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confessedlyfannish · 1 year

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

#Danny I AM RETIRED FROM MURDER Fenton #the informants are ghosts #the thing about deductive reasoning is sometimes you deduct incorrectly #particularly when you don't know about the ghosts #danyal al ghul #damian wayne #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #bruce wayne #this is an au where damian doesn't get blown up and lose most of his vital organs #like bruce still isn't a super responsible parent but no nine year olds blow up so that's something #danny: he only blew up once so he can stay with you #batman: he did get speared straight through but we fixed it #danny: he wHAT #i wrote this instead of eating dinner #because drafts are for the mentally healthy #tbh i don't think his name would be danyal al ghul in this one #he's trying really hard to stay under the radar I don't think he would choose essentially a homonym

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lustspren · 7 months

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D.A | Con te partirò ft Hanni

length: 12.8k words✦

Hanni & Male Reader.

Diamond Eyes AU.

genres: sub! Hanni, blowjob, oral sex, hard sex, breeding, daddy kink, creampie, fluffy, anal, car sex, love making ✧

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Did you need to rent a Ferrari? Absolutely not. Would it be worth it? Absolutely yes.

So many months of hard work streaming 8 hours a day had to somehow be worth it. You could afford it, and you were going to do it. The only bad thing about that decision was the time it took you to choose a car at the dealership. About half an hour wandering between cars until your capricious ass decided to choose the most expensive but also the most practical. A Ferrari Purosangue, the brand's newest, expensive and most innovative model. Choosing it in red would have been the most normal thing, but you chose it in all black, even the interior.

With the car already chosen, you received instructions regarding its functions and handling, upon completing it and having all the paperwork already done, you went directly to drive through the streets of Milano, your hometown. You linked your Spotify account to the car stereos through the digital panel behind the steering wheel and blasted Kanye West's Carnival at the highest possible volume without bursting your eardrums, which helped make you feel like a god as you drove past the Palazzo Reale di Milano.

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After about 20 minutes you had already made lap after lap through the city center, just enjoying the beautiful roar of the twelve-cylinder engine and your music. But just as you turned the corner after a traffic light, you received a message from the real reason you had flown to Italy from Korea in the first place.

She then sent you a full body photo of herself. You had to alternate looking between the road and your phone screen. She looked so stupidly beautiful that she made you question all your past decisions to know if you really deserved her. You came to the conclusion that you were simply an overly lucky bastard. To respond to her you had to wait until another traffic light.

After finishing talking to Hanni, you put the phone between your legs and took a new street in search of something to eat. Your stomach was growling; since you landed in Milano that morning you hadn't had the chance to even have a full meal, you had only been eating sweets that you brought with you from Korea. You were crazy to get your teeth into something, and since you were in Italy, you couldn't find a better option than going to your favorite Pizzeria in the entire city: la Zia Esterina Sorbillo on Via Agnello.

After having eaten a delicious salami and cotto pizza, you just waited in the car, parked in a square covered by the shadow of a building to your right, which you didn't mind too much considering everything the car offered in terms of comfort. It had already been an hour since Hanni had entered the event, but it wasn't until two hours later when you received the message you were waiting for.

With the green light already granted, you made the respective call before you forgot—again—, you pressed the touch button on the steering wheel to start the engine and headed to the Fonderia Carlo Macchi, the place where the Gucci event was taking place. It would be approximately 15 minutes of travel from where you were, you would have to make a good selection of music if you wanted to enjoy the journey. You started with Lord Pretty Flacko Jodye 2 by ASAP Rocky, Who Dat Boy by Tyler the Creator, 5% TINT by Travis Scott and Justify My Thug by JAY-Z.

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When you entered the Via Enrico Cosenz you had to considerably reduce the volume of the last seconds of the last song. The entire street was filled with people and camera flashes, as well as luxury cars and police guarding the perimeter around the warehouse. As soon as you approached, an officer blocked your path with a wave of his hand, you rolled down the window and he stood next to you.

"Buon pomeriggio, signore. Dove sei diretto?" he asked. You knew he did it routinely and that he kept doing it considering there were more cars behind you.

"Sono qui per ritirare uno degli ambasciatori dell'evento," you responded, one hand on the steering wheel.

"Nome?"

"Hanni Pham. Se hai bisogno di un'autorizzazione, posso ottenerla per te."

"Sì, grazie," you called Hanni's manager and handed the phone to the officer, seconds later, he returned it to you, "Avanti, buon pomeriggio."

"Grazie mille! Anche per voi," you smiled at the officer, rolled up the window again and drove until you parked next to the curb.

Parked there, you took out your phone and told Hanni that you were out. While you were waiting, you watched as the camera flashes took over the entire street. The photographers and the crowd of people were in constant movement, celebrity after celebrity being photographed as they entered their respective cars; you should have expected it, but you were still shocked to see Salma Hayek so close while she was leaving the event. You also saw Kirsten Dunst, and as a lover of Sam Raimi's Spider Man movies you couldn't help but fanboy a little.

From one moment to the next you noticed how the crowd of people began to concentrate much more towards the gate that led to the warehouse; You noticed that the flashes also multiplied. You sharpened your eyes to be able to distinguish any notable figure among the mass of photographers moving outside, until you finally saw her. Much more radiant and charming than could be seen in any photograph.

As always she saw everyone with a warm smile and she greeted all of her fans with contagious joy; she came over to sign a few autographs here and there, with camera flashes and dozens of phones pointed directly at her. You couldn't take your eyes off her for a single second; her walk was mesmerizing, from how her hips swayed from side to side to how she exuded pure class and elegance. She was fine as fuck, and she knew it perfectly.

A little more than a minute passed when the crowd finally dispersed and she could have a clear view of the road. It was then that she saw your car and had to put her hand over her mouth to cover her shock, but no matter how much she tried to hide it, you could see it in her eyes, and you were more than happy to surprise her.

She approached the passenger door, opened it, and greeted a few more fans before entering the car, where no one could see what was happening inside thanks to the tinted windows, not even from the front.

"Oh my god hiiii!" she squealed in pure happiness, lunging at you for a tight hug.

"Hello, Phampy," you smiled, reciprocating the hug and then separating, putting your hands on the wheel. You drove onto the road again, "How was everything?"

"Everything was wonderful! The organization and treatment were incredible, and I met many nice people!"

Every word she said was like music to your ears; she had one of the most beautiful Australian accents you had ever heard, and it was one of the reasons she drove you crazy.

You reached the roundabout and made a U-turn to return along the street you had arrived on.

"I also had to take a lot of photos and make videos, but it was all very nice. And my goodness! What is this car?" She laughed in amazement, examining her surroundings.

She ran her hand across the leather dashboards and touched the carbon fiber of the roof. You noticed her wanting to touch things on the touch screen she had right in front of her but she restrained herself.

"I couldn't come pick you up in a piece of tin, could I?" you saw her out of the corner of your eye, "Hanni Pham only deserves the best of the best."

"Oh yeah? That's why I have you too, right?"

She leaned towards you and grabbed you by your face to plant her lips on your cheek. You were sure that her lipstick must have been left marked on your skin.

Just when you were going to talk to her you received a call from her manager. You left one hand on the wheel and answered as you rounded the curve at the Piazza Giovani Bausan roundabout. You put the call on speaker so Hanni could hear too.

"Yeah?" you asked.

"You better take her directly to the hotel, she still has a pending appointment tonight," the manager told you from the other end of the line, the severity in her voice telling you that it was best to obey.

"You say it as if I were going to take her to Greece. Well, I don't lack the desire to do so."

"Don't even dream of it. Just take her to the hotel, please. I'll send you the location."

"Yeah yeah, chill. You know you can trust me."

"I only tolerate you because Hanni likes you. Bye," she finally hung up.

Hanni laughed at that. Seconds later you received the location of the hotel. It was the Palazzo Parigi Hotel, possibly one of the most exclusive in Milano. You weren't surprised.

"How lovely," you joked, putting the phone back in your pocket.

"I would tell you that she is just joking, but you do make her life a little miserable."

"She'll have to get used to me. Straight to the hotel then?"

"Uhm, we don't have a choice, I guess..." she said, and then she thought for a few seconds looking out the window, then looked at you again, "Daddy... Do you think this outfit suits my body?"

You knew her and that tone well enough to know where she was going with that question.

"Well, of course. That skirt highlights your hips very well... and that top makes your tits look very pretty."

You turned right and entered Via Valtellina, driving straight towards the city center. Low by SZA started playing on your Spotify, you raised the volume a little with the button on the side of the steering wheel. Hanni became thoughtful again, she looked at the road for a few seconds and then at you.

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"And... Do you think it also makes me look more fuckable?"

"Where are you going with that question, Phampy?"

She remained silent. She waited until you stopped at a traffic light so you could see her, then she slowly hiked her skirt up until it was all wrinkled at the top. Her perfect, pale pair of fleshy thighs were exposed to you, as well as her red lace panties, which you noticed were also Gucci. You were automatically turned on, but the light turned green and you had to turn your eyes to the road.

"I don’t know… you tell me."

Her hand went to your crotch, slowly squeezing and massaging the bulge in your pants. You noticed her gaze fixed on you, but you couldn't turn around in any way unless you wanted to cause an accident.

"Fuck Hanni..." you muttered, pursing your lips.

"Mmm..." she let out a subtle moan, "You're already hard daddy."

She pulled up the bottom hem of your sweater, unbuttoned your jeans and lowered your zipper to reach into your boxers and pull out your cock, which was already completely hard.

“Baby, we are in th-” you tried to protest.

"Hush. Eyes on the road."

She had seen you turn up the volume on the stereo a few minutes ago, and she used the visual information she remembered to reach her free hand over to the wheel and turn up the volume as well. A few seconds passed and the song changed to The Color Violet by Tony Lanez. You had no choice but to continue driving through the streets of downtown Milano, taking as many roads as possible to divert you from the original destination while she slowly jerked you off.

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Seconds passed. Hanni kept moving her hand up and down your cock, which was throbbing between her fingers. Her movements were slow and perfect, the months of experience you had together allowed her to know how you liked to be touched. You felt a drop of precum leak from your tip; she noticed this, and took a moment to kick off her heels, climb on her knees onto the seat and bend over towards you, leaving her butt raised toward the passenger window and her face right above your cock. Then, grabbing it by the base she took it into her mouth, her glossy lips wrapping around your shaft.

Luckily for you, just at that moment you stopped at a traffic light, which allowed you to look to the right and see Hanni's thick ass raised and adorned by the g-string she was wearing, both buttocks on full display so you could grope them and squeeze them. All the while, she moved her head up and down slowly, taking in a little more than half of your cock with each pump in a sensual, slippery blowjob.

A few seconds passed and the traffic light turned green. You were forced to look forward again, but that didn't stop you from grabbing Hanni's panties and pushing them to the side to rub your fingers on both her plump pussy and her butthole. She responded with a deep moan around your shaft. You gave one of her ass cheeks a dry spank before taking your middle and ring fingers to your mouth to fill them with saliva and take them inside her pussy. Hanni moaned louder around your cock again and increased the pace of the blowjob, taking you out of her mouth at times to fill your shaft with kisses and licks.

The song changed, now playing Bermuda Triangle by Zico, Crush and Dean, the bass from the stereos making the seats vibrate. You took your fingers deep into Hanni's pussy, and there you began pumping rapidly in and out. She matched the pace of your wrist and moved her neck accordingly, now she was giving you a sloppy, frantic blowjob.

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“Fuck,” she pulled you out of her mouth with a sharp intake of breath.

She jerked you off quickly. Your cock now completely soaked with her thick, hot saliva. When she raised her head you noticed that a string of saliva was hanging from her lower lip.

“I need you to fuck me right now daddy, I can't hold it,” she begged, placing kisses on your jaw and chin.

"I'll look for an alley to stop in."

"No," she quickly said, "You just keep driving and leave it to me."

She sat back down in her seat and raised her hips to pull her panties down her legs. When she took them off, she took them in one hand and wrapped them around the base of your cock, a detail that was enough to make you gasp. Then she maneuvered herself over to your seat and climbed on top of you, planting her feet on either side of the seat and taking advantage of her short stature so she could completely impale herself on your cock.

"Oh my god Hanni," you moaned, slowing the car down on pure instinct as she slowly went up and down on your cock.

"I really needed to feel your cock filling me again daddy... mmmh," she moaned into your neck, wrapping her arms around and clinging to it.

You thanked God that the suspension of that car was that good, it made driving in that state much easier. Still, you had to do an incredible concentration job to focus on the road with Hanni's heavenly moans in your ear distracting you.

Hanni subtly stroked the hair at the nape of your neck, tangling her fingers between your strands and giving them subtle tugs as she filled the entire side of your face with wet kisses. She started bouncing on your cock. Frantic and strong jumps that, no matter how difficult it seemed, could be heard even with the music playing at full volume in there. Ironically and completely randomly, at that moment Be Quiet and Drive by Deftones started playing.

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"I fucking missed you so much daddy... oh god!" She moaned in your ear, clinging even tighter to your neck.

There came a time when pleasure inevitably made you drive worse. You made strange gear changes, and also strange steering wheel movements. Anyone who saw the car from the outside would be alarmed thinking you were having a seizure or some weird shit, but the reality was you just had a Gucci ambassador jumping like crazy on your dick.

"You missed daddy huh? Then fucking cum on that cock," you growled, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. You entered la Corso Sempione, a wide and uncrowded street at that time. Perfect to let yourself go a little.

"Yes daddy, yes! I'll cum for you like a good girl!" she whimpered, pressing more kisses to your neck.

You roared the engine a couple of times and accelerated up the street, that made Hanni cling harder to your shoulders and crash into your pelvis much harder—apparently the speed sensation managed to give her some kind of stimulus. If she kept giving you those jumps she would probably take your breath away for a few seconds, but it didn't take long for her to explode in a tide of spasms and screams. She slumped down, lowering her knees and squeezing her thighs on either side of your hips. She ground back and forth as she rode out her orgasm, and then began to move sensually up and down.

"Fuck, I can't take it anymore," you gasped, "The hotel will have to wait a little longer."

You took a curve to the right and hit the accelerator straight ahead, desperately looking for an alley in which to stop. It was not an easy task, Milano lacked this type of space since it was full of short buildings stuck side by side, but finally you found the perfect place: the back alley of an old warehouse, to the right of which was the left fence of el Cimitero Monumentale—you were outside of it, so you weren't desecrating anything. There were a couple of cars there, but at that time no one would be out since it was still working hours. You went to the end of it, stopping when a small gate cut off the path.

You turned off the engine and could finally focus on her. You wrapped both of your arms around her perfect body and pressed her against your torso to kiss her. She moaned against your lips and cupped her hands on either side of your face to get deeper into the kiss; your tongues met and swirled around each other again and again. You moved your hands to her ass and then gave one of her butt cheeks a harder spank. She squealed and bit your bottom lip.

"Fuck me hard, daddy," she begged in a sensual, pleasure-laden voice, "Fuck me and give me all your load."

"I wouldn't want to stain that outfit in any way..." you peppered her chin and neck with kisses.

"Then make sure no drop goes to waste... put it all inside me."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been taking contraceptives for months, there won't be any problems..."

"Let's go outside then."

You opened the car door and made her get off your cock so she could get off first. You noticed the nervousness in her eyes as she looked toward the beginning of the alley, so you found it necessary to comfort her.

"Honey, I know this city like the back of my hand, no one will come here," you said, getting out of the car as well.

Those simple words seemed to make her nervousness disappear, as she immediately lunged at you with both arms around your neck and kissed you again. You wrapped your arms around her naked waist and lifted her into the air; she wrapped her legs around your torso and you took a few steps forward, positioning yourself on the side of the hood of the car and sitting her on the edge of it.

She let go of your torso and spread her legs wide, leaning back and leaning on her forearms to give you a look that you always interpreted as 'destroy me'. You pulled your pants and boxers down to your ankles, and with her panties still wrapped around the base of your cock, you sank back into her wet, warm pussy.

Hanni let out a loud moan that you silenced halfway by putting a hand over her mouth—no one would be out at that time, but you still had to be careful. She let her head hang back, and you grabbed her legs by the back of her knees to start moving your hips back and forth. You made sure she received every inch of throbbing cock with every thrust, jiggling the flesh of her thighs and her buttocks.

She was an obedient girl, so just one time of covering her mouth was enough for her to silence her moans on her own. She did it in several ways, but the most common was to put an arm around her head and press her mouth against the inside of her elbow. You thrust fast and hard, letting out grunts of pleasure as you felt the quivering flesh of her thighs between your fingers.

Hanni's eyes rolled back as you heard her let out loud squeals of pleasure. Out of the corner of your eye you saw how her toes curled. You brought her legs together and then pressed them towards her body, hammering her pussy so hard it echoed throughout the alley. You tried your best to keep your mouth shut as well, but her pussy felt so good and so wet that you couldn't help but let moans escape from your mouth.

She couldn't scream it for obvious reasons, but if she could she would have screamed at you that she was going to cum around your cock again. It wasn't necessary, you could tell by how her eyes glazed over and then she laid her back flat on the car hood. Seconds later she exploded once again, and she had to add her other arm to make sure that her intense screams of pleasure did not escape in any way.

Her pussy clenched around your cock and suffocated it, a sensation that was deadly to you and your senses. You spread her legs and now held on to her waist—which was possibly one of your favorite parts of her body— to fuck her with all your might and enter the final stretch.

Her body shook back and forth violently. She raised herself up on her elbows again and looked at you with those deep, lustful eyes again. You grabbed her by the gold necklace she was wearing and pulled her towards you to grab her neck with both hands. You pressed down with your fingers and cut off her breathing. It only took a few more thrusts for you to explode inside her.

The pleasure unconsciously made you press harder on her neck. You grunted giving her slow but aggressive thrusts, shooting stream after stream of cum into her silky pussy. She grabbed your wrists and gave one of them several pats that brought you out of your trance. You let go of her neck, noticing that you were squeezing too hard.

"Fuck... I'm sorry baby..." you gasped, still pumping until you finished draining inside her.

"You gave me the fuck I just needed today… don't apologize daddy," she managed to smile at you, even with heavy breathing.

"And what would have happened if I wasn't here? Would you have fucked some other Italian guy?" you raised an eyebrow.

"A few minutes ago I begged you to fill me to the core with your cum...," she leaned forward to give you a small kiss, "And here you are, balls deep inside me after shooting a thick, hot load straight into my womb. That makes me completely yours."

"Completely mine huh? I love the way that sounds coming out of your mouth," you cupped her face with your hands and gave her multiple short kisses on the lips.

"Yeah, and if that wasn't enough, you fucked me in a Gucci outfit, on top of a Ferrari, and in Milan. So consider yourself the luckiest guy in the world," she patted your chest a couple of times.

"I'm the luckiest guy in the world since I kissed you for the first time, Phampy," you continued to shower her face with kisses as she giggled.

"Damn, what a rizz huh?" she joked.

"Shut up dude," you laughed back.

"Hey, how much did this thing cost you? I feel like if I dent it I'll get a million dollar lawsuit."

"Two thousand euros a day, and if I want to buy it it's four hundred thousand euros. I’ll save money for it."

"Yep, I better get out of here asap," she nodded and gently pushed you back.

Your cock came out of her pussy, from which not a single drop of your cum came out. You took her into your arms and helped her off the hood. Once on the floor you removed her panties from around your cock and held them out to her.

"Nah, keep them as a souvenir," she gave you a kiss on the cheek, pulled down her skirt as if nothing had happened and got back into the car.

"Well damn, sure thing," you nodded, watching as she climbed into the passenger seat.

You pulled up your boxers and pants and got into the car again. You put Hanni's panties in the storage compartment between seats, earning a laugh from her. You left the alley, and after making sure there were no snitches around, you headed towards the hotel. After about 10 minutes you were already around the corner.

"Hey, there won't be any fans here now right?" you asked, the car stopped before turning.

"I'm sure not. But there will be later," she leaned to the right in the seat to try to make sure there was no one, "I think only my bodyguard will be there."

"I hope you're right."

Just as she said, the street in front of the hotel was completely clear. Only her bodyguard, who you recognized instantly, was there waiting patiently. When he saw you approaching with the car he approached the sidewalk, but first you made a small U-turn so that Hanni's door faced it.

"See you inside daddy," she gave you a peck on the cheek and got out of the car. The bodyguard closed the door back, and then escorted her inside.

You parked the car diagonally across the entrance, in an area marked out just for that purpose. You turned off the engine, grabbed your things and got out. You walked around the car and went to the trunk to get your backpack out. With nothing else to do out there, you crossed the street to enter the hotel lobby, which alone looked like a beautiful and elegant royal palace, made almost entirely of perfectly polished marble. Hanni wasn't there, you assumed she had gone straight to her room.

After having gone through a small security check by one of the workers, you approached the reception and began the entire procedure to get a room. Using Hanni's room never crossed your mind, it was a controlled environment that Gucci had given her and that her manager probably also used, so you were never going to have privacy. You had to get a deluxe room, which wasn't cheap at all and gave you another little pain in your wallet.

Once everything was done, you were given the key to your room. You took the elevator and went directly to your floor to look for your door. Inside the room you were greeted by a short hallway, with a small counter on the left where was a small plate with cookies and biscuits, an espresso coffee maker and a bottle of San Benedetto sparkling water. To the right was an electric door that led to the bathroom, which had a double sink and a large mirror, in front of which were first the shower cubicle and then the bathtub.

Past that hallway was finally the bedroom. The king size bed was to your right, with two nightstands on either side and a wide stool at the bottom edge. In front you had the large window, whose light was blocked by white curtains that could be folded even more to cover the window completely. To the left was a glass table with two chairs on each side and a pot with beautiful white orchids on top of it. Finally, next to you as you exit the hallway, a smaller circular table with a tray full of fresh fruits, plates with napkins and cutlery, two covered drinking glasses and a note from the hotel staff giving anyone who entered the room a welcome.

The first thing you did was drop your backpack on the bed and lie face up on it to close your eyes for a moment. After your small minute of rest, you took out your phone and told Hanni that you could come now. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the knock on your door. You got up and hurried to open it.

"Damn, you're fast aren't you?" you asked with an amused expression.

"Being away from you hurts my little chicken heart, don't you understand?" She stood in front of you to give you a kiss. She then walked in front of you towards the bedroom.

"You got a scolding from her, didn't you?" you sat on the stool in front of the bed to look at her.

"A small one, yeah," she sighed, "But I honestly don't care, I feel exhausted."

Having said that, she began to undress, first taking off her heels, then her skirt, her top, and finally her necklace, which she left on the table next to the orchids. The only thing she needed to take off was her black bra, and once she did she dove face down onto the bed, her feet dangling next to you.

"Go take a shower then, sweetheart," you said, climbing into bed with her, only to lie down with your face right against her ass.

You made yourself comfortable there, hugging her hips as if her buttocks were your pillow—they weren't too far from that, they were soft like cotton.

"Mmm only if you come with me," she giggled, subtly shaking her butt under your cheek.

"I should be ashamed of how easily controlled I am by this piece of meat, but it's okay, come on."

You gave her a kiss on the buttock and stood up to go directly to the bathroom. She came in behind you, and helped you undress between adorable little kisses on your lips and chin. Once you were both naked, she tied her hair in a high bun, and you entered the shower cubicle, whose space was not too big and forced you to be slightly close together the entire time—it didn't bother you at all.

You and she took a completely normal bath without lewdness. It was a purely romantic and fun experience for the two of you, where kisses and caresses were not lacking. It was the perfect example that many times intimacy was not just about sex, and you enjoyed those moments as much as the sexual ones, they made you feel that there really was something there and that not everything revolved around carnal pleasures.

Once bathed and dried you went back to the bedroom. Hanni took off the towel, untied her hair, and threw herself back onto the bed.

"Your manager said you still had a pending appointment tonight, how much time do we have right now?" you asked, taking off the towel to continue drying your hair.

