#and saying how long have you been that tired? how long have you been that sad?

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @koolio312

A/N: Thank you so much for the commission! This is lowkey a follow up to “Kidnapped by the dragon”, so maybe read that one before reading this. Sorry I didn’t feel like the dragon POV would fit this plot, but I hope you like this as much as I do, it ended up being so fucking intimate, I’m surprised with myself.

Request: It's Time to fuck the Dragon. Please gimme a Male Dragon x Fem Reader story. And maybe, just maybe, stress the immense size difference. I feel like that's par for course but, I had to say it. It could be from either point of view, but I think from the dragons would be the most interesting in this situation. + MAYBE, just maybe. Some psychic mental foreplay to go with it? Little bit of special dragon powers if you know what I mean. Wink wink nudge nudge.

The dragon’s bride

Dragon x fem!reader || size difference, tail play, mind sharing, marking, oral sex, inappropriate use of human bride

He caught you masturbating, you finger-fucked yourself for him and then he made you grind his tail to orgasm, talk about an intense experience. Adding to that, you couldn’t stop thinking about it since it happened. You couldn’t hold back your imagination, thinking about all the possibilities now that you two finally did the deed.

But nothing happened.

All of sudden, he was like a cold ice wall. He didn’t talk to you, he didn’t try to touch you anymore, he barely talked to you. Last thing he said to you was something along the lines of “Come out, little human, I have your dinner”. Which made you cry silently on your new bed in the den. You weren’t shy to admit you were needy. You were needy as fuck. He showed you a part of himself you already cherished and then took it away, leaving you cold and breathless.

“You are the most precious treasure in all my hoard,” he had said. His words still resonated inside your brain days later. You two haven’t talked about it, yet. He took your limp body away from your cave and settled you in his den, but he was barely there. It had been days since he truly looked at you.

And that ended tonight.

As soon as he appeared with your dinner, you stopped him, “don’t go.” You tried not to sound too needy, but failed miserably.

He sighed, “what do you want, human?” He sounded so tired you wanted to run away and hide. You didn’t want to be a bother to him, but you weren’t the one who ignored him for days after making him come. He did that, and you were a bit mad about it. You wanted to know why he was being so cold, why he refused to look at you directly. Why he stopped treating you like his bride.

You breathed hard, trying to come up with a good response that didn’t include how sexually frustrated you felt after what you two did together. Involuntarily, you let out the truth: “I want you, I want my husband back.”

He looked at you like you went insane, like you lost your mind, and you couldn’t deny you might have. “You what?” His question sounded like danger, like you were about to be either scolded or murdered. You shivered, approaching him step by step, slowly. You didn’t want him to fly away and leave you hanging again. “I am no mortal man, little human. I am dangerous. I could kill you with no more than one movement.” His voice grew louder and angrier. “I am a dragon,” his roar resonated around the den’s walls and made you shiver.

But you didn’t back down, you stepped into his personal space and wrapped your arms around what you could: his leg. Your arms not long enough to embrace him completely.

“You took me away from bad humans.” You kissed his scales softly, looking at him pleadingly. He didn’t say anything, so you continued. “You made took me higher than anybody.” You shivered again at the memory, kissing his scales again and trying to climb up his body. He refused to help you, so you kicked his shin as you told him, accusingly: “You cherished me and now you act like shit.” Your broken voice made him react, his tail coming around you to help you climb to his chest. You kissed over his heart. “I just want you to do it again. I want you to act like that again, how you acted back then…” You whispered, looking at his molten lava colored eyes.

“What do you want from me, little human?” His voice sounded tired. Tired of fighting, tired of denying himself (and yourself) of what you both wanted.

You took a calming breath and confessed: “I want you to make love to me. I want to be your bride.”

He wrapped his tail around you and set you back on the ground, away from him. “You don’t know what you are asking, I will hurt you.” He sounded so sure of it that your heart broke for him.

“No, you won’t.” And even if he could, you would gladly take the chance.

He didn’t agree, though. “I breathe fire, my claws are longer than your hands, I could squeeze you without even realizing… You don’t know how dangerous I am, little human. Do you have a death wish, is that it?” He was mad, so mad that his nostrils were flaming. There were literal flames coming out of him. Maybe you did have a death wish…

Or maybe you were just in love with a dragon.

“You would never hurt me.” You assured him. “I trust you. Please… Be with me. Stay with me.” You pleaded, reaching to touch his red scales once again. He shivered, looking down at you. The contrast between his giant body and your tiny human self crystal clear. It turned your insides into a puddle of need and desire, it was maddening.

He looked at you intently, looking into your eyes, trying to find answers to unasked questions. He seemed to find whatever he was looking for because soon after he asked: “Are you sure? I don’t think I can hold back once we start, little human. Your body tempts me more than anything, your beauty drives me insane, you are a bigger treasure than anything else I hoarded.” He sounded like the mere fact that you were there was painful to him, but keeping you away was making it even worse.

You were tired of his martyr play, and even more so of him denying what you clearly asked for. “Then take me. Possess me. Make me yours.” That was all it took for him to lose himself.

He roared and launched for you, a big claw going around your body and lifting you up as he leaned back. You found yourself sitting across his chest, the touch of his scales against your sensitive center. He ripped the fabric of your dress and slowly, so slowly and carefully, caressed your breasts with the tip of his fingers. He explored your body inch by inch until you were shivering and completely dripping with need.

“I can smell your desire, my treasure, let me make you feel good. Let me teach you what dragons can do.” You didn’t know what he was talking about but you nodded either way. He smirked, fangs glistening in the barely lit den.

You felt the first touch of his mind against yours like a caress, like something was touching you from the inside out. And then you could feel him. All of him. You felt his desire for you, his hunger and his arousal. It all mixed inside of you and rose to meet your own emotions, like a molotov cocktail ready to explode, making your body hypersensitive. You could feel every cell of your body, every point where your bodies touched. It was such a deep connection that you felt his soul reaching for yours.

And then he touched you, your mind breaking down in a million pieces, overstimulated by sensations. He lifted your limp body and sat you right over his snout, his fangs dangerously close to your soft body. The first contact of his tongue against your dripping pussy made you cry out in ecstasy, the dual attack on your body and your mind making you orgasm instantly.

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue explored every part of your pussy, inside and out. His claws held your body in place as he took everything he wanted from you, grunting and growling about how good you tasted, how pretty your pussy was, how warm and tight, how wet for him. His words were spoken inside your brain, he never verbalized them out loud, but you could hear them perfectly. Your dragon was mentally speaking to you as he ate you out… The experience was equal parts surreal and hot.

You came over and over, and he didn’t let go until your body was completely spent, your tired self hanging between his arms.

You thought he would stop then, but he moves your body until you are against his dick, urging you to wrap your arms and legs around his dragon cock. Your arms couldn’t reach the whole thing, too big, bigger than you. He didn’t seem to care about it, using his tail to help you up and down as he used your body as his personal fleshlight. Your abused clit rubbed against the scales of his cock in the most delicious and tortuous way. You came again involuntarily, screaming as you tightened your arms around his cock.

His movements were frantic after that, his pace fluttering. He let out a series of growls and deep groans, his voice breaking as he, finally, let out a loud roar that shook the floor beneath you. You looked up just in time to see a column of fire ascending from his mouth to the ceiling as he orgasmed. Sticky hot cum showered you, marking you with his scent. Claiming you in a primal way.

He pulled you up against his chest once again, cleaning you as best as possible with your ripped dress. You tried to move away, feeling gross and sticky, but he stopped you easily. “You are perfect, my treasure,” he told you, making you blush bright red.

He laid you down and caressed your back with a claw, making you shiver and your eyes feel heavy. “You burned the ceiling,” you mumbled against his chest. He laughed so hard your whole body shook against him.

“I’ll build you a bigger and better den. I’ll build you whatever you want.” You smiled, your eyes almost closed, too sleepy to remain awake. Last thing you heard before sleep claimed you was a muttered: “I’ll do anything for you, my bride.”

Reminder that you can also commission stuff like this, info here.

[cowboymarcs]

rough

joel miller x fem!reader

summary: jackson had made joel soft, and while you delighted in the domesticity of it all, some small, shameful part of you missed how hard he fucked you when the world was ending.

warnings: smut, piv, rough (but consensual) sex, choking, face slapping, daddy kink, dom!joel, name calling, unedited (i'm sorry), you are responsible for the media that you consume.

word count: 1.4k

joel miller’s rough, calloused hands only softened as he spent more time in jackson. his shoulders began to relax, losing the tension of years spent on the road. habits of checking his six and his hand hovering over the strap of his rifle had been broken. joel miller, for better or worse, had become soft, and you loved it.

you loved the way he stroked your face gently while gazing at you. his brows no longer furrowed and angry, only easy. your heart warmed when he came home tired and achy from patrol, but not exhausted from trying to survive. you loved this part of him, you truly did… but some small, shameful part of you missed his roughness. 

the rough, fast fucks that the two of you had to squeeze in here and there, his hard demeaner and hoarse voice. you missed the way he would fiercely bite hickies into your neck. you missed the way he ‘used you’; longed for it even. but it felt wrong to miss it, to take for granted the happiness that jackson brought you. 

you watched joel now, sipping on his drink across the bar, chatting with one of tommy’s friends. his eyes met yours, asking a silent question. want me to take you home? you downed the rest of your drink in answer, striding across the bar and looping an arm through his, fingers resting on his strong bicep. 

“gonna take the lady home,” joel excused himself, “nice talking to you.” the man nodded and raised his glass. you waved before turning towards your man. 

“you enjoying yourself, darlin’?”

“never been better,” you replied honestly, laying your head against his shoulder, and hugging his arm tighter. 

the walk home felt too long, your blood thrumming with need the closer you got to the house. your mind began to wonder, daydreaming of thoughts of joel fucking you rough from behind, smushing your face down into the mattress and whispering nasty words into your ear. 

“you alright, sweet thing?”

“huh? oh, yes i’m good.” his words had brought you out of your daze, making you realize you stood in front of the door to your home. he opened the door for you, following you in. as the two of you got ready for bed, doing your respective nightly routines, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to your fantasies. 

fantasies of his thick hands around your throat, hips snapping against yours. your panties seemed to dampen. you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to find the confidence to ask joel to fulfill those particular fantasies. you tiptoed into the bedroom, finding joel lying on his back, arm draped lazily over his eyes. he wore only his boxers, showing off his broad shoulders and hair that trailed down his tummy. 

“joel?” you whispered, standing awkwardly in the doorway. he sat up, sensing your apprehension. 

“what’s wrong, darlin’?” you opened your mouth and closed it a few times, not sure how to say that yes, you loved the sex you were having now, but you missed how hard he fucked you when the world was ending. “c’mon, spit it out.”

“i miss having rough sex with you, joel.” a weight lifted off your chest at the confession. 

“that’s all? well you could’ve just said that, sweetheart. no use in gettin’ all worked up over nothin’.” he motioned for you to join him on the bed and raised a frisky eyebrow. “i’d fuck you into next week if you wanted me to.”

you chuckled at his playfulness before looking at him again, earnestness in your eyes. “that’s not all i want, joel… i-i want you to hit me.” 

he cleared his throat and leaned back an inch. he was taken by surprise, and rightfully so. while the two of you had dabbled in choking and spanking, the thought of hitting you - hurting you had never crossed his mind. 

“oh,” was all he muttered. 

“i understand if you don't want to,” you began to babble before he shushed you. 

“it’s not that i don’t want to… i just want you to be completely sure that this is what you want. i would never want to hurt you, darlin’.” he brushed a stray hair from your face before kissing you tenderly. you welcomed the kiss by grabbing his curls and pulling him as close as he could possibly get. 

“you could never hurt me, joel.” he groaned at your words before laying you down and caging you in with his arms. you could feel him harden against your core. his kisses became feverish, tongue diving into your mouth to taste your wet heat. you pulled away, looking into his soft, brown eyes. “i want this, joel, more than anything. i want you to use me.”

joel’s eyes immediately darkened, reminded of the ways he used to fuck you when you two were on the run. the way you used to scream his name and beg for his mercy in bed. he looked at you now, ready to take him fully, eyes wide and pussy wet. 

“stop me if it hurts.” it was all he said before he tore your panties off. he scrambled to push his boxers down, fiending for a release. he grabbed his cock, sliding his head through your wetness, spreading your juices all over his cock. 

“you don’t even need any prep, huh? all wet and ready for daddy?” you nodded fiercely, praying that joel would push into you any second. you whined as he kept playing with your pussy. “so needy, huh sweetheart? daddy’s not gonna go any quicker unless you ask nicely.”

the head of his thick cock brushed swiftly over your aching clit, making you jump. you threw your head back, relishing in the anticipation, the tension, the buzzing need to have joel’s cock inside of you and his coarse hands controlling you. 

“please joel, please,” you panted, hands running down his chest, fingers scratching him slightly, “i need you to fuck me, baby.”

“well since you’re bein’ such a good girl for me i suppose we can make that happen.” he pushed into you in one fell swoop, his thick, hard girth pressing into your wet cunt. your moan that was released from you was obscene and absurdly loud. joel set a fast pace, giving your body no time to adjust to his size. the burn of him stretching you out mixed with the pleasure of his head hitting your g-spot filled your vision with stars. 

your moans invigorated him, his hands grabbing at your full tits and squeezing them before leaning down and nipping at them. his mouth sucked at the skin of your tits, biting and marking them as his own. his hands left the warm skin of your tits, making you mewl at the loss of contact, only for joel’s hands to find your calves, and folding you in half. your legs resting on his shoulders, his cock plunging deeper inside of you. your whines and joel’s respective grunts filled the room along with the intense, lewd slapping of his balls against your backside. 

“j-joel!” you sputtered out. his eyes darkened and you knew it was coming - your pussy clenched at the thought.

joel raised his hand over the two of you and brought it down, slapping you across your face. the sting reverberated through your bones and the pleasure traveled all the way to your cunt that was squelching around his cock. his hand, now wrapping around your throat, brought you close to his face. your lips were ghosting his, his breath dancing upon yours. there were tears of pleasure in your eyes. 

“that’s not my fuckin’ name,” he gritted out, still fucking you at his rapid pace. you realized what game he was playing.

“i’m sorry, daddy. i’ll be good, i promise,” you pleaded. a small smirk found joel’s face; he was satisfied with your reply. he pounded into you, chasing his release. you could focus on nothing but the delicious feel of his cock thrusting into you, and the crazed look in his eyes that you missed so fondly. he began to thrust rapidly, desperate to fill you up with his seed. 

“yeah thats right, baby, clenching around daddy’s cock like the whore you are,” he spat. you let out an involuntary moan at his harsh words, pussy gushing. 

his hips stuttered, releasing his hot cum into you. he grunted in relief, hand that was squeezed around your neck releasing and petting your face gently. his softness had returned. you felt his cock pull out of you, causing a groan to leave your mouth. 

“is that what you wanted, darlin’?”

“that was perfect, joel, thank you.”

joel smiled, lifting off of you to fetch you a glass of water and a new pair of panties for bed. 

[daenysx]

Hey darling, I have a requests for Aemond if you still writing for him. I just want when he has so much pain because of anything(maybe he's tired of family pressure) and he just need his darling's arms.

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy! you can send requests for aemond or aegon now that the show is back <333

prince aemond targaryen x fem!reader

you can see vhagar's wings if you squint your eyes enough.

aemond is restless these days, he is angry and resentful. his anger has never been directed to you but the peace in your shared chambers decreases day by day. you frown, not knowing what to do to make it all better. vhagar flies closer to the keep and you watch her. you can almost imagine how aemond looks on top of her; sad, disappointed in himself, angry, vengeful. your husband is far from being okay.

you settle down on the bed, the thin fabric of your nightgown does nothing to protect you from the night air's chill. you prefer keeping windows open though. each breath of fresh air is needed in here.

almost half an hour later, aemond returns to you. he smells like dragon and something unique to him, you've grown fond of his scent long time ago since you got married to him. he closes the door, takes a few slow steps into the chamber. you leave the bed to greet him.

"husband." you say lowly. he looks calm. flying on vhagar works like a charm most of the time, he gets to relieve some of his tension to the clouds. he looks at you with a tired eye, a graceful hand of his extended to you.

you accept his touch almost greedily. it's always easier with him, to deal with everything. you've never imagined you'd be a part of a war one day but life is tricky. there are too many reasons to be afraid of each minute that goes by, but aemond makes them all bearable. he's protective, even more so now. you like how he stands tall and charming, like a statue to protect you from all the darkness. he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you closer, close enough to put his head on your shoulder.

your hand goes to his hair. the lovely silver strands messed up by wind. you fix them, fingertips touching his scalp. he breathes heavily, his hands on your waist are insistent. he begs silently. he begs for the pain to go away. only for one night.

aemond pulls himself back with a sigh. he takes off his eyepatch, starts opening the buttons of his riding clothes. his fingers are cruel on his own skin, he doesn't care if he hurts himself. you hold his hands when he roughly pulls the fabric. his hands slow down in your palms, staying still like he's done something wrong. you bring each hand on your lips. they are shaking with hate. you look at your husband to see his eye get all glossy under the light of fire. his arms stay on his sides.

"let me help." you say gently. he sits on bed as you take care of him. he will not bathe tonight, you know, he only wants to be free of the fabrics he carries on him. the eyepatch, the clothes. all of them pulls him down.

when he's finally bare, he gets into the bed. you adjust your pillows to see his face better. the little distance between you is too much for aemond to bear. he puts his head on your shoulder.

