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booboodaddysblog · 3 days

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I want to touch you again…

Part one

Warnings: kissing, talking, doubts, a bit sad and emotional

Words: 3312

It was after 1 pm when Marg waited for Colin at the exit door of the police station. Annoyed, she glanced at her watch. He was late, and she disliked it very much. She went to his office. She wanted to enter without knocking, but saw that the door to his office was open.

- Where can he be? - thought Marg.

She noticed that the door to the men's bathroom was also open. She went there to see if Colin was there. She entered and saw Colin washing his face with cool water. She quickly approached him concerned.

- Oh, Colin, is something wrong? You are pale.

Colin looked quite tired, especially his eyes looked extremely dark, which was probably not a good sign. He knew it was hard to hide anything from Marg.

- Eh... I... I don't know... - he answered quietly.

- Is everything okay? Colin? - she touched his forehead and cheeks to check for a fever - you don't have a fever. What's going on? Be honest with me.

He was slightly surprised by her behavior. The way she touched him and looked at him with tenderness made him feel even worse now than before.

- I am...

He found it difficult to formulate the words he really wanted to use to describe everything. He didn't want to lie to her. He wanted to be more open.

- Please tell me what is going on? If you care about me coming back to you, you have to talk to me. You can't be so closed off - she looked into his eyes.

She was right. She was here with him and she knew something was wrong. If he wanted things to be the same again he had to start talking to her.

- I... - he fell silent for a moment looking into her eyes, but suddenly looked away - I... I just feel pretty depressed right now - he sighed.

- I understand. It's not surprising, more than a month ago we separated - she touched his arm - we need to work on each other, on our relationship. I care about you, Colin.

- I know... I know we have to do it... I... I'm just not sure how to start...

- Why don't we just go to that lunch? I'm hungry, and I'm not the only one - she laughed and stroked her belly.

She grabbed his hand and led him to the exit of the police station.

It was a nice feeling to feel the warmth of her hand again. She squeezed his hand tightly as if she was afraid he would escape her. He followed her slightly smiling. He didn't try to protest, he just let her take him where she wanted him to go.

They left the police station and went to a restaurant across the street. They went inside and sat down at a table. A waitress immediately approached them and handed them menu.

- What would you like to eat, Colin? - Marg looked at him from over the menu.

He stared at the menu for a moment then looked at her and smiled slightly.

- I'll let you decide.

She sighed.

- Well, okay, how about something light then? Chicken salad? - she looked at him questioningly.

- That... that sounds like a good idea - he said with a slight nod.

He was grateful that she had chosen something light for him to eat, since his stomach was not in a good state right now to eat something too heavy.

- Fine, and water to drink - she waved to the waitress to come over. She ordered their food and looked at Colin again - So? How are you doing after our breakup? Skipping the alcohol.

She noticed that Colin flinched.

- I... still feel really awful...

He was frankly, he felt like being brutally honest when it came to this topic. He had to talk about it before it consumed him further. He had to get it out of his chest.

She looked at him sadly.

- Colin, I want you to know that I still love you. It's not so easy to stop loving someone, you know? - she smiled at him - I really understand you, that you feel awful. Believe me, I do too...

The waitress brought them water. Marg immediately took a sip.

He started drinking his glass of water after she did as well. He felt a little uncomfortable now, as he realized she was starting to talk about it a little more openly. He felt he should do the same.

- I know... I know all this. I just... - he paused for a moment, as if he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say - I just really regret everything I said... all those things I told you... I really regret it...

- It's true, your words were really hurtful. From now on I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything that bothers you. I am here to talk to you and help you whenever you need it. Don't close your thoughts to me, please.

- I will... I promise... I know I said a lot of things I shouldn't have. I just felt so anxious and stressed and scared… didn't know what to do with myself, so I just threw out everything I was thinking. It was the stupidest thing I could have ever done.

- I understand. I'm glad you're opening up to me. I hope it won't change.

- No, it's not going to change. I really want to fix this. I know I'm not the best at talking about how I feel, but I'm going to do everything I can to try to fix myself - he sighed loudly - but at this point I know I wouldn't be the best husband or partner right now...

- I'm really not forcing you with this marriage. It's not on fire anywhere. We can stay engaged and get married when you are ready for it. Even in a few years, or even not at all, we don't have to get married. It's important for us to be together and raise our child in happiness.

The waitress brought their salads.

- Oh, but I'm so hungry!

Marg grabbed a fork and shoved a large piece of chicken into her mouth.

Colin mused for a moment. If he had to spend a few more years to fix all his problems before marrying her, he absolutely would.

He looked at Marg again. He watched with a smile as she absorbed the food. She must have been really hungry.

- It seems really delicious - he laughed quietly.

- It is, oh my gosh, it's so good! - she said with her mouth full and smiled at him.

- Yes, I agree - he decided, also shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth. It was really nice to see her enjoying her food like this.

She patted her belly.

- I hope our baby likes it too - she laughed and continued eating.

- Could I also do it?

Marg looked at him and nodded.

He stroked her belly and smiled gently, looking into her eyes. He was happy to see her laugh. He missed it.

Marg smiled when Colin touched her belly. She touched his hand that rested on her belly. The moment touched her. She leaned over and lightly kissed him on the cheek.

- I love you, remember that - she whispered and went back to eating.

The few simple words she just spoke made all the negative emotions he felt inside disappear in an instant. He also smiled and looked down at his plate before he started eating again.

- Tell me what are you thinking about? - she said with her mouth full.

At first, he was a bit surprised that she asked such a simple and uncomplicated, yet so important question at the moment. It forced him to think for a moment before responding, as he took a moment to chew first.

- Just... I think about how nice it is to have someone like you - he said, still continuing to eat, but stopped now to look at her and smile.

- Oh you’re so sweet - she smiled at him too.

- No, not really... - he said humbly, it was hard for him to take kind words, but she really was kind to him - I'm just happy to have someone who cares about me so much. Even if... even if I recently acted like an absolute idiot.

He felt he had to be honest with her, he had to let her know how ashamed he was of his past actions.

- I would like to trust you again. Please try to make it so - she grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly.

- I... I want that too. I feel that I have been such a terrible partner to you - he said, squeezing her hand for a moment.

His behavior has been unacceptable over the past days and even weeks.... months... He had to fix it, and he was going to start now.

- Well, let's eat and get back to work. I've been away from work for over a month. I have a lot of catching up to do. I think you too - she smiled and kissed him on the cheek again.

- It's true, I have a lot of work.

He simply had so many things on his mind that work was not at the top of his list most of the time. But she was right, it was time to pull himself together.

- How has Mare been treating you lately? I heard she's really mean to everyone. Is that true? - she changed the subject and shoved a piece of lettuce into her mouth.

- Yeah, that's actually true... I just don't understand this sudden change in her behavior - he said, shaking his head from side to side, recalling the last conversation with his colleague, which was not a pleasant one.

- Or maybe she has worse days or some problems at home? And that's why she's like this? - Marg shrugged her shoulders.

- Maybe... - also shrugged his shoulders.

- Okay I finished the salad. Do we feel like having some more dessert? I feel like something sweet - she laughed - ah these pregnancy cravings - she reached for the menu and looked at the desserts.

He smiled at her enthusiasm for dessert, it was quite cute to see her like this.

- I agree. I need some sugar right now.

- Oh my goodness, look, they have a brownie warm with vanilla ice cream! I want one! - she showed him an item on the menu. Her eyes sparkled at the thought of this dessert.

- Oh, that sounds quite delicious - he said, looking at the dessert with quite a bit of enthusiasm. He had always been a fan of sweets, and this sounded like a really good option. He immediately smiled at her because she looked so beautiful when she was smiling, and he wanted to make sure she got what she wanted and needed - sure, let's do it!

- Ah can't wait for that taste on my tongue! - she waved at the waitress, to beckon her to their table and order dessert.

- I also can't wait to try it too - he said, smiling at her and taking her hand as they waited for the waitress to arrive with their dessert.

Marg looked at their joined hands. She leaned over and without hesitation kissed Colin on the lips. It was a long kiss. They could feel the longing in it.

He felt quite surprised by this sudden kiss, but didn't think too long about it and allowed himself to return the kiss. He kissed her as long as she wanted, and didn't really think about anything else at the moment. It was just the two of them and it was so nice.

They didn't break their kiss until they heard the grunt of the waitress standing at their table. They quickly pulled away from each other and broke the kiss when they realized that the dessert they had ordered was already on their table.

Colin had to catch his breath because he was so lost in the heat of the moment. The presence of the waitress brought him back to reality. Although he did not complain about what had just happened. He himself didn't know what he wanted right now. On the one hand, he wanted to kiss Marg, and on the other, he craved this dessert.

- You taste really sweet, dear - said Marg as soon as the waitress left their table. She licked her lips - okay then, now it's time for that brownie - she laughed and stuck her fork into the cake.

These words made him blush. He was glad that she was now focused on eating the cake and did not see his blushes.

- Yes, let's eat - he said slightly embarrassed.

- I missed your lips - she winked at him and put another piece of cake in her mouth.

The blush on his face began to grow, now she had to notice that he was blushing.

- Uhm... I better not say what that comment made me think...

It's not that he didn't want to say some other things himself. But at the moment he felt he couldn't.

- Oh yes I know, we are in a public place, a restaurant. It's not appropriate to talk about obscene topics - she laughed and showed him her tongue.

- Yes... definitely not a good place for this kind of conversation... so I guess I'll just keep quiet - he said, laughing slightly nervously, unsure if he should bring up these topics just yet.

He felt he needed to get it off his chest. This could get them kicked out. So he'll just have to be careful, that's the only solution. So he decided to take another bite of dessert while he spoke.

- But there is something else I would like to talk about...

- Oh really? What is that? - Marg looked at him curiously.

- Well... I think... - he took another bite of dessert before speaking again. He didn't want to rush things. He felt that he wanted to choose his words carefully now - Well, you know... I know that sometimes I have not been the nicest partner for you in recent times... in fact... - he paused for a moment, unsure how to say the last part.

- Keep talking. I want you to be open and honest - Marg took another bite of cake into her mouth.

- Well, sometimes I think... I've been jealous of you lately - he said with some difficulty.

He wasn't sure how she would react, but he knew it was something he needed to tell her so she could understand him a little better. He really hoped she wouldn't react in a negative way, though. He felt that he was already entering dangerously sensitive territory, so he was as cautious as possible.

- Oh? Jealous? Why? - she raised her eyebrows in surprise - you really have no reason to be jealous of me. You know very well that I am a person who can be trusted.

- I... - he felt uncomfortable talking about it - I really don't know... I just felt jealousy lately... like I have no control over anything... - he sighed - lack of control is not the right word... - he mumbled, feeling really embarrassed about it.

- Honey, I know we've had some worse days lately, but that's no reason for you to be jealous of me.

- I know... I should be more understanding in your current state. But I can't help myself... just... don't laugh at me, but... I was and still am jealous...

He seemed to apologize for the way he reacted and behaved now. He would like to be normal and stop worrying about so many things. He would have liked to let her live without any interference from him. But it was difficult for him to do so. She certainly understood what he meant now. He was just a bit apodictic.

- Do you mean that I was too close with my girlfriends? You yourself participated in a threesome with Roby and me. Then with Nour and me. You really didn't complain. You were even delighted. Don't pretend to be innocent now. But given my current state, because I've been pregnant for more than a month now, I really don't even think about such games - she took a big piece of cake into her mouth and sighed loudly.

- I know, I know I was also involved in... all this... but I just feel that my emotions have been out of control lately. I just feel that maybe... It was a bit too much for me... - he sighed deeply - I was and am just a little confused about what my feelings are now... just... it's so complicated... and seeing you and girls together disgust me a bit, I mean I was involved too... but it is still quite strange... which is not to say that I didn't like it...

- But now you are feigning innocence. You're so cute. I hope you remember that after the threesome with Nour and me, you asked me to be your girlfriend - she laughed.

- I remember, yes... and I don't regret it in the slightest... - he said, feeling a little more relieved now, hearing her laughter instead of anger - I don't pretend to be innocent... it's just... I feel that I wish I could talk to you sometimes... just to talk about how I feel and what seems strange and bizarre to me... Marg, do you understand?

- Colin, of course I understand. And I'm very happy that you finally want to talk to me about your feelings and what ails you. It's very important in a relationship - she kissed him on the cheek.

- Yes... - Colin felt more and more like he had gotten out of the dangerous situation he was in before. But he was going to just enjoy this moment and try to take more steps forward to better understand everything - I'll try to do this more often... it's just... sometimes difficult. But I'll do my best.

- I'm very pleased with what you say - she got up from the table - let's go pay for our food and dessert and get back to work.

- Yeah, sounds good... - he said, still taking small bites of his dessert. He, too, stood up and was quite pleased with how they had managed to get the conversation back on track and hoped that everything would remain normal for the rest of the afternoon. And that it would get even better. But for now, they were just going to pay the bills and get back to work.

Marg looked at Colin with a smile as he paid their food bill. He was relaxed now and seemed as if he had completely sobered up. The alcohol really wasn't doing him any good. Marg decided that she would try to help him with his addiction. He couldn't drink alcohol whenever something bad happened, whenever he couldn't cope with his emotions and his mistakes. This was not good for him. They were about to become parents. It was important for their relationship to be devoid of understatement and bad behavior. They had to give the child good role models.

———

@robnovetre

Part two

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theladykit · 9 months

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Billion-dollar idea: we need motivational coaches to help people stop dieting.

#tw diet #anti-diet #i can just see two people on a zoom call like 'yeah you did it! you ate that piece of chocolate cake! so amazing!'#'now what do we do when the salad thoughts over take us?'#truly healthy eating means accepting all foods #all foods fit

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violetarks · 3 days

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“baby keep talking, but nobody’s listening!”

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, choso, fushiguro toji

summary: they find you on a date with someone they've never seen before, but they don't need to look for long to see how bored you were. deciding for you that it would be the first and only date you ever went on with that man, they come to your rescue.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is on a date with a man, said date sucks ass (trying to regulate what y/n eats, snarky comments, egotistical, rude to hospitality workers), shoko/itadori/shiu help set you up on a date but they suck at it

↣ gojo satoru

"satoru, you have to get out," you huff at him, crossed arms over your chest. he sat on your cough, flicking through tv channels. "my date is coming here in ten minutes!"

"you mean the stranger that shoko met at the mall and said would 'totally be your type'?" he says, looking over his shoulder to you. you raise a brow. "c'mon, blow him off. we need to finish 'the last of us'!"

"don't you dare watch it while i'm gone, satoru, or god so help me—" your phone rings, interrupting your threat. you answer when you see the number of your date. "hello? oh, yes, this is y/n."

you begin to walk to grab your keys and your bag, satoru following after you when you suddenly stop.

"oh, uh... you want to meet there?" you say, tilting your head, "no, that's fine, i'll leave now. see you—..."

"he's not coming to pick you up?" satoru questions, watching as you take out your car keys.

"he's actually already there. and he's ordered for me." you say with a bit of doubt in your voice. satoru can hear it. "it's fine, i should go now. don't you dare watch that show, i will kill you. see you, satoru."

the whole time you're gone, he can’t do anything. he’s sitting in silence for an hour, not even looking at his phone. he felt angry at himself.

so he followed you, obviously.

he looked up the restaurant you had mentioned to him before and saw the pictures posted online. it looked like such a nice first date place. and that boiled even more jealousy in him. of course he had to follow you.

and luckily he did; you looked miserable.

he takes out his phone as soon as possible.

“you know how many calories are in that meal?” your date said after the waiter left your table, “way better for you than what you wanted.”

you had just told him your favourite dish in the menu. and he told you he ordered you just a salad. while he got two meals because he was ‘bulking’.

when shoko showed you his instagram, you had to admit that he was cute. he was fit too, and you did your fair share of exercise. he had a nice smile and he also posted photos of his dog. but that couldn’t shield you from what was right in front of you.

you found out he was a model for a magazine you’ve never heard of, and while that was impressive, it was his whole personality. you asked about his pet, and he somehow turned it back to his career and how he did a fireman themed calendar last year. you’d think he was surely more than that, but it didn’t seem it. you had barely talked about yourself. it didn’t look like he was interested anyway.

“hm, what did i do today?” he thought out. you cringed at the way he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “i hit the gym at 5am, walked my pet for an hour and a half, took some photos for my resume since i’ve got a new deal coming up, and spent time from then to now just at the studio.”

you were waiting for him to ask about your day. he doesn’t.

“and you know, i’m actually the most valued model at my studio. they always call me for shoots, i’m always first on their list. you’d think i could catch a break every so often,” he chuckles out, rubbing up and down his arms. you hold back from rolling your eyes as you sip your water. “but it’s hard being so… handsome.”

you stare at him and fight the urge to roll your eyes once again.

"what about you?" the moment you've waited for comes a little too late. you're not even interested in speaking about yourself.

"well, i did some grocery shopping this morning—"

"what did you buy?"

"me and my friends are having a movie tomorrow, so i just bought some snacks for us," you explained for some reason, "chocolates, popcorn, chips—"

"junk food?" he scoffs back, "no, no, you don't need all that. you oughta' bring it back and get some fruit. way better for you."

you down the rest of your alcoholic drink you had ordered (the one thing he did let you choose) and look away.

that is when you feel a hand rest on your upper back.

"excuse me, ma'am," you look up and widen your eyes when you see satoru standing before you. he's wearing a white button-up, black slacks, dress shoes and a black waist apron. you freeze up. "the gentleman over there asked me to give you this, already paid for."

you look over to where he was pointing. nanami sits in his own suit as he waves his hand at you, pained smile. satoru places a mojito in front of you. your date stands up.

"the hell? doesn't he see that i'm here?" he scoffs as he stands up. his chair screeches against the floor, which collects everyone's attention in the restaurant. "he's insulting me! what a prick! i'm gonna fuck him up!"

"hey!" you stand up as he begins trudging over. satoru places a hand on your shoulder to stop you, and you see nanami roll his eyes and stand up as well, ready for the fight. "what are you two doing here? and why are you dressed like that?"

"i'm the ultimate undercover agent, of course," he replies. he begins pulling off his apron and dropping it on your seat. he hooks his arm with yours and smiles. "let's get outta' here."

"but my date—"

"he's fine," you watch as nanami dodges one of his punches with and irritated face. "nanami will take care of him."

you let him whisk you out of the restaurant while everyone is watching the two men fight (not really). satoru walks you to his car and starts the engine. you see nanami's car behind his.

"did you seriously bring him along to get me out of that date?" you chuckle as you stare at him. satoru purses his lips and looks away. "thank you, satoru. you didn't have to."

"you're welcome, gorgeous," he responds to you, "i could tell from the phone call that he wasn't all that. wonder what barrel they fished him out of."

you let out a small sigh and look out the window. you were embarrassed; this was the first date you've ever been set up on, and it went horribly. you knew you should've left earlier, not wait until satoru came along. he was your saviour for today, you had to admit.

but what was even worse, you seemingly let than man talk to you like that. you could chalk it up to just being friendly and giving him the best benefit of the doubt, but deep down you know you would never have let that slide with people you know. hell, yaga could speak to you that way and you would still give him an earful.

"don't be sad, y/n, now we can go to yours and watch our show," satoru attempts to cheer you up. he flashes you a smile. "i promise, i won't eat all your food."

"you're a liar, satoru." you laugh back.

"seriously though, that guy was a wreck. why did he keep talking about calories and stuff?" he mumbles out with a disapproving shake of his head, "i had to shut him up somehow. i should've just spilt the drink over him."

"oh god, what about the food? i didn't pay for my meal."

"you mean the salad you didn't want? i cancelled it for ya'."

"why aren't you this nice all the time? you usually bully me." you claim in a joking matter. satoru pouts at you. "i appreciate this, a lot. i guess guys who only ever think about themselves aren't my type."

there's a quietness in the car as he turns on his indicator. you enjoy the little noise coming from the radio, a song that you've heard quite a lot.

"you know, yuuji, nobara and megumi?" he clears his throat.

"yeah?" you respond to him in confusion.

"yeah," he hums with a nod of his head, "i think 'bout them a lot. they're good kids."

"they are," you agree with him. it takes you a few seconds before you look at him again. "satoru, that's not what i meant."

