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futureman · 11 months

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keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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siribaes · 3 months

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ANGEL OF MINE (Sequel to Who’s Better Than Me?)

Rio x blackfem!reader (OC - Angel)

“After a plateau in their relationship, Rio sets out to make things right—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: We Need Resolution by Aaliyah, Best Thing by Usher, Take Away by Missy Elliott & Ginuwine, Think Of You by Amerie, Fallen by Mya, Ella Me Levanto by Daddy Yankee

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, ANGST, Some fluff, professing of love, cursing, pinv, r*ugh s*x, cre*m p*e, or*l (fem receiving), Semi Redeemed Rio, Rio being a bedroom bully, with a dash of pettiness again lol, slight use of Spanish, a potential pregnancy, etc. (NOT PROOFREAD/UNEDITED)

AUTHORS NOTE: Genuinely I did not think about writing another part, but some ideas popped up in my head and so here we are lol! this part is kinda long but hope y’all enjoy regardless 💖 GIF CREDIT: by me :)

“How I'm supposed to be to you if you keep squirmin'? Be still,"

Angel couldn’t fully register Rio’s instructions over the pounding of her heart. She shivered, squirming in her spot on the bed. Rio lowered his head, placing small kisses on Angel’s stomach. The softness and warmth of his lips spurred her on even more, Angel began to pull away from Rio's touch.

“Don’t move,” Rio ordered, his large hands held her in place, one of them pressed down on Angel's stomach, "You gonna be good and listen, hm?"

“Yes! I’ll be g-good,” Angel whimpered.

Rio smiled down at her, keeping one hand on her stomach, while the other reached for his hardened shaft. He aligned himself with her dripping core, plunging the tip into her wetness, eliciting a soft moan from Angel. He repeated the movement a few times over slowly easing more of him into her. Angel’s whines grew more desperate with each shallow stroke.

With one last stroke, Rio bottomed out, fully, planting his hands firmly at Angel’s waist.

“Fuck, Angel. So fuckin’ tight,”

Angel’s hands snake up Rio’s back, pulling him towards her, as he began rocking into her.

“Angel,”

“Yes, baby?”

“Angel,”

“Hm?”

“Angel!”

With two snaps from her friend, Benny, Angel was pulled out of her reverie and back into reality.

“You good?” Benny asked as he waved his fork in the air.

“She’s fine,” Keke chuckled, “She’s just having a flashback, of Riooo,”

Angel rolled her eyes as she took a sip from her drink. She leaned back into her seat, looking at the passerbyers. It was a beautiful day, the sun shined brightly, casting down warm rays. After being stuck in the office in the all morning, the change in scenery was much needed.

“Have you talked to him?” Benny mused. He twirled pasta around his fork, before eating a large forkful.

“…No,” Angel sighed.

“Seriously?” Keke asked, eyes wide with shock. “I thought y’all hit it off, literally, after the reunion,”

“We did! And the sex was amazing, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, y'all. So much time has passed, and he's changed so much since we were in high school, I feel like he's not the same boy I once knew,”

"I mean duh, Angel," Keke shrugged, "are any of us who we were 20 years ago?"

"She's right, Angel," Benny added, "None of us are the same as we were back then. It's impossible, babe. It sounds like you more scared of what he does not who is,"

Angel leaned back into her chair; arms folded across her chest. Maybe Benny was right. There was never a moment that passed in the day that she didn't want to be wrapped in Rio's arms. To just be with him. Yet, every time Angel wanted to reach out something stopped her. Everything was different about Rio and seeing him at the reunion was a bit jarring. From his clothes to the way he walked, even that damn eagle tattoo itched on his neck. The way he practically had all of their former classmates fawning over him, laughing at all of his jokes. There was a dangerous charm that Rio possessed. Sure, Angel was used to Rio's boy-ish charms after being on the receiving end of it, but this was something entirely different. It was potent, calculated, and completely irresistible. That was developed from experience, an experience that made Angel think twice.

"By all means, I'm not excusing Rio's, nefarious activities," Benny continued, "I just think you should at least talk to the man. The man, you've been in love with most of your life,"

"And from that glow you've been sporting," Keke added, she paused to a sip from her drink, slurping for dramatic affect. Benny and Angel chuckled, "I know that dick was good. So, take a chance! You'll never know what could happen between you too,"

Angel nodded. For the rest of the day, she pondered Benny and Keke's advice. She had to take a chance, she had to try.

----

It wasn't until 10 PM, when Angel pulled to her home. Arms chalked full of groceries, she wanted to stock up on food and other snacks for her much needed staycation. Angel trudged up the stairs, to her humble bungalow, she fumbled with the straps of the shopping bags and her work purse, trying grab her keys. She quickly opened the door, once inside she locked the door behind her and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Angel didn't bother to turn the light on in the kitchen. Her mind was preoccupied with putting the groceries away so she could take a shower and finally relax. So much that she didn't notice a smoldering, Rio leaned against the refrigerator. He watched her as she unloaded the groceries, not wanting to disturb her just yet. He wanted to admire the way her slacks hugged her curves, just a tad bit longer.

With a grocery bag in hand, Angel turned around, immediately meeting Rio's eyes. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Fuck!”

Angel quickly crouched down, grabbing the spilled groceries on the floor. Rio crossed the room in quick strides, bending down to help. A quietness fell over them as they loaded the items into the reusable bag.

“…What are you doing here? How did you get here? You know what don't answer that," Angel sputtered. She sat the bag on her breakfast table. She folded her arms over her chest, “No call, no text. I mean, what the hell Rio?”

His expression was indecipherable as Rio peered at her. His eyes continued to trace over her, as if he was trying to commit her features to memory, as if he really needed to for that matter. Rio tipped his head to the side and scratched the light stubble on his chin.

Angel mentally kicked herself, only Rio could look that dangerously good in minimal lighting. She averted her eyes, looking at the calendar tacked on her fridge, before looking back at Rio.

He shrugged. “I could say the same. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You avoidin’ me?”

Angel scoffed. “First off, I’m not avoiding you. Second, who breaks into someone’s home after not seeing for a couple of weeks—”

“—A month,”

“However, long it was. If you wanted to talk, this isn’t the way to go about it,”

Rio nodded slowly, poking his bottom lip in that ever so subtle way, as he mused over Angel’s words.

“If I called, would you have answered?”

Angel opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it. Truth was, if Rio did call, she wouldn’t have picked up. Not because Angel didn’t want to, it was complicated. The night that they shared was magical, more amazing than anything Angel could ever dream of, but when the sun rose the next morning and reality set in. They were too different, Angel lived a normal life, she loved her job, her friends, her family, even the “Tinkerbell” car she drove. Her life was routine, with a few moments of spontaneity (hooking up with Rio was one of them). Rio’s life she assumed, was nothing but spontaneity, having to always keep one eye open, always looking over one’s shoulder. Adding Rio into the equation was too much. It was easier when they were younger, it was simpler time. Their love came with no extra baggage, it was pure.

Now, things are much different, Rio was different. He’s a crime boss for pete’s sake, and Angel knew that he didn’t want the same things, as she did. Last time she checked, living the life of a criminal didn’t allow for marriage and kids, not in the way Angel wanted anyway.

“Rio,” Angel began, the dropped her arms, and twiddled with her fingers, “you…we, we are just different,”

A deep sigh escaped Rio. When Angel finally met Rio’s gaze she could see the cracks in his resolve. His jaw was tight, and usual brown eyes carried a hardness in them. Rio ran a hand across her features, rolling his shoulders while doing so.

“You breakin’ my heart, Angelita,” Rio took a few steps forward, now standing only a few away from Angel. He easily towered over her small frame, “what’s so different about me?”

“Y-you’ve changed, I’ve changed,”

“So?”

“So?! This is serious, Rio, are lives are completely different, you don’t want the same things as me,”

“Bullshit. I need real, Angel. Why are you pullin’ away from me?”

“You’re a fucking criminal, Rio!”

A huge wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over her, she quickly buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at Rio after saying what she said. How could she react like that? Regardless of her aversion to what Rio does, he deserved more respect than the outburst she just had. This was the man she’s been in love with since she fifteen, he deserved better.

Angel felt Rio gently wrap his hands around hers, and pulled them away from her face. He then tilted Angel’s upwards to meet his gaze. Rio searched her eyes, seeing the guilt in them he softened.

“You scared of me, Angel?”

Angel froze. Her mind traveling back to the night they spent together, and the glimpse gun she saw as she left his place. Her mind drummed up all of the scenarios that could happen, flashes of him in an orange jumpsuit behind bars, and his name across the headstone in the graveyard. A future that she never wanted to see, but in a way already happened. A little into Angel's first semester of college, word got out Rio was going to prison, it broke her. She couldn't bear to see him like that or worse, 6 feet under.

So, to answer his question was she scared of Rio, no. Was she scared of what could happen to Rio, absolutely, Angel loved him too much just to be okay with could happen to him. Or what he could do to others.

"Hey, hey," Rio spoke, pulling her focus back to him, "there you go wonderin' again. Tell me, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Angel sighed. “...I don’t like what you do,”

Rio dropped his hand away from Angel's chin. He nodded slowly, processing. A quietness fell over them, as they stared wordlessly at one another. Rio's eyes slowly trailed down towards Angel's chest. She felt the breath hitch in her throat, when he reached towards her. Gently, he lifted the necklace she wore. Rio held the angel pendant between his fingers, the pad of his thumb softly tracing over the figure's wings.

"You kept it," Rio spoke, his eyes combing over the figure with Angel could only interpret as fondness. Her heart fluttered. "You know, I put in mad work tryna get this. Cutting grass, washing cars, all that shit. I wanted you to feel good. I wanted you to know I loved you,"

"Rio..."

"Por siempre y para siempre, forever and always. That's what's engraved on the wings. Angel, you're my forever, you're my always. It's only been you,"

Angel felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. This is the most vulnerable she's seen Rio, ever. To hear him speak with such sincerity and conviction, Angel couldn't help her heart swell with love.

"My business is my business, and I can't change what I did and all the choices I've made. But being with you made me realize, mama that shit has an expiration date," Rio brought his hands to Angel's face, and cradled her soft cheeks, "I can't promise that I'll magically become a better man over night, but I want to try, for you will. 'Cause I don't wanna loose you mama, not again,"

Without a second thought Angel leans forward and kisses Rio. Their kiss was sweet, tongues moving in tandem as Angel snaked her arms around Rio, pulling him closer to her. Her fingers caress the top of Rio's head, soft touches rubbing at his scalp. Rio lets out a throaty groan, its vibrations straight to Angel's core. A flush of heat rushes through her entire body. She breaks the kiss.

"I wanna try, Christopher," Angel whispers. She nuzzles Rio's nose. He pulls away slightly, to see her face fully. A smile blooms across his face. He kisses her again.

"Yeah?" Rio's smile grows wider seeing the sincerity in Angel's face.

"Yes, baby," Angel nods, biting her lip.

A flicker of lust danced in Rio eyes. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, while his hands drifted towards Angel's bottom. Rio's large hands squeezed and palmed her ass. He landed a firm smack on her ass.

"Rio!"

He chuckled. "Go upstairs, and get on the bed, how I like," Rio mumbled against her cheek, before placing a soft kiss there.

Angel didn't waste any time, she raced upstairs to her bedroom, completely forgetting about her groceries in the kitchen. She kicked off her heels, stripping off her slacks and dress shirt. Angel sat on her bed, legs spread out for him, in only her bra and panties. Coincidently, in his favorite color, green.

Minutes seemed to drawl into hours as Angel waited. Her heart rattled against her chest, as Angel's mind raced at the possibilities of what Rio was going to do to her. Another a minute or so passed when Angel heard Rio's footsteps coming up the stairs.

He appeared in doorway with two bottles of water in hand. He smoothly entered the room, eyes glued to Angel, he settled on a spot in front of Angel's vanity. Rio sat one of the water bottles down on the table, while he opened the other, taking a quick sip. His were so heated, so blazed as they roamed Angel's body. It felt like invisible hands were rubbing and caressing her all over.

"You look good, mama. All spread out for me. Shit, lingerie in my favorite color too..."

"All for you, baby," Angel cooed.

Rio's lips tipped into small smile. He took another swig of water. He sat the bottle down, putting the cap back on.

"I'm not gonna lie, you hurt my feelings, when you went ghost on me..."

"Rio, baby, I'm sorry–"

"Sshhh," Rio hushed Angel with a finger to his lips, "All is forgiven, but you got make it up to me. You gonna make it up to me, darlin'?"

Angel nodded.

"Play with that pussy for me."

Angel slowly peeled out of her panties, making a show out of it, she made sure that Rio got a view of her ass. She flung them to the side, returning her previous position. Widening her legs, Angel's fingers found themselves at her core, swiping at the wetness, she began to rub taut circles on her clit.

"Fuck!" Angel whined.

"Damn..." Rio voice trailed, eyes zeroing in Angel's core. He hummed in satisfaction as fingers began to unbutton his flannel. "You, look so fuckin' good. You close?"

"Yesssss, I'm so close! I need you soooo bad," Angel moaned as her fingers continued to rub tight circles on her clit.

"I got you, just keep going. I wanna see my pretty girl cum for me,"

Angel felt the familiar knot in her belly as her orgasm began to build. Her wetness pooled out of her the more her fingers worked her core. She felt her pussy flutter when Rio peeled out his t-shirt, revealing his svelte frame covered in intricate tattoos. Seeing his rich skin practically covered ink, tipped her over the edge.

"Ooooh, shit, I'm cummin',"

"Mhm, let it out for me, mama," Rio egged her on.

Angel shook as her orgasm coursed through her, wetting up her sheets. She laid down on the bed, closing her eyes as she rode out the aftershocks, her skin tingling with pleasure. Quick taps on her thighs, brought her back, she opened her eyes to Rio looming over her.

"On all fours, darlin',"

Angel obliged. She turned and faced her faced her headboard. She adjusted herself, making sure her the arch in her back was damn near perfect. Rio's belt and zipper clinked and clanked as he undressed himself. His hands palmed her ass, the callused pads of his fingers felt good against her skin. Angel mewled loudly, when she felt Rio's soft tongue lick down her slit.

"Christopher!"

"You taste good. Sweet as fuck," Rio groaned. "You ready for me?"

"Yes, baby. Please don't play with it," Angel turned her head to look at him, biting down her lip. She gazed into his stormy eyes, clouded thick with lust. With one hand, Rio's fingers trailed down Angel's spine, pausing for second. Then landed another firm smack on her Angel's ass. "Baby! Be nice,"

"Nah," Rio stated firmly, he deepened Angel's arch. He adjusted himself, inching his dick closer to Angel's entrance, "You still got some makin' up to do,"

With no warning, Rio plunged into Angel, bottoming out completely. Angel's toes curled, at his fullness and the stretch that only he could give her. He circled himself inside her, pulling himself out, then plunging back in. Rio tightened the grip on Angel's hips as began to rock into her. She gushed and clenched around his member, nails clawing at the sheets below them.

"Goddamn," Rio hissed, "I feel you tightin' around me. You close already?"

"Oh my god! Yes, you fuckin' me so good,"

"Yeaaaah, that's right me, only me. Nobody else, right mama?"

"N-nobody else, baby, shit! I love you so much, Christopher,"

Angel felt Rio's hips stutter at her confession. It only served as more motivation for Rio, spurring him on, he pistoned into Angel faster and harder. He reached downwards, grabbing a handful of her coils, yanking her upwards.

"Say it again," He rasped in her ear.

"I-I-I love you, shit,"

"Again,"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, Rio I'm cumming," Angel cried out.

Rio held Angel close, fucking her through her orgasm. Angel shuddered, as she felt her essence drip down her thighs, as Rio continued to thrust into her wildly, kissing and nibbling at her ear lobe. He slowed rhythm of his hips, letting Angel's hair go, placing small kisses down her neck and shoulders.

"You did so good for me," Rio breathed out. He softly patted at Angel's plush thighs, as he slowly pulled out. "Face me,"

Angel shifted around, laying on her back she spread her legs wide. Rio situated himself between Angel's legs. He stroked himself a few times, biting his lip at the small squelching noises he made. In one swift motion, Rio plunged himself back in, fully engulfing himself in Angel's wet pussy.