"Mmm… we have three hours, then I'll be there for about two more, and after that I'll be completely yours," she told you as she crawled under the covers and settled herself towards the center of the bed.

"Aight," you nodded, leaving the towel on the floor to go turn on the air conditioning, "Anything in particular you want to do?"

"I want you to take me out to eat and drink, can you?" She asked you, covered up to her neck with the blanket.

She looked so adorable and cute that you couldn't help but grab your phone to take a photo of her.

"Hey!" she laughed, giving you the perfect smile you needed for the shot.

"Of course I can, baby," you nodded, "I know the perfect place, in fact."

"I almost forgot that you were born here. Let's see, would you say something to me in Italian?"

"Tesoro, ho bisogno di dormire perché sono seriamente esausto," you told her, going to close the curtains. The room was now left in subtle darkness.

"That was so fucking sexy, oh my god," she breathed in, surprised, "But what did you say, I know tesoro is a cute thing."

The way she said that word made you smile.

"I said I'm exhausted and I need to sleep, honey," you climbed onto the bed and got under the blankets with her.

"Well, that's timely, because so am I," she sighed, turning her back on you so you could hug her from behind.

She raised her head, and you put your arm under her so she was resting on it. Then she pressed her back and her ass against you, and you wrapped your free arm around her in a warm hug that felt like lounging at a campfire in a Dark Souls game. You buried your face between her shoulder and the back of her neck, breathing in the delicious red fruit aroma of her skin.

"Hey, how do you say I love you in Italian?" she asked in a small, soothing voice.

"Ti amo," you responded with your eyes closed.

"Then ti amo, honey… uh, how do you say a lot?"

"Ti amo tanto," you said with a giggle, and opened your eyes to place kisses on her neck and cheek.

"Yeah, ti amo tanto baby," she laughed too, and turned her head so you could kiss her lips multiple times.

"Go to sleep now, dude, you have things to do later," you gave her a couple more kisses and returned to your initial position on her back.

"Yes daddy!" She responded obediently and clung to the arm you had around her body to sleep.

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As was usual every time she and you slept together, you woke up first. You gave her a kiss on her temple and carefully got out of bed to go put on some clean boxers, brush your teeth, and return to her. You climbed onto the bed and crawled carefully.

"Honey, wake up, it's a matter of time before the harpy calls you," you said softly, shaking her shoulder lightly.

"Mmmm..." she shifted on the bed and opened only one eye to see you, "What time is it?" she asked with a frown.

"6PM."

As soon as you told the time she sat up and started rubbing her eyes, then she got out of bed and checked her phone.

"Damn, I need to hurry. They're already waiting for me in the lobby."

"Already? There's still an hour left."

"Yeah, but you know how things are," she moved around the room looking for something, "Damn, I left my luggage in the other room. There's a landline phone here too, right?"

"Uh huh, next to the bathroom."

She ran into the hallway, and then you heard her talk to her room service to bring her luggage, which arrived just before five minutes. With her clothes already in your room, she put on clean underwear and went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When she came out, she started to get dressed. All while you were checking your phone without bothering to put on anything other than your boxers.

"So, how do I look?" she told you, coming out of the bathroom for maybe the 6th time in half an hour.

You looked away from your phone and examined her from head to toe. This time she had put on a black cardigan with gold buttons, some flared jeans and a couple of elements from her previous outfit: the red heels and the gold necklace. She gave you a couple of flirtatious spins and blew you a kiss.

"As beautiful and spectacular as always," you winked and smiled at her.

"I'll be back. Wait for me right here, okay?" She approached you, placed her hand on your chest and gave you a kiss on the lips.

"I don't feel like going anywhere else without you, honey. Go," you nodded toward the exit hallway.

"I love you! See you later!" She grabbed her handbag and with the phone in hand she disappeared down the hallway.

"I love you too!"

You heard the door open and then close again, a sign that you would be alone for the next two or maybe three hours. You had slept less than three hours in twenty-four hours due to all the hustle and bustle of the trip and the trip itself, so you took advantage of the moment to sleep again.

---------------------------------

A weight on top of your body and multiple soft kisses all over your face were your alarm clock. You slowly opened your eyes to find a cute smol bean straddling you, an adorable smirk on her face.

"Wakey wakey, sleeping princess," she said as if she were singing you a lullaby. You almost fell asleep again.

"Hmm?" You rubbed your eyes with your fingers and finally opened them to take a good look at her, "Did you just get here? How did it go?"

"Nope, I got here an hour ago, but I wanted to let you sleep a little more," she leaned in to kiss your cheek, "Everything went great, I had one of the best cheesecakes I've ever had in my life, honestly."

"Did you bring me sum?"

"I would have if I had paid for it," she chuckled, "come on, get up, we have a date honey."

"Has everyone left down there? I thought I heard the commotion when you arrived."

"It's 11 at night, people should sleep, right?"

"Yeah but some people are crazy. You know how things are."

"Take it easy babe, we don't have to leave the hotel together anyway. It can be like when you picked me up at the event early."

"The most discreet thing is to go out as if you weren’t going to do anything important at all, it attracts less attention."

"You just want to leave the hotel holding my hand, right?" She raised an eyebrow. You were caught.

"I mean," you pursed your lips and shrugged, "Yeah."

"Alright, alright," she laughed, "But go get dressed then, I'm ready to go."

"If you would just get off of me I could, sweetie."

"Right, sorry," she nodded, and then got off of you.

Looking back at the amount of time it took Hanni to get ready and how long it took you made you feel a little ashamed of being just a man. It had only taken you about ten minutes to get ready to leave. You combed your hair, put on perfume, and put on all your rings: two on your right hand and two on your left. Choosing an outfit was quite easy for you, especially if you took into account that you were going to have a late-night dinner in one of the fashion capitals. A white turtleneck sweater tucked into khaki pants, a dark brown trench coat, and black Chelsea boots.

During the time that you had been getting ready, Hanni was taking photos of herself all over the room, in the end she showed you one that she took in bed and another that she took in the mirror.

"You look gorgeous, what the hell. Are you gonna post them?," you asked, making a few final adjustments to the collar of your sweater.

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, I just want you to make sure I don't show up in any mirrors or some shit," you laughed, "I'd be hung by the balls in ADOR."

"Honey, there aren't that many mirrors in the room."

"Knowing my bad luck, my stupid ass face would show up in the reflection of the bathroom mirror," you grabbed your phone and your wallet to put both things in the pockets of your trench coat.

"But it didn't, let's go!" She gestured you toward the door.

"Did you make sure no one was outside?"

"Manager nim is aware of that, as the hotel security, so we have the green light."

"Aight, but what happens away from the hotel is our business, right?"

"Yup," she nodded.

"Fair enough," you sighed, "Let's go, honey."

After making sure you didn't forget anything, you and she left the room heading out of the hotel. You were lying if you didn't say you were nervous as shit as you walked through the lobby with her holding your hand. As you walked through the revolving door of the hotel you couldn't help but think that the best thing would have been to put on a mask and a cap, the same for her, but at that point you didn't give a damn. You were just a couple of very young adults wanting to be happy together.

You left the hotel looking in all possible directions, then you crossed the street and went to your car to get into it.

"Well, that went well didn't it?" you asked, starting the engine, which roared through the block.

"I mean, I can assure you that this thing just drew all the attention here," she laughed, and you drove away from the hotel grounds.

"In this city we're used to the sound of sports cars, honey, no one cares anymore," you laughed, driving down Via Pontaccio.

"Waaaaoh, that's the most presumptuous thing I've heard you say since I've known you."

"Non è che sia una bugia, amore," you turned for a second only to blow her a vain kiss.

"Yeah yeah whatever you say Mr. Pepperoni," you couldn't help but burst into laughter, "Can I play music?"

"If you have a perfect song that's about five minutes long, go for it," you nodded, still smiling.

She, who had perfectly understood the mood and the context in which you were, played PRIDE. by Kendrick Lamar.

youtube

"Damn, this city is beautiful, especially at night, isn't it?" She said looking out the window as you passed around the Giuseppe Garibaldi statue.

"Yes it is," you nodded, "It's gotten a lot better since I left. It feels good to be back."

"Would you bring me here again? I'd love to go sightseeing here with you..." she continued looking out the window, completely mesmerized by the city.

"Of course honey. I could even take you to meet my grandparents."

She turned around with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"What?!" She exclaimed, causing you to laugh, "Oh no no no, I'm not ready for that, shut up."

"Sooner or later you will have no escape."

"I know, but I don't want to think about it. Shut up, shut up."

After a few minutes you arrived at your destination, the Horto Restaurant, located on the Medelan terrace, a historic building that was previously known as Palazzo Broggi. Now it was full of shops, offices of major banks and conference rooms. You went up to the terrace, asked for one of the tables on the balcony and went to sit down. It didn't take long for the waiter to arrive to pick up your order.

"I didn't ask you earlier, but how the girls are?" she asked you.

You went blank for a few seconds, formulating the answer in your head because that question encompassed a significant number of girls in your life at that moment.

"Fuck, where do I start," you sighed, "Well, Sullyoon and Haewon are perfect, I haven't been able to spend almost any time with either of them because they've been busy with their activities. Chaeyoung and Sumin are on tour. Rei is giving concerts too. And Yeseo gave a concert yesterday, I think."

"And what about Jinni?" At that moment the waiter brought you two glasses of Masseto wine, "Thank youuu!"

"Grazie mille," you thanked too, "Well, Jinni doesn't talk to me anymore. I can imagine her reasons," you shrugged.

"Oh… that sucks," she grimaced.

"Yeah but I'm not at a point in my life where I want to worry too much about that. How’s Dani?" you asked her, taking a sip of your wine.

"Oh she's great!" The smile returned to her face, "She's on vacation with her family in Australia, I guess she told you."

"Yup, but I haven't talked to her in a few days. The last thing she told me was that she wanted us to meet when the three of us were back in Korea."

"Sleepover at your house?" She took the wine from her with both eyebrows raised.

"You are more than welcome," you smiled.

"Can we take Minji?"

You stopped to think about what that question entailed and you thought about it for a few seconds.

"Only if you promise to behave," you crossed your arms, looking at her with your head tilted.

"We always behave... daddy," she gave you an innocent little smile and seconds later your food arrived.

By the end of your dinner you had also finished your first glasses of wine. The next thing you did was order a dessert, along with two more drinks. She ordered a tiramisu, and you ordered panna cotta. When you also finished the dessert you stood up, wine glasses in hand, and approached the railing to admire the city.

"Gosh, what a view huh?" she said as she looked at the west wing of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. She took a photo from there.

"You like them?" You took a sip from your glass as you looked at her.

"Are you kidding? I feel like I'm in a Renaissance painting, it's beautiful."

You took a step back and pulled out your phone to point your camera at her as she drank wine.

"And I feel like I'm in a Michelangelo painting looking at you, sweetie."

Hanni had a small moment of panic at your compliment and put her hand to her mouth to squeal in the middle of a silly smile. It was your perfect moment to take the photo. Then you sent it to her.

"Were you waiting all night to say that line?"

"Nah, it came spontaneously from me."

"Uh-huh, you wouldn't believe it yourself," she laughed, setting her almost-finished glass back on the table to approach you, "Hey... thanks for flying all the way here just for me babe... I was feeling kind of sad to have to be here alone during such an important time."

At that moment, Vivo per lei by Andrea Bocelli was playing inside the covered area. It sounded somewhat muffled due to the distance but it was perfect for the romantic moment, because the breeze also began to blow stronger.

"You have nothing to be thankful for, Phampy. And hey, you wouldn't be alone, you'd be with the harpy," you both laughed.

"Yes, it's basically like being alone," she snuggled into your chest and looked up at you, "But seriously, thank you, it means a lot to me, honey. You're wonderful... and I love you."

You should have told her that you loved her back, after all it was the most normal thing, right? Well no. Up there, under the clear night sky of Milano and with one of the most beautiful romantic pieces in history playing in the background, the first thing that came from the bottom of your heart was to surround her waist with your arms, press her to your body and kiss her.

Hanni wrapped her arms around your neck and clung to you, stroking the hair at the nape of your neck as your lips danced together in a slow, tender kiss. What you were doing was not entirely responsible, you were in a more than public place and on a terrace from where almost anyone could see you. You knew it, yes, but you didn't care in the least. That was a significant moment for you, one that would remain embroidered in your memory and your heart forever, the last thing you needed was to worry about a random snitch.

"I love you too, Phampy," you murmured against her lips, who knows how long after you'd been kissing, "Thank you for letting me be a part of your life, this honestly feels like a dream."

"You're so cute, god, stop it," she giggled and gave you a peck, "You know, the night is still young..." she put her finger on your chin and traced soft scribbles on it, "Why don't you take me back to the hotel to put the icing on the cake?"

"By cake you mean your cake, huh?" You raised an eyebrow with an amused expression.

"By cake I mean I can't wait for you to fuck my ass today. You know what the icing is... daddy," she moved closer to your neck and gave you a quick lick so no one else would see.

"Aight, we're getting out of here."

You hurried to pay the bill (another hard blow to your wallet) and you both got out of the building, got into the car and headed to the hotel again, which you arrived in record time and probably breaking some maximum speed limits. You hurried to take the elevator and go up the hallway, but Hanni, seeing that there was no one there, couldn't hold back the urge and kissed you right there.

You moved between kisses with clumsy steps and slight stumbles, in the end you saved yourself any future effort. As soon as you opened the door you picked her up so that she clung to your torso with her legs and you entered the room. You threw her back against the bed, and being between her legs you went deeper into her kiss. All tenderness had already disappeared, now you were eating each other's mouths in a fierce and passionate way, she letting out constant little moans against your lips.

Hanni took your coat off your shoulders and you helped her by taking it off your arms—when you threw it on the floor your phone must have taken a good hit, but at that moment you didn't even think about it. She also took your sweater out of your pants and put her hands in to caress your abdomen and chest. You separated from her lips and dove into her neck to fill it with kisses and light hickeys. As you did so she pulled the hem of your sweater up to take it off as well, and with your torso now bare you returned the favor by unbuttoning her cardigan and opening it wide, to reveal her black bra underneath it.

As you took off each shoe with your feet you began to trail your kisses down to her collarbone and her shoulders, making sure not to leave any non-wet areas before moving on to the next. You focused now on her tits, which contrary to what they might seem, were not small at all. Each mound was filled with kisses and licks, but before you freed them from the annoying bra, you now moved towards your favorite part of her body.

Kissing Hanni's belly always felt like kissing a soft sugar cloud; it was so perfect that you could literally spend hours just being there, filling it with kisses and licking it multiple times. While she caressed your hair and gave it little tugs with one of her hands, you unbuttoned her jeans and lowered the zipper, and without still lowering the jeans you now kissed her lower belly and her pubes above of her panties.

"Mmm..." you heard her moan softly, "Is daddy going to eat me? I would love for daddy to eat me..."

Her low, angelic voice always managed to make you feel things, and at that moment it turned you on so much that you pulled her jeans and panties down to her knees in one tug. She gasped, seeing you kneeling in front of her with the biggest 'fuck me' eyes. You took off her heels and threw them to the floor, and with her feet now free you finished removing her jeans and panties off her legs.

She crawled into bed and laid her head on a pillow to spread her legs wide, bringing one hand to her pussy to rub it up and down with two of her fingers. You dropped onto your stomach so that your face was just inches from her crotch. Normally you would have done some foreplay and been gentle, but you were too hungry for her. You grabbed her by both her soft, fleshy thighs, and without thinking twice you buried your mouth in her pussy.

"Hmm!" she moaned louder, "Yes daddy... eat your little baby's pussy, make me cum all over your face, please..."

You could always be the top and the dominant, but the truth is you were at the complete mercy of her and her requests. If she told you to jump into a puddle of mud so she could pass, you went at record speed to do it; if she ordered you to bungee jump without any type of rope, you would jump blindfolded. That was the level of control she had over you.

With how turned on you were, you didn't bother to be passionate or sensual, you got straight to the point with intense, wet kisses up and down her slit. Hanni tangled her fingers in your hair and grabbed a handful of it to tug gently. You used your tongue to give her frantic licks up and down, the velvety folds of her beginning to get wet and delicious.

Your grip on her thighs tightened. The flesh beneath your fingers trembled, and her fingers pulling at your hair made it harder and harder. You noticed her wanting to close her thighs around your head like she always did and like you always loved it, but you wanted to make her wait a little.

"Just like that daddy… yes, yes!" She squealed, pulling harder on your hair but also stroking it knowing that she hurt you.

You pressed her thighs as far back as you could, concentrating on attacking her clit quickly and sloppily, alternating between long up-and-down licks and stimulation on her hole. With your peripheral vision you noticed how she reached one hand under her back and unclasped her bra to take it off. She just left her open cardigan on. Her beautiful pair of breasts were exposed, and you soon reached up to grope one of them.

Her thighs were already too tight to contain, so you let go, and as soon as you did she trapped your head between them in a tight, soft meat sandwich. You intensified your efforts, now also adding one of your fingers to pump it in and out of her.

"Don't stop daddy..." she gasped, "Oh my god don't stop don't stop don't stop!!"

And you didn't do it in any second. Not until the pressure on either side of your head became so strong and her body became so trembling that you knew her orgasm was just around the corner. Seconds later she came, arching her back and gripping the pillow beneath her head with both hands. You collected every delicious drop of fluids with your mouth, sucking and licking up and down her pussy until they were gone.

She finally let go of your head and relaxed her legs to the sides. You wiped your chin, and knelt up to look her in the eyes.

"Do you feel like sucking daddy's cock?" you asked, unbuttoning your pants and unzipping them.

"I always feel like sucking daddy's delicious cock..." she responded breathlessly, then sat up and took off her cardigan to throw it in with the rest of her clothes.

Already completely naked from head to toe, Hanni got on all fours and crawled up to you with hungry eyes, looking up at you when she was in front of your hard bulge. She grabbed the hem of your pants and pulled them down to your knees. Her lips were planted on your bulge above your boxers, kissing the outline of your cock and also kissing your balls. It didn't take long for the drops of precum to leak through the fabric and make a stain, which she then collected with her tongue before lowering your boxers as well.

"How can I not always want to suck daddy's cock?" she asked as she set your throbbing shaft free, "It's so juicy..." wet kisses on the backside, "So big..." kisses now on your balls, "And it fits so well in my mouth."

She gave your cock a long lick from the balls to your tip and swirled her tongue there before taking a couple of inches into her mouth. A few sucks on your tip were enough for her to take a couple more inches, then she started pumping back and forth, taking a little more than half of your cock in and out of her warm mouth.

You had a wonderful view: her beautiful arched back and her perfect upturned ass. While she slurped over and over on your cock you leaned forward slightly to grope her ass to your heart's content. You squeezed each of her ass cheeks hard, and also gave a couple of spanks hard enough to make her moan around your cock.

She pulled you out of her mouth with a sharp gasp of air and spat a large amount of saliva onto your cock to jerk you off quickly. She looked into your eyes for a few long seconds, her mouth purposely half open so you could see how a thread of saliva dripped from her lower lip onto the bed.

"Does daddy want to fuck her little baby's mouth?" she asked, then started sucking your balls and filling them with saliva.

"If you promise to be a good girl and swallow it all..."

You grabbed a handful of her hair and made her lift her head slightly to lick all the way from her chin to her upper lip. That made her moan.

"I'm always a good girl... you should know that daddy… Now put that hot load down my throat,"

By her saying that you forced her to return to her initial position. She opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out as far as she could. You gathered as much of her hair as you could into a ponytail and held it to take your cock into her mouth. You let out a long gasp, starting to pump your hips back and forth.

Hanni stuck to being a good girl as if it were a divine commandment. She remained with her tongue hanging out and her mouth wide open; it didn't matter how deep you pushed or how fast you did it, she always did what she knew you would love. And in that moment, as you fucked her mouth faster and faster, you felt like you were going to explode at any second.

She wasn't able to take you all the way down her throat, but she did such a good job with her tongue that you didn't care at all. Her saliva began to spill down her chin, bubbling and falling to the mattress with each thrust. You moaned loudly, releasing her ponytail to now grab two handfuls of her hair with both hands, then you began to move her head against your cock.

The frantic gag sounds were like music to your ears. You growled, releasing one of the fistfuls of her hair to give her a harder spank that made her moan again. The vibrations sent to your cock were the finishing touch that with a couple more pumps, made you explode inside her mouth. You buried her head against your cock as much as you could, shooting your entire load down her throat.

"Oh yeah... take it all baby," you gasped, hearing her cough and seeing the veins in her neck pop out.

She closed her lips around your cock so that no drop of cum would escape as she swallowed it all. You stroked her hair and then the side of her face, as a reward for swallowing your entire load once your orgasm passed. You pulled your cock out of her mouth, and she took a sharp breath. Multiple thick strings of saliva connecting the tip of your cock to her lips.

"See daddy? I'm always a good girl... I swallowed it all," she stuck her tongue out for you to check.

"And since you're such a good girl..." you leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead and another on her nose, "You deserve for daddy to make love to you."

Hanni's face lit up like a streetlight and a smile spread from ear to ear. She knelt and then fell back to lay on her side, her head on the pillow.

"Come here and kiss me then, dear," she said back in her small, soothing voice.

You raised knee by knee and finished removing your pants and boxers off your legs; then you lay down on one side of her and pressed her back and your chest together. You repeated your same sleeping position, her lying on top of your right arm and her entire body against yours. Only this time you took your cock with one hand and made her put her ass back, so you could make your way between her buttocks and find her pussy, which you rubbed several times with your tip. Your cock was already well lubricated and her pussy extremely wet, so it took no effort at all to take your entire cock inside her in one smooth motion.

"Mmm..." she let out a long, adorable moan. You hugged her with both arms and began to shower her jaw with kisses, "God..."

You began to move your hips slowly, taking the entire length of your cock in and out of her wet pussy with sensual movements. It was the perfect moment for you both to enjoy each other's bodies as much as you could. With your right hand—the one around her neck—you grabbed one of her tits and massaged it, playing with her nipple from time to time. With your left hand you explored every possible corner of her body within your reach; you started with her perfect belly, caressing it from top to bottom with the palm of your hand; then your hand went to her soft thighs, squeezing one of them and later moving to her ass, which you also squeezed hard.

From her position Hanni couldn't do much, but she used what little mobility she had to caress your hair, the side of your torso, your hips and finally your butt, which she also squeezed before turning to look at you. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyebrows were arched in pleasure. She looked at your lips, and pulled you towards her to kiss her.

While you shared a kiss full of passion and small moans you lifted one of her legs, holding it by the back of her knee and pressing it against her torso. Hanni moaned louder against your lips, and you did it back, feeling in absolute heaven as you fucked her with slow, strong, deep pumps.

"Oh my god... you drive me so fucking crazy darling..." she murmured against your lips between gasps.

"You drive me crazy too, baby..." you bit her lower lip, then looked into her eyes, "I absolutely love every part of you... you're so fucking perfect."

You gave her a few harder, faster thrusts for a few seconds, now kissing her chin and neck. She pulled you gently by her hair.

"Absolutely every part of me is yours... my entire fucking existence belongs to you, fuck," she moaned, breathing becoming louder and more ragged.

You let go of her leg and let it fall back so that it was bent toward her body. Now you rested that hand on her soft waist, holding on there with your fingers as hard as you could.

"Say it... tell me you're completely mine," you murmured against her neck, which you then bit gently.

"I'm completely yours, damn it! And I love you so much that I wouldn't mind being it forever! Fuck!!"

That last sentence of hers, said between loud moans and gasps, was the precursor to one of the strongest orgasms you could ever cause in her. She clung to your right forearm with both hands, letting out beautiful squeals of pleasure that urged you to kiss her again. You fucked her non-stop during her orgasm, which made her writhe in your arms and let out a small load of hot fluids that you felt soaked part of your cock.

