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itsharleystuff · 5 months

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╰─▸ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

‘ I just wanna be one of your girls tonight ’

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rockstar!Joel x afab!fem!reader (no outbreak alternative universe).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your best friend’s boyfriend has an older brother that turned out to be the guitarist of a famous rock band from the 80s. You meet Joel by accident before his concert and things take an interesting turn.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (Joel is 48, reader is said to be in college tho her age isn’t specified), sex, p in v sex, porn with barely any plot, sex with a “stranger”, a bit of dirty talk, oral sex (f), use of ‘slut’, praise, mirror sex, fingering, some oral (m), cum eating, reader calls Joel an ‘old man’, smoking (they share a cigarette), pet-names (sweetheart, darling, honey). Also, I know nothing about guitars or concerts so this is probably very inaccurate. This one’s roughly edited, forgive meee. No use of y/n.

— 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬: One of the girls - The Weeknd, Lily Rose-Depp, Jennie. Breakin’ dishes - Rihanna. Todas mueren por mi - Cartel de Santa.

Third-wheeling has now unintentionally become your most recurrent hobby since your best friend started dating Tommy Miller. Not that either of them minded, given that it was their idea.

Tonight was different, however.

"I could've been a part of it, y'know?" the man boasts, "I just didn't know how to play any instruments or how to arrange tunes... I have a nice voice, though. If that counts for anything."

Ary, your friend, giggles at his statement and replies with a comment that you didn't quite listen. Tommy's car stereo is currently blasting The Clashers' latest album— Joel Miller's rock band, that is. Two days ago, you had no idea who the eldest Miller was –only that he existed–, much less that he was the guitarist of a very popular 80s band. Now his brother is taking you and his girlfriend to their gig, to which he was given front row tickets. Nice.

Their music was actually pretty good, though some of the songs sounded more country than rock. Tommy explained that those were most definitely written by his brother, due to his love for the genre. Apparently, The Clashers have had a recent comeback with their newest album and a small tour, all after a long, undefined hiatus that went on for nearly a decade and a half. "Joel's fault", the younger Miller said, "he became a father. A single one, to top it off. But he's the best at it, don't ever doubt that."

"How old is he again?" you wonder, suddenly curious about the age gap between the siblings.

"Forty-eight. His girl Sarah just turned nineteen a couple months ago." You nod absentmindedly at the response.

You met Tommy almost a year ago, when Ary and you used to work at a cafeteria outside of Dallas' university. She'd graduated a few years ago, but needed money to pay her rent and coincidentally, you did too. You hit it off right away, becoming friends but also roommates in further time. Though you were still in college and she was a bit older, that never seemed to be an issue with your friendship or your schedules. Tommy came along shortly after, turning up every day at the café with his charisma and nice manners, making his intentions with Ary very clear since the beginning.

"D'you think there'll be a crowd?" your question makes her raise a brow quizzically.

"Most likely," she retorts thoughtfully. "Why? Are you regretting your own idea?"

Her boyfriend chuckles at that, knowing perfectly well how much you disliked loud, cramped places. It's not that you didn't enjoy this sort of events once in a while, but being someone who gets easily overwhelmed around people, you mostly prefer the sort of lay-back dates. Nevertheless, it was you who came up with this plan for today. With college giving you such a hard time and your colleagues being tremendous assholes lately, you needed something out of your comfort zone to fully unwind. Some action to pull you off the dull routine.

"Are you subtly implying that I'm a boring person?" you ask, falsely offended, crossing both arms over your chest. "Cause I swear I know how to loosen-up, I just need time to... Get used to it."

Tommy seems to be holding back laughter, but Ary doesn't even try to hide her amusement. "Girl, you're lucky I'm your friend, or else you'd be rotting in our local library," she scoffs.

You roll your eyes playfully, a smirk pursing your lips, "Yeah, cause that'll be such a tragedy. Who'd support you financially if I didn't study, huh?" you turn your head to her boyfriend. "Tommy?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, fighting against the urge to grin. "Oh, dear," she glances over her shoulder to look at you from the shotgun seat, bright smile painting her face. "Don't give him any ideas. He might just marry me."

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

Whilst Tommy went looking for a place to park, you and Ary walked to the nearest convenience store to grab some beverages. You were still running early anyway, which only meant a quick stop wasn't going to imply much trouble.

"I'll wait for you out here," with a head tilt, you silently indicate your friend to go ahead. "I need a cig."

She nods understandingly, "Want me to grab something for ya'?"

"No, I'm alright. Don't worry about it."

Ary stopped at the entrance to look back at you, staring intently for a weird extent of time, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Did I mention you look stunning?"

"You might've had, but that doesn't mean I don't love hearing it," the reply widened her smile. Once she went inside the store, you took a chance to peer at your reflection in the showcase.

This whole eighties vibe was certainly not something you were used to, but there was no denying how hot it made you appear. Aiming for a 'rockstar girlfriend' kinda look, you went for that smudgy, dark eye-makeup; as for the clothes, the mini skirt, low-cut bustier and oversized leather jacket paired with some nice boots kept the whole outfit together.

You blinked away, stunned by how confident you suddenly felt in your own skin. Chuckling to yourself, you started digging in your purse for a smoke. And as if the gods decided to toy with your faith, you luckily found a single one sitting at the very bottom; putting the filter between your lips, you then turned your bag upside down to search for the lighter, only to find that you hadn't brought it with you.

"Damnit," you spat in frustration, closing your eyes to picture in your mind where the last place you'd left it was.

Maybe it was next to your bed, on the nightstand; or perhaps in front of the stove... No, it definitely wasn't in the kitchen. The blurry image in the back of your head resembled more of a–

"Hey," a low, masculine voice called from beside you in a mellow tone, almost as if this mysterious man had a naturally sly nature but wanted to cool it down. "Need a light?"

He had a deep, soothing ring; raspy, profound and very southern-like. Frankly, you didn't know what you were expecting before setting your eyes on him, but it definitely wasn't a man such as he was. A wave of emotions washed over your body as you pried on him; big, broad, rugged and devastatingly handsome. Not to mention older than you— however, how much older is not a detail you care to find out. Your skin felt ticklish and warm, added to the sudden acceleration of your pulse.

First thing you noticed were his big brown eyes, shiny in sort of a childish way, regardless of the wrinkles that surrounded them when he politely simpered. You could tell he was a total heartthrob by the way his lips quirked and his head tilted downwards when addressing you.

He's thick in the arms and wide in the shoulders, something that was noticeable despite the black leather jacket he was wearing over a plain white t-shirt, tucked into a pair of worn-out denims. The cowboy hat on his head casts shadows upon his face but you're still able to make up his features: aquiline nose, strong jawline, soft lips under a styled mustache and a patchy, graying beard. Tall and handsome as hell.

"Yeah," you answer as soon as your mind allows you to, suddenly feeling your mouth dry when realizing you were staring. He bit back a smirk as he gauges at your reaction. "You've got one?"

"Lucky for you, I do." His left hand disappeared in the pocket of his jacket, taking out a simple red lighter. "I don't suppose you've got a cigarette to spare, do ya'?"

"Sorry," you frown apologetically, "this is my last."

He closed the gap between you, but instead of handing the lighter, he hunched down to lit the end of the dart still hanging from your lips, caging it with his big hand. And fuck, he smelled good. A mix of cedar and sandalwood, fresh and manly.

"No worries, doll." Dizzy with his presence, your eyes unconsciously bored into his. You can't move away, diving inside his pupils like you're hypnotized. "I'll just buy a pack for myself."

Caught up in that urge of keeping him near, you take the dart between your fingers and hear yourself say: "Unless you wanna share."

It was impulsive, not to mention irrational. Yet, all of the rational thoughts inside your brain had unforeseeably vanished in thin air, replaced by a strange need that rested in the pit of your stomach, a wicked desire that rushed through your veins like a drug. His brow shot up in surprise, giving you a subtle, pleased nod. He realizes there's something else behind your proposition, nothing that could be hidden with the way you're shamelessly looking at him.

"Let me guess," he commences, his calloused fingers brushing against your own when he takes the cig, orange end stained with your lipstick, "you're headed to the concert."

Your eyes squint with a crooked smile, "Are you that perceptive or am I just that obvious?" he takes a short drag, holding the fag with a nonchalant attitude and a mannerism that expressed experience.

"Bit of both," the shadows of smoke surround his face, hiding his features behind a thick, mysterious fog. "You've got that groupie vibe to ya'. The kind of girl that has her walls filled with boy-band posters," he jokes.

"Oh, is that it?" you ask playfully, mirroring his action to let the nicotine circle your system. "Cool it, cowboy. I ain't trynna get in trouble for fighting an old man."

He chuckles at your sarcastic remark and you can see the spark of a thin chain around his neck, along with the soft curls that gathered at his nape. Jesus, his side profile was divine.

"What's your name, darlin'?" he asks. You tell him, that southern drawl of his being more noticeable when echoing it. "You from around?"

"Yeah," you blow the smoke away from him, though he takes back the dart while you're at it. "Been here my whole life. You?"

He shakes his head lightly, "Austin. But I've been all over."

You can't help but smile inwardly, "That explains it."

"What thing?" the man asks with a certain intrigue.

"Nothing... You've just got that particular vibe." He's already laughing when you point at the cowboy hat, rejoicing in the way you played with his own words.

"I see that, groupie." He takes the almost consumed cigarette between his teeth and removes the hat from his head, running a hand through his soft curls. "Let's trade."

You watch in awe as he unexpectedly places the hat atop your own head. It sits well there and the way his eyes grow dark and his lips curve upwards can only mean he likes it too.

"What'cha think?" you inquire, slightly adjusting it.

"I think..." he eyes you up and down, ashing the cig with a tap of his index, "You should keep it. In exchange, I'll just take what's left of this lung-junk."

"Well, that doesn't seem like a fair trade," you cross both arms over your chest. "Isn't there anything else you want apart from that half-burnt smoke?"

His head tilts to the side as he meditates his answer, his chocolate hair now messy and a couple of those brown curls hanging loose across his forehead. For a moment, you're worried you might've sounded too raunchy for the occasion, but he looks pretty pleased. His eyes lock with yours and you feel your knees wobbly just from that undeniable tension that lingers in the air.

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart." Sweetheart. Damn, he's good. "Find me after the concert's over. You can repay me then with whatever you might find convenient."

Your brows crease at the scheme, curious, "How will I find you, though? I'm certain there'll be a lot of people."

He laughs darkly, like he knew something you didn't –which, to be fair, was probably true–. "Just ask for Joel. I'm sure someone will point you to the right direction."

Joel.

Joel...

Joel?

Could it be...?

"See ya' around, groupie." He sets off with a subtle head gesture, waving back at you.

Your mind was spinning so fast that you didn't even notice when Ary reappeared beside you, rambling something about a woman being annoying over the prices and fighting cashiers, too worked up to even notice your distraught— or your new acquisition.

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

The venue was crammed with people and there was a heady scent of pot all over the place, not unusual in these sorts of businesses. Thankfully, Tommy had arrived earlier to guide you through the masses.

"Here," he said, taking you and his girlfriend by the wrist. "We've got VIP seats, no need to go all the way down there." He pointed the barricade, where a ton of people were congregated to get the better spot.

The area in which you were located had a better view of the stage and was way more comfortable. Only till you finally sat down did Ary notice the new addition to your outfit.

"Did you buy that outside the store?" she wonders, sorta screaming to make herself heard over the mass. Tommy's eyes land curiously on you.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Funny," the man mumbles to himself, shaking his head lightly. "Very funny."

"What?"

"Well," he clears his throat and licks his lips nervously, "I just think it's funny that you'd get a cowboy hat in one of my brother's gigs."

Still in the shadows, you raise your shoulders to beguile him into spilling the details, "Why's that?"

Tommy taps his knee anxiously. "You see, when Joel was younger he'd often 'gift' his hats to any girl that would catch his eye. It was a way of... I don't know, making them one of his girls, you could say. By doing so, the other band members would see her and no one would dare to make a move."

His words fell upon you like an ice bucket. Joel, Joel, Joel. It just had to be the same Joel, because honestly, what were the chances?

Before you can retort, or even form an answer in your brain, the lights go out and the crowd bursts in cheers and shouting. But you can't for the life of you pay any mind to them, too focused on Tommy's story ringing in your ears. Seconds prior to the lights going on again, the sound of a single guitar key reverberated through the venue.

Did Joel Miller just mark you like cattle so no other man would approach you? Was that some kind of sick game he liked to play? If that were the case, you can't really say you're mad about it... Mostly thrilled, so to speak.

"So what would happen afterwards?" you asked, leaning to his ear, so you could make yourself be heard.

"Huh?"

"He'd make his move and then what?"

The man slightly winced as if you had just asked him the dumbest question in the book, "I think you know the rest."

You knew.

Of course you knew.

There's a voice saying "Goodnight, Dallas" and the spotlight is now on the five men standing on stage. You didn't even need to search for his image, your eyes immediately attaching to him like a magnet. A feeling of beguilement settles in your bones as you realize you've achieved that excitement you hoped to get tonight, at last.

Amidst chaos and loud screaming, he stood there in all his glory, perfectly aware of the impression his sole presence could cause. Messy brown hair, sun-kissed skin and that patchy, graying beard. Convenience store Joel turned out to be rockstar Joel.

The only thing that was different about his appearance were the dark aviator sunglasses that gracefully framed his face, a belt with a big, round buckle and the black Epiphone Wilshire guitar that was strapped to his shoulder with a sash. All of this new fashion somehow made him more physically appealing, if that was indeed possible. He looked like the type of man you'd rip off from a magazine and stick up in the corners of your vanity; the kind of star that girls and women would salivate over.

You could totally see the fascination and understand why it was easy for him to simply pick out someone he liked and take them back to his dressing room for a nasty time. Joel Miller was that guy.

In the back of your mind you register the fact that you're probably eye-fucking him whilst his younger brother and your best friend are both standing at your right. But you can't really help it— he was just so electrifying, such a magnetic force of a man. The whole world seemed to stop as the concert carried on, though you can only make out the melodies when you're far too distracted by Joel's charisma and mysterious air.

The way he moves on stage, too focused on his own act, fingers tugging at the strings and metal vibrating underneath his touch... It's fascinating how he makes it look easy and like a tremendous labour at the same time, pulling it all off with a wolffish smile on his face. The other band members had their own charm too, but your preference was undeniable.

They played the songs that you had been previously listening to, and the fact that they're being played live just amplifies the feeling of intimacy regarding the lyricism and musicality. Songs that talk about life's hardships, love, heartbreak and carnal desires. They all just hit different.

Towards the end of the concert, Ary started feeling dizzy, the amount of people and sudden dehydration giving her signs of a posible migraine. She tried not to say anything for the sake of your fun, realizing just how much you're enjoying yourself tonight. But at the end she truly couldn't, deciding to tell Tommy she needed to step back for awhile and go get some fresh air.

"I should go with her," you said in concern. His boyfriend shook his head and patted your shoulder.

"I'll go. You can stay if you want to, just call me if something feels off and I'll be back in a sec," he said reassuringly.

It took a few seconds to agree, although you eventually did. The event was almost over anyways. "Tell me if anything happens."

"F'course."

You watch as he leaves behind her with a certain remorse in your gut. The Clashers play three more songs afterwards, turning out to be much more emotional and heartfelt than you could've expected.

One by one, every single band member thanked the audience before the lights went out completely and the crowd stopped their clapping and cheering.

In order to avoid getting stuck at the exit from the people storming out, you decided to stay back and wait. You intended to reach your friend via message, sending a short "everything alright?" that did not deliver due to the awful signal. Only then did you start to grow nervous and more worrisome.

"Excuse me," out of nowhere, one of the security guards called for you when no one else was around –aside from the scattered people that had the same idea as you did–; a tall man with a 'staff' pin on his shirt. He asked for your name, but something about the way he worded the question made you believe he already knew it. "You've got a backstage invitation."

"A backstage invitation?" You tried holding back laughter. "From whom?” your eyes narrowed at a new clue. “Wait... Did Tommy meet up with Joel?"

The staff member furrowed his brows in surprise, "You came here with Miller's brother?"

