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theetherealbloom · 29 days ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.3

Chapter Three: The Air Buzzes Whenever You're Near

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: HEHEHEHEHE. Yes, this fic is basically a slice of life, low stakes, and all-around good vibes. Eventually, there will be some drama but nothing too heartbreaking… maybe… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Magnets by NIKI

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY MORNING

The soft hum of your phone vibrating roused you from the haze of sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the dim light of the TV still playing softly in the background.

Your hand instinctively reached out to grab your phone from where it had slipped to the floor beside the couch. As you shifted, something warm and solid tightened around your waist.

Oh.

Oh no.

Your breath hitched as the realization settled over you like a weight. Pedro’s arm was draped across you, his body pressed against yours, radiating warmth. Your head had somehow found its way to the crook of his shoulder, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against your side told you he was still asleep.

Oh God.

Carefully, you reached down to grab your phone without disturbing him. Your thumb brushed across the screen to silence the alarm, and you winced when you saw the time: 4:30 a.m. Far too early to be awake but late enough to question how this even happened.

Your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of it. You’d been watching a movie—something quiet and low-energy, just as you’d requested. You vaguely remembered leaning back against the couch, your body growing heavier with sleep. But you hadn’t expected to wake up like this, tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Pedro stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his lips as he adjusted his arm around you, pulling you even closer. Your breath caught, panic and something else—something warmer—bubbling to the surface.

Do I move? Do I stay? Oh, this is bad. Or is it good? Your thoughts raced, but your body refused to cooperate, frozen in place as if the universe had hit pause on this moment.

A faint smile tugged at Pedro’s lips, even in sleep. His face was softer like this, the usual teasing edge replaced by something peaceful. It wasn’t fair, you thought, how he managed to look so effortlessly handsome even now.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. Carefully, you began to shift, attempting to untangle yourself without waking him. But as soon as you moved, his arm tightened again, and this time, his eyes fluttered open.

“Mm, what time is it?” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

You froze, caught in the act. “Uh, it’s... early. Like, really early.”

Pedro blinked a few times, his gaze slowly focusing on you. And then, as if realizing the position you were both in, a sleepy grin spread across his face.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice still thick and low, “this is a nice way to wake up.”

Your cheeks burned. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax,” he interrupted softly, his eyes twinkling despite the early hour. “I’m not complaining.”

You stared at him, caught between embarrassment and the inexplicable urge to laugh. “Pedro...”

He stretched slightly, his arm finally loosening its hold on you, though he made no move to pull away entirely. “You fell asleep first,” he said, his tone teasing now. “I just... went with it.”

You let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking your head. “This is so unprofessional,” you muttered, though there was no real weight behind the words.

Pedro smirked, sitting up slightly but still close enough that you could feel his warmth. “Guess we’ll just have to keep it a secret,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Our little... accidental cuddle.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving into a smile. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.

“And yet,” he countered, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart stumble, “here you are.”

The air between you shifted then, the teasing fading into something quieter, something unspoken but undeniable. For a moment, neither of you moved, the world outside the suite forgotten.

And then, because it felt safer than facing whatever this was, you stood, clutching your phone like a lifeline. “I need coffee,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze as you made your way to the kitchenette.

Pedro watched you retreat into the kitchenette, his easygoing grin fading into something thoughtful. He stretched lazily, his hair still mussed from sleep, before following you at his own unhurried pace.

You were already fussing with the hotel’s coffee machine when he appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like he belonged there. “You know, you’re very intense about your coffee for someone who just woke up,” he teased, his voice warm and teasing.

You startled slightly, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I need caffeine to survive this,” you muttered, your words a little too sharp, betraying just how tightly wound you felt.

Pedro quirked an eyebrow. “This? What exactly is this?”

You didn’t answer right away, turning your attention back to the machine and praying it would brew faster. “Nothing,” you said finally, though your tone was anything but convincing.

He stepped further into the kitchenette, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to spook you. “Is it the early morning? Or... could it be that you’re stuck sharing a suite with me?”

You froze, clutching the edge of the counter. His voice held that teasing lilt you’d come to associate with him, but there was something softer underneath it, something that made your stomach flip in a way you were trying very hard to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your tone made it sound like you were anything but.

Pedro chuckled, and the sound was low and warm, filling the small space between you. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. He was standing closer now, his dark eyes studying you with a mix of amusement and something else—something you couldn’t quite name.

“I just—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. How were you supposed to tell him that sharing a suite with him, waking up next to him, was a level of surreal you weren’t prepared for? That he wasn’t just Pedro to you; he was Pedro Pascal, your literal celebrity crush and the man who’d unintentionally been making your life both thrilling and impossibly complicated?

“I’m just trying not to embarrass myself,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pedro’s grin softened into something gentler, something almost fond. “You’re doing fine,” he said simply.

Before you could respond, the coffee machine beeped, signaling it was done. You practically lunged for the cup, desperate for something—anything—to do with your hands.

Pedro didn’t push you further, but as you handed him a mug of coffee without meeting his gaze, he murmured, “For what it’s worth, I like having you around.”

Your heart gave a traitorous little leap at his words, but you forced yourself to nod, mumbling a quiet “Thanks” before retreating back into your room to get ready.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY

The car ride to work was tense—at least for you. Pedro, of course, seemed completely unbothered, chatting with the driver and making the occasional attempt to draw you into the conversation. But all you could manage were one-word answers, your mind too busy overthinking everything about the morning.

Once you arrived on set, you threw yourself into your work, doing your best to stay out of Pedro’s way. Which was easier said than done, considering he seemed to have made it his mission to seek you out every chance he got.

“Hey, everything okay?” he’d ask in-between takes, his dark eyes scanning your face like he could read your thoughts.

“Yep, totally fine,” you’d reply, before darting off to find something—anything—else to do.

By lunchtime, you were exhausted. You slumped into a chair in the corner of the break area, picking at your food while scrolling aimlessly on your phone.

“Who are you hiding from?” Daisy’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you. She plopped down in the chair across from you, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth as she gave you a curious look. “You’ve been acting weird all morning.”

“No one,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly, because Daisy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Oh, really?” she drawled, leaning forward with a knowing smirk. “Does this have anything to do with a certain actor you spent the night with?”

Your face went hot, and you nearly choked on your drink. “I—what? No! It’s not like that!”

Daisy’s smirk only grew. “Uh-huh. Sure. You’re just blushing like crazy for no reason.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Daisy said lightly, leaning back in her chair. “Pedro seems pretty into you, you know.”

Your head shot up, your eyes wide. “What?”

She shrugged, biting into another piece of fruit. “I’m just saying, he keeps looking at you like you hung the moon. It’s cute, really.”

You shook your head, trying to brush off her words, but the flutter in your chest told you it wasn’t that simple.

And as if on cue, Pedro walked into the break area, his gaze immediately landing on you. He smiled, that easy, disarming smile that made your knees weak, and started making his way over.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, sinking lower into your chair.

“Good luck,” Daisy whispered with a grin, grabbing her tray and leaving you alone just as Pedro reached your table.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and casual, as if he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive. “Mind if I join you?”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all that came out was a soft, barely audible, “Sure.”

Pedro sat down across from you, his eyes twinkling with that same unreadable expression that always made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.

“So,” he said, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned forward slightly. “Why have you been avoiding me all day?”

And just like that, your heart was racing again, because of course he noticed. Of course he did.

Pedro’s question lingered in the air, heavy with curiosity and a touch of concern. He tilted his head slightly, watching you like he had all the time in the world to wait for your response. His fingers drummed idly against the table, a subtle rhythm that matched the uneven beat of your heart.

“I… Um…” you stammered, feeling like your words were stuck somewhere in your throat.

Pedro’s brow furrowed, and his expression softened. “Did I make you uncomfortable last night?” he asked, his voice quiet and laced with genuine worry. “I’m so sorry if I did—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, your voice rushing out faster than your brain could keep up. You waved your hands slightly, as if trying to erase the idea entirely. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”

You trailed off, feeling the weight of his gaze. Pedro didn’t push, didn’t fill the silence with reassurances or jokes like he usually did. He simply waited, his head still resting on his hand, his warm brown eyes encouraging you to keep going.

Taking a deep breath, you clenched your hands together in your lap, as if grounding yourself. “I’m just… I can’t believe you really want me around,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like you actually want to be friends with me. It seems so…”

“Unreal?” Pedro finished for you, his lips curving into a soft smile.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Exactly. Unreal. I mean, you’re you—a ridiculously talented actor, charming, funny, and so... well, famous. And I’m just... me. I keep waiting for the moment you’ll realize I don’t belong in your world.”

Pedro blinked at you, his expression flickering between surprise and something deeper—something that made your chest ache in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

He sat up straight, his hand reaching across the table, stopping just short of yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. “First of all, you’re not just anything. You’re smart, talented, funny as hell, and honestly, one of the most grounded people I’ve ever met. That’s a big deal in this industry, you know.”

You looked up at him, startled by the earnestness in his tone. “Pedro…”

“And second,” he continued, leaning a little closer, “I do want you around. Not because of some weird celebrity power imbalance or whatever you think this is. I want you around because you make my days better. You make me laugh. You make everything feel... lighter.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you had to look away before your emotions spilled over completely. You focused on the half-eaten piece of fruit on your plate, blinking rapidly. “You don’t have to say that,” you murmured.

“I’m not saying it because I have to,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

When you finally dared to meet his eyes again, you saw nothing but sincerity staring back at you. It was the kind of sincerity that made your carefully constructed walls feel like they were made of paper.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady.

Pedro smiled then—a real, heart-stopping smile that lit up his entire face. “Okay,” he echoed, sitting back in his chair with a satisfied nod.

The tension between you eased, replaced by something warmer, something fragile but promising. And for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Pedro saw something in you worth sticking around for.

“Now,” he said, breaking the moment with a playful grin, “can we please talk about how you were about to burn that coffee machine this morning? Because I have questions.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as he chuckled, the sound wrapping around you like a familiar melody. And just like that, the world felt a little less overwhelming, and Pedro felt a little more like home.

The afternoon passed in a blur of tasks, and now, you found yourself walking toward the makeup trailer, your phone clutched tightly in your hand as you prepared to fetch Pedro for his next scene.

You knocked lightly before stepping inside, the scent of hairspray and setting powder filling the air. Pedro was lounging in the makeup chair, eyes closed as Andrea Cracknell, the key hair and makeup supervisor, gave his hair a final tousle. Suzanne Harper, one of the main hair and makeup artists, was touching up the edges of his beard with careful precision.

The warm glow of vanity bulbs cast a golden hue over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the soft crinkles near his eyes.

Dara Hannon, the daily hair and makeup trainee, glanced up and grinned as you stepped in. “Ah, there’s our favorite ray of sunshine,” she said, setting down a brush. “You always look so put together. How do you do it?”

You laughed, heat creeping up your neck. “Trust me, I don’t. I just hide it well.”

“She doesn’t need to hide anything,” Pedro murmured, cracking one eye open. His voice was smooth, laced with something teasing but warm. “She’s effortlessly stunning.”

You felt your brain short-circuit.

From across the room, Samanta, one of the junior makeup artists, let out a low whistle. “Damn, Pedro. You don’t hold back, do you?”

Chloë Pyne—one of the main team hair and makeup artists—smirked, tilting her head as she studied you. “He’s right, though. You have one of those naturally pretty faces. Like, the kind that doesn’t need much makeup.”

Pedro hummed in agreement, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long. “See? Told you.”

You waved them off, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Okay, okay—enough. I came to get you, not to hear you guys exaggerate.”

Pedro grinned. “We’re not exaggerating. You just don’t take compliments well.”

“I take them fine,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but him.

He chuckled, stretching his arms as he stood from the chair, towering over you. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Your stomach flipped, and you wanted to sink into the ground. “Pedro—”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Yes?”

You huffed, turning on your heel. “Come on, you’re needed on set.”

Pedro chuckled behind you, his footsteps light and easy as he followed. Just before you stepped out of the makeup trailer, his hand brushed against your arm—barely there, a whisper of contact—but it sent a ripple of heat up your spine. You swallowed hard, pretending not to notice, pretending your stomach wasn’t doing ridiculous little flips at the way his presence lingered so close behind you.

