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steviewashere · 7 months

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Kisses to Make it Better

Rating: General CW: Vomiting (It's Kind of Gross, Sorry) Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Sick Fic, Sick Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Forehead Kisses, Lots of Kisses, Star Wars Reference, Steve Harrington is a Dork, Eddie Munson is a Dork, Teacher Steve Harrington (Briefly Mentioned), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is the kiss on my forehead."

💕—————💕

When Steve wakes up, it’s to the sharp, piercing sensation of a migraine attack. He immediately closes his eyes and groans. His senses are heightened miserably.

Soft bird song is like screeching. The gentle rustle of tree leaves like the scrapes of fingernails on a chalkboard. (And god does he know that from working with a bunch of butthead eighth graders.) Any sunlight is like a laser aiming to obliterate him onsite. He’s warm and boiling and the blanket sears where it touches. But when the removes it, he’s frozen to his core and shivering. The dull sounds of Eddie’s snores—Steve almost wants to suffocate him; he may not usually be a motorboat, but wow does he mimic one amazingly right now.

He can’t take it. The space in their bedroom is too much for his everything. So, he grabs his pillow from under his head, stands on unsteady legs, and ventures out into the hallway. Snatches a spare quilt—one made by Joyce Byers some short years ago for his and Eddie’s makeshift backyard wedding—a wash rag to put under cold water, and a towel. Just in case he has to lay on the bathroom floor. It’s humiliating knowing that the migraine could reach that point, what he wouldn’t give for his uninjured pre-1983 brain.

The couch is lumpy and distinctly firm and uncomfortable under his mutilated back. He’s sweaty, cold, too hot, nauseous, and dizzy. Really, he should’ve stopped by the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for his Imitrex. But the mere idea of standing longer than he needs to, the floor like ocean waves crashing at his feet, his entire body an uneasy cargo ship ready to crash into lighthouse rocks—it makes him shiver. Though, whether that be from his body’s inability to regulate his temperature, he isn’t sure.

But he manages to find a comfortable enough spot. Left arm squished and folded awkwardly by his head, the other tight at his side. Legs crossed at his ankles. The rest of him completely supine to the cushions. Head nestled and drowning in his practically flat, definitely overused bedroom pillow. He sighs, agitated.

This is his life.

Probably should’ve woken up Eddie. Probably should go to the landline and call in sick to work. Probably should get a puke bucket, too. But…nope, he’s somewhere between comfortable and dying on the couch. The perfect in-between. He closes his eyes against the next wave of dizzying nausea that overrides him. Breathing through his nose in sharp, hot exhales. Willing it, or at least attempting to, away. This is one of the worst attacks he’s had in a very long while. Beats out the infamous migraine attack of 1990, a story that ends in a bed at urgent care, accompanied by heaving puke, with Robin’s and Nancy’s cold hands to his sweaty forehead, and Eddie nervously chomping away at his fingertips. Should he go to urgent care? He grinds his teeth together at the thought.

Distantly, there’s some shuffling around the bedroom. Steve grimaces at the noise. Then, some light footfalls in the hallway. And all at once, God’s heavenly light is cast around him, though now it’s like the swallowing pits of Hell. He groans, tight and muffled in the back of his throat.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Sorry, baby, sorry,” he whispers. Eddie’s not that great at whispering. Or, maybe he is. Maybe Steve is Dumbo level sensitive to every sound in the world. The light is flicked back off and Eddie comes closer to the couch.

Though, the aromatic scents of Eddie’s Axe musk body spray overpower every sensation Steve’s experienced in the short span he’s been awake. Did he fucking spray it before going to bed, Steve wonders, gagging. He puts out a weak hand, palm towards Eddie. “Don’t,” he strains. Even his voice is grating. “You—“ He gags again, throat clenching, stomach turning, bile rising. The palm draws back, flapping in the air, landing harsh around his mouth, squeezing his skin and lips. Steve rolls up onto his right elbow, pointing his face down at the floor, puking—into the kitchen garbage can that Eddie has, somehow, brought in super human speeds.

Eddie hushes above him. He must be crying if that’s how Eddie’s reacting. But he can’t care to notice. His head trapped in the kitchen bag. Coffee grounds and an empty container of baked beans, combining in a hideous concoction that could be compared to that of fresh, steaming dog shit. The sour stench of himself, his insides, the rest of the putrid garbage around his spewing mouth and snotty nose—it all makes him puke harder. A hand traces up and down his spine, the heavy touch barely noticeable unless he’s gasping for air.

When he’s done, he collapses back onto the couch with a resound thud. His breath exhausted and the blood vessels in his face probably bursted. Closes his eyes to block out everything, to try and ground himself again. Eddie shuffles as quietly as he can out of the room. The front door is open, cold morning breeze tickling Steve’s skin, the trash can placed on the porch for now. It’ll get changed out, Steve knows Eddie will do it. He’s getting the Imitrex, some Zofran. Water and a straw. Steve can only hope that Eddie will take a quick shower with some unscented soap, the cologne musk too infuriating to his nose.

He’s carefully sat up. Body loose-limbed and aching all over. Propped up into sitting on the middle cushion. Hair swiped away from his forehead, clipped back by a couple alligator clips. Eddie gently taps the underside of his chin. The nonverbal request, Please open your mouth for your medicine. Steve drops his jaw without hesitation. Pills set on his tongue and a straw placed between his lips. Eddie’s hand goes to his left arm, running up and down in slow stripes. Please take slow slurps, is what that hand motion means. And Steve does what he’s told. Careful to not upset his already agitated stomach.

“Eddie,” he croaks. A hum lightly vibrates from above him. Hands nestled on his skin, laying him back down on the couch. He doesn’t open his eyes, squeezes them tighter in fact. Sighing into the horizontal position of his body. “Eds, please take a shower.”

A light snort. “Saying I stink?” Eddie whispers, though there’s no offense drawn tight in his voice. Just amusement. Maybe some concern if Steve could only focus on the sound.

He shakes his head, but grimaces at the light-headed sensation it causes. Settles and whispers, “No, I can smell your cologne. Too strong.”

“Oh,” Eddie mutters. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me take care of that.” He sets something clunky on the floor. Another bucket, most likely. And stands, his shadow blocking the sunlight streaming in through their living room windows. He must take notice to the light because then, the curtains are all shut at once. Or, something quick like that. Steve isn’t really aware of reality right now. Floating somewhere between comfortable and dying, laying in that still, too.

In the blink of an eye, Eddie is back by his side. Though, when his right hand tangles with Steve’s, he’s noticeably damp. Either he took the quickest shower in existence. Or Steve’s time blindness is on another level today.

“Pain level?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve sighs through his nose. “Started as a nine,” he mutters, “down to a seven.”

“Poor baby,” Eddie sweetly coos. He gently squeezes Steve’s palm. I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re safe, he says. His other palm settles softly on Steve’s forehead, over the cold wash cloth he placed there. Thumb pressing between Steve’s eyebrows. “Want me to massage?”

“Yes, please,” Steve murmurs.

Another squeeze to his palm. Then, Eddie carefully maps his fingers over Steve’s scalp, pressing down minutely into the tendered areas. He sweeps his thumb down the bridge of his nose, under his eyes, pushing gently at the surrounding bone and sinus pockets.

But then, he does something he normally wouldn’t do. He peels the washcloth off. Which is fine with Steve, it’s already gone warm. He’ll need the ice pack in the freezer in a few. Eddie puts his hand back on the crest of Steve’s head. And leans down.

A warm, barely damp, sweet peck to the center of Steve’s forehead.

He opens his eyes. Steve—already sensitive, strung up beyond belief—tears up. Whimpering lowly, attempting to not be heard. Though, of course Eddie heard. He’s extra perceptive when Steve has migraine days. He immediately draws back, eyes wide and frowning. “Fuck,” he spits, muted. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Through his weeping, however quiet it is, Steve stutters, “It’s fine—it—You didn’t hurt me. Just—Sweet.” He preens up into the hand still on the back of his head. “Wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh,” Eddie whispers. He settles back down, having risen up on his knees from where he’s situated on the floor. Another little kiss to Steve’s nearest temple. Then between his eyebrows. Under his eyes. Tip of his nose. Back to the center of his forehead. “Just kissing the hurt away,” Eddie murmurs on Steve’s skin. Smacking one more on the crinkle Steve didn’t even know he was doing. “Is it working?” He lowly whispers.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t know,” he says. “Do it again?”

