with no memory after waking up in a cave(???) and it was my first serious attempt at a chapter fic and I never finished it and that still haunts me.

What’s a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self?

Just keep writing!

What’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)?

Wayyyy back in the LJ days, I made so many friends, including a few I've met in real life and am still friends with. The comments were (and continue to be!) always so fun and encouraging.

More recently, because I feel like Schitt's Creek is the first fandom I've really immersed myself in, I think just how immediately I was accepted into the fandom despite being very late to the party. Specifically, I remember @stereopticons always including me in ask games from the start and offering to beta when I was new and had no idea what I was doing and crying out for help in tumblr. Also @treluna4 yelling with me about my fic when I was feverishly writing Further North and desperately needed to yell about it. But honestly, every kudos and comment made (and makes!) me so happy and made me want to keep writing. I will never stop screaming about how amazing and welcoming this fandom is on the whole.

Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).

Okay I found one of my old LJ accounts and actually came across the aforementioned amnesia fic, so here's a bit from that:

“Yeah I’m sure, and you’re not an inconvenience. Like I said before, don’t worry. We’ll talk in the morning.” Matt said sternly, making sure the blonde knew that he wasn’t in the way. He didn’t want to create any more worries for him, he surely had enough on his mind. Ironic that forgetting just about everything on one’s mind will only create seemingly more on the mind. Erased memories become worry and fear and millions of thoughts racing to fill up the empty space. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Matt added before leaving his room and closing the door behind him.

As for something newer, from Everything's Too Cold... But You're So Hot:

They round a corner and the man, after quickly checking over his shoulder, pulls him down an alley before pressing him against a wall and covering Patrick’s mouth with a hand adorned with several wide, silver rings. Patrick thinks briefly that the combination of warm skin and cool metal has no right to feel this nice against his mouth, but then the man’s face is tucked into his neck and his mouth is inches away from his ear and Patrick can’t help but shiver when the hot breath reaches his skin and he registers the words moments after they’ve been spoken: “My name is David and I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Please, trust me.”

Too tired to tag. If you haven't been tagged and want to do this, please do!

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thefanficmonster · 2 years

Text

Grey Area

Corpse Husband x Reader (She/They pronouns used)

Warnings: Jealousy, Swearing, Flirting

Genre: Fluff, Tiny bit of angst if you squint, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When Y/Ex/N is invited to join a game of Roblox, Squid Game edition, Corpse does not take it lightly, especially not when he’s flirting with his girlfriend Y/N.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete your request but I still hope you come across this fic and enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Note: Y/Ex/N - Your Ex’s Name

I stretch my up high, tilting my head to the side in an attempt to relieve the pressure that has been building up in my shoulders and neck for the past few hours. I’ve been working on a new animation project for a month now and, contrary to what I’ve been told, it doesn’t seem to get any easier. Worst part is that I can’t just get up and walk it off because I have a few more hours to sit through for a stream with my friends. Unlike the editing though, streaming brings me a lot more joy and is perfectly enough to distract from any pain that’s caused by the prolonged sitting at my desk with a below-par posture. Ok, that’s entirely my fault, but still!

The alarm I set on my phone goes off, signaling I should double-check the equipment and prepare to get on with the stream but not before saving the progress I’ve made with the project. I close the dozen tabs I’ve opened and the worksheets I didn’t even get the time to touch in the past forever but I promise myself I will.

While I’m doing so, I receive a text notification which is not too strange considering I can be quite an airhead to other things when I’m working on a project. And, to be fair, I have forgotten to tune into a stream in the past so my friends are just being wary and make sure to hold me accountable.

Checking it, it’s just what I expected - a text from Y/N.

Speaking of Y/N....I don’t know what to say really. I mean, we’re in this odd sort of grey area between friends with benefits (NOT the kind you’re thinking of, get your mind out the gutter) and actually dating. She’d never introduce me as her boyfriend but I would call her my girlfriend in a literal heartbeat. I’m head-over-heels for them and yet they never seem to be any closer to me than when we started talking. That being said, when someone asks me whether I’m single or taken, I can rightfully say that ‘it’s complicated’. But that be offensive to Y/N - she doesn’t see anything ‘complicated’ about what we have going on. She sees it as harmless fun, having no idea how much harm it can bring upon me if I start spiraling. They don’t understand that I often times feel like the problem is in me, that I’m the reason they don’t want to fully commit.

When I’m not spiraling, however, I tend to enjoy nothing more than just Y/N’s company. She’s a wonderful person despite all the back and forth that’s not even her fault. She’s done nothing to make me feel like I do. Yeah we talk a lot and yeah we’ve met IRL and we may or may not have kissed but that natural for two people with mutual attraction for one another. That doesn’t mean they are in a relationship though. I really need to stop projecting my wishes on what’s actually happening between us.

They promised me no promises after all.

Y/N: Heyy, stream in ten.

Yeah, just what I thought - a reminder about the stream My audience owe her a great deal for all the times she’s reminded me of a stream when I’d completely forgotten.

Me: Dw, I remember.

She sends back a koala emoji which invites a smile to dawn on my face for the first time today. That emoji has no real meaning to any conversation she sends it to, she’s just told me it’s her favorite so I’ve allowed her to spam me with it every time we talk.

I don’t mind. What makes them happy makes me happy too.

I go grab a snack in the ten minutes I have to spare until I have to start my stream, I take my medication and fill up a bottle of water which I promised Y/N I’d keep on my desk every time I stream and not only that but also drink it which has proven to be a challenge I ended up getting used to. I no longer lose myself in a stream so much so to the point of forgetting to hydrate. I owe them big time for that.

I settle down and start the stream, greeting the people who’ve been waiting for that for almost an hour now. As I talk to my viewers I jump into the Discord call where my friends have accumulated including Rae, Y/N, Sykkuno, Emma, Tina, Karl, Dream, Toast and Sapnap and a username I don’t recognize. I brush it off though, it’s far from the first time we’ve had people invited to the streams, it makes the whole experience more fun and more amusing for our audience to enjoy. It also benefits me personally, helping me with my social skills which I’d say are still under construction.

“Hey everyone.“ I greet them, “I’m on time for once, I think I deserve a round of applause for that.“

“Yeah, as if.“ I can practically hear Emma’s eye roll as she says that, making me wheeze out a laugh.

“Hey Corpse! I’d like you to meet someone!“ Y/N’s cheery voice emanates from the crowd, bringing that all-too-familiar smile to my face and warmth in my chest. “Come on, Y/Ex/N, say something!“

“Ok, ok jeez!“ Says a male voice which I don’t recognize, “Um...hi? I’m Y/Ex/N, Y/N’s ex boyfriend. I take it you’re Corpse, she’s told me plenty about you.“

I don’t really know how to feel about this. On one hand, she’s been blabbering to him about me which would typically make me grin like an idiot, but on the other hand, he’s here. He’s their ex and yet he’s here which means there’s probably no bad blood between them which, if I’m being honest, doesn’t sit the rightest with me. “Uh, yeah that’s me. Nice to meet you.“

He reciprocates my faux enthusiasm surrounding his introduction to me but I play it off cool as we get over that bump and start chatting about what level we’ll be playing. Emma, who’s just finished watching Squid Game suggested we do the glass bridge mod and, due to the excitement she said that with, we all agreed we could do that as a start to the stream.

“Remember how stressed you were while watching this scene in the show?“ Asks Y/Ex/N with a chuckle that causes Y/N to scoff.

“What I don’t understand is how you could’ve been so calm! I genuinely thought my favorite character would die!“ She complains, making him laugh which makes my blood boil - I feel like such a dick now that I admit it. It shouldn’t bother me at all. This is all in the past, they split back in August as far as I know, so none of it matters anymore. It’s been five months, why is it still bugging me?

“I’m never watching a show with you again!“ They continue, still with the same defensive yet accusatory tone.

“You’ve said that so many times, it never sticks! We’ve watched Bridgerton and the entirety of YOU since then!“ The guy says matter-of-factly and a little too casually for my liking especially since what he thinks is normal makes me clench my jaw and want to fake a technical issue and ditch this dumpster fire.

“Mark my words! We. Are. Never. Watching. Anything. Together. Ever. Again!“ She puts emphasize on each word, playing the picture perfect role of frustration but anyone who knows her can tell she’s saying it all with a smile and a barely contained laughter.

“Aww, did I upset you, koala?“ He asks in a mocking tone, causing my stomach to drop.

Koala....is that why it’s her favorite emoji? Is it because he used to call them that when they were in a relationship? Or is it a chicken and the egg type of situation. Did he start calling them that because it’s their favorite animal and emoji? I need answers. I need them but I don’t really want them. I don’t wanna know if the chicken came first or the egg - one version is gonna kick my heart’s ass and the other is still gonna sting like a bitch regardless.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to commit, cause she’s still hung up on him. Cause there’s still something between them even if they’re not in an official relationships. They are still hung up on one another.

Before I can carry out my dipping plan, Y/N is quick to speak up sassily as she usually does when confronted with fake mockery like that, “Indeed you did, which is why I’ll send my boyfriend to come kick your ass.”

The audibly confuses and shocks Y/Ex/N, “Uh, your boyfriend?” For the first time since knowing him, we’re on the same page about something - confusion.

“Yeah!“ They, on the other hand sound like this is a well-known trivial fact that he and probably the rest of us were supposed to know already, “Corpse.“

My stomach drops yet again but this time because of a whole different reason and caused by the complete opposite emotion. I mean, it’s still shock that’s at play but a different type of it.

“Corpse? Why didn’t you tell me you guys were dating, I would’ve congratulated you!“ Y/Ex/N sounds too genuine for me to be able to try and deny his honesty behind that statement, “Truth be told, you speak with such passion and adoration about him I could tell there were some feelings there but didn’t know you’d made it official! Congrats, I’m so happy for the two of you!“

He is, that’s the kicker - he actually sounds happy. And honestly I’m happy for us too.

“Don’t worry, Y/Ex/N, we were none the wiser up until this point either.“ Says Rae who too sounds astonished.