By the time you reached the sound stage, the energy on set had shifted.

“There she is!” Vanessa beamed the second she spotted you, setting her script down to stride over. “Finally. The only competent person around here.”

You snorted. “I think that’s an insult to literally everyone else.”

Vanessa grinned. “And yet, somehow, they’ll survive.”

Before you could respond, Joseph and Ebon chimed in from where they were going over their lines.

“Thank God, I thought Pedro kidnapped you,” Joseph teased, crossing his arms with a smirk. “We were about to send a search party.”

Ebon shook his head. “Nah, he would’ve kept her hidden all day.” He gave Pedro a pointed look. “You’ve been hovering.”

Pedro scoffed. “I don’t hover.”

Vanessa snorted. “You so do.”

You stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, unsure how to defend yourself—or Pedro, for that matter—when another familiar voice called out.

“Ah, the prodigal assistant returns!”

You turned to see Jess Hall, the first AD, grinning as he strolled over, script in hand. “Seriously, where have you been? I swear the set runs smoother when you’re around.”

“I… I’ve been doing my job?” you offered weakly.

Jess huffed a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, keep being humble, we love that.”

Before you could protest, Matt—the director—walked up, arms crossed, surveying the growing crowd around you with an arched brow.

“So…” he mused. “Am I missing something? Because the way everyone gravitates toward you makes me think you might actually be running this set.”

You blinked. “Uh—no? I mean, I just… I don’t know, I just do my job like everyone else.”

Matt squinted at you like he didn’t quite buy that, but he just hummed and glanced at Pedro. “You keeping her distracted, or is she keeping you distracted?”

Pedro grinned. “Bit of both.”

Your brain stalled.

Matt shook his head, muttering something about actors before waving a hand. “Alright, let’s go, people. Back to work before I regret hiring all of you.”

As the cast dispersed, Pedro leaned in, voice low, warm. “See? Told you everyone likes you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Pedro’s laughter rumbled beside you, rich and warm.

“Why are you like this?” you muttered, voice muffled against your palms.

He tilted his head, smirking. “Like what?”

“You know what.”

Pedro simply grinned, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, as if he wasn’t single-handedly unraveling your ability to function like a normal human being.

There was a steady thrum in the air whenever he was close—something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt. It was impossible not to.

It crackled between you when you stood side by side, almost magnetic.

And when your fingers brushed, even just for a second? Electric.

You pulled your hand away as if burned, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you tensed. But of course, he did. Pedro always noticed. His gaze flickered down to where your hands had been, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing. “Someone might think you like me or something.”

You sucked in a sharp breath and, without thinking, smacked his arm.

Pedro just laughed, dodging the second playful hit you aimed at him before finally relenting, his hands raised in surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave,” he promised, though his smirk said otherwise.

With a final glare, you turned and threw yourself into work, desperate for some sense of normalcy.

The next few hours passed in a blur of controlled chaos—wardrobe changes, prop resets, last-minute adjustments. You did your job like clockwork, moving through set with practiced efficiency. Fetching cast members, tracking schedule updates, and ensuring things ran as smoothly as possible.

Your friends worked nearby, their presence grounding you amidst the constant hum of production. But despite the familiarity of routine, you felt off-kilter.

Every time you caught sight of Pedro—laughing with the cast, deep in conversation with Matt, even just sitting between takes, flipping through a script—your stomach did that thing.

The stupid fluttery thing.

By the time filming wrapped for the day, you were both exhausted and wired, your brain still buzzing with the day’s events.

You found yourself huddled in a loose circle with some of the PAs and crew, all of you packing up while chatting, the easy rhythm of conversation filling the space.

Daisy elbowed you playfully. “So, how’s your day been? You seemed a little… frazzled earlier.”

You cleared your throat, focusing very intently on coiling a stray cable. “Just… tired.”

Jordan snorted into his coffee. “You’re such a bad liar.” He raised a brow. “Let me guess—Pedro?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

The entire group cackled.

“Yeah, thought so.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumbled, hugging your clipboard to your chest like it might somehow shield you from their knowing smirks.

“Oh, sure,” Lucy drawled, her smirk downright devious. “It’s not like the man literally gravitates toward you every chance he gets.”

“That’s just how he is!” you argued, feeling heat creep up your neck.

Daisy hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“You guys are insufferable.” You crossed your arms, trying and failing to suppress your flustered expression.

Jordan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. We’ll drop it. For now.”

As the conversation flowed, the tension you’d been holding onto all day slowly unwound. Someone cracked a joke about a prop malfunction earlier, and you found yourself laughing, the sound blending into the hum of easy chatter around you.

“Okay, but did you see the way the fake blood exploded everywhere?” Daisy wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.

Jordan shook his head, still grinning. “Poor props department. That cleanup looked brutal.”

Lucy snickered. “I swear, Matt almost had a stroke.”

You smiled, the stress of the day fading into the background. It was moments like this that made the long hours worth it—these small pockets of joy, of shared experiences.

Then, like clockwork, he entered the periphery of your awareness.

Pedro’s laughter rang out from somewhere behind you, low and familiar. The sound curled through your chest like a flickering ember, and before you could stop yourself, you turned slightly—just enough to catch sight of him.

He was leaning against one of the equipment carts, deep in conversation with Matt, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. But then, as if he could sense you looking, his gaze flicked up—searching, landing squarely on you.

And suddenly, it was just the two of you.

Your breath hitched.

Pedro’s smile softened, his eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners. He lifted a brow, like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.

You tore your gaze away, your face burning, heart hammering against your ribs.

“Yup. She’s gone,” Jordan muttered, loud enough for only the group to hear.

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

Daisy cackled. “Oh my God, you’re so screwed.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands as the laughter around you grew.

Maybe you were screwed.

Because, try as you might to ignore it, that pull—the steady thrum of something unspoken, something undeniable—was getting harder and harder to resist.

You quickly said goodbye to your friends as they boarded the shuttle back to their hotel, the last remnants of laughter lingering in the air. The set had mostly cleared out, leaving only a few crew members finishing up and the cast slowly trickling out of their trailers. You tucked your arms around yourself, the night air cool against your skin as you waited for the others, your thoughts still buzzing from the day.

Then—warm hands.

A firm, sudden weight against your back.

You barely had time to process it before you were lifted off the ground.

A startled squeal left your lips as Pedro spun you effortlessly, laughter rumbling in his chest. “Gotcha,” he murmured near your ear, his voice thick with amusement.

“Pedro!” you gasped, swatting at his hands, but you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that followed.

He finally set you down, his arms still loosely around your shoulders, and when you turned to glare up at him, he had the audacity to grin—full, boyish, utterly unrepentant.

“You didn’t even hear me coming,” he teased, giving your shoulders a playful squeeze before finally stepping back.

“You ambushed me,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “I almost had a heart attack.”

Pedro smirked. “I’d apologize, but your little scream was too cute.”

Your face burned. “You’re insufferable.”

Before he could respond, you heard stifled giggles from nearby.

You glanced up just in time to spot Coco, Vanessa, Joseph, and Ebon approaching, all of them watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“Oh, don’t stop on our account,” Vanessa quipped, smirking.

Coco nudged Joseph with her elbow, grinning. “Are we interrupting something?”

Pedro, ever the shameless one, just threw an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Not at all,” he said easily, then glanced down at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Unless you think we were?”

You glared at him, resisting the urge to shove him away—because knowing him, he’d just make a bigger scene.

Instead, you turned to the group, feigning exasperation. “Can someone please save me from him?”

Ebon just laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. You’re on your own, kid.”

Your stomach did an unfair little flip as Pedro pulled you closer, his warmth seeping into you despite the cool night air.

And the worst part?

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be saved.

Pedro’s arm was still draped lazily around your shoulders, his body warm against yours, the scent of his cologne lingering—something woodsy, something undeniably him. You willed yourself to ignore the way your pulse picked up, to pretend your skin wasn’t tingling from the casual intimacy of it.

Vanessa arched a brow, arms crossed as she watched the two of you with blatant amusement. “What are you doing just standing out here?” she asked, tilting her head. “You could’ve knocked at my trailer.”

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath Pedro’s hold. “I, uh—” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t have your guys’ numbers, so I just thought I’d wait near the trailers.”

Coco gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “You mean none of us thought to give you our numbers?” She turned to the others, looking genuinely offended. “What kind of monsters are we?”

Ebon chuckled. “Okay, okay, let’s fix this.” He pulled out his phone and waggled it in front of you. “Give me your number, we’ll add you to the group chat.”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed. You had kept a certain level of professional distance with the cast—sure, you’d exchanged pleasantries, worked alongside them, shared the occasional laugh—but this? Being included like this?

Pedro, still pressed close, must have sensed your hesitation because he squeezed your shoulder lightly, his voice softer this time. “Told ya,” he murmured, just for you. “We like having you around.”

Your chest tightened.

Before you could overthink it, you rattled off your number, and within seconds, your phone buzzed with a message from an unfamiliar group chat.

Coco grinned. “Welcome to the chaos.”

Joseph laughed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you just signed up for.”

You looked down at your phone, at the flood of messages already rolling in—Vanessa sending a series of emojis, Ebon dropping a meme, Pedro sending a voice note that was probably nonsense.

A warmth spread through you.

Maybe you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be saved.

But you were sure of one thing.

You didn’t mind being pulled deeper into this.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

Turns out, everyone was exhausted. Some opted for room service, others had plans to meet up with friends in the city. The once lively group slowly dwindled, leaving you and Pedro lingering near the car.

Without a word, he reached for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder like it was second nature.

You blinked up at him. “Pedro—”

“I got it,” he said easily, already heading toward the car.

You huffed but didn’t argue, too tired to put up much of a fight.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, the streets of London painted in golden hues from the setting sun. Pedro, ever so casually, turned to you.

“Do you wanna go out for dinner?” he asked. “Or we could just order room service.”

You shrugged, watching the buildings blur past the window. “I don’t mind either way. It’s up to you.”

Pedro hummed as if considering his options, but he didn’t push for an answer right away.

When you arrived at the hotel, the two of you walked through the dimly lit hallway to your floor. The plush carpet muffled your steps, the air between you thick with something unspoken—comfortable, warm, charged.

At your door, you kicked off your shoes, swapping them for the soft hotel slippers. Pedro did the same, toeing off his boots before setting your bag down on the small table in the suite’s living area.

“You didn’t have to carry that, you know,” you told him, watching as he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up slightly.

He smirked, that lazy, insufferably charming smirk. “I didn’t have to,” he echoed. “But I wanted to.”

Your stomach did a flip.

You swallowed, folding your arms as if that might steady you. “Well… thanks.”

He shot you a wink. “Anytime, cariño.”

After flipping through the room service menu, you both settled on an easy dinner—something warm and filling without the hassle of going out. Quickly calling the food service on the landline, the order was placed, and as you sank into the plush couch, stretching your legs, you sighed.

"During the weekend, I’ll probably go grocery shopping," you mused aloud. "Ordering room service and eating out every day is going to burn through my savings if I keep this up." You glanced at Pedro. "So, I’ll stock up on food in the pantry if I’m still, y'know… here. In your suite."

Pedro, who had been casually leaning against the armrest of the couch, stilled. His expression shifted from amused to something unreadable. "Why?" His brows furrowed. "Where are you going?"

You blinked at him, confused for a second. "Uh… the front desk said they might have a room for me by next week, remember?"

"Oh." His lips parted slightly, but he didn't say anything else.

You watched the way his fingers tapped idly against his knee, as if the thought of you moving out hadn’t quite registered until now. There was something oddly endearing about the way his frown deepened. Like he didn’t like the idea of you not being here anymore.

Before you could think too much about it, you cleared your throat, shifting the conversation. "Anyway," you said lightly, folding your arms over your chest, "you guys did great today on set."

Pedro’s eyes flickered back to yours, and just like that, his easy grin returned.

"Yeah?" He leaned in slightly, resting his forearm against the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Any specific compliments, or just a general ‘you guys did great’ kind of thing?"

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at his teasing. "Oh, I definitely had specific compliments." You tapped your chin, pretending to think. "Vanessa was incredible, Joseph absolutely killed his scene, Ebon had amazing delivery—"

Pedro gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Wow. So, I just… I don’t even make the list?"