"so am i your type?"

"oh my god."

"answer the question, y/n."

↣ choso

"yuuji?"

"yeah?"

"do you know who this is?" choso shoves his phone into his brother's face.

"uh, that's y/n." yuuji responds in a bit of confusion. the two of them were sitting in a new restaurant with ramen on their tables. choso’s sat nearly untouched for the past ten minutes as he flicked through some pictures you sent to a groupchat with him in it. yuuji was halfway through chewing noodles when choso asked him about the photo you sent a few minutes ago. “why? she looks good.”

“no doubt,” choso mutters in response as he zooms in on the other figure in the picture you took of your reflections in the window, “i mean him.”

“oh, that’s the guy who me, nobara and y/n saw last week at the movies,” yuuji responds, “he asked y/n for her number, so i think they’re out together right now.”

he looks at yuuji in disbelief as the pink-haired boy starts slurping on the soup. it takes him a few seconds to properly react.

“are you serious?” choso says a little loudly. people turn to stare at the pair. “you let him get her number?”

“what? he seemed cool and y/n didn’t seem to mind that i gave it to him.” yuuji holds his hands up in defense as choso angrily glares at the photos on his phone screen. “you said you weren’t gonna’ make a move on her anyway!”

“that doesn’t—” a groan leaves his lips as choso holds his head. he lets in a deep breath. “okay, it’s fine.”

“i’m sorry, choso.”

“no, it’s my fault, i did say i wasn’t going to ask her out,” he tells yuuji, who slowly goes back to eating, “i… i missed out, i guess.”

yuuji frowns as the guy in front of him sadly eats his food.

“you know…” he begins with a small smile. choso looks up to him. “they’re just out for lunch nearby. y/n told me where they were going. we could—”

“yuuji! hurry up!” choso has grabbed his jacket and is rushing to the door before yuuji can reply, “we might miss them!”

yuuji scurries out of restaurant after he gobbles down his ramen. it isn’t too far of a drive, actually. it took about 15 minutes to get there and choso had easily spotted your car in front of a cozy cafe. he parks next to it and almost ducks when be notices you in the chair facing the window, facing the two of them, with your date sitting in the booth — your favourite spot. choso always let you sit in the booth side.

choso clutched onto the steering wheel with gritted teeth. yuuji looked towards you to get a better view.

“huh… she looks annoyed.” yuuji points out.

“this guy…” choso grunts.

inside the cafe, you had taken a few photos of your food and your drink. you’re glad yuuji suggested this place, you loved the service and the food here. the servers were always so nice and helpful and quick, and the food was amazing too.

it was obvious to you that your date didn’t think the same.

“god, everything in here is so…” he begins as he examines the design on his waffles. he cringes a little. “girly.”

“it’s just a bunny design,” you point out as you sadly stir the cat-shaped foam into your hot drink, “it’s cute.”

“it’s embarrassing,” he reiterates. you purse your lips and sip your drink. the delicious taste was enough to make you forget his sour tone. until he speaks up again. “can’t believe your friend told us to go here.”

“i love this cafe,” you state, “everyone here is so nice.”

“the service is slow and they gave me the blueberry waffles instead of the normal ones like i said,” he complains. you set your drink down and hold back from rolling your eyes. “i don’t care how busy you are, you always check five times that the order is correct.”

you don’t even reply to him after that, only trying to enjoy your meal that you paid for. he wasn't helping at all. you thought that because he was so charismatic when talking to yuuji that he was probably a good catch, but you couldn't have been more wrong. maybe he was just putting up a front in order to score you. you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover anymore.

"hey. over here," he begins to snap his fingers and nodding at a server with four full plates of food. the guy looks over frantically, obviously under pressure. "i wanna' ask you something."

"ah, right, give me a second, sir—" the guy was trying to distribute the food with the customers who he was serving.

"i told you, slow service," your date scowls towards you. could you be any more embarrassed right now? the server finishes off his task before coming over to you two. before he can even ask, your date is holding up a nearly empty cup of coffee. "this is the most bitter coffee i have ever had in my whole entire life."

"oh, well, you ordered an americano, sir," the poor server explains, "they tend to be bitter."

"what? no, no, no," the guy in the booth starts shaking his head, "i ordered a flat white."

"you..." the server begins. he was the one who had taken your order too.

"you ordered the americano, actually," you pointed out. the guy raised a brow at you, unamused. "it's okay, you can just order a flat white—"

"god, i did not order an americano." he claims.

but you distinctly remember him saying 'americano' for his drink. and the server repeated the order back to him before it was confirmed annoyedly. you stare down at his nearly empty cup.

"y'know what? just put the flat white on the tab, i will pay for it." you sigh out as you rub your neck.

your date looks more pissed off as the server leaves.

"he was wrong, you don't have to pay for another drink." he mutters out.

"it's nothing, don't worry." you retort and stare back down at your food. you didn't have an appetite anymore and a few minutes pass in silence.

the flat white comes out after such a long time of waiting. your date drinks it quietly, but you notice that he makes a face to show he doesn't like it. you quickly excuse yourself to go and pay at the counter for your food (he insisted on splitting the bill since he didn't like the place) so that you don't have to hear him bicker about it.

"hey," you turn behind you to see choso standing there in a baggy hoodie, a bit nervous, "fancy seeing you here..."

your eyes flicker to outside, where you see yuuji waving at you from choso's car. a smile lands on your face.

"nice to see you, choso," you mutter back as you fish out your wallet. the cashier rings up your total and you press your card to the reader. "how was your lunch with yuuji?"

"good. we cut it short to save you," he bluntly says. you blink as he glares at your date. "i don't like the guy you're with."

"me neither," you sigh out, "i think this is the last time i'll see him. but i gotta' tough it out for the rest of the date."

"you could just leave now." choso adds. he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"ah... i'm not that confident—"

"a takeaway box and takeaway cup, please," choso asks the cashier. she had been sitting there and silently agreeing with you that the guy you were sitting with was a total jerk. "thank you."

he places them in your hands and pushes you gently towards the table.

"who the hell is this guy?" your date scoffs and glares at choso, who does the same back.

"look, i'm not really having a good time on this date," you say as you play with the takeaway boxes. choso hastily takes them from you and fills it with your food in an organised matter. "i think this is the farthest we go. please enjoy the rest of your food, though."

"you serious? ditching me for some jackass?" he accusingly points at choso who wears a shit-eating grin on his face. "this is bullshit!"

"calm down, god..." you groan and rub your temple, "i just don't like you, you're so rude."

"me? you're the one who dragged me to this shithole!"

"shut your mouth before i drop you right now," choso scowls as he pushes the guy back into the booth seat. everyone was watching now, quietly thanking choso for showing up and dealing with him. "grow up, man. you act like a child."

choso grabs your hand and tugs you out of the cafe. you both thank the service with your takeaway in hand. yuuji gets out of the car with a wide smile once you two get closer.

"so, how did it go?" he asks with wide eyes.

you throw your keys at his chest.

"you're driving my car back to my apartment as punishment for setting me up with that asshole," you say with a small frown. you all knew you didn't really blame him, though. "never giving my number out to anyone ever again."

yuuji apologises thoroughly before getting into your car and driving off in the wrong direction. choso opens your door and gives you the food. once he's inside the car himself, he starts it up and begins driving.

you rest a hand over choso's on the middle console.

"thanks, choso," you sigh out, "i should've done that earlier."

"it's fine, y/n, i just wished i came sooner." he replies.

you stare at the side of his face, how irritated he looked just thinking about your date. a smile settles onto your lips and you brush your thumb over his knuckles. he falters and looks back to you for a second before muttering a 'what'.

"i'll take you out for dinner as a thank you," you state, which makes his ears go red, "you're a sweetheart, choso."

"i... uh, yeah, i'll go out with you," he mutters, "thanks..."

the laugh you let out is worth ruining thousands of your dates.

↣ fushiguro toji

"have you ever been to france?" the conceited finance guy in front of you asks, fixing his tie. he wears this smirk on his face that proves that he just knows how rich he was. he wasn't coy at all. you force a smile and shake your head slowly, trying to enjoy your meal at least. "really? that's a shame. i've been plenty of times before, and i've gotta say, the best part is..."

you begin to zone out, sighing to yourself as you move your pasta around on your plate haphazardly. he had chosen such a nice italian restaurant to absolutely ruin your perception of this guy after the first ten minutes of talking to him. you look to your watch, showing it had been only two hours since your date started.

cursing out shiu in your head, you cautiously look out the window to the sky. it wasn't that dark yet, but it felt like your night had been taken away. your mind wanders to yesterday to your conversation with shiu.

shoe

you're getting picked up at 5 tomorrow

y/n

am or pm?

shoe

???

shoe

don't show him how stupid you are, he's a rich guy. maybe he'll bring you to a yacht

y/n

why would i want to be on a yacht for our first date? is he nice?

shoe

he's rich, y/n. that's all that matters.

sometimes, you wonder how he managed to meet all these people. but then you remember that assholes attract assholes. they move together in flocks.

you stare at your red wine and tap your finger on your cheek.

"what do you think about it?" he questions, getting your attention again. you look up to see his smug face. did he really want to know?

"oh, me?" you asks, sitting up straight. you had no idea what he had been saying for the past 15 minutes.

"well, who else would i be talking to, silly?" he says in this mocking tone.

'yourself, it's who you've been talking to all night', you internally say. you had wasted such a nice outfit too. it was such a shame.

"mmm, well, it's a bit—" you begin, only to get interrupted.

"it's insane, isn't it? how could you lose so much money in only a year?" he barks out a laugh, as obnoxious as he was. the table shakes as he bangs his fist against it, waiters and guests looking towards you two. "it's absolutely preposterous! i would never make such a decision like that."

you chew out an awkward laugh before turning to your wine, sipping it.

unknowingly to you, toji was waiting in the car outside the building, getting a good view of you and your new date. he cursed shiu in a huff; not only did he set you up with someone, but the guy was a total prick. he couldn't have done a worse job, and he was broke. he pulled his seat back, watching him with pointed eyes. that guy's mouth hadn't stopped moving ever since you entered the restaurant.

and you? you looked gorgeous, your dress hugged you just right, so much so that he was jealous. toji knows it should've been him to go and take you somewhere like this.

he snaps when the guy calls the waiter over, complaining about his half-eaten food and causing a scene. you looked so uncomfortable. standing up, you excused yourself to the bathroom. and toji is quick to get out of the car.

"he's such an asshole." toji claims as you exit the ladies room. you freeze, pressing out the creases of your dress before walking closer to him at the end of the hall.

"when did you get here?" you ask, hand on your hip, "and how do you know he's an asshole?"

"been watchin' the whole time from the car," he tells you, watching as you widen your eyes and tilt your head at him, "what? couldn't help myself. shiu said you were on a date with some rich guy, 'n i had to see it."

"yeah, well, remind me to kill shiu. he's got the worst taste in men." you sigh out, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall with him. he peers at you. "you know he asked to try every single wine they had before we ordered? and he complained about the merlot not being darker. not only that, he saw my plate and said 'are you gonna' eat all of that?'. the dickhead!"

"that shit looked good." he commented, shaking his head, "who wouldn't finish that food."

"right? ugh, i hate him so much. and he hasn't even asked me about myself other than my name. he explained to me his 'entrepreneurship' and dropshipping. wanted to clock him in the face." you complained more, only fueling toji's own hate for the man.

he lifts himself off the wall, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. "go 'n get your things. we're gettin' out of here."

"what? what am i supposed to say to him?" you mumble, stumbling behind him, "where are we going?"

"don't say anything to him. if ya' feel bad, pay for your own food." he explains to you, hand moving to rest on your back, "i'm not lettin' you waste that pretty little dress on someone like that guy."

you stare at the back of his head before falling into step with him, stopping at the table with your date. he does a double take once he sees toji, slowly standing up.

"who's he?" he asks, scanning him up and down.

"none of your business." toji retorts, looking down at him.

you begin to grab your purse when he holds out his hand to you. "where the hell are you going?" your date asks you.

"here. for my food." you say, handing him a fifty. the note flutters onto the table in front of him, which he stares at in awe. tugging on your jacket, you stare back at him with furrowed brows. "good luck in life."

with that, you turn around and begin to walk to the exit. behind you, toji sticks his tongue out at the other man and follows after. his hand finds your back once more and you wait to cross the road, sighing out to him, "thank you, toji. saved me."

"no problem." he replies, opening the door for you.

"how did you get in my car?" you ask, sitting in the driver's seat.

"don't ask." he tosses you the keys, making you wonder even more. he gets into the other side, looking back at you. “we’ll hit up that restaurant downtown. the one you always talk about wanting to go to.”

“but you said you don’t like their cuisine.” you claim, starting the car.

“it’s the only place i know that’s fancy.” he explains, looking out the window.

“sweetheart, i wouldn’t say that’s fancy—”

“do you want to go out or not?”

you laugh, reaching out a hand and holding his. he gives a small smile before looking back at you. “thank you, toji.” you say, stopping at a red light. you glance at him, sincere look in your eyes. “it means a lot that you care.”

“jus’ saving you from being stupid as fuck.” he tells you, making you roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, “could ya’ not tell he was a tool when he didn’t knock at your door? motherfucker waited in his car.”

“my god, you’ve been watching since then? toji!” you jokingly reprimand, looking at him for a split second, "i should've known from the start though... he was on his phone the whole time, in the car ride. on bluetooth speaker too."

"i woulda' jumped out the car." he retorts, shaking his head, "we should jump shiu."

"we really should." you laugh, smiling at him, "maybe for our next date."

toji can't help but roll his eyes. he knows deep down that you were hoping shiu was going to set you up with him instead. he can see it on your face, a smile that is pushing through on your lips. you're secretly happy that it was toji who 'ruined' your 'date'.

"i say that because i know you can't pay for dinner."

"did you think i was paying for this one?"

you scoff back, elbowing him, "you leech."

"you know you love me." he says it teasingly, but he knows better than anyone that you actually do.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo x reader #choso #choso x reader #kamo choso #kamo choso x reader #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 2 months

Text

Pool Day | for @steddiemicrofic's April prompt

pairing: steddie (duh) | word count: 1,987 | rated: T | on AO3

“Thanks for having us, Steve Dear,” Mrs. Henderson greets, stepping through the front door after Dustin barrels in and handing him a huge covered bowl of potato salad.

Steve grins at her, taking the dish, “It’s no trouble at all Ms. H; thanks for bringing this, you know it’s my favorite.”

“Of course, hon!”

“Claudia!” Joyce calls from the living room, “Come help me settle this.”

“There’s nothing to settle!” Hop argues in return.

Steve snorts out a laugh, “Good luck, Ms. H.”

Claudia sighs, shakes her head, and heads into the fray.

Steve goes the opposite way, dropping the bowl off in the fridge with the other lunch cookout ingredients Wayne and Hopper will be starting in on in only a couple hours now, grabs a bottle of water for Robin, and follows Dustin’s route back outside to the patio.

It’s a clear, warm, sunny day in the late summer of ‘86. The whole ‘other dimension survivors’ party is in attendance at Steve’s place for the day; Hop, Joyce, Karen, Claudia now, and even Wayne are staying inside in the A/C, the kids are in the pool, and all but the one of the ‘older kids’ are lounging around on the Harringtons’ sun chairs.

Argyle in particular is soaking up the UV rays.

Jon is burning to a crisp under his and Nancy’s umbrella.

It’s Eddie, however, that’s been in the pool practically all morning, and is currently hyping himself up to do… something.. off Steve’s creaky, probably dry-rotted, diving board.

He does look good up there; drenched head to toe with his hair pushed back from his face like that. If he wasn’t covered in pool water, Steve would want to lick him.

…okay, he probably still would.

Robin elbows him as if she can read the thoughts straight from his brain.

”Shut up.” he grumbles out the corner of his mouth, sitting on his previously vacated chair beside her and passing over the water.

She just snorts at him in return, taking the bottle from him and going back to her book..

”Eddie, dude, it can’t be done.” Mike groans, “If I can’t do it, you can’t do it.”

”He’s got an 82 percent chance of landing flat on his stomach.” Erica states.

“It’s gotta be higher than that.” Max says, “I’d give it 93 percent.”

“Never.. tell me the odds.” Eddie declares from atop his perch. The board creaks when he shifts his weight.

His eyes keep darting from the end of the diving board to the clear, blue water beyond it, and back again.

Steve calls across the backyard, “What’s it he’s trying to do?”

“He says he can do two whole flips before he hits the water.” El says, piping up from where she is laying on a towel on the far side of the patio next to Max.

Steve grimaces, “Does he now?”

”…He’s gonna die.” Dustin says. “Again.”

Lucas is the one to go to bat for their DM, ”Give him a chance, dude, he says he’s done this before.”

“See, you say that, but we all know how uncoordinated he is. Can you bellyflop to death? ‘Cause that’s how he’s ‘bout to go.”

“Don’t fuck this up, Eds, I’m not CPR certified anymore.” Steve calls from his spot beside Robin who leans in immediately to whisper, “What are you doing? If he dies you can give him mouth-to-mouth!”

Steve blinks once at her, turning back to Eddie who’s still hyping himself up for his promised double-flip. “Never mind, I remembered it!”

Eddie breaks from his focus on the board in front of him to give Steve an exasperated, questioning look. Steve winks in return, making the sunburn on Eddie’s skin burn brighter.

He’ll get the hint(s, there’s been multiple) eventually… hopefully.

The advice starts coming from all sides; “C’mon, man just do it already!”

“Yeah, Are ya gonna go or what?”

“Let him work up to it!”

“You work up to it.”

“That’s it, you’re going down, Wheeler.”

“You’re never gonna go are you?” Max yells, ignoring the scuffle starting up between Will and Mike

“Do a run-up!” Dustin suggests, and Steve stops that one in its tracks.

“No! No running around the pool!”,

Nancy chimes in, not looking up from her magazine. “Just don’t die, Eddie.”

”And what, desert all you losers? What’d you even do without me?”

“He’s got a point,” Erica concedes, deadpan, “Who would we watch hurt themselves if you weren’t around.”

“Alright, alright, alright, shut up, I’m going.” Eddie says, waving his arms around, “In three…two…one!”

And he does. He goes for it, bounding off the end of the board, completing exactly one and a half turns, and landing stomach-first onto the surface of the water.

Sympathetic hisses of pain and grimacing ‘Oohs’ erupt around the pool as Eddie sinks into the water.

To his credit though, he manages to stand on his own soon afterwards.

Steve calls out to him, “You okay, Eds?”

“I think I’m gonna need that mouth-to-mouth, big guy.” Eddie groans, then flops face-first back into the water dramatically, much to the amusement of the gathered peanut gallery.

“What a doofus, why do I have a crush on him again?” Steve asks Robin in a low voice as he stands from his chair.

Robin sets her book down on her lap, counting out on her fingers without looking up at him: “Big hair, big eyes, big smile, bigger heart.”

“Ah, yep, that’ll do it.” he nods, then drops down off the edge of the pool into the water. “Alright, dumbass, that’s enough pool for you.”

He wades over to Eddie, still floating face-down on the surface of the water, and scoops him up in a bridal carry.

“Blegh…” He feigns death, letting his tongue loll out the side of his mouth. The backs of Eddie’s arms and the very ends of his hair trail along the rippling surface of the water when he lets his head and arms flop backward, bonelessly out of Steve’s hold.

Steve rolls his eyes and drops his arms just enough to submerge him again. His yelp of surprise is muffled when he goes under, much to the delight of the rest of the party.

But Steve gets his arms under him again quickly; Eddie scrambles for a hold around his neck while continuing to splutter, spitting out a mouthful of pool water and pushing the hair off his face to reveal his now-red face.

Steve smirks cheekily down at Eddie’s murderous glare, wrapping his arms tighter around the other man. He walks through the shallows back to the pool steps with Eddie still in his arms (“You bringing me to a chair, Stevie?”), climbs up the first one, then stops.

He looks down at a now confused Eddie (“What? What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around for something what it was that made Steve stop.), smirks mischievously, then, before he can parse out what’s about to happen, Steve twists around and tosses Eddie back into the water.

