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waldau · 5 months

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wanna be yours — chwe hansol | 2,208 words | fluff

i'm asexual as fuck (the irony) but friends with benefits to lovers is a delicious trope i would love to see more of. title from i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys.

gender neutral reader. college!au. warnings: mentions of sex but no actual descriptions of anything. also reader is mentioned not to like coffee, because i dislike coffee. soz <3

the last person you expected to see tonight was chwe vernon, dressed in his usual bomber jacket and slacks. yet here he is, crashing into the empty place on the sofa next to you. he doesn't say a word, simply squeezes his eyes shut and throws a hand over his eyes. dino keeps talking like there's been no interruption, but you're hyperaware of the way your legs are almost touching.

you and vernon didn't really run in the same circles before you got together, so it is odd to see him here amidst all of your friends.

"hey," you say, ducking down so you don't disturb the others.

"hurts," he says back, pressing his face into your shoulder. you look around, but no one really seems to be paying attention to you, some of them engrossed in beer pong and the others making idle conversation.

"what does?"

"my...head."

you wince in sympathy. "drank a lot?"

he shakes his head. "not that much. but i can't find seungkwan, and he has the keys to our dorm."

"so you decided to find...me?"

"better you than anyone else."

you don't respond to that, and you can tell by the way his head grows heavier on your shoulder within the next few minutes means he's asleep.

the first few months of your relationship with vernon were based solely on sex. it's the usual story — you met at another of minghao's parties (really, a catalyst for trouble), and hit it off surprisingly well with vernon. there was something you saw between you both and following it ended up with you in his bedroom.

when it was time for you to leave, it somehow didn't feel awkward. so you decided to test the arrangement another time. and another. and it's led you to whatever you have now, which is arguably more complicated than a normal relationship.

for starters, the past few weeks vernon's been visiting your dorm haven't been about sex. no, you've had actual arguments about which lord of the rings movie is the best and why shrek deserves yet another sequel. you've even baked with him, for heaven's sake (which ended not so well).

it's been less about sex and more about you fighting the urge to cuddle vernon when he throws an arm over your shoulder, or when he shares his blanket with you when you're feeling cold (which happens to be your blanket in the first place).

long story short, you like him, and he makes you feel some type of way you can't possibly let him know.

vernon twitches a bit when you pick up your cup from the table, toying with it but not actually drinking from it. you rest your hand on his thigh, hoping he doesn't wake up, while you contribute to the conversation every now and then. you pointedly ignore the looks dino's giving you.

this means nothing. vernon only found you because he knows you the most out of everyone here. he'd be in his own place by now if he'd found seungkwan.

still, there's something about the fact that he trusts you enough to fall asleep on you in front of people he's not entirely familiar with. that has to count for something, right?

people keep entering and leaving the room as the party goes on into the night. when the person next to you gets up to leave, you shift a bit down the sofa and pull vernon's head into your lap so his neck doesn't hurt when he wakes up. dino asks if he should wait for you before he leaves, but you make him go. it's not often you get to be like this with vernon, and you'd much rather he got back in one piece.

it's only when your back twinges and the music begins dying down and you remember you have an essay due next week you haven't begun working on that you decide to wake him up. you look down at the boy in your lap. he looks so much at ease, face devoid of the frown he sports every now and then. you feel almost guilty waking him up.

"vernon," you say, pushing his shoulder. "get up, both of us need to sleep."

vernon blinks his eyes open slowly. "wha'?"

"you. me. sleep. now."

"you want to sleep together? now?"

you trip on your words. "that's not what— i just need my sleep, sol." you bite your tongue at the name that slips out of your mouth. he doesn't mind his close friends calling him that, but you don't think you're there. or you'll ever get there.

"oh," he says, pushing himself up to sit.

"feeling better?"

"much," he says, running a hand through his hair. "but i had to tell you something, actually." he looks shifty. that gets your attention — vernon is many things, but he's never hesitant.

"i, um. i think we should stop seeing each other."

that shocks you the way falling into an icy cold pool would, the water taking no time to permeate your clothes and sting your skin with the cold and rendering you somewhat unable to breathe when it finally hits. "i'm sorry?"

"i said, i think we should stop seeing each other. not that the sex was bad," he says hastily, and you wince. that's a weird thing to say. "no, really. it's been great. it's just...i like someone, like, actually like them, and i feel being in this relationship would be weird."

you can't resist. "do i know them?"

vernon meets your eyes briefly before they dart away to the blank television screen in front of you. "i guess you could say that."

you rack your brains for who it could be. some names pop up in your mind: a girl from his friend group you've spoken to a few times, another from the library, the guy in english lit — but none of them shine as the number one contender for his affections.

you're one of the few close friends vernon has, but it doesn't matter. of course he wouldn't like you like that.

"fine," you say, feeling anything but. "okay."

vernon's looking at you like you're an injured puppy.

"i hope you get with whoever it is," you say, aware you sound a bit snappish, but you don't care. it's not your fault for liking someone as brilliant as vernon, only to be reminded that he doesn't really like you back. you're certain he likes your body more than he likes you, anyway.

"that's it?"

"what?"

"you're fine with it? just like that?"

you frown. "i'm not going to stop you if you want to go. we're not together. you should be with someone you really like."

"sweetheart..."

you shudder at the nickname that falls from his lips. you always like hearing it, more so the fact that vernon says it unconsciously. but now it sounds like a nail scraping against a chalkboard. you're not the sweetheart he wants. "i have a couple of classes in the morning."

"wait. it's a saturday."

"so?"

"we don't have classes on saturdays."

"yeah, well, that's you," you say, pulling out your phone to check the time. it's much later than you expected it to be. "dino's in the lab on weekends and i promised to help him out this time."

"listen—"

"i'll be glad if you let me go, vernon. i shouldn't have stayed this late in the first place."

"why are you acting so weirdly?"

you look up to see him frowning at you. why are you acting so weird, huh?

"i'm not. i just— i don't have to justify anything to you." you know you're being ruder than the situation calls for, but vernon is one of a kind. he'd taken to you despite the fact that you weren't one of the "popular" ones when you started out, and you'd managed to find a lot of common ground with him.

but the fact that you thought he'd like you back was stupidity on your part. you curse dino for hinting vernon might like you back.

"i'm sorry," you say, resting a hand on vernon's arm for a moment. he moves back at the touch and your stomach sinks even further. "i'm sorry this didn't work out. i hope you get with whoever you like. i'm just...tired. a bit. i hope this doesn't mean we'll...stop being friends?" it's a stupid thing to ask, but it's your last resort.

"i would," vernon says, crossing his arms, "if they weren't so dense."

"what?"

"i'd love to get with them if they realized i don't call anyone else sweetheart."

you freeze. you become aware of the people still present in the room, someone laughing, bottles clinking, bass still thumping, but— sweetheart?

"what are you trying to say, vernon?" you ask, making your voice as steady as possible.

"i'm trying to say that the person i want to get with doesn't really understand what flirting is."

you almost drop your phone. "no. vernon, you're not doing this. you don't mean it."

"i do."

"vern—"

"i'm not drunk anymore, see? and i do mean it. i don't just want us to be friends with benefits. i want us to be more. i want to take you out to dinner and stay up hearing you talk about why freud is the worst person you've ever had to read about. i want to watch whatever the heck it is you like. i want to date you. if you want me to, that is."

you're more surprised at how lucidly he's speaking, without a pause, more than what he's saying. but the meaning of his words slams into you like a tidal wave hardly a minute later. "if i want to, he says," you laugh helplessly.

vernon raises a perfect eyebrow. "well?"

you sigh and fiddle with your phone cover. "i don't— i've never been in a real relationship. not a long term one."

vernon moves closer to you, your knees now pressed against each other despite the fact that there's no one else on the sofa you're sharing. you can't even bring yourself to care about all the other people in the room. "really?"

you nod, feeling a strange sense of embarrassment creep up your neck. vernon simply lays a hand on your thigh. "hey. you know that's not a bad thing, right?"

you shrug.

"it's not," he repeats, rubbing his thumb across your knee. "and it doesn't bother me. is that what's troubling you?"

you shake your head. "you're just...the first person to want to be with me, even if it's just for sex."

"hey, it hasn't been all for sex. what about all those movie marathons we had? and that one time i helped you bake a cake for jun?"

"you mean you tried?"

vernon flicks your forehead, but moves in immediately to kiss it. the slight touch has you burning up, and you pray he doesn't feel it. "yeah. tried. but that's the thing, isn't it? it wasn't always about the sex for me. was it...the same for you?"

you can't get yourself to lie now. "it was," you say, putting your phone down and taking his free hand, fiddling with his fingers. "it is. i didn't mean to clam up like that. it's just...i want this with you, too, vernon. i've spent so long thinking about it. i'm sorry."

vernon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "don't apologize, sweetheart. and it's a relief. i've never felt this way with anyone before. also, i've only had a couple of flings before you, but i really want this to go somewhere. and i want to try it with you."

you try to speak, but nothing comes out. you bury your face in your hands. "aren't you supposed to be drunk?" you ask.

"you always sober me up, sweetheart."

you shake your head and let it fall against the back of the sofa, vernon's hand cushioning the fall. there's silence for a while before he speaks.

"you know, no one's like that."

"like what?" you ask, slightly affronted. "is that supposed to be an insult or a pick-up line?"

vernon laughs a breathy laugh. "no friend with benefits offers to look after their partner when they're bored or drunk or whatever. and they certainly don't show up to basement music shows. you're...really the only person who gets me, you know? but now that i know you, like, really like me..."

"like you back."

you love his grin. "can i take you out on a date?"

"i...don't drink coffee," you say breathlessly.

vernon raises an eyebrow.

"milkshakes. or i could drink coffee, maybe. you like it, so i can try."

"there. again. you're too nice for your own good."

"it's just...me. i can't help— mmph," you get cut off when vernon leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. and another. you push him away before someone notices and teases you.

"i'm going to get some sleep, and we'll meet tomorrow. at a good place. not in my bed."

"you mean today."

"do you want me to cancel on you?"

"no," vernon laughs against your hair. "tomorrow. anything you want."

#i don't know if college dorms allow you to have ovens and stuff in your room so for the sake of this fic y'all live in apartments #chwe vernon #chwe vernon fluff #hansol #hansol fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #vernon #fluff #waldau writes #🍃 — svt

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

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he already has my approval ~ taron egerton

word count: 4393

request?: no

description: in which her dad keeps trying to set her up with her celebrity crush, who just so happens to be playing him in a biopic

pairing: taron egerton x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

The first time I met Taron was on the red carpet for Kingsman: The Golden Circle, and it did not go as well as I had wished it would’ve.

I had seen the first movie in theaters when it came out and immediately developed a crush on Eggsy, and, in turn, on his actor Taron. When dad was offered a cameo in the sequel, I think I was more excited than he was. I begged dad basically every day to let me go to set with him, but I was in college at the time and neither of my dads would let me miss that much time to travel just to meet my celebrity crush. It felt unfair at the time, but they had a point in the long run.

When the day of the premiere came around, dad took me as his plus one to the red carpet. I was buzzing with excitement the entire day as dad’s stylists came in to help us get ready for the night, but the minute our ride pulled up to the red carpet my excitement turned to nervousness. There was no reason for me to be so nervous. I had been to huge events like this before, and of course I had met famous people plenty of times. But there was something about meeting my actual celebrity crush that made me feel like a high schooler who was about to go on her first date.

Dad introduced me to Taron, because of course he did. Fatherhood never changed who dad was, and he was shithead, cocky, lived to tease everyone in his life Elton John. I always knew it was a bad idea to tell dad about my crush on Taron, but I never regretted it more than when I heard him shout across the red carpet, “Taron, darling, come here!”

He looked like the most handsome man in the entire world dressed in his suit, his smile lighting up his face as he approached us. That moment was when I realized he was real. He wasn’t just a character on my screen; he was an actual real person. And now he was stood in front of me. So close that I could smell his cologne, and boy, did it ever smell good.

“Taron, I want you to meet my daughter (Y/N),” dad said, gesturing to me. I was still in such awe by his beauty that I almost forgot who I even was.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/N),” Taron said as he shook my hand. “Elton has spoke very highly of you.”

My brain was definitely short circuiting. Hearing him say my name was one thing, but then for him to also say that he’s heard a lot about me from dad also contributed to it. When I realized I was just stood there staring at him like an idiot, I felt embarrassment wash over me. I tried to force myself to say something, but it was like I completely forgot how to speak English.

“She’s a little shy because she has a crush on you.”

I turned to look at dad in disbelief. If there was a higher power, They would do me a favor and open up the floor to swallow me whole and take me away from this entire situation.

I made my escape before Taron could say anything. I turned away from the two of them and walked away as quickly as possible.