You bit back a laugh. "I mean… you were fine."

"Fine?" he repeated, eyes narrowing playfully.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Serviceable. Passable. Not bad."

Pedro let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back against the couch. "Unbelievable. Here I was, thinking you were my biggest fan."

You giggled, nudging his knee with your foot. "You’ll survive."

He peeked at you from beneath his lashes, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I guess I will."

The warmth in his voice made your breath hitch. You quickly looked away, pretending to check your phone as the sound of the hotel staff knocking on the door saved you from whatever moment you’d just stumbled into.

Pedro stood up to grab the food, but not before murmuring, just low enough for you to hear—

"But it’d be a hell of a lot easier if you stuck around."

And just like that, the butterflies were back.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE NIGHT

The scent of warm food filled the suite as you both settled onto the couch, the soft glow of the television flickering against the dimly lit room. Pedro had absentmindedly put on a movie, something familiar and easy to watch—though neither of you seemed particularly focused on it. The conversation flowed naturally between bites of food, soft laughter filling the quiet spaces in between.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Pedro asked, “So… no special someone waiting for you back home?”

You froze mid-bite, your fork hovering near your lips. It wasn’t the question itself that threw you off—it was the way he asked it. Casual, like it was just another topic of conversation, but there was something in his voice. A quiet curiosity. A weight that made your stomach flip.

You swallowed and shook your head. “Nope,” you said simply. “It’s just me.”

Pedro hummed, nodding slowly as he chewed. “Huh.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your plate down on the coffee table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked, tilting his head toward you. “Nothing. Just surprised.”

You scoffed. “Surprised how?”

He took his time answering, setting his own plate aside before stretching his arm along the back of the couch. His fingers drummed lightly against the cushion behind you, close enough that if you leaned back just a little, you’d brush against them.

“I don’t know.” He exhaled, gaze flickering to the screen before finding you again. “You’re funny, smart, kind—"

Your eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you’re about to say something insulting.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I was gonna say, I just don’t get how someone like you is single.”

A warmth crept up your neck, and you quickly picked up your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering right away. Your heartbeat thrummed a little too fast, a little too loud.

“I don’t know,” you murmured finally, voice quieter now. “Relationships just… never worked out for me, I guess.”

Pedro studied you for a moment, his usual playful expression softening. He didn’t push, didn’t ask for more. Instead, he just nodded, accepting your answer without prying.

And then—because the air was starting to feel too heavy—you smirked. “What about you? No special someone waiting for you?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Nah. It’s just me, too.”

Your lips twitched. “Well, that is surprising.”

Pedro groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “Oh, come on—”

You laughed, nudging his leg with your foot. “I’m just saying! You’re charming, talented, kind of a big deal—”

“Kind of?” He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense.

You grinned. “Kind of.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath about how unbelievable you were, but there was a smile playing at his lips.

And just like that, the weight in the air lightened again, the conversation slipping back into something easy. The movie played on, mostly forgotten, and the two of you sat there, side by side—closer than before, shoulders brushing every now and then.

Neither of you moved away.

End Notes:

OOOOOHHHH?!?! Things are heating up??? Or maybe it’s literally nothing at all and it’s all in your head 😃✊

OOF— you might stop sharing the suite at the end of the week? Oh naur T^T

Thank you all for the lovely words and comments that ya’ll keep leaving on each chapter. It warms my heart and gives me fuzzy feelings that make me dizzy AAAAAAHHH

Mfs, I’m posting this while I’m outside at a club LOL

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader series #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedropascal #pedro pascal art #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrito #pedrostories #pedro pascal x reader masterlist #pedro pascal imagine

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

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Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Headcanons and Scenarios

Am I back with baby fever? I mean yeah but this is less baby fever and more if Husband!Simon in honor of my first ever post that reached 1k likes in 4 days. Also you guys know Ghostie by now right? @connorsui mentioned that she wonders how Ghost and the reader met, guess who's writing about that?

Edit: SHIT, THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR SO LONG AND I FORGOT TO ADD CREDIT, I'M SO SORRY. The render above is by @ave661

Taglist: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @theredurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb

Also @puff0o0, my most favorite moot has helped me come up with how they met, UGH ILYYY <333

My CoD Masterlist <3

Warnings/Disclaimers: Reader is pregnant, sick!Reader, mentions of vomiting (not detailed), pain of birth and all the other pregnancy warnings out there. (Extreme fluff)

❥ Husband!Simon who had no fucking clue how to react when you first told him you got pregnant, I mean he knew at some point it would happen but not this soon?!

❥ Husband!Simon who in your early stages of pregnancy was the one holding your hair up while you empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet most mornings. He was the one who had a warm hand gently rubbing up and down your back while mumbling light encouragements, careful not to agitate you from the sickening feeling.

❥ Husband!Simon who was gradually getting the hang of things, getting clingier the further into the pregnancy. Once the baby bump comes in, bye bye personal space, Dad!Simon needs to have his hand on the bump no less than 10 times a day.

❥ Husband!Simon who is a sucker for kissing the baby bump, especially your stretch marks. He will be more gentle if you ask him to because your ticklish, but don't expect none of his stuble.

❥ Husband!Simon whose breath hitches when you took his large calloused hand onto your baby bump and felt movement, he had to blink twice up at you and look down again. Only now it was two hands holding the bump, waiting for more kicks.

❥ Husband!Simon who lets you do all the shopping with baby stuff because he has no idea what looks cute, every once in a while showing you something he thinks looks good and asks for your approval.

❥ Husband!Simon who looks back up at you in concern as he hears you whimper, as much as he wants more movement and feel the little one kick, you were in pain and uncomfortable. Some soothing words might help..?

You let out a soft whimper as you felt the baby kick again, god did she have her father's strength..

Simon still had his warm and heavy hand on the bump, feeling the little one's movement.

"Pumpkin.. give your momma a rest, she needs some sleep" Simon sleepily mutters. Just like that the movement stops.

"I swear she only ever listens to your voice, it's obvious that she's already a daddy's girl"

❥ Husband!Simon who is more than obsessed with the baby bump, albeit his ear over the bump to hear the baby, big calloused hands always have to be some place on it. You'll just find your husband clinging onto your bump, his head on your chest while his arms are wrapped around the loves of his life.

❥ Husband!Simon who was far more panicked than you were during the birth, he literally cannot even pay attention to the pain of your hand almost breaking his from the gripping because his heart is pounding in his chest while you push out the baby.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon who was trembling the moment you forced him to open up his arms so he could hold the baby. She's so tiny, her whole body almost fits in just one of his hands. The moment he held her, she stopped wailing, trying so hard to open her little eyes.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon couldn't help but pull you up into his arms too because you couldn't move up from exhaustion. Your hand on the little one's body that was cradled by her dad, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders while he kissed your sweaty forehead, singing praises to you about how thankful he is that you brought life to your little girl together.

A/n: Hi guys, just to start off. I haven't been in a good space for a while now, I don't think I'm in the right headspace either. Not to say I'm taking a break, fuck no, I'd lose all my relevance if I did and I also think that taking a break from this won't be good for me or you guys because I don't want history to repeat itself.

If you guys don't know yet, I've been on the break in 2020 and didn't officially start writing again till 2023, finally entering a different fandom. I feel like taking a break would result into this whole thing again and I can't go through that all over again. I love writing so much and it hurt when I lost all my relevance on Wattpad.

My personal life outside of Tumblr is weird to explain, see things haven't been good regarding my situation with a friend. Neither do I feel good in school, everything in that place just sucks except for two other closer friends. There's still the dreadful 3 weeks left till Christmas vacation. Not only that but I get anxiety over so many things that may be little to most of you.

A mutual of mine so graciously has given me ideas for the next Ghostie posts, I love them, it's accurate and it's great and all however some part of me makes me feel so insignificant. Like why didn't I think of that? Why am I even writing if I'm just relying on other people's ideas? This is no shade to that mutual, thank you so much, hell I loved everything they told me. It's just always my anxiety and insecurities getting the better of me.

Apologies for the length of this. I'm quite busy and my clumsy fingers accidentally published something again 😭Anyway, more Ghostie content is on it's way :))

#cod x reader #aethelwyne lia writes #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #ghost x plus size reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x y/n #dad!ghost #dad!simon #husband!ghost

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srslylini · 3 months ago

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season 2 has a structure problem and that makes act 1 flow naturally enough and it sets up the next acts perfectly well, but they wanted to do so much more than what they were

1. setting up

2. capable of doing in 9 episodes

had they just cut a few plot lines everything would've moved far easier. For example

1. cut the Smeech thing entirely. Sevika and Jinx don't need this to find themselves together and start a found family. That scene In Silcos office was so moving and everything I always loved about Arcane, stuff like this is what's needed. In fact move the prison break to act 1 and have them handle that together, Jinx can still make Sevika her arm, and everything could've still moved the same. It would've fit so much better and there also would've been so much more time to develop anything else with the magic system and act 2 wouldn't feel like it was overflowing with anything and everything. Isha is a character that as of in the show can be cut so easily and that's so sad because she'd be so interesting. Everything about her would've worked and SHOULD HAVE worked but she also just felt like Plot and a thing to make Jinx sad over again. Either don't do that or make Isha not a character like this???? I liked her scenes with Jinx so much and the scene with Jinx freaking out after finding out that Isha was taken to prison was genuinely so good, I'm still holding on to the hope that they didn't actually kill her

2. either cut that shit with the tree because let's be so honest that basically only happened so that Heimerdinger, Ekko and Jayce could meet, since we do NOT even really talk about the tree in act 2? that was so weird. Like either actually make it a thing or find different ways to let characters meet naturally. I dont know, the show was so good with that in season 1. And if they truly wanted the tree scene at least make it make sense and don't randomly drop it Idk.

3. I LOVE Mel she is like my favorite character but the plot with the black rose takes so much necessary time away from what we actually need to focus on. I heard they want to make different shows so they are setting this up but it just doesn't work. Mel could've so easily been integrated into the main plot line and it would've also made so much more sense at that. Though I'll just wait on act 3 before I judge too hard. (if they actually DARE to make her pregnant Istg)

4. Making Jinx that hero character for only like, what, a few seconds was so strange. I hope act 3 gets that better but that, first of all, happened mostly out of no where and a few touches to her shoulder after the prison scene was also not??? helping??? either set that up from the very start or don't do it at all. She isn't a hero, she is a tragedy and someone who needs help and room to breathe. The scenes where they tried to make that funny, in my opinion didn't land at all. She doesn't need a hero complex she needs calmness and stable relationships. Let Isha live I swear to GOD.

in fact that leads me into the next point

5. Have Vi realize she doesn't want to be an enforcerer sooner? I actually do like how rushed that part felt don't get me wrong, but if they wanted a reunion between Jinx and Vi don't randomly put it into act 2 with barely any build up. Let Jinx and Vi realize it during the fight, they kinda did do that but??? just didn't move that anywhere. it's so strange. If they had cut the Smeech stuff they could've easily used the third episode to make Jinx and Vi slowly reconcile. Which also means I think Vi would've been such a better "symbol" than Jinx. Vi and Jinx, for me, show what Zaun is made of, and Jinx is quite literally the valid pain, distrust and anger of Zaun, and she as well as Zaun desperately need healing. Like that would've been SO COOL. that's just my opinion though, so there is that.

6. If they had made Vi the symbol the conflict between Caitlyn and Vi would've felt a lot more natural as well. Like??? Also Caitlyn should've had so much more time if they wanted that switch up in the end to work. Cut the black rose stuff and that would've worked perfectly fine.

7. Now do NOT get me wrong, Ambessa's character is so interesting and I feel like exploring her is so cool but she and her plot just doesn't fit into the Piltover/Zaun thing. It makes it too big for what the show is. In fact I (and now this is just my opinion, anyone can have their own just saying lmao) would've either cut out Ambessa's character/plotline or subtly continued Ambessas drama with Mel, which would give Mel, who didn't get taken by the black rose in my version, a lot more to do and way more interesting stuff too. Again this is very much my opinion and doesn't mean anyone needs to share it, but I feel like they could've easily made Heimerdinger be the one who gets Caitlyn to where she was/is with Ambessa. It would've expanded Heimerdingers character and it would've stayed in the setting they already perfectly build up, Piltover and Zaun. Also, Heimerdinger wouldn't just feel like a random joke character anymore.