His flailing limbs just barely miss Mike’s head (Oops, sorry Mike,), the resulting splash hitting at least four of the five gremlins still in the water.

Grinning widely at the others’ laughs, Steve hurries up the stairs and around to the side of the pool closest to where Eddie fell, looking down at him over the edge as he re-emerges from the water, spluttering and coughing, and flips his bangs haphazardly up off his forehead.

“What happened, Eds? One minute you were safe in my arms, and the next, you were back in the water! It’s the strangest thing.” Steve can’t hold back his grin any more than he could his sarcasm, reveling in the murderous glare Eddie is giving him.

Eddie continues to glare, the other kids snickering off to start what sounded like a game of chicken.

“What’s wrong, Teddy, d’ya not like being thrown aroun–” Steve’s awareness of his surroundings kick in a fraction too late; the kids parting out of the way, the smirk that appears on Eddie’s lips a moment before disaster, the somehow still-cold hands that splay and push against the warm skin of his back, sending him toppling over the edge and into the water himself.

Resurfacing to resounding, howling laughter from all sides, Steve similarly flips his hair back and glares at his new nemesis, Robin, standing above him all smug.

“I… hate you.” he tells her, with no real heat behind it.

“Love you too dingus,” she waves and turns back to her chair.

“So whattya say pot, gonna join this kettle in solidarity against the hoard?”

As if he could ever say no to those eyes.

“Sure Eds, hop up.”

And of course, Eddie makes a big deal about it, “What?! Who says I can’t carry you on my shoulders, big boy?”

Steve shrugs, “Okay, squat down and I’ll climb up.”

To his credit, he actually does, letting Steve get situated (and panic silently about where Eddie's head is… 'Ridiculous.' he tells himself.) and standing up, his arms locked around Steve’s shins.

Steve holds his arms out to help keep his balance on Eddie’s shoulders, “Holy shit man, I didn’t think you had it in you!”

Eddie grits out a low “I don’t..” then pitches backwards, sending them both under the water.

Opening his eyes to the burning chlorine, Steve watches the blurry shapes of Eddie’s legs get their bearings on the pool floor once again.

As soon as his feet are settled on the floor, Steve swims forward and around Eddie’s now-kicking legs, the gangly appendages trying futilely to keep him away.

He’s almost out of breath so he clamps a hand on one of Eddie’s knees, using it as an anchor to get behind him and puts his head between the other man’s legs, sitting the backs of Eddie’s thighs squarely down on his shoulders.

He stands, his hair plastered flat to his forehead by the water, and by Eddie’s hands where they hold onto him for dear life.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Eddie says when Steve attempts to shake the hairs off his face, pushing the offending hairs out of his eyes and back up onto the top of head.

Steve tilts his head back as far as he can, looking up at the man on his shoulders.

Eddie’s head blocks out the sun, and it gives him a halo made of sunlight. “Thanks sweetheart.” Steve says, only to Eddie, then faces down the rest of the shitheads. “Alright shitheads, who’s up first?”

Steve and Eddie play against each of the others, some pairs taking longer, some only taking a single shove to get Eddie to topple down into the water.

And each time Steve scoops him back up, Eddie pushes the hairs off his face, scooches his bony butt around to get situated (seriously, how does he sit for any length of time on that thing?!), and gives Steve’s cheek a pat of encouragement before they face off against another round of kids.

Jon and Argyle go up against them once, and it’s the longest round of the afternoon.

Eventually though, about halfway through their chicken tournament, the ‘real’ adults file outside to the Harringtons’ patio table and start up the grill.

By time Jon finally dislodges Eddie from Steve’s shoulders, it’s time to eat.

Eddie’s the last one out of the water, and Steve savors every moment it takes him to trudge up the pool steps, winded, probably aching, but smiling wide, as gorgeous as ever.

“C’mon Stevie,” he huffs, “Let’s get some grub. I’m starving after beating all these twerps.”

“They kicked our asses, Eds.”

“Yeah, but it was fun though, right?” Eddie grins, walking ahead of him to grab, still soaking wet, a handful of (now also soaking wet) hamburger bun.

Steve smiles to himself, watching Dustin and Lucas gang up on him for adding chlorine to their food. “Yeah it was.”

i had to do the fake one too!!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #steddiemicrofic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #flirting #so much flirting #using pool tomfoolery as a flirting technique #noelle writes

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macfrog · 6 months

Text

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #sex on fire

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hotpinkstars · 23 days

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BORDER COLLIE - boothill x reader

- you, boothill, and your daughter spend a nice morning together, allthewhile you and your husband converse about a dog.

- i don't know why i made this i just thought it would be a fun little thing idk lol. i just had to add that little bit of jazz to the end bc like yk... idk anyways i'm trynna set myself on a better posting schedule and i think im starting off strong mmm enjoy

- all fluff, tiny mention of pregnancy at the very end, pre-cyborg boothill, his daughter is still alive here and everything is normal, wc 714

You were looking out the window, out at the vast amount of farmland you and your husband, Boothill, had decided to buy when he brought home the little girl you’re now able to call your daughter.

It was a nice, big place, suitable for animals of all kinds, and very family-friendly. You were currently watching your daughter play around with a baby goat that her father decided to bring out, a smile on all three of your faces.

She seemed so happy, waddling around the goat, clapping her chubby little hands when the goat gave a soft little lick to her cheek. She had just learned how to walk, and had been able to say a few words for the past few months now.

You walked out the back door, waving at Boothill before he waved his hand as a gesture to have you over by them. While you were walking over, you could hear your daughter shout “Goat! Goat! Cute goat!” While bobbing up and down with her legs and clapping her hands. It made you laugh a little bit before leaning into your husband's side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your arm up and down while supervising your daughter.

“Dada!” She squealed, giggling. Boothill ruffled her hair before leaning down to give her a kiss on her forehead, making her giggle even more. “Dada and mama!”

You smiled wider than you thought you ever could have. You were so blessed to have Boothill as a husband, and such a special, precious girl as a daughter.

“Well, we can’t really bring a goat in th’ house, n’ she seems to enjoy playin’ around with it a bunch…” Boothill said, standing next to you with his arms crossed. “What if we got a dog?”

“Really? A dog?” You looked up at him, and he nodded. “We have horses, goats, sheep, cows, and probably some reptiles living in the bushes. Do we really need more?”

He hummed. “The thing is, dogs can be domestic, hun. I got lucky this lil’ goat is so docile, good enough for her to be able to hang ‘round it without me having to worry ‘bout it taking her face off.”

“True. But we’d need a dog that can handle farmlife, not just any old dog. A boujee dog would not do very well in this type of setting. Keep that in mind.”

He laughed before shaking his head. “Nah. I was thinkin’ more like a Border Collie or somethin’. I’d rather have one that's gonna make use of all this land.”

Your daughter came up to the both of you, lightly slapping at your legs to get your attention. You picked her up, giving Boothill a signal to go put the goat back in its respective area before meeting the two of you back inside.

A few moments later, when Boothill arrived back inside, you had lunch started, greeting him before he washed his hands and helping your daughter wash hers, too. He explained to her that she’s always to wash her hands before and after touching an ‘outside animal’ (as he calls it, so her itty bitty brain can comprehend it) otherwise she could get sick. He does the same, too.

You set the table for lunch, putting some leftover salad and chicken on you and Boothills plates from last night. You gave your daughter some chicken too, but cut into very small squares, and strawberries instead of salad.

The three of you sat down to eat, occasionally conversing about random things. She was too busy picking at her strawberries to notice your conversation, but you both still kept a close eye on her.

“About the dog idea, are you sure?” You asked, your voice laced with some uncertainty. ‘I feel like we already have so much on our plate. Are you really willing to walk it every morning?”

“Well, o’course I am. I know what havin’ a dog is like, my dads always had one. I grew up around ‘em.” He takes another forkful of salad before going on. “But why’re ya so concerned? What else is stoppin’ ya from sayin’ yes?”

You smiled before laughing to yourself, leaving him temporarily confused.

“Well, I want to hold off on the dog, because…

…I’m pregnant.”

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill #boothill x reader #fluff #x reader #x reader fluff #boothill fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail

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wen-kexing-apologist · 2 months

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Episode 10: The Couch

Wow @lurkingshan, it’s like you really know me! This scene is exactly what I was going to talk about for Episode 10 because the fucking TENSION put so much weight in to the air when I was watching that I could hardly breathe.

CHRIS CHIU

THE ACTOR THAT YOU ARE

Scene Breakdown time!

First of all, I love the little couple dynamic moments we get between Lili and San Pang, where Lili has to tap San Pang in to Yuan and Qian’s fight. San Pang arrives and in a very strategic move informed by knowing Qian and Yuan for a significant amount of their lives, he arrives with food he knows will go over well with Qian and will test Yuan’s ears (he comes down the stairs from his room to throw the food away after all).

Which, let’s just acknowledge that when Yuan comes downstairs and takes all the alcohol and greasy food away, the moment Yuan approaches the coffee table, Qian looks back towards the TV screen pretending he is disinterested in the situation at hand. But his eyes give him away because he keeps glancing at Yuan when he thinks he can steal a second. And stealing is what he is trying to do because he keeps his head pointed directly towards the television, while looking for half a second at Yuan out of the corner of his eye when Yuan leans over to collect the food. After that moment, Qian does not look towards Yuan again until Yuan has turned around and Qian can stare at his back.

It must be said. Chris is a phenomenal actor, because even without seeing his face, just the top of his head, you can kind of tell the mood that Qian is in as Yuan walks away, because he turns towards Yuan. We see Yuan look in Qian’s direction, Qian moves his head further back to look at San Pang, then looks away shaking his head. I acknowledge I’m probably reading too much in to it, but I can feel the incredulity radiating off of that head shake.

Yuan heads up the stairs, and Qian looks towards the staircase only after Yuan has disappeared. His head movement is so much more obvious than his previous motions that it literally looks like Qian is breaking character, or like he was previously frozen and had only now been allowed to breathe. Qian’s eyes look up towards the staircase (towards Yuan’s absence), then downward as he thinks about his next move, then back towards San Pang, then down once more as he makes a decision about whether or not he wants to Start The Conversation.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul (my savior)

Qian here is trying to check that Yuan is out of earshot because he Will Not have the The Conversation about His Feelings if there is a chance that Yuan will know about it.

With the heaviest of sighs, Qian gives San Pang an opening: “Did you buy those for me, or for him to throw away?” Qian asks, and once again looks out of the corner of his eye, getting serious “Or for him to throw away?”

And there is no doubt in my mind that it is the latter. San Pang bringing food that would trigger Yuan’s care instincts towards Qian, cause Yuan to intervene, and San Pang to bear witness to the tense and angry energy from Yuan towards Qian and force the issue. I think it’s partially why Qian does not deliberate for long in starting the conversation despite his hesitancy.

San Pang scoffs and says in response “He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care about you. Xiao Yuan can’t bear to leave you alone.” holds up the salad as a physical example of the care that Yuan has for Qian.

gifs by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Qian gives another giant exhale and looks contemplative. Something that I do find really important in good acting is the use of internal monologue. Qian always has something on his mind that he is sitting with. And the benefit of a scene like this is that the production team, and the camera trust the strength of their actors to hold the silence that settles over the room as Chris runs the gambit of Qian’s internal thoughts.

Qian is well and truly sitting with the acknowledgement of Yuan’s feelings from San Pang. Maybe I am wrong because I am not an actor, but I do not have the kind of intentional and conscious control over my face to have the kinds of lip twitches that Chris has when Qian is thinking about Yuan’s care for him. They may have twenty seconds of silence on screen, but that does not mean the scene isn’t still in motion. There are so many little things happening in the span between San Pang’s comment about Yuan and his next reflection on sending Yuan away.

“Xiao Yuan can’t bear to leave you alone,” Qian turns that over in his mind, to me it’s like he’s feeling the weight of it on his tongue, in his body. Qian looks up, and then around, and tosses the remote to the side, breathes heavily again. That feels like a begrudging acceptance of the statement. At the very least it is permission from Qian to proceed with the difficult conversation.

“Before I had Yuan leave the country, I had been thinking I was doing the right thing for you two. But seriously, be honest, did you feel empty when Yuan was away?”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Qian blinks twice and we cut to a flashback of a lovely little isolated frame of Qian feeling Yuan’s absence. We cut back to a close up of Qian’s face and his lip twitches. Which I love because it feels like an involuntary admission. We know Qian, we know that boy is stubborn and stoic, that he muscles through all the pain, that he does not let many people see his weaknesses. San Pang asks Qian if he felt empty and Qian does. not. move. He holds exactly the same position, lounging on the couch with his hand behind his head like he is unmoved, unaffected by San Pang’s question. But that little twitch of his lip gives him away. San Pang has struck a nerve. San Pang has forced Qian to hold a spotlight to the feelings he’s been trying to numb for the last four years.

“Let me tell you something. When Lili and I first got together,”

I don’t know about anyone else, but I snorted at the way Qian turned his head to look at San Pang in warning. We still have not seen Qian approve of that relationship. And San Pang knows that he’s staring at the precipice of some truly hot water, which is why he follows up with a “hear me out.”

Qian relaxes and once again turns to look away from San Pang. From San Pang’s position very little of Qian’s face is visible. So Qian keeps holding a position that will give San Pang as little of a chance of reading him as possible.

“I’ve struggled too. I…I always wondered what happiness could I bring her? Was I doing the right thing? How could I face you? And then…I felt it wasn’t right. Life is too short.”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Again, I just have to say. CHRIS CHIU IS A PHENOMENAL ACTOR. He does not move a muscle, but you know Qian is locked in on what San Pang is saying because of how he moves his eyes. When San Pang says “life is too short” you can actually see the moment where Qian starts paying more attention to San Pang’s words, because he looks away from the TV and more downward in thought.

“Getting hung up over it for years, would it be worth all the lost time?”

Chris changes how he breathes here. You can see Qian take in a deep breath, but he holds it for a few seconds, he lets his nostrils flare, and then you see a large release of breath in the movement of Qian’s chest. This is really really getting to Qian. That nostril flare was not because he was breathing in. Because he’d already taken a breath. It was not because he was breathing out, because we see that happen a few seconds after the nostril flare, without his nose moving again. When Qian flares his nostrils, he is holding his breath, for a rather noticeable amount of time too.

I love Chris because he embodies Qian so well, I can almost feel the way Qian is feeling internally in all the subtle little ways Chris plays with how Qian holds and releases tension and attention.

“Who’s been good to me?”

Qian blinks twice, letting the question hit him, and only then does he finally release his breath.

“Who put me before themselves?”

San Pang looks at Qian after he finishes asking these hypothetical questions. But Qian is still looking ahead towards the TV, trying to come across as disengaged in the conversation as possible. And San Pang notices that, and that is why he continues to talk. Because Qian is hearing him, he’s listening and processing, but he isn’t engaged. He hasn’t put his body in to the conversation yet, he hasn’t responded to anything that San Pang has said to him. So San Pang keeps pushing.

“A lot of things are only between you and Yuan. Unless you really have something against being with a guy, Yuan’s the only one who will be by your side, no matter what. Are you really not going to confront it?”

And I love that we pull away from that question to Qian looking like he is lying in a therapist’s chair. And Qian holds that position he has been maintaining throughout the conversation for a few seconds longer. The number of times he blinks the only indication that what San Pang has said is getting through and that Qian is mulling it all over.

And only then, after San Pang has said all these things about Qian and Yuan’s relationship, in a way that is not judgemental or against the idea of these brothers becoming romantically involved. Only after San Pang has said that Yuan would be by Qian’s side no matter what does Qian set his jaw and push himself up in to a sitting position to continue the conversation.

San Pang does not know what happened at Le’s gang beyond them being beaten up. So while it is highly likely that he is aware saying that Yuan would follow Qian anywhere is opening a can of worms, he does not understand how much ammunition he has just given Qian to talk about the danger that loving him too deeply has put Yuan in.

We do not give enough credit to film actors for maintaining continuity across scenes, because this man sits up and the first thing Chris has Qian do is massage the back of his head, where the pain of his blood clot sits. I could probably sit here all day trying to talk about all the little facial expressions he does as Qian sits up and starts preparing himself to be vulnerable with San Pang. But we can leave it as merely that. Qian is getting ready to talk to San Pang about some deeply personal stuff.

Personal stuff that Qian usually does not typically get in to. Like, San Pang says he knows what Qian went through, but I do not think he does. I do not think Qian has told him about the sexual assault, or San Pang would not have been trying to throw women at Qian.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“San Pang.” He pauses, and you can see the way he is still noodling, thinking about whether or not he wants to talk to San Pang about all this. And notably, he does not meet San Pang’s eye when he begins “Do you know…” Qian looks to the side, he frowns a little bit, he taps the palm of his hand against the top of the couch arm. It feels so childish and small of him in a way that really struck me. Qian is nervous, he is redirecting that energy in to his motions. In to the tapping, in to looking away, in to not having to reveal deep personal truths sitting that close to another soul. “Do you know what my biggest wish in life is? My biggest wish in life is for them to be happy,”

Ohhhhhh how that breaks my heart. Qian has suffered so much, he has done so much, he has survived so much. If you were to ask me, I would bet that Qian has never been happy. He was forced at a very young age to take over the role of caregiver. He is both a brother and a father to Yuan and to Lili. And it is a testament to Qian’s love for his family, and the pain he is willing to put himself through that Lili is so bright and vibrant and naive about some of the workings of the world. I believe that Lili is happy. I believe that Qian has succeeded in at least that much. But that is not something he has had a chance to do. “Even if the world comes down, I’ll hold it up.” I have not forgotten that line from last episode. Qian would hold the world together if it meant ensuring his sister’s happiness.

I do not know what it is, but there is something in the way Chris moves his mouth after he says “My biggest wish in life is for them to be happy,” that just absolutely destroys me, because he makes himself look like this is such a huge confession.

“Mine is the same.”

gif from @wanderlust-in-my-soul

“I just want them to grow up healthy and happy, because I’m their big brother.” Qian’s words become so breathy and he’s jabbing his finger straight in to the arm of the couch to drive home his point. These are the words that matter, this is the wish that matters. Qian’s feelings, Qian’s happiness have nothing to do with it. If he’s empty so be it, as long as his siblings are happy and healthy he will wound himself a thousand times over. His fucking face here, once again is just…When Qian takes in a breath, it is shaky. You can tell by the movement of his jaw, which looks like it is moving from side to side a little bit. As he approaches the end of his sentence, it feels like he is trying not to cry.

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Yuan’s life might be summed up in two words: Wei Qian

But Wei Qian’s life is summed up in five:

Because I’m their big brother.

“We grew up together. You think I don’t know how hard life’s been on you? But you know that Yuan’s feelings for you are different.”

Qian looks away incredulously, and there is something else there too, I think. Something in the way that Qian’s eyebrows furrow, the way his mouth hangs open, the way he breathes out. I don’t know that he can really believe that this conversation is happening right now. That San Pang would let these words reach the light of day, that he would acknowledge them so openly, so matter-of-factly.

“We’ve tried everything. We even sent him abroad for years. You were miserable every day. You love him and he loves you.”

We get more of Qian’s thinking face here as San Pang says these words, his mouth agape, his breath quickening, his eyes moving back and forth as he sorts through his own thoughts.

But I need to acknowledge San Pang. He has such an intriguing connection to Qian and his family. San Pang has power of Qian, because his parents are Qian’s landlords. He and Qian have been best friends for a very long time, and even though I think it is true that San Pang likely knows the most about Qian’s life history, he does not know it all. He is still, in many facets of his life, acting like a kicked dog and backing down every time he tries to push back against Qian now that Qian knows that he and Lili are together. But when push comes to shove. When Qian’s happiness is impeded, when Qian’s health is at risk, he will tell Qian what Qian needs to hear.

Whether or not Qian is truly having a hard time parsing through his feelings for Yuan doesn’t matter to me as much as Qian getting permission from multiple people to actually pursue the relationship. In acknowledging all of this, San Pang, the man who at one point told Yuan he could like anyone but Qian, the man that sent Yuan away for four years, is telling Qian that it is okay for Qian and Yuan to be together. He is the external judge that is finally accepting this taboo relationship, because he knows that if he does not show Qian that it is okay for him and Yuan to change from brothers to lovers, that neither Qian or Yuan will have any chance in hell of long term happiness.