"Fuckkkkkk," Rio growled. Angel whined in response. At this angle, Rio was hitting her spongy spot way deeper than before, causing waves of pleasure to flood her entire body. "Pussy so fuckin', shit, nena,"

Both her heart and her pussy fluttered, seeing the blissed out look on his gorgeous features. Rio was always so controlled and reserved most of them, so to see him like this, guttural, borderline animalistic, Angel loved it. She began to feel him throb inside of her, he was close.

"Mhmm, I feel you, baby. I want you to cum inside me," Angel cooed as she cradled the back of Rio neck.

"Yeah? You want me cummin', inside you. Careful, now. I might fuck around and give you a baby forreal,"

Angel cupped Rio's face, kissing him deeply. She pulled away, nodding her head in a wordless confirmation. Rio's eyes softened, at the realization. He bucked his hips, in deep, desperate strokes.

"Shit! Angelita, you gonna look so good, belly fully, with our baby, fuck. I love you, Angel," He grunted, as his resolve was wearing down by the second. The midst of his brutal thrust, Angel felt another orgasm hurdle towards the surface. Her walls spasmed around Rio's dick, screaming out as she came. "Just like that, fuck, eres mio, todo mio, baby, shit,"

A few strokes were all it took to send Rio over the edge. He buried himself in Angel's neck as his blasted his cum inside of her. Rio groans were muffled against Angel's skin. He held her closed as he shook from the pleasure, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum inside of her. Angel wrapped her legs around him, she didn't want to miss a single drop.

A calmness fell over them, as the breathed in tandem, hearts following the same rhythm. Rio lifted his head up, resting his chin on Angel's chest. Warms hands rubbed soft circles against her skin. He gazed at her, nothing but love and stardust in them.

"You're gonna be a good mom," He mumbled.

Angel smiled softly, she rubbed at his shoulders. "And you're gonna be a good dad. I love you, Christopher,"

"I love you too, mama. Por siempre y para siempre."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #rio x black!reader #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction #rio smut #rio good girls fanfiction

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foxcantswim · 6 months

Text

FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader

[Never Been A Fan]

(gif by me)

You've never been a fan of the animatronics. Vanessa tries to show you that they aren't all so bad. Content: Established Relationship, Fluff, Lots of Kisses, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Animatronics being cute af Warnings: Mentions of scars from animatronic wounds, Childhood Trauma(?) WC: 2,775

Vanessa had shown you the animatronics on your second night shift. You were about to quit right there and then, but you remembered that you needed this job. Nobody else was willing to hire you and this was the only way you could scrape by and afford to live.

Vanessa had been concerned at first upon seeing you take a step back and excuse yourself, but she didn't pry.

A few weeks had gone by and she continued to notice how shaky and touchy you had been whenever animatronics were brought up. Even when she made a passing comment regarding them, she noticed you almost freeze.

You had yet to actually go anywhere near the animatronics again since your first 'meeting', and Vanessa was itching to know why. Her curiosity was definitely getting to her, it had been a couple months after all. She would never know how you had managed to avoid them for so long.

Eventually, she decided to talk to you regarding the machines which seemed to have you scared.

"Hey, Y/N," Vanessa greeted you as she entered the office, an annoyed look on her face, "How many times have I told you to lock the door when you're on shift?"

You gave her a shy smile, "Sorry, Nessy."

She couldn't help but smile back, "What am I gonna do with you?" she rolled her eyes before putting her wet coat down onto the nearby desk.

You leaned back into your chair before looking back at the monitors, "You know nobody ever comes around here besides you anyways..."

You weren't wrong. But Vanessa just wanted to make sure you were absolutely safe... Well, as safe as you can be with possessed animatronics in the other room.

The blonde couldn't help but come up behind your chair, she leaned forward to wrap her arms around you - her chin resting on your shoulder, "Missed you..." she admitted.

You rolled your eyes, "You saw me last night, Nessy," you still leaned back into her touch regardless.

"Doesn't mean I can't miss you," she smiled before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before pulling away.

The two of you had then chatted for the next few hours of your shift, talking about future plans and whatnot. The night was indeed moving slow as, yet again, nothing was happening on any of the monitors.

Vanessa tapped her fingers against the desk, looking over at the monitors. She couldn't help but notice that none of the monitors were showing the animatronics.

She bit her lip before looking back towards you, your eyes had started to flicker shut here and there as sleep started to take over.

"Been meaning to ask you," Vanessa started, causing your eyes to snap open and look over at her, "Would you mind helping me clean the animatronics' stage tomorrow night? It's not lookin' too good. Hasn't been touched in a while."

Your heartbeat immediately increased.

"Y-You want me to help?"

"It would be much quicker with the both of us," she offered you a soft smile, knowing damn well that you wouldn't be able to deny her.

"I-I don't know. Maybe..."

"You haven't been near the animatronics since you first met them," she finally decided to be blunt with you.

You looked away from her, yours eyes focusing on some random screen, "I just haven't had a reason to."

"You don't have to lie to me, baby," her voice was soft, "If you have a problem with them, I wouldn't like to force you to go near them. You can talk to me."

You nervously scratched the back of your neck before searching for her eyes again, "I... I had a bit of a problem with some animatronics when I was younger... Back when Freddy Fazbear's first opened."

"You actually came here when you were a kid?"

Nodding, you stood up from your chair to go and sit next to her at the desk in the centre of the office, "Mhm... I was there for some kid's birthday party."

"Some kid?"

With a sigh, you frowned, "Well... She was my best friend back in school. At least I thought she was," you scooted your chair closer to Vanessa's so you could lean your head on her shoulder, her arm coming to wrap around you, "It was her, me and a bunch of other friends from our class."

Vanessa's hand rubbed your arm in comfort as she held you as closely to her side, "Something tells me you don't speak to these people anymore."

"Nah... Not worth my time. They all decided to play a 'prank' on me. My 'best friend' had organised it apparently," you bit your lip, slowly starting to feel like an idiot, "This is stupid, Nessy. I was young and scared and I shouldn't let it affect me now and-"

"Y/N. It's not stupid if it hurt you like this. It must've been pretty bad if it still affects you now." She waited patiently for you to continue.

You gulped harshly, "A few groups of other kids were there meeting the animatronics on the stage. And we thought it would be a good idea for us to meet them, too. It was my friend's birthday so... I was already scared to begin with, they kind of freaked me out," you let out a nervous laugh before clearing your throat, "Anyways, my friends decided I should go first and get it over with. I wasn't against the idea so I agreed..." you pulled away from Vanessa to roll your sleeve up, revealing a huge scar trailing down from your elbow to your wrist.

"What happened?" Vanessa said, shocked at how big the scarring was as she held your arm gently, tracing her fingers down it.

"I think there was three or four of my friends holding my arm? They were telling me to shake Fredbear's hand... and they wouldn't let go. But they thought it would be funny if they just shoved my arm into his mouth. I'm honestly surprised it didn't rip my arm off, considering I was a kid. All I remember was there was a lot of blood. Some of my friends laughed which just kind of fucked me up, I guess? I know it's stupid, but I've been afraid of animatronics ever since. Especially these ones," you nodded over towards the monitors, "Now that I know they have the ability to move freely..."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Vanessa frowned before pulling you back into her side, "I understand, don't worry. It's not stupid. They can be scary and dangerous. They're massive robots after all."

"If you want me to help you clean the stage tomorrow night, I will," you nodded, "I don't mind."

"I'm not pressuring you, Y/N. If it's too much for you, then it's okay. I'd never want to bring up any past trauma. I'm sorry for prying."

"I was bound to tell you eventually," you shrugged, reassuring her, "It's okay, V... Maybe it's about time I faced them." You weren't entirely sure of yourself, but you knew you had to try.

A smile graced Vanessa's face, "They're big ol' softies. You'll love them. We can take it slow, and if you start to feel uneasy we can stop."

You nodded before kissing her on the cheek, "I'd like that."

"Okay. Remember the rules, yes?" Vanessa folded her arms, eyeing the animatronics up and down.

All of them simply stared at her, cocking their heads.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes."

Vanessa had arrived the pizza place an hour before your shift, deciding to chat with the animatronics before you showed up. She had established some rules, simple things like not to go near you or touch you or do anything without your prior permission. No loud noises or sudden moves were allowed either. Foxy had stomped his foot in outrage at first, but he soon calmed down. Chica was to also make sure that her cupcake was kept in check.

"We're gonna have fun tonight, guys," she promised, "I've got a couple blankets and pillows all ready to go if we manage to get to the main event without spooking Y/N."

They were all indeed excited. Vanessa had come to them during the day a few times to make sure they were okay. She had talked about you nonstop to them and they were desperate to get to know you. They trusted Vanessa when she said that you were amazing. A friend of Vanessa's was a friend of theirs.

Eventually, you had arrived at the pizza place. You stopped in your tracks upon seeing the animatronics standing in front of the main stage.

"Hey, Y/N," a huge smile was on Vanessa's face as she walked over to you, "I hope this is okay? We've gone over some rules and I promise you they won't come anywhere near you unless you say so."

You felt your hands shake in slight fear, but you took a deep breath and nodded, "Okay..."

Vanessa leaned down to peck you sweetly on the lips, "They're just gonna hang around whilst we clean the stage."

You couldn't help but smile at the kiss.

The stage was looking spotless after an hour or so. It would've been done a lot sooner but you couldn't help but stop and look at the animatronics every so often, just double checking that they weren't doing anything they weren't supposed to.

You were indeed surprised when they actually did stay still, simply observing you and Vanessa.

"Good job, Y/N," Vanessa said, proud of you for sticking it through, "I think that about does it," she nodded looked around the stage. She leaned her mop against a nearby wall. She hopped off the stage and walked towards the animatronics, "Thanks for letting us do that," she smiled at them. They all nodded in response. She turned towards you, you were still standing on the stage shifting nervously, "You wanna come say hi?" she wondered.

You placed your mop next to Vanessa's before stepping off the stage. Your hand instinctively started to rub your sleeve, above your scar.

"I-I don't know," you stopped a few feet away.

"They've been wanting to get to know you for a while. I've been talking their ears off about you and they want to see what all the fuss is about," she winked.

"There's not much to talk about when it comes to me," you muttered.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, walking over to you, "Don't be silly. You're incredible. They already love you, just give them a chance."

Vanessa lead you over towards them, stopping a few metres in front. Freddy slowly lifted a hand to wave at you, it almost seemed like he was smiling. You couldn't help but smile back, despite the nerves flowing within you.

"I'm sure you know their names, but it's still nice to do introductions," she wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled in you in close to her side, "Y/N. This is Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy. Guys... This is Y/N. The gorgeous girl of my dreams," she teased. You couldn't help but blush at her comment.

They all remained still, cocking their heads - clearly interested.

They didn't seem so bad...

"Hi..." you managed to squeak out, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Vanessa was proud of you for taking this step. It may have seemed to easy to others, but for you it was difficult. She would never judge you for something like this and she was prepared to help you every step of the way.

"Now that the stage is clean... How about we get to the main event?"

"The main event?" you wondered.

She smirked before moving away from you, she grabbed a blanket off of the table, "Did you know that they love to build forts?" she grinned happily.

"F-Forts?" you raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

Turns out, she was being serious.

You stood off to the side as the animatronics moved around the room, carefully making sure not to spook you. Bonnie and Foxy had dropped a table causing a loud bang which had indeed made you jump. The two of them had looked towards you and nodded their heads, you took it as their way of saying sorry. You couldn't stop the small smile from appearing on your face.

An involuntary giggle had escaped you as Chica hit Freddy in the leg with a chair, Freddy had glared at her before bopping her on the head.

Vanessa smiled, watching you.

"Almost there, guys," Vanessa encouraged.

Eventually, the tables and chairs were all piled up in the centre of the room creating a suitable outside to a fort. Vanessa gave them a thumbs up, "Good job." Moments later, the animatronics had all made their way to the fort and lay down on the floor. Vanessa used the blankets to create a roof over them, "Lookin' cozy down there, guys. Mind if I join?" her eyes found yours, "You wanna lay down with me?" she asked, praying you would say yes.

You bit your lip, looking down at the fort, "I don't think so..."

Vanessa frowned, "Oh... That's okay, Y/N." She still lay down next to Bonnie despite the ache in her heart, she really wanted you to be a part of this. She loved being around the animatronics, she loved to give them company. This wasn't a new thing for her to do. The blankets and pillows on the floor were warm, she just wished you were there too.

You looked down at them all. This was quite a scene.

You rocked on your feet, contemplating on whether or not you should face your fears.

"It's nice and warm down here, Y/N. You're missing out."

You then noticed that Bonnie was giving you a thumbs up. You couldn't deny that they were adorable... They were just kids after all.

Deciding to trust Vanessa, you slowly walked over. There was big enough space between Vanessa and Freddy for you to comfortably slip into. Freddy noticed your approach and carefully moved as far away as he could, giving you the space you needed.

Your heartbeat had slowed, really appreciating how the animatronics had been careful around you.

Vanessa couldn't stop the huge smile on her face as she saw you sit next to her.

She quickly wrapped her arms around you and pulled you down into a tight hug.

"Look at you," she laughed, squeezing you softly, "I'm so proud of you, Y/N."

You smiled before wrapping your own arms around the blonde, your head happily resting against her, "Thank you, Nessy," you whispered.

"I love you," she had muttered before manoeuvring the two of you so you were both comfortable in amongst the pillows, blankets... and animatronics. She brought you in for a soft and deep kiss, happy to finally have you in her arms.

Your arms tightened around her as you reciprocated the kiss.

The two of you hadn't really intended for the kiss to go on as long as it did, Vanessa's hands had slowly started to rub your sides.

A loud bang caused you to break away, however.

You both looked over towards the cause and noticed that a part of the fort had fallen, a blanket covered Foxy's head. You were sure the other animatronics would be laughing if they could.

Vanessa giggled before kissing you for a final time, "Looks like the fort needs some work," she sighed before untangling herself from you to go and save Foxy, she couldn't help but giggle again as Foxy's arms flailed about trying to free himself.

You slowly turned your head to face Freddy. Your body froze as you saw him looking back at you. Fear was definitely still there... But another ray of emotions and feelings were flooding in. One of them being trust. You were starting to trust the animatronics, thanks to Vanessa's help.

You simply smiled at Freddy.

And he seemed to smile back.

Taglist: @marvelwomen-simp ; @emiliaisdead ; @natashas-whore

#fnaf #fnaf movie #vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #vanessa monroe #fnaf fanfic #freddy fazbear #five nights at freddys

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captainpulisic · 5 months

Text

you dream of my mouth - m. mount

a/n - this is for my baby s, you made me the happiest girl ever today- oh, and molly for manifesting it

wc: 2.5k gif creds to owner

whoever has the fucking audacity to be knocking at your door at two in the morning just made their way to the top of your enemy list. you stifle a yawn as you reach the door, who's even awake at this time?

slightly raising your tiptoes, you look through the peephole at the inconsiderate person who clearly doesn’t care about you getting your beauty sleep. yet the person you see has your eyes widening and falling to the ground, out of sight.

as if he could see you.

you’re sure you must still be dreaming. this has to be some sort of too realistic hallucination. you must be still tucked into bed, having the weirdest dream of your life. because why else would mason fucking mount be at your doorstep after months of no contact?

there was no reason for him to be here. after signing and transferring to manchester, he had wasted no time in breaking up with you, reasoning that long distance never really worked. after that and too far away from his former life, he was quick to be papped with new girls every other week. it made you miserable, seeing how quick he was to move on, to be so open about his newest flings. you, on the other hand, had some decency to be on the downlow about the guys you began to date- or tried to date, anyway. none of them managed to stick, falling victim to you comparing them to mason. they just weren’t him. and you hated how quick you were to dismiss them over that.

catching your breath, you gain the courage to look through, again. your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you, it really was him. it was a blurry and disoriented lense but from what you can make out, he looks disheveled and quite a mess. his hair looks tousled, as if he had been continuously tugging at it.

you remember that had always been a nervous habit of his. and a habit of yours had become swatting his hands away, replacing them with your own as you tried to style his hair back into place. oh, how your hands were itching to do it right now. to run your fingers through it and feel him lean into your touch.

it had been ages since that’d happened.

your heart wasn’t giving your brain no time to think because before you knew it, you were unlocking and opening the door.

and there mason stood, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. he tried to take a step towards you, stumbling in the process. he braced himself against the door frame, trying to balance himself as he mumbled your name. and you curse yourself for pulling him towards yourself, giving him some extra support. slurring his words, “tell me it isn’t true.”

great, you sigh. he’s drunk.

