#he puts his feet on top of tables and crosses his legs like he owns the place! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randomsuggesteduseername · 2 months ago

Text

—RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

❝ MASTERLIST ❞

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

wc: 4.7k

best friends to lovers, making out, slight smut,

prompts: “Kiss me to prove we’re not in love”

Your mouth might’ve ran faster than your brain could process it. At least that’s how it feels when you watch the blush spread over Steve’s cheeks, paired with a frown meant to help keep his composure. “You want me to kiss you?” His voice wavers slightly, checking in to see that his own brain didn’t produce that thought out of thin air. It’s been long since Steve’s felt this nervous and unsure of himself around you, usually he’s all flirty smiles and cheeky words, yet now he’s been reduced to a deafening silence.

“Yes, kiss me so we can prove once and for all that nothing is going on between us.” Arms crossed over your chest after placing the bowl of caramel popcorn down. The most indignant look on your face as you stare at him expectantly from your side of the couch. The blue-ish hue the tv casts onto Steve’s side profile highlights the way his eyes stay wide when the words slip out of your mouth. “We are not Harry and Sally.” You argue with a crooked brow which seems to earn an amused huff from him.

This all started when he brought a new tape home, the hottest release of the year ‘When Harry met Sally…’ At first glance, nothing but a simple rom-com, little did you know it would put you and your best friend in a position you’ve never thought you’d ever end up.

Steve’s been adamant about the movie the whole night, calling it a heartwarming love story, while you, thinking clearly, stood your ground and told him that it ruined the vision of friendship between men and women. Of course he didn’t get it, his love-deprived brain worked in ways you’ll never understand.

“Admit it…” His eyes swiped over your face quickly as his head leaned back against the couch and to the side to face you. That grin of his couldn’t be more cocky. “You’ve thought about me like that at least once.” Almost stating it rather than asking, you shove a foot into his hip, thanks to your laying down position along the length of the couch which kept him in your reach as he occupied the place left on the couch next to your feet. The ‘humf’ sound he makes instinctively at your shove has you rolling your eyes and looking back at the TV screen.

“Kill me if I ever do.” You deadpan, the look on your face is nothing less than serious. His accusation is absurd, how can he think that you’ve ever viewed him as anything other than your best friend? His hands raise in faux defeat with a slightly amused look on his face, his gaze pulling away from you, at least momentarily until you open your mouth to speak again. “You don’t believe me, do you? Oh my god, Harrington, you’re so arrogant!” Huffing, you get up from the couch, padding over the soft, fluffy carpet the Harringtons recently bought for their living room.

Despite the coffee table topped to the brim with snacks and drinks you feel the need for a glass of water instead of a sugary and fizzy beverage. “It’s not a good look on you at all.” You let him know as you tuck some hair behind your ear, pouring yourself a glass of water, hearing his voice ring out from the living room. “So you think I have good looks, huh?”

You’d roll your eyes again at him if you could, but something tells you you’ll end up with a headache if you keep doing that. Taking the glass back with you, you claim your spot onto the couch, this time your legs curling up next to you. The movie long forgotten as it keeps playing on the TV, now only serving illumination purposes, you’re stuck on the disagreement tonight’s movie started.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You huff. He thinks it’s cute, he loves riling you up from time to time. “You’re crazy if you think I could ever be with you…” The words come out slightly harsher than intended, but he doesn’t seem to take it personal, only faking a gasp, his hand pressing over his heart to try to trick you into feeling guilty. You don’t, not even a little. “Oh honey, how can you be so mean to me?” He almost whines, pouty lips on display, his eyes almost glazing over with the puppy look he’s mastered at this point.

You know this is just ordinary messing around, he’s always poking and prodding you with his words, but something about his suggestion has shifted something inside you. Maybe it’s the thought that he thinks you’re in love with him which…quite frankly, is insane…right? Maybe it’s the way his rhetorics make you want to slap that grin off his face…or maybe, just maybe, instead of slapping you’d like to try a kiss first.

Instead of staring at his stupid brown eyes, you decide to busy yourself with the bowl of caramel popcorn, picking a handful. The taste melts on your tongue which brings you some sort of serenity for a few moments.

The idea which sparks into your head is not appropriate, far from it. What has got you thinking about kissing him again you think you’ll never know, but maybe that’s just the answer. A simple kiss to prove that whatever assumptions he has about your feelings are completely and utterly absurd.

So, you can blame him for pushing it, or you can blame yourself for being so stubborn about proving him wrong. Either way, it brings you back to his shocked face, the words already uttered and too late to be taken back without implying some sort of fear that his suggestion might be true after all. The long and awkward silence almost makes you jab him with a few teasing words, but the way he seems to be a bit shellshocked for the better part of a minute has you keeping it to yourself.

“Kiss you? As in, for real?” You smile, amused by his tone as you nod, the thought brings some butterflies into your stomach but you just assume it’s nerves from having to kiss your best friend. “I’m serious— right here, right now. To get that stupid idea out of your head.” You explain as if it’s the sanest and most logical explanation for this. “It’ll prove we’re not capable of being attracted to one another and that nothing will ever happen between us.”

Steve, after seemingly coming out of his momentarily catatonic state, has already masked his shocked expression and covered it up with that smile you know so well. Shifting to face you on the couch, one leg underneath himself, he seems to be contemplating this before he runs a hand through his hair. “Makes sense.” That’s the conclusion he seems to arrive at as he scoots closer to you on the couch.

The room is still mostly covered by darkness, which makes it harder to see his facial expressions and how his eyes dip to your lips briefly, as if already setting his target on them. His arm is laid over the back of the couch, coming to a stop in front of you once his knee bumps your ankles, making you change your position as you cross your legs and face him too. It doesn’t feel as intimate as the moments before a first kiss should feel, but once again, he’s your best friend…nothing more.

“Wait…” His voice comes out laced with concern, brows pulling together slightly. “Are you sure you won’t fall in love?” Steve asks and you can’t help but let out the breath you’ve been holding up until now, your hand smacking his bicep still settled on the back of the couch. “Oh I'll be fine, not so sure about you though.” Now it’s his time to roll his eyes though you notice the way his lips curl up and his bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a brief moment.

“Alright, Casanova, could you just get to it?” He nods and adjusts his position, not really sure how he needs to approach this. The hand settled in his lap skirts up over your arm, ultimately finding its place on your chin. The way he holds it so gingerly between his thumb and index makes you feel that there’s this sort of nervousness in him just the way it’s in you too. But this is just a kiss to prove him wrong, nothing else.

His eyes find yours and then he’s leaning in, waiting for your reaction, waiting to be shoved away or chided for actually trying to kiss you, but the closer he gets it dawns on him that you want— no, need this to prove him wrong. It bothers him slightly to know you’ll go as far as kissing him to prove that you’re not in love with him and never will be, but he can’t help the sudden thought which pops into his mind, uninvited.

Pulling back slightly to put some distance between your faces again, your eyes narrow curiously, a tinge of annoyance on your features too. “This won’t make it awkward between us, right?” His question makes you sigh, wondering if this whole thing is really a good idea or if it’s just going to make things worse. The last thing you need is to lose your best friend over some stupid rom-com.

“No, Steve, it won’t change anything between us because it doesn’t mean anything.” You assure him, finding it in you to be understanding of his worries. He nods, accepting that it’ll be done and you’ll never speak of it again.

He’s getting into position again, more shuffling and scruffing over the couch as you find a way to rest your legs against one another comfortably. Steve’s hand lifts to your chin again, keeping hold of it softly as he takes one last look at you, starting his approach again. You don’t feel the nerves anymore, truthfully you don’t feel anything, further proving your point that you don’t have any feelings towards him.

You let your eyes fall shut, expecting his kiss as you breach your hand on his knee, not feeling his breath hitch the slightest bit at your touch. It’s so brief that you almost miss it. A chaste peck which only meets your lips for a second. Your eyes open once his hand pulls away and clears his throat, not saying anything.

You should be happy that you felt absolutely nothing during the kiss, yet it still leaves you with a sort of empty, unsatisfied feeling in your chest. You dare to look at him again, a few beats passing before you notice the soft blush dusting his cheeks, though it might as well be the light from the TV.

“See? Nothing.” You press your hands to your thighs, subtly drying them against the material of your sweats as he seemingly agrees with you. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you gaze forwards before your mouth opens again. “You know, that wasn’t really a kiss. Like, a proper kiss.” You twitch your nose as you don’t dare look at him.

“Mhm, yeah…” His bottom lip is stuck between his teeth, the plush flesh catching your interest as it falls freely back into its place. “You’re totally right, we should probably try again.” The thinking process seems to be logical, as if the possibility of looking for another excuse to kiss each other is not even on the table right now. Just two friends making sure they’re not in love, right?

“Okay then, kiss me like you’d kiss Becky, Tina or Amy. Just pretend I’m one of them.” The words make him dizzy. How can he pretend to kiss you like you’re just some girl he wants to spend his night with? You’re so much more than that, though at the same time less. Your connection is too strong to one another, and as if reading his mind, you speak again. “Maybe not like that. But just kiss me like a girl you’re in love with.” His huff comes out with just the right amount of humour.

“I can do that…I think.” His tongue comes out to wet his lips, the way he’s looking at you feels a bit more intimate now. “Get to it then.” You try to joke as you take a deeper breath, his body already close to yours, making it easier for him to reach out.

The way his skin feels on yours when he cups the side of your face should be the first indicator that this kiss is going to be much different from the first. As if reading your thoughts, his thumb swipes over your cheekbone almost tenderly, eyes falling shut in time with one another, you’re left with the darkness of your eyelids, focusing solely on your other senses.

The musky smell of Steve’s slept in clothes and lingering wafts of toothpaste on his breath, the warm encompassing feeling of his palm on your cheek and the low hum of unintelligible voices since the movie is still playing. The tip of his sharp nose is now tracing over the contour of yours, whereas the first time it was merely just a clumsy bump. You refrain a shudder successfully and you let him go on, carrying a sort of curiosity about what King Steve does to these girls to have them in a chokehold.

And then it happens again, that chaste press of lips on lips, though you keep still and lightly press yourself closer. Just as fast as it comes it goes again, making you furrow your brows. “I th—“ The words get swallowed by him as Steve leans in again, more purposeful, carrying more intent.

Something trashes wildly in your stomach, dare you say butterflies as he parts his lips slightly, coaxing you into a slower open mouthed kiss. You don’t mind, letting him take the lead, following his pace, you’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue tries to enter the mix. You welcome it with your own, brushing wetly over one another while his lips seal over yours.

Without realising, you let your hands come up, one hooking against the back of his neck while the other pushes greedily into his hair. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, though you surely get lost in the way he’s treating you like you mean something more to him. The way his hands touch you, stroking your cheek and holding your hip, the position is still somewhat awkward and stiff, having to meet in the middle, but you don’t mind it that much.