“Even if you’re not together, he’ll be sad to see you sad.”

Off come Qian’s glasses. Shit is getting serious now. Qian rests his head on his hand, he looks away from San Pang. He really sits with it, you can see the emotions rising up in him, in the way he breathes, in the way his nostrils move, in the way his lips tremble for a second before he speaks.

gif by @ueasking

“I’m scared, you know?” he turns to look at San Pang, and he sucks in a huge breath through his nose. It’s the first time we’ve seen him breathe so obviously that way throughout the entire scene. GOD, QIAN KILLS ME.

“You haven’t even tried. What are you scared of?”

And this is the fascinating thing for me, right? Outside of Yuan, San Pang is Qian’s best friend, but they do not have conversations like this that often. San Pang has tried time and again to start the more serious conversations, to act as an emotional support for Qian, but Qian brushes those conversations off as much as he can. San Pang knew the medical issues, he knows the history, he knows about the pieces of Qian’s life that Qian can’t hide. But he does not know everything, Qian does not usually let himself be this vulnerable with San Pang, hell he hasn’t even told San Pang everything that happened with Le’s gang. He’s about to, but that is only because he is trying to make a point.

I think he is only having this conversation with San Pang, only admitting he is scared, and confused about his feelings for Yuan because he has literally no one else to talk to about it, and he’s starting to break down to the point that he can’t hold it all in by himself. And San Pang keeps pushing.

“You know he went to find Le by himself that day?”

“I know.”

“He was surrounded and beaten by six people, and in the end…”

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

He sucks in a breath. It takes him a moment to find the strength to form the words, so he forms a gun shape with his hand, which he points quickly a few times to fill the silence and the stillness in the room as he finds the shape of the admission on his tongue. He accentuates the severity of the memory with one final large motion.

“...they pointed a gun at…”

Ah, and there it is. The real reason behind Qian’s comment about wanting Lili and Yuan to be happy and healthy because he’s their big brother. Qian will not act on his feelings for Yuan, especially not right now because he is feeling guilty. Not just for sending Yuan away, not just because of the letter, but because Yuan’s unwavering loyalty, protectiveness, and love for Qian got Yuan hurt. Nearly got Yuan killed. Again.

Qian’s whole world, his entire drive was shattered the day Yuan confessed, when Yuan told Qian that he was suffering. Yuan’s love for Qian was hurting him. But Qian just wants Yuan to be happy and healthy. The chance at having that world again was nearly destroyed with the realization that Yuan almost died abroad. His world was made complete again when Yuan returned home. And it was very nearly destroyed once more when Yuan walked in to that gang in hopes of protecting Qian.

There is pain in witnessing the kind of love someone would die for.

Qian can put himself in danger for the sake of his siblings, because from my perspective, Qian never thought his life had much worth. His formative years were filled with horrific abuse, assault under the guise of love, pain, suffering, doing terrible things just to survive. But this is all because he cannot see the forest through the trees, of the life that he has built, of the home that he has built, of the safety that he has built for his siblings.

Yuan is not allowed to believe his life is less important than Qian’s because no one has ever thought that Qian’s life was more important than theirs.

“Fuck, you- you’re telling me that now? Then, you…Right now, you…So, you’ve lost…”

Another quick shout out to San Pang, and moreso to the writing for San Pang that they don’t always let him have these brilliant speeches. He was able to navigate the beginning of this conversation because he knew mostly what he was walking in to, but with the reveal of Yuan and Qian’s near death experience, he is fumbling.

The camera cuts back to Qian. I’d say Qian is listening to San Pang, but not fully present. Chris is doing so many things with his face in that moment. His nostrils are flaring, his lips are tightening like he’s trying to hold something back, he’s rocking his jaw from side to side.

gif by @ueasking

“So, this isn’t a decision I can make so lightly.” He is almost crying now, he won’t cry, I think the only time we’ve seen him cry is when he was staring the prospect of Yuan’s death directly in the face during Russian Roulette and when he was hugging Yuan afterwards. But you can see the growing frustration and the threat of the tears very clearly on his face. Qian emphasizes the statement by once again jabbing his finger into the couch.

“I have to consider the future.”

“Do you want him to have a future without you?”

Let me tell y’all the way I collapsed under the weight of that question…it is no wonder Qian, notoriously quiet Qian, immediately shuts his mouth. I appreciate how much San Pang is willing to be the sacrificial lamb, because that is exactly the question that Qian needed to hear. That is exactly the reality that Qian, Yuan, Lili all face if Qian does not get his blood clot treated. A future without Qian in it.

Qian needs to know exactly what he is doing to the people he loves by continuing to delay this medical treatment, but San Pang had to know that in asking it, it would only make Qian retreat back in to himself. Which is what Qian usually does. It was a miracle in it’s own right that San Pang was able to get Qian to voice this many of his concerns, to tell him the entire truth, to talk to him about the fear.

gif by @ueasking

Qian closes his eyes, he lets the blow of the question absorb in to him, and he nods his head. Which, in my opinion, is a brilliant choice because the way he nods does not read to me as a confession that yes, Qian does want Yuan to have a future without him in it, and more so is an admission of defeat from Qian. But because we don’t get verbal confirmation either way, we do not, San Pang does not, Yuan does not get any confirmation one way or the other about what Qian is thinking.

Qian just nods, lets the silence hang one moment longer, and kicks San Pang out.

“Go home.” He says. But there is a more promising follow up “Let me think about it.”

Which feels like the only thing Qian has really been doing for the last four years, but we’ve already established, that boy is about as moveable as a brick wall, and he and Yuan both serve to lose a lot if this goes wrong.

And there you go @lurkingshan! 4103 words on the mouth twitch, nervous body language, and tears in this scene :D

#unknown the series #unknown the series analysis #unknown the series meta #unknown #unknown episode 10 #unknown the series episode 10 #taiwanese bl #chris chiu #wka long post

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bb-eilish · 1 year

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𝒜𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒻𝒾𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝐿𝓊𝓈𝓉

pairing: AI!Soobin x f!reader

warnings; swearing, pet names, dirty talk, multiple smut scenes, pining, nipple play, rough sex, phone call, praise, robo soobin, no condom use, creampie, jealousy/delusion, stalking, kissing, blonde soobin. (if i missed something pls lemme know!!)

summary; Your close friend’s new riches makes christmas forever memorable.

A/N: I read @writerpetals “artificial heart” and couldn’t help but picture soobin, please read their work it’s great!

𝓐 gasp is heard through the entire restaurant, you would care about the dozen eyes suddenly on you, but you can’t. Your closest friend, Yoon, has struck gold, she’s been working as a higher up at your guys’ office job for the longest time and has been very buddy buddy with the CEO. So when the former CEO retired she left the company to Yoon, who now has inherited a million dollar company!

“You’re kidding.” Your mouth is glued to the ground as she beams at you, “Isn’t this amazing? Just in time for Christmas too. I worked for so long and it finally really payed off. Now I just need to find you a present.” She thoughtfully looks at her food, the flame of the candle between you two lighting up her features warmly. “Heh, if only you could buy me a boyfriend.” You joke as you poke at the salad in your dish.

“Boyfriend hm? I see…” She smiles as you both carry on, dinner is filled with disbelief as she tells you just how much she has now and the gossip the old CEO told her.

///////////

“Merry Christmas, Y/n. Bring him in over here!” Yoon greets and then shouts behind her, the smile on your face twists into confusion. “What?” You’re confused even further when two men heave a box up the steps to your porch and slide in through the door. They drop it off by the tree and you gape. A box that’s at least 6’0 sits next to your tree now, the presents under it look much smaller in comparison.

Yoon’s smile almost hurts your eyes as she beams at you, “I think you’re gonna love it!” She goes in for a hug that squeezes the air from your lungs, “Yea, I bet I will. I hope you like your presents.” Your nerves flare at the idea of her not liking what you got her because of this unbelievably tall present.

“You seriously didn’t have to get me anything so big, I’d be happy with a card honestly.” She shakes her head at your modesty and smiles, “You deserve the world Y/n, don’t worry about it.”

“Coffee? We can open presents after I make some?”

“Sounds lovely, be quick or I might open your gift myself.” You giggle at her and go to put a K-cup into the machine. While waiting you can’t help but to admire your kitchen, it’s your favorite style and just the right size. It’s perfect and even better with the adorable christmas decorations everywhere. But sort of….empty. The decorations are nice and all, but ever since your ex left awhile ago it’s missing something.

The sound of the coffee squirting into your cup takes you out of your thoughts as you wait till it’s done and put a new one in. “Here, coconut french roast, just how you like it.” Bending over slightly, you pass her the hot christmas mug and go back to the machine. It’s just finishing up your cup.

“Alright, open this first.” You grab a small wrapped box and pass it to her, the snowflake paper contrasting to her red and back flannel pajamas. She pushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear before digging into the bright paper. “Oh my god, this is so pretty. Is this the one we saw in the window of that one store?” She asks in awe, “Hehe, yeah it is. Do you like it?” Watching her squeal makes you feel warm, she means so much to you and you can only hope she knows it.

“I love it, thank you so much. Here open this!”

You both go back and forth opening the presents until the last one is inevitably the tall one. It intimidates you as you step closer and dig a nail under the tape that’s stuck at the sides. You jump when she changes her mind about you opening it, “Actually, y/n. Turn around, I’ll let you know when to look.”

You arch a brow at her but turn around nonetheless, there’s the sound of paper, cardboard, and then a button. She squeals happily as she tells you to turn around. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you fidget with your fingers and swing around.

First you blink, and then again, and once more. A man stands there, a gentle smile on his face as he greets you. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. L/n. I’m Soobin, I hope I can be of service.” You hesitantly meet his hand. “Um, I’m sorry, I’m confused.” You eye both of them until he responds.

“I am your assistant, I was customized for you.” That honestly made your confusion worse as you look towards Yoon, she laughs as she begins to explain. “This is Soobin, your AI assistant. He cost a pretty penny but it was so worth it, once I saw how customizable he was, I knew he could be the one for you.”

“He’s a robot?” You ask dumbfounded, he smiles again. A very human-sounding chuckle leaves him as he nods. You eye him up and down not so subtly, his hair is almost a platinum blonde, it sits neatly styled over his forehead. He wears a tidy looking black knit sweater matched with jeans and sneakers.

"Looks real doesn't he? He can do whatever you like, he can cook,clean, grocery shop, even drive a car." She stops to take a step closer to you, leaning into your ear. "And he's made for you in other ways as well." She laughs before getting a loud notification. You stare at her wide eyed as she apologizes and leaves to go manage the company or whatever she said.

"Merry Christmas Ms. L/n. Would you like me to clean up?"

You peer around your living room, the ground is covered in hundreds of pieces of wrapping paper. "Uh, sure. Thank you..." You can’t help but eye him curiously as he gathers the paper and random boxes around you. You have to admit, he does look incredibly real. Especially when he bends over so fluently to grab at the garbage. He even breaths out a little while he does it as well.

“Where should I put these?” He questions when he’s done, it honestly scares you a bit as you were spacing out — thinking about him of course, he’s an entire robot.

“Oh uh, the trash cans are in the garage. That way.” You point to the correct door, he nods with a smile and is on his way.

The coffee in your hands grows colder as you watch him, you’d be worried about being creepy with how much you’re staring, but something tells you it probably doesn’t matter.

“All done. Do you need anything else Ms. L/n?” He stands before you with his hands crossed in front of him. “No, thank you for cleaning. You can…s-sit down if you’d like? We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other anyways.” He smiles again and you try not to pay attention to how you gulp in response. Soobin swings himself around and sits on the other end of your couch, looking at his hands as he outstretched them curiously.

“So, Soobin. I know you can do house chores, what else can you do?” This is the best small talk you’re able to conjure up at the moment, you’re acutely aware that he’s metal and wires. “Besides house hold chores, I can answer questions — as I’m connected to the internet — I know every language and am fully trained in multiple martial arts. I was programmed to protect you, as well as be a companion. I hope we are able to get along.”

He smiles at you once more, the dimples in his cheeks apparent as he does so. He’s so human it’s uncanny.

“Wow, that’s amazing. I’ve actually been a bit worried about living on my own. Is there anything else you can do?”

“Yes, I’ve also been programmed to know exactly what you are into sexually.” Your eyes basically pop out of your head in response, warmth settles over your skin as you let your imagination run a little too wild in the moment.

“O-oh. Well, uh, I’m going to take a shower, make yourself…at home.”

You scurry off to your bedroom, thoughts absolutely taken over by his words. You were very open with Yoon about what you were into, you’ve been friends for years so it was only natural that the subject was brought up multiple times. And now you have a robot assistant who looks like he was modeled after…well.. a model, and knows how to please you.

You’re going through your clean hamper, as you haven’t put them away yet, when a knock sounds from your door.

“Ms. L/n, since it’s 9:27 in the morning, shall I make breakfast?” His muffled voice still has heat settling over your cheeks as you respond.

“Oh, sure. You can make whatever you want, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.” To be honest, you couldn’t think of a single breakfast food at that moment. Too much has happened in such a short time, you’re still a little stunned. Soobin hums and agrees and you go back to searching for clothes to wear.

////////////////////

You’re shower was 15 minutes longer than usual, Soobin was on the front of your mind and because of that you were in space for most of it.

The bathrooms warm and foggy atmosphere contrasted the rest of your house, it was cold but not annoyingly stuffy when you creaked the door open. “Ms. L/n breakfast is ready, I have made pancakes and french toast.”

“I don’t remember having frozen pancakes and french toast?” You mumble as you step into the kitchen to ogle the delicious food on your table.

“I made them from scratch, I hope you enjoy them.” He bows before turning around to handle the small mess he created. He made them….from scratch? He even topped it off with a few blueberries on the butter that sat on top of the stack of pancakes. The food looked like it was stolen right from a commercial.

“They look delicious, thank you, Soobin.” You say as you slip into your seat and pluck your fork from the table. “Of course.”

Cutting the pancakes was almost mesmerizing, as they were unbelievably pillowy and soft. The taste was so much better than you imagined as well.

“Soobin, oh my god. These are amazing.”

“Thank you, Ms. L/n. I’m glad you like them.” He smiles, it’s so human like it catches you off guard.

He leaves you to eat and only comes back to take your dirty dishes. Wow, he’s treating you better than all of your ex’s combined, it has your eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

That’s how the remainder of Christmas went, with you being surprised at how nice he was, even if he was AI and programmed that way.

“What do you do at night? Do I need to…uh…plug..you in? Or..?” He didn’t come with any plugs or anything so you’re a little confused if he has to recharge or something. “Oh, no. I sleep as well, it’s obviously not the same as human sleep, but same idea.” You open your mouth in an O shape as you nod.

“Well, goodnight, Soobin.”

“Goodnight, Ms. L/n. Merry Christmas!”

//////////

Sleeping was difficult the first night, knowing he was “sleeping” in your guest bedroom. You tossed and turned for hours before barely being able to slip fully away. Too bad that lasted an hour and now your alarm is blaring. The sigh you let out is almost pathetic as you groggily rise to your feet.

Your apartment is eerily quiet and you momentarily forget what’s missing. That is until the door opens and he walks in, putting down the groceries he bought on the counter.

Rubbing at your eyes you ask, “What are those?”

“I bought ingredients for dinner tonight, as I know what food you look. So, we’re having your favorite italian dish.”

“Oh, wow. Thank you, Soobin. Heh, do you know my social security number too?” You chuckle, “Yes, it is 892-“

“Okay! So glad you know that.” You nervously chuckle.

///////////////

3 Months have passed since you were given Soobin, he’s been unbelievably helpful so you’re grateful Yoon spent the money on him, because you did NOT have that much. Soobin and you have grown closer as well and you can’t remember what it was like without him.

“And I told him to fuck off because he literally tried to get with my sister.” Yoon grumpily exclaims as she tips her back to down another shot. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, she was also like 17 at the time.” Your mouth falls open in shock as she nods her head drunkly. You yawn and go to rub your eyes, stopping because it took you so long to do your eyeliner earlier. “Hey, I’m gonna call Soobin to get me, do you want a ride home?”

She shakes her head with a smile before saying, “Don’t worry, I have a chauffeur now. Isn’t that so weird?” She giggles. You dig out your phone from your purse that sits on your lap, the dim lights of the club making the screen much brighter than you remembered. Squinting, you try your best to find your home phone number, turning down the brightness is useless because apparently it’s already all the way down. Finally you find the number and press it, it only takes a couple rings before he greets you with the voice you’ve grown very fond of.

“Hello, Ms. L/n. Are you enjoying your night out?” He’s as kind as ever, it brings a sappy smile to your face as you answer. “Yea, thank you. Could you pick me up by any chance? I took Yoon’s car so my car is still at home.” You yell into the phone, it’s so loud you wonder if yelling is even working.

“Yes, of course. I’m leaving right now.”

“Don’t you need the address?” Your eyebrows furrow.

“I always know your location thanks to your phone. I’ll be there in approximately 16 minutes.”

“Thank you.” You hang up and try your best to stay awake, you haven’t gone to a club in a little while and it’s becoming obvious. Even though the bass from the DJ is basically making you vibrate, you still try and fight off sleep.

“Hey, uh, Yoon. I’m gonna wait outside for Soobin.” You lean on your arm as your eyes droop.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the office okay?” She’s even smiley and go lucky when drunk, you seriously envy her.

“Alright, be safe. See ya tomorrow.”

The warmth of having to navigate through grinding bodies has nausea forming in your stomach, it only subsides once you swing open the door. The air feels refreshing as you stumble out. It was like a sauna inside, the cool air against your flushed skin has you shuttering out a breath of relief.

Glancing around you spot a bench to your left and oh does it look inviting. Sitting down, you pluck your phone from your purse to check the time, 13 more minutes. The bouncer on the other side of the door is busy talking, as well as the people in line but it all blurs into each other. God, tomorrow is gonna be a bitch.

Your head hangs low as a breeze flows up your dress, good thing your purse is settled on your lap or else the line of people would have a great view of your underwear. Time is warped in your head and you swear it’s been only a minute before someone is calling your name. Your head raises, higher and higher, until you make eye contact with Soobin. He’s so tall, you love how tall he is. He’s so attractive.

“Ms. L/n. Are you ready to leave?” He holds out a hand for you to take, which you obviously do because walking through the parking lot in this state in these heels would be impossible. “Yes, thank you, Soobin.” Your body can’t help but lean against his figure as you both make your way to your car.

While getting in you giggle to yourself drunkly, slouching over the center console. “Here, Ms. L/n. Let me buckle you in.”

“Y/n.” You smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Call me Y/n. Ms. L/n sounds like my mother.” You giggle once more, more heat spreading over your face if possible. Even more when the hand clicking your seatbelt drifts across your thighs. It confuses you, isn’t he AI? Isn’t he free from making human mistakes? Did he do that on purpose then? Your drunken mind has your memories a little fuzzy but he treats you like a girlfriend, now even down to the teasing touches. You’ll have to ask Yoon about that when you see her next.

“Soobin, can you help the hangover I’m gonna have tomorrow? I have work.” The car purrs to life as he presses the button and puts it in drive. “Of course, Y/n. I’m happy to help.”

The way home was strange, you honestly blame it all on the alcohol. Whenever you peaked over at him you couldn’t help but ogle, even if he was AI, he was unbelievably attractive. How did Yoon know your exact type, sure you talk about your sex and love life with her but she really hit the nail on the head. The way his blonde hair falls almost angelic like over his skin has completely stolen your attention.

The thoughts have your skin warming again and a slight heat being lit in your gut.

“We’re here, do you need me to unbuckle you?” He catches you off guard, you were still mid swoon when he started talking.

“Oh, no I got it. Thank you, Soobin.” He nods before stepping out of your car and circling around to open yours as well. Your legs are a bit wobbly, so when you take a tumble he’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist. You need to sleep, the heat inside you seems to be hotter and it’s really starting to affect you. You seriously just want him to take you right then and there.

“Here, you should eat. I’ll make you something.” He proposes when you’re inside, slumped over a chair. “No, it’s okay. I changed my mind, I just want to go to bed. You should too, goodnight, Soobin.”

“Oh, goodnight, Y/n.”

