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vroomvro0mferrari · 2 days

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LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women.

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls.

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks.

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind.

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment is not that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse.

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm..

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment.

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep.

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

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ktgoodmorning · 3 days

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See you care

Cata Coll x reader

You need to see Cata pull some weight in your relationship, an angsty one for a change :)

Masterlist

You pushed open the door to your shared apartment, absolutely exhausted from work and ready to start your weekend. A week ago you had been promoted which you couldn’t have been more excited about at the time, however, it ended up being a significantly more stressful position than you had expected. Nobody warned you of the amount of extra pressure that would be placed on your shoulders or the insane amount of overtime you had to complete just to keep up. All day you had been looking forward to coming home to relax with Cata and forget everything else.

Unfortunately, your hopes of a peaceful night in were immediately dashed when you walked inside and saw the huge pile of laundry on the floor in front of the washing machine, exactly where you had left it this morning. Cata knew how stressed you had been lately and insisted that she would do the laundry and clean up while you were at work. You were always good about taking over the household chores when she was traveling or busy with her job so you were relieved when she offered the same to you. However the further you entered, the more you realized that she had done none of the things she promised, somehow making things messier than they had been when you left this morning.

Setting your work bag down in the entryway, you took a deep breath in an attempt to keep your cool but to say you were pissed was an understatement.

All week she’d been making promises of all the things she’d do to help out while you were gone, finally having a lighter schedule than she typically did, but continued to put things off. When you left for work that morning, you hardly could find clean clothes to get you through the day, so she had insisted that she would get it all done today. And here it all sat in front of you, in a giant, intimidating, pile, that was about to push you past your breaking point.

“Catalina Coll!”

“In here!” She called from the other room to you, her cheerful and unassuming voice making you fume. How could she be so oblivious that you would be angry when she didn’t do anything she promised all week long. If nothing else, your use of her full name and tone of voice should have tipped her off that you weren’t happy with her.

You immediately clenched your fists when you walked in to find her laying on the couch playing fifa, greeting you with a smile, “Hola, bebita!” Your jaw tensed at the way she was so ignorant of the way her actions were affecting you, trying your absolute best not to explode and yell at her but also knowing you weren’t far from it. Your girlfriend knew exactly how hard you worked to take care of everything when she was busy so the fact that all week she claimed she would return the favor and still didn’t, had you seething. It was only made worse by how unaware she seemed to be.

“Cata,” your voice was low, trying to hold in all your anger. “What did you do while I was gone today?”

The anger in your voice didn’t seem to phase her, as she responded with just as much eagerness as she usually did, never pulling her eyes from the screen in front of her. “Well I had today off so I wanted to just relax and get some rest. I slept in, got lunch with Patri and Pina this afternoon, and then I’ve been here playing fifa ever since! I figured you might want to make dinner so I thought I’d wait just for you.”

You could feel your eye twitching. How could she be so unhelpful? It wasn’t fair for you to have to parent her to help out while she layed at home playing video games. And why on earth would she assume you’d want to make dinner when you’d been at work all day?Your silence caught her off guard, finally pulling her gaze from the game to look at you and notice the scowl that had been on your face from the moment you walked in the door. “Is something wrong? Rough day at work?”

You didn’t know it was possible to anger you further until those words left her mouth. It was over an hour after you were supposed to be home and she hadn’t texted or called once to make sure you were okay or to see if you were coming home soon. Your girlfriend should’ve been able to realize what time it was and that obviously it couldn’t have gone very well at work if you were there an extra hour on a Friday.

You completely snapped.

“Are you kidding me Cata! Look at what time it is! How could you possibly think I could have anything but a bad day if I’m home an hour later than normal. On a Friday no less!” She looked dumbfounded, shocked at your response, just looking at you with her mouth hanging open. Her reaction pissed you off further, making your face turn red, radiating anger.

“So yeah, Cata, I guess you could say I had a rough day,” you scoff at her, struggling to communicate everything you were thinking, continuing to yell at the woman in front of you. “And to top it off, I come home to my girlfriend who did nothing that she promised she would do all week! Do you realize I barely had clothes to wear today? I was counting on you, Cata! And you just sat her playing fucking video games!” You were now breathing heavily, looking at your girlfriend expectantly to see what she had to say for herself.

Instead of jumping up to fulfill her responsibilities or, I don’t know, apologize, she gave you a meaningless shrug, somehow still not grasping your frustration. “Babe, calm down. I was tired, I wanted to relax.” Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, she turned back to her fifa game which only made you yell louder.

“You were tired?! Do you realize how tired I’ve been!? Working overtime all week, coming home to make dinner every day, and getting nothing done around the house! That’s why you promised you would help out! Did you just forget that you’ve been promising all week that you’d do the laundry and make dinner and clean this fucking mess? And you’ve done none of it!”

The only response she gave you was a heavy sigh as she paused her game and looked up at you, still glaring at her with your arms crossed and face red. It was as if she was inconvenienced by you. Your anger was quickly turning to annoyance at her blatant disregard for you, turning your yelling into something much scarier to her, pushing your words through gritted teeth. “Cata, can you please just act like you fucking care about me? Just this once?”

These words appeared to ignite a fire in her that hadn’t been lit before, making her stand up to join you, now yelling face to face. “Are you really going to tell me that I don’t care about you?!”

“Well if you do, you sure as hell aren’t acting like it, making me do everything around here when you know I’ve been exhausted all week?”

“If you can’t see that I care about you, that’s your fault, not mine!”

“Do you seriously think that, Cata?” Your voice had suddenly lost some of its edge from the way her words cut into you. When you were met with silence, it only cut deeper, starting to hurt you more than it angered you. “We- I can’t do this. Sometimes I really need you, and you’re just not there. I needed you this week. I’ve tried so hard and I’m exhausted, I just want to know you care about me.” You were met with silence from her that you were too tired to try to decipher, leaving you to stomp off to your bedroom.

All you knew was you couldn’t be around your girlfriend at the moment and you couldn’t stand to spend another second in your disaster of an apartment, so you angrily changed from your work clothes into sweatpants and a t-shirt, throwing some essentials into a bag so you could leave. You grabbed only the bare minimum, wanting to escape as soon as you possibly could.

You only seemed to catch your girlfriend’s attention as you grabbed your car keys off the table and made your way to the door. “Where are you going? Are you really about to leave over this?”

“I’m going to my parents for the night. I can’t be around you right now if you still can’t see why I’m so upset, and I sure as hell can’t be in this disaster of an apartment.” You turned your back to her so you could open the door, shouting over your shoulder before you left, “If you figure your shit out, give me a call, you know where to find me.” And with that, you left, not planning on returning unless Cata figured out how to be an adult and contribute to your relationship.

Not planning on doing a part two, trying to get better at angsty stuff. Requests always open! Feedback always welcome!

Masterlist

#cata coll imagine #cata coll x reader #cata coll #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso imagines #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #espwnt #espwnt x reader #wosoreadingcata #wosoreading24/7

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bonesandchalamet · 2 days

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admission - azriel

masterlist | pairing: azriel x fem!reader summary: a man who never shares his secrets learns how to admit the truth. warnings: none (at least to my knowledge) a/n: I’ve spent the last month reading acotar series and I’ve fallen in love with azriel 🫣 I’ve been MIA bc school but I’m back!!

those dark black eyes.

if you’d been oblivious, you’d take them as just azriel being distant, and cold. but spending centuries along side him, those eyes yearned for something you could never place a finger on.

he doesn’t show much expression, that was a given, but azriel showed a lot more to you in past months than he’d shown his own friends.

maybe it was always because he could feel you reading right through him. you saw exhaustion, anger, and disappointment where others saw a mask of him.

he couldn’t shy away from you, he’d given up all his fighting to let you work yourself into him and ease the pain or burden.

“Rita’s?” cassian turned to azriel, his eyes glimmer with a playful excitement that he could never mimic back. his dear friend had a way of making him stay out, dance or drink until the pinks and blues danced across the sky.

“pass.” was all azriel could get himself to say. the whole dinner he was silent, often how it went, but your eyes played a conversation that nobody else was apart of. your own secret language.

“y/n?”

shaking your head, you catch Mor’s frown, but she understood. in someway, you think she caught onto you and azriel, but if she did she was silent. and if anybody caught onto it they knew azriel wouldn’t fight them, but rather show them to never speak a word about it. protective, he’d once called it, idiocy is what you saw it as.

swirling the wine in your glass, you take a final sip before dismissing yourself from the long evening. your home was only a block away, and having spent all morning training feyre with cassian, you were exhausted.

azriel would stay longer. he’d stay until cassian and mor left for Rita’s and then find his way home to you. it’d been a day of reporting to his spies and keeping his head down until dinner time where he could actually enjoy something: you.

public affection was not azriel. even if it was, he’d never show his vulnerability to the world and risk losing you. he spent the better half of his life fighting darkness, only to have it wiped away the second you entered his life. it was evident to his friends he was much lighter in previous times, but he’d always shrugged it off and told them there was a price for prying into his life.

“headed out soon?” feyre was the first to bite, her body swaying in the seat beside rhys, a bit tipsy off the wine.

shrugging was his typical answer, and that’s what he’d given her in hopes the conversation would change, and luckily amren could read a room. unlike a few others at the table.

another hour passed and Rita’s seemed to be the next stop for the group. azriel joined them on the way out the door, but instead of heading into town he headed to you. he’d let them have that bit of knowledge, even if he knew tomorrow would be another round of begging for information.

instead of winnowing in, he takes the front door, allows you to listen to the lock of the door, his boots clattering against the wood floors. he knows all time spent signaling his arrival, is time you spent readying for him.

the creeks of the wood from below bring a flutter to your heart. you pull back the white silk sheets, fluff his pillow like you always do, and seat yourself on the edge of the bed waiting for the dark fuming cloud to whisk away into your arms.

“long day?” you ask watching him slip into your room and immediately discard his black shirt off his back. your arms were outstretched for him, and he moves towards you allowing your warmth to work its way into his body until he was nothing but mush and happiness.

your soft delicate fingers worked the muscles of his body, allowing him to lean into your touch, he rants about the little things he wouldn’t dare tell anybody else.

“what about you?” his voice a faint whisper into the air, “your day, I mean.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lips pressing against his rough skin, “better now.”

“you can always tell me more.” azriel sits up out of your grip, he spins away from your body, turning so you’re both facing each other, “I listen well.”

a chuckle escapes your lips before you press them onto his, “you hold too many secrets, az, I’d never burden you with more.”

his brows furrow, “burden?” the words echo off his lips like it was a new word and he’d never heard it before, “you could never.”

you bite your bottom lip, as if contemplating to tell him how training feyre was more like an ass beating or how cassian makes you want to bang his head into wall and shove him down a flight of stairs. though, you’d never tell him the worst of it all. you could tell him always the little things.

he takes your silence away, lips pressing hard against yours, a gasp is your reaction. his fingers work the little bit of lace you’d left on for him, and suddenly you’re back is pressed against the sheets, his membranous wings are coddling you like a cocoon.

“a secret for a secret.” he whispers in the dark purple and black enclosure, his eyes are all you can see beside some faint outlines of his face.

“you first,” you whisper into the darkness, your fingers pressed against his warm skin wishing to pull him closer.

“I think I always knew I loved you.” he whispered into the darkness. he couldn’t see your eyes, you must’ve closed them to give him the privacy for admission, but when you open them, deep swirls of violet and black stare into yours with passion, “your turn.”