"And you..." she whispered, "You are completely mine," she looked into your eyes, "You belong to me. Every part of you, from head to toe. Everything about you says Hanni Pham’s property."

Her words were a breaking point for you. You couldn't take it anymore, and with a sudden burst of energy you forgot that you were making love to her. You fucked her as fast and hard as you could, holding on to one of her tits as if your life depended on it and putting such pressure on her waist that it could very well hurt later. You buried your face in her neck once more, and it only took a few seconds for you to explode inside her again. This time filling her pussy with so much cum that you felt like it was already spilling out after a couple of pumps.

"Oh yeah... give me all that load dear, put it all inside me, fill me and make me more yours than I already am..." she said in a low voice as you spilled the last drops.

"You're lucky you're on the pills..." you mumbled between tired breaths, "Because if you tell me that I just want to put a baby in you."

"Right now it's impossible... in the future, who knows."

You looked up to look at her for a few seconds and then kiss her again as you let your cock slide out of her pussy—forming a massive pool of cum on the mattress that you didn't bother to clean up at the time. You two completely lost track of time, two minutes or two hours could have passed while you were kissing. You didn't know, what you did know is that it didn't end there. And also that you already felt ready for one last round.

"The icing is still missing on the cake... don't you think?" you asked, and she gave you a mischievous smile.

"Did you bring lube? I didn't think I'd need it."

"Unlike you..."

You got out of bed and went to your bag, you dug to the bottom of it and took out the water-based lubricant that you and she always used.

"I'm always prepared for anything," you winked at her and went back to bed.

"How do I know you haven't had it there since you went to fuck Haewon or some shit like that?" she raised both eyebrows in an expression that made you laugh.

"As real as that sounds to you and me, no. I put it there thinking exclusively of you," you gave her a peck on the lips and gave her a little spank.

"Wow, that's thoughtful, isn't it?" you noticed the sarcasm in her voice, "Does that mean you really fucked her ass?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask her?"

You grabbed her by the waist and forced her onto her stomach, then she herself lifted her butt and got on her forearms and knees for you. You settled on your knees behind her pretty round ass, your cock resting between her butt cheeks.

"Because I don't care, no ass will feel better than mine to you."

She looked over her shoulder at you with a mischievous expression and arched her back even further, pressing the side of her face into the bed. You took the bottle of lubricant and started pouring it all over her ass, including your cock in the middle. After having poured a not at all modest amount you put the bottle aside and began to spread the liquid, making her pale buttocks so shiny that they reflected the ceiling lights. You repeated the process with your cock, and then used your fingers to spread it into her butthole as well.

"That's a pretty humble take, huh?" you imitated the sarcasm in her voice.

"Put that cock in there and you'll find out, daddy," she returned to the spiciest tone of voice, the one that made you fuck her in the middle of an alley.

You didn't make her wait. You took your cock in one hand, pressed it against her butthole and slowly sank into it. She frowned and moaned, engulfing your cock inch by inch until it disappeared between her ass cheeks. You let your pelvis rest against her ass, all the while you just looked at her.

"Fuck, maybe you're right. I don't think there's an ass that feels as good as this one."

You gave one of her buttocks a hard spank, the hardest of the night, and repeated the same with the other. Hanni let out little squeals at both of them. You began to move slowly back and forth, slow pumps at first to let her walls get used to it.

"Is this daddy's favorite ass then? Hm?" she asked with a provocative tone.

Certainly Haewon's ass was a strong contender, and Rei's wasn't that far off either, but you had to give in to the truth.

"Yes it is..." you replied as you made circles on her buttocks with your hands, "now shut up and let daddy pound it really good."

As a good man of your word you did so. You clung to her waist with both hands, making sure she was looking at you before you began to increase your pace. With each thrust Hanni's face twisted more and her face became redder with pleasure. Her body shook with increasing violence as your pelvis slammed harder against her ass and filled the room with the sound of your lewd act.

"Give me your damn hands," you ordered, and she obediently put her hands behind her back.

You put her hands on top of each other and then grabbed both of her forearms with your hand. With that point of grip you began the real action, now fucking her ass in such a way that even that bed squeaked every few seconds. You raised your free hand and gave her another hard spank.

"Oh fuck!!" She squealed, "Give me more daddy! Let your good girl's ass fucking red!!"

You switched the hand you had on her forearms and now gave her other buttock a series of consecutive spanks that made her scream into the sheets. You didn't stop until her right buttock was as red as a tomato, and then you repeated the process with the other. With Hanni's request fulfilled, you brought her knees together and made her lie on her stomach to now fuck her prone bone.

"Now you feel kinky huh?" you growled.

You let go of her forearms and leaned forward, grabbing a handful of her hair and lifting her head just to shower her neck with kisses. Hanni clung to your neck with one hand and you felt her grip her fingers around it. You pumped up and down as hard as you could, pinning her against the bed.

"I-I..." she stuttered, "D-Daddy, I'm going to... HMMM!!"

Just before she finished her sentence you noticed all the muscles in her ass tighten around your shaft. Hanni's legs began to shake, and she rolled her eyes back as she grunted in pleasure. You stood up straight again and released the handful of her hair with a sharp downward push. She leaned on her hands and watched you over her shoulder as you continued fucking her ass.

"So? What are you waiting for to put the icing on the cake daddy?" she raised an eyebrow letting you know that she was ready for more.

"I hope you know how to hide the pain in your legs, you slut."

You pulled out of her ass and made her lie on her back. She spread her legs wide, gripping her own thighs, and you returned inside her butthole with a single strong thrust. Now you were looking into her eyes, and she was looking straight back at you. You let her take care of holding her legs, and you concentrated on bringing her hands to her neck to press your fingers around it.

"I don't care about the damn pain..." she managed to say through her throat slightly clogged by your fingers, "Just put all that load inside me, daddy..."

You didn't need to remember how much power she and her words had over you, but those damn words made you feral. You removed her hands from her thighs and grabbed them yourself, only to pull them back and press them tight against her torso. You leaned forward, and placed your hands on her sides to use your body as weight.

Now your face and hers weren't too far from each other. She cradled your face with her hands, and made you stare at her while you pounded her ass like an animal. The tide of stimulus soon became too strong. Her deep eyes fixed on you; her blushing cheeks; her mouth half open and gasping with pleasure; her sweaty skin constantly rubbing against yours; and above all, her incredibly tight ass, which in a few seconds brought you to one last orgasm.

"Mmmghh!!" you growled, tensing all the muscles in your neck as you gave one last hard push down.

"Hmm!!" She moaned with you, "That's it daddy, give it to me all... all of it!!"

You didn't hold back the urge to kiss her as you shot thick jets of semen into her ass, now giving slow, deep thrusts so that she felt absolutely every drop of it filling her. She moaned against your lips, and released her legs from the pressure of your body to wrap them around your torso. Then she wrapped her arms around your neck as well, and once again, you kissed for longer than you could imagine.

"What a way to end the night, huh?" you asked between labored breaths once you maked out for about five minutes.

"Oh yeah..." she nodded, placing kisses on your chin and another on your nose, "It was more than necessary."

"Are you flying to Korea tomorrow?"

"I think so, and you?"

"I don't know, I might stay here a couple more days before I take the flight."

"And keep paying for that damn beast down there?" she laughed.

"Oh hell no, our mechanic friend already did his job perfectly. But maybe you'll see him again in Korea."

"Then I'll pull your ears for spending that kind of money."

"It's not like you didn't like it," you laughed.

You stood up and started looking for things for you and Hanni to clean up. Once both bodies were clean, you turned on the air conditioning and turned off the lights. Now you only had the light from one of the lamps on each side of the bed. You settled under the blanket, she clinging to you with her arms and legs like a koala clinging to her branch.

"I love you, Phampy... sweet dreams," you kissed her forehead and then her lips.

"I love you too dear… thank you for being here with me," she said softly before closing her eyes.

---------------------------------------

Spren Notes: Well, first of all, I must apologize once again for filling this piece with so much Italianness everywhere lmao. It was necessary. This is probably the most personal and close to my heart piece I have ever written. I just hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

#hanni smut #newjeans smut #kpop smut #smut fanfic #male reader smut #x male reader smut #x male reader #male reader insert

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starkwlkr · 1 month

Note

Hii!! I had one for the Marvel!Actrice stories.

Can you make one where she gets her hollywood star on the walk of fame the same day that Kevin Feige gets one and Hugh makes a whole speech about her? Thought it would be cute to fit in :))

hopelessly devoted to you | hugh jackman

an: was about to make this hopelessly devoted to hugh.. lol get it? to you? to hugh… I’ll go home (again, reader has no faceclaim so you can imagine anyone you want <3) there’s a big fish and sebastian vettel quote in there so enjoy <3

The day of the walk of fame ceremony was here. It was a hot sunny day in Los Angeles, but you were keeping positive. You were finally joining the walk of fame.

Your whole family was there to witness the moment. Olivia even brought her Polaroid camera to take photos. She had a whole scrapbook filled with Polaroids. Your family was seated in the front row as the ceremony started. Several of your past costars like RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Winona Ryder were in attendance to celebrate the milestone.

The presenter started of by giving a speech about your accomplishments while you stood to the side. It felt like forever but eventually the first speech was about to be said by none other than Hugh.

“Twelve years ago, I was here receiving my star. My family was there and it was one of the best days ever. I remember you, my love, saying something in your speech that had stuck with me ever since. She said ‘you are, and ever shall be, my greatest delight’ and that’s what you are to me. We met when we were young. When I first saw you, the world around me had receded into a blur and all I saw was you. To quote one of our favorite movies, ‘they say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true’. You have given me the best family and so much love. Also I quickly want to say that if anyone here thinks love at first sight is bullshit, I’ve got my proof right here,” he gave you a quick kiss on the lips as the crowd cheered. “I’m just happy that I met her so early so I didn’t spend a great time looking for her. And to wrap things up, because I can see our daughter shooting glares at me . . . My love, your star here is not just a mark of your achievements, but a symbol of the love and respect you’ve earned from all who know you. I love you, forever and always.”

And with that Hugh and the rest of the crowd clapped for you. You were practically in tears listening to Hugh’s speech. You were definitely going to scold him later for making you cry.

“You deserve this and more.” Hugh whispered to you as he gave you a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“I hate you right now, you made me cry,” you wiped away a tear. “I love you.”

#hugh jackman blurb #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman one shot #hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #marvel actress!reader #actress!reader #hugh jackman

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lqveharrington · 5 months

Text

Behind the Scenes | V.

summary: Being Vox’s girlfriend requires some patience after twelve hour work days.

pairing: Vox x fem!reader

includes: Vox and Velvette bullying one another, VALENTINO BEING A MENACE, mentions of Angel’s job, drinking, fluff, yelling, Vox being a baby, cursing, implications of being a prostitute, suggestiveness, both of them being teases (that’s it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i think writing hazbin fics is my stress outlet 😭

You were Vox’s. And Vox was yours. Every demon and sinner in Pride Ring knew due to Vox taking time out of his busy work day to shower you with compliments in every press interview or host show when you were brought up. Especially when Vox would be the first one to find you after you finished modeling for Velvette’s show, making sure the paparazzi had photos of him praising you with kisses and soft touches.

Of course, you reciprocated every moment… In the public eye. Behind the cameras and screens, Vox was very much loving. But he did work for almost twelve hours each day, which required patience from you whenever he came home to you in a sour mood.

“Do you need me for anything else, Vel?” You glance back at your phone as you pour red wine into your glass.

“No,” She scribbled down measurement adjustments for another model’s design, looking back up at her screen after hearing an electrical shock from your side of the phone. “But do tell your boy toy that you have a dress rehearsal early tomorrow morning, and that you have to be there on time.”

Vox wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at the young overlord through your phone. “Fuck off, Velvette.”

You feel him resting his head against your shoulder as he presses soft kisses on your neck, your dead heart fluttering. “I’ll be there on time.”

“Good.” She rolled her eyes at your boyfriend’s actions before ending the call.

“What’s your damage today, handsome?” You ask before sipping on your drink, red lipstick staining the clear glass. You watch as he mutters something incoherent, static emitting from his hat. “Vox, talk to me.”

“That bitch Carmilla won’t meet up, and it’s been several days since our last update on Vox technology.” He sighs as he moves around you, his voice crackling with electricity. “Shareholders have been up my fucking ass all morning about it— Valentino keeps trying to get me to watch his stupid porn feels featuring Angel.”

He removes his suit jacket as he complains, walking toward the large living space including a minibar. Vox pulls at his tie and reaches for the whiskey underneath, “Now Velvette wants to be an ass and complain about me wanting to spend time with you—“

“My love,” You hand him a glass from the cabinets, letting your hand linger on his for a bit. “Vel’s my boss, and I’m her best model. She needs me for these rehearsals.”

“You’re really taking her side?” He tilts back his head and downs the drink in one go, pouring another.

You roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “I’m not taking sides, I’m pointing out a fact.” You sit on the stool by the bar, letting him slot himself between your legs. “If anything, I’m listening to you describing your day.”

“Mm.” He let one hand come down and rest on your hip, rubbing soft circles. “Tell me about your day.”

“Boring, tiring. Pretty much the same every day.” You grab his wrist to ensure he doesn’t go any lower or any higher. “According to your assistant, I do have a lot of things planned tomorrow. So that should be exhausting.”

Vox linked your hands together, “Sounds stressful.”

“Not as bad as yours every day.” You press a kiss on his palm. “I was gonna watch a movie while waiting for you, but now that you’re here—“ You shift your wine glass in your hand as he puts his own glass down, letting him trail his hands to your waist. “Want to join me?”

“Of course.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before trailing after you. “What movie are we watching?”

“Whatever the first thing I find.” You let Vox sit on the couch before doing the same, swinging your legs over his lap. “You need a new rotation on Voxflix, I’ve watched almost everything.”

“I’ll get on that.” He mumbled as he ran his hand up and down your leg, occasionally squeezing.

You hum and shift your gaze to the television, scrolling through the different movies. “How do we feel about—“

A ringtone filled the air, both of you freezing at the noise.

“Vox—“

“Give me a second.” He let you pull your legs away and pulled the ringing from his screen to his phone, camera-ready voice leaving his mouth.

You sigh but find a movie worth watching, pulling your knees up. Around halfway through, you decided that the movie was meretricious, heavily judging the poorly made movie more than the other ones you’ve watched. You typed your review on your phone, giving the movie two stars before—

“—THEN GET SOME LOW LIFE SINNER TO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB FOR YOU!” You heard Vox scream from the kitchen, making you wince for the poor soul on the other end. “AND IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE SHIT I GIVE YOU, JUST KNOW I HAVE YOUR FUCKING SOUL IN CONTRACT!”

You pause the movie and get up, taking slow steps to your hotheaded boyfriend. He shuffled across the kitchen, walking back and forth as his fans kicked on. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up like he was going to commit a crime.

“YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—“

“Vox,” You come up from behind and wrap your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s outside of your work hours.”

“Fucking—“ He rubbed his temple as he heard the sinner go silent on the other line. Vox took one hand and laced it with yours, “You’re lucky my wife is generous you ungrateful fuck.” He ended the call before muttering more curses, turning you in his arms so you were facing his front.

You let your hands move up to his shoulders, massaging the heavy tension in them. “Am I your wife now? Is that what you’ve been telling those sinners?”

“Maybe.” He let out a loud groan from the sensation, fans still running. “The fucking bitch in accounting is—“

“You’re not working right now, stop.” You give him a pointed look. “I need you to relax.”

Vox wrapped his arms around your waist, walking you backward toward the living area once more. “God, I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too.” You chuckle as he peppers kisses on your face. You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you into his lap, hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Vox!”

“Yes?” He pressed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

You sigh in content but grab the corners of his screen, giving him a cheeky grin. “Tomorrow, my love. Velvette will murder the both of us if I show up late with bruises.”

“I’ll pay her to let you have a day off tomorrow.” He slipped his hand up your shirt, sharp claws bringing chills to your skin.

“So now you’re paying to be with me?” You raise a brow, stifling a laugh when he stops all movements. “Am I some kind of—“

“Of course not! Do not finish that sentence.” He pushed you down on the couch, covering your mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You laugh at how protective he is over you from himself. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, I was kidding.”

Vox dropped his head down to your shoulder, “You’re such a tease.”

“I’m the best.” You squeeze his bicep. “But seriously, Vel will have our heads strung outside the tower.”

“Whatever.” He flipped you both over, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I’ll have you all to myself this weekend.”

You hum, pressing a kiss on the corner of his screen. “I’m sure you do, handsome.”

“My love, I will cancel all your plans this weekend if you tell me I can’t have you.” Vox traces his finger down your spine. “Don’t tell me you have any.”

“I don’t…” You turn your head as he runs his claws through your hair. You feel yourself warm as he wraps a blanket over the both of you, flicking the television to play with a snap of his fingers.

“What do we rate the movie today?” He played with the ends of your hair, face pulling a grimace at the movie’s corny script.

“Two stars.” You mumble as your gaze shifts to the television. As the television fades to black in an awkward transition, you see Vox staring at you rather than the screen. “What are you looking at, weirdo?”

“My beautiful girlfriend.” He squeezed your hip. “Who I love very much.”

You let a small laugh slip through your lips, grinning brightly at his words. “I love you very much too, weirdo.”

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nadvs · 2 months

Text

out of bounds (part one)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

note i know most of my readers follow me for rafe fics so i hope y’all can bare with me indulging in a fluffy and angsty (and eventually spicy) summer romance with the sunshine character that is zach 🙂‍↕️ all my love to @juniebugg who inspired me to write about him ilysm 💘

» masterlist

Once you’re finally sitting down in the main lodge, a massive wooden cabin nestled in the center of the campground, you feel like you can take your first real breath since you arrived.

The morning was chaos. You made it to check-in just in time and met your cabin-mate Ami, who you learned is also new to the job.

Then, you quickly changed into your new bright orange staff t-shirt, which is so bright orange that it hurts to look at, and chatted with her as you rushed over for orientation.

Now, you’re settled on one of twelve wooden chairs facing the grand fireplace, set in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, which boast a cobalt blue lake under a cloudless sky.

Campers are set to arrive tomorrow morning and today is dedicated to preparation. You’ve already done countless training modules online before arriving, so today will be all about learning what’s left.

You hope you get a chance to explore the place before it starts teeming with preteens, because the photos on the camp website don’t do the grounds justice.

Your interviews were over video call and today is the first time you’re seeing the stunning campground in person. It’s stretched out on a wide expanse of greener-than-green pine trees, rustic buildings, and pristine soccer fields.

This job is your best case scenario for the summer. You can’t wait to spend seven weeks in one of the prettiest places you’ve ever seen and gain confidence in your athletic skills while coaching kids in your favorite sport.

As a center back on your college’s girls’ soccer team, you feel your best when you’re out on the pitch, but the pressure of the past school year was hard to navigate. You hope that teaching kids excited about soccer will remind you of why you like it so much.

As Zach sits in the front row, he notices the smell of this place never changes. It’s woodsy and brisk. It smells like comfort. But he’s pretty sure he’s biased. Camp Summit is sort of a haven to him and has been since he was a kid.

The chatter in the lodge has grown louder as more and more counselors settle into their seats, but once the camp directors walk up to the front, the noise wavers.

Tom and Ruby offer a kind welcome and then, like they do every year, quickly jump into training.

After two hours of going over the how-to’s on welcoming campers, facilitating activities, walkie-talkie etiquitte, and establishing rules, they announce that everyone can head to the dining hall for lunch.

“We won’t force you through any awkward icebreakers,” Tom says to the group, “so, we encourage you to get to know each other over lunch. We have a good mix of vets and newbies this year. We want you to be friends with your coworkers. But before you go…”

He looks over the room.

“We should mention,” the director continues, “that we have a strict policy against anything more. It can get unprofessional and inappropriate when counselors date each other.”

“Is that legal?” Ami whispers to you. “They can’t, like fire us for that, right?”

“You like someone already?” you amusedly ask your new friend.

“I might,” she says with a smile, her eyes on a dark-haired guy sitting ahead of you. You quietly laugh, glad you’re already so comfortable with the girl you’ll be bunking with.

“Aren’t you guys married to each other?” a girl behind you calls out.

The way that Tom and Ruby laugh tells you that they are, and that the counselor who shouted that must be a vet, already familiar enough with them to make comments like that.

“Yeah, but directors can do whatever they want,” Ruby jokes with a lighthearted shrug. You look down at their hands to see wedding rings. “In all seriousness, we hate having to enforce it, but please, no dating.”

Once counselors slowly rise out of their seats to go to lunch, your eyes land on a tall, messy-haired stranger standing at the front, who starts a conversation with the directors.

Maybe you shouldn’t tease your cabin-mate, because when you see his charming smile, you think you might have a crush of your own.

Tables are arranged in a neat grid in the dining hall, with a big buffet table prepared at the far wall.

You line up, noticing Ami a few people ahead, already striking conversation with the guy she pointed out to you.

You slowly inch forward with the line as counselors start to load their plates. You realize just how many people were in front of you when you get to the table and see one fork left.

You pick it up and turn to see only one person behind you. It’s the guy you noticed back at the lodge. His blue eyes sweep over your face. He’s even cuter up close.

“There’s only one left,” you say, holding out the fork with a small frown.

Zach stills when you look at him. You’re so pretty that it’s like he’s buffering. That’s the only way he can think to describe it.

You’re in the same orange shirt every other counselor is wearing and such a harsh color shouldn’t look this good on anyone, but it does on you. He reads your name-tag.

And then he realizes you said something. He completely missed it because he was too busy staring.

“What?” he asks.

Your eyes flit down to his name-tag. Zach, in black marker, punctuated with a smiley face. His tag is worn and scratched up, a hard contrast to how new and shiny yours is.

“There’s only one fork left,” you clarify, a soft laugh in your tone. He looks dazed, a gentle crease between his brows, almost like he wasn’t expecting to see you even though you were standing directly ahead of him.

“Oh,” he says. He looks past you to the table, his lips screwing up. “It’s cool. You can have it.”

Zach gazes at you again, a smile on his face now that he’s feeling a bit more grounded.

“I’ll find one. I…” He crosses his arms, feigning pompousness. “I have connections around here.”

“Yeah?” you play along.

“Oh, yeah. I was a camper until I aged out,” Zach tells you. “And I’ve been working here since I was 16, so I have friends in high places.”

You laugh again. That explains why he seemed so comfortable with the directors back at the lodge. He’s clearly been here for quite a few summers.

“I can tell you’ve been here a while by the state of that name-tag,” you tease. He looks down to tilt up the worn out plastic rectangle pinned to his t-shirt, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Poke fun all you want, but you don’t know how impressive it is that I never lost this,” Zach replies. “Name-tags go missing all the time. I bet you’ll lose yours.”

“I thought staff were supposed to be friends,” you say. “You’re already betting against me?”

“You want some advice?” He leans just a little closer, his tone fake-serious. “It’s actually very cutthroat here.”

“So, the be friends with your coworkers stuff, that was all talk?” you say with a gasp, mirroring his playfulness.

“All talk,” he echoes with a smirk.

“Wow,” you half-whisper. “Thanks for the advice.”

You share another smile with him, already sure your crush on him isn’t going away. He’s friendly and kind of goofy and probably has all the girls after him. You wonder how seriously he takes the no dating rule.

Then, you turn back towards the table, surprised at how quickly your mind is running away from you.

After you load your plate with food, Ami calls you over to a table with a few other counselors. You get to know a decent amount of other staff, including Malcolm, the guy your cabin-mate is openly flirting with. He seems to be just as into her.

It’s a long afternoon of training and once you step out of the lodge, you feel like you can breathe again. It was a lot of information at once and the thought of wrangling nine campers on your own feels a bit overwhelming.

But at least for every activity for the first two weeks, newbies will be paired with vets. That gives you some relief.