“Of course,” Eddie promises. A kiss here and there. But, the most prominent spot being his forehead. Eddie’s hand slides away from Steve’s, instead splaying over his heart. Pressing firm to his chest. Steve briefly wonders if Eddie can feel how his heart speeds up with each press of his lips.

Another to his forehead, drifting down his nose, one on his chin, and the last on his lips. “Ew, Eds,” Steve murmurs, “I got barf breath.”

“Don’t care,” Eddie mutters. Back at Steve’s forehead. “You aren’t contagious,” he says as if that immediately overrides how disgusting it is. “In fact, the only thing I’m catching from you is feelings,” he flirts, or at least Steve thinks he’s attempting to do that. If the stupidly endearing little wiggle to his eyebrows means anything.

Steve fondly rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dork,” he states.

“Your dork,” Eddie whispers. “And I love you.”

“I know,” Steve whispers in turn.

Eddie draws back from kissing again. To lock eyes with Steve, who is glowing with mirth. Probably paler than he’s ever been and tinted green. Yet, with fake annoyance in Eddie’s eyes, all that’s directed at Steve is unashamed love. “Did you just Han Solo me? Who’s the dork now?”

“Me,” Steve proudly murmurs. “Kiss?”

And Eddie obliges.

With the kisses as distraction, a hand over his heart, the nausea receding for now—Steve is filled with warm love. He believes that Eddie may truly heal him.

Migraines are always the worst days. But it’s a good day, if Eddie is there beside him.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 25

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mrsevans90 · 7 months

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Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 16

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: Y'all, this one is just SMUT. Seriously a little fluff, but mostly smut. Oral (M&F receiving), fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, shower sex, innuendos, language, playing around in public, rough sex, Captain kink (🥵)

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 15

Our plane is finally descending to the tropical Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I found an adult only all-inclusive five-star resort that was offering slight discounts for customers who booked trips within the month so they could fill any unreserved rooms. I look over at Emma who is captivated by the book she brought and smile. She was so excited that she had gotten the doctor to remove the hard cast a week earlier than planned and only had to use a removable brace for the next month. I felt she wasn’t wearing it enough, but I wasn’t about to bring down her excitement. I just tried to subtly convince her to wear it for short amounts of time. She was good for me today and wore it the entire plane ride but I was sure she was going to fight me on it while on vacation. I want this whole trip and proposal to be perfect for her, so I splurged a little but she doesn’t know it yet. We’ll be spending a week in paradise with endless drinks and food being served to us. I told Emma where we were going but didn’t tell her anything about the resort so that she would hopefully be surprised. The best part is, we wouldn’t have to leave the resort if we didn’t want too. It had several bars and restaurants onsite so there was never any concern about us getting back to our rooms safely. Everything we would need or want was in walking distance enclosed within the resort. From a safety aspect, that was a huge selling point to me as well.

When we arrived at the resort, we were immediately served champagne and then escorted to lunch at the beach restaurant next to the ocean while they took our bags to our room.

“Austin, oh my god!” Emma squealed as soon as the server walked back to place our orders.

“Did I do good, Sugar?” I smirk knowing just by her wide-eyed expression and her bouncing in her seat that she was happy.

“I’ve never been anywhere like this! Look at the water, baby! It’s so clear and blue! You did better than good, you did absolutely amazing! How did you find this place?”

“I just started searching ‘tropical beach vacations’ online and I could picture you out here in a bikini so I booked it.” I joke.

“Well, I’ll have to reward you for your efforts.” She says sultrily before our waiter returned with the food that was absolutely decadent. I was starving after traveling all day and their food didn’t disappoint.

We were shown to our room after lunch, and I was pleased that it was everything I had expected it to be. The large king bed covered in fluffy pristine linens adorned with local flowers from their garden sprinkled on top, a rain fall shower that could easily fit both of us, a massive tub with a view of the ocean, mini fridge stocked with snacks and alcohol, and a balcony that overlooked the side garden with the ocean off in the distance. To be honest, this was my first fancy vacation as well. I grew up going to local beaches and mountains for camping with friends and family. I spent plenty of time in airports and military planes being shipped off to the less desirable destinations of the world to fight for my country. This was the first trip that I had booked to just relax and be with the woman I love and I’m glad Walt suggested it. Before I could even suggest anything, Emma was pulling swimsuits from our bag and itching to get to the sand. I’d do anything she wanted so I followed her until she found some beach loungers that she was happy with and sat down. I watched her pull her swimsuit coverup off her body and audibly groaned. Emma had brought a tiny hot pink string bikini that clung to her curves in all of the right places. The bottoms left my favorite part of her ass cheeks on display, and I could feel myself growing in my trunks as she bent over to stow her coverup in the bag she brought. Emma’s hair was up in a high ponytail with she had her sunglasses perched on her nose and I swear I almost burst in my pants when she crawled up the length of the sun lounger to get settled.

“Fuck, darlin’. Trying to kill me on the first day of vacation?” I ask and she giggles. “I was told to get some bikinis so I tried to find ones that my Bear would like.”

“Mission accomplished” I say as I motion toward the tent in my trunks before adjusting myself as discreetly as possible.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you later, baby.”

I physically bit my lip as she started rubbing sunscreen on her body before I took the bottle from her and took over. I needed to sit up to hide my erection anyway, so why not get my hands on her in every way I can.

I rubbed the lotion all over her body, appreciating the uniqueness of her body. I swear I loved every freckle, mole, cellulite, and scar on her body. Even her imperfections were perfect. I watched the sunlight glimmer on the metal of her little belly ring and stifled a groan. She is the epitome of divine. I had her roll over and quickly untied her top when she was on her tummy.

“Austin…”

“It’s just so I can get your back, Sugar. Trust me, I won’t let anyone else see what’s for my eyes only.” I started applying the lotion all over her and when I got to her ass, I really made sure it was rubbed in. She giggled and swatted me away when she felt I spent too much time and attention there, but damn she was my own personal paradise.

“Tie me up.” She said and fought the automatic response that popped into my brain about bondage and I retied her top for her. The thought of her tied up to the bed posts and completely open to me was not going to help my erection become less noticeable.

“Your turn.”

“Wanting to rub all over your man?” I ask.

“Yes, but I also want to protect you from skin cancer.”

“Hate to break it to ya, Sugar, but the military wasn’t actually handing out sunscreen in the desert. I’m probably already fucked.”

“Well, I’ll be scheduling you a dermatologist visit when we get back. Now sit.” I arch my eyebrow at her. Bossy little thing. Why does that turn me on?

Emma covers me in sunscreen and I have to admit that it felt nice having her rubbing it all over me so I wasn’t going to complain. In fact, I’d probably be taking better care of my skin this trip then I have my entire life if this is how it goes.

We laid back and talked for a while about the amenities offered at the resort and what all she might want to do while we are here. I told her that I had planned dinner for tomorrow for us, but the rest of the trip could go however we wanted. We could be lazy and not make reservations for anything or we could go on excursions and explore. We decided to swim for a little bit, which ended up with Emma wrapped around me like a koala in the ocean because she wasn’t tall enough to reach where I was standing. I had my hands firmly on each ass cheek and would gladly hold her in the water as long as she wanted. I certainly didn’t mind as her breasts pushed up against me.

“Lemme’ see those perfect tits.” I whisper against her ear and she feigns shock.

“Austin! There are people out here.”

“I won’t let anyone see. I just need a peek. I’m dying here.” I say as I push my erection against her core that’s against me.

“Fine, but just a quick one.”

She leans back and quickly pulls the fabric of her top down to expose her tits to me, now shiny from the water and I thrust against her again.

“You’re fucking perfect.” I tell her as I lean forward and kiss her passionately. I don’t give a shit who sees at this point. The water’s so clear though, if I fucked her out here in the daytime it would be obvious.

“Mmmm, baby.” She kisses me back and I know I’m affecting her too.

“How much longer til I can get you in our room?” I ask.

“Now?” She bites her lip and I have to take a deep breath.