8. The Pit fight stuff could have been SO interesting and I feel had we not stayed with Viktor Christ so much which was also so weird at times, we could've gotten so much necessary insight on Vi. If we follow my idea it could've been Vi forced to be a symbol because of the person she is. The embodiment of Zauns loyalty, strength and resilience. And then the fights that will come out of that forcing Vi to face so much stuff she shouldn't etc etc (I haven't fleshed that one out yet don't come for me) and that could've ended in her pit fighting era, which should've taken at LEAST an episode and not a random montage that just gets forgotten??? for no reason at all. Really hope act 3 talks about that cause??? I feel with Vi as the leader the healing of Zaun would make so much sense, because Jinx realistically can't do that. The idea of Jinx being in that position IS interesting I just feel it wasn't established/developed enough.

9. I really really liked how from the very beginning Viktor's safe haven did not in fact feel safe. There was always a very uneasy feeling and that's what I love about the show. I was always waiting for the shoe to drop and it happened, that was amazing. Though I would've either established a lot of this way earlier on in the show or made it not so, and now walk with me here Ik its magic, unrealistic. That does sound strange but having Viktor suddenly float in space with white silver flowing hair and his dead assistent next to him was... very very out of no where. It was like a lazy show trying to get away with "yeah well it's magic so of course this works" and I hate that because even magic needs explanation and build up. So yeah. Either cut that shit out or have it established sooner. And while seeing the one person who helped Jayce as a kid did kind of help, it still wasn't enough for THIS, though again MY OPINION. Also we spent way too much time there, it was getting ridiculous. So much time could've easily been lent to stuff that actually needed it. I actually laughed out loud when Viktor started the healing process with Vander because come ON now, and I do not think they wanted me to laugh.

10. The stuff with Vander, Silco and Felicia (while cute) was unnecessary and weird. What I liked the most about Vander taking in Vi and Powder was the feeling that he didn't do it because he necessarily knew them very well but because he knew their mom was dead (that did show he and their mother did kind of know each other but so do like all the people in the lanes that is kind of established) and wanted to PROTECT. This new context sadly makes it feel like "well of course he stopped everything and took them with them and cared for them he knew them since birth, duh" when I always wanted to feel "well Vander is in his heart a good man who saw what terrible stuff this war and fighting did and then took in orphaned children because of course he would do that" if that makes sense? I feel this new thing took away so much from Vander, but again that's maybe just me.

11. So many jokes and scenes didn't land with me. The scene with Jinx trying to show Sevika her middle finger was SO GOOD and so Arcane that seeing the scene were they try to make it funny with Jinx's trousers and that enforcerer felt so out of place? Like what. That scene could have EASILY been cut and nothing would have changed at all. And that's what is the worst because there isn't one scene in season 1 that I feel could've been cut and there are so many of them in season 2.

12. Introducing Maddie in act 1 made me believe she'd be a bigger, even more of a threat to Zaun, character than she was and that's so sad. What I loved about season 1 is that every single character mattered. Even those we saw maybe once. This time around I hardly cared at all for any new character because they didn't feel like a Person anymore, they just felt like Plot. In season 1 episode 1 there is this scene, the first scene Vander gets to speak in. The only reason Huck meets the woman and the man to trait was basically so we get to know how the undercity works and establish Vander as basically its leader and protecter; The one people are loyal to etc. But it doesn't feel that way. It's something that naturally happens and every character in that scene, even the man and the woman we never see again, mattered and felt real.

yeah so those were really just my thoughts. I could very much go on but I also don't want to.

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puckinghischier · 11 months ago

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Locksmith - Nico Hischier

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader has been friends with the hughes brothers for years, and when she finally arrives in Jersey to move in with her best friends, she finds herself locked out and stuck in the hallway, with only the neighbor to save her

notes: this is my first time ever writing ANYTHING, so this could be terrible. BUT it’s really only a peek at where i want the story to go so possible series if anyone actually wants to read it??? 🫣

part 2, part 3, part 4

[2.4k]

You know, three suitcases didn’t seem like enough when you were packing, but trying to roll three suitcases down the long, carpeted hallway is proving to be one of the most difficult tasks you’ve ever had to do in your life.

Seriously, the building didn’t look this long from the outside.

After a trek that felt like miles, you reach the door you’ve been scanning for, only to find it locked tight. “I swear to god I’m literally going to kill them,” you said to yourself, out loud. “They tell the doorman to let me in, have me bring all this luggage up by myself, only to leave the fucking door locked. Why did I expect anything less?”

Grabbing your phone, you dial Jack’s number, silently begging him to pick up. You know he’s at a charity thing with Luke, but surely he’s allowed to answer his phone, right? Wrong. His phone goes straight to voicemail, twice. Classic Jack. You know there’s not any point to calling Luke, he always leaves his phone during charity events in order to connect with the kids better. Usually you find that endearing and admirable, but right now you wish that he was maybe just a bit more selfish.

“Well, I guess I live in the hallway now. Hope the carpet is plush enough to sleep on.” You’ve always had a habit of talking out loud to yourself when you’re nervous or, in this case, annoyed. It helps you work through your thoughts and not dwell on anything for too long. Purges your emotions a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not. Speaking from experience here, you’d be much better off sleeping on the couches in the lobby” a voice startles you.

“Oh my god,” you jumped. You turned around to see the door to the apartment behind you wide open, a dark haired man leaning against the doorway, smile on his face.

“I- how long have you been standing there?” you asked, hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Long enough to know you’re thinking about sleeping on the carpet, not long enough to know why,” he states, humor lacing his tone.

“Well, if you must know, my roommates left the door locked, no spare key, and won’t answer their phones. So, until they get home, the hallway is my new bedroom,” you surveyed the stranger.

He was tall, much taller than you were. He wore a simple white t-shirt, black sweatpants, and a backwards hat on his head, hiding what looked like hair that was in need of a trim based on how much it was spilling out the sides of the hat. But what made you stop in your tracks were his eyes. You don’t think you had ever truly understood the phrase ‘warm eyes’ until now. They were the most spectacular shade of brown you had ever seen in your life. And they were filled with amusement. Amusement directed towards you, since he had just heard you talking to yourself like a madwoman.

“Ahh, you must be Y/N! I thought Jack said you weren’t coming until tomorrow?” He asked, understanding washing over his face.

“I caught an earlier flight and was going to surprise them. However, Jack texted me earlier this morning and told me he and Luke had to go to a charity skate, so I had to tell them I was coming early. He told me he’d leave the door unlocked so I could go ahead and settle in, but, as you can see, they did not,” you explained, only slightly shocked Jack told his neighbor about you. That boy sure liked to talk, yapping anyone’s ear off who would listen.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a spare key you can use,” the stranger tells you, walking out of your view for a brief moment.

“Should I be concerned that the neighbor has a spare key? Does he just go around handing out spares left and right?” you ask, starting to feel a bit awkward standing among all of your luggage.

“No, not exactly,” the man laughs. “He gave me a spare after one too many nights of me hauling him home from the bar only to realize he didn’t have his key with him.”

He walks out of his apartment, a small golden key in hand. The stranger, whose name you forgot to ask, unlocks the door and stands back with a warm smile on his face.

“There, you just got upgraded to a real bedroom,” he recalls, standing in the now open doorway.

“I would say thank you, but I’m still a little concerned that a strange man just had to let me into my own apartment,” you (semi) joke, attempting to gather your suitcases.

“I’m Nico,” he explains, taking the suitcase you were struggling to heave into the apartment.

“Oh, you’re the captain!” you exclaim, recalling all the times Jack and Luke had talked about their beloved leader to you. “Jack never mentioned you lived next door!”

“That’s me. I only just moved in about a week ago. Was looking for a place closer to the rink and Jack told me about his previous neighbors moving out, so I decided to move in. Nice having them just across the hall. They’re like the little brothers I never had,” Nico pronounces brothers like ‘brudders’. You nearly forgot Jack had mentioned he was from Switzerland, too distracted to have picked up on his accent before now.

“Yeah, they seem to have that effect on people, huh?” you understood the sentiment behind Nico’s words all too well.

You’ve known Jack, Luke, and Quinn since you were all kids. Your family owned the lake house next to theirs when you were growing up. You spent every summer with them up until Quinn got drafted to the Canucks a few years back. Then Jack to the Devils, then Luke following Jack. Your families grew incredibly close to one another over the years, though. Trips to visit the other outside of the summer months became a regular occurrence. Trips to watch their hockey games, traveling to watch Luke play college hockey, and attending their drafts. These three were the brothers you never had but always wanted. They treated you like their own sister from the very start.

“They especially have the annoying aspect of younger brothers perfected,” Nico replied, both of you fully inside your new apartment now.

“God, don’t I know it,” you laughed.

Looking up, you finally took in your new home. Geez, this place is nice. It shouldn’t surprise you, really, with how much Jack and Luke both make, but the apartment is like, really nice. Definitely out of your price range, by likely a couple thousand dollars. You suddenly feel bad that Jack refused to let you pay any share of the rent. You had fought him on it, several times. He insisted that they had the spare bedroom anyways, and they had no trouble making rent as is. You demanded that you contribute in some way, so you were now tasked with grocery shopping and cooking for two professional hockey players. Honestly, after seeing the meal plans the team nutritionist gave them, it might be a fair trade.

It's only as you look over towards the kitchen at the thought of having to go grocery shopping soon, you realize Nico is still there. He’s just standing there, watching you take in your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts.

“Well, thanks for not letting me waste away in the hallway. And helping me with my luggage. I think someone from TSA filled my suitcases with rocks or something. I swear it didn’t seem like I had that much stuff when I left home,” you explain, not knowing what else to say to the stranger.

“No problem, seriously. I feel like I’m over here more than I’m at my own apartment, anyways. Jack is always calling me to come over or insisting that we have to watch game film together after practice. It’s a little concerning how obsessed he is with hockey. I mean, I’m the captain of the team and I feel like I spend less time thinking about work than he does,” Nico chuckles, not seeming to want to end the conversation just yet.

“God, don’t even get me started. I’ve had to listen to him ramble on and on about hockey for years. I’m just glad someone else finally understands my pain.”

“You know, the only other subject he seems to talk about as much as hockey is you. And his family, but according to him the two are one in the same. Every time I’ve seen him this week, which is nearly every day, he’s updated me on the countdown to when you were set to arrive. He’s seriously excited to have you here. They both are. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Nico reveals.

You and Jack had always been the closest out of the three brothers. With your age falling directly in-between Quinn and Jack, you and Jack had the most common interests as a kid. Quinn was always trying to be the grown one, not concerning himself with whatever you and Jack were interested in while growing up. As teens, Quinn was always training or going off by himself to do who knows what. Luke was still slightly too young to go off with you and Jack alone, so it was usually just the two of you embarking on your own little adventures on those summer days. Once Jack got his boating license neither of your parents would let Luke go out on the water without them. So, more often than not, you and Jack would take the boat to God knows where in the middle of the lake and spend the whole day there, not returning until after dark. Those days were your favorite to think back on. The conversations between you and Jack never ceased to flow. From hockey, to your boy troubles back home, to whatever girl Jack wanted to impress that summer, to what your lives would look like one day, to always vowing to be in each other’s lives, even if he became a big shot hockey player that lived on the other side of the world.

“Yeah, well, he always has been the sentimental type, no matter how hard he tries to deny it,” you chuckle, a fond smile finding its way onto your face.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N. If you ever find yourself faced with sleeping in the hallway again, you know where to find me,” Nico drops his eye into a wink, walking over to the door and opening it once again.

“Thank goodness someone around here understands the severity of the situation at hand. Me and my back thank you,” you wave your arms around for dramatic effect, walking to take hold of the open door as he steps into the hallway and back into his own doorway.

“Welcome to Jersey. We’re glad to have you here,” Nico turns to face you after he’s back in his own apartment, a genuine smile settled on his face.

“Thanks, Nico. It’s good to be here,” you respond, matching his smile, thinking of how well it suits him.