"they all say the same thing." he says. you wouldn't hear his silent words but his mouth is close to your ear. you hold his naked body as he keeps going. "same thing. every day. as if i'm a fool who forgot what he's done."

he made many mistakes. mistakes are the nature of a war; thinking back with regret and pain, wishing to take the time back, holding grudge to gods and faith for not stopping the unfair crimes. aemond is too self aware these days thanks to the people he has to call family. they are masters to answer each sentence of him with his war crime. he thinks it's fair sometimes, he has to be punished in a way. he pushes his head closer to your neck to settle down, it's too much for a man to deal with.

"i'm sorry." you say. there's nothing more to say, he knows you try your hardest to forgive him for his crimes each day. you're mostly successful, your love for aemond is blinding. he kisses your neck slowly, curved lips leave a mark on your skin.

"i never wanted this." he says, regret drips from his voice. "i never wanted a power i cannot control."

"it's a dragon, my love." you reason. "no matter what your intentions are, you cannot make her agree with you every time."

"i only wanted-" he takes a breath. "i don't even know what i wanted. i thought the bond between us was stronger, with vhagar."

he doubts himself. it's dangerous to doubt the bond between a dragon and her rider in the middle of a war. aemond is a reasonable man when he's not mad but even he's having hard time facing with the consequences of his actions. he used to brag fiercely, the rider of the largest dragon in the world. now, he questions his worth more often, like he's a boy hiding behind his mother's skirt.

you kiss his forehead, his head must be hurting under all this worry. what feels worse now, accidentally killing the nephew who took his eye years ago, or doubting everything that made him aemond targaryen? he knows there are things he should understand, he's just not brave enough to face them.

because now, he's in your arms. the only place besides the sky that gives him comfort. being in the same bed with you is better than flying sometimes, he's free here. you offer every bit of relieve you can to him, he takes what you're willing to give. every kiss, every touch, every valyrian word you learn to prove him you love him, every minute you spend with his wounds and his troubles. he can't lose you. he has nothing in this world if he loses you.

you kiss him again, for your sake more than aemond's. when you're together you don't have to worry about him. you know he's safe and secure, you know if anything happens he'll be your guard. kisses are a way of communication now, a way of comfort. he closes his eye when your lips connect with his skin. he could spent his life here if he wasn't be a man who's hungry for power and vengeance.

he thinks the fire is easy. it's so easy to burn everything when he has vhagar. he doesn't look back, he doesn't deal with the places he burned. he has the blood of a dragon, he becomes one with vhagar when he whispers words to her. he knows he'd burned down the city if he loses you. he wouldn't look back. there are too many people disappointed in him already. if he loses the only one who holds him together, he'd have nothing.

aemond kisses you softly. he stops breathing when his lips are pressed against yours. he feels like a tamed dragon if there's such a thing. you stroke his cheek, push his hair back from his face. he is hungry for touch and you give him what he craves until he falls asleep against your neck. he holds onto the one person who keeps him sane until the sun shows itself.

[dearest-nell]

here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person. 

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car. 

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ. 

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary. 

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots. 

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.” 

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go. 

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. 

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all. 

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms. 

“You getting another drink, handsome?” 

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.” 

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?” 

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.” 

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch. 

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.” 

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.” 

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him. 

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.” 

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.” 

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you. 

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus. 

“Honey!” 

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you. 

“You’re here!” 

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own. 

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint. 

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.” 

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back. 

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.” 

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up. 

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.” 

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve. 

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response. 

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.” 

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.” 

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him. 

“Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.” 

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment. 

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks. 

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.” 

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.” 

“Nuh uh.” 

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.” 

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer. 

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!” 

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.” 

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.” 

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke. 

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.” 

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all. 

[alexiroflife]

"mesmorized"

choso is a simp, fluff

choso kamo x reader

Synopsis: choso has a staring problem

to sum it up: he's whipped with a captiable W

WC: 2842

Warning(s): itty bitty tiny bit of suggestive themes

Choso has a problem. A problem he has harbored for quite some time and yet is not inclined to fix. 

And that problem would be his astonishing habit of staring at you. 

He doesn’t know himself if he’s so obvious about it because he feels shamelessly guilt-free when doing so or if he physically can not bring himself to tear his eyes away from you. Perhaps it’s a combination of both, he decides, his eyes catching you from the other side of the room with ease as he drowns in his thoughts. 

He recalls that this problem of his first started the moment he met you, his eyes doing a double take when he catches you walking by, an air of gentle confidence about you. His violet eyes, dull and tired moments before, seem to catch the rays of sunlight as his irises glimmer in the wake of your beauty, his heart skipping a beat or two in panic when Yuji calls out your name from beside him. Choso glances at his brother in swift alarm, curious as to how he knows you and suddenly rattled by the idea that you are heading his way.

When his eyes travel back over to relocate you, you’re stopping in your tracks, turning over your shoulder to find the owner of the voice that had called out to you, revealing a curious expression on your gorgeous face. 

Choso’s eyes grow wide as you walk over, a smile creeping onto your face when you see Yuji. The brunette himself doesn’t know what’s coming over him. He can’t look away though he wants to hide behind his hands, hide away from your brightness. His eyes glue themselves to you in an instant, deciding upon themselves that you are the only thing of true interest that keeps their gaze unwavering, unapologetic, curious, and open. 

You stop before the siblings, keeping your eyes on Yuji first, and Choso is thankful, for he does not want you to catch wind of his presence so quickly for fear that your attention may spring him into cardiac arrest. “Hey, Itadori.” Your voice is light and airy, soaked in benevolence and springful youth. “How’s it going?” you ask him, and you sound like you’re truly interested unlike those who pose the question out of polite obligation, neither seeking out or caring for a positive or negative response. 

Choso watches timidly as Itadori delves into a conversation with you, chatting brightly about how well his training has been going lately and filling you in on some new skills that he has acquired. The half-curse stares, observing how your eyes train on the pink-haired teen with engagement, head nodding occasionally and smile curling when you catch something Yuji says that inspires a reaction. You’re so attentive when you listen, allowing Yuji to know that he has your full focus though you don’t have to verbalize much to display so. Choso wonders how it must feel to be the center of focus under your gaze, mind slipping into a trance.

He doesn’t have to ponder the notion long, however, before Yuji is excitedly changing the subject and bringing your attention to him. “Oh! (Y/n), have you met my brother Choso?”

Choso can feel the blood drain from his face and his heart pang in that odd fashion again. He shifts, tensing when you turn and look at him. He’s horrified to imagine you noticing the way he has been blatantly staring, but when your (e/c) eyes encounter his, the world goes quiet and time stops.

Specs of light surround you through Choso’s vision, kissing your hair and skin regally as you look his way, sparks flying. You remind him of a star, shimmering brightly and numbing all other senses that come in your wake. You’re beautiful, breathtaking, and Choso’s losing air before he can think to speak. 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” you say with pleasant surprise in your voice, eyes bouncing between Choso and Itadori to find a resemblance that certainly is not there. Nevertheless, you don’t seem to let that sway you as you turn back to flash Choso a pretty smile. “Nice to meet you, Choso,” you extend a hand. “I’m (Y/n).”

The brush of your hand into his vicinity sends a breeze shifting through the loose strands of Choso’s hair, eyes stuck to your face as though he is in awe. You’re patient, awaiting his response as he breaks his eyes away from you for a split moment to glance at your hand. Your nails are painted with clear polish and your small fingers are decked in gold rings. Your palm, your skin, looks soft to the touch, like the whisper of a cloud.

Choso can suddenly hear his heartbeat in his ears, looking back up at you carefully. Your smile only brightens, hand still offered out.

He musters up the courage to raise his own and clasp yours, wrapping his fingers gently over yours, connecting your hands. He feels electricity jolt up his arms from where you are joined and over his chest, down his back, up his neck, and trickling over the expanse of his body. Your touch, softer, sweeter, and somehow kinder than your eyes consumes him, and he’s floored, taken, done. His eyes are on yours again, locked in a stupor and he can’t look away. 

Choso was doomed the moment he saw you, his life turning upside down and the trajectory of his world spinning on its heels. He did not know someone could be so mesmerizing, so captivating without the tricks of cursed energy or any other supernatural form of manipulation. Instead, you are simply you, breathtaking upon glance, rushing the blood in his body to his face and making his heart pump loudly before he can control it. You’re always so nice to him though he often does not know what to say to you when you come around. You ensure that he’s included in conversations, included in the focus of your eyes, and he is a goner, captured completely by the whim of your interaction.

He can’t help but stare at you when he thinks you’re not looking, at all of you. His full eyes study the way your hair sits atop your head, how it brushes against the nape of your smooth neck, tickling your skin sometimes to the point where goosebumps spread over it. Your hair is such a pretty color, a pretty texture, pretty length, and it compliments you so well, enhancing the already remarkable frame of your facial structure and features. 

He likes to look at the curve of your brow when you talk too. Occasionally, it twitches when you're vexed, curling downward or pointing up to dent the middle of your forehead, emphasizing your stress or frustration or confusion. The skin around your brows crinkles, then smooths out slowly once you have calmed. Your lashes have a tendency to brush against your brow when they’re drawn down too, fluttering against each other with blinks or touching a scrunched cheek like the graze of a feather when you smile, and your smile is one of his favorite things to capture.

Your lips spread wide and the corners of your mouth pinch your cheeks upward, teeth bearing with all their beauty when you beam or laugh at a joke you hear. Sometimes your smile does not reach your eyes, but when it does, they’re shining with the brilliance of a comet, creasing until they’re almost closed as your nose wrinkles and your radiant laughter graces the air. Choso likes to watch as you tilt your head back in amusement, too hysterical to keep it sitting upright. 

His eyes then travel to your throat, stretched under your chin, smooth, slender. He imagines his lips shyly touching the flushed skin there, the pulse of your heart beating against his mouth, and he’s flushing violently, turning his head away and resting his chin in his hand with his palm shielding his mouth, but he can’t keep his eyes off of you too long. You’re too addicting, like a drug he can’t quit, a craving he can’t satiate, so he’s staring at you once more, glancing lazily over your collarbones peeking out from your shirt, the teased sight far more sensual than it truly is in actuality.

He does not even know where to begin when it comes to looking at your body, his eyes unsure of where to focus because all of you is just too perfect. You could be sitting across from him, scrolling through your phone, and his eyes devour the way your shoulders slump and your arms tense, fingers dancing over the keys of your screen as you type a text and send it. Or when you’re walking beside him with Yuji, the outline of your breasts rubbing against the fabric of your shirt, bouncing almost unnoticeably with each step you take. Choso, his height serving to his advantage, can happen to see down your shirt every now and then, depending on your choice of clothing for the day. With sharp eyes and pink cheeks, he’s glancing over you and landing a peep of your cleavage. He tries to force himself to look away in shame when he catches wind of the sight, but now that he’s aware of it, his eyes continuously wander.

Then there’s your stomach, which he catches a glimpse of all by accident one day. You’re playing football with the teens, leaping around and sprinting with impressive agility, clad in a loose white tank and shorts. Choso, not much of a fan of sports, sits on a bench at the park and watches you all play. You’re on offense, squatting with an intense look of concentration on your face in front of Yuta, who’s quick to toss you the football and set the next round into action. You catch it to your chest, rounding Yuji who runs to cut you off, but before you can run into the opposite direction, Todo is slamming into you seemingly from out of nowhere and knocking you off your feet.

Choso stands, worry flooding him immediately when you hit the ground, and Itadori’s calling a timeout, turning to ask the burly man who tackled you what the hell he’s doing. You’re lying on the grass on your back with a pout, pride wounded by the fact that you were taken out by a teenager. Choso prepares to march over and help you up when he sees that your shirt has lifted up, revealing your sweaty glimmery abdomen rising and falling heavily. The pale skinned man’s eyes twitches, freezing in his path. His mouth runs dry, pupils blown wide at the sight of your dewey bare skin. 

Yuta reaches down to pull you up in the next few seconds before Choso can make it, and you march over to Todo to punch him in his hardened arm, demanding to know just how old he truly is because you find it hard to believe that a high school withholds such aggressive strength and mass. Choso has to excuse himself to the bathroom to douse water over his burning face, the image of you laying there with your stomach exposed burned into his brain. 

Along with your abdomen are your hips, hugged tightly in that damn pair of sporty shorts you chose to wear, the curves of your legs emphasized by the fabric, and, jesus, your legs. How can he forget those? He was practically drooling over the sight of them for hours as you played, the jiggle of your thighs when you run, the flex of your quads, and the glisten of your plump flesh under the baking sun hypnotizing him…

Choso splashes his face again, water dripping from his chin and into the sink as an uncomfortable tightness in his pants stretches. He looks down to discover his print poking aggressively against his sweats, and he’s groaning in agitation, in arousal, in humiliation. You’re going to end him one day, he’s sure, for every piece of you that his eyes greedily consume is more perfect than the last, more enticing, more captivating. 

He is utterly smitten with you, with the vision of you. It’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning and the last thing that stays with him before he goes to sleep. He’s helplessly taken by you and so he stares, every day, all day, refusing to allow you out of his sight when you are nearby.

And the day you run into him alone, accidentally stepping into his path and catching his eyes, he stammers, so damn nervous to be around you yet dreading the thought of you out of touch. You look up at him intensely, (e/c) eyes swimming in his own, and it’s the first time he can’t keep his eyes steady. He’s looking everywhere, at the sky, the ground, his feet, before they can stay on yours. 

His heart is hammering in his ears again, his face a tomato, and his brows knitted as though he is troubled. You continue to look at him closely, an unreadable emotion in your eye that draws you forward, that motivates you to grab his face abruptly, palms holding his cheeks as you pull him down to press your lips to his.

Choso’s eyes go wide, hands shaking as they hover over your hands in shock, thrown completely by your sudden contact. You pull away just as quickly as you kiss him, cloudy, blown pupils boring into his to search for some sort of reaction. He’s looking at you now, as he always does, but only this time, he’s up close. His lips are parted as he processes what has just happened, cold due to the re-established distance from you. He’s breathing heavily, your proximity to him and touch on his face threatening to burn him with how hot he’s getting.

He can’t think, flustered, but then his body is moving before his mind and his hands are grabbing your waist, the very same waist he has spent months gawking at from afar. He feels your hips within his palms, his dream manifesting into reality, and pulls your lips back to his. 

He’s moaning softly when you kiss again, allowing you to take the lead as your sweltering lips swim intoxicatingly against his, your arms winding around his neck as you tug him into you, mouths molded in sloppy connection. Choso’s a mess, hands massaging all over every part of you he can find, bunching your shirt up into his hands then soothing his palms beneath the fabric, rubbing gratefully over the curves in your bare spine. You curl into him, tilting your head, breaking away momentarily to breathe heatedly against each other’s mouths before crashing back in, pressing deeper, grasping harder.

Choso’s messy, grunts of desperation sinking into your mouth as he kisses you, chases and savors the taste of you that he never believed he’d get to experience. He doesn’t know what he’s doing himself, but his body seems to understand as he steps you backward blindly and presses you harshly against the brick of the nearby build, smothering you with his weight as your fingers tangle into his hair. 

You bite gently at his bottom lip and he groans, your tongue slipping eagerly into his wet cavern and tangling against his, rubbing tenderly and intertwining as if your souls are meant to touch. Choso’s body is aching with desire, skin balmy and face scrunched with intensity as he sinks into you, feeling you, holding you, relishing in you. You’re everywhere, in his hair, against his chest, your scent on his skin, and you kiss him like you need him to breathe, a nasty clash of teeth and tongue and saliva mixing into each other. He didn’t realize you could feel like this, so hot and assertive in your attack on his mouth when you’ve always been so tame. 

He loves it. He loves it, he needs it. He needs you. He loves you.

When you pull away, he’s chasing you, your head knocking back against the brick and his half lidded eyes opening to reveal heavy violet hues. You look over his face, stroking the back of his neck as the two of you breath heavily against each other, noses brushing and spit glossing your lips. You break into a breathless grin, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy with passion. Choso can’t even think, for the only thing on his mind is the vision of you in his arms, the feeling of you against him, and he’s mesmerized.

You bring your hand to swipe a thumb over his bottom, red, kiss swollen lip. He gazes at you fondly, hands sliding up and down your sides. You giggle softly, eyes lighting with the same light he saw in you upon first encounter.

“I was hoping you had been staring at me so much for a reason,” you whisper with an exhale, eyes creasing with a beam.

[manikas-whims]

request for LADS

what if u have to fake date the guys for some reason but its starts becomin difficult for ur heart cuz you start catching feelings

thank you 🙏

thanks for this request! ♡ i went a lil overboard with this LOL. WARNING ⚠️ long post..

Fake Dating the Love and Deepspace men but you start catching feelings

ZAYNE

❄️ Tara keeps trying to set you up with one of her colleagues, and no matter how subtle she acts about it, you're getting tired of it. Thus, you come to this decision! You request Zayne to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

❄️ The matter of his own feelings aside, Zayne just thinks that fake dating someone to avoid potential dates is incredibly crazy. “You can simply ask your friend to stop.”

❄️ His suggestion is baffling. You feel like an idiot for ignoring the obvious solution. But only a moment later realize that even asking her to stop won't likely deter Tara. At least not until she sees you with a person better than any of her chosen candidates.

❄️ So you decide to let go of the little self-respect you have and beg Zayne to do this for you. He is amused by this ridiculous proposition but agrees nonetheless since he can never really say no to you.

❄️ It's an amazing experience cause Zayne is the perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for— handsome, smart, caring, strict when needed, protective and very accommodating.