Clearly he does, having to pull you closer, making you slip into his lap to get more comfortable. Settling on his thighs, your knees dig into the leather of his couch while his head tilts back to reach you better. You’re sure your lips will soon turn numb from his ministrations in which you both seem to get lost, clearly forgetting the whole reason you got into the argument in the first place.

Feeling him up, your hands drift over his shoulders and down to his chest, giving the briefest squeeze on it which has him taking a deeper breath in, making you smile against his lips. You’ve fallen into a rhythm, getting accustomed to one another, but everything freezes in place when you hear him.

Confusion etched into your features, your brows twitch together momentarily. “Did you…moan?” The question seems absurd since you’ve heard it clear as day, you couldn’t have missed the way it made your insides clench, your eyes searching his face as you watch the tips of his ears and his cheeks flush a deep red. “Well we’ve been shoving our tongues down each other’s throats, sorry for getting distracted.” He defends, trying to sound as if it’s your fault, looking away to hide the embarrassed look on his face.

Gazing down at him, you take a breath and shift, unintentionally brushing over his lap, his hands tighten on your hips if it’s any indicator to the torment he’s going through. Your lips out of reach, unsure if you’ll even kiss him again after his slip up, your body nothing but a teasing, heating pressure which would be embarrassing to let affect him. But oh how can he keep it together when you’re set on ruining him?

He thinks you know what you’re doing, not when you stare down at him for a brief moment, giving him the idea that you do want him, not when you shift over his lap, and not even when you breach your hands on his shoulders and push him to lay back again, but when your lips press against his for a third time which has his mind rebooting, trying to keep up with the pace you’re setting.

The idea that this was supposed to be just a kiss is now forgotten, the only thing that seems to matter now is kissing his best friend like she’s a girl he’s in love with. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even find it that hard to do, though he doesn’t have the faintest idea as to why.

You can’t help but grab hold of his locks again, so silky and soft through your fingers, giving them the slightest tug experimentally. This time when Steve feels it, he doesn’t moan, not even grunt, what he does though is shamelessly grind up against you. You’d stop the kiss to ask him if he’s hard, but it all feels so good, the way he’s encompassing you in his arms, how he shifts the slightest bit down towards your jaw, in search of sensitive skin. Nails digging lightly into the back of his neck, you gasp when his mouth leaves yours properly and latches onto your neck, lost in the bliss of it all, you grind down again which is enough to make Steve lose his mind.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” His breath sounds strained. “can’t take it—“ His murmur is a rumble against your skin, your whole body warming up at the idea that your best friend can’t contain himself after a simple kiss. Your thighs try to squeeze together at the sound of his voice, instead, squeezing his hips.

Heart drumming, you feel his lips finish up the work on your skin and it doesn’t hit you that it’ll leave a mark, you’re too preoccupied with the way his hands help you grind over his lap to notice. There’s a fire growing between both of you, low and slow, simmering dangerously close.

There’s sudden silence, the tape has no doubt ended, leaving you in a way too intimate silence, only filled by the grunts and gasps shared between you. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be letting a simple kiss get the better of you but Steve doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, letting his needs guide him into stealing another greedy kiss.

Getting light headed, unsure if from his passionate kiss or the lack of oxygen, you’re forced to part, a thin string of spit splitting between the two of you as you look at one another, realising just how wrecked and ravished you both look.

His strands are sticking up at odd angles, his lips flushed a deeper red from all the kissing, just enough to match his cheeks. The collar of his shirt is stretched out a bit, showing a part of his collarbone from where you’d fisted his shirt. The way he’s looking up at you makes it seem like he’s begging for more, his body certainly is with the way he’s still pressing between your thighs, feeling that he’s fighting to contain himself for the sake of the dignity he has left.

Forcing down the lump in your throat with a harsh swallow, you force yourself to move off of him, sliding next to him onto the couch. Settling your hands in your lap, you toy with your fingers, gazing up at the ceiling as he does the same, waiting in silence until your breathing slows down and your mind is a bit more clear.

“You’re a nice kisser,” You mumble the compliment. Calling it nice would be a gross understatement but that’s all you can manage at the moment. Two, Three beats pass before he conjures up a response. “Thanks, you too…nice,”

“Great, um…I guess we proved my point.” Only now remembering what got you in this mess in the first place, you blink and look for your glass of water before you take a sip, the room temperature liquid feeling cold as you drink.

Stubborn.

That’s exactly what you are. It’s been three days since you and Steve broke the dam and started a metaphorical flood of thoughts and feelings. You haven’t seen him since, not that you’re looking forward to the awkward silence and new weird dynamic. Some part of you wishes you’d just accepted the defeat without having to prove anything, while the other can’t help but think back to that kiss, maybe the best one of your life.

It’s on Saturday night that Robin calls and invites you over for a movie night. Just the mere thought of it has your blood warming up, but you can’t let him keep you away from your shared friend group. You’ll just have to…ignore him.

Easier said than done.

You rode with Eddie, he never has a problem with picking you up, but he does give you a strange look when you hop in his van as if to say ‘Where’s Harrington?’ Since the two of you always come together, wherever you go, he’s there and vice versa.

With a hammering heart, you let yourself in as you always do and greet Robin with a smile, subtly looking over her shoulder as she speaks, trying to see if he’s already here. Snapping back to the conversation, you follow her to the couch as she rambles off about whatever tape she ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, though it always ends up thrown somewhere in her room, gathering dust.

Settling in the middle of the couch, You watch as Robin takes a seat next to you, telling Eddie to prepare the tape and bring the bowls of snacks over. Finally settling into the familiar energy, you laugh, entertaining Robin’s absurd thoughts and jokes, but soon enough it’s interrupted as the door opens and closes again, Eddie’s still occupying his usual armchair so it can’t by anyone else than him…

Clammy hands drying on your thighs, you look back as his voice comes out, greeting the three of you as he apologises for being late. You know him, and you’d be inclined to say that you do it best, but looking at him right now, you can’t seem to be able to read him anymore. All you can see is those big hands that grabbed and squeezed at you, those walnut strands which you tugged at, pulling the prettiest of sounds from him, and those eyes…oh how you’re lost in them until Robin boops the tip of your nose, flushing in embarrassment as you pretend they didn’t catch you staring with heart eyes at your best friend.

“Okay, come on, let's watch this already.” You huff, as if you’re impatient to see the movie, but in reality, you’re only thinking about the lights being dimmed so the blush on your cheeks won’t be on full display anymore. You’re cursed with having to squeeze into Robin’s two person couch with her and Steve, each of them pressing closely into your sides, Steve’s arm laying over the back of the couch.

The movie isn’t great, not even close to what Robin’s promised it to be. Proof of that is Eddie drooling on himself as he sleeps peacefully in the armchair, and Robin’s head pressing against your shoulder as she rests with soft snores coming out of her. You wonder how you’re still awake yourself, but the heat radiating off Steve’s body is enough to keep you alert for almost an hour.

“Should we turn this off?” He asks as he gazes at the screen with a sort of bored confusion on his face. You nod and watch him as he gets up, using the opportunity to let Robin lay comfortably on the couch as you slip away from the living room and find yourself walking away, moving towards the bathroom but before you can lock yourself there, you hear his voice.

“Can we talk?” His question seems to slip out like he doesn’t want to go through the conversation either, but it’s eating him up, having to keep his distance from you. Telling yourself it’ll be okay, you turn on your heel and nod, heading to Robin’s room as he follows closely.

Once the door is closed, leaving the two of you alone, you dare to lift your gaze, swallowing thickly while he seems to be looking for the right words. “Did I make things awkward between us? You know, like after we uh— made out?”

“No…no, it’s just, It’s fine…really.” You rush to assure him, he doesn’t believe it one bit, your voice wavers as he steps closer and tilts his head with a concerned furrow in his brows. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like that, you can barely look at me and you haven’t called to spend the night in like………forever.” He argues, knowing you always have sleepovers, especially now in the summer.

“Steve, it’s been four days…” You smile lightly as you correct him, seemingly overestimating for how long you’ve been apart, though for him it surely feels like a drawn out eternity meant to make him suffer in your absence. “Exactly!” He huffs as if you can’t seem to understand just how much he’s missed you.

He’s got you, it’s a curse that he knows you this well. Maybe you can’t lie your way out of this, not when he’s watching you like a hawk, trying to find the source of the problem as always. He hates to see you upset, even more so when he knows it might be his fault.

“C’mon, when did you stop telling me what’s bothering you?” The way his tone seems to be a bit hurt makes you look at him, now he’s much closer, his hand reaching for yours as he tugs you gently towards him. You’re not sure you can say anything that will justify your actions, so you don’t. Gazing down at the way his hand swallows yours up completely, your chest swarms with butterflies as he toys with your fingers gently. Want takes over your mind, clouding your judgement as you gaze up at him, opening your mouth to speak.

Knowing no words will ever compare to what you want to do, you push yourself up on your tiptoes and grab hold of his shoulder, leaning in to connect your lips again just like you did three nights ago. Despite the sudden movement, he doesn’t seem to be too shocked, quick with returning the kiss as his hands settle instinctively on your waist to make sure you stay close.

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, you cup the side of his face with your free hand and lean more into him. Letting him walk you back until you bump into the wall, you sigh into the kiss and pull his head down to reach him better. A fuzzy feeling takes over your brain as you let yourself enjoy the moment, feeling Steve’s wandering hands advance, you cling to him for support and arch, saying his name in a soft whisper.

Letting your hands slide up under his shirt, fingers tracing soft skin, gripping at his strong back as Steve occupies himself with pawing at your thighs and waist.

Your bodies pressing and tangling warmly, finally feeling the freedom to touch him like you’ve always known you wanted deep in your heart, humming softly as he lets a relaxed sigh slip from his lips. Minutes pass before a sudden thump, followed by a grumpy Robin cursing, travels through her small apartment.

You break apart with a groan and bite your lip, gazing at him as he seems to resent the interruption too. “We should get back out there before they realise we’re missing.” He knows you’re right, but the way you look like you hate the idea, carrying that soft pout on your lips which has his heart melting makes him dip his head to catch your lips in another kiss, this time softer. “Mhm, in a minute.”

And how can you turn him down when he’s so adamant about kissing you?

#steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #fem reader #steve x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things season four #stranger things fic #⋆⑅˚₊ stevie

792 notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 11 days ago

Text

Days & Nights

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.10)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You and Jayce share 3 days and 3 nights before your move back to Piltover. During these days you both reassure one another's worries for your shared future, go on a date, spend time with friends and family, and pack up your apartment.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, teasing, pet names, sickly sweet fluff (no but seriously), some emotional hurt/comfort (more like reassurances), kissing, suggestive themes, very brief mentions of violence, Evren (OC) being a little pice of shit /affectionately, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 6,050

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: last fic of the year! (2025 sounds so futuristic I hate it here 😭). Also this chapter is kinda filler! next chap wedding? 👀

─────── · ·

─ · · You sit on a lounge within Jayce's hotel room reading one of your new romance novels from your bag. Afternoon passes to early evening and you both had yet to move from your spots, simply enjoying one another's company.