The sounds of birds chirping and wind blowing through the trees fill your ears as you walk towards the staff cabins hidden behind the dining hall. Your shoes dig into the dirt and you breathe in the smell of pine and earth, feeling a sense of peace settle into the bones.

Despite the tinges of anxiety, you feel grounded here, like you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

As you finish unpacking with Ami, a coworker comes by to tell you that the counselors are going to have a bonfire after sunset. You set up your room and both head towards the lake once the sky starts darkening.

Zach is arranging logs in the fire-pit, kneeling on the ground while Malcolm leans close by. No other counselors have joined yet, and he’s glad because it’s taking embarrassingly long to set up the fire.

“Just let me know when you need the lighter,” Malcolm says.

”I could use some help on lining the kindling up,” Zach tells him.

“I think you’re doing great on your own.”

Zach snorts a chuckle. His cabin-mate and best friend of two years always tries to get away with doing the least amount of work.

“Is this the party?” Ami calls.

Zach turns to see you walking towards the pit. It gives him a chance to drink you in completely, the sight of your figure making his cheeks burn.

“Just getting it started,” Malcolm says. “This place would fall apart without us.”

You and Ami chuckle, settling on one of the logs.

“Us? It looks like Zach’s the only one doing any work,” you say.

“Thank you!” he says with a sarcastic sigh, looking up to smile at you. Your gazes hold a bit longer than they need to.

“Want any help?” you ask.

“All good,” he says. “I’m used to carrying the team.”

“Cold,” Malcolm says. “Strikers and their egos.”

“You’re a striker?” you ask Zach. It tracks. Strikers tend to be on the taller side, and you practically had to crane your neck to meet his eyes when you spoke to him before lunch.

“Yeah, you?” Zach asks.

“Center back,” you reply.

“Most important position,” Malcolm adds.

“Jeez, I wonder what you are,” Ami says with a laugh. “What was that you said about egos?”

The fire starts to slowly blaze and Zach stands up, exhales tiredly and scratches his forehead. It causes his shirt to ride up and expose an inch of his stomach.

Even under the dark blue sky, the flames only offering dull, flickering light, you can’t help but notice the v lines carved into his skin.

You look away. You feel like you’re practically thirsting over him at this point. You’re convinced that the fact that fraternizing between staff is forbidden is what’s making you even more tempted to stare at him.

The four of you continue to make small-talk as more counselors start to join. You learn that Zach and Malcolm share a cabin and that they play together on their college’s team, a school only an hour away from yours.

You also notice Malcolm jokingly calls Zach a nepo baby at one point, but before you can ask why, the conversation stirs in a different direction.

Soon after, a few counselors rough-house dangerously close to the fire. It’s only for a moment, but Zach perks up.

“Be careful around there, alright?” Zach says.

“Relax, dad,” one of the vets says. “We will.”

This is the only place in the world where people tell Zach to relax. He feels a sense of responsibility here. He’s sort of an unofficial babysitter, keeping everyone in check.

You notice his dimples dip into his cheeks. He’s obviously used to being teased for being the dad of the group.

You find it a good time to privately ask him about his other nickname, the staff chatter and wood crackling loud enough so only he can hear you.

“Why’d Malcolm call you a nepo baby?” you ask.

“Oh,” Zach says with a chuckle. “Ruby and Tom are my aunt and uncle. I’m not really a nepo baby, though. I don’t get any special privileges. The opposite, actually.”

“Opposite?” you ask, amused.

“They feel way more comfortable getting mad at me than any of the other staff,” he admits lightheartedly.

“Who would get mad at you?” you joke.

“I know, right? I’m adorable.”

It’s way too easy to flirt with him. This is going to be hard.

As the night goes on, you notice Ami and Malcolm slowly drift closer towards each other, laughing and talking. Eventually, they rush away into the dark.

Admittedly, the thought of sneaking off in the night with a cute guy is kind of exciting. You look over to see Zach noticed them leave, too.

“I think our cabin-mates are about to hook up,” you say quietly.

“On the first night, too.” He shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. “It happens every year.”

“Do they actually fire people for dating?”

“I’ve seen them get close,” Zach says. “But people hide it well for the most part. Honestly, I think most do it just because it’s against the rules.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” you say with a laugh. “It’s the whole forbidden part of it. Tell people they’re not allowed to do something, and guess what they want to do?”

“Something,” he says, earning another laugh from you.

You wonder if he ever has broken this particular rule, but it’d be too forward to ask.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” he offers, looking at the fire. You’re pretty sure he’s just giving you advice, but you take it as an opening, the curiosity killing you.

“So, you never have?” you ask.

“Nope.”

Over his many summers working here, Zach’s had crushes on other counselors, and he definitely has one on you, but a fling isn’t worth losing his job and letting down his family.

He owes a lot to his aunt and uncle. He wouldn’t disrespect their rules, no matter how pretty the new girl is.

When he looks over at you again, at the way the flames are casting shadows over your features, he corrects himself. Pretty is an understatement; beautiful is more fitting.

He almost suggests you don’t take the risk of dating either, but it’d be purely selfish. He doesn’t like the idea of seeing you in a summer romance with another guy.

And he feels insane for already feeling hypothetical jealousy, but he’s never clicked with a girl this quickly before. You’re sweet and interesting and you get his humor, and he feels like he couldn’t not like you if he tried.

“So, what brought you here?” he asks.

“Interview answer or real answer?”

“Real answer,” he says with a smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Playing at the college level is a lot more pressure than I expected,” you admit. “I want the experience and obviously the pay with this job, but mostly, I just want to be reminded of why I like soccer so much. Honestly, I lost my confidence in my skills this past year and I’d like to get it back.”

You’re surprised at how open you’re being, but something about him makes you want to be. He gives you a sense of safety. You can tell he’s kind-hearted.

“One of the best parts of working here is that you get enough downtime to practice,” he tells you. “I’d be happy to help you on your defense if you want.”

Your stomach numbs imagining it. It’s such a sweet gesture, especially because you’d just learned that he’s on a full-ride scholarship. You know he’s good.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“If you’re looking for a reminder of why you like soccer, you came to the right camp,” he replies, his smile bright and sincere.

“You really like it here, huh?” you ask, kind of in awe of him.

“I owe a lot to this place,” he says.

You make a note to yourself to ask him to elaborate on that later, as another counselor takes his attention with a question about tomorrow before you can reply.

You look back at the fire and you promise yourself that you’ll just be Zach’s coworker. At most, his friend.

You won’t risk getting even close to dating. You don’t want to lose your job. And you certainly don’t want Zach to lose his, especially because it seems important to him to follow the rules.

Besides, maybe he has a girlfriend already. You can’t imagine a guy like him being single. And maybe he’s not even into you like that. He could just be very friendly.

As the fire dwindles and counselors start to retire to their cabins, Zach leaves and returns with a bucket of water to extinguish the remaining flames.

You’re not sure why, but watching him be so hands-on with no expectations to be thanked for it makes you like him even more.

“Which cabin are you in?” he asks you, looking over his shoulder. You hope he didn’t catch you staring.

“Four,” you answer.

“We’re neighbors,” he says. “I’m in five. I can walk you back, newbie.”

There’s a chance he’s just being nice, but even though it’s against the rules, you hope it’s more.

You check your phone to see it’s just past ten o’clock. The moonlight is bright as you and Zach walk towards the staff cabins.

You’re chatting about how beautiful the campground is and he grins as he looks down at his feet. He loves this place and hearing someone else appreciate it feels nice.

When he looks up, he stops in his tracks. You follow his eye-line. There’s a shirt hanging on his cabin’s doorknob.

“Frick,” he says. You smirk to yourself. He’s so wholesome that he doesn’t even swear.

“Does the shirt on the knob mean what I think it means?” you ask.

“If you think it means walking in there would make me see something I can’t ever unsee and scar me for life, you’re right,” Zach answers.

You chuckle. You’re definitely going to ask Ami about the details of her hook-up with Malcolm later. And you feel an obligation to also remind her that the no-dating rule is serious.

“I’ll give them ten minutes, then I’m knocking,” he says. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

You know you should go to bed and get rested before the craziness of tomorrow. But being around Zach makes you not want to.

“I can keep you company,” you offer. “I’m pretty wired anyway.”

“Thanks,” he says with a sincere smile. It makes your heart flutter that he seems just as happy to spend more time with you.

“So, what’s there to do around here at ten o’clock?” you ask.

Zach rakes his hair back, gazing out at a soccer field in the distance as crickets loudly chirp around you.

“If you’re looking to burn energy, we can do some of that practice we were talking about,” he suggests. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

“You sure you’re not too tired?” you ask.

“Nah. Let’s go,” he says. “But be warned, when I coach, I’m ruthless.”

You laugh, already well aware of how far from the truth that must be.

“Consider me warned,” you joke. “Lead the way.”

(part two)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#also sidenote i swear on everything that i had this idea before wildfire by hannah grace was even announced 😭#which btw i read and did not like #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader #zach maclaren

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mclqren · 6 months

Text

WINNER TAKES IT ALL ★ CS55

PAIRING ✦ carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you and your boyfriend both seem to be very lucky recently: you in opening for taylor swift, and him in winning the australian grand prix [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ for the purpose of this fic, taylor has added an extra date in melbourne for the friday before the australian grand prix. as per request, the fc i've used is sabrina carpenter, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

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liked by carlossainz55, taylorswift, and 3,055,971 others

tagged taylorswift

yourusername and with that we have one show left: back to melbourne in a couple of weeks! thank you all so much for the support, love you all like crazy 🫶

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user1 you're such a disney princess i can't

user2 DON'T MESS W ME RN IM SO SAD UR NO LONGER OPENING.

user3 FR what will we do without all of her content???

user4 ☹️☹️

carlossainz55 so proud of you!!

yourusername im way prouder of you 💘

user5 PARENTS WOOHOO

taylorswift i'll miss you, my angel! ❤️

yourusername love you sm 😢💘💘

yourusername

( caption one: just woke up and my boyfriend's got appendicitis hellooo?? wtf have i missed while i've been in singapore. | caption two: never mind guys all is well ❤️ ( i am a photographer and i took THIS photo ) )

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 3,281,119 others

tagged carlossainz55

yourusername impromptu visit to jeddah after SOMEONE'S appendix was removed...thanks for giving me an excuse to see you carlos 😘💘💘

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user6 THE WAY HE STILL WENT TO SEE THE GP IS CRAZY ur boyfriend is hella strong

yourusername ur telling me 🤷‍♀️

user6 OMG YOU REPLIED??? I LOVE YOU

user7 nah carlos acc has to be some sort of super human because how THE FUCK did he walk after that surgery.

user8 literally convinced he is atp.

carlossainz55 the appendix wasn't my fault...

charles_leclerc or was it 🤷‍♂️

yourusername hmmm...

user9 i'm acc their biggest fan you don't understand

liked by carlossainz55, taylorswift, and 3,331,354 others

tagged taylorswift

yourusername from the bottom of my heart, thank you thank you thank you for all of the love and support i've received over the past couple of weeks. they've honestly been such a fever dream for me: like you're telling me that i was opening for THE taylor swift?? twelve year old me would be screaming right about now, let me tell you that much. i've loved every minute of this experience, and i can't wait to see what era is next for me 🫶

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user13 i still remember watching you when you were eighteen, just releasing music on youtube 🥺

user14 she's come sooo far since then im so proud of her

taylorswift loved having you with me!! couldn't think of anyone else better to keep me company during these times ❤️

yourusername thank you sm tay, im going to miss youuu 💘💘

user15 why am i acc tearing up this is so sad

carlossainz55 now i have you all to myself ❤️

yourusername yeah well you have ur cars AND charles so i guess it's not just me is it.

charles_leclerc why am i being mentioned

yourusername ur just like collateral damage in this argument

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 989,911 others

carlossainz55 back from my surgery and into P2 👊 looking forward to the race!

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user16 SMOOTH OPERATOR IS BACKKK

user17 the surgery did NOT hold him back

user18 NO REAL THE GUY WAS FLYINGGG

user19 the extra weight is gone and now he's in first row THIS IS WHAT WE NEEDED

yourusername do you ever actually rest like. ur appendix was just taken out when i get colds i stay in bed longer.

carlossainz55 yeah i know from firsthand experience 😘

user20 SHE'S SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH

yourusername either way i'm so proud of you! smash it tomorrow 💘

liked by carlossainz55

user21 the way y/n is literally so supportive of him is my fav thing

user22 all whilst telling him off for not resting enough 🤣🤣 she's too iconic for us, i fear

liked by carlossainz55, fransisca.cgomes, and 3,215,984 others

tagged fransisca.cgomes

yourusername me and kika are truly THOSE BITCHES 😘

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user23 SPEAK ON ITTTT 🗣️🗣️🗣️

user24 my fav wags fr 🫶

fransisca.cgomes my girlll 😍😍

yourusername foreverrr 💘

fransisca.cgomes that second pic is soooo yum

yourusername leave pierre for me RIGHT NOW.

fransisca.cgomes gladlyyy! 😍

pierregasly HUH??

yourusername got ur girl tripod how does it feel 🤣

carlossainz55 ❤️❤️

yourusername love youuu!!

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 1,443,999 others

carlossainz55 P1 babyyy!! Onto Japan we go 🎢❤️

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user28 THE SMOOTHEST OPERATOR AROUND

user29 staying up until 2am to watch it was SOOO WORTH IT

user30 SO PROUD!!

yourusername YESSS I KNOW THAT'S RIGHTTT!!

liked by carlossainz55

yourusername MY FUCKING MANNN LET'S GOOO!! P1 BABY 💘💘

carlossainz55 ❤️

user31 the way she supports him will never not warm my heart

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 3,331,354 others

tagged carlossainz55

yourusername he only went and did it!! after his appendix got removed and all. couldn't be fucking prouder 💘

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yourusername proud of @/charles_leclerc as well!! what a way to end the weekend 😘

charles_leclerc thank you y/n!! 😍

yourusername FORZA FERRARI 👊

user31 the way they support each other >>>

user32 actual power couple idc

user33 i need to find myself a y/n asap.

user34 WHY ARE YOU SO PERFECT

carlossainz55 te amo siempre ❤️

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 it was the lack of an appendix that did it 🤣

yourusername @/charles_leclerc are you taking notes??

charles_leclerc already scheduling an appointment for the winter, don't worry 📝

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 6 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twelve of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K (I got really carried away)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ just in case. References to sex, Implied Sex, Heavy Making Out (not really explicit, but also not real un-detailed…), Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soft Soldier Boy, Angst, Fluff.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

A/N: The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**************************************

1984

You take a sip of wine, leaning over your coffee table to pull another photo from the Rosewood box perched on the edge. It's your birthday, your 65th birthday to be exact, of course one look in the mirror revealed that you barely looked over 30. To some women that might be a welcome thought, but given your current situation it wasn't.

It marked the fourth year since you told Ben that you were unhappy on Payback and as a supe, told him that you wanted a normal life, and four years after you'd let him talk you into staying. But this was the year. You were going to tell him that you were done, that you were moving on and getting out.

Unfortunately the only person you had to convince about letting go was yourself, because leaving meant giving up Ben. And you weren't sure that was something you could do. You were having a hard time convincing your heart to let go of him or rather the old version of him, that only made it's appearance when it was the two of you. The memories that tied you to Ben were tight and difficult to unravel. You couldn't imagine your life without him, couldn’t see past this moment in your life.

But that's why you had to go. You knew you were in too deep. Fantasizing about a relationship with someone who would never love you the same way you loved them, hoping in something that would never happen. And you needed to let him go, whether it be the new version of him or the boy you used to know, you needed to let Ben go.

The Rosewood box was filled with photos, old doodles, memories, and objects from your past. Usually it was stored under your bed, but tonight you had dragged it out into the living room to reminisce on your birthday. It was a tradition you started a few years ago as a way of remembering the past. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction from the way things were now and tonight you were letting it be a last supper of sorts, to indulge in the memories Ben and you had shared over the years before you told him that you were leaving.

You had no idea where you were going, but the thought excited you a little bit. Finally striking out on your own for the first time, doing something for yourself for once, it felt right.

Leaving Ben was the only thing that felt wrong. You wanted him to come with you, for him to choose you the way that you chose him that night, but you knew he wouldn't. He liked this life too much to let it go, he thrived in the spotlight, embraced everything about being a supe that you hated, and so you would let him go.

You look down at the strip of paper in your hand. It was a collection of photos from a photo booth, yellowed with age, but lined up one by one from the first baseball game Ben ever took you to, one of your favorite memories from your childhood. You were wearing the ridiculous pinstriped hat and Ben looked as handsome as he always did, smiling wide with his dark hair hanging in his face. It was hard to look at it now, hard to look at Ben and you when you were so young, and you didn't know where your lives were going to go.

Your eyes drift to the velvet case pressed into the corner of the wooden box. You had kept the ring that Howard got you, well, technically you had tried to give it back but he refused, begging you to reconsider.

Sometimes you thought about throwing it away. It was ugly, but it was a reminder. Not a reminder of Howard, you could barely remember what he looked like, but it was a reminder of the night Ben asked you to come with him. You could remember the earnest look in his eyes, how he cupped your face, and the promise he made to you. The future he promised had been filled with so much possibility, but you weren’t sure anymore. You think about the years you'd spent together and how leaving felt like the end of an era.

But it was necessary, breaking away from all of this would be good. Yes you would miss Ben, but you needed to move on. You knew that deep down. Because you wanted something more than all of this, and the night Ben asked you to come with him you thought he could give it to you, but after all these years you understood that he couldn’t and that he didn’t want to.

Someone knocks loudly on your door.

“One second.” You take the last sip of wine before standing and crossing the room to open the door. “Hey what are you doing here?”

Ben is standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking handsome as always. He's wearing a tailored dark suit with a black tie, his hair is combed back from his face, dark stubble graces his rugged jaw and a wide smile pulls up at the ends of his lips that makes it very hard to focus on anything else. “Happy Birthday Sweetheart.”

“I’ve had too many birthdays.” You laugh and wave a hand to brush it off. “What are you doing here, I thought you had an interview about the premiere tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night was the premiere of the third and final installment of Anti-Communist films that Ben was currently staring in. The first two had been utterly ridiculous and you knew that the one tomorrow would be just as pointless. Which you knew for a fact, because one day Ben asked you to meet him on set and you saw a scene he was filming, not to mention one time he tried to get you to run lines with him and you told him you'd rather drop dead than read Countess' lines, who took the co-star role when you refused. Ben’s offer of the co-starring role to you had been his way of appeasing you after you told him you were unhappy. When you refused, Countess had been more than willing to slide into it. Who was still trying her upmost to get into Ben's pants, but he still completely ignored her, which gave you an unmeasurable amount of joy.

“I told them that I couldn’t miss my girl's birthday.” Ben smiles wider. “Plus I’d much rather spend tonight with you than those fucking vultures and I’ve never missed your birthday.”

Instead of the words "my girl" filling you with happiness as they had the first night Ben said it in the dancehall, they only make you frustrated. He had called you that several times over the years you'd been friends and each time it made you more and more angry. You were tired of it. Tired of Ben acting like Ben only when it was the two of you. Tired of Ben acting like he cared and like he wanted to be more than friends only to crush you the next day. Tired that he called you “my girl” and then did nothing that meant more than friends. You loved him more than you’d loved anyone ever, took care of him, did everything you could for him, and each time when he didn’t acknowledge it, you felt like you weren’t enough. It made you feel like a kid again when you tried your upmost to please your mother only to have her be disappointed in you each time.

“That’s sweet.” Anger and frustration burns in the back of your throat, but you push it down with a tight lipped smile.

“And I got us reservations, so go get dressed.”

"What?"

"I got reservations. Come on." Ben makes a gesture with his hand.

“Oh I’m okay, I was just going to-“ You motion back at the bottle of wine, the couch, and the box of photos.

“No. I’m not going to let you sit here on your birthday. Come on. Let’s go.” Ben takes your arm and turns you around gently pushing you towards the small hallway that leads back to your bedroom with his hand on the small of your back.

You brace yourself for the warmth that follows with the brush of his fingers against you, but each time you're unprepared for how it makes you feel when he touches you.

“But I don’t have anything to wear! And if you do have a reservation, how much time do I have?” You argue, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.

As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to sit there and pretend to be happy. You were tired of doing that, but then you raise your head to look Ben in the eye.

He's smiling down at you the same way he always has, looking like the boy who climbed in your window after flunking out of boarding school to bring you paint and your resolve wavers. You hated saying no to him.

Damn it.

“By the time you stop making excuses it will be time to go. And as sexy as those pajamas are, you can’t wear them to a restaurant.” Ben teases, tugging on the bottom oversized paint-splattered shirt you were wearing

“Fine.” You grumble, cheeks flushing bright red as you snatch the shirt from his hand. “Give me ten minutes.”

**************************************

"Shut up." Ben laughs from across the table at you. "Your mother loved me!"

His laughter is contagious, making your own release from your lips and ease the tension you are holding in your chest.

The Italian restaurant is small and filled with the soft lit of music from the band in the corner, the rich aromatic smell of food, and has the calming atmosphere of a intimate bar. When Ben parked out front, you were surprised. He usually liked the restaurants on page 6 where other heroes would be found eating and places where he could be photographed for the news, but this place was different, it was almost, special. And the way Ben was acting was unusual.

He'd walked around the car after he parked and took your hand in his, to lead you down the steps to the front door where a hostess had asked for his name. Ben had used his real name rather than Soldier Boy for a reservation and when you walked out of your bedroom wearing the dress you found at the back of your closet that you had for emergencies, you swore you saw his eyes darken as they trailed across your body making your breath catch in your chest. It was odd. Ben had taken you out for your birthday before, but tonight seemed to be filled with a palpable tension and electricity that you couldn’t place.

Then again, you were probably imagining it like always.

The restaurant was perfect, it made you forget about being a supe and the glamorous lifestyle that Ben indulged in and allowed you to pretend that you were normal. However, while you sat there together, you tried not to think about what you were going to have to tell him eventually, that you were leaving. He would ask for an answer why and you’d try to tell him the same thing you told him four years ago while avoiding screaming “because I love you, you fucking idiot” at the top of your lungs.

But it was difficult to find a way to tell him, not when he had a soft smile on his face and every few minutes Ben would find some reason to touch you. So you allowed yourself to indulge in this, to have this last wonderful memory together before you have to tell him. And in doing so, you let yourself forget being a supe, forget everything else but Ben and you in this moment.

"Oh sure, you were her favorite." You snort into your wineglass. "She put a crucifix up over my window to keep you out. Every time you went to a new boarding school, she prayed in the living room with a rosary to God begging him to keep you far from me and she cried whenever you came back. Not to mention when you got me thrown out of boarding school she forbade me from seeing you-"

"But you couldn’t stay away." Ben sing-songs with a grin before taking a sip from his glass. "And your roommate was a fucking snitch."

"She was." You smile down at the table. "I also think she was a little jealous." You lean back in your chair, holding the wineglass in your right hand.

"Oh and why is that?" Ben's smirk widens.

"Don't make me say it-" Your eyes roll.

"Oh I want to hear you admit it." He leans towards you across the table, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that makes it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Not going to happen.” You look around the room to distract yourself with the other couples.

All the tables around you were full of people sharing stories, holding hands, brushing feet under the table and for the first time you weren't jealous of their love. The couple next to you was practically breathing the same air, leaning towards each other with sappy looks in their eyes. You were happy for them, allowed yourself to be filled with compassion at their happiness. You remember what you said to Ben four years ago, about wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you and then remember the night at the dancehall watching the elderly couple dance under the twinkling lights holding each other close and gazing deeply into one another's eyes.

You wanted someone to look at you like that, wanted someone to share you life with. You wanted that so badly, that in this moment you knew that you were making the right decision leaving because you would be closer to getting it, because the man across the table from you might be your best friend and have your heart, but he didn’t want to be more. And as much as it hurt to leave the only man you’d ever loved, you knew it was the right thing.