———————————————————————————

“Y/n!!!! Where are you!?” you hear, currently elbow deep in suitcase number two, trying your hardest to unpack everything. You really don’t know how you managed to fit so much clothing in three suitcases. Or how you ended up with so many clothes to begin with. You stand up and start making your way to the door of your bedroom, hand on the doorknob as it flies open, revealing a very excited looking Jack and Luke. You suddenly feel your body flying forward, face hitting a clothed shoulder.

“Ow! Jack, that was my nose!” you tried to say, but everything was muffled because of how tight your body was being held in place. Seriously, he acts like he hadn’t seen you in years. You were literally here a few months ago to visit and arrange plans to move in. Leave it to Jack to always bring the dramatics.

“Just a few more seconds, I missed you,” he mumbles, squeezing even tighter, if that was even possible.

“Jack, no fair! Quit hogging her, I missed her too!”

“Luke, please save me. I might suffocate soon if he doesn’t let go,” you beg the younger brother.

“Oh my god, will you two quit being dramatic? Can’t a man be excited his best friend is finally moving in after months of waiting?” Jack whines as he releases his hold on you.

“No one said you couldn’t be excited, Rowdy, but suffocating me two minutes into living together might not be the best way to show your excitement,” you say, smoothing out your sweatshirt and making your way towards the open arms of the younger, yet much larger, brother.

“Oh Moose, how have you been? Have you been getting enough sleep?” You question, always worried about his wellbeing, especially these past few weeks.

“Yeah, m’alright. A little tired, but we have some home games lined up soon. I’ll catch up on sleep then,” he responds, squeezing you a little tighter at the end of his sentence.

Luke’s rookie year has been a rollercoaster not only for him, but for you as well. You worry about the youngest Hughes, having such a soft spot for the boy. You know he’s talented, and you know he’ll do well, but you can see the exhaustion on his face and in his actions. You know he carries the weight of the foul comments he receives about his gameplay, and you try your hardest to take some of it off of his shoulders.

“Alright, but now that I’m here just know I’ll be holding you to that,” a stern look on your face.

Turning back around towards Jack, you find him surveying your room, looking over the mess you created in the few hours it took for them to return home.

“So, are you going to spend the rest of the day unpacking, or can we go have some fun and celebrate the fact that you live in New Jersey now?” Jack spoke, looking at the pictures you decided to display, most of them pictures of you and the brothers throughout the years.

“I mean, I was hoping to get as much done today as I can, but I’m guessing you’ve already made plans, huh?”

“You would be correct. We’re leaving at 8, be ready,” is all Jack says, before dragging Luke out of your room.

#nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier x you #luke hughes #jack hughes #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier one shot #new jersey devils #hockey imagine #hockey

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leviathansmistress · 6 days ago

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Tainted

Mom's Girlfriend!Natasha Romanoff x Innocent Daughter!Female Reader

Tags/warning: +18 AMAB Natasha, jealousy, possessiveness, uncontrolled anger, slapping (r), kind of somnophilia, thigh humping, allusions to sex, implied loss of virginity, talks of taking pregnancy pills

A/N: If you're going to like, comment or interact in any way on any fics of mine, make sure you have your age on your bio or else you will be blocked.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

The moment you offered her help, she had already taken a piece of you. Now, she didn't just take a piece—she took everything.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

"I will have to transfer her, Nat. Get her some apartment for herself." Your mother said in a video call with Natasha while you were in school. This put Natasha in full-blown triggered alarm, "I feel like Y/N never left that environment she had with her father. She's too conservative, too sensitive, she's not aware of everything happening around her." But that's the way Natasha likes you to be.

"You really gotta talk to her about that first." Natasha said firmly, trying not to sound contradicting on your mother's plan. But transferring means you will be sent away, you will be away, and she will never see you for a long time—maybe not anymore. Because it means, you will grow, learn and understand new things and she doesn't want that, she's afraid that if you get to understand how things are you will resent her. She wants you to stay the same, her naive, innocent girl. And you will meet new people, and they will ask you out on dates or will ask you for some help, the help you only gave her and these two are the last thing she wanted to happen. And she will do anything for it not to happen.

"Has she been good, Natty?" Natasha huffed, a sly smirk almost an evil one plastered on her face but she immediately concealed it with a sweet smile as she turned to look at the camera.

Oh, your daughter has been really, really good.

"She's been good, don't worry."

"Please look out for her, there's this boy she's been telling me about in church named Steve. She sent me a voice mail earlier that he invited her to go with him to Taize? I mean, they're not technically going out on a date since it's church stuff and 'm not opposed to her going out with boys either, but you know her Da." Natasha knew what your mother meant—too oblivious and too innocent. You're too oblivious and innocent to know that the help you have been giving your mother's girlfriend is wrong. Too oblivious and innocent that this boy Steve might have taken a liking to you but she will handle that later on. God, it makes Natasha crazy thinking about someone else tainting your purity, making you do what you only do to her. And what's she's scared the most is that by that time you're going to understand all about it, that you're going to fall in love with God knows who and will be willingly give yourself to them unlike the unknowing help you give her.

To that someone, it would be love you're giving. To Natasha, it's just helping.

"When I get home, I'll have a serious talk with her. I swear I teased her about sex last time and she covered her ears not wanting to hear anything about anything I say. God, she's 19, Da. She has to know about these things." Your mother let out an exasperated sigh, burying both of her hands on her face.

"Don't worry, I'll try to talk her out of it too."

"Thank you, Da. You're such an angel, I don't know what I will do without you." Your mom pouted, "I miss you."

"We miss you too. Should I end the call now? Your real angel will be here anytime soon."

" 'Kay, I'll talk to her when I wake up later. Take care you two and I love you two."

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

It's night, way past your curfew. Well, you don't have a curfew, actually, your mother doesn't want to set a curfew for you. Not that she wants you to rebel or go home late but rather, she wants you to explore the real world. If you have to go to the bar with friends? Go. If you want to smoke weed, by all means do it—that's what she had told you over and over. She wants you to experience and enjoy your youth. But it's you choosing to stay the same, to be trapped in that cage your father had built you, so you set a curfew for yourself. Your mother hated how she could've done better and fought for you, but even then your manipulative of a father would do anything to bend everything in his own will.

Natasha has been calling your phone, 23 missed calls. She had called your mother as well, but she was, in fact, ecstatic. She couldn't believe you're going past the curfew you set for yourself saying that her baby girl is now growing, Natasha could only huff in frustration but she didn't show it to your mother, of course.

Now, she's out on the way to the church. It is the only place you go to anyway. On her way there, she saw you with a boy around your age. You were laughing and the boy was tracing your palm with his finger. As if some bomb started ticking inside her, she marched her way towards you.

"Natasha?" You smiled, you snatched your hand away from him and started walking towards her.

"Do you know what time it is?" Life drained out of your face at the tone of her voice.

"We're sorry, Ma'am. The service just finished and we had a youth ministry meeting." The young boy beside you said as if he was your knight in shining armor. But Natasha did not bat an eye on him.

She grabbed the hand the boy was caressing his finger on a while ago and dragged you. You can only stare at him behind, waving with a worried look on his face.

Natasha pushed you towards the door of your home and locked it, "Do you know what time it is? It's nearing 10 and you're not home yet!" She yelled. "Who was that boy?"

"S-Steve, our parish youth leader." You stuttered, fearing Natasha right now.

"So that's Steve huh? Did you two have sex?"

"What…" you asked with a frown, eyes started to water. "Don't say that, Natty." You shake your head side by side.

"Did you two fuck?!" she spat, her height towering you.

"N-no!" You finally sobbed as you stepped back. "Please Natty don't say...those!" You started covering your ears with your hands but Natasha grabbed to remove them, when Natasha felt you fighting back and not letting her remove your hands, a strong, rough palm hit your cheek.

You placed your hand over your stinging skin, then you ran to your room. Natasha only realizes the extent of what she did when she can still hear your cry all the way up to your room. She ran and knocked over and over.

"Baby, let dada in please?"

"Dada's sorry. Baby?"

"Natty's sorry. Baby, please let me in?"

She stayed there, but she decided to let you go alone for now. Natasha then went to the bathroom, staring at the mirror, she let out a deep breath before punching the mirror in front of her over and over until her knuckles were bleeding. She stared at the now broken pieces on the sink, she didn't want to lash out on you let alone hurt you but the fuming jealousy got the best of her. Seeing you with that same boy your mother warned her about made her see red. Because what if this boy has been asking you to do the same things she has been asking you? What if that boy has been taking advantage of you? It made her crazy, she was spiraling out of jealousy and anger.

She won't let anyone lay a finger on you, but she just did. And Natasha hated herself for it, she doesn't want to hurt you. That's the last thing she will do and she will only do it in a matter of life and death situation.

She stared at her knuckles, thinking it is only fair to have all these small broken pieces of mirror dug in her skin—she deserves it.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You stirred from your sleep, a strong body spooning you. And you immediately knew it was Natasha, her strong arm wrapped around your torso, her nose against the back of your shoulder. You sniffed, tears started to stream down your cheek and you tried to quiet down and control your body as you sobbed so you won't wake her up.

You were scared of her because you realized how she can hurt you.

She just hurt you.

As if she knew you're awake, "Bub?" She called, she can feel your body shaking. "Bub…I'm sorry."

You finally let yourself cry a little loud now knowing you don't have to hold yourself to not wake her up with your cry. She hugged you tighter this time, her lap pressing against your ass and her chin over your shoulder.

"Bub? I'm sorry?" You didn't answer, "Bub please say something? Please?" She then kissed your shoulder.

"You're the first one t-to hit me ever…ever in my…life." You said in between sobs. No one had ever hit you, not your mom, your dad may be crazy strict but he didn't hurt you physically. "I…I hate you…" you cried even more, because you know how strong the word hate is, you would never say the word but you feel it right now. You wanted her to know how much she hurt you.

"Bub, please don't hate me." She choked, she started crying as well, kissing the back of your ears down to your shoulder. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." She said between kisses, you tried to thrash away from her grasp but she didn't let you, crying even more when she feel you move away from her. "Bub, please no. Please, sorry. Dada's sorry."

You just continue to sob, until sleep gets you and Natasha did not let go of you.

When Natasha's sure you have fallen back to sleep, she kisses the shell of your ear. "Dada just loves you so much…" She whimpered, pressing her closed eyes on your shoulder. Inhaling your vanilla scent, she kissed your shoulder over and over, so gentle, so pure. "I love you so, so much, Y/N. So much."

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The morning after was awkward, you woke up alone in bed. But you already smell the breakfast urging you to move and come downstairs.

"Bub, can I ask you something?" You blinked before nodding, your heart is still heavy for what happened and you can't stare at her eyes just yet without being scared. "Do…do you help Steve too?" Natasha asked, not knowing if you understood what she meant.

"Like…like how I help you?" You finally looked at her and it brought Natasha a smile on her face.

"Uhh yeah? If you know what I mean?"

"No." You simply said before taking a spoonful of your bulgogi.

"Can I make you promise about something?" She then asked. And you looked at her again with those doe eyes of yours, then nodded slowly eager to do and please her with whatever she wanted. "Can…can you promise me that you will never help anyone the way you help dada?" There was a pregnant pause after she said it. She stared at you, scared that you would say no but then you suddenly extended your pinky in front of her. Natasha bit her lip, almost groaning at your cuteness that it made her hard, she then tangled her pinky to yours binding a promise that you will never be intimate the way you are with the mother of your girlfriend. But of course, you don't understand that just yet.

"What happened to your knuckles?" You asked. But Natasha just said she hurt herself when she was fixing the kitchen cabinet that's not even broken but knowing you, you immediately bought it. "Be careful next time, Nat."

"I will, princess."

"I'll go to service later." You say nervously, afraid she will bring up what happened last night or about your parish youth leader.

"Okay, I will prepare you lunch before you go." She simply said.

"Thanks, Dada."

"Anything for you, bub."

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Once you return to your room, you immediately fall back to sleep again. And your mother's girlfriend has been calling you three times and no answer was heard from you, she doesn't know when you will leave but it's lunch now.