“If I get out of the water right now with this massive hard on, everyone out here will see it. I’m gonna need a minute to calm down.” I tell her. I walk her towards shallower water so I can set her down and what does this woman do? She grabs my dick and rubs it.

“Don’t take too long. Think about Nana having sex with PawPaw or something.” She says and the look on my face must be purely hilarious. Emma starts laughing so hard, if she couldn’t stand up I’d worry she would drown.

“Don’t put images like that in my head, woman! For fuck’s sake! That’s nasty.” Emma is still cackling so hard she’s drawing attention from other vacationers.

“Well, that should help you ease your little problem.” She mutters between giggles.

“Ain’t nothing little about it, Sugar. You know that.”

“I certainly do.”

After a few minutes of thinking about different military protocol, I’m able to get out of the water with just a semi. Emma is sporting a shit eating grin from her seat on the lounging chairs and I can’t help but shake my head at her. I towel off and grab my shoes and shirt, opting to carry them.

“Ready?” She asks sweetly while standing up and grabbing her bag and towel.

“More than you are.” I swat her ass before grabbing her hand and we head back to our room.

As soon as I get the door closed, I’ve got Emma pressed up against it. Our belongings are dropped on the floor and I pull her coverup and throw it across the room. I pick her up and she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to the shower. Through our rushed and messy kisses, I’m pulling all of the strings on her swimsuit and ripping it away from my prized possessions. Emma screeches when I flip the water on and cold water starts pouring from the rain shower head in the ceiling directly over us. I watch her nipples pebble under the stream of chilly water and suck one in my mouth. Emma moans and begins to frantically suck at my neck but even though I’m now painfully hard, I plan to make her work for it a little more.

I set Emma down on her feet before pushing her to her knees as I untie my trunks and drop them to the shower floor.

“Suck.” I command using my Captain voice and Emma immediately shoves my cock in her mouth, her small hand pumping what’s left.

She begins to suck me and cups my balls lightly with the hand of her previously injured arm. Emma whines and attempts to rub her thighs together to ease the friction.

“You teased me, Sugar. I’m going to come down your throat and then I’ll fuck that sweet peach so good that you’re begging me to stop. Understand?” I speak authoritatively and Emma attempts to nod around my length.

I make use of Emma’s now sodden ponytail to pull her on and off my cock as she sucks me off.

“Fucking shit, babygirl, you’ve got the most perfect mouth in the world. That’s right, gag on me.” I tell her and she forces herself down further than I expected and gags and that’s all it takes for me meet my climax.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming!” I tell her and seconds later she is swallowing my load like a champ. I pull out of her mouth so she can catch her breath. I’m leaning back against the tile trying to recover from the best blowjob I’ve ever had before I spread a little bit of my cum that’s left on the head across her lips like it’s lipstick. Emma licks my remnants from her lips and then bites her bottom lip while looking up at me with those perfect blue eyes.

Emma scrapes her nails gently across my oversensitive skin as she makes her way back up to standing.

“Sugar, that was incredible.” I tell her before kissing her sweetly. “Was I too rough?” I start thinking maybe that was too much for her and I took it too far.

“No, that was hot as hell.” She says with a smile and I kiss her again. “I’ll be ready to do that again this week.”

“Now, I owe you at least 3 orgasms before dinner.” I whisper as I pull her body against mine.

“Bed. I want you in that gorgeous big bed.” She murmurs against my lips. We quickly wash the sunscreen off of us, before toweling off just enough to not be dripping across the tiled floors. I grab her up in a fireman carry and throw her across the bed on top of the flowers.

“You’re going to cum once on my mouth, another time on my fingers, and then the third time on my cock. That sound like a plan, Darlin’?” I ask as I rip the towel off over her and start kissing down her body, spending a few moments on each of her breasts before making my way to her glistening folds.

Emma whimpers as I spread her legs and kiss all around her pearl.

“Baby, don’t tease me.” She begs.

Without hesitation, I dive right on in to my favorite dessert. I’m sucking on her clit and licking slowly between her folds which immediately has her squirming. I wrap my arms around her hips and hold her in place as she begins to grind on my beard. Fuck, I love the way she tastes and sounds. Her little mewls sneak out as her hands attempt to find purchase on my head and the bed linens. I look up at her and take in the perfect sight in front of me. Her breasts are heaving up and down as her breath races and when I can tell she is getting close, I focus even more on her little button.

“Bear! Ah fuck! I’m cumming!” She shouts louder than she probably intended as her body arches off the bed and I work her through her orgasm. When her body is relaxed, I crawl up the bed and pull her on top of me, my chest to her back. I wrap my arms around her breasts and start tickling and kissing her neck with my beard.

“Sugar, we’re just getting started.” I grunt against her ear as I place kisses all over her neck while pulling her taut nipples in my hands.

“I dream about these titties when you aren’t with me, Darlin. So perfect. Fit just right in my big hands.” I massage and knead at her breasts until I’ve decided that she’s had enough recovery time and my hands find their way to her legs. I pull them apart and can’t help but press my hard cock against her back as I see her open up to me, completely pliant for whatever I choose.

“You feel how hard you got me, Sugar? That’s all for you, babygirl.” My hands start to spread her folds and after pressing against her already sensitive clit, I slide my middle finger into her core.

“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” Emma moans and reaches behind her to wrap an arm around my neck. My other hand is alternating between squeezing on her perfect tits and pressing against her clit to heighten her pleasure.

“More Sy. I need you.” Emma whines and I quickly slide a second finger in and start pumping them in and out. Spurred on by the sensation, Emma begins riding my fingers and gently thrusting against my hand. I spit on my other hand and start pinching on her clit again and without warning Emma arches into a blinding release. I’m thrilled as I keep pumping my fingers, that my girl is soaking my hand and arm, her juices squirting out of her with each wave of bliss that crashes over her.

“Fuck yes, Sugar. Look at you getting all messy for me. Perfect little peach sucking my fingers in and coating them in your sweet peach juice.” I grunt as Emma once again becomes pliant jello in my arms. I slide my fingers out and stick them into her mouth which causes her eyes to fly open as she tastes her own arousal on my hands, sucking instinctively.

“Isn’t that the sweetest peach you’ve ever tasted? And it’s all mine.” I say as she watches me remove my fingers from her mouth, slide them through her pussy lips again before sliding them back into my own mouth.

“Fuck, Austin. You’re so naughty.” She says almost with a desperate laugh.

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Mmhmm. So fucking sexy, but I need your cock.” She says as she wiggles against my obvious erection.

“What you need me to do with my cock, Sugar? Tell me what you need.” I smirk, knowing she has a hard time finding the words when she’s so fucked out.

“I need you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk to dinner tonight, baby. Ruin my pussy.” I instantaneously thrust against her ass cheeks just hearing those words out of her mouth. Well, fuck me sideways. Looks like she did have the words after all.

“You want it rough, Darlin?”

“Yes, Captain Syverson.” She says and bites her lip and within seconds I’ve got her flipped on all fours in front of me with that glorious ass and weeping pussy front and center.

“You need to tell me if you want me to stop or if I’m hurting you, understand?” I command.

She nods and wiggles her ass in front of me. I slap her right ass cheek hard and she gasps.

“Words.”

“Yes. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

“Yes, what? Is that how you address your Captain?”

“Yes Sir, Captain Syverson.” She corrects and I’m so hard that pre-cum is dripping down my shaft. Not for long.

I rub my cock through her folds and collect her arousal all over me. I spread her ass cheeks and just watch my cock in one of my favorite places making a mental picture of it before I slide all the way in.

Emma’s moans ricochet around the room and mine are just as lewd.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” I grunt as I force myself to stay perfectly still and allow her a moment to adjust.

“Ah! I need you to move.” She whines while wiggling a bit and I pull out before slamming back into her core.

“Fuck, Captain. Your cock is so big. It’s all up in my tummy.” Her speech somewhat broken as I slam into her repeatedly.

“Yeah? You like that your superior has a big fucking cock all the way up in your guts? Railing you so hard that my ball sac is hitting that sweet little button?” I rumble against her.

“Mmm you feel so good!” She grunts as I’m slamming her so hard, I don’t know how she isn’t breaking. I rub on her ass cheeks and likely bruise her hips with my fingertips as my pace puts me so close to releasing.

