#THANK YOU!! these were really good questions

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility and pregnancy

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: The Bunker

Your ankle feels better after a little over a week.

The one initially against you staying has been giving you medical check-ups every day—something about wasteland toxins and underlying, possible contagious sicknesses he’d like to keep a weathered eye out for. 

You hadn’t refused. After all, such precautions were only warranted.

When you first encountered them in the wasteland, they were both wearing hazmat suits and gas masks. And though you had already been put through the standard disinfection and the basic check—eyes, teeth, and tongue—before they’d even let you in, you can’t blame them for taking extra measures—no matter how meticulous the check-ups have been since, comprising of endless spit, blood, and urine samples.

Somehow, you actually appreciated the thoroughness. It was just one more thing that reminded you of the past. The way he sat there, behind the desk like a doctor, and you opposite, like a patient, waiting for your results.

You’d gotten more or less used to it now, so it didn’t feel as awkward anymore. And, if you were to say so yourself, you think he’s even warmed up to you a little bit too.

“You’re all clear. No detectable toxins,” he states after a moment, mulling over the data, more or less the same outcome he’d come to for the last four or so days. He scribbled a few things into the file he’d been conducting, a focused furrow between his brows as he worked. You felt inclined to inquire about what exactly he’d been jotting down all these days of running tests but then decided against it—explaining things to you would probably only vex him. He was a man of as few words as possible, after all.

He sighs, then informs, “We can stop checking every day now.”

“Really?” you light up—feeling excited for some reason. Suppose you took it as a sign of improvement even without knowing entirely what any of it actually meant. In any case, lesser checks must be good, right?

“Yeah. You’re way healthier, thanks to all our produce and not consuming any of that wasteland trash.” He pulled a grimace before his face settled back into that constant look of dour solemnity. “Blood pressure, heart rate, vitals—everything looks good.”

It almost seems like such a silly thing to even bother caring about. Only a few weeks ago, you hadn’t cared for any such thing as health as long as it meant you weren’t starving or freezing—and here you are, celebrating such a privileged thing as blood pressure.

You sniffle, can’t help yourself, balled fists quivering in your lap as a few tears start to drop, “Thank you—truly. I’d have died if it weren’t for the two of you.”

He must think you’re ridiculous, too, crying over something so small. You wipe your eyes, only to notice him holding out a tissue for you. You can only laugh at yourself while accepting it.

“You’ll help me in the greenhouse today since your ankle is all better,” he states while getting up.

You spring to your feet, too. This would be the first time you’d been asked to help out. “What about—”

“He’s busy doing inventory,” he answers before you get the question out. “We’ll have to change a few things since you’re staying.”

This stills you, breath caught in your throat. You look at him wide-eyed, scared you’d heard him wrong. Voice weak as if scared to ask, “I’m staying?”

“Tch—” It’s his turn to chuckle, though he does so much differently from you—mockingly, a way he often does at both your and the other's expense. Though, you’d taken to find it rather endearing. He gives you a look—it’s very almost soft. “You didn’t think we’d waste our resources on something we planned on chucking back out again, did you?”

A tug pulls your wobbly lips back into a smile. “I guess that would be silly...” you sniffle again. “Still, thank you.”

This time, as you say it, you rush to hug him—tightly, with both your arms wrapped around his tough midsection and your head tucked against his broad chest.

It’s him who falls still now—stunted by the action and left both speechless and frozen in place. His arms hover mid-air, unsure of where to rest, before slowly lowering to settle atop your narrow shoulders—so much smaller in comparison. It’s crazy to think you’d endured out in the wasteland for so long.

He’s sure you’ve done things in order to stay alive you’re not at all proud of. Still, your survival is no less than a miracle.

He clears his throat. “Let’s hurry up,” He dismisses, then proceeds to nudge you off as if the hug was unwanted, but even you can spot the blush dusting his cheeks as he looks away with another grumble, “We’re making dinner before he’s done.”

The smile on your face is a sight for sore eyes, he thinks. You didn’t smile like that a week ago.

“Yes, sir.” You salute, following him in stride.

You’d said it innocently enough, but by God, if only you knew how it takes everything in him not to bend you over the medical desk right then and tell you all about how you’re in the perfect window for conceiving. 

He manages to steal himself. 

After dinner, he promised himself soothingly, calming the hunger in his gut—after dinner, they’d decided, tonight would be the night they’d finally make use of you the real way they’d intended—have you earn your keep.

When you’re done tilling the gardens, about a couple hours later, the two of you move on to the kitchen. You’d learn that the brash one was in charge of making most meals, as the other one was more than hopeless in the kitchen. It seemed you were replacing him as the helper, given simple tasks such as cutting, measuring, and fetching things.

It felt nice to be doing something again, especially something so trivial. Housework and domestic chores were something one could only reminisce about, and yet here you were, doing just that—cutting carrots as if the outside world wasn’t a badland of people killing each other for a can of expired dog food.

You really were so lucky you could hardly believe it. The tears start bubbling again.

“If you’re finished cutting, go to the cupboard over there,” he jolts you out of your thoughts. Not looking away from stirring the pot, he points with his other hand toward the far side of the kitchen.

You pad over and open it to find two dozen or more bottles of wine, all neatly shelved.

“Pick one out,” he calls out.

You blink, looking between the wine and him. “You mean—”

“Anyone of ‘em is fine,” he says. “Feel free to read if you’re looking for something special, though. It’s you were celebrating, after all.”

This time, you can’t stop the tears as they trickle down your face one after the other, soaking your cheeks.

Hearing you sniffle makes him sigh with rust. Scolding you with military toughness, “Quit cryin’ already—it’s getting old.”

You wipe your eyes and stiffen your lip. “Yes, sir.”

Turning your head back to the shelf, you can hardly believe the sight. It had been all moonshine and slop out in the wasteland. Dangerous stuff you were better staying well away from.

You can’t believe you’re going to drink actual wine again—your mouth waters just at the thought as you pick the first bottle you set your eyes on. But then you stop yourself—a guilty knot in your stomach twisting.

“Is it really okay?” you ask. “Shouldn’t we save it?”

“Tch—” he scoffs disapprovingly again. “You gotta stop doin’ that.”

You’re left looking at him even though he keeps his back turned, still busy stirring the pot. He lifts a spoon for tasting, then adds more spice to his liking before continuing as though he could tell you were confused just from the silence.

“You’re not in the wasteland anymore—” he states. “You can afford to live a little now.”

A concept like that had yet to have reached you. 

Suppose you were still settling in. 

“Besides, there are more in the cellar,” he reveals. “Even if we drank a bottle every day, it would take years for us to finish. So don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it, a’ight?”

Your grip around the bottle tightens—trying to toughen up to keep the tears at bay. But today was an emotional day, and it seemed there was no end to the blessings you were given. It was all so overwhelming, your heart swelled with happiness—a feeling you hadn’t felt in such an awfully long time.

“Something smells good!” comes a call.

It seems he’s returned from doing inventory.

“Oh no, why are you crying?” He instantly rushes over to you, holding your face to inspect the damage, then snaps his head to the other, who’s still busying himself with perfecting dinner. “Are you being too harsh on her?” he accuses. “You know, not everyone can live up to your cooking expectations—”

“Tch—I haven’t done shit,” he denies. “She’s just emotional ‘cause I told her we’re lettin’ her stay.”

“What!? You told her without me?” he cries then. ��We were supposed to surprise her together.” His pout is instantly replaced with a blank look of surprise as you wrap your arms around him like you’d done with the other earlier—hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you repeat to him as well.

You still couldn’t believe how nice they had been to you. 

After dinner is eaten, the three of you end up sitting there, chatting—about the past, most of all, how things used to be—how people would live in little houses with next-door neighbors they’d invite over for game night—little families with kids and backyards and pet dogs—college, marriage, careers.

You helped the stoic one clear the dishes while the chipper of the two opened another bottle of wine. You can hardly believe it when they bring out the record player and slide a vinyl on.

You end up crying again as the music plays. You even dance. Laughter fills the bunker while you get completely swept away with the feeling of utter bliss. And as the wine finishes and the conversation turns sloppy, the hands twirling your body to the music get a little touchier, a little greedier, until you’re suddenly kissed.

Between the two of them, the air becomes hot—steamy as you share breathes. 

Busy hands, large and strong and callused from labor, work on your button-up shirt. It’s gone before you know it, then the hands move on to your pants.

Honestly, after all the emotions joined by the wine and dance and being spun between the two, you can’t say you’re completely without lust, but at the same time, you’re just a bit confused. 

Despite not having seen them kiss in front of you, you’re certain they both go to bed in the same room every night—so all this time, you’d been under the impression that they were involved with each other and not interested in you that way. 

Not that it matters much what you thought, you think, you’re not against what’s happening so much as you’re a little hesitant about how it’s about to happen. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone—willingly, that is—you’ve sort of forgotten how to enjoy it. 

If it were just one, you’d maybe find it a bit less overwhelming, but given there were two, you quickly found yourself feeling somewhat claustrophobic.

“Wait—” you stutter. Blocking the advance with your own hands, looking up into drunken and heated eyes and the soft look of arousal painted on the face before you. 

“Don’t worry,” he comforts with that kind smile. “You’re the most valuable thing we have—we’re gonna be gentle.”

You almost bite, almost give in, almost let it soothe you. But even in the drunk haze, the choice of phrasing finds you a little odd. And you’re unable to disregard that feeling that’s been nagging at the very back of your head ever since you stepped foot in the place. 

Something’s not right.

“Valuable?” Sure, you could choose to understand it as them saying they care for you, but somehow, it just doesn’t feel as if that’s all. “What does that mean?”

“You know…” he utters softly—his kind smile curling into something different. His eyes fall downward as he licks his lips before finishing, “This.” 

He’s laid a hand atop your belly where his gaze is set—his palm flat and firm as he rubs tentative circles into the softness.

It takes you a moment before you shudder. “You…” 

You needed to be rational about this. Some part of you always knew there was something going on, didn’t it? Why else would you be here? Why else would they let you stay? The cameras in the bedroom, in the showers, all those medical checkups—you’ve known there was something. And still, you hadn’t left. You hadn’t even so much as humored the thought even once.

There is no life for you out there. You don’t just want to stay—you have to—you need to.

And is it really so bad? Hadn't they been nice? Haven’t they been more than generous? Don’t you owe them so much more than what they’re asking in return?

But what are they asking? It’s not just intimacy. It’s something else—something premeditated.

“You want to use me to…” The realization makes you shudder. “To make you a child…”

Like an incubator.

They don’t deny it.

You want to back up—create space—room to breathe, but the other is just behind you with his big chest pressed stiffly against your back, keeping you close, trapped before the one in front.

“It’s true…” he confesses at your ear. “That is all we wanted from you in the beginning.” 

It sends a chill down your spine.

“It was almost too good to be true when we found you,” he continued while playing with your waist in big hands. “How a perfect candidate fell right into our lap mere days after we decided to go lookin’ for one.”

You suck in a hitched breath as the well of tears breaches, dribbling down your cheeks at the clinical word—candidate.

“But you’re more than that now,” the other reassures, bowing and fishing for your eyes as you’d taken to look down—too horrified to look him back in his. 

“We figured you’d be a savage, havin’ lived out there for so long,” the one behind says. He’d been the most skeptical at first, but he’d come to learn it was rather the opposite—your time out there hadn’t toughened your skin or hardened your heart but only made you timid and soft.

“In all honesty, we weren’t sure we were gonna keep you after the pregnancy…” the one in front whispers upon your lips. “But that’s all in the past now.”

He lifts your chin, taking in the all-too-soft look of despair on your face. It’s a strange thing to say he’d missed. It nearly makes him feel guilty for the hard-on in his cargo pants. But then again, tears are the allure of the gentler sex. It’s only natural for a man to enjoy the sight.

“We want you to stay.” He strokes your cheek, catching the tears on his thumb. “After all, it would be best for the baby to have a female presence—especially one as soft as yours.”

“And, well…” You flinch at the stubble being dragged upon your shoulder and neck, a kiss placed in the nook there along with his words, “We’ve grown to like having you around.”

His hands had fallen from your waist down to rub your hips, swaying you back against his crotch—and the bulge there, that now felt a little more like a gun being poked against your back. 

“It’s been a long while since we’ve had the company of a woman,” he continues while pressing himself against you. “It was unfamiliar at first, but… it’s nice.”

Something urgent takes over your body then—even though it’s beyond stupid. There’s no plan, no further thought than run—despite having no solid clue as to where. And yet, it ends up not mattering in the slightest. You don’t make it far.

You scream as their hands snag you. The grumpier one locks your arms, the chipper one grabs your legs—and they both lift and carry you back—laying you down on the little round table you’d had dinner on.

You struggle, but your wrists are pinned down to the metal with a strength you can’t hope to match.

“Don’t be like that.” He clicks his tongue dismissively like he so often does when you say or do something stupid. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“No—” you cry. “Please—don’t.” Shaking your head while squeezing your thighs shut. 

Never mind having sex, you could endure that much—but having a baby in this mess? They’re the ones who lost their minds down here. 

“I can’t—”

“Of course, you can,” the other insists, prying your thighs apart to make space for himself between them, already with his hands returning to undo the button of your pants, zipping down the fly and tugging them off.

“No—”

He’s back to console you just as quickly, “Shh-sh, don’t cry,” he soothes, cupping your face in both palms. He gives you that kind smile again, but it no longer serves as any source of comfort—now just a mouth full of teeth. “We’ll be gentle.”

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[theemporium]

i know lukey went back to mich for the break but could you do a smutty blurb on him and his girlfriend having the place to themselves and she’s still trying to stay quiet as he goes down on her but he’s just telling her she can be as loud as she wants?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It was pure instinct. 

You were sprawled out on his bed, gripping the sheets between your fingers and fighting the urge to arch yourself further into his touch. He was nestled between your legs, arms locked around your thighs and hips grinding down into the mattress as he ate you out. It was truly a sight to see, with his cheeks flushed and curls falling in front of his eyes and the noises he made against your cunt.

It was really fucking hot, you couldn’t not react to it. 

It was a pure driven instinct from the many times you had found yourself in this position before to smack a hand over your mouth, to muffle the noises that were threatening to escape. You twisted your head, prepared to nuzzle your face against your pillow like you usually did before Luke made you came. 