“ben told me that he saw you out today,” he manages to mumble. your body freezes when his hand reaches up to cradle your jaw. and your heart speeds up when his thumb begins to swipe at your bottom lip. his eyes shift from your own eyes down to your lips, “that he saw out with some guy, saw you kissing him. ‘s not fair, it was me you were kissing not too long ago y’know?”

he always did get clingy when drunk. you’re too weak to shove him away but not weak enough to bite back, “until you left.”

you see the words register, as his eyes show a flash of hurt. the corner of his mouth slightly dips, as he shakes his, trying to forget about the night he idiotically let you go.

“oh, ‘m sorry I left, pretty girl.” after a moment of eyes sweeping all over your face, his lips turn upwards, into a dopey smile. with his hand still cupping your jaw, he begins to swipe at your bottom lip again. “but i’m back now.”

you’re certain your face is burning red, legs already turning to jelly. thank god he’s still technically holding you up or you’re certain you’d be on the floor by now. you curse him for having this effect on you and curse yourself for still falling for it. your problem had always been being too weak around him.

he waits for you to throw a sarcastic quip, or even to tell him to ‘fuck off’, but all he gets from you are blushing cheeks and an averted gaze. taking this as a good sign, he leans in to leave a kiss at the corner of your mouth. pulling pack to check your reaction, he grins when he sees your closed eyes and ghost of a smile.

from there, he plants a few more open mouthed kisses on your cheek, always going back to the corner of your mouth in between each one. never on your lips, though- just slight brushes over them. the damned bastard won’t give you the satisfaction too easily. when he feels your lips begin to chase his, desperate to taste him again, he disappears once more. with the hand cupping your jaw, he lightly tilts your face upward, giving himself plenty of access to focus on your neck.

you’re about to protest from the lack of actual kissing you’ve received but quickly bite your own tongue when you feel him leave a small bite at the crook of your neck. he presses a peck to the same spot, marveling at the fast forming bruise. mason hums, “there, the way it should be.”

he fails to see you roll your eyes at his possessive antics, too busy refamiliarizing himself with the crook of your neck. it’s a trail of kisses from the curve of your shoulder to the space behind your ear, a few bites given in between. hearing your breathy sighs, he takes it as reaffirmations to continue. so he kisses your neck and jaw and cheek (anywhere but your actual mouth, really- which becomes quite frustrating!), again and again and again.

finding his way back up to your face, he comes to a halt when he’s eye level with you. as if seeing each other for the first time again, under happier circumstances, there’s a doe-eyed fondness in both your eyes and matching lovesick smiles.

decidedly having had enough of his teasing, your hands find their way to the sides of his stubble filled cheeks. it’s all so fast as your lips finally meet masons, finding a rhythm that’s all too familiar. it was soft, yet deep and heated. it was the making up of months without each other, being desperate to fill in for the lost time. instantly, you taste the alcohol that has him acting so brazen. both your hands were desperate, tugging and pulling at each others clothes. his hands have found their way to the hem of your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your hips. closing your eyes, your arms drop down to his shoulders, around his neck, pulling him flush against yourself. and you felt a tinge of satisfaction every time he moaned into the kiss.

his lips never leaving yours, he began to guide you backward, still knowing the layout of your flat without having to look. when you felt the back of your legs hit the couch, you let mason push you down to lay on it. in an instant, he followed you down and was on you. again, his mouth was all over you. neck, jaw, lips, cheeks and repeat.

you come somewhat back to your senses when you feel his fingers nimbly trying to unbutton your blouse. he finds it a difficult feat due to his still inebriated state.

how often did he find himself in this predicament with all the girls he had been out with recently? your horrid, sensible mind question itself. all those girls that he’s papped with, how many of them end up on his couch? did any of them naively think they’d be the ones to finally lock him and his heart down, just as you had?

the thought of it made you nauseous.

you couldn’t fall victim to him, not again. if you gave yourself to him once more, watching him leave would utterly destroy you. the possibility of history repeating itself, of him leaving and parading his latest conquest back in manchester, would be your death. you’re not sure you’d recover this time and you don’t want to see it through to find out.

“mase- wait,” your heart feels betrayed by your mind, as you find the strength to lightly shove his shoulders.

you see the confusion in his eyes as he peers down at you. holding himself up with his forearms, careful not to squish you, “is something wrong?”

you try to voice your pesky worries but you can’t seem to find the words. instead, you just shake your head as you begin to detangle yourself from him. you can see the confusion etched on his face but nonetheless, he silently mirrors your actions, unsure of when the night had taken a turn. it’s an awkward maneuver of limbs and loud silence.

he had been positive everything was going to go his way tonight. truth be told, when ben had told him he had seen you out on a date with some guy, he had seen red. he was aware of how hypocritical he was being but the high volume of drinks he had drunk were making him think his childish tantrum was reasonable. taking another shot for good measure, he called a cab and made his way to your place.

he wasn’t sure what his endgame was when you opened the door, if you even opened it. he wanted to confront you for moving on. he wanted to apologize for leaving and ruining the loveliest relationship he’d ever had. he wanted you to apologize for snogging some loser who wasnt him, out in the open where anybody could see. he wanted to apologize if he ever made you think any of those girls meant what you had to him.

each knock to your door, his mind flashed to those flings he had been stupid enough to have. with every knock, he felt a sudden urgency to let you know that they amounted to nothing. you needed to know of the few occasions these girls left, annoyed and offended that he had accidentally said your name instead. that no girl made his tummy feel as fuzzy as you did, no one came close. maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to do but his intoxicated, hazy brain had to tell you that most nights, he’d fall asleep to dreams of you.

too wrapped up in his thoughts, you clearing your throat snapped him back to the present. your eyes glued to the floor “i’m going to call ben to pick you up, okay?”

what? why? masons mouth feels too dry. he’s at a loss for words. he hadn’t told you half of the things he wanted to and now you were kicking him out. he was sure his shock would sober him up.

as you stand up from the couch to go retrieve your phone, all he can do is helplessly stare at your retreating figure. he had so much to tell you and his brain was failing him. that last shot was a mistake, not a confidence booster as he had thought.

when you come back into the room, he’s able to catch the ending of you saying, “alright, see you soon.”

you make a point on sitting on the other side of the couch, putting some distance between the two of you.

no, he wants to whine. I don’t want to leave. I wanna be with you and kiss you and your pretty mouth. I fall asleep dreaming of it.

all he can slur out, “I wanna kiss you, again.”

it pains you to say, “mason, no.”

“why not?” he pouts, a sad look in his eyes. he reaches for your hand that had been folded in your lap, the hand that had been itching to touch him again. rubbing his thumb along it, “you used to love kissing me.”

“until you left me and started kissing other girls,” you bite back. you know it’s not a fair fight, him not fully there to defend himself. and then you feel even worse as you watch his face fall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a small voice, “I never should’ve left.”

it’s useless to argue, he won’t even remember this in the morning. you sigh, “forget it, ben will be here soon.”

resigned, mason nods and leans back to sit on the couch. the silence is deafening and all he wants to do is kiss you. why won’t you let me kiss you? his brain wants to shout.

as the clock ticks on the wall, he feels his eyes grow tired by the minute. he hoped ben would get lost and he’d be forced to spend the night. he didn’t care if nothing physically happened between the two of you, just being in your proximity would leave him content.

the thought of it makes him let out a soft chuckle, with a yawn following close by. and on your side of the couch, you let your eyes wander towards him. it hurts having so close yet with the knowledge that you’ll never have him again, not truly. tomorrow he'll be on his way back to his new home with new girls waiting for him.

no, it’s better this way you try to reassure yourself.

hearing another yawn escape him, you allow yourself to fully look at him. offering a small smile, “rest, i’ll wake you when ben gets here.”

“I don’t wanna,” another yawn, “I need to tell you so much.”

“you can tell me some other time.”

“but what if you don’t ever wanna talk another time,” his voice is sad and a bit sleepy. he’s about to fall into slumber any second now, you remember the signs of it. eyes slightly closing then opening, “and you need to know.”

you catch yourself whispering, “know what?”

he leans his head back further into the couch cushion. his words come out all mumbled together but you’re able to hear a faint ‘mouth’.

“hmm?”

“your mouth, your pretty mouth”, more inaudible whispers, “I dream of it all the time.”

“mase,” you're cut off by a knock at the door. clearly timing had never been on either of your sides. when you look back at him, you’re met with his peaceful, resting face. maybe this was for the better. and as you let ben in and simply watch him half-carry mason to his car, your heart inexplicably aches. there was a sense of finality to the situation, an unspoken final goodbye. this time tomorrow, he’d be back in his new life and you’d have to start with your new life. it was over and you had to come to terms with it

this was kinda rushed but needed to celebrate the exciting day,, like always, feedback is very much appreciated!

#mason mount fic #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount #songfic

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sky-kiss · 5 months

Text

Scars

A/n: Soft!mangled Raphael getting some snuggles. gif belongs to @red-dead-sakharine. Because they are INCREDIBLE. Sequel to this.

Raphael x (GN) Tav/Durge

You watch him pace the length of your shared room.

He's always struggled to settle, a testament to his heritage. Like Mephistopheles, he runs hot and cold, thoughts racing, schemes forming; his features twist in response to some voice in his head. You can't read his thoughts traditionally, but you don't need to: Raphael is still trying to parse his fall from grace. That orderly, fanciful mind struggles to justify his image of himself (proud, regal, kingly) and the mangled ghost in the mirror (scarred, maimed, a pauper prince).

You rest your chin on your pulled-up knees to conserve body heat. You won't pity the cambion. Pity is everything he fears and loathes. You lift your hand, turning it this way and that. Blood cakes under the nails, in the beds, between your fingers…you feel it drying near the corners of your mouth, itching and flaking away.

You'd made a ruin of the incubus…but it's the nearest thing you can offer to a gift, and Raphael smiled. It made the mess worthwhile. You scrub the back of your hand across your mouth. It only makes things worse.

Raphael pauses. The cambion tips his head to the side, watching you, eyes narrowed. In the past, he was vocal. Now, he's…different. It's your fault, and some childish part of you wants to argue that you're trying to make amends, but…

…a devil's memory is long. Their grudges are eternal.

You are, and remain, his damnation first and savior second.

"What?" You demand too sharply. Your throat burns, either from the cold or Haarlep's blood.

"Look at you," Raphael purses his lips, growling the words. "A mongrel; a beast. What became of you? You were brighter before."

"So were you."

"Mmm. And what, pray tell, could have been the cause of my meteoric rise and fall? At whose feet might I lay the blame?"

How many times have you had this argument over the past six months? You've lost count, and it's lost its edge. A part of you, petty, too aware of his foibles, wants to scold him for it: he was more creative in the old days. Now they haunt the same battleground, both too cowardly to make a move. You are caught in each other's orbit: the ruined king and the abandoned godling.

You scrub at your mouth again, and he scoffs. The cambion crosses to you and snaps his finger. Before you can register what he's doing, he's pressed a wet rag to your skin, scrubbing the mess away. His touch is brusque but…a welcome change of pace. If nothing else, he's warm.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?" He doesn't ask you to turn your head; he grips your jaw and moves you as he pleases.

You grumble, reaching out to settle your hands on his shoulders. The scarring on his torso is worse, much worse, and you feel the puckered skin flex under your touch. "Didn't have one."

Raphael squeezes your chin. "The point remains. Such a mess."

Despite yourself, you smile. Raphael's eyes darken, fixing on the blood-flecked across your teeth.

"Open." He orders.

And you were made to follow orders, weren't you? Bhaal's, the Absolute's, Gortash…the headiness of his tone and the lowness twists something in your belly. Raphael presses his thumb to your lower lip. A sharp nail scrapes across your teeth, careful, ever so careful, clearly away the remnants of your…indulgence. The cambion tilts his head to the side, pressing deeper into your mouth.

You set your teeth on this skin, eye burning.

"How curious is my monster…" Raphael sits back. He pulls his hand free, but you don't allow him to get far. You shuffle nearer, press yourself to him to leech his warmth. Claws pluck at your hair. "... you've bitten me once already…"

And the thought flits through your head, cruel and resigned all at once: what alternative does he have left? What do either of you have left?

You don't say this. It's better to pluck Raphael's free hand from where it rests between you. There are scars and burns here, stretching across the wrists, down towards his palm.

You hold his gaze, pressing your lips to the worst of his scars.

#raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x durge #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my stuff #raphael x reader

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eoieopda · 9 months

Text

[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

#bts #skz #atz #svt #gfx recs #gif recs #art recs #jade speaks

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pinchofhoney · 8 months

Note

Because I wanna spread the "we need more Belphagor" message, how about something with him? Platonic or romantic is your choice but we need more content for him bc he's so :))))

on the verge of a fever

belphegor x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warning: the way his character appears in the show has been changed for the purposes of this story; basically, here god is not trying to ruin the whole world, mention of drinking alcohol

summary: Ever wondered if Hell hosts Monopoly nights?

a/n: belphagor is my spirit animal. when you text me, it's the person who writes you back lmao my profile currently looks like a fan club of your requests, but it's not my fault that my obsession with this series is back and you're the only one with ideas related to it. i hope you enjoy it!!<33

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Guiding Sam and Dean towards the bunk stairs, you couldn't help but notice the genuine concern etched on Sam's face. He leaned in, his tone brimming with sincere care, and gently reminded you, “You know, if you ever need a hand, just remember that Castiel is just a phone call away.”

This morning's awakening had thrown you a curveball. At first, you brushed off the strange sensations coursing through your body, thinking they were caused by the aging mattress beneath you. Yet, with each passing moment, that peculiar feeling escalated into something far more troubling. It clung to you like an insistent itch, impossible to ignore, casting an unsettling shadow over your day.

Now, wrapped snugly in the comforting cocoon of your soft, pink blanket, you found yourself ensnared in the relentless grip of a fever. Your body radiated heat, and every movement became a battle against the oppressive weight of illness. The sole lifeline keeping you tethered to the realm of the living was the medication within easy reach.

Summoning a faint smile, you struggled to reassure Sam, who always kept a watchful eye, despite the fatigue evident in your voice. “I'll handle it,” you whispered, your words carrying a hint of exhaustion.

Trying to make the serious mood a bit lighter, you couldn't resist adding a touch of playful sarcasm. “Well, maybe you should head out before your God buddy decides it's time to disappear once again.”

After saying goodbye to the Winchesters, you headed back to your bed. You didn't want to bother Castiel with your problems; you knew he had more important things to worry about than a grown-up hunter catching a simple cold.

As you entered your room, you couldn't help but grumble to yourself. Why did it seem like Sam and Dean never got sick? You were used to risking your life to hunt supernatural creatures, and now, on top of that, you had to deal with a fever. It just didn't seem fair. You plopped down on the edge of your bed, feeling frustrated. This illness was not only physically uncomfortable but also a reminder that even tough hunters like you had to face everyday human struggles.

Ridiculous, you thought.

You took a quick look on the mirror standing in the corner, then let out a sigh of annoyance and laid down on your bed, giving in to a sense of resignation. You didn't even notice when you drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, you slowly opened your eyes, hoping to find some relief from the persistent illness that had plagued you. However, as your vision cleared, you realized that you felt even worse than before. It was as if the fever had intensified during your restless slumber, wrapping you in a suffocating embrace.

With a groan of discomfort, you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with every movement. The room seemed dimmer, and the last rays of daylight coming from the corridor appeared harsh and unforgiving. Your throat was parched, and your limbs felt heavy as if they were made of lead.

Casting a rueful glance at the clock, you realized that time had slipped away during your troubled nap. It was as though the fever had stolen not only your strength but also precious hours from your day.

You came close to grabbing your phone and calling Castiel, but you resisted, refusing to give in to a moment of vulnerability – or so you tried to convince yourself.

Struggling considerably, you managed to shift your legs off the bed and, with an effort that would make an elderly man with mobility issues proud, you stood up. Your own sigh of discomfort mirrored the sound one might expect from someone in such a situation. You briefly caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, mentally noting how pitiful you appeared, before making your way into the hallway, your feet dragging wearily behind you.

The bunker had settled into an eerie quietness, broken only by the weighty sound of your footsteps. As you made your way into the main room, your initial plan to head to the opposite corridor was interrupted by an abrupt rustling in a dimly lit corner of the space.

Your tired eyes strained to identify the source of this disturbance. Could it be a mere product of your fevered imagination? You wouldn't be surprised if your illness had started playing tricks on your mind. After all, nobody else was supposed to be allowed in the vast bunker.