“I need you to cum. Right now.” I command and slide a hand down to pinch her clit as I continue pumping into her hard and groan as her orgasm overtakes her and she begins clenching all around me. Her arms no longer able to hold her body up as she’s overcome with her release, she crumples to her face on the bed and I groan as I allow myself to let go as well, painting her walls with my spend. My orgasm hits me so hard that I can’t help but drape across Emma’s petite back as I try and figure out which way is up again. I slowly slide out of her before flopping to my back and pulling Emma’s limp body on top of mine. We are silent, the only sounds in the room are of the hum from the air conditioner working overtime in the Jamaican humidity and our ragged breath from exertion.

“Mission accomplished.” Emma whispers against my chest, quoting my own words from only hours before.

“What mission is that?”

“The mission to ruin my pussy and fuck me so hard that I can’t walk to dinner tonight.” She says with a giggle and the room now fills with my loud, exuberant laugh.

“Room service then?” I ask and she nods.

The rest of the night is spent laying in each other’s arms, snacking on anything and everything we wanted from room service and even a warm bath by the windows overlooking the ocean.

Emma is draped across my chest as soak in the bubbles with candles and champagne.

“So, what should the next mission be?” I wonder aloud. Our “missions” now simply meaning all of the ways we plan to be intimate on this vacation.

“I know, but I might have to wait a day or so.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that.”

“So my pussy doesn’t fall off from abuse.” I smirk at her.

“You asked and I provided. Well then, at least tell me the mission.”

“To fuck on the balcony.” Emma suggests with an arched eyebrow and all of the blood goes rushing back to my dick like it hasn’t been there all afternoon. I throw my head back in exasperation that now I have to wait and it’s all I’m going to be able to think about, other than the proposal she doesn’t know about.

“Unless you’re not interested?” Emma plays on, clearly knowing my head is filled with indecent thoughts as she wiggles against my erection and I playfully thrust against her.

“Better hope this bath heals that sweet peach up, because that balcony fuck is definitely going to happen.” I inform her as I wrap my arms around her.

I don’t know what I’ve done in my life to deserve this, but here with this woman right now is my version of heaven.

Part 17

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly

A/N: I was going to focus only on the proposal, but my smutty self took over and that became the focus of this chapter. Sorry not sorry 😜 The proposal is coming, I promise! I just got too distracted by the thought of Syverson shirtless on a tropical vacation.

#captain syverson #henry cavill characters #captain syverson fic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #captain syverson fluff

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years

Text

make my heart surrender (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) | chapter two: wednesday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, lots of angst in this one, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, smoking (plz remember smoking is injurious to your health, ppl), avoidance tactics, mentions of al-anon, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.3k

summary: while you get to know the kitchen staff of the bear a little better, you and carmy finally acknowledge the elephant in the room.

a/n: the song 'about you' by the 1975 makes me think of these two and is where the title comes from. also, i totally made up the pete has an airbnb thing but i just feel like he'd be in real estate or something with his little patagonia vests lol. anyways, happy valentine's day babes & enjoy!

read: part one | masterlist

Wednesday

“Okay, this is some next level shit,” Marcus concludes, in between chews as he tries the brioche donuts you let rise overnight. “It’s got everything I like about the yeast donut but the flavor is so much more pronounced.”

“Carmy said you knew how to throw down but.”

Sydney nods, taking another bite of hers, and you watch as Fak holds the donut up to his ear, letting out a wild, “Wow.”

“Oh fuck,” Sydney practically groans, the salty-sweet flavors of the caramel hitting her taste buds.

Last night, pre-dinner shift, you were introduced to the colorful cast of characters that filled up this kitchen. There was Richie, Carmy’s not-biological-cousin cousin, and Tina, who’d been working in this kitchen since before any of you were born. And Neil the handyman, who somehow actively chose to go back his last name, Fak, which puzzled you. Then there was Ebrahim, who seemed to serve as the meat prep cook and the onsite first-aid guy. And Sydney, the brilliant sous who’d worked in fine dining kitchens till she came here, eager to learn from Carmy.

It was a far cry from the kitchens you and Carmy used to work in but this kitchen there were similarities… things every kitchen has. Everyone has their own little quirks, preferences, styles….

They’re just a little more, well, allowed to be themselves and while overwhelming, you find it refreshing as well.

Fak smells the donut next, followed by another ‘wow,’ and your eyes widen as Fak begins licking just the icing.

“Wow,” Fak repeats, carrying on his more-than-peculiar behavior.

“Is he-?” you start, sharing a look with Sydney next.

…alright? Is this normal? Is he okay?

“Yeah, sometimes we just let him–,” Sydney tries to explain, but she’s not quite sure how to explain Neil Fak to anyone outside of their ecosystem.

“Okay.”

“Anyways, so this is just a personal preference and perhaps a symptom of too much time spent in fine dining, but I like to fuck around with weird flavors,” you continue to explain, in reference to the salty miso caramel creme pat you’ve filled the donut with.

“I’m not much for too sweet-of-sweets,” you announce, earning a laugh from Marcus and Sydney. “... which yes, is a very odd thing to say for a pastry chef. So I like to find combinations that cut the sweetness of anything and give the taste buds another experience at the same time.”

“Which isn’t the direction you have to take your pastries, chef.”

Marcus shakes his head, “No, this is… super cool. And I like it a lot.”

“I apologize in advance if I sound like a total loser,” Sydney starts, placing her donut down on the paper towel. “But when I was at the CIA, I actually had your lemongrass creme brulee.

“With the black sesame ice cream?”

“And the sesame crumble.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaim. What a blast from the past. “Yeah, I had to fight hard to get some of those ingredients on the menu. You know. Before everyone thought it was cool to do shit like that.”

Sydney smiles in agreement, going back for more of her donut.

“So what’re we workin’ on next, chef?” Marcus asks. He has his notebook out and has a few renderings drawn up with ideas he had last night.

“Well now that we’ve built a great brioche together, I’d love to keep practicing your piping technique and-,” you begin, stopping mid sentence as Carmy joins the three of you.

“Mornin’, chef! Hey, try this,” Marcus greets, ecstatic about the results of just a day of working with you, as he hands Carmy a donut.

He takes it, immediately taking a bite. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes and dissects every single flavor note he experiences. You’re all quiet as you wait for his response.

And honestly, you’re still pretty pissed off about him leaving you hanging the day before. After you and Marcus finished up your prep, you had made your way back to your airbnb – the one he set you up in when he asked you to come here.

You had tried your best not to feel like a total loser as you hoped he'd reach out with an explanation. No call, no text, no nothing, wondering why he asked you to come in the first place.

Carmy takes his time savoring his first bite.

“I almost forgot how good you are at this,” he compliments, his tone neutral as if it’s just a fact.

“Thank you, chef,” is all you say back to him. You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze, and continuing to go over today’s bake with Marcus.

You don’t mean to ignore Carmy, but you’re not sure how to act around him either. One minute he’s ignoring you, and the next he’s making you breakfast. And then he’s standing you up, leaving in the hands of his brash cousin? Maybe, you think to yourself, it’s best to keep things professional between the two of you.

You work with Marcus till an hour or so into the lunch shift. You both agreed to start your days early, since you’re only here for a week, so that you could cram as much knowledge in as possible.

Marcus asks if he can take point on flavor pairings for tomorrow’s donuts, and you agree, before parting ways till later this evening. You’ve got to come back later today from one more late night prep.

You haven’t spoken much to Carmy at all since he came in. As much as you’ve tried to focus all of your attention on working with Marcus, Carmy has a commanding presence as he expedites. He’s got something most chefs don’t – true leadership – and it seems like his skills have only improved since he left New York. You gather up your things, preparing to take the subway home for a midday nap, heading out the back door.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were… out here,” you gasp. You're surprised to find Carmy sitting behind the shop, sitting a few stacked crates and smoking a cigarette.

Well, that part isn’t surprising – the smoking part. You contemplate taking a seat next to him and asking him for one, but you’re really trying to cut back these days.

“It’s-, you’re good,” he says, taking another drag. He exhales smoke and the eery feeling of deja vu overtakes you.