However, instead you found yourself blinking your eyes open in confusion as Luke stopped everything he was doing and lightly pinched your thigh to get your attention. 

“Luke,” and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it was basically a whimper. 

But Luke didn’t seem to acknowledge it as he frowned at you. “Why did you do that?” 

It felt like a herculean task to fight through the fog in your brain to process his question. “What?” 

“Why did you do that?” Luke repeated, still between your legs with his lips and chin glistening under the soft light of his bedroom.

Your confusion grew. “What are you—” 

“I am making you feel good, right?” Luke asked with an expression on his face you had never seen before. 

“Yes,” you answered instantly before sitting up a little until you were on your elbows. “And I was kinda hoping you would make me come too but—” 

“Then why aren’t you letting me hear how good I’m making you feel?” Luke retorted, watching the way your lips parted a little at his blunt words. “No need to hide, baby. There’s no one but me and you.” 

“I—” You cleared your throat a little. “I forgot.” 

Luke’s smile turned wolfish as he squeezed your thighs until they were pressed against the sides of his head. “S’okay, baby, you can make it up to me. Tell me how good I’m doing.” 

You huffed out a laugh. “You athletes and your insatiable praise kinks.”

Luke didn’t respond, not with words at least. Instead, there was a glint in his eyes (something quite like determination) as he leaned his head back down and kept his eyes locked on you as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking noisily and obscenely just to watch the way your body arched off the bed.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried out, a choked out whimper escaping between the words as he tugged you closer to him. “Shit, fine! Deserved praise kink! Fuck, Luke, just like that.” 

You swore you could feel the fucker smiling against your cunt, but considering he was making you come minutes later, you decided against calling him out on it and instead utilised the empty apartment.

.

[thetadispatcher]

The android nodded in agreement, at least there were humans that understood his methods and saw no problem with them. Even if Bishop was the first human he'd met that agreed with him, and his system had already calculated the likelihood of him meeting more to be slim, he could still appreciate that maybe one day he'd get to work with a human who wouldn't complain about his work ethics.

"If only I could get the humans, and androids, I work with to understand, although I see no possibility of that happening. Shame really, but such is life. Once you develop freewill, everything you do will be scrutinized differently, instead of them simply chalking it up to a machine being cold and unfeeling." Even if Gavin did occasionally question if the RK900 was truly deviant or just pretending. Something he'd never give the human a straight answer for, he felt it was a good chance for the detective to prove his skills, and just a good opportunity to mess with the man more.

John glanced at Bishop, raising his eyebrow slightly as he listened to the man talk about the fact there was a human version of him. "Hm... Well, even being human can't stop the military from getting their hands on me. Good to know, I had wondered that once." It had only been a brief thought, and not one he felt would ever be answered. But it seemed like anything was possible, so he'd have to take that into consideration when wondering things in the future.

"I can say Peter cares about me, although I sometimes suspect that's just due to me being the first deviant he actually got to experience. Another of Cyberlife's great plans, hide the units they lied about destroying with employees, and people they could trust to keep quiet about it. Catherine, his Cyberlife friend, made a pretty good argument for him being a good candidate for that activity. Didn't bother to warn him as they thought he already knew thanks to her, so he was a bit freaked out the day he came home from work and found me in his old apartment... I might've ruffed him up a bit more then necessary, but I wasn't prepared for him to start trying to fight me."

John couldn't blame Peter for reacting how he had to a stranger showing up in his home unannounced, and Peter didn't hold it against the android for defending himself against a clearly panicked human. But they did eventually get things worked out after he'd managed to restrain the young man, and prove to him he wasn't actually there to harm him.

"Oh, the talking corpse." Nines said calmly, ignoring Hugh giving him a shocked look at his choice of words. "I'm not shocked to hear he has a bond with another version of John, for having very different personalities they get along quite well. Although it seems things went down a more tragic path for them, if the smell of a roughly five month old corpse that been sitting on the ocean floor is any indicator." Hugh attempted to silence the RK900 by giving the unit a harsh shove to his shoulder and a very upset look.

Nines just gave him a bored look, as if he saw no problem with how blunt he was being about the odd man currently in the house. "I can provide further evidence, such as the black gel on his body. Any normal human would clean that from their skin, but he hasn't. So, that would lead one to believe it might be part of the reason why he's up and about." He glanced at John as the android wirelessly criticized him then shifted his focus to Bishop. "Am I correct?"

Kelvin didn't respond through the link as the damage he'd suffered made his attempts turn into a garbled mess of useless noise that overwhelmed whoever he was linked with, and he wasn't actually used to hearing the other speak through the link clearly since it was usually a dull buzz for him.

He perked up a bit upon being able to make out actual words through the low droning sound in his mind, to which he eagerly nodded as he understood what was being asked of him.

He allowed her access to his memories from the day he was damaged, the data was corrupted, but he felt there was enough still intact to be useful.

The memory file opened to the sound of a helicopter, briefly showing that to his left there was a vast ocean and his right there was another android in a similar outfit to his with an island visible out the window. The image of a human male on a laptop sat across from the other unit flashed before being distorted by the corruption, causing a lapse in time before the memories cleared.

Kelvin was back looking out the window at the water below before the window cracked, seconds later he was being tossed around the helicopter as it lost control. The helicopter came to a halt on the top of a cliff face, the landing jarring a door open causing the other android to fly from the aircraft and plummeting into the ocean below.

His system had been sending messages to Cyberlife and the company he was owned by, attempting to alert them of the situation, but his attempts were nothing but panicked jumbled words and code. Something that shouldn't have happened with a non-deviant android.

Kelvin was nearly flung out with the other unit, but had managed to grab hold of the seat. He struggled to pull himself up and back inside, the human reached to help him as he slipped, dangling from the very edge before he too fell into the water. The last sound he ever heard was the his own scream and the crashing of waves growing louder.

Kelvin's memory corrupted as he slammed into the water, shattering the inner mechanics of his ears, and severely damaging his brain as it was violently slammed against it's housing. Error messages flooded his HUD, obstructing his vision, somehow he managed to find his way out of the water as his system registered sand underneath him. The errors and agonizing pain overwhelmed his system, in response he desperately tried to send error reports as he didn't understand what was happening or the pain he was experiencing. Reports that were never received, continuously failing until the function shutdown entirely, leaving the android unable to contact anyone for help.

His memory continued after another time lapse, showing the human once again now looking the unit over, checking his visible damage and testing to make sure he was still functional enough to be useful.

The remaining intact sections of his memory were of the human giving him orders on a notepad that he happily completed without question. Kelvin seemed to believe the man was his friend as the human allowed him to stay inside the shelter he made, gave him tasks, and would scare off or attack the savage island natives Kelvin pointed out to him. The android took the actions as kindness, not that the man saw him as useful and therefoe had decided to keep him around.

Eventually the pair was rescued and returned to civilization, where the human seemed to have been given a choice regarding Kelvin as the company no longer wanted the android. The man glanced at the damaged unit and shook his head, Kelvin was then lead away by a pair of Cyberlife technicians, clearly not understanding what was happening. He kept looking back at the man, waiting for him to follow them. Moments before his system was deactivated did he understand what was going on, he glanced at the doors waiting for the man he'd believed was his friend to come save him before everything went black.

The next time he opened his eyes was to a very confused Peter staring down at him then looking at an equally perplexed Dan, his first thoughts were of him being hopeful that his human friend was coming to take him home. A hope the unit clearly still had, he seemed to believe the human was coming to get him, doing whatever tasks he could find well he waited for the man to arrive.

Sixty watched the two closely, tucking himself behind Strasky as he was still convinced the connection wouldn't end well.

"Oddly, he really doesn't yell, it's more of a calm type of rage. I think he just keeps his voice down 'cause of the more skittish units. He doesn't wanna start yellin' 'nd make 'em think he's gonna start beatin' on 'em, like their old owners did." He could understand why the human restrained himself from simply screaming, instead showing his anger in other ways as to not cause the traumatized units any unnecessary distress.

Ellis tucked the rag into the pocket of his Cyberlife issued coveralls, he had a feeling he'd be needing it again, so he felt it best to carry it on him so he wouldn't have to get up again.

"Yep, we get a warnin' if it's startin' to run low. Most units don't need to get it refilled that often, if ever. But ones like me, we're always gettin' somethin' in our eyes, so it's more of a monthly thing then a yearly. 'nd no, givin' us eye protection never seems to cross our owners minds." At least from the units he'd spoken with, it seemed the humans thought they didn't need to provide safety glasses to androids as their eyes were different from a humans.

"I always just thought it was my owner doin' all the brain dead crap, don't know if it makes me feel better learin' that isn't the case. Ugh, that man... He always felt the need to correct me on the stuff I was made to do, never made any sense to me, but I had to listen. I think he just liked feelin' superior to a machine, even if he was wrong 'nd the reason we were loosin' business... Which I, of course, was blamed for. I seemed to be his go-to when things when wrong, or when he decided to manifest issues." He rolled his eyes before he got back under the vehicle.

"Grade A idiot he was if ya ask me. I like it here a lot more, I can do things my way 'nd no one will try to tell me I'm wrong, or how somethin' I had nothin' to do with was my fault." He preferred his new life over his old one, and he had no desire to even see how his old owner was doing as he rather forget the man ever existed.

It was hard to say what the intention was there. Even Bishop's compliments sounded condescending.

"I can attest to the effectiveness of that method. There is no place for personal feelings while on duty."

Then one could be particularly wise and never stop working to avoid it completely. Bishop shuffled his cards as he waited on the androids. The question got no major reaction out of him other than the vague frown any attempt at asking him to disclose information got. He sat with his back straight, as expected from an agent of his caliber.

"Well, if you want to know about the human that looks like him," he pointed to John, "Claiming that I know him would be an overstatement. We met less than 48 hours ago. The brief conversations we had and all the flattering things I was told hardly make up for that. All I can tell you is that he was in the military and is of particular importance for Strasky."

And he was mostly neutral despite his interest in the skills of a fellow military men.

Willow showed a distinctively cautious approach as well as the link was established. While she had connected to unstable systems before, it was always best to feel around first, before risking to cause additional damage.

Though she was still confident she could handle this and even attempted talking back. "I would like to have a look at your memories. The others here believe it would help them understand you better if they knew how you were damaged. Additionally, I may be able to repair some of it as well."

Rook shrugged, "It isn't really what I'm aiming for with my streams, but I could steal some of those lines. It might throw them off enough to shut up whenever I stop playing to go back to Minecraft. I just can't be bothered and I don't want to scare my pets with random screams."

She made sure to keep her distance, knowing better than to get in the way while somebody was working.

"Yeah, I figured that was the case. Does that mean you've got to refill sometimes? Like wiper fluid or something like that."

[bunnybeaches]

I need John Price to fuck me silly while Kate watches, perhaps Kyle and Johnny and Simon are there to cooing about how pretty I looked fucked out but Kate won't let them touch me

That's what I think about at 6:30 in the morning, and I'm waiting for you to wake up lmaoo

18+ MDNI

“Oh my just look at you sweetheart,” Kate strokes your sweaty face gently before cupping your jaw, “Is John’s cock really that good?”

Your legs are hooked over John’s shoulders as he bullies his cock into your slick cunt. You’ve already cum twice and you don’t know how many more you can.

Kate stands above you with a smile on her face. She was the one who invited the boys over, but she’s only given John permission to touch you. Kyle, Simon, and Johnny stand in the corner of the room murmuring praises and fisting their own dicks.

John continues to fuck himself deep into your already wrecked cunt. “C’mon love I know you can give me one more can’t you?” John coos into your ear loving.

Kate gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead, she’s still mostly dressed only opting to take off her shirt and leave her navy bra on.

“Don’t tell me that his cock is better than my strap? Is this what you wanted? A real cock inside that greedy pussy of yours?” Kate murmurs into your ear as you frantically shake your head.

“N-No yours is the best!” You whine out as you throw your head back. You cum one last time with a loud moan of John’s name before going limp againt the bed.

John looks at Kate with questioning eyes. Kate gives a small nod and then right after John is cumming inside of you. You didn’t even notice the other boys cumming, but when you turn to look at them you already know.

John pulls out with a grunt from him and a whine from you as you lazily open your eyes. Kate scoops you up in her arms as she bids the boys farewell.

“Angel say thank you to John for tonight.” Kate says, as she strokes your hair. You murmur out a small “Thank you John,” but you’re so exhausted that you’re practically asleep.

“Anytime love you were absolutely perfect.” John pecks your forehead before walking out of the bedroom with his boys.

“Cuddles or a shower?” Kate murmurs, god your wife was amazing at aftercare. You think you said cuddles because she’s tucking you into bed while she peels off her clothes.

“Cuddles for my perfect wife it is then.” You fall asleep all blissful fucked out while Kate murmurs how tomorrow she’ll show you how a real woman fucks her wife.

[no-144444]

confronting- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: a confrontation in a hotel room doesn't go so well thanks to Franco's loud mouth...

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Entertaining the idea of dating Oscar when you knew you’d be gone at the end of the season wasn’t fair. He deserved someone who’d be there for every race, be there for him. You weren’t that person. You weren’t the person anyone should want, you just weren’t like that. 

Qatar rolled around and Oscar won the Sprint, and he was P3 in the race. You were meant to do the interviews. He knew that. That’s why he frowned when he was met with Jenson’s face at the end of the race. 

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, not holding the microphone up to his mouth. 

Jenson smirked. “Missing her?”

Oscar nodded. 

“She’s with Franco, he was pretty upset after the crash.”

“Oh,” he nodded, and the interview began. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, it was just… easier that way. And Franco really was quite shaken after the crash, so that part wasn’t a lie either. You just didn’t want to deal with all of the shit the media and people online would give the two of you. You just wanted a nice, clean break from the world of F1, and the people online who shipped you and Oscar would never let that happen. It was upsetting, because he really was a good friend to you, and you thought you were a good friend to him. Maybe it could’ve been something else, if things were different. You sat with Franco, calming him down since he was pretty upset that his second last race of the season was fucked by a silly turn-one incident. 

“What’s going on with you and that model?” you asked. He chuckled. 