///////////

Regret. You truly regret dismissing Soobin’s attempts of helping your inevitable hang over. As you sit up in bed your head pounds annoyingly. It’s 6:09 AM, you work at 7:30, hopefully it’s enough time to reduce the pulsing in your skull.

“Good morning, Y/n. Are you feeling okay?” He asks you once you stumble out of bed and into your living quarters. “No, do you know if we have any pain killers?” You question, rubbing your face with your hands soothingly. A hand comes to rub your back as he answers, “I’ll get those right away, are you hungry?” You don’t know how he does it, but you can only concentrate on his hand as it rubs against your clothed back. Even the pounding in your head is an after thought compared to him. You manage to nod your head ‘yes’.

His touch is fleeting and leaves a subtle want in you as he opens up a random cabinet and searches for the medicine.

“Here, let me get you some water.” It’s really not your fault for how you feel, he was made to be specifically your type. The man of your dreams basically. He slides a cup of water your way, “Thank you, Soobin.” Your head tips back as you cram the pills into your mouth and take a swig of the water.

“How about we do something tonight? Just you and me? I really appreciate what you do around here.”

Even for a robot, he pauses, his eyes are wide as he processes your words before nodding. “Of course, I look forward to it.”

/////////////

You’re showered and fed by the time you get to your car, waving to Soobin as if he’s your house wife. You really hate leaving him, his presence has made your home so warm and comfy. Being single isn’t the most fun and he’s really made you miss being in a relationship. That is until you make it to your office and hear his voice. His makes Soobin’s somehow even nicer.

“Morning, Y/n. I heard you and the boss had a fun time last night. Wish you would’ve invited me.”

Sigh.

“Morning to you too, Hyun. Sorry, I didn’t know you would’ve wanted to go.” You swing around to face him, he leans against your door frame with his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe you could make it up to me? Whaddya say? You, me. Dinner tonight?” You were expecting this honestly, Hyun is constantly trying to advance this “relationship” as he calls it. He’s honestly like a mosquito. “Sorry, I can’t. I have plans with my friend.”

He only smiles and nods, “Do I know her?” His question catches you off guard, “Uh no, you don’t…” Sitting down, you turn on your pc and see what pages you have to edit today. But of course, it’s never that easy. “What’s her name?” You hold back the urge to smash your head into your keyboard.

Well, this is gonna be interesting.

“Soobin.”

A beat passes before his annoying laugh is heard, “That’s funny…that..that sounds like a guy’s name..” His laugh stops when you say “It is.”

“Oh, are you dating…?”

Your fists clench at that, “No, now I really need to get started.”

You wish it ended there, but it didn’t, not in your office, not at the printer, not even when you were walking to the bathroom.

Finally it’s time to go home, 5:26 and you’re so ready to do something with Soobin, without Hyun especially. You thankfully didn’t see him on your way out either, which was weird to be honest. He always makes a move on you in the parking lot. Maybe your constant rejection finally got through?

////////////

Driving home was not fun, you swear this one car was following you. They were far enough away that you couldn’t see who was driving, but you know they were following you. Instead of going straight to your house you took a small detour to get them off your ass. Which thankfully worked. The car comes to a halt as you wait for your garage door to open, as soon as you’re inside you close it immediately. Hopefully that creep didn’t spot you.

“Soobin, I’m home.” A beat passes and still no response.

You cock an eyebrow at the silence. Hanging up your jacket on your coat hanger, you find a note on the counter.

Be back soon, getting dinner.

-Soobin

A breath of relief leaves you as you read it. That gives you enough time to change out of your work clothes. The pencil skirt you’re currently wearing might look great but it does not feel like it. Your legs are chafing and you’re pleased Soobin isn’t here to witness you shuffle awkwardly to your bedroom.

Unzipping the skirt snd unhooking your bra had you melting on the spot, even more so when you put on your favorite pair of fuzzy pajama pants and a nice tank top. Taking off your makeup was the cherry on top, you could seriously just throw yourself on your bed and pass out. But you’re way too excited to hang out with Soobin.

Knock Knock

Your head snaps towards the echoing knocking. Soobin has a spare key so it’s not him. Nevertheless, you go to open the door.

“Can I help yo-“ Color drains from your face, why is he here? At your door step? With a bouquet of flowers no less?

“Y/n, I’m glad I found the right house. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at you like he didn’t show up on your door step like an abandoned child. “How did you get my address?” Honestly you regret asking, you didn’t want to know.

He laughs before answering, “The only way I could without asking and sounding creepy, I followed you home!”

Your jaw drops, “You..followed me..home..?” You’re sure you’re on an episode of punked or something, this can’t be real.

He nods his head, hand sticking out to pass you the bouquet of tulips and daisies. A moment passes before you hesitantly take them, awkwardly holding them up. “I know you said you had plans tonight, but I really think you shouldn’t hang out with this Soobin guy. After all, you have me and he sounds like a total creep.”

You’ve seriously had enough, you draw the line at him questioning Soobin’s motives and yknow, him following you home.The grip on the frail stems tightens and the stinging pain of thorns is second in line to the steam coming out of your ears.

“Okay, I’ve had enough. We are not friends, you are a major creep. You followed me home yet have the audacity to point fingers at Soobin. You’ll never even be half the man he is, now get off of my porch and don’t even think of even looking in my direction again.” Your teeth are sore after your word vomit from being clenched so tightly.

He’s expressionless until his eyebrows furrow, an almost confused look settles on his face. “I’m not sure you understand, you and me are meant to be. Soobin brainwashed you or something to think of me like this, I didn’t think it was this bad. Come here.” He goes to grip your free hand, his sweaty palm has a shiver of disgust ring through you.

“No, don’t touch me. Fuck off.” The flowers fall to the ground as you try to pry his greasy fingers from your skin. The sound of something closing is lost on your ears as blood rushes by them from the sudden adrenaline.

“I’m trying to help you , Y/n. I know you love me.”

Tears prick your eyes , you’re totally overwhelmed and starting to panic.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” That voice didn’t come from the man desperately trying to kidnap you, it was from him.

“Soobin, please help. He won’t let go.” Relief floods your system and your knees almost give out when he steps forward. “Let go of her.” His voice shocks you, it’s stern and low, you try to not think about how hot he sounds.

“Oh, you’re Soobin? You’re the one corrupting my love.” Hyun let’s go to turn around fully, trying his best to look intimidating. It’s not working, Soobin is a solid foot taller than him. Hyun doesn’t seem to be aware of it though as he goes to poke a crude finger into the hard chest of your friend.

Soobin remains calm and it shocks you, AI or not, Hyun is unbelievably annoying.

“Do I need to help you leave? Or can you do it by yourself?” Soobin steps closer, a gulp sounds from Hyun and you have to stifle a giggle.

“This isn’t over, Y/n is mine.” He says before scurrying off to his car.

“Soobin, oh my god. Thank you.” You breath out a shuddered sigh as you basically fall into his embrace. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s gone, let’s go inside and eat while dinner is hot, Angel.”

You nod your head before pausing, what did he just call you? Better question, should you change your underwear? Because oh my god, that was hot. Angel is a special name for you, almost all of your ex’s called you that in bed. Hearing it leave Soobin’s mouth has something stirring inside.

“Uh, okay…” You swallow.

The house feels so much nicer when Soobin is home, so much more lively.

“What movie should we watch?” He asks, removing the takeout from the plastic bags. While thinking, your eyes drift down to his hands and notice how his veins protrude every time he grabs something, you follow one until it disappears under his skin.

“Y/n, are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?” Your friend asks concerned.

“Huh? Sorry, I’m fine, thank you. Do you wanna watch the first Harry Potter movie?”

“Absolutely, I love that movie. Here, take this. This is your fried rice, this is your egg drop soup, these are your crab rangoons, and this is your chow mein.” The food is hot in your arms, almost too hot, as you both walk towards your couch. You happily set the food on your coffee table.

////////////////////

Harry Potter was captivating for the first 30 minutes, then Soobin became a little more interesting.

“Are you serious? I had no idea.” Your stunned face has him throwing back his head in laughter.

“Yea, it’s true. Maybe try using google?” He teases.

“Oh shut up…” You push his shoulder, something catches your attention as you do so. His eyes. You’ve never been so close to really study his eyes before. To test out your theory you put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes change into a darker brown with a tinge of red. Like a chocolate covered strawberry almost.

“I didn’t know your eyes changed color?”

“They’re mood changing, do you like them?” He smiles at you.

“I really do, they’re kind of red right now, what does that mean?” You lean in and pull down his lower eyelid to get a better look.

“Heh, it happens when you touch me” Your eyes go wide, hearing that makes you aware of how close you are and how your hand is still on his face. Harry Potter is only a sound in the background as Soobin grabs the hand touching face, and holds it.

The feelings you’ve been holding in feels like water boiling over the sides of a pot. The way he holds your hand, his gaze of red that’s becoming more apparent the more you look at one another. “Soobin…” Your voice is breathy and you’re not exactly sure why you said his name, it just felt right.

“Angel..” He replies, leaning closer. The name once again does something to you. Your heart might beat out of your chest if you’re not careful. You peak at his lips once more, the natural pout he has is calling you and you can’t take it anymore. Meeting him halfway, your lips shyly meet. It feels amazing though, you’ve been wondering what it’d be like to kiss him for so long now.

The kiss deepens as you both gain confidence, his free hand comes to settle on your waist.

The need for air stings eventually, it pains you more to pull away but you must. It only lasts for a second as you briefly make heated eye contact again, your lips slam together in a lust filled kiss. It’s messy and has the hand on your waist tightening it’s hold and pulling you even closer into him. Your own free hand makes it to his cheek.

His tongue makes its way into your mouth, this is so unlike the first kiss you shared. He was hesitant but now it’s completely different. The heat in the air is getting to you as you let out a whine.

“Soobin, I need you, please.” Your voice is pathetic as you beg for him to do something.

“I didn’t know you’d be so needy so fast…Angel.” The name has your heart skipping a beat and your thighs itching to rub together, Soobin smirks at your reaction. The hand holding your own gently lets go in favor of pushing you back against the couch. Your shirt has ridden a bit at the bottom, the cold-ish polyester against your exposed lower back has you jolting a little.

“You think I didn’t notice how you reacted to that name? Angel, you’re so cute, y’know that?” He hovers over you, leaning down to messily kiss down your neck, a hand moves from next to you to up the sides of your shirt.

The want you’ve been hiding has you already clenching around nothing as he rests his weight on you, now you’re able to feel how mouthwateringly hard he is. Which honestly confuses you, but he was also made for this so you don’t question it too much. You’re not sure you’re even able to right now, the way his hands feel on your skin, as well as how he’s working your collarbone like it owes him money.

Times like this you’re glad you don’t live in an apartment, the desperate noises he’s already pulling out of you would be tricky with such close neighbors.

“Can I take off your shirt?” He sweetly questions, tearing away from your skin to look you in the eyes. His eyes are a deeper wine colored red you take note as you nod your head. Soobin dips back in to kiss you again before removing the offending clothing.

In pure desperation, you raise his own shirt enough to feel his skin on yours. It’s addicting and you don’t stop raising his shirt until he gets the memo and grabs the back of it, pulling it over his head. The sight has you practically drooling. He’s toned, not too muscly, but just enough that it catches your attention.

“This is so cute on you.” He breathes out, tugging lightly on your bra before continuing, “But I really need to take it off.” You nod and clench when his hands warmly drift up your back to the clasp.

Your nipples instantly harden at the cool air and especially how he’s looking at you. His gaze lowers to your chest and eyes your nipples stiffening, without a second thought he latches on to one and sucks. His tongue occasionally flicks over it and it has your back arching, breathy whines leave your mouth as one of your hands ends up gripping the strands of hair at the back of his head.

“Soobin, please.”

“You sound so pretty for me. What do you need Angel?” He asks, an inch above your wet chest.

“I need to feel you, I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

That causes him to smirk, “You’ve been thinking about me? About us?”

You nod, heated cheeks on display. “How could I deny you, Angel.” He says before unbuttoning your jeans, he slips the zipper down and shuffles them off your legs. Now it’s time for him to undo his belt and nothing could break your attention away. The outline of him is obvious as he works his belt and pants.

“Ready?” He questions as he grips himself.

You nod as a finger slips up and down your slit, it has your hips bucking into his hand. He adds another and is thoroughly enjoying how wet you are for him. His fingers settle on your ever-growing clit and wow, your imagination does not compare to the actual thing.

He scoops some of your slick up and spreads it along his shaft, a couple veins shine because of it and it almost has you coming already. “Soobin.” You whine impatiently, a light chuckle leaves him as he guides himself to your entrance. One last glance is shared between you two before he pushes in, the initial sting has your fingers gripping the fabric under you, while a gasp leaves you both.

It’s a delicious feeling really, the fullness of him mixed with the pure intimacy of it all. He bottoms out and waits for you to adjust to him, “Y-you can move.” You’re already out of breath, the wind being knocked out of you when he simply pushed in.

For the first few thrusts Soobin is relatively quiet, it isn’t until he sets a good pace that the sounds rip out of him. “Fuck, you’re so good for me, Y/n. I knew you’d be.” His hands grip your hips to stop you from scooting upward every time he thrusts, the grip tightens every time you clench around him as well.

“From the second I saw you, I wanted to have you like this. God, you feel amazing. So tight and wet for me, you’re perfect.” The praise hurtles you closer and closer to finishing around him.

He breaths out and pushes himself to sit on his knees, your legs are thrown over his shoulders messily as he picks up his pace. The sound of skin hitting skin and your own whiney moans mixed with his gruff and gravely ones fills the room. Soobin takes it a step further and grinds hotly into you a few times. Pleasure fizzles in your abdomen and you know you don’t have long.

The way his hair sticks to his forehead, and how his skin is damp is a sight you’ve been waiting for. How gone he looks as he plunges himself inside you, deeper and deeper. You probably look pretty fucked out yourself, knowing you. His sneaky fingers trail down to your clit and his thumb doesn’t let up, even when you start spasming a bit.

“Soobin I’m so close.” Your face nuzzles into your arm as the growing feeling is close to exploding.

“Look at me.” You can’t hear him very well thanks to the blood rushing behind your ears so he takes it upon himself. His pointer finger and thumb grip your chin to move your head accordingly, his eyes meet yours again and the band snaps within you. Hips buck into his and your back arches, your eyes clamp shut as the euphoric feeling spreads from your pelvis to your limbs and abdomen.

He keeps going until he can’t anymore and stills. Loud groans are heard as he finishes in you and you hope you never forget how he sounds.

“Don’t worry, you can’t get pregnant from me.” He huffs out, which causes a laugh to leave you at the timing of his words.

/////////////////////

“Hey, Soob. My work is having a ‘bring your partner to work’ day today. I keep forgetting to ask you about it, do you wanna go? I’d like having you there.” You grip his arm in a hug as you ask.

“Sounds fun, I’d love being there with you. I’ll get dressed.” He smiles, giving you a sweet kiss before he departs.

The ride there was nice, Soobin just naturally relaxes you. Usually going to work sucks but he makes it better.

“Ok, here we are. I’m on the 6th floor.” You shut your door as does he.

“Wow and here I thought you were the CEO.” He jokes , taking your free hand in his. You side eye him with a joking glare. “Keep it up and I’ll make you take the stairs.”

Walking onto your floor was interesting, couples littered the desks and it was odd to see. Usually your floor is quiet and honestly…boring. The atmosphere was less gray and you liked it.

“Wow is this your office?” Soobin eyes the room with wide eyes.

“Yeah, do you like it? I think it represents me pretty well.” You grip a seat and drag it over to your chair before patting it. He obliges and sits down, peering at your computer screen as you turn it on and already get to clicking stuff.

“I will be right back, I have to get what I printed. I don’t like constantly staring at a screen so I print out my work, so wait here, k?” He nods and leans on your desk. You take a moment to admire his outfit , mainly his hair. It sits dreamily infront of his eyes, sometimes you honestly wonder how he’s able to see.

The printer soon comes into view and you can spot your paper on it as well. The second it’s in your hands you spin your heels and book it, not fast enough apparently.

“Y/n, wait up, let me walk with you.”

There’s no way. You’re hearing things. Turning your head around, you peak over your shoulder to incredulously gaze at Hyun, a soft slimy smile on his face.

“Can I help you?” You don’t stop walking, he unfortunately catches up to you though.

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to go to dinner tonight. Couples day has me in the mood for some…company. Ever since my girlfriend left me 5 years ago, y’know? And I think we’re the only ones here without a partner, so it’s a match made in hea-“ You finally enter your office and see Soobin wiggling a pencil in the air, that paired with Hyun’s reaction to Soobin even being there has a fierce giggle threatening to spill out.

“What’s he doing here? This is partners day.”

You sit down next to Soobin and he possessively reaches out for your hand, never breaking his glare towards the intruder.

“Well, Hyun, if you must know, he’s my boyfriend.” Your unimpressed stare doesn’t falter as he processes this information.

“You can leave now.” Soobin deadpans, getting up to shut the door. Hyun doesn’t get a word in before your boyfriend shuts the door in his face. You both share a look before he comes to sit down, patting your back soothingly.

You really thought it ended there because he didn’t bother you for the rest of the day.

That night when you’re perched on Soobin’s lap, lustful kisses being pressed onto the skin of your neck, is when you unexpectedly get a phone call. You’re literally humping his bulge when it happens. “Who is it?” He asks, feeling you up regardless.

Peering over his shoulder, “Mm, just a random number. Should I answer it?” You smile flirtatiously at him. He catches on and leans back to grab the phone, giving you a wink before you press accept.

“Hello?” It takes your boyfriend a millisecond to get back to his antics, but this time his hands are on your ass, guiding your movements over him. His eyes tinge pink before settling for the usual red they usually are during certain escapades.

“Is this Y/n? It’s me Hyun.” Soobin halts, you both stare at each other in shock. His eyebrows furrow, he goes back to what he was doing, now, with a purpose and you can definitely feel the difference. The wine red of his eyes change once more, this time a deep purple.

He nips at your neck and it’s starting to become difficult to speak coherently.

“H-how did you get my number?” His hands knead your ass and the button of his jeans hits your clit, you try to cough away the gasp that escapes you but you’re sure it didn’t help.

“I got it from the office’s-“ You don’t hear the rest because Soobin has decided to turn around and drop you on your bed. You giggle at the way you bounce before remembering you’re on the phone, you laugh out a “sorry, what?” before remembering who you’re talking to.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” The more Hyun presses the more clothes you lose. Your boyfriend pops open your pant’s button and fly before tearing down the pants from your legs, your shirt next.

“Y-yea I’m fine. Is there something you need, Hyun?”

You thankfully weren’t wearing a bra, Soobin seems very grateful. His bites and sucks has your underwear dampening even more and an insatiable need falling over you. Hyun says something but you can’t make it out. The man on top of you takes the hand holding your phone and sets it on your comforter, plucking the device from your grip and throwing it into your pillows.

“Got you all to myself now. God, you’re so wet.” He slips off your ruined underwear and slides a few fingers up and down your wetness, getting them ready for you.

The first breach of his middle finger is satisfying, but not as much as his cock. You’ll get that eventually though.

It doesn’t take long for him to have added another and to slam them into you. His fingers are long and slender, they have your thighs clamping together. Which Soobin is having none of, his free hand forces your legs apart and your clit throbs from the feeling.

“Soobin, please fuck me. Need you so bad.” Your hands settle on his lower abdomen, slightly scratching the skin. “I love when you beg for me, love when you beg for me to fuck this tiny little cunt.” Your lower lip trembles at his words and you mentally prepare yourself. Soobin isn’t usually this dirty, but you’re not complaining.

The man teases your slit, sticking in his tip and hissing when your walls beg him to keep going. But he pulls out in favor of swirling his head around your, now, wet clit. “You love this don’t you, baby?” He huffs out. Before you’re able to answer, he pushes in, you throw your head back and enjoy the feeling of his veins and ridges gliding along your gummy walls so perfectly.

“There you go, baby, you like it when I fill this cute cunt up with my cock?” Nodding and whining wasn’t cutting it this time.

“Use your words.”

“Y-yes, I love it.” Your hands reach for his shoulders, trying to stay coherent for a little longer.