❄️ The first time Tara meets him, her eyes literally glow with admiration. And she pats your back like a proud aunt, winking suggestively as she does so.

❄️ However, Zayne has always been great at adapting to the situations at hand and soon your arrangement starts becoming a bit of a problem for your delicate heart.

❄️ It is one thing to show him off to your colleagues. But Zayne has started doing stuff like dropping you home everyday after work, his only explanation being “that's what he would do if he was your REAL boyfriend”.

❄️ And this isn't all. He's taking breaks in the afternoon to have lunch with you everyday and make sure you don't miss any meals. He slips your hand inside his coat pocket on particularly colder days. He even focuses on the little things like wiping a coffee stain from your bottom lip or gently pushing the stray strands of hair behind your ear. All this while, his explanation is: it's what he would do if he were your real boyfriend. And you aren't sure your heart will manage long if this goes on.

❄️ The real issue arises when one of your colleagues point out how they've never seen you kiss. And this makes Tara perk-up too.

❄️ In your defense, you spout some nonsense about how Zayne is kinda shy by nature and doesn't believe in PDA much. “When we're alone, he's very passionate.”

❄️ This leads to Tara and a bunch of colleagues secretly tailing you when Zayne comes to pick you up one evening. For they also wanna see this passionate side of him.

❄️ “Um..Zayne, can we kiss?” You whisper, your eyes averted, and fingers fiddling in nervousness. Its not that you are worried about the "kissing" part. Thats easy. You are actually worried about kissing Zayne.

❄️ As for Zayne, he is confused and shocked at first. Even blushes a little. But thanks to his perceptive nature, he quickly spots your colleagues and understands.

❄️ So as you clumsily teeter closer to him and raise yourself on your feet to reach his height, he chuckles at your efforts as well as the pained expression on your face.

❄️ “Relax.” He commands and magically, his words do calm your nerves a little.

❄️ He smiles then, his big arms wrapping smoothly around your waist as he lowers his head and lets his lips gently linger against yours, igniting a desire within you.

❄️ When he finally pulls back moments later, you nearly loose your footing.

❄️ This is it. The last shred of your sanity blown away. It may have only been a few moments but the kiss leaves an impact on you. Your heart can't take it anymore. Because you enjoyed the kiss more than you should have. And its made you realise that you may have actual feelings for Zayne.

XAVIER

⭐ There's this creepy resident at your apartment complex who's been trying to make moves on you but he's just been so nice and subtle about it that you have no idea how to turn him down. Thus, instead of that, you ask Xavier to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

⭐ “This doesn't seem like a good idea.” He says, hesitantly scratching his cheek.

⭐ Xavier also believes beating the shit out of the guy is a better option, and a permanent solution. But again, you can't do that because the guy hasn't actually done anything threatening or concerning. Thus, any sort of unwarranted violence against such a guy will only result in more problems for Xavier and You.

⭐ So Xavier sighs, and nods with a smile. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”

⭐ “Just do things only a boyfriend would do whenever that guy is around.” You tell him and he nods.

⭐ And so it starts with you dragging Xavier out for morning laps and evening walks around the complex, and you always make sure to hold onto Xavier's arm whenever you spot the strange guy.

⭐ But as the days go by, you sense as if Xavier may be a little too good at his new job.

⭐ One evening as you are working out at the gym on the top floor of the apartment complex, the guy walks in and approaches you. To your annoyance, he begins his usual small talk. But he's barely strung two words together when you feel the warmth of a hand gliding along your waist.

⭐ You look up to find Xavier, his clothes sweaty from workout. He tucks his chin on top off your head, his arm around your waist tightening ever so slightly. “Do you know this guy?”

⭐ It takes a moment for you to realise you're gawking! At the same guy you had asked to pretend to be your boyfriend. And it's not just his fingers stroking circles on your belly but also the way his voice sounds more intimate!??

⭐ Quickly, you compose yourself and stammer a response. “N-Not really. He's a resident just like us.”

⭐ And with that said, you're being steered out of the gym, Xavier's arm never leaving your waist.

⭐ Ever since you've known him, he rarely breaches your personal space without permission. A gentleman through and through. It's you who's been messing with his hair, squishing his cheeks and poking his chest to tease him all this time.

⭐ But ever since you asked him to play boyfriend, he's the one initiating skinship at the most unexpected moments. It's as if this fake dating arrangement has given him a free pass to do everything he usually holds back from.

⭐ Now he holds your hand whenever you're walking together, idly plays with your hair strands when hanging out at your place, and ALWAYS makes sure his arms are around your waist or face nuzzling your neck in the presence of that strange guy.

⭐ You may have been the one who requested him to do this but you aren't so sure about this whole thing anymore.

⭐ A few weeks have passed but the guy is persistent. Now he's always trying to find you when he's sure Xavier won't be around.

⭐ “It's not working. We need to do something more convincing.” You say in a deflated tone. You and Xavier are standing in the hallway of your floor, having just returned from a mission.

⭐ And that creep is lurking at the end of the floor by the elevator, waiting for Xavier to leave so he can ask you out yet again.

⭐ Xavier tucks a hand under his chin, his nose scrunching in thought. “Something more you say..”

⭐ Then in the very next moment, he pushes you against your own apartment door, a hand coming to rest upon it to keep you in place; his other hand gently cradles your face, arching it slightly before he presses his lips against your own.

⭐ Only a moment later he pulls away, then kisses you again. This time with more fervor than needed to fake it. And when he breaks the kiss again, his lips gravitate towards your neck.

⭐ “Xa..Xavier..?” You're stunned. You're not even sure how you are meant to react.

⭐ Xavier pushes away from you slightly and turns his head, his gaze directed right at the strange man. “She’s mine.” He asserts.

⭐ The man is as shocked as you are and immediately runs away.

⭐ Xavier looks back at you and flashes his usual soft smile. “This should convince him enough.”

⭐ Seriously!? Who cares about that guy anymore? Your heart is the most convinced that you may possibly be falling for Xavier.

RAFAYEL

🌊 “Miss Bodyguard, would you like to date me?” Rafayel asks one day out of the blue, and you are left feeling equal parts flustered and confused because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

🌊 He enjoys watching you trying to act nonchalant when your fidgety movements and flushed cheeks clearly tell him otherwise.

🌊 Finally he explains how he has accumulated quite the fanbase, thanks to not just his art but his gorgeous looks. And now these same loving fans are becoming slightly toxic with how they stalk him around, making it impossible for him to even go out in peace. Aa such, he wants to promote you from the position of his bodyguard to fake girlfriend.

🌊 You don't like the sound of it. You can already smell trouble from afar but you know he'll keep pestering until you relent. So you agree to it in the end.

🌊 Only later you realise what you've actually gotten yourself into.

🌊 Rafayel is already kinda clingy by nature but now that you've agreed to his dating charade, he's fully taking advantage of it.

🌊 Everytime he drags you out to a public spot, he makes sure that the two of you hold hands. And rather than going to places that may inspire him for his paintings, he drags you to expensive fashion brands stores.

🌊 Even as you refuse to let him buy any of it, he makes you try on the outfits for hours, making you turn this way and that, asking you to pose in specific ways as he snaps numerous photographs (which he'll definitely use as reference for his portraits of you). And just when you think it's over with all the fancy clothes, he makes you try on footwear next.

🌊 He's also buying you all these gifts you never asked for. He's basically spoiling you with things you can't otherwise afford.

🌊 He's also posting a lot of cringe yet cutesy couple photos with you on his social media accounts.

🌊 And you may not admit it but you are beginning to enjoy being spoilt like this.

🌊 Weeks pass without you even realising. This arrangement is becoming more and more dangerous for your heart. Because lets be honest Rafayel may be enjoying playing around with you like this but the same can't be said for you. You know that if this goes on any longer, your heart is bound to make space for him.

🌊 “How much longer do we need to keep this up?” You ask one day.

🌊 He merely winks at you. “Just a little longer.”

🌊 You try your best to keep your emotions in check. You just need to endure him and his charm for a little longer. Heck! You kill wanderers for a living so the matters of heart shouldn't be anymore difficult than that. Right? Right?

🌊 Oh how foolish you are.

🌊 It happens during a private gala Rafayel is invited to and of course as his “girlfriend”, you're supposed to go with him.

🌊 That, and the other reason being this crazy musician who will be there. Apparently she's been hitting on Rafayel for a while now, and your appearance may finally make her retreat.

🌊 So there, amidst the crowd of snobbish strangers, Rafayel asks you for a dance. And in the dim glow of the hall, paired with a slow, romantic tune, he feels closer than he is. And it happens..your resolve falters.

🌊 He wiggles a brow towards the corner of the room, and surely enough, you spot the aforementioned crazy musician. Indeed, she doesn't seem very happy with the way Rafayel has his arms around you.

🌊 And to deliberately spur her further, he lowers his head. His breath is ticklish along your skin as he whispers in your ear. “You’ve moved along quite well to my tune. You're a good dancer.”

🌊 For some reason, you don't like those words. Rafayel complimenting you so freely cannot be a good sign.

🌊 “Just endure a little longer, Miss Bodyguard. Tonight will be the last run of this charade.”

🌊 Then he tucks a lose strand of hair behind your ear and leans his face in, his lips gently brushing along yours before pressing harder.

🌊 The kiss is slow and lingering, just like the song being played. But it seems that the moment you begin to give in and truly relish it, the moment ends. He pulls away and smiles.

🌊 Yet you can't muster enough strength to smile back for its happened. Your resolve is broken. Your heart has already reserved the best spot for him. And you aren't ready to let go of this charade any time soon..

i have 4-5 more LADS requests to finish. i'm working on them and will post them soon ✌️😊

THANKS FOR READING ♡

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

[latenightdaydreams]

Hiiii! I really adore your writing and I’ve literally binged all of it 💕💕💕💕

I was wondering if you could do a story on Loser/Nerd! König kinda like tutor but it’s a girl who asks for help who generally has a crush on him and adores him and she’s all sweet and kind to him. Like all lovey dovey and affectionate!

I hope you have a good day!!!!💕💕💕💕

Thank you!! 💖💖

Nerd!König X Soft!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, v-card loss

2.5k word count

📖

.

.

You sit in class and look over at König, the tall Austrian student that recently moved here. His blonde hair is always unkept and his eyes tired. There is an aura about him that pulls you to him like a magnet. While he tries to appear stoic and mysterious, you see him casually peering over at you. A curious look in his eyes as he analyzes you.

Both of your eyes meet for a split second before he spins his head, looking back at the whiteboard. Your gaze lingers before you look straight ahead as well. Once class ends, König stands quickly, his long legs assisting him in fleeing the lecture hall quickly. You watch, blinking, as he fades away into the hall.

It’s right after statistics class, so you knew he’d be going to the library to work on the assignments we’ve been given; assignments you need his help with. That’s not the only reason you want to find him though…

With one deep breath, you decide to go through with your plan and approach König. You walk casually though campus as you mentally hyper yourself up. Other than sharing glances, you’ve not talked to König. What if you simply forget how to speak?

König sits with his air pods in while he works on equations using his iPad. Despite being nearly seven feet tall, he tries his hardest to go unnoticed; sitting in the back corner of the library. He is unaware that he has eyes on him, your eyes.

His sky-blue eyes look up and meet yours as you approach him. König looks around. Maybe you’re meaning to approach someone else? Even lost in confusion, he can’t resist but to glance at your body as you walk. You’re shaped perfectly, exactly his type. The fluid motion of your curves and breasts bouncing pulls him in. Then you stop right in front of him. With one hand, he takes an air pod out and places it back into the case.

“Hi!” You struggle to conceal the delight on your face as you finally get to speak to König.

“H-hallo.” König looks confused. Are you going to yell at him for always checking you out?

His accent is so dreamy. You think to yourself.

“I’m y/n. We have the same math class together.”

“Ja, I know who you are.” He sits back, wondering what this is about. The struggle to keep his gaze above the neck is real.

Without saying anything, you pull a chair next to him and sit. He looks down at your small size as you sit there. The tension in the air between you two is so thick you could feel it consume the surrounding room both.

“I was wondering um—” A rush of nervousness floods through you. “I know you’re amazing at statistics. Incredibly smart.”

Your sentence pauses as you take a moment to get lost in his eyes. The way you are gazing at him is as if you’ve already fallen in love. His cheeks go red as he looks at you.

“Well, I guess I just wanted to ask if you’d have time to tutor me?”

König let your question hang in the air for a few seconds as he looked at you. Have you always looked at him like this? He realizes he wouldn’t know because he avoids eye contact with you. Maybe tutoring wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I can.” He says simply trying to not let it show how excited he was to spend time with you.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I am—”

“I’ll be by your dorm room by noon.” You say with a large smile and turn to walk away.

König just sits there with his mouth hanging open as you walk away from him. A thousand thoughts running through his mind all at once. He quickly packs up his bags and goes to his dorm to clean it up for your arrival; he doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob.

The next day at 11:59 am, you knock on his door. When König answers you smile up at him and hold out a Tupperware container. He gazes down at you and cautiously grabs it from your hands as he steps aside to let you in.

“They’re homemade Jelly Donuts. I saw in Austria they’re really popular so I figured it would make a nice thank you gift.” Your voice is cheery, hoping he likes them.

König’s eyes light up as he opens the container to see six donuts carefully lined up and dusted with powdered sugar. He picks one up and takes a bite. His eyes flutter closed and he nods, enjoying the sweet apricot jam in the middle.

You can’t help but to smile as you watch him enjoying himself. A light dusting of powdered sugar covers his lower lip. Without a second though you use your thumb to gently glide across his lip, cleaning it for him.

“You had a little sugar.” You giggle as he looks at you. His heart thumps inside of his chest.

As he enjoys his donut your eyes look around his dorm room. König watches you as you do, feeling nervous that you might mock his collection of Gundam models that he’s spent hours building. Instead, you gravitate to one of the models of Beargguy.

“You have a Beargguy gunplay?  I think he’s so adorable! I have the pink one built.”

Did she just say gunplay? She’s perfect. He thinks to himself.

“Um yeah, I have the panda one too. I just haven’t built him yet.” König says, whipping the powdered donut dusting from his fingers onto his jeans.

“Maybe when we are done with tutoring me you can give me a tour of your models?” You smirk as you sit on his bed.

König doesn’t know what to say other than nod and agree. Dirty thoughts flood his mind as he watches you sit on his bed so casually. How would it feel to touch your skin? Kiss your lips? He shakes his head and walks over to his iPad and textbooks so he can start tutoring you.

He sits on his bed next to you, his knee bumps with yours, causing you to feel a rush of excitement being so close to him. The same rush travels through his body. There is a tension he is trying to ignore as he fumbles open his iPad.

As he does, your eyes are glued to his face. His blue eyes look stunning as they read over notes on the screen in front of him. Your eyes watch as he uses his fingers to scroll and tap. Without a second thought, you reach your smaller hand over to his knee and rub.

König’s eyes drift from the screen down to your hand on his. He swallows, but there is no movement to push your hand away, but there is a rush of heat to his groin. Finally, he turns his head, his blue eyes gazing into your eyes.

“I think you’re really amazing.” You say in a soft tone while being physically more forward.

König turns to you, his eyes roaming up and down your body before coming back to your face. This is his moment, the change he’s been waiting for. His hand comes up and cradles your face in his hand. The feeling of your hand moving up from his knee to his thigh causes his cock to get hard. A girl has never touched him this way.

His blue eyes darken as his pupils expand from arousal. You lean in and kiss his lips gently at first, waiting to see if he will reject you. As you pull back from the kiss, you look at König, awaiting his reaction.

König leans in and kisses you again. His kiss is needy, instantly opening his mouth against yours. You reciprocate and open your mouth, your tongue reaching out to swirl around his. A low guttural groan leaves his lips as your hand reaches for his erection. He pulls back from the kiss to look down at your hand as you grab him over the fabric of his jeans and jerk him slightly.

“Y/n…” He moans before kissing you again.

You kiss him back before pulling away and kiss his neck, gently licking his pale skin. It only adds to the euphoric feeling of you touching his cock. His hands go to his jeans and unzip them, releasing his leaky cock for you to grab.

A soft moan leaves his lips as he feels your smaller hand wrap around his shaft. He gazes down as you pull his foreskin back, jerking him off. Little droplets of precum trail down onto your hands, acting like lubrication and assisting in your motions.

“Your cock is so fucking big.” You whisper as you drop to your knees in front of him.

His eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, he can feel his cock twitch as you kneel in front of him. Your hand moves down to the base of his shaft as you lean forward to put the head of his cock in your mouth.

You suck lightly, eyes meeting König’s to watch his reaction. As you lower your head down further on his cock, König lets out a whimper. He tosses his iPad aside to get comfortable as you suck off his cock. He gently runs his fingers through your hair before grabbing slightly. He gently helps you through the motion, bobbing your head on his cock for you.

Loud sucking sounds fill the room, like music to his ears. He watches as spit forms at the corners of your mouth and spills down his cock. Your full lips wrap so perfectly around him. He lets out a shaky breath as he drops his head back. You let out a soft moan on his cock, the hum vibrating through him.

You pull your head back with a pop off of his cock, eagerly your tongue runs up and down his erection. His hand moves away from your head as he leans back on the bed.

“I want to fuck you…” He whispers, almost as if he didn’t really mean for you to hear him. You did.

Without a second thought you stand up and begin to strip your clothing off. König’s eyes widen as you do. He feels like now he should be honest with you because what if he’s bad?

“I’m…I’ve never been with someone before.”

“That’s okay, I can teach you.” A small smile of pride on your face for being his first intimate experience.