"Huh? Yes... Isn't that why you approached me?" the stranger gave you a kind, slightly embarrassed smile.

"No, but you should come with me. Joel's in fact the one that asked."

"Oh..."

So, it was him after all.

'Someone will point you to the right direction', turned out to be quite literal.

You agreed to follow the guard. Maybe Joel could just reach Tommy and tell him you were fine. Although that'll mean you'd have to explain how you two had met. Well, shit... It’s not like it was a bad thing, right?

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

Backstage dressing rooms tend to be different depending on the facility where an event is held. In this case, there were rooms with the artist's names hanged on them and a handful of people moving around, spitting orders and following instructions. Everyone was so involved in their own affairs that no one really seemed to notice you, specially standing next to the security guy, who knocked twice on the guitarist's door.

It didn't take long before he appeared before you, that post-concert glow brightening up his features. His cocky smirk told you just how certain he was that you'd end up here eventually and how glad he was for it. You gave a quick nod to the man that guided you here and he disappeared just as quick as he came.

"Hey there, groupie."

"Joel." Your lips unconsciously curved, too. "I believe I owe you something." His hair was ruffled and the sunglasses rested atop his head, looking better up-close than he did on stage.

"Wanna come in?" the question sounded so genuine and innocent, it almost made you believe there wasn't a meaning behind it... Yet, you knew; you were both aware.

"Sure, but-" there was something you had to tell him... God, he smelled good— what was it you had to tell him? "Won't they scold you for having me here?"

His dressing room was fairly spacious, with a small leather couch, a coat stand with a couple of jackets and shirts hanging. His guitar rested on the corner, tucked inside its case; facing the couch was some kind of vanity where celebrities could get their makeup done, the lights around the mirror reflected a warm light.

"Don't think so, darlin'. I'm way too old for a scolding," he joked, closing the door behind you.

The very moment you were left alone, away from any prying eyes, the air shifted entirely; as if this whole space was your own private setting. That same feeling you experienced outside the store somehow crawled under your skin once more, adrenaline rushing through your veins in a crushing expectation.

"Did you enjoy the show?" you nod distractedly.

"I did. But I ain't gonna lie, it was a total shocker to find out that the hot guy I'd just met was actually a part of the group." Joel's eyes gleamed with an unfamiliar simplicity that invited you in and provided a certain comfort.

"I wish I could've seen your face," he retorted, his voice smooth and low.

"Why?" you bicker, "So I could further boost your ego? No, thanks."

He chuckles softly, his eyes squinting to reveal the tiny wrinkles that form around them; a sign that he's always been the type to laugh without remorse. Those are the small details that make him even more attractive in your perspective.

You lean against the makeup board, giving your back to the mirror and crossing both arms over your chest. The heel of your boots had started to feel uncomfortable, so you placed one leg across the other to shift some of the weight whilst his gaze followed your every move intently; the unfathomable depth of his eyes stirred something inside you, an urge to unleash your impurest thoughts.

"You've got quite an attitude, don't ya', groupie?" the man questions with humor. "But I'm pretty sure you just called me hot, so, either way, my ego was boosted," he pointed out smugly.

"Joel," you click your tongue, subtly shaking your head. "I bet there's tons of women saying that about you, and there's no doubt in my mind that you’re aware of it already."

That could not be denied. Throughout his life, Joel had always been aware of his charm and good looks, which eventually brought him popularity amongst the group. After having Sarah, he saw himself forced to tone down the amount of affairs and adventures he'd have, specially as a single father, always trying not to get his daughter's hopes high if she saw him with someone.

Honestly, despite him being back on track with the 'celebrity' lifestyle, he still wasn't planing on keeping up with his old tricks of bringing women backstage and giving them something to gush about with her friends. He really hadn't gotten involved with anyone during the tour until now... And it wasn't something he'd intended to do either. Everything happened so spontaneously, the way you two sort of bonded and just met out of the blue. Joel's goal wasn't any of this at first, he merely thought of how gorgeous you were and how comfortable he felt in your presence.

However, logic and good sense abandoned him the minute your eyes gaped at him; dark and alluring, with a spark in them that he could not escape, an intriguing verve that entranced him and crept under his skin. From that moment forward, he could only think about you while being on stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of your skin amongst the crowd but having to settle with the fresh image of you on his mind: your confident mannerisms, your striking smile and how good your legs looked in that mini-skirt. He tried to put on his best performance just to impress you.

"Yet, your perception of me is the only one I currently care about," he declares, taking a few decided steps towards you.

You beam, keeping your head held high, "I gotta give it to you, Joel. The hat thing, your whole performance... Very clever."

He's taken aback by your words, surprise written all over his face. "What d'you mean?"

"Come on, Joel," you reply with a roughish grin. "You really thought I wouldn't hear all about your schemes? Oh, here I believed I was special," you joke.

The man gets rid of that 'respectful' distance that kept you apart, slowly making his way to you, exuding that perpetual arrogance he naturally carried and never breaking eye contact. You returned the same energy; piercing his soul with those siren eyes, barely tilting your head back to expose your throat and unhooking your arms to give him a better sight of your breasts. Intentional or not, those little details were driving him insane.

"You are special, sweetheart," he murmurs, emphasizing the second word. "All of my girls are."

He was quite close now, his scent dazing your senses and the warmth of his body, plus that southern drawl of his, formed goosebumps on your skin. With boosted confidence, you reach out to softly grab the lapels of his jacket. You wait for him to push you away, scold you or react negatively... though he never does. Instead, his eyes fall from yours to your lips, licking his own distractedly. You motion to remove the shades form his head and place his hat back on, adjusting it lightly. In the meantime, you take your time to run your fingers through his hair, drag them along his jaw, feel the raspy sensation of his beard scratching your fingertips.

"S'that so?" you whisper, your breath fanning across his cheek. "You know what I want...?" His eyelids shudder, a muscle twitching on his neck as you lean to pour the next words into the shell of his ear. "I just wanna be one of your girls, Joel Miller..."

Those words have an immediate effect on him, his eyes darkening with blown away pupils. Your hand lowers to his chest, conscious of the strength with which his heart was beating, the heat of his feverish skin there where you touched him. His palms land on your hips, caressing the covered skin as they make their way to your waist.

"We'll see 'bout that, darlin'," he hushes, cupping your face with his right hand to keep you steady, restrain your control over him. His face is barely inches away from yours, practically breathing each other in. "You know what's gonna happen now, don't you?"

You gulp in suspense, eyes glued to his lips, waiting, wishing he'd just kiss you. "Yes..."

"Good," Joel's thumb swipes across your bottom lip, slowly coaxing your mouth open. "Is this what you want?"

You can barely muster up the courage to speak, nearly falling from the tension. "Please..."

"Mmm..." his nose rubs against yours and your eyes close instinctively. "That's not an answer, sweetheart."

Your hands fist on his shirt, desperate to touch him. "Yes, Joel."

"That's my girl," he praises, effectively creating a pool of arousal that smothers your underwear. But you've barely got any time to process it before his lips are finally on yours.

The kiss knocks the air out of your lungs, his plump lips molding against yours. Your fingers play with the curls at the base of his neck, your nails scratching his skin deliciously. Everything feels hot all of the sudden, the need to get rid of your jacket latent on the edges of your body. Joel holds your waist and quickly sits you fully on top of the board, making you squeal from the abruptness of the action; this way he can settle himself between your legs and flush his chest to yours. His lips never part from yours, swallowing down any noise that escaped your mouth.

The coarse fabric of his jeans feels rough against your exposed skin, his hands coming to grab the back of your thighs, sliding them beneath the hem of your skirt as you wrap your legs around his waist. The kiss is breathy and intense, you taste him when your tongue drags inside –a mix of mint and cigarettes–, your teeth crashing when he tries to assert his dominance by pulling your body closer to his. Your perfume, sweet and floral, lingers around him in a way that makes him want you even more. When he slowly licks your lower lip, you moan faintly and the sound makes him throb.

His fingers splay on your asscheeks, prodding you to feel the weight of his hardening cock against your inner thigh, consequently setting a fire in your lower belly. You catch his grunt in the kiss, the feeling of his mustache tingling on your skin whilst you grind your hips just to experience that friction once again, relishing in the familiar sensation of your arousal spilling into your panties, wet and warm. And fuck, part of you doesn't believe that this man is hard for you. Joel suddenly backs away, just enough to stare blankly into your eyes, casted with desire, and regain a bit of composure.

"Not a word about this, 'aight?" something you had figured he'd state sooner or later.

"Yes, sir. It'll be our dirty little secret," you grin right as he whispers a goddamnit.

Before he pulls you in for another heated kiss, you struggle to take your jacket off, taking your phone out of the pocket and hastily throwing it to the floor as he mimics your action. Joel uses this moment to fully take in the sight of you; the way your tits sit perfectly in that top, chest rising and falling from drawing ragged breaths, your exposed neck and shoulders, flushed skin ideal for him to nip at and trace with his lips. So he does just that.

He ghosts your mouth, towering over you but ignoring the need to reattach your lips to his. Alternately, he gently kisses your chin, making his way down your throat and between your collarbones. You're a panting mess under his touch, trying to keep yourself collected for the sake of not getting caught, yet failing when his teeth sank onto the pillowy flesh of your breast. You audibly gasp, holding onto his arm for dear life; though he simply huffs a laugh that vibrates through you.

"Don't worry, darlin'. In here, you can be as loud as you want to," he assures.

Joel descends to his knees in front of you and the image is far too erotic for you to hold back a whimper. He coaxes your knees farther apart, your denim skirt hunched up around your hips so he can peek at the red lace of your underwear. He grabs your calf and places a kiss to the side of your knee, looking up at you hungrily.

"Should we take this off?" he taps on your boot, calloused fingers tracing random patterns on your leg.

"Let's keep them on," you say, your hand stroking his cheekbone. "I want to wear them when I come on your cock."

His eyes glint with lust, "Fuck..." he rumbles, almost pained. "Who would've thought a pretty girl like you would have such a filthy tongue."

You can't help but smirk as his lips roam upwards, "You think I'm pretty?"

His gaze scorches with intensity, both his hands languidly sliding up your sides till his fingers hook on the edge of your panties, pulling them down your legs to take them off, "I think you're beautiful," he murmurs amidst. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears at the time he leans into the apex of your thighs, one of his brows quirking up at the sight of glistening slick sticking to your swollen skin.

"Poor thing," he coos, taking off the hat like a cowboy who's worked his whole shift and comes home to eat the best dinner he's ever had, placing it beside you. "You're so sensitive, baby..." you inhale sharply when he lays a teasing kiss on your inner thigh. "Been a while?"

You nod, though even if it has been a while since the last time you slept with someone, you're certain that most of your responsiveness falls onto Joel's doing. He tsked, shaking his head in the meantime and using his thumb to barely spread your folds. Your eyes look at him beneath heavy lids, lips parted as his mouth explores the area, his breathing tickling the sensitive skin.

"I'll take care of you, sweetheart."

Without warning, his tongue darts out to lick the slick around your entrance, ravishing on the sweet taste of your juices. Your fingers thread through his curls, swallowing hard at the new sensation. He takes his time with you, leisurely allowing your wetness to gather on his tongue, his nose nudging at your clit when he moves his head a certain way. It all makes your brain spin, overcome by the pleasure you're experiencing, actually permitting you to loose your cords and spill uninhibited whimpers that only egged him on.

"Shit, you're doing great..." you can feel his smile against your dripping core.

"You just taste amazing, darlin'," he's not lying. Joel's enjoying himself far too much as he buries his tongue between your folds, holding you tighter. "So fucking good..."

The back of your mind registers the brief pain of his fingertips digging in your flesh, thinking it may bruise in the morning. The other part can't even form a rational thought. You moan his name, calling out for something to ground you; but he's just as gone, if not way worse. Joel is bewitched by the headiness of you, clogging his senses entirely. It's been so long since he gave head, but he doesn't remember it like this— like he couldn't get enough, so eager to make you feel good, to hear those pretty sounds spill from your mouth.

"Oh my god..." you mewl when his lips close around your puffy clit, gently flicking his tongue over it whilst you run your hands through his locks.

He flattens his tongue against the bundle of nerves, tracing delicate circles that make your whole body shudder. You're messily dripping all the way down to the wooden surface as he selfishly alternates his attention between your aching bud and your hole.

"Look at you, honey," he mumbles, voice laced with desire. "Doin' so good for me."

His fingers swipe across your slit, making you squirm. "Joel, please-"

"I know, baby, I know..."

Though when he's about to dive in again, you catch the light of your phone through your peripheral vision: an incoming call. The ID read the name 'Tommy <3'.

Tommy???!!!!

"Shitshitshit," you quickly reach for the device, swiping the green button and muttering a wary wait to the man before you. Joel simply gawks at you with intrigue, the pads of his fingers still roaming around your core. "Hello?"

On the other side of the line, Tommy says your name with utter relief, "Thank god. I left you a thousand messages. Are you okay?"

More than okay. Your brother's tongue was inside my cunt just a few seconds ago, actually.

Obviously you can't say that.

"Uh... Yeah, everything's fine." You clear your throat, trying to mask the gasp that threatened to escape when Joel started rubbing tender circles on your clit. "The signal's just really bad."

"Yes, I noticed," he mutters, a bit frustrated. "Should I go get you? There's still plenty of people at the entrance and I don't want you to get lost."

"No- no..." you have to bite your bottom lip in order to muffle the unholy moan you were about to slip out. The bastard had just sinked one finger inside you experimentally, watching your face contort in pleasure as he reached for that particular spot. "I- have... Is Ary alright?"

"She took a pill and is knocked out in the backseats of my car right now," you can practically hear his smile as he speaks. "But... Are you sure you're okay? You sound... Agitated."

That was a way of putting it.

Joel is a greedy, jealous man. He wants all your undivided attention and will make sure to let you know. He decides to add a second finger, watching your eyes screw shut and your mouth gape as he curls them, your slick covering all the way to his knuckles.

"Yes, I met with a friend-" you tug at his hair hard enough to make him groan, his cock twitching with interest. "She's taking me home."

Your thighs start quivering and your body feels hot all over, an abrasive feeling of bliss rushing through every single nerve ending. You're close, and judging by the way you clench around his fingers, he knows too.

"Oh... Well, in that case just let me know once you get home. Please?" You think you answer, but you're not entirely sure. The call ends and your phone slips from your hand.

"Joel, I can't..." you whine when his lips latch to your nub once again, his fingers still working you open.

"Yes you can," he vows. You clutch at his curls with enough strength to work him up. "You're a big girl, you can take it."

And it's right then, when he repeatedly hits your g-spot, licking and sucking at your delicate clit, that your hips get a mind of their own, barely kept in place by Joel's strong grip on your hip. The coil finally snaps. You're not sure what you say, what words fall from your mouth... But they do dawdle on his mind. You shake from the magnitude of your orgasm, muscles starting to relax as Joel licks up every drop of your release, absolutely lost in the sweet taste of you. Your grasp on his hair loosened as he rose to his feet, letting you catch your breath.

He's on edge, his voice a hoarse rumble when he spoke. "Didn't anyone tell you," his left hand came up to brush his fingertips over your lips, "how rude it is to answer phone calls when this pretty pussy of yours is getting eaten?”

You lick your lips nervously. "I'm sorry..." he hums in response, "I'll make it up to you."

There's no time for him to reply since you crash your lips to his once again, frenetically searching to feel his weight pressed on top of you for a second time. This kiss is messy, rushed and needy. You can taste yourself in it as he pushes his tongue past your teeth.

Amidst the fuss, your hand snakes between your bodies to tug at his belt, fumbling to pop his pants open. Once you do, you can feel how warm and heavy his cock is, rock hard beneath your touch. He hisses at the flick of your wrist, moving up and down his length over the thin fabric of his boxers. Joel rests his forehead against yours to even his breaths, his chest heaving with a lustful sigh.

"Fuck," he grumbles, swiftly manhandling you so you're facing the mirror. His hand holds your face for you to stare back at your own reflection. "Aren't you a sight to behold?"

