#been trying to finish up some wips from last year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suga-kookiemonster · 8 months ago

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ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up.

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #bts fic #mine #fic: ctrl alt del #bby

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pucked-bunnie · 6 months ago

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shameless flirt ⎜ a.matthews

pairings: auston matthews x reader prompts: "you can rest your head on me, I don't mind" + "I dont want to be alone." genre: fluff ⎜angst ⎜friends to lovers⎜ warnings: injured players ⎜auston is a little espresso depresso ⎜just auston being in love the whole time ⎜had to make tyler the bad guy, sorry ⎜ synopsis: working as a team trainer came with many ups and downs, when you pull one of toronto's super stars the downs seem to outweigh the ups - but auston is always willing to bring you back up. word count: 4.8k authors note: this was a WIP i had already started but when doing the prompt list request I got two request that I felt tied in nicely, so I put them all together. I also love our gentle giant auston matthews. (disclaimer : none of the hockey events in this are accurate - so dont come for me.)

(unedited)

“You need to stop staring.” You can’t help the way you jump at the words, glaring at the man behind you before turning back towards the rink.

“I’m not staring.” You huff, flicking some hair away from your face. “I’m assessing.” The large man steps forwards leaning against the barricade besides you, his eyes trailing over your face before following your gaze to the player on the ice.

“Assessing for what?” Auston asks, his gaze watching his teammate curiously, before moving back towards you. Your frown was deepening as you watched the Swedish player move through the drills on the ice. “Is he okay?”

Something was wrong.

What were you seeing that he couldn’t?

“That is for me to know and for you to probably never find out.” You sigh as you push off the wall, turning towards the large man. “What’re you doing out here anyway, don’t you have an interview to do?” Auston shrugs as he turns away from the ice to look at you.

“Is he injured?” He questions and this time you shrug in return.

“It’s none of your business, Auston.” You begin holding up a hand before he begins to complain, “It’s a suspicion, nothing more and once it concerns you, you’ll be the first to know.” You finish, smiling as your player makes his way to the boards, unstrapping his helmet as he skates.

“How was that, doc?” William asks, a large grin planted on his face as he nods a quick hello to his teammate.

“Subpar.” You respond, William’s smile dropping slightly. “You seem to be favouring your left leg, I need to do a physical on you at some stage this afternoon if you manage to catch a free moment.” You continue, looking between the two players before letting out a relaxed grin.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Willy. But we can’t have you out there if you can’t play your best.” William nods slowly, trying to return your smile but you can see the worries running through his head quicker then he can keep up.

He’s hiding something from you and you are determined to find out what it is.

“Meet me in the treatment room after you shower, we'll go over my concerns then.” You say dismissing William back to the locker room before turning to Auston, glancing up at him with a sigh.

“You need to go do your media, Auston” He opens his mouth to say something but you shake your head before you trudge down the tunnel after William.

Working for the Toronto Maple Leafs had been nothing short of a dream for the three years you had been with the team - with one of the senior trainers leaving after last season you had been approached to step in as a full time trainer and senior member of staff - your role changing drastically and sometimes left you in the firing line when an unpopular decision had to be made.

“He’s getting pulled isn’t he?” Auston’s voice sounds from the door of your office. William had left your office over an hour ago his eyes watering as you gave him the bad news. You had spent the hour in silence typing up the email recommendation to the coaching staff.

“I can’t tell you anything, Auston.” You say quietly, “You know how this works.” Auston nods, taking a few steps into the room before closing the door behind him.

“Is it bad?”

“Auston, please.” You respond, rubbing your fingers against your forehead, a long sigh escaping you as you slowly nod your head. “It’s bad enough that he needs to focus on rehab right now.” You say, before adding “everyone’s gonna hate me for this.” This wasn’t your first time pulling one of the core four on the team - last time the boys had been more lenient as you were one of the junior staff members and the decision had your previous supervisor taking most of the heat - this time you were on your own.

“I could never hate you.” He says softly, his chest squeezing as he watches the tiredness smooth over your expression.

“Thanks.” You say with a bitter laugh, closing your laptop as you reach for your bag under the desk.

“They’ll give the team an update tomorrow.”

Auston stands with you, his hand reaching out to pull open the door waving for you to exit first. “I’m serious doc.” He says, “I’ve got your back.”

Twenty four hours later you watch from the doorway as the coaches deliver the news to the team - the coaches waiting till after practice to announce that William would be pulled for the foreseeable future - Auston’s eyes flick to yours every now and then as the coaches refuse to divulge too deeply into the details.

“What do you mean he’s getting pulled?” Mitch asks softly, yanking at the straps of his padding, pulling the equipment off slowly, “He seemed completely fine.” The volume is the locker room raises as the team all share their opinions of agreement.

The coach takes a moment to let the group voice their frustration before speaking. “Our trainers are some of the best in the world.” Sheldon begins, “They have everyone's best interest at heart - she made the call to pull Willy as it was perceived that he was trying to conceal an injury and in the long run would be doing more damage. Willy agreed it was the best thing to do with hopes that with his full focus on recovery it will make him available for the playoffs.” Sheldon's words seem to quiet the group.

Auston hands pause on the laces of his skates as he glances over to you again, seeing your head fall, your hand pushing the loose hairs out of your face, as you whisper something under your breath before lifting your head again. “Anyway, let’s wish William all the best in his recovery and hope to see him back on the ice soon.” Sheldon finishes before dismissing the group, shouting out a quick morning practice time for tomorrow morning before exiting the locker room.

The locker room is quiet after the coach leaves, Auston risking one more glance towards you, his heart jumping in his chest as he sees your eyes already locked on him with a sad smile on your face. Auston glances away quickly engaging in the ongoing conversation besides him to try and ignore you and your gaze on the side of his face.

He still notices when you turn slowly and decides to leave the room.

“Fuck.” Sheldon swears under his breath as the end of game horn rings - the crowd of red roaring in victory as the home team groups together on the ice, patting each other on the heads. The sea of blue fans beginning to exit the stands all sending glares of anger towards your team slowly skating their way to the bench - hoping to make a quick exit.

The game had been an intense one - the team had been so close to pulling through but continued to miss their shots, the fire power significantly decreased since you pulled one of their top scorers. You keep your head down low as you follow the last player down the tunnel, everyone making their way into the locker room - “Doc, we need to talk for a moment.” Your steps freeze as you glance ahead to the maple leafs coach waiting to the side of the locker room - his arms folded against his chest.

“Sure, thing.” You say, plastering a smile on your face as you step away from the group - one of the players pausing by the door of the locker room, his hand making quick work of his helmet as he glances between you and his coach.

“You have something to say, Matthews?” Auston glances at his coach, his mouth opening slightly before closing again, his gaze trailing over to you, your head moving side to side in the smallest movement he barely catches it.

“It’s okay.” He can see you mouth the words, your head motioning for him to enter the room behind him before turning back towards his coach.

“Don’t be too hard on her.” He says quietly into the hallway not waiting for you or Sheldon to respond before trudging into the locker room.

“We both know that your decision to pull Nylander is one that can’t be reversed until you sign off on his physical.” Sheldon begins - the leafs had implemented a new protocol on the return of players from the injury reserve, the doctor who made the decision to pull the player had to be the one to sign them off on returning to avoid players and coaches undermining the doctors decision.

You nod your head slowly - your smile faltering as you catch on to what the coach is hinting at. “You want me to sign him off early?” Your question almost comes out of your mouth as a scoff - your eyebrows raised as your smile officially switches to a frown. “You want me to break protocol for this?” You reiterate, your own arms crossing against your chest as you stare down the coach.

“No, of course not.” Sheldon’s words come out with a nervous laugh - his gaze flicking over the hallways as he takes a step forwards - his voice lowers as he speaks again. “We only have one more game before the playoffs - we need our team back at full potential.”

You nod taking in his words, giving him a second to continue, “You understand, don’t you? You know what this would mean to the team - to be able to begin the playoffs as a force to be reckoned with… we can’t do that without our core four.” You shake your head as you take a step away from the desperate coach.

“No can do, Sheldon.” Your words are firm as you glance to the players beginning to hover at the door of the locker room. “I’m not going to risk him injuring himself permanently for the sake of playing a game.” You know your words are making the coach angry - his rage simmering as a red tint rises up his neck. “I care about our players, and I’d hope you’d share the same sentiment, coach.” The words hiss out of you as you glare at the man, not wasting anymore time in making your way into the medical bay besides the locker room - closing the door tightly behind you.