“Oh my, you saw it too? It’s so embarrassing,” he sighed. “Even my mother has been asking me about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you laughed at his reaction. “We can talk about anything you want.”

“What’s going on with you and Oscar?” he smirked and your face fell slightly. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” he pried. “You two seem like more than ‘friends’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not. We’re just friends,” you assured him. 

Franco sat up, leaning closer to you. He was so close his breath was on your cheek, his eyes staring longingly into yours. You knew what he was doing.  “So he wouldn’t mind it if someone kissed you, no?”

You laughed, pushing him back down to his previous position of lying down. “Stop being weird. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He shouldn’t care anyway.”

“Let’s test that,” Franco challenged. “Kiss me in front of him, and then we’ll know. I’ll ask Lando to tell me about it, they’re close, right?”

You sighed, something about it felt a little bit… manipulative. And it’s not like you were looking for Oscar to like you back, he didn’t. That’s what he’d said the last time, it was only a joke, a prank, a mistake. Which was fine with you, of course. It made sense. You couldn’t be there for him while you were supposed to be there for someone else. Someone else on his team. 

Ok, so maybe the move to Indycar isn’t just about Sky starting to cover it. Maybe, they need more European fans, and you have to go over there and sell it to them with a relationship with Pato O’Ward. Maybe McLaren is paying you a lot of money to do that. 

Just maybe though. 

“I can’t do that Franco,” you explained. “It’s not fair. And anyways, I’m kind of… seeing someone.”

“Is it Oscar?!” he questioned. You shook your head. “Lando? Lance? Zhou? Yuki? Who?” “He’s not in F1!” you giggled, watching as Franco freaked out. 

“Who is he?! You have to tell me right now!” he begged, taking your hands. 

“He’s in Indycar, that’s all I’ll tell you,” you smirked and his jaw dropped. 

“Is that why you’re leaving?!” he almost shouted. 

“No! Sky really is just branching out, but yes, it is nice that I’ll actually be able to watch his races,” you chuckled. 

“I’ll miss you,” he frowned. 

“I’ll miss you too,” you chuckled, pulling him in for a hug. “Now, I have to go do my post-race duties, so I’ll see you in Abu Dhabi, alright?”

He frowned even deeper. “Alright,” he mumbled. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me!”

You left the Williams garage with a smile on your face, very much amused by your conversation with Franco. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You pulled up to the media pen, really to meet with Jenson and Nico, your co-hosts this weekend, but they were nowhere to be seen. Regardless, you prepared yourself with the running order. 

Lance, Lando, Max, Checo, Zhou, and Fernando. That’s all you had to get through before you got on a flight to Abu Dhabi the next morning. After another few minutes of waiting, Nico and Jenson showed up, acting slightly strange. They weren't really speaking to you, only with each other. It’s not like they were excluding you, just… not asking for your input. They seemed guilty too. 

Lance, Lando, Max, and Checo were all fine, polite and out of there quickly. Oscar didn’t show up. Unsurprising, as you had been avoiding him. Zhou and Fernando went by in a flash, and you were back to your hotel by 2am. 

When you walked into your hotel, you were not expecting to see Oscar Piastri standing outside your door. 

Holy shit. You were so astronomically fucked. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned. He turned to you. 

He cleared his throat. He’d been thinking of a response to that question since the second he’d started waiting outside for you. What was he doing? This was insane. His plan was to make you stay, but he was much too upset to talk rationally when he got the text from Franco about you seeing an Indycar driver. Honestly, it crushed him. He genuinely thought you’d liked him. “I wanted to… talk? Or something, just to gauge what the fuck is going on here,” he was getting heated, and you understood he was probably angry with you, and it’s not like he didn’t have a reason. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, opening your hotel room door and letting him inside. 

“You’re going to Indycar?” he questioned. “What the fuck?”  

You gulped, hard. “Yeah?” 

“Why?” he demanded. “What does Indycar have that F1 doesn’t? F1 is faster cars, faster drivers, more money, more races, more countries, more-”

“Oscar! Did it ever occur to you that this wasn’t my fucking choice?!” you shouted over him. Silence. “Indycar doesn’t have Sky coverage, but Europeans are interested in the sport and they need a known interviewer to go there and make it easier to sell it to people, and I got picked. That’s it.” 

“So it has nothing to do with whatever Indycar driver you’re fucking?” he scoffed. Your face fell. Your eyes fell to the hardwood floor beneath your feet. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face soured and you looked up again, offended. Who did he think he was? He had no say in your life at all. You’d hated him for 2 years, and you had no real reason to, now you had one. “I owe you nothing Oscar. I’m an adult in a consenting relationship, and yes he’s in Indycar, is that a crime?” 

“Is that why you’re going over there?” he asked, stepping closer to you. You could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife. “Or are you running away from something here?” 

“Fuck you,” you pushed him back. This wasn't the Oscar you knew. He was different, angry, mean, and rude. You owed him nothing. “Get out.” 

He nodded, and left without another word. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

taglist:

@anotherapollokid @chelseyyouraverageluigi @suns3treading @patis643 @trees-are-books @stressed-cherry @revrse @awenthealchemist @imdyinghelpplease @successfulgarlic81

[cuteandhughesy]

I was wondering if you could do prompts 23 and 26 for Nathan Mackinnon? Or maybe just 23 off your 1000 celly list. Thank you. 💖

Ben & Jerrys | Nathan Mackinnon

summary: you’re craving ice cream and you’re making it your husbands problem. prompt no. 23: "i'm carrying your giant baby, the least you could do is get me some ice cream." + prompt no. 26: "I can't tell if I hate you or love you right now"

[word count] 1.0k

warnings: pregnancy + pregnancy hormones

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

you consider yourself pretty lucky with your pregnancy when it comes to cravings. you've heard stories from your friends about their absurd food and drink cravings they experienced while they were pregnant. things like peanut butter slathered pickles, baby food, ketchup and bologna sandwiches—one of your friends even couldn’t stop sniffing gasoline.

but you? all you want it's ice cream. any flavour of ben & jerrys ice cream was all you craved. morning and night, after every meal, and anywhere you went, you were ready for the sweet, milky treat. you honestly blame it on your health nut of a husband— he never buys ice cream because it's 'not good for you'— fucking whatever.

but when you got pregnant and started to having cravings, nathan made sure the freezer was always stocked with at least 10 individual tubs of ben & jerrys ice cream. he was really considerate about it too—giving you a variety of different flavours so it didn't matter if you wanted something fruity, chocolatey, or simply french vanilla because it was at your disposal. 

so yeah, you were really lucky when it came to cravings. ice cream is delicious and it will always be delicious. it's an easy craving to manage, and you don't get weird looks when you're out and about because you gnawing on a piece of raw coconut—you only get looks from nathan when you're sucking down your ice cream cone faster than anything he's ever seen.

but it's times like this, lying restlessly under the covers, leg half hung over your pregnancy pillow while the baby kicks at your ribs and rolls around in your uterus—begging for some damn ice cream. it's almost 4 in the morning, your alarm clock making sure you're well aware of the awkward time. it’s taunting you.

you're so warm and cosy in bed—and tired—you really don't want to go downstairs for a tub of ice cream right now, despite how badly you want to flavours to bless your tastebuds. plus you don't want to wake the dog up, who will inevitably beg to go to the bathroom…and then you have to wait 30 minutes while he tries to find a spot to pee.

you blink in surprise when nathan groans beside you, flipping onto his side, facing your direction. he's squinting tiredly, and you instantly know that your tossing woke him up. "what's wrong?" he questions lowly before you can apologize, his voice all gravelly and hot with sleep.

your core flutters pathetically at the sound of his deep voice—you're also insanely horny with this pregnancy, but that’s neither here nor there. you make a small noise that comes out like a whine, rolling off your back, baby protesting the entire flip over, and face your husband.

"I want ice cream," you mumble.

nathan sighs, "then go have some honey."

you whine again, louder this time like he's just asked you to go for a run instead of going downstairs—with his pregnant you are though, it’s practically the same thing. "I don't want to get out of bed," you tell him honestly, foot sliding under the covers and pushing between his calfs. "can you go get a tub for me?" you ask after a beat, eyes wide with hope.

"babe," nathan starts in disbelief, rubbing the sleep out of his right eye with the palm of his hand before continuing, "you can go get it. don't be silly."

your face falls, a white hot stick of anger poking at you. "i'm carrying your giant baby, the least you could do is get me some ice cream," you snap all to harshly, pushing up onto your elbow as you glare down at your husband. nathan's eyes widen in a mixture of humor and shock, looking at your angry contorted face. you sigh, "i'm sorry for yelling. can you please go get me a tub of half baked from the freezer? i'll love you forever."

"you're supposed to love me forever regardless," he grumbles lowly, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed, which gives you a nice view of his toned back.

you smile happily, falling back down to the pillows as nathan gets out of your shared bed. "thank you." you sing song, which only earns you a tired hum for a response as nathan steps out into the hall, door clicking closed quietly behind him.

it's only 5 minutes later when nathan is returning to the bedroom with your carton of ice cream. he already took the lid off and stuck your spoon in the middle—he even slipped the carton in a little cover so your hands wouldn't get cold while you’re enjoying it. you love him so much.

you gasp, sitting up in the bed and leaning back against the soft headboard. nathan passes off the ice cream to you, kissing the side of your head absentmindedly as you thank him again.

you scoop a pile onto the gold spoon and waste no time pushing it past your lips—the gooey brownie melting on your tongue with the chocolate and vanilla cream as you suck it off the spoon. you moan, "I can't tell if I love you or hate you right now."

the mattress dips as nathan slides back into bed, "why would you hate me?" he mumbles half heartedly, scooting right up beside you and your ginormous belly.

you spoon another mouthful, deliberately avoiding the biggest piece of cookie dough for your next bite,  "because it's your baby keeping me up," you say through the mouthful of melting ice cream.

he laughs quietly, palm resting flat over the largest point of your belly. "our baby," he corrects.

"same thing."

"well," nathan starts, leaning in and peppering your cheek with two lingering kisses while his hand rubs along your stretched skin rhythmically, "I certainly love you," he says against your sleep warm cheek.

you moan dismissively, carving out a chunk of cookie dough with the edge of your spoon.

"say it back."

"no," you breathe.

"y/n."

you crack, cold lips turning up in a lopsided smile while your spoon drags across the surface of your delicious ice cream. your wide eyes flicker towards your husband, "kidding," you chime, "love you."

nathan snorts, "that's what I thought."

[shinhyunjin]

── .✦ little white lies.

⟢ pairing: hwang hyunjin x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, non-idol au, established relationship

⟢ word count: 1.9k

⟢ summary: the one where a street interviewer asks the story of how you met.

⟢ author’s note: hello, everyone! i don’t really know what this is, but i clearly got the idea from @/meetcutesnyc on tiktok. i feel like i could maybe turn this into a short series and write one for the rest of the members if you like this one enough. anyway, this is my first fic on this blog, so if you enjoy it please do show it some love<3

“Excuse me, are you two a couple?”

You stop in your tracks at the question, staring at the stranger that was now blocking your way, as he stood in front of you and your boyfriend—a small mic in his hand and cameraman behind him recording the scene before him.

Your first instinct is to look up to Hyunjin, who is already tightening the hold of his hand on yours and pulling you closer to him.

“We are” he doesn’t hesitate to answer.

You find the confused yet protective crease between his eyebrows particularly cute right then, so you smile.

“Would you mind telling us the story of how you met?”

“Oh, you’re that guy?!” You jump in excitement.

Hyunjin’s frown only deepens for a moment, feeling like he is missing a chapter—or a whole book—when the guy in front eagerly nods his head and laughs at your sudden enthusiasm.

One look at you, however, and a glimpse of the smile lighting up your face, is enough for him to go with whatever it is happening right then.

“Baby, they make videos on TikTok asking couples how they met” you explain to him nonetheless, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb to ease the small tension he felt after seeing you interact so comfortably with another guy—a stranger one at that.

“Oh,” Hyunjin lets out, suddenly feeling embarrassed over how defensive he was until then. “We met at an art gallery” he tries to redeem himself by kindly answering the question.

“It was actually kinda funny” you add with a small giggle that has all three guys smiling at you.

“If that’s your way of saying we were one second away from committing a crime, then—”

“Oh, hush” you playfully shut him up, enjoying all too much the dramatic roll of eyes he gives you in response. “It wouldn’t have been a crime. I think”.

Your last addition earns a quiet chuckle from the cameraman, and you wonder if that’s making it into the final video.

“Long story short,” you begin. “I was admiring one of the sculptures, minding my own business, when out of nowhere someone bumped into me. I was caught off guard, of course, so I inevitably lost my balance and bumped into the base that was holding the sculpture” you can’t help but give your boyfriend an accusatory look. “I saw my life flash before my eyes when it started swaying in front of me”.

“I was fast enough to hold it in its place before it fell, though” Hyunjin chimes in before the blame is fully thrown at him. “And thankfully there were only, like, two other people in the room with us and they were too busy checking out the paintings on the walls, so after exchanging panicked looks with this cutie right here, we rushed out of there before we got scolded”.

“We laughed it off as soon as we were in the next room and we couldn’t care less about the stares we got” you explain amidst a small laugh. “It was kind of odd, in a good way, because it felt like we knew each other already”.

“Yeah, it was weird in the best of ways” Hyunjin agrees with an adoring smile. “I obviously wanted to get to know her after that, and I just happened to have an extra ticket to a paid exposition within the main one that day, so I offered it to her in order to apologise for bumping into her and she luckily said yes”.

“And then after that I invited him for coffee to thank him for the ticket”.

Hyunjin chuckles. “And then I asked her out for dinner that same night”.

“So it’s fair to say it was love at first sight?” The guy asks with a grin.

“Definitely” the two of you answer in unison, locking eyes at the realisation and smiling in a way that was hard to tell whether you were aware there were other people in the world.

“We pretty much got together that same day” you admit with a shy smile.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Four years,” Hyunjin replies.

“Four years and two months” you specify, just for the sake of teasing him.

He smiles and bites his tongue not to add ‘and eleven days’, because that would only lead to you doing the math and figuring out the amount of hours as well, and then him having to figure out the amount of minutes if he wanted to win.

It is a battle you had gone through more than once already, and he refuses to go down that road again—not when there is a camera pointing at you and your whole interaction would be posted on the internet.