Instead of leaving, and continuing this game of avoidance, you stand your ground.

“Are you avoiding me?” you finally muster up the courage to ask. You try your best not to sound as angry with him as you are, to no avail, as more words begin tumbling out of your mouth. “Because, if I recall correctly, Carmy, you asked me to come out here.”

Carmy waits a beat, avoiding your gaze, and it only infuriates you further. You watch as he takes another hit off of the cigarette as you continue, your rage boiling up within you.

“I don’t get it!” you exclaim, shaking your head in pure disbelief. You’re trying your best not to shout. “You ask me to come out here, and make it as easy as possible for me to be here by putting me up in this airbnb, you make me breakfast, and then… what? It’s like-, it’s like I don’t exist?”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s always been like this with you. One step forward and five steps back.”

You wait before saying the next thing.

You’re not trying to be mean, but you’re hurt, and this whole experience has all been so confusing.

“I guess I was fucking idiot to believe that you-, that you wanted me out here or something.”

“That’s not true,” Carmy denies, finally breaking his silence. Finally looking at you, even if just for a moment. His eyes return to the concrete pavement below him as he says, “I just-.”

You don’t want to scare him away now that he’s finally talking to you, but you also want answers. And there’s an elephant in the room that maybe, if you both just acknowledged it, could go away. He puts his cigarette out on the cement beneath his feat, tossing it away onto the concrete.

You lower your voice before speaking again.

“Are you… do you still feel weird about what happened between us?” you ask cautiously, eager to fix whatever the hell it is between the two of you. “Because I didn’t think we’d have to talk about it since, well-, I just thought we said we’d just forget it. I mean, I’m not-, I don’t-, I just don’t want things to be this weird between us, Carm."

In some ways, you don’t blame him. You had seen him at his absolute lowest: the day Mikey died. You wonder if he felt too ashamed of how vulnerable he had been. You wondered if he still felt weird about what had happened next….

You had argued with him that day – practically demanded that he not go in for dinner service that night. You knew he had wanted a distraction, but after the phone call, after learning what Mikey had done, you knew he was wrecked – even if he wouldn’t admit it. That level of denial couldn’t be healthy, but he'd snapped at you and you didn't think there was much you could do about it. It didn’t take long for him to blow up at a line cook mid-shift, and you had quickly ushered him into the walk-in.

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you had chastised him. “Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?”

Carmy had grabbed at his chest, and you knew he was having one of his breathing episodes.

“Carmy, are you o-?"

He’d held out his hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you’d left him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in filled your ears, reinforcing your exact reasons why you hadn't thought it was a good idea for him to come in that night.

That night, you had made sure he got home okay, and he’d practically begged you to stay with him. It hadn’t been the first time you’d slept in the same bed, and you knew he was at his lowest point, in need of company. It hadn’t been until he started crying – sobbing really – that he finally broke.

“Carm,” you had whispered, unsure if he wanted you to acknowledge it or not.

“Carmy.”

He had turned to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body. You had never seen him like that as he’d buried his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours.

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you had whispered, over and over again. You stroked his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you knew there wasn’t much you could do. You’d let him cry, continuing to run your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort your could.

When he finally looked up, all he could think to do was to kiss you. You had been taken aback -- caught off guard as you'd pulled away from him.

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you had said, pushing him away.

At that moment, his eyes were swollen, his face red, and he looked like you had just kicked his puppy. He had leaned his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, and you’d felt that he’d put you in an impossible position.

You’d have been lying if you said you hadn’t wanted it – hadn’t thought about it before – but Carmy had never given you any inkling that he was even interested in dating anyone. You had been perfectly fine being ‘just friends’ with him despite the whispers between the kitchen staff when no one thought you were listening. And now? You knew he wouldn’t be in the right headspace. It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you’d apologized softly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence had only made you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” was all he'd said, breaking his silence and looking up at you with those sad, swollen blue eyes. He leans in to kiss you once more.

“Please.”

In between kisses you’d managed to ask, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he whispered, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he had left on your skin. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good.”

It was then that you’d realized what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you.

The truth was that you were fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other.

“Yes,” you’d repeated, finally giving into him.

Even though it should’ve been a beginning, it felt like an end, but for one night, you’d indulged the both of you.

“I know,” he says, his voice pulling you back into the present. His eyes are fixated on the pieces of gravel that sat between his feet. Even though you both agreed to it, he hadn’t forgotten about what happened between the two of you and he’s not sure if he should tell you that too.

But that’s not what’s wrong. It’s not why he’s avoiding you. Or maybe it’s part of it. He hadn’t expected seeing you to be this hard. That it would bring it all back – wanting you – so much so that those incredibly big feelings had sent him running to a meeting.

He just needed a place to be unapologetically fucked up.

He’s not sure what he thought would happen – like you’d just fall into the same old rhythm of your friendship without a care in the world.

He’d called Sydney yesterday and he could barely breathe. Sydney had told him to take the night off – that it wouldn’t help to come back to the kitchen that night – and that he had a whole week of you to prepare for. To figure this shit out.

“I um,” he starts. He’s not sure why it’s so hard to get these words out; why it feels so difficult to tell you. “I’ve kinda been going to these al-anon meetings…ever since, well you know… since I got home.”

“Oh.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say. You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say. That he hates you? That he couldn’t stand being in the same kitchen with you and yesterday brought it all back? That it was a mistake reaching out to you?

You sit down on the curb, next to Carmy, leaving plenty of space between the two of you.

“My sister nagged me to go. Thought it was bullshit but… I don’t know why I kept going back. I still go three times a week.”

You stare at the ground, not sure what to say next. All that comes out is:

“Well I feel like an asshole.”

He scoffs, moreso to himself, “No, you’re not. I-, I’m sorry. I should’ve-.”

You can tell he’s frustrated as he huffs, “I don’t know why this is so hard for me to tell you.”

You sigh, scooting a hair closer to your old friend.

“I don’t know either, Carm. I-, we used to tell each other everything.”

“I know.”

You catch his gaze, your eyes meeting with his, and it feels like you can’t breathe for a moment.

“I should’ve called. Should’ve kept in touch. Guess I just feel like-, I don’t know,” Carmy admits, regretfully. “I know I’ve been….”

“Uh huh. You’ve been….” you trail off.

“But I do. Want you here.”

And that’s the problem, he thinks to himself.

“I know I’ve been a dick. I shouldn't have-.”

You take a breath, processing all of it.

“Can we… not have this conversation again?” you ask, taking a lighter tone this time. “I mean, we sorta had a very similar conversation to this yesterday… and now today… like… are you gonna stop being such a fuckin’ weirdo or what?”

He lets out a small laugh, “Yeah. Yeah I-, I’m gonna stop, well, you know.”

You chuckle in response, continuing to tease him, “Good because… you know usually when your friend comes to town you hang out a little, catch up, say hey hello how are you? I mean, maybe I’m totally out of pocket for this, but sometimes, you know… they even hug. Yeah, Carm, like, normal people.”

“Oh fuck you,” he mutters, jokingly.

It’s quiet between the two of you, but for the first time in the last 48 hours, it's not weird. It’s a familiar quiet intimacy – something that reminds you of the before times.

Before Mikey died.

Before you hooked up.

“Hey, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be here too,” you reassure in response to what he said earlier, bumping your shoulder up against his, playfully, earning the slightest smile from him.

“How’s the place?”

“Surprisingly, very nice,” you answer, a mischievous tone in your voice like you know it’s going to start something.

“What? You think I’d put you up in a shit place?” Carmy asks, feigning offense.

“I’ve been in your New York apartment, Berzatto. Which is mostly why we spent most of our days off at mine,” you continue.

He laughs dryly in response.

“My brother-in-law manages a few airbnbs so… it’s the least I could do for… you know… you comin’ out here,” he explains.

“Well thanks. It’s-, it’s great.”

“I gotta get out of here early, and pick up the kid. Have a goodnight, sweetheart,” Richie says to you, about to head out of the restaurant.

“Richie, what the fuck did I fuckin’ tell you about saying shit like that!” Carmen shouts back at his cousin, with an eye roll.

“So sorry,” Richie says sarcastically, emphasizing your name after. “Gotta woke-ify everything in front of Carmen. Just a little baby.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carmy yells across the kitchen, moving quickly through the closing shift chores.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie brushes off Carmy’s comment with an eye roll.