You miss the way the rest of the team let out whistles of shock as their coach lets out a huff of displeasure.

You miss the way Auston watches you walk away, a slight grin on his face before his coach dismisses him to finish pulling off his gear.

The team was two hours behind schedule - most of the staff already seated on the plane waiting for the players to join them so everyone could make the three hour flight back home. Slowly the players made their way onto the plane - each taking up their normal seats, most of the time the players would sit amongst each other while the staff would find their own seats towards the back of the plane - Sheldon considered it another of his many ways for the team to get closer together.

“Auston, you gonna join us for some black jack?” Mitch’s voice carries through the airplane - his hands already shuffling a deck of cards, two of his team mates looking up at the newest arrival in anticipation.

Auston hesitates looking between the empty seat next to you - and his best friend waiting for him to take the seat across from him. “I think I’m gonna miss out this time.” Auston says slowly walking further down the aisle - Mitch looking at his friend in disbelief. “I’m just super tired.” Auston adds as he shoves his bag in the overhead locker before dropping into the seat beside you - your eyes shooting over to him in confusion - your hand lifting to pull one of your AirPods out of your ear.

“What are you doing?” You sneer under your breath - not missing the way some of his teammates glare over at you. “You need to move - staff and players don’t sit together, Auston.” Your hands shove at him lightly, but Auston makes himself comfortable in the seat beside you, a soft smile on his face as he ignores your pleading, clicking the seat belt at his hips and settling into the seat.

“This is ridiculous.” You huff, giving up on trying to move the large man, pressing play on the iPad screen in front of you, one AirPod still in your ear as the movie continues. “What’re you watching?” Auston asks as the flight attendants move down the plane checking everyone is buckled in and comfortable.

You let out a long yawn as you shoot him a glare, “None of your business.” If your words were meant to stop Auston from interacting with you, they seemed to be doing quite the opposite.

“You’re tired?” He questions as you let out another yawn, slapping a hand over your mouth to cover the movement, “You can rest your head on me.” He says softly, lowering his left shoulder, patting against the hard muscle with a grin, “I don’t mind.” He adds quickly, lowering his shoulder a little bit more.

“Auston, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s probably not.” He agrees, his right hand reaching over to shuffle your iPad into the middle of your seats, before reaching over his body to gently pull your head down onto his shoulder, his left hand, grabbing for yours - your fingers lacing together as he sits your joined hands comfortably in your lap.

“But that’s never really stopped me before.”

Your breath gets caught in your chest as you think of all the ways people must be whispering about your position - not daring to lift your head off Auston’s shoulder to look around at the people around you - not daring to lift your head from the comfortable fabric of Auston’s fleece jumper.

“Rest, doc.” He whispers softly, his hand squeezing yours, as he watches the movie on the screen, pulling the spare AirPod out of its case to shove in his ear.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep but you wake to Auston’s hand squeezing yours, his head laying softly on top of yours, a jacket thrown over your torso, the movie credits playing on the screen of your iPad.

“We’ve arrived.” The flight attendant says quietly, her gaze flicking over you and the man beside you with a knowing grin - leaving as you thank her, detaching your hand from Auston’s, the man letting out a soft groan, his hand reaching out to take yours again.

“We’re here.” You whisper to him, slipping his jacket off of you to place back into his lap, gathering all your stuff before shoving it into your backpack - gently reaching to pull the remaining AirPod out of Auston’s ear, sliding it back into the case. “Auston?” You say softly as you shake his shoulder lightly.

He sits up slowly, stretching his arms above his head as he glances over at you, your bag already slung over your shoulder as you wait for him to move so you can exit the plane.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asks, undoing the belt in his lap, and stepping out into the aisle. You shake your head as you pass him, not able to stop the spreading grin on your face.

Your head falls forwards as the end of game horn sounds for the last time in the regular season - the leafs lost again - the final game of their season they lost and they lost by two. Even though they were still guaranteed a position in the playoffs it never felt good to start the first round on a loss.

Not to mention the news hitting the team yesterday that they would be up against Boston in the first round - the two teams notorious for having very intense games.

No one says anything as the team makes their way back to the locker room - everyone stripping off their gear with heavy heads, most wanting nothing more than to get on the plane and head back home, you included. You can’t ignore the way people glare at you as you enter the room, some players whispering to each other under their breath in frustration.

Some of the team still makes friendly conversation or sends you tight smiles as you help them unwrap their tape - or roll out their tight muscles, but most say nothing. Your final patient never makes his way into your medical bay - the other doctors packing up as you wait for the tall brunette to pop his head into the room, but nothing, not even a glimpse of the large player.

“We’re going to take this stuff out to the crew, are you alright to pack up the rest?” One of your colleagues asks as he passes by you - a few cases in his hands.

“Yeah, I’ll be good to go in just a moment.” You say softly, letting out a quiet sigh as you turn to pack up your equipment, turning as you head a soft knock on the door.

“Do you still have time to help me get this tape off?” His voice is quieter than usual - the player you were waiting for standing by the open door - his skin red from where he had tried to rip the strapping tape off on his own. You nod quickly, taking in his sad eyes - the skin around them redder than usual.

“I tried to get it off myself, but you’re clearly too good at your job.” Auston says a bitter chuckle coming out as he takes a seat on the table in front of you - your hands digging through your bags for the adhesive removal spray.

“Why didn’t you come ask for help sooner?” You ask quietly, as you behind to spray the remover on the remaining tape wincing at the rash spreading across his skin where the tape was already removed. “You could’ve gotten someone else to remove it.” You add quickly the thought that maybe he was trying to avoid you running through your head quickly.

“Why would I do that?” His question confuses you, your eyebrows furrowing but you continue pulling off the tape. “You think I’m avoiding you?”

“Aren’t you?” You ask bitterly, remembering the looks of the others on the team, the ones that clearly blame you for the loss. “Everyone else hates me right now, so it’s not like I blame you.” Auston just watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your chin wobbling as you try to suck in the overwhelming disappointment that’s been growing in yourself. He watches as you focus all your attention on pulling off the tape, keeping your attention on his sore skin as you rub soothing cream over the rash that he gave to himself.

“I could never hate you.” He says softly as you twist the lid back onto the cream, standing from his spot on your bench, his hands raising to your face, lifting your head to tilt up towards him. “I told you when you first made the decision - I could never hate you, no matter what anyone else thinks - not even what you think, do you understand?” Your chin trembles as his thumb strokes against your cheeks softly, your head nodding in confirmation, his hands staying just under your jaw as he lets out a soft sigh.

“Then why are you sad? Why didn’t you come to me to help?” Your question stalls Auston’s ministrations on your skin, his thumbs stopping in their motions as he stares down at you, his jaw clenching as he tries to find his words.

“I’m just disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“In myself.” He confirms before adding, “In the team, we let one person's absence throw us off the ball - we do this every god damn year.” His forehead drops to yours, his hands slipping away from your face, sliding over your shoulder before grazing down your arms, his fingers reaching out to lace with yours. “I thought we were going to do better this year… I thought I would do better.”

The sound of footsteps in the locker room makes the two of you jump, your hands slipping out of his as you quickly throw the rest of your equipment into their cases, turning back to Auston with a soft smile. “You should finish getting change for the flight.” Auston nods, frowning as he glances out into the locker room seeing the other doctors hovering by the door.

“You’ll wait for me?” He asks quickly, your head nodding before you can even register what he asked, his body slipping through the door before you can take back your agreement.

But you do as requested, handing off your cases to the other doctors promising them you’d meet them on the plane, making excuses about Auston wanting to talk about a treatment plan for his shoulder - they both nod understandingly moving quickly to get the last of the equipment to the trucks to take to the airport.

Auston’s surprised to see you still standing outside the locker room when he exits - his bag thrown over his shoulder, a large white hoodie thrown over your uniform as you turn towards him. The two of you walk to the bus in silence, neither knowing why you had stayed.

Neither of you know why you still stayed as you sit next to each other on the bus.

As you fall into your seats besides each other on the plane.

Auston’s surprised again as you take hold of his hand once the flight takes off - your gaze focused on the window as the plane levels out - your headphones over your ears as you pretend your thumb isn’t rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hand.