And you're certain that for a man like him, those words couldn't be truer. Sweat beads around your neck and sticks a couple hairs to your temples, eyes teary in the corners and lipstick smeared from the make out. Here and there your skin displays signs of his presence, part of you wishing they'd stay there till the next morning. If there was an accurate way to describe how you looked, that'll be wrecked.

"You should see yourself, Miller," you smirk, gesturing in his direction. His eyes reflected a prurient nature that added to his sex appeal, hair messy from your doing and an eager expression that gave him a downright pornographic aura. "Not bad for an old man."

His lips caress the back of your ear, hands driving the denim skirt farther up your hips. You cling to the edge of the work desk, making an effort to stand up in your weak knees, chills running down your spine when he gently nibbles at your earlobe.

"So much for not wanting to boost my ego, huh, sweetheart?" his gruff voice is both soothing and stirring, making all the blood rush straight to your pussy.

He parts your legs, spreading them with his knee and forcing you to bend forward a little. Your head turns to peek behind your shoulder, his every move being closely monitored by you, eyes widening when you finally fathom the sheer size of his cock. Your lower body pulsates with anticipation, another wave of arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs.

"Holy fuck-" you ramble as you watch him expertly roll a condom on his length. He's long and visibly thick, a prominent vein running from base to tip; your mouth waters just from the idea of wrapping your lips around it. "Shit..."

"Don't be getting all shy now, honey. Tis' what you wanted, then you're getting it," he rasps, lining himself between your legs.

"M'not shy," you retort, staring back at him through the mirror. "Was just thinking about how badly I wanted to blow you."

Joel stifles a groan, his hands snaking to your front to pull down the top and expose your tits. There was no need to wear a bra with a bustier, which you were glad for, cause it made it easier for him to pinch the peaked buds of your nipples. The head of his cock glides across your folds, coating it with the slick that keeps dribbling each time he bumps against your clit or makes you watch as he gropes your breasts.

"You talk like a slut." Your cheeks soared red and your pussy fluttered at the name-calling. The heat of his body on yours was simply intoxicating, making it difficult for you to think. "Is that how you want me to fuck you?" he whispers in your ear, nudging his cock at your entrance but not quite going in yet. "Nice and hard until I make an absolute mess out of you? Mmm?"

You nod, "Yes, god- yes. Please, Joel..."

He takes that plea as his cue to press himself inside you, slow and steady, allowing your body to adjust to the intromission. Your mouth falls ajar, nails scratching the wood under your fingers, vaguely squirming at the sharp sting of the stretch.

"That's it, takin' my cock so well," words of encouragement fall hoarsely form his lips like a chant and your body willingly melts into his. "See? I knew you could take it."

His thighs plunge to yours when he bottoms out at last, letting out a few pants and groans, his fingers pushing stray hairs out of your face. You can feel him jerk inside you, your walls enveloping his girth tightly, a wave of pleasure licking his spine at the feeling. He doesn't waste any more time, finding a pace of his liking as soon as he started moving and being relentless with it. The way his neck chain hits your shoulder blades with each thrust, the scrub of his beard when he kisses your temple and the dirty praises that he murmurs in your ear, somehow make the situation grounding; like it's really happening and you're not dreaming about it.

As Joel cradles you in his arms, your hand skirts to his nape in order to bring him in for a kiss. Each roll of his hips is calculated, deep and unswerving, knowing exactly how and where you liked it, studying your reactions. When he kisses you, he does so earnestly, almost affectionate in contrast to the rhythm in which his dick drags inside you– but it's short, the need for oxygen overpowering both. At this point, not even your stilted whimpers and his soft moans can mask the lewd sound of your squelching pussy or the sporadic noise of skin slapping against skin.

"Good fuckin' slut," he locks your jaw in place, pushing you to keep eye contact with your own reflection. "Sneakin' behind your friend's back to get fucked by a stranger –shit– an 'old man', nonetheless..."

Your stomach tenses each time the head of his cock grazes that sensitive spot within you, legs shaking at the way he speaks to you. Through the mirror, you see the way his thumb digs into your cheek, his hand cupping your breast as he twists your nipple in his fingers and the worst of all: that haughty fucking smile that suited him perhaps too damn well.

"I always did like them older," you utter, out of breath.

He chuckles darkly, heftily, letting his hand coast down your abdomen and reach your clit to tease it while he takes you from behind. The feeling was so intense that all you could do was claw at his bicep and let a hushed whine slip past your lips, knowing that a second orgasm was approaching faster than you had expected.

"Fuck, Joel- It feels so good..." your moans are like music to his ears, a syrupy melody that he wants to maintain on replay.

The way your pussy clenches around him, squeezing his length with every push, has his head fuzzy with sheer pleasure. And god- you look beautiful coming undone for him. No; because of him. He sees you looking at him through the reflection, pupils dark with an obscure desire, feels your cunt soak him every time he tells you how good you are, with each sound he makes just for you.

"I'm so close-" you warn, white sparks blurring your vision at the building of your crescendo.

"C'mon, come for me," he purrs, skillfully teasing your nub. "Wanna feel it— oh fuck, wanna feel you live up to your promise..."

Joel fucking whimpers, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck as he pulls your hips to meet his pace. The sound is so enticing that it throws you off, wanting to engrave it in your mind. Your thighs waver and your back arches, an overwhelming sense of euphoria partaking your body. "I've got you, let me hear you," he fucks you through it, slowing down but never losing precision. "Right there, you did so good..."

In your state of frenzy, you feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grip on your body tightening: the classic telltale of his own climax looming. Through it all, with your heart thumping so loud that it's almost deafening, you blurt out a dulcet: "Come in my mouth..."

God help him.

He nearly loses it right then and there.

"As you wish," he sighed, his deep voice raspy with passion.

But he's an indulgent man, so he musters up the strength to pull out and snatch the condom away, throwing it to the trash can. You fall to your knees with no hesitation, arms stretching to reach the outline of his hips. Joel guides the ruddy head of his cock to your lips, spreading precome all over them before you fully take him in your mouth. You suck him earnestly, focusing on the tip and tracing the vein on the underside of his dick. He's so worked up that it doesn't take him long to start panting; head thrown back and hand grabbing firmly the back of your neck.

Your gaze stick to his, knowing perfectly the power of looking into his eyes. You love the taste of him, musky and strong; all man. All you can think of right at this moment is how you want more, so much more of him.

"Perfect," he slurs through gritted teeth. "Perfect girl."

You can't contain the hum that reverberates through him, pushing him over the edge whilst you massage his balls. A deep, guttural groan claws its way from his throat, hips stuttering and thighs trembling as he comes in thick, hot spurts down your throat. You swallow instantly, not thinking much about it and stroking his shaft unhurriedly until he's whimpering from overstimulation; though he doesn't tell you to stop or pushes you away, letting you work him up to the time of your choice. Once you're content, you straighten your posture and rearrange your top, roughly registering when he tucks himself back in his pants.

"You okay?" he asks, helping you get on your feet. His thumb swipes around your lips and chin to clean the smeared lipstick, a sweet concern dithering in his eyes.

“Feelin’ great,” you say with genuine joy, pulling your skirt downwards and grabbing your panties from the floor, laying next to your jacket and his guitar. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he lends you a hand in putting your jacket back on. “It’s been a while since I’ve… Uh, well, you get it.”

You turn to face him, beaming radiantly. Gosh, you’re stunning. He’s certain he won’t forget those mesmerizing eyes of yours.

“Joel, let’s be honest with each other…” your hands shot up to caress his cheek and thread at his curls. You don’t believe him one bit. “We’ll meet again. You know we will.”

You didn’t really mean it, merely wanting to make an impression. But there was a minuscule possibility that your paths would cross for a second time; after all, you did know his brother. Though you never mentioned that. Deep down, you were scared that he wouldn’t want to make a move if he knew of that connection— specially after seeing Tommy’s reaction when he saw that hat on your head.

“Hope that’s true, groupie.”

Joel insists on calling his chauffeur to take you home, arguing that it was past midnight and it was dangerous to take a cab. Eventually, you let him, making a quick stop to the bathroom to set things right with your appearance. He waits for you patiently, the cowboy hat presented to you as a gift when you walked out.

“Keep it,” he sways, “as a little souvenir for if we don’t end up meeting again. Besides, it suits you better.”

“Won’t you have another pretty girl to gift it to?” he rolls his eyes at your inquiry.

“I can always buy more,” he laughs. “I want you to remember I sent you home sore and aching each time you look at it.”

You giggle, getting on your tippy toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, Miller. I’ll be thinking ‘bout it… About you. That’s a promise.”

And he truly hopes you mean it.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #joel miller au #alternate universe #smut

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starlost-andfound · 1 month

Text

claire de lune | bang chan

bang chan x friend gn!reader

summary: on a particularly rough night, y/n and chan find comfort in each other's company under the moonlight

word count: 1.1k

warning: discussions of grief, losing loved ones, mentions of death, angst and a bit of bittersweet but comforting (?) fluff

authors note: i don't actually think anyone will read this but i'm missing some ppl a little more than usual tonight. i thought i'd write this as a comfort for myself and for others who feel the same too

additional note: also, after years of using tumblr, i just figured out how to do this three pictures in a row thing and i am absolutely ecstatic about it

_ _ _

The knock on his studio door snapped Chan out of his trance.

He blinked his eyes a few times, his vision slowly coming back to focus, staring at the black computer screen in front of him. How long had he been zoned out? His head drifting to other places, clinging to lingering thoughts?

He glanced at the clock. 1:45 AM. Had it really been that long?

The knock sounded and Chan cleared his throat, “Come in.”

The door opened slightly and y/n peaked through the small gap.

“Oh, hey you,” Chan smiled tiredly. “It’s been a while.”

Y/n smiled. “Mind if I step in?”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Chan gestured to the couch behind him. The bags under y/n’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. He couldn’t deny that he held his own too. Chan had been in the studio for so long he could barely remember what time he had entered and how much time had passed.

Y/n closed the door behind them, leaning against it.

“Why are you up so late?” Chan asked.

“I could ask you the same.”

Chan chuckled. He glanced at the time again and sighed. He looked back at y/n, “Wanna go out on a walk?”

“Yeah, I could use some fresh air.”

_ _ _

Chan and y/n didn’t really have a destination in mind. They walked quietly side by side, matching each other’s pace. Occasionally, a soft sigh would break the silence or one of the two would point out the nice weather or a stray cat on the opposite side of the street. Both carried some kind of weight, a wearing shadow looming behind them.

Eventually the two found a park and made their way to a bench. Y/n let out a sigh as they sat. Chan followed, sitting a slight distance away from them. Neither made the first move to speak, both of their hearts aching to let go of the heavy anchor in their chest, but neither were courageous enough to say the words they needed to.

Chan looked up and sighed.

“Oh,” he whispered. “It’s a half moon tonight.”

Y/n followed his gaze up to the sky. They hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“You never did tell me why you were up,” Chan added.

A small pause. “Too much on my mind,” y/n mumbled.

“What were you thinking about?”

“It’s not so much of what I was thinking about,” y/n replied. “- but more of who i was thinking about,” they whispered.

Y/n inhaled deeply and cleared their throat. “Why were you up?”

Chan chuckled, but his laughter held some heaviness. “I guess the same as you.”

After a longer silence, Chan spoke again. “Were they a friend, family... or a lover?”

“Family,” y/n spoke quietly, afraid if they spoke any louder their feelings would burst. “You?”

“Friend,” Chan sighed..

He laughed lightly. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

“Nope,” y/n chuckled, fiddling with the hem of their t-shirt. “I feel like every time it hits me I drown again.”

“They say it comes in waves.”

“Yeah,” y/n bit their lip as their eyes started to water, a lump building in their throat.

“Sometimes it’s unforgiving like a high tide and it completely floods and it drowns you,” Chan continued with a deep breath. “But sometimes it’s gentle and kind like the low tide on a shore on a quiet morning.”

A tear slipped passed y/n’s eye and they quickly brushed it away.

“I hate it, I really do.” their lip trembled. They inhaled shakily. “I just wish it would go away.”

“I know,” Chan said. “Me too.”

He couldn’t tell when the first tear had fallen, quickly wiping away the tears smudged on his cheeks.

“I just don’t know how to deal with all of this pain that I have left, all of this love I have left for them. I don’t know where to put it. I don’t know how anyone lives with it. How the world just keeps spinning but I’m still stuck here.”

“I guess we just have to learn to live with it,” Chan whispered. “Slowly, step by step. We put the love we have left for them into the way we live.”

He paused, and breathed shakily. “Maybe by smiling a little more for them, or doing that crazy thing we’re scared of, just living more for them - because they would’ve wanted that for us.” His voice wavered, “They would’ve wanted us to be happy.”

Y/n sniffled. “You have a really good way with words.”

“Funny.” Chan laughed through his tears. “People say that a lot.”

“Sometimes, I feel really lost without them. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself, with my life.” y/n spoke. “They used to be a call away and now, I don’t know what to do when I need them the most.”

“It’s hard, learning to live and grow.” Chan said. “As you get older, you grow apart or you have to learn how to keep growing on your own.”

He sniffled. “But they’re always looking out for us, even when they’re gone. You just need to look for the signs.”

“Do you think they can see us from up there?”, y/n asked, looking back up at the sky.

“I think they do. They always watch over us, in the stars.” Chan pointed up in the far distance, to a small cluster of stars surrounding the moon.

The two sat in silence again, both looking up at the stars, the moonlight washing over them with a soft glow, wrapping them in a gentle embrace.

“For what it’s worth, I think they would be really proud of who you are today.” Chan looked at y/n.

Y/n’s eyes welled with tears again. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. They glanced at Chan. “For what it’s worth, I know that they’re really proud of you too Chan.”

Chan remained silent for a moment, composing himself before he replied. “Thank you, y/n.”

They sat together quietly for a few more minutes, each allowing the other to feel their own heaviness in their chest, in their own time.

After some time passed, the only sound heard was the distant chirp of crickets and their quiet breathing.

“Do you want to head back?”, y/n asked.

Chan looked back up at the moon and exhaled shakily. “I think I’d like to stay here for a bit longer, look at the stars a little more.”

“I think I’ll stay a little bit longer too.”

Up above them, in the light of the moon in the dark sky, a pair of stars shined a little brighter.

#bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst

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sunshine-theseus · 6 months

Text

Mi Corazón | Olga Carmona x reader

Word Count: 2.4k Summary: you’re in the military, she plays football. You both have busy schedules, but you’ll always find time for each other. Warnings: angsty, fluffy. I’m learning Spanish but I don’t know an awful lot so I’m sorry if it’s incorrect😭, and if it’s a long conversation I’ll only write some things in Spanish. Request for: @thedarknessempress and @realsociadadferminofan - i'm pretty happy with this one so i hope you like it!

I hadn’t expected it to be this hard every single time. Of course I knew I’d miss my family and friends, but six months always felt longer than it seemed.

And then there was Olga. We already struggled to find time to ourselves before I was deployed but now it was a whole other issue. There were time zone struggles and she was getting ready for the World Cup while I was working with my platoon and showing people that I deserve my rank.

After years of work, I recently got promoted to Teniente (Lieutenant), so this mission was a big deal in proving to the higher ups that they hadn’t made the wrong decision. Olga understood but was reasonably upset that I wouldn’t be able to support her at the beginning of the World Cup, especially with the struggle the girls have had with the RFEF and Vilda.

The last time we spoke it was tense. Things were getting difficult in camp as they approached the quarter-finals and when I told her my deployment was being extended a few weeks, conveniently ending days after the finals, she broke.

“Qué? What do you mean it was extended?! Can they even do that? You promised you’d make it if we got this far!”

“I’m sorry Ol. You know I want to be there more than anything.”

“This keeps happening. How can I trust a promise when I know you could be deployed or called to work on some plan at any point?”

“Mi corazón, that is not fucking fair. You knew what me being in the Air Force entailed when you met me. I requested this time off specifically so I could be there but there was nothing anyone could do! They need me here. I’ll be able to use this for extra time off another time. Just for us.”

“But I need you here!” her voice shakes, and I nearly break; tell her ‘Fuck it I’m on my way’.