Ben taps his index finger on your left hand where it rests on the table between you, drawing your eyes back to his. "Did I lose you Doll?"

"Hmm? No sorry. I was-" You smile at him. "Distracted. What were you asking?"

Ben's gaze shifts to the couple sitting to your right, the one you were watching a second ago, who are holding hands on top of the table. The man says something that makes his date laugh and lean towards him to grasp his other hand. The way he smiles at his date makes you smile. Ben's eyes slide back to yours and an odd look flashes through them that you can't identify.

"You know what I was asking." His index finger begins to brush over your knuckles in a smooth circular motion. Warmth trails with his touch, sending goosebumps dancing up your left arm.

Shock buzzes at the back of your mind, you didn't understand why he was doing that, Ben had barely had anything to drink tonight, in fact that was his first and only Whiskey. Not to mention when he showed up at your door he seemed more sober than usual. He didn't smell like reefer. So for him to touch you this much was unusual, especially when he wasn't drunk or high.

“Come on Sweetheart.” He smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Fine. Pearl thought you were devilishly handsome and was upset that I danced with you when I had Howard-"

"Don't mention that pussy." Ben’s smirk drops into a frown and he stops moving his finger against the back of your hand.

"I don't understand why you were so jealous of him." You try not to think about how much you wish he would start moving his finger again.

"I was not jealous of that idiot." Ben rolls his eyes.

"Uh-huh. After all these years, you still can't admit it." You tease him taking another sip of wine. It was giving you a pleasant buzz that made you feel just a little bit warm and bold enough to make you brush your thumb against his where his hand sits only a few millimeters from yours.

If he was touching you, you thought that maybe it would be okay for you to touch him, maybe it was okay to pretend that he wanted to hold your hand as much as you wanted to hold his, like the couple next to you were.

"I will if you admit you were jealous of Missy Callahan." Ben's eyes trail down to your thumb before looking back up at you, waiting for your answer.

"I was not-"

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can hear your heartbeat Doll.”

“Just as I can hear yours Darling.” You smile back at him.

“Y/n.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous smile. "Fine, I will admit that was a little jealous of her, but she was awful. She was dumb as a rock and she was the most terrible gossip-"

"I knew it." Ben smirks.

You sit there in silence for a minute gazing at Ben, your eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting."

"Oh I'm not going to admit that I was jealous of Howard. I just wanted to hear you say the thing about Missy." Ben laughs, beginning to run his index finger against the back of your hand again. His eyes on yours, as if he's gauging your reaction.

"Bastard." You roll your eyes at him. "Did I tell you that I saw Howard?"

"What?" Ben looks surprised.

"Yeah, when I went to my brother's-" You clear your throat remembering when you saw Howard four years ago. You don’t know why he went to your brother’s funeral, but he was there, gray hair slicked back staring at you open mouthed. The last time you'd seen him was the day after he proposed, when you tried to give him back the ring and he refused, stating that he wanted you to keep it, to think about it. He never got over the break up, never dating anyone else, never married. It had been an awkward reunion, especially since he kept trying to corner you, but you evaded him expertly through the crowd. You weren't interested in making awkward small-talk about the past forty years.

Ben's hand finally slips into yours, intwining your fingers together because he understands what you’re about to say. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you, I should have."

It was weird that Ben wasn’t with you, but it was also weird because you tried to comfort your sister in law and her son and his family, but it felt forced. Ben was the only person who understood what it was like for everyone to age around you while you stayed the same. Standing there to celebrate the life of your brother while you, yourself couldn't die completely or even age felt awkward. You found yourself longing for Ben when you were away, wishing that he was there to hold your hand or try to deflect some of the awkward conversations, none of which were focused on your brother and were all about you being a supe. You hated how much you depended on him.

After the funeral you had stayed in Philadelphia an extra week to help your family and when Ben called to see how you were you broke down on the phone. Ben had showed up within the next hour at your hotel and sat with you while you cried. It was one of your favorite memories, because Ben held you gently against him, whispering "It's okay Sweetheart, I've got you" while you pressed your face into his shirt, letting the smell of whiskey and his cologne soak into your skin. It was so unlike him and it made you believe that Ben wanted more, but then he never acknowledged it, like always.

"Ben it's okay, you were there when it mattered. And you went to both of my parent's funerals. Surprising because my mother would have hated that you were there. Always said you were going to ruin my life." You meant for it to be a joke, but the look in Ben's eyes shifts to something more vulnerable for a millisecond before it hardens again.

"Did I?" He asks quietly. Ben looks down at where he was holding your hand, his thumb beginning to move over the smooth skin on the back.

The question catches you off guard. It was the very question that you had been considering the past few days before you finally decided to leave all of this and your best friend. But the truth was you didn't believe that Ben ruined your life, you blamed yourself, blamed yourself for loving your best friend, blamed yourself for loving someone who didn’t love you the same way.

And it wasn’t that you hated your life, it was different than what you would have planned for yourself, but you liked parts of it. Not to mention you would have hated it more if you had said no to Ben and married Howard. If anything, Ben had saved you and you were thankful for that.

Of course the way he's looking at you and holding your hand is making it difficult for you to consider leaving. It seemed like every time you tried, Ben would do something like this- take you out to dinner or act like he wanted you and only you, and then you would reconsider. Four years ago it had been him holding you after your brother’s funeral and now it was this.

"Ben." You sigh, squeezing his hand and putting as much love into your gaze as you can. "No. You didn't. If anything you freed me. I didn't want to be with Howard and I was too afraid to say it until you asked me to come with you.”

“He could have given you a life though. You said that’s what you wanted.” For a second you think you see Ben’s eyes flick to the couple on your right with his words.

Your mind stutters to a halt in surprise. He remembered what we talked about four years ago? After he almost killed Noir?

“Um-" You clear your throat to recover. "And if you remember that conversation, you should also remember I said I didn’t want that life with Howard.”

“Yes, but you said you wanted to marry someone.” The ends of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Still waiting on that wedding invite.” His thumb is stroking long smooth patterns on the back of your hand, making your throat tight and making it impossible to think.

“I’m sure you’ll get it any day now. Legend is happy that I finally said yes.”

“I should have known. Y’all looked pretty cozy at that party two weeks ago.” Ben laughs. “So if you’re engaged to him, does that mean you don’t want your birthday present?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, I’m too old for birthdays.”

“Then why did you come out with me?”

“Oh I’m just going to write this off as old friends having dinner. That or a kidnapping. You practically dragged me to the car.”

“Be thankful I let you change.” Ben replies.

“I don’t know, I think I would have really made a statement with my paint splattered shirt and sweatpants."

You’d chosen the dress you were wearing at random. It was a dark green, the same color as Ben’s supe suit, off your right shoulder cinched around your waist and fell elegantly to your ankles. It was one of your favorites, something you believed accentuated your body effortlessly.

"They were something. Though I think that you-" Ben pauses, dropping his eyes to where he's still holding your hand, before looking back up at you. "Um-"

"What?" You smile.

He clears his throat, a soft smile on his face. "I think you look beautiful now too."

Your next words dry up in your mouth, there's not a shred of joking or teasing in Ben's eyes. Ben had said it before, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but now there is only sincerity. And it makes your heart jolt out of rhythm.

He said too. That means that he thought I looked beautiful before when I was-

"Thank you." You flush red and squeeze his hand. "I don't think you look too bad yourself, you know, for a old man." You add that last part because you don’t know what to say when he's looking at you like that.

Ben's smile slips into a frown. "You should be nicer to me, I got you a birthday present."

“See, you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen it.”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” The mischievous glint is back in his eye.

“I could be persuaded.” You smirk.

Ben releases your hand and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a long navy blue velvet box wrapped in a thick silver bow before sliding it across the white tablecloth.

“You get me another paintbrush?” You smirk running a fingertip over the velvet top to examine it while acutely missing the feeling of his hand grasped in yours.

“Something like that.”

“Did you steal it?” You pick up the box and wave it for emphasis, remembering all the times Ben stole little things from the stores that lined Downtown Philadelphia and the box he had hidden under his bed filled with random trinkets.

You never understood why he did that. Ben's family was almost as wealthy as yours and although his father didn't approve of anything Ben was doing, he never cut him off.

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans on the table towards you, his eyes filled with excitement.

“With how much money they pay you for those ridiculous films you shouldn’t be stealing anything.”

“I’m sure if you sold your artwork instead of shoving it in the closet you’d be just as wealthy as me.”

“Yes, but my grand plan is to have you pay for everything so I can continue to use you and I can’t do that if I’m rich."

“You can use me anytime sweetheart.” Ben winks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, but can't stop the blush that stains your cheeks at his insinuation.

Everything about tonight felt just like old times, the way he joked with you and the way you couldn't stop smiling, but at the same time, something else nagged at the back of your mind. The handholding was new, as were the compliments and deeper conversation, especially because Ben wasn't drunk or high, and yet he was being gentler than usual, almost soft. And that was something Ben never was, at least not in public.

You tried not to be frustrated with the turn of events and just enjoy the moment, but deep down you wanted to know.

Was Ben doing this because he cared? Or was he doing this because he sensed I was unhappy and that I was leaving and he thought this was the only way to keep me around?

“Come on, open it.”

“Fine.” You smile down at the box and slowly slide off the bow. “Please tell me you have photos of you trying to tie this bow. Preferably while you were wearing your supe suit.”

“I already destroyed the evidence.”

“Figures.” You sigh. “Would have been a nice birthday present.”

“I think this is better, but given the pace you’re going at I’ll still be sitting here waiting for you to open it at your next birthday.” Ben takes a drink from his glass.

“Which I won’t be celebrating.”

"Oh you're going to. I’ll make sure.”

You roll your eyes at him, before finally opening the velvet box and your next joke is forgotten as you struggle to catch your breath. You were expecting something art related. Ben always got you brushes, paints, colored pencils, and any other art supply-like gift, because he knew that you liked those things but not tonight. Because for your 65th birthday Ben decided to get you something that took your breath away.

Nestled in black velvet is a pearl necklace, elegant, beautiful, catching in the fluttering warm light of the restaurant as the band in the corner continues to play a jazzy tune that makes you remember the records your father would listen to while he smoked before bedtime.

“Ben-“ You begin to say, but you can’t finish your sentence, you're too surprised to say anything else.

Not once in all the years you’d been friends had Ben bought you jewelry. Shopping for his birthday was harder, his last one you had gotten him a pair of silver cufflinks that he was currently wearing, but each time you bought him something like that it didn't feel like you were revealing too much about how you felt and it never felt like a gift you would give someone who was more than your friend. But now, staring down at the necklace that Ben bought you feels, intimate almost romantic.

“I remembered how upset you were when you lost the one your dad got you.” Ben says slowly, his eyes on you. “I know it’s not the same one, but the lady in the store said it was the most like the ones they made when we were younger and I thought-“ He rubs the back of his neck. “Um- I thought you’d like it.”

You smile, still unable to speak, fighting the happy tears that build behind your eyes. You had lost the necklace your father got you a few months ago and you tore your entire apartment apart to find it. Ben had walked right into the middle of the chaos and found you a sobbing mess.

Your father had bought it for you on your 23rd birthday. It was your first birthday as a supe and your first one away from home. Your father had it delivered to you with a vase of fresh cut lavender, because you couldn’t go home and he couldn’t get away. It was one of the last things you had from him, besides the antique watch perched on your wrist.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” You swallow the ball of emotion lodged in your throat.

“I do listen to you.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” His soft smile makes you feel light headed and makes you wish all over again that you had the courage to tell Ben the three little words that you'd always wanted to.

“I don’t know what to say-“

“Too much? Because I can take it back and buy you a paintbrush-“ Ben starts to reach for the box, but you catch his hand against the table tangling your fingertips together.

“No. It's perfect. Thank you Ben.”

He looks relieved by your answer. “You’re welcome.”

The soft sounds of conversation swell around you mixing with the tinkling of utensils against plates and the music that pours from the band in the corner where a singer dressed in a long red sequined gown sings a familiar song. But you can't stop admiring the necklace nestled in the fabric, your hand still clasped in Ben's on top of the table.

Ben finally breaks the silence. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”

You blink for a minute to comprehend what he was asking, raising your eyes to his genuine smile. "Please.”

Ben stands from his chair and comes around behind you as you gently twist your hair out of the way, so he has access to your neck. His rough fingertips brush against the smooth skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine that you hope Ben misses because how would you explain that? When he secures it at the back of your neck you look down at the pearls, holding them between your thumb and forefinger.

"They're beautiful." You whisper, before looking back up at him.

"Yes, beautiful." He responds, but Ben isn't looking at your necklace, his eyes are locked on your face.

What is going on?

"Ben-" You begin to say, attempting for the first time to ask him why he does this, acts different around you, gives you hope and then takes it all away, but he interrupts you.

"Come on." His hand falls on yours and he pulls you up out of your chair, weaving through the other tables to stand in front of the band in the corner. His right hand finds the small of your back, while his left gently holds your right in the air.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben smiles. "We're dancing."

"No one else is dancing." You look around the room at the couples sitting quietly together enjoying their meals, who have begun to watch Ben and you sway to the music.

He leans forward to whisper into the curve of your ear. "Then let's show them how it's done Sweetheart."

You can't help but laugh at him, enjoying the way that he feels pressed against you, how it makes you feel alive in the best way, how you feel safe in his arms. Being here, swaying to the last few notes of the song with him made you reconsider leaving again. Ben was the only person who knew you completely, inside and out, the only person who seemed to understand you. Choosing to leave him would be like choosing to leave home, because after everything you'd been through, Ben was home.

As soon as the song ends, the one that follows is familiar, a tune that sparks a memory at the back of your mind. You raise your eyes to Ben's. His are crinkled with his smile, a mischievous glint behind them.

"Ben, did you tell them to play-"

"Yeah. I told them to play our song." He whispers, holding you tighter against him.

The memory of the night you first danced warms against your skin. You remembered it well. It was the night that you almost told him you loved him, the same thing you were considering right now. You couldn't believe that he remembered the song you danced to. You smile at the memory of that night, when Ben punched Howard in the face and it gave you a sickening amount of joy.

“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks you.

“I still can’t believe you hit him.” You shake your head with a laugh.

"He hurt you. And I didn't like that he made me stop dancing with my girl."

You sigh before you can stop yourself the phrase immediately making the laughter dissipate and making the warm feeling at his touch fade. Tonight Ben was again making you think that he wanted to be more, and worst of all it was making it harder to leave. Because what if this was him trying to tell you the only way he knew how? What if this was him finally admitting that he loved you and you just left?

"What?” He frowns down at you.

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”

"What?"

"Your 'girl'." You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration from making you say more.

“You don't think you are?"

“What do you think it means? To me it means being in a relationship with someone. We have been friends for over fifty years and you have never once said that you wanted to be more-"

"I did try to propose.” Ben jokes, not understanding that you’re upset.

"Really? That was your proposal?" You scoff rolling your eyes. "A joke while you were sitting on my shitty couch drunk off your ass while trying to apologize for almost killing Noir and telling me that you hate when I get in your way? Forgive me for imagining some big gesture and for not swooning."

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Oh please-“

“I’m fucking serious.” He shrugs.

“What?” You look him in the eye to look for the teasing glint, but it's not there, Ben looks serious.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Ben’s eyes lock with yours. “I also didn’t apologize for almost killing him. And I do hate when you get in my way."

"Yes, I figured that given how angry you looked." You roll your eyes, glancing to look at the couples around you again, but this time the happiness you felt for them is gone. The jealousy is back coupled with the frustration of Ben acting like Ben and then pulling a complete 180 the next day and making you question everything. Because you wanted to exist in the moments that he was still Ben and you didn’t want to leave him, but you did want to leave Soldier Boy. The problem was right now all you saw was Ben and you hated that you couldn’t enjoy it because you knew it would end. Someone would piss him off or he’d get drunk or high or go down the rabbit hole with some other woman and Ben would be gone.

You didn’t understand how he could go from hot to cold so quickly.

“But I didn’t lie when I said I’d never hurt you.” Ben's voice rumbles up through where his chest is pressed against yours.

You want to say that you believe him, but after the past forty years you weren’t sure anymore. And that thought hurt more than anything else. You didn’t know your best friend anymore, and it scared you.

Your eyes are leveled on Ben’s chest, by now he’s stopped swaying you to the music. You know what will happen when you look up into his eyes, he'll make a joke or say something like the last forty years never happened and you'll crumble like always. You can feel his breath against your face, the warmth of his body transferring through his chest and soaking into yours.

“Y/n, please look at me.” He releases your hand and cups your cheek to tilt you head upwards to him. The one still planted on your back slides down to your waist, tightening around you as you lock eyes with him. “You know that I’d never hurt you. Right?”

Ben's eyes lock on yours, the love and care reflected in the irises makes your body burn. He's never looked at you like that, looked at you like you were the only woman in the world and deep down it makes you want to pull him close and whisper the three little words you've wanted to say for fifty seven years.

You focus on Ben's words to shake it off, it was the same thing he’d said four years ago, but this time the air between you is charged with electricity.

And you can’t take it anymore.

“Why?” You whisper.

It catches him off guard. “What?”

“Why are you different with me? When the cameras stop rolling, when the team goes home, when it’s just the two of us, you’re different." You stop to catch your breath. "Ben, I’ve known you for fifty seven years. And in the last forty you’ve changed. But not around me, not when it’s just the two of us. You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, we talk, we laugh about the past, you sleep in my bed, you call me 'your girl'-”

“You’ve known me longer than anyone else-” His hand is still cupping your cheek now, thumb gently brushing against the smooth skin making your throat tight.

“But even before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. You were always around me, showing up, taking me out to do things in the city. Ben, we both know how you are. I watched you chase after whatever caught your eye and even now-“ You shake your head frustrated. “But you never act that way with me.”

Ben is quiet for a minute, his eyes searching yours, soft green in the fluttering lights above your heads. “Because you’re different y/n. You’ve always been different.”

“But that doesn’t tell me why Ben. We’ve been doing this for so long and I want-“ You sigh frustrated with yourself because you can’t say it, can’t say that you want him. “I mean I’m not sure if I can-“ You were going to say that you weren’t sure you could do this anymore, that you wished he would let you go, wished that you could walk away, and wished that he would stop giving you hope that the two of you could be something more because you couldn’t do it.

But the words are stopped when his lips meet yours.

You inhale sharply in surprise, before your entire body melts against his, deepening the kiss as you drag your hands up into his dark hair, while your mind goes blissfully blank. Ben’s mouth is firm but tender against yours, moving in a slow dance that makes warm tingles trail down your spine. The hand that was on your cheek, joins the other on your waist. His hand tightens on your hip as your song continues to play while the other presses against the small of your back to secure you against him. The solidness of his chest is familiar, molding against your curves in the best way as if he was made for you and you were made for him. You feel his thumb begin to circle slowly against the fabric on your hipbone and suddenly you remember the night he helped you loosen your corset and all you wanted was him. You never thought it would feel like this.

When you finally pull away for air, Ben doesn’t let you go far, he leans his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes is surprisingly vulnerable, as if he thinks you’re going to push him away.

“I-“ He begins, his green eyes are wide almost afraid.

Why?

You raise your hands to gently cup his strong jaw, searching his eyes with a smile to confirm you aren't going anywhere, before pulling him back to you for another kiss that makes your toes curl in the tight shoes you forced them into an hour ago. Ben sighs into your mouth, a soft sound that surprises you. You had seen him kiss other people before. Ben was anything but gentle, but now you believed that he reserved that gentleness just for you and it made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle.

When you pull back again, Ben’s forehead is still against yours, his eyes bright and unmoving from your face. For a moment neither of you speaks, too afraid to break the silence.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours Sweetheart?” Ben asks, the deep rumble of his voice working up through where your chest is pressed against his. His expression is gentle, and he brings up one of the hands that was on your waist to trace the pillow of your lips with his thumb.

And before you lose your nerve your smile curves into a smirk. “Took you long enough Benjamin.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Make me.” You mutter against his thumb.

And then he’s kissing you again, moving his lips in tandem with yours while your heart flutters and dances. And you never want it to end, because he's kissing you like he never wants to let you go and you're kissing him like you don't want him to.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben mutters against your lips with a smile, his deep eyes catching yours. "Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you, never has been, never will be."

Your heart warms, cheeks blushing with his words, because even after all these years, Ben still knew exactly what to say. You hold his face reverently, admiring the familiar dips and curves, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben." You whisper back before you kiss him and allow yourself to fall again, hoping that this time he’ll catch you.

*************************************

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask Ben, gesturing with your free hand towards the kitchen.

Standing in your apartment feels different post kiss. It feels like this all represents something bigger now. The apartment, him coming upstairs even though he has spent most of the nights here since you bought it and of course the way he’s looking at you, how he’s been unable to stop looking at you since he kissed you.

“Are you going to get it for me?” Ben is still holding your hand, had held it the entire car ride, only releasing it when he got out to open the door for you and then took it again as you walked up to your apartment. His thumb is moving across the back in a soothing motion that makes you want to curl up in the warmth that trails behind like a cat in the sun.

“I’m sure you remember where it is”

“Mhmm.” Ben is eyeing you again, the green in his eyes darkening in a way that makes your throat tight.

You’re not sure who moves first, all you know is that someone closes the distance between you, and you lose yourself in him. Your curves melt against the hard muscles of Ben’s chest and arms as he pulls you into him, his hands gripping your waist so tight that you know there might be bruises but you don’t care.

Your hands trail up his muscular chest to tangle in his hair, pulling at the darkened strands and forcing his mouth harder against yours.

He tastes like whiskey and smoke, night and day, and all those bittersweet moments you’ve shared over the years you’ve known him. There is no semblance of Soldier Boy left behind, it’s just Ben and you and it's everything you wanted for so long. The kiss is charged with so much emotion and tension you feel something inside you snap and warmth floods your body in its wake. Ben moans into your mouth, his hands coming down to sweep low over your curves and ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

There had been others try to do exactly this. Other heroes you politely declined because you didn’t feel anything for them. You remember the kisses with Howard, passionless, boring, but being here with Ben was like nothing you’d ever imagined. The subtle scratch of his scruff against your cheeks makes you lose all feeling in your legs, his strong embrace makes goosebumps burn against your skin, and the sounds he’s making against your lips makes your heart seize in your chest.

He backs you up and you both fall on the couch in a tangle of limbs, his body caging you beneath him while his fingertips boldly trail against your body, finding places that make you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his smirk against your lips and you’ve never felt more sexy in your life. Ben’s moans against every piece of skin he can get his lips against make you blush crimson and echo his cries with soft sounds that make him grip you tighter. His hands are everywhere, coaxing along your curves, discovering places that you didn’t know could be sensitive and that make you gasp and arch against him as he continues to kiss you.

Everything about this feels right, feels perfect, as if you were both made for this exact moment. The subtle drag of his hands against you, the firm assertive way he holds you beneath him, how your body responds to his touch, and the way your heart continues to swell in your chest, frantically beating as if it wishes to break free. You forget about all the other women he's ever been with, all the others he's probably held close, nothing else exists at this moment, nothing else exists except him and you here on this couch. His lips ghost to your neck as he sucks a mark into the column of your throat and you realize he's saying your name over and over the way that no one ever has.

There’s a loud ripping noise and you understand that Ben ripped off the bottom half of your dress, the tattered remains just barely brushing against your thighs. But you can’t be angry with him for that, not when everything he’s doing feels perfect.

Ben’s hands slowly begin to push up the bottom of your now ruined dress and you come back down from your high, feeling the gentle press of his fingers against your thigh as they begin to move upwards.

“Ben-" You breathe.

You hate how breathy your voice sounds, but the new sensations running through your body are almost too overwhelming for you to gain control of. If you weren't both as indestructible as you were you would be afraid of the possibility of killing Ben.