“Don’t worry any of you, I didn’t know either.“ I chip in, probably sounding convincing enough for them all to laugh, including Y/N.

I’m still caught up in the high, still overtaken by the aftershocks of that whiplash when my phone buzzes and scares the life out of me.

Y/N: :))

I can’t help but wheeze at the sight of that innocent text following the bomb she just dropped on the entire VC.

Me: I’d say putting someone in a relationship without their consent is highly inappropriate

My message is marked as ‘Seen’ immediately, the three bouncing dots appearing at the left bottom corner of my phone screen a second later.

Y/N: Well, if you had read the signs it wouldn’t have had to come to this, Corpse ;P

They’ve got a point there: if I had made my move the many times I had the chance to I would’ve saved us so much time and could’ve kept us out of that godforsaken grey area. I would’ve avoided so many sleepless nights and spirals in the shower. Instead, I could’ve spent so much time with her.

I’m a serious dumbass.

Me: Ok I guess that’s fair

Fuck you, grey area! I’m leaving you once and for all!

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari @renupf @booklover76 @sra-verissimo @beatrhizn @blueberrystigma @beatrhizn @chicken-taco-burrito @scorpio-echo @nyctophiliiiiaaa @squirreljoe @azra-x @ace-of-spaids2 @kxllanxtdoor

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221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

rated r

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader (Professor x TA Student)

Words: 5299

Warnings: Swearing. Oral (male receiving). Reciting poetry during sex because why not. Penetrative, unprotected sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong people). Slight dom/sub elements. Very slight though. Mostly sweet smot. Creampie.

Based on this little headcanon.

Y/N: I literally just had a quick idea and I can't resist when someone tells me to write something so here you go. Some shameless teacher/student smot. Please please let me know how I'm doing in the comments and as usual, reblogs are always appreciated (if you're interested in rpf fanfiction). This isn't beta'd...Also, the poem recited here is by the one and only Chian Poet, Pablo Neruda. You can add yourself to the taglist(s) here.

He knows he’s been scrolling through the pages for too long but he can’t stop himself. Ever since he took the position, he swore that he’d only ever read the reviews turned in at the end of the year because he loved improving on his style. But this was different. This was a hell hole that he didn’t realize he could spiral so easily down from just one review. At first, Pedro thought that he’d go on it to see the more honest reviews of his courses and teaching. You could only write so much on the evaluations without feeling guilty and this was a proper and free resource.

What he didn’t expect was to find almost no criticism of his classes and pretty much every comment discussing his looks and what the student would be willing to do for extra credit. He thought he was on the wrong website at the beginning but nope, this was the right one. Like all other things, Pedro was slow at first but then some comments became real suggestive and he began to read between the lines. But no matter what he read and understood, he never seemed to get a handle on one specific type of comment which only consisted of one word.

He’s not sure what to make of it and the thought is brushed aside when he hears a knock at his door. Pedro looks up and sees you standing at his doorway, paperwork in one hand and phone in the other. He doesn’t know what prompts him to do so but he immediately shuts off his laptop and tries to calm down, hoping that he isn’t blushing too hard from what he’s been reading.

“I’m about to go get some coffee, want anything?” You ask as you scroll through your phone and look up when he says nothing. “Professor?” You raise an eyebrow at him when he continues to stare at you.

“S-sorry I um, no. No thank you. And for the millionth time, just call me Pedro.” He huffs in irritation, and frowns when you roll your eyes at him like you always do and shake your head.

“Sorry, not trying to get caught calling professors by their first name. Your friend takes that too seriously and I’d rather not annoy him any further. Anyway, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. Oscar told me you’ve been falling behind again with grades and I’m almost done with his stuff so swing by if you need to drop anything.” You wait until he nods in confirmation before walking out towards the cafe and Pedro can’t help but feel his annoyance grow when you leave instantly.

He looks at his door as if you’ll appear again, meditating on the issue he’s been having for a while now. Every time he tries to convince himself to tell you how he feels, he remembers how difficult things could get for you. Even though he wasn’t on your committee or anything, he still knew how people would react should you get caught with him. He swears underneath his breath and turns on his laptop again, anger only rising when he remembers what he was searching before you came in.

Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with these people? He cringes at more reviews and curses the fact that the website was anonymous. He closes the page and tries to get his mind off of the weird reviews for a bit, working through some of the quizzes until he notices how late it is. Shoving the rest of the essay quizzes in his leather bag, Pedro takes the folder filled with multiple choice and walks out of his office. He heads towards Oscar’s office and knocks on it a few times. When no one answers, he looks at his watch and sees it wasn’t late enough for you to leave yet. Taking out the spare key his friend gave him, he unlocks the door and steps in, eyes immediately following the light of the side room where you are. He shuts the door behind him and makes sure you can hear him walk towards you.

As soon as he walks in, you look up and smile at him, making grabby hands towards him when you notice the folder he’s holding.

“Knew you wouldn’t resist,” you laugh when he smiles nervously at you and stands there long after you told him you’ll get them back to him in a day or two. When he doesn’t move, you put your pen down and tilt your head to the side.

“Anything else I can help with?” You ask again, watching his eyes as they look around the room as if the answer was in here somewhere. But he never responds and instead, he puts down his bag and walks towards your couch. You say nothing as he sits back and stares up at the ceiling. As soon as he starts untying his tie and unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt, you knew something was off.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” You push everything aside and grab your coffee, taking a sip as you waited for him to finally acknowledge you.

“Can I ask you something?” Pedro asks and you can tell from his tone that this was something serious. You smile deeply and nod at him, a part of you hopeful for whatever he was about to throw your way.

“Of course!”

“So I overheard some students talking about this website where they leave reviews on their professors…”

“Oh no, did you go on ratemyprofessor?” You cut him off immediately and regret the little outburst because Pedro shuts his eyes and takes off his glasses to rub his face.

“S-sorry I- I’ll be quiet.” You wait patiently until he puts his glasses back on and looks up at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place but you can tell from the way he’s ringing his fingers that he read something he didn’t like.

“Some of the reviews were helpful, really helpful. But most of them were, I don’t even know what to consider them and it’s been bugging me all day, especially one word that I kept on seeing over and over again.” His voice is low and you curse yourself for fixating on how beautiful he sounds, and frankly looks, as he sits on your couch and opens up to you about whatever this was.

“Were they rude? Did- did someone call you names or something?” You try to see if he’d tell you anything specific but he shrugs his shoulders and looks away.

“I don’t know.”

Realizing that he was probably annoyed and embarrassed that he was coming to you, you pick up your phone and kick your shoes away from below your feet before you take the seat next to him.

“Mind if I look through some?” You ask before you unlock your phone, looking at him until he turns his attention to you before you smile softly at him.

“Also, I hope you know that most of these are usually idiots trolling other students and the professors on campus. There isn’t any truth to them whatsoever and you need to ignore them because they’re sometimes by students who failed the classes and they’re just looking to give the professor a bad name so not many can sign up an-” The words die in your throat when you scroll down and read the third comment on his page.

Your eyes widen in shock at how forward the short sentence is and you decide to not look at Pedro as you read the rest of them.

As you scroll down, Pedro’s nervousness grows because with each movement of your finger, your eyes widen even further and your breathing either stops completely or picks up at a rapid pace.

The silence is deafening and when he can’t take it anymore, he asks you to stop because it only gets worse.

“These are...umm, wow. Very flowery language. And the imagination is just-”

“Please stop.” Pedro cuts off your rambling, knowing that he probably made things more awkward than necessary.

“Got it.” You take the last sip of coffee before putting the cup on the floor and tapping on your phone.

Pedro wants to ask you what you think of these reviews but he can’t focus on anything but your previous comment on how untrue the website mostly is. He was right, you probably didn’t think he was attractive after all.

You know that things will only get weirder if you remain quiet so you break the moment and hit him on his shoulder to catch his attention.

“What was the word you were confused by?” You ask almost hysterically and Pedro looks at you as if you grew a second head before he decides to answer you.

“There were some reviews that were alright but at the end, they’d just have the word ‘dilf’ or ‘big dilf vibes’ along with a smiley face and...well, I don’t know what that is or whether that’s a good or bad thing.” Whatever you were expecting him to say, this was probably at the last of the list and you almost choke on air when you see how genuinely irritated he is by this whole situation.

“Have you uhh, not looked this up or anything?”

“No because I don’t know what the fuck will pop up if I search that.” Pedro rarely swears and you’re caught off guard by how forign yet beautiful the curse word sounds falling from his lips. Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself for the worst possible conversation you’ll ever have with him and try to sound as calm and collected as possible.

“Well, you see, the word dilf is an acronym and it usually refers to an older man who has children and- and is viewed by some as sexually attractive.” You hope this is the end of the inquiry but like all the other chats you’ve witnessed, Pedro rarely lets go of things until he’s crystal clear on them.

He’s quiet for a few moments and you dare to look up at him, only to find him blinking confusedly at the floor and narrowing his eyes almost in anger.

“What? I- I don’t even have kids, how does this make any sense and why do students think this is okay to write on the internet?” Pedro’s voice grows and he doesn’t realize he’s yelling until he looks over and sees you grimacing at him.

“S-sorry.”

“That’s okay, and like I said, this is what it usually refers to. People sometimes say it to men who’re older and are sexually attractive but don’t have kids...like you give off those vibes. Basically, you’re an attractive older man and that reminds some of fathers who are also on the older side and are still attractive. As to the other question, all I can tell you is, kids are dumb these days and they have no shame.”

“But what if other professors see this and start to think I’m a joke?” You can tell his fear is genuine and you shake your head immediately, taking his hand and squeezing it to get his attention as you calmed him down.

“Look, everyone knows this website is garbage. No one goes on there I promise, and you will be taken seriously. You have tenure too so I don’t see why you’re worried about this.” You wait until he nods in affirmation before you remove your hand. As you’re about to stand, Pedro asks you one more question.

“Wait, you said it’s an acronym?”

Fuck. When did you say that?”

“Uhh, yeah. Yes.” Pedro is looking at you like you have all the answers and you can’t help but find it the cutest yet sexiest look he’s possibly given you. He’s so vulnerable and the thought of offering comfort in a different way shakes you to your core.