“i wish you let me love you for the world to see.” you say looking up for the white walls, but only to find the darkness of his wings surrounding you.

“did you know you can’t mask your face like me?” he removes himself from around you, allowing the bright lights of the night sky to return to your vision and the white walls to ache after darkness.

you roll your eyes. the countless hours of him trying, but failing, to get you to to hide your facial expressions weren’t a reminder of it all. you could never hide your love or even far worse expressions from the world to see.

“I say this, because they already know.” he emphasizes. you’d had small hints of the inner circle knowing, but you’d brushed it off as just another way to get under your skin because Azriel always put the group in their place.

“mor knows, at least suspects.” you turn your attention to him. you read him in the way he hates, but so desperately loves. you can feel his hesitation to touch you, but when you reach out and place your hair down his torso, he reaches for your cheek.

“mor knows you’re my mate.” a breath hitches in him before he continues, “and Rhys acts like he doesn’t know, but he’s also just like you,” he taps his finger against your nose, his face inching closer, “horrible with facial expressions.”

you attempt to roll away from him, before he pulls you back into his body, a perfect fit for his, “so now will you tell me what’s bothering you? I’ve admitted far too much tonight.” his lips hover your neck, his warmth heats your body that you can’t help but sink into it.

“I suppose I can.”

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calliopesdiary · 2 days

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escapism. TEASER

MINORS DNI- 18+ NSFW

poly!marauders band au + leadsinger!reader

warnings: this fic contains: smut, punishing kink, degrading kink, finger fucking, manhandling

summary: when you and the boys get into a slight disagreement, during one of your shows you sing a song you KNOW they don't like you singing. and lets just say you get a... stern talking to.

contents: fem!leadsinger!reader, i don't know how to write smut..., bassist!remus, drummer!james, guitarist!sirius, cussing

a/n: as i've implied previously this is my first attempt at writing smut, so lmk if its good!!

a/n for teaser: i’m genuinely curious if i can write smut because (im a dirty lil virgin) but also i’ve never even tried

YOU KNEW THIS WOULD END BADLY... your boys were going to be pissed at you, but somehow you couldn't find it in your heart to feel guilty or bad. they hurt your feelings, so you'd just hurt them back.

it was certainly not the right way to go through this.

but there was something so thrilling about it, about singing this song. up on stage. with thousands of people to see. and you could bask in the glory of pissing off your boyfriends.

was it really your fault? the feminine urge to sing this song was overwhelming and... let's just say you had totally recorded it behind their backs. when you first showed Remus the lyrics he was skeptical.

"Love, I admire the tempo but don't you think it's a little too dirty for our genre?" You knew he was probably just jealous about you saying those kinds of words for everyone in the world to hear.

James was next, and James could be blunt.

"I adore the intro, sweetheart. but I don't like you talking that way unless its with us." you remember him shrugging.

Sirius, ohh god, Sirius.

"No."

"Why-"

"I'm not letting you play that at a show.

bingo, they were jealous of the lyrics they were hearing.

so when you had that argument, you knew this was the perfect way at getting them back.

the show started out as usual, playing the normal set. but not making eye contact with your boys.

you set up a track before you went on.

"You guys can leave the stage now." you looked up at James.

"Aren't you going to leave aswell? your body needs rest-"

"I'm fine, I had coffee." You snarked, stepping back onstage. the crowd cheering for your return.

"Alllright... this last song- honestly isn't pg at all and i'm probably going to get murdered for this but-"

the track starts, the boys can hear it from backstage. Sirius is pissed, sexually.

"sleezin' and teasin', i'm sittin' on him-"

"all of my diamonds are drippin' on him."

"i met him at the bar- it was 12 or somethin'"

"i ordered two more wines cause tonight i want em'"

"that bitch-" Sirius slurs.

"a little context- if you care to listen."

"just a heartbroke-bitch, high-heels six-inch."

"in the back of the nightclub, sippin' champagne."

you had done it, sang the whole song with the audience going absolutely insane. and your boyfriends were pissed to say the least.

after you had finished, you wandered off stage when you got lectured.

(full version is coming (unfortunately) soon)

#calliopesdiary #marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #fanfiction #poly!marauders x reader #minors dni #smut #marauders smut

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wintrwinchestr · 9 hours

Text

obedience part 2

summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 5.7k

a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)

(read part 1 here if you missed it)

dividers by @saradika

“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot.

The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.

You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night.

Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.

–

The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.

When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.

You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.

“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.

–

A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.

You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.

Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?

And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.

“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.

“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest.

Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”

You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.

“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.

You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.

A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him.

“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”

You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”

You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.

“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”

You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.

He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”

You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal.

“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”

It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.

“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”

And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.

Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.

“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.

Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.

“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs.

Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.

“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.

“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.

“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”

Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.

“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”

You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.

“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”

“No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him.

“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.

“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock.

On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.

He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”

“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.

He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.

“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.

You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.

“Speak,” he spits again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.

“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?”

You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.

Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat.

He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.

“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”

You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.

He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.

“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”

Fuck.

The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.

Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.

“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.

You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.

“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment.

“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”

You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”

“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”

He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.

“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”

The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.

“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”

You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy.

Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.

“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.

You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.

“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.

It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.

“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.

“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.

“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”

You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.

When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer.

He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.

You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.

When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.

“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.

You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.

“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.

He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”

“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.

“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.

“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.

Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”

You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”

“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.

You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”

He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”

Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought.

“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”

You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.

He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it.

Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.

tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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comradekatara · 2 days

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fact is, in a version of the post-war world of atla that's actually more congruent with the themes already established therein, would republic city even exist, and if so, how would it work, how would it be governed, and what would the gaang think of it (if they're involved in it)? i'm thinking that, as with anything like this, it's gonna be messy and complicated

i mean….. this is a big ask (which is why i’ve been putting off answering it, but i guess i’m already on a roll). the thing is, i actually like republic city as a setting. i think writers with a better understanding of politics (just generally. like literally i don’t even believe they’ve ever read a book. collectively. zero books) would have been able to construct a genuinely complex and interesting setting that functions as a critique of the powers and violence at play in maintaining its illusion of liberal democratic international progressivism and the capitalist and colonial systems undergirding it. i mean, all the pieces are already in place: hiroshi sato on one side of the coin, mako and bolin on the other. they just clearly didn’t know how to employ these critiques with the elements they already had, because they’re um. how do i say this nicely. fucking stoopid.

i think the existence of republic city in the first place is more controversial, however, because it’s obviously quite a cynical vision for postwar reconstruction. arguably zuko becoming firelord already belies that the radial anti-imperialist vision for a better future is not in the cards, but they could’ve actually done something with that. lok could’ve been a critique of that kind of cynical liberal complacency that happens after the revolution and former revolutionaries are put into power and begin replicating the systems they had initially resisted against (tbh i maintain that this would never actually happen to katara but like….maybe i’m biased lol). it would be tragic of course, but it would also be compelling and realistic in its own right.

lok could’ve also been a critique of obama-era neoliberal identity politics, the way democrats basically gave up on critiquing these institutions the second they felt that someone sufficiently “good” was in power, the way a shiny veneer does not justify the exploitation necessary to uphold the superficially appealing system. but instead it wholeheartedly played into that centrist ideal in ridiculous and embarrassing ways.

this quote from the rise of kyoshi has always read to me like fc yee making that same critique of lok that i fundamentally have:

“Out there is an entire nation crammed full of corrupt, incompetent people who will try to use the Avatar for their own purposes. Buffoons who call themselves ‘sages’ when all it takes in the Earth Kingdom is having the right connections and paying enough gold to plaster such a title on your brow […] You’d end up a living party trick, a bender who can shoot water and breathe fire and spit useless advice, a girl who paints the walls a pretty color while the house rots at its foundations.”

in the yangchen novels, the white lotus is also framed very uncharitably, so i have no doubt in my mind that yee similarly understands the harmful role they play in korra’s narrative, is implicating the “sages” trying to use the avatar for their own purposes “while the house rots at its foundations.” in fact, jianzhu (and to a lesser extent, the rest of kuruk’s team) do embody the tragedy of heroic figures working for a vision of global harmony who grow cynical as they age and begin to occupy more typical positions of power. obviously kuruk was never a revolutionary and jianzhu probably always sucked, but it’s still a way of exploring that idea in a way that feels realistic and critical of the institutions and systems being employed, never once undermining the tragedy of that through arguing that their liberal cynicism is “good, actually.”

if we wanted to be more idealistic about republic city, there are many routes one could go down that aren’t simply a complacent uncritical portrait of a neocolonial cesspit of capitalist exploitation, or a ruthless criticism of the cynicism of former revolutionaries who become liberals (or worse) upon assuming power. it could be a conflict handled internally, instead of the pet project between the avatar and the firelord. it could still be earth kingdom land that happens to have a strong international makeup due its location and former history of occupation. it could exist as it does but established to be something katara (at the very least, dear god) was always vocally critical of. as long as it functions in a way that centers the myriad of issues the show actually does present (without ever fully acknowledging let alone complicating), i don’t mind its existence as a setting, even if it is quite cynical.

obviously they’d still need to address the latent issues of class and colonial power imbalances (mako and bolin are literally mixed race orphans who grew up in poverty ITS ALL RIGHT FUCKING THERE!!!!!!!) and the notion that the police force would be controlled by earthbenders and not firebenders is….silly, but i do think that a republic city that ostensibly belongs to the earth kingdom but is also pretty clearly advantaging people of inherited fire nation wealth, that critiques the neoliberal paradigm exploiting, for example, our favorite bending brothers, could function far better as the central setting through which to critique the exploitation and denial of agency through unjust hierarchies of power and control (both on small and large scales) that would, ideally, serve as the central theme of korra’s arc in a far more focused and coherent way.

#10000dandelions #asks #analysis #lok crit #like I’m not even saying I’d radically change the show I’m just saying that the already implicit facets of the narrative #should be teased out in a more realistic and coherent (and marxist) way :)

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kyngsnake · 2 days

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More on Fallout tv thoughts, my husband and I had a discussion while we were watching the show about the new lore they implemented with ghouls & the implications therein. Talking about ableism, negligent writing choices etc

Imo, switching the process of ghoulification from a possibility to an inevitability and making it so ghouls have no choice but to have a chemical dependency or else they’ll turn feral feels like a very poor allegory for addiction. Remain reliant on x substance or become a subhuman monster is what the new ghoul lore boiled down to. It’s not a pretty look. I’m honestly very surprised I haven’t seen more people talking about it— it felt like such a glaring issue to me.

My understanding of ghoulification, as somebody who’s played every game from 1 through 76, was that it’s effectively determined by genetics. Contingent on whether a person does or does not possess a certain gene, when someone contracts radiation poisoning and does not treat it soon enough, they either die or their body rapidly mutates to metabolize radiation— they ghoulify. It’s not something a person can opt into, it’s not something you can reliably force upon a person. Any ghoul hypothetically could go feral but it’s never a guarantee, more importantly it wasn’t some inevitability any given ghoul could only hope to stave off.

In a lot of ways I’ve always understood ghouls to be allegorical for disabled folks, thus the whole “all ghouls will inevitably become monsters if they’re not taking x substance” thing looks even worse. It’s just frustrating. It feels like the Fallout tv show threw an ableism brick through a window and everybody up and went “Hey, that brick is a pretty cool piece of home decor!”