König follows your lead and undresses completely. You haze over his body, slightly chubby but you can tell he’s extremely strong. He stands looking over your naked body, his eyes zeroing in on the small bush covering the mound of your cunt.

“How…do we start?”

“We can start simple. Do you want me to ride you or you on top?”

His eyes move as if he is deep in thought. The idea of watching your breasts bounce wild as you ride him sounds amazing, but he’d probably cum faster from the visuals mixed with the pleasure. “I want to be on top.”

“Okay.” You crawl on the bed, ass up in the air as you go to his pillows and lay down.

König moves on to the bed with you, his enormous frame approaching yours. His eyes drop down between your legs as he kneels in front of you on the bed. A pussy. Your pussy. He’s always wanted to know what you smell like, taste life. He lowers himself slightly while his hands pull your legs apart more.

König flicks his tongue out and licks your folds lightly. His eyes dart up to yours to see your reaction. You nod, encouraging him. He presses his face closer and takes a longer swipe with his tongue and…my god. After one taste, he couldn’t stop. Not a thought in his mind as he buries his face between your pussy lips, lapping at your folds and missing your clit.

“Go up more.” You instruct him. “Like the little hood area.”

He moves his tongue up, flicking it quickly. Your eyes flutter and legs begin to twitch. König realizes he’s making you feel good. It excites him like no other. He doesn’t stop as soft moans begin to leave your lips freely. His eyes stay locked on yours as his lips begin to thrust into the mattress beneath him to get friction.

“You taste so sweet.” He says quickly before diving back down between your thighs.

A small smirk appears on your lips before another moan comes out. You gaze down at him and comb your fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well.” The way you say it with a tone of desire lights the fire within him.

“I’m sorry, I want to feel you so badly.” He says as he pulls away from your core and moves his body between your legs.

He rubs the head of his cock along your folds and feels himself shutter at the feeling of your warmth and wetness. His eyes are down gazing at your folds spread open for him. He leans down and kisses your breast shyly before kissing your lips.

“Can I—”

“Yes.”

König gazes back down at your pussy as he watches his cock get swallowed by your cunt squeezing him. His eyebrows pinch from the orgasmic feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him. A loud moan escapes his throat as he fully shoves his cock into you.

“Oh fuck!” He groans loudly as he pulls back and slams into you again.

The feeling he’s giving you is euphoric as you gaze up into his eyes. He watches as your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his motions. A melody of pleasure leaves your lips encouraging his speed to quicken.

He gazes down at the creamy streaks your sweet pussy is leaving behind and his cock. You look like a perfect angel beneath him. The look of pleasure on your beautiful face is something he wishes to see over and over.

“König!” You moan out as your nails dig into his arms.

Hearing you moan out his name was just too much. König leans back and grabs your legs, spreading them wide apart. He thrust into you quickly, losing his rhythm and just chasing his orgasm that’s quickly building.

With one final hard thrust, he slams into you and leans over your back. His lips needily finding yours, kissing you as he cums into your pussy. You can feel his cock throbbing as you rock your hips against his. König pants and rests his heavy body on yours, pressing you into the mattress.

“I’m sorry…” he says panting, “I didn’t make you cum.”

“It’s okay.” You kiss his neck and caress his sweaty back. “It was your first time.”

He shakes his head, pulling out. “I want to make you cum.”

König looks into your eyes as he parts your legs and drops onto his stomach. With the adrenaline of having just lost his virginity, he takes his time this time. He kisses down your thighs, softly biting your supple flesh. His eyes drawn to his white cum leaking out of you.

“You’re so perfect.” König says to you as his lips get closer to your cunt. “Be mine. Bitte.”  

[cinnabooonn]

nagi seishiro — 09:01 pm.

everytime you come over, nagi seishiro has the habit of lying in your lap as you twirl a strand of his hair in your fingers.

it could be for just five minutes, or as long as one hour, but he needs to.

needless to say, the same thing happens when he is the one coming over to your house.

you've asked him about this, once. he said it was simply a whim he had, a way to recharge and feel less drained.

but you know there's more to it, you can feel it.

truth be told, nagi's never lacked anything. everything he wanted, he got. he started to think of life as boring, nothing captured his attention or interest anymore.

but then came you.

you weren't supposed to be in the picture. you weren't supposed to drag him away from the monotony. he was sure he'd get tired of you pretty soon, but still chose to indulge you.

he felt enamored by the way you carry yourself everytime he sees you, he loved the sparkle in your eyes when you saw him, he just... he wasn't bored of his life anymore, now that you were in it.

so, yeah, the true reason for his lying in your lap, was simple. it was the only time the two of you sat in silence and he could have you all to himself, no one to disturb that intimate moment, as your souls spoke words you couldn't.

nagi truly loved you, surprisingly. he wished he could whisk you away from the world, keep you all to himself and give you everything you wanted.

because you, you gave him all he needed, and he is truly grateful, although he wears the same expression of boredom on his face.

it's in his eyes, they are warmed by the affection he holds for you.

“nagi?” you break the silence wrapped around you two. it's way past four in the afternoon, and nagi has been in the same position for over half an hour.

you thought he'd fallen asleep, that's why you try to wake him up.

“mhm?” he says in a muffled voice, his eyelids still closed but his head more pressed to your abdomen.

“it's nothing,” you say, a small curve adorning your lips as your hand keeps running through his soft locks, slightly grazing at the skin of his forehead, till it reaches the slight bump of his nose.

“how can i love him so much,” you mutter unaudibly, admiring his long lashes and face features, feeling an unsizeable amount of affection bloom in your heart at the sight of your other half.

nagi sits up in a jiff, prints a quick kiss to your lips, leaving you dumbfounded and gets up, hurrying to put his shoes before even uttering a single word.

“got training,” he explains shortly, failing to meet your confused gaze, as he sprints out of the room so that you don't see the pink shading his cheeks caused by your whispered words.

yes, nagi seishiro truly loved you.

© cinnabooonn — 2024 / this work strictly belongs to its owner, you are prohibited from plagiarising, copying, translating on any other platform.

[heartldr]

Evergreen

synopsis he finds you exhausted on his bed after a long day of preparing for your exams

warnings none, its all tooth rotting fluff

notes i love mattheo riddle i wish boys with curly brown hair and puppy dog eyes would exist

It was a cold November evening. The constant murmur of the lake and the soft candle lights made the atmosphere scenic. The rich, deep green comforters paired nicely with the silvery walls and other furniture. You honestly preferred the Slytherin colors to your blue ones. 

You were studying in his room, while Mattheo was at quidditch practice. Your final exams were coming up and stress consumed your entire being. It reflected on your overall look as you had greasy hair, eye bags, and breakouts. You felt like you’ve never looked worse.

When he came back from practice, he saw you, sitting on his bed, fully immersed in your studies, occasionally mumbling potion steps that you had a hard time memorizing as you mindlessly played with your wand. 

A small smile spread across his lips as he took in the scene. You always looked beautiful, but right now you were glowing to him. He felt like all the candle lights burned just to illuminate you. 

He often made parallels between you and an evergreen. Unlike the other trees, whose leaves changed with the seasons, evergreen’s stood tall and beautiful throughout the whole year. 

You were his evergreen. The only constant point throughout his chaos. Mattheo felt like he would never be able to express just how much he appreciated you being in his life.

The mere fact that you were his, and only his crossed his mind daily and left him feeling giddy. Beaty, smarts, kindness, curiosity, an open mind and heart, he could honestly go on, you’ve got it all.

Mattheo walked up behind you and hugged you, resting his head on your shoulders. He took in your scent and let out an exhausted sigh. 

“Hello gorgeous,” he muttered and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

You instinctively relaxed into his touch and leaned back into him. You blushed at the pet name and turned around to properly embrace him which he immediately returned holding you tightly. Hugging him felt like someone took the weight off your shoulders. He was your little island you could seek comfort in. 

“You smell nauseatingly sweaty,” you chuckled as your fingers found his curls and started a familiar dance with them. 

He smiled into your hair and pulled back to look at your face. 

“Just wanted to say hi first,” his hands brushed your stray hairs back and examined you. “You look exhausted, how long have you been studying for?” His tone sounded concerned as his dark eyes met yours. You could swear they sparkled. 

“I’m fine, it hasn’t even been that long,” she smiled and pressed a quick kiss on his palm that cupped her face. 

He gave her his signature oh really? look and shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. I found you buried in your books this morning, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t moved an inch since you came over to my room. Look, there’s a perfect dent where you sat on the bed,” he pointed out with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes at the last comment. “Time flies when you’re having fun?” You offered a sarcastic remark with an awfully tired tone and smile. You sighed and leaned back onto him. “Sorry, I’ll wrap up in a second. I just need to do good on this exam,” you muttered into his collar bones.

He nodded in understanding and placed a kiss on your forehead. “I get that, but you also need to rest. All your efforts will be futile if you don’t.” He took a second to think about what to say next. “What do you say you finish for the day, hm? I’ll take a quick shower and we can talk about this more if you want.”

You hesitantly nodded in agreement to which he flashed you a smile. Mattheo got up and disappeared in the bathroom.

When he reappeared ten minutes later, he found you dozing off over the textbook. He rolled his eyes and smiled to himself as he walked back to his bed. “Now, now, what did we talk about?”

Mattheo gently closed your books and put them on the nightstand. 

You murmured something in protest instinctively reaching for them, but in return, all you got was a lovesick grin and gentle reassurances of more time for studying tomorrow. Mattheo guided you upwards on the bed to put you under the covers with soft kisses and hushed instructions. 

He was so soft and delicate with you. It was your favorite part about him. Only you got to see this side of his. The way he treated other people in his life and the way he treated you? Poles apart. Sure, he gave you his sarcastic and teasing side, but never his aggressive one. He was acutely aware of his reputation and made sure that you never saw him when his anger got the best of him.

After fights, he would seek you out for helping with his wounds and constantly assure you that he’s okay and you shouldn’t worry about him, he knows what he’s doing. 

Once he managed to make you comfortable, he slid next to you, draping an arm around your waist as you subconsciously scooted closer to him and your back met his chest. 

He purred your name and whispered you a good night almost like a lullaby. 

As you drifted off into a deep sleep in his strong arms, you felt like you would never be able to tell him how much he meant to you. How much you appreciate him and how much love you had for him.

ⓘ my last few exams are coming up and i just needed to get this out of my system. also this started as a slytherin boys react thing but im just so in love with this man that i didn’t even realize i’ve been yapping about him for 900 something words.

[thisonehere]

Bi-Han falls alseep on you lap

Mk Headconans

A/n: Something long overdue since the first headcanons and the poll. Here it is, late as hell too. Sorry about that, I was really busy with requests. Anyways, let's enjoy the idea of ever getting to such a fine man lol

C/w: None, fluff

Bi-Han has always been cold and unreadable. He was often silent, speaking in short sentences and mean mugging everyone at all times. The only time he ever expressed his feelings was whenever he lost his temper and lashed out at people. Though he had this rough and cold hearted exterior, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to him than what he presented.

As fate would have it, you'd find out tonight.

It was late at night, you found yourself sitting alone next to Bi-Han. Why? You can't even remember, your heart was racing so fast that you couldn't even concentrate.

You weren't just scared of Bi-Han, you sort of had a lil'bit of a crush on him. So sitting so close to him left you in a state of abashment. It was a struggle to not look at his face, but you accidentally stole a few glances here and there.

He was so handsome, and so tired. He had bags under his eyes and yawned a few times. You couldn't help but wonder when was the last time the man even slept. No doubt quite a long time ago, no doubt it was a long slumber either.

Bi-Han kept himself a busy man, refusing to rest. He was a man dedicated to his clan, and that was something you admired about him.

As the minutes went on, it became more and more apparent how tired Bi-Han was. He kept rubbing his eyes, his yawns became longer and louder, he was struggling to stay awake, often jumping in between consciousness and unconsciousness. His iron resolve was waning.

Bi-Han was upset with himself, he is the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he shouldn't let things let tiredness get the better of him. Yet here he was failing to stay conscious. What made things even worse was the fact that someone else was there to witness this weakness. Worse of all, it's you witnessesing it.

Bi-Han felt strange around, he always found the need to try to be at his best around you. he wanted to impress you with his strength and dominance. So the fact that he was showing such weakness made him feel ashamed. "Bi-Han, are you all right?" You asked. "Of course I am. And it is grandmaster to you."

The battle with his eyelids gets worse and worse. He sometimes dozes off for a second and snaps back awake.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, much less construct a proper sentence, his words soon began to sky around and make less an less sense.

All the walls he constructed about him to make him seem strong slowly faded away. It seemed more and more okay to be like this around you. This was you he was talking about after all, your one of the most understanding and kindest and most beautiful people he knew, surely you wouldn't judge him.

With another yawn, Bi-Han let his mind slip for just a second and he slowly lied down...on your lap. Before you could say anything, there he was nuzzled calmly on your thighs, and you were terrified.

This is the closest you've ever been to the grandmaster, and he was even cuter like this than he is awake.

If you looked at him asleep you'd never know he was such a mean person when awake, he looked so sweet that you swore that he looked like someone else.

You didn't dare move in fear of disturbing him as he peacefully drifted off. This moment was far too special that you didn't even want to ruin it.

After some time, you decided you wanted to take a risk. You took your hand and slowly began to pet his head, Bi-Han moans softly at your touch like a cat purring. By the gods, how could such man be so awful yet adorable at the same time?

In seconds Bi-Han was snoring softly and you felt your heart melt for him. Why couldn't he be like this all the time, that would make things much more easy for everyone, especially you.

Time goes by, but you don't even notice. You were to focus on keeping Bi-Han comfortable. You kept your legs propped up in a certain way to keep him balanced, but you feared that you couldn't keep this up for much longer, you could just feel yourself get uncomfortable. But you'll at least try to keep this up as long as possible.

As you softly stroked his head, you couldn't help but wonder just...why? Why did Bi-Han do this? Of all the places he could've rested his head, he chose to rest it on you. He couldn't have liked you, could he?

Oh, how your heart would explode if he ever confessed that he liked you the same way you liked him. It would be the greatest moment in all you life...you shake your head to get rid of this nonsense. You being ridiculous. Surely Bi-Han doesn't feel any such way about you....right?

You get lost in your thoughts, and in those moments you shift your legs just a little. Waking Bi-Han up in seconds. Figures an elite assassin would be such a light sleeper.

His head jumps up in and in that moment you see another part of him for the first time: fear. "What are you doing?! What happened?!?" His eyes darted form yo and down as he realizes what just happened, his cheeks begin to flush in embarrassment. He frantically looked around, he was spraying that not a single soul saw him doing such a thing.

Once he realizes that no one was around he breathes a sigh of relief. "Tell not a single soul about this okay, Y/n? O-or else I-I will punish you! I will do it!" He threatens, but you could just hear it in his voice that he was scared and there was no true bite behind his threat.

He immediately jumps up and speeds away to the door, but before exits he looks back to you. A slight longing is in his eyes, wishing that he could go back to resting in your lap. "Get some sleep, Y/n, We'll start up again in the morning." You just nod your head, "Good night, Bi-Han." You say with you kind smile

Bi-Han nods back, "Good night, Y/n." He struggles to smile back. And at that, you both went to sleep blushing.

[bunnivez]

hiii!!! is it okay if i request angell nsfw or sfw head canons if thats okay with you!!

The Housewife Way

જ⁀➴ Hello Nonnie! Seems like people really took a liking to Angell after the event happened lmao (๑>؂•̀๑) I had fun writing this, especially because I finally get an excuse to make a housewife reader its so cute AAAA. Enjoy! ⟢

જ⁀➴ Warning ! … This contains both NSFW and SFW content.

It took some time for her to fully open up to you, not necessarily because she didn’t trust you but more because she wasn’t sure how to be open. She is used to being alone, interacting isn’t something she is used to, especially when expressing her emotions or sometimes thoughts.

As months passed, she felt different around you. She was more comfortable around you and every day she would try her best to come back home as soon as possible just to see you again.

Her dreams have now become just about you. In every dream, her most peaceful ones, you are always there.

If she manages to find something she thinks you’ll like during her mission; she will definitely bring it home and gift it to you, just to see your eyes light up and lips curl into a smile.

Slowly things change in the relationship. She becomes more affectionate and a bit more talkative.

However it will also take time for Angell to understand her own feelings. She has never felt such emotions, at first she thought she was sick until she came to a conclusion that what she was feeling was love. Her confession was awkward, she didn’t exactly know what to say so she just told you how she has been feeling the past few weeks.

Oh the face she made when you told her you feel the same way, her eyes lit up like a kid it was adorable.

She loves sneaking hugs behind your back as you cook or wash the dishes, she stays there for a good while just observing you.

Gifts from her are more expected, as well as many calls from her if her mission is a bit long. She wants to make sure you are home safe and that no one is trying to getting inside.

Compliments your food a lot, she loves coming home to the smell of homemade food.

Cuddle with her PLEASE, she enjoys it, it brings comfort to her. Most times she is the big spoon, but on bad days she doesn’t mind being the little spoon.

Talking about bad days, it is easy to catch up when she is upset, sometimes it can be that the missions have tired her; but the best way to make her feel better is by helping her relax first to ease her mind, then ask about her day.

Shares her makeup products with you, she can help you do your makeup and you can help her with hers <3

Angell will definitely let you do her hair, she likes the feeling of you brushing it, occasionally she will let you do a different hairstyle on her (I feel like a ponytail would look great AAA, maybe a messy bun?).

Cuddle with her on the sofa while listening to music as you watch her pet fishes swim.