And then, right there, bathed in the soft, muted glow of the bunker's emergency lighting, stood a figure you never anticipated encountering. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat, and your fever-addled brain could only muster one thought; Jack. Why was he here? What was happening? Wasn't he...?

“Jack?” you questioned hesitantly, your gaze darting around the room in search of some evidence that you were still ensnared in a dream.

The figure before you smirked. It wasn't the gentle, innocent smile of Jack. It was something darker, more twisted. Your fevered mind raced to find an explanation. Maybe it was the fever. Yes, that had to be it. You were conjuring this surreal scene in your delirium.

“Hello,” greeted the boy, lifting his right hand in a welcoming gesture, mirroring the way Jack used to.

Confusion knitted your brows as you unconsciously took a cautious step toward this familiar-looking stranger, clutching your blanket tightly around you. Your scrutiny intensified as you examined him closely. The person before you was dressed in the same attire as the last time you saw Jack, but it couldn't possibly be him. Jack Kline had met his demise, so why was he standing before you now?

Your gaze wandered to the sunglasses perched on the boy's face, and you couldn't help but shake your head with a hint of amusement. You swiftly turned away, fully convinced that your need for medication was far more pressing than entertaining these unsettling hallucinations. As you made your determined exit, you could almost hear a faint chuckle from behind you.

“Leaving so soon? And here I was, hoping for some company,” the boy, or rather, the entity inhabiting the boy's body, remarked with a sly grin, his voice dripping with faux disappointment. His sunglasses hid the fiery void that should have been his eyes, concealing his true nature as he attempted to blend in.

You paused, feeling an inexplicable mix of curiosity and unease. There was something off about this whole situation, and it wasn't just the fact that you were conversing with someone who looked like Jack but couldn't possibly be him. The aura this stranger exuded was friendly yet laced with an unsettling undercurrent of something more sinister.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to maintain composure.

The boy's smile widened, revealing a veneer of friendliness that barely concealed his sadistic amusement. “Oh, I was getting dreadfully bored down in Hell. Thought I'd stretch my legs, so to speak.”

His casual tone and the way he spoke about Hell as if it were a mundane inconvenience sent a shiver down your spine. This was no ordinary encounter, and you couldn't help but wonder if your fever had conjured up this bizarre scenario.

“I'm Belphegor,” the demon chimed in, noting your dubious expression. “Just a temporary tenant, you know? This body was basically vacant real estate, so I thought, 'Why not?' I mean, squatters' rights and all,” he quipped, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders as if discussing his choice of a new apartment. His grin remained as inscrutable as ever, a blend of friendly and utterly unsettling.

You couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow at the demon's cavalier attitude. This was a new low, even for the world you lived in.

“Squatters' rights, huh?” you muttered, not sure whether to be amused or deeply disturbed by his casual demeanor. “Well, congratulations on your, uh, new accommodations.”

Belphegor chuckled, the sound a disconcerting blend of mirth and something far more alarming. “Thanks, I think it suits me. But, you know, I'm not all that bad once you get to know me,” he added with a wicked grin, as if trying to convince you that sharing a body with a demon was just a quirky and harmless coincidence.

Your instincts told you otherwise, and you couldn't help but wonder how deeply the Winchesters were embroiled in whatever bizarre deal this demon had cooked up.

“So, um,” you began, feeling a little like you were fumbling through a conversation with a distant relative you'd rather not acknowledge at a family reunion. The situation was beyond awkward, standing there face-to-face with a demon who had chosen to squat in a body you knew all too well. “Care for a drink?”

If you could, you would have rolled your eyes right then and there, but you had to maintain some semblance of composure. You knew you should be taking action, maybe calling the brothers or attempting to exorcise Belphegor, but your phone was conveniently left behind in your room, and it seemed that the universe had a thing against including demon-killing pockets in your pajamas.

Belphegor's lips curved into a wicked smile, his amusement clear despite the sunglasses concealing his eyes. “Well, aren't you the hospitable one,” he quipped, as if being invited for a drink by the friend of his borrowed body was a regular occurrence.

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. “I figure if I can't beat the demon, I might as well join it for a drink,” you replied with a wry grin, attempting to keep things light, even though your mind was racing with thoughts of what to do next.

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were walking on thin ice, navigating a situation that seemed to defy all logic. Sharing a drink with a demon in your pajamas was definitely not how you had planned to spend your day, but sometimes, but sometimes you had to improvise.

Entering the kitchen, you were determined to play it cool, all the while keeping a close eye on the boy. You grabbed a bottle of Dean's favorite liquor from the cabinet, figuring that if this was going to be a bizarre demon rendezvous, you might as well make it a memorable one.

“Here's to unexpected company,” you said with a somewhat forced cheerfulness as you poured two glasses, trying your best to hide the anxiety gnawing at your nerves.

Belphegor accepted the drink with a bemused nod, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To unlikely alliances,” he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

While he was distracted with his drink, you seized the opportunity to grab a glass of water and discreetly pop a couple of fever-killing pills. You hoped that once the medication kicked in, the demon might just decide to take his leave, making this weird encounter nothing more than a fever-induced hallucination.

Sipping your water and pretending to engage in the odd conversation, you silently counted the minutes until the medication would hopefully bring some relief.

As the time passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was all too real. The fever medication had begun to work its magic, and you felt a wave of dizziness wash over you, courtesy of the combination of drugs and alcohol. Your head was spinning like a top, and you realized that your attempt to blend in and have a normal conversation with a demon was spiraling into absurdity.

“So,” you slurred slightly, trying to focus your blurry gaze on Belphegor, “what's it like down there in Hell? I mean, besides the whole eternal torment thing. Do you guys have, like, a book club or a knitting circle to pass the time?”

Belphegor raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident even through those opaque sunglasses. “Well, it's not all fire and brimstone, you know,” he replied with a mock-serious tone, playing along with your bizarre line of questioning. “We do have our demon potlucks, and occasionally, a game night with some fiendishly fun board games.”

You couldn't help but giggle at the mental image of demons huddled around a Monopoly board in Hell. The combination of fever-induced delirium and the surrealness of the situation had turned the conversation into a comical farce.

“What's your favorite board game, then?” you asked, leaning in closer as if discussing board games with a demon was the most normal thing in the world.

Belphegor chuckled, his sinister amusement undiminished. “Twister,” he replied with a sly grin, and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

Lost in the absurdity of your conversation with the demon, you paid little attention to the strange sounds echoing through the bunker. It was as if the very walls were whispering secrets, and you chalked it up to your fevered imagination playing tricks on you.

Belphegor was in the middle of describing a particularly demon version of a summer vacation when a sudden, unexpected voice pierced through the haze of your conversation.

“Y/N” Castiel's deep voice resonated through the kitchen, his sudden appearance causing you to jump so violently that you almost knocked over your glass.

You turned to see Castiel standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his blue eyes penetrating the sunglasses-clad Belphegor with a steely gaze. The demon's expression shifted from amusement to surprise as he realized the presence of an angel.

“Castiel!” you exclaimed, your heart racing as you struggled to regain your composure. “I, uh, didn't expect to see you here.”

Belphegor's amusement seemed to wane as he met Castiel's unwavering gaze. The room fell silent, and the atmosphere shifted from surreal absurdity to a tense standoff between angel and demon.

“What does this supposed to mean?” Castiel asked, his voice steady as he approached the countertop where you were seated, sliding a blade out of his sleeve.

You quickly rose from your seat, wanting to calm the situation. The absurdity of the situation, in which you, in a pink blanket, wanted to defend a demon who could kill you with a snap of your fingers, did not reach you.

“That's Belphegor,” you stammered, your voice wavering as confusion and uncertainty welled up. You realized you had no real justification for the demon's visit. “I-I have no idea why he's here, but he's... uh, he's cool.” Trying to defend the demon only earned you doubtful glances from both Castiel and Belphegor, making this already weird situation even more confusing.

“I've got an offer that might catch the Winchesters' attention,” the demon said as he stepped forward from behind you.

Castiel's expression darkened as he confronted the demon, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Taking Jack's body... this is desecration,” he hissed, his voice carrying the weight of his disapproval. The angel's gaze bore into Belphegor, as if willing him to understand the gravity of his actions.

You stepped in between the two, desperately trying to ease the mounting tension. “Look, I know this is... complicated,” you began, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the situation. “But maybe Belphegor has something important. We should hear him out before we jump to conclusions.”

Belphegor, for his part, maintained his sly grin, unfazed by Castiel's anger. “I'm just a demon trying to make the best of my situation,” he chimed in, his tone almost cheerful. “Besides, the vessel was just sitting there, collecting dust. I thought it could use some fresh air, you know.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “It's not about the vessel, it's about respect and dignity.”

Before Castiel could retort further, the kitchen door swung open, and Sam and Dean walked in. Their faces registered a mix of surprise and confusion as they took in the scene before them. The room was filled with a charged silence, broken only by the creak of the door.

“What's going on in here?” Dean finally asked, breaking the awkward standoff. His gaze shifted from you to Castiel and then to Belphegor, who was still wearing that boyish grin beneath those stupid sunglasses.

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giowritess · 4 months

Text

fortnight [2]

gif by @dameronscopilot

pairing | Benny Miller x female!reader [Grace Stratford] summary | you somehow end up pretending to be Benny's girlfriend for two whole weeks. is your heart going to survive that? probably not. warnings | swearing a bit, mentions of certain body parts word count | 1k author's note | to be honest, i have no idea where i'm headed with this fic lol this time, we have some insights into benny's head. love him. english isn't my first language and this wasn't proofread. part one | masterlist | main masterlist

There was one thing in your plan, however, you hadn't accounted for. You'd have to share a bedroom with Benny for the next two weeks, and you were trying not to freak out because of that.

“Left or right side?” He asked, oblivious to what was going on inside of your head.

“Left,” you replied, and he happily tossed his pillow to the right side before plopping down, landing on his side and leaning his face in his palm and looking at you. His cap flew somewhere in the room.

Shit. Fourteen whole nights sleeping by his side. Jesus Christ, your heart definitely wasn’t going to survive.

“If we're gonna do this, we gotta settle a few things,” you said, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“Shoot.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two. You?”

“Twenty-seven. How long has it been since you left the army?”

“This feels like twenty-one questions,” he said, making you laugh. “Six years. How long have you been in the Air Force?”

“Four years. Why did you leave?”

He looked at the ceiling. “It gets to a point when you just have enough, you know?”

You nodded. Despite loving what you did, sometimes you felt that way, too. “Dad had just died, too, so I had enough,” he added.

You nodded again.

“We need an excuse,” he said. “To why no one knew about us.”

“True. We could say... I don't know, we didn't wanna rush things and preferred to keep it low?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Basic. I like it,” he said and yawned. “I need to take a nap. Carrying all my girlfriend's bags made me so tired.”

He sighed dramatically, making you laugh at his theatrics and the way he said the word girlfriend.

"Oh, shut up, it was just two bags,” you said, throwing your pillow at his face. His beautiful face. He effortlessly batted it away, sending it flying overhead, but, in doing so, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you, his strength making you land on top of him.

The laughter died in your throat when you realized just how dark his eyes were. You were straddling him, a leg on each side of his body and your palms splayed across his chest for support. His body was a rigid mass of muscle under you, your hands itching to travel all around his naked chest. He was so fucking hot, in both senses—the heat coming from him as arming you in all places. He slightly shifted and you went still when you felt the distinct outline of his cock through your clothes. It wasn't hard, but just a roll of your hips, and…

His eyes were boring holes into yours and you wanted to squirm. His hands circled your wrists. You took a breath of courage.

“There's something we didn't discuss”, you said in a meek voice, trying hard to get the words out under the intensity of his gaze.

“What?”

“PDA.”

Your voice sounded more breathy than you wanted it to. He chuckled, his body shaking slightly under you, sending vibrations up your body. You wanted to move so badly.

“I think we already established that won't be a problem,” he replied, and you wondered if he meant today, the heated kiss you shared, or two years ago, that night in his car? “But we can practice if y—”

Before he had the chance to finish the sentence that would make all your dreams come true, three rapid knocks sounded at the door before Maddie's voice came through.

“Grace? Can I come in?”

“Just a second,” you yelled back, you and Benny scrambling to your feet in seconds. “Come in!”

She did. She took one look at you and at Benny and a smirk appeared on her lips.

“Oooh, sorry I interrupted something, but I gotta steal Gracie for a bit,” she said, sitting at the corner of the bed as if she owned it. “Benny, shoo. Go get drunk or go fishing or whatever.”

He rolled his eyes and bent to press up his discarded cap. After putting it backwards—a silly thing, but it made you want to swoon nonetheless—, he pointed a finger at you.

“This conversation isn't over yet,” he said.

All you could do was nod, suddenly unable to speak.

***

Benny wanted to kick Will the moment he saw the grin on his brother's face.

“Shut up,” he said, breezing past him to grab a beer. To hell that it was only two in the afternoon—the day asked for one, and somewhere it was already five pm, right?

“I didn't even say anything!” Will argued.

Benny just raised an eyebrow at him, leaning on the kitchen counter in silence, waiting for whatever shit he was going to say

“But I gotta ask. How the hell are you suddenly dating Stratford?”

“It was her idea,” he replied with a sigh. "So I can make Sam jealous. She thinksI want her back.”

Benny accidently forgot to mention that it was Maddie's idea. She must have heard one of their conversations and misinterpreted the whole thing.

Suddenly, the expression on his brother's face turned dead serious. “And do you?”

“Hell no. Not in a million years,” Benny replied, a bitter taste on his mouth just by thinking of dating Samantha again. She left a bad taste for relationships for him, which was why he was single ever since. “You know who I want.”

Who he'd been wanting since she got in their lives, but he was too big of a dumbass to do something about it, even after their one night stand two years ago. And to think that, if it wasn't for Maddie, he'd probably have her exactly where he wanted her right now.

“So? What you waiting for?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “To be sure, I guess.”

Will placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes as serious as ever.

“Big brother advice. Don’t screw this up,” he said. He nodded. “If you want her, go for it. Now get over yourself and let's go fishing.”

Benny chuckled, a sudden feeling of resolve surging through his body. He didn't know exactly how, but yeah, he was going for it.

by @reveriesources

➜ part three

#benny miller smut #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #will miller #giowritess #garrett hedlund #Garrett hedlund fanfic #writing #fanfiction

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 2 years

Note

the gang when their s/o gets jumped by the socs?

A/N: I had fun with this, I really hope you enjoy! Look at how cute this gif is too, huh? I absolutely love it <3

DARRY CURTIS

God, Darry is so mad and he’s mad at everyone

He’s mad at the Socs because they thought it was a good idea to go after you, he’s a little mad at you walking home alone like he’s told you not to do a thousand times, and he’s mad at himself because he wasn’t there to help you

If you get jumped, don’t wait to tell Darry about it, especially if you have very visible injuries

If you just show up with a black eye or something? Darry’s concern goes through the roof

Please let him take care of you after you get jumped, let him patch up your wounds and dote on you, it’s probably the only thing that makes him feel better

He wants a rumble to get justice, and he wants a rumble right now

SODAPOP CURTIS

If he finds out you’ve been jumped? Poor baby is so very upset

But it’s the kind of upset where he’s almost in tears as he tries to clean up your Soc-given injuries

He’s aware that he could’ve lost you if the Socs had taken their jumping just a little bit further, and that’s a bit world-shaking to him

Soda refuses to let you go anywhere without him for a while, he wants to keep an eye on you

Definitely holds onto you a bit closer when it gets late or when you pass a group of Socs

He’s seen first-hand how scary being jumped can be, Johnny and Pony’ve gone through it, so if you need to cry and let it all out? Feel free, honey, he wants to help

PONYBOY CURTIS

Ponyboy feels horrible, one of the boys most torn up over hearing about you getting jumped

From now on, he’s walking you home from school even if you live on the other end of town

He’s walking you home because he’s not taking the chance for you to get jumped again

Pony’s not the kind of person who’s going to be running around, trying to organize a rumble over you getting jumped but it’s not because he doesn’t care

He’s just not aggressive like that? And would rather just quietly take care of you than start a whole rumble

If you want to talk about it? Pony’s all ears! But if you don’t, that’s fine too

DALLAS WINSTON

When you stumble into Buck’s with a black eye and a bloody lip from a Soc, Dally’s already itching to start a fight

He’s cussing up a storm as he hauls you up the stairs and into his room as he starts to clean you up

Don’t think for one second that Dally isn’t going to arrange a rumble on your behalf

This boy is already planning on roping in all of the Shepard gang and maybe the boys from Brumley to start something

Dally’s so mad, so unbelievably mad that someone had the guts to go after his doll when the whole town is aware that you’re under his protection

Nobody messes with Dallas Winston’s doll and he’s going to make sure they know that

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny’s more upset and sad than angry when finds out about you getting jumped?