The memory haunted my nightmares for a while afterwards. Even after I managed to forget about it for the most part, the intrusive thought would pop into my mind from time to time just to make me cringe. I could barley ever watch Taron’s movies anymore without thinking about that moment, which was hard since I still had such a big crush on him.

A year later, I was on set with dad and papa for the movie papa was producing about dad. Papa was so excited, as he was making the movie as a gift to dad. Papa had complete creative freedom and dad was able to give as much input as he wanted. When filming started, the two of them wanted to bring me, Zachary, and Elijah on set to watch some of the filming. They hadn’t told me much about the movie just yet, but papa’s excitement was contagious enough that I was feeling it, too.

“We’re filming the Troubadour scene today,” papa was telling us. “Full 70s aesthetic. You guys are gonna feel like you were really there to see your dad’s first ever solo performance.”

“Do I get any 70s outfits once you guys are done filming?” I asked.

“Darling, you know we have a closet full of all my favorite outfits from those days,” dad said. “You’re free to go through it as you please. It’ll be the real deal, not some cheaply made replicas.”

“Hey! You’re the one who approved of Taron’s wardrobe!” papa said with a chuckle.

The mention of his name made me stop in my tracks. “Wait...whose wardrobe?”

Both of them looked at me, confused by my reaction. “Taron, honey,” papa said. “That’s who’s playing dad in the movie. You didn’t know that?”

Memories from the year before came rushing back. I could not see him again or else I may just turn into an embarrassment puddle at his feet. I especially couldn’t be here with dad and have a potential repeat of the situation.

As if reading my thoughts, dad walked up to me and gently took my hand in his. “Honey, it’s been a year. He’s not going to remember.”

“But what if he does?” I asked. “God, he probably thinks I’m crazy after our first encounter. I can’t watch the filming.”

“Hey, hey, calm down sweetheart,” papa said. “You’re working yourself up. It’s okay. If you feel uncomfortable you don’t have to watch, but I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you’re expecting.”

I took a couple deep breaths to calm myself down. I wanted to be there and support both of my dads on this project they were both so excited over. I knew they were right and Taron likely didn’t even remember our first encounter, but I still couldn’t shake this pre-embarrassment feeling about seeing him again.

I sucked it up and followed them to the Troubadour set. There were many extras dressed in 70s clothes standing around the stage. The general murmur of the crowd turned into an excited one as people began to notice dad walking onto the set. I couldn’t see Taron anywhere, but I did recognize Richard Madden talking to the movie’s director, Dex Fletcher. Zachary was tightly holding my hand, trying to hide behind me. I knew the crowd was likely making him nervous, so I squeezed his hand and picked him up.

“Lead actor walking the set!”

I felt my body tense as everyone turned to see Taron taking the stage. He was wearing a pair of white overalls and a navy blue shirt with silver stars. He had on a wig that looked like dad’s hair from this time period and a pair of thick framed glasses that matched his overalls. He looked really good, even if he was dressed as my dad.

It took my brain a moment to register that he was walking towards us. I felt the panic return, but I tried my best to play it cool.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” dad said as he embraced Taron. “I still have this outfit I’m pretty sure. I was just telling (Y/N) that I still have all my favorite outfits back home going all the way back to this very first performance.”

At the mention of my name, Taron’s eyes landed on me. I tried not to crumple under his gaze, and kept the smile on my face.

“Hey,” Taron said. “Good to see you again.”

“Good to see you, too,” I said, surprisingly myself with how confident i sounded.

“Who is this little guy?” Taron asked, referring to Zachary. The young boy buried his face in my neck, peaking one eye up at Taron.

“This is Zachary,” I said. “Z, this is Taron. Doesn’t he look like daddy?”

Taron struck a pose for Zachary, who seemed to warm up slightly but not a lot.

“What do you think, Elijah?” papa asked the youngest boy. “Do you think Taron looks like daddy?”

Elijah shook his head. “Daddy is old!”

We burst out into laughter as dad gave Elijah a mocked offended look. Elijah squealed as dad picked him up and began tickling his sides. Zachary was still a bit hesitant, but I could feel his body shaking as he chuckled in my arms.

“Come on, Rocket Man, we gotta start filming,” Dex called to Taron.

Taron made his way onto the set stage. Quiet was called and a hush fell over the room. The minute Dex called action, music filled the silence. One of dad’s songs, his least favorite yet one of his most popular ones, began to play. Except it wasn’t dad singing it, it was Taron’s voice. I was a little shocked to hear him singing instead of there being a backing track of dad’s music, but I had to admit he was an amazing singer. It was a fantastic choice they made. His singing voice was amazing and it made the movie have more of a fantastical musical vibe, instead of just a movie with dad’s voice dubbed over for the music.

I tried to get Zachary out of his shell more by dancing with him while the music was playing. We were not strangers to dad’s music. The three of us had seen dad perform on numerous occasions. I figured the familiarity of the music, plus the goofy dancing would definitely help with his nervousness. And I was right for the most part; Zachary came out of his nervous cocoon eventually and started dancing with me. By the time Dex called cut on the scene, Zachary felt comfortable enough to be put back down on to the floor and followed dad and papa to meet Jamie Bell, who was playing Uncle Bernie.

“Seems he enjoyed the show.”

I jumped at the sound of Taron’s voice so suddenly. He was laughing at my reaction as I turned back to him, my heart beating a million beats per second just having him so close to me.

“I think he just needed some time to warm up to being around so many people,” I said. “Usually when we go to dad’s shows we’re in a special VIP area where it’s just the three of us and papa, so he’s not used to so many people and so much attention being on him.”

“I get that. He’s only young. Doesn’t fully understand how well loved his dad is.”

“I don’t think I even fully understand it, and I’m in my mid 20s,” I said.

Taron chuckled and I couldn’t help but smile too. The realization of his realness was starting to wash over me again. He was actually here, stood in front of me, talking to me. He was a real person!

“Listen,” Taron said, “I wanted to talk about the first time we met.”

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. I tried not to let my embarrassment show too much. Maybe if I pretended I didn’t even remember, we could just move on from the entire situation and pretend like it never happened.

“I’m sorry it went the way that it did,” he continued. “I know you were embarrassed about what your dad said. I know Elton meant no harm, and he was just trying to tease you because...well, he’s Elton John, but it really wasn’t fair of him to say that to me when we were first meeting. I could tell by your face that that wasn’t exactly the way you wanted our first meeting to go.”

I was a little surprised by what he was saying. I don’t know why I was expecting for him to say something that would make the situation worse, like maybe calling me out on my crush and saying something about it. He seemed like a really nice guy, not the type to make someone feel bad. But I guess, after having an entire year to let that embarrassing moment stew, I just expected the worst if I ever met him again.

“I appreciate you saying that,” I said. “It definitely was not the way I wanted to meet the guy I had such a big crush on. I think dad expects stuff like that to wash over me like water off a duck’s back because of who he is and how many famous people I’ve met and am close to, but his status never makes those types of interactions easier. Again, especially when meeting someone that I was crushing so hard on.”

Taron was giving me a look that I wasn’t sure how to read at first. “Was?”

My brows furrowed together. “Hmm?”

“You said ‘someone I was crushing on’. As in you’re not anymore?”