“Olga…”

“Vete a la mierda” were her final words and then the line goes dead. (fuck off)

That was over a week ago. I texted and called her more times than I can count. When she didn’t answerr the first few, I messaged Ona, asking her to at least update me on how she’s going.

‘She is ok, very sad.’ Is the first message I get in return from said left back.

‘Felicidades!’ they win their quarter-final match (congratulations)

‘She is missing you’ is what I get in return.

‘can you tell her I miss her too?’ I don’t get a reply that night and her updates continue to be few and far between as they progress through the semi-finals all the way to the finals, against England.

~~~~~

“Deja de mirar tu teléfono” Alexia scolds me as I stare at the picture of Olga, Ona and Alexia, arm in arm together after their semi-final win (stop looking at your phone)

“What if she doesn’t want to see me Ale?”

“No seas estúpida! She loves you, she is just upset. Maybe saying your deployment got extended was not your best idea.” she chuckles as I glare at her, sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chairs right behind the substitution bench. (don’t be stupid)

“I didn’t know how else to surprise her.”

“They are coming out! Pull down your cap so she cannot see you.”

“I’m still in uniform Ale. If she doesn’t recognise the outfit, she won’t recognise me.”

“Oh, just do it!” I follow the pink haired girl’s instructions and slouch in my chair.

But then I see her. For the first time in 6 months, I see her and all I want to do was run onto the pitch and pick her up and kiss her. But I can’t, I refuse to ruin the surprise after literally risking my relationship for it.

My soul focus the entire game is Olga. The way she seems so free when she plays, the way she moves. When she scores the first, and only, goal of the game and pulls up her jersey to reveal the name of her best friend’s mother I nearly cry. Even in one of her biggest moments, she honours the other people in her life.

The final whistle blows, and we cheer as the girls fall to their knees and hug each other, others comforting the English girls. After a minute or so, Ona runs over to pull Alexia and I over the barricade and I rush over to stand behind Olga who is hugging Esther, who catches a glimpse of me and smiles before pulling away from the hug.

“Felicidades mi corazón!” (Congratulations my heart)

“Qué?” she whips around at the sound, and I don’t get to say anything else before she’s jumping into my arms.

“You’re here? But y- your mission got extended?”

“Is that what I said? Whoops! I meant to say ‘I’ll be here’.” I kiss her on the forehead, then set her back down and she slaps my arm before glancing at her team.

“Go celebrate, I’m not going anywhere.” Olga hugs me once more before going to hug her teammates and comfort some of the other players, a large smile on her face.

I then stand with the other family and friends, Alexia’s arm tightly around me, as the team is presented their medals and the trophy.

Joy is rushing through until I witness Rubiales kiss Jenni, but I try to focus on the win, catching Olga as she comes barrelling back toward me after they take team photos.

“I’m sorry for yelling on the phone. And ignoring you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

“But you didn’t even know if we would win the semis.”

“Mm I’m kind of psychic, I actually knew ages ago.” Olga giggles and pushes me lightly.

Then her family approaches us, sadness looming behind their smiles. I leave them alone to talk but it doesn’t take long for Olga to fall into my arms as she cries.

“Shh mi vida. What’s wrong?” I hold her tight as I rock us back and forth, rubbing her back.

“Mi papa murió” I stop abruptly and pull away, taking her face in my hands as I stare in shock. (my dad died)

“Qué? Cuando?” (What? When?)

“Viernes.” (Friday)

“What do you mean Friday? No one told you?” she only shakes her head before pulling me back into her.

“Lo siento mucho Ol. I’m so sorry. He would have been so proud” (very sorry)

~~~~~

We get back to Madrid after celebrations with the team. The funeral is a few days after and I spend most of the time taking care of Olga, refusing to let her do anything she doesn’t need to. Most mornings I make her breakfast, then wait to see if she wants to do any activities, then finish off the day by making dinner.

I then decided we both deserved a small holiday, so I brought her to my hometown, Dénia, on Spain’s east coast.

“Bebé! Do you have the towels?” Olga shouts from the door as I struggle to pull on my second sandal.

“Sí! I’ve got everything, don’t worry.” I walk towards her and peck her on the lips before opening the door, ushering her out.

Olga swings our hands back and forth between us as we make our way down to the beach from our hotel.

“Can we build sandcastles?” she looks at me with those big, whiskey brown eyes and I find it impossible to deny her anything.

“Of course we can.” And so we set up a spot, and while she gathers some water, I start packing sand into our buckets.

Every now and then a kid comes up to us, asking for a photo with the ‘Heroe de Fútbol’ who got us that trophy. Other kids have no idea who she is and just want to help us build a big ass sandcastle, and we tell them jokes and play into whatever fantasy they’ve made for the structure.

‘y las dos princesas se casan y viven felices para siempre!’ the little girl finishes her story. (and the two princesses get married and live happily ever after)

Lucia, as we learned her name was, quickly switched the prince for a princess after momentarily being confused when she asked if we were ‘friends or friends’. Her mum tried to apologise but Olga laughed and just took hold of my hand as we listen to the story.

Not long after saying goodbye to the girl and her mum, Olga and I pack up and head back.

“What do you want to do tonight bebé?” I ask as I unlock the door.

“Movie night? All those kid stories make me want to watch Disney.”

“As long as we get to watch The Princess and The Frog”. I head to the kitchen to start on dinner when I feel Olga’s arms wrap around me and I turn around.

“What’s up?” I stare down into her eyes, so full of love.

“Thank you. For coming home early and for this holiday, for taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you mi corazón, even if I have to get dishonourably discharged, if you need me, I’ll be here. And if I really can’t be, I’ll do whatever I can to help.” I lean down and capture her lips in my own, our love for each other radiates through the kiss.

“Te amo.” She pecks my lips again (I love you)

“Te amo.” I turn back around to continue with dinner and Olga curls into my side, following me around the kitchen, always leaning on me.