I feel like stroking her hair will make her sleep faster, sometimes she will stare at you if you automatically stop— as a silent ‘please keep going’.

Usually hides her wounds from you, or just says it’s nothing and it will heal quickly. Yet she cannot deny the way her heart melts when you start to treat her cuts and wounds, it shows how much you truly care and worry about her.

Got you two matching pijamas! She thought the idea was cute and that you would like it, she has seen couples do that after all.

Whenever she can she will bring already made food from a restaurant or something, just so you can relax a bit from cooking.

Takes you to simple dates, she prefers ones at night, if not, movie nights at home it is! You two can bake together too, teach her some skills and all.

That leaded to horrible disasters by the way… she cuts stuff with her dagger, she grabs spoons like a toddler would grab a crayon and drop any mixture everywhere.

Just be patient with her.. please </3

She is into bondage, see those handcuffs? They are for YOU.

She likes using toys, she has bought a few she would like to try on you, but when the moment comes she can’t find them… She knows it’s somewhere in her closet but it is pilled up with clothes and other stuff so good luck searching.

Shower sex. There are times she comes home from a mission covered in blood, so she suggests showering with you.

This leads to.. a heated up make out, she simply can’t resist you. So before you can think, you already find yourself pinned against the tiled wall by Angell.

Like she will literally eat you out in the shower.

She enjoys riding your face, she is gentle though, grinding gently and a bit slow, but she will pick up the pace once she is close to cumming.

Her moans are sweet and a bit quiet, mostly comes out as sighs of pleasure and small noises. She isn’t really the loud type.

With her strap though? OH SHE IS A MONSTER. She will fuck fast and make sure to hit the right spots.

Places a hand on your mouth or gags you, telling you to quiet down but how can you when she literally fucks you so good?

Other times she appreciates more gentle sex. Slow, passionate, and enjoyable. She loves seeing your face turn into one of pure pleasure, and hearing your sweet moans gets her even more heated.

She will also do it on the couch, you sitting on her lap grinding on it while she desperately kisses and marks you as hers. She will whispers ‘I love you’s ’ and ‘ you’re doing so good, keep going ’.

You know what? Why not fuck you from behind while you are washing dishes too. She will bend you over and use her strap on you, her fingers, or will kneel down and eat you out.

There was this one time she ate you out on top of the dining table, saying how you are the dessert.

Aftercare is very important. She makes sure you are okay and if she hurt you in any way. She will help you clean up and brings you water or snakes if you want. Later, she will cuddle with you in bed; quietly telling you praises and giving you kisses until you two fall asleep.

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (2/3)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, kissing, sexual tension, eavesdropping, discomfort associated with the loss of an eye, remorse, doubts, anxiety, unprofessional behavior ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After filming the scene, they rose from the bed as if nothing had happened. The director complimented her acting, saying that she was able to wonderfully portray both the innocence and temptation her character evoked. She smiled at him as he unscrewed the water bottle and took a sip from it, walking towards him.

"They say the beginnings are the hardest." She said softly, looking around, waiting for the director to review again what they had managed to record and decide if anything needed to be repeated.

"Mmm." He hummed, taking another sip of water, feeling uncomfortable now that he was standing in front of her without a script, not knowing what to say.

They stood side by side in awkward silence for a while, looking at their director – he finally said that he liked everything and they would now shoot the scene where the Prince wakes her up in the middle of the night, dragging her out of her chamber after returning from Storm's End.

When he returned to his hotel room he collapsed on his bed, tired but also content. He felt ashamed that he had forgotten the line and at the same time he was grateful that his partner on set had helped him and been supportive, warm and understanding.

He didn't know how he felt about getting aroused during the scene of them kissing – he wondered where the limit of method acting was and whether he had gotten that much into his character or whether it was something else.

He decided he wouldn't think about it, and as long as they played their parts well, nothing else mattered.

The next day there was a big breakfast together in the hotel restaurant. At the table sat the director and his deputies, the writers, producers, actors, stylists and the many other people who contributed to this gigantic production.

She smiled at him from afar and waved at him, sitting at the table in her hair tied up in a braid, on her body only a T-shirt with the Pokemon logo and yellow tracksuit shorts.

He swallowed quietly, putting his hands in his trouser pockets, and sat down next to her, greeting her and everyone else along the way, unsure of how to act. Aegon sitting on the other side of the table extended his hand to him and he shook it.

"– how are you two doing? – you already have some passionate scenes behind you, right? – he's hot, isn't he? –" He asked her partner with amusement, who laughed out loud, trying to turn his question into a joke.

"– everyone here is beautiful and talented – I'm in heaven –" She said softly, deftly avoiding answering. Aegon laughed at her words and stretched in his chair, yawning loudly, losing interest in the subject.

He reached for the cheese toast, watching out of the corner of his eye as her hands placed the pancakes on her plate, which she covered next with pouring chocolate. She lifted her gaze to him and smiled at him warmly as their gazes met – he turned his face away, feeling like a mute, his heart stuck in his throat.

Why was he acting like an idiot in front of her?

It seemed to him that she took his silence as a signal that he simply wanted to eat his breakfast in peace, so she spoke animatedly to the woman to her right, Alys Rivers, who was to play the Witch of Harrenhal.

Aegon was talking to him across the table, mentioning something about their shared scene with him and Helaena. He nodded, sipping his toast with a gulp of coffee, absorbed in his thoughts, for some reason returning to their kiss.

He'd kissed many women in his career before, but this time it was something different.

He thought she was an excellent young actress.

In the following scenes they played he saw her in a gown for the first time. He thought she looked like some immortal elf in it, beautiful and light, a warm, gentle smile directed towards him on her face.

Her gown consisted of two colours – her long, floor-length sleeves were red, and the material hugging her breasts, hips and waist was light blue. Her shoulders were bare; other than that, she wore no other jewellery, her long hair falling softly down her back, accentuating her long neck.

He swallowed hard, feeling a twinge in his gut for some reason, and turned his face away, sitting down with her at the table where, together with Aegon and Helaena, they played out the scene in which the King informed them that they would be marrying for a second time, this time before the Septon.

They spent the rest of the day in the courtyard, filming shots of them meeting years later, and their conversation after they married, when the Princess came out to speak to him.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his lower abdomen at the thought of kissing her again: to his surprise, cupping her chin and placing a tender, soft kiss on her mouth came to him with ease. Her moist, fleshy lips didn't close against his caress, on the contrary, they parted invitingly, her hand tightening on his wrist.

Encouraged, though it wasn't in the script, he took a step forward and deepened the kiss, lazily brushing her soft mouth with his, her eyes closed, a quiet, sweet sigh left her mouth.

When he pulled away, he met her gaze, warm and misty, her cheeks flushed. He stroked her jaw with his thumb and she surprised him by rising on her toes, kissing the tip of his nose.

He felt his heart pound hard at the thought that this was not in the script.

However, he checked it quickly afterwards as he prepared for the next scene and saw that the director had added it as a suggestion.

He was furious with himself for feeling disappointed.

What was he thinking?

He didn't think it would be a problem for him, but he actually felt discomfort when it was time for them to play the scene where the Prince pulls off his eye patch in front of his beloved.

A new prosthetic eye was created especially for him which looked like a sapphire to represent his character well.

He was to wear it that day instead of his usual artificial left eye.

The sapphire eye was cleaned and prepared for him by the doctor who supervised, staying with him in private in the dressing room, that all was well. The very moment he closed his eyelid and opened it he felt that it was not.

Although its surface was smooth, something was wrong about its shape, rubbing his eye socket, once in a while pressing on a nerve under his skin from which shivers ran through him.

"It will take at least a few days to polish and change it."

He thought with a pursed lips that they didn't have that much time.

The shooting schedule was set to the hour.

He figured he would just get into his character's suffering more than he should.

As he walked onto the set he was met by her warm, comforting smile. He closed his eyes, clamping his fingers on the base of his nose, trying to listen in peace to what their director had to say to them.

"It's a scene of their tenderness, their closeness, at last devoid of subconscious brutality. In that one moment they reclaim each other." He said, and they nodded their heads.

In the original, this was accompanied by a sex scene, but the screenwriters decided that affectionate, passionate kissing would suffice here.

The thought that he would be able to do this to her made his heart pound like crazy, but he couldn't enjoy it: he clenched his eyes again and again, feeling discomfort.

Feeling pain.

For some reason, he thought he deserved it for his inability to be professional, for what they were doing was out of his control.

Rhaenys sat down on the desk and he stepped in front of her, between her thighs, her dark blue dress with exposed shoulders and sleeves reaching the ground perfectly accentuated her graceful figure.

She smiled, placing her hands on his shoulders, his fingers involuntarily running over her waist.

"Action!"

He took a step towards her, cupping her face in his hands, trying to focus only on her gentle gaze, only on her warm breath, only on how soft her skin was, instead of the fact that pain was filling his skull.

"Rhaenys." He whispered tenderly, pleadingly – the discomfort he felt made his words resound as if he was in pain – in pain because of the fact that they were separate.

She blinked, surprised and somehow touched, clearly appreciating his acting, which was only a matter of coincidence. She lifted her hand to his eye patch and he grabbed her wrist violently, her breath stuck in her throat.

"No." He said coldly and closed his eyes, feeling the pain as if a bolt of electricity surged through the left side of his face.

"You're my husband. That's enough." She whispered, wanting to soften her words by taking his face in her hands, making him involuntarily moan in pain. She let go of him, terrified.

"Are you okay?" She asked leaning over him and he nodded his head.

"What's going on?" The director asked them. "We're going to have to repeat the whole scene."

Fuck.

"Are you in pain? Please tell me." She whispered pleadingly and he shook his head.

"No. No, I….FUCK!" He hissed, leaning over, clasping his hand over the left side of his face, feeling such excruciating ache that he felt like ripping off his skin and tearing out all the nerves that were there.

"Call a doctor, he is in pain!" She called out, startling him by pulling the eye patch off his face. He heard her sigh in horror and cover her mouth with her hand, his stomach clenched in discomfort at the thought.

That she saw it.

That she felt disgusted.

"My God, his eye is all swollen up, what have you done to him? Can you take it out? Come." She said, taking his hand, and he walked out of the room with her like a small child, bumping into the doctor on the way.

"I warned him" He said.

"I can stay and help. If you don't mind." She said sitting down next to him on the couch in his dressing room.

He wanted to reply for her to leave, but he only groaned, unable to stand it, and as soon as the doctor had disinfected his hand he removed the sapphire prosthesis from his eye socket.

He did not know why he burst out crying.

He hid his face in his hands, feeling humiliated, thinking that the reason he had been taken for the role was because they hoped they wouldn't have to spend money on expensive CGI, but in fact he had wasted their entire day of filming.

He swallowed hard when he felt her arms embrace his head and let her lean over as she hugged him to her breasts, her pleasant scent, her warm hands stroking his jaw and back.

"Leave us alone for a moment." He heard her voice. The man nodded and said he would fetch an ointment that should soothe the abrasions.

"It would be best if you didn't wear your artificial eye today and let your eye socket rest." The man said.

"Get the FUCK out!" He growled, closing his eyes, thinking it was wonderful news, going around the set with an empty eye.

He thought it was the worst day of his life.

He swallowed hard as her forehead pressed against the top of his head, her gentle hands stroking his face, shoulders and back giving him a feeling of comfort and security.

It was so hard for him, and she was by his side.

"I admire you for holding out for so long. They should have checked that the prosthesis fit earlier, not on the day of filming. It's the production's fault and the director knows that. I'm sure he appreciates your commitment and will reorganise the work." She whispered calmly, as if she wanted to comfort him, and indeed, her words made him feel relieved.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"Don't apologise."

"Can I lay my head on your lap?" He asked in a trembling voice, wondering if his request was disrespectful.

He just wanted to close his eyes for a moment and relax.

"Yes. Yes, of course, come here." She said, turning so that he could lie down.

He turned his head so that she couldn't see his left eye socket and rested his cheek on her thighs, placing his hand on her knee. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly when he felt one of her hands on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin.

There was complete silence between them.

"I got really attached to you, you know? I hope we still keep in touch after the shooting." She whispered making him swallow hard, cold sweat trickling down his neck as he felt his manhood react to her words with an aggressive throbbing.

"Yes." He muttered. "Yes, me too."

He spent the evening in the hotel bar, meant for guests only, feeling reasonably safe there, wanting to ease his mind a little, wearing a thin bandage over his left eye that allowed air to pass through.

He resented himself for being unprofessional, for having his real feelings mixed up with what he was supposed to be playing as a Prince character.

For the first time, he doubted whether he should really be an actor.

His grandfather surprised him by walking up to him from behind, patting him on the back.

"Don't worry about the issue with the artificial eye: it was their fault and the director came to me to apologise for the prosthesis not being tested earlier. You both do a wonderful job on set. The chemistry between you two is palpable and it shows on camera." He said, sitting down next to him at the bar table.

He pressed his lips together at his words, wondering if he should confide in him.

"I don't know myself. I'm confused." He confessed, embarrassed. His grandfather looked at him in surprise as soon as he ordered a double whisky for himself.

"Confused? Because of that girl? It's normal. She's kind and pretty. If you're feeling desire, that's good. Turn it into your acting." He said lightly, however, making him feel not relief but discomfort in his stomach. He stared dully into his glass for a moment, feeling the aggressive pounding of his heart.

"… I'm not sure if what's going on inside my head is good." He said in a trembling voice. His grandfather hummed under his breath, taking a sip from the glass the man had placed in front of him.

"As usual, you think too much. Even if… well, something happens between you two, one or two nights, it's nothing terrible. On set it happens all the time. The tension is high and you have to find an outlet for it somewhere." He said.

He got up from his seat and just left, feeling that he had made him sick.

He didn't agree with him, and he didn't think that using her to get off sexually was a normal thing to do.

She was young, younger than him, still filled with enthusiasm and naivety.

He didn't want to be one of those men who would take advantage of that, seduce her and then leave her humiliated as soon as the shooting was over, saying it was just a fun.

He had casual sex with actresses, but never with those he worked with directly. Nothing came of it because their paths quickly diverged and he didn't have the desire or strength for a long-distance relationship.

He didn't care.

He took a shower, brushed his teeth, changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants and went to bed, trying not to think about the fact that tomorrow they were to play a scene in which he exposes her breasts.

Not all love scenes were left in the script, however, this one was one of them, because it was significant moment – their first real intimacy and reunion after years.

They knew there was enormous pressure on them. He could see it in her face the next day – also dressed in a night gown she was looking down at her fingers, stressed, not a trace of her smile and confidence from the auditions.

He approached her, for some reason feeling that he should comfort her, lift her spirits, let her know that they didn't have to rush.

"– do you want to talk about how we're going to do this? –" He asked quietly and she nodded, unable to even look him in the eye.

"– yes –" She mumbled.

"– so –" He began, feeling for some reason that his heart started pounding like crazy, his hands clenched into fists. "– I'd start with kisses first – on the lips, on the neck, on the shoulders – they're rubbing against each other in this scene because they're feeling arousal, so it would be a good idea to try and mimic similar…movements – then I'll slide your nightgown off your shoulders – we can agree that you will guide my hand yourself when you think you're ready for me to touch you there –" He said quickly, forcing himself to be calm and composed, feeling a cold sweat run down his back.

Why was he so terrified?

He saw that she swallowed hard and nodded, looking up at him and lowering her gaze quickly, red with embarrassment.

"– yes – yes, that's a good idea –" She said and looked at him, her gaze warm, comforting.

Kind.

"– how's your eye? –"

He lowered his gaze, looking down at his boots, embarrassed.

"It's better now. Thank you. For everything. I don't want you to be scared today. Tell me if you feel something is wrong. Okay?" He hummed, and she nodded quickly, giving him a grateful smile.

"– thank you – I will –"

He swallowed heavily when the director told them to take their places. He sat down in a chair and she walked over to him, looking at him questioningly. He nodded, extending his hand to her to help her up, and she sat awkwardly on his thighs. He gently placed his hand on her hip, forcing her to slide closer to his chest, just as scripted.

They both swallowed hard as his manhood pulsed between her thighs under the material of his breeches, touching the material of her flesh-coloured panties, but neither of them said anything.

"– we will take it slow – okay? –" He encouraged her, gently cupping her cheek in his hand, bringing her face close to his. She nodded and smiled warmly at him, as if he had said exactly what she needed to hear.

"– okay –" She said.

Their director nodded at them.

"Let's try to get a feel for it first. This scene is about building tension slowly. If you feel discomfort, speak up, we'll try to do something about it. Ready?" He asked, and they nodded their heads like little children.

"Action!"

Apart from the sizzle of the fire in the fireplace to their right, surrounding their faces with warm light, there was complete silence around them.

He waited a moment before he pulled her face closer to him and his lips tentatively brushed hers in a slow, shy, moist kiss. He felt her body involuntarily move closer to him, her arms closing his neck in an tender embrace.

He felt her soft breasts through the material of his tunic, his hands traveled down her waist to her hip which he began to stroke in a soft, lazy, affectionate motion. She sighed softly into his mouth making his half-hard erection hit the space between her thighs again.

They froze in mid-motion and he was already about to apologise to her, telling her to stop, when this time it was she who leaned in. His voice went dead in his throat as her lips pressed against his, her body rubbing uncertainly against what was beneath her.

Fuck.

He thought as his hips tentatively came out to meet her, pressing what was in his breeches between her thighs, making it swell and pulsate, that this was not a good idea.

He knew she could feel it and that turned him on even more.

Her breath had become heavy and accelerated, their kisses messier, stickier, warmer, his fingers involuntarily dug into the skin of her hips hidden beneath the thin material.