“Wow, that’s a long time” the man in front interrupts Hyunjin’s train of thought, bringing the mic closer to you. “What’s your favourite thing about him?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can choose just one” you timidly let him know, looking up to Hyunjin and feeling your cheeks burn as his chocolate eyes are already focused on you, awaiting for an answer. “I really love how sweet and attentive he is. He is always there for me and helps me get through my hardships, even before I even have to ask for his help”.

“And what is your favourite thing about her?” He now asks your boyfriend, who finds himself smiling brightly over your wholesome words and struggling to take his eyes away from you.

“Everything” Hyunjin replies truthfully once he manages to divert his eyes from you—just like you, finding it hard to choose just one thing he loves the most about you. “She’s the most caring and selfless person I’ve ever met. She’s always checking up on me and my family, making sure we’re all okay. And I also need to mention her smile, because whenever she smiles my day is immediately made”.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze and lean your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, unable to hide the emotional pout forming on your lips, as his answer managed to warm your heart.

“So what is the next step in your relationship?”

“Moving in together” Hyunjin answers in a heartbeat, and you are grateful that it doesn’t come off as a surprise, for you had talked about it before—otherwise your heart wouldn’t have been able to take the news of his upcoming plans with you. “We needed to figure a few things out before doing so, but…” he looks down at you, smiling sweetly when your eyes lock and you nod your head, encouraging him to go on. “It’s about time we finally start properly making our life together”.

“And your names are?”

“Y/N” you’re the first to answer.

“I’m Hyunjin” he says.

“Well, thank you so much for your time, Hyunjin and Y/N” the interviewer wraps it up with a smile. “I’m glad you guys are going strong and didn’t end up in jail that day”.

The two of you laugh, and you lean into your boyfriend when he lets go of your hand and gently places his arm over your shoulders instead.

Exchanging goodbyes after being informed that the video would be up the next day, you resume your walk to the all too familiar café around the corner—the one you were heading to before the impromptu street interview took place.

“So those are the kind of videos you’re watching all day…”

“Some of them,” you nod. “I’ve sent you a few here and there. Good to know you don’t actually watch them”.

“I do” he fights back, almost offended you believe he would ever disregard something you showed him. “I thought they were all staged, though. Didn’t know people actually got interviewed on the streets out of nowhere”.

“Is that why you were so defensive when they first approached us?” You laugh.

He huffs, making his bottom lip slightly stick out and having you internally fighting not to kiss him right then. “I thought he was asking if we were a couple in hopes of us not being one, so he could ask you out��.

“Asking me out out of nowhere when I’m walking hand in hand with a guy that is clearly my boyfriend, all while there is a whole cameraman recording us?” You tease with a tilt of your head.

“Hey, who knows?” he defends himself. “Can’t control what kind of weirdos are out there chasing after online views”.

“You’re so cute” you laugh breathily, pressing a soft kiss on his jawline. “We look too much like a couple, if you ask me. They would look stupid to even try”.

“Yeah… I think the hand holding and matching outfits give it away too well” he nods with a teasing smile, motioning to the colour palette you chose together that day.

“Thank God they caught us on a good outfit day” your relieved remark earns a laugh from him. “I can’t wait for the video to be up now, I love the way we met”.

“I know you do,” he softly rubs your hand with his thumb. “Which is why I was surprised you didn’t tell them the whole story”.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

Hyunjin amusedly shakes his head, remaining silent as you reach the café and he holds the door open for you to go in first.

When you’re invaded by the strong yet pleasing scent of coffee and reach the—thankfully—short line to order, he adds, “You left out the part where later on I admitted I intentionally bumped into you just so I could talk to you”.

You laugh at the memory.

It wasn’t like he wanted you to lose your balance and make you almost drop a sculpture that you would be paying until the end of your days, had it actually fallen down and smashed on the ground.

He was just going for a little shove on your shoulder with his own, just enough to make you turn around and allow him to apologise right after. But you were too pretty, and he was too nervous—that alone making him miscalculate the distance between your bodies and slam into your shoulder harder than he had intended to.

He came clean one month into your relationship—the guilt of almost getting you in trouble just because he wasn’t able to earn up the courage to go up and talk to you like any other normal person would, was becoming too much for him to keep a secret for any longer.

You were already in too deep by then to even care, though. If anything, you were flattered that he wanted to get to know you so bad that he ended up coming up with the most stupid—and risky—of ideas in order to do so.

“I thought you weren’t holding back when it came to embarrassing me” he confesses.

You chuckle, shaking your head in both amusement and embarrassment, before pulling him forward in line with you as the people in front do so as well.

“Well, if I did mention that, you would’ve told them about how I already had a ticket to the private exposition and lied about not having one just so I had a reason to stick with you, so…”

Hyunjin’s lips part into a beaming smile, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Little white lies could sometimes be beneficial; especially when they led you to the best relationship you ever had—the one you were sure would last for the rest of your lives.

“You’re right” he agrees with a smirk. “The internet doesn’t need to know how desperate we both were to get to know each other”.

[zepskies]

Omg first of all, thanks so much for shouting out As Tradition Dictates, my lovely!! I have more Eomer coming in the near future. 😘

But first *rubs hands together* time to dig into this delectable love triangle...

Dear LORD you didn't have to do me like this from the onset with that opening scene of Butcher. 🥵

No man his age should look that good. 

Correct. 👆🏽 Why is it that rugged men in their 40s attract me more than men my own age. 🫠🫠

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

lmfao Eomer, is that you? ("romantasy" ftw! 😏❤️‍🔥)

The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

lol this is one of my favorite aspects of reading/writing in The Boys fandom - everyone's creativity on creating our own fictional supes that cause mayhem for the boys. 😆😆 (Not "a reenactment of the eighth plague" 💀💀💀)

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Can always trust you to give beautiful descriptions of flora and fauna. 🪴💚

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

Sigh. I can deeply relate to that first part, as you know lol.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

Girl stop torturing me lmfao. (But actually don't stop though) "Big hands" indeed. 🥵

Ben saw straight through her though and I'm living for their dynamic! lol

“He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

Oh how magnanimous of him. 🙄 Like yes, let's all jump (literally) on that opportunity to debase ourselves for his entertainment.

...But of course, there's also that whole ridiculously attractive factor that makes Ben difficult to resist, even though he's a complete asshole loll.

You’d tried the usual things… Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation. Gone completely mute when he asked you a question. Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room. Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

OMFg. That last one is so real! 🤣🤣🤣 I feel for her for real. I wonder how Ben's actually going to help her self-confidence. 💗

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-” Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Awww this melted me so much! She's not in love with him yet, but I think he's gonna bring it out of her on accident with stuff like this loll. Also big surprise on how he said she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. 💚💚 I half-expected him to suggest exactly what she could do for him if she was so inclined. 😆

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”  What have I gotten myself into?

Oh my God, YESSS. She's in so deep already and I can only imagine where you'll take this next if you choose! I can say for sure that I'd love to see how this little scheme unfolds lol.

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

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@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

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Platonic Plus One

Chapter 5: Azzi POV

Honestly this whole chapter is me just edging you guys. lmk what y'all think about Azzi's POV and if you want more from her

Azzi has always known Paige is hot. Everyone thinks that. She’s also cute, confident, funny, and...a really good kisser. Like really good. It’s not that Azzi wasn’t interested in boys. They just weren’t interesting. Azzi also isn’t necessarily straight, but she’s never been with a girl to comfortable know otherwise. 

Also, have Paige’s eyes always been this blue? Azzi is rubbing sunscreen into Paige’s cheeks, and Paige hasn’t looked away once. With anyone else, this would be so awkward, but with Paige, it just is. “Thanks for remembering sunscreen, Az.” 

“Of course, I don’t want my wedding date looking like a tomato in all the photos.” Also, the last time Paige was sunburnt, she wouldn’t let Azzi cuddle her because it hurt too much. Since then, Azzi carries sunscreen around like she’s the one who desperately needs it. “Do you wanna take your clothes off, and I can do you back?”

Paige stands to remove her top and shorts, and she’s wearing a blue bikini. It’s hard not to appreciate Paige’s body, but whenever she wears bikinis, Azzi has to look away consciously and moves back to make space for Paige to sit in front of her. Azzi took her time rubbing the lotion in, feeling the warmth of Paige’s skin. 

Azzi rubs harder at Paige’s shoulder to remove some of the visible tension she has there, and she swears she can hear a faint moan from Paige. Maybe Azzi should be more concerned about her best friend making that noise when she touches her, but she is more invested in how to get Paige to do it again. 

“Mm, Az, that feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” Azzi rubs her hands down to Paige’s hips and lower back. Paige moans slightly louder this time and clenches her eyes closed. Then, she turns over her left shoulder with dilated eyes to look at Azzi. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker between her eyes and lips, thinking about how good last night's kiss was. It’s just practice, right? They’re a couple, they’re supposed to kiss. Azzi begins to lean in but is suddenly interrupted by her grandmother. “Azzi, look who just arrived!” 

Jonathan is standing awkwardly next to my grandma. “Hey, Azzi. Sup, Paige.” He glances down at Azzi’s hold on Paige with a questioning look.

“Oh, hi!” Azzy is caught off guard by the almost-kiss and realizes she never let go of Paige’s hips.

“Hey man, long time, huh?” Paige shifts to face them more, making her backside shove further into Azzi. She’s going to ignore the fact that she has yet to let go of Paige’s hips. 

“Well, I hope you and Jonathon have some quality time to catch up, Azzi. You two really were such a cute couple!” 

“Aw, c’mon Grandma Fudd, I’m not cute enough for you?” How does Paige always handle moments under pressure so well? 

“Oh dear, you’re the cutest! My apologies, Paige. I just mean, even as friends, they were sweet.”

“Uh, yeah, totally. Hey Az, I’m gonna go get my stuff settled, but if you wanted to hang out tonight, I’d be down.” 

“She has a pretty strict bridesmaids schedule to keep to, don’t you, Az?” Paige says confidently while placing her hand on Azzi’s thigh. 

“Uh, y-yeah.” Okay, why did that cause heat to pulse through her? “I’ll let you know when we are free of wedding party duties.”

“Cool, cool...see you guys later!” Jonathan and her grandma walked off, leaving the two girls alone. 

“Jealous, Bueckers?” 

“Pfft, me jealous? Nah!! I’m simply protecting your precious time from your grandma’s matchmaking games.” 

“Mhm, sure you were.”

Paige leaned in close, leaving just an inch to close the gap, “I’m pretty sure you’re my girlfriend this week, not his. Unless you don’t want that anymore?” 

Her confidence is so unnecessary, yet so effective. “N-no, I want you,” Azzi whispers back. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, Princess.” Paige winks and stands up abruptly. “Aight, so we finna play mermaids now or...?”

Azzi chuckles at her childlike nature and ability to switch up so quickly. “Can I just tan for a bit, Paigey?” It’s not that she doesn’t want to get in the water with Paige; she’s still recovering from their moment. And last night. Last night was just a practice kiss. She shouldn’t be thinking about it so much. Right?

“Laaame. Imma go play basketball with the guys over there, then. I can’t keep sitting.” Paige leaned down to kiss Azzi on the cheek, “Get me when you’re ready to swim, Princess.”

Azzi takes the time by herself to process the last day. She panicked, asking Paige to be her fake girlfriend in desperate relief for a family event to be pleasant. She loves her family, really, but her extended family goes so hard every time they see her. And Paige, well, everything with Paige is just easy. She’s gone on plenty of dates, but nothing feels easy. They don’t pull out the chair or hold every door like Paige does. They don’t pick up on her moods like Paige does. They all force her to think and be on every second. With Paige, she knows she’s taken care of. None of them are Paige. 

Maybe that’s why Caroline is always on her about her relationship with Paige. It’s not like she hasn’t thought of it before. Azzi knows they’re closer than most. It’s just always been that way. It’s always been Paige and Azzi. Even if she let herself think about Paige that way, it wouldn’t matter. Paige can have anyone she wants, and sometimes, it feels like everyone wants Paige.   

Azzi glances over at Paige playing basketball, absolutely dominating the court as per usual and probably immasculating all the guys there. She is radiating joy and passion in every step. She even makes her trash-talking fun. 

One of the guys yells over, “Yo Azzi, how do you put up this girl?”

Azzi laughs, “Right? I deserve an award.” 

“Aight baby, I’ll glady give an award later tonight.” Paige smirks with too much pride and then casually makes a 3-pointer. They continue playing for a little longer and Azzi tries to think about anything other than Paige. It’s gotten pretty hot and she’s ready for a swim, so she starts making her way over to Paige only see one of the pool bartenders making her way specifically for Paige. All of them of breathing hard after their workout, but she only bring water for Paige. 

“Thanks!” Paige says breathlessly and chugs the water down, yet the girl doesn’t leave. If anything, she’s staring her down. Maybe this place just has really good service?

“Aye no water for us?” One of the boys jokingly says. 

“Well you don’t look like that.” The girl says in a sultry tone, looking Paige up and down. Azzi’s whole body tenses at the exchange. Whenever girls come up to flirt with Paige, she usually finds a reason for Paige to be busy, or she just walks away irritated. But something about being her fake girlfriend gives Azzi a little too much confidence. 

Azzi walks past the girl, giving her no attention and slides in next to Paige putting one hand on Paige’s abs and the other around her back. “Hey baby, having fun?.” Paige wraps her arm around Azzi’s shoulders naturally. 

“Having fun destroying us, yeah.” 

The bartender hasn’t left yet and doesn’t seem to care about Azzi’s presence. “Mhm, you’ve been quite enjoyable to watch.” 

Paige conveniently ignores her intentions and avoids addressing the flirting. “Yeah basketball is always a fun game to watch.” 

“No honey, just you.” Paige gulps audibly, while some of the guys mumble stuff under their breaths backing away when they see Azzi’s overly polite smile.

“Can we help you with something? Or do you sexually harass all the guests?”

“I’m sure if she wasn’t interested she’d say so. The only help I need is from her. I’m Bailey by the way.” She smirks and puts her hand out for Paige to take and Azzi squeezes her hip trying not to blow up on this girl. 

“Yeah uh, I’m here with my girlfriend, but thanks for the water.” 