The writers drawing a direct connection between the often shunned fictional race and addiction looks to me like lazy writing and negligence.

If any of my ghoul lore here is missing bits and pieces bear in mind I know ghouls have a lot of compiled lore throughout the games and I am paraphrasing in some places.

#putting these under read more breaks if you’re not interested in me being critical of the show #that’s it that’s all the big thoughts I wanted to get out there #I know I’m being a little heavy handed here but like. idk. I felt like it was a pretty big issue #it makes me feel crazy I haven’t seen anyone else talk about it #fallout tv spoilers

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trappedinafantasy37 · 15 hours

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Let me tell you about my first time meeting Minthara and locking myself into the grove raid

I was having a chat with someone in the comments of my fanfic where I had told them I locked myself into the grove raid on my first run. They got really curious as to how I managed that. But, my response got a bit too long, so I figured I’d kinda do a bit of a writeup and reminisce about my first time playing Baldurs Gate 3 all the way back on Christmas Day and how I raided the grove with Minthara.

And oooo boi, where do I begin! Just a massive string of first time player who doesn’t know how to look, how to listen, or how to read. To start, never found Wyll in the grove (and when I eventually did he was big mad). I have no idea how I missed him. For some reason, my dumb ass also didn’t explore north of Blighted Village. So, I never found Karlach (and when I eventually did she was big mad). I went down to the swamp and Ethel just humiliated me, so I decided to go back until I was level 5 cause she was level 5. I never found Wood Woad so I never learned of the Shadow Druid stuff. I also never found the Underdark or Grymforge until exploring the goblin camp AFTER the raid so the only thing left for me to do was the grove.

Kagha wouldn’t talk to me cause she wanted me to go to Zevlor. I don’t know how I did it, but Zevlor wanted me to kill Kagha and just refused to talk to me when I said I wasn’t gonna kill Kagha. I also never found Mol so never got the quest to steal the idol.

So, all that was left was the goblin camp. Went downstairs to find the bear in the cage, I kinda figured it was Halsin. But, I think I picked the wrong dialogue options with the goblin kids and pissed off the bear. Long story short, bear got dead. All that was left was talking with Minthara and man she scared the absolute fucking shit outta me! When she told me to tell her where the grove was, I was literally too scared to tell her no and gave her the location. Don’t know bout you, but powerful and scary women can convince me to do just about anything! I felt awful, but it felt like it was the only way to progress the grove conflict.

Then I started the raid and saw that I still had the option to turn against her. I was so excited and thought “Yay! I can still save them AND I’ll have an army of tiefling and druids.” WRONG! I had 3 tieflings and only 1 was actually worth a damn and the druids slept through their big day. Minthara swept the floor with my ass, again, and again, and again. I tried that fight for 3 hours and Minthara won the fight every time. Mind you, I was severely under leveled and was doing the raid at level 3.

I may have found Withers, but didn’t know about respecing so Shadowheart was still in her default class of Trickery Domain (WHICH IS GARBAGE), Astarion who was an Arcane Trickster (WHICH IS GARBAGE), and Bae’zel who carried our asses as best as she could. And then there was me, a Rogue Assassin who loses her biggest advantage after round 1.

In typical drow fashion, she quite literally beat me into submission and I just said, “fuck it, I’mma join her.” Easiest fight in the game, didn’t break a sweat. When I talked to her in the inner sanctum, I genuinely felt nauseous to my stomach, but I decided I wasn’t gonna reload and was live with my choices, even if they’re stupid. I told Minthara that what we did was murder and we deserve to hang for it. Then she said “Look at me” and I was hooked. She has had me in her clutches ever since.

I did the goblin party and her and I went to the chapel. I figured I was gonna get a fade to black kinda sex scene. WRONG! It has got to be the most graphic and explicit sex scene I’ve seen in a game second to Cyberpunk. I was literally in shock the whole time. And then, afterwards, I cuddled with her and she wanted to talk about my feelings and I'm all "O.o, you're supposed to be evil?" The game may have been painting her as an evil character, but that moment showed that there was so much depth to her than just being an evil character. A moment most players will never see cause most don't raid the grove. I truly wasn’t expecting to see her again in Moonrise. And when I did, I knew I had to get her outta there no matter what.

Looking back on it now, it’s interesting for me to see how many things had to go wrong in order for me to end up raiding the grove. If I had found Karlach first, it wouldn’t have happened. If I found the Underdark/Grymforge first and leveled up a bit, wouldn’t have happened. If I freed Halsin, I probably would have killed the goblin leaders (including Minthara cause I did not know about the knock out method on my first play through) and the raid wouldn’t have happened. Hell, if I had thought to lower the difficulty to Explorer it wouldn’t have happened! But I didn’t get that big brain idea until the fight with Nere, well after the grove raid.

Minthara left such a massive impression on me because I did raid the grove. It really does make me think of her line “I would have just been another casualty in your crusade against the Absolute and no one would remember me.” If I did things right, that’s exactly who she would have been and probably would have been dead in most of my playthroughs. But, instead, I fucked everything up and she most certainly wasn’t a casualty and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget her. When meeting her in the goblin camp, never could I have imagined relating so much to a character. Out of all the companions, I relate to Minthara the most and Karlach comes a close second.

I don’t always raid the grove, but I will never kill her under any circumstance. Her and Shadowheart are the only two companions who have survived every playthough I’ve done and will survive every future runs cause I just cannot play this game without them. And it’s all because I was a chronic dumbass and raided the grove.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #minthara #minthara baenre #nightwarden minthara baenre #shadowheart #karlach #karlach cliffgate #astarion #laezel #wyll #wyll ravengard #team raid the grove #seriously why didnt the druids help its their grove #accidentally evil #life is more fun when youre a chronic dumbass

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sseomtada · 1 day

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being [ruben dias]

so, how are you and ruben doing after everything?

warnings: 18+ | wc: 5152 | part: 8/8

a/n: literally didn't expect to write anything this year much less finish a fic?? if you read this entire thing tysm 💌

Some time had passed since that night at your place.

Even though it was an ordeal that could’ve upended everything for you, the effect it had was starkly the opposite. Sure, there were days where your chest ached and your mind got stormy. They were becoming less frequent though.

Your anger had managed to boil down to a simmer, but you still weren’t ready to have that conversation with your mom yet. After everything you’d been through, you just wanted to lean into all of the fullness that your current life had to offer.

Work had become something of a mad house again. Deals with brands like Carhartt and YSL Beauty, along with the continuing project of managing Erling’s personal branding kept the three of you on your toes.

That didn’t stop the conference room from turning into the occasional tribunal about your personal lives. You gave Cindy the rundown on your relationship with Ruben. How you’d known each other for ages, dated for a while, broke up for complicated reasons beyond your control and eventually found your way back to one another.

That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard! She cooed with clasped hands.

Aki gagged dramatically.

Her and Ruben’s friendship had began to mend. They spoke not long after she found out the truth. She expressed the same things that you did - what he was forced to do wasn’t fair. Aki also didn’t blame him for making her collateral damage. There wasn’t a world where they could’ve continued being friends after the fallout and she knew there also wasn’t one where he would’ve made her carry the burden with him.

When she tried to play it cool at the suggestion that you should all get together at your place, you hid your wide, knowing smile. You knew she missed having him around. Their bond was something she hadn’t found in anyone else during those years apart.

If you guys don’t hug it out, I’ll wrap you in the same blanket. You threatened as they stood awkwardly in each other’s presence.

Like two siblings who were forced to reconcile by their parent after a fight, they shuffled closer until they exchanged stiff pats on the back. You sneakily recorded the moment - or so you thought.

Hey, I see you! Get back here! Aki yelled as she chased after you.

Escaping the clutches of one was easier than evading the duo that boxed you in, ganging up on you like old times. She scooped you up from your arms while Ruben got your legs. You struggled but eventually conceded, letting your body turn into dead weight in their hold before you were tossed onto your sofa and pummeled with cushions.

Aki took a picture of your disheveled form, hair sticking up in several directions. Sweet revenge.

Ruben smoothed out the wild strands and peppered your face with kisses. His head was the next to fall victim to a flying pillow. He gasped with wide eyes at Aki who shrugged, do that on your own time. You chuckled and returned his gesture.

It was one of the best nights you had in a long time.

You and Ruben also finally got around to doing things like going out on dates in public. He started off by showing you his favorite spot to go when he wanted to clear his mind. The weather had warmed up, making a walk along some trails at the reservoir a comfortable excursion. He brought you an ice cream cone from one of the trucks at the car park, indulging in some as you took in nature.

Ever the romantic, he brought along a blanket and some snacks. You fought against the urge to feed the cute little birds that flitted about while he asked how far you’d made it down your travel bucket list.

I finished it last summer, you grinned.

When you first wrote it, there were only a handful of cities. At that point in your life you never could’ve imagined that you would be able to visit all of the destinations you dreamed of. So, you settled with aiming for only a few.

Let’s make a new one, he pulled out his phone.

You reclined on his chest as you told him anything that came to mind, even the most random choices that left him confused. In the calmness and serenity of your surroundings, you were lulled into a nap beneath his soothing strokes of your waist. When you got home that night, he sent you a screenshot of a booking confirmation to the first new destination.

The following date night found you getting all dressed up for a fancy dinner. As much as you liked staying in and being cozy with Ruben, you also thoroughly enjoyed the princess treatment. He never let you touch a door handle and made sure to pull out your seat for you.

Ruben gazed at you over the dimly lit table in a way that made you wonder if he was hungry for the food or something else. When he told you that you looked ravishing, your silent question was answered. Though he was visibly eager to get you out of your dress, he practiced patience.

To opt for a distraction, you decided to play a game with the other couples around you. Guess their jobs, how long they’d been together and if they actually get on well.

I would hate to be in the room when that guy finds out she’s only using him for an expensive meal, you whispered.

How do you know? Ruben’s mouth dropped.

She’s been texting this entire time under the table, you nudged your head towards the faint glow behind the linen.

Not everyone there was playing pretend. Beside you two being evidence of that, there was another couple on the other side of the room that were so obviously in love, it made your lips tug. Your eyes widened, shoes tapping Ruben’s as you saw the guy sneak a box out of his pocket.

They didn’t make a scene, her yes coming quietly with a series of excited nods before he slipped the ring onto her finger. When your bill came, Ruben asked for theirs as well. On the receipt, you both congratulated them on their engagement and wished them endless years of happiness.

In a way, you felt like you were writing that note as if it were a wish for your future. You and him had went through enough bumps in the road and derailments to last a lifetime. The only thing you wanted to experience now were moments like this - his hand enclosing yours, smiling lips dropping to your bare shoulder and you holding his head there for just one second longer.

You woke up before your alarm, but didn’t feel exhausted.

A consecutive week of good sleep had been bestowed upon you. Whether it was due to having days that left you fulfilled or nights mostly spent cuddled up to Ruben, you’d take it. Last night was one of the few occasions you’d slept alone. He was off again on football duties, but stayed with you on video call up until it was time for lights out.

You took the opportunity the extra time gave to take a long shower and put on that sapphire two piece you had as an option for Erling’s launch party. It looked even better on you today. A slight tan had returned to your skin from basking in a rare sunny day on your boyfriend’s balcony.

The outfit helped you feel like the head of a company, which was what you needed going in to today. Things were doing well enough that you were finally in the position to expand. Cindy had shortlisted some candidates for receptionist and senior developer positions. Naturally, their finals rounds would be held by you.