Every time you finished another chapter you would look up and across the room to watch Jayce sign his signature and write letter after letter before sealing each with wax hammer emblem for his house. A part of you felt bad for making him take his work to you and by the sheer amount of letters he had to respond to by the end of the day to make sure they made it back in time...

"Bored of your book already darling?" Jayce asked leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs. You watch as he picks up his wine glass, swirling the blood red liquid before taking an elegant sip.

"No," you look back down at the page blushing at the desperation of the male love interest and trying to conceal a giggle once they finally kiss, "It's actually getting really good." Jayce watches the way your eyes light up before quickly turning to the next page, the book practically touching your nose as you read the next words carefully before shutting the book and kicking your feet.

Jayce stands, walking over and taking a seat by your feet before extending his hand in a silent ask for the book, you look at his hand and then raised brow- curious. You tuck the book close to your chest shaking your head, "Nope! Sir Antoine is for my eyes only!"

Jayce scoffs, placing his arm across the back on the lounge and his wine on a side table before putting your legs on top of his own and massaging your calves. "Should I be worried about this Sir Antoine?" Jayce teases, giving your leg a squeeze.

You reopen your book, eyes going wide as the scene heats up and you lose yourself again to the text, breathing in sharply through your nose as you read, I want to be your every waking thought, make you feel the ghost of my touch with every step in your walk, understand that you are what makes me breathe. Your jaw drops at what you read- not noticing how Jayce glares at the cover of the book. I have more definition than that guy, he thinks to himself.

You look up from the book to look towards the ceiling, crossing your ankles together as the replay the scene in your head, biting your lip before closing your eyes- and Jayce steals the book as you hastily lean forwards and try and snatch it back.

Jayce stands, your legs falling off his lap as he holds the book up at out your reach. He goes back a few pages, humming and nodding along as you grip his arm trying to force it done to no use. "Jayce!" you plead but your boyfriend simply ignores you and flips to the next page before holding your hip.

"Almost done, just taking notes," Jayce hums, staring down and smiling at your glare before leaning down kissing your nose. You scrunch it, "You don't need notes Jayce," you try and entice his ego into letting the book go but Jayce shakes shakes his head, "apparently I need to do better if you're imaging other men in that brilliant mind of yours."

Its your time to laugh, "Jayce... I was imaging you the whole time." His eyes quickly catch your own, lighting up, mouth in a playful smirk as he marks the page and places it on the lounge before taking you into his arms, "you were now? and what was I doing to you-hm?"

"I mean, you just read it for yourself..." you trail off, playing with the buttons of his dress-shirt and observing the small flowers within the metal design. "Maybe I just want to hear your voice," Jayce counters before pulling away and sitting back at his desk, sighing at the other stack of letters he still has to get through before the end of the day.

You sit back on the lounge picking up the book and flipping to the next more relaxed chapter before reading it aloud for you both, Jayce nods along to the sound of your voice as he slices open another letter and observes it continents.

─────── · ·

─ · · After reading through all of Piltover's words and demands to help Jayce finish up for the day and by having memorized his signature and forging it, you both take the boxes to the front desk to be shipped back home. You grab Jayce's arm while walking down the street and back to your apartment where Ximena and Evren were waiting for you at the kitchen table. "Busy day today?" Evren asks while filling up your glass.

You shrug, "got the marking done for the weekend and helped him with the mail," you explain before stealing a bite off of Jayce's plate watching as he playfully glares at you before returning to his conversation with his mom.

Evren nods, "I'm going to miss you when you're gone..." you smile sadly, reaching your hand over the table to grasp his own, "I'll write to you every week until I annoy you and at that point I'll come for a visit," you explain watching as Evren smiles and squeezes your hand before placing a kiss to the back of it, "I look forwards to then but you have to tell me!"

"Tell you what?" you ask, squinting your eyes- trying to decipher his words before he speaks them to life, "what do you plan to do when you get back? You two moving in together? What are you going to do for work?- or are you gonna be one of those hot little housewives waiting for their man to get home~" Evren teases you with a wink.

You gasp, taking your hand away to cover your mouth, "Evren!" you shout now catching everyones attention at the table as both Jayce and Ximena look between the two of you curiously. Evren leans back in his chair, clutching his stomach as he laughs at your horrified reaction, "I mean... I don't think Jayce would mind-" he manages to speak in between gaps of laughter.

"I hate you," you whine, hiding your face in your hands, head in your lap as Jayce rubs up and down your back only making you feel worse. "You're not making me feel any better, Jayce!" you explain as Jayce slows his movements and leans down to whisper in your ear asking if you're okay.

You quickly sit up, face flushed as you blink away tears from concealing your own silent laughs while pointing a finger and glaring at Evren who simply blows you a kiss. Ximena clears her throat, your eyes snap to her as she looks at you concerned, "what happened, dear? If you don't like the food I can make you something else? If its my son? I apologize, but know that he loves you."

You shake your head, "No, no, the food is delightful as always and Jayce is... yeah," your mind still held up on the housewife comment. Evren chokes on his own drink, picking up his napkin feeling as you kick his shin from underneath the table. "Ouch- hey!" he glares at you staring as you cross your arms over your chest. Jayce sighs, shaking his head with a smile at how you both act like an old married couple together.

Ximena still looks worried as she motions for Jayce to comfort you again, "What did Evren say to upset you?" Jayce asks quietly. You can't look at him, only holding your sights on Evren- daring him to speak first. "Well," Evren sits up in his chair, looking at everyone at the table before keeping his eyes on Jayce for his reaction, eyes shimmering with mischief, "I said that our friend here would give all those high ladies in Piltover a run for their money being the hottest little housewife waiting for their man to get home."

You groan, wanting to become a puddle and seep beneath the floorboards into nothingness. I hate you, I hate you Evren, Why, why why did you say that? You listen as Jayce roars with laughter, feeling his hand caress the back of your head and to your horror, Ximena nods along agreeing with Evren, "I think she holds more class than the entire upper class put together. Oh let me show you the pictures of them together, I enjoyed seeing everyone's jealous faces," Jayce's mom claps her hands together excitedly before grabbing a photo album she's been preparing for your wedding, you want to die.

"Can I just catch a break, please," you beg to the floor watching as Jayce's foot taps the side of yours, you look up to your boyfriend's large eyes holding nothing but care and affection within his irises, "If thats what you want to do, know that I can and will provide for you." You stare at him, watching for a bluff yet Jayce only kisses your forehead before leaning back in his chair, glass in hand as he holds your thigh, squeezing it gently as his mother returns to the table- book in hand.

Evren looks utterly pleased with himself, graciously taking the book, "Damn! You two look so good together, tell me that you still have this dress?" he turns the album around, finger tapping at a photo from Jayce's councillor party. You remember that day vividly, Jayce's hot stare at you throughout the night before carrying you down the hall and then... you bedded another. Jayce tenses beside you, seemingly remembering that fact the same time that you do. He smiles tightly at Evren who quickly looks down to the next page of you and Jayce shopping together, a little girl in your arms.

Evren takes his time looking at that image before passing the album back to Ximena who smiles, "my favourite picture," she comments, closing the book softly before setting it aside. You look around the table before looking at Jayce to find him already looking at you.

Ximena leans over grasping Evren's arm as she whispers into his ear while watching you both with a smile, "It may just be a generational thing but I do hope she considers your words." Evren nods, pulling away before shooting you a horrified look, I promise you I was just kidding, his mouths to you.

─────── · ·

─ · · When night falls you hug Evren goodbye for the night and close the door behind you, Jayce is wiping down the table before looking up at you with a smile. Your eyes feel heavy as you lean against his back and close your eyes with a sigh. Ximena leans against an archway between the kitchen and the living space staring at you both while grasping her hands tightly together underneath her chin.

Jayce raises his arm to get a glimpse of your sleepy form, "tired there are you miss?" he teases, "please know that I have a girlfriend."

"Mmm, I'm sure she wouldn't mind," you murmur back, smiling towards Ximena. "I would think otherwise, I really must go see her if you'll let me go?" Jayce counters, grabbing your hand- interlacing his fingers with your own, gently pulling you off of him. You giggle before running off, "Night, Jayce!" you call from down the hall before closing your door. Jayce scoffs looking towards him mom, "What did I do wrong this time?"

Ximena shrugs, taking the towel from his hands and throws it by the sink, "I haven't got a clue, sweetie," she pats her sons arm looking down at your door, "Maybe she just wants to sleep by herself tonight, nothing wrong with that right?" Jayce lets out a deep long breath, "...yeah I guess." Ximena chuckles before leaving to get herself ready for bed as Jayce debates weather or not to take your couch or to head back to his hotel room.

Suddenly you open your door in one of his shirts as you switch off the lights, "Jayce?" you call, Jayce's heart picks up- hopeful. "C'mere let's sleep-" Jayce races over, picking you up in his arms, closing the door with his foot behind you both before placing you back on your bed.

He quickly undresses himself before sliding himself underneath the covers- smiling as you burrowing your face into the side of his chest with a satisfied hum. "Can we make a rule of not going to bed alone?" Jayce asks softly. You laugh, "Sure, Jayce."

"I'm serious," he speaks softly and your laughter dies, "no matter how angry you are with me or what happens, I just need you there at the end of the day." You press a kiss to his chest, lingering for a moment before pulling away, "same time, anywhere and always."

─────── · ·

─ · · When you step into Evrens office the next day, you are shocked to see his desk covered in cards and parting gifts as various staff and students alike prepare for your impending departure. You smile, ripping through the assortment of ribbons and paper- taking your time to note down each sender and write them a small message back on your break.

Evren looks jealous, taking a look into the various bags and boxes with a huff, "nobody sent me things when I got divorced." You shake your head at your professor friend as he grumbles to himself, stealing a scarf from one of your presents when he thinks you not to be looking before heading to lecture leaving you to conduct office hours.

A knock sounds at the door, "come in!" you yell, quickly disposing of all the wrapping before taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. Jayce walks in, jacket draped over his forearm and briefcase in his other hand as he smiles at you. "Do you have a moment for some questions, miss?" he asks, taking a seat in front of Evren's desk. You giggle, taking a seat in his chair before leaning forwards and trying to conceal your smile. "I have all the time in the world for you, Jayce-my-boy, whatever are your questions, young student?"

Jayce shakes his head, "I'm afraid its a rather serious affair," he deadpans. "Oh? Do go on then," you wave your hand, leaning back in Evren's chair as Jayce leans forwards on the desk. "I need a dinner date." You gasp, the shock... the outrage!

"I do beg your pardon, pupil. But it would be against policy for me to accept your request," you explain, crossing your legs as you place your head on your palm, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. Jayce pouts, ringing his fingers through his hair, "surely there could be an... exception for your favourite student?"