"– uncle –" She mewled into his mouth in a way from which his erection became completely hard, his hand clamped down on her neck, forcing her to stay still as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.

She moaned, startled, gripping his shoulders, rolling her hips back and forth as if in a trance, teasing him deliberately, squeezing his length between his lower abdomen and her body again and again, the tip of her slick tongue licking his.

"– it tickles – here –" She mumbled helplessly, pressing her forehead against his, looking down, between her thighs, watching his bulge twitching in his breeches, which, however, only they could see.

He should have said his line, but instead, completely stunned by her behaviour and smell, he grabbed the material of her nightgown and slid it off her shoulders, snuggling his face between her sweet breasts.

She opened her mouth wide, shocked and moaned, hugging his head to her heart, making his cock throb hard. She took his hand in hers and guided it up, to her breast – he gasped, shocked how good it felt, squeezing tentatively her plump softness with his fingers, placing sticky, wet kisses on her sternum, her hands buried in his hair pressed him tighter against her bare, hot skin.

It seemed to him that she was as shocked by this sensation as he was, for she began to moan quietly – her nipple became hard under his thumb as he began to rub and tease it, his free hand clamped down on her buttock, again and again rubbing his painfully swollen erection against her.

He was turned on.

"Cut! What chemistry, I'm at a loss for words!" The director called out, and he let her go immediately.

She jumped back and got off his lap, inhaling heavily as if she was out of breath, putting the material of her nightgown quickly over her shoulders and breasts, the stylist said something to her and she just nodded, looking at him with big eyes.

He crossed his legs quickly and grunted, covering his mouth with his hand, looking towards the fire, pretending to listen to one of the assistants saying that now that they were all in emotion they would try to film their conversation years later.

Although they tried, neither of them could concentrate and they forgot their lines over and over again.

"What's going on with you two? Do you need a break?" The director asked them, and they replied at the same time that they did.

It frightened him to see her leave immediately, the thought that she might nevertheless have felt uncomfortable, that he had done something that crossed the line for her, but she was afraid to tell him.

He got up and followed her, heading for the rooms where they were changing and getting their make-up done, standing in front of the door with her name on it.

He froze when he heard a strange sound that seemed to him to be a moan of pain. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask if she was all right, if he could come inside, but then she made a different sound, a more familiar one that made his erection throb hard in his breeches.

He heard her quiet panting mixed with sweet, innocent mewls of pleasure, from which he himself began to breathe through his mouth, shocked.

He leaned his forehead against the door, wanting to hear it better, with the corner of his eye looking to see if anyone was around, but they were all on the set. He thought he was just a pervert when his hand travelled deep under the material of his trousers, clamping down on his long, swollen cock, twitching painfully with desire in his hand.

He imagined what she looked like now, digging her delicate fingers into her fleshy walls, leaking with moisture, pulsing because of him, because of what he had done to her, because of his kisses and touch.

He drew in a loud breath and pressed his lips together, giving himself a firmer squeeze at the base, imagining that he had grasped her thighs in his hands and spread them in front of his face, sinking his mouth into her wonderful, delicate folds, licking and caressing her little cunt.

He sped up, hearing the quiet sounds in her room become more vulnerable and helpless, and after a moment she moaned a little louder with some kind of relief.

He opened his mouth wide when he felt his warm semen spurt out onto his fingers at the thought that she had just come because of him.

He cursed under his breath as he looked at his hand and headed quickly to the bathroom, afraid that anyone would see him.

As he washed his hands in the sink he looked at his reflection, at his white wig and eye patch, and decided that he was beginning to lose control, that he no longer knew which feelings were his and which were his character's.

He was terrified and had no one to tell about it.

He only saw her at dinner that evening, and although she sat next to him, she didn't look at him. He pressed his lips together at the thought that she was as ashamed as he was, only she had no idea that he knew what she had done and that he had done exactly the same thing himself.

He was crushed by a sense of guilt that he didn't know what to do with.

He decided to finally speak to her, feeling his heart in his throat, playing with his fingers.

"Did I overdo it? Today during our scene." He asked in a trembling voice, trying to sound indifferent and cool. She looked at him surprised, putting her glass of juice down on the table.

"– I – no, I'm sorry I left so suddenly – it's just that all of this – all of this has overwhelmed me –" She muttered, looking down at her hands lying on her lap.

He looked at her in silence, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought that he understood her, that perhaps they felt the same way.

"– if you don't mind – I'd like to rehearse scenes with you before we play them – I'd like to talk to you about them – I have too much chaos in my head and no one to share it with –" She said, looking up at him finally, her brow furrowed in fear that he would not take her suggestion well.

He, however, felt some wonderful kind of relief.

"– yes – yes, that's a great idea –"

They spent the next few days acting out scenes, talking to each other for hours in the evenings in the hotel restaurant or her room about how they wanted to portray particular dialogues.

"– then when they're arguing I think to approach it more along the lines that: he just wants forgiveness and she's tired of him always expecting her to forgive him, even though he himself has held a grudge against her for so many years – something like: what should I do now? – divorce you? –" She asked sternly, getting into character for a moment, wanting to show him what she meant.

He hummed at her words and nodded, intrigued.

"– yes – yes, I think it's a good track – he's broken, exposed, afraid of the visions of that witch – he tries to push it away, but because of the way he represses it, everything he's afraid of comes back to him in nightmares –" He said, half lying half sitting on her bed with a copy of the script in his hand, the other gesturing as if he were a lecturer.

She nodded quickly at his words, sitting down next to him on the sheets, excited.

"– yes, exactly – he locks too much inside himself, and everything he fears then manifests itself in his dreams – his thoughts overwhelming him more and more and filled his mind like water that finally bursts his skull –"

"– a drop drills a rock –" He murmured and she snapped her fingers.

"– exactly –" She said, swinging her legs.

Unintentionally, his gaze traveled over her figure – her light-coloured sweatshirt with Jigglypuff from Pokemons seemed very fluffy to him, white tracksuit shorts and pretty white floral socks on her legs.

"– are you still watching this? –" He grinned with amusement. She cocked her head, smiling broadly.

"– what? –"

"– Pokemons –"

She giggled, embarrassed; the sound, innocent and sweet, made him feel a tightening in his throat and a pleasant tingling in his lower abdomen.

"– yes, but only the first few seasons – you know – the classics –" She said, closing her eyes proudly, as if she were speaking some work of Shakespeare.

"– mmm – I watched this when I was a kid –" He confessed, and she shifted towards him, delighted, surprising him completely.

"– I have a laptop – do you want to watch the first episodes together and order a pizza? –"

Though the suggestion seemed absurd to him, he agreed, and it wasn't long before he was watching, lying next to her on her bed, with a big carton of pizza lying on their bellies, as Ash tried to tame Pikachu.

"– God, how long it's been since I've watched this –" He muttered, feeling some kind of melancholy. He heard her melodious, joyful laughter.

"– I know this episode by heart –" She said between one greedy bite of pizza and another, clearly pleased and happy.

For some reason, despite his rather solitary nature, he felt comfortable around her. Her behavior made him feel like he wasn't being judged or watched – he knew he could say at any time that he was going back to his room to rest, and she wouldn't hold it against him.

He caught himself thinking that he really liked her.

What made him involuntarily distance himself from closer acquaintanceships with actresses was that it often seemed to him that they played offstage as well – they stepped into the role of innocent, sweet, dreamy romantics or passionate unapproachable women, but in fact he had no idea if he knew them at all.

With her, however, it was different – her sudden, unexpected reactions, the glint in her eye, her smile and unthinking remarks were real.

For some reason, her character, her presence had a soothing effect on him.

He was ashamed to admit that he liked her a little too much.

He kept repeating to himself that just one more episode and he would go, but another and another flew by. Her warm, soft body was wonderfully close, their arms were pressed against each other, their heads lying side by side on the pillow, as they looked at the laptop lying between their legs.

For some reason he felt like a little child again who was about to spend the night with his mate.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly, her head tilted to one side in deep sleep.

Something captured him in this sight – the thought that she felt comfortable and good enough with him that she had fallen asleep.

He rose slowly, taking the large pizza box from their thighs, setting it down on the floor and rose, trying to be quiet. She twisted around and hummed something as he covered her with the duvet and turned off the lamp, feeling somehow proud of himself for treating her the way she deserved it.

It was as if he had a friend.

[ronearoundblindly]

Drabble Birthday Ask!

Reader finally 'catches' the thing Steve's been hiding... it's that he's tired. He's tired, and he thinks it's non-inspiring or embarrassing or a burden, and he has been acting weird to cover for that.

Steeeeeeb!!!! Yes of course some TLC for Stevie. Excellent. Would recommend. 11 out of 10. Always give him the peace and safety! (Don't hate me though; it's just a bit of established relationship fluff!)

I am uncharacteristically skipping the part where you confront Steve about this. Yes, that's right. Remain calm. Ro has passed up the opportunity to write an argument. Hold your applause. WC idk but probably 2k or less (bit of a surprise at the end, too 🤭)

It's so easy.

It's just so damn easy to lose track, to keep going, to repeat. One more conversation. One more chore. One more hour. One more day. One more.

More. Constantly more.

Steve is very good at giving more. He is consistent, constant, incessant, but you can see now that despite his unending strength, your husband can't hide that drawn, fragile look behind his eyes any longer.

Sometimes, that's life.

"Actually, scratch that shit," Tony says with a flagrant point to your face as you chat. "Life is always like that. I know what Big Guy needs, don't you worry. Consider it sorted."

This speed-date style convo tumbles through a ten-second-savoring of tea. You got one cryptic sentence about 'how you're doing' in before Tony perfectly translates your meaning.

For once, more is unnecessary. He knows.

Stark, however, doesn't even have a moment to finish the turn up of his lips in a smile before his watch is pinged.

His eyes focus to the inside of his glasses. "Go for the World's Most Fashionable Hero," he deadpans, wandering off with his mug clasped like a lifeline in his hands.

Yeah, you know that feeling. Wit's End must be as contagious as pinkeye 'round these parts.

Steve's been silent for the last hour of the car ride. He checks the address. He checks the map. He checks the road. That's it.

Music he usually hates has been playing for fifty-one minutes and counting. No reaction.

Clearly, you were right to ask Stark for help.

The gravel drive up to the cabin is bumpy, and Steve apologizes for having to go so slowly.

"Almost there. I think it's--yeah, there. Okay, we're here." Your husband flips the key back and out of the ignition, a stunted sigh forcing it's way past his tight shoulders, immediately opening the door and heading for the trunk. "I'll get the bags. You get the--"

"Steve? Will you come with me for a sec?"

He looks at you--really sets his eyes on you--for the first time since loading the car.

"What's wrong?"

You crunch up to the short staircase to the long porch. "Just come up here, please."

It takes another wave of your hand in encouragement before Steve abandons the small duffels and totes. He's not used to leaving a man behind. He's got a mission. He's supposed to finish the job. Always one more thing.

More. Constantly more. That's Steve's life, and he does it without complaint. Never, ever complaining, even when he should.

His heavy, tired feet fall hollowly on the wood.

"We're starting now," you chirp, excited to surprise him.

Steve tips his bodyweight to lean on the banister, crossing his ankles before crossing his arms, his head down while sneaking a squint-and-blink to try and bounce his energy back.

"Sure, what's first on the list?"

"Oh, no," you correct. "The list is mine. Those are my activities for the weekend. You are here."

His brow furrows. "What? You're gonna--"

"Steve." You gently hold onto his arms. "I mean, you have nothing to do. Not a single thing. And I don't care where you do it, but you will be doing nothing all weekend. Sleep in the bed, on the couch, on the dingy over there, hell, right here on the porch swing. It doesn't matter. It's your rest, but you must rest."

"What about--"

"Nope."

"Or if--"

"Uh-uh, definitely not."

Steve looks slightly panicked. "Dinner?" he tries in a last-ditch effort to be useful every minute of every day.

"There is a bag of stuff that I will be dumping into a crockpot and walking away from, so, no, you can't do that either."

He's still not sure, eyes glassy and flickering about.

"There's fruit for breakfast, veggies and dip for snacks, and we don't have to even turn on the stove unless we want to. Now--" you release him "--I'm putting stuff away and--"

Steve opens his mouth to argue.

"--and not one word out of you. Not one, sweets. Go. Be free. Sleep. Stare at the water, or a wall, or the ceiling for all I care, but you have nothing else to do today. Okay?"

His eye twitches, a half-hearted glare melting into a challenge in his tight jaw.

"Okay???" you prod.

His hands fling out in defeat. "You told me not to say a word," he whines, automatically making his way back down the stairs.

"No bags," you scold.

He whips around, almost muttering.

"No bags." You rush down and past him toward the car. "And I will bring you looser clothes to sleep in."

"You--"

"AH!"

"But--"

"What did I just say, Rogers?"

Now he just looks petulant, a familiar mood in your household.

You stubbornly point to the cabin. "Go on. Git!"

He watches you bring in the mindfully-light bags you packed up for the trip, pouting and scowling in equal measure.

Steve has to show off at least once by snatching up a bit of potato that rolled across the counter in the transfer of dinner.

Instead of thanking him, you shove a t-shirt and thin sweats at his chest.

He fakes an oof of surprise and traps you for a quick kiss before going to change. He does leave you alone for the rest of setting up.

Steve is dead asleep on the deep, two-seater porch swing when you head to the little work shed, his knees bent so he faces in, his forehead buried in cushion to block out daylight, already snoring softly.

You have to hold your hands to your chest so as not to touch him. Tears of joy prick your eyes seeing him relax so quickly.

Steve can follow orders when he wants to, you think with a smile.

In the garden shed, Pepper has all the cool crafting things, and you putz around with some wood pieces and paints for a couple of hours. You walk the perimeter of the cabin to find some nice wildflowers for a table centerpiece, mixing delicate stems of blue buds with expansive wisps of white and little pops of yellow. You attempt to figure out the dingy but decide against going on the water alone yet. Maybe tomorrow.

At no point does Steve move.

When you walk up to the house, fist full of flowers, he's out cold, softly swaying in the breeze as the gusts pick up in the afternoon.

You snack and listen to music in your headphones, doze in the bed after the sun warmed you a little too much, and then wake to the smell of stew.

The beep of the crockpot wakes him.

Bedhead and pillow mishmarks on his cheek look great on Steve Rogers.

Without argument, he washes his hands and sits at the reclaimed wood table.

Steve says only two things:

"Thank you" when you set a large bowl in front of him, and "can you pass the salt?" after he taste-tests the meal.

He reads a book until falling asleep for the night with you, curled with his knees bent again.

He does well.

He keeps resting, multiple times with his book open on his chest, barely to halfway after hours and hours of holding on to the browning paperback pages.

He rests in the bed. He rests on the couch. He rests (again) on the porch swing. Finally, he rests in your lap while you both float on the lake in the dingy.

He rests with you by his side. He rests with you in his arms. He rests even when you leave to do something else. It's exactly what you wanted, what he needed, and how it should be.

Steve mumbles a fair few things, but the most important thing is that none of it is important enough to articulate. He doesn't have to talk. He doesn't have to be heard. He doesn't have to be understood.

He only has to rest, and he's following orders well. He's completing his mission.

It is truly fascinating how close you can feel without words--okay, so you two aren't completely non-verbal for the weekend, but there are no long conversations. After being married for a while, those are not entirely necessary. You know each other too well for all that; Steve simply feels the stigma of being weak and tired from his youth.

He holds himself to a different, impossible standard. He thinks of it as pushing the limits of his serum, as offering everything he has to others, as respecting those he cares for by shouldering burdens. You think it's stupid.

It is the only stupid thing Steve Rogers does.

Now, after days of resting, you're pretty sure Steve knows he was being stupid.

You hope he knows he can ask for help or a break whenever he wants, before he needs it this badly.

To your great delight, Steve gathers up his things that were left around the house, but he leaves the actual packing to you. This is very helpful in keeping the final surprise.

He's watching the water, sitting up in the porch swing for once with an arm thrown over the back, an easy, calm smile stretched across his face, the first you've seen in months if you're being honest.

Steve gestures for you to join him, but you bite your lip and check the gravel drive.

Exactly on schedule, an engine revs and wheels crackle over the gravel.

You wink at your husband just as excited shouts ring out from Tony's fancy car.

"Papa! Papa! Look what Morgan and I found at the beach!"

"I made you a seashell necklace, Momma. You, too, Pops."

Your children race up the porch steps and jump into the space below Steve's arm.

His smile is still easy, but perhaps a little more excited than calm.

More. Constantly more.

But it's not all tiring...

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay

@rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I'm so happy you like my "oblivious König with severe mommy issues" prompt :3 I'm sorry if I made a few mistakes here and there cause English is my swcond language :(

I'm also thinking about König being absloutely snappy and bratty to reader as a defense mechanism, because he's not a baby! He can make his own lunch (frozen pizza), thank you very much, you are not his Mutter!

And reader is just standing there, smiling because she finds him so endearing when he's angry, not taking him seriously at all. She coos at him in her soft voice, saying she's so sorry, she just worries about her baby so much, he's not been feeding himself very well and look- look at your tummy, baby, you used to be bigger and healthier than that, how can I not be worried for my sweetheart? Of course she's stroking his tummy and whispering in his ear while she says that, and he has to stand there frozen or else he will let out the most pathetic whimper known to man.

He will then have to sit there and eat the most delicious meal ever while he's grumbling, frowning while reader offers him cut up slices of peach, his cock leaving a wet patch against his pants.