You made a stop at your favorite cafe on the same street as your office. Along with putting in an order for you and the crew’s regular coffees, you got a box of assorted pastries with varying options in consideration of dietary restrictions - should the prospective hires want a treat as well.

That’s definitely her. MCFCWAGS just posted a picture on their story yesterday.

Your ears caught onto a whisper coming from the table by the window. As tempting as it was to fully turn around, you instead found a reflective surface in the form of an espresso machine to spot a group of teenagers.

She’s prettier in person, how annoying.

That made you squint, unsure of how to feel. Was that a compliment or the backhanded counterpart of one? It was so hard to tell with the unironic/ironic sense of humor Generation Alpha had.

I like that she’s not some thirsty influencer trying to get more followers by being with Ruben.

True…

Someone said they actually grew up together so-

Your order was called, snapping you out of your eavesdropping spell - which perhaps was for the best. There was a simple reason you stayed away from blogs and pages about player’s personal lives: ignorance was bliss.

On your way out, you kept your eyes ahead despite seeing their gazes follow you in your periphery. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding once you were in the clear. Thank goodness they’d spotted you today and not that time you couldn’t be bothered to change out of your pajama bottoms.

“I would kiss you, but unfortunately I know where that mouth’s been.” Aki plucked her iced americano from the cup holder.

“Poetic as always.” You shook your head.

“Cheers, love!” Cindy beamed. “I’ve organized the CVs and notes from my previous interviews in the meeting room for you.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” You groaned appreciatively. “Wish me luck.”

Not long after you’d gotten through browsing the information laid out and finishing your drink, you began your rounds of interviews. The pressure was off on your end since they wouldn’t have made it here if they didn’t meet all the necessary criteria.

All you were interested in was hearing about them. How they preferred to work, any goals they had set professionally or personally and how working at Bana could help in achieving them. Also, any unique qualities, hobbies or experiences, no matter how irrelevant they sounded to the position. You wanted to surround yourself with people that you could learn from, no matter their background.

The good news was that the interviews flew by and went well. That unfortunately was also the bad news. It made an already difficult decision of having to choose only one of them per role even harder. You roped Aki in for objectivity since she didn’t have bias formed on a face to face basis.

By the time you’d came to a consensus, working hours had wrapped up. There was no need to go overtime. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to overachieve and push your projects ahead of schedule. Everything was moving right on track and that was enough. You were learning to be satisfied with that.

“Did you get Ruben’s message?” You asked Aki in the lift back up to your floor.

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes and when she caught you waiting for the response to your unasked follow up, she plastered on a smile. “And yes, I’ll be there.”

One of the few things you had yet to do as his girlfriend was go to see him play in person. It wasn’t as if you were actively avoiding doing so, at least not in your eyes. You were just waiting to feel comfortable enough to step into a space where you’d only be seen as Ruben Dias’ WAG.

The reason behind why that made you feel a bit of pressure was still unclear, but you didn’t want to delay things any longer. Besides, Erling was pestering you about not taking up his offer from ages ago to give the Etihad a visit. You were approaching the upcoming debut of sorts with a two birds, one stone mentality.

When the weekend rolled around, you found yourself pulling on one of Ruben’s jerseys. A myriad of emotions spun through your mind. One part of you was blushing and giddy, pride swelling at having his name stretched across your back. The other made fun of you for being so cheesy, it sounded like your own mini subconscious Aki.

Hurry up, I need over-buttered popcorn stat.

You laughed at the text sent by your best friend and then clutched your growling stomach. That did sound like it would hit the spot in your intense ovulation cravings. Your purse was quickly stuffed with its essentials before you dashed down to the garage to meet her.

As tempting as it was to poke fun at her wearing a sky blue jersey of her own, although not sporting a name on the back, you kept it inside. She might’ve been the master at heckling, but couldn’t take a jab when she was expressing a bit of vulnerability in her own way.

Cindy was bouncing excitedly when Aki pulled up to load her into the car. She mentioned that she was in fact seeing John and that they were taking things slow. It was her first time attending a game as well, which also added to your reasons for finally mustering up the courage.

Settling into the stadium was a breeze. If there was one thing you wouldn’t complain about that your girlfriend status brought you, it was gonna be the VIP treatment. Aki finally got her popcorn (which you raided), Cindy was joining in with the crowd’s chants and you were busy keeping your eyes peeled for Ruben.

They spotted him as he emerged from the tunnel for team warmups. You blamed your upcoming period for the wetness gathering in your tear ducts. It was just such a full circle moment to be here, seeing him do the thing he’d always wanted to. You cursed yourself for letting your mind overthink and keep you away for so long.

Ruben was completely focused on hyping himself and his teammates up. To be honest, you were getting kind of jealous. Did he forget that you were coming today? Why were they getting all of his attention? You flinched as a stray kernel landed on your forehead.

“No long faces!” Aki did a gesture that told you to smile.

Luckily, you didn’t have to force one on her account. It seemed like her playing it cool act was out of the window then. She was very superstitious when it came to matches. No one was allowed to be negative - not even badmouthing the opponents, should karma be swift - until the final whistle blew.

Your smile turned into a full on beam once warmups were done and Ruben found you. He waved happily, blowing you a kiss to add to the collection in your pocket. It put you at ease enough to recline in your seat until the team came back out for the match start.

Ruben looked…so fucking good. Your gaze found itself falling into his strong arms and back, that jersey of his really doing him every favor possible in emphasizing his best features. Then there were those long, lean legs of his. And his firm ass -

Another popcorn kernel, judgmental glare on the other side of it. “Don’t make that face either.”

You untucked your bottom lip from your teeth and pulled at the neck of your shirt as you mentally smacked yourself. Trying to not fall into some jazzy background music, heavy sigh sound effect riddled daydream about Ruben was easier said than done.

Football was a fun sport, but it was personally not the most entertaining. You were only invested where he was involved. As long as he played to his standard, stayed healthy and won, you were a happy camper. When things didn’t go so well, you were there to be his shoulder to lean on.

Thankfully, the current match seemed to be going in City’s favor. The ball stayed mostly in the opposition’s half, but on the odd chance that it wandered to the home team’s back line, Ruben or John were there to snuff out any threat. Your mini erotic fantasies nearly returned when he made a clean sliding tackle. How did he manage to move so gracefully while literally throwing his body to the floor?

You shook your head to snap out of it just as the final whistle blew. Cindy and Aki stood to their feet, their arms pulling you into a hug that ended in your small huddle jumping together. It was refreshing to be with the girls outside of the office, and you had a sneaking suspicion that match days would be a regular for you three moving forward.

“We’re gonna grab some pints at a nearby pub, you in?” Aki did a shimmy.

“I have plans.” Your face scrunched, response earning you a round of boo’s. “I’ll be there next time and I’ll even pick up the tab for missing out tonight!”

“No taking that back, you know?” Cindy pointed.

You swore you would do no such thing before sending them on their merry way. They skipped happily, probably already contemplating how much damage they were going to do to your poor debit card.

Ruben texted you instructions on how to get to the player’s car park. The pass you had around your neck allowed you to navigate without being stopped or questioned. You were pretty sure that security knew what the player’s partners looked like though. Or rather, you were certain Ruben had shown them a photo of you at least. There were a few extra warm smiles aimed at you as you made your way around back.

“Perfect timing.” Ruben’s voice sounded from behind.

You spun around to see him closing the gap between you two. His arms circled your body as your chin tilted upwards, lips pursing in search for his own. He chuckled and met your request with a firm peck.

“I understand why you have so many obsessed fans now.” You sighed.

“Stop!” Ruben gasped, taking your hand in his.

“Okay, but seriously.” You laced your fingers together. “Watching you play was mesmerizing, awe inspiring, everything of the sort. I’ve never been prouder.”

Reducing him to blushing was one of your favorite things to do, especially because it was so hard to achieve. He was normally the one dealing out the sweet words that had you mentally kicking your feet. This time around though, you promised yourself that you’d return the favor of much as possible.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Ruben kissed your forehead and then your lips again.

You sank into the passenger seat after he opened the door for you to slide in. He ran around to his side and started up the car to get your seat warmer on. The nights were still a bit unforgiving despite the days not being too miserable anymore.

Ruben’s eyes kept darting to your torso. You thought that you were maybe painting him with your own brush when you caught him the first few times, but when his tongue darted to the corner of his lips, you were validated. He was definitely playing his own version of a sensual montage in his head.

“Careful, you might start drooling.” You warned playfully.

His deep laugh slipped out. “I can’t help it! You look so good in that.”

“Do I?” You bit your finger. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to cook breakfast in nothing but your jersey…”

That made him pick up the pace. A drive that already wasn’t too lengthy, the stadium visible from his balcony and all, went by even quicker than usual with your tempting words replaying in a loop in his mind.

Your lips were claimed by Ruben as soon as you both crossed his threshold. It was a desperate and dizzying kiss that spelled out the need to show you everything he’d imagined doing to you earlier. The same energy was returned, if not more so, from your end. You cupped the back of his head, tongue grinding against his urgently.

“I wanna ask you something.” He rasped after you pulled back.

“Ask later,” Your head shook as you dropped to your knees and tugged at his joggers. “This first…”

Any protest he might’ve had subsided rather easily with your hand wrapped around his cock. Ruben groaned, brows pinching at the sight of you knelt before him. You opened your mouth wide and took him as deeply as you could without pause.

That was the kind of mood you were in tonight. All you wanted to do was taste him, take him, make him feel so good that he begged you to stop - or not. Ruben saw it in your eyes that looked up innocently. A startling contrast to the lewd noises his length made while prodding into your throat.

You came up gasping for air. It was a rather quick intermission, your lips skimming along the side of his dick while your jerked him off slightly. You kissed his leaking tip and then you were sucking him off to the point of gagging once again.

“Fuck you’re so pretty like that, baby.” He ran his fingers through your hair. “Can you handle some more?”

You nodded rapidly, begging for him to use your mouth the way you knew he was hoping to from the moment you fell to your knees. Ruben’s palm rested flat against the back of your head before he pushed it forward slowly.

He had you locked in place, there was no way for you to retreat without him releasing you first. You hummed around his cock, relaxing your throat for him. Ruben bared his teeth as he moved his hips back and forth.

Hot tears ran down your cheeks while he fucked your face. You held out for as long as you could, fingernails biting into your palms to help your focus. If he wanted to see who would break first, you were hellbent on making it a very tortuous experience for him.

Your tongue flattened even more, spreading along the back of his cock and sliding side to side across the large vein. Just as you began to curl it slightly, Ruben yanked you off of him and back to your feet.

“Trying to make me cum?” He murmured.

“That’s typically the point of giving head, Gato.” You taunted.

It was a ploy to continue receiving this same version of your boyfriend. He could save the loving and romantic side of himself for the inevitable second round. Right now, you just wanted to be used by him until you were aching.

Ruben spun you around and bent you over the kitchen counter. You bit your lips as he made quick work of getting rid of your trousers and panties, arching your back so that he could see your soaking cunt.

“You’re lucky I need you so bad right now.” Ruben leaned over your body, nibbling your ear.

One of his hands slipped between your thighs to rub your clit in painfully languid circles. You pressed against him with a drawn out moan, eyes fluttering shut. Your hips had barely picked up the rhythm of his fingers before he pulled them away.