“What does it stand for then?”

“Does it really matter I mean-” You try to end the conversation but Pedro only demands a little more roughly, and you almost melt into him at how firm his tone suddenly is.

“What does it stand for?” His voice is more serious and you swallow the lump in your throat before you tell him.

“It stands for ‘dad I’d like to fuck.’ But since you’re not a dad, it just means that they want to...fuck you.” You hope you aren’t being too crude for him and when you turn to meet his eyes, you find them much softer than earlier, perhaps even more relaxed.

He says nothing but continues to stare at you, a part of him wanting to ask you if you also thought similarly. When you don’t try to move off of the couch again, Pedro gulps and allows his eyes to take in your body language.

Something about you being comfortable in your office and taking off your shoes makes him wish he could kiss you but he brushes the thought aside and musters up the courage to ask you what’s been on his mind ever since he opened up the website earlier in the day.

“So do you still think there’s no truth to any of the reviews?”

The question catches you off guard and you can’t help but stare into his dark brown eyes to make sure this wasn’t a joke. He surprises you again and looks down at your lips, biting into his own lower lip before he turns his attention to you again.

“I- I um...I mean my opinion doesn’t really matter you know so-” You laugh nervously and try to break the tension but Pedro cuts you off again with a stern expression.

“Please…”

It’s a soft whisper but it shakes you to your core and you realize that perhaps this wasn’t as one-sided as you initially thought it to be.

“I think that you’re an exceptionally attractive man and that you’re somehow even more handsome when you start to rant about Latin American literature, especially Chilean poetry. I- I don’t think I’ve met anyone as knowledgeable about this topic as you and I wish I could audit one of your courses but I’d probably end up not paying any attention because-” You stop yourself before you can go any further but Pedro doesn’t give you the chance to grow quiet, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips to lay soft kisses on them before he urges you to go further.

“Because what hermosa?” His voice is hoarse and you can’t help but lean into him as you whisper those last confessions in the dimly-lit office.

“Because I’d be too busy imagining you reading to me your favorite pieces as I- I…” Pedro sees longing and reluctance in your eyes, reads in between the lines and makes a split second decision. He inches closer to you and slips his hands across your neck, pulling you into him and swallowing your surprised gasps as he molds his lips with yours. You’re shocked at the turn of events at first, not sure of how to react to his desperate touches. But as you feel his fingers twist harder in your hair, you can’t help but relax into him and return his kiss. He moans into your mouth when you part your lips for him, and pulls you in until you straddle his thighs.

You know you should stop and reconsider what the two of you are about to do but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. Pedro somehow senses the reluctance in your touches and he breaks the kiss not a moment later. He doesn’t let go of you though and you shut your eyes for a second to collect your bearings.

“I- I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me.” He’s first to speak and your eyes flutter open at the whispered apology.

“I liked it.” It’s the simplest three words Pedro has ever heard yet they do something to him and he realizes that it would break his heart if you asked him to let you go. When he says nothing and continues to stare at you, you clear your throat and try to get off of him. But the hold he has on you tightens further and he refuses to let you go, making you wish his gaze didn’t have this much control on you.

“Pedro?”

“I’m not your professor, I’m not even on your committee. But I know how this would look if- goddamn it. All I’m saying is, I don’t want to force you into anything but I- I’m willing to take the risk if that’s what you want.” He manages to say before his mind is scrambled with thoughts of you writhing underneath him and before he could tell you to forget he ever said anything, you lean forward and softly kiss him until you feel him physically relax beneath you.

“I do, I do want you.” You can’t help but smile as soon as you see those familiar dimples growing the longer he looks at you. There is a sudden shift in the air around the office and your smile slowly falls when you finally register just how much you want him. He says nothing as you get off of him and begin to strip. As your shirt and pants hit the floor, Pedro begins to unbutton his shirt and kick off his shoes. He’s about to take the glasses off when you stop him.

“Please, keep them on.” Your plea makes him twitch in his pants and he doesn’t notice you getting on your knees until you move his hands away from his belt and begin to undo it yourself.

Pedro is mesmerized, unable to look away from you as you undress him and stare at him like he’s the most beautiful sonnet to have ever been written. His heart is close to beating out of his chest and when he you push his thighs open to make space for yourself, he finally snaps out of his haze and grabs for your hands.

“No wait you don’t have t-”

“Please...I want to.” You whisper to him and wait until he nods before you slip your hands underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and pull them down. You can tell he’s nervous from the layer of sweat forming on his chest and the way his fingers are itching to grab for something so instead of diving right into him, you lay your palms across his thighs and massage them until he begins to ease at your touch. Pedro doesn’t dare to look away from you and as you try to make yourself comfortable in between his thighs, his mind panics and he thinks you’re about to move away from him.

“No estés lejos de mí un solo día, porque cómo...porque, no sé decirlo, es largo el día.”

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because -- because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

The words are spoken before he realizes what he’s doing and he watches as your chest rises and falls at a rapid rate with each word he moans to you. You recognize the poem immediately, having heard him gush about it during one of his seminars. But somehow, in the privacy of your office, the words carry a much deeper meaning to you and you lick your lips as you lower yourself down and kiss his navel.

Pedro almost jolts at the softness of your lips and he doesn’t bother to hold back as he pushes his fingers into your hair again, not to force you to do anything, only to ensure that you would remain near him where he could feel your heat caressing his skin.

“Keep going...please.” You ask him before you continue to kiss across where he’s begging for you and as he takes a deep breath to try and remember the next words, you firmly take his hardening cock in the palms of your hands and lay a kiss on the leaking tip. You keep your eyes on him and smile when you see his stomach clenching tightly. Kissing him one more time on the underside of his cock, you lick your lips and slowly inch his cock in your mouth.

“Mierda...y te estaré esperando como en las estaciones, cuando en alguna parte se durmieron los trenes.”

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Pedro is struggling to form a coherent thought but the warmth of your mouth drives him to continue. He wants nothing more than to return the favor and he realizes he is when he notices the way you suck on him and moan every time he recites a new verse to you. You shut your eyes to savor the heaviness of him in your mouth, not caring for how loud you’re being as his hold tightens around your hair. You could feel him thrusting in your mouth and you almost laugh because he’s so enraptured by you that he doesn’t know he’s shoving his cock deeper into your throat.

“No te vayas por una hora porque entonces...en esa hora se juntan las gotas del desvelo- oh fuck, fuck please baby I...you look so pretty, mouth full of my cock.”

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

He’s a moaning mess already and you finally pull off of him, smiling devilishly as you watch him stare at the trail of saliva connecting your lips with his cock. He clenches his jaw tightly and swears even more when you spit on sock and begin to jerk off the tip while you lean down and kiss his balls. It’s filthy and shameless but you don’t care enough, wanting to show him just how much you want him.

Pedro sits up and groans when he feels you lick and suck on his balls, hips jutting forward when you return your mouth to the leaking tip of his cock and massage his balls instead.

“Y tal vez todo el- el humo que anda buscando c-casa...venga a matar aún mi corazón perdido. Mi corazón...fuck!”

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart.

Pedro screams when you surprise him and take his cock as far down your throat as you could and begin to swallow around him. The pressure of your throat muscles drives him mad and he falls back to the couch to try and stop himself from coming down your throat.

“Fuck baby baby please...I- I won’t last any longer. Come here,” Pedro reluctantly pulls you off of him, growling his need when he sees the mess you’ve made of yourself. He immediately pushes you into the mattress and shoves your thighs open, his chest quivering when he sees how wet you are for him.

“Is this all for me querida? You liked sucking my cock so much?” He asks as he licks his fingers and teases your slit.

“Pedro… I need you, just fuck me already.” The word is like a bucket of cold water and he hesitates when he realizes that he doesn’t have any condoms on him.

“Fuck wait, I don’t have any condom.” He sits back in disappointment, all the while massaging your thighs and keeping you close around him. “I- I’m on the pill and I’m clean...haven’t had any since I started this degree so-”

“Really? But you’re-”

“Jesus Chr- can you question my non-existent sex life later...I need you to fuck me, please.” You frown at him when he just stares at you, and he only catches up with what’s happening when you pull him by his hand until he falls on top of you.

“I’m clean too...a-are you sure mi cielo?” He asks one last time and prays that you don’t go back on your decision. When you cross your legs behind his back and force him closer to you, he turns his attention down your body and grabs his cock. You hold your breath as you watch him tease your entrance, letting it go when you feel him slowly inch his cock deeper inside you. It’s too much and not enough and you dig your nails into his broad shoulders when he finally sheathes himself inside your walls.

“Oh god fuck bebecita you’re- perfect. Fucking perfect. Ay que no se quebrante tu silueta en la arena, ay que no vuelen tus párpados en la ausencia.”

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach; may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Pedro nuzzles into the crook of your neck and kisses your skin to help get you relaxed for him. You sigh his name over and over again, begging him to move when you feel him pulse inside you.

“Please...fuck me.”

It’s a short request but Pedro groans when he hears just how wrecked you are when he’s barely even touched you. He knows he won’t last long and he’s trying his hardest to not embarrass himself. But you feel too tight and too warm around him and he thinks this must be heaven because there’s no way anything so magnificent can exist on the earth.

The sound of your soft giggles fills his ears and Pedro pulls away to look at you, only to realize that he’s just said all of his inner monologue out loud in your ears.

“I- I don’t care if you’ll cum in a second Pedro...just fuck me already please. I’m- I need you.” You lean up and peck his lips before you slither your hand down your body and rub at your clit.

“That’s it, touch yourself sweetheart. Go on, let me feel you cum on my cock querida. F-fuck, no te vayas por un minuto, bienamada, porque en ese minuto te habrás ido tan lejos.”

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll have gone so far

Pedro continues to recite to you, marveling at how much tighter you clench around him whenever he moans those sweet words to you.