I wasn’t sure why that was the part he was focusing on. I opened my mouth to respond, but Dex called to Taron again. Taron looked at me and winked behind the thick framed glasses before making his way back to set to start filming again. And it was with that wink that I could not handle anymore and finally had to sit myself down.

~~~~~~

I kept coming to set the next few weeks. At first it was only one day out of the week for a couple of hours, but soon enough I was tagging along with dad and papa every day. I tried to tell them it was because I was enjoying watching the movie being filmed, and getting to relive these big moments with dad, but they both knew that wasn’t the truth. They knew I was going because I wanted to see Taron.

We had gotten to talking a lot in between takes when I was on set. About everything and anything really. It started with just getting to know each other, but eventually it blossomed into talking about whatever was on our minds. Sometimes it was about the movie, sometimes it wasn’t. Either way, we just got to know one another. And eventually, my “celebrity crush” became a real one.

I knew my dads could see what was going on, but they didn’t bring it up. I figured that was mostly because of how my first interaction with Taron went and dad didn’t want to risk embarrassing me like that again. Which, I did appreciate. I felt like a friendship was being built with Taron and I didn’t want that to be risked with fatherly embarrassment to the extreme, even though I knew that wasn’t dad’s intentions.

One day, we walked on set and I was surprised to see Taron was nowhere in sight. Instead, we walked into a setup that looked like great grandma Ivy’s apartment that I had seen in plenty of dad’s baby pictures. There were three different actors than normal on set, one I recognized as Bryce Dallas Howard and one young boy I recognized to be dressed up the way dad had been when he was that age. I realized pretty quickly that today was probably mostly shooting scenes of flashbacks from dad’s childhood, which caused me to feel disappointed realizing that I likely wouldn’t be seeing Taron today.

I was sat in my usual seat (because yes, I had visited so often that I was given a seat with my name on it) watching the set up for the scene when dad came over and sat next to me, dramatically sighing as his body settled into the chair.

“These old bones can hardly sit down anymore,” he said.

I smiled at him. “Oh, please. You’re hardly that old, dad. Besides, we both know that after everything you’ve gone through, you’re going to outlive us all.”

“A man can only hope.” We laughed together. Dad put an arm around my shoulder and leaned into me. “Taron’s in his trailer, you know.”

“Oh?” I said, hoping I didn’t seem as excited by this information as I was. “He’s filming later on then?”

“Yeah, way later on this evening. David said that Taron showed up way earlier than he needed to claiming that he thought his call time was this morning, not this evening.” I raised an eyebrow at him, silently telling him to say whatever it was he was trying to say. “I don’t think that was the case, though.”

“Clearly.”

“I think he came here early hoping to see you.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I think you’re being a little ambitious there dad.”

“About as ambitious as I would be to say that you show up every day so you can see him, too?” When I didn’t respond to that, dad just laughed. “I see things, (Y/N). My eyes may be old, but they can still see things that no one else sees.”

“And what is it that you see with me and Taron?”

“I see a young man who is enamored by a young woman, and a young woman who feels the same way. I also see two cowards who are too afraid to confess their feelings to one another.”

I playfully nudged him with my elbow, to which he dramatically clutched his stomach and acted like I had shot him or something.

“I’m not saying that Taron feels anything for me,” I said, “because I don’t think he does. I think he’s just being friendly with someone that he considers to be a friend. But, if what you’re saying is right and he does have romantic interest in me, maybe the reason why he won’t admit it is because he’s too afraid to? I mean, my dad is Elton John after all. That’s a pretty big name to have as a potential father-in-law.”

“Hey now, I didn’t say anything about marrying you off to the man.” I smiled and shook my head. This really was just an every day thing with dad. He loved being a father, but I think he loved being a nuisance more than that. Papa always warned him he would regret that when Zachary, Elijah, and I started to pick up on his habits. “But both of you know that Taron has my approval if he does want to pursue you romantically. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have even been cast in this movie!”

“You cast him because he’s a good actor!”

“Oh, that was only part of it. The other part was so that you two could have a do-over with your meeting, since I ruined the last one.”

I put my head on dad’s shoulder. “You didn’t ruin it. You just embarrassed me beyond belief, but that’s what a father does.”

Dad gave me a small squeeze before pulling me away from him. “Go to his trailer. Have a few moments alone.”

“Give you a few grandkids?”

He pushed me away, which caused me to laugh hysterically.

“Darling, I may be old but I am certainly not that old,” he said. “And, again, I said I approve of him. Not that you two need to get married and pop out babies right away. Go on a few dates first, for the love of God.”

I stood from my chair, still laughing. Dad tried to glare at me, but he couldn’t. This was just our relationship.

I made my way out of the set before they started filming so that I wouldn’t be disrupting anything. All the trailers were grouped together in the lot, luckily with signs on them to label what or whose trailer they were. Taron’s was the furthest on the lot, with a theatrical gold star stuck to the door with his name on it. Part of me figured this was dad’s doing, but the other part of me would believe that it was Dex’s doing, too. Papa truly couldn’t have chosen a better director to capture dad’s personality and aesthetic than Dex.

My heart was pounding so loud that I thought Taron would hear it before I even knocked. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to knock before I got too nervous and ran away instead. There was a brief rustling in the trailer before the door opened, revealing Taron in a pair of black and gold hot pants, a gold jacket that was left unzipped so I could see his entire torso and chest, and heeled shoes with gold tips and gold wings on the side. I wasn’t sure where to look first. My eyes naturally lingered on his chest, his coarse chest hair a welcoming sight, but I couldn’t help but glance lower at his thighs in those hot pants, too. Not to mention the bulge -

“Shit,” Taron breathed, a panicked look in his eyes. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t expect...I thought it might’ve been someone from the set. I’m just...uh...”

“In costume, I would assume,” I said, trying to pretend like I was looking at his shoes and not another area lower on his body.

“Yeah,” he said. His face was starting to turn bright read. “It’s for a scene later on...way later on. I’m - I was early today, so they already put me through costume and makeup.” He cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair. “Do you, um, do you want to come in?”

I nodded, unsure if I could even form any words. He stepped aside to let me into his trailer. He still looked flustered by my sudden appearance, which I thought was cute.

“Don’t be sorry, by the way,” I told him. “I don’t mind this eye full that I’m getting. Quite the opposite, really.”

That only made him more flustered, and I couldn’t help but smirk at that reaction.

“You’re a lot like your dad,” he commented. “He said something similar while we were filming Kingsman a few years ago.”

“We Furnish-Johns have good taste in men.”

I sat down on the couch of his trailer and he sat across from me. I tried not to be too obvious with my gawking, but it was hard not to look at him. God, was he ever attractive. And here he was, sat next to me, practically naked, and all flustered because I had caught him this way. I felt like I should be feeling a similar way, but knowing that I was the one who had made him feel that way just made me feel so cocky instead.

“I didn’t think you were on set today,” I told him. “I showed up and didn’t see you or Jamie or Richard.”

“We’re filming a couple smaller scenes later on to end the day. Dex wanted to film all of the flashback shots of your dad before he was Elton John today, just to get that out of the way.”

“You got here really early for that. It’s not even noon, and your scenes are this evening papa said.”

Taron shrugged. “I got the wrong call time.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “By over 12 hours?”

He shrugged again, but didn’t offer any further explanation.

I took a deep breath, once again willing that cockiness to stay long enough so that I could say what I wanted to say without losing my nerve. “Remember the first day on set where we talked about the first time we met, and you made a point of asking me about my crush on you.”

Taron nodded. “Yeah. You made it seem like you didn’t feel that way anymore.”

“Yeah, I did. Because I thought I would scare you away if I admitted that I did still like you that way.” I was moving towards him now, closing the already smaller space between us. “That I do still like you that way, if you get what I’m saying.”

We were so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He was looking down at me in a way that I could only ever dream of having Taron Egerton look at me like. It was like the movies I had seen him in, except this was real life and the person he was looking at was actually me.

“I think I understand,” he said. “But just in case, is it okay if I do an experiment just to be sure?”

I giggled. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head back until I was looking up at him. He leaned forward at an agonizing pace before his lips finally pressed against mine. It felt like the entire world around us paused in that moment. I had to restrain myself from getting onto his lap and deepening the kiss, even though I wanted to so badly. I wanted to spend the next few hours in this trailer with him, not even letting him leave to go film. I wanted to be tangled up with him and never let him go ever again.

The kiss ended far too soon. When Taron pulled away, I tried to chase his lips to pull him back to me. He chuckled at my eagerness, allowing his lips to press against mine for a quick peck.

“Let me take you out before we get too hot and heavy,” he told me. “I want to take you on a proper date.”

“I guess we should do that before I jump your bones,” I teased. “But you do still have quite some time till your call time. If you’d like company while you wait, I wouldn’t mind staying here with you for a while. Especially if you’re going to be dressed like that the whole time.”

Taron’s face turned red again as he looked down at himself, almost like he forgot what he had been wearing. “Might be too tempting for you.”

“It definitely will be. But I will respect your virtue and not try to deflower you in your trailer.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God! What have I gotten myself into here?”

“Something pretty great, if you ask me.”

#taron egerton #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton x reader #rocketman #elton john #imagine #one shot #rpf #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 1 month

Text

All The Fear and The Fire of The End of The World [Joel Miller x artist!reader]

Read on Ao3

Sequel to The Artist and the Builder

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies (although that's not really addressed in this one)

Tags/warnings: ANGST, bit of h/c, Panic attacks, reader is sick, Joel has anxiety. That's about it, but please stay safe is panic attacks is something that triggers you <3

Summary: Joel has told Ellie about what happened in Salt Lake City, and she is livid with him. Seeking comfort with you, Joel however finds you in the grips of a nasty flu, and has to put his own needs aside to nurse you.

Words: 3,799

A/N: Title is from Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! Couldn't resist: All the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl...

Thank you to @pazizz for having a read before it was finished!

Joel hasn't had an attack like this in a long time - not since he and Ellie settled in Jackson - but now, it's bad.

His heart is being squeezed like a stress ball, his lungs are not taking in fresh air, his throat is constricted. Panic floods his brain as he clutches at his collar. He can't breathe, can't think, can't -

Ellie's screamed words echo in the fiber of his being.

How could you? I hate you! Don't talk to me ever again!

He had finally told her the truth about what had happened at the hospital, why she didn't get to save the world. And Ellie shut him out.

You took my decision away from me!

How could she even consider dying for a cure that wasn't guaranteed? How could she not see that she was the light of his entire life?

How could he not tell her the truth from the start?

Joel stumbles onto one knee, the guilt taking his legs from under him. He fights to breathe, his right fist closes, and he bangs it into the floor. Again. Again. Pain reverberates through his hand and arm, and that jerks him out of his mental anguish.

He punches the floor until the skin of his knuckles break, and he can breathe normally again. Greedily gulping down air in a way that sounds like sobbing - but he is not fucking crying - Joel slowly gets back onto his feet. His knuckles are aching, his arm feels battered, but he grabs his coat, and heads out. Hurrying through the snowy streets of Jackson, he barely notices anyone passing by. He's in a hurry, hurting hand hidden in his jacket pocket, internal compass pointing to your house.

He needs comfort, your soothing hands. He needs to know that he did what he could.

Even if it was you who pushed him into telling Ellie, he knows you were right to encourage him to do it. And he needs you now that Ellie has denounced him. You won't judge him for waiting so long.

He walks into your house without knocking. His throat feels almost constricted when he enters the living-room, expecting to find you in front of the fireplace, immersed in one of your projects. But you're not there, and the fire is nothing but a heap of embers. Frowning, Joel calls your name again. It's not like you to leave the fire unattended or leave on the lights. He walks over to the bedroom door and pushes it open.

There's a pile of blankets on the bed. When his eyes get used to the twilight in the room, he sees that there's a body underneath the layers of covers.

He speaks your name, and the pile of blankets moves. For a second his heart seizes, and panic rises within him. Not you too, he can't stand it!

Then you croak his name, and he knows what's up.

You're so cold. You've never been this cold in your life, and no amount of blankets is helping. Good God, how is it even possible to be so cold, to shake so hard? Your muscles are aching with how much you're shaking, and you can't do anything about it.

You hear Joel's voice close to you, and you will your eyes open, even if using your vision is making your headache worse.

Joel's face swims somewhere above you. Through the brain fog, you hear him ask you how you are.

"Just a slight temperature," you mumble, then feel Joel's callused hand on your forehead.

"You're burning up."

He takes off his jacket, and gets in bed with you, digging himself underneath the blankets until he's right next to you. Fitting his form to yours, he wraps his arm around you to bring you in even closer.

"You're shaking!"

"Jus' need a nap..."

"You need a lot more than that, darlin'."

You mumble something as your eyes fall shut. His body heat has already started to spill onto you, and slowly, you stop shaking, and start relaxing.

"How long have you been like this?" His voice is soft, his breath so warm against your skin. You want to crawl into his voice, melt into the rich, deep syllables, dissolve from this aching body.

"Had to leave the clinic around midday," you slur. Speaking seems difficult. Your throat is sore, your head feels like it's about to explode.

"Are there any meds?"

"No."

"Then it's rest and liquids for you."