“Ru-“

The rest of his name was cut off by a sharp inhale. He had thrusted fully into you, quickly and powerfully. Your walls trembled with the shock and only began to relax when he slowly started to rock his hips into yours.

Your hands searched blindly for something, anything to grip onto while your pussy got the same treatment that your mouth did earlier. They settled for the other edge of the counter, arms stretched above your head. Ruben found a steady pace with ease, going so deep every time he bottomed out that he had you on your tippy toes.

“Where you going, hm?” He circled your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Something between a laugh and a mewl left your mouth, “Fuck you.”

How was it that every time you made a plan to overwhelm him, it always backfired? Okay, it was definitely your fault that things didn’t play out the way you hoped on this occasion. You shouldn’t have riled him up, much less when he still had residual adrenaline pumping from his match.

You certainly weren’t complaining, though. Ruben had you a shaking mess in his hold in no time. You let your cries out, some floating into the air and the rest of them swallowed by him. Your legs turned to jello and were all but useless until you felt a hand come down hard on your ass.

“Shit!” You whimpered.

“Keep these open nice and wide for me.” Ruben chuckled.

He actually didn’t leave you much of a choice. One of your legs was lifted, bent knee propping up onto the counter. You muttered something about him just taking the piss at that point, your head dropping back to rest on his shoulder.

It felt like he was everywhere all at once. A hand toying with one of your swollen nipples, the other swiping some of your slick from your soaking core before two fingers dipped into your mouth. All while he fucked your cum back into you until his own was released, so much that you felt a hot trail run down your inner thigh.

Before even more mess was made in his kitchen, you both scurried over to the bathroom for a quick shower. He sat on the bench while you perched on his lap to wash his hair. Once you were done, you closed your eyes to let him do the same.

“That mouth of yours is…” Ruben shook his head.

“Hmm, let me guess.” You snuggled into the pillow. “It’s your favorite?”

His teeth softly sank into the back of your thigh and you yelped. The sweet version of him was back. He was so concerned that he was a bit too rough earlier. It lead him to kiss up your legs and back as you lied on your stomach.

“And people think I’m the cocky one.” Ruben nuzzled his face in your neck.

You couldn’t help breaking out into laughter. Not because his words were that hilarious, but because his beard was making the gesture tickle. You wiggled around to face him and cupped his cheeks.

God, he was so beautiful. Your fingers connected random lines between his freckles, ran down the length of his nose and traced the shape of his mouth. You’d never get tired of him watching as you marveled in his features.

“Oh!” You gasped. “What did you want to ask me earlier?”

Ruben peeled himself from your hold and disappeared out into the main living area. You sat up, bunching the sheets around your naked body in an attempt to replicate the warmth you’d just lost.

“Close your eyes.” He poked his head back into the room.

Unlike seemingly a lot of people, you loved surprises. There was just something so sweet about someone wanting to do an act or provide a gift, no matter how big or small, that would make their loved one happy.

You did as you were told and let your other senses take over. Ruben’s footsteps came closer until they seized, the bed sinking under his weight again. He took one of your hands in his, quickly placed a slightly sticky object into your palm and wrapped your fingers around it to form a fist.

“Okay, you can open them.” He whispered.

Your left eyelid lifted slowly and then your right. The hand resting in his own remained folded, shaking. It was obviously what your mind deduced it be to based on the size and feel, but seeing it was going to leave you even more wordless than you already were.

You let your fingers spread to reveal a ring.

Not just any engagement piece that was trending or gaudy, but one that held special meaning. You were taken back to the moment you were making vision boards with him on New Year’s in 2017. The company logo you wanted to intern with, pictures of southern Italy and your dream designer shoes made the cut.

What interested Ruben the most was the image of a ring. It wasn’t the most extravagant thing in the world, just a simple but elegant cut of your birthstone surrounded by tiny diamonds. You remembered blushing furiously, making light of its presence on your vision board by saying a girl can dream…

The exact ring was now sitting in the palm of your hand seven years later. It made you wonder if he had it this entire time, if he had gotten it shortly after that day and was waiting for the right moment that year to propose.

“I’ve never pictured my life with anyone but you. At each turn, in every corner of my mind and my heart, I always find you, Y/N.” Ruben stroked your wrist. “This might be sudden, but I just had to ask since I’ve been meaning to for so long.”

He confirmed what you were thinking, making your eyes weld with tears. On top of everything, he carried the additional burden and pain of being robbed of the chance to do this back then.

“What are you waiting for then?” You sniffed. “Ask me.”

Ruben took the ring and held it up, “Will you let me call you mine, forever?”

A laugh broke through your tears. You stuck your left hand out, wiggling your fingers in anticipation. It didn’t shock you that the ring fit perfectly given that your size hadn’t changed. Your ring finger moved up and down, testing the weight of its newest addition. It felt good, right. You grinned.

“Is that a yes?” His thumb ran along your knuckles.

“Yes,” You opened your arms. “Come here.”

Ruben pounced on you, kissing you all over. You surrendered to his seemingly never-ending pecks and compliments. You let go of past anger, hurt and miscommunication. Instead, you opened yourself up to make room for everything that was to come.

All of the moments that would make you proud to call Ruben yours. Forever.

#ruben dias x you #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias #being

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sheawritesstuff · 18 hours

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Comforting Relatability

[Gavin x Trans Freelancer]

[Hurt/Comfort - Nonspecific Gender Dysphoria Comfort- 1726 words]

[Freelancer is still gender-neutral but is explicitly trans and experiencing gender dysphoria in some way, I tried to keep it as vague as possible. Gavin is also heavily implied to be trans - There is some brief crying involved, but it's far from a major point - Also sorry this took forever,,, life happened. Surgery, a last-minute understudy play production, and a healthy dose of writer's block kind of piled together at the same time,, oops]

Freelancer dropped their school bag as soon as they entered their apartment and kicked their shoes off. They tugged at their clothes in a desperate struggle to make them sit against their body the right way. Their eyebrows scrunched together as they fought against the fabric. Sensing the tangled ball of discomfort, anger, and anxiety, Gavin wandered from his spot on the couch to the front room.

“Freelancer? Are you alright?” The sound of his voice shook them from their focus. They paused, shirt still stretched away from them, and stared at the incubus at the other end of the hallway. They awkwardly readjusted and hastily smoothed out their clothes.

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Freelancer hunched over and quickly skittered toward the bedroom door, head down. Gavin followed behind them, leaving a bit of space between them. He stood in the doorway and waited for them to search through the closet and find a new set of clothes they felt comfortable in. Once they were dressed, a little tension faded and they visibly relaxed.

Gavin sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for his partner to meet him there. After a moment, they did, still avoiding eye contact. They fidgeted with their sleeves and adjusted the fabric slightly before finally glancing up at him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was soft and careful without a hint of pressure. They sighed quietly before answering.

“I don’t feel good, Gav,” they admitted. “Everything just feels wrong.”

“Bad dysphoria day?” Gavin asked. They nodded in response and leaned forward, practically falling face-first against his shoulder. The incubus shifted to pull them into a sort of side hug with their head nestled in the space where his neck met his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do to help? Anything you need?”

“I just want to sleep. I’m not even, like, physically tired. I just want a break from feeling like shit,” Freelancer groaned against his skin. Gavin brought one hand to the back of their neck and held them close. “I just want to feel better.” Their voice cracked at the end as they struggled to choke back tears. They breathed hard for a minute - deep, shaky breaths as tears welled up in their eyes.

“Oh, baby. It’s ok, I’ve got you. You can cry. You’re safe, it’s ok,” Gavin cooed, running his fingers through their hair. They gripped the blanket beneath them as they forced themself to breath through their sobs. Gavin held them close, never once trying to stop their crying. “Let it all out, Freelancer. There you go, just breathe.”

Eventually, the tears stopped and they pulled their head up enough to wipe their eyes. They pulled away their wettened sleeves and took one last deep breath and sighed. “God, I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” Gavin gently swiped a few stray tears with his thumbs and held their face in his hands.

“You don’t have to apologize, my love. I understand how you feel. I know it hurts and I am so sorry you’re feeling this way. If I knew how to help you I would do it in a heartbeat.” They sat still and silent for a minute before they popped their head up to look at him.

“Wait, can’t you just fix me? Use body modification or whatever?” Freelancer’s face lit up as a faint bubble of hope floated above the ball of other emotions in their chest. Gavin bit the inside of his cheek. He considered the softest way to approach the matter.

“I mean, technically, I could,” Gavin started. Sensing the impending “but”, the freelancer deflated. “But it would only be temporary. More importantly, though, I don’t want you to rely on me for your self-image.” He paused to cup the side of their face in his palm. “Your self-confidence should come from you, as you are, not from how I can change you.”

They sighed and leaned into his touch. They let their eyes flutter closed and considered the other possibilities. Their mind wandered to all the different ways they could change themself to be more comfortable in their skin. Eventually they opened their eyes and peered at their partner. “How did you do it? Figure out what you wanna look like, I mean.”

“From what I’ve read, the process is different for humans than demons, so I make no promises that my information is at all relevant here.” He smiled a little before continuing. “I made my body into a home, a vessel I feel conected to. The process, though, was more trial and error and changing things until I found the traits that made me feel like, well, me.” The demon gently rubbed his thumb across his lover’s cheek. “From what I know, human transitions are slower, more gradual. Maybe you take hormones or get surgery, but you can’t just snap your fingers and look like a whole new person. I could- well, I guess I still can- change my body to meet whatever look I want.” Gavin leaned in and gave them a quick kiss. “You deserve that same freedom, Freelancer, even if your journey is different.”

“Thanks, Gavin,” Freelancer hummed. The roar of dysphoria ebbed to a thunderous rumble as hints of determination peeked through the cracks. They relaxed back into his side, and pulled themself close enough to wrap their arms around his waist. Gavin tangled his hand in their hair and reveled in the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

“Do you want to lay down? Even if you don’t fall asleep the relaxation might help.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” they hummed against his neck. “Can we watch a movie?”

“Of course, my love.” He bent his neck to kiss the top of their head. “Go ahead and pick out something to watch, I’ll grab some snacks. Do you want anything in particular?” Freelancer hopped up to climb onto the bed proper as they thought about the best movie snacks.

“I wanna try those new chips we got, the ones in the green bag.” They settled down on their side of the bed and picked up the remote to click through their options. “Do you wanna watch a new movie or one of our favorites?” Freelancer glanced over at their partner quickly.

“Hmm… I don’t know. Surprise me with something good.” Gavin disappeared to the kitchen and returned about a minute later with a tray piled high with snacks. Brightly colored bowls filled with chips, pretzels, candy, and - most excitingly - popcorn. He also balanced a variety of drinks ranging from water to their favorite sodas. Freelancer stared at the food with wide eyes, shocked at the speed of its acquisition.

“How the hell did you make popcorn that fast?” They asked, dumbstruck, as they paused their search for a movie.

“Well usually, you would guide me through the neverending hellscape that is using the mee-crow-wah-vay. But, for the sake of both time and efficiency, I opted for a more magical approach.” Gavin carefully balanced the tray of food as he climbed into bed and settled in next to his lover, settling the array between them. “But I need to make it clear - this is a special occasion. Next time, the microwavable popcorn will be made the right way.” He giggled and kissed their cheek.