Like sure, he’s angry, my man has so much raw and untapped anger in his chest, I mean he literally stabbed a kid in the book

But he’s more upset? He feels that you don’t deserve to go through anything rough like that

He’s good at comforting though! He’s very good at making you feel better

So what if you both are a little jumpy when you’re around Socs, the whole gang’s looking out for the two of you now

Ain’t nothing going to happen to either of you if the gang has anything to say about it

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit is going to make someone pay for what they did to you and he means it

His normally goofy, laid-back, couldn’t-care-less attitude is gone out the window when it comes to you being hurt by some Socs

Two’s deathly quiet when he’s dressing your wounds, except for a small apology whenever you wince in pain or muttered threats

He’s going out that night after you’re well and taken care of, and he’s asking around to figure out who did this and who’s gonna help him take care of it

He’s not as angry as Dally is but he’s still thoroughly upset that you got hurt

It’s like night and day with Two’s personality when you get hurt by anyone honestly, but the fact that you were hurt by Socs makes the whole thing even worse

STEVE RANDLE

The only thing coming out of his mouth when he sees you all busted up is a consistent stream of “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry”

Steve’s very apologetic, feels very guilty about you getting jumped because he feels like he should’ve done something to help you

If he finds out who did this to you? They’re in for a rough time, let me tell you that

Steve does not pull his punches at all, especially not against some Socs who hurt his partner

Sodapop’s jumping to help him too, the three of you are good buddies and take care of each other; Steve would do the same thing for Soda’s partner

Let’s just say Steve’s going to come home from a fight with a busted lip after defending you so you might as well play nurse for him <3

TIM SHEPARD

Tim has a rumble scheduled within the hour he finds out you’ve been jumped

Bonus angsty points if you got jumped and managed to stumble your way back to wherever he was, whether it was the house or Buck’s place before collapsing into him

The whole gang shows up, plus the boys from Brumley, plus the Curtis gang, and a few other gangless greasers if Tim has his way

Everyone wants to stay on good terms with the Shepards so they have the Shepard gang as an ally which means showing up to the fight when the head Shepard’s darlin gets jumped by some Socs

You are not allowed to be there, Tim doesn’t want you anywhere near those Socs again so you’re home with Angela

He comes home a little beat up, a little dirty, but ultimately happy because he sure showed those Socs and he knows nobody is going to hurt you again

CURLY SHEPARD

My god, Curly is one of those chihuahuas with anger issues, my boy is looking for the Socs who hurt you the minute you tell him what happened

Begs Tim for a rumble, down on his knees begging if Tim doesn’t immediately agree

But it’s all taken care of because Tim looks at you like a younger sibling and doesn’t take too kindly to someone beating up on you

Curly wants to patch up your wounds, kiss everything better before going out and beating the ever-loving crap out of the Socs

He’s all soft and gentle when he’s with you but there’s a switch that flips when it’s rumble time

Your soft and gentle Curly is gone, replaced by a scrappy greaser with a nasty punch who’s looking to destroy some Soc butt

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hamiltonaf · 1 year

Text

One More Dance | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Summary: The job is to lure men and make them spend money at the beach club, but how does it feel to do that when you attract the most famous one of them all.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Slow burn

A/N: This is my very first one shot that’s football related. I’ve always written F1 one shots for so long and thought of doing something different for once. Got inspired by listening to a popular song on replay and idk why I felt it really needed to be written - btw if you wanna set the mood then watch the music video for the song here

This could be turned into a part 2 but all depends on the feedback. Do let me know your thoughts on this one shot and perhaps I’ll get working on the next part if requested. Also, apologies for the gif quality idk what happened. Anywho, enjoyyy .xx

It’s been a little over a year since I moved on my own to Spain and have since been working at an exclusive beach club. I quite liked my job, it was interesting how my work had changed over a couple of months.

It started off as being a waitress, to being ‘upgraded’ to serving only VIP clients and now on top of that, I’m a dancer. So since we have majority rich or famous clientele, my job is to be the main attraction and to lure men to continue wasting their money on drinks. Is that even legal ? I honestly couldn’t care, as long as I’m getting paid well.

If you’re wondering how the dancing came about, let’s just say that some of my friends here just can’t keep their mouth shut after a night out.

We’re told on the day who will be coming to the club so we can do some quick research of our own before the clients are here.

Today we were expecting a few football players, mainly away players from PSG such as Kylian, Sergio, Achraf and a few others. When I noticed the commotion upon their arrival, I got a heads up that in a few minutes it’s my queue to perform. Luckily I have my work friends dancing along with me, it eases the stress of being the lead dancer.

I quickly dropped my work and jogged over to our dressing room to get dressed so I looked the part. As per usual, all of us dancers have to wait in our dressing room until it was our queue. My makeup was already done, just had to touch up my hair from a ponytail to beachy waves and I was ready.

A few minutes later our manager, Megan, had jogged over to give us our queue. The music got louder and the vibe had instantaneously changed from relaxed to people itching to join us to dance.

The girls had set the mood first before the lyrics started and that was my queue. When I say I performed, I mean it.

The wind was a paid actor because I never felt more like a main character than I did during this performance. With a hundred pairs of eyes on me, I could feel a pair in particular that was burning into me as they watched my every move. For a while I tried to search the crowd for that someone that I could feel a spark with and I knew he was the one when he was staring directly back at me. Mr. Kylian Mbappé.

I confidently winked at him mid performance before I scurried off back to the dressing room to change yet again, during this time the live singer had taken over the song to prolong it whilst I got dressed.

I peeped out from the dressing room waiting for my queue and noticed everyone was up on their feet dancing, and cheering along to the live singer. Just as the lyrics continued, I stepped out and a path was cleared for me to make my way to the main dance floor. I lip synced along to the lyrics as I made my way to the crowd.

I noticed he was leaning against a pillar at the main dance floor with his arms crossed over his chest. I held eye contact until I walked past him to the empty dance circle. He turned around to look at me, gazing from head to toe. I couldn’t help but make eye contact again as I continued to do my rehearsed dance moves.

With our intense eye contact, it felt as if this dance was for him and him only. The crowd around us was long forgotten. As the song was nearing the end, all that was left was to freestyle. As my back was turned to him for a second, I felt someone grab my hand and spin me around to bump into a chest. I knew it was him. My hands cautiously placed on his chest, my eyes slowly trailed to meet his.

I was so lost in his eyes and the thought of his next move that I failed to notice everyone around us salsa along to the music. He then spun me around and I followed his lead.

At the back of my head I couldn’t believe how our moves were in sync as if we rehearsed together or something. My heart was racing and I can honestly say that it’s not the adrenaline rush. He continued to stun me with his smooth moves and his dominance whilst we danced. It felt like something out of a step up movie. The music, the crowd, the location was so unreal to be experiencing a dreamy moment like this.

As the song ended, everyone erupted in applause and screams. My arm wrapped around his neck as he dipped me down and slowly brought us up, my free hand lightly holding his face. The chemistry and the tension was on fire, I could feel it underneath my skin.

“You’re a pretty good dancer” I said with a grin. “I could say the same for you” he smiled as we then loosened our grip off each other. “Well I better be a good dancer, it’s part of the job” I said playfully. “Does the beautiful dancer have a name ?” He raised a brow. “Aww sweet, the name is not interested. Nice to meet you. Ciao” I winked as I scurried off. “Wait” he called after me. Ugh.. I hate myself for doing that but unfortunately I have to get back to my waitress duties, until later when we will have to perform again.

I got changed back into my first dance outfit, the holographic purple and green combo of a bralette, and skirt to make better use of it whilst I can. The girls all started squealing the second I stepped foot into the dressing room. “Oh my gosh guys.. calm down” I said as I placed a hand on my chest in shock. Megan came in to check in on everyone and congratulated us on our performance. “Big ups especially to (Y/N), our girl was out there dancing with Kylian ! Oh my god that was literally epic” she screamed. “I was shocked with the way he moved. Mans is smooth, I’ll give him that” I said as I looked at my reflection and fixed my hair. “Well, what did he say ?” Megan asked as the girls listened eagerly. “Not much really. He asked for my name and I cut him off saying that I’m not interested before running here” I shrugged my shoulders. “(Y/N) are you stupid ? You have an opportunity to be with Kylian and you’re blowing the man off ?” Megan said in disgust.

I looked at her face and immediately started to feel bad. “What are you still doing here looking at me ? Go get him !” Megan yelled at me as she pushed me out the door. I stumbled as I stepped foot outside. I tried to subtly look for him amongst the crowd before my eyes fell on him, for once he was busy chatting to Achraf so obviously wrong time for me to talk to him. I went up to the bar thinking I could give out some orders, but I was shoved with a tray of drinks in my hand by Lexi, my closest work friend. “You were specially requested for VIP table 2” she said as she nodded towards the table. I turned around and of course it’s Kylian’s table. Lovely.

“Hey boys. Who ordered drinks ?” I cheerfully said as I placed their drinks onto the table. I could feel Kylian’s gaze burn into me. “Hey it’s the dancer girl ! You were phenomenal by the way” Achraf said. “Aww thank you, really appreciate it” I smiled at him then stole a glance at Kylian. “Anyways enjoy your drinks boys and let me know if there’s anything else you need” I smiled at them before walking off. “(Y/N) !” He yelled my name which made me stop in my tracks. “You know my name ?” I asked shocked as I furrowed my brows. “Your friend Lexi told me” he said as he looked behind me to wave at her. I turned around to see her waving at us. “Anything you needed ?” I asked. “You” he said confidently with a smirk. “And what could I possibly do to help ?” I raised a brow with a half smile.

“I’d like another dance with you” he said. “I’m working Kylian” I said as I crossed my arms over my chest. I can’t believe I was saying his name so casually as if I knew him all these years. “I like how you say my name” he smirked as he stepped closer. “I like how you’re avoiding the topic ” I smiled. “So how about that dance, (Y/N) ?” He asked as he held out his hand for me. “Hmm…only because I like how you say my name” I said as I answered his question by placing my hand in his.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe fan fiction #kylian mbappe drabble #kylian mbappe oneshot #mbappe x reader #mbappe x you #psg #ricciardoaf oneshots

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maryannecrimsworth · 1 year

Text

Stubborn

Gif belongs to @tvandfilm

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Guide for tormented hearts

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Selective Mute Reader

Warnings: self-destructive behavior; violence; flashback

Summary: You had a nightmare --- you got poisoned. And Wednesday insists on taking care of you.

Some reader's characteristics: R has anxiety disorder, selective mutism, and is a really unique type of outcast. Reader's background it's derived from my Wednesday fic, The Hunt.

"What do you mean ‘I fell asleep’?” You stood up abruptly, your nails craving into your own skin. "Did I transform?"

"Stop." She ignored you completely. "Stop scratching." She tried to reach you, but you flinched, backing off while your forearms started to bleed.

"Please, tell me." You pleaded, the readiness and burning crawling up to your face. "Are you sure I didn't turn into the Alp?"

"Yes."

You laughed. You laughed brightly and loudly while your hands went up to your neck.

"Stop it." Wednesday grabbed your wrists. "Stop laughing, stop scratching."

"Wednesday." Your voice made her look up at you: your lips closed in a content smile as your eyes shone, locked on hers. "I slept."

"You had a nightmare." You tried to move again but Wednesday immobilized you by intervening your fingers. Her grip was strong and, surprisingly, her touch was not cold. "Possibly a vision. Tell me what you saw."

"I saw my mother, the Hexe." You swallowed dryly, the burning spreading to your throat and mouth. "And someone just like you."

"Like me?"

"Is there any witch in your family?"

"My mother. My grandmother. My aunt."

"No, someone older, from the pilgrimage times." You breathed out, freeing yourself and scratching the back of your neck with violence. "Someone who was condemned in a witch trial."

"Yes." Wednesday whispered, her face frowning as her thoughts grew faster. There were a few cuts in your neck by the time she looked up again and grabbed your hands. "Goody Addams."

"She saved me." You choked, being stopped from moving again. "Can you please—"

"No." She was holding you tightly, her fingers closing around yours with as much intensity as her eyes were targeting you. "You need to calm down."

"I'm not nervous, I am itching." It was unbelievable that Wednesday was stronger than you. "There were larkspurs in the dream, I think I'm reacting to them."

"Larkspurs?" Wednesday's eyes widened abruptly, her expression so suddenly explicit that shocked you. You've seen her scared before, fragilized, with tears in her eyes; but, this time, her gaze was fast. Quick and wild, like she had to act immediately. Like there was an imminent danger "We need to go."

"Wednesday." You held her back, your hands now gripping her tightly. "I'm okay."

"You are not."

"I am."

"We need to go." She ordered after pushing you one more time. "Obey before I—"

"No." Your voice was firmer. Firmer than she had ever heard.

Stubborn. How stubborn you were. Wednesday had to bite her tongue in order to not yell at you.

"I fell asleep!" You said suddenly, as if it mattered, as if it explained your stupid, reckless, destructive behavior. You smiled at her as if the wounds growing on your skin weren't burning. As if they couldn't make you scratch until...

"It doesn't matter, you have to—"

"I haven't slept since my father…" You whispered. "Wednesday, I—"

"We need to go!"

"I don't want to!"

You were grasping her. Your hands were so tightly closed you could feel her sweat, her fighting, her skin against yours. Her fingers, entwined with yours, started to absorb your warmth. The heat, the poison you were feeling --- that had spread all over your body and system, intoxicating you, burning you --- somehow, reached her too. It was the only possible explanation for the redness in her cheeks and the gleam in her eyes.

You let her go and stepped back suddenly. "I don't want to go. I don't want you to go."

Surprisingly, you were the only one moving away.

"I..." She stepped closer, her voice now matching yours: low, whispered, honest. "We have to go."

'We'. It was strange. Strange, odd, exquisite. It couldn't sound worse in Wednesday's voice, and yet, it made you smile. .

"Larkspurs are poisonous." She shook her head and lowered her gaze abruptly. "If you have ingested any particle of it, in any way, it will…"

"Oh, don't worry, I've become resistant to poisoning."

You could hear Wednesday gritting her teeth.

"What does it take for you to listen?" She hissed. "I have my axe with me."

"I have one too. Viking kind." You were not kidding. You were smiling at her. "What's your plan, boss?"

Wednesday rolled her eyes.

"Just follow me."

So you did.

"I know you said it didn't matter." You followed Wednesday through the hallway, stepping closer to her as she wandered through your brother’s cabinets. "But it matters to me. A lot. And I don't know how you did it."

"We'll talk about it once you stop scratching yourself." Between glasses, bottles and jars, Wednesday reached a small bag with dry oats. "Found it." She headed to the toilet and you followed.

"Ravens can build bridges among the worlds." Wednesday entered the restroom, quickly turning on the bathtub faucet. The water started to drop as she handled the bag carefully. "Maybe, maybe you…" Your mind was spinning. Your mind was spinning and your body was burning and there was not a single part of your skin that wasn't red and bruised. No matter how hard she tried, Wednesday couldn't make you stand still until the bath was ready. "Why would Goodwoman Addams contact me?" You shook your head, barely noticing Wednesday's approach. "Why would she save me? She should hate me, I'm Hexe's son." Your eyes were lowered, frowned, your attention was in your mind, in your own head. You didn't notice Wednesday's fingers traveling up your shirt. "The Larkspur field. Why would she be there?"

A cold wild suddenly hit your chest – you flinched and crossed your arms, stepping away unconsciously. "Can you talk to her?"

"I need you to take your clothes off." Her words made you look up.

Your coat was in her hands, and half of your shirt was unbuttoned.

"Oh." You hid your exposed skin. "Why?"

"The bath will help with your itching." She explained, pacing over to you again. She stood a few steps away from you, and remained still, watching you as you watched her. "Do it. What are you waiting for?"

"Why…why would you…" You muttered, holding your shirt even tighter. “Why are you doing this?” Her eyes rolling met your confused expression. She didn't move for several seconds, in an attempt to figure whether you were able to understand it by yourself or not. You were not.