It can be so hard to find time like this together so when we have it, neither of us want to be apart from the other. I never want to be apart from her.

~~~~~

Our holiday goes on for another couple of days, and we decide for our last night we would have a romantic dinner at Mala Vita, a restaurant in the Marina, overlooking the water.

“Are you ready?!” I yell through the bathroom door, waiting for Olga to finish getting ready.

I’m about to knock again when the door creaks open and Olga steps out.

I choke as I catch sight of her. Her satin red dress clings to her perfectly, her muscles are softly defined, and her loose hair frames her face. Her heels make her taller, but she still has to lean up to plant a kiss on my cheek as my mouth continues to gap open.

“Perfecta hermosa! Elegante!” I kiss her with every word before we head down to the taxi, my arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders. (Perfect beautiful! Elegant!)

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” She lightly pokes me in the side as she takes in my own outfit.

When we arrive at the restaurant, it’s golden hour, and Olga begs to do a small photoshoot, asking an older couple to take some photos of us together.

I hold her close and look her in the eyes before dipping her, both of us laughing as the older lady cheers and takes a photo.

Then Olga turns her back to me as she adjusts her hair, and I drop to one knee and hold out an object that could change everything. I see the couple smile to each other and continuously take photos from Olga’s phone out of the corner of my eye. I smile to myself, I hope to one day be like them, with the girl in front of me.

It takes Olga a few moments to turn around, ready to hug me. It then takes her a few more moment to realise I’m not standing in front of her, her eyes dropping to meet mine as I grin up at her. Her hands are then quick to cover her mouth.

“Olga Carmona García, you are the light of my life, and I would do anything for you. When you kicked a football into my face, I couldn’t even imagine this is where we would be 2 and a half years later. I am more in love with you than I have ever loved anything in my life. I want to grow old with you and love you for eternity. Por favor hazme la mujer más feliz del mundo y sé mi esposa” in mere moments Olga falls to her knees, pulls me in and kisses me passionately. (please make me the happiest woman in the world and be my wife)

“Sí! Sí, lo haré!” she cries as I slip the ring on and kiss her again. (Yes! Yes I will!)

“Sois una hermosa pareja” the lady says as she hands Olga’s phone back to her. (You are a beautiful couple)

“Gracias.” We wave goodbye to the couple before heading into the restaurant.

“I love you so much.” Olga whispers as she takes my hand, admiring the ring on her other hand.

“Not as much as I love you.” I kiss her forehead before we sit down.

“I have another surprise…”

“Qué?” her head quirks to the side in that adorable way that makes my heart clench, and I know what I’m about to say will be the best decision of my life.

“I got offered a job..” I can tell Olga is about to ask how this is a good surprise, so I rush on.

“As a lead trainer of the Air Force Academy in Madrid.” I grin at her, waiting for her to react.

“W- what does that mean?”

“I’ll be in Madrid permanently, unless of course you move clubs, then I’ll move. But most importantly we’ll have more guaranteed time together.”

“But your dream has been to be a high rank in the Air Force for basically ever!” I can see her begin to look distraught.

“It was my dream. But I’ll never want anything more than to be with you. And being in the Air Force basically guarantees we only ever have 6 months, if that, together every year. I don’t know about you, but I can’t live without you for that long for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t either.” I take her hand.

“I want this Olga, I promise. And if I get bored of being on the ground, I can always become a commercial pilot. Then I’ll always be a captain.” I smile reassuringly at the love of my life.

“Siempre serás mi capitana.” I lean over the table and kiss her once more. (You will always be my captain).

“Te amo.” She whispers as we part.

“Te amo mi corazón.”

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #wwc 2023 #olga carmona x reader #olga carmona #liga f #real madrid #spain wnt

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shelyue99 · 1 month

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Some thoughts about Operation Varsity, which Nix served as an observer and nearly died, portrayed in the Ep 9 of BoB—I’m not sure who actually assigned Nix to be the observer. In Dick’s memoir, he wrote he dispatched Nix, but in Biggest Brother, it seems it was Sink assigned Nix. If it was Dick and if Nix got killed in the operation, I just can’t stop myself imagining what kind of guilt Dick would feel.

The operation was launched on March 23, 1945. Nix returned the next day. The same day Dick wrote a rather bitchy letter to DeEtta. The tone of this letter is so out his usual character, just Dick being sassy and also mean. Dick was exhausted. Nix nearly escaped death and was shaken, withdrawing himself into alcohol. My theory is that Dick was in a bad mood because of exhaustion, and that Nix almost died.

Here is an excerpt from Dick's memoir, Beyond Band of Brothers:

The next evening, March 23, Field Marshal Montgomery launched Operation Varsity, a massive attack across the Rhine at Wesel with his entire 2d British Army. Though Ridgway's XVIII Airborne Corps, of which the 101st Airborne Division was an integral part, had originally been slated to participate in the offensive, changes in the troop list resulted in William (Bud) Miley's 17th Airborne Division being the only American airborne division participating in Montgomery's highly touted offensive. The 101st was allowed to send observers, so I dispatched Captain Lewis Nixon.

Fortunately, for Nixon, he was assigned to be jumpmaster of his aircraft. As he approached the drop zone, his plane was struck by heavy antiaircraft fire. Nixon and three other men made it out of the plane, but the rest were lost when the plane crashed. Nix remained with the 17th Airborne Division for one night and was then returned to 2d Battalion at Mourmelon on a special plane. Nix's brush with death left him visibly shaken, particularly when at this stage in the war, no one intentionally put himself in danger now that victory was at hand. Captain Nixon found his usual retreat in alcohol that evening, but I was glad to see him safe. On a side note, Nixon's jump with the 17th Airborne Division qualified him as one of two men in the 506th PIR eligible to wear three stars on his jump wings: Normandy, Holland, and Operation Varsity.

An excerpt from Biggest Brother, the Life of Major Dick Winters:

For his S3, Winters soon reclaimed the man he wanted most. Ever since Lewis Nixon had been elevated to Sink's staff, the colonel had become increasingly frustrated with the man's drunkenness. In late March Sink had assigned Nixon to jump as an observer with the 17th Airborne Division during Operation Varsity, the assault on the Ruhr, the industrial center that still propelled Germany's sagging war machine. Nixon was jumpmaster and in the first seat by the door. On March 24, as the plane lumbered over the drop zone, it was hit by flak. Nixon and three others managed to launch themselves out the door before the plane exploded. A day later Nixon was back with the regiment, and while he was drowning the memory with Vat 69, Sink was visiting Winters' headquarters.

"I have a problem, Dick," he said.

"It's Captain Nixon."

Winters knew what the complaint was, so it came as no surprise.

"Goddamit, the man's drunk all the time," Sink said. "I mean, I certainly tip a few myself at night and when off duty, but with him it's all the time. I can't get any damned work out of him. How did you find him to work with?"

"Captain Nixon and I get along very well, sir," Winters replied.

"That's what I had thought," Sink said. "Do you want him back? Can you use him?"

"Oh yes, I can use him," Winters said.

"You got him," Sink said. "Hell, every time I need him he's always here with you anyway. He may as well stay."

So Lewis Nixon, now the only man in the 101st to make three combat jumps, returned to 2nd Battalion.

The letter from Dick to DeEtta on March 24, 1945:

Dear De-

What kind of stuff are you reading nowadays? From the line of icky stuff you wrote about my picture it sounds like 15¢ worth of pulp magazine. Something that would be called "Ten thrilling love stories" or "True confessions." Anyway don't hand me that kind of stuff. I get to look in the mirror about once a day when I shave and when I'm honest with myself, I just say, "Boy, are you ugly." So to be brief I am just glad I don't have to go around all day looking at myself.

Then you talk about my hair being darker. Hell, no, it's just dirty. I don't get a chance to wash it but a couple times a year. Then there's worry muscles on my forehead. My aching back! I've worry muscles all over my face and the longer this war continues, the deeper they'll grow for I've got over 600 big individual worries myself when I get time to think about my future.

Now we come to the part [in your letter] where my "eyes are keen and seem to follow you wherever you go." This is too much for me, I quit! Hell, that's the way I sleep!

Next, my "mouth seems firmer, and my face broader, yet muscular." Naturally, if you'd been beaten around for so long and eaten noth-ing but K rations, you'd need more than a lipstick to look ----

"When I think of what your eyes have seen, I just can't visualize or imagine that much." Have you read these combat stories in the newspapers and magazines and seen these movies on combat? It makes me shiver too. "Do you jump when somebody slams a door, hit the ground if a car backfires?" Well, that's about all there is to it. Once you've seen one French village, you've seen them all, Holland, Belgium, Alsace-Lorraine, Germany-all the same.

So you met a boy from the 511 [Parachute Infantry Regiment, 11th Airborne Division]? Is that outfit in this man's army? Never heard of them doing anything! Gee, that sure must have been interest-ing to hear what the lad had to say about what paratroopers must go through. Terrible, I imagine. I'lljust bet they run him to death. And if his officers don't work him to death, he'll most likely get killed on a practice jump. Did he tell you about the time he killed three Germans with his bare hands? Or about the time he got a letter from his girl and he was so inspired he went out and killed ten more of those dirty old krauts?

Yes, yes, those poor, poor, tired old krauts, just aching to give up. All you have to do is walk over there and invite them to give up. Why, I imagine he told you how a Yank is better than any three, old, tired krauts. Then there's the one about how they can't shoot worth a damn, can't hit a thing. I know, I've heard them all. To be brief, that's about the same grade as the stuff you handed me in the letter I just went over with you.

Sort of tired tonight. This thing of running a battalion can be rough if you want to make it that way.

On the radio they just announced that the 101st jumped east of the Rhine today. Mighty interesting!

Wish they would have told me so I could have gone along.

Well, here's to the end. This letter looks and sounds like I must have been drinking but I am about as sober as a judge. Only just so tired I am too lazy to lift my pen, let alone think.

Well, I'll be seeing you in church-

Dick

#dick winters #lewis nixon #band of brothers #winnix

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 month

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In Memory of Mom

Danny meets a strange, Spanish-speaking ghost wandering around Casper High. His Spanish isn't great, but he's pretty sure she's looking for her daughter.

For the Prompt: Danny encounters a strange spanish-only speaking ghost looking for Paulina Sanchez. Being a first year Spanish student, he only recognizes the words "mi hija" and hesitantly leads her to Paulina. It's Día de los Muertos, but because Paulina has been trying to fit in at school, and her papa remarried and doesn't want to make his new wife uncomfortable, they've fallen out of the habit of setting up the ofrenda and marigolds, leaving their mom/wife unable to find her way home. Paulina can't see or hear her, but Phantom can [From @dreamwraith]

Disclaimer: I am white, and I do not speak Spanish. It is with deepest regret that I must admit to using Google translate for the Spanish dialogue in this fic. If you notice any errors in the Spanish, or regarding Día de Muertos (which there might very well be, though I did do my research), please feel free to correct me. I can only do my best, and always appreciate the opportunity to do better.

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for past character death, and mentions of culture death]

Danny typically liked to have more than one day to recover after fighting Fright Knight every Halloween. Not to mention the numerous other ghosts who always had to come out on that stupid holiday to cause as much trouble as possible during the period of time when the barrier between the human world and the Ghost Zone was at it's thinnest.

Of course, Danny never got more than one day, but he would have liked to.

Luckily the ghost that showed during lunch period on November second didn't seem to be causing any trouble. In fact, it didn't seem like she was powerful enough to cause trouble, even if she wanted to. No one besides Danny even seemed to notice her, which at least meant she wouldn't be able to cause any serious damage, even if she tried.

She was speaking Spanish as she walked through the halls of Casper High, and turning her head this way and that as if she was looking for something, or someone.

"¿La has visto? ¿Mi hija? ¿Dónde está mi hija? ¿La has visto?" she called out.

Now, Danny was only a first year Spanish student, and furthermore... he missed a lot of classes, so he wasn't sure exactly what she was saying, but he did recognize the words 'mi hija', 'my daughter'. The last time he'd been to Spanish class, Señora Gutierrez had been teaching family terms. Madre, padre, hermana, hermano, hija, hijo, tío, abuela, that kind of thing.

Subtly, he followed her until she walked into a hallway where there weren't any people, and then, with no one to look at him like he was crazy for talking to the air, he spoke to her.

"Excuse me, are you looking for your daughter?" Danny asked.

"¡sí mi hija!" the woman replied excitedly. "¿La conoces? ¿La has visto?"

Danny knew 'sí', that was 'yes', the most basic of basic Spanish. 'sí' and... and... okay, so Danny couldn't remember what 'no' was in Spanish, but he remembered 'sí'. Ancients, he was really gonna have to start showing up to that class more if he wanted to get the foreign language credits he needed to graduate.

"Uh... tu hija," Danny said, completely confident that he was already screwing up the grammar, "¿que es la nombre?"

"No es muy fluido en español, ¿verdad?" The ghost laughed. "Su nombre es Paulina."

"Paulina?" Danny didn't understand any of the rest of what she said, so he focused on the last bit. "Paulina Sanchez?"

"¡Sí!" she confirmed, enthusiastically. "Mi hija. Paulina Sánchez. ¿Tu la conoce?"

Danny nodded, although he'd kinda fallen off the sentence after 'sí'. "Why are you looking for her?"

"Es el Dia de Muertos," she said. "Quiero verla, pero no encuentro la ofrenda."

Danny had no idea to respond to that. The only word he recognized from all of that was 'la', but he couldn't glean a whole sentence from a single 'the', so he just looked at her with an expression that was half a forced, awkward smile and half a grimace.

"Ummmm..."

Was it safe to lead an unknown ghost to an unsuspecting human? Objectively no. Most especially not when the unsuspecting human was the girl Danny had a massive crush on. But... on the other hand, this particular ghost seemed pretty harmless, and she said she was Paulina's mother. So... maybe it was okay?

"How about I'll take you to her," Danny suggested.

The ghost that claimed to be Paulina's mother nodded excitedly and said something else in Spanish that Danny had no hope of translating.

Danny led her to the outdoor table where the A-listers always sat, but Paulina wasn't there. After a little bit of prowling the quad, he found her, at an out of the way table no one ever sat at because the the school custodian always ignored it and it was disgusting.

Paulina had laid her jacket over the bench to sit on, and unfolded a few paper napkins over the surface of the table. She had a handful of sugar cubes, and was poking one with a toothpick for some reason. She hadn't noticed him yet.

As much as he would have liked to go over to her as Danny Fenton and be the hero who let her talk to her mom again, he figured it would probably be suspicious if people knew he could see ghosts others couldn't. A but reluctantly, he looked around to make sure no one could see and transformed into Danny Phantom. The ghost, Paulina's mom, applauded him, like he'd just done a magic trick. To her, it might have seemed that way.

"Thanks," he said, a little sarcastically, and floated over to talk to Paulina.

"Excuse me, Paulina Sanchez?" Danny asked, as if he wasn't sure whether he knew her name or not. "There's a ghost here who wants to speak to you."

Paulina looked up and looked around, then turned back to Danny and raised a perfect eyebrow. She put down the sugar cube she was poking at, and Danny noticed that on her other side, there were two other sugar cubes sculpted into the shape of a skull.

"You mean you?" she asked. "Look, normally, I'd be thrilled, but today isn't really—"

"Oh, no, not me," Danny said. "She has long hair, wearing a nice knee-length dress.... It's kinda hard to describe ghosts in a way that makes them recognizable to people who knew them in life, 'cause colors tend to be different between life-and-death but uh... you and her have the same nose, actually. She says your her daughter? I don't speak Spanish, but I managed to figure out that much."

When he stopped talking, Pauling gave him a flat look.

"Are you messing with me?"

"No," Danny insisted. "She's not a very powerful ghost, so she can't stay in the visible range, but she's here. She wants to talk to you."

"Mamá?" Paulina asked hesitantly. "¿Estás aquí?"

"Sí, hija mía, estoy aquí," Mrs. Sanchez replied. "Estoy muy feliz de verte de nuevo."

Paulina didn't respond for a long moment, apparently waiting. Then, finally, she said, "I don't hear anything."

"I was worried you might say that," Danny said. "I'm gonna have to speak Spanish if you guys want to talk to each other, aren't I?" he sighed deeply. "Alright fine. Apologies in advance because I am gonna absolutely butcher the pronunciations."

"Hija," Mrs. Sanchez said, "volví a verte, pero no había camino para mí. ¿Por qué?"

Danny repeated the words to the best of his ability.

Paulina took a moment to parse them out, with a puzzled expression before finally saying, "Papá se volvió a casar. Su nueva esposa es gringa, así que no le hicimos un ofrenda en casa para que no se sintiera incómoda."

Danny didn't know what any of that meant, obviously, and was grateful he only had to repeat after Paulina's mom, because Paulina herself spoke Spanish very quickly and there was absolutely no way he wouldn't trip over his tongue mimicking her.

"Pero estoy aquí, debe haber una ofrenda."

Danny mimicked her again.

Paulina looked a little embarrassed. "Sí... yo... hice uno en mi casillero para ti. No quería que no pudieras cruzar."

Her mother gasped. Danny really wished he knew what was going on.

"¿Me mostrarás?"

Paulina's expression lit up when Danny repeated that, and she stood, gathering up her jacket and her sugar cubes.

"Vamos," she said. "I mean, follow me."

She led the way through the empty halls and Danny and her mom followed.

"What were you guys talking about?" Danny asked, then immediately realized what he was asking and quickly backtracked. "I mean, never mind, it's probably personal. I was just curious. You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's okay," Paulina said. "See, my mom passed when I was seven, and every year, me and my dad set up an ofrenda for Day of the Dead with her picture so she could visit us. We moved here from Mexico when I was ten, but we kept up the tradition.

"Last winter, though, Dad married my step-mom, and she's white, and doesn't know anything about Mexican traditions or holidays. Dad doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, so ever since they got married, we stopped celebrating most of what we used to back in Mexico, so we didn't put up an ofrenda this year, and Mom was asking why she couldn't find it, so I explained."

"Oh... that's... kinda sad," Danny said. "You just had to give up all your culture because your dad remarried?"

Paulina shrugged. "We had to give up a lot of it already, when we moved to America anyway," she said, as if that made it less sad and not more. "At least Sandra's nice, she's just... a little out of her depth sometimes."

"So... where are you taking us?"

Finally, she stopped in front of her locker and turned the dial with her combination.

"I didn't want mom to not be able to visit me, so... I sort of made my own ofrenda in my locker," Paulina explained sheepishly.

The door swung open to reveal the inside. There was a small magnetic shelf stuck on the back of the locker. On it, there was a small electric candle, some kind of orange flower, a pair of black lace gloves, and a heart-shaped locket. The locket was open and propped up so the picture inside was visible. It was the ghost Danny was trying to help.

Paulina reached in an put a few of the sculpted sugar cubes on the shelf next to the locket. The tiny sugar skulls were perfectly to scale with the tiny picture, but absolutely dwarfed by the flower.

The ghost put her hands to her heart and looked absolutely touched by the tiny display.

"Those were her favorite gloves," Paulina explained. "She always wore them when Dad took her dancing."