"Bub?" She knocked at your door but still no answer, so she carefully twisted the knob and peeked. There, she saw you, your front slumped against your bed, sleeping. "Y/N?" She called, shaking the back of your shoulders but you didn't stir, still sleeping.

Her eyes travelled down your legs, up to your covered ass with your shorts. The skin of your back peeking. Taunting her. Every blink she does, the harder she gets. She needs help, but her girl is in deep sleep, but that won't stop you from helping her, right?

Natasha carefully dipped her knees to your bed, careful to not wake you. She can feel and hear your laboured breathing as she put you in a spooning position, your back resting against her front and ass on the curve of her lower abdomen and thighs. She kissed the back of your head, your hair sprawled in front of her and started caressing your arms. Her hand now carefully slipped inside your shirt, her thumb brushing your stomach and it inched up to the swell of your breasts making Natasha's heart pick up its speed. Your skin is so fucking soft, so delicate—so pure. And she is marking every inch of you now, claiming you.

Then slowly, she pulled her hard member and started stroking her tip with pre-cum. Her forehead was resting against the back of your head, fighting back the moans that were trying to escape her. She felt you move, unconsciously pushing yourself back against her, her cock is now between your thighs. Natasha, who is in really need of release, started humping her cock between your legs. Her big hands digging your waist as she rammed into you, not caring if you wake up.

And you did. "Nat?" You called, voice dry for being asleep.

"S-sorry bub. I nee—"

"Need help?" You felt Natasha nod behind you. Your right hand reached the back of her head as she continued to push herself in and out of your thighs. Her tip just hitting your milky thighs, lubricated with her pre-cum. "Mom's gonna be here soon anyway..." You say, caressing her head with your fingertips.

But she wants you. Not your mom, not anyone, only you. She wants you to be the one helping her, not just with this kind of thing—but with everything. She wants to wake up with you next to her, prepare meals just for you.

Make love to you.

While you, you are having confusion with what you feel with the woman who is grunting behind you. Neither of you talked about the kiss, it has been the elephant of the room and it actually was your first kiss. But you don't know, maybe it's just you thinking too much about it, but you couldn't help but wonder if she thinks about it too every night before she sleeps like you do. The flutters you feel when you come down the stairs, her already smiling with a hand on her plate. Her fingers sliding down your tongue as she makes you taste the new meal she experimented or the way her hands traveled down your skin when you're starting to feel that anxiety gnawing inside you during family dinner. It was a weird feeling, and you're not going to lie when there is a slight bitterness when you said that your mom will be home soon. So that means you will no longer help her like this, be close to her like this.

"Bub, can...can you promise me you will not leave me?" You were too lost on the pleasure that is slowly building up in you core, but when you twisted your body to finally look at her, you can see the evident tears from her eyes. You didn't understand what she meant with her words but you don't want to be elsewhere right now.

"I will not go anywhere, Natty..." You say as your hand travelled on the side of her hip, urging her to push more against you.

And from that moment, things has escalated.

When you got home from church, Natasha immediately told you to take some pills, a numbered pills. She strictly told you that you cannot miss a day without taking it.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

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imjustdreamingig · 2 months ago

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Isn't that sweet, I guess so

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret's out, Steve's proud of himself, and you can't seem to keep your mouth shut

A/N: chat there is no way I put out 2 fic in the past week, this has never happened to me before! yay everyone cheer. again, i have no idea where this story is going how far im gonna go, i def want to try writing other stuff and idk if this is the best place to put and end to whatever this series is but again, we shall see i guess. thank you all so much on the love on my last two works you have no idea what that means to me! please please PLEASE send me asks or comment what you'd like me to write next or if you want a pt4 i need help people

warnings: sfw, swearing, fluff, idiots who like each other

Facing your fears is tough. No matter what it is, no one would actually choose putting themselves through a situation in which they know would cause them extreme distress. For some that may be going on a rollercoaster, interacting with a clown, going into a dark forrest alone, it could even be making a phone call by yourself to schedule a doctor's appointment (which is a valid fear to have, thank you very much.)

And here you were, facing your fears: being sat in your living room with Steve Harrington 3 feet away from you for an extended period of time. It's only been about 15 minutes, where no talking has happened since minute two.

You hope you can get to 30 minutes without fainting.

As you attempted to focus on the book in front of you, Jane Austen's words, who usually kept your focused for hours on end, were not being absorbed by you in the slightest. How could they, when Steve fucking Harrington was in your house.

Steve is the type of guy who Jane Austen would write about, you thought, eyes flickering towards him as he hunched over his book, face crinkled in concentration, trying to understand said author's musings.

The swoop of his hair, the two moles near his neck, his deep, beautiful, chocolate eyes, his gorgeous smile, and my god those arms? Yep, Jane would be absolutely obsessed with him.

"God, why did I agree to do this book?" You are snapped out of your daze at Steve's words. "What do you mean?", you replied. He gave you a look that can only be described as "seriously?"

"I mean, that I can barley understand what any of these characters are saying half the time, and honestly, it's a bit boring. I thought you would have better book recommendations," he said, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face.

A scoff left your mouth before you could stop it. "Excuse me, are you actually hating on Pride and Prejudice, the best romance story of all time, the romance story, period." You leaned over and snatched his book. "I mean, come on! You are literally only 6 pages in, you can't just judge it that quickly, you haven't even gotten to the good parts yet!", you exclaim.

Steve watched you with an amused look on his face, unbeknownst to you, who kept rambling on, trying to convince Steve this book was worth continuing.

"— and Elizabeth, she is just funny, like actually hilarious. There is one part where she basically tells someone that I'd rather not be wasting my air talking to someone like you, like please, how did she even come up with that? Also, I'm just obsessed with this proper English style of speaking, or writing I guess, because they're basically talking shit but covering it up with fancy words! And when—"

"You talk a lot, don't you?"

You look up from the book and towards Steve, eyes widening slightly, realizing you had indeed been talking too much.

"One of my greatest faults, some may say, and by faults I mean my mom, but she only tells me this when we're arguing, so..." You glance away from Steve's face for a little reprieve. God, he's so hot.

"Well, like a good partner," you continue. "I'm trying to help you get some of this project done, and maybe if Robin were here, she could've helped," you defended yourself, crossing your arms, "which I'm still confused about, by the way. You said something about her telling you earlier how I invited you guys and some other people to work on the project together, but then she doesn't show?"

Steve leans back in his chair, also crossing his arms. You glance down for a quick second and send a quick thank you to anyone who's that Steve is wearing a tight shirt that beautifully enunciates his biceps. Or maybe you should be mad at them, you don't know yet.

"Maybe it's the fact that she noticed, like I did, that it's been a month since this project was assigned and we haven't even started," Steve countered, "which is unlike you, you usually want to get stuff done ASAP."

You look at him in confusion. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Steve smirks, "I also happen to know that you don't have a sister, thanks to that lovely dinner with your mom." You shake your head in disbelief, mentally making a note to yell at your mom later.

"Isn't that what you said one of the many times I asked you to work on the project?" Steve looked so amused with himself, all cocky and proud that he had uncovered your lie. Your brain tried desperately to come up with a realistic enough explanation, but nothing was coming up.

You throw your hands up in defeat. "Ok, fine! I lied! Is it just so hard for you to believe that maybe, just maybe, not everyone in that high school wants to spend time with you outside of it?" Oh my God, why the fuck would you say that, you screamed internally.

Steve stared at you for a second before letting out a chuckle. " You know, I did think of that actually, but only for a bit." He reaches out for the book and grabs it from your grasp, flipping to a random page.

"You can only run away from a guy so many times before he catches a hint," he peers over at you, " and I mean literally, you're a fast runner, did you ever do track?"

"Yeah, in middle school," you answer quickly. Steve lets out a hum of agreement before placing his attention back on the book. You open your mouth, about to quip about being careful to not rip the pages when he speaks again. "I know I'm dumb, but I'm not an idiot, ya know?"

Your gaze snaps to his face. "Steve, I don't think you're dumb." He doesn't look too convinced. "Eh, I think you do. But you're interesting, you took me a lot longer to figure out than the others since girls just typically throw themselves at me."

You make a face of disgust, "Ok, you sound like a total prick, you know."

"Yep, heard it after I said it, but that's not the point here." He point his finger at you, "You have a crush on me."

You splutter out a sound of indignation. "Hello, what?" In your head, fire alarms are sounding. It's a code red, all hell is breaking loose. "Pfft, no I absolutely do not."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Then how else do you explain the running away when you see me anywhere at school? You always have an insane excuse why we're not able to meet up to start the project, which some are hilarious," he admits, "but you've got me complaining about not doing homework, look what you've done to me!"

At this point you've gone silent, mouth agape with an excuse stuck in your throat refusing to come out. Steve's expression has changed, his eyes bore into yours with earnest, almost as if he's anticipating a certain answer, hoping for it. "So?"

You muster all the courage you have left and just when you're about to respond, Steve interrupts you again for like, the 15th time.

"Anyways, I've to get going, have some things to do and whatever." He gets up, shrugs on his jacket and then places his books in his backpack. You get up too, having absolutely no clue how to tell him not to go, that you want him to stay. "Steve, what do you mean?"

He glances over at you, "Nothing, I just have to go. I'm a busy guy." He starts making his way to your front door, leaving you behind in the kitchen, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. First, he accuses you of having a crush on him, which you do, and then he just thinks he can leave?

Oh, absolutely not.

With a new wave of determination, you catch up to Steve just as he's finishing putting on his shoes. "Say thanks to your mom for me for dinner, it was great," he says as he grabs the door handle. You don't let him continue with whatever stupid thing he was going to say next.

"Listen Harrington, I don't know what the fuck just happened back there, but the fact you think can just, leave after dropping a bomb like that is ridiculous," you say, glaring at him in annoyance, and Steve's just staring back at you with that stupid, stupid, smirk that has not left his face since the moment he stepped foot in here.

"So what if I did like you, huh? What if I did have a crush on you? Because I do, but that, quite frankly, is none of your business, none of your concern, actually, so... yeah." Steve is looking at you and you're looking at him, a little out of breath after your declaration. You don't have the energy right now to fully process what you just said.

All of a sudden, Steve seems to break character, the smugness gone, replaced with subtle endearment. He leans down and presses a swift kiss on your cheek before whispering, "Well, it's a good thing I like you too." He straightness back up and says, "I told you I knew you were different, you're a mystery. You're lucky running away seemed to work on me, by the way. I don't think it would for everyone else," he says while you stare at him in shock. You've been rendered silent once again, with nothing but the thought that Steve likes you back, repeating over and over again.

You clear your throat before speaking, "Well! Um, yay?" You truly have no idea what to do right now. Steve chuckles at your reaction, like he can't believe his words have caused you of all people, who continuously talk and talk and talk, to not have anything profound to say for once. He's kind of into it.

Steve grabs your hand and encases it with the other. "Come over to my house tomorrow after school, I'll drive you. We can work on the project and you know, talk, if you want." You nod fervently, "Yeah, yeah ok."

He smiles and drops your hand. "I really do have to go though, I wasn't making that up," he remarks as he opens the front door. "Oh, sure, that's fine," you reply. You hold open the door for him and watch as he descends the steps and makes his way towards his car. You watch him, holding onto the door for dear life.

As Steve gets into the car, he looks over at you and waves, "I'll see you tomorrow!" You wave back and yell back, "Yeah, tomorrow!" You don't go back inside until the car is out of sight. As you shut the door, you press your back against it, trying to wrap your head around what exactly happened in the last few hours.

Holy shit, you though, Steve Harrington likes me. Steve fucking Harrington. You let out an involuntarily squeal of excitement and immediately regret doing it as your mother calls down from upstairs. "Mija, are you ok? What happened?" Hearing her voice reminds you of her involvement over the events that transpired tonight.

Putting your happiness on hold for a moment, you start to storm up the stairs. "Mom!", you yelled, "How could you embarrass me like that, asking him to stay over for dinner, you know how I feel about him, I just about fainted 5 times throughout the night, how does that make you feel!? You almost killed me an—"

You would thank your mom later, because ultimately she helped, but for now, you'll stick to this.