You're already drifting off, secure in his arms. Joel feels you relax and become heavy, your audible breathing slowing down. Gently, he strokes a couple of stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear, and notes that your hairline is damp with sweat. When he's certain that you're not waking up, he carefully disentangles himself from you, and gets up from the bed.

His own heartache is forgotten when he rummages through the cupboards of your kitchen, finding your teas made from dried herbs and flowers. He gathers towels, finds a bucket for water, gathers whatever he can find that will help him take care of you. He returns to the bedroom to check on you before leaving your house to get something to eat from the dining-hall, and see Jackson's doctor.

The doc has, naturally, nothing to prescribe except bedrest and liquid, which Joel had already figured out. What little drugs there are, must be saved for the truly sick. He's luckier at the dining-hall: he gets a big portion of chicken broth from one of the women working there.

"This will cure anything," she promises, and Joel thanks her gruffly. He hurries home to you, finding you exactly where he left you.

You sleep for hours. Focusing his attention on you, wiping your forehead whenever it gets too shiny, listening to your wheezing breaths, Joel forgets about the pressure over his own chest. He can't forget about Ellie, her anger, her words, but he doesn't succumb to anxiety over what happened.

When you wake up, the things Ellie said are pushed to the back of his brain.

You're like a cat waking up from anesthesia: unable to walk but hell-bent on doing it.

"Need the toilet," you mumble, and Joel supports you to the bathroom. You're freezing once you slump down on the toilet seat, and he turns around to give you some privacy.

"Go away," you moan, bent over with you aching head in your hands.

"I've seen women piss before, so do what you have to so that I can help you back to bed," he retorts, and you scoff weakly before releasing a stream of urine that seems searing hot. You manage to wipe yourself and wash your hands before you have to lean on Joel again.

"We need to get you out of these sweaty clothes," he tells you, but you're loath to get undressed.

"It's so cold," you whine, but you're in no position to fight him on it.

He puts his own flannel on you before taking you back to bed, where he coaxes two spoonfuls of broth into you, and almost half a cup of tea, until you shake your head. He gives up, and lets you curl up to sleep. The winter darkness is falling but he turns on the bedside lamp so that he can see your face, its lines stressed by the lamplight and sickness, your forehead shiny with fever, your lips separated as you snore. For a long time, he just watches you, like he's looking for an answer in your features.

Eventually, he turns off the light, rises from his chair, and leaves the bedroom to start a fire in the living-room fireplace.

Your temperature is up the next day so Joel brings the doc, who can't do anything except encourage him to continue doing what he's been doing so far. You're mostly asleep, delirious when you're not, and still so, so cold. Joel does his best to get fluids in you, and a couple of spoonfuls of chicken soup, but it's hard when you're either limp in his arms or shaking.

By afternoon, he's exhausted. Tommy comes by to check on both him and you, and he brings food. Joel never even thought about eating himself.

Sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, Joel opens the lunch box and devours its contents.

"I saw Ellie earlier today. She seemed upset, what's up with her?" Tommy wants to know. Joel winces from the painful stab in his heart.

"Nothing's up with Ellie."

"Liar."

Joel looks up from the food at his brother. Tommy knows him too well.

"I told her. About what happened in Salt Lake City."

"That didn't go well."

"It didn't."

Joel looks down again and stuffs his mouth with the rest of the food. The conversation is over for his part, and Tommy knows better than to push it.

"She'll come round."

Joel grunts, and they both sit in silence for a while before Tommy rises.

"I gotta get back to work. Lemme know if you need anything."

Joel clears his throat. "If you see Ellie... tell her I'm not coming back to the house for a while. I don't want her to have to move out."

"Sure, bro."

Tommy pats Joel on the back as he passes him by, and when the front door closes, Joel follows to lock it. He then comes to the bedroom, kicks off his boots, and crawls into bed next to you. His fingers tremble slightly when he touches your forehead, still finding you burning hot. Carefully, not wanting to wake you, he fits himself to your body, puts his head down, and watches you through the grey winter light.

Caring for you has kept him busy enough to not dwell too much on what happened with Ellie, but now his brain is buzzing with her last words to him, her rage and disappointment, his failure. He owes Ellie so much, and he failed her.

His unavailable heart has been locked inside his closed chest for so long, until Ellie cracked it open. Ellie, with her courage, innocence, those stupid puns that she loves so much, and that Joel can’t help smiling at. How could he have surrendered her to the Fireflies? His relationship with Ellie had developed from duty to decency before finally unfolding into love. He has already known the worst pain in his life, and he wasn’t going to live through that again. He simply could not give Ellie up.

And now he has lost her anyway, and he might lose you too.

"You get well," he whispers, assured that you can't hear his dramatic, pathetic plea, even when it's directed at you. "My heart can't take it if you don't make it, you hear me? Don't you dare die on me."

You offer him no sign of having heard him. He swallows, his throat tight, and presses his eyes shut, praying that sleep will take his worries away.

Your violent coughing wakes him up. He blinks blearily in the dark room before he gets his bearings, his arm going around the body that is convulsing next to him. It's a wet cough, rattling in your lungs, and it's new. He sits up in bed, hands on you, like that's going to help. As if anything he does helps. He hates the feeling on not being able to help.

When your coughing subsides, you groan and mumble something.

"What's that, darlin'?"

"My head," you repeat, voice raspy and thin.

"Just lay still."

"Thirsty."

Joel promptly rolls out of bed and goes to get a fresh glass of water from the kitchen. When he sits by your side to help you drink it, he realizes that you're no longer shaking. You take little sips before slumping back against the pillow, your face ashen and your eyes matted, but when he feels your forehead, he can tell you no longer have a fever. That has to be a good sign, right?

“How are you feelin’?” he asks, knowing immediately that it is a stupid question. You open your mouth, but instead of words coming out, there is a bout of coughing. Joel grimaces sympathetically as he takes the glass from your hand to avoid you spilling on yourself.

“Been better,” you finally wheeze, reaching for the glass again as soon as the coughing subsides. He gets up to go refill it, and you drowsily look around the room.

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday,” he calls back from the kitchen.

You let that sink in. When Joel comes back in, he clearly sees your confusion.

“You’ve been out of it for a few days, yeah.”

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

He hands you the refilled glass but averts his eyes when he replies.

“Someone had to look out for you.”

You drink more greedily now, the cold water lashing its way down your scratchy throat in a way that makes you feel more alert despite the discomfort. Joel takes your glass when you’re finished, puts it on the nightstand, and pulls the covers more snugly around you.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, somewhat amused at his fussing. “You should go home. Has Ellie even seen you since I got sick?”

He freezes, pain flashing across his face before his features turn to cold, hard stone. But you saw it, plain as day.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t answer, and your fear rises.

“Joel, is Ellie alright?”

“Yes.” The answer comes promptly, but the three letters contain a world of events and emotions that you, despite your current state, need to know more of.

“What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later, darlin’. You need to rest.”

“We’ll talk about it now.” You stress the last word with a rise in volume and pitch, which brings about another bout of coughing. When you’re done, Joel gives you a disapproving glare.

“You’re not well.”

“Duh. Now tell me, or do I have to get out of this bed and go find Ellie myself?”

He sighs deeply, jaw squared as he stares out of the open bedroom door. You wait as he gathers himself.

“I told her. About Salt Lake City.”

“And she didn’t take it well?”

“No. She never wants to see me again. She hates me.”

“Joel…”

Joel can’t look at you. Not even his brother knows the whole story, but he has told you, one late night after the two of you had fucked and were sharing whispered secrets in each other’s arms. He couldn’t keep you in the dark, you’re too important. With all that he has lost in life, with all of his scars and traumas, he got to know Ellie, and he got to know you. When he least expected it, you came along, with your way of seeing the world, its light and its shadows, your body as aching as his but your mind nowhere near as broken. Your ribs bend open so easily for your heart to do what hearts do best. And that kept his chest from closing again now that Ellie hates him.

He’s so grateful for you. And so ashamed.

Tears burn in his eyes and when you sit up and put your hand on his shoulder, he draws a sobbing breath. Goddammit.

“It’s okay, Joel,” you rasp. “We’ll figure it out.”

He passes his hands over his face, wills his tears away, but the more he fights it, the more constricted his chest feels.

No, not now, not when he needs to stay strong for you!

“Joel?”

“Be right back,” he presses, standing up so quickly that the world spins for a second, and his first two steps are wobbly. He hears you speak his name again, but he hurries out to the kitchen, finding support from the sink, his head swimming, his heart beating so fast he thinks it’s going to explode but at the same time he can’t breathe, his throat is closed, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, Jesus fucking Christ he’s having a heart attack –

“Joel!”

Your hands are on him, turning him around. At the end of his tunnel vision is your haggard face, and through the roar in his ears – where did that come from and what is it? – he can hear your voice.

“Joel? Listen to my voice. Feel my touch. You’re okay, baby, you’re okay. I promise. You can breathe. Just take a deep breath, that’s it, just like that, and exhale. Good, go ahead, take another one. That’s great, Joel, just like that.”

Without even noticing, your hoarse voice has pushed through the panic and the pain and the noises, and he finds himself breathing deeply, consciously, his heart slowing down. He blinks a couple of times, and his eyesight is back to normal. You’re in front of him, nodding your encouragement. He wets his lips, wants to say something, but then his knees buckle under him, and before he knows it, both of you are on the floor, you from trying to help him, your still weak body no match for his weight.

You’re coughing, and he collects you in his arms, ignoring the smarting in his elbow. It keeps him sharp.

“You okay?” he asks you as soon as you’re done coughing. You nod against his chest, wheezing breath keeping you from speaking. He holds you closer when you shiver slightly, and when you embrace him back, he feels a lot better.

“What about you?”

“I’m good, darlin’, don’t worry about me.”

“That was a panic attack, Joel, and not a small one.”

He frowns, looks down at you.

“I have a heart problem.”

“Maybe so, but that wasn’t a heart attack. It was a panic attack.”

“How would you know?”

You roll your eyes at him, even though it hurts your head.

“I’m a nurse, Joel.”

He has to chuckle at your tone, but you’re not amused.

“I also had a sister who suffered panic attacks from a young age. It differs from person to person, but what I did to you worked on her. Seemed to work on you as well.”

“It… did. Thank you.”

“How long have you – “ you start, but he interrupts you, though not unkindly.

“Can we… not talk about it right now? I’m exhausted, and you need to rest.”

You agree, and with combined forces, the two of you manage to get off the floor and drag yourselves back to the bedroom. You collapse on the bed together and just barely find the energy to arrange yourselves comfortably before both of you are out.

You sleep uneasily, your cough waking you up constantly. Your head is still aching, and your throat is lined with needles when you swallow, not to mention how much your lungs hurt when you cough, but you’re hungry for the first time since you got sick.

You hear a light snore next to you, so you turn your head. Joel is deep asleep, turned away from you, sleeping on his good ear. Your hacking must have disturbed him because you’re quite sure that he was holding you when you went to sleep.

Slowly, gently, you place your hand between his shoulder blades. He’s warm, sweaty even, in his flannel and no doubt from his attack earlier. But he seems at ease now: his broad back is relaxed, his breaths are deep and even, and he doesn’t move when touched. Carefully, you scoot closer, a tickle in your throat threatening to grow into a cough, but you manage to keep it down. Your arm goes around his waist, and you mold yourself to his form, spooning him tightly, your hand finding a soft spot on his belly to rest against. His breath stutters and changes, but other than his hand clumsily finding yours, he doesn’t move.

He smells of old sweat, and you don’t feel too fresh yourself. The thought of taking a shower with him once he wakes up sets off a pull deep within your lower belly, and you smile as you feel your cheeks heat up. Even when struggling through the worst flu you’ve ever experienced, you can’t keep from fantasizing about the things this man can do with his hands, his mouth, his cock…

You take it he’s to stay with you now, which means that you have to tidy up the living-room, make room for him, but you find yourself not minding. You want him there, you want to go to sleep and wake up with him next to you, and once you get well you want to wake up with your hands all over each other, his mouth on your skin, his rare smiles over breakfast.

The thought of breakfast makes your stomach growl, and you feel a little faint. It’s definitely time to eat something. Gently, you move away from Joel, rousing him when your arm leaves his waist. He rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes before looking at you.

“Hi,” you smile, patting his arm. “You sleep if you need to. I gotta eat.”

“What time is it?”

“No idea, but it’s still light outside.”

“I’ll fix us something.”

“It’s fine, I’m on it.”

You get out of bed, your legs a little weak but still carrying you, and go to the bathroom first. Joel’s heavy steps are heard making their way to the kitchen, and when you appear in the doorway, he’s already making tea and heating up broth.

“I’ll get something from the kitchens,” he tells you without looking up. “Better see my brother too, let him know we’re alive.”

You walk up to him, feeling a little bit like Bambi on the ice, but you make it, and you wrap your arms around him from behind, and rest your cheek to his back. Joel stops what he’s doing, muscles flexing before relaxing, and his hands come to rest on top of yours.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.”

He turns around until he’s facing you, and there is something soft in his eyes when he cups your cheeks with his big, warm hands and leans his forehead to yours. Both of you exhale audibly, then smile together. You lick your lips, clear your throat.

“Joel…”

“I love you.” His fingers make small, soothing circles behind your ears.

He beat you to it, the rascal.

“I love you, Joel. We’ll fix this. You’ll stay with me, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Thank you.”

He tilts his head a little, lips ghosting over yours. You draw back.

“I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

“I don’t care.”

He kisses you, and you let yourself melt into it, into the assurance that Joel Miller is yours, body and soul.