“See you fucks tomorrow.”

“This look good, chef?” Marcus asks you, motioning for you to come over and take a look at the mixer.

You reach down into the mixer, checking the dough for texture.

“Yeah, looks good. Go ahead and grab a few sheet pans so we can shape these and we’ll cover ‘em so they can proof overnight,” you order, Marcus nodding in response.

“Thank you, chef.”

As Marcus disappears, in search of a few sheet pans, Carmy’s wiping down one of the prep stations.

“Hey, you,” you say, a smile on your face as soon as you see him.

After your talk this afternoon, things feel lighter. He feels lighter.

“Hey,” he says, finishing up with his cleaning duty before making his way over to you. Carmy checks to see that Marcus hasn’t come back yet, and you notice.

“Great dinner service, huh?” you congratulate.

“We’re gettin’ there,” he replies. “Smoothest it’s been so far. Since the reopen.”

Ah yes. The reopen. You’re still waiting to hear that story.

“I was thinkin’, maybe we could do that catch up thing? Over a drink?” Carmy proposes, changing the subject, and you think to yourself that it’s the most confident you’ve ever seen him.

“I-,” you start, as Marcus makes his way back towards the pastry area. “We’ve got one more late night prep tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, spotting Marcus as well. “Tomorrow’s good.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

“Goodnight.”

read: part three

#Spotify #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #make my heart surrender

929 notes · View notes

haechanhues · 2 months

Text

last minute of golden hour; yours | chapter one

pairing : first love! haechan x fem!reader

genre : small coastal town romance. first love. fluff. pining. suggestive. angst.

warnings : none. slight show of anxiety. meet cute with someone that isn't our main lead.

summary : is first love meant to be the way it is for the town's golden boy and everybody's baby angel?

word count : 2.3k

main masterlist

You feel like you’re drowning, suffocating under the continuous added layers of perfume and hairspray. Voices unable to match with their owners, bouncing around different conversations and vibrating against the high ceilings of the hub.

The only thing that has been grounding you is the hands that keep you securely in the middle, protectively barricading you within their familiarity. Soothing you. But you feel that Yunjin is unable to hide her excitement as her focus has been zig zagging between you and the atmosphere, falling in love with its entirety.

It’s been motivating, to see her so passionate and all fired up, it drove you to attend all the lecture classes that Yunjin practically pleaded with her eyes to attend. Introductory lectures on college experience seminars. Every guest speaker. An endless pile of brochures. Hauls of freebies and trips to the onsite bookshop had done anything but slow her down.

Yunjin’s eyes had rounded, the sparkle doubling as she engaged in conversation with equally interested attendees next to her.

“I have to ask him,” Yunjin’s excitement has made its way into her voice, her usual smooth tone raised a little in joy and her attention on a particular professor’s area of expertise. She gives your arm a last squeeze, a quick check in with Chaewon before she approaches the professor with bumbling tension.

“I’ve never seen that girl so excited,” Chaewon snorts. You nod in agreement.

Chaewon, nowhere near as excited to attend the amount of lectures as Yunjin but attending anyway. She, more or less, has been there to be your moral support.

With a slight push against a large broad back that almost tramples you both, Chaewon concedes with both arms raised, her grasp becoming stronger, “Let’s get a coffee.”

Your sigh of relief is all Chaewon needs for permission, coming behind Yunjin and her lively mannerisms to intercept her growing bag of tertiary consumerism, the older girl securing it over her shoulder. Yunjin casts a quick look at the thief before continuing her conversation, her joy no longer contained by any material restrictions.

The walk to the coffee stop is shorter than you thought, but the volume decreases so significantly that your ears feel like they’re ringing. The quiet is welcomed by your relaxed smile and the creamy hot chocolate that Chaewon orders for you.

While Chaewon pours her packet of extra sugar over her large caramel latte with a chocolate swirl, your eyes scan the different rooms of the first floor. Doors each marked differently. Study rooms numbered 1-3, stray music rooms and an island of fancy seats with a charging dock.

One room though, piques your interest, “Hey-”

Chaewon’s attention is on you in an instant, her tongue tucked into the crease of her lip in anticipation, “Yeah?”

She sips at her latte, eyes closing briefly at how good the taste is before she tries to follow your line of vision.

“Dance room,” You smile at the girl in front of you. Knowing her next actions as if you wrote her in your journal pages.

Chaewon’s eyebrows skyrocket upwards in intrigue, “Yeah?”

You nod, your smile growing even wider. Chaewon stands, “Well, it can’t hurt to check out the competition…”

Her short hair bobs as she jogs to the doors of the dance room, immediately finding a small gap in the paper barrier of privacy. You follow after her, feeling like little girls on sugar as your hands find a home on her shoulders using her as leverage to tip toe over her. .

“Woah,” You murmur your appreciation, drinking in the large mirror and the clean surface floors. The different coloured lights are so different to the ones at your high school. Chaewon, although less than impressed, is still raving.

“Fuck I could kill for that space,” Chaewon groans. You chuckle, knowing that Chaewon complains about the lack of space in her own studio at least twice a week, “You need to date someone in the dance major purely so I can use this room.”

Your lips curl, “Mmm, maybe.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Chaewon teases, “You barely even try to play along with me. He’s on your brain a lot, huh?”

If the warmth blooming on your cheeks and spreading across your chest is any indication, shes right. And she knows it.

“Excuse me?” The voice that interrupts you is both unfamiliar and the baritone rattles your gut. You turn around, hoping the residue of embarrassment has completely rid itself from your face. A tall figure stands a reasonable distance from your table, but close enough for curiosity to muddle with your brain. He’s handsome, an envy-inducing pretty face and a disarming gaze that is made obvious when his eyes jump between the two of you.

You realise that you’re the only one that’s walking up to him a little too late, the alarm on your face laughable and Chaewon’s attempt to rein it in is completely ruined by her shaking shoulders and uncontrolled pig snorts. You grit your teeth, facing the boy meekly.

He swallows, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- you know. You dance?”

“I don’t,” Your hand falling to your chest, before referring to Chaewon with a polite hand instead of a rude finger like she deserves, “She does though.”

Chaewon waves, her smile unaffected by your thoughts of displeasure and anxiety.

“Oh,” The boy coughs, “Sorry, I just- honestly I saw this shifty dude around your bags so I came here…”

You turn to look in the direction he's looking, making a small note of a suspicious figure hanging around the hub, checking tables and every corner available. When you turn, your expression is mildly thankful, choosing to accept the kind concern of the guy in front of you.

“Oh, thanks,” Casting a quick glance back at the possible offender, you smile back at the incredibly handsome boy in front of you, “Do you go to university here?”

The boy shakes his head, “I’m thinking about it though. I’m a little stuck on choices at the moment but my older brother goes here so it’s always going to be an option….”

“Really? That’s cool. What’s his major?”

His smirk is completely involuntary, “Dance.”

“Ohhh,” You muse, “That’s why.”

His laugh is melodic and smooth, “That’s why.”

“I’m Y/N by the way,” You greet, loving the confidence that has settled into you as you greet someone new. Finding it as pleasant as it is rare. There’s something about people like him that brings something out in you.

The boy bites his lip slightly, “Hyunjin.”

You really wish you didn’t get so distracted so easily. If it hadn't been for the gasp you let out and the suspicious guy, then his name wouldn't have been stolen so sharply. Only possibilities are left over. You thought that maybe his name ended in 'Jin'...or it could have been '-Chin'. '-Shin-' was an option as well.

You don’t know.

And if it wasn't for the way you clutched at his wrist, he would've noticed you had difficulty getting his name. He would've noticed that the shifty guy had made an attempt to steal from a table, leaving only a commotion as he flees. He would've noticed it all, if he had not been captured by you, "Oh my god I just saw him steal.'

Chaewon, though, will remember that moment for a lifetime. Her baby growing up and rizzing every boy in her bubble.

Hyunjin's lip trembles at an attempt to keep his temptation at bay. He so badly wants to say something like 'you owe me' like the cool guys do in all those movies.

But he doesn’t want to be creepy.

Or too much.

Or fucking cringe.