Freelancer roller their eyes and smiled back, turning their head to kiss him properly. Then, they continued their search for the perfect dysphoria-busting movie. Finding one that looked good and seemed to have decent reviews, they clicked it and looked to Gavin for confirmation it was acceptable. He nodded and settled into his spot.

“Wait, hold on,” Freelancer interrupted, tugging on the blanket that covered their lap. “Can you help, I don’t know how to explain it, wrap me up?” They motioned around themself like they were pulling something around their shoulders. “I want to be a warm little human burrito.” Gavin stared at them for a moment in complete awe. Gods, he loved his little weirdo. They pulled one of their blankets up around their shoulders, careful not to disturb the snacks still sitting between them. They looked to him with their best attempt at puppy dog eyes as they struggled to properly burrito-fy themself.

“Of course, my love. Just sit still for a second and I’ll turn you into the cutest burrito this side of the meridian.” Gavin sat up on his knees and leaned over his partner to properly wrap them in a blanket cocoon. He carefully adjusted the fabric around their arms to make them snug but moveable and draped the top of the blanket over their head like a cloak. Once they were situated, he moved several pillows to prop them up in a cozy sitting position against the headboard. “Comfy?”

“Very.” Freelancer smiled contentedly. Gavin could feel the ball of dysphoria dissipating to a subtle drone beneath the new feelings of comfort and hapiness. It was definitely still there, but it was no longer an overwhelming, suffocating presence in his lover’s mind. This shift in their feelings brought the demon a new lightness of his own.

“Gav?” Freelancer spoke quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Gavin smiled and cuddled against their side. “Anything for you, my love.” He propped himself up and kissed their forehead. “You are a beautiful person, inside and out, and I would do anything in my power to help you believe that.” He looked at them and their bundled up form with nothing but absolute adoration in his technically non-existant heart. “I love you, Freelancer.”

“I love you too, Gavin.” They awkwardly tried to pull themself up to close the gap between them and give him a kiss but resigned to simply making kissy faces until he got the hint. Once he pulled away, they turned their attention back to the TV. “Hey, babe? Can you click play for me? I can’t reach the remote…”

Gavin chuckled and did so, starting the movie with one small movement. He resettled into his spot and set the bowl of requested chips in his partner’s lap. He snuggled against Freelancer’s side, arm swung across their waist. Though the movie did not fix the brewing feelings in their chest, it did distract them from its deep echoes for a couple hours. And for now, that was enough.

[Requested Tags: @themeridian @everything-redacted-and-others]

#I completely rewrote this at least 7 times #I'm sorry for just disappearing lmao shit happened #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted gavin #redacted freelancer #redacted fanfic #redacted trans freelancer #redacted trans gavin #shea writes

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buckyownsmylife · 23 hours

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let the games begin - sebastian stan smut

The one where you ask him to explain the pepsi cup scene to you

Warnings: best friends to lovers, best friend!reader, hopelessly in love!Seb, reader has hair long enough for Seb to “play with” but do with that as you wish, innocent!reader, smut.

WC: 1.8k

A/N: this is just a sweet little smutty one-shot of best friend!Seb realizing you feel the same for him. I didn't delve deep into the smut because to be honest, this has been in my WIP list since the movie came out and I just couldn't be bothered to write more than what's here, yet I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

Seb’s P.O.V.

“You ready for this? You know we don’t have to watch it, right?” I tried to convince her one more time, and still, she just rolled her eyes and pulled me to the sofa next to her. Oh, how I loved to feel her smaller frame tightly pressed against mine.

“Don’t be silly, of course I want to watch it. I’ve seen everything you’ve ever done, I can’t let one slightly scarring movie keep me away from this long standing tradition.” It warmed my heart to think that she’d been doing this way before we even met.

I kissed her temple before adjusting so her body would rest against my chest, and settled in for the film. I knew it would be an experience, to say the least, watching this with her, so I tried to prepare myself for anything that could happen.

She could end up traumatized and unable to look me in the eye. At the very least, it would certainly serve as ammunition for her to tease me for years to come, and that was one turn of events I could deal with. The first one was my real concern.

So I settled in to watch the movie, because I figured it would be best to be around than to wait for her reactions afterwards. What if she never wanted to see me again? I knew it was just my anxiety coming up with the worst possibilities, but it still scared the crap out of me.

I couldn’t imagine my life without her anymore. And maybe one day I’d grow the courage to tell her about it, but for now, I was perfectly happy just sitting here with her and offering some support when my character started to freak her out.

“Hey, there you are!” She giggled in excitement, pointing at the TV like I wasn’t watching it with her. It made me chuckle, seeing her act like a little kid when it came to me doing my job. God, she was precious.

“Yeah, there I am,” I agreed, leaning over her to deposit a quick kiss against her temple, but much to my surprise all I got was a nudge and a hush. “Are you shushing me?” She finally unglued her eyes from the television to look at me with disappointment all over her features.

“Seb, I love you, but if you keep interrupting the movie, I’m gonna kick you out and there’s nothing you can do about that.” I wanted to point out that if she did, she’d have to watch it by herself and there was no way she’d be able to sleep, but I didn’t want to risk her fury. So I just sat back and pulled her with me, playing with her hair as I watched the story unfold before my eyes.

For whatever reason, I seemed to forget that I looked a bit… different in my role at some point, and as I gained weight before our eyes, she turned around to look at me with a look I couldn’t figure out. It made me nervous.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I had to ask, but she didn’t immediately answer me. I felt embarrassed, it was almost like she was comparing me to the man on the screen, and I didn’t know which one she preferred.

Could it be that now that she’d seen me like that, she couldn’t unsee it?

“I’ve always thought you looked better when Don wasn’t trying to make you look like some sort of bodybuilder, but this role just confirmed it to me. You’re even sexier with some weight on your body.”

My cheeks burned, and I didn’t know what to say. So I just cuddled her to me once more, focusing on the screen as I tried to work through my emotions - and there were many. Desire, barely concealed lust, something the hardening member inside my jeans wouldn’t let me forget - but also something warm and comfortable, settling deep inside my chest.

I didn’t want to give it a name. So I just pulled her to me yet again, kissed her temple and pretended to go back to watching the movie, while I waited for her attention to be redirected to it once more. When I was sure she wasn’t noticing me anymore, I got back to analyzing her reactions, chuckling under my breath at the way hers hitched at every little thing, and how she squeezed my thigh when she thought something scary would happen.

And then the car scene started. My muscles immediately froze underneath her, having completely forgotten about this particular part of the movie.

“What’s going on?” She asked, first surprised and then confused. “Is everything okay?” I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t even look away from the screen, flinching as it developed right before my eyes. It was like my own self-made train wreck: unavoidable and paralyzing.

“Seb…” She reached out for my hand, asking for my attention, and I licked my lips and took a deep breath before turning to give it to her.

“I don’t get it, what’s going on?” I was about to tell her that I was just embarrassed, but the confusion in her eyes as they darted from the TV to my embarrassed self suddenly made sense to me.

“Wait,” I started, holding her jaw so she’d fix her eyes on mine and forget about the movie for a second. “You don’t understand the scene?” She hesitated for a second before nodding, biting her lower lip in that way she did when she was nervous.

It made the warmth inside my chest expand and take over my entire body, shooting straight to my lower belly, where it began to burn.

Fuck. Who would have thought that she was so innocent?

“Do you want me to tell you?” The question left my lips before I could ponder if my concern came from a valid place - my desire to help her, always.

But maybe things happened for a reason - maybe it was some sort of ungodly gift the idea of watching this movie together, because as I watched her glance over at the screen again and then lay her eyes on me, I saw it with perfect clarity:

She was aroused by it.

“Or would you like me to show you?” Another question that slipped from my lips unintentionally, another sentence I didn’t regret speaking. This… tension, it had always been here, between the both of us. I’d been too much of a coward to act on it before so if the ball was on my court now, it was time to let it roll.

“’Cause I’d be more than happy to.” With my last reassurance, the thread between us broke, and in a second, we were kissing. Who made the first move, I’d never know. All I cared about was her taste, how sweet she was, and the tiny little whimpers I could hear escaping her when I had to pull back to take a breath.

My body still acting of its own accord, I got up from the couch to take my pants off, hand immediately going to my hardness to release some of the frustration she was causing me. Thankfully, she didn’t seem scared - just hungry, looking at me with doe eyes and biting down on her lower lip before I pulled her closer so that her hand rested over mine.

“Fuck…” I whispered against her neck at the first contact of her hand on my naked dick, but for some reason that was all it took for the spell to break.

“Seb, I can’t…” She pulled away from me, chest still heaving from desire, but I felt so damn guilty I couldn’t even feel good about it. “I can’t do this and then pretend that it didn’t happen.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

His face softened up instead of becoming angry, like I expected it would. “Come.” He got up from the couch, offering me his hand, which I took without second-guessing myself.

His eyes told me everything I needed to know.

He took me to his bed, where he kissed me deeply once again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be patient.” How could I say that I’d let him do anything to me?

Within seconds, I was naked. It was unlike any other similar experience I’d ever lived, and the way he stared at me only had me falling deeper into the cloud of comfort that only Seb could provide me.

“Spread your legs for me, honey.” I did so instinctively, also closing my eyes in nervousness at what was happening.

“Keep looking at me,” he asked, and so I reopened my eyes, finding him staring at my most private spot with hunger in his. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

Before I could comprehend what was happening, he’d yanked me to the edge of the bed and proceeded to kneel down before me, lips kissing my inner thighs and navel while I panted softly.

“Fuck, I can’t believe that I get to taste you,” he uttered before his tongue stuck out and he did just that… He tasted me, and nothing had ever felt quite as great as that simple gesture.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” He asked in the midst of attacking my clit with his tongue and lips, the hot muscle swirling over it and making my head spin. “Do you like this?”

“Yes, yes!” I nodded, hand flying down to hold him by the hair and keep him attached to me. “More, I want more.”

“What?” He teased me, the devious thing. “You want what?”

“More,” I insisted, pushing him down so his face would connect with my pussy once more. He didn’t keep up with his pretense and kept on licking me until I saw stars behind my closed eyelids, screaming his name for dear life.

“Kiss me,” I begged breathlessly once I was able to speak again, and he leaned over me to grant me my wish, allowing me to taste myself for the first time in my life.

“You know…” I struggled to find the courage to say what I wanted, but I knew I could trust Sebastian. “When we actually do it, you don’t need to be so gentle…”

He bit my shoulder in response, shaking his head at my antics. I thought I was dreaming, being naked in his bed, having just had the best orgasm of my life.

I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

“I don’t want to go to sleep tonight,” I confessed, watching as the most beautiful smile opened up in my best friend’s face.

“Lucky for you, there are a ton of things we can do to pass the time.”

#my fics #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #smut #rpf #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan reader smut

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ghostybaby000 · 3 days

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He found you. Again. | Part 3

part 1 part 2

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: I suggest going back to part one to really understand this plot! There’s a link above

Warnings: 18+,blood, violence, stabbing, guns, stalker, symptoms of panic

Word count: 1.5k

(Not fully edited, apologies for any incorrect information!)

Although it sounded foolish you had flashbacks to watching your investigative shows. The shows where situations like this happened in almost every episode, and thats what it should be- just an episode on the T.V. not something that you should be enduring why, why did this have to happe-

‘Are you listening to me Y/N? I came this far for you, don’t you see!’ He had stopped pacing, he was now staring you down, when he finally took a second to see what you held.

He let out a small laugh, and then his expression turned to stone.