“Because that’s what friends—”

“No.” It was your turn to step closer. “Why are you not answering me?”

“It does not matter, not now.”

“It’s a mystery, of course it does.” You were leaning over her slightly, curiosity pulled you closer as she watched all the bruises over your skin. “For you it always does.”

“Not when you are in pain.” She ended the distance between you two, grabbing your shirt and undressing you in a unique, fast motion. She grasped your wrist right after, dragging you to the bathtub. “Why are you always so mulish when it comes to ceasing your own wounds?” She immersed you into the oat water before sitting on the edge of the tub. “It's almost as if you want me to smother you until everything stops.”

“I-I…” You stuttered. “Sorry.” You whispered, lowering your face, your shoulders diving deeper into the water. You were hiding, your whole body was now submersed. “I got used to it.” You kept avoiding her gaze, but Wednesday noticed it nonetheless: she noticed how your smile disappeared, she noticed how the frown between your eyes faded away, she noticed how your bruised skin turned pale as you tried to speak. “I've always had to do it in a hurry.” A tear fell from your eyes; you did not wipe it.

You weren’t able to say anything else.

“So the werewolves wouldn’t track you.” She spoke after several seconds of silence; you nodded slowly at her words. “Still, I thought Hank would teach you to act more carefully.”

“No.” You whispered. “He can’t stand it. Me.” Your head rested on the wall beside you, you were as far away from Wednesday as possible, your eyes also distant in some diffuse corner of the room. “I can’t let him.”

And silence again. You remained still as Wednesday’s brain tried to understand your speech: as she tried to interpret every small feature, gesture and breathing; as she tried to discover what was wrong with you, what has been done to you.

“You can’t let him do what?” She finally inquired: you did not make sense.

What has happened to you?

“Take care of me.” Your eyes closed in a tired, beaten expression. “The last person who did it…” Your voice disappeared, so did your breathing and any sign that Wednesday could catch — you stopped, as if the memories that crossed your mind stopped your world and your own body; you said nothing, did nothing and saw nothing. You were closed inside your own mind.

Who did it?

Wednesday reached her hand out to you, but you moved before her fingers could touch your wet, bruised skin — you shook your head suddenly, moving towards her as your hands grasped the edge of the tub.

“You saw it.” Your gaze was watery, but intense and motionless. It froze her while you spoke: “The mere act of speaking to me is dangerous. Anyone can become a target.” You shook your head again, and your countenance changed completely: you got agitated, fast, messy — scared. “Rachel became. Hank became. And now you…” You breathed out: moving around frantically, soaking Wednesday’s clothes as you huffed and sank completely into the water.

You were hiding? Were you closing yourself inside your mind again? Inside your own memories?

Why can’t you just talk to me?

You did not go back up. Minutes passed and you remained still: motionless under the water, only bubbles came out to break the silence that conquered the room. Your silence.

Wednesday had to grab your arm and lift you up in order to keep you from drowning.

“Stop!” She roared at you while you gasped for breath; her hand pulled you closer, higher, away from the water and closer to her. “How many times do I have to say it?”

“You understand this more than anyone!” You whispered, eyes still closed, heavy breathing hitting her face, words sending shivers down her spine. She did understand — and you knew she did it because you saw it. You had been inside her mind, you saw and knew her, but she didn’t. She doesn’t. For her, you were confusing, chaotic, unpredictable. And to watch you being like this — reckless, doleful, in pain — made her mind rush as much as her body; the mystery intrigued her brain as her hands closed around you, as she held you like your life depended on it. On her. She felt like it did. “I’m trying to give you a choice.”

A choice? There wasn’t a choice — there was not. How could it be? How could someone choose to let you drown? To let you sink into the water, into yourself, without pushing you back up? Holding you like this, keeping you from isolating yourself, from abandoning everything, making you resist and fight, endure and survive your worst fear — it wasn’t a choice. For Wednesday, it was an urge. She had to. She had to do it with you. She could not do otherwise — she could not watch you sink.

“Goody Addams contacted you.” Wednesday’s grip became tighter. Her hands were as out of control as her voice: it became harder, firmer, without any intention or composure. “That’s the proof that my choice has already been made.” These words made you look at her.

You were not crying anymore — you were fighting against it, resisting it. Your neck moved with dry, repetitive swallows, you held the tears back as Wednesday’s kept staring at you, holding you. Part of you did not believe — but a part did. A part screamed to you to not let it go. Not this time.

You cleaned your throat and pushed the memories away. You have to reminisce, but not about her. Not about Rachel. She was long gone — no, you had to remember your mother. Your father. The Hexe and the Bard. The Circe and Orpheus. The witch and the poet.

It was hard. Too hard.

You had never talked about him.

“So I must tell you.” You spoke, and her fingers finally freed you, even though she hadn't distanced herself. Her body was still towering over you, eyes down in a curious, stoic expression: watching you while you moved silently in the water. You were gathering your words: she could tell by the way you twisted your lips and closed your eyes. “The tale.” You said suddenly. “Hyacinthus. My father used to tell me every night.”

Apollo. Hyacinthus. Zephyros.

You swallowed dryly as the names kept repeating inside your head.

“He said that the Hexe wasn’t supposed to be my mother. He didn’t love her.” Your voice was sharp, hurried, choked. “He didn’t love her but she did. She was obsessed with him. And when she realized that he loved someone else, she…” Tears were falling down your face one more time, but, somehow, your voice was firm. Low but steady. Deep and enamored. It sounded warm, although melancholy. It made your lips smile at the memory of your father, and it made you cry at the reminder you would never meet you again.

You stood quiet for a second, rubbing your eyes as you smile sadly.

Wednesday tried to cope with your state: her mind tried to connect your words with your expressions, tried to figure out what you were feeling — and what happened to make you feel like that. But she had no idea — you were smiling and crying at the same time. She could not read you, so her mind remembered the Greek tale instead.

“She did just like Zephyros.” Wednesday guessed.

“And my father died like Hyacinthus.” You shook your head again, your wet hair falling over your forehead, the smile now fading away completely. “The larkspur field. He died in the larkspur field he planted himself. Surrounded by the flowers that grew with his blood, by the flowers that grew because of Hyacinthus’ blood—” You choked. “Why was Goody Addams there?”

The poisonous, former flowers dedicated to the Spartan Prince, to the deceased Apollo’s lover, your father’s favorite plant — it was beautiful, scented and dangerous, after all. The larkspur would keep any unwanted visitor away from your little cottage — no dangerous animals, no dangerous people, only you and your vatter. Only the two of you in your poisonous, secretive garden, in the larkspur field.

“You should ask her yourself.” Wednesday broke the silence abruptly.

You frowned.

“I…” Her gaze faltered before yours. Your teary, deep eyes now held an intensity, a purpose and willingness she had never seen before. “I will make you sleep, Y/N.”

“This is…surprising.” Tyler touched the wallpaper of his new cell. Of his new room. It was new, clean and perfectly normal. It seemed like it belonged to a normie teenager — not to a monster like him. Not to a prisoner like him. “I….”

“You didn’t like it.” Hank sounded sad.

“No!” He turned to Hank immediately. “That’s not it! I liked it, but I…you said it was a camp.”

“It is.”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “Uh…It is not?” He stepped around his new room, feeling light for the first time in months, his wrists and neck tingled from the lack of metal surrounding them. “What about the guards?” He whispered the question.

“Not really necessary.” Hank flopped down on the couch. “Wow, I could sleep here for ages.”

Tyler frowned.

“Will you explain to me what's happening?”

“You already know.” He laid on the sofa, stretching and placing both hands behind his head. “It’s in the letters.

“No, it is not.” Hank finally looked at him, face completely blank. Tyler stepped closer in an attempt to change it. “What is this place? Who owns this place?”

Hank chuckled. His silence made Tyler get closer, moving towards him until only an inch kept them apart.

“Ask your new little friend.” He grumbled as soon as he noticed his approach. “I’m sure Aretha will appreciate it.”

“I don't think she knows where Rachel is.” Tyler smiled suddenly. “Her corpse, I mean.”

“Why?” Hank sat up, his eyes not moving away from Tyler for not even a second. “Would you like to join her?”

“Threats do not fit you, Hanky.” His voice made Hank grit his teeth. “Does your brother know she’s here?”

Hank stood up: he faced Tyler with an exquisite posture — closed fists, puffed chest, furious gaze, locked jaw. It didn’t quite seem like him, and, yet, it was how he looked every time Tyler behaved like this. His hot, fast and faltering breathing made the Galpin smile.

“It’s wonderful to be free, don’t you think?” Hank whispered. “It would be a pity to lose it.”

“Is his mother as wicked as yours?” Tyler asked, his grin growing wider. “Is she a demon like you?”

Hank remained quiet.

“Oh.” Tyler laughed mischievously. “Oh, no.” He whispered into Hank’s face: “No one's been worse to Y/N than you, no?”

Hank tried to move away, but Tyler’s hands clenched his body.

“You—”

“Tell me the truth.” Tyler’s eyes flashed. Hank knew that look. “Tell me.” His hands went up to his neck: the air was taken away from Hank’s lungs as he stared into Tyler’s eyes. Hyde’s eyes. “You’re a monster like me.”

Tyler’s grip closed around his neck — Hank gasped quietly as his body burned in flames; he tried to avoid the Hyde’s gaze at all costs.

“TELL ME!”

“YES!” Hank yelled, his voice so deep and raspy that it barely sounded human. It wasn’t human. “Yes.” He grabbed Tyler’s wrists, his touch burning his skin. “And you shouldn’t do it.”

A loud snap came from below, Tyler grunted and winced as his body tried to transform. Tried and failed. His limbs snapped until he had no more strength and he fell to the ground, shivering in pain, dread and sweat.

Hank was still holding him.

“You should not touch me.”

The tires scraping the soil created a painful noise along with the radio screeching. In the region surrounded by trees, tall plants and inhospitable hills preventing the arrival of any kind of signal and external communication, the old, battered and noisy car crossed the green sea in darkness. No lights on, no map at hand: the driver had been down that same road many times before, Hank knew what he was doing. But, this time, he had no intention of going back. With each passing second, meters and meters were left behind: the camp distanced itself, and a relieved smile drew closer to the faces of everyone inside the car.

Time, amidst the night, was a fuzzy and archaic concept; for Hank, who counted his own heartbeats as his foot sank on the accelerator, the seconds dragged by as if they were hours. For you, the blood trickling down the side of your shirt created an illusion of slowness: your body trembled, weighed, your eyes insisted on closing, and before you could notice, all your effort to stay awake had worn away hours. It was too fast, so fast that time didn't even seem to be moving; the only thing that proved to your mind that the moon was moving over the sky, that the night was deepening as the car went on, were Rachel's restless movements beside you.

The girl, despite the free seat between the two of you, moved incessantly toward you; her leg, her elbow, her shoulder, her head - she moved and pressed herself against you to make sure you wouldn't fall asleep. To make sure that the time didn't pass too fast.

To her, every hour was like a minute, and every second that was not filled by her own voice was wasted time. She needed to keep talking - you needed to keep answering her. Even if the content of the book in her hands was insensitive, and her readings and assumptions could offend you and Hank.

She started to read out loud another chapter.

"Geez, can you shut up and hold still for a fucking second?" Hank barked from behind the wheel. "My ears hurt, literally. Go sleep!"

"Nope. If Y/N’s staying up, I'm staying up too." The girl fought back, sitting up on the back seat and staring at Hank's nape. "Besides, I'm helping him to reach his dreams."

You laughed.

"Dreams?" Hank's voice sounded like a roar, but there was a smirk on his lips. "Which dreams?"

"Oh, well..." Rachel moved dramatically, blinking to you before starting her monologue. "Make a living out of his music, live a terrible, deep, beautiful love story, have a family with the most disturbing creature of this world!" She went on and on, every word receiving a different hand gesture. "Everything, Hank! If Y/N gets better, he can reach all of his dreams."

Better. She wasn’t talking about the wound on your rib; she was talking about you, about your silence. It was not the first time she had talked about it.

"There's nothing wrong with him, Rachel." Your brother retorted right away.

"There's something wrong with all of us, Hanky." Her voice was tense: bossy, loud, sharp like it used to be when she talked to Hank. "Here, listen" She opened her book again, leaning on you while she read it for Hank. "Social phobia? Check. Panic disorder? Check. PTSD? Check. Eating disorder? Check." She made a quick pause, expecting his silence to become a sermon. "Oh, here, Paranoia and Delusional Disorders. Now I can get a name for what you're too."

"Oh, fuck you!" Hank turned around immediately, grabbing the book from her hands and throwing on the empty seat beside him. "Sleep, you little mouthy brat."

"I’ll see you in my nightmares, you big beary dumbass." She hissed back, her curses hiding the smirk on her lips — the one that only you saw. "Hey, boy." She whispered to your shoulder, leaning over you and embracing you warmly. "You good?" Her hands traveled slowly to the wound on your rib, touching the bandages carefully, checking if they were still dry. "Holding up?"

You shook your head, stroking her hair as she laid down on your lap, arms and legs crawled in a fetal position, hiding herself from the lights of the empty road.

"We'll find a place soon." She whispered. "And we’ll rest. Don't worry."

I am not. Your smile told her — your whole calm, content expression showed it to her.

And she believed in you.

Rachel moved fastly to give you one last hug and then she laid on your lap again, ready to sleep — ready to give her body a rest after fleeing through the woods, through the L/N’s Camps. After running around carrying you, pressuring the wound on your torso as the werewolves chased you.

After taking you to safety until Hank returned, white skin soaked in blood, bright, blue eyes instead of brown ones — his demonic, natural figure drove all furs and hunters away, leaving you three alone. Safe.

The path was now clean to freedom — clean to liberty and love, clean to your small, made-up family. Clean to a life, not only survival.

Clean for the night.

Your last night with Rachel.

#wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #tyler galpin #original character #hankler #wednesday fanfic

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lowkeyerror · 1 year

Note

Hello I was wondering if you could do a request of Catwoman doing a lap dance for us, because in the comics she did do a little dancing and I think she would definitely want to do that to her lover

Lap Dance

Word Count: 872

Notes: Suggestive themes, no explicit smut

An: I really like Selina, it was nice getting an ask for her. I hope you like it. Also I was unsure of which version of her you wanted so I just went with the most recent adaptation in the gif, but you can picture any of the other versions.

DC Masterlist

You had spent the better half of your day looking for Selina. For some reason, you just weren't able to get a hold of her.

Even her friends, Harley and Ivy, had no clue where she was. Part of you became worried, but the other part knew that Selina could handle herself.

It wasn't uncommon for Selina to go missing for a while, however it was uncommon for her not to at least let her girlfriend know.

Though you didn't necessarily want to give up your search, it was getting late, and you weren't feeling up to dealing with Gotham's late night crime.

As soon as you entered your house, you could sense something was off. You weren't two steps into the house when you felt someone put their hands over your eyes.

Before you could panic, there was a low pur in your ear," Hi baby."

You can't help but laugh a little," I've been looking everywhere for you, and you're telling me you've been here the whole time."

You try to turn in her arms, but she doesn't let you," Don't spoil the surprise, just let me move you. You trust me, don't you, baby?"

There's a small swallow on your part before you nod. " With my life, Selina."

" What good little lover," Selina led you blindly through your home.

She carefully sat you down in a chair," Keep your eyes closed for me, pretty girl."

You did as you were told, waiting patiently with your eyes closed. Once your patience began to wear thin, you spoke up.

" Kitty, if I sit here with my eyes closed any longer, I'll fall asleep," a yawn escaped your lips.

" Open them."

When you opened your eyes, you felt them dilate immediately. Selina stood before you, leather clad. The parts of her skin not covered by the skin tight leather were beautifully toned.

" I don't want anything to distract you from enjoying this." Selina turned some music on.

It was almost too low to hear, but you weren't focused on it anyway.

The woman started coming closer to you. Your eyes were glued on her, intensely watching her movements. When she straddled your lap, your hands shot to her sides.

" Cat got your tongue, baby?"

Your hands squeeze her sides," You always leave me speechless, kitty."

The back of her hand cascades down your face," Your kitty. The only set of eyes on me that actually matter. The only hands I want on me at all times. The only one I want to hear scream my name."

"Oh my god," it slips from your lips as her hand rests on your throat.

" You've been so good to me lately, baby. I thought long and hard about how to reward you." She gets up from your lap and makes her way behind you.