So he withholds, instead he lets himself get suckered in by the fact you're still touching him. Your hold on him isn't necessarily flirty but he's smitten regardless. He thinks he may even adore you at this point, because he can tell you don’t even know you’ve got him like this. Too cute. Too sweet. Angelic.

Then, the worst thing that could ever happen happens, '-Jinnie.'

Hyunjin almost curses. Thoughts of homicide running amok as his older brother, who's own smile has grown at the sight of a pretty girl having a literal hold on his younger brother. Hyunjin himself wants to sigh. The utter torture he's going to have to endure from the moment he hops into the lonely car all the way into next month already traumatises him enough to create distance between you both.

“Uh I gotta go,” Hyunjin murmurs, insanely fed up already, “Nice meeting you.”

“You too, wait wait-“ You’re so sweet about it, and his heart flutters as you hurry to place one of the little free marshmallows on his palm, “Thanks for saving our bags, Jinnie.”

If Hyunjin was stronger or more honest, he would've admitted he didn't like marshmallows all that much. But you bet his ass ate it because you offered so sweetly, so heartwarmingly - he ate that marshmallow you gave him with the biggest grin on his face. His brother's incessant and irritating teasing powerless against his good mood.

Jinnie, you called him Jinnie.

When the handsome boy leaves, you turn around, pout on your face because your cup is not as warm as before and Chaewon is still in need for a stern talking to after the shit she just pulled.

However, you're pleasantly surprised by the appearance of Yunjin again that the conversation is forgotten as soon as it was remembered. Wanting to seek her validation and her comfort, you start to let out a mumble of a whine-

“He was cute,” Yunjin sings.

Your face falls into deadpan, both girls giggling and rolling their eyes at your expense. You send a quick smack to Chaewon’s arm who rubs the slight sting away.

“We get it,” Chaewon smirks, “You already have a boy at home to rizz up…”

Oh my god, seriously?

Chaewon laughs at your flustered and bumbling state, stuttering all over the place. You’re seriously so cute.

“What did the professor say?” You turn to Yunjin who has only resorted to smiling at you fondly, her look almost motherly before your question resonates and has her bumbling back to the girl she was before, almost hopping as she explains the theories that the professor had either proven or disproven.

She continues her story, her arm locked in yours as she explains wholeheartedly. Her voice volume is less passionate as the train station nears, her energy depleting. The urge to snooze becoming more and more appealing.

The three of you pile on the snacks, Yunjin picking out an assortment of fresh fruit, Chaewon stocking up on chips, cheese and crackers with a whole jar of pickled relish and then finally you with a block of chocolate and sparkling juice.

Chaewon lets out a small noise of amusement, “We’re so very grown up.”

You pay separately, meeting up in the middle to use the paper bag that Chaewon brought. The air is noticeably more crisp as you exit the train station supermarket, finding warmth in the overhead headphones that you had decided to bring along with you. A few stragglers of equally exhausted people leave the clean train quiet, preferring the comfort of their own thoughts and relying on their music or readings to entertain them. The three of you are comfortable, Yunjin opting to cuddle into Chaewon and leaving you to listen to your playlist by yourself to your heart's content.

The trip takes three hours, yet it feels like only one.

When the train pours into the familiar environment, the glittery horizon of an orange blue sea and buildings a lot smaller than the skyscrapers that had loomed over you all day. It’s comforting, paired with the smooth R&B tunes playing in your ears.

Home.

It instantly has your shoulders relaxing, making you realise just how tense you have been all day. It’s indescribable, how good home feels to you. How good home is for you. A notification pulls you away from the view and you check it habitually.

How was it?

A simple message and it sends you into an emotional overload. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything - a question that your Mum could have sent you. But it’s different because it’s from him.

“What’s got you so happy?” Chaewon’s voice is slightly husky from her admittedly better than expected nap.

You turn the phone screen toward her, watching as her eyes flick across the message. The smile on her face deepens as she sees how affected you are.

“Reply to him,” Chaewon urges, then she closes her eyes jokingly, “Here, I won’t even look. I’m not here.”

The narrowing of your eyes is half hearted, already raising your phone closer to you, potential branches of where your conversation leads to is racing through your head and has you obsessing over the little details.

“Dreamy,, he likes you just….tell him how your day was,” Chaewon advises, “Be honest about it. He’ll reply to anything you say, trust me, you could say you sand your mermaid tail scales down and he’ll find a way to reply.”

You take her advice appreciatively, amusement and nerves in your thumbs. You begin with the good things before letting your thoughts become more and more honest as his replies continue with so much interest you want to chastise yourself by how worried you were. You even mention Jinnie. Which gets you a little weird conversation you’re trying not to be so delusional over.

Oh.

Was he hot?

Honestly, he was a little. Very pretty.

Hmm. Did he give you his number?

Did you? Give him your number?

No..

I didn’t haha

Good girl x

Good. Girl. Good girl. He said ‘good girl.’ With an ‘X’. An ‘x’ was a kiss. That was something, right? Right? He was flirting just now, right?

Okay, i’ve gtg now. Am I seeing you tomorrow?

If you want to.

I do

You bite your lip in anticipation, your fingers dancing across the screen boldly. It’s nerve wracking.

Then, yeah. You will.

next chapter: chapter two

author's note : first chapter done!

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breelandwalker · 6 months

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Hey Pennsylvania pals - Are you a fun-loving geek? Do you love the outdoors? Do you love medieval fantasy? Do you love the idea of running around in the woods beating your friends with padded plumbing supplies?

Then come join me and my LARP fam April 27-28 at Olivet Blue Mountain Campground in Hamburg PA for Game 2 of the 2024 season of Xanodria Productions, Inc!

Xanodria (or XPI) is a Medieval Fantasy Live-Action Roleplay group based in Southeastern Pennsylvania, with over 30 years of history and lore and a lively, inclusive atmosphere where all are welcome, whether you're a veteran LARPer or just picking up your first sword.

You can create your own character in a well-established and deeply-immersive medieval fantasy world with many nations, faiths, and professions to choose from. Learn swordplay, magic, alchemy, physiking, and other skills to help you on your journey. Join a faction or forge your own path. Join your fellow wanderers as we explore new lands and battle the forces of evil. Or if you'd rather, join the cast, get your monster on, and give those foolish mortals what for!

(Onsite accommodations for lodging and camping are available. Food is provided with your admission fee and new player orientation is held before every event.)

Visit the Xanodria Productions Inc (XPI) Facebook page for more information or check out our FAQs and feel free to message the staff with any questions you may have.

Pre-registration for Game 2 is now open! Tell 'em Bree Landwalker sent you. 😉

Hope to see you there!

#larp #larping #ttrpg #Xanodria #XPI #Definitely come join us if you can! It'll be on my birthday! 😊

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restlesschilled · 7 months

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Tmag 6 thoughts

Note: Im a backer so this was done on Tuesday the 13th and set to post on Thursday the 15

Credits

omg thats the sweetest thing im gonna cry

Pre "statemen

[insert caffine patch gag from meet the robbinsons]

as some one who worked overnights YES SAM GET THE BLACK OUT CURTAINS

"the sun is the enemy" Alice dark avatar confirmed? /hj

new guy??

turn over rate is also high in general for overnight jobs because its hell

also i know this is overnight in the script because spooky and also jonny and alex worked a job like this and thats hoe they met but WHY IN GODS NAME WOULD A JOB LIKE THIS BE OVERNIGHT?(fear and paranoia obviously)

WHY WAS ALEX AND JONNY'S REAL LIFE JOB OVERNIGHT?

can someone get Sam some vitamin D as well hes got melanin hes gonna absorb it slower

sleepy man

"Statement"

MICHAEL CODED

VERY MICHAEL CODED

NEW SPIRAL AVATAR?