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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cheynovak · 2 months

Text

Happy ever after?

Sequel to: Another, other Cinderella story.

Soldier Boy x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, Alcohol, Soft dominance, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 7286

*Does not follow The Boys storyline!*

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

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

Y/N is the rebellious daughter of a famous actor in the 1960. Her dad wants to keep her out of the public eye, since he cheated on his wife with her mother. All she wants to do is leave, have fun and start a life of her own. On one of her father’s parties, she meets Soldier Boy, who despite his reputation falls for the young girl. She is mesmerised by him, but how long can he hold the little rebel from discovering the world?

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

Y/N woke up from the sunlight on her face. She turned around to feel her bed already empty and cold. Which unfortunately wasn’t a surprise anymore, he hasn’t been home for weeks. Ben got more and more tasks, missions and projects since Vought knew about them.

And even though he did manage to give her a nice condo, she did miss the action and fun she used to have in her old life. The last couple of months became clear he wanted her for himself, a nice woman to come home to. But deep down she knew that isn’t who she really is.

Her dreams were to travel the world, see beautiful nature, cities that come to life at night, enjoy different cultures. She hoped Ben would be the same, but his red, white and blue blood thought there was nothing better than the USA. Why would one want to travel to let’s say Europe.

But for now, she was content.

Y/N got up and did her daily morning routine, she threw on one of Ben’s old shirts, she loved the fact it smelled like him, tobacco, vanilla and some other spices. She walked in the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee, while loading the washing machine, she would take a quick shower. Ready to start the day fresh.

She lifted his shirt over her head and looked in the mirror, noticing a pretty big bruise on her hip. Y/N’s finger mover over the spot when realising Ben got a little too excited the last night they had spent, before him leaving. Maybe time to remind Ben again she is not a supe. Although the night itself she didn’t mind his roughness.

While the hot water was streaming over her slightly sore body, her mind started to drift away to all the placed she once read about. Hoping that one day Ben would agree to come along with her. But for now, it stays with daydreaming.

After breakfast Y/N went into town, trying to get her mind off of the fact that Ben was gone for a while to shoot a documentary on his life. And she was, once again, left to herself to enjoy life. Unconsciously she walked towards the travel agency.

She stopped in front of the store, looked through the window. Asia, Europe, Africa, ... before she knew it, she stepped inside. It took almost an entire afternoon, the shop assistant was very friendly and helped her pick out 3 trips worth seeing.

With books and information under her arm she walked back to the condo when she heard a familiar voice. “Y/N?” She turned around seeing the twins, Anna and Sara, she once befriended in school. “Oh my...Hi! How are you guys?” She hugged them.

Y/N invited the girls over to her apartment for a cup of coffee. It had been almost 9 months since graduation. “Wow, girl you really did good for yourself.” Sara said looking around in the pretty big place. “It’s all from Ben, to be honest.” Y/N said while emptying her bags on the counter.

“You really went through with that didn’t you?” Anna asked curiously. “We both thought it was just another one of your casual hook ups.” Y/N blushed hearing that. Answering, “Turns out he has something worth sticking around for.” -” Clearly.” They both said at the same time.

The afternoon coffee turned into late night wines and take out Chinese food. Y/N never really thought often about her old life, but this lovely evening made her homesick, thinking about the fun times she was around her friends.

Anna, Sara and Y/N agreed to see each other in the morning for breakfast and a shopping day. Just to relive their high school Saturdays. Y/N waved the girls goodbye at the door, smiling when she walked back inside.

Y/N looked back at the mess they left on the table. “Right.” she let out with a satisfied sigh, she turned on the radio before cleaning and placing the last food scraps in the fridge. The music made her hum.

She closed the fridge, jumping up when she noticed Ben leaning on the cabinets in the kitchen. “Yeez, Ben, you scared me.” She smiled as he walked towards her without saying a word. Her back pushed against the fridge.

His hand went through her hair, while he looked in her eyes. “Hi.” Y/N whispered, drowning in his beautiful green eyes. His lips turn into a small smirk. “Hi.” he answered with the same tone before his lips claimed hers.

Ben’s hands roamed over her body, it wasn’t new to her, him coming home and needing some sort of relieve before being able to have a ‘normal’ conversation. Y/N managed to break free for a second to breath. His mouth found its way to her neck. Sucking and kissing her skin.

“I would really like to clean the rest of the table before going to bed.”

” Who said I want to go to bed.” His voice sounded muffed against her neck. “The kitchen is good enough for me.” His hands moved from her thighs back to her cheek, demanding her head to look at him, so he could kiss her again.

“B-Ben, I’m serious... give... me... 2 seconds.” she managed to say in between his hungry kisses. He let go of her lips with a deep and annoyed sigh. “Fine, hurry.” He answered grumpy. “I don’t want the room to smell in the morning.” She explained herself while Ben leaned back watching her.

Secretly he loved that she played the role of housewife. Might even say it turns him on. His eye fell on the books that were lying on the corner of the kitchen cabinet. His curiosity took over, “What are you reading?” He asked while looking through the books.

“Er, some travel research, just inspiration.” His eyes shot up from the counter to her. “Travel? You’re still thinking about leaving?” - “Well, not leaving.” She said rinsing the rag. “More like explore.” Y/N could feel his look, his disapproval, afraid to look up.

A little hum was all he responded before she felt the warmth of his body radiating against her back. She felt his big hand caressing her hair, almost petting her. “Maybe you need a reminder.” His hand covered her neck right underneath her chin, pulling her head back.

“Now, are you done?” His husky voice whispered against her ear. She nodded slow, part of her hated his dominant side, hated the fact that it turned her on as much as it did. Months ago, she would never, ever give up control. But with Ben, it was different.

He turned her around before lifting her on his shoulder like a ragdoll, caring her to the bedroom. “I thought you didn’t want to go to the bedroom.” She answered a little sassy. Ben’s hand landed flat on her ass. Making her gasp shortly. “Auw!” She sneered.

He dropped her on the bed, hard enough to see the matrass bounce her back, ones. “You really need to learn how to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut.” His voice sounded deep and firm. “I thought you like me loud.” She said while pressing her lips together, trying not to laugh.

She would have sworn his lip twitched at that comeback. But his dominant side came back fast. “Strip.” He said while looking down on her. Y/N did as she was told, throwing her clothes on the other side of the bed until she was bare.

“Come here.” Ben said still fully dressed in his suit. She crawled towards him, the second her face was within reach he pulled her up by the back of her head. Making her kneel in front of him, his thumb moved over her partly separated lips.

Y/N felt his finger pushing between her lips making her automatically wrap her lips around it and suck softly. Ben’s lips curled into a smirk, “That’s it baby girl. That is all I want that mouth of yours to do.” He said while pulling his finger out of her mouth.

He looked down to his belt, giving her a silent order before he took off the bulletproof vest he wore over his shirt. Y/N undid his gun belt, unzipper his pants. She’s mouthwatering only by the thought of him. She never liked giving head, but the way Ben praised her made up for it.

Ben was already hard for her, he lazily strokes himself a few times. “Open that dirty mouth.” once again she obeyed without a question. Her hands moved up his thighs, on their way to the base, so she could help herself a little.

“Na-ah, hands on your lap, doll.” he said while he held her head. Y/N could feel his large hands guide her over his warm length, tasting the precum on her tongue. She looked at him while her eyes started to fill with tears. Each time Ben pulled her in she felt him further in her mouth.

She focussed on taking him without gagging. “That’s it, good girl.” His praises made her moan around his cock. “You like it don’t you, sucking my dick.” She noticed a crack in Ben’s voice, she knew he was enjoying her moans. So, good girl as she is, she moaned again when Ben hit the back of her throat.

And again... and again. Making Ben growl underneath his breath. His hips unable to stay still, he really wanted to fuck her mouth, but knew he would hurt her if he did. So, a little to his disappointment he needed to hold back.

By the time he pulled out of her mouth the tears were streaming down her cheeks, her mascara ran out just a little under her eyes. “On your back. Hands above your head.” while she placed herself on the bed, she noticed him taking of the last pieces of clothing.

He hovered above her, “now tell me baby, who do you belong to?” He asked sweet yet demanding, while his fingers moved in between their bodies, spreading her wetness with his fingers. Her head snapped back, gasping for air. “Hm? Who owns this tight pussy?” He repeated his question.

“Y-you... Oh... Ben.” She felt the sharp sting of him pushing his dick all the way inside her. Her hands snapped to his shoulders, wanting to pull him closer. But before she could do so, Ben had his grip on her wrists above her. “I said hands above your head!” he commanded again.

Ben’s thrusts were hard, sharp, normally he waits for her to adjust, but today he was needy. She felt the grip on her arm tighten when she fucked her so hard it was on the brim between pleasure and pain. “B-Ben... Slow..” He interrupted her by kissing her, forcing his tongue in her mouth.

This movement made him slow down just a second, until he abrupt stopped. “What’s wrong doll, can’t take me anymore? Didn’t I fuck you enough lately?” His voice sounded sarcastic. “Need me to stop?” He asked while pulling out, making her whine at the sudden emptiness.

“No, no Ben. Please.” She pleaded. “Please what?” He smirked. “Please, please fuck me... Please don’t stop!” She begged him, her hips moving underneath him trying to find friction. Before he pushed back into her, he let go of her wrists but pressed his hand down on her throat.

Making her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Look at you, such a needy slut.” He pounded hard, holding his face next to hers “You’re not leaving me. You’re not going anywhere.” He breathed heavy. “All you’re going to do is fuck me. Whenever, wherever I want.”

Y/N felt his thrusts getting uneven, the rhythm of his hips slowed down. One last thrust, one last growl, and Ben came inside her. His hold on her neck loosed and for the first time she realised how strong it was.

Ben rolled of her, breathing heavy. He pulled her close to him, caressed her back. After a few unspoken seconds she opened her mouth, “I’ll be right back.” but the second she placed her feet on the floor trying to walk to the bathroom, she felt lightheaded. Ben noticed, jumping out of bed holding her.

“Hey, hey, calm down, get back in bed. I’ll get a washcloth. Take it easy sweetheart.” All of the sudden all of the dominants in his voice changed to worry. Ben walked out holding two wash cloths. “Here.” He said, placing a wet cold one on her neck. She looked confused until she realised it felt amazing against her soar skin.

“I keep forgetting you’re only human.” He said while taking care of her. “Is that an apology?” her voice sounded hoarse. She knew it was his way of saying he cared for her and that he was sorry. Or at least she hoped.

He crawled back in bed. “Just, be more careful next time, ok?” She whispered against his shoulder. Ben kept looking at the ceiling. “Or we could find another way.” Y/N didn’t understand him. He noticed her confused look.

“Vought suggested to turn you into a supe, and honestly, I wouldn't mind.” She opened her mouth, “Hell no!” She answered harsh. “Hold your horses sweetheart, I told them you wouldn’t want that.” - “Why would you even want me to be one. Compound V is poison, it kills people.”

“No, it doesn’t, that’s a gossip created by anti-believers.” - “Ben, I can’t believe this, a-are you serious?” -” Jesus Y/N, just...Stop lay down, relax.” - “No! No, I need to know Ben. Why would you want that? I’m a not good enough?”

“It would be nicer not to hold back every time I touch you, yes.” She heard the hint of annoyance in his voice. “You’re a fucking porcelain doll in my hands. Like walking on fucking eggshells around you. I constantly need to think of it in the back of my head, quiet the turn off when you’re fucking someone.”

Y/N held back every insult she wanted to throw at him. Instead, she turned her back to him and covered her sore body with the blankets. Feeling her eyes tear, not wanting him to see how deep those words hurt her. “Then why don't you find someone who is fucking perfect for you.” she whispered under her breath.

The next morning, to her surprise she noticed Ben still sleeping, laying on his stomach, hugging the pillow. Due to their fight last night, he didn’t have the time to tell her they finished shooting early being able to be home for a few days.

The doorbell rang Y/N put on a robe, before answering the door. Ben lifted his head, looking over his shoulder wondering who was here at this time. Y/N completely forgot the twins were here for breakfast and a day out.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They yelled, hugging her, while holding balloons and a basket filled with croissants and sweets. “You remembered.” Y/N seemingly surprised. “To be honest I'm not prepared yet.” She felt her cheeks blushing.

“Don’t worry we’ll help you with the table.” The women fell immediately in their old habit of laughing and joking. Ben heard Y/N’s laugh in the other room, it gave him a warm feeling. But also, he felt a little guilty he didn’t got her anything for her birthday. He never even asked her when it was.

After a short while Ben walked out the bedroom, wearing a sweatpants and shirt. He looked at the women around the table before he poured himself a coffee with wiskey. “You want something to eat?” Y/N asked. “Hm, yeah.” he grumped.

She walked over to his grumpy ass in the kitchen. “Why didn’t you ever tell me your birthday?” He whispered a little irritated, she bends over to grab him a plate. “You never asked me.” She placed the plate next to him on the counter.

“Plus...” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I had no idea you would be here today.” Ben didn’t hug her back, he noticed the light bruise on her neck. He just moved her robe slightly and kissed her sore neck before making sure it was covered again with robe.

He turned around, to fill the empty plate, leaving for the open kitchen again. Not in the mood to join the girls.

Y/N’s friends noticed the tension between them, “Everything ok?” - “Yeah, it’s nothing... Hey I’m going to get ready.” - “Where are you going?” They heard Ben from the kitchen while he crushed a few tablets on the counter. “We made plans to go shopping.” - “Have fun.” He said while snoring a line.

Ben hated the fact that she went out, leaving him alone, but deep down he knows he can’t tie her up wanting her to wait for him like a lap dog. He saw the books again. She wants to leave me, she will leave me. Was all he thought.