Her arms slink down your body, stopping at the button of your pants before climbing back up to your shoulders.

" You're so tense, looking for me left you all stressed out," her lips tickle the back of your ear as she massages your shoulders.

Selina was hitting every nerve in your body in the best way possible. You felt heat on every inch of your skin. Every breath you took had a little less control behind it. She had you like putty in her hands.

When she's in your line of sight again, she does her signature backflip, landing in a split quite a distance away from you.

Your legs start bouncing, and your skin feels like it's itching all over. You're tired of sitting still.

" You like the dance so far, baby?"

You nod silently, mouth pooling with saliva.

" I need to hear you, Y/n."

You swallow," You're perfect, Selina. Just as alluring as always. I'm aching for you right now, baby. I'm begging you to let me do more than just sit here."

Selina makes her way back over to you. She places herself in your lap. A single finger slides up your shirt. You try to look down, but that finger rests on your chin. You can feel the sharp tip, against your skin.

The breeze that hits your chest is hot. Selina has you looking into her eyes.

" If this was a punishment, I'd tie you to this chair. Leave you here like this, with your nipples hard and your panties soaked. Just so I could hear you whine for me. I love just how desperate you can be for me, baby. It turns me on."

" But this isn't a punishment," your eyes are filled with hope and anticipation.

" It's not. Which means tonight… my baby gets whatever she wants."

You're in a different headspace at this point, images of what could be, flood your mind," Oh my god."

" Now tell me what you want," she speaks innocently, her lips touching yours with every word.

A shiver runs up your body," I want fuck, Selina. Dirty, nasty, fucking. I want to be in you, I want you in me. My god, I want to taste you until it's the only flavor that resonates on my tongue."

Selina grinds down against your lap, a vulgar cry escapes her lip," Oh baby, I think that can be arranged."

#selina kyle imagine #selina kyle #selina kyle x reader #lowkeyerror

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thebirdandthebee · 1 year

Text

Easy As

IDK WHY I CAN’T GET GD GIFS TO WORK HERE. will fix asap.

A/N: Okay ya’ll this is going to have a big time jump! We will be back tracking, but I’m so soft for Daddy Carm and I couldn’t resist a parenthood ask list. Curious if any of you were right about baby genders? I think this kind of scratches the itch below, but I’ve got a few more Daddy Carm requests to work through.

Should we do something special for 30 chapters? LMK!

Vanessa Monaghan is the great of fresh air Carmen had been gasping for.

Chapter 29: Mush

“And what do we do when we flush the toilet?” Vanessa asked, looming over Gabriel Silvio Berzatto.

“Wash hands,” he looked up at his mother with those same blue eyes as his father, completely disarming her. He hopped up onto his step-stool and hummed along as he washed his hands, itching to get back out to the kitchen where Carmen was cooking up some lunch for the Berzatto babies.

“Good job, Gabey baby,” she cheered, giving him a high-five. Potty training had been hell. Gabriel had no interest whatsoever in using the toilet and he was a real late bloomer in that way. He was walking, running, talking – hitting all the other milestones, but could not care less about potty training. But they’d been making headway and as long as he was fully potty trained in the next few months, everything would be okay. “Should we go see what Daddy has made the wrecking crew for lunch?” She asked.

Gabriel ran back to the kitchen, bare feet slapping agains the hardwood and climbing right up into his toddler tower to help Carmen.

“Okay, now that our sous is back, we can finish up with the accouterment,” Carmen said, looking down at the bundle that was cradled carefully to his chest. “What do we think, G? Peppers, mushrooms, onions?” He asked.

“No mush,” Gabriel countered, picking up his little Fisher Price set and chopping vegetables alongside his father.

“The sous has requested no mush, and while we don’t normally allow for substitutions, we will make an allowance just this once,” Carmen narrated, dropping a kiss to the fuzzy little head peeking out of the sling.

Vanessa could hear the giggles from the kitchen as she pulled on her boots, knowing she’d need to combat the slush on the sidewalks until she could get into the building for her wax appointment.

It would be the first time since baby Myles was born that Carmen would be alone with both the boys. But it’d been 12 weeks since Myles came home from the hospital and she was in desperate need of a brow wax, manicure and pedicure. Carmen would be just fine for a few hours.

She pulled her hair out of the collar of her sweater and tossed it over her shoulders, wiping her fingers under her eyes to catch any stray mascara before exiting the bedroom.

“Look at Mama, look how beautiful she is,” Carmen said, lifting his eyes from the cutting board to see his wife in the archway. “Tell Mama she’s beautiful,” he encouraged.

“Beautful Mama,” Gabriel repeated to the best of his ability, smacking his own vegetables around his blue, plastic cutting board.

“Thank you, my love,” Vanessa crossed the room to drop a kiss on Gabe’s head.

“No sugar for Daddy?” Carmen asked, scooping his peppers and onions across the board and dumping them into a prep container. Vanessa stepped into his personal space, her perfume swirling around him.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she grinned before kissing him gently. “How’s my little baby?” She asked,

“I’m doing okay,” Carmen replied, “slave driver of a chef,” he said, eyes flicking to Gabriel who’d been picking at his sandwich roll.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “How’s my littlest baby?” She gently pulled the fabric of the baby swing away from Carmen’s chest. Myles little cupid bow lips were pouted, long lashes resting against his cheeks as she slept soundly against Carmen’s chest.

“Still sleepin’,” Carmen supplied. “He’ll be up for a bottle in a bit,” he replied. “Go enjoy your Mama time,” He insisted. “The boys have it locked down here,” he added.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” She asked.

“I won’t, but I will,” he replied, kissing her once more. “Go ahead,” He said, slipping his hand down her backside and squeezing her ass in his palm.

“Just me and you and Myles, G man,” Carmen said, firing up the range. “Okay, now we toast the buns,” he said, holding up two thick rolls from the Vietnamese bakery down the street. Gabriel giggled upon hearing his Daddy say buns, making Carmen laugh.

“Buns,” he repeated.

Carmen narrated all of his steps, sautéing veggies and reheating some of the meat he’d pre-prepared the week before. With Myles being so young and Gabriel being a bit of a handful, he’d been taking a few hours each week to prep some proteins and veggies they could easily slap into a dinner and make life easier.

He was tickled whenever Gabe would cook with him. For Christmas, he’d gotten Gabe a little apron with his name on it and he demanded to wear it whenever they were in the kitchen together, observing his Daddy move around the kitchen from the toddler tower Nat and Pete had gifted them for Gabe’s first birthday.

Not too much later, Gabe and Carmen were sitting at the kitchen table, both enjoying their sandwiches as Carmen also carefully fed baby Myles his bottle, still snug in his sling.

“What do we think Sous?” Carmen asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Could have used a little more… depth, some umami.” He explained.

“I Gabe,” the little boy giggled, still not always understanding the concept of a sous chef. Carmen watched his son’s curls bounce with his laughter as he swung his legs back and forth in his chair. His blue eyes, his dirty blonde curls. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume Vanessa had nothing to do with Gabe’s procreation.

Myles was different, he was sure of it. Her dark eyes had appeared behind his delicate little eyelids and though he was still very bald, he held out hope that he’d have Vanessa’s dark hair.

“Did you know you’re my best friend, Gabe?” Carmen asked, taking another bite of his sandwich, watching his son. “You and baby Myles,” he added.

“Baby Myles,” Gabriel agreed, “best friend, Daddy,” he replied.

“That’s right, baby Myles is going to be your best friend, too,” he nodded, swallowing a dry patch at the back of his throat. “He’s so lucky to have you as a big brother.”

“Lucky Myles,” Gabriel parroted.

About two and a half hours later, Vanessa closed the front door softly behind her. Myles should be down for a nap and maybe Gabe had joined him as well. She didn’t hear any alarming noises as she slid off her boots and padded into the house. The kitchen and front living room were empty, but she heard the low volume of the TV in the family room humming and quietly slid in.

There, Carmen laid shirtless on the couch, Myles in just a diaper on his chest and Gabriel wedged between his Dad and the back of the couch, out cold and drooling on Carmen’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Vanessa greeted with a whisper.

“Hi Mama,” Carmen said quietly.

“Look at this cuddle puddle,” she grinned.

“I laid out here with Myles for some skin to skin and Gabe also wanted to take his shirt off,” Carmen grinned. “He got jealous and wanted a bottle, too.”

“Sweet boy,” Vanessa cooed, pushing Gabriel’s curls back from his face. Neither of his parents could bring themselves to get his haircut.

“How was the salon?” Carmen asked.

“Refreshing,” Vanessa said, pouting as her husband blocked her attempt to pick Myles up.

“My baby,” he said pointedly.

“Carm,” Vanessa gaped.

“Join us,” he insisted, “there’s room for you, Mama.” He added.

“There’s no way I can get in there without waking up the tornado,” she said knowingly.

“The tornado has requested Mama’s pasta for dinner,” Carmen said, tucking his free hand behind his head.

“Of course,” Vanessa grinned. “Babies are having an early bedtime tonight,” she said, trailing a freshly manicured nail down Carmen’s bare chest, tweaking his nipple. Carmen adjusted on the couch, a pleased smile on his face.

They had decided they didn’t want to wait long between Myles and their next baby, but this would definitely be the last. Vanessa and Carmen would never say out loud they were trying for a girl, but they were trying for a girl.

With Vanessa transitioning, at least for a few years, to staying home full time, they didn’t want to put too much time between babies.

“Mommy and Daddy time?” Carmen asked.

“As long as this one allows it,” she said, placing a gently hand on Myles’ back.

As if on cue, the newest member of the Berzatto family let out a crackly whine.

“Myles,” Gabriel grumbled, twisting against Carmen’s torso and burying his face further into his father’s chest. Vanessa giggled, picking up Myles so Carmen could tend to Gabriel as she walked back to the nursery.

“Are you Mama’s baby?” She asked, nuzzling into Myles warmth, cradling him to her chest against her soft sweater.

“I’m your baby!” Carmen called out.

“Not a baby Daddy,” she could hear Gabriel counter knowingly.

#carmen smut #carmen x oc #Carmy #carmy fluff #carm #Carmen Berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x ofc #carmen berzatto x oc #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fan fic #the bear fic #jeremy allen white can fucking GET IT #i'm hot for daddy carm

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avocado-writing · 2 years

Text

I Know That I Should Let Go, But I Can’t (Pt 2)

Did i co-opt this into being tangerine x goofy!reader part 2? perhaps. am I sorry? maybe.

GN!Reader x Tangerine

Rated: M (CW: Mention of a r/pist, but only in the context of him getting killed)

@honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @sinfulrefugy @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty @piechans @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy @tangerinesgf (thank u mxrisacoulter for the gif!)

St Pancras Station. It gets under his skin, makes him itch. A dread that seeps deep into his bones. It’s a feeling he always has in stations now. He can’t get on trains any more. He hates them.

Thinking about that job, that fucking job, his neck begins to throb. The deep scar there that his eyes will always be drawn to whenever he looks in the mirror.

Involuntary, his hand goes to it. Fucking stop it, he tells himself.

He doesn’t.

Lemon sticks close to him through the crowd, silently being someone who’s there to support him. Lemon knows how he feels without having to ask about it. He’s never been so glad for his brother’s ability to read people.

Target should be making the drop-off here. No trains involved, their handler promised. Tangerine is trying to concentrate on his breathing and not the throng of bodies that bustle past him as he walks through the station.

He hates this. Hates it.

Then he hears the piano.

Usually he thinks the people who play the public instruments at train stations are pricks, but there’s something about this time that gives him pause.

“Do you hear that?” he asks Lemon, stopping in the middle of the crowd. An elderly woman behind him tuts loudly and makes a show of shuffling around.

“What, the piano?” Lemon asks, confused.

“No, the sound of that old bitch getting annoyed with me,” he says, nodding at the lady who just went by, “of course the fucking piano.”

Lemon listens. It doesn’t seem to mean much to him, but it does to Tangerine - it’s that song. The one you mentioned the last time they met.

And before Lemon can stop him, Tangerine’s on the warpath.

He’s not seen you since that night and he doesn’t like it. He’d spent a while looking at that fortune-teller with your number scrawled inside it, trying to work out if it was something that he wanted to pursue. It could be dangerous. He didn’t really know the first thing about you.

Then again, he’s a hitman. So he fired off the message and waited.

Got to give you credit for the most creative way I’ve ever gotten someone’s number.

Didn’t need to wait for long.

Yeah, I’m sure you’re gonna tell me you’re batting them off left and right, aren’t you? ;)

And so the two of you had started chatting. About asinine things, the weather, the sports. He wasn’t surprised to find you were just as silly over text as you were in real life. He enjoys them, your little conversations - he always smiles to himself when he sees your name appear on his phone screen.

He eventually got the nerve to ask you out for a drink one night. He swore he wasn’t watching his phone for your reply like some teenage girl, but he did practically jump to open your chat when he saw you’d messaged back.

I can’t tonight. Haven’t you seen the news? /:

The last word was hyperlinked. Probably to an article or something.

When he clicked it and Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up started to play on YouTube, he actually launched his phone across the room.

By the time he fished his SIM card out of the pile of scrap and clicked it into a new phone, you’d sent a follow up message.

I really am in the middle of something.

There was a picture attached. He readied himself for it to be a picture of Rick Astley, but it was actually of you that time. You were using a photo filter which had given you bunny ears while you waved at the camera using someone’s dismembered hand. In the background Tangerine could see a man clutching his own bloody stump mid-scream.

Charming. What did he do?

Almost immediate:

Rapist. Cunt blrrding iut.

*bleeding out. Sorrt. Blood on kryboard :(

He’d smiled at that. Yeah, he’d been there himself.

And now? He’s racing through the station with Lemon on his heels, and there you are. At the piano. Singing loudly and surprisingly tunefully, filling the area with music. As he approaches you finally clock him, and with a grin you change what you’re playing from that old pop song to the Imperial March.

Tangerine rolls his eyes and you burst into giggles. Lemon groans when he sees who it is.

“Fucksake, not this again,” he sighs. You give him a friendly wave.

“Alright, Lem?”

“Worse now you’re here,” he states. You pull an exaggeratedly sad face.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You’re good at playing that,” Tangerine interrupts, nodding at the piano. You smile.

“Thanks. One of my hidden talents. I’m glad you turned up, though. It was my third time playing that song. I think the coffee wankers were getting impatient.”

You nod over to the queue outside the chain café, where there seems to be a general feeling of relief that you’ve stopped. Tangerine watches the look of dissatisfaction on your face at that, and how when you go to play it for the fourth time, you light up at their annoyance.

He doesn't question how you knew they’d be there.

“How did your job go the other night?”

“From the selfie?”

Tangerine sees the way Lemon raises his eyebrows and aptly chooses to ignore it.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah, fine. I made him give his own severed hand a high five,” you snort. Your face darkens for a moment, and you misplay a chord. Tangerine thinks it’s the most serious he’s ever seen you. “That’s what you get for being a fucking rapist.”

Tangerine wonders if he should say anything. He wants to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder. Ground you, the way you’re grounding him in the middle of this busy station. But all too soon you’re smiling again.

“What are you boys here for then?”

“Hand-off. Interception,” Tangerine states.

“Don’t fucking say that!” Lemon says, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. Tangerine frowns. His brother is right, he shouldn’t have said that. You catch him off-guard.

Your grin is practically Cheshire-cat wide.

“What a coincidence! Me too!”

“Are you here to fucking steal this from us again?”

“Maybe. Add it to my list of interests. ‘Irritating you two’ along with ‘long walks on the beach’ and ‘interior decorating’,” you chuckle.

“Why, you into all that cliché shite then?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Are you?”

His heart skips a beat when you look up from the piano and into his eyes. He’s never really noticed the colour of your eyes before. They’re… nice.

“Shit!” Lemon says, grabbing his brother’s sleeve, “Our guy’s on the move.”

A man is striding through the station, a heavy-looking gym bag on him. Tangerine recognises his face from their mission assignment.

And then you’re up, speeding past them, laughing.

“Last one there’s a rotten egg!” you shout over your shoulder. The mark notices you speeding after him and starts to run.

“Fuck me,” Lemon sighs, “you know how to pick them, don’t you?”

Tangerine rather thinks he does. Because, now he’s seen you, the fact he’s in a station isn’t bothering him any more.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #request #my writing #answered

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justimajin · 10 months

Text

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 3

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (3.3k), Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes)

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

↠ Warnings: pg13, the bickering continues

↠ A/N: For those curious on how Jin says Yoongi's name, please reference this video here.