“Hmm that’s interesting because according to that guy Jonathon over there ‘your girlfriend’ and him will be having quite the time together tonight. So when she leaves you lonely, I’ll be here.” Now Paige is the one to tense up. “Aight man, chill on my girl. I’m not interested in this shit.” 

“It’s okay baby, while she’s alone dreaming of what she wants to do to you tonight, I’ll be the one doing it.” Azzi says with a smirk before kissing Paige’s neck. Paige squeezes Azzi’s hips and her eyes flutter close. 

“Ugh, whatever. I’ll be around once you get bored with that.” Bailey says dramatically as she walks away slightly defeated. 

They forgot some of the guys were still there until one of them speaks as they walk away, “Not gonna lie dude, that was pretty hot.” 

Paige hasn’t taken her eyes off of Azzi, and with a low raspy voice, she says, “Really hot.” Her normally bright blue eyes are dark and dilated again as she looks down at Azzi’s lips. Azzi wants nothing more than for Paige to close the gap between them. Honestly, if Paige made a move, she’s not sure she’d stop her. There have been so many times she thought Paige would make a move, but nothing ever came of it. Like Azzi said, if Paige wanted her, she’d do something about it, right?

Paige moves to put her hand on Azzi’s cheek. “Az...” Azzi moved both hands to grasp Paige’s hips, and they started to inch closer to each other. That is until Jose yells, “PAIGE, STOP MAULING MY SISTER AND COME IN THE POOL!” 

The two girls jump apart at the sudden interruption and laugh awkwardly as they make their way to the pool. Paige grabs Azzi’s hand and whispers, “Guess it's time to play mermaids.” 

Once in the water, Azzi takes in Paige and her brothers messing around as if they’re her own brothers. The new girlfriend title didn’t seem to change anything with how naturally she fit into the family. If anything, Azzi is starting to realize how odd it is that no one in her family even bats an eye at them together. Her parents took it well, maybe even too well. Even her grandma noticed how “close” they were. So many people have made comments about them. 

The bartender, Bailey, walks around the pool, stopping to talk to Jonathon. They both glance over at the girls, obviously talking about what happened earlier. Paige notices Azzi’s discomfort and dives under the water.  Suddenly, Azzi feels two arms around her legs, and Paige’s shoulder pushes her into the air. “ALAS, I SHALL SAVE THE PRINCESS FOR A TRUE LOVES KISS!” Azzi grabs on to Paige’s shoulders, trying to balance herself, and fails horribly as she and Paige fall backward into the water. Paige wraps her arms around Azzi, pulling her back up, giggling. “Oh my god, Paige, you’re actually insane.” 

“But I saved you from the dragon named Bailey, Az!” Of course, Paige is always in tune with what she’s thinking and jumping in to make it better. 

Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s neck, “Maybe, but you never got the true love’s kiss.”

“Mhm, very important step to officially save you and live happily ever after,” Paige smirks as she looks down at Azzi and moves her left hand to the back of Azzi’s neck.

“Oh yeah, damsel in distress over here.” 

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige finally leans in all the way and kisses her. It’s slow and sweet. Paige is in complete control as she fluidly moves her lips against Azzi's. Her tongue swiped across Azzi’s bottom lip, giving Azzi a taste of what she couldn’t have. God, she’s a good kisser.  How is it even better than their kiss last night?

Paige pulled away gently. “Was that okay?”

Azzi, still dazed from the kiss, mutters, “Yeah, yeah, totally,” as her pulse quickens, realizing what just happened. 

Bailey rolls her eyes and walks back towards the bar while Jonathon tries to look anywhere but the pool. “Well, I think they bought.” Oh, right. They're supposed to be fake dating.

"Yeah, I think so, P."

For a second there, Azzi almost bought it, too.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

please a auston matthews x younger reader (like 21) and they are in a kinda private relationship but make an appearance at family skate or something if that makes sense 😓😓

I did some digging and couldn't find anything exactly like a "family skate" that wasn't a charity, so I invented one for the sake of the fic! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I hope you enjoy~ 🤞🏻 Sorry it took me longer than expected, I really struggled with this, and I apologize. 🥺🥺

C|W: none • W|C: 2.2k

You had felt nervous since waking up, and constantly watching the clock had done nothing to improve the situation. All morning you had danced through countless scenarios of how this day could go, what could possibly go wrong, and everything in between. Your roommate had asked you if you were okay each time she saw you, the same concerned expression on your face.

"Are you sure?"

"What--? Oh, yeah, it's nothing! I have an event later. I'm just worried about...things."

She looked at you curiously, and you regretted what details you had let slip out. "Things?"

Nervously you laughed, like you were trying to play it off as nothing, "Yeah, you know, gotta look good..."

"Right..."

You knew good and well that she didn't believe anything you were saying. She was used to you being quiet and guarded of your private life, but this felt different.

"Are you...in trouble or something?" She pressed, not ready to let it go yet.

Looking at her like a deer in the headlights, you'd actually manage a genuine smile. "No, I'm not in any trouble! I'm just in my own head -- stupid stuff that I'm making too big of a deal over! I'll be fine once I get where I have to be. I promise. Just me...being me."

"Okay...if you're sure," she replied reluctantly. "I just want to help, okay?"

"I understand! Thank you~"

Shortly after the exchange, you'd return to your bedroom and flop facedown on the bed, a tightness growing in the center of your chest. It was panic, and you knew the feeling all too well, but the last thing you wanted was it ruining your day.

*ping, ping*

Blindly, your hand would search for your phone, quickly finding it amongst the blankets. You relaxed slightly once you saw that it was Auston who had messaged.

Matty: You doing okay, baby?

Y|N: Yeah

Matty: :/ What's wrong?

Y|N: I'm just nervous

Matty: About this afternoon?

Y|N: Yeah

Matty: I won't let you fall! ;)

Y}N: It's not that

Matty: It's just the team and their families, baby, they're not going to make a big deal about anything. No cameras if that's what you're worried about

Y|N: Okay

Matty: :/ I wouldn't lie to you

Y|N: I know, I'm sorry

Matty: I'll be by to get you in a little bit, okay?

Y|N: Just text me when you're out front and I'll come out. Sarah is being nosy

Matty: You can't keep me a secret forever ;)

Y|N: I know, today just isn't the day

Matty: I understand, baby. Whenever you feel comfortable.

Y|N: Thank you bb

Matty: Of course. I'll see you soon. I love you <3

YN| <3 I love you, too <3

You'd stay the next two hours in your room; one hour spent on a nap, and the other getting ready for the afternoon's event with Auston. Right on time, your phone dinged with a message from him saying that he was waiting out front. You'd say goodbye to Sarah in a hurry before rushing outside to slip into the passenger side of his car, your skates in a bag over your shoulder.

"Why do I feel like a getaway driver," Auston asked, after seeing you exit your apartment in such haste. His contained laughter resulted in a smirk as he looked at you.

You sighed as you clicked your seatbelt into place, "Hi, baby."

"Hey, mama," he affectionately replied. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I swear that's the question of the day. Yeah, I'm fine."

Auston's hand came to rest on your leg, and you'd wrap both of yours around it as he merged back into traffic. You knew he was only trying to make sure he wasn't forcing you into today, but you felt like there was a red light going off above your head that signaled that you were "off".

"I promise today will be fun, and if it isn't, well, we'll leave, okay? You just let me know how you're feeling. I promise you, this is just a fun, carefree kind of day, alright?"

You'd give him a nod, before letting your eyes zone out through the passenger side window. He wouldn't press you for conversation until you arrived at the practice arena, but he would give you soft, little squeezes along the way.

Once parked in the parking garage, Auston would confirm one more time if you were still comfortable with everything. He was worried about you; worried that he was pressuring you to join him.

"No, Matty, I'm okay, really. I'm just--"

Pulling you into a kiss, you'd completely melt into his touch, your worries falling away almost instantly. "I just want you to be comfortable."

"Will you stay with me?"

Auston smiled, "I won't leave you alone."

- - -

Inside, the two of you found yourselves amongst a dozen or so of Auston's teammates, their wives and small children. You stayed by his side the entire time, his hand never leaving yours. They were caring on general conversations when you noticed one of the children staring at you. She was cute, but transfixed glaring at you, almost unblinking. At first, you thought she was just looking at Auston, but no-- she had her full attention on you and it seemed no one realized it but you.

Auston was busy talking with Mitch, while you were losing a staring contest with a five-year-old, but eventually, everyone would consent to getting the little team event started. As everyone walked off, however, Auston turned to you, wrapping his arms low around your waist.

"What's wrong?"

"I was getting mean-mugged by a five-year-old..."

Auston tried not to laugh, but his beautiful smile shone through regardless of him honestly trying not to hurt your feelings. "Oh, I saw."

"I've never felt so threatened by a child in my life," you confessed, your hands resting gently on his hips.

"Some weeks ago she told she was going to marry me. You must be competition," Auston said, finally allowing himself laugh. "She was dead-serious about it, too. It made everyone laugh."

You just sighed and laid your head against his chest. "But I loved you first."

His grip tightened, "Gonna take more than a playground proposal to get me away from you."

With your face away from his, you smiled at what he had said -- how cute it had rolled off his tongue and the butterflies it had given you.

"Can you lace my skates for me, please?"

He smiled, "Of course. C'mon, let's get going before they start to tease us."

- - -

Back in the dressing room, children were running wild in a little gang while their parents struggled to contain them. You both slipped in quietly enough, and Auston had you take a seat below his nameplate on the bench while he unlaced your skates.

"I can do that," you reassured, hand outstretched for him to give you your other skate, but he just gave you a smirk instead.

"Alright, Cinderella, give me your foot," he teased. "Let's see if this glass slipper fits."

"I hope it does!"

He was so gentle as he guided your foot into your skate, tying it up tightly. You were in your own little world, just watching him take care of you and with something so simple as lacing laces. Neither of you would notice anyone looking at the two of you having your little intimate moment. Some of the guys knew Auston was seeing someone, but they knew better than anyone, that he was an extremely private person so they didn't press him for juicy details, but seeing him with you made them smile. They loved their captain and wanted him just as happy as the next guy.

"Do you need me to move?"

"Nah, there's room," Auston replied, sitting down right next to you to get his own skates on. "I didn't get those too tight, did I?"

You'd shake your head, pulling your hands into the sleeves of his hoodie you were wearing. "Nope, they feel good, thank you."

"Okay, good," he said, making quick work of his own, giving your leg a quick squeeze when he was done. "Are you warm enough? Kinda wondered if I had left that hoodie in a hotel somewhere."

You laughed, blush flooding your cheeks, "I'll give it back!"

"Nah, it looks good on you. All yours, baby," He whispered before placing a kiss to your temple. "Still remember how to walk in those?"

"I think so -- hope so!"

- - -

Those hallways had felt like miles, but eventually, the two of you made it to the ice and while it was still pretty vacant. It seemed getting skates on children was proving harder than most had anticipated. You were thankful for the quiet though you knew it wasn't going to last for long.

"You want some shooting practice?" Auston asked, half-joking as he tossed a few pucks down on the ice, giving your butt a soft tap with his stick as you slowly skated away from him.

"Hey! Don't do that!"

Though you were laughing, Auston still apologized. "Sorry, babe! You're doing fine; it will come back to you."

"I've forgotten how to turn!" You said before using the boards to stop you. You felt embarrassed that you had forgotten so much, skating opposite Auston no less.

"Bend you knees and lean, babe. Lean your upper body in whichever direction you want to turn."

You'd follow his directions and after the first successful turn, it felt familiar again. You weren't doing punch turns by any means, but at least you didn't need forty feet to turn a semi-circle. Auston would skate up beside you, hand resting on the small of your back just in case you got wobbly.

"You're doing fine, I know it's been a while."

"My legs hurt already," you joked, feeling the sting in your thighs.

"Wanna catch your breath on the bench? I don't want you to get hurt."

At first, you were going to decline his offer, but he had a point. The last thing you wanted was to pull something just because you were trying to keep up with an NHL player. There wasn't any shame in taking a break, you weren't a professional by any means.

"I feel like I've only been out here thirty seconds," you replied, feeling defeated.

"Hey, I've had games where I've done a thirty second shift."

You gave him a look, "You're skating at twenty miles an hour!"

Auston would turn tight in front of you, stopping you against his chest. He had a look on his face that was meant to make you feel okay about needing a minute, but you looked down out of shame. By now, there were more people skating past, paying zero mind to the two of you just standing there. You felt so small against him, the embarrassment making you wish you could melt right through the ice.

"Wait right here, okay?"

After giving him a nod, Auston returned to the bench to leave his stick behind so he could be fully engaged with you. "Give me your hands, mama," he asked, returning to the ice in front of you.

You'd do as he asked, and soon after he was skating backwards, pulling you along gently in tow. It amazed you how he knew how many strides he needed in the corners without looking, how long he could go in the straights before having to turn again. You felt safe with him having a hold of you.

"Want me to let go of you?"

"Going a little fast."

Auston chuckled before slowing his pace. "Better?"

"Maybe, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't be! I don't want to scare you and make you panic."

After a few more seconds you'd let him know that you were good enough, and slowly your hands would slip out of his. He still remained facing you as you kept pace with him.

"Remember, wide stance, and lean. Ah, see, there you go!"

Your smile transferred to him as he quietly cheered you on before letting you collide with him gently. He'd put his arms around you again, picking you up in a slight spin before making sure you had your footing before letting go. As much as you had been apprehensive about today, you were happy you had gone through with his invitation. Everyone else was off in there own little worlds, chasing children or teaching their wives. Right now, it was just you and Auston.

"I love you, Matty," you said smiling, holding on to him tightly.

"And I love you, baby. Thanks for coming with me."

"I'm glad you talked me into it, but you owe me dinner!"

He laughed, bending to put his forehead against yours, "Wherever you want to go."

[jjsloverre]

blurb of babydaddy!jj and pouge!reader taking a mental day together

in which… babydaddy!jj takes pouge!reader for a mental walk to talk about the pregnancy

contains… pure fluff, a little cliffhangerrrrrr, foreshadowing (not proofread)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“cmon mama to be! we don’t got all day!” jj yelled for you.

you were getting ready for something. you didn’t even know since jj wouldn’t spill anything about. “coming!” you screamed back. you walked down the stairs and straight into his arms. “hey pretty mama, ready for this walk?” your eyes shot up at him. “walk? why are we going on a walk?”