“What is going on with you two?” Auston’s head shoots up from the video playing on his phone, Mitch leaning over the back of the chair in front of him, his eyes lingering on the joined hands sitting in your lap. If you head Mitch you pretend not to, your chin in your hand as you keep watching the black sky pass by.

“None of your business.” Auston replies, praying to whoever will listen that you don’t pay attention to Mitch’s interrogations, praying that you don’t take your hand out of his. “Mitch drop it.” Auston sneers as his friend's gaze drops to your joined hands again, Auston squeezing yours as he feels your fingers loosen on his. “Please.” Auston adds, Mitch’s eyebrows raising in surprise as he throws his hands up in surrender.

The rest of the flight passes in silence, most of his teammates busy with their own unwinding processes, a lot of the staff sleeping for as much of the flight as possible.

Neither of you two sleep.

Neither of you acknowledge the other until the plane stops on the runway - the players and staff quickly making their way off the plane, stretching their limbs as they go.

“Do you have a ride home?” Auston asks, his chest tightening as you finally pull your hands out of his, the warmth of your skin lingering in his palm. You shake your head softly, pulling out your phone and flashing the Uber app on your screen. “Come home with me.” Auston says wincing as the words hit him as soon as he says them.

“Not like that - I mean I wouldn’t be against it but… I just…”

“What do you mean then, Auston?” You interrupt, your face soft as you wait for him to respond, giving him the time to collect himself.

“I don’t want to be alone.” He admits quietly, “I’d really like to spend some more time with you.” You don’t say anything, glancing down at the open app on your phone before glancing back up at him - handing your unlocked phone over, the arrival address waiting.

“No way in hell you’re paying for the ride.” He hisses, pushing your phone back towards you as he pulls his own phone out of his pocket, reaching overhead to pull his backpack out of the locker, his hand reaching out for yours as he drags your off the plane behind him - the two of you bypassing the rest of the staff, Auston sneaking to grab your two suitcases before rushing you off the runway and into the airport an Uber waiting out the front.

Auston sits comfortably in the silence, his hand warm between the two of you - his heart beating so fast he’s glad you know how to do CPR cause he might need it if you do anything else.

Auston thanks the driver as he pulls up outside his building - pulling the bags from the trunk - your small duffle stacked on top of his suitcase - the bags dragged behind him as he also drags you behind him and into the empty lobby.

“This place is really fancy.” You say as he scans his house fob - the elevator automatically selecting the floor for his condo. Auston doesn’t say anything, pretty sure he’d throw up if he attempted to get words out.

“Are you okay?” You question as the elevator dings - the doors opening to the front door of his condo - the only condo on this floor.

“Mhm.” He answers, swallowing his nerves as he shoves his key into the lock, opening the door as quickly as possible pulling you quickly into his empty apartment.

“No Felix?” You question as you glance around, an empty crate sitting in the living room with no sign of the dog.

“He’s at Mitch’s - Felix loves visiting Zeus when we go on roadies.” Auston finally speaks, his hand dropping yours for just a moment to set up your bags by the front door, pulling his large puffer off his shoulders and throwing it over a coat rack by the front door.

“Make yourself at home.” Auston says as he strides into the kitchen grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, his gaze shooting over to your body relaxing into the cushions of his oversized couch.

“Where the hell did you get this thing?” You question as he hands you your bottle of water, slumping into the seat beside you, a grin on his face as he watches you settle in further.

“I don’t know, my sister bought it.” He says quickly, your eyes squeezed shut as he reaches for a blanket draped over the back of the couch, throwing it over your lap.

“Well I need the link.” You comment on bliss twisting the lid off the water as you take a sip.

“It was almost ten thousand.” Auston’s hand moves to pat your back as the water gets stuck in your throat - coughs racking your body as you pat your chest.

“Never-mind then.”

“You can use mine whenever you want.” Auston says and you scoff, falling back against the couch as you drop the evil water besides you on the couch. “I’m not kidding.” He adds.

Auston doesn’t know what makes him change his position.

He’s not sure why he lies down on the couch, his head gently landing in your lap.

He’s not sure what to do when he feels your fingers thread in his hair, running softly through his messy locks - the water from his shower still making the ends of his hair wet and tangled.

Auston’s not sure when you both fall asleep - his phone making him squint as he checks the time - the four am flashing as he throws the device to the other side of the couch.

He drags himself off the couch slowly, careful not to wake you as he slides his arms under your body, lifting you gently with a soft grunt as he scuttles down the hallway - his room only lit by the lights of the other high building through his window, his body freezing as you let out a soft whine as he drops you onto his mattress dragging his duvet down the bed to throw over your body.

He doesn’t know what makes him round the bed, sliding onto the mattress behind you, pulling the blanket over his body as well, his mind running so fast as you turn on the mattress, your hands reaching out to tangle in the fabric of his shirt, your body shuffling in the cold sheets to move closer to him.

“Don’t make things awkward, Auston.” You huff, as one of your hands releases his shirt, grabbing his frozen arm to drape over your waist, a happy hum leaving you as he pulls you tighter against him, his chin resting against the top of your head. “We’re going to have to talk about this in the morning.” You say.

“I know.” He responds.

Neither of you know when you fall back asleep.

But neither of you complain as you wake up bundled together in the large king bed.

#auston matthews #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews fanfic #auston matthews imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl fic #prompt request #prompt list

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

Text

is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x thick!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #pbv!steve #steve harrington fluff

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justwinginglife · 4 days ago

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Blind in Love

Dedicated to @mangostarjam, you convinced me to finish the WIP since you asked about it lmao so thanks!

It had been awhile since you’d had good sex and even longer since you’d had a good date.

Which was why, when your friend yammered to you -on a daily basis- about the new friend she’d made and how he was your perfect match, you allowed her to set up a blind date between the two of you even though you were still recovering from the first serious relationship you’d ever had ending. But you’d spent more than enough time mourning the past and you were ready to get back out there. If your date ended up being a serial killer, so be it; at least you’d die knowing you tried to have some semblance of a love life again.

At first, you almost didn’t get the date with him at all.

Your friend would tell you how kind the man was, how attentive the man was, how loyal the man was, and you were already sold from her first description. But she kept selling him to you anyway. The days would go by and she’d tell you he liked the same music you did. She’d tell you he was raised in the same area that you grew up in. She’d tell you that he liked the same foods you did. She’d tell you that he was a night owl like you. She’d tell you he liked the same TV shows. She’d tell you he had the same hobbies. She’d tell you he’d vacationed to the same places you had. She’d tell you so many details about him that it felt like you were going on a date with yourself. So you knew you had to meet this guy, you just had to.

And then one day, she told you it was most likely not going to happen.

How? How could the most perfect sounding man in the entire world not even want to meet you? Had she told him what she’d told you? Did he know you were practically soulmates? How were you supposed to hear about him everyday, to know all these things about him like he was suddenly your closest friend, only to never meet him, only to be rejected by him before he ever crossed paths with you?

This couldn’t be how things ended.

But your friend was persistent. Thank god she was persistent. As much as she had promoted him to you, she doubly promoted you to him, and soon enough, she was giving you the good news that he had eventually agreed to go out on a date with you. He had even gone so far as to pick the time and the venue, so she had high expectations for the night.

You had high expectations for the night.

You tried not to. You didn’t imagine there was anyone for you who could ever be as good as your first love, but if there wasn’t, it wouldn’t be for a lack of you trying to find them. You owed it to yourself, to your friend, to him, to give this date a good try. So even though you tried not to get all worked up over one simple date, you got excited anyway. You dressed up to the nines.

When you showed up to the address that you’d been instructed to meet him at, you were shocked to discover you’d been here before, years ago. It was a cherry blossom garden. A cherry blossom garden that was usually extremely busy and yet somehow it was now completely deserted. And… lit up? You didn’t remember there being so many lanterns everywhere the last time you’d come here.

Following the trails of lanterns, you found a man in a suit waiting for you at the end. He was down on one knee. Holding a ring box.

“I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, please marry me.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No.”

“But why?”

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I’m not going on a blind date. I’m not going on any date. Never again.” Hoshina waved his persistent friend away, thinking his resolve might end any further arguments. It only strengthened her resolve.

She followed him down the long expanse of hallway, and boy, did he realize just how long it was as she prattled on and on. “But did I tell you she also grew up in the same neighborhood as you?”