"What's the flower?" Danny asked.

"It's a marigold," she replied. "Cempasúchil, in Spanish. They're a traditional decoration for the ofrenda. You're also supposed to leave a trail of their petals from the grave to the ofrenda, but... Mom's grave is in Mexico, and the ofrenda is in my locker so...."

"Ay, esto es hermoso," the ghost said. "Gracias. Amo mucho esto. Te quiero mi hija."

Danny had been to distracted to properly listen, so he wasn't sure how to repeat her words.

"Uh... she says she likes it."

The ghost gave him a look and a light slap that passed right through him.

"A lot, she likes it a lot."

"¡Y te amo!" she added insistently.

"Y te amo, she says," Danny repeated.

"Thank you, Phantom," Paulina said. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "This means a lot to me."

Danny knew his cheeks were turning bright green, and he cleared his throat awkwardly to make sure his voice wouldn't crack.

"Uh, yeah, no problem," he said. "Don't mention it."

It was then that the bell rang signalling the end of lunch, and Paulina grabbed a couple of books from her locker and headed to class. Her mom followed, even though Paulina couldn't see her.

Danny had to get to class, too. He had Spanish class after lunch, and Ancients knew he didn't need to be missing any more of those.

In class, Señora Gutierrez talked about Dia de los Muertos, and for once, Danny actually sort of knew what she was talking about, thanks to Paulina. Maybe he should ask her to tutor him.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #paulina sanchez #paulina sanchez's mom #dia de los muertos #fic #things i wrote #phic phight #phic phight 24 #spanish

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haechaninmyheart · 2 years

Text

make it fit again

the image does not belong to me. credits to the original owner.

summary - it’s been two months since that incident and haechan can’t stop thinking about it. neither can you, if you’re honest and you find yourself in a similar situation once again but this time, your friends don’t just listen.

pairing - best friend!haechan x f!reader ft renjun, jaemin & jeno.

genre - smut, non-idol!au.

word count - 4.7k.

warnings - haechan thinking horny thoughts, kissing, hair pulling, oral (receiving & giving), fingering, swearing, face fucking, 69, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, fivesome/orgy, anal, handjobs, slight nipple pinching, manhandling.

author’s note - part 2 of make it fit. i changed minor things because it didn’t make sense to me but overall still the same! happy reading. 💖

18+ content ahead, so minors don’t interact!!!

. . .

It’s been two whole months since that incident, the whole Haechan forgetting to switch his mic off before fucking your throat and while it was a hot topic within your group, most of your friends drop the teasing after a few days.

Though Haechan doesn’t. He can’t stop thinking about the way his cock bulged in your throat, the way you moaned his name and if he’s honest, he’s been jerking himself off to the image in his head for weeks. Of you on his bed and sucking him good, so good.

He can’t believe he’s thinking about it again, in the middle of his lecture class as his professor gives the class feedback about the research project that had been submitted last week. Exams were just around the corner and truth be told, Haechan hadn’t been studying enough for them.

Soon the class is over and he gathers his stuff but before he can leave the lecture hall, his professor calls his name.

Fuck, had he taken notice of him not paying attention?

“Yes?”

“Your project…” The professor holds up a few stapled papers in his hands. “It’s great, really interesting to read. Hope you can keep up this level of effort for the exam too, okay? Don’t zone out during the actual thing.”

Haechan laughs it off, nodding in agreement before heading off to the library. You’d planned to meet him there with the rest of the group, just to study for the upcoming exams and when he gets there, Jeno and Jaemin are sitting across from you. Renjun is nowhere to be seen as of yet, so he slides himself into the chair next to you, moving your bag onto the floor before greeting the three of you as he opens up his laptop.

“Where’s Renjun?” He asks after bringing up the notes the professor had shared to catch up with the lecture he just had.

“Lab.” You reply, looking up from your textbook. “He said he might be longer than planned, he’ll meet up for lunch though.”

“You should check the group chat’s messages.” Jaemin raises a brow at Haechan, a slight smirk present on his lips and Jeno laughs before being hushed by a nearby librarian.

“Shut up.” But Haechan can’t help smirking either and you feel your face heat up, opting to pretend you never heard Jaemin or even look up. Haechan throws a sideways glance at you, once the two in front have returned their focus back to their work but you’re so concentrated on your work, you don’t take notice.

You’ve managed to complete most of the questions in your textbook when Renjun sends two messages to the group chat. One complaining about 3 broken flasks and another saying he’s making his way to the library.

“Renjun’s on his way.”

“Finally.” Jaemin breathes out, stretching in his chair before actually getting up and Jeno follows. Carelessly shoving his textbooks and other belongings into his bag but you take your time, making sure you don’t mess up the order of your notes as you neatly organize everything in your bag.

—

It seems that the restaurant you five had plans to eat at this afternoon was rather busy and getting a table wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. “Out of all the days we come here.” Jaemin groans, resting his head on Jeno’s shoulder in a dramatic manner and Haechan has decided he can no longer wait in the long queue. Already dragging most of the group out the busy place with the promise of paying for take out and so you all begin the walk back to Jaemin and Jeno’s shared apartment.

Renjun’s the one being assigned the job to go pick up drinks after a quick game of rock, paper, scissors and you four wait back at the apartment. “Shouldn’t we wait for Renjun?” You ask, clearing up the table in the living area when Haechan’s already begun eating and Jeno has an idea.

“Why don’t we play a little game of ‘never have i ever’ while we wait?”

“Sure.” You shrug, falling onto the couch next to Jaemin and Jeno starts first.

They’re innocent at first, nothing too much until it’s Jaemin’s turn once again. “Never have I ever…” He turns to look at you, a sly smirk present on his face. “Fucked one of my best friend’s whilst on a call.”

Both you and Haechan lower a finger, and Jaemin is too pleased with himself.

“You probably enjoyed listening to us.” Haechan comments and you pressed your lips together, trying to remember if you were really that vocal. You were sucking Haechan off most of the time so you really couldn’t have been that loud?

It was enjoyable, really, and if it wasn’t going to ruin the relationship you had with Haechan, you’d do it once again. You think Haechan feels the same way, well, you hope he does and for some reason, when it’s your turn, you don’t even think before speaking. “Never have I ever wanted to fuck my best friend once again.”

You lower a finger, eyes looking at everything else but in Haechan’s direction and for a moment the room’s silent. Fuck, you should’ve kept quiet about that. Just then, the door to the apartment swings open and Renjun’s back with a bag of cans.

“You waited?” Renjun’s in awe and you clear your throat.

“Ye-yeah, let’s eat.”

Whatever you said before Renjun swung open the door is pushed at the back of the boys’ minds and you’re thankful none of them bring it up during the meal.

—

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“I’m out, I brought drinks so it’s only fair.” Renjun says as he leans back on the couch and pays no heed to what his friends choose but instead the tv screen. He didn’t have one at his own dorm yet, his room wasn’t big enough but it was enough to get by. He was here to study so he needed to focus on that, but breaks were important too.

“Unlucky.” Jaemins groans with a smile when you lose and you begin to pick up the rubbish quickly to not miss anymore of the movie.

Haechan is still drinking from the can in his hand when you get up to go to the kitchen and he follows moments after, to put it in the bin but also to-

“Hey, about earlier-”

“Yeah, about that-” You can’t look him in the face as you mumble. “Sorry if it made you uncomfortable or anything.”

“No, no, no.” He is fast to protest, wanting to reassure you that you weren’t the only one who felt that way and he’s confident that you didn’t notice him putting down his finger when you spoke. “I… I’ve been thinking about it a lot too and…” His eyes wander back to his friends, checking if any of them had noticed his absence in the living room and Jaemin seems to have.

“I’d do it again.” He mutters, dropping the can in the bin before returning to his seat on the sofa.

You’re left in the kitchen, dumbstruck and all you can do is think about him fucking you. Making you take his huge length, oh god.

Did that mean he enjoyed it- Well, of course he did. That was obvious by the way he was whining and groaning as you sucked him off, but enough to do it again?

—

You can’t seem to get Haechan off your mind. Well, what he said actually and it doesn’t help when there’s a rather… steamy scene between two of the main characters getting it on in the shower. You gulp, eyes wandering over to Haechan and you can see his jaw tensing as he’s absorbed by the scene playing on the TV.

All the boys are. As the camera moves to capture the woman on screen arching her back off of the shower wall, hands most likely intertwined with her partner’s roots and moaning like she’d never been tongued down before, you imagine yourself in her place. Haechan being the one kneeling on the shower floor. Just then, your phone buzzes in the back pocket of your jeans and when you check for the reason, it’s a message from Haechan.

‘Come to the bathroom door in 5 mins’.

As you’re reading it, Haechan gets up and excuses himself to the bathroom. Your eyes follow his figure and he has a slight smirk on his face, intended for only you to see before disappearing into the hallway.

You quickly take note of the time 4:53 p.m.

Which meant you’d get up at 4:58 p.m. Okay, okay.

You try to focus back on the movie but it’s no use, you can’t help but check your phone every few seconds and as soon as your phone displays 4:58 p.m., you jump out of your seat a little too quickly, startling the boys in the process.

“I just- Bathroom, I’ll be right back...” You awkwardly excuse yourself, biting your tongue once you step into the hallway and mental scolding yourself for being so horny. They are sure to catch on now so whatever Haechan has planned, you’ve got to be quick.

You knock the bathroom door and Haechan immediately opens it, as if he’d been standing there the whole time. “So-”

He takes a step forward and you think he’s about to kiss you when-

“Jaemin’s room, Jeno would rip my dick off.” He whispers and you look at him with disbelief.

“Why Jaemin’s?” You argue in a quiet tone and Haechan asks if you’d rather it be Jeno’s. “How about, neithers?”

“Living room then? I don’t mind fucking you on the coffee table in front of-” Haechan smirks as he closes Jaemin’s bedroom door as quietly as he can and you give in, taking a mental note to let Jaemin know to change his bedsheets later on. They didn’t match the wallpaper.

“Been thinking…” He’s inches away from your face, his hands coming up to take hold of the edge of your hoodie and tugging it off, with your help. “About,” He places his index fingers through your belt loops, once your hoodie’s been thrown on the floor and pulls you closer, both your hands landing on his chest “...last time.” He’s centimeters away from you, both your bodies pressed together and then, finally, he kisses you.

You’ve been kissed before, but by no means are you a professional kisser, so you let Haechan guide you. He always knew what he was doing anyways, tilting your head to the side as he backed you towards the Jaemin’s bed.

“What last time?” You fall on your ass, a cheeky grin planted on your lips and Haechan gets on top, pushing you back even further until he’s able to easily cage you in his arms. Returning his lips against yours, he blindly reaches for both your arms and pins them both above your head.

“Guess I’ll have to remind you then, eh?” Leaning down, he undoes the buttons of your jeans and then the zipper, not even bothering to take off your jeans as his digits slide in. His hand cupping your heat inside of your jeans and giving it a tight squeeze over your pants.

You whimper and it’s enough to get him hard. The steamy shower scene in the movie earlier did not have nearly as much of an affect on him like the noises you made did.

“You took my cock so well, ___.” He mumbles, moving his lips down to your neck and continues his kisses as he moves his fingers over the soft fabric. “Wanna fuck your throat again.” He groans, moving his lips to your chest and wrapping his hand around your neck like he did last time he fucked you. “So good.”

Moments later, he’s tugging your jeans off along with your panties and pressing his boner against your bare core as he goes for your bra. You whine again but this time even louder and he’s quick to tell you to tell you to keep it down.

“Look what you’ve done.” Haechan yanks you up by your hair so you can see the wet spot on his jeans and whispers. “That was you, baby.”

There’s that nickname once again.

He lets go of your hair and your eyes follow him as he moves around to your head, his knees on either side. Undoing his own jeans before pulling out his erection, he rubs the precum down his length and your mouth waters as you look at it. You swear it’s bigger than you remember or maybe it’s gotten bigger.

“Want it?” He asks despite knowing the answer and you’re eager to please him, opening your mouth as you take in his tip. Your tongue swirling around it and sucking it in a teasing manner. The fabric of his jeans rubs against your forehead and you’re disappointed he’s still dressed, wanting nothing more than his balls to be pressed up against your face.

Haechan watches you as you take in more of his dick, one of your hands making their way to your core whilst your other hand rests on your thigh. Two of your digits dipping down into your hole as you attempt to pleasure yourself too.

Trying to get off yourself? Why didn’t he lend you a helping hand? Or heping tongue, rather?

Haechan leans over, pushing his length further into your mouth and pushes both your hands away, planting his own on the outside of your thighs as he dips his head. The bottom of his tongue moving over your clit and you shiver at the strange sensation, momentarily forgetting about the cock in your mouth.

“Feels good?”

You hum around his length, making his brows knit in pleasure and he thrusts himself even further in your mouth, cock tickling the back of your throat. You swallow around his dick, any moans and whines muffled as Haechan’s tongue moves down your folds.

You’ve seemed to have truly forgotten that you’ve got his cock brushing the back of your throat, your mouth idle and Haechan decides to take matters in his hands. Pulling out and letting you take half a breath before filling your throat right back up once again, tongue still working it’s magic over your heat.

He’s fucking your face and eating you out. It’s all too much yet not enough, you’re climax beginning to build up and you can’t breathe properly with such a huge dick fucking your throat without mercy.

You manage to move your hand up to his waist, pushing him away and ruining your own orgasm as well as Haechan’s. Your chest heaving as you take large breaths and he apologises.

“You’re so, fucking big.” You manage to choke, after controlling your breathing and he laughs.

“Oh, I know.”

But what he doesn’t know is what you’re going to do when you roll onto your stomach and elbows digging into Jaemin’s mattress as you reach for his dick.

“What-”

“Still want it.” You look up at him with the tip of his length in your mouth, softly sucking it and Haechan groans, throwing his head back. You work your way down his length, spit drooling down the sides of your mouth and once you can take more than half of it, you place both hands on his thigh. Sinking your head even lower, your nose brushes against the little dark curls and Haechan tries to bite back a moan.

But he can’t.

“Shit.” He curses right after, mouth hanging open and you hug his waist like you did the first time. Keeping your head where it was, you push down the urge to gag as your throat tightens around him which makes him whine. “I’m close.”

You grab onto his hands, guiding both up to your hair, lacing them through your roots, as you begin to move your head once again and Haechan understands.

“Face fuck?”

You nod as best as you can.

“Little ___, wants to get face fucked.” He chuckles. “What a whore.”

This earns him a slap on his clothed stomach and then you remember, he’s still not undressed yet so you decide to change that. You push up his top to reveal his stomach and as far up to his chest as you can, with the position you currently are in.

“Off?”

Another nod.

“Okay.” He replies, delivering a rather harsh thrust into your face as he pulls it over his head and you let out a rather annoyed noise. “Oh, sorry.” He returns his grip on his hair with a grin on his face, his fingers intertwined through your roots and gentle at first but as his climax nears, he can’t help but be rough with you.

Soon your elbows start to get tired and Haechan takes notice, flipping you back on your back, his hand jerking his cock so his climax didn’t disappear for the second time before sliding back into your mouth. In this position he can see his own cock bulge in your throat and it’s such a mesmerising sight.

When he cums, it’s right in your mouth and you’re sure to take in every last drop of his cum. His cock stays in your mouth as you do, until he decides to pull out. Overstimulation in this position wasn’t ideal, he didn’t want his knees giving in and him falling on top of you.

There’s some cum smeared on your cheek and he’s sweet enough to swipe it with his thumb, bringing it up to your lips. You happily take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and Haechan coos over great of a job you’ve done. Now that you think about it, he looks funny from this angle.

“Your turn.” Haechan gets up from Jaemin’s bed to remove his jeans and boxers.

“Finger me first, okay?”

“Afraid Haechan junior won’t fit?”

“Haechan jun-” You throw him a judgemental glance. “Why?”

“Why not?” He shrugs, throwing his clothes on the other side of the bed, next to where he’d thrown yours.

“Because it’s weird?”

“You’re weird.” He comments, falling down next to you on the bed on his side and his fingers trace over your folds.

You push back one of his legs, resting your head on his thigh so that you are comfortable too as he continues to tease your heat. You bring up one leg, spreading your legs before realising how close you were to his cock.

He’s soft now, well semi-soft and you can now clearly see it. His dick rests nicely against his thigh and you think about all the times you’ve hugged Haechan before, thinking he was hard when he’s been hauling around such a large package in his boxers.

Haechan is watching you as you stare at his dick, his lips curling up and he applies some level of pressure to your clit with his thumb that you licked, making you snap your legs together.

“You’re mean too.”

“You like it though.”

—

Haechan is able to finger numerous orgasms out of you as if it were a simple task when you struggle to give yourself just one some nights. Back to towering over you, his tongue and fingers attacking your core as you arch your back off the bed. Haechan has got his other hand over your mouth to keep you quiet and you’re drooling all over the inside of his palm.

When he asks you if you’re ready to take his cock, you’re too lost in the pleasure to reply and he has to slap your cunt to get your attention. “Huh?” You gasp, looking up at him with teary eyes and he further tilts your head back by your jaw.

“Ready to take my dick?” He asks, massaging your folds and you gasp once again, your head resting against his bare chest. It’s more comfortable in this position and you’ve got both your hands around his wrists. However when you are about to reply, the bedroom door swings open revealing the three others who were sitting in the living room, supposed to be enjoying a movie but that no longer seemed the case, and for whatever reason, neither of you move.

“I think ___ lost her way to the bathroom.” Jeno jokes in a light hearted manner but poor Jaemin doesn’t find it all too funny.

“I think she went right there.” He’s staring at the wet spots by your legs, on his bed and you’re quick to defend yourself, rather offended to be accused of something like that.

“No! No, that’s-”

“She squirted.” Haechan speaks, pushing apart your legs for all your friends to see how wet you were and it’s almost embarrassing, if it weren’t for the fact that they were staring at you hungrily. He traces his fingertips over your hole before sinking a digit inside you and you seem to get more aroused by being watched. “Wanna see?”

Renjun, who is next to Jaemin, can’t seem to hide the growing tent in his pants and Haechan teases him on the spot. Both Jaemin and Jeno look at the eldest and he attempts to hide the evidence, cheeks going pink out of embarrassment.

“Wanna show them?” Haechan whispers, his fingers moving inside you and over that spot yet again.

You nod, your eyes half lidded as you close your thighs around his hand but it doesn’t stop him from fingering you, especially when he asks who you want first. “Shouldn’t Jaemin…”

“You want Jaemin first?” Haechan takes the words right out of your mouth and the boy named is all too happy to be chosen first. Well, second after Haechan.

It was only fair, the two of you were on his bed and although the boy isn’t too happy you’d been at it on his bed, he doesn’t point it out when he gets to join.