“for your mental health and just to talk you know? and then i got some pizza in the lil square ways you like em. now cmon and let’s go, we’re walking for an hour!” he exclaimed. “okay baby.” you smile.

as you and jj are walking, your minds go to the topic of your pregnancy. “what do you want our little baby to be?” jj asked you, thinking hard about the question, you find your answer. “i want a girl, what do you want?”

“i want twins honestly, one boy one girl. can’t i just nut inside you and we have twins?” jj asked while he intertwined your fingers together.

“no smart guy that isn’t how that works.” you smile up at his pretty blue eyes. “well how does it work? how can i get you to have twins?”

“um? genetics?”

“real funny ma.”

“i really hope our baby has your eyes, they’re the prettiest color ever.” he smiles hard, his beautiful smile coming out. “i hope our baby has your beauty and brains. cause i don’t have brains for shit.”

“what else do you wanna talk about baby?” you brought your hands up to your lips and kissed his knuckles, (and also biting him per usual.)

“ready for the ultrasound?” jj asked. “really really ready!” you exclaimed. after just 30 minutes, you begged jj to take you guys back to the house, so you could eat the pizza he talked about.

★

“like the pizza?” jj asked. “course i do! it’s really really good, oh and jayj?” you look up at his pretty blue eyes. “what’s up?”

“do you regret this? like getting me pregnant? what if you have other baby mamas?” jj looked at you pretty confused. he didn’t understand where this concern was coming from. but then again, he realized you were pregnant, and probably had millions of questions about his past hookups. “i don’t fuck girls raw, i use protection. and i only didn’t do it with you cause you were my close friend and i trusted you to… i guess fuck raw? i honestly didn’t mean to get you pregnant, but to answer your question… no i don’t regret it. i’ve always wanted kids! didn’t think it would be this early but if it’s with you? wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

“really?” you whispered.

“really.”

“can we… go to the mall for some stuff? and then a spa?” you cuddled into his arms while he rubbed your growing belly. “hell yeah we can! we can do whatever you want.”

“yay thank you!”

“no problem baby. hey… why don’t you get some rest? got a big day tomorrow don’t we?”

“yeah we do… thank you for this mental day and the walk, i didn’t realize how much it would help me, but it helped so much.” you whispered to jj, falling asleep in his arms.

★

as you went to sleep, jj had a plan that would change everything. he got on the phone with kiara.

“look… we don’t talk but i need a favor, don’t flirt with me either. and i mean it, i need to go ring shopping for y/n, i’m asking you for help since you’re her best friend, differences aside, do this for her and leave my drama out of it.”

“fine…” kie whispered back through the phone. “what time asshole.” jj rolled his eyes. “lose the attitude, the fuck you mad for? just because i rejected you to be with the mother of MY child? that doesn’t matter no more, but anyway… friday at noon while she’s at lunch with her parents. thanks kie.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @bee-43 @anacamofficial @superlegend216 @eddxemxnson @sophand4n4 @ethanthequeefqueen @aaliyahsturniolo @always-reading @maybankslover @slut4rafecameronn @leaseyes @sttaejoon-blog @glitterybombshell @idontknowwhyimhere33 @moonywhisp3rs @imsiriuslyreal @sturnioloenthousiast @coalicionees

a/n- a little short but ty for 500 followers! and my bday in 20 days? we bouta t up👅👅 anyway! enjoy this foreshadowing 😉

more babydaddy!jj x pouge!reader here

[softpascalito]

Comfort I Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It is summer in Austin and you long for an uneventful day with Joel. Your diabetes has other plans.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Non-Explicit / MDNI Word count: 2.6k Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort , Fluff, Diabetes, Health Issues, Diabetic Reader, (reader wears a dexcom and uses insulin pens), Guilt, Soft Joel Miller, Hypoglycemia, Forehead Kisses, Comfort

AO3 LINK // Masterlist

notes: a huge, huge thank you to the wonderful @Rainybee17 for allowing me to learn more about diabetes and patiently answering all my questions. i have tried my best to make this oneshot a good representation and even though everyone's experience is different, i hope that someone can find themselves between these lines. smooches and happy sunday! ♡

this fic is not medical advice. if you or someone else is struggling with diabetes or if you'd like to learn more please visit the international diabetes federation or speak to your doctor.

Comfort

True to the weather forecast that you watched on TV with Joel last night, the temperatures in Austin have shot up overnight. The sun has barely risen, only a few thin streaks of light falling through the blinds that cover the window of your bedroom. Which is Joel's bedroom, really. But during the summer, it has evolved into something that feels more like yours rather than his.

You blink groggily, feeling the mattress dip beside you as Joel reaches over to shut his alarm clock off, the beeping noise that woke you dying down the moment his hand touches the button. A small noise leaves your throat in protest, your left leg still tangled between his and Joel turns back to face you. “Not today, darlin’. I gotta start goin’.”

Some days, your pouting works, keeping him in bed for a few minutes longer. But he takes his jobs seriously and you don’t blame him for wanting the heavy lifting done before the temperatures peak around lunchtime.

Joel’s beard scratches against your skin as he leans over to press a kiss to your face before he begins to carefully disentangle himself from you. His arm slides out from below you, his embrace that you were so peacefully resting in until a moment ago gone. He makes sure not to brush over the dexcom that is currently attached to your upper left arm, the white device peeking out from below the sheets. You can see him pause at the sight, his gears already turning. “Why don’t you get up too? Think I’ve got enough time to have a coffee.”

“Fine,” you groan, only reluctantly agreeing to his peace offer. It's not as good as staying in bed with him but you can always take a nap later and enjoy his presence while you have it. You peel the sheets off your body, padding over to the bathroom while you listen to Joel pull on jeans and a shirt that already has so many holes in it you don't bother to count them anymore.

You’ve settled into a comfortable routine during the summer months, even with him leaving early and coming home late. With Sarah at football camp, you have the house all to yourself, a luxury you enjoy more than you’d like to admit. You’ve spent countless days lounging in the backyard or swimming a few laps around the pool, occasionally preparing a fancy dinner for Joel or making yourself useful in any other way. He drinks coffee by his kitchen window every morning, unless he’s running late. Today, you join him, hopping up onto the counter as the sun steadily rises and the first cars are started up outside, bringing people to work.

You remind him to give you a kiss every day, despite knowing that he’d never forget. No matter if you’re in the kitchen with him or still in bed or already nose-deep in a book. Without fail, Joel Miller finds you before he leaves.

“We’re finally getting that delivery today,” Joel hums, swirling the last sips of his coffee around in his mug. “If the load ‘s good, I could get off early.”

“That would be nice,” you agree softly, rubbing the last bit of sleep out of the corners of your eyes. “Think I’ll take a dip in the pool later.”

“Then I better be home to see that,” Joel teases as he turns his back to you, washing his mug out in the sink. Then, he leans over to kiss you again and it only makes you long for him more. You’re certain he feels the same.

“You check your levels?” He hums into your neck and oh, he’s gotten smart, asking when he knows you won’t push him away.

“All good,” you reassure him. Some days, you think he is more occupied with your condition than you are, fussing over you and reminding you to track your sugar and insulin constantly. It’s gotten annoying occasionally, but you know he only does it because he cares. And if you’re being honest with yourself, that is a big part of why he has become your favorite person rather quickly.

You watch as Joel grabs his tool belt and heads out the door, giving you one little last wave. Then, you listen to the truck start up outside and the sound of the engine that slowly fades away into the distance.

“Fine,” you mutter to yourself, jumping off the kitchen counter to reach for your phone. You prefer tracking with the dexcom sensor, the device making it so easy to check your levels at all times. Today, you’re in the clear. The number inside the small circle in the app reads 110.

The blue insulin pen is waiting for you beside the fridge, placed on a small wooden tray that conveniently showed up there the first time you slept over. It holds a few small juice boxes, glucose tablets and your trusted pen.

You stare at it for a few moments, weighing it in your hands as you calculate how much you’ll need for your breakfast. Then, with practiced ease, you poke yourself with the needle, allowing the chosen amount of liquid to flow into your body.

“Ten minute warning…” You hum, putting the pen back into its place and reaching for the kitchen shelf instead. You’ve gotten much better at timing your breakfast properly, making sure that the insulin doesn’t act too fast nor too slow.

Once you’re done eating, you check the number again. 160. All fine, just like you promised Joel. Good.

It’s still early but you don’t feel like going back to bed. Thursday means the farmer’s market is happening at the local community center and for once you may be early enough to have the first pick. The fresh fruits and vegetables have a tendency to bring mouth-watering recipe ideas for dinner to your mind so you lock the front door behind you and head out.

Indeed, the stands are not yet picked over and you take your time, enjoying the nice weather and chatting with a few familiar faces. The short trip turns into a few hours and it’s only when the heat starts to press down on you below the plastic tents that you make your way back. The groceries are unloaded rather quickly and you fetch your current read, a book about a spontaneous summer love in Italy, from upstairs.

It’s been exactly the kind of uneventful day you enjoy in the summer, the one that leaves you feeling warm and tanned and thankful for pools and cool drinks. The way it should be. You have no idea that this is about to change.

The deck at the back of the Miller’s house is shaded so that you don’t feel like you’ll immediately burn up in the sun. A soft groan of relief escapes you as you stretch out on the lounge chair, opening your book to where you left off. You read about cicadas and pine trees and steady waves rolling ashore and slowly but surely, your eyes begin to droop.

***

Something is wrong. The sun is much lower than it was a few minutes ago. The front door opens and closes. Joel can’t be back yet. It’s still lunchtime.

For a moment, you think you are just too sleepy, that you are still in some kind of dream. Then, you think you’ve spent too much time in the sun. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the way you’re feeling, a bit hazy, a bit like you’re floating– it’s low sugar.

You blindly reach to your right, onto the wooden table beside you but your phone isn’t in reach. When you turn your head, you realize why. You never brought it outside. It’s still on the kitchen counter, where you left it after unloading the groceries.

Slowly, you stand, looking down to see that your legs are trembling slightly. You force them to take one step after another, coaxing your body in an attempt to stay upright. You can already hear the soft beeping noise from inside the house that alerts you to a number outside the safe range. You push past the screen door– but before you can reach the kitchen, and with it your phone, Joel reaches you.

His eyes are wide, the panic clear on his face as he holds your phone in his right hand, the alert on the display blinking in a steady rhythm, displaying a too low 63. “Did you eat?” He presses out, his free hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, steadying you. The worry in his voice is palpable and you shake your head at his question.

“Okay, okay–” The gears are turning in his head and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. “Okay. We need– Do you need me to get the emergency pen?”

“No,” you quickly decline. “No, it’s okay, it’s not that bad.”

You can see him weighing his options, his eyes raking over your face and your body for a moment, no doubt trying to assess your state. You know you’re shaking and that your face likely looks drained, a thin sheen of sweat covering it. His gaze turns to the kitchen next and you can see him fight with himself. Ultimately, Joel steps forward, wrapping an arm around you and leading you into the living room, his grasp not leaving you until you’re securely seated on the couch. “Can’t have you passing out now. Don’t try and stand, alright? Just … sit tight.”

He puts your phone down and rushes to the kitchen, leaving you alone with the low number on the display that almost seems to laugh at you. What were you thinking, dozing off like that?

Joel is back after mere seconds, holding up a juice box in one hand and the package of glucose tablets in the other, silently letting you choose. You point at the juice and he nods, kneeling in front of you and sticking the thin plastic straw into the pre-punched hole. “One apple juice, coming right up.” You can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood but you can’t bring yourself to give him more than a weak smile in return.

He nudges the box into your hands and then sits patiently as you begin to drink, one of his hands coming to rest on your thigh, his thumb drawing lazy circles into your skin. “15 – 15 rule, right?” Joel asks and at the look of surprise on your face, he adds; “15 grams of carbs, wait for 15 minutes. Then see if it helped?”

“Yeah,” you agree in between small sips. “Yeah, how do you know about 15 – 15?” You watch as a faint blush spreads over his cheeks but he shakes his head, dismissing the question.

“Just do. It doesn’t matter.” His motions on your leg pause as you finish your juice, allowing him to take the empty carton from you and place it on the floor behind him. “You feelin’ any better, darlin’?” You can tell by his voice that he is still anxious, his entire attention zoned in on you. You lean back into the cushions, taking a deep breath, slowly calming down. You’ve been there before, you’ve gone into low numbers. But it never gets less scary.

“It’s fine,” you reassure him because you can still feel his gaze on you. “Not like this hasn’t happened before.” The dry comment is aimed to brush him off but it seems to do the opposite.

“No. I mean, yes, but it shouldn't be happening at all,” Joel shakes his head and ow. You know you messed up but hearing it from him stings more than you thought it would.

“You try tracking every meal every day and living with this– this–” You can feel you working yourself up, anger bubbling inside you, anger more than happy to find an outlet. But then your eyes fall onto Joel's face. And you see the moment his eyes widen in sheer panic.

“No, no, god no, that is not what I meant–” He stumbles over his words in an attempt to get them out. “I wasn't blaming you, I was saying that– that it's not fair. I just hate to see you suffer, that's all.” His brown eyes remind you so much of a kicked puppy that you almost want to cry.

A soft hoot from your phone makes you both turn your heads, the number 107 popping up. Back in range. Joel sighs in relief.

“Good. This is good.” He stretches slightly, one hand pressed against his lower back. “You want a nap?”

“Just had one,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“Right,” he hums, pinching the bridge of his nose for a few moments and you know he’s thinking again, trying to figure out what to do with you. Because of course you have to make a lovely summer’s day so difficult.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening, I know you had work–”

He cuts you off by squeezing your thigh once, shaking his head as he maneuvers himself onto the couch beside you. “Look at me, baby,” he coaxes you to shift towards him, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I never ever want to hear you apologizing for this again. It ain’t your fault, darlin’. Never was and never will be. And I’ve told you before, we’re in this together. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb, tutting quietly. His arms find their way around you and he pulls you into his chest, burying his nose in your hair, whispering sweet nothings into the otherwise silent room.