He groaned. “Yes. Yes, you did. Doesn’t change a thing.”

“But did I tell you she hikes? You could go hiking together.”

“I don’t want to go hiking with anyone.”

“But did I tell you she cooks, and get this, she cooks your favorite foods. It’s honestly crazy how your favorite foods are like somehow what she specializes in. That’s gotta be some sign, right?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really, I appreciate you trying, but nothing you say is going to make me change my mind about this.”

“Okay, okay, one more thing. You remember that, like, weird vintage medallion thing you have on your nightstand?”

He froze in his tracks. “...What about it?”

“You remember how you told me that they only ever made two of those medallions and you won it at some event? Get this- she has the other half of the set. She also won it at the same event. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.”

He quickly turned around and started making his way back to his room.

She watched him curiously, keeping pace with him as his pace increased. He was almost like a man on a mission the way he sped down the hall. She was sure he’d burn tracks into the floor with the way he was walking.

“Can she see me tomorrow night?” He asked finally.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, wondering what on earth could’ve made him change his mind, and so quickly at that. But after all this begging and pleading with him to reconsider the date, she wouldn’t dare question his sudden change in heart.

“Yeah, of course she can. She’s been waiting for you to say yes forever. I’ll text her. Do you guys wanna meet up at that restaur-”

“I’ll pick the place. I know the perfect spot.”

She blinked a couple times. What was going on with Hoshina today? Not only was he actually agreeing to go on this blind date when he’d been vehemently rejecting it these past few weeks, but now he was taking the initiative to plan the date himself? Something had to be going on. But she was too afraid to ask what, too afraid it would weaken his nerve. So she simply nodded and said, “Alright, good luck. I’ll let her know when you’re ready.” Then she vanished down the hallway, too stunned to speak any further.

When he reached his room, Hoshina tossed out half his closet trying to figure out what to wear. What was one supposed to wear to propose to the love of his life that he hadn’t seen in years? What was one supposed to say?

He quickly called up the managers of the cherry blossom garden that he’d taken you to on your first date together and he bought out the entire place for tomorrow night. He didn’t want anyone walking in and ruining the only chance he might have with you.

He took out the ring box he’d been holding onto these last several years and set it out on his nightstand, right beside the medallion that he’d won with you. Then he fell asleep dreaming about your smile.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, please marry me.”

Suddenly everything made sense.

Of course he liked the same shows you did. You always made him watch it with you. Of course he was a night owl, you stayed up late together watching those shows. Of course he liked the same hobbies, the same food, the same music, you lived together, it was hard not to pick up the same routines, to pick up the same interests. And all those places your friend had told you he’d visited that you’d also visited? You’d gone on vacation together.

You’d done everything together.

Until you didn’t. Until you broke up.

But now here he was before you, and without even wasting a second to say hi it’s me again, he was already down on one knee proposing with a ring you told him you liked once in passing.

At first you wondered why he was here, after so many weeks of declining to proceed with this date. Had he known it was you all along? Was that why he’d said no? But then why was he here? And with a ring no less? What was going on? What made him change his mind?

But suddenly you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care about the how or the why or the what. You just cared about him. You just cared that the man that you loved, that the only man that you’d ever loved, that the only man you ever wanted to love, was kneeling before you, saying he loved you, saying he still loved you, saying he’d always loved you and always would love you. And he wanted to marry you.

“Yes.”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @inkytypewriter @ouiouimochi

#soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #anime #hoshina #oneshot #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #anime fanfic #hoshina soshiro x reader

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tossawary · 11 days ago

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Happy November, everyone! Here's a late collection of the icons that I've been using for the last few months. The lines and dots one is the new one! I saw some Art Deco wood carving recently that was cool and wanted to borrow the style.

The rubber duck cassowary is from July, because a loved one is really into ducks recently. The black and white cassowary is from August, for no particular reason. The Starfleet cassowary is from September, because we started doing a catch-up on things like "Strange New Worlds", "Lower Decks", and "Discovery". The cassowary made of dots is from October, just because I saw another piece of art that I liked.

Fandom news: I finally finished "Some Unknown Corner", my Qijiu reunion fix-it fic!!! Which took me WAY longer than initially expected. Part of it is that I've been spending more time with family lately (saw some people I hadn't seen in years last month), which means less time to write but has been very nice, and part it of seems to be that I'm just a little busy and burnt out at the moment.

I'm not currently planning on joining any fandom events at the moment, or making any firm fic plans; I'm letting loose and just relaxing. I will be TRYING not to be possessed by some unwieldy project. Trying!!! I'm definitely not (intentionally) writing any novels this month. For now (at least the next couple months), I don't think I'll be posting any new fic unless it's a short one-shot or already complete longfic. November and December tend to be some of the busier months in my personal life. I have some WIP projects for other fandoms that I'd like to shove out the door and use to cleanse my palate a little, but again, the main goal right now is taking it slow.

If you have a fandom project right now that is stressing you out, I offer you permission from a random stranger to take a break from it, if you want one! Enjoy a nap on the couch and some good food and a walk, if you can and if you like! Fic will wait.

Thank you for all the lovely comments and messages and such! I appreciate them very much and will be trying to casually catch up on those again. ❤️❤️❤️

#tossawary updates #tossawary art

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nhasablogg · 11 days ago

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The end (again)

First of all I want to thank you all for following and engaging with me ever since I returned to this space. It's been, mostly, great. I've written some things I'm really proud of, and for that reason I'm reluctant to delete this blog like I did the last.

I think it's been obvious I've not been enjoying myself in a long time, except for the occasional few days when it's been fun to write and interact with people. Throughout this whole year I've been trying to convince myself that I can use this blog only when I want to and feel inspired to, and while it sometimes works it very often just leaves me frustrated as I try to make this space fun for myself again. I'm gonna try not to be too longwinded about this as I have the habit of being, so long story short, I'm going to leave this blog.

I won't be deleting anything, but I'll also not be using this blog anymore. I was debating just disappearing without saying anything, but I think that's rude when some of you have been so very kind. The one and only exception will be if I feel really inspired and write something I love and would like to share specifically on here (or maybe I'll just post them on AO3 if I feel like it). Since I won't feel pressured to use this blog I'm sure that experience will be authentic and beautiful and rare. I want to focus on writing outside of this space, as I keep putting my energy here and not where I'd like it to be. There are lots of things going on in my life right now and I'd like to try to regain some control by using my free time intentionally in order to become the version of myself I'm striving toward. This blog is, unfortunately, not part of that version.

I still have a few prompts I want to fill, and a few WIPs I want to finish/post anyway, so I'm not disappearing just yet. When I say disappear, I'm not sure if I mean that I won't ever be logged in. I'm not entirely sure yet how I'm going to go about it, if I'm going to answer messages or turn asks off or what. I think, in the long run, asks will be turned off just so that I won't feel the urge to log in for the off chance someone has given me some attention. That's why I deleted the old blog, to keep myself from having one foot in there still.

I want to thank you for the lovely lovely time being back here. It's not been perfect, but that's not what I'm deciding to take with me this time. I want to remember writing Criminal Minds fics and Stranger Things fics and Red White and Royal Blue fics and Heartstopper fics, and how lovely you were about those fics. Revisiting fandoms and finding new ones and completing tickletober and having plans and ambitions for projects (even though I didn't always follow through, it's always nice having ambitions). I don't regret deleting the old blog and I don't regret creating this one. I think I probably needed to return, on my own terms, just like I'm now leaving on my own terms. I don't think I did that last time.

I keep rewriting this and looking at it and wondering if I will regret posting it. If posting it will somehow flip the switch and I will find so much joy here again and look like a fool. And if that happens, so be it. But I need to post this. I can't keep procrastinating. I have, in a way, been working up the nerve to say goodbye for the past year.

If you've ever commissioned a fic, I urge you to save it somewhere because I can't promise I won't randomly delete one day in the future either, if I realize it will be for the better (I guess the same goes for if you enjoy a fic and would like to be able to revisit it - but please don't share it anywhere else).

N over and out (well, once I finish those fics I still want to finish)

#text

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west-haven · 1 year ago

Note

So just curious. Care to share the story of how you coined chainshipping? That’s quite a claim to fame.

When I was fifteen, I made the Livejournal community named Chainshipping (seen above, linked here since it's still online atm) because I was a silly teen girl who just wanted men to kiss in all the media I ingested.