He picks up the pace and shuts his eyes to avoid looking at how beautiful you are as you come undone beneath him. Your sighs and pleas are music to his ears and he questions again how he managed to catch your attention when you could literally have anyone you wanted. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Pedro lets go of the couch and wraps one hand around your throat, wanting nothing more than to feel your heartbeat sounding against his skin. He doesn’t squeeze hard to cut off your breathing but he does get a little rough when he sees how much you’re enjoying his harder touches.

“Oh fuck Pedro...you’re- you feel so good. So fucking good. I- can I cum? Please let me cum.” He’s surprised by the question but finds the prospect of you giving him power over your pleasure more of a turn-on than he cares to admit. Wrapping the other arm around your back, Pedro braces his foot on the floor and pulls you up on his lap, swallowing your moans as he begins to fuck up into you.

“Dame un beso...you want to cum? Then fucking kiss me...kiss me like you want- no, need me. Kiss me like I’m the only one made for you.” He doesn’t know what prompts him to say such things but when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, his lungs give out and his hold on your waist tightens.

You’re swallowing his growls and he’s sinking into your desperate pleas and as he thrusts into you a few more times, you feel yourself fall over the edge, cunt clenching around him so tightly you swore you’ve never felt so full before.

Pedro breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on your sternum, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm until he began to feel a strike of pleasure zap through his spine.

“Fuck oh god fucking shit I- que yo cruzaré toda la tierra preguntando, si volverás o si me dejarás muriendo.”

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking, Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pedro breathes out the last two lines of the poem before he cums, forcing you on his cock a few more times as he shoots his seed deep inside you. You shiver at the warmth spilling in your cunt and painting your walls, never once stopping from kissing across his skin as he slowly brings you down to the couch and refuses to get off of you.

The room feels much hotter than earlier and you don’t let up on your caresses until Pedro smiles at you. A fit of giggles breaks the silence and you can’t help but laugh even more when he frowns down at you.

“What's funny now?” Pedro asks as he maneuvers himself a little off of you.

“Your glasses are all fogged up...can you even see anything?” You ask jokingly and apologize almost instantly when he begins to tickle your neck with his mustache.

“Well someone wanted me to keep them on so,” Pedro takes them off and throws them to the ground before he begins to kiss down your chest. You sigh when he brings his lips to your hardened peeks and teases them with soft licks.

“I mean...I wasn’t sure if you’re able to see anything without them. Those dilf vibes you know.” You hold onto his hands so he doesn’t tickle you again but when he says nothing, you look into his eyes and hope he wasn’t offended by your words.

“Hmm, and yet you were the one begging me to fuck you.” Pedro whispers across your flushed skin and you hiss when he slowly pulls out of you and grabs his undershirt to clean the mess he made between your thighs. He clenches his jaw when he notices how much it pleases him that you’re filled with his cum and he hopes you don’t notice this slightly caveman-ish side of him. But you’re too perceptive for your own good and you sit up on your elbows and stare at him as he dabs at your wet skin.

“Thinking of becoming a real dilf...professor?”

The words make him freeze and he looks into your eyes with embarrassment.

“Not as vanilla as I thought then…” You wink at him and lean over to kiss him when you see how nervous he’s suddenly become. Pedro doesn’t dare to move a muscle as he watches you put your clothes back on and try to look presentable. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen now but when you throw him his clothes, he follows your lead silently and hopes that you’ll notice how new this is for him.

“I know a pizza place that’s still open...how about we order to-go and finish this off at your place.” The smile that takes over his features is almost boyish and you can’t help but pull him in for another kiss.

“Just so we’re on the same page, this isn’t a one-time thing...right?”

“Oh heavens no. You recited your favorite poem to me as you fucked me...no way I’m letting you go now...Professor.” You smile when he murmurs something in Spanish as he collects his stuff and walks out behind you.

“Keep that up and we won’t even make it to the pizza place.” Pedro warns as you lock the office door behind you and make your way through the empty hallway.

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing!”

“Depends on what your opinion is on car sex.” Pedro winks at you when he looks over and sees the shocked expression on your face.

“How scandalous of you Professor Pascal.” You feign innocence and run ahead when you see him trying to catch you.

“Down girl.” Pedro warns one last time and he tries his hardest to stay serious but the smirk you hold for him makes him break and he shakes his head in anticipation of what you’re about to say to him.

“Or what...you’re going to punish me Professor?”

“Oh bebecita, you’re in for it now.”

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @marsplsstop @ezrasbirdie @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul @bii-aan-ckaa @nohartandsole @djjarins @lamelyssher @giselatropicana @pescopadral @blackmarketmummy @laviipopii @ew-erin @fan-of-encouragement @melody13522 @clydesducktape @planetariumx @sambucky21 @thirddeadlysin @leannawithacapitala @fangirl-316 @thou-creature-of-the-deep @what-iwish-you-knew @mandoamando @nabootycall

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal/reader #professor/student #professor pascal #professor pedro pascal

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

Tom x Reader - Welcome Home - Words: 835

A/N: Ok, terrible title...I had no brains to think LOL Hope you enjoy it!

"I'm on my way home now," Tom said through the phone. "I just got out of the airport. I can't wait to see you again!"

"Me neither!" You replied excitedly. "I almost have dinner ready for you! That spare key came in handy,” You teased. Tom laughed and agreed. “Well, I’ll let you drive. See you in a few!”

“See you soon, love,” He replied before hanging up. You set your phone down and sighed. Tom has been your best friend for about 5 years now. You’d met him during the filming of Ragnarok. There was only one problem. You loved him. Like most any other girl, you had been a huge fan of his before you met and becoming friends was a dream. However, you couldn’t help but want more. You decided to turn your music back on while you waited for Tom to arrive.

“Y/-” He started to call out your name when he walked in but stopped himself and smiled as he watched you in the kitchen working so hard to make him dinner. He leaned on the wall and let his mind wander for a moment. “Is she really just a friend?” He thought to himself. He imagined what it would be like to come home to you every day. Clearing his throat he finally made himself known. You startled slightly and smiled widely at him.

“Welcome home!” You exclaimed running over and hugging him. He caught you in his arms and spun you around.

“Thank you,” He smiled. “And how’s my favorite girl doing?” He asked. You blushed lightly and looked away, not wanting him to see. You shrugged and didn’t give a real answer.

“I’m not going to burden you with my petty problems,” You scoffed. “Now come on, let’s eat!”

A bit later, you found yourself on the couch, curled up at his side with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. He’d invited you to stay for a movie after supper which you gladly accepted but now were starting to regret. The closeness was distracting you. After a while, he noticed you weren’t really paying attention. Pausing the movie, he tilted his head down to look at you, poking your arm. You pulled away, leaning to the other side of the sofa. This worried him. He poked you again and you shot him a glare. “I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“Sorry,” You replied, giving him a tight smile. “I guess I’m just not feeling well tonight.”

“Why? What’s wrong? You know you can always talk to me,” He said, rubbing your arm softly with his thumb. You shook your head firmly. You grabbed at the remote play the movie again but he held it out of your reach. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“I’m sorry,” You said, starting to cry. “Maybe I should just give you some space for now. You shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“Don't give me space,” He said immediately. “That's the last thing I want with you. And don’t give yourself space. That’s the last thing you need. Now please,” He begged. “What is bothering you?”

“Why do you spend time with me?” You asked.

“Why? What do you mean?” He asked incredulously.

“I’m nothing special,” You muttered, looking down at your hands.

“You’re amazing,” He said quickly. “I could go on for hours but let me just say this for now.” You stared into his eyes, astounded by the emotion being reflected in them. “You mean the world to me. You’ve helped me stay grounded and keep a sense of normality in my rather insane life.”

“Please don’t say that!” You cried, pulling away from him and standing up.

“Why? Give me one good reason!” He yelled. “One reason why I shouldn’t tell the most amazing woman I know how-”

“Because I love you, Tom!” You screamed. Tom fell silent, staring at you in shock. “I love you so much and I can’t deal with it any more! I’m not good enough for you! I have so much crap in my own life, how could I expect you to take that on yourself?”

“Oh darling,” He gasped. “Is that how you really feel?” He asked. He stood up and hugged you tightly. “I'm not going to leave you. You're never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise. Whatever you’re going through, I’ll help you. I’ll be here to support you no matter what.” You choked out a sob, gripping his shirt and crying onto it. “And I love you too. Very much,” He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Are you sure?” You mumbled.

“100 percent,” He smiled, tilting your head up to look in your eyes. You smiled widely, eyes flickering to his lips momentarily. He leaned down and kissed you eagerly. “Now, dry those lovely eyes and come sit with me on the sofa again, hm?”

“Alright,” You smiled. “Thank you, Tom.”

“Any time, love, any time.”

RPF Taglist

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@ladylulu143

@lokislittlesigyn

@for-hearthand-home

@lokistoriesblog

@cuddlesthehiddles

#tom Hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom Hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston fanfic #rpf #real person fiction

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sofreddie · 3 years

Text

Scent from Above 2

Summary: The morning after.

Characters: Alpha!Jensen x Omega!Fan!Reader

ABO BINGO: Daisies/Fresh Bread/Pine

Word Count: 1,672

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Scenting, Scent Bond, Smut (Use of condoms, Knotting), Mentions of Marking/Claiming/Mating, Fluff

A/N: Attention thirsty bitches...get your cups ready. : ) Each part of this series will feature an @spnabobingo square.

PART 1

Jensen woke with a groan and a stretch. As he moved, he felt another warm body beside him. He cracked open his eyes, seeing Y/N in his arms, neither of them having moved from the night before. He wasn't sure what to do as he watched her sleeping.

Should he wake her?

Should he try to crawl from the bed and let her sleep?

He quickly remembered that she was in heat as she shifted to her back. Her scent struck him, drawing him in once more, his nose drifting to the scent gland in her neck.

He breathed deeply of her, musing on her scent. There was something flowery, like daisies. Something warm and rich, like fresh-baked bread. He breathed deeply once more, catching the earthy undertones of pine. Each layer brought on a feeling of home and warmth and familiarity.

After a few minutes, he decided that maybe he was being a little creepy, and maybe he should try to occupy himself until she's ready to wake. So he carefully removed himself from the bed and ordered breakfast via room service, not thinking it wise for them to be apart or in public in their conditions.