“How ‘bout we watch one of them movies you like so much?” Joel offers when he pulls back after a few minutes, his hand still intertwined with yours. You have movie night more often than not, but usually, he doesn’t let you pick. Nor you him. It's a middle ground, one that is found after quite a bit of discussion.

“You hate them,” you argue weakly, a small laughter slipping out. You’ve tried introducing Joel to Rom-Coms, the classics, the modern ones, those that he may not at first glance recognize as such. But so far, you haven’t hit his taste.

“Not today,” he hums with a small smile. “Today I promise I’ll love them.” You both chuckle quietly and he does let you pick, not once complaining as he kneels in front of the TV to start the movie. He keeps a watchful eye on you throughout the next roughly 90 minutes, getting you a glass of water and another snack when you need it, his arm comfortably wrapped around your shoulder like he’s not quite willing to let go.

“How did you know?” You ask into the near-silence when the credits are flickering over the screen, some love song quietly playing over them. “About the rule I mean.”

“Uh, let’s see–” Joel makes a face. “Might’ve read a book or two.”

You squeeze him a bit tighter at that. Because you know that people who see Joel in his truck or at the construction site may think he’s gruff and cold. You had similar worries when your eyes first landed on him. But you know how much he cares. About Sarah and about you, about being there in whatever way he can. No matter if it’s stocking up on juice or kissing you every morning or secretly reading books so he can understand you better. He’s here for it all. And so are you. Together.

Notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment or a follow ♡

[gffa]

People shouldn't be too hard on Mon!

I absolutely love and is grateful of Freed's understanding and appreciation of the Jedi, apparent in the book, apparent in the interview he'd given for the book:

"For me, the excitement of the time period here, is that I tend to think of 'Star Wars' as a setting with plenty of room for grey area stories and moral ambiguity, but there are very clear lines of good and evil as well. There's no version of 'Star Wars' in which you look at the Emperor and go, 'Well, maybe he had some good ideas.' No, the Emperor is evil. And the Jedi and Luke at their best are good. Everything else exists somewhere in there. This is a period where the remains true but no one really knows that the Emperor is evil.

"As far as the public is concerned, this guy just won the worst war in living memory. The Clone Wars were this horrendous affair and Palpatine has put an end to it. Yes, he's declared himself Emperor but he's not the embodiment of all evil. There's not even a Death Star out there. On the absolute good side, the Jedi have sort of been tarnished in recent years. War scrapes away at the shining morality of any organization."

I think Freed really understands what Lucas meant when he said "The Jedi have been corrupted by this war."

...but I still don't hold it against Mon cause she's going through hell and she spoilerspoilerspoilerspoiler in the later half of the book. I think she's fascinating, wonderful, equally valid character with equally valid viewpoints as Bail within context of their own worlds and experiences in this novel.

The editor of the book said it best:

Bail – knows the truth about Palpatine, the Empire, and the fall of the Jedi. Caught between his commitment to truth and justice at any cost, and the duty he has to the daughter he’s been entrusted to protect.

Mon Mothma – a master politician, who believes – like so many – that opposing Palpatine is part of the regular game of politics. She doesn’t yet realize, Palpatine stood up from the game board years ago, and she’s playing against shadows.

Mon and Bail are allies, but not really friends (at this time). Padme was their link, and now, she’s gone. Where does that leave them?

For Mon and Bail especially, the secrets Bail holds that he cannot reveal leaves a gulf between them. And what does it mean when they find themselves at odds with each other, over truths they cannot speak?

prev anon) I'm talking about their different mindsets and experiences and viewpoints born from those and I'm not excusing Mon's... *spoilers* anyway I hope you enjoy the rest of the book! It's so nice seeing an author like Freed, who usually writes non-force side of sw, handling the jedi with such warmth, understanding and awareness

This was such a reassuring message to get, thank you! I've been avoiding spoilers for the book as best I can, but I'm only a quarter of the way through it and I was wondering how the various themes were going to go, but Freed's interview quotes and your comments have made me glad that I'm picking up what this book is putting down, because that's exactly how I've been reading it. (And why I'm hoping to encourage more people to read it--though, I will give a warning that this book can be uncomfortably prescient about current events in a way that I wouldn't say Alexander Freed Is A Witch, but that can be very hard to read about if you're not in the headspace to deal with a lot of reflections of the dumpster fire we're currently in.) As for Mon, I hope nobody comes down on her for this, because as much as I scream, cry, throw up, etc., over Bail's scenes, in general I lean a bit more towards Mon's way of doing things, because I think her approach is her answer to the question, "But what can actually be truly achieved?" That she is looking at an incredibly shitty situation with only shitty options and asking herself what can she actually get done, what does she have a snowball's chance in hell of success with? And she knows clearing the Jedi's name at this point in time is not on the table, not when there are a million other things that might actually do tangible good for the galaxy. And I don't disagree with that! I love the Jedi more than anyone, but clearing their name isn't more important that, say, trying to stop the Wookiees from being classified as a non-sentient species! Clearing their name isn't important enough to blow all your political capital and having nothing to show for it when there are people who you can help, with a chance that will actually succeed! Bail's idealism isn't stupid, he's incredible and the galaxy needs a shining light like him, it's necessary for the bigger hope for the future, we can't make it through the dark times without bright, shining hope. So even when they don't always think positively of each other, I never get the sense that Bail and Mon don't understand that the other is doing what they think is best. They just disagree on what that is. And it makes sense! Bail knew and was friends with the Jedi! He knows the truth about Palpatine and how important all that Force shit is to what's going on here! Mon is operating with the idea that this is a political battle--and she's not entirely wrong, she's necessary to the recovery of the galaxy, too, just as Luke is necessary to save the day, so too is Leia, and I sort of see that reflected in Bail and Mon's approaches--one is focusing on the mystical and one is focusing on the political and I think both are important here. So, I have nothing but hearts for Mon Mothma and what she's trying to do for the galaxy.

And I don't see them as antagonists here, I see them as two people who look at each other with the understanding that there is deep love and compassion for people in the other, that they want this other person on their side not just for political alliances but because they care, and maybe they want to scream in frustration that the other person can't see what they see, but I don't feel for a second that this is going to end with them anything other than them as friends. Their scene in Rogue One implies she knows about Bail knowing a living Jedi, if not directly knowing about Obi-Wan Kenobi, which isn't something he would tell just anyone. I'm hoping for the same with Saw, there's going to be conflict about their approaches, and I love that that's clearly a theme/why these three characters were chosen as the pillars of this book, that each of them are shown to have their reasons why and that each of them serve a purpose. I scream/cry/throw up more about the Jedi because that's the most fun for me, but I am enthralled with Mon's chapters just as much, the political tightrope she's on, and I would encourage people to read for those aspects just as much as I would encourage them for crying about the Jedi. ANYWAY, EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS BOOK FOR YOURSELF, I'm having fun with the snippets I'm posting, but the book is so much more than those things! It's one of the best SW for rounding out the characters and filling in the transitions between the movies and TV shows, but in a way that keeps the tension and emotional gut-punches despite that we know where it's going. ALSO, MON MOTHMA AND BAIL ORGANA ARE THE BEST, I'M WILLING TO FIGHT THE INTERNET OVER THIS

[no-144444]

telling- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | more to come...

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“You alright?” he mused, his hand squeezing yours. You nodded softly, smiling at him. 

“Fine,” you nodded. “I’m just… worried, I guess.” 

He shook his head. “Nothing to be worried about, they love you already.” 

You followed just a step behind him as he led you to the dining room. You’d been dating Oscar Piastri for 2 whole days. The sun set over Melbourne and the wonderful colours poured in from their large windows, as everyone sat down to dinner. Oscar had ‘stolen’ you away from Mae and Nicole for the day, opting to take you to meet some of his old friends and show you around his home town a bit, and you’d really enjoyed yourself. Australia was beautiful, the kind of place you’d like to live once F1 was over. The weather was warm, the sea was blue, and the people were kind. And Oscar was there. You liked it a lot. 

“What did you two get up to today?” Nicole asked over dinner. 

Oscar shrugged. “Not much, just took her to meet some of my old mates and showed her around a bit. She’s never been to Australia.” 

“She can speak y’know,” Mae sassed at her older brother, who rolled his eyes and shut up. 

You chuckled. “It was cool. Melbourne’s really nice. I usually only see it from the cockpit of the car.”

“What’s it like driving so fast?” Tim asked, still fascinated by it. 

“It’s kind of… unnoticeable unless something has gone really wrong,” you chuckled. “It’s cool though, everything just kind of whips past you.” 

“Fascinating,” he nodded. “Different from my line of work anyway,” he laughed. 

“Oh yeah, what about your parents? What do they do?” Nicole asked. Oscar stiffened beside you, watching carefully at how the question would play out. He knew about you and your parents' estranged relationship. He knew it was a sensitive subject. 

“They’re doctors, I think,” you shrugged. “One of them was a psychologist, and the other was a general practitioner.” 

Nicole’s face fell, a pit growing in her stomach as she feared the worst. “Are they passed?” She placed a comforting hand on your forearm. 

“No,” you shook your head. It was awkward to explain, but who cared? They’d probably find out anyway, just like everyone else did. It got leaked to the press in the middle of your 2nd season in F3 that you were estranged from your very famous, very powerful folks, and moreover, that they had a new family. It used to bother you. Sometimes, it still did. But Nicole wasn’t a nosy reporter, and you weren’t 17 anymore. “They just kind of… shipped me off to boarding school when I was 8 and cut me off when I was 17. We just weren’t close and it was clear they didn’t want kids at that time.”

“I’m sorry,” she squeezed your arm and you offered a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” you nodded. “Sorry for bringing the mood down.”

Hattie shook her head. “You didn’t, and anyway, their loss is our gain.” 

You smiled appreciatively at them. “Well, I did want to thank you all again for having me.”

“Any time,” Nicole smiled. “Always.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar smiled as he pulled off your top and pressed your head against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, relaxing into his touch. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low. 

You hummed against his skin. The both of you were lit by only candles (Oscar’s favourite thing ever), his bedroom looking increasingly cosy under the light. The soft breeze coming in from the window gave you goosebumps, but he was warm enough for the both of you. “Yeah, you?”

“I’m good,” he nodded, his hands wrapping around your legs and hoisting you up so that your legs were around his waist, and your arms were around his neck. You squealed and he dropped you onto his bed with a chuckle, pressed a kiss to your cheek, then walked to his bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. He loved kissing you. It was addicting, you were addicting. He had never pinned himself as a physical touch sort of guy, but there basically hadn't been a moment where he hadn't been touching you since you'd made it official, and you didn't seem to mind.

You cuddled up in bed, enjoying the soft pillows and lingering scent of Oscar. As you heard the shower turn on, your eyes fixated on the view outside the window. The ocean flowing gently just outside, the beach in front of you, the moon reflecting off small shells embedded in the sand, it was so beautiful. 

You heard the shower stop, and your attention turned back to you and Oscar. You two were official and it felt insane to be able to say he was your boyfriend, but you enjoyed it all the same. “Osc?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, the sound warped by the toothbrush in his mouth. 

“Do you want to tell your family about us?” you questioned, playing with the hem of one of the pillows. “No pressure, of course.” 

He poked his head out from the bathroom, the towel around his bottom half dangerously low. You let your eyes wander all over him, his wet hair, his build physique, his goofy smile. “You mean it?” 

You nodded. “I mean… yeah? I feel weird being here and them not knowing,” you shrugged. “I don’t want to keep it from them, or really anyone, but especially them, right?” 

He nodded. “I agree,” he grinned. “We’ll tell them this week.” 

You smiled. “Cool,” then turned to your side and grabbed your book. 

“Are you going to act like that wasn’t a milestone?” he mused, joining you in bed, shorts on and towel-dried hair. 

“What?” you questioned, not looking up from your book. 

“You want to tell my parents about us,” he smiled. “That’s big.” 

You shrugged, unconvinced. “Is it though?” 

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Yeah, it is,” he lay there for a moment, just watching you read. “You look beautiful,” he smiled. 

You turned to him and laughed. “You’re such a sop.” 

He rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. “Uh-huh,” he nodded and kissed you again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Do you want to come with us to Sydney?” Hattie offered as you two ate breakfast together. “We’re just going for like a few days, but we’d love to have you.” 

“Plus Mae will be like, miserable without you,” Eddie chuckled. You smiled. 

You shrugged. “I’d love to come.” 

“Where are we going?” Oscar asked as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“Y/n, Eddie, Mae, Mom, and I are all going to go on a trip to Sydney,” Hattie explained. 

Oscar nodded. “Can I come?” 

“Sure-” Eddie shrugged. 

“Mum wants it to be a girls trip,” Mae reminded them. 

“Come on, Y/n is my-”

“She’s our friend too,” Mae argued. 

“Yeah, and arguably, you could let Y/n out of your sight for more than three seconds,” Hattie chuckled. “She doesn’t constantly need you looking out for her. She can have a week away with her mates if she wants.” 

They were both quiet. 

“Hattie, what the fuck?” he scoffed. “If you’d let me finish, I could tell you that Y/n is my girlfriend, and I’d very much like to spend my break with her.” 

Hattie, Eddie, Mae, Nicole, and Tim’s eyes all looked to you for confirmation. You swallowed the bite of food in your mouth and turned to Oscar. 

“It’s only like 4 days,” you shrugged, and he stared back at you. “And then I’ll be back. Or I don’t have to go.” 

“Oh, I thought it was the month trip mum had planned-”

“You’re dating?!” Nicole cheered, rushing over to hug the both of you. “That’s great news!” 

“How’s he done that?” Eddie whispered to Hattie, who just laughed. 

You graciously accepted the hug, then turned back to the conversation. “I don’t mind.” 

“You go, I thought it was the month-long thing my mum wanted to do,” he explained, and kissed the top of your head. “When are you leaving?” 

“Tomorrow,” Hattie interjected. 

“Cool,” he smiled. 

“Cool,” you mirrored. 

It wasn’t exactly how either of you were planning on telling them, but it worked all the same.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ… ᴀ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

angst, fluff, social anxiety, one-sided attraction?, unresolved tension, self-doubt, slow burn, texting, fluff, coming-of-age, friends to lovers?

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚: 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙧ö𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧’𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝, 𝘧𝘵. 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

series masterlist here.

word count - 1.2k

Each moment with Matt unfolded in little fragments, stitched together by the soft glow of your phone screen.