GIF credit.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, August 8 (series masterpost here)

Your arms are crossed, gaze scrutinizing.

Seokjin is seated on a rolling chair in front of you, carefully typing something into the keyboard of your monitor. Your stare burns into the back of his head, and it’s a fact that he is extremely aware of when he stops typing and spins around with a sigh.

He narrows his eyes, “Just ask already.”

You blink, “What?”

“You want to ask me something.” He states, “I can tell, so just ask already.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, because you still haven’t learned the basic concepts I’m trying to teach you.” You gesture towards the computer, aware that he was indeed working but had barely grasped what you literated to him almost three times at this point.

Seokjin pursues his lips, slowly nodding his head. You direct your gaze to your monitor, attempting to step in when‒

“Five minutes.” He blurts out.

You turn your head to look at him, “What?”

“Five minutes,” He clarifies, “I’ll give you a window of five minutes to ask me as many questions as you want and in exchange, I’ll promise to try to get it right this time.”

Your gaze narrows at him for a split second, before your eyes flicker around.

He immediately speaks up, “I don’t think any of your superiors are near us.”

Pursuing your lips, you wonder why he was being so insistent.

“Plus I’m really bored.” He says right away, gesturing to the monitor, “This is kind of giving me a headache.”

“Fine.” Lowering your voice, you begin to fire questions, “Have you had any experience prior to this job?”

“No, next.”

“Why were you hired if you haven’t had any experience?”

“I have great charisma and they couldn’t resist hiring me, next.”

“How is that even possible?”

“You can get by with a lot of things if you’re as good looking as me, next.”

You almost want to scoff, his answers barely addressing your questions and rather deviating over to his own self-praises.

There’s still one question lingering in the back of your mind, probing at you like an annoying itch you can’t reach.

You cross your arms, “Answer me seriously ‒ have we met before?”

Seokjin leans closer to you and squints really hard.

You wonder if he’s attempting to jog his memory by trying to get another look at you.

But then‒ “I think there’s an eyelash on your cheek.”

You jolt back, hand slapping against your face and finding the piece of hair. You squat it away, narrowing your eyes.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No.” He simply answers, “You don’t look familiar to me.”

But you’re persistent, “Really?”

“Really.” He playfully tilts his head to the side, “Do you really want to know me that badly?” He chuckles, “Is there some other motive of yours to this?”

Your jaw drops, “What? No.”

“Good, because your five minutes are up.” He gestures to the clock, before glancing at your monitor, “Also I have no idea what I was typing onto this thing.”

You deadpan, narrowing your eyes as a lengthy sigh leaves your lips.

It’s been a while since you’ve taken Seokjin on as an intern and truthfully, you’ve never been so exhausted on the job.

Thankfully it’s not long before you are relieved by your duties.

“Good luck.” You muse, watching Seokjin push a chair closer to Yoongi. The latter rebuttals by sending you a playful glare, but you’re soon on your feet within seconds, relieved with being on your own once again.

You take up the opportunity to grab a coffee, running into Hoseok on the way.

“Someone seems happy.” He remarks with a grin.

“What?” You innocently question, a massive smile on your lips, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“So he’s finally off your back?” He leans against the wall next to his office, crossing his arms.

“Fortunately.” You let out an audible sigh, “It’s so obvious that he’s underqualified. I wonder why HR decided to hire him?”

Hoseok deeply furrows his brows, placing a finger against his chin, “I’ve managed plenty of incoming job applications before, but I don’t think there was one for Seokjin…”

You whirl around, “Wait, what?”

“I did find it to be kind of strange…” Hoseok whispers, snapping out of his thoughts to glance up at you. “Maybe the higher ups had something to do with it?”

Your brows are furrowed as your lips set into a firm line. You ponder over the idea of conversing with Soyou about the situation, perhaps garnering more information to–

“Yooongiiii!”

You and Hoseok stare at each other flabbergasted.

“Was that–”

“I think it was.” You instantly spin around on your heels, heading towards your cubicle. Hoseok closely follows behind, hurriedly pacing after you with curious eyes.

You stop short of a corner ahead from the area, two familiar men coming into view.

Yoongi is slumped against his chair, typing into his computer – just as he usually does. However, Seokjin is hovering over his cubicle, a giant pout on his lips and a file within his hands.

At first, you begin to wonder if he’s probably annoying Yoongi. But it takes a quick second for you to realize that Yoongi’s actually ignoring him.

You share a completely puzzled glance with Hoseok, although it’s not long before you receive answers.

“How do I even do this??” He loudly wonders, peering at the file and then at his mentor who is barely fazed, “Yoongi?”

He leans closer, trying to eye the man, “Yoongi??” Reaching out, he repeatedly pokes him, “Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi–“

The financial analyst doesn’t move one inch, completely unbothered with the ruckus around him. Seokjin only grows exasperated, his voice spiking up just like it did moments ago but in a more peculiar way.

“YOOnGI!”

Hoseok immediately snorts and you have to forcibly cover your mouth with your hands. It unfortunately becomes unbearable for Hoseok way too quickly and it’s not long before he’s bursting out into a fit of laughter.

He’s practically wheezing, attempting to repeat Seokjin’s words, “YOOn–“ He laughs again, shaking his head, “I can’t even say it!”

You on the other hand are in a similar condition to Hoseok, unable to repress the chuckles slipping from you.

“Argh! Just go already!” You hear Yoongi exasperatedly beg, watching Seokjin walk away with a giant smile on his lips. Hoseok walks over and gestures for you to follow, assuming Yoongi would need some assistance with the whole ordeal.

However the moment Hoseok opens up his mouth, you can’t even hold the laughter back.

“Hey, how’s everything going YOOnGI..?” Hoseok snickers, eyes crinkling into half moons. He turns to you in a mix of astounded confusion, “Why does he say it like that?!”

Your shoulders are shaking as you laugh and all Yoongi does is deeply sigh.

“Well, he is older than me.”

“What?” You question right away.

Hoseok’s laughter dies out, his eyes wide. “He’s older than you?!”

“By a couple of months.” Yoongi sighs, looking away from his screen like he’s given up, “You have way too much patience.”

A chuckle escapes you, “Not really.”

You smile at him and lean against his desk.

“Do you want some advice though?”

Yoongi stares at you like he’s going to lose it at any second and it’s all you need to help him out.

“Don’t ignore him. It’s obvious that working here is completely new to him and if you ignore him and have him do things on his own, he’s only going to get more confused.”

Yoongi slowly nods, “Show him basic things, like how you’re doing computations for your report,” You gesture towards his screen, “You might need to explain it a couple of times but if you take him seriously, he’ll at least try to take your work seriously.”

Yoongi hums, acknowledging that he’ll have to take a different approach than usual. You grin at him, a playful tone in your advice.

“And it’s not a lot to ask that being a smidge more patient might go a long way though….” He glares at you like it’s the worst thing you could have asked from him and you wave off the joke, “Don’t worry, it’s just for a couple of days.”

“A couple of miserable days.” He squints, “What are you doing?”

You turn to see Hoseok frantically scribbling down onto a notepad in his hands. He looks up naively, glancing between the two of you staring at him.

“Oh, uh, I was writing down your advice…” He sheepishly smiles, “You know, for future precaution.”

The corner of Yoongi’s lip tugs up and you shake your head in amusement. From the corner of your eye, you notice Seokjin returning back so you get up and inform Yoongi.

Yoongi groans, shoving his face into his hands. You pat him on the back, walking away with Hoseok.

“Good luck.”

“I’m going to need more than luck to survive this.” He warmly smiles at you, “But thanks.”

After taking a lunch break, you were on your way to returning back to your cubicle before being stopped in your tracks.

“Hoseok?”

He immediately presses a finger to his lips, piping your tone down. Your brows furrow as he turns, gesturing for you to follow after him.

You do so, only to discover he had led you back to the receptionist desk where Bora is working. The sound of voices and laughter has your eyes widening and Hoseok raises a hand, stopping you right at the corner.

You peer over his shoulder, “What is it?”

He points towards the familiar figure, “Look.”

Your gaze darts around, noticing Bora and Seokjin together right away. He’s leaning against the receptionist desk and conversing with her as usual, but that’s when your line of sight shifts and notices the person Hoseok is referring to.

Soyou is with them, laughing at something Seokjin said. It nearly makes your jaw drop down, the appearance of her eyes being bright and a giant smile on her lips erasing remains of the professional and stoic manager you’ve always known.

Your eyes abruptly flicker, noticing another man standing right next to her.

“Hyunwoo?” Hoseok nods and at this point, you’re left gaping at the group.

Hyunwoo was a HR personnel that worked above Hoseok. Compared to Hoseok, he has a lot more responsibility on his plate ‒ namely in the form of interviewing and hiring new employees for the company.

Letting your stare wander with the recognition, it’s a bizarre circle of people. And somehow, Seokjin seems to be at the center of it all.

Hoseok voices his thoughts, “Is it just me or do all of them seem like they’re getting a bit too cozy?”

“That too, with someone that just got hired as an intern….” You mumble, brows knitted together.

You peer over at him and Hoseok looks like he’s on the exact same page as you.

“What’s going on?”

Pivoting around, Taehyung approaches the two of you with wide and curious orbs. There’s a thick file in his hands, something you assume he was in the midst of transporting.

Hoseok immediately places a finger against his lips, “We’re spying on Seokjin.”

“Ooh, can I join?” He immediately piques. You merely shrug in response and then nod as the former hurriedly paces over, peeking over the corner with you.

“I just don’t understand…” You begin, “He was hired to be an intern first and there’s too many of us assigned to mentor him.” The conversation you had with him before arises in your mind, “Plus he’s barely had any experience working in an office.”

“And now he’s being all buddy-buddy with someone from HR.” Hoseok continues, “Something smells fishy.”

“Well to be fair, he is pretty good looking.”

Your brows furrow, “Tae.”

He scoffs, “Hey, it’s true! He kind of looks like one of those kdrama actors.”

“That’s what I thought!” Hoseok suddenly gasps, looking at Taehyung in awe as if glad he wasn’t the only one that made the epiphany.

“Shhh!” You chide, cautiously peering over to see the group still engaged in conversation as Hoseok and Taehyung pipe down.

“Wait Y/N, didn’t you say he doesn’t look very interested during training?” Taehyung brings up.

Hoseok turns to you, “Oh yeah.”

“Yeah, but I just think it’s because everything is new for him….”

There’s a weird feeling churning in your stomach again, your eyes latching onto Seokjin as he smiles.

“Can you guys keep a secret...?”

“Of course.” Hoseok answers without hesitation.

“Well that’s debatable–“

“Taehyung.” Hoseok hisses.

“Okay, fine!”

Your voice drops down a couple of octaves, “I think I’ve met him before….”

“Woah, like outside of the company?” Hoseok questions right away.

You hum, “I asked him, and he denied it,” You shake your head, “But there’s something…something that’s just familiar about him…”

“Are you sure familiar isn’t code for like, I got heart eyes for him?”

You raise a playful brow, “Tae, are you sure you don’t have heart eyes for him?”

He stares at you seriously for a moment, before a pout rises on his lips.

“Point taken.”

“That’s even more fishy.” Hoseok says, “And a little creepy, to be completely honest.”

“Maybe you bumped into him or something?” Taehyung suggests and Hoseok hums. “Oh! Or saw him at the restaurant you work at?”

You shake your head at both of his answers, failing at jogging your memory.

You deeply sigh, “Whatever it is, there’s definitely something more to the story here.”

The restaurant is completely empty.

Save for a handful of chefs throwing out leftovers and alongside servers cleaning up the dining area and kitchen, it’s completely barren. There’s a mop in your hands and a bucket of water next to you as you pace around the room, ensuring all the white tiles beneath you are crystal clear.

“So you think something is off about this new intern?”

Jungkook is leaning against the wall in the front of the restaurant, his eyes concentrated on the window before him and his hand moving around in circles against the glass.

You hum, gaze focused on the ground, “Hoseok and Taehyung agree and it hasn’t been the same after we saw him talking and being so friendly with an HR Representative and our Manager.”

“That does sound strange.” Jungkook shifts to the next window, mumbling underneath his breath, “Seokjin, right?” He glances over at you, “What is this Seokjin guy like?”

“Do you mean personality wise?”

He hums, “Uh, ridiculously confident and doesn’t really take anything seriously…” You try your hardest to put it into words. “Also a little self-obsessed…?”

For the benefit of the doubt, you’ve only known the guy for a couple of days, “It’s just been really frustrating to train him because he almost seems disinterested in everything. Like you would think if the company hired him, it would be on the basis that he had some actual experience and interest to back up with a business qualification.”

You huff in exasperation, pushing the mop against the ground.

Jungkook peers over with a frown.

You blink at his stare, “What?”

“I don’t know…it just kind of sounds like he’s really gotten underneath your skin.”

Your mouth falls wide open, “What? No. That’s just….”

Ridiculous? Completely untrue?

“I guess I’m just…. annoyed.” You acknowledge, refocusing your efforts back onto mopping. “I’ve been sweating bullets for a promotion now and to see someone so underqualified just waltz in like that…”

No matter how much you try to ignore the thought, you can’t push it away entirely. He’s been given an opportunity that you’ve had to work extremely hard for, and seeing him barely care about it is a little unnerving.

Jungkook smiles, “Assistant Manager, right?”

“I wish.” You pause and grin at him, “If I’m lucky enough, I’ll at least get some sort of decent pay raise first.”

Although it’s almost like an afterthought at this point, becoming Assistant Manager would be incredible. Your eyes have constantly been latched onto the company’s job board for any opportunity at an opening that you can quickly swoop in and snatch away like a hawk.

However you don’t try to keep your hopes high, content with just a mere promotion in your current state.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck.” Jungkook brings up, “And hey, at least you don’t have to mentor that intern anymore.”

You snort, “Yeah, but now Yoongi has to and I can’t say he’s loving the opportunity.”

Jungkook stops cleaning, spinning around a huge bunny smile.

“Let me guess – Yoongi gave him something to do and then ignored him for the rest of the day.”

You place a dramatic hand on your chest, sarcasm leaking into your voice.

“Woah, it’s like you were right there with us.” You lightly chuckle as Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes at you.

After continuing to tell Jungkook about the situation at work, the clock reads nearly midnight and the entire restaurant is finally clean. He waves you goodbye as you catch your bus home, soon left dragging your feet against the ground and keeping your drooping eyes awake the moment you make it to your apartment.

Yuna’s eyes are glued to the small television in the corner of the room, her head whipping around the moment you enter.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” You squint at the bright display, aware that it was a school night for her.

She sheepishly smiles, “You weren’t home yet…”

“You know I always come home late when I have a shift at the restaurant.” She quietly hums and you notice the show displayed on the screen is one you’ve seen her watch before.

You let out a sigh, “Ten minutes and then you have to go to bed, okay?”

She immediately beams, redirecting her gaze back to the screen. You plop down next to her on the couch, a low yawn that brings water to your eyes leaving your lips.

You nearly doze off in the midst of trying to pay attention to the show, but a buzz coming from your bag awakens you.

With a frown, you dig into the contents and yank out your phone, noticing a text message Jungkook had sent you.

[Jungkook] 12:05am: Hey, isn’t this that guy you were telling me about??

You scroll down, noticing that he had attached an article along with the message. Pressing your thumb against, it opens up and the bold headline immediately greets you.

CEO Namjung of Kim Electronics reportedly retiring and reveals future plans for son to take over company.

Below the gigantic statement is a picture of three men. One of them is dressed in a formal suit that you presume to be the CEO of your company, while the other two are dressed in simple casual clothing and standing by either side of him.

But what grabs your immediate attention is the one standing on the right side, adorned in a simple white shirt and glasses as he meekly smiles at the camera.

It crashes at you all at once, like a tsunami flooding your brain.

“Y/N!”

You turn around, gaze instantly connecting with the higher-up. You nervously smile as he gestures you forward, your eyes already shifting into large saucers from the person he was conversing with.

“This is Kim Namjung, the CEO.” The elderly man smiles and you quickly clear your throat, politely saying hello. “And this is‒”

He points toward a man on the opposite side of the CEO, awkwardly lingering near him. You attempt to catch a glance and the CEO prompts him to step forward, but his gaze remains concentrated on the ground.

“I’d like you to meet my son,” The CEO smiles, “Seokjin.”

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