It gets even more pathetic in the bedroom because reader is just so full of instructions and praise for him. She's not bossy, she guides him with gentle instructions and calls him the worst names when he obeys, like her Perfect Baby and Big Boy and he just gets so riled up (because he's a military man, of course! he likes orders and that's all) he gets frustrated at his own horniness and decides to drill into her harder, and all she can do is call his cock big and he just cums and cums, groaning and whimpering into her neck :((( one day he will she her he is NOT a baby!

YES I love this for him this is exactly what he deserves!!!!

He thought he’d get a helpless pathetic girl to fuck on weekends but now he’s the pathetic one here, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from getting hard when she rubs his scalp and praises him for every single little thing he does. Every time he comes to see her there’s a big warm meal waiting for him, fat wet kisses and a hushed voice pressed next to his ear, asking him whether he had a rough week, poor thing. Poor baby must be so tired, working himself to the bone like that… His cock is pulling and leaking in his pants from her voice alone now, which is just great, just what he needed.

She says he doesn’t need to worry, says she’s here to ease his stress, and he already knows what it means; she’s going to give him infernally good head that will dissolve him into atoms and make him moan so pathetically he’ll never survive the shame that follows. Which means he must prevent it from happening, any way he can, and so he fleshes out a plan to rearrange her guts later from behind so he doesn’t need to look into those loving, nurturing eyes, always praising him for doing so so good.

The whole female population is looking at him through those eyes, cheering him on with love and gentle care, and he wants that shit so much he’s about to punch a hole through a wall and then slump on the floor to have a big fat ugly cry but he can’t do that, no. He has to stay strong and conquer… whatever this is.

And then the plan backfires horribly when she kickstarts a handjob before he’s even finished his meal. After only a minute or two he finds himself staring up at her, eyes wide and helpless and his cock jerking and throbbing and twitching in her hand as she continues to give him slow, long strokes that are sending him to braindead bliss already.

She babbles in his ear and tells him he can cum whenever he wants, he’s deserved it… And before he knows it there are long, thick strings of cum shooting out, a painful, desperate whine of a moan punching through the air. He never knew he could sound so needy. And pathetic... And needy.

His head drops to see the mess he just made, but she’s already cleaning it up, dabbing his lap with a clean, wet towel, looking up at him with a bright, loving smile.

Scheisse…

[burntheedges]

do you feel it too?

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 5.5k words | masterlist | ao3

summary: Frankie's been Dreaming every night for weeks. He might be trying to pretend it isn't happening, but he knows what that means.

a/n: This is my entry for the Summer Lovin' Challenge! My prompt was "barbecue" and the moodboard and quote above. Thanks for the great idea and for hosting @pedgito @amanitacowboy @chaotic-mystery! And thank you to @sawymredfox for helping me figure out my idea and @katareyoudrilling for being an amazing beta, as always.

tags/warnings: soulmate AU, fluff, misunderstanding, reader has a nickname (Sunny), Colombia happened but no girlfriend/baby, kissing, cuddling, pet names (hermosa), food and drink mention, no use of y/n

...

“Fish!” 

Frankie was Dreaming, he was pretty sure. No, he knew he was. Dreams were the only place he ever saw her.

“Fish, get up man, come on.”

He knew he was looking into her eyes, even though he couldn’t quite tell what color they were. He always forgot them as soon as he looked at them. He knew he wouldn’t remember any of this once he woke up. He never did.

But he was absolutely certain she was beautiful. He’d always known that, since they first started Dreaming together, years ago.

He knew she was saying something, but he couldn’t hear her. She always tried to talk in the Dreams, always tried to communicate. It never worked (or maybe it did, and he just never remembered – maybe he forgot what she said the moment he heard it). He looked and saw her lips were moving, but it was another, more familiar voice that he heard instead.

“Fish, you asshole, we’re going to be late.”

Frankie felt the dream start to disintegrate around him and let out a noise in protest. He reached out to try to grab her arm, but there was nothing to grab. She slipped away like always as soon as he tried to touch her. 

Sometimes he thought he remembered a freckle or the color of her eyes or maybe the slant of her eyebrow, but he was just fooling himself. The only thing he could ever remember was the shape of her smile.

He opened his eyes to find Pope staring down at him, shaking his arm.

“Fish, come on cabrón, we don’t have time for this.” Pope looked extremely annoyed, but Frankie just covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“Just leave me here,” he said, low and muffled by his palms.

Pope started pulling at his arms. “No fucking way, man, you promised. We promised. And I promised I’d make sure you show up. Get the fuck up and in the shower, asshole.”

Frankie groaned again and threw his arms out like a starfish on the bed. “I’m so fucking tired, man.”

Pope paused and looked down at him, eyebrows furrowed. He sighed and shook his head. “More Dreams?”

Frankie closed his eyes and tried not to make any kind of face at all. “I feel like I close my eyes and that’s all I get – the Dreams. It doesn’t matter how tired I am or how long I’m asleep.”

Pope put his hands on his hips and just looked down at him for a moment. Frankie looked back at his best friend and hoped Pope couldn’t read everything going on in his head.

“You know what that means, Fish.” Pope’s tone was flat, no nonsense, like he didn’t want to leave any room for argument. 

Frankie barely let him finish before protesting. “No.”

“Fish–”

“No, man. You know how I feel.”

Pope sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do. And you know how I feel about that.”

Frankie just closed his eyes and shook his head. “Look, man, I’ll get up and get ready. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Pope eyed him for a minute and looked like he might want to argue. But then he seemed to deflate and just put his hands up in front of him, palms out. “Ok ok, ya entendí.” He sighed again and turned away from the bed. “Get up, Fish, we have places to be.”

Frankie laid there for another minute, staring up at his ceiling. He’d told the guys he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but that didn’t mean he’d been able to stop thinking about it. 

He used to have a Dream every other month, sometimes less. For the last 3 weeks he’d been Dreaming every night. Every single fucking night. 

He knew what that meant. They all did. It was textbook – you had the Dreams if your soulmate was still out there, and they only got more frequent when you were about to meet them.

The only problem was, he didn’t want to meet her. Not anymore.

…

Twenty minutes later Frankie threw himself into the passenger seat of Pope’s truck and tugged his hat down low over his still-wet hair. “Let’s go then,” he grumbled. 

Pope rolled his eyes as started the car. “You better not walk into that party with that look on your face. It’s for Benny, man, come on.”

Frankie groaned and tucked his head against the window. “I know, ok? Shit. I know.”

Pope drove in silence and Frankie did his best to pull himself together. He felt like he’d barely slept, even though he was pretty sure he’d been asleep for most of the day. Like most of his days, lately. Just when he was starting to really stew in his own self-loathing, Pope spoke again.

“Fish. I know you don’t want to hear it. But I’m going to say it one more time, and then we can talk about something else and try to have fun at this party, for Benny’s sake. Deal?”

Frankie gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, but nodded.

Pope’s tone was gentle, and it made Frankie want to jump out of the car. “She’s still out there, man. And I know you think she won’t want you, but that's not how this works. Ok? All I want is for you to think about that. Just–” he stopped and for a minute Frankie thought maybe that was it, he was done and Frankie was off the hook. But Pope continued, “just try to think about the other side of it, ok? The side where you’re wrong, and she does want you. Just let yourself consider it. That’s all I ask.”

Frankie thought about arguing, and then he thought about saying nothing. After a moment he just said, “I’ll try.” Because if Pope asked, he would. He didn’t think it would help, but they’d been friends (brothers) for too long and they knew each other too well. He knew Pope would bother him about this until he agreed, anyway.

And some small, hidden part of him still hoped Pope was right.

…

They’d promised to get there early and help set up, and despite Pope almost tossing him out of bed, they were still on time.

Frankie spent the next couple of hours setting up tables and chairs and hanging string lights and generally doing whatever Will told him to do. He pretended not to notice Pope and Will and Benny having quiet conversations at the other end of the yard, conversations that were almost certainly about him and his Dreams. 

He also spent that time trying to think about anything other than what Pope had asked him to think about in the car.

Soon enough, the yard started to fill with familiar and unfamiliar faces. Yovanna arrived with Claire, Will’s soulmate, and told them Benny’s fiance (and soulmate) would be arriving soon.

Frankie found himself floating along the edge of the party, hiding in the shadows from the string lights, sometimes with his friends and sometimes alone. He was starting to wonder if he could get away with leaving when Claire appeared beside him, arm-in-arm with someone he didn’t know.

“Frankie! Have you met my friend Sunny? The one I told you about, we were roommates in college.” 

Frankie turned to greet them and was struck with a sudden sense of overwhelming deja vu. He shook it off and met her eyes. “Hi, I’m Frankie,” he said, nodding to Claire’s roommate. “Sunny?”

She smiled, and Frankie blinked, a bit taken aback. Shit, he thought, she’s so pretty. 

“Not my real name. It’s a college nickname I’ve never been able to escape.” She grinned at him, and he took a deep breath. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said and elbowed Claire. “All of you, really. Will’s got a lot of stories.”

Frankie grimaced, but tried to turn it into a smile. “From Will? Shit. Don’t believe a word he says.” 

Claire laughed and Sunny smiled, and Frankie took a long sip of his beer. It was warm, likely had been for a while, and he tried not to grimace again.

“Hey, Frankie, can I leave her with you? I need to help Will with something inside.” Clarie was already starting to move away towards the house as she spoke, and Sunny rolled her eyes. 

“What am I, your dog? Go inside, I can fend for myself.”

Claire laughed again and waved as she headed inside. 

Frankie turned back to Sunny and found that she was already looking at him. He tried not to stare but he couldn’t help but notice again how pretty she was. He was admiring the color of her eyes when she spoke.

“So,” she said, leaning towards him. “I hope you don’t mind me being extremely direct, but you don’t look very happy to be here.”

For a moment Frankie had the uncanny sensation of teetering on the edge of some sort of revelation, but unable to tip over in either direction and figure out what it was. He was stuck, balancing, wavering back and forth. It was disorienting. He shrugged. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t know if I’m good company. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, and Frankie squirmed a bit under her discerning gaze. “Me neither, actually. Stress, I guess. I just moved here and I’m still getting used to everything.”

He nodded, not sure what to say. His eyes trailed over her neck and shoulders and he tried not to notice how nice she looked in her top. 

She took pity on him and changed the subject. “So, Frankie? Is that a nickname?”

“It is. Francisco,” he offered, relaxing his shoulders purposefully. He could at least try to be friendly.

Sunny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I love that. Do you ever go by Francisco?” 

Frankie actually felt himself start to smile. She was so animated; her open curiosity was starting to put him at ease. “Sometimes,” he said, looking down and then back up to meet her eyes. She was still smiling at him. “More in Spanish.”

“Francisco,” she murmured again, and he felt a shiver move down his spine. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugged again. “Not really. Most of them,” he gestured around the yard, ”call me Frankie or Fish. Catfish. My call sign.” 

She smiled again and nodded. “I’m not going to ask, not now anyway, but I just want to register my interest in hearing that story some time. Will refused to tell me.”

Frankie laughed, and then he blinked in surprise. When was the last time he’d laughed? He wasn’t sure. 

“Can I call you Francisco, then? I like it.” She bit her lip after she asked, and Frankie realized he was taking too long to answer because he was staring. Again.

“Oh, um, sure,” he said, and then tried not to wince at himself. “Of course. It sounds nice when you say it.” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth – what the fuck, man, don’t be weird – and glanced down, afraid to see how that awkward comment landed. He noticed they were both holding empty drinks.

“Can I get you a refill?” he asked, reaching out for her cup. He didn’t quite look up to meet her eyes again. She nodded and reached out to hand it to him.

As she did, the tips of their fingers brushed lightly against each other.

Frankie gasped, and he was pretty sure he heard her gasp, too, but he couldn’t look away from her hand. As soon as his fingertips brushed hers he was overwhelmed with the sensation of something like lightning crackling down his spine. He froze, fingers still touching hers, arm outstretched. His mouth dropped open as the aftershocks sent tremors through his body.

Finally, he tore his gaze upwards to look at Sunny again, and found her outright grinning. At him. She looked absolutely delighted. He didn’t know what to do or what to say or what face to make. 

Sunny broke the silence to ask, “did you feel it, too?”

Rather than answer, he turned around and ran.

…

For a moment you stood, frozen, hand still outstretched holding your empty cup. Your smile had frozen on your face and you felt it start to become a grimace. You don’t know how long you would have stood there, nothing but white noise in your head, if Claire hadn’t reappeared at your side.

“Hey, you ok? Where’s Frankie?” 

You shook yourself and blinked, dropping your hand down to your side. You turned to look at her and she must have seen something in your expression because her brow furrowed and she grabbed your elbow. “Come on, over here.”

Claire marched you around the side of the house to the path that led to the gate in the fence. There was no one else back there, and you felt your shoulders drop as soon as you were hidden from view.

“Ok, what happened,” she said, flat, barely a question. 

You sighed, staring down at the ground. “You were right? He is totally my type. Tall, with the hair and the shoulders and, ugh.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Claire cross her arms and lean against the wall next to you. “Ugh what? Did he say something? I mean, I wouldn’t have expected it, but he is a guy.”

You laughed, helplessly, and shook your head, glancing up at your friend. “He didn’t say anything weird. But um, just now. I don’t think I imagined it– no, I didn’t imagine it. It happened, I guess, but–”

Claire’s eyebrows flew upwards. “Wait–”

You kept talking, looking back down at the ground, steamrolling over whatever she wanted to say. “Our hands, well our fingers, touched, and I think… I’m pretty sure. I felt it.”

Claire made a strangled noise and you looked up at her to find her mouth dropped open in shock. “It? You mean–” she cut herself off, speechless.

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean, you can tell me if I’m wrong, but it was like a lightning strike all through my body. My spine tingled. I thought I was shaking, or maybe the ground was. It was…” you trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Claire started to smile and you wanted to smile back, but you couldn’t. “Yes!” she said, grinning, “that’s exactly what it was like when I shook Will’s hand.” She seemed to notice you weren’t smiling, though, and hers started to fade. “Wait, but Frankie– where did he go?”

“He, um,” you started, gathering yourself. “He looked at me, and I know I was smiling, but he looked–” you cut yourself off, closing your eyes against the memory. “He looked terrified, Claire. Like he’d seen a ghost. I asked him if he felt it, too, and then,” you swallowed, trying not to let the emotions you’d been ignoring since it happened claw their way up your throat. “And then he ran.”

You opened your eyes after a moment of silence with no response from Claire. You saw that she was moving through a variety of emotions, jaw working as she considered what to say.

“Ok,” she said. “Ok. I think–” She shook her head, sighing in exasperation. “I think I know what’s going on. Can you wait here for one second? I need to grab someone.” You nodded, confused. “Don’t go anywhere, seriously. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could even open your mouth she was gone, back around the corner of the house into the backyard. You blinked, uncertain. You leaned harder into the wall of the house and pressed your palms into your eyes, trying not to think of anything but your breathing. Trying not to think about how long you’d waited for this, about how Claire knew you’d been starting to lose hope, though you’d hoped you might find him in your new city. About how you wanted, so badly, to know him.

Only a few minutes (of you resolutely not thinking about anything) had passed when you heard Claire coming back, talking to someone in a low voice.

“You have to tell her, Santi, you know–”

You opened your eyes again and found Claire approaching you with one of Will’s friends, one you’d just met about 45 minutes ago. Santiago, or Santi. Or Pope, he’d said. He looked worried.

“Wait, Claire, what happened? You said–” he stopped short when he saw you waiting. He looked around for a second as if he expected someone else to be nearby. “You said Frankie–”

Claire shook her head, and gestured towards you. “Tell him what you told me.” Her tone was direct, no nonsense, but you bristled.

“What? Claire–”

Your friend took a breath and her expression softened. “Hey,” she said, “trust me, ok? He’s Frankie’s best friend. Just tell him what happened.”

You turned to Santiago and saw that he looked way more confused than you felt. You sighed. “Ok, well, I guess it couldn’t hurt.” You bit your lip and crossed your arms in front of you, feeling suddenly defensive. You hadn’t expected Claire to make you repeat it to someone you barely knew. “Frankie, he– we were just talking. And he offered to get me a drink, so he went to take my cup, and our hands–”

As soon as you said the word “hands” Santiago’s eyebrows flew upwards. “Sunny–”

You ignored him, unable to stop now that you’d started. “Our hands touched. Just barely, but enough. I felt it. You know. And, well, I thought he did too, but I looked up and he looked–” you closed your eyes again. You didn’t want to remember his face again, but it was all you could see in your mind. “He looked–”

“Terrified.” Santiago finished your sentence for you and your eyes flew open. He looked worried and annoyed and resigned, all at once. “Am I right? He looked scared.”

You nodded, mouth dropping open. “How–”

Santiago sighed and shook his head. “Goddammit, Fish,” he muttered. “Look, I wouldn’t say this to anyone but you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, again, not sure where he was going with this, but knowing, somehow, that he meant it.

Santiago grimaced. “Ok. Well, I’ll try not to say too much. But Fish, that goddamned idiot, convinced himself you would never want him. That he was better off not meeting you, because you’d turn him away. I tried to tell him but he won’t listen, he–” Santiago sighed and wiped a hand over his face. “Look, I know you just met, but I swear–”

“Why would he think that?” you asked, confused. You couldn’t imagine that there would be something about him that would make you want to leave before you even got to know him. These were his friends, right? They cared about him. You trusted Will, and obviously you trusted Claire. And you were pretty sure these guys knew everything about each other, from the stories you’d heard. (And you kept remembering the way Frankie’s eyes had looked when he smiled at you, before he’d run. So warm.)