"Thats quite the bold claim you've made there," you respond, eyes gleaming with humour as Jayce stares at you, trying to figure out how to get you to fold. Suddenly he stands, rounding the table and placing his hands on the arms of your chair, boxing you in.

You lean as far back as back in your chair, staring up at Jayce as his face becomes steadily closer to your own. His hair brushing your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as his eyes flicker between your own and your lips, "I can prove it to you if you allow me to show you," he whispers.

You pause for a moment, looking down at Jayce's lips before trailing down to his neck and tie in which you tug him even closer by, you hear him gasp as your lips brush against his, "show me," you murmur before feeling his lips linger against your own. His hand moves to cup your cheek- tilting your head up to deepen the kiss.

You moan giving Jayce access to explore your mouth, you gasp as his other hands joins to hold your face, fingers brushing your cheeks before pulling away as you both gasp for air. "So can I expect to see you in my room at six?" Jayce asks, thumb brushing up against your lower lip as you give it a teasing lick watching as his eyes darken.

"What should I wear?" you ask.

"Honest answer? nothing," he says with a shrug.

"Jayce Talis!" you scold, he smirks, "Same thing from the gala."

"But you've already seen me in that," you pout thinking about the various other articles you've collected for special occasions and a moment like this. Jayce kisses you once more, "But I didn't get to dance with you in it, kiss you in it, make you feel my hand drag up your leg through the slit or watch as it falls to the floor leaving you bare for my eyes only," he explains watching as your cheeks warm and how you push yourself back on the wheeled chair and into a corner of the room, refusing to meet his eyes that drink in your flustered look.

"I thought you were over that night by now," you mumble underneath your breath looking at Jayce through the corner of your eye as he nods his head contemplating- eyes looking upwards to the ceiling as he considers his next words, "I'll always want more of you- doesn't matter if it's then, now, or the future. Sometimes I fear that we won't have enough time to experience it all..."

Your frown at his words, "I think we've experienced more than the average lifetime, Jayce."

"But... I- just," Jayce sighs, "never mind." You stand and walk over to Jayce, picking up one of his arms and placing it around your waist- pressing a kiss to his jaw, "I'll love you regardless of what you say next Jayce... just as long as its within reason," you try and lighten the mood. Jayce sits with your words before opening his mouth again to speak.

"I just want enough moments we share to be happy ones... we just... so much happened to us that I don't want you to look back and regret choosing me," Jayce whispers, blinking a few times before looking over your shoulder.

"Is this what you've thought for sometime?" you ask worriedly, taking his face into your hands when he refuses to meet your eyes, the silence is telling and your heart aches in response. "Jayce," you whisper his name, trying to call him back to you and out of his negative thoughts.

He slowly turns his head, "sorry for ruining the movement," he kisses your cheek and wraps his other arm around your waist. You both stand there for a moment, feeling one another warmth as you press your lips to his softly, whispering, "No, thank you for sharing that with me, Jayce. Never think you're protecting me from your emotions, I want to hear what you have to say, always."

Jayce nods, pressing his lips against your own as you close your eyes, dragging your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, you feel as his shoulders drop adding a smile to your kiss. "What?" Jayce asks, eyes brightening as he tilts his head watching your smile grow, "I just love you," you respond with a giggle.

Jayce smiles mirrors your own as he gives you a squeeze, lifting his chin to place atop your head, "I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · You held a bouquet of flowers in your arms while trying to knock on Jayce's door... you were a bit early... as in an entire hour early but you thought he wouldn't mind.

─ · · Within the room Jayce was still working, hand gripping the pen tightly as he sighed frustratedly, the numbers were just not adding up for what other regions were demanding from Piltover in return for what they were offering... the upper city had already finished rebuilding after the crises. Local businesses were returning back to their regularly scheduled hours and with the people of Zaun being able to freely come up to the surface and vice versa... the old contracts just did not make sense any longer.

─ · · Jayce gripped his hair, leaning back in his chair as he looked down at his watch, she's coming soon... but I have to get this done... fuck, Jayce thought to himself before standing abruptly at the sound of your knock.

He opened the door, startled to see you all ready, hair all done up and in thee dress, he stared for awhile before remembering to let you inside. You placed the flowers at the foot of the bed, kicking off your heels as Jayce smiled offering his slippers before suddenly remembering his dishevelled appearance.

His shirt was unbuttoned half way, tie left stranded on the desk. His forearms are on display, tattoo dragging up his arm that he scratches the back of his head with- hair a waterfall against his forehead. "Today is just my day it seems," he sighs while looking at the flowers you brought him and he had nothing to offer you, feeling disappointed with himself.

"You look good, my love. I enjoy the relaxed look," you say honestly. Jayce furrows his eyebrows in question, "Jayce..." you laugh fully now, falling back into the bed, "I looked at pictures when you first came back and..." you blush, "...you looked good then." Jayce shakes his head, disturbed someone had shown you pictures.

"That was something I tried to hide purposefully-" he begins to explain, embarrassed as he pinches the bridge of his nose as you bat your eyelashes up at him. "Why?" you cut him off, curious as you sit up slightly, leaning back on your elbows.

"I just didn't want you to see me at such a low point, such a mess," he explains before joining you on the bed, placing his head in your lap to cover his face. Someone's the shy one today, you think to yourself.

"You don't always have to look your best or be strong for me, Jayce. I promise thats only a fraction of you that I fell for," you reassure him, relieved to be getting all the doubts and worries out now.

"But I just want to be the best man for you," Jayce picks up, body hovering over your own.

"You are, Jayce. The man I love is selfless, intelligent and above all, kind. He kisses me after a long day of work, dances with me even when I step on his designer shoes, laughs at my terrible jokes, and is always there to bring me up no matter how many times I don't think I am worthy of all this love and attention that he too seems to forget he is just as worthy of feeling regardless of being the "man" everyone else tells him to be. You are everything I need or could ever want you to be, Jayce." you are nearly breathless by the end of your speech and the way in which he kisses you passionately, unable to contain his affections.

"Could I marry you now?" Jayce, equally breathless asks in a tone light yet holding an edge of sincerity to it.

"You're mother would be severely disappointed... I would also be taking her Mrs. Talis title," you counter yet knowing within yourself you would go down to the courthouse now without a care for any large ceremony.

"I guess you're right... but then again, she'll more than understand. Know that when we get to Piltover theres nothing stopping me from becoming your husband," Jayce states as you look up at him, fingers brushing his lip, picking up the edges to make his smile grow, hands falling once seeing it spread on its own. "Mr. and Mrs. Talis," you hum to yourself, testing the titles you had already been called countless times on accident, "Mrs. Talis," Jayce echos, a part of you in shock that one day it would be official.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your inside date would tick off every box Jayce had mentioned earlier. A record played in the background as he twirled you dizzy before crashing you against his chest and tilting your head up into a dizzying kiss that held your knees weak. His mouth distracts your trail of thoughts as you feel how his hand drags up your leg, up and under the slit of your dress and towards your undergarments before the phone rings.

Jayce holds you against him, breaths ragged as he reaches over to pick up the phone, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "Hello?" you bite your lip at his baritone, not quite listening to what he says but how he says it. "Dinners here," he explains as the line dies, you nod your head, dragging yourself out from underneath his hold and ensuring that you look... somewhat presentable as people set the table and leave quickly that has you looking over yourself worriedly before noticing the mark you left above Jayce's collar bone on display... and the over a dozen lipstick kisses across his skin and dress-shirt... oh.

"Gods, it looks like a ripped you apart," you say, reaching from your glass, chiming it against Jayce's who smiles underneath the lip of the glass, "a good thing, no?" He tries to boost your ego. You roll your eyes, "everyones gonna think I'm just using you," you grumble, taking a bite off your plate.

"You're welcome to," Jayce indulges you with a wink, tongue swirling around one of his canines as stare at him for awhile, "Sometimes I question how long I withstood your advances."

"I question that too," Jayce admits, "when I first started I was willing to do just about anything for you to see me" You gasp, "so you knew exactly what you were doing!" You think back to the various times you thought to have caught him in a state of undress, imagining him purposefully placing things too high for you to reach, or calling you anything but your name in front of your peers.

"Guilty as charged, sweetheart."

─────── · ·

─ · · Waking up in the morning you both took a slow morning getting ready before heading back to your apartment and starting to pack everything away with the help of Ximena and Evren.

Suspiciously all the heavy boxes you packed and tried to hide to carry later were all taken and gone. Your furniture was going to stay for the next household as You and Evren worked around it, folding your clothes into bags and boxes alongside wrapping the glassware in the kitchen with Ximena.

Jayce was in a pair of kakis and black t-shirt, sweat dripping down his forehead as took a box out of your hands and walked out the door not listening to your demands of helping to carry things as Ximena dragged your arm back to the living room to finish taping the boxes on the table.

Seeing Jayce out of the corner of your eye, you dropped your chest over the box protectively, "If you don't let me carry this box Jayce I'm leaving you at the aisle," you threaten, standing and walking to the door as Evren silently trails behind giving Jayce a look up and down watching as he wipes the sweat off his forehead.

"You two are going to be somethin' huh?" Evren yells before stepping outside after you, loud enough for both you and Jayce to react separately with laughs.

─────── · ·

─ · · Everything was loaded onto a train carriage headed a day ahead of you all to arrive when you got there. Jayce laid on your bed, chest down as you startled his hips, massaging his back. You laughed listening to him complain about your cold fingers before groaning as those same fingers loosened a knot in his lower back, "I told you to let me help you," you pressed down a bit harder as Jayce whined, biting his lip, the pain felt relieving to the stress he felt within his muscles.

You lessened your pressure, working your way upwards as your hands traced his shoulders before squeezing them. Jayce burrowed his face, groaning into the comforter you would be taking on the train as you laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his neck. "Feels good?" you tease watching as Jayce slowly shows his face again, mischief in his eyes that has you slightly worried for his next words, "stealing my line there are you sweetheart?"

You flush not knowing how to respond but thankfully you wouldn't have to, freezing at a scream, heads whipping over to see an embarrassed Evren who thought to be walking in on your both. "Evren! I'm just massaging Jayce's back, promise," you reassure your friend as he hesitantly opens his eyes before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Do you both ever fear being too attached together?" he asks seeing how Jayce reaches behind feeling for your hand as you lace your fingers together, you both think for a moment, "We can last at least a week with no contact," you nod, "Yeah, maybe two depending on how earlier weeks were."

You and Jayce proceed to go back and worth determining that the longest timing with different prior variables. Evren was not planning to witness you both debate like old times in the lab as you get back to rubbing his shoulders and neck; Hypotheticals and theories, what if I sent a gift part-way? Would letters count as contact? What If I visited part way and then left... could we go longer then?

"I think the answers conclusive, 3 weeks with at least two visits and gifts," you tap Jayce's back, sliding off as Evren does not know weather to feel disgusted by how sweet you both are with one another, disturbed by how telepathically you read one another, or enamoured by the affection you both share. "I cannot believe you even decided on getting with that officer," Evren jokes as you roll your eyes, "don't remind me about him, that was a poor choice on so many levels. But then again... If I hadn't done that Jayce and I may not have gotten together in the end."