I vaguely remember actually deciding on the name, it was mostly being all "they are CHAINED to pipes. CHAINSHIPPING????" where the (blank)shipping name came from the fact I was still super big into Yugioh slash fiction, which used that kind of naming structure. Puzzleshipping, Prideshipping, Puppyshipping, etc. I do remember looking at the HUGE ass list of all the seemingly thousands of YGO ship names and when I saw Chainshipping was not one of them, I knew there wouldn’t be any cross-fandom confusion.

Years pass, I gave up ownership of the LJ comm (something I REALLY regret now), and I mostly just remember it all as something from high school. But within the last five years, I realize that people actually use the name still and it’s like ohhhhhh oh wow I didn’t realize it stuck like that.

For fun, here are some other historic(?) screenshots of me pimping out the community on one of the first Adam/Lawrence fics on fanfiction dot net, which did cause the first dozen or so members to join since the author then shared the community the very next chapter.

I constantly stalk the chainshipping tag both on Tumblr and Twitter, since I just adore seeing all the stuff about it (plus every time someone says it’s a dumb name I’m like well true 😂) and I’m hoping that I’ll get enough motivation to finish my WIP smut fic that I’ve been working on for mooooonthsssss. I’m trying to give back to the community with fanfics since my fic I tried to write back eighteen years ago is super bad 😂😂😂

Thanks for the ask, I love sharing my slice of fandom history!

#a day in the life of carrie #my fic #chainshipping #saw #and yes I have had the same username for like twenty years #it’s my brand

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halfmoth-halfman · 6 months ago

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Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

#moth talks #tw: rape #tw: racism #tw: mental health #tw: misogyny #tw: harassment #tw: death threats

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kozachenko · 5 months ago

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wooo yay I have another WIP in the works after I've finally had time to draw again yipeeeeeee (click for better quality)

Also, on a side note happy pride month! I don't have anything super special for this month like last year (also I've been on this hellsite for a year now jesus christ) and so I might as well post this WIP I've got going of Keiki and Mayumi because this idea has been marinating in my head for a while now and I needed to get it out.

I'll keep my artist's note brief as like with my previous WIP I am just gonna save that for the finished piece (Edit: It's done now so clink the link here to see it), but I would like to post some of my headcanons for the two of them here while I'm still thinking about both of them.

Artist's Notes;

So I really like the idea of Mayumi having some memory of her life before dying and ending up in the Animal Realm and that's part of the reason why she wants to protect Keiki so much, like, maybe she failed to protect someone she cared for in her life, or maybe she was just kind of an asshole and sees this as a second chance. IDK, I just think it could be a neat idea to play around with, especially if Mayumi is one of the few spirits who actually remembers her life, as I'm sure in most cases in Touhou, non-vengeful spirits tend to forget most of their lives upon death, so I think it could be and interesting idea to play around with. I also like the idea of Keiki asking Mayumi something along the lines of, "Are there any changes you want me to make to your appearance?" and Mayumi gives her input on what she wants her new body to look like, which I think could be a really nice moment of bonding between the two of them. Also, I love the canon detail of Mayumi being the only one who's really able to understand Keiki's way of speaking, I just think it's really cute.

As for how I drew both of them, I took a few liberties with their outfits and took some inspiration from Kofun period clothing and armor. I also figured out a way to draw Keiki's apron and I am so happy with it, as well as Mayumi's armor. Also, I like how Mayumi's hair is looking so far, as when I was sketching it, I was trying to draw it in a way that would still work in my artstyle and with the general shape language I was trying to go for with Mayumi, though in the finished piece I might make a few changes. Also will have to play around with Mayumi's positioning, as I want it to look like she's kneeling and her legs are being covered by the flame thingy, but at the same time I'm not to happy compositionally with how she's placed right now, so I'll have to work on that.

#touhou project #fanart #sketches #art wip #keiki haniyasushin #mayumi joutougu #mayukeiki

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rainbowcaleb · 5 months ago

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FICLET FRIDAY : Hot boi by the sea

Prompt: summer vacation | Rating: T | Pairing: shadowgast | WIP, currently 2400 words

A/N : I rediscovered this fic from June last year and have been finishing it for posting! Enjoy this longer snippet from the middle of the fic…

“But you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear so little clothes!” She gestures at his outfit, the black linen sleeveless top and loose plum silk trousers.

“Oh, Light.” Essek mutters and uses his free hand to shift the wrap of his shirt a little more closed. His clothes suddenly feel so scandalous, despite being practically required for this coastal heat.

“Oh no, nonono, I’m sorry Essie, I didn’t mean to make you feel all self conscious, but is it really such a bad thing to be a little ogled at?” Jester looks so earnest that Essek feels compelled to answer.

“It is because you are right; it has easily been decades since I’ve worn such garments in public. I may have been a child last. You all have certainly…relaxed me, but I think my comfort level still has legs to stretch.”

Caleb’s hand is back, now brushing against his shoulder, still so careful to touch what is still covered in fabric. “If you’d like, I have a spare shirt packed, if you wish for another layer.”

“No.” Essek says firmly. “Thank you. I think perhaps the challenge is good for me. I would like to see the ocean, and partake in –what was it Jester?– the local iced poles.”

“Pops, but yes Essek!” She snaps the fingers of her free hand. “It’s hot boi summer, let yourself look hot!” She leans forward enough to catch Caleb’s eye on Essek’s other side. “Even Caleb agrees.”

“Ja, I—” He starts, mouth making a couple silent word attempts before continuing. Then he stands straighter. “Yes. Yes, Jester is right. Your chosen outfit is quite…” He trails off, eyes caught in the sheen of Essek’s pants and looking completely lost for correct words.

“You. Two. Are. Dating.” Jester sighs with the gusto of an elephant trumpet. “At some point you’ll see each others’ dicks so you should really stop blushing over clothes. Unless you have doodley-dooed already and you’re trying to throw me off?”

“Jester!” Essek’s sounds are the squeaking mouse to Jester’s elephant. “We, no, what we do is between us–”

Caleb, despite being tomato red, replies in a fairly reasonable tone. “You are one of our closest friends, but there are some things that will stay between us. For explanation, I was simply…flipping through my mental dictionary and coming up short.”

“Hot boi.” Jester rolls her eyes. “It’s his nickname for a reason.”

“You do look—” Caleb gives him a radiant grin, the bastard. “Very hot.”

Essek wants to bury his face in the inside of his robes, but alas his robes are absent and his shirt is far too low cut. “Thank you Caleb, I think you do too.”

“What, this?” He gestures at his open white shirt, offering a lovely view of bare chest and chest hair, and thigh length linen shorts. “You should see my swimsuit.”

Jester breaks out into a giggle and then quickly tries to stifle herself. Essek and Caleb share a look; it certainly sounds like there is mischief afoot.

“Blueberry.” Essek lets the word roll around his tongue, trying out the nickname. Jester looks at him delighted. “Speaking of swimming, we have been walking for quite a while and have yet to reach any sight of shore. I kindly ask again, this is a tourist town by the sea, correct?”

#shadowgast #critical role #mighty Nein fic #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #Jesties #critical role fanfic #jessties #caleb x essek #my fic

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

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Hi!! I just wanted to say that I loved your "call me little sunshine" fic and im wondering if I could please request a dub-con with John Price x fem reader?... him and the reader having an age gap..

Tysm!😁💗

thank you so much! I do have a wip for a Price age gap fic but in the meantime here's a little one-shot.

warnings: mdni (18+), dub con, age gap (reader is early 20s Price is early 40's), description of weapons, smut, p-in-v sex, grinding, creampie, slight voyeurism, praise, oral (fem rec), fingering, Price is bossy

Laswell had hand-picked you from the academy, impressed with your record and skill set, deciding you would be an asset to the 141 on their next mission.

Your palms were sweaty entering the base, you knew you were the youngest on the team by far, the rest of the men's ages ranging from 34 to their early 40's, this was your first field assignment, all of your previous experience existed within the realm of the academy.

You walked around the twisting hallways of the base, trying to find the right room,

"Need any help?"

You turn your head to his voice, sight focusing on the man, he was handsome, his face a little weathered from his years in the force but kept covered by his beard.

"Yeah, I'm looking for conference room b, any ideas?"

"Well for one it's on the other side of the building" He smiles

You sigh, "Figures, I'm new, supposed to be meeting with a Captain Price"

"Ah, tough bloke, I'll show you the way" He nudges his head down the hallway and you follow, allowing him to lead you around corners.