Jensen took a quick shower and dressed in a t-shirt and track pants just in time for the food to arrive. As he removed the lids and the aromas filled the space, Y/N stirred awake.

"Good morning," Jensen beamed at her as she shuffled into the main seating area of the suite.

"Morning," she blushed at him, running her fingers through her tangled hair. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her and he silently reminded himself it was only the beginning.

"Are you hungry?" he offered, gesturing to the cart, "I didn't know what you liked, so I got a little of everything."

She smiled warmly at him, "Could I take a quick shower first?" she asked, noting he already had. He nodded and silently guided her to the bathroom, watching as the door closed behind her.

He was absolutely not going to think about her naked and wet behind that door.

As he heard the shower turn on, he realized she didn't have a change of clothes with her. He quickly dug through his suitcase, finding another simple t-shirt and pants. He went to the bathroom and knocked on the door lightly, but there was no response. He took a deep breath and cracked the door open just enough to place the clothes on the counter before quickly shutting it again.

Jensen had started digging into the food by the time she came out. Her hair was down and damp, her face free of the makeup she had been wearing. His clothes draped her frame and the Alpha in him felt proudly possessive.

"Thanks for the clothes," she said as she sat on the couch with a respectable distance between them. She was nervous, not sure what to expect, and distracted herself with breakfast, "I'm in another room here," she explained, "Just a few floors down."

"What room? I'll have them send up your stuff."

"What? No," she protested, "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own things."

"It's not such a good idea to go anywhere," he began hesitantly, "And I'm not really sure I could handle it if you did," he added bashfully.

She was surprised. As she showered she thought about the events of the night before. How could she not? She was sure he would politely tell her it was a mistake, it was his rut, anything really to back out of it. But here he was, seemingly still sure.

They ate in relative silence, exchanging smiles and giggles between bites of food. They were both trying to ignore the fact that their biologies were ramping up once more, their urges becoming prevalent.

"Come here," Jensen softly spoke as he tugged at her. She went willingly, letting him guide her to straddle his lap on the couch. He buried his nose in her neck once more, humming in satisfaction as he took his fill of her. She scented him in turn, slowly allowing herself to believe it was real.

He placed a wet kiss on her neck, making her moan. He did it once more, teasing the tip of his tongue and her hips involuntarily ground down against his.

He was so very hard and so very there.

A moan slipped past his lips and Y/N shuttered. It was the most erotic sound she'd ever heard and she felt a swell of pride at being the one to bring it from him. She did it again, slowly and more purposefully this time, teasing them both.

"You want that, Omega?" he breathily asked as he ground up against her core, his hands squeezing her hips.

"So much, Alpha," she replied, before kissing him hard. Jensen responded eagerly, opening his mouth for her as she introduced her tongue. He moaned again, her hips now steadily working against him.

Their clothes were quickly shed, each piece being thrown without care as they bared themselves to one another.

"Condom?" she asked bashfully as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Jensen blindly retrieved one, his face buried in Y/N's breasts as he licked and sucked at her supple flesh. He held it up to show her, still preoccupied. She chuckled and took it from him, opening it with her teeth.

"Wait," he said, finally lifting his head from her chest to meet her eyes after she rolled the condom down his shaft, "Don't you want me to-" his fingers strayed to her core and she shook her head adamantly.

"No," she breathed, "Just you."

She shifted her hips and sunk down on his length with a long moan. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her tightly to him. The breath was punched out of him. She surprised him, he wasn't ready. But at the same time, he was so fucking ready.

Hell, he was ready to take her and claim her in the alleyway last night.

After they both adjusted, he loosened his hold, keeping his arms securely around her. She pulled back to look into his eyes as she began to move, sliding slowly up and down. Her jaw dropped open, the sensation of his thick girth pushing and stretching against her walls amazingly perfect.

Jensen almost couldn't stand the intensity, the intimacy of her gaze. This was quickly becoming the sappiest moment of his life and he couldn't complain one bit.

"J-Jay," she breathed out, adjusting her hips to a new angle and pressing her chest against his. His eyes fluttered closed at the sound of her calling his name. He groaned and went straight for her neck. After a good long scent, he opened his mouth, licking a line before clamping his lips down to suck a dark mark.

She cried out, her hips jerking, and he thrust up in response, sucking harder.

"D-don't claim me," she stuttered, riding him hard for the both of them.

"Not this time," he reluctantly agreed with a smirk.

He wanted to. God did he want to. He knew she was his and he was hers. But he also knew that she needed time to adjust. That she wasn't ready. That she wanted it but hadn't fully let herself believe it. He'd give her all the time she needed.

She panted as she rode him and he thrust up into her. He couldn't get the angle or speed that he wanted. And he wanted to be deeper. With a frustrated snarl, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped her on her back on the couch swiftly, still buried inside her.

She gasped and he plunged hard, knocking her body up the couch a few inches.

"Yes!" she cried out desperately, her nails digging into his shoulders. He growled and gave her all he had, riding them hard through their highs.

His knot popped and his teeth ached as his eyes locked onto her pulse beating rapidly beneath the taut skin of her neck. Feeling himself lose control, he turned his head, biting down into the couch cushion and growling as he emptied himself into the condom.

His teeth didn't release the pillow until his body calmed and he felt the urge pass. He immediately buried his face in her neck, lapping against the dark purple mark he'd left earlier, his mind letting him pretend it was his claim.

They spent the next few days in much the same fashion until her heat and his rut had finally passed.

"Stay just one more night with me?" he asked as she came out of the bathroom in her own clothes. Jensen ended up having her things delivered after all, "My flight's pretty early in the morning. But we can spend one more night," he pleaded, his hands on her waist as she shouldered her Winchester Bros. branded weekend bag.

He didn't miss the opportunity to playfully rib her over it either.

"I can't, Jay," she pouted. She had quickly adopted the nickname for him and he was thrilled with how comfortable she grew around him in such a short amount of time. He did his best all weekend to show - and say - just how much he wanted her and how sure about them he was.

"If you let me claim you we could take Mate Leave," he grinned.

She playfully slapped his shoulder and scolded him, "I just want both of us to be totally sure before making such a permanent commitment," she said for the umpteenth time that weekend.

"Next time then," he joked, wiggling his brows, "I stole one of your shirts, FYI," he added, blushing, "I think I'd go insane if I didn't have your scent around me."

"I guess that's okay," she said, "'Cause I took one of yours too," she looked to the ground bashfully. He laughed before cupping her face and kissing her hard.

"We'll find a way to see each other soon," he promised.

PART 3

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@fangirlxwritesx67

RPF:

@smoothdogsgirl

JENSEN TAGS:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

@slamminmine

@deanjensenficsandart

@woodworthti666

@charred-angelwings

#spnabobingo #alpha!jensen x omega!reader #jensen x reader #scent from above #part 2 #smut #a/b/o dynamics

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

It’s A Match Chapter Two

Masterlist

Summary: as you and henry become closer he lets his family know there may be a new woman on the scene. And you surprize him by moving a little quicker then he had thought. Not that he is against it. He is all to eager to move along to the next step.

Warnings: RPF, Swearing, Angst, Heated Discussions, Fluff.

A/N: here is chapter two, this will only be a short fic maybe there or four chapters but i hope you all like it. This is just me writing down my fluffy fantasy.

Taglist: In Reblogs.

'Shes a big fluffy teddy bear, and loves hugs, even if Shes crushing me~' henry froze hands quivering nervously over the keyboard. You replied? You actually? Holy shit! He bit his lip sitting up straighter with a grin and smoothed his hair back. He wasn't sure why it made him so happy but? He had a reply, and actual reply from a person! A woman!

Now what?

He wracked his brain and frowned. What does he say? Does he ask questions or just talk about dogs? He didn't know all he did know is that he had messaged a complete stranger and she had messaged back.

'I can imagine moving her must be hard work if she's comfy'

'Yeah but on the plus side she's always warm~ a huge hot water bottle'

'A numb but warm set of legs then😂'

'Absolutely! That sounds like the talk of a man who's been there?'

'Yes I have an American Akita, a very snuggly boy that gives me atleast one dead leg a day😅'

'Aww I love Akita's, I was going to get one but them Amii sort of fell into my lap, and has stayed there ever since'

'Big or small a lap dog is a lap dog'

'Definitely😂' Henry paused. Shit what does he do now? Does he just ask questions? Explain a bit more about himself? Both seemed a little too juvenile... And it was scary... Awkward he wants a nice chat, for conversation to flow naturally. He didn't want to fuck up. There was another ping as you typed another message.

' I have to say I'm surprized I got a message on here, only been on here for a few days😅' henry was thankfull, you wasn't going to judge. You were both in the same boat. Both nervously talking to a stranger in the hopes of there being something more. It made replying a little easier, he hoped that things would get less awkward after breaking the ice.

'Really? I made mine today... not sure about all this new online stuff but will figure it out'

'Well I'd say your doing alright, at least you had the courage to message someone, i made the profile then chickened out😅'

'I almost did, your the first profile that caught my eye'

'Was it Amii?'

'No, as cute as she is you lacked a duck face selfie, and you look very sweet and have kind eyes' henry froze after sending the message. Shit, shit! That was fucking cheese! Cringe and just a fuck up! He quickly wracked both hands through his hair and cursed trying to think of a way to get out of this but nothing came to mind... And then he saw it the tiny y/n is typing... At the bottom of the screen, he winced dreading the reply he was going to get. He bit his lip worried he hopes he hasn't tripped at the first hurdle.

'Thank you that's kind of you to say. And is a missing duck face that strange?🤔'

'Every woman has a duck face'

'Well I do not have a duck face'

'Really?🤨'

'Well not a good one 😅My duck face is sub par more a fish face, call me guppy😂' he chuckled, you did have a sense of humour which was good. He liked making people laugh and not having them take everything so seriously, it meant he could relax and let loose. To just have fun! He heaved a big sigh unconsiously petting Kal as he sat up and leant on his leg. He quickly began typing once more finding it easier chatting with a stranger with each message.