You watch Jaemin reach for his bedside drawers, pulling out a condom, of which the corner he slides into his mouth as he goes for the zipper of his jeans and Haechan manhandles you back on your back, his own cock ready to slip back into your mouth for another round of face fucking. He still can’t get over how it bulges in your throat, the mental image getting him hard once again, and thinks he probably will never get over it either.

“What about us?” Renjun speaks, sounding a little heartbroken.

“I only have two holes.” You mumbles, welcoming Haechan’s length back into your mouth and he gives you a wicked glance.

“Well…”

—

You’ve never felt so full. Apart from the first time Haechan fucked you, you really haven’t and right now, you’ve got three dicks inside you. Renjun’s in your mouth, muffling all your noises, Jaemin’s cock is brushing over your g-spot and Haechan is trying to ease his length into your ass. Lubed up with your spit and some lube laying in Jaemin’s bedside drawers, it’s made it easier than going in dry and he’s halfway right now.

You’re stroking Jeno’s length with your left hand whilst the other helps to hold up your thigh as Jaemin and Haechan thrust into you. Jeno also has a hand wandering over your chest, pinching your nipples when your hand slows down and you whimper everytime he does. The boys are towering around you and you can’t believe you’re doing this with your closest friends.

You wonder what it would be like if Mark was here too, but unfortunately you get to ponder over that thought for long. Your brows scrunch up and you can feel something build up inside of you again, but it doesn’t feel exactly like an orgasm.

Moving your mouth off of Renjun’s length, you replace your hand over it, letting Jaemin hold it up and now, you’re able to moan as you please. “Wait…I’m- I’m,”

“Close?” Jaemin asks, his thrusting suddenly getting harsher as he rammed himself into your wet hole, momentarily keeping him then so you clench around him as well as Haechan’s, and you let got of both cocks in your hold.

Renjun watches your eyes roll back in pleasure, Jeno moving his hand from your chest to your clit and you arch your back off the bed, nearly screaming as you squirt for the second time, all across Jaemin’s torso.

Though Jaemin doesn’t have much time to process that, his own orgasm brought on by your hole convulsing around his cock like mad. Poor boy ends up nearly falling on top of you, crying out as his dick gets overstimulated by you and he finally pulls out when it begins to hurt.

Wincing he falls back on his bed instead, cock gone soft against his thigh and Haechan grabs onto your hips, crashing his head back on Jaemin’s pillows. You are back to resting your head on him as he spreads your legs with his own, making sure you won’t be able to close your legs around the next person.

“Junnie…pussy’s yours.” Haechan draws small circles over your clit, remembering to be gentle as he pushes his length up into you and Renjun grabs a condom, sliding it down his length before thrusting into you.

Despite having taken Jaemin already, you feel tight to Renjun as he thrusts into you. Both his hands on your waist and you look at him through half closed eyes, a broken whimper falling from your lips as he picks up his pace.

Jeno, not wanting to be left out, moves your hand over his dick and helps you jerk his own cock. The image of his cum shooting out and down the length of your arm has him rolling his head back, biting his lower lip.

When you clench around Renjun, he moans but still manages to maintain his pace inside of you. “You close, ___?”

—

You seem to be climaxing at every other thrust, your body trembling with pleasure under Haechan’s and you’re so fucked, that you’ve lost sense of your surroundings. You feel something prod at your lips and you open your mouth without a second thought, two digits pushing past your lips and you don’t even have the energy to look up to see who they belong to.

You hear them coo over how fucked out you are too, before repalcing their digits with their cock and you begin to suck, mindlessly too. Whoever it is, their length is big enough to muffle your moaning but then again, all the boys seemed to be blessed with cocks long enough to rearrange your insides with one thrust.

They aren’t all that gentle but they aren’t harsh either and soon you feel hot release fill up your mouth too, before whoever it was moves back. You let your mouth relax, not bothering to swallow the release as Haechan rams his cock inside you.

With a final thrust from Haechan, he’s cumming inside you. Finger tips digging into your hips as he cries out, you’re surprised he’s got the stamina to out do Jaemin and Renjun. When he pulls out, his release drips out your convulsing hole and down to your pussy. He delivers a light slap to your folds before massaging them with his fingers and his cum.

The rest of the boys can see the mess he’s made, in the position you’re in with your ass up and face down. Haechan presses a kiss on the side of your lips, avoiding Jeno’s cum that’s dripping out your mouth as you give him a tired smile.

“Alright, whores get out!” Haechan moves you on your back once again, grabbing a tissue from Jaemin’s bedside. The boy seemed so prepared, keeping everything within an arm's reach of the bed and you feel Haechan dab at the corner of your mouth.

“But-”

“But what?” Haechan argues back with Jaemin, tossing the cum stained tissue at him.

“...this is my room?”

“Okay, fair enough, you can stay but you two,”

Jaemin disposes of the tissue before crawling next to you on the bed and lays his head next to yours on the pillow.

“Sorry about your sheets.” You apologize after swallowing the cum in your mouth whilst the three other boys bicker in the background.

originally posted on ‘jaesspresso’ but i no longer have access to that blog.

#haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct dream 00 line smut #nct haechan smut #nct hard hours #nct dream hard hours #nct dream smut scenarios #jeno smut #jaemin smut #renjun smut #donghyuck smut

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connorsbonez · 27 days

Note

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

(No pressure if you don't want to though!)

Hope you have a good day! ✨

I’ve totally not been neglecting to answer this-

Anyways! I really only prompts on here so- I guess I’ll just give my favorite ones from there!

1. https://www.tumblr.com/connorsbonez/729752535734353920/dcdp-crossover-idea-62

^ The prompt where Damian runs away and calls up his brother Danny (or Danyal to him) to come pick him

2. https://www.tumblr.com/connorsbonez/728583042862546944/dcdp-crossover-idea-59

^ In which a multiuniversal bake off goes wrong before it even starts

3. https://www.tumblr.com/connorsbonez/702829243264008192/dcdp-crossover-9-where-damien-and-danny-become

^ In which Damian and Danny are besties and tell literally no one

4. https://www.tumblr.com/connorsbonez/702815963457912832/it-also-doesnt-help-when-danny-brings-up-the-time

^ Danny and Wes get mistaken as alternate versions of Tim Drake and Bernard, which is kinda funny when everyone thinks they hate each other

5. https://www.tumblr.com/connorsbonez/733295510373400576/dcdp-crossover-idea-63

^ Bruce gets deaged and sent into a different dimension where he meets this worlds version of his parents and doesn’t want to leave

#dp x dc #dc x dp #inbox

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oscpaistry · 1 year

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new positions with kylian? Like trying something new? (Smut imagine)

Yall are obsessed with my Kylian writing at this point🤭💗

Kylian, Achraf, Neymar, Marquinhos, Ramos, Verratti and you were all at dinner celebrating their win against Toulouse. You were sitting next to your handsome boyfriend, Kylian. He was talking to his friends while putting a hand on your knee. Your mind was racing off at the thought of what he would do to you after dinner. But something switched in your brain. You wanted to try something new. Yes, sex with him was amazing but you wanted to try a new position.

"Chérie, tu vas bien ? Vous êtes zoné. Qu'est-ce qui préoccupe votre esprit?" he asked you while he leaned his head into your neck. (Honey, are you okay? You are zoned. What's on your mind?)

"Je veux essayer quelque chose de nouveau Kylian." You said in a hurry. Anxious at his response. (I want to try something new Kylian.)

He leans back and he had a confused look on his face.

"Que veux-tu dire par là mon amour ? Vous n'aimez pas la nourriture ici?" He said while sipping on his drink. (What do you mean by that my love? Don't like the food here?)

"J'aime la nourriture ici! Je veux dire, je veux essayer quelque chose de nouveau au lit. Ce soir en fait." you said while smiling at him. (I love the food here! I mean, I want to try something new in bed. Tonight actually.)

He looked surprised. But then a smiled appeared on his face. He started to talk to the others once again and putting a hand on your bare thigh.

You wore a beautiful silky red dress. Kylian liked the colour red on you. And you knew he would be turned on when you wore red.

After a few minutes you noticed that Kylian got more touchy and sweet-talking you. When he did this, it meant he wanted you. Only you. Just you.

He looked at me and mouthed "mon amour pouvons-nous s'il vous plaît allez vous m'excitez." (My love can we please go you are turning me on.)

You leaned into him and whispered "Chérie, tu peux attendre. Eh bien, restez ici environ 10 minutes de plus et ensuite nous pourrons rentrer à la maison!" into his ear. He groaned quietly. (Honey, you can wait. Well, stay here about 10 more minutes and then we can go home!)

-not even 5minutes later-

"Bébé, si nous devons rester ici une minute de plus, ils verront mon renflement." He said with a hard looking face. (Baby, if we have to stay here a minute longer, they'll see my bulge.)

You and Kylian get up from the table and say your goodbyes.

"Cette fille va passer le meilleur moment de sa vie ce soir!" You hear Neymar shout from behind. (This girl is going to have the best time of her life tonight!)

Then you hear Romas moan in a funny way. "Oh oui Kylian plus vite ! Plus rapide! ah Kylian!!" Everybody laughs with him and Kylian turns around and flips everybody off. (Oh yes Kylian faster! Faster! oh Kylian!!)

While in the car Kylian put a hand on your thigh. You already had a position in mind. Kylian would like it. You already know it.

Finally we arrived home. Both of you couldnt wait so you two already had a little make out session in the car.

You were on Kylian his lap kissing him. Your tongues finding the perfect rithem. Both of you were letting out a few moans and groans.

"Lets get inside love. I cant wait what your new position idea is." He said while being out of breath.

You open the car door and get off his lap. He also gets out and shuts the door.

"Oh Kylian you'll love it. I just know it." You said while winking at him and going inside.

He closes the door and both of you take off your shoes. Moments later you feel Kylian's hands on your hips.

He picks you up and goes to your room. He puts you on the bed.

"Alors mon amour, quelle est ton idée?" He asked while bitting his botton lip. (So love, what is your idea?)

"je veux que tu me doigtes..." You replied. Before you knew it Kylian pulled off your panties. (I want you to finger me...)

"Mais devant le miroir, Kylian." He stops and smiles at you. (But infront of the mirror, Kylian.)

"Mh tu aimerais ça hein ? Ma petite salope aime voir mes doigts en elle." He gritted through his teeth. He picked you up and sat you infront of the mirror. (Mh you would love that huh? My little slut like to see my fingers into her.)

He sat behind you and snaked his fingers down your body, down to your slick core. His lips on your neck. Sucking on your neck leaving little marks. You moan and he spreads your wetness over your core. But avoiding your clit.

"S'il vous plaît Kylian." You whined and jutting your hips. You throw your head back. (Please Kylian.)

He grabbed your face and said "Regarde mes doigts de salope. Quoi s'il vous plait?" Then he stuck two fingers into you and you moan his name. Your head rested on his shoulder. (Look at my fingers you slut. Please what?)

As his fingers were pumping in and out of you. "Oui, allez, tu peux prendre ça. Je sais que tu peux ma petite pute." He whispered into your ear. (Yes, come on, you can take that. I know you can my little whore.)

"S'il te plait Kylian, plus vite" you moaned and looked into the mirror. Meeting his eyes. He listened to your ask and he went faster. (Please Kylian, faster)

You felt that familiar knot in your stomach. You started to clench around his fingers. Letting him know that you were close. As he got the hint, his other hand went down to your clit. Rubbing soft circles, still pumping in and out of you.

You threw your head back, eyes fluttering, your walls clenching around his fingers and moaning his name like a prayer.

"Allez, mon amour. Laisser aller. Tu peux jouir partout sur mes doigts." He said while rubbing faster on your clit and slowly pumping in and out of you. (Come on, love. Let it go. You can cum all over my fingers.)

Just at that, you let go. As your climax washes over you, you relax on Kylian's chest.

"Tu vas bien, mon amour ?" He asked while picking you up and laying you on the bed. He went to get a towel and went to clean you up. (Are you okay, love?)

He went to lay next to you and kissed you all over your face. He praised you until you fell asleep.

Im back!! Sorry for not posting! Exams are coming up.

Tiktok: @.vandijks

#football smut #smut #kylian mbappe #tumblr2023 #kylian imagines #kylian x reader

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lisaalmeida · 10 months

Text

Ceux qui aiment ardemment les livres constituent, sans qu'ils le sachent, la seule société secrète exceptionnellement individualisée. La curiosité de tout et une dissociation sans âge les rassemblent sans qu'ils se rencontrent jamais.

Leurs choix ne correspondent pas à ceux des éditeurs, c'est-à-dire du marché. Ni à ceux des professeurs, c'est-à-dire du code. Ni à ceux des historiens, c'est-à-dire du pouvoir.

Ils ne respectent pas le goût des autres. Ils vont se loger plutôt dans les interstices et les replis, la solitude, les oublis, les confins du temps, les mœurs passionnées, les zones d'ombre, les bois des cerfs, les coupe-papier en ivoire.

Ils forment à eux seuls une bibliothèque de vies brèves mais nombreuses. Ils s'entre-lisent dans le silence, à la lueur des chandelles, dans le recoin de leur bibliothèque tandis que la classe des guerriers s'entre-tue avec fracas sur les champs de bataille et que celle des marchands s'entre-dévore en criaillant dans la lumière tombant à plomb sur les places des bourgs ou sur la surface des écrans gris, rectangulaires et fascinants qui se sont substitués à ces places.

Vie secrète,

Pascal Quignard.

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matan4il · 6 months

Note

Seeing your daily updates about the Israel-Hamas war breaks my heart because so very few people are talking about it. I've not seen a single pro-Palestinian blog talking about the rockets still being launched into Israel nor are acknowledging the terrorist attack on Oct 7. How am I supposed to trust an international women's organisation again when they're not even acknowledging the horrific crimes committed against Israeli women on that day?

Israel's government is shit, but it's not an excuse to dehumanise Israelis and Jewish people elsewhere. The Palestinian people deserve better than an organisation that rapes women and uses children as human shields. Saying "I'm an antizionist, not an antisemite" while simultaneously making the diaspora worse for Jews is being antisemitic actually. So many people can't understand these basic facts while they keep posting about this war.

I don't want to speak on a conflict I'm not a part of. But seeing the way people are being so insensitive about this is terrifying. I didn't know the hatred ran this deep.

I can't even imagine how awful it must be to be in the war zone and still facing so many comments from internet strangers. Please don't forget to take care of yourself. I can't speak for the world but there are definitely those of us who support Israel AND Palestine. Both states deserve to live peacefully.

You don't have to reply to this ask, it's just a reminder that you aren't alone. And thank you for the updates.

Sending you love and strength from India🧡🤍💚

Hi, lovely Nonnie! Thank you SO much!

Thank you for caring, for not accepting all the anti-Israel propaganda uncritically, thank you for seeing us as human beings.

I basically agree with everything you've said, so IDK if I have anything of use to add.

Maybe just these two things -

"How am I supposed to trust an international women's organisation again when they're not even acknowledging the horrific crimes committed against Israeli women on that day?"

Absolutely this! And not just women's organizations. Yesterday (Nov 20) was International children's day. There were kids, babies and fetuses murdered during Hamas' massacre, there were kids who survived and would never be the same, there are kids who weren't there, but lost their parents (there's a beautiful initiative in Israel right now, of mothers donating their mother's milk, or even breastfeeding themselves babies whose mothers were murdered by Hamas), and I haven't heard children's organizations, including the most important one (the UN's UNICEF) saying anything about them, nor about the almost 40 kids and babies still in captivity in Gaza (the thought about the probably 15 day old Thai baby who was born hostage, who has never taken one breath as a free human being, kills me). There are SO MANY "human rights" organizations that have lost all of their credibility after this IMO.

"I don't want to speak on a conflict I'm not a part of."

See, that's a very sensible position. I also try to not speak about subjects I don't fully understand. But there is a whole movement of people, who get their education from social media, who don't understand the conflict, but who do help spread the antisemitic narrative that de-humanizes Israelis and Jews. It is terrifying to see it happening. It is terrifying to see how such a well documented massacre can be denied or minimized. It is terrifying to see how easily people can take a stand against a marginalized group, just because it's been presented as if it's not marginalized.

So thank you for not being a part of that herd. IDK if you can speak up for us. But please know that even just the fact that you didn't fall into the trap of de-humanizing us means a lot. Thank you, again and again! And awww, you're from India! I want you to know that the Jewish people will never forget that India is the one place, where there has been a long existence of a Jewish community, and it has never suffered persecution. <333

I'm sending you so much love, and all of the best wishes! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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captaincryolicious · 2 years

Text

The aftermath of a battle

➳ Childe x gn! Fatui reader

➳ Oneshot ; 4.5k

➳ Sort of fluff? ; Mentions of blood, violence and injuries

Who knew that this bloodthirsty harbinger could be such a sweetheart after a tough battle? [11.07.2022]

Zep's Note ; This has gotten SO LONG help me. Anyway this took me quite some effort to write so please don't let this flop hehe.

content under the cut | masterlist

The rusty and foul odor of death and bloodshed that hung over the dark and lifeless battlefield was a peculiar reason for a facial expression that radiated satisfaction and pride to rest on one's features.

It was a sight that would have been unsettling for most people, even for the most experienced warriors who carried physical as well as mental scars of the countless battles they fought in. Yet, this pair of striking blue eyes skimmed the war zone in an almost lazy manner, carrying a dangerous glint and pupils dilated to the size of the pale moon in the night sky. The left corner of his mouth was curled upward ever so slightly, the devilish grin on his chapped lips growing every time he laid eyes on a new dead body. A gentle breeze toyed with some fluffy tufts of orange hair, the wind making sure the bloodstained mask that was casually pushed to the side of his head wasn't to be obscured from view – if only someone would have been around to witness the male's presence. But there wasn't a living being to be found; it was just the harbinger surrounded by countless corpses, and not even the sight of the mangled bodies of his fallen Fatui comrades was enough to make his smug grin falter.

To him, the smell of death and blood that wasn't his own, was the smell of yet another victory. It had been violent, faint echoes of the bloodcurdling screams of many warriors seemingly still lingering in the murky air. There hadn't been mercy, the deadly dancefloor that was the battlefield wrapped in a darkness that foretold the demise of many. There hadn't been a way out for the enemy nor the Fatui, and both sides fought with much vigor, giving more and more upon losing comrade after comrade. It had been a madhouse from the beginning to the end, with a fight that took more lives than most, but it was the victory that mattered and not the way it was reached.

A crisp midnight breeze blew over the plains, howling hollowly as it gripped and shuddered the tall grass and harvested the souls of the deceased. The male stood unaffected by the chill, hardened by the Snezhnayan cold that devoured the frostbitten wildlands back in his homeland, and still on a high after fighting in a delirious brawl. A scarf as red as the crimson that was spilled got caught in the wind, fluttering behind the tall figure heroically. His smile still hadn't faltered, and it only grew wider when a twig snapped in his close vicinity.

"Are you done admiring your slaughter?" your voice rang through the silence when you appeared on the scene, struggling to keep your balance after nearly tripping over the spear of a fallen soldier while approaching the male.