He moans into your neck, working his hand up further to a place that makes your grip his shoulders tight and you leave bruises of your own, because you’re the only person strong enough to bruise him, to leave marks against his almost invulnerable skin. And it makes a shudder go down his spine.

"Ben wait-"

He stops, looking down at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated in a way that almost sends you back into a frenzy with him. "What's wrong?" He is also out of breath, chest rising and falling fast. You can hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, beating in tandem with yours.

“Before we do this I just want to tell you that I’ve never-" You bite your lip nervously. "I've never done this before.”

“This?” He looks confused, withdrawing his hand from under your ruined dress.

“Well- you know." You gesture between the two of you. "This.”

"You've never had sex with anyone before?"

"No." You flush bright red wondering if that's a deal breaker for him. If he wanted someone more experienced. "I’m sorry."

He sits there for a minute, staring down at you. "Why are you apologizing?” Ben’s hand brushes your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture, so different than the heavy caresses of his hands against your curves he did earlier.

“I don’t know.” You whisper embarrassed. “I just- everyone else has and I’m pretty sure you have with millions of people.”

“Well not millions.”

“But still.” You suddenly think that this was a giant mistake, that you should just go to your room in shame. You drop your eyes to his chest embarrassed.

His hands are stroking along your waist, toying with the frayed edges of your dress. “Y/n.” He whispers.

“What?” You mumble.

Ben raises his hand to cup your cheek, turning your gaze back on him. The way he’s looking at you causes a hot jolt of energy to race down your spine and makes you wish that you were more confident or knew what you were doing.

He’d been with hundreds of women all kinds of women and what had I been doing all these years? Nothing and no one. I’m not really sure if I understood the mechanics OF sex- but oh how I wished. My head was just getting in the way of everything else as usual.

“I will admit that I have slept with a lot of women.” Ben sighs. “But it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if I’m the best person for this-“ And for a moment you think he looks almost worried.

Why would he think that?

“I’m sure. I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.” You breathe, running your hands through his hair, your cheeks flushing bright red with your confession, afraid that you’re saying too much, giving too much away as to how much he means to you.

“Really?” Ben smiles in a way that makes your breath catch.

You nod.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” The darkness in his eyes shifts to something else and for a moment it’s difficult for you to form a sentence. He leans his forehead against yours, searching your eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben whispers it like a secret.

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you Ben.” You whisper, knotting you hands in his hair.

“You do?”

You nod your head. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m just as capable of hurting you-“

“Maybe.” The look in his eyes is back, blazing through his green irises in a way that makes your throat swell closed. He bends over to whisper against the curve of your ear. “Then again, I kinda like that Sweetheart.” His lips brush just behind your right ear, making a shiver go down your spine. Ben smiles at your reaction before he dips down to kiss you, but it’s different, the kiss is soft, trusting, and not the previous manic haze of desire it was previously. “ I know you think it’s a big deal, but I like that I’m your first. Because it means that no other man has touched you, made you feel any of the things that I’m going to do to you, and that I’ll never have to share you with anyone else.” His grip on your waist tightens possessively. “That you’ll be completely and utterly mine and no one else can do a damn thing.”

You inhale and try not to faint from the darkened look in his eyes. “Well when you put it that way-“

“Come on.” Ben stands from the couch.

Before you can get up to follow he picks you up like you weigh nothing causing you to automatically wrap your thighs around his waist as he kisses you feverishly again, wiping your mind of anything and everything but him.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, entangling your hands at the nape of his neck to secure yourself.

“I’m not going to let your first time be on some shitty couch.” He mutters against your lips while adjusting his grip under your legs

And with that he takes you down the hall and kicks your bedroom door closed behind you.

********************************************

A/N: Well it finally happened. Unfortunately this is also when all hell breaks loose…

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #jackles #the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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kenyummy · 4 months

Text

LOOKING OUT FOR YOU — KARASU TABITO

SYNOPSIS: karasu tabito has always looked out for you. when you meet his best friend, otoya, that fact still does not change.

note: lol sorry guys i felt a little silly

wc ;; 2.5k

You have known Karasu Tabito since you have been in diapers.

It's always been a known fact. Your mothers met each other at the hospital, became friends, and eventually, you two met. That fateful day, you met Karasu Tabito and your life has never been void of him since.

At age three, you two went out to a waterpark and that was the first time he kissed you.

(It wasn't really a kiss—you accidentally fell on top of him after sliding down a waterslide, he promised he'd catch you, and he did—his mouth just happened to land on yours). You were so disgusted you started to cry—he gagged and ran away.

At age five and a half, you both had your first sleepover. He had a big scary dog that was almost as big as you were and scared you half to death. You were so terrified of the thing you refused to let go of the bottom of his stupid purple Megatron shirt.

You spent the entire night sleeping by his side, and he never once softened his grip on you—it was the only thing that lulled you to sleep. Your mom still had photos of you clinging onto him like it was life or death.

At age twelve, you two entered middle school together. You've never spent a day without him—so it was quite strange when you were forced to enter a strange, new class—and even weirder when your female classmates gave you both googly eyes and always giggled whenever you were around. You never really understood what they meant by this—and to this day, you still don't.

You and Karasu Tabito have known each other since you two were able to walk, and because of this fact, you've never once noticed the way he looks at you.

The soft stares, small smiles (not those stupid, cocky smirks that he holds when he's out on the field—but rather, a grin that curls up on his lips and makes his cheeks grow pink), and the thoughtful, almost unnoticeable actions he takes only for you.

You've never seen it—not now, not never, is what he's hoping. If there is one thing Karasu Tabito shall never do, is tell you what he's done. He'll wait, maybe for a day he will see you stare at him with just as much fondness, or when your touch will linger on his upper arm for a minute too long.

He's always been good at analyzing people—and when he's known you for so long, you've surely become no exception. It was a habit you hated so much, but one he never seemed to be able to get rid of—only able to hide, for the sake of your wellbeing. He's grown soft, he thinks, every single night after he's lying alone in his bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling. He has grown soft for you, his best friend since childhood. But that isn't so much of a bad thing, he thinks again.

He doesn't mind all that much.

The crow, once wild and rowdy, is content with the preening it receives from its owner—and learns to love its life trapped inside the golden cage. He will wait, patiently, for the day you would fall for him—at least, that is what he was originally planning to do.

At age eighteen, he introduced you to his best friend, Otoya Eita. A notorious football player, playboy, and womanizer. There is a good reason Karasu had waited so long to introduce his two closest friends together, and that is because Otoya had quite a history with all of Karasu's female friends.

He's told him to quit it, to stop—but it's never been as serious as it is now.

"Seriously man, don't with her." Karasu sits beside his friend with narrowed eyes and a frown. Otoya's expression is nonchalant as ever, except with a singular brow raised in question.

"What's got you so pissed? I didn't even say anything."

"I know you. Don't, dude. She's different, okay? I don't care about whatever happened with the others, but you seriously need to lay off."

Otoya raises his hands in mock defence, half-lidded eyes widening ever-so-slightly. "Alright. Promise. I won't do anything."

Karasu raises a brow, staring at his whistling buddy from the corner of his eye—he couldn't help but doubt him. Still, he was his closest friend from Blue Lock, and he should do well to trust that said friend—even if Karasu Tabito should know better.

He really should've known better.

As soon as Otoya caught sight of you—he slid next to you, ever so casually—with his phone stuck out and a small smile playing on his lips—asking for your number. You were shocked, of course, and Tabito had no shortage of criticism regarding his green-striped friend to speak to you—still, he was pretty cute, and pretty charming, with that grin.

So, despite your better judgement, and to Karasu's horror—you momentarily forget his words and nod—still in shocked silence—and pass him your phone.

Karasu doesn't think he's ever seen Otoya that happy. Still, you don't look uncomfortable—even with that gross, stupid man pressed right to your side—so Karasu holds his tongue and simply chews down, hard, on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cursing his friend out.

The crow introduces the both of you together, and it does not take long at all before, he, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table from you two, becomes the so-called third wheel.

Karasu Tabito could only stare in silence as you and Otoya, surprisingly, held a decent conversation.

Tabito nearly socked Eita in the face when he slid his arm around you and winked—a cheesy, stupid action that could make even the most romantic author gag in horror.

Even so, you smile—and Tabito's heart drops to his stomach.

...

Karasu had mostly forgotten about this moment for a good week—choosing to just enjoy your presence after that. However, after that week of peace, he was rudely reminded just how persistent Otoya could be with girls.

"Otoya... is a nice guy." You point at your phone, showing it to your best friend with a smile. Your cheeks are flushed pink as you type back a response to his message—but it's half-written and unsent when Karasu snatches the device out of your hands.

He's never seen something so disgusting. It's vile. It's horrible. It's so gross.

"What the fuck?" He curses absentmindedly, eyes wide with disgusted shock as he reads over your conversations. At first, it was about Karasu and both your friendships with him—but those conversations soon turned into deeper, personal talks that you'd never shared with anybody but him.

You try and grab at your device—he pulls that stupid move where he holds it up higher than you can reach—you practically fall into his arms trying to grab the phone, "Tabito!! Give it back!!"

"Are you serious?" He looks down at you with furrowed brows and lips pulled taut downwards. He steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, eyes narrowed sharply. "I told you not to fall for this. Didn't I tell you about what he does to girls? I told you not to talk to him!"

Before this, you've never gotten truly angry at him. Sure, you'd fight—but not even an hour later, either one of you would come back and apologise for whatever petty thing had transpired in the fight. That was just how your friendship was, and he never thought it would change.

Not until now, that is.

You look up at him with a deep frown and an angry stare—not the kittenish one that makes him laugh and ruffle your hair, but a different type of stare—where you are trying to dig knives into his skull and he thinks all the breath has been stolen from his lungs, "Why do you always do this? You always act like this whenever I try and talk to a guy—but this time, you're really acting like a fool! He's your friend, shouldn't you approve more than the past, oh I don't know, seven?!"

His wide-eyed shock is an opening for you to grab your phone back—so you do, and take a good few steps back.

I'm just... trying to look out for you... However, his thoughts go unspoken in his stupor.

Your voice is quieter now—arms folded underneath your chest and clearly avoiding his gaze, "I think you should go... Tabito. I'll talk to you later."

You murmur and walk away—with each step you take, he thinks he hears his heart shatter a little more inside his chest.

...

He slumps down on his desk with his head in his hands. He doesn't know what to do. He feels so stupid. He hadn't even realised it himself—had he really been so disapproving of all those guys that you'd stopped talking to them completely? And he didn't even know?

He feels more selfish than ever.

He feels sick, actually.

"Hey."

This voice is not one he'd like to hear right now. The source of his problems and pain—Otoya. Karasu groans and doesn't raise his gaze—his chest starts to hurt. "Go away."

He doesn't hear footsteps, so Karasu assumes he does not follow his demand. His thoughts are proven correct when Otoya speaks again, "She told me about whatever happened before."

Karasu clenches his jaw hard to stop himself from speaking. He feels like even more of a piece of shit. He just had to bring it up, didn't he? If he didn't introduce you two, this wouldn't have even happened, anyway. Maybe he should keep his lives separate next time—in whatever life he would live next.

"I know she's your friend and all, and you're super worried about her because of that—but I promise I won't do anything."

Those words make Karasu lift his gaze—tired eyes from the lack of sleep he got last night make his despair abundantly obvious. Still, Otoya's nonchalant expression that he always has plastered on his face does not budge an inch. "I promise you before, too. I won't do anything. I swear. I really like her. Like a lot. I swear, I won't hurt her. If I do, you can beat my ass, and I'll take it. So don't be petty like this, okay?"

The words don't soothe the ache in his chest.

Those words he spoke before, just before Otoya had met you—Karasu was worried about this exact scenario happening. But thinking back on it now—was he even worried about you?

He finds himself doubting it. In fact, it feels so much more natural to say that he was worried about himself. That he'd get hurt like this if this happened.

The lack of response from Karasu gives Otoya the answer he was looking for—the last thing he hears as Otoya walks away is an annoyed sigh.

Karasu is, once again, left alone in his room.

He really wants to collapse and just never wake up. He hates this.

Karasu Tabito really is a selfish man. He wants you all to himself yet never tells you—he truly is the worst man alive.

I... just want you.

That's all. That's all he knows.

His chest aches even more and he thinks his heart may just go beating out of his chest. He grits his teeth, hard, and clenches his fists over his face.

The crow in the golden cage is afraid to let go—so in such an act of desperation, it grabs onto its owner's arm—clinging and screeching before they can possibly move away.

He is selfish. You're all his heart has ever known—and you are all he wants. He thought he could wait and everything would turn out fine—but now, he sees that he was so, so wrong.

...

He'd made up his mind. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to tell you. Otherwise, these feelings would rot away in the back of his mind forever and whatever was left after that—and Karasu would die, simply unfulfilled and empty, lacking the love that is you.

The lingering stares, the small touches a bit too close to be friends, the words whispered into your ears late at night when you come to him in tears—all of that can't be for naught.

This couldn't all be for nothing.

He has to tell you. It's now, or never.

He finds himself running down the street in low-hanging pyjama pants and a black tank top—it's cold, really cold on his tanned skin—but he can hardly feel the snow pricking at his skin as his slippers make contact with the damp concrete ground.

He has to tell you.

Otherwise—

He looks around frantically for the spare key your parents keep outside your house. Underneath the potted plant. Right.

He effortlessly lifts the giant pot of aloe vera, and cracks open your door, silently—the first thing he hears is the loud blasting of corny Christmas music, and the sound of your voice laughing along to a song sung by the Whoville residents.

He has to tell you.

His breathing picks up, and he runs forward—however, Tabito is stopped in his tracks, by another voice.

It is Otoya.

If this is truly what heartbreak feels like, then Karasu Tabito is not sure why humans even bother to fall in love. Maybe it is a primal, instinctual reaction that has no logical explanation or meaning to look into—it is simply a blessing, or curse, of nature that cannot be stopped or ignored.

Love is an unexplainable thing.

It makes you feel so many strange things. Foreign, unnatural, and most of all—weird. Love is really, really weird.

It makes you wish to cry, then smile as far as you possible can. It makes your stomach twist with butterflies and makes you have the inexplicable urge to press your lips together with another person. An act of love only shown by humans. An act of love that the crow could never have.

Love makes you selfish, soft, and weak.

But love can also make you giving, tough, and strong.

Love makes Karasu Tabito walk away.

Love makes Karasu Tabito leave you, with the words silent and dead in his mouth.

Even as the cold winter air nips at his nose and he feels like his stomach is trying to collapse in on itself, Karasu Tabito still feels love. This sort of love is so inexplicably strong and all-consuming—a love that he has always felt for you.

The kind of love that will set you free.

Perhaps the crow had dug his talons too deep into its owner—and now, it was left, stuck alone in that golden cage with blood shining on its claws and silent.

Now, it must fly away.

Karasu's always looked out for you—this time, he thinks, maybe, this is the best for both of you.

You looked so happy. You've never looked that happy with him. The thought makes his heart ache and his thoughts jumble up. He stands in the snow—his loose, ungelled hair falls down his neck and snowflakes look like glitter in his deep purple hair.

He really does love you, and that's why he lets you go.

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voxsmistress · 5 months

Text

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part NINE

PHHEWWW this seems a bit of a filler but I wanted to show you some little moments she had with the Vee's - after all not everything can be big dramatic happenings - how else will we get to the good stuff if they dont build some trust together ;)

Plus what do you think is Y/n's surprise?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

It had been a week since that last meeting with the Vee’s and it had flown by. You were singing at the clubs, having meetings with Velvette to get your measurements done correctly, being more social on Sinstagram and other socials, you had a few interviews with small time magazines promoting you. You were a busy bee. And you loved it!

Tonight, you were going to a club opening that had asked you if you wanted a part time contract there as a singer – before you agreed you said you’d like to see what the night life was like first, which they then invited you to their opening night. Once you had the date set, Vel had been nonstop harassing you with pictures, sketches and videos of her designs and then letting you know all the progress when you chose the outfit you wanted. Sometimes you caught Vox or Valentino in the background of her videos; both rolling their eyes dramatically or pulling faces making you laugh. Or sometimes they took over the video and had a little chat with you pushing Velvette out the screen completely.

It wasn’t just Vel that you were in constant contact with either: Vox had taken to messaging you every day letting you know that certain media outlets wanted to talk to you (after he ‘persuaded’ them) about an interview or have you on their show. He also, a few days after you complained that your phone had such a crap camera, sent you a brand-new state of the art VoxTek phone. You laughed for ages when you turned it on as he set the background as himself standing proud with that charming grin of his. No matter how many times you tried to change the background, after a few hours it always switched back to that photo so after a few days you just left it.

Valentino, he was a bit more subtle than the other two. Sending selfies of himself and the other two on SinsChat with flirty little messages to you, a few text messages here and there but nothing too ‘Valentinoish’. When you mentioned that you were going to the club opening, he actually suggested some ideas to talk about if you were stopped by the paparazzi. Which you doubt would happen but better to have the ideas and not use them, than need them and not have them. Right?

You were in the elevator heading up to Velvette’s floor, you had a few hours to get ready and she was already in boss mode ordering everyone about when she phoned you this morning waking you up. You could only imagine what she was like now. Which is why you have brought the coffee: one for her, one for you, and two more in case the other two appear. They seemed to have a habit of appearing when you and Vel were having a meeting, usually causing Vel to have to kick them both out as they tried their best to distract you.

Striding onto Vel’s floor you hide an amused smile at everyone running around like headless chickens and Velvette in the middle orchestrating the mayhem. Your phone buzzing in your pocket distracted you, walking over to one of the tables with no fabric on – you were not risking your undead life by getting coffee near Velvette’s designs – you pop the coffees, your purse and jacket on top. Yanking your phone out your leggings leg pocket (thank you Vel for that genius invention) you spy Angel’s face pop up on a notification. Pressing it you quickly read the message, frown appearing on your face. He was letting you down tonight, so much for your plus one. Now you think about it, all this week you hadn’t see hide nor hair of him and his usual constant messaging was getting less and less. Hmm. Reminding yourself to call him tomorrow to speak about it you pop your phone back in your leggings pocket. Okay no plus one, you can totally do the opening by yourself. Wouldn’t be the first time.

A hand grips your wrist and swirls you into a seat. No longer surprised at Velvette’s ways you just get comfy and sit up straighter in your seat. After the third or fourth time she’d done this to you, it’s easier to just accept the gentle manhandling.

“Finally, you are here. You know you were meant to be here an hour ago, right?” She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at you, lips pulled down in a scowl. Yanking her coffee from the holder you hold it up as a peace offering, your best sorry expression across your face.

Taking the cup off you, a quick sip later she hummed under her breath before smirking: “fine you are forgiven! But do it again and I’ll start cutting that pretty hair shorter and shorter – an inch for every hour you are late” she threatens, swirling away to grab another sinner to start on your hair while she got her make up out ready. She had determined she was getting you ready for this club opening before you even thought about how you were going to get ready.

You closed your eyes as they got to work, the sinner working on your hair was sectioning it off and placing it in large curlers to make bouncy waves in your waist length hair and Vel was cleansing your face. At ease you barely notice anyone else until you smell the distinct aroma of a certain cigarette.

“Good evening, Valentino” you murmur, completely docile because of the fingers combing through your hair. You didn’t realise you liked it so much, not remembering if it felt this way when you were human or if it was a new thing now you were in Hell.

“Evening Princessa, it looks like you’re getting all the works tonight”, opening your right eye you smile at the Moth Overlord. Over this past week you’ve settled into a more relaxed relationship with each other. Less threatening and overbearing sexual innuendos and more flirty banter, which you could cope with.

“Yes, Vel was determined she was the best one to get me ready even though I offered to do my hair and make up myself” a small tap to your nose with a brush made you scrunch it.

“Well darlin’, if you want something done right, sometimes you just gotta do it yourself!”

Humming in agreement you close your eyes again at the feeling of the sinner sorting your hair, sighing happily. Or you did until you heard a snarl and the fingers stopped combing through your hair: “enough. Fuck off!” Blinking in shock you look up to see the sinner running quickly away and a glaring Velvette stood with her hands on her hips. She flashed you a smile when she caught your bemused stare, “she was taking the piss bae, Val is gonna finish off your hair. It only needs a few more curlers put in and then to set”. Hmm … a smile tugged at your lips from her behaviour. Was she jealous that you were enjoying someone else touching your hair?

“Like you said, if you want it done right, you got to do it yourself. My hair is in your talented hands Val” you close your eyes again at Velvette’s instruction as she starts on your eye make-up.

Fingers raked through your hair that hadn’t yet been pinned up and curled, nails scratching at your scalp caught you off guard as a moan nearly escaped your lips. Okay. You learn something new about your body every day. Even in Hell. Clearing your throat when you hear him lowly chuckle you try to distract yourself from the luscious feeling that he was pulling from you by playing with your hair.

“There’s a coffee on the table for you Val if you want one. I know you are usually up late with shoots so figured the caffeine fix might be what you need” you tell him, nose twitching when Vel turns and her hair tickles it.

“You are so kind to us, mi cariño” humming your agreement you allowed them both to work, chuckling every so often as the bitched and picked at each other. A week or two ago you would have thought they’d hated each other the way they spoke – now you realised this was just how they showed each other they cared. Toxic and not your style but it worked for them so who were you to stand in the way and judge.

You must have dozed off as the next time you opened your eyes Velvette was putting the last touches to your make up and Val was taking the curlers out of your hair. Closing your eyes you felt yourself being blasted with a fuck tonne of hair spray. Not a hair would be out of place and your make up would not be smudged. You’d be surprised if you could move your own face with the amount they used.

“Now who is your plus one to this opening Princessa?” Opening your eyes you look in shock at yourself in the mirror that a random sinner was holding in front of you. The demon who looked back at you from the reflection looked like some kind of Siren. Velvette and Valentino worked miracles. In awe of their skills, you mumble how your riding solo tonight as Angel cancelled on you, missing the look they both shared behind your back as you twisted to see how the waves rolled down your back.

“Guys you are miracle workers, thank you so much! I don’t think I’ve ever looked this good even when I was alive!” Spinning in your seat you clap your hands giddily as Velvette giggles with you.

“Now for the outfit babes, then we’ve gotta get some photos of you posing before you go”, pushing you towards the dressing room you spy Valentino aggressively typing on his phone. Strange. But too excited to put on your clothes to give it another thought you barge into the room. A small shriek of excitement escaped your lips as you saw it finally. A black feather bustier with accents of the pink that you are starting to be known for, high waisted black leather pants which flared at the bottom, your favourite black stilettos with the pink bottoms were waiting for you. Pushing Velvette out the room to get ready you wafted away her complaints that she wanted to help you get ready saying you wanted it to be a surprise when you finally were all done up.

Carefully putting on the bustier, wriggling into it into place making sure it hugged your curves and synched your waist in but didn’t expose anything you didn’t want exposing. No nip-slips here people! The leather pants were a little easier to put on but again there was a lot of wriggling and jumping to get them completely up. And men thought we looked sexy putting these outfits on? The heels were the easiest thing to put on thank Lucifer. Slipping on the black choker you check that the little pink sapphire crystal was dangling correctly at the front of your throat, matching bracelet and ring then added. A quick spritz of your favourite perfume on your neck and wrists you were finally ready. Turning around to look in the mirror you grinned happily. Never in a million years did you ever think you would look this good.

Opening the door, you step out into the studio. Velvette and Valentino both talking about something heatedly together with their heads turned so you can’t read their lips. Hmm. Clearing your throat at them both to get their attention. Velvette was the first to look at you, beaming she claps her hands together as Valentino just licked his lips in a flirtatious manner.