"You look too young to be here"

You nod your head, "Yeah I got picked for some mission, I'm in my last year of training"

His eyes watch you as you talk, hanging on to every word, "What about you, you seem to know your way around"

"Yea I've been working here for a while"

A small ah comes from your mouth,

"Here, this is the room you're looking for, m'sure the rest of the team will be in shortly"

You thank him, you enter the room and sit down at the large table, a few minutes pass and one by one the team files in, you introduce yourself to most, finding the tall one in the mask to be a little intimidating, fidgeting with the pen in your hand.

"Alright boys, we've got a new recruit for this mission"

You see him walk in and your eyebrows furrow in question,

"She'll be assisting on the op, she comes highly recommended from Laswell so we know she's good"

He spends the rest of the meeting going over the mission detail, addressing you by name when he spoke about what you were to be doing. Once he finished the rest of the team left, leaving the two of you alone,

"You're Captain Price?"

He huffs a small laugh, "Didn't want to make you nervous on your first day"

"Not nervous, just a little embarrassed, I should've addressed you"

"No need for such formalities" His gaze lingers on you making your hair stick up on end.

"Right, well I should go then"

He watches as you hastily exit the room, turning down the hallway. You manage to find your shacks, settling in before changing your clothes and heading to the shooting range. The room is empty when you get in, a cabinet of various weapons standing against the wall, you grab a glock and a few clips of ammo, moving to stand in one of the stalls before setting up.

You fire off a few rounds hitting the target exactly where you planned, the muffs on your ears silencing most of the sounds that come from the room. You don't hear the door open, don't hear when he stands directly behind you, you jump when he touches you, his hand grabbing at your waist as you rip off your ear protection.

"Pull this hip forward more, puts less strain on your shoulder"

You're blinking mindlessly at him, goosebumps covering your skin as you do what he says, planting your foot and rotating your hips to be in line with your target. His grip doesn't waver, holding you as you fire off a few more rounds slightly missing where you had planned.

"Thought you were supposed to be the best"

You put the gun down, neck turning to face him,

"I am"

"Then show me"

You take a deep breath, picking up the gun and setting yourself up, your eyes focus on the target and you feel his hands roam your body, reaching down to squeeze at the flesh of your ass.

"Captain-"

"Don't focus on distractions"

You fire off a round, it hits dead centre.

"Good girl"

His words go straight to your core, arousal pooling in your lower stomach. You continue firing as his hands reach around, toying with the band of your pants before dipping below, cupping your sex. You hitch a breath and move to drop the gun,

"Keep shooting"

You raise your arms again, trying to maintain focus as he kisses at your neck, his fingers teasing over your clothed sex.

"Already soaked"

Your cheeks heat up as a blush creeps across them, the grip on your weapon faltering as he pulls your panties to the side and slides two fingers into you.

"Gotta keep training kid"

You fight the urge to arch against him, firing off a few more rounds. His free hand wraps around your waist keeping you planted, as the firm press of his cock is rutting against your ass, he's urging you to continue through breathy grunts that tickle your ear, his beard scratching against the skin of your neck.

You fire off three rounds into the head of the target,

"Atta girl"

He removes his fingers and you whimper at the loss of contact before he grabs your pants, pulling them to settle below your ass.

"Captain, someone could walk in"

He palms at your skin, spreading you to get a better look,

"Let them"

He kneels behind you,

"Keep shooting"

His breath ghosts over your wet pussy, sending a shiver down your spine as you focus, a moan escaping your lips when he places a firm lick between your folds, the scratch of his beard burning against your bare thighs.

"Focus sweet girl"

"I can't"

"Maybe you aren't right for the job then"

His threat encourages you, you fire off a few more rounds as he continues to lick at you. He stands from behind you, leaving the stall as you're left confused, returning a second later with a different gun, he hands it to you. It has kickback, enough that you hand to plant your elbows on the small table in front of you, his eyes pin you down as you bend forward, your ass sticking up in the air. You shoot a few times, hearing the buckle of his pants undo.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling of his firm length running through your folds, your slick coating him.

"Continue" He grunts

You pick your head up, eyes back on your target, your finger ghosts over the trigger as he presses into you causing your shot to miss completely.

"tsk, have to do better than that"

You moan quietly as he begins pumping into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, making sure to drag his cock over every ridge inside of you. You focus up and fire again, hitting the target.

"Better"

He grips your waist, thrusting into you as your hands fall from your weapon and plant on the table.

"Keep going or I'll stop"

You find the strength to handle your gun again, using everything you can to keep shooting as he pounds into you, you try to keep your shots steady but the fullness of him is too much, your knees buckle before he snakes a hand under you, holding you up.

"C'mon kid, prove you're the best"

He quickens his pace, the echoing of your skin slapping sure to alert someone outside to your vulnerable position, but you keep shooting, you don't want him to stop.

"Fuck, squeezin' me so tight, you gonna cum for me?"

He moves his hand to circle your clit, causing your back to arch and you miss the target once again, it's too much, his rough fingers on you, the stretch of his cock inside, the coil inside you is about to snap and you can't have him stop. You try your best to keep shooting, urging him to let you cum and he leans over you, planting a hand beside your elbow as he thrusts into you with all his weight.

It's all too much, you squeeze the trigger once and clench down on him, your muscles tighten and his hand grabs at your jaw, forcing your eyes back onto your target as you ride out your high, gripping the weapon with shaky hands as you fire two more shots, you pull the trigger for a third and nothing, the clip was empty. Relieved your hand falls to the table as he fucks into you, your moans freely dripping from your tongue.

He grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you up so your back is flush with his chest, his beard scratching at your jaw,

"Gotta be quiet kid, don't want people to hear"

You bury your face in his neck, trying to muffle your moans as he fuck into you, his hold on your waist the only thing keeping you upright.

"Fuck think you can complete the mission with my cum in you" He taunts, "Shit, guess we'll find out"

He thrust into you a few more times, feeling his muscles tense as the thick fluid coats your insides, fucking it deeper into you.

You're a mess of whines as he pulls from you, tucking himself back in.

"You better keep all that in, that's an order"

You watch him leave the room as you're stood, half naked and covered in a layer of sweat, you feel his spend drip down your thigh before you pull your pants up, you look back over to your target, the outline of the man barely visible through all the holes, huffing a small laugh to yourself.

#mw2022 #cod mw2 #cod mw x reader #call of duty mwii #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #reqs💌

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sugdenlovesdingle · 8 days ago

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post US election hangover WIP Wednesday

thanks for tagging me @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @captain-gillian

this whole US election mess is giving me war flashbacks to the Dutch election from last year with unfortunately a similar outcome... and the less said about that the better. I'm normally a news junkie, but today I turned off the breaking news notifications. I've had enough of things happening for now.

I'm also a big fan of sticking my head in the sand and pretending certain things don't exist so I've been writing ficlets all day - mainly for bucktommy (the brainrot is real at the moment) but here's a little something for tarlos with Judd that's been living in my drafts for a while. I don't really remember where I was going with it but maybe this will get the creative juices flowing enough to finish it.

---

“Whose face are you picturing?”

Judd looked up and saw TK leaning against one of the machines in the firehouse gym.

“My own. But I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“Ok.” TK shrugged and sat down on a bench with the weights. “I’ll just sit here and watch then.”

“You want to watch me work out?”

“No, not you. My dad is trying to convince Carlos he’s allowed to use the gym here instead of paying for the one down town.” He explained. “And I do want to watch him work out.” He grinned and winked at Judd.

“Can’t a man just work out in peace here without you making eyes at your fiancé?”

“Sorry, not today.”

Judd rolled his eyes and focused on getting a few more punches in on the bag. If he could just work through his frustrations in peace, the world would be a better place.

“Yes Carlos I’m sure. I’m the captain here and I officially give you permission. You’ll be my son in law in just a few weeks, you’re family.” Owen said, gently pushing Carlos into the gym.

“It’ll only be a few weeks. Just until the gym at the station is done. It’ll be done when we get back from our honeymoon.”

“You can just keep using it after that too, nobody here minds. And like I said, you’re family.” Owen turned him around and patted his shoulder. “Have fun.” He said and left, leaving Carlos standing in the doorway.

TK got up and walked over to him, slipping his arms around his waist.