'🤣🤣 I got to admit I'm not sure what to talk about, this is my first time🤔'

'Well that makes us both online virgins😅lets start with the important things shall we?' Henry froze panicking. 'Oh god! Oh god! What ere you going to ask?!' He thought watching the little dots on the screen holding his breath dreading you'd ask for picture or something. He was put out of his misery with a tiny ping sound and your message popped up. He threw his head back and laughed outloud seeing the all important question.

'Who's your favourite superhero?' You were definitely a geek girl, just like he wanted. He bit his lip and typed without needing to think of the answer.

'Superman, afterall he is the grand daddy of all superheroes. You?'

'Oh your not gonna like this~ I love batman🤗' henry smiled at the screen and leant back wiping his mouth trying to massage the ache from his cheeks. He really was grinning ear to ear just from speaking to you so... Unguarded he was just being himself and it was freeing!

'Oh no!😱can I ask why?' He typed quickly not wanting you to think he was going to keep you on read? Was that what they called it nowadays?

'He proves that at 30 you can have a dramatic goth early midlife crisis and that regular assholes can be heroes too, all you need is money🤗🤗'

'🤣🤣 oh god! You know I never thought of it like that!' henry shook his head laughing out loud as he replied

'But you'll be happy to know supes is number three on my list'

'Well he makes the top three so that's salvageable😆'

'Yeah... Two is Captain America though'

'Rich goth with issues, man with an expensive tea tray, then supes got it 👌👍'

'Omg yes!😂that's sums it up beautifully🤣' after that the conversation moved on which he was a little thankful for. Not that he disliked geeking out but... it'd be easy for him to slip up on that subject. Luckily though he didn't have to think of a change of topic as you began chatting away casually about your day and he did in return before long the conversation was over too soon as you stated you really had to get on with filling out these payslips. So the chat drew to a close with promises of speaking tomorrow.

And you kept your promise. For the next week you both spent your evenings chatting away at one another becoming fast friends. That was when he decided to let his family know in the new weekly face time zoom chats.

He looked to the screen fidgeting as his family spoke amongst themselves trying to find the right moment to break the news. But his mother had noticed and asked him out right, leaning closer to the screen watching him worriedly.

"Henry? Are you alright your looking nervous?" The others stopped speaking at the question and henry heaved a sigh nervously twisting his fingers.

"Yeah yeah I... I just have some news... Is all" he said swallowing trying to find the words. He was worried, it had been a while since he'd tried to introduce someone new into his life and his family. He didn't want to alarm them but... he wanted to forewarn them that he was on his way to hopefully sharing his life with someone.

"News? Oh its nothing bad is it?" His younger brother asked, but his oldest paused straightening up with a smile already guessing his brother had taken his advice.

"No nothing bad... Its really good actually... I'm sort of... well I'm speaking to someone online... A woman" he stuttered rubbing the back of his neck and called Kal onto the sofa with him stroking his fur trying to calm himself and fend of the huge grin that seemed to spread across his face everytime he thought of you.

"You did it?" His eldest brother called out clapping his hands excitedly. A ripple of confusion washed over the others and they frowned looking to one another unsure what had happened between the two.

"Did what love?" His mother finally asked not understanding what her sons were talking about

"I made an online dating profile" he said plainly drawing gasps from everyone.

"Oh gosh love are you okay? Your not being hounded are you?" His mother jumped immediately concern etched deep in her features. His father looked uncomfortable-hell they all did! Each worrying over him. He wasn't surprized they had seen fans both love and hate on him and his partners.

"No mum its fine-better then fine I'm really carful... I've covered my ass and no one knows its me, she doesn't know" he said trying to placate his family but instead he was rewarded with disappointed faces, tutting and small, cringing hisses. Fuck.

"Oh god Henry you haven't made a fake profile? Tell me you didn't- please tell me your not lying to this poor woman" his father scolded sternly. His dad may not be up to speed with all this new age online dating shenanigans but he did know that it was wrong to lie to a potential partner. Just thinking that one of his boys were doing just that left a bad taste in his mouth. If he could he would clip his son around the ear!

"Well no not exactly- its me and I'm myself on there I just... changed my name to Hank... And crop my photos so she can see me but not recognise me that's all! I swear I'm not lying or-or anything!" he explained willing then to understand but with the deep sighs and unimpressed looks he got it would seem they didn't understand or approve.

"Are you sure about this? What will she think if things get serious and then this young lady finds out you've been lying?" he father spoke up again wanting to hash this out. Henry faltered for a moment, he worried about that too. He was frightened that you'd get angry and leave him without even giving him a chance!

"I'm not lying, I just? just omitting certain details about my life, I'm being me I'm showing her the real quirky geeky side of me- this is? Its my one shot! The only chance I'm going to get to have someone look at me, not what they can get out of me... I'm not going to blow it or hurt her... if we get to that point then I will explain things- she'd understand she's really thoughtful and is logical" henry pleaded trying to convince both himself and his family. He cant ignore it, he was worried and had been telling himself over and over you'd understand. But he also knew it could really shake you up. But what he was doing wasn't wrong! It couldn't be helped, he thought they would understand!

"Well I hope so because you could break her heart son... And I want you to understand that, this woman could fall for you. You could really upset her when she finds out" his father finally spoke drawing the issue to a close not wanting to argue, but he still wanted henry to know what ever happens was his own fault good or bad. Not everything ends with a happy ever after, but he didn't need to voice that out loud. Henry knew, they all did.

"I know dad, I've only been speaking to her just over a week anyway, for all i know she will ghost me or something" henry nodded calming a little not wanting to fight but still it was clear to everyone henry hadn't appreciated the lecture.

"Ghosting?" he mum perked up trying to diffuse the situation not wanting this to blow up. Tensions were high and no one needed a family spat at the moment.

"Its when someone stop talking to you and ignores you for no reason" his brother revealed explaining the term to his parents. They both ahh'd in realisation but were still a little tense. So his younger brother spoke up deciding to try and be more supportive to him. And henry was thankful.

"Well how about you tell us about her henry. What's you lady freind like? What does she do?" henry quickly grinned forgetting the irritation. His family watched the sudden change as henry got the chance to boast about the woman who had caught his fancy. It was sobering to see, he was glowing with pride and excitement, overjoyed from just thinking about this mystery girl.

"She's just? God where do I start? Shes amazing and funny and wholesome... She doesn't live too far away- Shes pretty much on my doorstep! Shes really funny and nice we talk everyday and have soo much in common its amazing we like the same music and tv and just- everything! Its like talking to a female version of myself! And Shes a fan too" his family all seemed to warm to the idea of this woman until his final remark. Everyone paused. And so did he, what was so wrong about her being a fan? Why was that a red flag for them and not him?

"A fan? Henry... are you sure she doesn't know? If she's a fan she might know and be... making her answers more favourable" henry bristled at that and visibly leaned back brows furrowed and eyes glowing, showing as much anger as he dared show his mother who had spoken out against you.

"What? No! No she doesn't mum she hasn't got a clue- Shes not a fan of mine per say but? She likes my work, she's a huge lover of DC and fantasy so has seen the Witcher and she loved it! Shes really just like me! Is that really hard to believe? That there are women like me? That enjoy the same things?" what had started as a panicked explination quickly became heated and sour. His words slowly becoming uncharacteristically venomous. But Marie Ann new it was just him getting defensive, he was frightened. He had this silly belief he was an abnormality, that his interests will make him forever alone. The thing that did stand out was just how defensive he was about you. A woman he'd probably not even met yet, someone he was only chatting to. It wasn't like henry to take to someone soo quickly. It made her hopeful, that he really had found someone, found his soulmate. But she was a mother and couldn't help worry over him, no matter how old or huge her boys got they were just that. Her boys. And she will always feel the need to look after them.

"Henry please don't get angry, I didn't mean to upset you but... I worry" she said slowly trying to calm him before he got himself into a tizzy. She could see much more then he wanted her too. And right now he was anxious, probably questioning himself over this woman and the way he was approaching her. She could only hope her son was right and had covered his ass and that this woman was as understanding as he said. Otherwise henry was about to get a wakeup call like never before. It wasn't everyday a well known actor fakes a dating profile. It'd be a media shitstorm that he may not recover from.

"I.. sorry I didn't mean to- y/n isn't like that I... I just know alright she isn't after anything" henry apologized smoothing back his hair taking a huge breath and leant back once more relaxing.

"So why don't you tell us a little more about her son? You've been speaking for a week so must know a little more then her name and were she lives?" she said moving on wanting to coax more information about the woman.

"Well she has her own successful business that caters to dogs, walking, grooming and rehoming and is a kc registered breeder. Shes thirty years old and... Absolutely stunning- and no she hasn't filtered any photos either...wait here! See?! Isn't she beautiful?" Henry gushed quickly bringing up your profile picture he had saved on his phone and holding the phone to the camera. He heard a few compliments but could still see the worry in his family. He understood but he just new. He new that you were real, that you were honest and everything you said you were. You were blunt and didn't have time for games, you said life's too short for that crap. And he agreed.

"You have a photo saved already?" henry faltered at the question that had followed a round of compliments and quickly pulled his phone back flushing embarrassed he hadn't even thought of how that would look

"I.. w-well yeah... I'm gonna ask for her number soon and want a photo for my phone... We decided to stick to messaging for a while first and" he tried desperately to dig himself out of the hole he'd just unceremoniously swan dived into. But his brothers burst into laughter making whipping motions making him flush and shrink further. They were definetly going to busting his balls for this. But with a quick shake of his head he continued to gush about you wanting to side step this whole premature photo saving incident.

"she doesn't have Instagram or snapchat... she's just... I can't explain it she's just funny and sweet and genuine... I really like her.. I could easily fall for her" silence reigned after his admission and everyone saw just how serious and devoted henry was to trying to make this relationship work. His mum nodded with a smile, this was just a watch and wait scenario. This woman would either make or break her son, and all she could do was hope to god it was the former.

"Okay then love. I'm happy for you henry just be careful okay?" she finally drew the curtain on the subject and everyone sighed in relief.