‘Why do you have that Y/N, you don’t need that-you wouldn’t hurt me. The lamp, I can forgive because maybe you didn’t know it was me but, now you do, you can see it’s me and I…’

His voice trailed off, and all you saw was his anger boiling over when he reached to his side leading his hand to rest on a gun.

‘Drop the wrench Y/N. Drop it NOW and I won’t have to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you y-you just need to see that- so go on and drop the wrench….’

He unholsters the gun, shaking and holding it in his hand to his side. He has tears welting up in his eyes and you decide to try and coarse him, as the panic surges inside you and you aren’t quite sure that you can even move. You think back on the shows where you are meant to play into their mind games, and not fight it as it usually didn’t end well. You slowly lower yourself to the floor, forcing your fingers to each let go of your only weapon as you exercise your acting skills.

‘You’re right. You wouldn’t hurt me, never…Y-You’ve looked out for me for so long an-

‘Don’t be sarcastic with me. It isn’t funny and it doesn’t work-‘ The gun now knocking on his bouncing leg, you can see his white knuckles gripping it tighter now as he stands there waiting for your response shifting his weight.

‘I’m not being sarcastic, I’ve known you for so long and you were there that night at my house-‘ You start to take a small step towards him, when he backs away.

‘Don’t play games with me Y/N- I-I’m not in the mood for you to be messing with me- I’ve finally gotten you here all to myself I don’t want to lose it.’ He’s moving the gun between his hands when he moves towards you, making you step back.

‘You really are afraid…you-you don’t see it…you don’t get why I was at your house’ He begins to be refilled again with anger and he’s speaking so loud now he’s spitting at you.

‘You don’t see the struggles I’ve gone through to get to you, you don’t know the years I spent in training and trying to find you. I just wanted to be with you again why WHY don’t you see that!?’ He stops for a moment now only about a foot away from you, you can smell him- a smell that reeks of sweat and desperation. He moves closer to you, staring into your eyes you look away towards anywhere but him furrowing your brows in fear, wrong move. The cold metal of the gun now pushing your head back up to meet his gaze.

‘I want to have you with me, whenever and wherever.’ He was now staring through your sole, and that’s when you saw him.

In your peripheral vision you saw Ghost, his mask making his identity obvious, a wave of relief waiting now to wash over you. He was inside the door and making his away behind the kitchen, moving the small table out of the way. The same table you now realize would have been in your way had you tried to run for the door. You couldn’t bear to look, knowing that he would probably spin to see what you were looking at and it would only become worse. Ghost disappeared into another portion of the room behind a wall that couldn’t be seen so you made your move.

You tore from his gaze with the gun to your head, looking at where the front door was. He leans in closer to you, the gun still a dangerous distance from your head as he speaks.

‘That means, Y/N- that you aren’t leaving. You can’t, it’s so SO simple how do you not understand this, me, why I’m here now for YOU.’ He grabs you by the throat with his free hand just strong enough so that you could tell he was deciding whether to strangle you or not, until you just about pass out. He forces you upright, moving your face to look at him him as he slightly loosened his grip.

‘Do you understand?’ You nodded your head as vigorously as you can while still being held tightly, tears welting in your eyes. Your hands were wrapped around his now, trying to prevent it from further strangling your neck.

‘Say it, say you understand me.’ His stare piercing through you now.

‘Yes, yes I understand you’ You manage to squeak out, hoping that he doesn’t hurt you and will let you go if you play along.

‘Good.’ His grip loosens as you let out a few coughs to clear your throat. He hesitates before letting you entirely go, and decides to hold your upper arm so you couldn’t flee.

‘Now let’s get to bed- I didn’t want to come this late into the night, but it was the only way I could be sure you were alone. It’s late and you have work tomorrow…go- move…’

You were almost sick then knowing that he had so much information about you, when you had been so careful. You hadn’t seen any sight of Ghost, and thought for a moment that it may have been your imagination trying to tell you that you were saved, still stuck in fight or flight mode you couldn’t muster the urge to speak, and instead mumbled a small ‘Mmhmm’

He walked behind you, not letting go of your arm and leading you to your room, the gun still in his other hand. You try to think about what you can do to get away, maybe once he’s asleep you’ll be able to leave. Maybe you can try to seduce him and then knee him and flee, maybe you had a good enough weapon in the room but when would you find time to get it?

He’s made the way to the door now closed, that leads to your bedroom. He didn’t notice that it wasn’t closed before and decides to reach past you to open it. Your room was already dark, having not turned on any lights you notice the rampage that had torn your room apart. Standing in the door frame you saw the closet was a mess and there were things all over the floor. You crept towards the bed, just getting out of his arms when it all happens. It feels like milliseconds to you, but in real time it lasted a few minutes.

Within a second the attacker had been outmatched. Ghost made his way directly behind him, and was pulling him backwards and down to the floor in a headlock. He had been in many hand-to-hand combats with men his own size or larger and given he usually had a gun, he had to make it more personal this time. The gun shot out making you shriek out and scurry towards the closet, your hearing ringing due to being in such a confined space. The attacker now choking and stammering backwards the gun cast aside to free his other hand, clawing at Ghosts arms to be let go of. There was a struggle you heard as boots stomped in the hall and hands were hitting the walls, groans and other noises flooded your still sensitive and ringing ears.

You could tell it wasn’t an easy fight, not that any ever was between two stronger men of similar height, Ghost being slightly taller and you hoped stronger-you peered out in the hall with baited breath. To your satisfaction, Ghost was now on top of the attacker in the office space down the hall, pummeling him with his gloved hands relentlessly. You made a quick inhale and retreat around the corner you were peering from which was enough to distract him from his beatings and slowly back off the man. You backed away further into the bedroom, watching as Ghost paused to checked the man wasn’t moving and then walked towards you.

You were relieved to have the one attacker off of you, but upon seeing his merciless beating you now also felt nervous to be in his wake. You reach the wall on the other side of your room as he makes his way through the door frame. You started to close your eyes not telling If you were afraid now of him, or of being on the verge of breaking down worse than ever. Within a few seconds he had made his way across the room, his boots giving his location away for being a few feet in front of you.

‘c’mon’ His low accented voice allowed you to exhale.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #call of duty fanart #ghost mw2 #cod fanfic #books #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you

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chicgeekgirl89 · 2 days

Text

Chapter 6 now available on AO3!

He’s going on a date. With Hottie Officer Carlos. Tomorrow. He’s equal parts thrilled and completely freaking out.

They’ve texted daily, mostly inane and sometimes flirty things. T.K. would be lying if he said he wasn’t horny for the guy. Seeing him in uniform, the way his muscles had filled out the sleeves, his thighs…T.K. has woken up more than a few times from dreams where Carlos’ broad hands are caressing their way down his body.

But as he’s told his therapist several times, that is not the point of this date. Carlos seems like a genuinely good guy. The type of guy T.K.’s always hoped to be with, the type of guy he thought Alex was.

Alex. T.K. sighs and wonders how long the specter of his previous boyfriend is going to hang over him. He’d tried to get the guy out of his head when he’d first arrived in Austin. There had been some sex, one-night stands whose names he doesn’t remember, and when that hadn’t worked he’d turned to getting the shit kicked out of him in bars. His dad picking him from jail is not even in the top ten lowest moments of his life, but he still feels kind of shitty about it.

He’s been trying his hardest since then to turn things around. This date with Carlos…it feels like a second chance. A chance to be the kind of guy who deserves someone like Carlos Reyes. And he’s trying really hard not to self sabotage it like he usually does.

Right now he’s having kind of a hard time telling the little voice in his head that reminds he’s not good enough to shut up.

“Why do you look like that?”

Judd settles into a chair across from him, leaning back and kicking his feet up.

T.K.’s hand stills where it’s been combing anxiously through Buttercup’s fur. “Look like what?”

“Look like you just accidentally jumped in the pen with my Uncle Cash’s meanest bull,” Judd says. “Something on your mind?”

T.K. rubs Buttercup’s ear and considers how much to share. His therapist has been pushing him to open up more to the people around him. His team has proven time and again that they’re trustworthy, but it’s still hard to give the darker pieces of himself away.

“I have a date,” he says finally.

“Oh really?” Judd says, an interested look flashing across his face. “With that cop from your phone?”

“Yes,” T.K. says. “We’re getting coffee tomorrow. And I’m…”

“You’re nervous,” Judd says with a nod, like it’s a fact. “Good.”

“Good? How is that good?”

“Means it’s worth something to ya,” Judd tells him. “Means it matters. You want a hook up, you just jump on in without caring. You want something more, you’re gonna feel scared you’ll mess it up.”

That makes far too much sense for T.K.’s nerves. “What if I do mess it up?” he asks. “What if he doesn’t like me? We’ve only met once for like two minutes. What if all this texting and talking works through the phone but we sit there and stare at each other in silence for an hour?”

“T.K.,” Judd shifts and sits forward so he can look him squarely in the eye. “I’ve known you for a year, and not once in all those days have you been able to sit in silence for longer than three and a half seconds. You’ll find something to talk about.”

“Thanks?” T.K. says, unsure whether he should feel grateful or offended.

“You’ll be great,” Judd says. “You’re a catch. He should be grateful he gets to spend time with you.”

The room warms in T.K.’s vision, a rosy hue brightening up the dark thoughts in his mind. “You think so?” he asks tentatively.

“You’re a god damned dual certified firefighter paramedic,” Judd says, his voice strong. “And a member of the 126. That alone makes you a catch.” He points a finger at T.K. “Don’t you forget it.”

T.K. has never in his life thought of himself as a catch. He’s just…a toy to be played with. Something for people to enjoy and then be sent packing when they’re tired of him. Judd’s words do something to him that he can’t quite pinpoint, but it feels like a small part of him heals.

Then the alarm sounds and they’re both on their feet, running to the truck. As T.K. buckles into his seat he realizes that he feels…good. It feels like light is dawning on him for the first time in so long. Like those moments when you can’t really see the sunrise yet, but you can feel that it’s coming soon.

They pull up to the fire within minutes and it looks terrible. Flames shoot from windows and out of the roof, smoke filling the early evening air as people flee from inside into the waiting arms of first responders.

T.K.’s heart does a weird lurch as he spots APD on the scene even though he knows Carlos is off tonight. They haven’t even been on a single date and he’s already getting butterflies over the guy. It’s ridiculous.

“Stay alert,” his dad is telling them all as they pull up to the scene. “Two in, two out. This place is going to be unstable. Stick with your partner and if anything seems off get out first and ask questions later.”

“Yes Cap,” they all chorus before jumping out and donning their tanks and masks.

Inside things are hot and dark. The fire is quickly sucking out any air left in the building and the smoke is billowing in thick, black clouds that make it nearly impossible to see. He’s paired up with Marjan and they’re both struggling to make it even a few feet down the narrow hallways.

They manage one rescue, a guy who’s leg is definitely broken, and it’s a relief when they carry him back outside. T.K. pulls off his mask and takes a couple gulps of clean air after they pass the guy off to medical.

“Ready to go again?” Marjan asks.

T.K. nods, replacing his mask and following her toward the door. But before they can head inside there’s a loud rumble and the earth shakes a little under their feet. “Whoa, what was that?” Marjan asks.

“Mayday mayday! Firefighter down!”