Matt finally responds.

It’s late, hours after you’d sent your last message, when your phone vibrates on your nightstand. You’re already half-asleep, but the soft buzz jolts you awake.

Sorry, got distracted Anyway, yk the essay we have to write?

No explanation. No acknowledgment of the silence. Just a smooth continuation, like he never left you waiting.

You stare at the screen for a moment before replying. 

oh, all good!!  yh what did u need ?

Do u mind reading over this and telling me if it makes sense?

He sends you a screenshot.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, blinking at the bright screen as you open the image. His essay fills the screen, paragraphs stacked neatly, but something about it looks rushed.

do u want my honest opinion or the nice version?

A typing bubble appears instantly.

Honesty is the best policy

You grin, looking at the writing again.

ok tbh it's solid but ur conclusion is kinda weak feels like u just gave up halfway through

Wow. Brutal.

im just saying!! u started strong and then dipped

Matt doesn’t reply right away, and for a second, you worry you were too blunt.

Fair. I did kinda bs the ending

told u

The typing bubble appears, then disappears. You wait, your phone screen illuminating your face in the dark.

Does it at least sound smart?

You smile, curling deeper into your blankets.

ehh. smart-ish

I’ll take that as a compliment. especially from u.

A pause, and your chest warms. Then-

Thanks btw For reading it over

You smile again. It’s such a small thing, but he didn’t have to say it.

ofc :)

You yawn again, exhaustion settling into your bones. You should really sleep.

But before you can put your phone down, another message pops up.

U busy tomorrow?

Your stomach flips.

not rlly, why?

Just wondering

A beat.

I need to sleep. goodnight

You bite your lip, smiling at your screen like an idiot.

night matt

You don’t sleep right away.

You see him at school the next day.

He’s with his friends, laughing at something as he leans against the lockers. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, like the texts from the past weekend were some secret window into a version of him that only you got to see.

For a second, you think he might look over, maybe even acknowledge you. But he doesn’t. His gaze sweeps the hallway, passing right over you without stopping.

You remind yourself that it’s fine. He has his friends. It’s not like you expected anything.

If u had to pick between never reading again or never watching a movie again, which one would you choose?

The question came out of nowhere, right as you were finishing up your homework. You blink at the message before a small smile creeps onto your face.

that's evil!!!! why would u make me choose?

Coz it's important Life-changing, even

You stare at your screen, biting your lip. Books had always been a comfort, but movies... movies made you feel things in a way nothing else did.

i hate u for this, but i think i'd pick movies

TRAITOR.

You laugh, warmth bubbling in your chest.

At school, you walk into one of the classes you happens to share with him. 

You consider sitting beside him, or maybe just near him. But no, that doesn’t feel right. You consider maybe just saying something, just a quick "hey," but Matt doesn’t look up, doesn’t even glance in your direction.

Maybe he doesn’t see you. Maybe he’s just caught up in his own world.

Still, a tiny part of you deflates.

The texts continue.

Not constantly, but enough. Small exchanges after each school day, little inside jokes, assignments, shared thoughts about books, movies, random things that make you think of him.

why is it that every time I think I have things figured out, I realise i'm just guessing?

Is this about the math homework or do u just overthink everything?

stfu matt

Some days, it’s just a text or two. Other days, the conversation stretches late into the evening, messages sent in bursts between homework and distractions. And even though he never says much at school, this part, this hidden part, feels real.

The first time you call.

It starts as a joke. You text, teasing him:

u need me to explain this to you? i thought you were the expert

He replies:

Excuse me. You just dont get it

wow, ok! mansplainer unlocked.

U know what? Call me rn I’ll prove it

You hesitate. Your fingers hover over the screen. Then, before you can second-guess it, you press the button.

The phone rings once. Twice. Then—

"Wow. You actually called."

His voice is softer than you expected, warm with amusement. You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you. "You told me to."

"I didn’t think you’d actually do it."

You’re smiling now, your nerves fading. The conversation unfolds slowly at first. Then it's natural, playful, easy. It lasts only a few minutes, but by the time you hang up, your heart is racing for reasons you don’t want to name.

Late at night, when you're already curled up under your blankets, your phone buzzes again.

Can I call you? Got something to rant about.

Your heart leaps. He wanted to call? Again?

You hesitate only for a second before typing back,.

sure!

Moments later, his voice filled your ears, soft and a little scratchy.

"I swear my physics teacher has it out for me. I turned in my homework early, and he still said I was missing something."

You smile, adjusting your pillow. "Sounds like a personal vendetta. What did you do to him?"

"Existed."

You giggle in response, the sound unfamiliar even to yourself.

They ended up talking for an hour, about school, music, the book he promised to lend you but still hadn’t. You barely notice the time passing until your eyelids grew heavy. But even as your body begged for rest, you didn’t want to end the call. Not yet. It was ridiculous. He was just ranting about physics, and yet, something about his voice in the quiet of your room made you feel lighter.

"I should probably sleep," you murmur, voice thick with drowsiness.

"Yeah," he said, but neither of them hung up. The silence stretched, comfortable.

You wonder if he could hear you breathing. If he was waiting for you to say something else, or if he was just as unwilling to let go.

Somehow he finds something else to yap about, even as your eyes drifted shut.

When you wake up, the call is over, but he's texted you.

Goodnight ? Sorry lol i didn't want to be creepy and listen to u breathe so i hung up Hope u sleep well

You ever think about how weird it is that we weren’t really friends before?

You read his message over three times before replying.

yeah, sometimes why?

I dunno. Just feel like we should’ve been.

Something about that message stuck with you for the rest of the day, an ache in your chest that wasn’t unpleasant.

You had been happier lately. And you knew why. You just weren't sure if you were allowed to admit it to yourself yet.

thank u rose for the dividers!!! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: ahhhhh making these texts will be the bane of my existence.

taglist: @backwardshatnick @sturnslutz @applecidersturniolo @kier-with-a-k @evansturn @bluestriips @55sturn @snoopychris @y3sterdaysproblem @cowboylikenat @throatgoat4u @mattswifeyy @marysongohmy @idefinitelyhateu @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss comment to be added/removed from this series taglist !

till next time <3

[viviwah]

CHO SANG-WOO (PLAYER 218) - ONE NIGHT

warnings: f!reader, age difference (20s x 40s), fingering, unprotected sex (creampie)

a/n: sang woo is dangerously attractive, breathe if you agree!

As soon as the voting was finished, the square guard said his goodbyes, speaking on behalf of the other guards as well, the ones who were not allowed to speak for some odd reason. As the guard continued to speak, you tuned it all out, only focusing on leaving this hell hole and going home. What for though? Your life was shit and that’s the whole reason you ended up in a place like this. You, along with majority of the other players, had only made it through one game before deciding that these “games” weren’t your cup of tea at all.

Thanks to the handsome player who was numbered 218, if you remembered correctly, the opportunity to vote was given and the X’s won the vote 101 - 100.

“Ouch!”

You winced in pain as you felt your skin scrape against the concrete. Those stupid guards really had no compassion for others. You weren’t alone though and you realized this after hearing the groans of a man, one who didn’t sound too far away. You could hear the man moving closer, soon feeling the warmth of his body up against yours as his fingers softly grazed against your face and lifted the thin blindfold away from your eyes. Once your eyes adjusted to the light, they dropped down to the man who was now next to you with his wrists and ankles tied together just as yours were. He wasn’t wearing anything but underwear which made you look down at your own body which was covered in nothing but underwear as well.

“They really threw us outside naked..assholes.”

You scoffed as you thought to yourself before suddenly remembering what needed to be done. Your teeth pulled at the rope that tied the mans wrists together and the knot unraveled, freeing his hands. Once his hands were free, he removed the blindfold that covered his own eyes and undid the knot that tied his feet together. He didn’t waste any time and quickly untied the ropes that were tied around your wrists and ankles. Your head lifted and you made eye contact with the man who stood in front you.

Player 218

After he untied you, he hurriedly made his way towards the pile of belongings and you followed him behind him, hurriedly putting your clothes on. You grabbed your phone and tried to turn it on but unfortunately, it was dead. You let out a groan of frustration before turning your attention to the man, player 218, who stood just a few feet away from you.

“Sir, do you know where we are?”, you questioned, hoping for a good answer.

He turned his gaze up from his phone which seemed to be dead as well and eyed the buildings that surrounded the both of you, pushing his glasses up his nose as he did so.

“We’re near Ssangmun-Dong.”, he responded confidently.

“You live far from here?”, you questioned again.

“Not at all actually. What about you?”, he adjusted his glasses once again as he spoke, turning his gaze towards you.

“I live in Ansan.”, you responded, earning a light nod from him.

“What’s your name?”, you questioned for the third time.

“Sang-Woo. Cho Sang-Woo.”, he gave a simple reply.

“I’m (yourname)”, you smiled in his direction.

“I wouldn’t mind if you spent tonight at my place. It seems to be pretty late and I know your cellphone is dead.”, he paused, “I live about a ten minute walk away.”, he gave a faint smile as he explained.

You admired his kindness because there’s no way in HELL you’d ever offer your place to a stranger, especially one who was coming from a place like the one the two of you had just left. You bent slightly, bowing to him.

Surprisingly, you accepted his offer.

Hours had passed since you entered Sang-Woo’s home and those hours were full of laughter and good conversations.

Who knew bonding with a stranger would be so easy?

As the conversations began to die down, an awkward silence took over the room and the sexual tension between the two of you began to rise, that tension quickly became thick enough to be cut with a knife. You cleared your throat awkwardly and Sang-Woo turned in your direction, locking eyes with you. The eye contact that you both shared didn’t last for long since your eyes quickly trailed away from his eyes and down to his lips.

Was it wrong that you wanted to kiss him?

Better Question.

Was it wrong that you wanted to kiss a man who was old enough to be your father?

“If you want to kiss me just do it.”, he spoke calmly as he removed his glasses from his face, setting them down on the glass table that sat in front of the both of you.

“How’d you know I want to kiss you?”, you questioned, dumbfounded.

He gave no reply. Instead, he moved closer to where you were sitting and lifted your head with two fingers. Your eyes softened immediately once they met his. He leaned into you, tracing his soft lips up against your neck and that was more than enough to make your knees weak and your pussy leak. A soft gasp left your mouth as his lips pressed up against your neck, leaving faint kisses. It didn’t take long for him to pull away and once he did, you pulled him into a kiss, one that was deep and passionate. His hands traced up and down your clothed body before gripping your waist softly as the two of you melted under each other’s touch. His grip quickly tightened and he pulled you onto his lap. You smirked against his lips as you felt his cock growing hard underneath your warmth. You pulled away from the kiss, drawing a needy whine from him.

“Someone’s excited.”

You teased, referring to the boner confined in his pants. You then began rocking your hips back and forth lightly which only made him grow harder than he was before. His grip on your waist tightened once again as he lowered you down onto his clothed cock. You wanted him so bad. You needed him and the feeling was mutual. He pulled you in for another kiss and this time, the kiss was turned into a rough, sweaty, make out session. He pulled away, smirking as he grabbed onto your waist once again and lifted you as he stood up. He carried you like a groom would cary his bride as he made his way towards the bedroom. Once you were there, he threw you into the bed roughly and removed his shirt as quick as he could, throwing it without a care in the world. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching him from your position on the bed.

“Take those off.”, he commanded, voice deep and full of lust.

You simply complied with his command and removed your pants.

“Such a good girl..”, he mumbled underneath his breath and began rubbing your clit through your panties, eyeing you sensually as he did so.

It didn’t take long for you to become a moaning mess underneath his touch. Your lip slid between your teeth and you bit down, attempting to hold back any moans that dared to fall out. His movements suddenly stopped and your face quickly dropped into a frown.

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let it all out.”, he leaned towards you as he whispered, continuing his movements on your clit and using his other hand to unclasp your bra. He stopped once again, this time to pull your panties down. He let out a soft groan as he eyed your bare pussy that was now dripping wet for him.

“Should I put them inside of you?”, he questioned in a low voice that made you quiver as his hands traced along your thighs.

You nodded rapidly, back arching slightly as you did so, growing needy by the second.

“Use your words.”, he muttered angrily and lifted his hand, sending a harsh slap onto your bare thigh.

“Yes, please.”, you cooed, leaning your head back.

He smirked and ran his fingers along the slit of your pussy, slowly sliding his fingers inside of you.

“You’re so wet for me.”, he kissed your inner thighs as he pushed his fingers deeper inside of you.

You gasped as his fingers grazed your cervix.

“Sang-Woo…”, you moaned as his palm came in contact with your aching clit due to his fingers being as deep as they possibly could be inside of you.

“Hm?”, he hummed quietly, watching as you squirmed underneath him.

“I’m going to..cum.”, you admitted, slightly embarrassed.

“Cum for me, princess.”, he smirked before fastening his pace.

Your pussy gushed and tightened around his fingers as a result of his fastened pace. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you covered his fingers with your sweet, slick, juices. His fingers slowly slid slowly slid out of your pussy, and once they did he licked them clean.

“You taste so fucking good.”, he groaned.

Sang-Woo joined you in the bed and you watched as he unbuckled his belt and slid his boxers and pants off in one movement. His cock sprang up, hitting his lower abdomen and you almost drooled at the sight, watching as precum leaked from his tip. You didn’t waste any time and immediately straddled his hips while holding his cock in your hand and aligning it with your pussy that was still dripping wet and leaking juices from your previous orgasm. His hands grabbed onto your waist and he pushed you down, forcing himself inside of you. A loud gasp left your mouth as his cock filled you up and thrusted into you without giving you time to adjust to the size. His hands tightened around your waist as he bucked his hips up into you, thrusting at an inhumane pace. His head leaned back onto headboard as he groaned in pleasure. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support as you began bouncing up and down on his cock without a care for anything else in the world.

“You..feel so good inside of me.”, you breathed out, looking into his eyes as you spoke.

“And you feel so good around me, baby.”

His hands made their onto your hips, guiding you back and forth at a pace that was way slower than the one before. He leaned his head back as he let out a loud groan, one that didn’t sound like the ones he’d let out before. His grip on your hips tightened as his cock twitched inside of you, soon coating your walls with his cum.

Who knew all of this would happen in one night?