“GIRL! You look AMAZING!! Right, we’ve gotta get some pics ready for your Sinstagram – you are gonna be trending tonight!” Suddenly there was a flurry of movement around you, lights blinding you as you were shoved in front of a backdrop. A photographer appeared from behind a big camera, him and Velvette directed you how and where to stand. Blinking in amusement you give your best seductive smile from over your shoulder to the camera, catching Valentino and Velvette watching you intently. Both of their gazes dark, Valentino was puffing aggressively on his cigarette. Blushing at their attention you lower your gaze before winking at them both. Screw it, you were going to have fun tonight! A few more photos turned into hundreds with you in different positions, places and sitting on different things. Your last set was you lying against the pink (you noticed this was a new addition in Vels studio) chaise lounge, back arched and your hair rippling down your back.

When you finally finished with the photographer you grabbed your phone and took a few selfies of yourself while you still had the light. Velvette appeared at your side, pulling your phone down a little you both took a few cute selfies together until a huff was heard from behind you. Smirking at the pouting Overlord you pull him closer by his hand.

“Come on you big baby, you’re gonna have to take the photos though as you’ve got the longest arms” you tease. Velvette clutching your arm on your one side and Valentino with his arms wrapped around your waist on the other you took a few selfies, laughing at how some of them turned out. Though you were having a blast with them both you couldn’t help but miss Vox’s sarcastic comments and charming smile. Shaking that thought from your head you check the time and squeak. It was time to get moving!

Thanking them both for helping you get ready and promising Velvette you would take loads of photos tonight you grab your purse and phone – glancing at the lone coffee left on the table you sigh a little under your breath. It woulda been nice to have seen Vox’s reaction to your outfit. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts. Jeez y/n get a grip! Walking to the elevator you miss the smirks crossing Vel and Valentino’s faces. If you had, you’d have known you were walking into a big surprise.

Taglist:

@tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzler @martinys-world @rosiethevoxobesser

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shanastoryteller · 4 months

Note

happy birthday! 🌻🌻🌻 mdzs identity porn or dealer’s choice please :)

When Shawn is twelve years old, he goes out to ride his bike before dinner and never comes back.

It’s not the first time Shawn’s stayed out later than he was supposed to, so Madeline sighs and puts dinner in the oven and goes searching, figures the walk will at least be an opportunity to snap some photos with her new camera. But as she walks block after block and there’s no sign of her son, she becomes even more concerned.

One hour crawls to two. She returns home to phone the Gusters, but they say Shawn isn’t there, that Gus hasn’t seen him since yesterday. Heart in her throat, she dials the station.

“Hi Honey,” Henry says, distracted. “I told you I was working late-”

“I can’t find Shawn,” she says.

There’s a one tense beat of silence then he snaps, “What are you talking about?”

“He went out on his bike and he didn’t come back for dinner and I didn’t see him anywhere and he’s not with Gus,” she says and she can hear the tears in her voice. “Henry.”

“Karen and I are taking a cruiser out to look for him,” he says, voice suddenly all business. “You stay at home and call dispatch if he comes home, alright?”

“Alright,” she whispers, “what if-”

“Maddie,” he interrupts, voice firm and unyielding and still not enough to hide his fear. “This is Shawn. I’m sure he just got caught up in something. Everything is going to be fine.”

“You can’t just take him!” she says, eyes wild in a way they hadn’t been while he helped her unload groceries. “He’s not like the practice people, someone will notice he’s missing!”

“Yes,” says the old man, with a sturdy, implacable face that’s somehow so much unsettling than her mania. “That is unfortunate. We’ll have to move. But you shouldn’t have invited him inside.”

“Just let him go,” she insists. “We have to move anyway. Just tie him up and pack everything and we’ll be long gone by the time he wriggles free. He doesn’t know anything.”

He sighs. “Darling. He noticed the blood.”

“No, he didn’t,” she says, then looks to him. “Did you?”

Shawn shakes his head, the gag in his mouth preventing him from talking, which is unfortunate, because he’s better at lying when he’s speaking.

He had noticed the blood, faint as it was against the wall, and the scuff marks, and he was planning on getting out of there and going straight to his dad and telling him that he thinks he knows what’s really happening to the beach bums that have washed up on shore, and it’s got nothing to do with too much alcohol and high tide.

She would have let him leave. He was almost out the door when the old guy showed up.

“He’s a clever boy, I’ll give him that,” he says, offhand. “It’s unfortunate.”

He opens into a drawer and pulls out a knife. Shawn tugs even harder at his bonds, but they don’t give an inch.

“No!” She steps in front of him, arms wide. “I like him! He’s nice, and good, and you can’t play with him. I won’t let you.”

Anger wild enough to make Shawn flinch away steals across his face before he folds it back under his veneer of civility. “Very well, darling. You can have a playmate. But if he can’t be controlled, he must be disposed of. Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she says, shifting to completely block him from Shawn’s view – and Shawn from his, which he thinks may have been her goal. “Thank you. We’ll be good.”

“You better be,” he says sternly. “Don’t make me regret this, Yang.”

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #psych

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hyuuukais · 6 months

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, food mention, guns, somewhat vague description of a robbery, blood

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -> BEFORE (partially written, wc: 1.0k)

"Welcome to my childhood house," you say, opening the creaky door, Minho following you through. "It's not that impressive."

With an awkward laugh, you sling your bag over a chair in the dining room to the left, kicking your shoes off in the process. There isn't much to say about where you grew up, the modest little house speaking for itself. Family photos littered the fireplace mantle in the living room, but aside from that, there wasn't much personality in shared areas. No one was home much now since you and your sister had moved out and your mother works long hours.

"Can I see your room?"

You swing around to see Minho leaning against the doorway with his head titled toward you. The action sends a small shiver down your back.

"No!" You blurt, and his eyes widen. "A girl's room is very personal."

He stares at you for a few moments before breaking into laughter. "Did you just quote 10 Things I Hate About You to me?"

"...I might have," you giggle, surprised he got your reference.

"You're wondering how I knew that, aren't you?" The way your eyebrows raise says it all. "How many times did you watch that movie again...?"

"It's amazing," you roll your eyes, a small smile forming on your lips. "You never stuck around to watch the whole thing, so I didn't think you'd know, okay?"

"What do you mean?" Minho seems genuinely confused, standing straight. "I did- ah, right, you fell asleep that time. You snore, by the way."

This makes you blush. "Everyone does."

"I'm messing with you," he sighs.

Rolling your eyes again, you walk past him and move down the hallway toward your childhood bedroom. When you open the door, you're greeted by the soft mint walls and fuzzy white rug surrounding your bed. You sit on the bed, plush blankets shifting. Minho slowly enters, walking around slowly, and suddenly you feel exposed. All of your silly phases and old hobbies out for him to see, past art awards displayed on your desk in the corner and a pile of dirty laundry in another. He stops on the other side of your bed, fingers finding the frame of your family photo, still lying face down on your nightstand, and your heart hurts.

"Don't," you whisper, not ready to see it again. Immediately, Minho pulls his hand away and looks over to where you're now sitting against the headboard, legs tucked into your body.

"What is it?" Minho nods to the frame. When you don't answer, he climbs onto your bed and pokes your side, making you jolt. "Earth to Y/n. What's the photo?"

"Just a family one," you shrug, and he's still trying to catch your eyes. "Before."

"Before what?" He questions, and you finally lock eyes with him.

"...before I got him killed?"

His eyebrows furrow at this, clearly confused. You don't object this time when he reaches over and flips the frame up. Everyone is smiling and happy, two little girls standing with their parents at some kind of theme park. You couldn't have been more than twelve when it was taken, one of the last family vacations you took.

"What happened?" Minho asks, voice low, turning his whole body to face you with the photo still in his lap.

"It was my birthday," you start slow, willing yourself not to cry. "I had just turned fifteen and I didn't get this one album I really wanted. My dad could tell I was upset and said it wasn't in stock when he went to order it, but that he could go now and check if the store had it. We could make a day out of it, and we did.

"The mall wasn't super busy that day, so we got food first. In the actual store, he asked me to go browse as he found the album and paid since he wanted the illusion of surprise still." You sniff, taking the photo in your hands. "So I left to wait outside instead. This guy bumped into me on the way out and I made some stupid comment about watching where he was going," your voice wavers. "When I turned around, I saw he had a gun. Next thing I knew, I was watching him threaten the cashier and my dad."

You pause, taking a deep breath. Minho hasn't said anything, patiently waiting for you to either finish the story or announce you were done, you didn't want to say more. But you did. This is the first time you've opened up to someone about this, not including Hyunjin or NingNing.

"I panicked and ran to my dad, but that must have freaked the guy out because he tried to attack me, but my dad jumped out in front of me and got hit instead." You look up at Minho with damp eyes, voice barely above a whisper. "I still remember the feeling of his blood seeping into my clothes. I still remember screaming, begging him to move. He bled out a lot by the time the ambulance got there."

"Thank you for telling me," Minho says when you're quiet again.

"If I hadn't..." you shake your head. "If I hadn't wanted that stupid album, he'd still be here."

"Don't do that," Minho grabs your face gently by your chin, forcing you to look at him again. "Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't have possibly predicted would happen. Y/n, that's not your fault. This is what you've been blaming yourself for?"

You nod. "If I wasn't being so stupid-"

"You were fifteen, Y/n."

And you can't hold it in anymore, sobbing and hiccupping into his shirt for the second time that evening. You stay like this for a while, and you don't know when you shifted into a lying down position, wrapping an arm across his stomach with a leg wrapped around one of his. His hand is in your hair, the other tracing lines up and down your exposed arm. Falling asleep is easy and unexpected, and when you wake up, he's been replaced with a large, purple cow plushie that was previously sitting in the corner of your room. There's a text from him on your phone waiting for you when you're about to ask where he is.

notes -> sooo....... y/n is starting to open up more to minho ! 😁 also, i will be closing the taglist at ch 25!

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @catchingskzzzs @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #stray kids smau #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee know smau #lee minho smau #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x fem reader #lee minho x fem reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #smau #social media au

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dreamofbecoming · 1 year

Text

ok fuck it context now on ao3

—

“I’m freaking out, man!”

“You’re what? Why? This is like, what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, dude, but now it’s here, it’s happening, and tomorrow it’ll be done and I can’t take it back!”

“Do you want to take it back? Because I think that’s a terrible idea, but if it’s really what you want, I’ll sneak you out the back right now.”

Dustin deflates a little, slumping into the plush chair this weird little church greenroom was nice enough to provide. “No, I don’t want to leave. Of course I don’t.”

Steve puts his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, not massaging, just resting. He doesn’t want to smear too much of his scent onto him before the ceremony, but old habits die hard. Steve suspects he’s always going to want to scent the kids for comfort, even though they’re literally all grown and starting families of their own and don’t need their old omega babysitter anymore.

Case in point, Dustin’s wedding is meant to start in, oh, looks like about 25 minutes, so Steve has to smooth this crisis over double time.

“What’s really bothering you, Dust? You were over the moon yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since you and Susie proposed to each other. Hell, every day since you met! What’s going on now?”

There’s a pause, which is always unsettling coming from Dustin, who hasn’t shut up for more than twelve consecutive minutes in the decade plus Steve has known him, but then he sighs.

“She wants kids.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “And you…don’t?”

Dustin huffs, frustration rising in his scent. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t know if it’s a good idea, you know?”

“And you guys haven’t talked about this before now? You’ve been together for like eleven years, dude!”

“We have, of course we have! I’m just thinking about the risks, Steve! I’m a beta, I can’t carry her pups, and pregnancies are dicey for alpha females! What if something happens?”

“First of all don’t call women females, it’s weird. Erica or Nance will definitely smack you for that, and you don’t need a black eye in your wedding photos.” Dustin nods, cringing a little.

“Second, pregnancy isn’t the only option, man, and also it’s her decision. If she wants to carry them, that’s a discussion you need to have with her, but you can’t just shut her down about it. She knew you were a beta when she decided to marry you. She picked you because she loves you, don’t go deciding for her she’s better off with someone else. And besides, if you decide it doesn’t feel right for both of you, you can talk about adoption, or surrogacy, or…I don’t know what all the options are, but I bet there’s tons! Hell, I’d carry for you guys, if you wanted.”

“You would?” Dustin’s eyes get big and shiny almost immediately, and shit, Steve’s gotta shut this down now. The groom can’t be going out there with red eyes and tear stains, Susie will murder Steve on principle.

But he can’t lie to Dustin. Swore he never would, not when it mattered. “Course I would, man, what’s family for? Aw hell, kid, don’t cry, your mate will run me over with her car if your photos are fucked up because of me.”

“I just- I can’t believe you’d do that for me! You don’t even know if I’ll be any good at it!”

Ah, so that’s what this is really about.

“Of course you’ll be good at it, Henderson. You’d be an incredible dad, any kid would be lucky to have you. I mean, your kids are gonna turn out to be nerd city, but that was always a given.”

Dustin gives him a bitchy little eye roll, which was of course Steve’s aim. He still smells anxious, though.

“How can you be sure, though? It’s not like I have any idea what a dad is supposed to be like, you know? It’s why I kept latching onto older male figures, no offense to you and Eddie.”

Little shit. “You should be so lucky, you little twerp.”

Dustin shoves him away, but he’s grinning now, and his scent is slowly returning to the lemon-bright joy that colors it so often Steve just associates it with Dustin’s base scent at this point, so he’ll take the win.

“You really wanna know how I know you’ll make a great dad, Dustybun?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, today’s supposed to be my day!”

“I’m your best man, I’ll call you whatever I want. Seriously though, I have a story for you.”

“A story, huh? I don’t know, Eddie’s more the storyteller in your relationship…”

“I’m gonna go out there and tell your bride to delay the ceremony because you shat your slacks and need new ones, you menace.”

“Okay, okay!” Dustin laughs. “Tell your story.”

“I was gonna put this in my speech later, but I think you need to hear it now, and honestly it might be more about me than you, and I don’t want to steal the spotlight or anything.”

“Not worried about that, but I’m intrigued.”

“You know how when you’re a kid, you learn how to pick out emotion scents by context clues, from like your family and stuff?”

Dustin lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yes, Steve, I’m aware of one of the foundational tenets of our society, which we all personally experienced.”

“Almost fifteen years I’ve known you, and your attitude hasn’t improved one bit, you know that?”

Dustin waves imperiously for him to continue. Steve glares at him, but they really are running short on time.

“You ever know a kid who had like, a gap? Some feeling they had never run into before, so they didn’t know what the smell meant?” Dustin shakes his head, looking curious.

“There was this girl in my class when we were like, seven? Eight? Something like that. Anyway, she borrowed Tommy’s favorite eraser, one of those animal-shaped ones with the faces printed on? He loved that thing. The girl, Cassie, she broke it, by accident. Tommy lost his shit. I’d never seen him so angry. And like, you know how little kids emotions don’t really come through that strong? He smelled like, grown-up angry. Filled the whole room. Freaked the teacher out, too. Everyone’s backing the hell up out of Tommy’s way, even me. But Cassie was just confused. Because no adult in her life had ever been truly angry around her, so she hadn’t learned what it smelled like yet.”

Dustin is listening avidly, looking gratifyingly similar to how he does when Eddie DMs.

“Anyway, Tommy slapped her so hard it left a bruise, got his dumb ass suspended. But I just remember being so jealous, you know? Can you imagine? Eight years old and never knew what anger smelled like. Hell, at that point anger was just what home smelled like to me.”

Aw shit, now Dustin just smells sad.

“Do you remember when I drove you to the Snow Ball?”

Dustin’s got his thinking face on now, trying to figure out why Steve keeps jumping all over the place. Sue him, he’s no Eddie.

He nods anyway.

“Before you got out of the car, when I told you I’d come back to pick you up, you gave me this huge smile, and the car filled up with something I’d never smelled before. Not really, anyway. Maybe like, in passing, you know? Like in the hallway at school, but always faint and never towards me, so I never focused on it.”

Dustin’s eyebrows are totally scrunched up now, little genius brain whirring away. Goddamn brat never had any patience.

“I didn’t ask about it, because I wasn’t sure it was important, and also a little because I felt like enough of a caveman around you little rocket scientist dweebs I didn’t need you explaining feelings to me too, but I kept smelling it from you after that. And from El, and a little from Lucas and Max and even once from your mom, but it was just confusing, you know? I couldn’t figure out what was causing it, so I had no context clues to figure out what it meant.

“And then at Starcourt, after Robin and I went to go puke up those Russian drugs—”

“Ditched me and Erica who were very responsibly trying to wrangle you, you mean.”

“Tomato, tomahto, kid. Anyway, I told her I had a crush on her and she panicked and came out to me, so I switched to making fun of her crush so she would know I was okay with it, and suddenly there was that smell again. First time I ever smelled it coming from her. So after everything was done, I asked her.”

“Oh, so you’ll ask her, but not me? Hurtful, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, shithead, because Robbie already knew I was a moron, and she was never gonna want to go out with me, so I didn’t need to impress her. I could look stupid to Rob back then, but I still wanted you guys to think I was cool.”

“Steve, buddy, my brother, my best friend, my favorite jock please don’t tell Lucas I said that, we literally never thought you were cool.”

“Now who’s being hurtful?”

“Just the truth, Munson. I tell it like it is.”

“Ugh, whatever. The point is, I asked Bobbie what she felt for me in that bathroom, and she told me that’s when she realized she would love me forever. That we were going to be best friends.”

Dustin looks stricken.

“That’s what I was smelling all that time. Honey. That’s what I smelled in the car in the Hawkins Middle parking lot. You loved me. You were literally the first person in my whole life who ever did.”

“Steve—”

“This isn’t—look, I know it’s kind of sad and pathetic for kid Steve, but this isn’t about that. It’s not about me, okay? It’s about how my whole life turned around the day Dustin Henderson decided he loved me, because he never stopped. Not for a single second of the last thirteen years, and because you loved me then, I have a platonic soulmate and a horde of little siblings and a mate I adore and more friends than I can count on all my fingers and toes! You’re the one who encouraged me to go to cosmetology school, you’re the one who introduced me to Eddie, you’re the one who stood by me and let me crash on your mom’s couch when my parents kicked me out. My life is full of love, and joy, and purpose, and it all started with you, Dustin. I’m here because you loved me, and because once you started loving me you never stopped. I have smelled honey on you every single day since the 1984 Snow Ball, and that’s how I know you’ll be an incredible father. Because if you have all that love for a washed up ex-jock omega nobody had ever loved before? You’ll have all that and more times a million for any kid lucky enough to call you Dad.”

They’re both crying by now. Susie is gonna kill them for sure, but as Dustin buries himself in Steve’s arms like he’s still six inches shorter, Steve decides it doesn’t matter. This is worth it.

There’s a knock at the door, just in time it seems.

“Dingus, baby Dingus, you in there? T minus 5 minutes, boys, stick those feet in the oven if you gotta!”

“Yeah, Bobs, I hear you! We’ll be out in a sec, no cold feet in sight.”

“Roger that, bubba! I’ll inform the bride!” He can hear her racing off, probably dancing with pre-wedding excitement. For a cynical lesbian who has a new girlfriend every month and swears marriage is an archaic institution built on misogyny and omegaphobia, she sure does love weddings.

“You ready, kid?”

Dustin has taken the brief interlude as an opportunity to splash his face with water from the sink in the corner, so he doesn’t look like he’s been crying to into Steve’s shoulder, but Steve makes sure to straighten his tie and finger comb his curls back into place.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.” He looks at Steve for a long moment, then throws his arms around him one last time. “I’m really glad you’re my brother, Steve.”

Steve squeezes him tighter for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of lemon and cut grass and honey. Of family. Of love.

“Yeah, kid. Me too.”

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thesunisatangerine · 11 months

Text

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part three

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.4k

You woke again nearing midday and, as expected, Ale was nowhere to be found. If it weren’t for the still sensitive marks that she left on your neck and the soreness between your thighs, you would’ve thought it was all a pleasant dream. Something on your nightstand caught your eye as you stretched and when you picked it up, all the remaining doubt shattered.

On the piece of paper was a phone number with a little note that said ‘text me?’ and you couldn’t help the grin that made its way to your lips at the drawn smiley face at the end of it. You picked your phone up, added her to your contacts and sent her a hello-it’s-me text, noted the notification of an email from Derek, and then you got out of bed to get ready for the day.

When you returned to the bedroom from your shower, a message from Ale was waiting for you.

‘Hey, good morning! Listen, as much as I’d love to… have fun with you again, I can’t see you the next few days.’

You laughed at the varying degrees of sad emojis that superseded her text. Then you messaged her back.

‘That’s fine. Just text me when you’re free. And you already know where I am so…’

You abandoned your phone after that in favor of your laptop as you remembered Derek’s email. Upon opening your mail, you found it immediately.

‘Good news. Robert sealed a deal with a client and they want you to follow FC Barcelona in their Liga F campaign this season. We got 5 match passes so far–Robert believes that the client might be inclined to commission for more photos depending on how the club progresses throughout the season.

Find the passes in the attachment as well as the in-depth commission details but in short, apart from the customary team photos, they want photos of the following players prioritised in order: Alexia Putellas, Maria ‘Mapi’ Leon, and Caroline Graham Hansen. I’ll leave the research to you.

On an informal note, the window to decline is still open. As previously discussed, you don’t have to do this. Let me know what you decide as soon as possible.’

You checked the attached files and sure enough, you found the passes for Barcelona’s matches against the following clubs: Real Madrid, Roma, Alhama, Atletico Madrid, and Sporting Huelva. You noted the date for the one against Real Madrid–it was in a couple of days, the same one Ale suggested and a thrill of excitement went down your spine at the thought of possibly seeing her again. Maybe you should message her to let her know that you were going.

You sent a confirmation to Derek before you created a new tab to begin your research. ‘Alexia Putellas’, you typed and hit enter. When the results came back, you stilled.

You blinked.

Then you blinked again.

Of all the places you’d expect to find Ale’s face, a search result about a professional football player was the last thing you could think of. But memories flashed unbidden through your mind: the exclusive night club, Ale’s vague answer about her job, the way her eyes shone whenever you mentioned sports or football, her reflexes, her physique, Ale… Alexia–it all made sense now.

Groaning, you put your face in your hands as your cheeks and ears burnt from the embarrassment that flooded your veins. Oh, how dense could you get! She must’d thought you ignorant for not knowing who she was. Foolish!

But then again… if she didn’t get a kick out of you not knowing, why did she allow the second time to happen? And why promise a third? The thought calmed you down enough to decide not to text Ale–no, Alexia–about this like you’d originally planned especially since you were most likely going to see her at the game anyway.

After another moment to regain your composure for the time being, you proceeded with your research. You clicked on an article, and an article lead to another, which carried you over to a video, and so on. By the end of it, evening had settled and you only managed to discover little. But from what you found out, there was no question to Alexia Putellas’ nascent legacy, both on and off the pitch–an undisputed, modern trailblazer for current and new generations of female athletes. You were gutted to know about her ACL injury though–a quick deviated search made it known to you how serious of an injury it was, especially for an athletic career–and you wondered when she would be able to play again or if she would be playing in the match against Real Madrid. After all, she did say she was going to be there.

You wrapped up your research about Alexia then and you finally moved on to Mapi Leon, then Caroline Graham Hansen. Afterwards, you briefed yourself on the rest of Barcelona Femeni’s 1st Division players as well as the rules of football to come up with a strategy to tackle this task.

A mixture of anxiety and excitement rushed through you as you settled in for the night at the thought of seeing Alexia again now that you know about her identity. You didn’t know what you had gotten yourself into the moment you let her take you to the dance floor but the pull was there from the very beginning. And you decided you were going to see this through to the end.

No. This wasn’t going to change anything at all.

–––

There it was: Estadi Johan Cruyff, home to Barcelona Femeni, stood proud in its blue and red glory.

There was still about an hour and a half left before kickoff but already, people had gathered and started to enter the stadium, you being one of them. Security scanned your press pass as you entered and you were told to head through a different corridor which lead you out to the pitch. Once inside, it was no surprise that the stadium’s interior was no less grand than the outside, the well-tended grass was just a taste to the quality that this place had to offer.