Y/N got home by 9pm a little tipsy, she saw Ben watching a tv show, his brows still frowning. “Honey I'm home.” She joked while dropping her purse on the table. Ben looked up at her, clearly not liking the state of her. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry mom.” She started to giggle at her own response. “Are you drunk?” Y/N could hear Ben’s disapproval. His tone surprised her. “Yess-sir” Y/N placed her hands on her hips after saluting him. “Had no idea I had to justify my action to you. Especially when you’re the picture of class.”

Ben’s brows lifted. ”Come again?” -” You swear like a sailor, drink like a fish and take drugs like a, a, a fucking rockstar. Pretty embarrassing meeting my friends like that.”

Y/N didn’t stop there. “You have no manners, whatsoever. You think you’re a gentleman while you are NEVER gentle with me. Ever thought about the fact that I actual love you?” Ben, surprised by her confession, walked slowly towards her.

She continued her preach “...And that being loved, making love would be so much more satisfying mentally, maybe if you thought about anyone else except yourself for once, you would have noticed I'm rotting in this golden cage for you... YOU, BEN!”

She made her way to the bedroom, leaving Ben standing in the living room. “Oh, and next time when you hear it’s someone’s birthday, you wish them a fucking HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” She yelled before smashing the door close. Her words lingered in his head. She loves me...

Ben knew he felt different about her, different than any other person he’s ever been with, but he never thought of the idea this might be love. After a second that felt like an eternity, he opened the bedroom door only to hear the water running in the bathroom.

Y/N heard Ben moving around in the bedroom next door, her tears blended with the water streaming down her face. She couldn’t believe she said all that to him, hoping it wouldn’t backlash. Because no matter how much she wanted to leave this place, she wants him more.

She took all the courage she had to face him again. Ben was already sitting in bed, watching her walking over to her side, crawling under the covers. He still thought about the fact she, even though she was angry, admitted she loved him.

He wanted to tell her he felt the same, or at least say something. But he had no idea how to. “Goodnight.” was all she said giving him a soft peck on his cheek, before turning off her light.

Y/N felt Ben moving behind her sinking down in bed, to her surprise he wraps his arms around her. “Happy birthday sweetheart.” he whispered in her ear before giving her a small kiss on her shoulder. She turned around facing him, nose to nose under the covers. “Thank you.”

“And... I am...” Why was it so difficult to say he was sorry. “It’s ok. I know.” she said. Her hand moved to his cheek, feeling the light stubble growing under his skin. The air shifted, Y/N felt warmth rushing through her veins when Ben’s lips caressed hers.

Their kiss deepened but she noticed a difference in his touch. Softer, more loving. “Ben... I’m exhausted.” She sighs while breaking the kiss. “I know.” He pulled her close to him. “Try to get some sleep, doll.” His large hands caressed the back of her head. “Sweet dreams.” He mumbled against her head.

That night was the first time in a long time Y/N slept good, really good. Her face was hugged by Ben’s chin and chest. His steady heartbeat made her feel at ease, the circles Ben’s fingers drawn on her back felt soft and loving. Unfortunately, she got woken by the sound of the phone on the nightstand.

Y/N felt Ben’s body move right before he answered the phone, letting go of her. Ben answered with an irritated sleepy voice. “Hm? Yeah, ... now? Can’t this wait? Hm, ok.” - “Duty calls?” She asked when he turned back to her. “Yes.” She lifted herself a little so she could kiss his grumpy lips.

Ben held the doorknob in his hand, without looking to her, he asked: “I know there is a lot we still need to talk about, just... just promise me you wait with... making decisions until we had a decent conversation?” For the first time she saw a nervous Ben. he couldn’t even look at her.

“I’ll be here when you come back.” She reinsured him. Ben nodded before leaving for Vought.

---

A few days had passed. A man had called her today, saying he was an assistant at Vought, clamming Ben wanted her to come to Vought. This was unusual request, but she was hoping he wanted to talk about all that had happened over the past few days.

Y/N was led into a small waiting room, sitting next to the security guard she met months ago. He greeted her at the door claiming to bring her to Ben. The blond receptionist kept giving her judgy looks. Y/N heard her phone ringing, she stopped typing only to answer it, when she hung up the phone, she told Y/N she could enter the room now. Still being followed by the big fella.

Once inside she noticed Ben wasn’t there, the uncertain feeling in her gut became fear. “Why am I summoned here? Who are you?” her voice almost broke trying hard not to let her fear out. “Ah, miss. Y/L/N/, good to finally meet you. Please sit.”

"You can call me the legend, Senior Vice President of Hero Management here at Vought. You may have heard of me.” - “I’m sorry can’t say I have.” She said while taking the chair opposite his.

“We asked you to come here to discuss an urgent matter. We are aware of your relationship with Soldier Boy. And he made it very clear he doesn’t want to break things off with you. And even though we are thrilled there is a woman out there who can, tame, our best soldier, we still want to make sure he knows his duty. “

“I don’t see the problem. As far as I know he has been up and ready every time you called.” - “Well miss Y/L/N you are not around when he is doing his job. On his last job, a documentary he left, leaving us with a lot of debt to a lot of people.”

“Because I quote: “He didn’t need this fucking job, and he sure as hell don’t need a team, he can spend his time with someone better.” That did sound like Ben. “Now we, at Vought, believe a crew would lighten the workload and encourage young supes. You know send a bright message to the world.” the man gave his sales pitch.

” Let me guess, you want me to convince him?” Y/N interrupted his story. “Well, actually miss Y/N, can I call you Y/N?” She nodded once. “We want you to be part of it, guide Ben in being a leader, show the young girls out there a woman can accomplish the same things a man can. After all you are quite the rebel back in the day I heard.”

Y/N frowned, “Oh Soldier boy couldn’t stop talking about the young girl turning her back to her family to run away with him. Almost a fairytale we want to tell.” Y/N’s suspicions grew bigger, shifting in her chair.

“But then again...” He stood up walking over to her. His hand moved away her hair. “ We don’t want the world to see that our beloved hero leaves bruises on pretty little girls.” His hand moved over the sore spot on her neck. Making Y/N push his hand away.

The bodyguard took a step forward, but the legend waved him away. “I don’t care about your popularity.” Y/N said. “But you do care about him, and he does care about his status. So here is the proposition, we give you the power, make you a superhero, and you get your life out in public with Ben.”

“No.” Y/N could see the old man’s brows frown. “Sorry?” - “Are you deaf, I said no.” Y/N got up, but the large man blocked her. “I really wanted to do things different sweetheart.” She heard the older man say before she felt a pinch in her neck.

The next thing Y/N knew she woke up under rubble, her throat was dry from the dust around her. She would have sworn she heard Ben’s voice. She tried to call for him but was unable to get a sound out of her. A beam of light shined on her face. “WE GOT ONE.” She heard a man yell.

Bricks and other rubble got lifted of her, piece by piece. Her legs still trapped under a metal beam. “We need assistance here, she is trapped.” The man called out. Y/N vision was troubled. “Y/N? Oh god Y/N!” This time she was sure, she heard Ben’s voice.

Ben lifted the beam of her legs before he kneeled down next to her. “I got you sweetheart, hang on.” He carried her in his arms, her weak body close against his. “MOVE!” she heard him shout at the people in front of him. He brought her over to the ambulance. “Soldier boy, there are still other people trapped in the store.”

He looked at the police officer in charge, “looks like there is enough help from the fire department and the police. I’m going to the hospital with her.” he closed the door of the ambulance with Y/N in it. The entire ride he held her hand, worried, trying to understand why she was in the travel agency again. She did promise him not to make decisions before they could talk.

Once in the hospital it became clear Y/N needed blood and quickly and even then, it wasn’t sure she would make it. Ben was angry and upset. He yelled at the doctors they needed to do more when he felt the legends hand on his shoulder. “There might be a way to help her heal up faster.” - “No, no she won’t...” he thought for a second. “She would never agree to turn her into a supe.”

“Who said anything on turning her my boy. She needs blood, give her yours.” Ben looked at the doctor. “Could that work?” - “It might. We never tested it.” Ben looked through the window at Y/N laying in the hospital bed with a weak heartbeat on the monitor. I can’t lose her. He thought. “Ok”

Little did he know, Vought had run tests with Ben’s blood. Turned out that injecting someone with enough blood would change them. Ben had enough compound V in his system that his blood made it possible to create or change the cells inside another person. Only if their body was shutting down, his blood would react like a surviving mechanism.

Y/N woke up from a discussion in the hall, without opening her eyes she knew it was Ben. “You told me she is healthy, then why the fuck isn’t she wake yet!?” Slowly she opened her eyes, getting used to the light in the room. The fog before her eyes cleared, but soon she felt the pounding headache making her growl under her breath.

She looked around the room noticing Ben was talking to the doctor in the hall, she saw that the door was closed. Weird I thought he was standing next to me. Y/N thought. “Ben?” she softly spoke. She saw him turning his head looking at her through the window before storming inside. “Hey doll. How are you feeling?”

Y/N thought about that for a second.” Part from the headache, fine. What happened?” - “A terrorist blew up midtown, you were.... shopping. I found you amongst the victims.” Y/N couldn’t recall this happening, couldn’t even remember she went shopping in the first place.

“How many...” Her voice broke. “Everyone made it. You lost a lot of blood, we had to eh, give you a blood transfusion.” She saw the terror in Ben’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” - “You almost didn’t make it. And eh, we decided to try something... new. We, eh, gave you, my blood.”

“What?” - “We gave you, my blood.” he repeated. Y/N blinked her eyes a few times, trying to understand. The doctor walked in checking her vitals one last time. “So, what side effects does that give?” Both men looked at each other. “I presume there will be side effects.”

“We don’t know yet, but there is a possibility you will have his powers or maybe even copy some of his personality traits, just for a while until your blood fought off his cells.” The doc said. “Is that why I have a headache?” - “That’s my best guess. You may leave the hospital now, but I would like to see you for a check-up later this week.”

The entire ride home Y/N didn’t say a word, the thought of having his blood, compound V, rush through her veins made her stomach turn. But she also knew he did it to safe her. Once inside their safe space in the apartment she turned towards Ben, wrapped her arms around his ribs and just hugged him. He answered by rubbing his hand on her back.

“Y/N?” - “Hm?” - “Why were you at the travel agency?” - “I don’t know, I don’t even remember going shopping.” she looked at him. Y/N saw the fear in his eyes. “I just... thought, we would talk when I got back.” He pulled her arms off him. “But it seems you already made your decision without me.” She shook her head, “No.”

“How can you say that when you don’t even remember a thing.” His voice turned cold. “Because I remember our fight, how miserable I felt, thinking I want to be with you, Ben.” She could see he wasn’t convinced yet. “Ben, let’s talk now. Let’s fix this, this tension between us.” - “There wouldn’t be tension if you just knew your place!”

“My place? Where the fuck would that be!” She matched his tone. “You know what, fuck this, no! Fuck you. Since the first day we met you claimed me like some fucking price. I’m no fucking object you can buy. I’m not a toy you can play with when you’re bored! I’m done. I’m so, SO DONE!” Y/N smashed her fist against the kitchen counter breaking the marble countertop.

Ben grabbed her hand to check if she was fine. “Let go of me.” she pulled her hand out of his grip. “I’m still mad at you.” He looked him dead in the eye before she walked to the bedroom packing a bag. “What are you doing?” He stood in the door. “Maybe you need a little time alone. I know I do.”

“Time alone?” - “Yeah, alone, like not being used to me waiting around for you, not being able to visit your puppet, you know the one you think about only when your fucking boner talks to you.” Y/N was ruthless, the things she said to him, she never even dared to say out loud afraid he would walk out on her. But now she felt strong enough to walk out on him.

“I just saved your life.” - “You changed me into the last thing I wanted in this life.” - “We had no idea. This will all end sooner or later.” - “What if it doesn’t? I can’t even look at you anymore Ben. So fucking selfish.”

Ben grabbed her arm. “If you leave know, you don’t need to come back.” He said in despair, his body screamed anger, his eyes trying to show dominance but glanced at hers in fear. Y/N nodded slow, letting his words sink in. “Good luck finding another fuck toy.”

Years passed; Y/N travelled the world like she wanted to. But never really being able to forget about Ben. She sends him a post card from every land she visited, not even knowing if he would receive them, or even still had the condo. But she needed to tell him about her days.

Once she heard the news that Soldier boy and Crimson Countess started dating, she stopped sending cards. She hated herself for not getting home earlier, she always planned on getting home, talk to him, convinced him she still loved him. But she was afraid, afraid he would turn his back to her.

Y/N needed the travel not just for the memories, but for her mental health. During her time alone she noticed more and more powers compatible with Ben’s. She had a hard time trying to figure out how to live with it, how to accept it. She used the time to find a cure, but never found one. So when she had to deal with the fact, she would be forever a superhero, she hated herself.

Now many years later, Butcher had found her, via intel coming from the legend himself. “You want to win him over by bringing him the head of Countess on a silver plate? Boy you need much more than that.” He shook his head. “I suggest you find the reason he made his relationship with the young redhead public. Y/N.”

The entire It couple gimmick began when Ben had the brilliant idea of making Y/N jealous. He had no idea where she was so reaching her was difficult, by the time he got her cards she was probably halfway around the world again. So, he agreed, after a few years, to leading a superhero team. Making Crimson countess his girl.

When Y/N broke all contact, he started to appreciate crimson more and more. Desperately trying to forget Y/N.

“Can I help you?” Y/N said to the men waiting at her door, in her New York apartment. “Maybe luv, we are looking for miss Y/N Y/L/N.” - “You found her.” she answered very calm, leading them inside. Hughie was surprised, thinking they were searching for a woman in her 80s. Not a young girl looking not even a day older as him.

Butcher explained her how they found Ben. How he was the one to blow up mid-town. Y/N sat at the table looking over to Hughie, French and MM while Butcher kept giving his pitch. “So, you are telling me not only that Ben is still alive, but that he has a new superpower, radiation or something?”