“I know, baby, I know.”

His thrusts pick up momentum and soon his hips are smacking into you. “You’re mine, aren’t you, baby? All mine, no on else’s.” His pelvic bone grazes your clit and you’re finding it hard to speak. All that comes out is babbling and needy whines and moans, “That good? Am I fucking you that good?” You nod furiously, hoping he’ll take that as an answer.

Just like the first time you had sex, he takes your legs into his hands. But this time he presses them to your chest and groans at the sight of you so exposed for him. The way your cunt takes him so effortlessly does things to him.

Soon, he notices the way you clench, and how your breathing becomes quicker. Suddenly, a moan that does not belong to either of you echos. His eyebrows furrow but when he makes eye contact with your pillows he understands. He tries not to stop his pace too much as he leans forward to rummage for your phone.

His lips curl in a devious smirk when he sees the call is still going.

“You enjoying this, Hyun? How I fuck my girl? Do you wish you were here instead of me? Getting to see and feel how fucking wet she is, how tight her little cunt is? What it looks like when she’s full of cum? Call her one more time and I promise you it’s not going to end well.” The only thing that’s heard is a gasp and a choked moan before Soobin hangs up. He exhales before he grips your thighs and jackhammers his hips into you.

“Coming, fuck, I’m coming.” You practically yell, legs shaking as you release all over his cock. The added wetness and the way there’s a white ring forming around his base pushes him over the edge, he spills inside you, hips stuttering to an end.

“Hopefully that helps get him off your back, but I’m happy to do this again if it doesn’t.” He smiles, leaning in to capture your lips.

“You okay?” He questions, pulling out, wiping his forehead with his forearm as well.

“Yea, I am. I love you, Soob.”

The sentiment and the nickname has his dark brown eyes swirl with light pink. “I love you too.”

———————————————————

TAGLIST : @tyunlovie @kyrkitten @rencarnationofangel @jimin2014 @starstruckluminarytale @soobsfairy444 @fathersoneric @ethie @rlvslouis @gyulz @woniebae @rjsmochii @wtfjongseong @boba-beom @mybabywearschanel @chiefturtlebonkghost @bergandysam @qluvrv @genshinsoobs @bucketofhiros @dilfjohhny @meikoo

if i didn’t tag you it’s bc tumblr couldn’t find your blog!!

#txt smut #txt x reader #soobin smut #soobin x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt fanfic #kpop smut #kpop x you #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #soobin x you #soobin x fanfic

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velocesainz · 4 months

Note

Listeeeen well read but… I love angst so. Any driver you want… where the reader has a miscarriage. Yeah if is too much I’m sorry I leave now

Kissies ✨

A/n: This sounds super interesting! I hope you like it I also apologise for taking so long, I kinda forgot and also had exams. Kissies ✨

F1 masterlist | main masterlist | Taglist

Our Lost Family

(LN04)

Summary: You end up having a miscarriage and you become super depressed after losing the baby, Lando gets fed up of your moping. Will this ruin your marriage forever?

Warnings: very angstyyy, sad

Pairing: Lando x wife!pregnant!reader

Part 2

Y/n pov:

It was a normal day, well as normal as it can be when you’re pregnant.

I got out of bed and went down the stairs to get started on breakfast for Lando and I.

Finishing up breakfast I set the table and called Lando to join me.

“How’s the little one feeling” Lando asked me touching my stomach tenderly.

“There’s a little discomfort but overall seems to be doing pretty well in my opinion” I replied and he looked at me with a soft smile.

We chatted about plans for the rest of the day as we ate and then went on about our plans finishing off the busy day with a nice calm dinner at home.

“Baby?” Lando called out as I was setting up the table.

“Yes love? What happened?” I asked.

“I have this weird nagging feeling that there’s something that is going to go wrong and I just can’t get it to stop” Lando confessed and that got me thing.

I have also felt an odd feeling similar to how Lando described it.

“I have also had this feeling, I don’t know what it is but it feels very serious” I told him and his face grew increasingly worried.

“Baby, I want you to know, no matter what happens to us or the baby I will always love you. Nothing will get me to love you less” Lando said and that made me both worried and a little calm at the same time.

Timeskip:

I was sitting at home watching tv and eating a simple salad when my stomach started to hurt extremely badly.

I saw blood pooling at my feet and I knew immediately that I was having a miscarriage, having heard so much about the experience from my mom who had had 2 miscarriages.

I immediately dialled Lando’s number but he didn’t pick up.

I dialled my mom number and she came in a few minutes and took me to the hospital.

Lando pov:

I was in a meeting when y/n repeatedly called which was odd for her as she knows my schedule and knows not to call when I’m busy.

I ignored her calls and put my phone one silent.

Timeskip:

I got home to find nobody around.

There was an eerie silence.

I walked to the bedroom in hopes of finding y/n sleeping but to no avail.

I went into the living room and found a pool of blood at the base of the couch.

My heart sank to my stomach.

Was this why she was calling?

Oh god is she alright??

I called y/n only to find that she left her phone here in the house

I thought of calling her mother, maybe she had taken her to the hospital?

When I called she immediately picked and her voice frantically said “Lando! Thank god your done, please come to x hospital immediately! I’m afraid y/n is having a miscarriage”

My brain was spiralling but I managed to get my keys and drive to the hospital.

When I entered the hospital is when I was met with the sight of y/n’s mother, sitting on a chair with her head in her hands.

“Mum?” I called out to her

Her head immediately snapped towards my direction and she sprinted over “Oh Lando My baby she’s in danger, her baby’s in danger I don’t know what to do” she cried.

“Don’t worry mum, she’ll be fine, she’s one of the strongest people I’ve met” I told her mum to try and calm her down.

“I guess you’re right, she is quite the resilient kind” she sighed out sadly.

Timeskip:

The doctor finally came out and came up to me and yn’s mum.

“You must be Mrs Norris’s family. She’s fine but significantly weaker. The baby however…did not make it. I’m so sorry for your loss, you can visit her now. She’s in room 004.”

When the doctor said this my heart sank to my stomach. We both had tried so hard to have a kid together and when she finally got pregnant she ended up having a miscarriage. I don’t know how I will face her after this pain.

I walked into the room and found her lying on the bed sleeping peacefully, if only life was going the way it was.

“Hey love, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. If only I had picked up your call, our child would’ve been alive with us” I spoke softly into her hair as I held her close.

She woke up in a panic “WHAT HAPPENED?? IS MY BABY OK? Lando ANSWER ME”

I didn’t know what to say to her so I just kept my head down and I guess she understood what I was trying to say. She broke down into sobs.

“My poor baby, I didn’t even get to see you. How am I to continue without you” she kept on repeating to herself and my heart kept breaking into smaller pieces with every word.

Timeskip:

Y/n’s been so incredibly depressed ever since the miscarriage. She can barely get out of bed in the morning and struggles to do basic tasks.

I love her but this is getting way too much. I mean, it’s just a baby, we can always try for another one.

I walked into the living room to see y/n lying on the couch with a blank stare on her face.

“Y/n?” I called out to her and she slowly turned towards me

“Y/n this is not healthy. It’s just a baby, it’s not the end of the world. We can always try for another one. Right now I’m fed up of you not doing anything but moping around and acting like the world has collapsed on you” I spoke fast.

Looking at her glossy eyes and hurt face should have told me that what I did was wrong but I didn’t realise

“Do you know how much this baby meant to me Lando? Do you know? After months of trying I finally got pregnant and I just lost the baby and you’re telling me to just “get over it”? Do you even hear yourself? I’m absolutely disappointed in your understanding. I’m leaving.” She yelled and walked out of the house.

What have I done?

Part 2?

A/n: I would love to get your guys feedback and also please send me any requests you’d like to see since I’m done with exams and have a bunch of free time. Kissies ✨

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 angst #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris angst

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stabortega · 7 months

Text

NO SURPRISES — CHAPTER 03

Summary: Jenna's need to find out who you really are is prevailing, so is her arousal.

Pairings: Jenna Ortega x G!P!Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Implied fem reader, she/her pronouns used. Smut. Mentions of sex and kinks. Sexting, masturbation, voyeurism. Top!Reader x Bottom!Jenna. MDNI.

Author's note: Sorry to keep you guys waiting. I hope it was worth it, huh? Let me know what you think!

MASTERLIST!

(Y/N)xz: hey

(Y/N)xz: i'm so glad you decided to take up my offer

jenna2709: really?

(Y/N)xz: yeah

(Y/N)xz: i honestly thought you wouldn't say yes

jenna2709: i had to.

jenna2709: getting a private livestream from you isn't something you can get everyday.

(Y/N)xz: i can see you're very excited for that

jenna2709: i am.

jenna2709: what about you?

(Y/N)xz: counting the days

(Y/N)xz: wanted to see your face for quite sometime now

jenna2709: you've at least imagined what i look like by now, right?

(Y/N)xz: a little

(Y/N)xz: also the fact that i can only think about my coworker's face when i think of you it's a little bit strange

jenna2709: oh, why is that?

(Y/N)xz: it's because you guys have the same name

(Y/N)xz: which is weird because i see her everyday and we never even really talked

(Y/N)xz: maybe it's because she is the only jenna i know

(Y/N)xz: was*

(Y/N)xz: now i know you :)

jenna2709: i hope she's pretty enough for you.

jenna2709: i want you to imagine me as some pretty girl.

(Y/N)xz: she's gorgeous

(Y/N)xz: bet you're more, though

jenna2709: guess you'll find out soon enough.

"Okay, now you're being straight up mean." Jasmine said while eating a piece of her spring salad, while looking at her friend. "You said you're showing her your face and now you're suddenly giving up?"

"I'm not giving up, Jasmine. It's just, I don't know why I agreed." Jenna sighed, while trying to distract herself reading a couple of lines from her script. "And now she's gonna know who I am and she's gonna be so embarrassed. Fuck, it's gonna be so freaking awkward. I'm working with her every single day."

"How are you so sure they are the same person? Just because of a scar? Millions of people have scars." Jasmine said, which made Jenna wonder for a while: What if she was, in fact, losing her goddamn mind and they weren't the same person?

"No, I just remembered. They have the same voice, as well. I'm 99% sure." The younger actress would never admit it, but she was so afraid of that 1%. "And also, she has a few tattoos. If only I could at least see if she has those tattoos. But she's always wearing long sleeves, fuck. I'm definitely not gonna do that video call and that's final."

"You're being a chicken and you know it. What's the worse that can happen? If anything, you'll end up sucking her dick right on that nasty green couch in the break room." Jasmine felt a slap right on her left arm. "Hey! It's not like you're not gonna enjoy it! You seem like one of those kinky ass chicks who no one thinks that are actually kinky."

"Oh please, you should've seen her kink list from her profile." Jenna immediately regretted saying that. Mental note: Think about everything you're gonna say to Jasmine.

"Wait, what?!"

"Breeding, breath play, knife play- Oh fuck, she's crazy. Run. Run for your life! Run for the hills!" They laughed, while Jenna tried her best to hide her embarrassment. "Holy shit, she's that kinky. How the fuck do they have that?"

"When you sign up, you have to fill out your kink list. I thought you also had an account, dingus."

"I do, dingus, but the kink list is not mandatory." Jasmine stopped for awhile, until she thought for one second. "God, you filled yours?!"

"Give me my phone now." Jenna said, trying to look angry while Jasmine got up from the chair and started to run away with the latina's phone in her hand, trying to search the list on Jenna's profile.

"I have the power in my hands!" Jasmine and Jenna didn't knew how, but they ran until the parking lot, looking like two little sisters having an argument over a toy. "Girl, you're into that?" The black girl said, while laughing, which made Jenna angrier.

Before the younger one could even respond to that, she felt a body crash against hers, making her almost fall over to the floor, but thankfully her body was held in time to prevent that from happening. "Hey, are you alright?"

Fuck, it was you.

"Yeah, I'm sorry... Jasmine- She had- " Jenna tried to speak but ended up mumbling all of the words. The way your strong arms held her, your woody perfume which she swore it was the best scent she has ever smelled in her life, your face looking at her as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"Don't worry about that, just try to be careful next time, okay?" You almost were talking down to her, as if she was a little kid, which was something that would immediately make Jenna hate you. Since she started working as a child, having people treat her as one made her blood boil. But no, not this time. "I was actually looking for you."

"Really?" Jenna said, after recomposing herself, her worries about her phone were long gone. Jasmine could see her nude pics, for all she cared. All she could think about was the fact that you were looking for her.

"Yeah, I kinda needed to adjust some of the camera's settings before we start shooting." Oh, okay. At least she thought about me first, she considered. "You know, saturation, contrast and stuff. Need to do with the whole cast, actually." She knew what it was, she had to do that at least, a hundred times over the course of her career. But god, you looked so cute while explaining it.

"Yeah, yeah, we can do that. I just need to get my phone and I'll be there." Jenna said, trying to seem as casual as possible, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear for god knows whatever reason.

"Alright, I'll be at stage 5. And try to not run like that again, okay? You could really get hurt." You smiled sympathetically to her, it wasn't visible to you but Jenna's heart was fluttering as if she was a teenage girl who just spoke to the most popular boy at school.

"Yeah, sure... I'll be careful, totally." She smiled back, before watching you leave, her legs almost giving up on her before hearing Jasmine's voice behind her, driving her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, (Y/N), I'll be careful, I swear! I'll promise I will never ever fall again, unless you're here to hold me in your arms, oh god!" Jenna rolled her eyes, jokingly, while snatching her phone away from Jasmine's hands. "I mean it, either she's the most oblivious person on the planet or you just straight up told her you want her P in your V with your body language."

"It wasn't that obvious, Jasmine. You're being too much."

"Girl, the tension was almost palpable. Please hope that she's stupid enough to let this pass. What were you guys talking about, anyways?"

"She wants to adjust some of the camera's colour settings and needs me to be there. And also the entire cast, as well. But she asked me first, that must be something right?"

"Literally nothing, Jenna." The latina rolled her eyes, ignoring her friend. "But still, you can use that opportunity to figure out if she's really the chick from the website. Try to find out if she has those tattoos you saw on the livestream."

"Thankfully you had a good idea, for once."

"And if she's really her, you can suck on her balls without feeling guilty."

"You're not helping." Jenna sighed, running her hands through her hair. "I'm gonna kill myself tonight."

"For a girl with a pussy like yours, that would be a waste."

"You'd seen my pictures?!" Jenna looked at her friend furiously, wide-eyed.

"Oh my god I was joking, do you really have pussy pics?!"

"I hate you!" She almost screamed before leaving a laughing Jasmine behind. Jenna was nervous, of course. You guys started filming this week, and throughout the entire period you guys were there, she tried her best to avoid you due to the fact that she was, actually, a chicken. You guys didn't even spoke much, that only one occasion a couple of moments ago being the first real conversation you guys had. Just, being around you made her nervous. And it wasn't even because of the streams she's been watching. It's just, you're you. Your body language, your voice, the way you act around set, you seem so freaking professional and Jenna was a sucker for that. The way you dressed, the way you took care of everyone who worked with you. She has been with her eye on you every day ever since she met you, and she's been watching you very closely. Everything about you drove Jenna insane, and surprisingly, she liked that.

After a couple of minutes walking through set, with her hands sweating and lots of heavy breathing, she finally made it into stage 5. You were there with a couple of people from production; some of them working on their own stuff, and a couple of guys talking about you while you held one of the cameras that would be used through filming. You were laughing a bit, something that made Jenna's heart flutter. Damn it.

"Yeah, and he was the kind of guy who wouldn't - Oh, hey Jenna! Talk to you guys later, okay?" You politely dismissed the guys you were talking to as soon as you saw Jenna enter your field of vision. Fuck, why did you have to be so well mannered? "Are you ready to look at me for a couple of hours?"

"I'm- I-" Jenna stuttered, making you laugh a little bit. She was being kinda cute, you thought.

"Relax, I'm joking. It'll be only a couple of minutes. I promise you don't have to get stuck with me for more than that." But I would definitely like to, Jenna thought to herself. "Can you stand on that mark for me, please?" Oh, she would do anything for you if you asked her like that again. So she stood on that mark, five feet away from you, while you put the camera on the tripod, already connected to the monitors and software responsible for editing. Jenna looked straight at the lenses, but thankfully she got to look at you while you set things up, and oh god you were a sight for sore eyes.

"Okay, can you look at the little red dot for me, please?" She almost hated you for being so polite, and obviously did what you asked. You would never admit that in front of anyone, but Jenna was truly one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen. Looking at her through the lenses was definitely the best part of this job.

"So, you've been working with this for a while?" Jenna said, wanting to start some small talk in order to find out more about you (and your tattoos, obviously).

"Um, not really. I finished college a couple of months ago, this is my first real job as a videographer. Dave was nice enough to put me under his wing and be my mentor, actually." You said while pressing some buttons on the camera and typing on the keyboard under the monitors. "I've worked in movie sets while in college, but mostly I just held microphones and cleaned camera lenses."

"For someone who already graduated, you seem really young. How old are you?" Jenna couldn't remember if your profile said you were twenty-three or twenty-four.

"Oh, thanks. You don't look so bad yourself, either." Jenna really hoped you were flirting with her (deep down, she kinda knew you weren't). "I'm twenty-four, actually."

"Really? You look really young." Jenna smiled slightly, secretly looking at you while you were pressing more buttons which she wouldn't even bother knowing what they did. "I get that a lot, too. I'm only twenty-one, but people think I'm seventeen most of the times."

"That must be annoying, huh?" You looked at her face through the lenses again, the adjusted lighting making her look more beautiful that she already was, if that's possible.

"Oh, you have no idea. I'm almost getting a tattoo on my forehead that says 'No longer a minor'." You both laughed for a moment. "Do you have any?"

"Tattoos? Yeah, just a couple." Fuck, she was close. She just needed to see one of them.

"Do they hurt a lot? I wanted to get one but I'm kinda scared." She wasn't.

"Yeah, a little. Nothing you can't handle." You stopped doing what you were doing to come a bit closer, which made the latina hold her breath for a second. "This one was the worst, definitely."

You lift up the hem of your shirt just a little, but enough for Jenna to see your slightly muscular v-line. Oh fuck, she felt like passing out. Until you showed her your tattoo, it was a roman number that Jenna couldn't even bother to figure out what it meant, but one thing was for sure: it was the same tattoo she had seen on the streams.

"That's cute..." She tried her best not to sound suspicious. You smiled and started to get back behind the camera.

"That one hurt like a bitch, I swear." You laughed a bit, before pressing the final buttons on the camera. "I think we're done! Can I take a video of you to see if the settings worked out?" Jenna only could nod, the thought of having you abdomen close to her mouth and not being able to lick it was the most traumatic experience of her life. "Okay, can you smile for me?"

And like the whipped bitch she was, she happily did. You shot the video for a couple of seconds and saved it, looking at it for a bit before gazing at the girl again. "Okay, that's pretty much it. Thank you for coming here, yeah?"

"Sure, no problem." She was almost shaking, she hated the fact you were such a sweetheart while at work, and at the website you acted like the lesbian version of Magic Mike. So, she left. Regretting the fact she didn't even made her move because being around you was intimidating enough to keep her from breathing properly, but at least she did what she was there to do: she knew, for sure, that you were the person she thought you were. And now, she had another issue to deal with.

Thankfully, you guys scheduled the video chat for tomorrow. Jenna knew that today she wasn't ready to reveal her face to the person who's been occupying her thoughts for the past few days. So, she did what she's been religiously doing for the past week. Locked her hotel room door, put her headphones on and relaxed while watching your stream. Only god knows how much she missed watching you stroke your cock while moaning softly and talking the filthiest shit ever. Jenna turned on her laptop and went on the website, which by now was marked as her favorite, and as usual, you were already there.

This time around, Jenna just wanted to enjoy watching you. No games or teasing, she genuinely wanted to look at you while you pleased yourself in front of her.

"Hey guys, how are y'all doing? Hope y'all are doing great." Even now, you were the most polite person ever. Fuck, she hated that. And you. She hated you. Definitely despised you.

You interacted with the chat for a couple of minutes, before really starting to put on your show. Obviously you knew "jenna2709" was watching, and now, even though you would never admit it, you liked putting your show to her, and only her. So now, you were dedicated to deliver the best show you could ever do. "I'm gonna try something different today, if you guys don't mind. But I'm sure you guys are gonna love it as much as I am."