#what am i doing #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x female reader #stranger things fanfic #fluff

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rootspiral · 3 months ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 7

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

THIS IS THE LAST EPISODE 4 ENTRY I SWEAR

agatha: why yes I'm listening politely because I'm being sociable, not because this story concerns me in any way shape or form

she did NOT want TO DO IT AGATHA. HE WAS HER SON TOO AGATHA. did you ever give her a chance to SAY any of THAT. damn rio is (metaphorically) fighting for her life here. waiting centuries to catch her wife with her guard down next to a random fire, and then reworking her LONG PLANNED SPEECH into bite sized easily digestible bits so that her emotionally stunted soulmate doesn't run away screaming

I was doing MY DAMN FUCKING JOB agatha

agatha looks away like whooops! wasn't listening! wasn't looking at you! no sir, not me!

that's right. acknowledge her feelings. show her that you understand but that you're hurting too. be mature. you're doing great. god the way she swallows and stares right ahead, so determined. this is such a crucial moment for her.

agatha: i'm stone cold. I'm a wall. this is not affecting me in the slightest. I'm bored, really.

lilia not missing a word of what rio's saying

lmao the neutral pronoun lasted two seconds. she's not even trying to pretend like she isn't talking about agatha. and the way she nods to herself like yes, I did the best I could with this. so, there.

"she is my scar" is going to the sapphic annals, isn't it?

LMAOOOO the unblinking cat stare. rio is like I WAS TALKING TO YOU DUM-DUM. I KNOW IT, YOU KNOW IT, EVERYONE AROUND THIS GODDAMN FIRE KNOWS IT. CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING TALK TO ME PLEASE DEAR GOD

and agatha doing a teeny tiny side glance and going whoooooooops not looking! I'm NOT looking! I'm not even here! and scrunching her face more and more trying to keep it blank

AND she's gone. she's so predictable lmaooo. every dang time.

awkwaaaaaard

rio with her soft smile again! with the little amused eye roll! never getting mad at agatha's antics. she's like FINE I'll come after you, you BIG BABY. the patience this woman has

lilia is so scared of rio because somehow, through her exceptional Seer abilities, she knew instinctively that this is her mortal foe. but something funny has just happened: here in front of her there's just a regular little guy, a bit odd maybe, doing her little thing, trying to talk to her ex. might it be... might it be that death isn't a monster, that it's just a thing, a strange but natural thing that happens to everybody? lilia cannot accept that quite yet. so she grabs rio and says no, no. I've seen what you are. you're scary, you're evil, you're dangerous. this is lilia's survival instincts kicking in. we are simply wired to fear death, that's just how humans are. it takes an exceptional mind and soul to see past that.

oh god, here we go, here we go. deep breaths (I'm telling this to myself tbh. i need the pep talk)

stroking her hair so gently. soft, tentative.

hey, subtitle people??? what the fuck??

rio just stands and stares. lets agatha decide what comes next, goes at her pace always

the haiR CARESSING

the HUG. the BIG SIGH. this bitch was running away screaming from rio just yesterday. and here she is. her love. her partner. she finally acknowledges rio's pain and all that they lost and all that they were (and still are tbh) to each other. THIS is what rio was looking for. she's not flirting to manipulate and deflect now, she's not being somebody else. this is agatha cracked open and bleeding love and sorrow

and they melt into each other, and they're rocking each other back and forth, with all their pain and tenderness and longing

agatha with her face buried in rio's shoulder. I'm unwell

and then agatha gently pushes rio back and strokes her hair and cradles her face like she did so many times before and leans in and here I am giving you a play-by-play and running a commentary like a totally normal and sane person would

you know what makes for a perfect onscreen kiss imo? no it's not tongue, although these two will give us plenty of that too. it's the TREMBLING. THE HESITATION. THE YEARNING.

rio and her superhuman willpower. couldn't be me.

and and and and and agatha looks at her puzzled for a second and doesn't register what's happening and dives for a kiss again she's so far gone. the feral animal noises I'm making you have no idea

THE ICY SHOWER

THE STEP BACK. THE MOST PAINED SMILE

THE REGRET

I think one big reason why agatha is always so calculated is because she's afraid her instincts will take over. she does something big and spectacular and stupid and then calls it a 'calculated risk' when it was actually a rush of fear, desire, sorrow, anger that she couldn't control. tonight rio has managed to poke a little hole into a carefully constructed dam, and now all the water is rushing out and tearing down the walls. agatha has rio in her arms and her shape, her scent, her skin are so nostalgic and familiar. her brain goes on autopilot, she's been lonely for so long, she is FAMISHED for love and connection and sex and acceptance. rio wanted her to open up, but agatha doesn't do half-measures. rio wanted her to give for a change, but agatha can only ever take.

rio HAS to put a stop to it. she puts logic before heart, one of them has to and you know agatha isn't gonna. more than anything rio wants to take this one perfect moment and run away with it, but instead she tears herself away and asks, what happens next? what happens if I have to take billy away from you? that reanimated corpse, that freak of nature who walked into your life only yesterday and took over?

billy is now part of the equation and rio cannot ignore it. she has been so gentle and careful with agatha, easing her into a reconciliation that is now in jeopardy because here comes billy maximoff like a sword of damocles! what happens if agatha takes her back only for rio to break her heart all over again? there would be no coming back from that. rio cannot help being the grim reaper just as much as agatha cannot help being a succubus, and she is almost at her breaking point here. because she is hurting too! she is sick of having to be the mature one! she's sick of always coming in second after all of agatha's issues! turns out there's a limit even to the heartbreak an impossibly old and wise being can take.

(and now I need a smoke and a future episode that is just 30 minutes of hot but soft cuddles and kisses and sweet nothings. please.)

once again a big shoutout and thank you to all the people reaching out and leaving comments, it's incredible to hear from you all @crybabyheathen @onceuponalegendbg @idkbroletssee @psychicsolanum @73chn1c0l0rr3v3l @a-tad-bit-obsessed @a-rusty-bucket-of-woes @miacheezytoon @isagrimorie @april-december @aquaaquila and I'm probably forgetting someone but I see you all and I appreciate you so much!

and now for something extra

#agatha all along #agathario #agatha deep dive #rio vidal #agatha harkness #lilia calderu #character study

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 10 months ago

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Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 4 They finally have a conversation and oh no... is that Simon falling even harder? (I feel like this isn't as good as the other parts ut I hope you enjoy it)

< Part 3 | COD Masterlist | Part 5 >

One of the perks of taking over the shop is that Simon can play his own music how often and how loud he wants now. Sure, he’s not obnoxious about it but he cares less about customer experience than his boss did (he doesn’t need to work after all, none of them do after that last mission, this is more to help him stay sane).

The only customer whose experience he cares about is you. You deserve the best experience, you deserve all the good things. So he’s gotten into the habit of having a special playlist for the days when you come in. It’s not like he spend hours selecting the right songs for that one, hoping to pleasantly surprise you.

Today you’re earlier than usually and Simon is still setting up the music, connecting his phone and selecting the playlist. He catches sight of you and watches you out of the corner of his eye. My god, you look fantastic. Simon has half a mind to get on his knees and beg for permission to cup your face, cradle you like the precious gift you are so he might stare at you up close and – fuck he misclicked.

Instead of your playlist he tapped his own and now one of his favorite songs is blasting from the speakers and shit shit shit this can’t be happening. He can’t weird you out with his music taste, he can’t have you be even more scared of him. You’re not supposed to hear that.

Suddenly his palms are all sweaty and he scrambles to change the song, fumbling with his phone like it’s a slippery bar of soap. This is so stupid, it’s just music but he can’t help it, not when it’s you and it’s important and he can’t afford to fuck up even more and –

“You like this song too?!”, your voice meets his ears and his head snaps into your direction, meeting your eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. His hands abruptly stop uselessly fondling his phone.

Your eyes are sparkling and your voice, have mercy on his poor heart, sounds adorably excited while you beam at him. He almost snorts. No way. Aint no fucking way. Not a sweet little thing like you. Not a song like this.

Your grin is so wide he can’t help it when he starts smiling too, goddamnit he wants to see you this happy all the time.

“’s one of my favorites.”, he grumbles and he swears you nearly squeal. He never would have thought you could get cuter, yet here you were, proving him wrong once again.

“Mine too!”, you exclaim and giddily fidget on your spot. “I listen to this so much in fact… that…”, you continue and Simon can’t fathom what you’re about to tell him.

You turn to your ugly beast of a dog and start swaying on the spot to the music. Simon’s knuckles turn white with the effort of holding himself back from reaching for you to sway with you. What he’d give to place his hands on your hips and feel you move with him.

And then your dog starts swaying too and Simon nearly chokes on his spit. When you start head banging and really getting into it the ugly mutt joins right in. The music increases in tempo and intensity and so do your movements and your dogs.

It looks utterly silly and happy and free and Simon can feel his chest burst open, dropping his useless bleeding heart right at your feet, thumping pathetically for your attention. Suddenly he wishes he was a different man. Someone like Johnny, who’d step out from behind the counter, snatch you up in his arms, and dance ridiculously with you.

The dog starts howling along with the lead singer and Simon thinks it can’t get any more ridiculous until you start howling back at your dog. That’s the moment he knows he’s truly a goner. A deep amused chuckle bubbles up in his throat and he can’t remember the last time he was this happy.

He wishes he could take this scene and transport it into his living room, join you and the dog just to collapse onto the couch with you afterwards and hold you close. Make sure you’ll never leave him again. He feels like all the adoration he has for you will choke him up, fill his lungs until there is no more room for any oxygen. Simon is sure he could live without it, survive on your happiness alone.

The song comes to an end and you look at him, sparkling eyes and heaving chest and he chuckles again. He never thought he’d see meek and shy little you do something like that. Promptly you blush at his chuckle.

“Yeah… that… I listen to it so much that my boy here just automatically dances with me to it. He’s quite the talented singer as well.”, you chuckle yourself. He can tell that you’re embarrassed now, wringing your fingers together and he wants to gather you in his arms and press you against him until you fuse into one.

“Quite the talent he has. Learnt from the best.”, Simon responds and wow, did he just casually joke with you?!

You grin broadly at him (he did that! He made you smile) and he smiles back, softly, hoping you can tell from the slight creases around his eyes.

“Thank you, thank you.”, you respond with mock modesty and Simon knows, what had been some silly crush broke all sort of confinement today (who is he kidding, he never had it under control).

“I love that band. Wanted to go to their concert but none of my friends share my taste in music and… well…” You look at the floor and Simon’s fingers twitch with the need to tilt your head back up at him. “I’m scared of going alone.”, you admit quietly.

He swears his gums hurt with the way he wants to sink his teeth into your soft form and drag you home with him, keeping you locked up so you'll never have to be scared again (maybe he should talk with his therapist about that).

Johnny must have possessed him and Kyle just phantom kicked him in his butt, because he responds with: “I’m planning on going to that concert, wanna join me? I’ll make sure you’re safe, sweetheart”

#the sewer writes #butcher!simon x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #butcher!simon x gn!reader

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verstappen-cult · 1 year ago

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#. . . Five times Max refuses to acknowledge he’s sick + one time he does.

request made by @lucien-calore. . . “hi, you asked for a max request and i shall deliver! can i please have a sickfic where max refuses to acknowledge he's sick (a flu or something, nothing too serious) but when he does, he acts like a drama queen?”

You’re making dinner when you hear Max coughing from his streaming room, then the laughs of his friends making fun of him.

You don’t think too much about it. That is until he can’t stop coughing while you’re eating, and when you’re getting ready for bed, and at all during the night.

It’s only in the morning, as you’re making breakfast and he’s feeding the cats, when you decide to say something.

“Baby?” You say, trying to look nonchalant while making the eggs.

“Yes?” He puts the cat food away and makes his way to you. Max hugs your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “What happens?”

“I’m gonna go to the pharmacy after pilates, do you need anything?”

Max hums, like actually thinking about it before saying, “No, love. Got everything I need.”

“You sure? Nothing for that cough you have?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kisses your cheek and pulls away, grabbing an apple. “I’m gonna be streaming, make sure to say goodbye before you leave, okay?”

“Are you okay?” It’s the fourth time in less than an hour that Max enters the kitchen to fill his bottle of water.

“Yeah, it’s just that all the singing and screaming at the concert last night left me with a sore throat.”