“Precisely luv.” She British fella grinned while leaning back in his chair. Y/N nodded slow. “And you want me to ‘control’ Ben, for... you?” - “Well to ease him. Making sure he won’t blow up again.” Hughie corrected trying to flash her a smile but to nervous.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” She said looking Butcher straight in the eye. Who clearly didn’t expect her answer. “Out, before I kick you out.” She got up and opened the door for the men. ”Oh and a word of advice. No one, and I mean no one, can guide Ben. He does what he wants, when he wants and well, how he wants. So, good luck.” Y/N said before closing the door in their faces.

But Butcher had made her curious, a part of her wanted to see Ben again, she always had known, the story of him being dead was fake. She felt he was still alive, was it her undying love for him or the fact that his cells made her to who she is now a days. But she knew one day he would be back from the dead.

So, Y/N decided to follow the men, seeing where Ben stayed. No intentions to meet him, but when she saw him, her heart stopped. She sat in her car watching Ben opening the small motel door, wearing a baseball shirt and sweatpants. But his physique was nearly untouched, she saw he was slightly skinnier, what to expect after 40 years of torture and sleep in Russia.

Before she knew it, she stood in front of the door, letting out a deep sigh. “Please don’t be angry.” she whispered under her breath.

Ben held his hand up, making Butcher and Hughie shut up. “Did you...” he broke off the sentence he wanted to say walking towards the door.

Right when Y/N wanted to knock on the door, it opened. Her eyes locked with his in an instant. “Hi.” she said breathing heavy. For a second that felt like a lifetime she stared at his beautiful eyes, roamed his face, noticing those freckles she loved. Feeling the desire to kiss his full lips. Needing to taste them once more.

Ben kept looking at her like he saw a ghost. When he didn’t move aside or say anything, she started to regret coming here. “T-this was a mistake, I’m sorry to bother you.” But those words seemed to wake him up. Right when she wanted to turn away, he grabbed her tight, pulling her in his arms.

She felt his chin and nose on her head, while one of his hands rested on her back the other one caressed her hair. “I thought I would never see you again.” He blurred out. “I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.” He slightly loosened his grip on her, only to look at her again.

“You cut your hair.” He noticed the once luscious locks were trimmed to a long bob, making her hair wavy now. “Well, you grew a beard.” Her hand instinctively moved to his chin. Accidently moving her thumb against his lips.

That small touch started the fire withing them. Ben immediately held the back of her neck, pulling her up to kiss her. Passioned but controlled, when they let go of each other, their eyes where once again locked. Butcher and Hughie left the room. “We shall give you two time to talk.” The Brit said when walking passed them.

“Fuck I missed you, Doll.” She could hear the heat in his voice. “How much?” she flirter, Ben’s lips curled in a smirk. “I’ll show you.” he whispered before finding her lips again. All their sorrow, doubts and fears flew out the window.

Ben placed her down on the bed underneath him. His hands moved over her body, already stripped her from her clothing. His large hands cupped her breast, kneading softly before pulled her bra straps down.

His lips sucked at her already harden nipples. Making her moan his name in a prayer. “You haven’t aged a day. Still so fucking beautiful.” He breathed out when his hand moves in between them, finding her wet core. His fingers glided through her fold, coating before slipping two fingers inside her.

“Hm.. Still so tight.” He moaned in her ear while her back arched. When Ben wanted to move down she pulled him back up by the back of his head. “Ben... I don’t want to wait.” - “Tell me what you want doll.”

She pulled his shirt over his head before using her strength to turn them around. Pulling his pants down to his knees and straddled him. “I need you...” she pumped his hard, thick cock with her small hands. “Inside me, now.”

“Are you sure?” His cocky grin appeared. “Fuck... yes.” she answered while she sank down on his cock. Letting her head fall back. Ben’s hands moved up over her breasts and neck. Her body instinctively started to grind against his.

The moans and praised sounded out of porn movie. But for them this felt like heaven. Ben lifted himself, kneaded her ass cheeks while guiding her. While her hands found their way to the back of his head and shoulders. Feeling his slightly longer hair through her fingers. Tugging while her lips concurred his.

Ben felt her tightening around his shaft, knowing she was close, he turned her on her back. Hovering over her while his hips found a little faster but, oh so good pace. He knew from that moment he wouldn’t be able to hold back when she came, and he didn’t care, he needed to hear her moan his name in ecstasy.

“Oh Ben...” She moaned while her back arched, her legs tightened around his hip. “Let go sweetheart, I got you.” Where the last words she heard before blanking into a breath taking, leg shaking orgasm. She was so out of this world, that by the time she came down, she noticed Ben had his at the same time as her.

Ben laid down next to her. She looked at him, “what?” he asked out of breath. “You were, softer than I remember.” She noticed. ”Well...” his hand moved over his face to his hair. “A very special girl once told me to be more... gentle. Something about making love would be so much more satisfying.”

Y/N bit her lip. “And I promised myself, if she ever gave me a change, I would show her how a man makes love to his woman.” he added. Y/N felt tears of joy in eyes. His woman... She crawled back on top of him, kissing him once more.

“Thank you.” She smiled.

She noticed a question lingering on his lips. “What’s wrong?” His eyes found hers again. “Stay here, at least tonight.” Ben said, realising his words weren’t a question. So, he added “Please?” after a second.

Y/N’s lips curled into a smile once more. “Why should I?” she teased, knowing it would drive him crazy. Expecting him to say something along the line of “I’ll make it worth your while, or I'm not done fucking you.”

But no, he thought about it for a second and said:

“Because I love you.”

‐-------

Thanks for reading, if you like it feel free to like, share or comment. 🩵

#fanfic #fluff #smut #the boys #the boys amazon #soldier boy #x reader #hughie campbell #the boys hughie #billy butcher #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #jensenedit #x y/n

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silverbirching · 8 months

Text

SO WE'RE EXCITED ABOUT HADES 2, RIGHT

At least we had all better be, while I'm waving this broken bottle around.

Look guys I'm a Classical mythology wonk. And I don't mean like, "hey I read the Percy Jackson books, they were neat", I mean when I close my eyes before I sleep I pray to every god who might conceivably be listening that Linear A gets deciphered in my lifetime. I mean I've got a giant metal print of Circe Invidiosa by John Waterhouse in my bedroom. I mean that if you make the mistake of mentioning Hadestown in my presence you have unwittingly activated the trap card of "Sam talks about his string-and-sandwich board conspiracy theory about how Persephone was a terrifying eldritch queen of the dead and the entire greek world was scared shitless of her, so maybe knock it off with all these tender waifs in flower crowns, artists of the last two thousand years for two solid hours."

(The Percy Jackson books are extremely neat, btw)

So cut to 2020, the year of shit, and here comes a game from one of my favorite studios of all time, about one of my favorite subjects of all time, and it's gorgeous and deep and full of stupid gay drama and the art melts my eyeballs and the voice acting (true to Supergiant tradition) is basically indistinguishable from foreplay. So I played it. I played the absolute balls off of it.

AND THEY'RE MAKING A SEQUEL, HOLY SHIT

so the Thing about Chthonic deities is the underworld really creeped the Ancient Greeks out, so there's not a lot of writing about them that has survived to the present day, since if they were worshipped it was usually by mystery cults or more in an avoidant "please please please don't notice me I've been a good boy please" kind of way.

Hence why our favorite bisexual softboi dreamboat Zagreus doesn't really feature much in the mythology, except he was probably an offshoot of Dionysus and usually got synchronized with him, Hades himself, or Mycenaen Poseidon. They make a joke about this in Hades, btw (they make a fucking JOKE SONG about in in Hades).

BUT DID YOU KNOW ZAGREUS HAD A SISTER!?

Her name is Melinoë, and she's also cited from very limited sources, but I want to show y'all the brilliant Apostolos Athansssakis' translation of one of the view sources we have, the Hymn to Melinoë:

I call upon Melinoë, saffron-cloaked nymph of the earth, whom revered Persephone bore by the mouth of the Kokytos river upon the sacred bed of Kronian Zeus. In the guise of Plouton Zeus tricked Persephone and through wiley plots bedded her; a two-bodied specter sprang forth from Persephone's fury. This specter drives mortals to madness with her airy apparitions as she appears in weird shapes and strange forms, now plain to the eye, now shadowy, now shining in the darkness— all this in unnerving attacks in the gloom of night. O goddess, O queen of those below, I beseech you to banish the soul's frenzy to the ends of the earth, show to the initiates a kindly and holy face.

My guess would be is that Supergiant will not have her be the child of Zeus under false pretenses (there's sources that indicate Zagreus is also a child of Zeus) but still. Dope. Rad as hell. Zag's baby sister is a twin-bodied goddess of nightmares and I am excited a normal amount.

Also Apollo is gonna be in this one, you guys.

Look at this magnificent pain-in-the-ass. I can already tell you he's going to be 10,000% annoying, and I am completely here for it.

#hades 2 #hades supergiant #greek mythology #zagreus #hope you guys are ready for more of this #this is literally what my stream of consciousness is 24/7

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

misconceptions

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader x bradley 'rooster' bradshaw (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, 'I'm God’s gift to women' thing.”

Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”

warnings- 18+ minors DNI, (& glen don't read this shit please i'm embarrassed), allusions to previous threesome (m/f/f), voyeurism, implied threesome (f/m/m), public teasing, you prob shouldn't fuck in cars while they're moving bc seat belts/safety but this is self indulgent so let me live, fingering, edging, crying, praise kink, oral (f receiving), soft dom bradley, not so soft (but not really mean) jake, light dumbification/ degradation/ something along those lines, brat tamer boys, established rooster x reader relationship

length- 3.7k idk why my pwp is like this god help me when i finish something that's more than banter & smut again it'll be a billion words

an- I WAS working on something that didn't have smut but then miles posted that fucking picture- blame him. so here we go again...I don't...know what this is and i actually kind of hate it but i need it out of my brain. I'm sure rooster x hangman x reader has been done to death but I made an allusion to it in up to no good and well. yeah. so technically this is a sequel to that but you don't need to read that first because any illusion of plot in this is just a means for smut. *hides and blushes like a slut*

I want to say the entire premise of this is crack but my guy friends have convos like this at the bar all the time so who knows. I mean it's still ridiculous but...idk also the working title of this was bob fucks even though he's not even it and I thought that was amusing

“Knockout, five o’clock,” Payback mutters, looking behind you and Jake. “Looks like she’s got her sights set on you, Seresin.”

Jake manages a quick look over his shoulder, smirking when he turns back around because she is, in fact, gorgeous and beelining straight for his side of the table.

He rolls his shoulders back and winks at the group. You make a fake gagging noise purely out of reflex and nothing else, you swear, contemplating going up to the bar for another drink just so you don’t have to bear witness to this. You’re about to get up when you catch a very feminine hand out of the corner of your eye, going to tap you lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey,” the girl says, sidling up to you and immediately turning her back to Jake. “Where’s Bradley?”

Oh.

“Still on base,” you reply, quickly smiling in recognition. “It’s good to see you, Ash, you look good.”

“I’ll say,” Ashley answers, eyeing you up and down. She raises an eyebrow when her gaze gets to the hem of your sundress that’s resting a little high on your thigh. “I’m in town for a few days, come find me later if he makes it up here tonight.”

You duck your head, fighting the blush rising up your neck. “Maybe, I’ll let you know.”

“Please do.” Ashley winks, running her hand down your arm to the inside of your wrist, just this side of too familiar. She gives you a quick squeeze with delicate fingers and you hope no one notices the goosebumps raising on your arms before she turns on her heel to disappear back into the crowd.

You stare decidedly at your beer after Ashley saunters away, feeling everyone’s eyes on you and wanting to avoid this conversation as long as possible.

When you finally look up Phoenix is clearly fighting back a giggle, but her eyes are directed to the right of you, at Hangman.

“What the fuck was that?” He finally croaks after a few beats of awkward silence, mouth dry.

Phoenix reaches over to smack him upside the head. “You can’t really be this stupid.”

Jake is pretty sure he isn’t but he’s also kind of thinks he might be having a stroke.

“Always thought you guys were so boring,” he says dumbly, mouth agape.

Phoenix sighs, like she can’t comprehend how she ended up surrounded by so little intelligence, leaning over again to close Jake’s jaw. “Don’t mind him, up until two minutes ago he thought you and Rooster only banged in missionary.”

You blink.

You can’t believe that just came out of her mouth so casually.

You’re going to kill Rooster for not being here to endure this with you.

“Why…have you been speculating about how Rooster and I fuck?” You ask finally, slowly, pretty sure you don’t want to know the answer. Lack of self-preservation makes you ask anyways.

“Well, there had to be some sort of explanation for why it’s so easy for you to rile him up,” Jake declares, voice going a little high.

Huh.

Terrible logic but you suppose that could’ve been worse.

Still. This is a discussion you have negative interest in having. In public. With all your friends right here. With Hangman, of all people.

“Can we talk about something else? Like, literally anything else?” You don't want to beg, but this entire conversation is making your leg twitch.

“Nope,” Payback answers immediately. “We need more information.”

“We have questions,” Fanboy concurs.

You want to crawl under the table.

“I have questions too,” you shoot back instead, figuring you'll try going on the offensive. “Why do you guys want to know about our sex life? Because I’ve heard way too much from your girlfriends and I now have to live with that horrifying knowledge for the rest of my life. Why would you want those details voluntarily?”

Phoenix hums in agreement and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to hug her.

“Is that right, sweets?” Jake grins, clearly having recovered somewhat.

“Not you, Jake," you shoot back. "Thank God you haven’t dated anyone long enough for me to become friends with her.”

You studiously do not mention that he’s probably the only one you might welcome salacious details about.

“Because the rest of us aren’t having threesomes,” Payback adds, ignoring the blonde. “We’re jealous.”

You cough, averting eye contact. “Well, some of you are.”

They’re all staring at you again and you shrug. “Look, Bob fucks, not my fault the rest of you don’t.”

Jake has hit Ctrl-Alt-Delete on his temporary recovery, chunked the laptop that operates his brain out the window, and is now definitely having a stroke.

“You…and Bob?”

You scrub your hand across your face, not sure how much more of this high-pitched Hangman you can handle tonight. It’s making you edgy. “Not with me. Keep it together, pretty boy.”