Your hardened cock was already starting to pulse in your pants, so you were quick enough to unbutton your jeans and let your member spring free. Jenna's mouth watered at the sight of your throbbing cock, making her wish she could lick all of your pre-cum off of your tip.

For all these days Jenna's been watching you, she has never touched herself while you were streaming. Mainly because she was scared that once she did, she wouldn't be able to look at your face again out of embarrassment. But it seemed that every stream that she's watched, it got harder and harder to maintain her posture.

Jenna looked at you while you slowly stroked your dick, which started to made her anxious. She knew you had to tease in order to keep your viewers watching (which is why Jenna was the one emptying her bank account to you so you could cum faster). That same odd feeling on the pit of her stomach started to become more and more present, and she hated the fact the she couldn't just cave in and thrust two fingers inside of her aching cunt. You drove her out of her thoughts when you grabbed something from behind your camera, which made Jenna curious to what it was, exactly. And then she realized it was a tiny silicone ass toy, with an small opening right at the vagina. Oh, fuck.

"Do you guys ever think about someone while jacking off or is it just me?" You asked your viewers while putting a litte bit of lube on the toy. You would never admit this on camera, but you obviously were talking about Jenna. Not Jenna, your coworker, of course. But there was something about Jenna, your viewer, that made you intrigued: you didn't even knew what she look like, but all of the conversations you had in this past week made you wonder who was she, and what she was doing watch you religiously every night? What was it about you that made her so committed? The was she spoke to you in your chat, the way she tipped you just so you could cum for her, and her only. It's safe to say that, even without knowing what her face looked like (and trying your best not to think about Jenna, your coworker, because they shared the same name, of course), you started to think about her in those extremely intimate moments.

"So you got someone on your mind now, huh?" One of the viewers asked in the chat, which made Jenna anxious for the answer. If you were thinking about someone else, she would definitely want to know who it was.

"Yes and no. Maybe if I knew how she looked like, exactly, then she would 100% be occupying my head." You laughed a bit. Thank god your viewers couldn't see your face, because it was flushed red from embarrassment. You shrugged it off and started to tease the tip of your cock right onto the toy's pussy, wanting to get your viewers more excited. Which, of course, worked every single time.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $300 with the message: you know i hate it when you tease.

"I know you do, baby. That's why it's so fun." You laughed again, holding your cock by the base while still rubbing your tip onto the toy. Little did Jenna knew, but deep down, you were teasing just to get her attention.

jenna2709: what's the fun of being an annoying tease, huh?

"Being able to frustrate you." Jenna sighed. Oh, you were a demon. How could someone that was so polite and well mannered at work, behaved like this when the night came? "Come on, we both know that you enjoy this."

jenna2709: more than i care to admit.

"Alright, I'll stop being mean, okay? Let me give you what you've been waiting for, baby." You slowly penetrated your dick into the toy, which immediately made you drag out a raspy and low moan. The tightness of the toy was beginning to drive you insane, and for a brief second you wished you had Jenna's pussy around your cock, instead of a fake silicone one.

"Fuck." Jenna whispered to herself, feeling her underwear getting ruined for the fifth time this week. She felt her clit throb and pulse, it was incredible that you didn't even had to do anything huge to get Jenna turned on, just by breathing you aroused the shit out of her. "No. Pull yourself together."

jenna2709: i would kill someone to be in this toy's place.

"And I would kill someone to have you right here, right now." You started to slowly thrust your member inside of the tight, yet slightly slippery toy, your moaning now becoming louder and louder. Thankfully the hotel doors weren't thin enough, so you could be considerably loud without worrying about other people in the floor. Unbeknownst to you, "jenna2709" was just down the hallway watching you, in the verge of tears trying her best not to succumb to her primal desires and touch herself. "Fuck, this feels so good..."

jenna2709: you're making it impossible for me to not touch myself.

"Why don't you, baby? Maybe we get to cum together this time around, huh?" That seemed like an irresistible offer that Jenna really, really wanted to accept and decline, at the same time. For some reason, you figured that she was depriving herself of something good and a part of you wanted to just leave it that way, maybe she had her own reasons to just stand still while watching your streams. But another part of you really wanted to have some fun with this. So, like the devil you and Jenna knew you were, you licked your thumb and started to make circular motions over the toy's clit, while thrusting your cock steadily inside of it. "Don't you wish I was doing that to you?"

"Oh my fucking god." Jenna couldn't hold it in anymore. She tried, god, she really tried. But it was too much, even for her. Without thinking about the day after, she pulled down her pants alongside with her underwear and finally decided to give her pussy some attention. She was dripping wet, not ironically wetting her sheets in the process, but she wasn't even paying attention to those details. The only thing she cared enough to do was to thrust one finger inside her throbbing, aching cunt. Which, of course, she did. And the immediate feeling of relief took over her entire body the minute she felt her finger inside of her. Jenna felt dirty, as she was the pastor's daughter in a small town who just met an outlaw that tricked her into all those things. But damn, it felt good to be dirty and tricked. She started to thrust slowly, giving the fact she didn't masturbated often and she was just getting used to the feeling of her own finger inside her tight pussy. But, for some reason and for the first time, it wasn't enough. She needed more, and she wanted more. Fuck, she just wanted you.

"God, this is so fucking tight..." You moaned, more to yourself than to your stream, which drove Jenna out of her thoughts. She looked at you, fucking that toy while sweat was dripping off your body, and your low moaning was captured through your microphone. You were the hottest person she has ever met in her entire life.

jenna2709: you were right, maybe this time around we do get to cum together.

Jenna typed, without feeling anxious or nervous like the previous times. She couldn't give a rat's ass anymore. She already touched herself, she gave you money for every little thing you did on stream, so why even bother? It felt good. Fuck, it felt so good and she didn't even knew why she deprived herself from that for so long. So, without thinking about it, she added a second finger inside of her, hoping it would fulfill her needs just as you would.

"Maybe next time, I get to cum in you." You were bold for saying that. But in your head, after your guys' private stream, you were both gonna fall madly in love and have a relationship that seemed right out of a movie screen. The last thing you would think about is the fact that the girl you've been thinking about for fhe past few days is, in fact, one of the actresses of a movie you're helping to produce. And one of the world's most famous and extraordinary actresses, actually. "And we both know how much you would enjoy that."

At that point, Jenna was the only one there, for all you cared. I mean, you had almost 2k people who watched you every single day, but sometimes it felt like you and her were the only ones existing in the world. I mean, your chat didn't seemed to mind, most of them were just voyeurs who got off by watching random people online, so what's the harm?

Unbeknownst to Jenna, you were already close to your orgasm. The tightness of the toy and all of the dirty talking you both have been sharing, it was getting pretty hard to hold it in any longer. So, without further notice, you decided to violently thrust your throbbing member inside of that silicone pussy, wanting to get to your high as quickly as possible. You slapped the toy's ass a couple of times, but you knew that if that was a real person (Jenna, you wanted it to be Jenna), you would be saying the most filthy things on her ear while slapping her ass until it became bruised. It killed you not being able to do that. And it killed Jenna too.

jenna2709: fuck, you look so beautiful like this.

And she wasn't any different either. Her hand was soaked by now and the two fingers weren't even close to being enough for her, but for now, they would have to do. With her spare hand, Jenna cupped one of her breasts in order to get closer and closer to her high, while her hand just aggressively thrusted inside of her tight hole. "F-Fuck, I'm almost..."

And you were almost there too, but this time, you wanted to make sure to give Jenna the best experience she could ever get. "Tell me, where do want me to cum?" You asked the whole chat, but in a way, you only wanted to hear Jenna's answer. The chat filled itself with loads of messages, some people wanting for you to come inside, other wanting for you to cum on your stomach.

jenna2709: inside of my pussy, please.

"Your wish is my command." And so you did, you came right into that toy's cunt with a loud and dragged moan, closing your eyes and thinking about how it would feel if you actually came inside of Jenna. You felt your hips spasm into the toy, while you rode out your high and tried your best not to moan any louder than you already did. Little did you know that, down the hallway, Jenna was also having her orgasm just by looking at you. She closed her eyes and thursted the hardest she could until she finally came, with a soft whimper of your name, feeling her juices oozing out of her cunt. She felt one or two tears stream down her face from that overwhelming feeling, riding out her high while looking at you, wishing you were there beside her. You pulled your cock out of that toy, your thick cum dripping down to the floor which made Jenna's mouth water again. She would commit crimes just to be able to lick your cum out of that toy.

And now, Jenna felt embarrassed again. Tomorrow at work, she would have to look at your face and act normally all over again, trying to hide the fact that you were the reason she had a mind blowing orgasm and cried while moaning your name. And also, she would have to think of a way to dodge your private stream, or face her fears and reveal her identity, risking to ruin your work environment for all of the next months that you guys would work together. Either way, she didn't wanted to do any of those two things.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $1000 with the message: consider this as a thank you.

#scream #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream movies #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x you #you #the fallout #wednesday #wlw post #wlw love #wlw #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year

Text

Tear Stained Pillow Case - p3

Pairings - Drew Starkey x Fem!reader

Summary- reader tries to move on.

Warnings- language, over the clothes grinding, female orgasm. (18+)

Part 2 Incase you missed it

You had your first date, it was strange. The guy was nice but he wasn’t special, his touch didn’t send shivers down your spine. His lips were rough and sloppy against yours, you found yourself thinking back to the way Drew kissed.

He put his whole body into it, his hands would cradle the back of your head and his lips would mold against yours, goosebumps would litter your skin when his tongue slipped between your lips. You’d taste him on your tongue for weeks after he left.

You tried not to think back to Drew during the date but it was hard, you were so used to the way he did things. Pulling your chair out for you, offering you his jacket, rubbing his thumb against your hand. You missed it.

You never spoke to the guy you went on a date with again, 4 weeks had gone by and you had been set up on another date by a friend. Pushing the negative thoughts to the back of your mind, you need to move on.

You found yourself bored, tapping your fingers on your knee as you listened to the man in front of you talk about his job. Who knew being an accountant was such a bore.

Your eyes wandered over his shoulder, your breath catching in your throat as you made eye contact with Drew. He gives you a soft smile, pulling himself to stand.

Panic bubbles in your chest as your eyes fall back on your date and then back to Drew who was walking towards you now, grabbing the edge of the table to stop yourself from getting up.

“What’s wrong?” Your date questions, reaching his hand over to pat your own.

“Hi y/n”

Both your eyes look up to Drew who towers over the small candlelit table, your date looks back to you for a brief second. “I thought you two were over?”

“Wait… how did you know about him?”

“Bella said that you two broke up… I did some research”

“You looked us up online?” Drew questioned, brows creased together at your date. You shot him a look, as though to tell him to shut up.

“We are broken up”

“About that”

“Drew!”

“I think… I’m just going to leave, here mate” your date pulls himself to stand and grabs his jacket. “Take my seat”.

You watch your date leave, turning your attention back to Drew who sat opposite you with a grin. “I’m leaving”.

You go to stand as your waiter steps to your table, placing down both plates. “Enjoy”.

“Come on y/n… eat first”

He gives you puppy dog eyes, the eyes that could make a girl weak at the knees. You take a seat again and stare down at your pasta, you are hungry. You would eat your meal and then leave.

“You look good”

“Thanks”

“I’ve missed you”

“Drew… please”

“Okay okay… let’s eat”

You both sit in silence, the sound of the chatter around you buzzed through your ear drums. Chewing on your pasta, you can feel his eyes on you every so often. Your own eyes gliding over his body, taking in the purple shadowing under his eyes. He looked thinner, tired.

“Drew” he looks up at you, mouth full of salad. “Are you okay?”. You didn’t want to know the answer truthfully, worried he was unwell.

“Not really” your heart begins to race, every possible scenario running through your head. Gulping down the food you had been chewing on. “y/n please come back to our place, I need to speak to you”.

The mention of your home has goosebumps rising on your skin, you grabbed the napkin and wiped your mouth. Reaching for your bag, you couldn’t do this.

“Please… please don’t leave” he begs, he’s already standing. Grasping your hand that clenched around your purse, taking a deep breath you meet his eyes.

“I don-“

He cuts you off, tucking the loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Please”

You find yourself nodding, letting him pull you out of the restaurant not before passing a hundred dollar bill to the waiter. Silence followed you both, walking towards his car.

He does what he has done a million times before and opens the door for you, the familiar butterflies swarm your belly. You offer him a soft smile and step into the car.

A sudden wave of nervous nausea hits you, gripping the seatbelt that hugged your body. You weren’t sure this was the right thing to do, still torn between forgiving him and cutting all contact with him.

You still loved him, loved him so much your heart physically cried for him at night. But him kissing Odessa really fucked you up, you dreamt about the two of them together for months.

“Hey”

Your head snaps to his direction, all negative thoughts out of the window. His eyes are soft, lips quirked into a smile. You watch as he hops out of the car, turning your head to take in your old neighborhood .

Memories punch you in the face, tears welling behind your eyes. You bit down on your tongue to stop yourself from crying, stepping out of the car when Drew held it open for you.

Luckily the street was empty, you both were able to get inside without the old lady next door noticing the two of you. No doubt having a lot of questions of where you had been.

It still smelt the same, ornaments still in the same place. Photos scattered on several bookcases untouched, your blanket still placed on the sofa.

“I haven’t been here since…” Drew’s voice brings you back to the present, you nod your head, unable to trust your words. “I’ll get us some water”.

You find yourself taking a seat on the sofa, running your hands against the material, breathing in the scent of your once happy home. “I get someone in to clean the place every fortnight, so the dust doesn’t accumulate”.

“Drew”

“I’m not selling the place, it’s ours”

You cast your eyes down to the water that has appeared in your hands, staring at the cup you always drank from. Biting your lip you look up at Drew, he’s watching you intently.

“y/n… I’m so sorry, I should have fought for us, I should have been a better boyfriend…”

His hand has grasped yours now, pulling your body closer to his. He’s holding you, breathing in your scent. Your own nose buried into his neck, your favorite cologne invading your nostrils.

“Please, please forgive me… I will do anything, I will-“

You cut him off, pulling away from him and distance yourself by stretching your arms out, palms pressed firmly to his chest.

“How did you know where I was tonight?”

“I didn’t”

“So why were you there?”

You expect him to say meeting him with Odessa, everything always goes back to her.

“I’ve been going every Saturday since we broke up…. It’s your favorite place, I was hoping you’d turn up one day”

“What”

“y/n… I’ve been going to all your favorite places, hoping we would run into each other. You wouldn’t answer my calls, I wasn’t going to turn up at your parents… I wasn’t going to bring drama into your sisters life”

“Drew”

Your heart warms, you let him pull you back into his chest. His fingers stroking your back, your lips press to his collarbone, you feel him tense for a moment.

He kisses your hair, tightening his arms around you. “I promise, I will do better.. I will never work with Odessa again, I will quit acting”

“Drew! No… you will not quit.”

“If it means I can have you back… I’ll quit”

You're holding his head between your hands and kissing him, ignoring the nagging in the back of your mind not to jump back into things. You missed the taste of him, the familiar ache you hadn’t felt in so long settles in your lower belly.

His fingers run through your hair, your legs have a mind of their own as they wrap around his waist. Settling your bum into his lap, he pulls you in closer until your chest touches his. “I’ve missed this” he mumbled against your lips.

You kiss for what feels like hours, but really it’s only been a few minutes. You pull away, breathless, lips tingling from his stubble. “You're so beautiful”.

You're kissing again, this time your hips move against his. Causing a delicious friction between the two of you, his throbbing cock presses against his jeans.

You let out a gasp when your clit nudges it, his fingers grip your hips. Pulling you down against him, you don’t stop your movements. Letting that tingle bleed through your veins, his hands help you move slower but harder, your fingernails digging into the flesh of his neck.

You find yourself reaching for the bottom of his shirt but his hands stop you. “Let’s not rush this..”

“Oh”

Your movements stop, embarrassment floods you. Cheeks tinting a shade of cherry red, you fumble to pull yourself away but he holds you tighter. “Hey, hey pretty girl… that’s not what I meant. Let me help you another way”

He brings you back to his lap, moving your hips against his once again, he shuffles himself so his hard cock pressed firmly against your mound. “Oh!”

“Like that baby girl” he lets out a groan, his cock aching to feel your around him. His fingers pressed harder into your hips.

You hold onto his shoulders and let your hips move against him, he continues to guide you along. Staring up at your scrunched nose, he pulls you down to kiss you again. “You like that?”

“Mhm!”

Your panties are soaked, pussy clenching around nothing as your swollen clit rubs against him. You want to pull the material away, feel his throbbing cock against your folds. But he’s right, you shouldn’t rush into anything.

“Oh god” you cry, your head feels hot and that tingle spreads throughout your body. Hips meeting him a bit rougher now, chasing that familiar high you hadn’t felt in months. “Let go baby… cum in those pretty panties of yours”

His words edge you closer, dropping your forehead to his. He kisses you again, tongue nudging into your mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck as he grinds up against your mound, your crying out into his mouth.

Euphoria, there is a buzzing in your ear. Toes curled as your orgasm hits you, you don’t want this feeling to end. Grinding your hips into his rougher and faster until the pleasure fades and your left feeling embarrassed again.

“Oh god”

You're jumping off him and running to the bathroom, locking it behind you, tears fall from your eyes when you see all of your things scattered in the bathroom still, just how you left it.

“y/n”

His knuckles tap softly in the wooden door, you don’t want to open it. You don’t want to face him.

“Please baby… open the door”

You splash water on your face and turn to unlock the door, he steps in and closes it behind him. Wrapping his arms around your waist, the two of you stare at each other in the mirror.

“Please let me show you how much I need you.. I’m so sorry for everything… let me work for it, please take me back, I can’t live without you, you're my everything, the reason I breathe, the reason I live.”

You stare at him for a moment, you can’t live without him either. But could you trust him, could you forgive him and move forward.

“Okay” you whisper, his arms tighten around you. Pulling you closer to his chest, a sigh of relief emits from his lips. He leaves a soft peck to your shoulder.

“I will be better, I will show you how much I love you, I will make this better”.

🏷️- @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cameronmedia @users09 @teresalesbian @outerbankspov @bbycowboi @stuffyownswrld @ietss @tastycakee @maybankslover @loverofdrewstarkey @wpdailyminimeta @willowpains @littlefirefly08 @brooklynscherry-z @imnotapretzelsstuff @ijustwanttoreadlols @its-ria-07 (I tagged a few people who commented on the last part, lmk if you don’t want me to tag you in the next part)

(If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this series please lmk otherwise here is where you can be added to my general taglist for all fics)

#outerbanks smut #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #outerbanks drew #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks angst #outerbanks fluff

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mcflymemes · 1 month

Text

THE EMPEROR'S NEW GROOVE (2000) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

how shall i do it?

oh, is that hard to believe?

is this really the best you could do?

check out this piece of work.

i'm here because i received a summons.

word on the street is you can fix my problem.

the drinks were a bit on the warm side.

okay, i admit it. maybe i wasn’t as nice as i should have been.

do you really want to kill me?

so is everything ready for tonight?

i thought we’d start off with a soup and a light salad, and then see how we feel after that.

we’re about to go over a huge waterfall.

bring it on.

you got all that, honey?

what about dinner?

all right. a quick cup of coffee.

but what does that have to do with anything?

you’re sort of confusing me.

how did you get back here before us?

by all accounts, it doesn’t make sense.

i never liked your spinach puffs.

ah. should have seen that coming.

you know what, you could have told me that before i set it up.

now you stop being hard on yourself. all is forgiven.

it’s not the first time i was tossed out of a window, and it won’t be the last.

what can i say? i’m a rebel.

i can’t believe this is happening!

break the door down!

are you kidding me? this is hand-carved mahogany.

so you lied to me.

couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes, huh.

why did i risk my life for a selfish brat like you?

i was always taught that there was some good in everyone, but, oh, you proved me wrong.

now i feel really bad.

you threw off my groove!

he didn’t pay his check.

this had better be good!

this is the last time we take directions from a squirrel.

yeah, like that would ever happen.

will you take a look at this?

oh, is that hard to believe?

just thought i’d give you a heads up.

what do you mean the door’s stuck? try jiggling the handle.

you’re the criminal mastermind here, not me.

just leave me alone.

it’s my birthday gift to me. i’m so happy.

hey, it doesn’t always have to be about you.

uh, he doesn’t really wanna talk to you.

hey, did you see that sky today? talk about blue.

don’t drink the wine.

our moment of triumph approaches!

oh, he’s doing his own theme music.

i’m so glad i was unconscious for all of this.

you’re not just gonna let him die like that, are you?

don’t listen to that guy.

if it were me, i’d march right back there and demand to see him.

you just saved my life!

believe it or not, i think i need a bath.

maybe i’m just new to this whole rescuing thing, but this, to me, might be considered kind of a step backwards.

i ate a bug today!

what is this guy babbling about?

i’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.

i gotta go wash something.

anything sounds bad when you say it with that attitude.

let me guess, you have a great personality.

thanks for going back on your promise!

how long has that been there?

someday you’re gonna wind up all alone, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

hmm. don’t know, don’t care. how’s that?

for the last time, it was not a kiss.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #mcflymemes #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #the emperors new groove

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heylookitsyc · 3 months

Text

Saved by a Sorcerer!