“If dad says it’s ok, it’s ok.” He insisted. “Come on, we can work out together.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow.

“What? Here? Now?”

“Not that kind of work out. We can do that in the bunk room.” TK teased, a little too loud so Judd would overhear.

“As long as you do it on your own bed and not when I want to sleep, I don’t care.” Judd told them and turned back to the punching bag.

“You alright Judd?” Carlos asked, walking further into the gym and somewhat timidly setting up one of the treadmills.

“Judd is in a mood but he doesn’t want to talk.” TK explained, sitting back down on the weights bench.

“Judd just wants to work out in peace without some smart ass know it all bothering him.” Judd snapped but TK ignored him.

“I can go…” Carlos trailed off.

“No you’re alright. It’s your fiancé that doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m just sitting here admiring my future husband in his workout clothes.”

---

tagging: anyone who wants to share something to make the sucky parts of life suck a little less today.

And also my askbox is always open for prompts! (for tarlos or bucktommy - but please no crossovers because i suck at those)

#tarlos #911 lone star #wip wednesday

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musings-of-a-rose · 7 months ago

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Jump Then Fall - Part 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 3600+

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30.

**Shoutout to @VaneMando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Part 2<<

He's coming back. Chucho is bringing Javier back after 6 years. What do I say? How do I tell him he has a son who is already 6 years old? Will he even remember me? Will he want to be a part of mine and Alex's life or will he turn and run?

My mind spirals as I finish drying the last few pans before putting them away. I head upstairs, my brain going through a million different scenarios before I take a quick glance in the mirror. I smooth down my hair and put on a new outfit, a simple summer dress that goes down to my knees, and end up randomly tidying and cleaning the house, never settling on one spot.

I knew this day would come. I guess I just never thought about it specifically. 6 years ago, I was so sure of my choice not to tell him, that I wouldn't want him distracted in Colombia but I wouldn't want him to come home and resent us for forcing his choice. But a part of me, ok a large part of me, feels guilty for not giving him the choice.

I hear Chucho's truck pull up outside and my heart starts beating faster. The truck doors slam and muted voices make their way to the front door. I pick up the book on the counter in front of me and open it, my eyes not taking in a word but I didn't want to look like I was waiting around for them. For him.

"...'m fine. You don't have to b-baby me."

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't vomit on the clean floors."

He's drunk. I can tell by the way his words are slurred, his feet thunking across the wood floors in a sporadic pattern. Before I can move, he stumbles through the kitchen doorway, his eyes taking a few moments to focus on me.

"Who are you?"

My hearts sinks a little. I would've been surprised if he remembered me, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

"Vanessa."

He steps closer to me, his eyes scanning my body before settling on mine.

"Are you fucking my dad?"

"Uh, no. I-"

"Ok, Javi. Time for bed. Vanessa will be here later for you to question," Chucho claps his hands on Javier's shoulders and guides him towards the doorway.

"Ok, ok. I have more questions later, Vanessssssa."

I give him a little wave as he disappears through the doorway. Chucho struggles to get him up the stairs, but eventually the sounds of them arguing disappear and I'm left alone for the moment. I turn around, gripping the counter with both of my hands and take several deep breaths.

He doesn't remember me. Or maybe it's because he's drunk? How do I handle it now?

His eyes, though filled with the drink, held a lot of anger and regret. He's hurting. I can't imagine what he's seen or had to do in persuit of Escobar. Chucho walks back in, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Sorry about him. He doesn't usually get drunk like that."

I wave my hand. "It's fine. I imagine he's been through a lot."

"Still, it's not an excuse to act like an asshole...he's going to be out for a bit but I'm thinking hamburgers for dinner? Something greasy to help that hangover he's going to have."

"Sounds good."

Chucho studies me for a moment. "How are you?"

That's a good question. "I...I'm not entirely sure."

"You need to tell him."

I nod. "Of course. But I can't tell him when he's drunk."

He chuckles. "No, I suppose not. But soon, ok?"

I give him a small smile before moving to get out the ingredients to bake some hamburger buns. Chucho moves to the living room, the tv turning on a moment later. He flips the channel and the news report echoes through the doorway to me.

"Breaking news! Pablo Escobar has just been killed. This is live footage of the rooftop where he was killed by DEA agent Steve Murphy..."

I step into the living room, watching the live broadcast of the rooftops where the outline of a dead man lays splaid on the tiles, other men in tach vests surrounding him. A blonde man high fives someone as the news anchor continues their report. But then it dawns on me.

Javier is not there, finally catching Escobar after 6 years of chasing him. He's here. No wonder he's drunk. What happened?

"Why is Javier here, Chucho?"

He's quiet a moment. "I don't know."

I return to the kitchen, mixing the dough before forming the buns. I can't imagine working for 6 years trying to catch one of the most elusive men, only to be forced away at the very end, not even being allowed to be there for his capture. I'd lose my mind too. I know I need to tell him about Alex, but I also need to give him a moment with this.

But how long of a moment?

-------

It takes 3 days for Javier to come out of a drunken stupor. I hear his bedroom door open as he stumbles down the hall with a groan, the bathroom door closing behind him. I hear a slam from the bathroom, sounding like the toilet lid. I wipe my hands on my apron and head upstairs, hesitating for a moment outside of the bathroom door. I knock very gently.

"Javier? Are you alright?"

A grunt followed by another violent heaving sound answers me. I turn the handle, slowly pushing the door open as the heaving subsides. Javier slumps against the side of the bathtub, his hand moving around to find the handle to flush the toilet. His hair is rumpled, his eyes mostly closed, clad only in a pair of sweatpants. I walk over to the toilet and close the lid, flushing the toilet for him. His hand drops to his lap and he takes a couple of deep breaths.

"Thanks."

"Of course. Do you want help up?"

He cracks his eyes open and looks at me. "You're not my dad."

"That I am not."

He lifts his head, opening his eyes a little more before hissing and closing them, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "The fucking light is going to kill me."

"Well I can't do anything about the light coming in this window. But let's get you back to your room in bed. You'll feel better."

I wait a few moments while he gathers himself, extending my hand to help him up. He squints at me and I roll my eyes.

"Just take my hand. I'm stronger than I look."

He takes it and I have to hold back a gasp as his large hands engulf my small ones, the warmth from the contact sparking all sorts of thoughts and memories. I pull him to his feet and he leans on me as I help him back to his room, pulling back the sheets as he slides in. I pull all of his curtains firmly shut, only using the light from the hallway to see around. Javier settles into bed, groaning a little as he puts his hand on his stomach.

"I'll bring you some water and pain meds."

"Oh you don't have-"

"That wasn't a question."

I head back downstairs, getting a glass of water. I stop by the bathroom again, opening the medicine cabinet and getting out some pain meds. I also pull out the bottle of activated charcoal tablets that Chucho handed me shortly after Javier came home. He said they suck to choke down but they'd really help the hangover. I carry everything to his room, shaking out the right amount of charcoal tablets. Javier sits up with another groan, taking the pills and the glass of water.

"This isn't aspirin."

"No. It's activated charcoal. Chucho said it will really help your hangover. You can't take it with any meds though as it'll just absorb those."

"I'll just take the aspirin."

"I really think you need to take the charcoal."

He looks up at me. "I don't even know who you are why the fuck would I listen to you?"

"Because I just carried your stubborn self all the way from the bathroom after you puked your guts out. I'm just trying to help. Take the damn pills."

He studies me through squinted eyes. "Yes ma'am." He chokes down the pills and makes a disgusted face before drinking several sips of water. "Those taste terrible."

"I never claimed they tasted good. So let those do their work and get some rest. When you're ready, come downstairs and I'll make you something to eat."

He looks at me again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed together in concentration. "No really, who are you?"

"Vanessa. Now get some rest."

He lays back and I pull the blanket up, giving him a small smile when I catch him looking at me. I leave the room and head back downstairs, finishing up some of the lesson planning I was doing for the upcoming semester.

A few hours later, Javier comes downstairs, this time with a shirt. Although he only has the bottom 3 buttons done up. I'm not sure why he even bothered with a shirt. Not that I'm complaining. He stands there awkwardly, like he doesn't know what to do.

"Feeling better?" I ask, turning to face him from my stool at the kitchen island.

"Yeah. Those charcoal things worked really well."