"I will, I promise but you have nothing to worry about, I just wanted to let you guys know that i might have someone for you to meet in a few months" henry said eagerly, like a small boy waiting on Christmas eve. He was full of life and enthusiasm. It was nice to see this side to him again, she'd dare say he was well on his way to being loved up! Smitten.

"And we look forward to it henry, but take your time. There's no rush just enjoy yourself" one of his brothers spoke up jumping in on the conversation wanting to make it clear they all had his back whether this ended good or bad. For now they were happy for him.

"I will, we decided were wont meet for a while and just see how things go for the time being but... I have a good feeling, she's everything I've been looking for I'm really excited" henry preened trying to pace himself, he didn't need to be daydreaming in a family face time. Luckily he was pulled from the edge of his own fantasies by another question.

"You said she had a company?"

"Yeah here I'll send you the link its called Puptown! She's actually handled Kal a few times, I send him there for his nails and teeth" henry said quickly sending the link to his brother. He wasn't stupid they were going to look you up, they were worried. He might aswell sent them the link. There was a tiny bio on there of you- the owner on the staff page that had all the staffs qualifications and roles on there.

You moved through the groom room Amii was curled up under your desk fast asleep as you began taking a stock list. Recently you'd been getting more and more white dogs in for their groom so needed to top up on the bright white shampoo and it was tick season soon so had to double check you had all the tick removal forceps, and ear powder- lots of ear powder the poodle clients had doubled over lock down after all the new puppies bought in lockdown. Every dog deserves a professional groom. But poodles needed them.

"hey boss! You doing another check?" Mandy called as she hoisted a tiny black poem into the bath. Bella a regular and very few people could actually groom her out of the five staff only two of you dared to try. And you didn't blame them this dog was a tiny savage, but the trick was not to show fear.

"yeah, trying to prepare for summer already, you know i think this will be our busiest yet especially with lord whiskey." you muttered nibbling the pen and moving a few bottles about. Flea treatment and some dry skin conditioner were quickly added to your growing list.

"lord whiskey?" Mandy asked louder over the sound of the shower instantly Bella began snarling like the hell demon she was. On walks and about the place she was a little soppy loving lap pup, but when it came to bath time? Different dog. You cant help thinking she had a bad experiance before she came here. You sighed and placed the pad and pen down standing along side the bathe and began petting the tiny dog.

"yeah they are the vet clinic for lower incomes... They want to set up a new clinic and have reached out" you explained you had to admit the request came out of the blue and you hadn't had chance to tell everyone yet. The staff meeting was on Friday.

"that would be good!" she said slowly wetting the snarling prom that was trying her absolute hardest to frighten you both off. But alas she was no great wolf, but a teeny cute little raging fluff nugget, and to her utter dispair neither you or Mandy found her scary at all. Even if she was trying to foam at the mouth.

"yeah that's what I thought, having a vet on site... We're still talking but if everything goes acording to plane we will have the mobile vet out front while setting up the small clinic... I was thinking in the old groom rooms? They had water and electricity already and its a littl out of the way so the unwell puppets can be separate from the healthy customers" you shrugged moving around Mandy to help tend to your most vocal customer.

"so business will be booming?" Mandy said moving to rinse underneath the small feral beast. You giggled and stood Bella on her back legs as she seethed but in between her savagery she was actually licking at you, showing a hint of the sweet girl she really was. You pet her praising her promising chicken treats and snuggles afterwards. You might even pop Amii in with the others in the small day care pen. Bella liked laying on her using the huge dog as a fluffy bed.

"yes hopefully, i mean were not taking anything for them, they are a charity but hopefully we will get a few visits in the shop? And the more people know about us the more likely they are to use us!" you said you had been weighing up the pros and cons about the new venture. More people visiting the premises, more footfall in the shop and hopefully you can draw enough people to have a little pet café. Your business was right on the edge of the huge woodland park you'd always wanted a small café that serves both animals and people you want a little empire to become a franchise company and give the little guys a chance.

"And how about you? Any luck on the online dating front?" she asked with a small smile. You sighed you half regretted telling her about it. Mandy has been with you since the beginning, she was your first employee and most trusted freind. And she has been hounding you about your love life for a while now. She wants you to take a step back from Puptown and find some time for yourself, and now that the business was established and ticking over nicely it was the time to do it.

"Ooo! Oh my god your blushing!? Bitch spill!" she squealed excited as you flushed and looked away not answering her. And by doing so answering her at the same time.

"I'm talking to someone~ Hank.. He is... Funny and charming we've been chatting each night for about a week" you revealed quietly making her beam at you. Thankfully Bella chose that moment to make a mad dive over your shoulder but you managed to catch her and pop her back into the tub.

"ooo yes get in girl, you have been pouring too much into this company! Its about damn time you focused on yourself" sandy began as she washed Bella lathering the pup with a rather expensive de-sheading anti tangle shampoo.

"Please don't start, I'm doing it now and that's what matters. He is... He messaged me first and things are going good and that's where I'm going to leave it okay? I will update you as we go... I promise" you said releasing the now wet pup as Mandy began rinsing her down. You stepped back to the shelves full of half empty bottles of product. needing to change the topic to avoid daydreaming and fucking up your orders. As great as the wholesaler was this was still expensive stuff and you didn't want to unbalance the books and get more then you needed.

"Oh Bella?~ baby girl its so bad isn't it? Being brushed and washed and massaged? Then getting yourself a blow out and having a nap in the nice cosy play room?" you called over your shoulder condescendingly at the pup who was still snarling out her displeasure. She really was a little brat in the bath.

Another week passed and you were lazing around the house having a duvet day, snuggled in bed with Amii on your lap. Normally your days off were all housework and finalizing orders or paper work but this week was different. With lord whiskey agreeing to taking the old groom room you decided to finally get an extra set of hands in management to take care of paperwork. It was strange at first but worth it. You now hade someone else to rely on, not that you didn't have managers to help out before but now you had a full time employee that's whole role was to take care of the business side and alleviate the pressure. So instead of the normal made rushes and mountain of paperwork you were in bed chatting away with henry.

He had just finished his work out and was relaxing, having a cool down before having yet another painfully boring sounding meeting with his own bosses. You sympathised. Practical work was the bomb! But the theory and paperwork kicked everyones asses. Risk assessments can eat shit! I'm a person and can asses the risk and decided to do it, why answer to a tick box system? But then again everything needed a tick in a box nowadays. You shuffled about grunting as Amii played dead on your lap so you couldn't move her from the comfy slump she was in over your thighs pinning you down.

'Soo you said you game?' was the message that changed the subject, thankfully choosing to move on from speaking about work.

'God yes, when I can'

'What do you play? Sims and stuff?'

'depends if I'm on pc or xbox I'm more into fantasy and historic rpgs, but if I'm on my switch its little farming sims sometimes I branch out to things like shooters but not often, I like the big immersive fantasies!'

'So you really do mix and match are you playing anything atm?'

'I'm doing a re-run of skyrim with a load of mods just to spice things up. And just restarted Witcher wild hunt again'

'You like Witcher?'

'I adore it, Witcher skyrim and dragon age are my all time favourites, do you? Sorry I realise I'm just takeing over, I just get excited, I never really talk about this stuff 😅😅'

'No, no its fine I'm the same, I never really get to geek out anymore with work and stuff. I'm happy to have the chance, and I do love the Witcher too fantasy is my thing😄' henry paused for a moment. Should he? I mean you just said you were replaying it... Would it be big headed? To ask what you thought of the show? Of his performance... I mean it'd be an unbiased view, you wasn't going to try and butter him up you still didn't know it was him.

'So you've watched the show on Netflix I presume?' he typed and pressed send quickly before he lost his nerve.

'Absolutly, I binge watched it a few times.😅'

'You liked it? I know a few people didn't' henry couldn't help but dig a little deeper, he desperately wanted you to have enjoyed it.

'I loved it, but I think it was easier for me to watch bc I new what was roughly going on before hand. Most people that struggled thought it was going to be an easy watch? Like got'

'Oh come on, there must be something you didn't like?🤔🤔'

'😞okay you got me, I was a tad disappointed with geralts eyes you can do the toxic eyes and cat eye potion at least give me a teeny cat eye just a smidge🤏🥺'

'Yes I see what you mean, their could have been a little frame of it but there are always sacrifices when going from books to the big screen 😅'

'But henry's portrayal more then made up for it! That man was on point! I was so happy when they anounced it was him playing Geralt there was no way he was going to fuck it up!' henry stopped breathing. You liked it? You actually like him playing Geralt? His heart swelled and he laughed out loud for some reason you enjoying his work just... It meant the world to him! He was over the moon. Quickly his attention was drawn to his tablet again as another message pinged on screen.

'And I have a little fan theory over the whole eye issue😏'

'Hit me with it I'm all ears'

'Geralt has complete control of his eyes right? And is a softy deep down so my idea was he is always holding his pupils open so he doesn't scare anyone'

'🧐that is brilliant! It makes so much sense! 🥰🥰 its also nice to know I have a little conspiracy fangirl on my hands😁' henry frowned heart clenching as you went quiet, he waited and waited minuets seemed like hours. His mind immediately jump to conclusions terrified you had caught him, that you'd figured out just who you were speaking to. Sweat formed on his brow as he frowned praying he hadn't got a little to close to home and given himself away. Then the dots appeared. You were typing.

'So I was wondering I know we agreed not to at first but since we've chatting every night I thought we could maybe exchange numbers? Only if you want to! No pressure. I'm just excited' henry slumped, melting into his seat. Thank fuck for that! His relief quickly became excitement at the prospect of hearing you! Actually speaking to you properly having an actual phone call? Fuck yes!

'😊😊I was actually trying to find the time to mention it myself, i know its only been three weeks but it feels much longer.'

'Omg thank god! I thought you would think i was rushing you😅here xxx xxxx xxxx' henry was quick to pull out his phone and type the number in, not wasting any time in creating your contact info into his phone book. And whislt doing that also replied to you putting you at ease.