"Still not thanking that fucker," Jayce curses, throwing his shirt back on before extending a hand, helping you off the bed, "oh no, I was going to try and invite them to the wedding," you joke... Jayce stares blankly at your head in response as Evren smiles at you both, "I love you two."

You rush over hugging Evren tightly knowing that this would be one of your final moments together, "Love you too Ev!"Jayce joins the hug as you both smush Evren between your bodies, "Now this was NOT the threesome I'd imagine," Evren says, patting both of your arms gently with a wheeze.

─────── · ·

─ · · You count every bag and item on your person before double checking Jayce's hotel room to ensure you both got everything. Evren and Ximena were both waiting for you on the tracks, watching as the luggage got loaded.

"I told myself not to cry," Evren says to himself with a pout, blinking profusely as if to delay the tears... yet it only seemed to make them come faster as he sniffled, dragging you into a hug as you both swayed side to side, "Why am I getting so emotional? We only hung out for what... a few months?"

"Ouch, Ev. I thought my friendship meant more to you," you joke, rubbing his back seeing as his glasses fog up, "It does I assure you. Just like how I'm dead set on delivering a speech at your wedding." You groan at the thought of it knowing that in your many nights out together after class... you told him almost every secret you had to share.

"You wouldn't do that to me!" you try and guilt trip him, feeling as he shakes his head, pulling away from the hug, a smile returning to his face that matches your amused one, "Consider it payback for leaving me here."

"I told you you're welcome to come back, I'm sure I could find a spot for you within the Academy?" you counter. "I'll get back to you on that once the loneliness settles in."

"Whatever you need, Ev. Whatever you need," you reassure him, pulling the professor in for one last hug before standing off to the side watching as Ximena gathers her own hug before joining you observing as Jayce and Evren hold a handshake, unsure of what they are whispering to one another.

─ · · "Take care of my friend, please," Evren asks quietly, "I know I joke about it a lot but divorce does hurt." Jayce nods firmly, eyes determined without a trace of fear or doubt, "I promise you I will and I don't mean my words lightly."

"Thank you."

─────── · ·

─ · · On the train back to Piltover you sit beside Ximena as you both share your combined excitement to see if parts of the upper city were how you remembered and what restaurants you both wanted to sit in as soon as you got back.

Jayce leaned back on a bench opposite of your both, watching with a smile wishing he brought a camera to capture this moment for all of eternity. You and his mom held hand, shaking with laughter as she recalled various stories from Jayce's childhood you had yet to hear.

"Oh and Jayce used to make pretend weddings in school wanting to stay in his uniform like a suit. And did I ever tell you about how he caught his hair on fire the first time in the forge? Or what about the hour before you arrived to our house for the first time?- Jayce was pacing around the kitchen nearly digging a hole into the floor with worry. 'What if she doesn't like the food, mom?' 'Oh god I never asked if she came from nobility?' 'Is it bad of me to be worried this much?'" Ximena looks lovingly towards her son who blushes a furious red, "mom you were just as worried as I was!" he counters with a huff.

You smile, "I was worried too that I was overdressed or what address you by the wrong title. I also didn't know what work material to bring without feeling intruding even when thats what you requested," you explain as Ximena grabs shakes your hand in her own. "You were so beautiful that day, I think I fell in love myself," you laugh lightly, "I can see where Jayce gets his charm from."

"Only learned from the best," Jayce adds.

─────── · ·

─ · · You and Ximena had yet to move from your spots when Jayce came back in his sleepwear. Laying down in the cot he looked between you and his mom, lingering on your form with consideration. Ximena caught his look, "If you didn't keep her from me earlier in the week, Jayce, you would have more time together now." You shake your head in humour, "I'll get ready in a few minutes, my love. Just discussing flowers for the wedding."

Jayce frowns but nods, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest trying to create a comforting weight. You continue your conversation yet can't help your eyes from constantly darting to look at Jayce with longing. Ximena shakes her head, "alright, I'll let you both sleep now. See you two in the morning," she stands, kissing your cheek gently before moving to her own room two doors down in the carriage.

You watch as Jayce opens his arms expectantly- not being able to contain your laugh before rushing over and collapsing against him. "G'night," you mumble, pressing the light-switch beside the bed feeling as Jayce shuffles the blankets over you both in the small cot.

Jayce's turns on his side allowing you more space as intertwine your legs, "Night, sweetheart."

─────── · ·

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: I think this series is officially the longest thing I've ever written... WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME, JAYCE TALIS 🫠

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz @hellokittyluvr69420

181 notes · View notes

whitedovebby · 6 months ago

Text

— TLC

Spencer x fem!nurse!reader

TW - Brief mentions of a child vomiting and a blood test?

WC - 1,176 (proofread, but there may still be mistakes).

Genre - Fluff, fluff, fluff! Soft, nurturing Spencer, literally mostly plotless and just a self-indulgent idea that popped into my head, so I decided to write it. Please bear in mind that I haven't written/published anything in a loooong time, and it's my first actual published Spencer fic, so feedback is so so appreciated! If you read it, I hope you enjoy it. I really enjoyed doing this! ♡

(Disclaimer: I know nothing about being a nurse other than what my mother has told me in the past, and she mentioned that the 'easier' days can sometimes be hard, too).

Summary: After a challenging day at work, Spencer gives you a little much-needed care.

---

Fatigue seeps its way into your body, flowing through your muscles in the form of tight aches that linger incessantly between your shoulder blades, across your lower flanks, and all the way down to the soles of your feet. You feel stiff yet heavy, like a dead weight, and Spencer can tell as much as soon as you set foot into your shared apartment.

You’ve just arrived home after clocking off from a gruelling 12-hour ER shift - feeling mentally and physically drained from being rushed off your feet - and in desperate need of some TLC from your boyfriend.

“Welcome home, angel,” Spencer greets, watching you slip your feet out of your plimsolls and hang your jacket on the coat hook. You turn toward him and offer a half-smile, to which he immediately responds with a sympathetic one.

“Rough shift?” He asks.

“You don’t even know how rough,” you reply, dragging your heavy body across the living room to the couch, where Spencer sits, legs folded with a book resting on them. Flopping down beside him, you tip your head back against the backrest and let out a long sigh. “If it wasn’t a kid with a fever puking all over my scrubs, it was a stubborn old guy arguing with his wife over refusing ‘unnecessary’ blood tests.”

While you rant away, Spencer closes his book and sets it on the coffee table, twisting his body to face you fully, leaning his back against the arm of the couch. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel the way his gaze drifts over you, taking you in in all your exhausted glory. He always puts all his attention on you whenever you’ve clearly had a rough day, and every time, it’s as if he’s trying to calculate the best way to ease some of your burdens.

“It wasn’t even like there were any severe cases today, but sometimes the ‘easy’ days are just as hard.”

Your eyes crack open, and you watch as Spencer reaches out to squeeze your shoulder gently, eliciting a slight hum of something between pain and appreciation.

“You’re all tense,” he muses, repeating that same little squeeze, and it’s then that you see the evidence of a thought flashing in his soft, brown eyes. “Take your top off.”

You let out a puzzled laugh when he instructs this out of nowhere. The instruction came quite far out of the left field. For a moment, you wonder if this is his idea of trying to tempt you into something physical, and if that’s the case, his timing couldn’t be worse. You’re sore and tired and gross-feeling. Not to mention absolutely starving. And after a moment’s pause, you start to speak.

“Spence, I’m not really–”

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” he cuts you off before you can even finish what you’d started, almost like he had read your mind. He can read you as well as one of his damn books sometimes. “I want to give you a shoulder rub,” he continues, rubbing his hands together and blowing into his cupped palms, presumably to warm them up. “So, take your top off and turn around. Please.”

You’re silent momentarily, staring at him and studying his face before a soft smile crosses your own. You feel a little foolish for assuming he was trying to get frisky with you when you’ve already made your fatigue as evident as you have. He’s too sweet for that.

With a soft nod and a quiet ‘alright,’ you sit forward and peel your tank top off over your head, setting it down on the empty space on the other side of you. After turning around so that your back faces him, you let your shoulders sag, the black strap of your t-shirt bra sliding down to hang loosely off the side of your arm.

A few short seconds pass, and then you feel Spencer’s nimble fingers brush your skin as he carefully pulls open the clasps of your bra, allowing the two halves to fall open. “This too,” he prompts softly, and you can hear the grin in his voice, making you grin too.

“After a day of saving lives, I think that’s all the excitement you need right now,” he mumbles, dipping his face to kiss the nape of your neck once. A shiver passes through you when his breath fans across your skin, and you smirk at his words.

“Right,” you huff through a giggle, shrugging your bra off, too, leaving it with your tank top. Spencer’s hands curve over your shoulders, beginning a tender yet firm petrissage with his fingers and thumbs. You already feel like you’re melting, his touch adding just the right amount of pressure to your taut muscles, the knots slowly ebbing away.

“Does that feel good, angel?” He asks, feeling you sag under his ministrations, and you merely hum in response while your mind floats away, carried along by this moment of comforting bliss. “You can take that bun out of your hair when I'm done,” he says, “if I’m right in thinking you have a headache, that thing definitely isn’t helping… restricting all that blood flow with how tight you’ve got it. Your scalp must be crying.”

His thoughtful ramblings bring you back to the present with a light laugh. His constant combining of practicalities with his loving gestures warms your heart in an almost sickeningly sweet way. His way of loving you is just so uniquely Spencer, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Whatever you say, Doctor Reid,” you eventually respond, and there’s a playful edge to your voice, to which he responds with an extra little squeeze of your shoulders.

A comfortable silence falls, and you enjoy your boyfriend’s skilled hands as they soothe away some of your aches, but he soon speaks again, sharing with you the plan he’s organised in his head for how the rest of the night will go.

“After this, you can grab a shower… and I’ll cook you up something tasty and filling. Rossi recently gave me another one of his ‘famous Rossi family recipes’–”

A snort forces its way out of your nose at that, Spencer joining in with a chuckle before carrying on as if the concept of him cooking something recommended by Rossi isn’t wholly amusing.

“Then we can get into bed, and… you can get a decent night’s sleep.”

“Sounds exciting,” you remark, but there isn’t an ounce of genuine snark in your tone. In fact, you’re feeling somewhat spoiled in being so well looked after like this, even if you won’t admit it aloud.

“I’d hardly call it ‘saving lives’,” you argue, too stubborn to take his compliment as it is.

“Well, too bad you’re wrong,” Spencer retorts, smiling against your neck where his lips are still pressed. “You’re my little life-saving angel.”

All you can do is grin in response, biting back another whimsical retaliation and instead settling with, "I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree."

"Fine by me. I know I'm right, anyway."