“He, well, we all did something, and–”

Claire interrupted Santiago before he could say anything else. “She already knows about it, Santi.”

He whirled, mouth dropping open to stare at Claire. “What?” He sounded scandalized. “How?”

Claire shrugged, and glanced at you. “She was with me, that night, when Will agreed to go with you. Couldn't really hide it.”

Santiago looked completely shocked. “Um,” he said, mouth opening and closing again. “Well, shit. That’ll probably help, then, if you already know about that whole disaster.”

You nodded. You did already know about Colombia. Maybe not all of the details, but the general gist of things. Enough.

For a moment none of you said anything. You assumed they were just taking in the revelations of the last twenty minutes, like you. Your head was starting to spin.

Santiago cleared his throat. “Ok, well, can I assume you do want to talk to him? And you don’t want to leave?”

You nodded. If nothing else, you were sure of that – you wanted to talk to Frankie. Francisco. He was your soulmate. Your breath hitched – that was the first time you’d even thought the word in the privacy of your own mind. Shit. You stood up a little straighter, suddenly resolute – you knew what you wanted to do.

“Do you know where he is?” you asked, meeting Santiago’s gaze. 

He nodded. “I saw him go upstairs, he’s probably hiding in the guest bathroom or something. And I drove him here, he can’t get away so easy.”

You squared your shoulders and nodded sharply, just once. “Ok. I’m going to find him.”

Santiago started to smile again, and Claire made a little squeaking noise as she covered her mouth with her hands. She looked excited. “Good luck. I’ll keep an eye on the door, ok?” Santi gestured towards the front of the house.

You nodded again and took a deep breath. “Thanks,” you said, turning to go and find your soulmate.

…

When you reached the upstairs landing, you faltered, suddenly unsure of yourself. Will and Claire hadn’t lived there long and you hadn’t even gotten a tour yet. There were 5 closed doors in the hallway, and you weren’t sure what to do next. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

He was your soulmate.

You opened your eyes again, brow furrowed, mouth serious. You were going to find him and you were going to talk.

You knocked lightly on the first door and opened it to find a guest bedroom. No Frankie in sight. The second door was a closet, and the third seemed to be Will and Claire’s bedroom. That left two.

Just then, you heard a noise from the room behind the second-to-last door. You moved towards it, silently. As you got closer you heard the low noise of a familiar voice, muttering, maybe talking to himself. 

You’d found him.

Before you could second guess yourself, you knocked. “Frankie– Francisco. I know you’re in there.” You tried to sound confident but you thought your voice probably gave away all of your insecurities anyway.

There was no response, but you swore you could feel how he suddenly tensed on the other side of the door. You knocked again. “Francisco? Can we–”

The door suddenly opened under your knuckles, and your last knock caused it to swing inwards. You froze, hand in the air, and looked down to find Frankie sitting on the floor. He had his knees up with this head resting on one hand, the other still raised from where he’d just opened the door.

You met his eyes and saw that he looked… well. The first word that came to mind was distraught. You opened your mouth to say something, maybe ask what was wrong, say anything that might help, but he spoke before you could.

“Shit,” he said, and his voice sounded rough and gravelly. “Shit, Sunny, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I just left you there, I–”

“Hey,” you cut him off, moving quickly to kneel next to him. “Hey, no, are you ok?” You reached out to touch him but faltered, unsure if you would be welcome. He hid his face in his hands again and you sat back on your heels. 

“... no,” he murmured after a moment. “I don’t think I’m ok.”

You moved again, shifting enough that you could close the door behind you before sitting back against it. “Hey, you know you can tell me.” You tried to sound encouraging. 

After a moment he sighed, and looked up at you again. You met his eyes and were struck, suddenly, with the knowledge that you knew those eyes. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t recognized them immediately, the moment you’d met him outside. You smiled at him. “Hey there, brown eyes,” you said, and he blinked. “I think I had a lot of dreams about you, recently.”

“Brown eyes?” He looked surprised.

You felt your face start to heat and you ducked your head. “That’s what I’ve always called you. In my head, anyway. It was always the only thing I could remember, when I woke up. That you had brown eyes. Not what they looked like. Just that they were brown.”

You glanced back up at him through your eyelashes and saw that he looked stunned. 

After a moment, he said, “I remembered your smile.”

You felt it start to stretch across your face in response. “Yeah?” you asked, wondering if he remembered more than you did. 

He nodded, starting to smile himself. It looked hesitant, and it was small, but it was still a smile. “Yeah, just– just the shape, the corner.” He glanced down at your mouth. “Just like that,” he whispered, eyes wide.

For a moment the two of you just looked at each other. You wondered if you were both looking for other familiarities, things you might remember, even though it was unlikely.

You felt the question crowding your throat, and couldn’t help but let it out. “Why did you run?” Your voice sounded small to your own ears and you watched the grimace form on his face in response. You turned towards him a bit more and your leg came to rest against his. Neither of you moved away from the contact.

He stared at the place your leg touched his as he answered. “I thought…” he trailed off and visibly gathered himself. “I thought you wouldn’t want me. There’s been– there are things, things I’ve done and I didn’t–”

You couldn’t help but interrupt. You didn’t like the look on his face, didn’t like the way he was talking about himself. “Francisco,” you said, voice a bit too loud. You cleared your throat and tried again, quieter. “I know about Colombia.” His head shot up, eyes wide. He looked afraid and you didn’t like that one bit. “I’m not saying I know everything, but I do know the basics. I know you were there.” Frankie’s mouth dropped open; he was obviously shocked. You wanted to reassure him, but you weren’t sure what to do, other than to just say it. “I’m not turning you down because of that, ok? I’m not turning you down at all. I–”

Frankie seemed to find his voice, suddenly, and interrupted you. “What? You– how?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I was with Claire, when Will went. She couldn’t really hide it.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes dancing over your face. He seemed to be looking for something, but you didn’t know what. “Fuck,” he repeated. 

“Yeah, “ you repeated. “I mean, like I said, I know I don’t know all the details. But I’m not– I want to get to know you.” You nudged his leg with yours. “I mean, if you–”

Frankie laughed, suddenly, and you stopped short. He seemed giddy, like a weight had just lifted off his shoulders. He sat up a bit taller, and your eyes trailed over the line of his neck. “I thought–” he laughed again, incredulous, and shook his head. “I was so afraid. Of finding you and losing you because of– because of what we–” he trailed off again.

You couldn’t stand just sitting there anymore. You reached out a hand and lightly touched the back of his where it rested on his leg. He immediately flipped it over and clasped your hands together tightly. Your breath caught, but you couldn’t look away from his face.

“That’s not–” he squeezed your hand. “That’s not everything. But damn, I can’t believe it.” He closed his eyes and seemed at a loss for what to say next, even though he looked so much more at ease than he had only moments ago. You knew it was too soon for either of you to start in on your entire life stories. You had time. Or at least you hoped you had time.

“Hey, Francisco,” you said, and smiled at him. He opened his eyes and smiled back, a bit bigger this time. You liked the look of it. “I know we don’t know each other. Not yet. But, well. I think we might be made for each other.” You heard and felt a tightness in your throat as you said it, and you watched some strong emotion take over Frankie’s expression, too. He relaxed his grip on your hand only to lace your fingers together instead. He nodded, and you continued, “so I think we might be able to figure this out. Together. What, um,” you leaned in a little bit. “What do you think?”

Frankie grinned, suddenly, and it dazzled you. Your eyes caught on the crinkles by his eyes and the way he lifted his chin.

“I’d love to figure this out with you, hermosa,” he murmured. He pulled your hand upwards and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry I ran away. I promise I’ll never run from you again.”

You shivered at the kiss, but your brow furrowed at the promise. “Frankie–”

He shook his head, looking resolute. “No, you deserve better than that. I promise, I’ll figure it out with you instead of running. Ok? We’ll do it together.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you felt emotions swell in your chest again. He was so sweet, underneath the fear and the worry. Together sounded pretty good.

“Hey, Sunny,” he murmured, and you opened your eyes to meet his. His gaze was soft, again, like it had been when you’d barely started flirting outside. You thought he might still be afraid, but something had shifted. “Have I told you already that you’re fucking beautiful?”

Your cheeks heated and you tried to duck your head again, but you were stopped when he raised his free hand to cup your cheek gently. He lifted your gaze to meet his again. “Hey, no. I mean it. When I saw you outside, shit, Sunny, you’re so fucking pretty. That’s the first thing I thought.” Your cheek tingled under his touch and you wondered if you were imagining it or if it was part of the whole soulmate thing. Soulmates, you mused, and turned your head to press a kiss to his palm.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and you smiled.

“I told Claire you were exactly my type,” you said, and he started to look shy, eyes darting away. “With your hair, and those shoulders, and your smile–” you trailed off when he started to blush, and you smiled again, leaning into his hand. He was so handsome. “Hey, Francisco,” you said, and he met your eyes again. “Can I kiss you?”

His eyebrows flew upwards and his eyes darted to your lips. You bit your lip.

“Hermosa, you can kiss me anytime you like,” he murmured, and when his gaze met yours again your breath caught at the heat behind his eyes.

“Yeah?” you breathed, and he grinned.

“Yeah, Sunny. C’mere,” he pulled you towards him and you found yourself perched on his lap. After only a moment’s hesitation you slid your hands around his neck loosely. He placed his hands on your hips and squeezed gently. “S’this ok?” He sounded shy again, even though his grip was anything but.

“More than,” you replied, and then you pressed your lips to his.

You were swept away, instantly. You fell into the sensation of his lips against yours, of his body under you, of his hands sliding around your waist to pull you in tighter. You realized your hands were wound through his hair, though you didn’t remember moving them.

All you knew was the gentle movement of his mouth against yours. The brush of his lips and the tease of his tongue sent shivers up and down your spine. 

There was a warmth building inside of you that you’d never felt before, never even dreamed of. You broke away with a gasp, overwhelmed, and blinked your eyes open to find his waiting for you. He looked as stunned as you felt.

“Fuck,” you murmured. He nodded. “That was–”

“Better than I ever could have imagined,” he said, and you nodded. That was exactly right. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmured. He ran his hands lightly up and down your back and you shivered again. He smiled. “Sunny,” he said, and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let me take you out.”

You grinned and nodded. “You’d better.”

Frankie laughed, looking so much more carefree than he had when you’d found him in the bathroom. It tugged at your heart.

“You can take me out,” you said, “but right now I want you to kiss me some more.” You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, right where it quirked up into a smile. 

“Sunny, hermosa, mi sol, mi luz,” he said, pressing kisses along your jaw between each endearment. “I never want to stop kissing you.” You giggled, and he grinned. “What’s so funny, hermosa?”

You shook your head, still smiling widely. “I can’t wait to get to know you, Francisco.”

His smile softened, but stayed just as big. He tugged you closer and wrapped you up in his arms. “Me neither, baby.” He kissed you again, and you sank happily into his embrace.

...

a/n: I'd love to hear what you think! Also, quick translation: mi sol = my sun, mi luz = my light.

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[stellewriites]

saw a big fire truck go by and a woman who looked shockingly like laswell was driving and so,, here we are

kate laswell x f!reader. mdni!!

cw: tiny bit of self depreciation? accidental arson? other than that just fluff

you stood on the sidewalk, cheeks hot from embarrassment even as you shivered from the chill of the wind in your ratty sleep shorts. you were glad you were able to yank a hoody and a pair of shoes on before you’d been ushered out of the apartment or else you think you’d be saying goodbye to a toe or three by now.

your neighbours were giving you nasty side eyes as you all gathered in a group away from the building, waiting for the all clear from the fire brigade squad inside, again.

this would be, what? the third time this month you’d set off the alarm? you were surprised your landlord hadn’t just removed the alarm from your apartment to save everyone else’s sleeping routines by this point.

your eyes flickered to the sight of the fire truck parked nearby, the familiar ‘141’ painted on the side didn’t settle your anxiety any, only made it worse. they must think you’re an idiot, or worse doing it purposely to try and gain the opportunity to flirt with one of them.

christ, how fucking embarrassing. especially when you did have a stupid crush on one of them.

kate was the driver more often than not, and that first time they’d shown up after you’d left your quesadillas in the oven too long, your eyes had been glued to her. blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail, helmet hooked under her arm, and a firm frown on her face as she took in the crowd while her squad moved to enter the building. she’d paused and smiled gently when she saw your nervous, and enamoured, expression across the street and you’d been hooked ever since.

but now, after far too many visits, you purposely kept yourself scarce from the squad unless they wanted to explain the dangers of late night cooking and leaving stoves unattended for the nth time. they’d thankfully stopped the lectures after the first couple of attendances once they’d caught on to your horrendous work schedule.

and despite your avoidance tactics, kate always made sure to check in on you. whether it was a curious hum and a nudge to your side as she walked by, a tilt of her head from across the crowd beside the truck, or stood directly in front of you with stern questions and folded arms - kryptonite really, how were you ever meant to be able to lie to her about your insomnia and ADHD when she shed her huge, protective jacket leaving her biceps framed by short sleeves when talking to you. the distraction was major.

you worked odd hours, which meant that sometimes you’d be cooking at 2am, like tonight. but that also meant when you inevitably forgot about the pasta on the stove (fuck you ADHD) and smoke billowed through your kitchen and open plan living room, you were left with the alarm blaring in the middle of the night.

no matter how many windows you opened, how many towels you wafted, tou were never quick enough and the landlord always ended up alerting the fire brigade and the 16 apartments all had to be evacuated.

you winced as you saw the couple from the second floor trying to soothe their baby back to sleep in their arms.

you tried to shrink your shoulders down, make yourself less visible. apologies had stopped being accepted after the first couple of times and you were pretty sure your landlord was looking into ways to get you legally kicked out.

you wiped a hand over your tired face and bit your lip to stop yourself from getting upset with an audience.

too busy wallowing, you didn’t see the firefighters leave the building; johnny and kyle spread out among the crowd and started sending them back inside, answering questions while simon headed back to the truck. kate and john spoke to your landlord and when you finally looked up you felt your heart sink at his angry expression and pointing.

yeah, looked like you’d need to start looking for a new place sooner than later.

kate turned and spotted you just as you were about to join the end of the crowd heading inside. she waved over to you before tapping john and saying a short word, heading your way without waiting for his response.

“you ok?” she asked once she was closer.

you blinked up at her and swallowed back your guilt. “yeah, yeah. i’m fine, false alarm, right? sorry about that. again.”

she smiled easily. “i’d recommend sticking to microwave meals but electric fires can be a hell of a lot worse,” she joked.

you felt your own weak smile crack and the tears you’d been holding in came back with a sudden vengeance. god, you were just tired, hungry, and such an asshole for making everyone do this again.

“hey, hey, i’m sorry,” she apologised, one hand hesitantly hovering over your shoulder. “that was in poor taste, i shouldn’t ha—“

“im such an idiot,” you wailed into your hands, cutting her off.

“oh sweetheart, you’re not an idiot,” she said and firmly pulled you into a hug. “you just can’t cook.”

you huffed an offended laugh into her shoulder.

“poor girl, huh? stuck on dead shifts, having to cook for yourself at this time? you need someone to care for you, isn’t that right?”

you felt yourself nodding meekly into her shoulder. calming down as she ran a hand up and down your back, the other at the back of your head keeping you firmly in place against her.

“yeah, that’s right,” she repeated. she pulled you back with a gentle hand at your jaw and smiled indulgently down at you. with her thumb she wiped at a stray tear on your cheek. “come on, let’s get you back inside before you freeze.”

she led you past her squad with a firm hand at your back and butterflies grew in your stomach; she kept her hand there all the way up in the elevator as she walked you back to your apartment. once you’d let yourself in, she stood at the door and watched you fiddle with your hoody sleeves nervously.

“thanks, kate,” you said. “i promise i am trying to be more mindful, im not purposefully doing it.”

“i know, it’s ok. look,” she hesitated for a moment before taking a breath. “how about we meet up tomorrow? before your work. i think i’ve got a few ideas that could fix this and be mutually beneficial for us.”

“really? yes, please, that’d be great,” you agreed eagerly. you’d appreciate the suggestion of anything that could help stop this from happening again, as upset as you’d be to not see kate anymore.

she smiled at your eagerness, sharp instead of warm like she had been outside and you felt your pulse pick up. “great. i’ll come pick you up in the afternoon then.”

you nodded, unsuspecting as she leant into your space until she kissed you quick and soft. she tried to bite back her pleased smile at your wide, shocked eyes.

“i’ll see you tomorrow. get some rest, sweetheart; stop cooking for the night, have a sandwich instead,” she ordered.

“yes, ma’am,” you whispered, frozen to the spot as your brain tried to work out how you’d gotten here.

she laughed as she stepped back.

“aren’t you just the sweetest?” she asked rhetorically.

her radio crackled and you heard john’s voice. all set. ready to go, laswell?

“i’ll be down in five,” she returned. she looked back to you. “don’t forget, tomorrow afternoon.”

“looking forward to it,” you said and closed your door when she headed off with a satisfied nod.

you leant back against the door with a grin and wilfully ignored the mess that was your kitchen. the butterflies in your stomach came back tenfold and you hid your face in your hands as you let out an excited noise.

ok, yeah, you’d set your apartment on fire again, but now you had a date with a hot fire fighter so was it really that big a deal?

plus she said she had a solution to your accidental arson problem, and you trusted kate enough to believe she’d fix it when she said she would.

you wondered sleepily if she was going to teach you to cook (though you were convinced you’d only ever be good at it ratatouille-style) or if she knew someone that needed a new roommate…

part two