"Certainly, if you offer me something else to admire," came the reply, the vicious grin merging into a boyish smile when the harbinger laid eyes on you.

"I brought myself, hope that's enough."

You paired your reply with a laid back jazz-hands gesture, mentally shaking your head at the sight of Childe covered in blood beaming at you with a broad smile. It was a huge contrast with the malicious Fatui he was barely ten minutes ago, and so out of place against the backdrop of massacre.

"Of course, Y/N" Childe replied, plopping a gloved hand on top of your head and ruffling your hair lightly. "You're plenty admirable if you'd ask me."

Then his hand traveled from the top of your head down to the side of your face, using the pad of his thumb to wipe a streak of blood off your cheek. "Are you hurt? I must say that today's brawl was quite the intense one."

"Nothing major, just some cuts and bruises," you reassured the male, quickly deciding that Childe was fine too, judging by the way he was acting. A shiver ran down your spine when you glanced around, and you added, "but I'm cold and most likely really sore when I wake up after getting some sleep for what is left of the night. Oh, and I kinda want to get out of here as soon as possible. Unlike you, I'm not one who deems the aftermath of slaughter as a form of art."

In reality, fragments of the moonlit battle were repeating in your mind over and over and you knew you couldn't put it behind you as long as you stayed on the crimson-stained greenfields. It wasn't your first time to witness the demise of many, enemies and allies alike, but you had yet to develop a cold indifference towards it that was much-needed when you carried the insignia of the Fatui.

As much of a cold-blooded warrior Childe might have been, he was also a guy with a caring and protective side that was bigger than he let on, and he had a knack for sensing discomfort in the ones close to him. Hence he didn't fail to notice the slight distress that seeped through your tough demeanor.

"Usually after a mission the Fatui regroup and head towards a camp together to rest and heal before returning home," the eleventh harbinger mused, casting one last glance towards what he called a success before turning to look at you again. "There aren't any Fatui left to regroup now, though, so I think it's best if we seek an inn nearby instead of setting up a camp."

You grimaced at how he mentioned his fallen comrades so casually, but then nodded gratefully at the idea of going to an inn for the rest of the night. Inns in Teyvat were cozy and homely, welcoming and comfortable, and that was exactly what you longed for right now. But then your eyes landed on the dark red stains on Childe's disheveled clothes, illuminated just enough by the faint glow of the full moon in the sky to be revealed, and you knew you weren't in a much better shape. As rapidly as they came, the images of a warm inn diminished, and you heaved out a small sigh.

"Childe, we're covered in blood," you murmured, taking the fabric of your nearly-ripped coat between your thumb and index finger only to find blood stains indeed. "No innkeeper in their right mind would let us stay."

"Don't worry about that," the taller told you, his gloved hand still resting against your cold cheek. "Some inns located in the more remote areas receive financial support from the Northland Bank, and in return they welcome the Fatui without asking questions or making an issue of it."

"Even when it's so clear that we commited murder?"

You remained skeptical, but Childe waved it off with a dismissive gesture of his free hand. "It's not an irregular occurrence that I arrive somewhere with fresh blood sticking to my clothes and dripping from my hair."

You still said nothing, and the male released a small breath before gently poking your cheek. "If they really end up refusing us, which they won't, just smile at them innocently. You look harmless and adorable, they can't possibly deny you a cozy and safe room."

Of course you knew he was trying to lighten the mood and make you feel better, but the fact that he called you harmless and adorable, jokingly or not, earned him a sharp glare.

"I'm not harmless," you countered.

He finally drew back his hand from your cheek, releasing a melodious chuckle as he stepped back and opted for taking your hand in his instead.

"If looks could kill, I wouldn't stand a single chance," the Fatui elite joked, giving your hand a little squeeze before pulling you to walk with him, away from the misery that you two left behind.

✧

It was as if the nearest inn was miles away. You felt sore and exhausted, and you envied how Childe still managed to look fairly unaffected while you undoubtedly fought in the same battle against the same opponents. Your injuries were starting to hurt more and multicolored bruises were springing into bloom all over your skin. You wondered if the man next to you also felt the strain of continuous movement on his cuts, but even if he did he was doing a formidable job at hiding it.

The path that led you two away from the far-stretched plains now brought you into the hills, the sandy tracks sloping gingerly and taking you up higher and higher. Pine trees and slender firs stood tall in the hillside forest, like fickle silhouettes against the vast midnight sky embellished with Teyvat's bright stars. It was such a deserted area that you had little hopes of an inn actually being located here, but with travelers and adventurers everywhere, people set up their business in the most peculiar places. Childe seemed to know where he was going, and with your hand still in his, he led you further uphill confidently – albeit a bit tired too.

Past missions always ended with Fatui carriages bringing you back to the inhabited areas, or if you were alone you often got lucky and ran into a cargo escort that was willing to give you a ride after Childe offered them some of his seemingly unlimited funds of Mora. But tonight there was no carriage and no cargo escort, only the youngest Fatui harbinger gently tugging you along while casting worried glances in your direction occasionally.

"I'm fine," you reassured him for the umpteenth time.

That wasn't a lie; everything hurt, you were losing blood and your muscles were screaming, you were hungry and tired and still quite shaken by the battle you had fought, but that was by far not enough to take you down. Weakness was a curse among the Fatui, and showing any signs of it was a taboo.

"So am I, but that doesn't lessen my desire to find a bed and sleep," Childe pointed out, his eyes skimming your dark surroundings before flitting to you for a second. "Being tired doesn't mean you're weak and not okay."

You weren't sure if the male meant what he said; he was notorious for his desire to get stronger and exhaustion blemished your strength and greatly limited your capabilities and vigor. Didn't that just plainly mean that being tired made you weak? If Childe ever were to face a formidable warrior who just so happened to be gripped by exhaustion, he would definitely complain about the lack of strength in his opponent.

Fighting someone who wasn't at their full potential put a tarnish on his pride, and beating them brought him not the slightest satisfaction.

He was just trying to be nice, you concluded, but you still appreciated the gesture. Though he was a solid and reliable mentor to his Fatui subordinates, you were one of the few who enjoyed the privilege of seeing Childe's true face that was hidden underneath his Fatui mask for most people.

He saw no need in bringing the comfort of reassurance to the Skirmishers and Agents, he wouldn't adjust his plans and behavior to benefit them, he would spare them not a single smile or kind gesture, and never would he ever feel the slightest hint of worry or sympathy towards them.

Even for his fellow harbingers, this softer and warmer side of him was locked behind his blue eyes as cold as the ocean.

You knew you were special.

"See those lanterns over there?" he suddenly asked, and you followed the line of his pointed finger to spot a few orbs of light between the trees a bit further up the slope.

"Is that an inn?" you guessed, relief washing over you when Childe confirmed your suspicions with a faint smile.

"Likely the most Fatui-friendly inn out there," he said, and then you finally noticed the limp in his step now that he started walking faster, probably spurred on by the fact that a comfortable bed was within close proximity.

"Because of their extremely remote location, the rare guests they welcome are all travelers and adventurers who don't have a lot of Mora to spend."

The two of you had reached a stairway carved out of cracked stone, that would bring you to the main entrance of the inn. It was still dark around you, with only an occasional lantern providing you some illumination. Yet, even in the faint lighting, the pained grimace on Childe's face was hard to miss, and you mentally scolded the man for letting his stupid pride get in the way of admitting that he was hurt.

"Let me guess, they solely rely on the continuous support from the Northland Bank and welcome the Fatui with open arms because they know they need them?" you mused, deliberately not commenting on his obvious pain for now.

"Exactly," the ginger-haired confirmed, still holding onto your hand as you ascended the stairs. "They act quite obsequiously which works in our favor no matter how you look at it."

The Fatui truly were powerful and influential, people left and right kneeling down before them with merely a snap of their fingers. They were like parasites, clawing their way into the business of the weaker and making them dependent on the Snezhnayan bank's funds. More and more business keepers practically fell on their knees at the Fatui's feet, and they gladly used their growing army of sycophants to extend their reach all over Teyvat.

Maybe you weren't the biggest fan of this method in the beginning, but you were quick to find out that it was quite easy to get what you wanted or needed by simply showing your Fatui insignia.

Even when you were covered in the traces of a massacre.

You were exhausted, and you were this close to giving up and letting yourself collapse onto the hardwood floor when the crisp midnight air was replaced by the comfortable temperature inside the inn's main hall. You were at your limits, after not only partaking in your toughest battle so far but also having to walk to the nearest inn without so much as a break. Your last bits of energy were invoked to stay on your feet, as the last thing you wanted was to embarrass the harbinger next to you, and you forced a faint smile when the innkeeper approached you two.

"Good evening, and welcome to –"

What was supposed to be a warm and polite welcoming got halted by a sudden silence, when the middle-aged man in front of them took notice of the miserable shape both you and Childe were in. You almost felt ashamed when you cast a quick glance at your comrade, the various shades of light grey that made up his coat and pants doing absolutely nothing to hide the stains of deep crimson.

"Hi," the male next to you greeted, flashing the innkeeper his most harmless, toothy grin – one that had fooled many in the past. "Does there happen to be a room available?"

"Ah, certainly there is, sir," came the hasty reply, and the older man quickly had to fix his composure after being so obviously taken aback. He was not to blame, though. How often did a man covered in blood request a room with an almost child-like smile and his voice laced with buoyancy?

"Absolutely splendid," Childe grinned, and you truly wondered what archons had blessed him with this amount of energy even after a night this tiring.

"Is medical assistance sought?" the innkeeper then asked, his eyes flitting to smears of blood, bleeding cuts, and blooming bruises that adorned the Fatui in front of him.

"There is no need, thank you," the harbinger replied, still stretching his polite and friendly act. "However, may I request for medical supplies to be delivered to our room?"

"I will see them delivered immediately."

The man bowed deeply, and you cringed when a soft crack broke the silence. Fortunately, a young-looking clerk shuffled towards you, asking the two of you to follow her in a meek and quiet voice before scurrying off without awaiting your reply. Understandable, you thought. You would probably do the same if you were to escort two bloody people to their room.

Even with your only company being a timid young girl, the particularly stubborn ginger-haired male still tried his best to hide the limp in his step as you were led through the dimly-lit hallway. You were definitely going to comment on that after you had a good night of sleep. Childe's pride and unfaltering urge to always show the best and strongest version of himself was weirdly entertaining to you, in a way that made you shake her head and roll your eyes with a light amused grin tugging on your lips.

"Here is your room," the girl spoke upon suddenly coming to a halt. She didn't face you, didn't even spare you two a single glance, acting as if simply looking at a harbinger and his comrade was just as lethal as encountering them on a battlefield. All she did was push the heavy iron key in your hand and mutter a quick enjoy your stay.

Then she was gone.

"Everybody is so afraid of us, even children" Childe commented, his eyes trained on the end of the hallway where the young girl had just disappeared.

Gee, I wonder why, you almost replied sarcastically. But a sheen of sadness you thought to find in the male's eyes made you decide to stay quiet. You knew very well how much he missed his younger siblings, and you figured that maybe this small occurrence managed to hit closer to home than most of the times he witnessed someone cowering in fear afore him.

"In the very least, that means we look like true Fatui," you said, attempting a mild joke while you inserted the key into the lock and opened the door to your room.

The hinges creaked in protest, and you could only hope the sound wouldn't disrupt the sleep of any of the other guests – if the inn even had some to begin with. Silently, you pushed the wooden door close after you had both entered the room and locked it safely. Then you turned around to face your companion, planting your hands on your hips as sternly as you could muster with little to no energy left.

"Alright, now cut the tough act, Childe," you tiredly demanded, trying not to go under and drown in the wave of fatigue that crashed down on you now that you were truly alone in a place of safety and comfort.

Almost, you told herself. You could almost rest.

"Yes, boss," the harbinger responded with a sheepish grin, groaning quietly when he took a seat in one of the three crimson leather armchairs in the room.

"Good boy."

You didn't care whether Childe heard your remark or not. Your eyes had caught sight of a small first-aid kit sitting on top of the golden-lined sandbearer nightstand, and you instantly went to take it. The will to sleep was massive, but the will to clean and cover up both your injuries topped it with ease. While moving towards the bed to retrieve the supplies, you allowed yourself a moment to wonder just how much support the inn received from the bank. The interior seemed a bit too luxurious for a place that had to use their last mora to keep itself from collapsing financially. Not that you really cared, but even in your tired daze you did not fail to notice.

"Now fess up. Where does it hurt?"

You placed the small box on the chair's armrest and knelt down in front of the male, already drawn to his right leg before he even answered your question. Maybe he could fool an innkeeper and a young girl, but you hadn't failed to notice the little pause paired with a grimace every time he took a step.

"You know, just the usual scratches and bruises. Nothing too serious." Childe brushed it off casually with a breathy chuckle, something he always tended to do when he was hurt after combat. As if admitting that one was injured was the same as admitting one was weak.

"Childe," you sharply said.

"Okay, okay," the harbinger gave in, a mischievous smile crossing his features. "Well, Y/N, as you can see there's quite a painful cut in my lip. How about you start there?"

Would this harbinger ever stop?

Swallowing a snarky remark, you drenched a sterile gauze with disinfectant and gently dabbed it against a cut as far away from his lips as possible. The harbinger flinched, letting out a surprised hiss upon the sudden intense sting. You muttered a small apology under your breath, but you didn't relent. All you wanted was to crawl under the oh-so-inviting sheets of the bed that stood in the center of the room, but you both suffered injuries that needed treatment – all minor, but in high quantity. It would take time, especially since Childe didn't seem too adamant on cooperating.

You got to work on the many cuts and wounds that littered the Fatui elite's body. Much to your surprise, he endured it quietly, biting his lips to stop a pained grunt from spilling every time the sting of disinfectant was too much. The innkeeper had also provided you with several cold compresses, and you placed them on the armrest so the harbinger could apply them as soon as you were finished. It was quite a tiring task, and you felt your body growing heavier as your own injuries started to hurt more as well. Yet you persevered, even when you realized you also had your own wounds to tend to.

By the time you deemed Childe well enough, you felt borderline exhausted, and you wiped your forehead with your sleeve. You wanted nothing but to close your eyes and take a good nap, but you weren't done yet.

"You're good to go," you told the male, offering him a tired grimace. "I would go to sleep if I were you, and hope for the pain in your leg to lessen a bit overnight."

You turned away from him, rummaging through the first-aid kit to take out the supplies you needed for your own injuries, but Childe's gloved hand prevented you from moving.

"Allow me, Y/N," he objected, his gaze on you solemn. "Did you really think I would go to sleep after all you did for me? I'm going to return the favor."

He got up, gesturing towards the leather armchair.

"Sit down and relax. Let me take care of you."

You simply nodded and sat down, way too exhausted to turn down his offer. And come on, how in Her Majesty the Tsaritsa's name could you ever deny a gesture so sweet?

Your eyes fluttered close as you relaxed in the extremely comfortable seat. You let your head roll back against the backrest, heaving out a deep breath as your entire body slouched. It was pure bliss, until the purgent sting of disinfectant made all your muscles tense up as you hissed in pain.

"Sorry," Childe murmured, his hot breath fanning your skin as he leaned over you in utter concentration.

It was clear that you were the one who usually fixed up injuries; the harbinger was hesitant and a bit clumsy. He was overbearingly careful with you, but even in your tired daze it managed to warm your heart a little. His tongue poked between his teeth cutely, and you almost let out a laugh as you compared this to the bloodthirsty Tartaglia you witnessed a few hours prior. Was this really the same person? You had no idea how he managed to pull it off.

His fingertips ran over your bruised skin ever so gently, and he warned you each and every time he dabbed a sterile gauze against a cut to warn you for the sting that would instantly follow. He was really trying his best to make it as bearable as possible for you, and he was doing a great job. Your entire body felt like it was burning under the intense sting of disinfectant, but his gentleness made up for it.

When he was finished, you were covered in bandages as much as he was; you really made quite the pair, huh?

"Thanks," you quietly said, flashing your comrade a faint smile. You were grateful for his care, but you were simply too tired to properly show him.

The harbinger answered your smile, leaning forward and placing his arms under your knees and behind your back as he slowly picked you up bridal-style. You let out a squeal in surprise upon the sudden gesture, and Childe chuckled softly.

"Let's get you to bed, shall we? You fought well today, Y/N," he cooed, and you felt the limp in his step as he carried you towards the king size bed.

"Don't burden your leg like this, Childe," you lightly scolded him, but it merely earned you a mischievous grin from the ginger-haired male.

"I'm fine," he urged, gently letting you down onto the soft mattress. It dipped under your weight, creating a comfortable little dent for you to sleep in.

He walked around the bed, getting under the covers on the other side. Instantly, he was next to you, engulfing you in a hug that was surprisingly sweet. Again, you found yourself wondering how he could perfectly pull off what seemed like two completely different personas. In the deadliest brawls he was Tartaglia, merciless and dangerous. Ruthless fighting and bloodshed seemed like a game to him, a way to pass time. But after battle you often met Childe – or maybe even Ajax, though you were reluctant with that assumption. Regardless, he showed you a side so much softer and sweeter, a side that you hoped was only for you to witness. Filled with giddy smiles and warm hugs and sweet gestures, you often spent the time after conflicts with the eleventh harbinger.

You shifted in his arms, turning to face the male next to you. His blue eyes were dimmed with utter exhaustion, but he still mustered a cheeky smile when he caught your gaze.

"Y/N," he started slowly, and you didn't miss the mischief that laced his voice. "You know, the cut on my lip particularly hurts a lot."

You stared at him incredulously, before you closed your eyes and heaved out a sigh.

"Shut up," you sputtered, nuzzling closer to his warm body to get as comfortable as you could. All the tension glided off your being, and the memories of the massacre you witnessed merely hours ago slowly vanished as slumber slowly overtook you.

Childe's soft giggle was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to dreamland.

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