#spencer reid #spencer reid cm #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction

340 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

Text

Winter's King 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: friday, my day, am i right?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You turn your legs over the bench, feet dangling over the floor as you look at the king, dumbfounded and dozy. He sits in the chair by the table, toying with a grab between his fingers as he watches you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your breath licks like flames in your lungs. You daren’t ask it aloud but what is he doing there?

“I only meant to look in upon you,” King Geralt says as if he can hear your thoughts. “I fathomed the night was long tending to my wife and I would make sure you are well-rested.”

“Your highness,” you stand and smooth the front of your shift, realising you wear nothing more. No dress, no apron. You feel vulnerable to his golden eyes as they follow your hands. The fabric pulls taut on your chest before you can right yourself. “I... Apologies, I am unkempt.”

You search around and go to take your cap from where you hung it. You cover your shorn locks and tie it tight above your nape. The king’s eyes narrow at you.

“What is the purpose of keeping your hair short?” He wonders as he drops the grape back to the plate.

You look at him, shuddering, “I do not... it is only as I’ve been bid, your highness. In Debray, all the maids do so.”

“You are not in Debray now,” he muses.

You’re quiet. You’re not sure how to answer that. You gulp and grab the clean dress from the pile and throw it over your head. It hangs loose, not like Jazlene’s carefully cut and laced gowns. You reach for your apron and the king clears his throat. You stop and look at him.

“Your highness?” You blink, still dazed by his unexpected appearance.

“I did go to see the lady of Debray,” he intones, “she was in a poor state. She would not permit me in her chambers for her condition.”

“Oh my, your highness, I am sorry to hear. Shall I go look in--”

“She has maids a plenty,” he insists, “I hoped...” he leans forward and reaches to his belt. You notice the top of his slate grey tunic is untied and shows the trim of his chest hair, “to share a pastime with her. I hoped perhaps we might see past our differences at last and start our progress towards the kingdom. Alas, despite my warnings, she overindulged and has left herself incapacitated.”

You stare at him, clutching the apron. He flicks his fingers dismissively as his other hand brings forth a pouch, “leave that. Come, sit.”

You can only obey. You put the apron down and cross the chamber. As you near the table, he pushes the tray of dishes out of the way. You lower yourself onto a stool as he opens the mouth of the pouch. He pours out the rattling contents. Carved diced in varying shapes, symbols painted on each side, and man longer pieces that look like bone.

“It is a game,” he explains as the contents roll out, “I’d like to teach you.”

You look down as he sorts out the many pieces into sets. He is lithe in his arrangement. When he is down, he presses his hands flat to frame the assortment.

“You don’t mind?” He wonders, “if you are tired still...”

“Your highness, I am awake,” you rub your eyes and drop your hands to your lap. “A game? How do you play it?”

You lean forward and he seems pleased by your intent. He curls his fingers and takes a breath.

“It is like bartering at a market, or the like,” he begins, “you see how the pieces differ,” he points to the longer ones, “there are tick marks here,” he shows you how one has an ex, another a line this way and the next that way, and a circle in another. “We each have our dice,” he divides those up and pushes a set towards you, “it is a matter of trade and cost.”

“Hmm,” you push your lip out, concentrating.

He continues to explain the balancing and leveraging of each roll. How once you have collected all the pieces with a particular mark, you may wield a greater demand. You tilt your head thoughtfully, your own fingers drawing lines in the air as you make sense of his instruction. You think you understand but remain uncertain.

“We may begin simple,” he intones.

So suddenly are you swept up in the intricacy of the game, that your shock at his appearance dissipates. You can only think of the pieces as he rolls a die. Then the next. You follow his lead and when at last the first trade comes, you hear his offer but have no response.

“You have a question?” He prompts.

“I am thinking, your highness,” you squint as your forehead lines.

“I can tell,” he says brightly.

You peer up at him and smooth your expression. His cheek twitches as he leans back. You counter his offer and he clucks.

“Mm, I see,” he rests his chin on his knuckles.

He hands over his pieces and you bite the inside of your lip. You gather them to your side of the table and frown. You toy with the dice and wait.

“Your turn,” he urges, “unless you are not having fun.”

“It is an interesting game but I don’t want to be let to win,” you mutter.

“I am not letting you win. It is the first turn and it is a long game,” he chides.

“Mm, yes,” you pick through the dice, “your highness.”

He exhales and leans on the armrest, “take your time. I am no hurry to be away.”

You peer up at him and find his gaze set on you. You return your attention to the dice and toss them. He’s a king, should he have better things to do?

⚔️

“It appears you have bested me,” King Geralt sighs and puts his dice down, pressing his hand flat over them, “you have the mind of a councilour.”

“Your highness,” you bring your hands back to wring in your lap.

“Truly, you’ve taken well to it,” he remarks, “it has been some time since I had harrying competition.”

You offer a slight curve of your lips and look away. The window is dulled as the sunlight descends. You blanch and slip forward on the chair.

“Your highness,” you stand, “it is late. I should--”

“You may remain,” he assures you as he shows his palm kindly, “no hurry, little maid.”

“But... shouldn’t you--” you keep yourself from asking after his duty. That is not for you to mind, “the queen will need dinner.”

“As I said before, this place is ripe with servants,” he says coolly, “you should sit and bask in the time you have off your feet.”

You face him and slowly sit. He drags his fingers along the wooden armrest as his expression tightens. He watches you as his square jaw clenches, “unless you would rather be away from me?”

You twist around to look at the door, then to him.

“I will go wherever you command, your highness.”

“Yes, yes,” his hand balls to a fist, “that is not what I...” he sighs with exasperation, “I want to know what you desire. What do you want? What do you need?”

There’s a stirring in your chest as he leans slightly forward, his eyes alight. You peer into the golden pools and your lips part. He is a king and yet speaks as if he would serve you.

“I...” you wisp and clamp your lips tight, measuring your words, “I want to serve you and the queen, your highness. I want to serve the realm.”

He huffs again and grimaces, “for yourself. Not the queen, not me, not the people.”

“Hmmm,” you look down and shrug. You shake your head. You can’t think of anything. “I have a new dress and a hot bath and good food. I can think of nothing. What of you, your highness? What do you want?” You lift your chin slowly, “just for you?”

Your question seems to startle him. He winces and for a moment, seems breathless. He stands suddenly and takes a step forward. He’s close and you think he might lunge at you. You shy away, expecting the same wrath you inspire in the queen. He falters and backs away.

“I want...” he grits and turns his back to you.

He walks to the window and looks out onto the lawns. He hangs his head and grips the window’s edge. He lets out a gravelly sigh.

“I want you...” he utters, “...to come walk with me in the gardens. I would like to do so before we must depart.”

You rise again, “yes, your highness, I will put my shoes on then.”

He puffs out into the deepening dusk. You can feel his frustration roiling from his figure. You grab the stockings and the shoes and return to the chair. You roll the stocking onto your foot and pull it up your leg, rumpling up one side of the skirt as you do. As you hike up the next, the king faces you, surprising you before you can drop the fabric back down to your toes. You sheepishly bend to put your shoes on, embarrassed.

“Thank you, little maid,” he approaches and offers his hand, “for keeping a miserable king company.”

You look at his hand. It’s big and calloused and lined like a map. The invitation seems overly friendly. You accept it, not so bold as to turn him away.

“Your highness,” You murmur as he squeezes your hand then lets his arm fall straight, tugging you away from the table.

Silently, he lets his grip brush from your hand and instead hooks his arm through yours. It is an overly familiar gesture but you allow it. What more can a maid do? As you near the door, he stops and untangles from you completely, stepping away as if struck by the oddity of his actions. He reaches for the door handle and inhales.

He opens the door and steps into the corridor, you follow him, just a pace back. He looks over his shoulder at you then turns ahead. You scurry to keep up with his long strides. He stops at the end of the hallway and you nearly collide with his elbow.

“I am not miserable because of you,” he angles his head towards you as he keeps his voice low, “if you worried...” he shakes his head at himself, “come, little maid.”

You do as he says and trail him through the corridors. It is late and while soldiers remain on watch, most of the lords and ladies have tucked away for their evening meals. The king continues his unstoppable advance with you at his heels. Down a flight of stairs and across the great hall.

Outside, several soldiers bow their heads at his passing and another nears. He dismisses them without a word. You carry on, sensing how his mood darkens with the sky. You’re uncertain of his demeanour, so suddenly shifting from affable to affronted. You didn’t say what he wanted and now he is unhappy. He can be rather like his wife.

He stalks onward to the archway that marks the green gardens of the capital castle. He passes between the leafy pillars and stops to look this way then that, then opts to walk along the middle row. You flit between the hedges behind him as the sky ripples with the looming night and a cool breeze stirs around your skirts.

He is silent as he walks, almost as if he’s forgotten you. You wonder if you fall out of step, if you are lost behind him, would he even notice? Finally, he slows before a pond dug into the center of the gardens, amid lilies and daisies and blue bells. The moon shines down and reflects off the tepid pool.

He treads around the edge of the pond as you stand by the bushes. He circles around to a wooden bench and sits. His shoulders slouch and he leans his head back. The silver light limns his strong features. When he opens his eyes, they glow as they did in your dream.

“I have come this far, I have conquered as I vowed to, I have vanquished the old king,” he speaks to the sky, “I have done all I sought to and yet I am wanting.”

You dip your head, sad for him. You might assume a king would be happy for all his gold and power. That a crown would bring delight as much as glory. All you see is a man in mourning. For all he’s won, he’s lost just as much. Loyal men and many months.

“I have a wife who is petulant, I have an ally who is cowardice, and I have nothing left here to claim,” he continues, “should I remain any longer, I might give it all up.”

He hangs his head and leans forward, gripping the edge of the bench. He sits in silence as he watches the water. A frog hops onto a large stone protruding from the shallows and steals your attention. You watch it leap again and again until it meets the other side.

“Little maid...” the sultry purr crawls over you and you glance over to find the king observing you, “sit with me.”

You shiver and cautiously make your way around the pond. You near him and sit at the end of the bench opposite him. You fixate on the moonlit water. He leans to grab your wrist and hauls you closer. You sidle down until you are almost against him. He slips his hand around yours, covering it in his grasp. He pulls it onto his thigh and rests it there.

He clings to you just like that. You feel a pluck in your chest for him. He has a wife who should share in his troubles but she is too buried in the anguish she made for herself. Yet, she is not there, and you are; a paltry substitute for what he truly needs.

Silence pervades the night but for the chirping of insects and the sweet singing of birds. The king’s grasp on you tightens, then lessens, and tightens again. He eases his hold entirely and pets your hand.

“Will you play another game with me?” His timbre is silty as he looks over at you.

“A game, your highness?” You babble.

He hums and nods, “a child’s game,” he explains, “it is simple.” He sits straight and pushes back his hair, “you will run and I will catch you.”

Your heart lurches. Your lashes flutter. You played the game before, when you were young, with the queen even. But that was years ago and you were smaller and faster. You look at the king.

“Your highness,” you utter.