"Good. I've never been hungover so I wasn't sure, but I figured Chucho knew what he was talking about. Are you hungry?"

"I uh...I'm not sure," his hand goes to his stomach, his face souring slightly.

I head over to the slow cooker on the counter. "I made some chicken noodle soup. If anything, you can sip on the broth?" I look over at him, his head cocked to the side, watching me.

"Javier?"

"What? Oh soup. Yeah. Sure."

I ladle him a bowl and grab some saltines and set them on a little plate next to his bowl and set it in front of him. I also set down a glass filled with cloudy looking water.

"Coconut water?" Javier asks skeptically.

I shrug. "My mom always gave it to me during and after a cold. Said it gave me back nutrients. I figure alcohol probably takes a fair amount of nutrients from you. So it should help."

"Hhmm. Guess we'll find out." He takes a tentative sip from the cup, licking his lips a little after. "Hey that's sitting alright."

I give him a small smile. "Good."

Before I can move, he grabs my arm and gives it a little squeeze, sending jolts of electricity through me. "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome."

I sit and pull my planner and books to me, resuming my task of lesson planning. I can feel his eyes on me, like he's studying me. I wish he would find something else more interesting.

"What are you doing?"

I don't look up. "Lesson planning for this upcoming semester."

He takes a slurp of his soup and swallows it. "Teacher? Holy shit this soup is amazing."

I look up at him as he takes another bite, his eyes closing for a moment as he savors the soup.

"Yeah. I'm teaching 2nd grade this year."

"Sounds fun. Seriously, what did you do to this soup?"

"My mom taught me how to cook," My eyes sting and my heart hurts thinking of those memories.

"Well, she did a damn good job."

"Sometimes she got it right."

He looks up at me. "Oh. I'm sorry I touched a nerve."

I wave my hand. "It's ok. I've come to terms with it."

He sets his spoon down, all of his focus on me. His gaze is intense, that little furrow between his brow is back. "You look-"

"Good you're awake, puto. Put some pants on and come help me." Chucho walks in the back door, stomping his boots on the mat outside before stepping in.

"I don't know if I-"

"Come on, son. No more babying I gave you time. Now I need your young bones."

"You sound like a bruja." (witch). But Javier pushes back from the island and starts to grab his plate.

"Don't worry about it, I got it." I stand, leaning over to take the bowl and plate, noticing that he'd eaten all of it. "I have more if you want some."

His dark eyes bore into mine, fanning a flame inside of me. "I want whatever you give me, Vanessa."

SMACK! Chucho slaps Javier on the back of his head.

"What the fuck?"

"Stop flirting and come help me before these chickens run halfway to Mexico."

-------

Chucho and Javier are gone for a few more hours and return just as the sun is setting. I hang up the phone, having had my nightly call with Alex, who is having a blast at science camp. The men kick off their work boots and coats, trudging upstairs to shower.

"Dinner will be ready soon so don't take long!" I yell after them.

Chucho devours the steak I'd made him while Javier opts to have another couple bowls of soup. Before long, Chucho leans back, slapping his stomach.

"Well, I am tired. Gonna get an early sleep. Vanessa? Delicious, as usual. Night, everyone."

"Good night, Chucho."

While he heads upstairs, I start to clean up, Javier immediately moving to help me. I shake my head.

"Nope. I got this."

"I can help."

"Really, it's ok."

"Are you always this stubborn?

"Are you?"

He looks at me before he smirks, but then it's gone just as fast. Man am I fucked.

"I can dry?"

"I appreciate the offer, but really. I'm ok."

"Does washing the dishes relax you or something?"

I know he said it in jest, but now that I think about it, it kind of does. The warm, soapy water calms me down. Gives me space to think.

"Yeah sort of."

He puts his hands up. "Say no more. I don't want to intrude." Did he just wink at me? Javier heads from the kitchen and I hear the front door open, the screen door slapping closed behind him.

After I'm done with the dishes, I dry my hands, thinking. I grab another glass of coconut water and head towards the front door, hesitating for several moments before pushing open the screen. Javier sits on the swing bench, facing out to look over the front half of the farm, a cigarette lit and in between his fingers. He takes a long drag, his lips rounding to blow out the smoke.

"I thought you should hydrate again." I hold up the glass and he turns to look at me, his eyes coming back into focus. He beckons me to him and I walk up, handing him the glass.

"That's a nasty habit, you know," I nod towards the cigarette in his hand.

He shrugs. "You have your relaxing activity, and I have mine." Still, he leans forward and puts it out on the tray he'd set on the arm of the bench. "Come. Sit."

I take a breath and sit, our thighs nearly touching. The air feels electrified, like it's waiting for something to happen. We sit like this for a while, staring out at the cows grazing in the front fields, Javier lightly rocking the swing as he rolls his foot back and forth.

"Thank you for...everything. Taking care of me and..everything." He turns his head to look at me in the light coming in through the windows from the house.

"It's not a problem. Anyone would do it."

He snorts. "Not for me."

"And why not?"

He pauses a moment. "I'm not a good guy."

"Well I know that's not true. You're a great man, Javier." I place my hand on his forearm without thinking, and squeeze. He looks down at where I touch him, placing his hand over mine before looking at me.

"I'm really not. I just..." He trails off, his eyes sweeping over my face. "You...you look familiar. It's been killing me for days."

Well. Now is the time. For this confession, at least.

"That's because we know each other."

His brow furrows slightly. "I had a feeling. From where?"

It still hurts a little that he doesn't remember, even though I know it's a trauma response. Memory loss and PTSD can often go hand in hand.

"You...you gave me a rose, once."

Recognition immediately ripples over his face, his eyes widening, his eyebrows raising a little as he shifts his body to face me.

"Vanessa? From the bar? Right before I left for Colombia?"

I smile nervously. "That's me."

"Summer of new things Vanessa?"

I nod. "Yup. Me."

His eyes are twinkling now, a small smile creeping up his face. "Holy shit! I never thought I'd see you again. It was so hard to walk away from you that morning. The only thing that did it was the fact that the DEA would come down on me hard for missing that flight." His eyes soften the longer he looks in mine and for a moment, we're both transported back to that night, the night he opened up my world.

"H-how are you?" He's hesitant, but his eyes are wide and curious.

"Not bad."

"How did you end up here? I thought you were going back to-" he waves his hand around trying to think. "Austin?"

"Corpus Christi."

He snaps his fingers. "That was it."

Do I tell him about Alex? About being a father? Something inside me tells me to wait. To only surprise Javier with one thing at a time. He's been through so much and the last thing I want to do is pile more on top of that.

"It's a long story but I...got pregnant and my parents..well, they didn't approve. Out of wedlock. Anyway, they kicked me out and I uh, ended up here. Chucho I guess took pity on me and gave me a place to stay. I offered to cook and clean for him which of course he argued against, but," I shrug. "And so I stayed. He demanded I return to college and get my teaching degree I had been working on and he babysat Alex while I did. I owe him so much. My life, basically. I don't know how I'll be able to repay him."

His eyes grew serious. "You're parents kicked you out pregnant?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"That's fucked. Sorry, but it is."

I shrug. "They were the kind of parents that would scrub my mouth out with soap and make me repeat scripture if I had nail polish on so I guess I'm not surprised. I've made peace with it."

"Still. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Thanks."

We sit in silence for another few moments, one weight on my chest lifted but a very heavy one still remaining.

"The dad didn't help?"

Here's your chance, Vanessa. You can tell him now, despite everything. Tell him. TELL. HIM.

"He...He had other things to do."

Javier scoffs. "What an asshole."

I shake my head vehemently. "No, it's not..they were very important."

"More important than knocking up a young woman?"

"I think so."

"I'm sure."

I turn to face him more directly. "What if it was yo-"

RING RING! RING RING!

The phone cuts through our conversation, forcing an ending that I wasn't ready for. Javier attempts to stand but I put my hand out.

"It might be Alex. I've got it."

I feel his eyes on me as I go inside, answering the phone quickly. It wasn't Alex but some automated political message and I grunt, hanging up the phone in frustration. I should go back outside and explain everything to him, confess it all, but I don't. I do peak my head back outside and call his name, momentarily flustered when he looks at me.

"It was some political something."

"I fucking hate those."

"I'm going upstairs. Drink that coconut water." I point to the untouched glass in his hand and he holds it up towards me.

"Yes, ma'am."

-------

>>Chapter 4>>

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