You try not to laugh but it’s impossible. It’s been three days since he started with that horrible cough, which hasn’t stopped, but he still doesn’t understand that he’s probably sick.

“Max, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that.” You close the book and get up from the couch, he looks confused as you get closer and place your hand on his forehead. “Jesus, Max, you’re burning up!”

“I’m hot, don’t you think?”

“Max, I’m serious, you got a fever.”

“It’s probably nothing,” He reassures you by placing a kiss on your cheek before turning around. “I fell asleep on the terrace. I’m gonna take a shower, okay?”

“Max, I swear to God—”

“You look hot when you’re angry.” That’s the last thing he says, walking away.

“Max!”

It's impossible. You’ve tried everything to make Max understand that he’s sick and needs to rest, but he won’t admit it.

This morning you practically begged him to stay in bed to rest and recover, but he did not listen to you, saying that it was nothing — as he’s been saying all week — and actually dragged you to the Padel court because ‘I’m gonna win this time’.

Dani’s visiting, so, everyone got together to spend Sunday morning at their favorite place, promising to go to brunch after. But it’s been three hours and they have just finished the second game. Who’s fault is that? Max’s.

It’s no secret that Max is not very good at Padel, but now that he’s sick it’s been torture. Every couple of minutes they have to stop the game for him to cough, so it’s been impossible to actually play and he doesn’t want to give up.

And it’s worse because Charles is his partner. Only a look at the Monégasque and you know he wants to murder him.

“Max,” You call his name, leaving your book aside and walking closer to the wall that’s separating both of you. “you’re sick, why don’t we go home?”

“But, baby, I really think I can win this one.”

“No you won’t!” Lando shouts from across the court as he’s stretching.

“Oh shut u—”

“Max, I’m serious.” You don’t know what else to do at this point. He’s always been so stubborn, but this has reached new levels.

“I’m gonna win this for you, baby.” He winks and turns around to join the rest of the group.

“Max? Why are you still in bed?” You enter the room, gaze immediately going to the watch on the nightstand. It’s two in the afternoon. He never stays in bed past ten, not even during winter or summer break.

“Jus’ tired.” He mumbles, face hidden in the pillows.

“I’m gonna make you a cup of tea, okay?” You sit next to him, stroking his hair.

“Don’t want a cup of tea,” He opens his eyes, looking up at you and pouting. It makes you giggle. “I want you.”

“I won’t kiss you until you admit you’re sick.”

“That’s so unfair!” He pouts again, this time grabbing your arm and trying to make you lie next to him. “I’m not sick. I’m like super healthy.” You snort, shaking your head and standing up.

“Then, no kisses for you.”

Max groans, hiding his face under the blankets. “I can survive without your kisses, you know.”

That makes you laugh because you know Max, and you know how much he likes to kiss you at every opportunity. The chances of Max keeping that promise… Impossible.

“Whatever gets you through the night, Maxie.”

“Hey, baby.” Max places a kiss on your cheek as you leave the grocery bags on the kitchen table. “You got everything for tonight?”

“Yes. I already talked with your mom and they’ll be here at around nine.” Max helps you put the groceries away, frowning when he sees some medicine and a special broth he knows perfectly well among the things you will need for dinner tonight.

“What's this?”

You try to hide a smile, pretending to be busy with anything just to keep you from looking at him. “Your mom said you used to love it as a kid.”

“Yeah,” He says, still confused. “when I was sick.”

“You are sick, Max. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this.”

“I am not!” He huffs, rolling his eyes. You can see from the irritated expression on his face that he's tired of you repeating the same thing over and over again. “I’m gonna go play for a little bit.”

You grab his hand before he can walk away, pulling him closer to you. “Hey,” Max raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to talk. But you cup his cheeks instead, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m worried, I don’t want you to get worse.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You can only watch as he leaves the room, Jimmy following closely behind.

“Well, I tried.” You mumble, looking at Sassy perched on the counter. She meows and you’re glad at least someone understands you.

“Schatje?” You hear Max’s hoarse voice say.

“Mmh?” It’s your answer, busy peeling some vegetables. “What happens?”

He hesitates for a second, you see from the corner of your eyes how he avoids looking at you, which makes you stop and turn your attention to your boyfriend.

“I’m sick.” He whispers, surprising you. But he deserves a little teasing.

“What? I didn’t hear you.” You play dumb, and Max sees right through you.

“You were right, okay? I was being an idiot.”

“Yes, you were.” He pouts, making you feel warm all over. You walk to him, placing your hand on his forehead. “You have a fever. Why don’t you go lie down on the couch, uh? I’ll heat up the broth.”

“I’m sorry for being an idiot.” He breathes into the air, blushing all the way from his cheeks to his neck. You know that admitting when he’s wrong is not something easy for him.

“I know, baby. But,” You reach up and boop Max on the nose with your index finger. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“But I wanted to help you, everyone’s about to arrive.”

“Worry about what your mom will say once I tell her how stubborn you have been.” He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “If you’re a good boy and take the medicine, I’ll think about giving you a… reward.”

If Max takes the medicine and finishes all the broth is only because he wants to get better. It has nothing to do with the reward you’re going to give him tonight.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #f1 grid x reader

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mingtinysworld · 11 months ago

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Adrenaline Rush

Pairing: choi jongho x fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Jongho needs to blow off some steam after he's not satisfied with a performance, and you happen to be there for his assistance. Not that you mind.

Warnings: MDNI, rough, mean jongho, one face slap, throatfucking, hair pulling, degradation kink, use of names like (fucktoy, cumslut), cum swallowing

A/n: I SWEAR I did NOT plan to make Jongho this mean??? But it's ok because he's all cute and sweet at the end. I do love me a mean jongho though. Enjoyyyy please like, comment, and reblog!! - J<3

You nervously wait backstage, eyes on the monitor as staff put up the intricate set pieces for Ateez's stage. You know how hard the boys have worked for this insanely monumental opportunity. Especially Jongho, who has been nonstop belting his voice to perfect the high notes.

A few hours prior, Jongho had started feeling pain in his throat. He was afraid of letting down the group when he's known to be the powerhouse vocal that he is. You knew that no matter what, he would do an amazing job, but you were nervous on his behalf due to his harshness to himself.

You let out a stuttered breath and bounce your leg as they go on stage. They look majestic, and everyone in the crowd seems to absolutely love them. They perform almost their whole set, everything being more than perfect. You feel like crying from how proud you are, of each and every member. Then it's time for Wonderland.

This is the song that Jongho has been nervously dreading. The intense belt of 4 octaves leaves him to dread it every time. But you know that he kills it every single time, and you're certain he will today as well.

He steps forward, takes a deep steady breath, and goes for it. It's as if angels have come down to make you ascend with them. You're convinced that Jongho is not a real human being, he's an angel. No one could be that perfect, that talented, that beautiful. Your jaw is wide open with amazement, and you feel like you could cry.

They take their bows as the crowd erupts with so much love and appreciation for Ateez. They start walking offstage and you go to meet and congratulate them. You scream and clap as they emerge one by one, making them look at you with exhausted adoration. As soon as you see Jongho you lunge towards him, looping your arms around his neck and squealing with excitement.

"Babyyyy oh my god that was amazing. I'm so so proud of you!!" You give him countless pecks across his cheeks as he holds you loosely. You pull back to see his face is pulled taut and jaw clenched, and you tilt your head in confusion.

"Love? What's wrong?" You ask with a pout.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and takes a deep breath. He leans closer to your face and speaks with a barely recognizable voice.

"If I don't fuck your face right now I think I might explode." He says intensely.

Your eyes widen at his admission and you feel like you're hit with lightning from head to toe. You swallow thickly and attempt to speak but all that comes out is a jumble of words.

"Jongho w-why are you so intense?" All you feel at the moment is pure arousal, slick coating your thin underwear. He groans dramatically and hangs his head.

"I messed up and I'm so goddamn angry right now I can barely speak." He manages with gritted teeth.

"But you did-" Before you can finish your encouraging sentence he grabs your wrist and spins you around, holding it behind your back. He leads you towards an empty costume room and you can feel his solid body walking right behind you.

"Shut the fuck up and let me use your mouth. The only good use for it apparently." You comply immediately and let him handle you like a rag doll, enjoying every second of it. As soon as he locks the door, he throws you down to the floor and you look up at him with a wide eyed expression that is screaming "ruin me."

It would truly be a shame if he didn't complete your request, so really he's only being the generous and giving boyfriend that he is. You take fluttery breaths in anticipation and sit there looking so pretty and pliant for him.

He steps forward and with one hand caresses your cheek gently. You close your eyes in bliss and lean into his touch like an obedient kitten. That is until he delivers a harsh slap to the same worshipped cheek. You jolt in surprise and hiss at the sting his palm left, but you stay as still as possible to be a good girl for Jongho.

He smiles like he just won a reward. Maybe he did because the sight of you in front of him is enough to make him burst. He pulls down his pants low enough to pull his aching cock out, but still being mostly dressed. He's leaking so much precum that it's threatening to spill onto the floor and you have to resist the urge to just lick him clean immediately.

He hooks a thumb into your mouth, lifting your head backwards to a point of almost discomfort. The light bounces off of your glazed eyes, making them look like pools of desire and helplessness. He pushes down on your tongue and you don't waste any time wrapping your lips around his digit and giving him a preview of what's to come.

Patience running thin, he pulls his finger out of your soft mouth with a pop, and gathers your hair into one fist. With the other hand he guides his leaking member into your awaiting mouth. You instantly choke around him, somehow forgetting how thick he really is. You try to breathe calmly through your nose to control your gag reflex.

He slides in farther, reaching to the entrance of your throat. He gives an experimental thrust and goes through the restrictive barrier between your mouth and throat. You instinctively swallow around him, resulting in him throwing his head back and groaning. He loses all self control and starts using your throat according to his needs.

He sets a wild pace instantly, hips never stuttering. He hits the back of your throat so sharply that you're sure you'll have giant bruises leftover. Jongho seems to have ascended to a completely different world, with his eyes closed like he's enjoying a nice yoga session. You dig your fingernails into your palms, leaving crescent indents. You want to do your best for Jongho, be a stress reliever, be the best fucktoy he's ever had. It's as if he's read your mind, because in the next second he starts to degrade you to the point your head feels cloudy.

"Who's a good fucktoy? Yeah that's right, you are. Forever my little cumslut aren't you? God I love the way your mouth feels, I could fuck it forever." The only thing you can do is let out pathetic whimpers to confirm his words. You love being used by him, being his toy. As he nears his orgasm he goes even harder. He's now using your hair to pull you back and forth along his length, sending pleasurable sharp pain to your abused scalp.

Your nose meets his stomach and you're held there while Jongho's shooting his load into your throat. You sputter and gargle around him, releasing droplets around the side of your mouth. His stomach clenches in and out as he empties everything into you. As soon as he pulls you off of him you start to cough intensely. He immediately locates a water bottle to soothe your sore throat. You gulp it down greedily, savoring every precious drop.

He helps pull you up, and supports your wobbly form. Even if he treats you so roughly, you're always his princess first and foremost. He runs a gentle hand down your back, rubbing soothingly.

"Did I do too much, my love?" He whispers worriedly.

You shake your head assuredly. "No baby, you were perfect. You were perfect on stage too you know." You croak with a raised eyebrow. He laughs at your expression and softens up.

"Oh what did I do to deserve you? I just think the world of you sweetheart." He rests his head against your forehead, breathing deeply. Your heart beats loudly, feeling the flutter of a thousand butterflies inside. You break apart and give him a cheeky grin.

"I demand a bath and a massage." You raise your head defiantly, daring him to disagree. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief.

"You don't ever change oh my god. How about I do you one better? I'll give you a bath and massage while singing you your favorite songs. Followed up by some very cuddly cuddles. What do you think?" He asks.

"I think you have yourself a deal mister Choi best singer and performer Jongho." You give him a bow and he playfully smacks you.

"Alright alright, get it together." He pretends to grumble grumpily.

"Okayyy mister bear." You retort while running away.

"HEY.” He says while chasing after you.

#ateez #ateez smut #mingtinysworld #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #choi jongho #jongho #jongho smut

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