“It’s my command,” he says, “run.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #dark geralt #dark!geralt #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

365 notes · View notes

carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 39

Part 1 Part 38

Will’s heartbeat picks up when someone knocks on the front door. Even though Demogorgon’s don’t knock, and bad men with guns probably don’t either. He stays curled up on the couch while Jonathan goes to open the door.

The voice that drifts in from the front door makes his shoulder relax.

“Johnny boy!” Eddie calls, pushing into the house like he owns the place, Steve trailing in his wake. Eddie looks around, eyes wide. “Woah, this place cleans up nice.”

Mom and Jonathan had picked up all the furniture, cleaned all the debris from the linoleum, and packed away all the Christmas lights into boxes they’d stuffed into the garage. Neither of them had let Will help, so he’d sat on the couch, doodling pictures of Steve and Eddie as they worked around him.

“Thanks?” Jonathan says, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

Steve smiles at him, “hey, man,” he says, bumping their shoulders together companionably before slinking past him to sink down onto the couch.

Will reaches out to snatch Steve’s hand, notices the fine tremors running through it. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, standing out starkly without his hair to mask it.

“Are you okay?” Will asks.

Steve smiles over at him, “I’m fine.”

“Actually,” Eddie says, clapping his hands together enthusiastically before wincing and shaking out his fingers, “We just came from physical therapy, and someone,” he pauses to make squinty eyes toward Steve, “could use some food to make up for the calories.”

“Eddie,” Steve sighs.

“No,” Eddie says, crossing his arms, “the doctor said you needed to eat to like, fix your body and shit.”

“I’ll, uh, go grab some sandwiches,” Jonathan says, scurrying into the kitchen and away from the conflict.

“I’m hungry,” Will murmurs, even though they’d had breakfast late and he’s really not.

Steve slumps into him, head lolling onto his shoulder as he groans pitifully. “God, there’s two of you now.”

Will giggles, cheeks warm at the contact.

“How tragic,” Eddie says, slumping down on Will’s other side, reaching over him to run his hand playfully over Steve’s head, avoiding the stitches. “Two people care about your wellbeing? Whatever will you do?”

Steve slumps further into Will, shaved head scratchy where it’s rubbing against Will’s chin. Eddie pushes him down, gently onto Will’s crossed legs. Steve grumbles but lets himself be shoved.

“There,” Eddie says. “Now we can feed you like the wilting princess you are.”

Steve scowls, eyes drifting between both of them as he mutters, “Whatever, dude,” before he seems to droop, eyes closing.

They sit quietly, waiting for Jonathan to come back. Will settles into himself, enjoying the way his skin isn’t crawling, the way it only seems to when he’s with Steve and Eddie.

It’s like, now that he’s met them, the shadows only fully recede when they’re in sight. That crawling thing inside him stops trying to get out.

Jonathan looks surprised when he gets back, plates full of sandwiches stacked on top of one another. He puts them on the coffee table, eyeing Steve. “Should we, uh, wake him?”

“’m not asleep,” Steve mumbles, levering himself up with a wince. He, notably, doesn’t open his eyes until Eddie grabs one of the sandwiches and curls his fingers around it.

He eats slowly, sedately, and seems to doze off again, a quarter of the way through. Will pulls the sandwich from his fingers and puts it back on the plate.

Eddie puts the remains of his own sandwich on top of it, pushing Steve gently down onto the couch, gently placing the throw from the back of the couch over where he’s curled into a ball.

“Is he okay?” Jonathan asks quietly.

Eddie’s brows furrowed as he looks down at Steve, but he smooths it out by the time he looks back up. “He’s fine,” he says, ironically echoing Steve’s own words, like covering up each other’s raw edges comes by rote. “Physical therapy just seems like a lot.”

Steve’s legs are now in Will’s lap. He clutches Steve’s ankles, cuddling them into his stomach.

“Guess we’re staying here for a bit,” Eddie says nonchalantly, but he’s biting his lip and darting his eyes between Jonathan & Will like he’s waiting to be kicked out.

Will clutches Steve’s ankles tighter, looking over at Jonathan as well. Jonathan shrugs, “Sure,” he replies. “Mom’ll be overjoyed. She’s pretty much adopted you both into the family.”

Eddie looks down, at Steve’s sleeping face, biting his lip. “Oh.”

Will thinks of Uncle Wayne, and the way Eddie’s Mom or Dad weren’t ever mentioned, not even once. He thinks about the conversation he’d overheard his Mom having with Hopper, that Steve couldn’t go home alone, and the way Steve hadn’t seemed to want to call his parents at all. Even in trouble. Even in Hell.

Well, they’ve got three more family members now, whether they like it or not.

And Jonathan’s right – Mom is happy when she gets home to find two teenaged boys passed out on her couch. She makes her special occasions lasagna, and the smell seems to rouse both boys from their prolonged nap.

It’s a quiet dinner. Mom asks gentle, probing questions about Steve’s health, and when everyone’s thinking of going back to school. Steve waffles around the conversation, blushing and turning awkward every time Mom turns the power of her care onto him.

Eddie seems to bloom with it, though, talking about getting back into D & D, and his band, and his plans to corral Steve into staying home at least for the rest of the week.

By the time they leave for the night, Will’s belly and heart are both full. Still, the shadows creep back in.

Will goes to sleep, alone in his bed, shivering from the cold, clawing thing inside him.

Part 40

#steddie upsidedown au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #will byers #my fic

435 notes · View notes

stillxnunpxidintern · 4 months ago

Text

Ace X Reader - Get Rid Of That Monster

After being a way for over a week on a mission for Pops and having to sleep on whatever he could and not beside you, Ace was just glad to be back on the Moby and able to sleep in his own bed again, not worrying about animals or weather, as a large storm would arrive soon.

That peace was quickly shattered when a piecing scream followed by his name, as well as something smashing. This caused the Fire Logia to slam the door of the cabin and had his fist up ready to use his power.

Hearing his name being screamed again, Ace quickly ran towards the bathroom throwing opening door and looked around and seeing nothing threatening as he turned to you narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

“Why the hell are you screaming?” he asked letting his shoulder slump.

“Kill it, use your damn fire and kill it for for fuck sake” You ordered him.

He gave you a raised eyebrow as you pointed to the bathtub, looking over he could see that there was a large black hairy spider sitting in the middle of the tub.

“Really! It’s just a spider, it will be gone later” he told you with a roll of his eyes at for how dramatic you were over it.

"Kill it! don't just rid of it, it needs to be dead dead so incinerate" you informed him before looking in the tub to see the furry 8 legged monster move

"I'm not burning the bathroom down to get rid of a spider" he told you

As he went to leave the bathroom you refused to move arms crossed over your chest staring at him. Sighing to himself Ace knew he was going to need to get rid of it, otherwise he was sure you would do something to kill it, that might be overkill and rather not have to explain to Pops why the cabin was destroy and that meant getting no peace.

“Damn it, fine, I’ve get rid it, you pain in my ass” he declared, looking around the bathroom to find something to capture the spider.

Seeing nothing to use in the bathroom, he went back into the bedroom and grabbed the empty glass that was on the bedside table and went back in to the bathroom then careful caught the spider. He gabbed whatever big enough to the cover the top of the glass with.

Moving toward to the window, you squeaked and almost jumped when he moved towards you with the spider in the hand before giving you a look of exasperation.

“Would you open the window, my hands are a treasure” Ace told you, showing the glass to get his point across.

You looked at him and glass then hesitantly and slowly moved to the window, afraid the spider would jump at you even if was under a glass. So you quickly open the window before scurrying away to the bedroom, trying put as much distance between you and that monster as possible.

Once the spider was thrown from the window, Ace kind of felt sorry for creature and thrown from the window but he just wanted sleep and wouldn't get it it was still in the bathroom. After locking window he went back into the bedroom after placing the items he used down

Ace saw you in the middle of bed with your feet tucked under

“My hero” you beamed at him, as he flapped down on you and the bed, making you give a little groan

“You know you're never more than 6 feet away from a spider, supposedly and given we're on a ship, they're probably even closer space for them” He stated

Instead of laughing at useless fact, you shivered at the thought and poked Ace hard in the side for, he just quietly chuckled as he rolling off you and wrapping an arm around you pulling you close and kissed your forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from these 8 legged monsters...maybe” he chucked before wincing when he got elbow in this side.

“You're asshole” you muttered into his chest, “It's either you get rid of it or you're the getting the blame for a burnt down cabin” yo commented, “So you had better be my hero or you won’t have a cabin anymore” you yawned.

“Don’t worry," Ace chuckled, "I’ve always be your hero if you need me to, plus I like our cabin unburnt and in one piece and I really don't want to have to explain to Pops why we need a new cabin” Ace commented back, "He and the crew wouldn't never let me or us live it down" he finished.

After cuddling for a few moment the both of you moved around into your normal sleeping position before pulling the covers over and falling to sleep quickly.

During the night, you awoke suddenly as the room was illuminated as the sound of rain hitting hard against the windows reached your ears.

A loud crack echoed a cross the sky, make you jump a little with how close it was and buried yourself into Ace side knowing you were safe and protected there.

Ace woke the booming of thunder and found buried deep in his side with as he realized just how bad it was storming and wrapped his arms around tightly around, more or less pinning you to his chest, pulling the over back over.

"It seems that today, is not your day" he murmured sleepily to you.

First the spider and now a storm that was over raging over the Moby, thank the seas that it was anchored just off one the islands under their protection.

Placing a hand on the back of you head, he moved you around just a little to the centre of his chest so you could hear his heartbeat, and hoped that would drown some of the storm.

When a particularly loud clash of thunder it had you jumping a little more and gave an unhappy noise, keeping your eyes tightly shut.

Ace gently hushed you, his fingers going through your hair while listening to the storm. When the lightning and thunder moved further away till it was just howling winds and heavy rainfall, Ace released you which then allowed you move around and get comfortable again.

Once you got comfortable again this time with your back to Ace, allowing him to pulled you against his chest, as you both fell back to sleep, to the sound of the rain in the background.

----

The following day was bright with clear blue sky as the crew sat on the deck enjoying the warmth of the sun when the peacefulness was broken by Aces name be screamed by you, as you quickly ran out of a door and behind Ace.

"Get rid of it and get rid of Haruta" you told him as you pointed to the door that said commander was coming out with a spider in his hands.

Ace looked at you and then at Haruta who was indeed holding a spider in his hands, it was smaller than the one he had dealt but it wasn't in the cabin do he wasn't gonna do anything.

"It's not in the cabin and it's not attacking you, so I'm not dealing with it, plus it more afraid of you than you are of it" Ace told you, watching as Haruta got closer with it.

That wasn't the answer you wanted to hear, so you smacked the fire logia on the back of the head before running and hiding behind Marco.

"Pops! Marco! tell him to leave me alone, Haruta has been following me with it and you know I hate like spider" you pleaded with Pops and blonde commander .