'No not at all, I'm excited I cant wait to hear you🥰'

'Oh god don't build your hopes to high I don't have the most attractive voice it may be the deal breaker😅'

'I doubt that anything could put me off you love, your gorgeous, smart, funny, kind everything I could of dreamed of and soo much more'

'I'm glad its not only me Hank, I have to say I was frightened by how quickly we have become friends, but I suppose it makes sense we are two peas in a pod' henry grinned reading the message and nodded to himself pressing the small green call button and held the phone to his ear feeling confident as he re-read your last message.

You hummed nibbling your lip, chewing it nervously after giving out your number. You couldn't help your mind dredging up all the horror stories of Ted bundy-esque creepy ass psycho killers, luring in prey on the internet... Fuck you were a bigger girl so easy to sweet talk. You whined and snuggled into the massive furry lump on your lap, lacing your fingers into the dogs thick fur. Petting her as your over active imagination conjured scenario's that could end up with you in a eight foot hole in someone's basement ,being told to 'put the lotion in the basket'. Jesus Christ. But it was fine right? He wasn't weirded out or anything? He seemed happy. You were sensible, or at least you thought you were.

You yipped at your phone suddenly vibrated in your hand, you almost threw it across the room. The screen lit up with 'unknown number' you swallowed eyeing the device then nodded answering the call heart beat thundering in your chest your breath picked up you made to speak but couldn't quite make sounds, unable to force the words to roll off your tongue. There was a deep chuckle, gorgeas and rumbling even if it was quiet.

"You have no reason to be frightened darling I'm just as eager to move on" you gasped as the thick voice spoke in slow syllables, calling you by the nick name he had taken to calling you. You'd asked a few girls at work about it, worried things were going to fast. But they had calmed you down saying it was his way of avoiding being freind zoned. You had to admit the cute little names always made you grin and blush, but this? God this was better then anything! His low timber and slightly more eloquent accent uttering the name sent a shiver up your spine.

A surprizing reaction in all honesty, you'd never really thought about voices much, never had a voice kink or really thought anyone could have an attractive voice. Well not a real voice anyway, sometimes characters on tv with low raspy voices got you going Geralt and Alcide to name a few. He almost sounded like the former if you thought about it... Just more refined? A regal soft lilt. It was definetly a voice you could listen to all day, this man could read you a bloody take away menu and you wouldn't even gruff at the extortionate prices. You wet your lips and dug your fingers into the warm dog in your lap breathing deep, filling your lungs with air trying to ease yourself and draw in some courage.

"O-oh your? Really there? Really.. real?" you stuttered slowly. You chided yourself for sounding so silly, so childish. But you couldn't help it you felt completely unprepared. Which irritated you because it was you who'd offered your number, what were you expecting him to do with it? Use carrier pigeon? Of course he was going to call you.

"I'm most definitely real love" he spoke again with a small chuckle, he was clearly amused by your flustered question. You blushed and squirmed on your seat trying to breath quietly, you didn't want him to hear just how on edge you were.

"Oh gosh that's.. wow I cant even, I don't know what to say" you huffed trying to think of something- anything else you could focus on rather then the absolute sex that was his voice, then he spoke once more

"Now, now don't be shy love, I want to hear you, your voice is just as I thought it'd be" henry tried encouraging you wanting to hear you and revel in your sweet voice, wanting to commit it to memory.

"Oh? And what's that then?" you asked trying to be playfull but in all honesty you wasn't hitting the mark, you were to nervous. You'd never really thought about your voice, was it attractive? Or too high? Deep? I mean you were normal, you spoke normal and if anything sounded common.

"Pure and delicate, playful and charming all in one just like the woman it belongs to" henry's breathing hitched as you giggled. The sweet tinkling laugher warmed his heart and made him huff out a chuckle himself. He was so happy he could have cried. It was just so overwhelming to hear you finally, to put a voice to the amazing woman he was slowly falling inlove with. He sometimes grew wary thinking you were too good to be true, that you were a catfish yourself. But here and now he knew. You were as real as him and all it did was solidify his resolve, he was doing the right thing. He was falling for a genuine woman. A real woman with no strings attached, and with any luck you were feeling the same.

"well I think I just found my mans flaw~" you giggled once more blushing under the weight of all the compliments. He was really smooth, smoother then you'd thought and that was saying something.

"really darling? Care to enlighten me?" he quipped playfully you usual banter and teasing between you both flowing just as effortlessly as it had when messaging each other.

"your clearly deaf! Well have no fear, i will talk a little louder and learn some sign language for you~" you laughed out loud he joined you low echoing chuckles that sounded as if they came from a deep wide chest. It was enough to drive you mad with lust, but that may be the new found voice kink brewing.

"well its nice to know you are so committed to your man and his disability love" suddenly you froze and trembled panic and anxiety washed over you clogging your wind pipe at his words... Fuck!

"oh god- no I? Your not really deaf are you? I'm sorry I didn't mean to make fun-" you began apologizing not quite picking up on his sarcasm. Henry was quick to cut you off and stop your guilty rambling.

"No love I'm not deaf I was just pulling your leg" his voice was strained as if he was trying not to laugh at you, but you couldn't really say anything. You were the one nervously crack jokes then immediately trying to take them back. Stumbling your wat through the very first real conversation with a man you were crushing on. God you were such a dweeb!

"oh Jesus you scared the crap out of me" you heaved a sigh wanting to bury yourself into the covers and hide despite knowing he couldn't see your glowing face.

"I apologize darling, I have only the purest of intentions... Well maybe not that pure~ but I don't want to scare you" he grinned when you gasped at his little flirtatious comment. And he wasn't kidding, he found you incredibly attractive and wanted to do all manner of very filthy things with you. It didn't help when you were sending him photos of you drenched nipples hard and drawing him in like a moth to a flame. You probably hadn't even noticed that and he was thankfull for it because you wouldn't have sent it otherwise. It was his favourite photo, apparantly it had been a husky escape from the bath as you switched his lead to another hook.

"your fine, I'm just a little nervous is all" you huffed finally somehow managing to sort yourself out and think clearly overcoming your excitement and nerves.

"I understand but just remember its just me love. So have anything else planned for today?" henry hummed sweetly before giving you a chance to change the topic, you'd never know it was because he was barely holding himself together. He was almost bursting at the seams wanted to laugh and cry and shout all at once. He was completely overwhelmed with joy and relief and wanted to listen to you as much as he possibly could.

Both you and henry then began the nightly ritual of phone calls and texted all day. He even had a new nick name. Puppy. And he couldn't be more thrilled you'd said it was because he made tiny cute puppy whines when you teased him. But he didn't care, he would happily be your puppy anyday!

The weeks became one month, then two and before you knew it you were one week shy of three months. And that was when it happened. Those fateful words left his mouth as he spoke to you just before bed. He had asked to meet, he was certain and confident he wanted to meet you and take this further, and he hadn't really planned to ask it just happened.

"So your really letting lord whiskey in your old groom space? That's incredible, I'm so proud of you for letting them in love. It says volumes for you and your business, that its not all profit driven" henry spoke down the phone as he stirred his tea getting ready to go up to bed.

"I mean it just seems right... No matter the income everyone should be able to get medical care for their animals. And I'd be lying if I didn't hope some people will come into the shop or realise that we are here and come back for our facilities." he smiled at that. You wasn't just trying to make a great profitable business, you cared and wanted to give everyone a reasonably priced alternative to pooch care. And he was right behind you, he loved that you were trying to give owners the chance to spoil their fur babies without breaking the bank. In slashing your prices you'd attracted more customers and been making a great profit, so much so that you could afford to just give away your old groom rooms to the charity for free.

"shop? You have a shop?" he pondered padding about the kitchen giving Kal his nightly biscuit treat and motioned for him to take it upstairs. Which he didn't need to do, Kal new the jig and was already carrying the treat to the stairs.

"yeah it opened last year? The year before maybe? Its small but here with food and treats a few toys and leads... I try to use smaller businesses the brands that you wont see in the bigger shops" you said slowly and he heard a small yawn and rustle of paper. You had said you were packing up and heading to bed for the night soon.

"I may have to pop over with the bear~" he teased coyly humming to himself as he sipped his tea.

"pop over? I.. Well you could I suppose?" you hummed quietly, henrys eyes almost popped out of his head were you inviting him to ask you out? He coughed quickly trying not to choke on the mouthful of tea and then rocked his head from side to side. I mean he could come over and see you.

"I'm only ten minuet's away darling, Kensington... I've actually used your grooming service once or twice getting the bears nails and teeth done"

"oh?! I didn't know that." you said trying to picture the owners of the akita you saw, but honestly? You had soo many customers now it was hard remembering everyone, that and you wasn't really front of house now, you had more and more to deal with back of house, even with the new manager.

"well you do now sweetheart... So? Do you want to meet up tomorrow?" he asked placing his tea down in favour of crossing his fingers hoping he had read your signals right.

"Yeah of course I'm covering for walking duty tomorrow... So I can't really do anything in the morning or early afternoon" henry fist pumped and grinned faking a silent shout of victory as he managed to wrangle a date.

"That's fantastic actually... I could meet you in the park? I'll bring the bear with me and we could walk the dogs and grab a coffee or something?" he said somehow managing to quell his excitement enough to arrange the date properly, placeing a hand on his heart as it beat wildly. The realisation that he could see you- meet you face to face!

"Yeah that sounds like a brilliant idea, will noon be alright? That's when we do a switch over and go back to feed the dogs in day care so I'll have an hour lunch break" you said stuttering a little when it began to sink in that this was happening!

"Its a date I will see you tomorrow at noon love" Henry anounced eagerly suddenly tomorrow couldn't come soon enough!

"See you then puppy, good night sweet dreams" you said needing to hang up and squeal into a pillow or something.

"sweet dreams love" as soon as he hung up he was already scrolling his phone selecting the number he was after and called in a tizzy.

"Piers?! Piers! I'm? Oh god- were meeting tomorrow and fuck- I'm freaking out already! What do I say? What should I wear- kal's coming too do I put his halti on or just his collar- fuck I don't know what to do!? Please help!" he yelped down the phone to the unsuspecting man drawing a deep sigh from him before he began talking him down.

#rpf #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill X Y/n #henry cavill fluff

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