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

(fun fact that's Giaus Octavius from Cry Havic!)

also looked at the cast (dont do it till you finish and HOLY FUCKING SHIT)

his name iss needles guys

Freaking out

porcupine man

pinhead

post statement

lol he was enjoying it

headcanon sam loves r/nosleep

also we've been called out

THIS IS WHY I WAS FREAKING OUT AT THE CAST LIST

HI CELIA

HI LOWRI

HERE SHE IS EVERYONE MY BIGGEST FUCKING QUESTION

also her last name is after Alex and Hannahs Dog which i love

"JUST ENSURE YOU EAT THEM ONSITE" LOL

CELIA WHAT A MOOD

LOWRI MY BELOVED

super weird interview

"and im both, the system work!"

love celia cant trust her but love her

"four weirdos in a basement reading scary stories" AFHGHLGSDALGELKRG

"AND I THOUGHT I HID IT BEHIND THE BUBBLY DEMEANOR" OMFG

HI IF YOU DONT REMBER CELIA FROM TMA GO BACK AND LISTEN TO MAG100 AND THEN MAG190 AND MAG194

freaking out

freaking the fuck out

GWEN REALLY JUST SAID DONT GET ATTACHED

shes already been to the break room?

hes got a crush on her

ALICE WHAT

“Would you like tea Celia? Coffee perchance? My heart carved from my chest and arranged on a little doily? Please, Celia, cut out my tongue so I can always be there to lick your stamps for you!”

"IF YOU KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT STAMPS" SAM YOU ABSOLUTE DWEEB.

the date on the statement is 3 days before the date it was accessed by Sam

CAT1RB4824-09022024-12022024

omfg

#Tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 006 #needles #sam khalid #alice dyer #celia ripley #the magnus protocol

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ghostradiodylan · 9 months

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Brainrot about the tiny details with me, Hacketteers.

Things I’m currently puzzling over:

How many kids go to this camp?

There are 10 cabins and we only see inside one, with Abi, if she and Emma break in to get their bags. It looks like there are four double bunks in there so each cabin would only sleep eight, subtract one for the supervising counselor and you get up to 70 campers.

But they act like they can all leave in one school bus. The maximum capacity of a school bus is 72 but that’s three small children (2nd grade or younger) to a seat, and I don’t think the kids are THAT young, given Abi’s comment about them having filthy minds.

Also, even if Laura and Max made it to camp, there would still only be 9 counselors for 10 cabins. When I went to summer camp, we definitely had one counselor supervising overnight per cabin. Do we think one cabin wasn’t used? That would be seem wasteful given that the camp is hurting for money.

Maybe they gave Nurse Kelly a cabin—it would make sense for her to stay onsite in case she was needed in the night, especially since it seems to be in a pretty remote location.

Where do they all shower and go to the bathroom?

There are showers and bathrooms in the pool house, and one bathroom in the public portion of the lodge, plus the “rustic” outhouses Emma shows us on the Island (no way those empty into the lake, btw. They almost certainly have like a septic tank type thing buried under them). That doesn’t seem like enough for that many people! My summer camp growing up had a whole building for bathrooms and showers but that is conspicuously absent unless it’s somehow in the same building as the Camp Store, which seems inconvenient.

Where is the Art Cabin?

Abi says the art cabin is out of the way when Nick talks about the kids paying attention to her painting lessons, but there are no cabins away from the main ones on the map, that I’ve noticed. Is one of the sleeping cabins actually used for art? Why doesn’t she just use the classroom in the lodge that we see strewn with craft paper?

Is there no adult staff at this camp other than Mr. H and Nurse Kelly?

Not asking for more characters in this already large cast, god knows, but it seems like there should be some kind of custodian/groundskeeper and kitchen staff, at least. Even if Mr. H does all the groundskeeping, there’s no way Nick can cook for all those people single-handedly and still have time to stalk his crush during her art lessons. But if there are actual adults on the cooking staff, why would they make an 18-20 year old guy their supervisor? Do you think the other counselors have to take turns cooking with him?

Who sleeps in the bunks in the lodge?

When Kaitlyn and Dylan are hiding from Caleb, they enter a room with bunk beds in the lodge. What’s that for? Just overflow? Seems like a good place for the additional staff that we never hear about to sleep. I imagine the counselors all sleeping there during their training/orientation before the kids arrive, though that’s never actually confirmed to happen in the game.

What do y’all think? What are your lingering questions about the locations or how the camp is run?

#the quarry #Hackett’s quarry summer camp #if there’s one thing I’ll miss it’s those loose lumpy springs #brainrot with me #this is definitely not about all the pre-canon flashbacks I’m writing #jk it totally is

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metalstitchinglocking · 1 year

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rapowersolutions234 · 2 months

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ashleywool · 8 months

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What would you need from the fans of How To Dance In Ohio for a ProShot to be streamed somewhere like Broadway HD or similar? Would it need to be a Kickstarter or a social media campaign? Is there anyone we can write to? Part of my reason for asking is selfish, since I would love to see the show, but this show is also historic and groundbreaking in a lot of different ways and I also think your amazing performances need to be preserved as a part of Broadway history.

I know this is probably a really sad time for you and the rest of the Ohio cast/creative team and even if a ProShot never happens and nothing ever comes of it, just know that you, all of you, touched more lives and hearts than you could possibly know just by being who you are.

Thanks so much for asking. This is something we have been discussing with the producers, because obviously we'd all love it to happen too.

Warning: incoming info-dump, albeit a grossly oversimplified one:

It would cost about $3M to produce a pro-shot. Here's an incomplete list of where that money would go:

-The regular costs of the venue itself--which, when you include rent, utilities, and staff salaries (security, bartenders, ushers, custodians, all the people who are just in charge of maintaining the Belasco), comes out to about $1K a minute.

-The labor of obtaining necessary permits for filming onsite.

-The labor of the film crew, including load-in, setup, and breakdown of equipment, and coordinating with stage management to make sure their shooting doesn't get in the way of backstage choreography, and making any adjustments accordingly

-The collaboration between the film crew and the in-house sound crew to make sure the audio is captured and balanced properly

-The labor of post-production: editing, color correction, sound adjustment, etc.

-There are also different contracts (and higher pay) for the actors, stage managers, stage crew, sound crew, lighting crew, and wardrobe crew, in addition to our current contracts wherein we're just doing the show as usual. This can get particularly complicated with the actors and stage managers, since our Broadway contracts are through Actors' Equity Association (the union for stage actors and stage managers) but the contract for having our work filmed and distributed in theaters or on streaming platforms is under SAG-AFTRA (the union for film actors).

This is not a complete list, but to give you some context: that's about what it would cost just to make the thing. The costs and logistics of actually distributing it is a different story altogether, and a lot of that would depend on strategizing around future productions and making sure the availability of the pro-shot wouldn't compromise, say, a national tour. I'm not a producer and don't have the numbers and the research, but what I'd love to see happen is, the pro-shot gets a limited theatrical release to coincide with a national tour, and then gets released to streaming platforms when the tour is wrapped. (Of course, as an elder millennial who's genetically incapable of not being financially stressed, I don't care where or how it's released as long as I get those residual checks lol.)

As to your question of crowdfunding: as far as I understand it (and I'm not an entertainment lawyer so I likely have very incomplete information, so don't take my word at total face value): in order to crowdfund for a pro-shot, the producers would likely need to establish a new business entity and it would have to be a nonprofit entity so it could legally solicit donations from the public. Broadway shows are commercially produced, and each iteration of the commercially-produced production has its own business entity. When the show was in workshops and in Syracuse, the business entity was "Amigos in Ohio, LLC." The Broadway entity is "Amigos on Broadway, LLC." The only difference it makes on my end is the name that shows up on my bank statement when I get my direct deposit every week, but the difference it makes from a producer perspective is much more significant and it has a big effect on how productions are legally and ethically allowed to be funded, and again I'm not an entertainment lawyer so explaining what those differences are is beyond me.

I will say, however, Ken Davenport has been a real innovator when it comes to how shows can be produced--in 2010, he launched what eventually became the first crowdfunded Broadway musical with the Godspell revival. I know very little about how all of that actually works, but I do think something like that would be a boon to the industry in the year of our dark Majestic Theater 2024. And it would also give the fans a way to connect with the material and the business on a deeper and more personal level.

Meanwhile, if you want to learn more about how Broadway works from the producers' side, you should check out Sammy Lopez's Producing 101 course on The Business of Broadway. (I'm going to be in an upcoming class myself and it's all virtual, so maybe I'll see you there!)

#how to dance in ohio #broadway #musical theatre #musicals #htdio #theatre #broadway producing #showbiz

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