Greeting the other photographers who’d settled in earlier as you walked, you searched for a spot and found it by the space adjacent to the corner flag farthest from the tunnel entrance. There, you placed your duffel bag and your portable stool as you worked to set up your equipment: you double-checked the batteries, attached the right lens to your camera, unwounded your monopod and connected it to your camera.

By the time you looked up, there was already a significant crowd awaiting the players for their warm-ups. You took this chance to take a few shots of the still half-filled stadium, tweaking your settings as you did so and you waited for the players to come out.

About an hour before kickoff, you spied movements inside the tunnel and immediately, your eye was to your viewfinder.

Players from both teams emerged from the tunnel and names popped in your head as you scanned the faces from Barcelona, taking shots of them as they stepped foot on the grass and took off in a jog. There was no sign of Alexia though but you spotted two of your marks on the pitch so you wasted no time to frame them in your camera.

A moment later though, you heard a sudden cheer from the crowd followed by a collective flutter of camera shutters. You lifted your eye from the viewfinder, turned your head to the side and saw that your fellow photographers had their cameras focused to the direction of the tunnel entrance. Your heart quickened. Could it be? And sure enough as you looked to the sidelines, you could make out Alexia’s blonde hair and her unmistakable silhouette. Through your camera’s lens you were able to see her better.

Alexia had on a black leather jacket paired with a top that revealed a strip of skin before the cut of her jeans, finishing her look off with a pair sneakers on and loose blonde hair. She was conversing with her coach, bumping fists and patting the backs of players from both teams who went over to greet her. Then she turned to the stands, waved at their supporters, and she moved close enough for pictures and autographs. She gave one last wave to the fans, shouted an encouraging word to her teammates with a fist in the air, before she headed back into the tunnel. While all of this was happening, you’d framed her through your lens yourself, taking the photos you needed, cheeks warm despite the cooling afternoon air.

Then all the Barcelona players jogged over to the sidelines and huddled, side to side, arm in arm. You took a shot. Not long after that, all of them left the pitch.

The game was about to start.

Alexia wasn’t lying when she said the stadium would get crowded: the stands were filled with blues and reds, flags were flown and waved about, chanted anthems resounded loud and proud in the air–the atmosphere was nothing short of electric.

You’d moved by the sideline close to the tunnel entrance for the beginning of the match along with your fellow photographers so you could capture Barcelona’s starting eleven. When the players came out, they were welcomed by singing and cheers from the crowd. And as they stood there, you took photos of the entire team first before you moved on to focus on Mapi and Caroline.

When the whistle blew and the match began, you were back to your original spot, looking to the stands above the tunnel entrance as you tried to pick Alexia out from the sea of faces through your camera. You managed to a few minutes later, and you found her looking rather pensive: one arm crossed over her chest, the other resting on it as she rubbed her chin with her thumb, eyes focused down at the pitch with her brows slightly creased. It looked like longing to you, a burning desire to return home–to start playing football again. The sight evoked such a feeling in you that you couldn’t help but capture the moment. This shot, however, you were going to keep for yourself.

Now that you knew where Alexia was, following the client’s requisites just got a lot easier. Up until the final whistle, you immersed yourself in your work and the game, focusing more on Mapi and Caroline as they were playing. There were times that allowed you to shift your camera to the stands to where Alexia was and took shots of her, too. By the time you knew it, the game ended and Barcelona won 1-0.

You expected a celebration from Barcelona because they were in their turf after all so you loaded up your camera with a freshly charged battery. The next thing you knew, Alexia was there with the team, hugging and patting them congratulations and her teammates beamed at her, happy to see her there.

Click You took a shot.

The players then began their procession around the stadium, waving at and signing things for their supporters. Through your camera, you saw Mapi signing the shirt of a young girl. Click. Next to her was Caroline, reaching over the barrier to sign a ball, smiling as she talked to the boy holding it. Click.

The procession was near enough that you could hear their banters, growing louder as they approached where you were and the beating of your heart thumped as loud as the chants from the crowd. You congratulated the players as they passed and kept your camera away out of respect. You looked at the end of the line and you met Alexia’s gaze. She was smiling at you while she talked to Irene Paredes beside her and she never took her eyes off you. There was a gleam in them, something akin to mischief and… a challenge? If so, why?

At that you raised an unimpressed brow at her, both a question and a statement. Your reaction seemed to amuse her because her smile turned into a full smirk.

The procession passed but Alexia lagged behind, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Irene who threw Alexia a questioning look. You watched as Alexia waved her off before she began walking your way and you didn’t miss the fluttering of shutters from your fellow photographers’ cameras. Some called Alexia’s name to get her attention but she ignored them, her attention only at you. You barely had enough time to school your features and hide any signs of familiarity before she was standing in front of you.

“Hey, you. You made it here after all.” Alexia said cooly, lips slanted in a half-smile, one hand in a jean pocket.

“Yeah, I did. Sorry, but do I know you?” You asked in an excessively dry tone paired with an raised eyebrow, but you made sure your voice was just loud enough for her to hear. Catching your drift, Alexia laughed, rubbing the bridge of her nose to try and cover it up.

“I suppose not,” she extended a hand towards you, “I’m Alexia, and I’m sorry about… you know.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Alexia. Congratulations on the win, by the way.” You shook her hand, ignored the way her warmth seeped into your skin, and hummed. “You know, you remind me of someone I know. Your resemblance to her is uncanny.”

Alexia nodded as she took her hand back, lips quirked. “I think I know who you’re talking about. I think she also wants to know if she could stop by later tonight?”

Your cheeks warmed and you didn’t fight the smile that made its way to your face. “I did tell her she could whenever she’s free.”

“So, yes?”

“Yes.”

———

You braced your weight against the headboard, forehead over your folded arms, eyes barely open and the erotic sight in front of you did nothing to help the building flood in you. With your thighs bracing her head and from this angle, you could only see Alexia’s closed eyes but you felt her hands roaming and supporting your lower back as her mouth and tongue worked on you.

She was taking her sweet time though, brushing her tongue over your clit lightly, sucking just enough to build up the pleasure but nothing too much to bring you over the edge. You whined because she did it again only with more pressure this time, circling your clit a few times before she moved away again. You were starting to learn that she liked to play; she liked to take her time and get as many reactions from you until she was satisfied, until she’d completely unravelled you.

A particularly cruel swipe of her tongue, accompanied by the obscenely wet sound it made, nearly incited a sob from your lips but the plea you made was nothing short of similar.

“Ale… please…” You panted.

“–my name.”

“Huh?” You whined out, not hearing what Alexia said after a flick from her tongue sent shivers down your spine.

“Say my name.”

Then she circled your clit with more urgency after she said that–demanding. You keened and ignored her, canting your hips forward to chase that delicious friction you were desperately searching for.

“Ale… Ale… please!”

Then she stilled completely and you cried out in protest, eyes flying open to meet lidded hazel ones.

“What–”

“Say my name.” She licked your inner thigh deliberately close to where you wanted it the most.

“Alexia, pl–” You didn’t even need to beg because right after her name left your mouth, overwhelming heat was all you could feel as she ate you out earnestly. Her hands gripped your thighs so tight that you wouldn’t be able to pull away–not that you could ever do such a thing.

“Oh, fuck!”

Euphoria tore through your body in concurrent waves with brutal intensity that it ripped the strength from your bones while your muscles shook helplessly. Even the gentle touches from Alexia tongue as she cleaned you up were enough to make you hiss from overstimulation.

God… she really did a number on you this time.

After you finally calmed down, you shifted so that you could lay by Alexia’s side, kissing your way up from the column of her neck to her lips where you found your taste heavy on her tongue. You dragged your fingers from the crest of her hip to her breast, feeling the ridges of her hard-earned muscles as you did so and revelled in the way they tensed beneath your touch, the softness of her breast a beautiful contrast to the firmness of her stomach.

Alexia gasped when you rolled her nipple between your fingers and you gladly swallowed it as you deepened the kiss. You slotted your leg to apply pressure between her thighs, ample wetness coated your skin and you couldn’t help but moan at her arousal.

You nipped a path down between the valley of her breasts but not before you had given both of her nipples the attention they deserved. You continued your journey, licking and nipping at her skin as you moved down her toned stomach.

As soon as you reached her navel, she parted her legs to make space for you. You kissed her inner thighs, loving the way they tensed beneath your lips and as you trailed closer to her core, you flashed your gaze upwards to meet hers. When you finally got the first taste of her tonight, you watched intently through lidded eyes as she closed hers, dropping her head on the pillow and sighed out a long, low moan.

You gave her a few slow and broad strokes, closing your eyes as you savoured her taste. When she began to urge her hips quicker, you picked up your pace all the while mapping her thighs and stomach with your palms.

You found you liked how responsive she was to your touches, liked the way she demanded for more which you gladly gave to her as she asked for them. And when she cradled the back of your head and buried her fingers in your hair so she could meet your tongue the way she wanted it, you moaned loudly, taking from the way she took hers from you.

“Yes, right there, just–” Her back arched and you clung to her hips like a lifeline. You rolled your tongue against her and sucked, not wanting to disrupt the pace of her fall.

And fall, she did.

She came on your tongue and you accepted it with a grateful moan, slowing down your pace as she came back down from her high. It was sticky and heady, a reward that you lapped up eagerly, and from the pleased way Alexia threaded her fingers through your hair, she was satisfied. Like her, you took your time cleaning her up because after all it was only polite to do so and you enjoyed the way her leg muscle tensed when you kissed her clit one last time.

Content with your work, you kissed the top of her left thigh as a form of gratitude but instead of making your way up, you traced the line of muscle that lead down to her knee where scars from her injury had carved themselves permanently into her skin.

You’d kissed those same scars the last time you were together without knowing the story behind them and now that you know, you dragged your lips over them ever more softly, looking Alexia in the eye as you did so. She watched you intently with lips slightly parted, eyes dark and lidded.

Alexia bent forward so she could reach out to you, lifting your chin with a gentle hand. Then she brushed her thumb over your upper lip to wipe the wetness there but before she could pull it away, you parted your lips and took her thumb into you mouth, sucking and licking off the taste there, never taking your eyes off hers.

“My god,” came her breathless murmur before she moaned out, “come here.”

Then she guided you to her mouth with her gentle grip on your chin and before you knew it, you were under her again, sighing in grateful surrender to the mercy of her and her hands. She kissed and ravaged you many times over–and you, her–that by the end of the night, you’d completely forgotten the weight of her name.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: a bit late but i finally finished it omfg #ngl i rushed this so im extra sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes...#and how do people write smut its so bloody difficult ahhhhhh #hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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spoopdeedoop · 7 months

Text

hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

#doctor who #spoop speaks #if anyone has a name for this au i'm OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS #if anyone wants to write fic/draw art for this au YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO ASK. IM ACTIVELY BEGGING. PLEASE #might delete this post if i get too self conscious it is. just. words. ew

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goldencuffs · 2 months

Text

afterglow

inspired by the spectral files series by s.e. harmon!!

The ghost appears in his office after Damen comes back from his lunch break.

Damen’s had a rough week already. The free pad thai in his belly right now is literally the best thing that’s happened to him in months. That’s not even an exaggeration.

The ghost in his office has been around before. He showed up a few weeks ago, at the start of summer, his expression boyish, sunny, hands in his pockets as he’d surveyed Damen’s office with visible interest. Then he had followed Damen to the kitchen and watched him make tea. And then he had pulled faces last Tuesday, during their morning briefings, gagging at the photos of Victor Reynold’s dismembered body.

“I smell Thai,” the ghost says now. He’s pouting. “I want Thai. I love Thai food.”

Damen ignores him, sitting behind his desk and logging into his computer. It’s only twelve in the afternoon. Damen wants to throw himself off the ledge of the building.

The ghost struts about his office, still talking, listing off the other cuisines he loves (Mexican, Indian, Lebanese, Italian) as Damen pretends to read his latest case notes.

“Not going to lie though, definitely shat myself when I had that. I’m talking blocked pipes and everything.” The ghost shakes his head. “Man, that was a rough weekend.”

Damen sighs.

The ghost perks up. “I know you can see me, man. You always get that face when I’m talking to you.”

Damen picks up a pen, just so he has something to do. So he can school his face into something more neutral.

Of course Damen can see the ghost. He sees ghosts all the time. He’s seen them since he was seven years old. As a kid, he didn’t know the children he would play with were dead until Nikandros’ foot had gone through the football they were kicking around.

Since then, Damen’s seen them everywhere. There was a widow who used to hang around Kastor’s old place, shrilly telling him off for painting the kitchen the wrong colour. Kastor had moved out three weeks after Damen had told him that.

Most of the time, ghosts leave him alone. Sometimes they get excited when they realise he can see them. Sometimes they just want to talk. Some of them have harmless requests, like messages they want to pass on to a loved one.

And sometimes there are ghosts like the ones in his office, who don’t seem to have anywhere to go, who only seem to be attached to him.

The last ghost like that had been Aimeric Gaul, this skinny, baby-faced kid who had sad, wide eyes. He could only go where Damen could, and kept mentioning how much he missed his mother.

Three months into watching Aimeric cry in the corner of his office, Damen had driven down to Fortaine to see his mother. Aimeric had sat in the front seat, wide-eyed as he watched the rolling landscape.

When Damen had told Aimeric’s mother that he had a message from her dead son, her husband had pointed a gun to his forehead and said, Get the fuck off my property.

Damen was placed on suspension after that.

So, yeah. He’s wary of the ghosts like this—the ones that are, inevitably, drawn to him. They’re the ones that cause trouble.

Damen’s been through enough, thanks. He’s only just back from his suspended time off, and Jokaste has cleared the last of her things from their place, and sometimes he still panics when he can’t find the ring on his left hand, until he remembers that it’s shoved in a drawer in his closet.

The ghost is still talking. “You know what I really miss though? Dumplings. Highly underrated, man. When’s the last time you had one? Take it from me—have as many dumplings as you can while you’re still alive. ‘Cause, one day you’re gonna be dead, and there’s no fucking dumplings here. Which is shit if you think about it, the least—”

Damen’s phone rings. He picks it up, glad for the distraction.

Makedon’s voice is no-nonsense. “My office, now. Bring coffee.” And then he hangs up.

Damen deliberately doesn’t bring the coffee. Makedon frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything else.

He pushes a file towards him. “Welcome back, kid. Latest cold case is all yours.”

Damen groans. “Seriously? You’re assigning me to cold cases? What about Reynold’s murder? I hear they need more manpower.”

“Nah.” Makedon shakes his head. “Don’t think you’re in the right headspace for all that shit.”

“That shit?” Damen repeats, frowning. “You mean, my job?”

Makedon stares at him for a few beats. “This is part of your job too, detective. Everyone gets assigned cold cases every now and then.”

“Bullshit,” Damen snaps. “You haven’t assigned me a real case in months, even before—” And here, he falters, too ashamed to bring up Aimeric.

Makedon isn’t a soft man. Everything about him is rigid and unmoveable. But he does relax his shoulders a little.

“This isn’t just about what happened in Fortaine. When’s the last time you slept, kid?”

Damen frowns.

“Yeah, exactly. Divorce ain’t easy, and it’s clearly been affecting you more than you realise. You’re so… angry all the time. You clocked the new intern so badly last week, he had to go home early.”

Damen sighs, heart twisting a little. Yeah, okay, yelling at Erasmus in front of everyone hadn’t been a good move, but Damen had his reasons.

…He just can’t remember them right now.

“Work the case with Huet,” Makedon continues, “He’s good company, and isn’t afraid to step up.”

Damen snatches the file. “Whatever,” he mutters darkly. “What’s the case?”

Makedon sighs. “Some kid drove himself into a lake about a decade ago. Was conclusively claimed as a suicide at the time, but his brother’s statement is pretty interesting, suggests foul play.”

Damen’s eyebrows raise. “Murder?”

Makedon shrugs. “The brother was thirteen at the time, and very close with the victim. So it could be an emotional thing. But…”

“But?”

“He pointed fingers at their uncle. Claimed he had strong evidence it could be a murder, but no one really looked into it too closely.”

“Hmm,” Damen says. “So, what, we’re supposed to go on the word of a teenager?”

“A very persistent teenager. Have a look—he’s called at least several times a year to see if the case has been reopened.”

“No shit,” Damen says in surprise. “He actually share any of this evidence, though? Or tell us why the uncle could be the perpetrator?”

“That’s your job to find out.” Makedon yawns. “Where’s my fucking coffee?”

But Damen doesn’t pay attention to him. The first page of the case file is a headshot of the victim.

Damen knows that face. He just left him in his office.

***

Auguste Henri Revere is—was—twenty-five when he died.

He was incredibly popular, well-liked, and good at pretty much everything he did. Damen reads everything in his file: football captain, scholarship student at Arles University, part-time volunteer at the children’s hospital…

He doesn’t seem like the guy who would kill himself. Then again, the worst part about this job has always been that people can surprise you—in the worst ways possible.

Nothing about his death is suspicious. It happened close to midnight, near a popular stretch of road in the city centre. There were several witnesses that saw a cream 1972 Ford Mustang veer off the road, straight into the lake. Police found a suicide note typed on Auguste’s laptop. He had cleaned his room the night before, donated things like clothes, jewellery, and sneakers.

Damen reads what Laurent Gabriel Revere said. Now that statement is strange. Laurent was thirteen when Auguste died. Sources say they were close, that Auguste doted on him, especially since they were orphans, living with their uncle. Two years after Auguste died, Laurent showed up at the police station and accused their uncle of killing Auguste. He claimed he had evidence, but failed to elaborate. Witnesses said they had heard Laurent and his uncle fighting at the Revere home just half an hour before Laurent showed up at the police station.

Police issued a search warrant at the Revere house. His uncle had readily complied. Nothing had been found. Nothing had been found in Auguste’s recovered car either. And there was never an autopsy done on his body.

“Huh,” Damen says.

He looks up at Auguste, who’s staring at the view outside his floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time since he showed up in his office, Damen feels sorry for him. Auguste is twelve years older than him, but now here he is, forever twenty-five. Damen’s older than him now, and it’s strange to think about. What makes him more deserving of life? He isn’t even a good person—not the way Auguste is. Was.

It’s not the most conventional way to start an investigation, but hey, he might as well. “How’d you die?” Damen asks.

Auguste turns to him blinking. His eyebrows raise. “That’s the first thing you say to me after all this time? Jesus, that’s cold, man.”

Damen bites his bottom lip. “Do you remember the day you died? Did you… er.” He can’t bring himself to say kill yourself.

“The day I died? Hmm.” Auguste’s golden eyebrows furrow. “Let me see… I took Laurent out that day. We went to the fair, and he kept pretending he was too old to go on the rides.” His smile turns fond. “Then we… I dropped him home. I went to meet some friends but I don’t think I made it.”

“Fuck!” Damen scrambles up from his seat, and he’s grateful that his office door is closed. He doesn’t think he could explain to anyone why he’s so horrified.

Blood streaks down from Auguste’s mouth, the corner of his eyes. His clothes are soaked through, turning transparent. His golden hair is matted and wet against his scalp.

Auguste moans. “I don’t feel so good. I don’t… I can’t talk about this anymore.”

The blood starts pouring out of his ears.

Damen stands, paralysed, unable to move.

And then in a blink, Auguste disappears.

***

“Damn,” Huet says. “How much do you think this place will sell for? Three mill right? I mean, at least.”

“Shut up,” Damen says. Huet is a new recruit and he is far too peppy and talks far too much. He is definitely not good company.

Privately, Damen agrees about the house. It’s huge, a sprawling mansion adorned with steep, gabled peaks and chimneys, topped with slate tiles that glisten in the sunlight. Ivy and climbing roses cling to the walls. As well as being Superman, Auguste was also apparently incredibly rich.

The man who opens the door is undoubtedly related to Auguste. It’s the eyes—Damen has been staring at those blue eyes in photos and in his office for weeks now.

Richard Revere is in his mid-fifties. His hair is dark, coiled, and his beard is trimmed and peppered with white. There are rings on each of his fingers—giant gemstones that glisten as he shakes Damen and Huet’s hands as they introduce themselves.

He has no qualms about being questioned and invites them in.

Damen’s eyebrows raise. They’re greeted by a grand foyer with a sweeping marble staircase, its balustrade intricately wrought iron, leading to the upper floors. The interior is a blend of opulence and warmth, with high ceilings, ornate moldings, and crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the richly decorated rooms. Antique furniture, plush draperies, and elegant tapestries fill the spaces, each room telling its own story of centuries past.

Richard has no issues with them being in his house. Damen has done this for long enough to go by his gut—and so far this man doesn’t seem like a murderer. He just seems like a rich man from an affluent society.

Richard makes them tea, and then says, “So. You’ve opened my nephew’s case again?”

“We have,” Damen says. They’re sitting on the most comfortable armchairs he’s ever been, in a room with far too many books and far too many globes.

“Interesting.” Richard sips his tea. For the first time, his tone is cold, disapproving. “May I ask why? I believe the last set of detectives were incredibly thorough.”

Damen nods. “I’m sure they were. But you understand we’re in a delicate position. We can’t brush off… certain statements.”

“Ah.” Richard’s mouth quirks in amusement. “So this is about Laurent, then.”

It’s Huet who nods this time. He says, “He called the last leading detective just six months ago, sir. He’s still adamant about…” He awkwardly trails off.

Now Richard looks very amused. “Oh, I see. Of course. Did you know Laurent happens to make those calls to the police station every time we have a fight?”

“Well,” Damen says, as Huet makes a note of that. “We’d like to talk to him too. Is he around?”

“He is.” Richard nods. “Upstairs, sleeping.”

Damen doesn’t react when Auguste appears in the living room. He looks like his usual self, dry and golden, free of blood.

“You need to go upstairs,” Auguste says, and for the first time, there’s a note of frustration in his voice. “I can only go where you go. I want to go upstairs. I want to see my room. I want to see Laurent.”

“We’ll come back later then,” Damen says. He ignores Auguste’s No!

Richard leads them back out into the sunlight. Auguste trails after them, eyes flicking over every inch of the house, his gaze wondrous. It fills Damen with pity.

They make their goodbyes out on the porch. Damen can see some of the neighbours take interest in their police car, but Richard seems unfazed.

A portly woman at the end of the driveway asks them, “Laurent again? He’s a shame to the Revere name.”

Huet raises both eyebrows. Damen makes a mental note of that.

As they walk to the car, they hear a frantic, whispered. “Hey!”

Auguste gasps. “Laurent.”

Damen follows his eyes. There’s a window at the side of the house on the second level. Someone’s opened it up enough to wave at them.

Damen steps closer. Auguste rushes up to the window. “Laurent!”

Laurent doesn’t hear his brother. But he does notice Damen approaching and beckons him over.

Damen stands under the window, shoulder to shoulder with a dead man, and looks up at the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Laurent’s hair is golden, falling across those same stunning, blue eyes, his lashes long and dark. His skin is luminous and sweetly pink.

“Damn,” Huet says under his breath.

“He’s so grown up,” Auguste whispers.

“You’re here for Auguste’s case?” Laurent says.

Damen has to strain to hear him. Laurent’s voice is low, anxious, like he’s worried about being caught.

“Yeah, we are.” Damen clears his throat, which is suddenly scratchy.

Something bright sparks in Laurent’s eyes. He’s still whispering. “Great. You think you can meet me at the diner down the road in an hour? I can’t get away until he leaves the house.”

That instantly sets alarm bells in Damen’s head. He frowns.

“God, he looks so different,” Auguste says.

Damen nods at Laurent, who’s still anxious, still waiting for a response.

“Okay, we’ll see you.”

Laurent nods and shuts the window, disappearing from view. After a moment, Auguste does too.

#captive prince #damen x laurent #my writing #my fic #i thought i'd upload old drabbles while i finish writing other stuff lol #this was sitting in my drafts for agesssssssss #anyway read the spectral files its amazing!!!

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