Normally, you’d rejoice in the slight pink tinge gracing Jake’s cheekbones when you call him pretty boy, in one upping Hangman for a second, even if you’re the only one that notices. Tonight, it only scatters anxiety through your bloodstream.

At this point you decide to just get up and leave the table. It’s probably for the best.

“Are you gonna make it?” Phoenix asks Jake after you’ve made your way to the bar.

“No,” he answers petulantly.

•••

Hangman looks decidedly more like his usual self lounging across from you and Rooster in the booth you've taken to hiding in and you're silently thanking the whiskey he's switched to for it.

He's a pain in the ass, sure, but when he's not bantering with you, you're not even sure what to do with him. Shrill is not a word you thought you'd ever have to use to describe him, you're practically trembling at the memory of it.

All that means you're smiling, a little wicked, while you lean into the warmth of Rooster’s body. “Don’t worry, Hang, no one expects you to have a threesome unless it’s with two other girls.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head and you bite back a snicker. Direct hit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

When you’re pretty sure you’re not going to laugh directly in his face, you wave your hand dismissively, hoping the wild hand gesture captures Jake’s whole air. “You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, ‘I’m God’s gift to women’ thing.”

Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”

“Twenty bucks your tongue is down some poor girls throat by the end of the night.”

“That’s called having game,” he retorts. “I’ll have you know I’m a very enlightened man. Good to know you pay so much attention to my conquests though, sweets.”

He winks and you immediately wonder why you were grateful for his mood shift.

“Conquests, seriously?” You fight back a gag. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Jake.”

You hope the use of his real name emphasizes your disappointment in him.

Rooster’s gaze is flitting back and forth between you two like he’s watching a tennis match, expression calculating. “I don’t know that I feel like calling Ashley tonight.”

Both of your mouths snap shut when you register what he just said.

Where did that come from?

“Well, that figures, little bird. I’m surprised you knew what to do with both of them the first time around.” Hangman grins around his glass before taking another sip of whiskey.

Rooster rolls his eyes, but otherwise waves off the dig. “I just think there’s something else princess might enjoy a little more.”

You immediately feel heat rising to your cheeks. That explains his abrupt timing.

“Rooster,” you manage to grit out, warning in your tone as you tighten your fingers on his thigh.

He ignores you, because he knows you. Knows what you secretly want, what you’re too embarrassed to say out loud, too proud to admit. If you weren't so busy being uncomfortable you'd have warmth spreading through your chest at the knowledge that he just wants to take care of you, give you what you need.

Rooster runs his hand up your bare thigh, playing with the hem of your dress, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you before immediately blowing a fuse in your willpower.

“Come on, baby," he murmurs. "Don’t you want to tell him what we talked about the other day? After the beach?”

Crimson is painting itself across your cheekbones, you’re sure of it.

Recognition crosses Hangman’s face and he clears his throat, which is suddenly dry.

“Talk about me a lot while you’re fucking your girl, Bradshaw?” He taunts, but there’s something thick in his voice, something rapidly glazing over his bright eyes.

“Rooster,” you say again, but this time it comes out a little whinier, a little more abashed.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Rooster soothes you, gentle and doting, because he always knows how to make you melt like butter. “I see how he looks at you.”

Hangman fiddles with the rim of his rocks glass, but he doesn’t deny it.

If you were more present in this moment, if you weren’t so distracted by the need suddenly, insistently thrumming through your body, by Rooster’s hand burning on your thigh; you might be amused at this role reversal, Rooster calm, collected and bordering on cocky, while Hangman shifts across from you, curiosity making him jumpy in his seat.

Rooster’s mustache tickles your cheek as he runs his mouth across you, mouth moving to latch onto the sensitive spot below your ear. Your lips part of their own accord as you feel him move his hand under the skirt of your dress, brushing his knuckles against where you’re already soaking through your panties.

Meeting the green eyes across from you feels hot like burning and you tuck your face into Rooster’s neck to hide from it, biting your lip to keep from letting out the truly obscene noise that’s bubbling in your chest. “Can we please go home, babe?”

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze, tilting his head in the direction of the man across from you. “That depends. Are you gonna be a good girl for him, baby?”

Well, Rooster certainly isn't waiting patiently on his perch tonight then, is he?

Your breath hitches, everything in your body going still for a moment when you hear him, before words come tumbling out of your mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes, I promise, Bradley, please,” you whine softly, fingers gripping the edge of his open shirt, looking for something, anything to keep you grounded.

“Jesus,” you hear faintly from the other side of the table. When you look up you catch Jake’s eyes, pupils blown so wide they’re practically black.

Your boyfriend’s lips twitch upwards, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s turned towards the blonde, while his fingers continue running up and down your clothed slit. “Gorgeous like this, isn’t she?”

“Christ, Bradshaw. Understatement of the year. What a nice surprise this is.”

“Only gets better the more you tease her,” he promises.

“I’m right here,” you protest, narrowing your eyes at the two men. You’re aiming for annoyed but you’re pretty sure the words come out petulant instead. If you were standing you might even stomp your foot.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you feeling a little ignored?” Bradley coos with a quick peck to your cheek, hint of condescension in his tone.

Jake shoots you a wicked grin, mischief lighting up his face. “Should’ve known you’d be a fuckin’ brat.”

“Bratty girls don’t deserve to get what they want, do they?” Bradley asks Jake, but his eyes are on you.

You pout, looking up at him and trying to look as cute as possible, hoping an innocent expression might get you out of this little predicament.

It usually works on Bradley, but Jake just snickers from his side of the booth.

“No, they don’t. Not sure they deserve to wear panties either.”

“The man makes a good point,” Bradley agrees, tearing his attention from your imploring eyes.

Distantly, you’re glad he’s angled his body to block you from the rest of the bar, because Bradley is working baby blue lace down your hips, lifting you slightly in the process, before settling you back down with your feet in Jake’s lap under the table.

Jake sends a cheeky wink your direction as his hand runs up the inside of your leg, squeezing your calf, then thigh in a way that could really only be described as affectionate, which sends shivers down your body right to your core. He pulls your panties the rest of the way down, letting you catch a glimpse of his fingers running over them before he puts them in his pocket.

“Drenched those, didn’t you darlin’?” He drawls, as he stares you dead in the eyes and licks your slick from his fingers.

Your mouth drops open of its own accord and before you even have a chance to recover you feel fingers pressing against your bundle of nerves. Thankfully, Bradley kisses you a moment later, swallowing the moan that leaves your lips. “Shh, we don’t want everyone to hear, do we?”

“Fuck, she’d probably like that, wouldn't she?”

You blink slowly, eyes struggling to focus as they move between the two men.

Bradley smirks. “Poor baby, lost your words already?”

Your brain has been wiped clean so you can only mewl quietly in response.

“Think she might be obedient enough to go, now,” Jake offers.

You’re pretty sure you look drunk as you stumble outside, Bradley supporting you with an arm around your waist, nearly carrying you out.

When you reach the car, he turns to deposit you into the other man's arms. “Just don’t let her come till we get home, yeah?”

Jake grins. “Sure thing, Bradshaw.”

The moment you’re in the back of the Bronco Jake is all over you, pulling you in for a rough kiss.

He manhandles you onto his lap, pulling your back against his front as his hand slides up to your jaw, forcing your attention to Bradley in the driver’s seat.

You meet Bradley’s stare in the rearview mirror, and he grins, clearly enjoying how debauched you look in Jake’s lap, as much as he can while driving, anyways. Your mouth parts as Jake trails his down the side of your neck, across your shoulder, leaving red bite marks as he goes.

You’re thinking about how powerful Jake looks behind you, completely unbothered by your boyfriend’s eyes constantly darting from the road to the mirror to watch you both, when his hand slides underneath your dress, bunching it up and out of his way, leaving you bare against his pants.

“Fuck,” Jake groans, fingers flicking expertly at your entrance. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but blush, head ducking down as you focus on the wispy material of your dress falling haphazardly off your chest, breaking your gaze from the front of the car.

“Jake,” you whimper, grinding back onto his lap.

He clucks a noise of disapproval and your stomach rolls unpleasantly at the idea that you’ve disappointed him already. “Let him watch your pretty mouth moan my name, sugar.”

You snap your head back up at his words, rushing to comply, rushing to be good, only to meet cheeky, dark eyes in the mirror. Your mouth drops open as Jake eases a finger into you, gaze fixed on Bradley as heat washes over you.

Jake adds another finger, and then twists, while his thumb rubs insistent figure eights along your aching clit. If you had any sense, you might be bashful at how your legs are already shaking where they’re bracketed around his.

You vaguely remember Bradley’s instructions before getting in the car, but you can’t help the pleading falling from your lips anyways.

“Wanna come, Jake, please, please, need it,” you whine, squirming in his lap, on his fingers, against the bruising hold his other hand has on your hip. You can’t get comfortable, can’t stop moving, it’s not enough, you need more.

He chuckles, the sound mocking, bordering on mean, and you can’t help but shudder at the way it shoots heat right through you.

“I could let you come all over my fingers,” he muses languidly, pressing slow circles on your clit, like you have all the time in the world in the back of Bradley’s bronco. The yes, please, is on the tip of your tongue when he continues, words hot in your ear. “Or I could edge you with my mouth until you cry.”

You and Bradley suck in simultaneous sharp breaths at Jake’s words and you can practically feel the amusement radiating from him.

“Sweetheart, you gonna tell me what you want?”

You’re biting your lip to keep the obscene noises threatening to tear from you muffled, teeth so tight on your swollen lip you’re surprised you haven’t drawn blood.

His fingers still after a few torturous seconds of you attempting to remember how to make decisions. You could do that, at one point in your life, you think.

“Asked you a question.”

Frustrated, your eyebrows knit together as you try to form words. “Jake.”

He grazes his teeth across your neck, and you can feel that infamous smirk against your skin. “As pretty as you sound saying it, my name is not the answer.”

“I…fuck, Jake, I don’t—” you mewl brokenly, hands going to his arms, pushing, gripping, hoping you can get him to move again, give you what you need.

“Seem to remember you promising you’d be good for me.” Jake continues, as if you haven’t spoken at all and there’s a steely edge in his tone that sends another wave of heat straight to your core.

“Sorry, sorry, Jake please, sorry, can be, I swear,” you babble. Your voice sounds foreign to you, high and whiny like it might crack and break if you don’t get his approval.

“Be a good girl and tell me what you want, then.”

You’re flushing with embarrassment at this, you know what you want, but it doesn’t make your cheeks flame any less to have to admit it. “Your mouth, please, Jake need your mouth on me…”

“Good choice, darlin’,” he murmurs, lifting you up and laying you down on your back as he bends to put your legs over his shoulders, kneeling impossibly in the backseat. “Knew a slutty little thing like you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were wrecked.”

He must be really flexible, you think helplessly, before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit and drives every other remaining thought from your body.

He works those thick fingers into you again, curling them at the same time he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

Your back arches involuntarily, stars suddenly dancing across your vision. Worked up as you are he brings you to the edge quickly, and you stupidly think he might actually let you go over.

Just as your whines are hitting their crescendo, just when you’re so close you can practically taste it—he pulls back, mouth suddenly moving down your hip, away from where you want him, fingers retreating to leave you clenching around nothing. The noise you make in response is obscenely close to a wail, bringing tears to your eyes.

You blink them back hard, determined not to let Jake win so quickly.

He nips the inside of your thigh, making you spasm in surprise. As soon as you’ve come down from the sheer disappointment and not a second later, he’s back on you, lips and fingers working determinedly to wind you up again.

Jake continues his little routine, one, two, three more times until you’re sobbing, unable to hold the tears back as they leak from the corners of your eyes. Your hands are tight in his hair, trying to keep his mouth on you, terrified of him stopping and leaving you frustrated and aching again.

Hazily, you’re aware that the car isn’t moving anymore, that if you turn your head a little to the left you can see Bradley biting his lips and white knuckling the steering wheel, eyes fixed on you in the mirror still. That there’s nonsense pouring from your mouth in between the cries, as you writhe against Jake’s face, I need, Jake please, please, I can’t, Jakejakejake, I—

“You can let go for him, baby.” You hear Bradley’s deep voice cutting through the fog in your mind.

His words tingle across your skin, at the tip of every nerve ending, as your muscles start contracting, giving in to what you’ve been begging for since you got in the car. It crashes into you, an avalanche rumbling through your body, back arching in a moment of pure perfection. And all that’s left is a glowing, fuzzy feeling, warmth spreading through your chest like you just finished a shot of whiskey.

“Jesus,” Jake whispers as you come down, mouth trailing softly up your stomach, your chest and across your jaw, to brush your lips. “Fuck, sweetheart, such a good girl for me.” His words are muffled as you taste the tang of yourself on his mouth and wrecked as you are you still preen at his praise.

The driver’s side door opens and shuts with a definitive thud, pulling you and Jake out of your stupor. He gives you one last peck before dragging your dress back down, although you suffer from no misconceptions that it’ll help you look any less debauched.

You let yourself be tugged out of the car and into Jake’s arms, limbs leaden and slow on your way to your front door as your brain catches up with your body. You list against him, eyes fluttering closed as Bradley digs around for his keys. Once he opens the door he turns to you, smirking at the dazed expression washed over your features, the lazy blinks as you try to focus your eyes.

“Aw, baby, you can’t be tired already,” Bradley coos, reaching up to hold your face and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, wiping away any errant tears. “We’re just getting started.”

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