Character(s): Arcana Twilight Sorcerers x GN!Reader

Anime/Game: Arcana Twilight

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: There’s another student that just won’t leave you alone! Good thing you found one of the other sorcerers… maybe they can help out?

Warning(s): None

Note: It’s been some time! Enjoy some Arcana Twilight for now; hope all of you are well! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Story is down below!

“Hey, (Name)! Wait up, I need to ask you something!”

You freeze as you recognize the voice, and you look back to see a classmate from your potions class. The sight of him is enough to make you swear under your breath, and you push through the crowd of students in the hallway, walking a bit faster now.

You manage to find your way outside and into the garden, your eyes catching sight of a certain sorcerer. As your classmate’s obnoxious voice becomes louder, you realize what you have to do.

Without wasting time, you call out the name…

» Arcturus «

“Arcky!”

You rush over to the sorcerer, smiling in relief. You take his hand. “Where were you? I thought you agreed to meet me outside of my last class.”

Arcturus tilts his head in slight confusion, his expression becoming a bit flustered as you take his hand into yours. “Ah, did I? I’m so sorry, (Name)! I don’t remember promising you such a thing…”

Your classmate stops a few feet away, watching you and Arcturus. Their stare makes you squeeze Arcturus’ hand just ever so slightly, and the small action seems to be enough to make him realize what is going on.

“Please, Arcky… you signed us up for that cooking class, remember? The one hosted by that new restaurant that recently opened in Central District?” you say, hoping he would play along with your lie. “You said it would be fun.”

To your surprise, the sorcerer lets out a laugh, nodding and pulling you closer. “Right! I did promise you… I’m so sorry for forgetting, (Name). Let’s get going so we aren’t late.”

Before you can say anything else, Arcturus pulls you along, his grip on your hand tight as he leads you away from your classmate.

Once you two were a good enough distance away, Arcturus stopped walking and turned to you, not letting go of your hand. His smile is a bit more shy now, his cheeks red. “Are you alright? I’m sorry it took me so long to get the hint…”

“It’s alright, Arcky. Thank you for helping me,” you say. “But… I am serious about that cooking class. Do you want to go together? I heard they’re teaching us how to make egg salad sandwiches today.”

His expression lights up, and he nods excitedly as he hums in approval. “That sounds good! Come on, let’s go!”

He continues to hold your hand as you two head towards Central District, the small blush never leaving his cheeks.

» Spica «

“Spica!”

The blonde was busy talking to a few other students, but at the sight of you he smiles slightly. “Good afternoon, (Name). What brings you here?”

“I…” You trail off when you see your classmate come closer, and you are quick to take Spica’s hand. “I was wondering if you could recommend me another book? The one you gave me about the origins of magic was really interesting.”

He looks surprised, but one glance over at your classmate was all it took for him to understand the situation. He nods, and he removes his hand from yours, instead opting to place a hand on your waist and pulling you close.

“Excuse me.”

He nods at the other students before guiding you back inside and towards the library.

As the two of you walk, he continues to gently hold your waist. His cheeks have the slightest hint of pink on them. “Is that classmate of yours bothering you? If so, you can tell me. Your safety and comfort are my priority.”

“He’s a bit… much,” you admit quietly. “Ever since we worked together on a project, he just won’t leave me alone.”

Spica chuckles, the small sound causing you to smile. “I thought so. Many students here can’t help but be curious when it comes to someone from Mid Earthiem. However, that does not give them the right to cross your boundaries…”

You two arrive at the library, and he opens the door for you.

As you step inside, you are suddenly guided to a chair. You find yourself sitting comfortably next to Spica as he scans the shelves, taking out a couple of books.

He opens one of them, taking a seat next to you and leaning in a bit closer. His voice is a bit softer now, less stern than usual. “You wanted me to recommend another book, yes?”

“Yes, please,” you respond. “I want to know more about the world that I’m in. It’s… really different compared to home.”

Spica smiles. “Well, you did tell me you would trust in my judgment… so how about this one? It’s a book my mother would always read to me when I was younger. I can read it to you if you’d like.”

You nod, and you rest your head on his shoulder. “I would like that, please.”

He chuckles, the subtle pink hue from earlier returning to his cheeks. He starts to read the book to you, his voice quiet and calm as he speaks.

After a few minutes you start to doze off, and the last thing you remember is a firm yet gentle hand grabbing your shoulder and pulling you closer.

» Pollux «

“Pollux!”

“Eh?”

The sorcerer’s face becomes bright pink as you suddenly tackle him into a hug from behind, and he starts trying to shove you off. “H-hey! Warn a guy next time, what are you even-!?”

“Please help me,” you say quietly, giving him a slight squeeze as you continue to hug him. “Please.”

Pollux looks over his shoulder to see your classmate nearby, and he frowns. “Seriously? Isn’t that the guy you worked with for our potions project a few weeks back?”

You nod.

Pollux groans, and with a small huff, he moves you so that you are now next to him.

“Pollux? What are you… huh?”

Your eyes widen in slight surprise when he places an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He looks away from you, and you notice the tips of his ears are pink.

You can hear the feigned annoyance in his voice, clear as day. “Don’t think too much of it, okay? I’m just doing this so Spica doesn’t give me another lecture about taking care of you.”

A new voice is suddenly heard from behind the both of you. “Hm? Little boy, what do you think you’re doing with (Name)?”

The both of you turn around to see Alpheratz, who has his hands in his pockets. From the way his hair slightly stuck out, you figured he had just woken up from a nap.

“You do know that if other students see you like this with (Name), rumors will spread,” Alpheratz says, looking a bit amused. He then yawns, rubbing the back of his neck.

Pollux shakes his head. “I don’t care! Besides, it’s not what it looks like… I’m just doing my job since no one else was around.”

“Well, I’m here now.” Alpheratz shrugs. “So you can relax, little boy. No one will try to do anything now.”

Pollux opens his mouth to protest when Arcturus suddenly appears, smiling. “Oh! (Name), Pollux! We were looking for you…”

Vega, who was walking alongside Arcturus, is quick to notice Pollux’s arm around you. “Pollux, why do you have your arm around Summoner?”

As more sorcerers suddenly appear, Pollux quickly lets go of you. He still looks away, clearly embarrassed now that more sorcerers have arrived. Your classmate from earlier seems to have left after seeing that you were no longer alone.

“I-I’m just doing my job…” Pollux mumbles.

You smile, and as Arcturus asks all of you if you would be interested in trying a new restaurant in Central District you reach out and subtly link Pollux’s pinky with your own.

His face becomes an even brighter shade of pink, his face now almost matching his hair. He says nothing, instead giving your pinky a small squeeze in return as he tries to hold back a smile.

» Alpheratz «

“Alpheratz!”

The sleepy sorcerer was leaning against a tree, arms crossed as he dozed off. At the sound of your voice, however, his eyes slowly open, and a soft hum escapes his lips.

“Hm?” He yawns, standing up straight now. He shoves his hands into his pockets, the sleepy expression still on his face. “(Name)... what’s wrong?”

You are quick to tug on the sleeve of his school jacket, eyes wide with panic as you see your classmate drawing closer. “Hide me, Alpheratz, please…”

Alpheratz follows your gaze, and his eyebrows raise just ever so slightly when he finally realizes what’s causing your panic. “Oh…”

He quickly raises an arm, and you find yourself pressed up against the tree that he had been leaning on. You feel your cheeks go warm as he stares down at you, his expression now more awake and serious.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that your classmate has stopped walking, now staring at you and Alpheratz with a mixture of shock and anger.

Alpheratz frowns, looking a bit annoyed now. He sighs. “How tiring… I can feel him staring holes into the back of my head.”

The sorcerer leans in a bit closer, his face now mere inches away from yours. “Give it a few more seconds. He’ll leave soon enough.”

You nod, staring up at Alpheratz. You didn’t really trust yourself to respond at the moment, your cheeks still feeling a bit warm from the close proximity.

Eventually, your classmate storms off, grumbling under his breath.

Once he’s gone, you immediately breathe a sigh of relief. “He’s gone… thank you, Alpheratz. You can back away now.”

The sorcerer doesn’t move, still staring down at you. There’s a hint of annoyance in his voice, as if irritated by your words. “Hey… you really think you can ask me for a favor and just leave like that?”

You’re quick to wave your hands in front of your face, shaking your head quickly. “No, no! Alpheratz, I just… meant that you don’t need to protect me anymore since my classmate is gone. You can go back to napping now.”

His expression softens, and he sighs. “... it’s only fair that you return the favor.”

“But who do you need protecting from?”

His hand grabs onto yours, and before you can protest you feel yourself being pulled down onto the ground. You find yourself now face-to-face with Alpheratz, his eyes already closed as he wraps a strong but gentle arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Protecting you made me tired. Take a nap with me,” he says, and within seconds he was fast asleep.

You stare at him for a few moments before sighing, closing your eyes and ultimately deciding to take a nap as well.

» Sirius «

“Sirius!”

You are immediately greeted by his playful smile, and he closes the tin of candy in his hand and tucks it away into his jacket pocket.

“Oh, my… Summoner, you seem to be in a hurry.” He chuckles, tilting his head a bit as he watches you approach. “Don’t tell me it has something to do with that classmate of yours.”

You sigh, crossing your arms as you look behind you to see your classmate getting closer. “He just won’t get the hint. I’ve been trying to avoid him for weeks but he’s just so bent on asking me out on a date.”

You don’t miss the way Sirius’ smile grows wider as you say the last word, his eyes flashing green for a moment before turning yellow again.

“A date?” he says, sounding amused. “I know a lot of students would find a student from Mid Earthiem interesting… but still. How bold of them.”

You are suddenly pulled towards him, one hand holding your wrist as the other presses against the small of your back as he dips you slightly.

“Sirius! What are you-!?”

“Do not worry, my fair summoner,” he says, his tone equivalent to that of when he would recreate a scene from a play. “I shall protect you from any harm that might come your way. Of course, not without a price…”

He leans in closer, his voice filled with obvious teasing. Just as his lips are about to meet your own, he pauses.

He chuckles. “... it seems as though your classmate wasn’t entertained by our little show, Summoner. They’re gone.”

You look around to see that your classmate has indeed left, and you relax a bit. “Finally. I can’t believe- mmph!”

His fingers make contact with your lips, and immediately a sweet taste fills your senses as he places something in your mouth.

He looks amused as he lets go of you, his hand lingering on the small of your back for just a moment longer than necessary before fully pulling away.

“A reward for taking part in my show,” he laughs. “But you do need to work on your acting skills, Summoner. Your acting skills were horribly absent. No wonder the audience left.”

You roll your eyes, sucking on the candy he had offered to you. It wasn’t too bad, the unexpected taste of mint and honey greeting your tastebuds. “You could’ve warned me before doing that. I didn’t expect you to pull me in so suddenly.”

“Why?” He looks amused now. “Ah, I see… did you want someone else holding you?”

He laughs as he transforms into Spica, and then into Alpheratz. He grins, placing a hand on his hip as he stares at you. “How’s this? Or did you prefer someone more cheerful?” He then transforms into Arcturus.

You stare at him for a moment, before shaking your head. You have a small smile of your own. “They’re all great, but right now I’d like Sirius, please.”

He pauses for a moment, clearly not expecting your response. With a small chuckle, he transforms back into himself and crosses his arms. “You sure know how to make someone’s heart race, Summoner. How cute.”

“I’m only like this when it comes to people I like,” you tease, and he laughs again.

“Careful, Summoner. You shouldn’t say things like that so recklessly… I might do something you won’t like.”

» Vega «

“Vega!”

“Summoner… what seems to be the problem?”

Vega’s usually cool expression falters as you suddenly run up to him, and he is quick to stand in front of you just as your classmate catches up to you.

“What the-!? Hey, move!” Your classmate demands, only to freeze when Vega suddenly draws his sword.

“What business do you have with Summoner?” Vega asks calmly. Despite his neutral tone, his stance and gaze on your classmate showed that he was ready to protect you if needed. “You seem to be making them uncomfortable.”

“Look, I just want to talk! They keep avoiding me and-”

“Then you should take the hint and leave,” Vega interrupts. “Summoner does not wish to speak to you. Leave them be.”

Your classmate looks like he wants to argue again, but he stops when he sees you grab Vega’s hand. Vega’s hand immediately stiffens under your touch, and a faint pink color forms on his cheeks.

“I have plans already,” you say. “So please leave me alone.”

Your classmate looks between you and Vega for a few seconds before scoffing. “Are… are you serious? Out of all the sorcerers, don’t tell me you chose this one.”

Without thinking you grab Vega’s sword, earning a surprised gasp from your classmate as you point it at him. “Leave.”

Your classmate rolls his eyes. “You know what? Fine! You aren’t even worth it…”

Once your classmate finally leaves, you turn to Vega.

“Here…” You return his sword. “I’m sorry, he was just so persistent and wouldn’t leave. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“It’s… no problem, Summoner. As long as you are safe,” he says quietly. His gaze seems to be focused on your hand, which still holds on to his own.

You laugh softly. “Vega… now that I think about it, there’s a new gelato place that opened up in Central District. I heard that their raspberry flavor is really popular right now. Do you want to go with me?”

“I… don’t see any reason to refuse. Who else will be joining us?”

“It’ll be just you and me, Vega.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze. “Is… is that okay?”

For a moment his expression remains neutral, before his lips turn up to form a small smile.

“That would be just fine, Summoner,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Unexpectedly, he takes the lead, putting his sword away and gently pulling you along as the two of you make your way to Central District to get some gelato.

203 notes · View notes

thesuperiorrobin · 1 year

Text

“Media is stupid….”

❥ Pairing: Damian Wayne x FemReader

❥ Word count: idk I technically lost count

❥ Summery: small writhing of Instagram lives

❥ Warning: mentions of making out in the end.

You- white Damian-Green Jason-Red

Ever since you and Damian went out to the press to release the fact that you were dating people went wild. Aside from the whole stalking phase that had another phase where they tried to find your social media. Which really wasn’t hard in the first place because your username was your first and last name so it was easy to find you. The only form of media you have is just Instagram and Twitter. But Twitter is just for your daily news and Instagram—aside from those blurry pictures you claim are aesthetic— are for the lives. And the people of Gotham eat it up. Damian, for obvious reason, was never in the light when it came to the media having stated before that it was useless and “damages your brain and turns you into an idiotic imbecile” which is probably true. But then you came into his life and gave the world a glimpse of his sad dull little life—to which you had brought light into— and now everyone knows Damian Wayne isn’t as boring as he seemed! But to be fair Damian isn’t the only one—you brought his whole family involved! And the News will always be grateful for that! They really eat your Instagram lives and there’s completions of you with either Damian or one of his siblings.

Like for instant in a Instagram live—

“What are you eating? Must be good if you’re tearing that shit up up? What are you eating it looks good?’m eating a crouton salad”

Robin_lover: just a crouton salad?

!Batman_Forever!: it looks good!

Damian_Wayne_Fanpage: I don’t see any greens tho

“Well Damian Wayne fanpage-that’s cause it’s just croutons and ranch!”

“It’s my depression meal. At least that’s what my parents call it”

“What the hell is a Depression meal?”

“It’s like a meal that you put together when your mental health makes cooking hard”

“I could have had Alfred cook you up something, beloved. Something that’s has more nutritions and not salty bake bread bits with ranch all over it.

“But it’s good thought. Even Alfred look at me weird when I denied he was going to make for me and all i wanted was this. I saved him a lot of dishes”

____________________________________________

Damian_Wayne_Fanoage: what is one thing you like about damian.

“He’s big ass bathroom. Like his bathroom is the size of my bedroom and I’m jealous”

“You practically live in my bathroom love”

“Oh you’re right. As we speak guys we are literally in my boyfriends bathroom in the walk in shower just sitting here”

“I have my hair stuff here just sitting on top of the sink too”

“Don’t know why beloved you don’t even shower here”

“Yeah. For reasons I’m only allowed to use the guest shower though if I do end up spending the night”

“Unfortunately”

“Don’t let Bruce hear you lol”

____________________________________________

User19382818345: what’s a memory you will alway find funny

“They day I had accidentally took Alfred the cat home with me”

“I still do not understand how you take a cat home and not notice”

“Well Alfred snuck in my backpack. So honestly I didn’t even question why it was so heavy all of a sudden”

“But yeah he called me freaking out that his cat went missing. Almost burn down the city looking for him”

“I’ll do anything for that cat”

“Me too cause he’s my little baby. Right Alfred

“Meow”

____________________________________________

People loves that lives that include the brother sister bond between you and jason. The only reason as you try is because he’s the only one you show in your lives—not because your don’t favor Dick and Tim but because he’s the only one at the Manor when you visit.

Robin_lover: do you favor jason over the others? Cause he’s the only one we always see

“Nah. Jason’s actually my least favorite. My favorite one is actually Damian one hundred percent!”

“*Gasp*! Lady Gaga is live”

“Okay bye everyone see you in an hour!”

“Cant you just use tod-“

Instagram live has ended

____________________________________________

JasonToddFan: what’s your fav Lady Gaga song????

“My favorites are Love game, Judas, and replay!”

“I like poker face”

“Oh that’s a good one too”

“I wanna hold ‘em like they do in Texas please fold em, let em hit me—“

“Isn’t that song copyrighted?”

“Oh shit he’s right—don’t mind me I wasn’t singing poker face at all”

“You think if we played the Cartman version we’ll get sued or something?

“ I don’t know, probably”

“…..”

“P-p-p Poker face-“

____________________________________________

User2983108567: Does Bruce actually like you?

“Honestly the amount of times that poor man has caught me tongues deep in his sons mouth—I think he’s just tried of me to be honest lol”

“BELOVED!”

“You can’t be saying that sort of stuff online—more or less on an Instagram live”

“But he’s tried of both of us. Every time my father catches us doing something we are supposed to be doing in private I can always hear him sigh”

“Yeah like a very disappointing one too”

“Sometimes I think he just wonders why we’re like this”

“It’s true. I Sometimes see them making out too and it’s disgusting!”

“Todd I swear to go-“

Live has ended

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #batfamily #batman x fem!reader #robin x reader #batfamily x reader #damian x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian scenarios #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x you

1K notes · View notes

waddingham · 2 months

Note

oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision.

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice.

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it.

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting.

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?”

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring.

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder.

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet.

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea.

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday.

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again?

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise!

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter.

It's well, well worth the extra step.

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen.

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.”

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.”

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.”

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles.

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters.

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food.

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it.

“Yeah? That one a winner?”

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles.

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns.

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls.

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?”

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him.

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds.

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated.

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit.

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin.

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips.

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink.

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners.

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile.

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind.

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen.

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth.

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself.

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him.

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite.

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening.

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.”

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips.

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

#i don't know how you accidentally write five thousand words of fanfiction but it happened to me...#a gift for you anon. just cause 💌#also sorry the formatting sucks here but i don't feel like titling and tagging and summarizing and posting on ao3 rn #anon #tl drabbles

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