Mateo’s voice comes shouting over their radios and T.K.’s heart plummets into his boots. Marjan turns to him, eyes wide. “Isn’t Mateo with—“

“My dad,” T.K. says. Without a second thought he’s through the door.

“T.K.! T.K. wait!” Marjan yells after him.

He can hear her behind him, trying to keep up. “Mateo where are you?” he asks.

“Southeast side,” Mateo says. “He’s unconscious, I can’t wake him up!”

“We’re on our way,” T.K. says, taking the first left he comes to.

“Us too,” Judd says from wherever he and Paul are.

It’s only minutes but it feels like days before T.K. hears the screaming of a PASS alarm. They take a final turn and find Mateo kneeling on the floor next to his dad’s prone form. “What happened?” T.K. asks.

“Beam came down from the ceiling. Took him down hard,” Mateo says. “He hasn’t woken up since.” He looks like he’s just barely restraining himself from full blown panic.

T.K. can relate.

“Dad,” T.K. shakes his shoulder but gets no response and the fear he’s been keeping at bay comes screaming to the surface. “Dad! Come on! Wake up!”

“Hey!”

Judd and Paul join the group. “We need to get him out of here,” Judd says. “This whole place is gonna come down on top of us any second.”

“He could have a spinal injury,” T.K. protests.

“Better injured than dead,” Paul says. “Come on. Let’s go!”

T.K. reaches under one of his dad’s arms while Judd gets under his other side. The way his dad’s head droops as they move makes T.K. sick to his stomach. He’s so terrified he can hardly breathe, air coming in and out of his lungs in tight bursts.

It feels like forever before they escape the heat and the dark, but finally there it is, the outside world, still waiting for them.

They drop his dad onto a gurney and Nancy and Tim swarm in along with Michael, their acting captain for the day, pulling off his turnouts and helmet. His dad lets out a groan of pain that makes T.K.’s knees go weak with a combination of relief and sympathy.

“What happened?” his dad asks as his eyes blink open, squinting against the fading daylight.

“Beam took you down Cap,” Mateo says. “Hit you right in the head.”

His dad groans again and closes his eyes. “Yep, that’s what it feels like.”

T.K. rides with him in the back of the ambulance and then follows the gurney into the ER. He talks to the doctors, tells them about the medication his dad is on for his cancer treatments, and all of his supplements. He calls his mom in New York then sits with his teammates in the waiting room while his dad is taken for tests and scans.

It’s not the worst trip to the ER he’s ever experienced, but it’s not great either. His anxiety is through the roof. This is the second time in just about a year his dad has said a passing hello to death and it’s doing nothing to help his anxiety. The world has faded out to grey again, black and white, like the scuffed tiles of the hospital floor. His skin is itching with the urge to run away from it all, but the desire to stay is currently winning the fight. Yay therapy.

He chews anxiously on a fingernail, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. He stripped off his turnout coat a while ago, but his pants are still sitting uncomfortably stiff on his legs. There’s a char mark on his left thigh from a stray cinder on some call he doesn’t remember. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at it.

When the doctor finally comes out the news is about as okay as it can be for an injured firefighter. His dad has a concussion and a couple broken ribs. They’re a little extra concerned about the ribs because of the lung cancer and the propensity for pneumonia. They’re keeping him overnight for observation and he’s not happy about it. But overall he’s going to be fine.

Paul drives T.K. home where he falls face first into bed without even showering. He’s exhausted from the stress of everything and it’s only when he wakes up in the morning that he remembers his date with Carlos. Fuck. He has to cancel.

Anxiety curdles in his stomach. Carlos is going to think he’s that guy. The one who claims a family emergency even though they both know he’s really just flaking out on the date. T.K. has been on both sides of that text on more than one occasion, but he doesn’t want to be that guy this time. He’s been trying so hard not to fuck this up, and he can’t stand the thought of it all crashing down because he’s finally choosing to be responsible.

He stares at the ceiling and sighs. There’s no help for it. Even if he gets his dad home in time today, he can’t leave him alone. The guy will be out trying to rescue a kitten from a tree or help a neighbor move a couch less than twenty minutes after T.K. is out the door.

T.K.

[7:32am] Hey I’m so sorry, I have to cancel today.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[7:33am] Everything okay?

T.K.

[7:34am] My dad is in the hospital. Hurt on a call last night.

His phone begins buzzing almost immediately, the sight of Carlos’ pecs lighting up his screen. He’d forgotten that he’d set Carlos’ contact photo like that and he barks out a startled laugh. “Hello?” his voice comes out croaky and he swallows hard to try and clear it.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks immediately. “Is your dad okay?”

“Yeah.” T.K. pushes himself into a sitting position and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah we’re both okay. He has a concussion and some broken ribs. They kept him overnight so I have to go pick him up in a little bit.”

“God I’m so sorry,” Carlos says, sounding one hundred percent sympathetic without an ounce of suspicion or annoyance. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need? My mom makes soup that she swears will heal anything.”

T.K. closes his eyes, surprised that he can feel tears welling up. Carlos’ immediate response is to offer to provide comfort for him and his dad. It’s so wildly surprising and different from any guy he’s ever dated that the words have gone straight to his tear ducts. “No, I think we’re okay. Thanks though,” he manages around the thickness in his throat. “I’m um, I’m really sorry about our date.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Carlos says. “We’ll reschedule. Take care of your dad. And yourself.”

“Thanks,” T.K. says. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Just worry about your family,” Carlos says. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

They hang up and T.K. takes a long minute to replay the conversation in his mind. Carlos hadn’t sounded mad or annoyed. He hadn’t even sounded disappointed. Just genuinely concerned.

T.K.’s not quite sure what to do with that, so he shelves it to examine later and forces himself into the shower.

His dad is his usual self when T.K. gets to the hospital. All the nurses are in love with him; the Strand charm effect is strong. He’s definitely in pain though and trying to hide it as T.K. helps him into the car and then onto the sofa at home.

“Are you going to sit there all afternoon staring at me?” his dad asks an hour later.

“I’m not staring at you. I’m studying for my EMT recertification exam,” T.K. says, holding up the manual as evidence

“I’m okay son,” Owen says, that soft, dad look on his face; the one that says he’s more concerned about how T.K. is feeling than himself. “I’m glued to this couch. You can go hang out with your friends or take Buttercup for a walk.”

Buttercup lifts his head up at the sound of his name and then drops it glumly back to the floor when it’s clear nobody is actually going to take him outside.

“I’m staying right here,” T.K. tells him. “I know you think you won’t get off that couch and overdo it, but the second you get too bored you’re going to be trying to throw together a soufflé or check the oil in the car.”

Owen blinks at him. “First of all, you don’t ‘throw together’ a soufflé. It’s a delicate process that requires hours of concentration and impeccable timing. And secondly, I had the oil changed on the car last week.”

“Still not leaving,” T.K. says without looking up from the manual.

The doorbell rings and Buttercup heaves himself to his feet, tail wagging as he wanders toward the front door. “Are we expecting anybody?” T.K. asks as he gets up.

“Could be Judd,” his dad says. “He mentioned last night that he and Grace might swing by.”

“Maybe it’s Nurse Judy from the hospital,” T.K. teases. “I saw her eyeing you up this morning.”

“I can’t help it that my shoulders are accentuated by the shape and contour of a hospital gown!” his dad calls after him.

T.K. snorts and shuffles Buttercup out of the way so he can open the door. The person on the other side is not Judd or Grace or Nurse Judy, but rather a redheaded college age kid wearing a black baseball cap. “Hi, I have a delivery for T.J.,” he says, holding out a cardboard coffee carrier.

“Oh.” T.K.’s brow furrows. “I don’t think we ordered anything.”

The kid checks his phone. “You’re T.J. Strand?”

“T.K.”

The kid shrugs. “Close enough. This is for you. Have a good day.”

He practically shoves the carrier into T.K.’s hands and then heads back to his car.

T.K. carries it into the kitchen. “Who was it?” his dad asks, craning his neck to try and see what T.K. is doing.

“Door Dash,” T.K. says.

There’s a green smoothie and a latte in the carrier along with a folded up piece of paper. He unfolds it and his heart stops inside his chest.

Latte is for you. Smoothie is for your dad. Not quite my mom’s soup but hopefully it helps. -Carlos

Carlos remembered his coffee order. Not only that, he remembered that T.K.’s dad prefers green juices and other organic products. That had been one conversation weeks ago while Carlos was on a lunch break in the middle of his shift.

One text and Carlos remembered.

Oh.

The room around him brightens, the weight in his soul that belongs to the last twenty-four hours lifting off and dissipating into nothing.

“T.K.? What’s going on over there?” his dad calls.

T.K. lifts out both drinks, carrying them into the living room and setting them on coasters. “Someone sent us drinks.”

“Someone?” His dad arches and eyebrow and then winces. “Someone like…the hot cop who lives in your phone that you were supposed to go on a date with today?”

T.K. narrows his eyes. “Did Judd rat me out to you? Because that’s really not cool.”

“Judd didn’t rat you out,” Owen says. “Sound carries in the fire station. And also I know you. You’ve been all moony eyed and nervous this week. It’s how you always get before a first date.”

“I do not!”

“Um yeah, you do,” Owen says. “You know, you can still go on your date. I’ll be fine here by myself.”

“Like I said before, I’m not leaving,” T.K. says. “I already cancelled. He was very understanding. As evidenced by the drinks.” He gestures to where he’s placed them on the coffee table.

Something odd and soft passes over his dad’s face. “Good. He should be.” He picks up his drink and takes a sip. “Ooh! Flax seed. Tell the hot cop I said thank you.”

T.K. sips his own as he pulls out his phone.

T.K.

[12:16pm] Thank you for the drinks. You didn’t have to do that.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:18pm] You’re welcome. Not quite the coffee date we were hoping for, but hopefully it will do for today.

T.K.

[12:19pm] You’re really sweet. And again, I’m super sorry about the date.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:20pm] Stop apologizing. Family comes first. How’s your dad?

T.K.

[12:21pm] Already testing the boundaries of his convalescence. And my patience. But he’s fine. Meds are taking care of the pain.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:22pm] Good. Are you doing okay? That must have been scary to see your dad like that.

T.K. looks over at where his dad has drifted off to sleep, his mouth hanging slightly open. The pain and fear of possibly losing him burns brightly in his chest for a moment and he lets it fill him up before breathing it out again. His dad is okay. They’re both okay this time.

His phone buzzes again.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:26pm] You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to cross a line.

T.K.

[12:27pm] No, it’s okay. It was scary. He was unconscious for a long time. And after the cancer last year, I’m still kind of panicky about him. But he’ll be all right. He’s been through worse. We both have.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:28pm] Feel free to call or text anytime if you need to.

T.K.

[12:29pm] You might regret that. He’s going to be a pain in the ass for the next couple weeks. You may end up having to come investigate his murder because I’m not sure I can handle it.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:30pm] Haha aren’t firefighters supposed to be tough as nails? You can run into burning buildings but you can’t handle your dad?

T.K.

[12:31pm] We WALK into burning buildings thank you very much. And you haven’t met my dad. He can whine like a toddler being denied ice cream. It’s unreal. We may need to reschedule our date just so I don’t lose my mind.

Officer Hottie- Carlos

[12:32pm] Tuesday?

T.K. thinks for a second. His dad should be well on the road to recovery by then. And he’s not scheduled to work again until Wednesday.

T.K.

[12:32pm] Tuesday could work.

#911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #Thirst Trap Thursday

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