Pops just watched on waiting to see what chaos happens, while Marco just sighed at his siblings antics and knew something or someone was gonna need repairing or healing if he didn't step in now.

"Haruta get rid of that before you get punched in the face again yoi" Marco informed the commander, who seemed to flinch as a past memory popped up.

The 12th division commander complied and released it into some part of deck.

"Thank you," You beamed, "Best brother" you whispered quietly as you left and headed back over to Ace.

"What happened to being my hero when there's a spider about" you questioned with your arms crossed as glared at him before punching him in arm.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you down on to his lap as he put his chin on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry for not being your hero but I'm not going to kill a spider, just because Haruta was holding it, the spider didn't ask to be held and used to scare you" Ace explained, holding you close.

"Fine, you're forgiven this time" you said with a little huff as you leant back against Ace, " But don't let it happen again"

"I won't treasure" he chuckled.

93 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Hi lovie! A fic request: Eddie or Steve with a reader whose insecure about her stretch marks and just like major fluff

thank you for requesting!! ♡ 1.2k

Steve puts a cupcake in front of you with gold foil and orchid pink frosting, kissing you soundly on the temple. "Something sweet for my honey."

You laugh at his tone, delight hooked into the corners of your smile. "When did you get this?" you ask, lifting your head from your book to follow his movements.

Steve rounds the couch to sit next to you. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest mock demure.

"Does it matter?" he asks. "Just eat it."

"Doesn't matter, but I don't get how you hid it from me, we've been together all day… Did you really manage to grab this while I was in the changing rooms in Seaver's?" You'd never have guessed he went anywhere —he looked the exact same when you emerged as when you left him, mildly distracted but not bored. He's a sweetheart like that.

"I'm good, right?" he asks, grinning.

You peel back the paper and shuffle closer to his side, holding the cake toward him, "You better have the first bite. I'm not sharing."

Steve takes the cake carefully. His bite is little but adorable, a smear of frosting left lingering on his top lip. You point to it on your own face with a pinky finger, and he licks it away as he passes the cupcake back to you.

"You're, like, the quickest girl ever when it comes to fitting rooms. I had to sprint." Steve smiles as you take your own first bite.

"I buy the same things every time," you say through frosting, hand held over your mouth.

"Why is that?" he asks. "You could stand to be a little more adventurous. I'd love to see you in little shirts and skirts and stuff."

"You don't like how I dress?"

"I love how you dress. But I love your arms and legs too and I never get to see them."

An odd thing to say but not for him. He slides down the couch and puts his feet on the coffee table, a hand straying on automatic to your thigh, where he gives you a good squeeze. You think about what he's saying through chews. You believe him, you really do, when he says he likes how you dress, that his motivation for what he's saying is simply a desire to see you branch out of a self imposed box, but there's a reason you dress how you dress. He must know it himself.

Even now you're wearing an oversized shirt, the short sleeves big enough to hide the stretch marks on your upper arms. Steve knows they're there undoubtedly. He's pressed enough kisses over every inch of your arms sitting exactly as you are now, hip to hip in front of the TV. He gets distracted at night, pulling your arm into his chest, chin dipped down to nose at your skin.

"You don't think it would be, like… brave? To wear stuff like that?"

"Brave?"

You take a bite of cupcake so you don't have to talk. Steve's interest is piqued, a shark to blood in the water, though the blood is your embarrassment, and the shark your tender boyfriend. He gets softer the longer you're together, and when he speaks it's emphasised. "What does that mean, brave? You think you couldn't pull that off? Babe, you'd kill in a skirt, you'd kill me." He presses his cheek to your shoulder quickly. "I'd die if you had that mini skirt like Madonna–"

"Madonna doesn't have a gazillion stretch marks."

Steve sits up.

You've dropped him in an awkward position, and you rush to pull him off of your hook, "And she's Madonna, so. I can't be expected to live up to that."

"Obviously you'd live up to that. And Madonna has stretch marks."

"You've met Madonna?"

Steve laughs, pulling his socked feet down off of the coffee table to angle himself upward, taller than you once again. "Yeah, I met her– No. No, but I don't need to meet her to know she has them, everybody has them."

"Not everyone."

"I got a wall of 'em on my back, doesn't stop me from wearing that cropped sweatshirt."

Steve looks fucking good in his cropped sweatshirt, admittedly, confident and gently muscled. Never once have you thought about his stretch marks when you aren't touching them, even when they're on display. But… "It's not really the same, Steve. I have them everywhere. I have them on my arms, I mean," —you shake your head slowly, though you've kept your smile in an attempt to be less obviously pathetic— "who has them on their arms?"

Steve moves the half of your cupcake you have left and puts it on the armrest before taking both of your hands into his. Yours are a little smaller, a little softer, and cool to his warm.

"You do," he says, suddenly serious, "and they're fine. They're perfect, because they're on you. I don't know if I'm gonna say the wrong thing so don't wring me out if this isn't the right one, but they're just skin."

"They're ugly."

"No, listen. I've never looked at you and thought you should hide them, they're not ugly–"

"Steve," you say again, startled by his passion, "you don't have to. I shouldn't have said it. It's not like you could tell me they're gross."

"They're not gross," he says severely. "And I'm not just telling you what you want to hear." Steve drops your hands in favour of your waist. "Come here."

It shouldn't surprise you to be treated so sweetly; Steve's always sweet, even when he's moody, he'll be frowning and choking the breath out of your chest or rubbing his face roughly against the back of one of your hands. He's a tactile creature, and when he doesn't know what to say he falls back on touch instead.

"I just thought you were a bit shy about showing skin," he murmurs, pushing his cheek into yours, his lips by your ear, "how can you think they're ugly?"

"They're bumpy."

"Jesus, babe. Are you supposed to be like a china doll?"

You laugh softly, and under the comedy of his question is the reality of what he's really saying. Steve isn't expecting anything but what you have, marks and moles and scars alike. He never thought for a second that they were a reason to hide away in long sleeves.

"Some of them are bad," you mumble.

"I like them. I really like them." He pulls away ever so slightly as a warm hand starts to move, your view of his face unobstructed as he teases the hem of your shirt with his fingertips.

"Weirdo."

Steve can likely hear the love in your voice as his thumb traces the seam of a stretch mark under your shirt. His touching slows to match, and when he leans down for a kiss, it's twice as reverent as usual, and it tastes faintly of cupcake frosting. Your breath catches at the sound he makes, a contented sigh.

He pulls away again. "You believe me, right?" he asks, the exhale of his words fanning over your lips.

You nod and tilt your head to one side, wading in for another kiss. He gave a convincing argument, as does his searching palm.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

722 notes · View notes

heavenlyraindrops · 1 month ago

Text

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Twelve

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag for other chapters | warnings: brief mention of alcohol, smoking, profanity

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Twelve:

You turned up the dark collar of your coat to shield you from the cold winds of the undercity as you and a gaggle of people briskly walked towards the Last Drop. The rain pattered onto the ground, small droplets rippling through the puddles, distorting your own reflection.

You reached the door of the bar, and for a moment you could almost see your younger self standing in that very spot.

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself, shivering lightly, and fumbled with the lighter- it wouldn’t work, despite your clicking. The door creaked but you paid it no mind.

“Struggling?”

You turned to see Silco looking at you, hand outstretched.

You pushed the thoughts away before the nausea could get the best of you and make you throw up all over your henchmen.

The windows were flashing with light and you could hear the bustle of the night crowd from inside the building. Water rolled off of the sign and down the pipes as you looked at your men, placing a firm hand on the doorknob- then pushed the door open, stepping into the heart of the beast.

You straightened your back, going straight to the counter like it was muscle memory. You flicked your head at the bartender. “Give me something not too strong,” you said. “To calm my nerves.”

At your cold expression he nodded hastily and scrambled to get your drink ready. A presence loomed over your shoulder; you didn’t even bother to turn your head.

“Sevika,” you said smoothly. The woman put a large hand on your shoulder.

“The back,” she said flatly.

You stood up, and caught your men’s eye from across the bar. They all sauntered towards you, eyeing up Sevika. You jammed your hands in the pockets of your coat and nodded at them.

She flicked her head at you, then turned, her cloak swishing about her. You planted your feet firmly on the ground, having to raise your voice over the din.

“Where exactly are we going?” You almost-yelled. She turned.

“There’s an office at the back.”

You froze. She raised a dark eyebrow. “Not Silco’s,” she clarified, and you relaxed, shoving past her.

“I don’t care if it’s his or not,” you sneered. She crossed her arms.

“You sure about that?”

“One hundred percent,” you said coldly. She laughed.

“We’ll see about that.”

Now it was her turn to shove past you. You stared after her.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You turned and looked at your men, jerking your head in Sevika’s direction. And then you followed her through the door.

By the time the bartender set down your drink onto the counter you were already gone.

The office was gloomy, to say the least. And dark. A desk at the top, with a large window. A sofa on one side, a table on the other. Sevika flopped down on the sofa, and you crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto one leg.

The chair at the front desk was turned around, so you could only see the back of it. Sevika looked at you. There were about three other men in the corner- Silco’s, no doubt. You sniffed disdainfully. Your own employees- the three guilty ones- were exchanging uneasy looks, glancing around shiftily.

The office smelled of tobacco, and you noticed an ashtray on the desk. No sign of the man himself. You relaxed a little. Scowling, you went to stand in front of Sevika.

“I’ll sit there,” you said. “You drag a chair over here.” And to mark the spot you tapped your foot.

She stared at you disbelievingly but did as you said. You leaned back, slinging an arm around the back of the couch. You needed a cigarette, you thought, and pulled one out, putting it in between your teeth. You turned your head back to look expectantly at one of your men.

He fumbled with the light before holding it beneath your roll-up. As it snapped shut you pulled the cigarette from your lips, blowing out a slow curl of smoke. You then nodded at him.

He and his friend stepped forward, grabbing the three men by the shoulders. One list and they were forced to their knees. Cries of protest arose.

“Madam-“

“-what are you-“

Silco’s men stepped forward to help but you flashed them a glare so terrifying they stepped back. You moved your eyes back to Sevika and addressed your own men.

“Fight back, and you’ll regret it,” you said lazily, eyes fixed on the woman sat in front of you. You jerked your head at Silco’s men. “I want them out.”

“But the trade-“

“It won’t be necessary.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she didn’t say anything- simply turned to the men and nodded. They filed out obediently. She turned back to you.

“Now get on with it,” you said, lips twitching with distaste. Sevika scowled, intertwining her fingers.

“You said you take in innocent people who need a fresh start, [name],” she said steadily. Then tilted her head. “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Stop speaking so eloquently.” You took a drag of your cigarette. “It doesn’t suit you. Hurry up and get to the point.”

Sevika sat back, scowling, and then jabbed a finger in the general direction where your three men stood. The other two stepped away from them, to stand at your left. You frowned, cigarette dangling from your lips as you twisted around to take the papers one of your men were offering you.

The men in the corner exchanged looks, panic slowly rising. You flicked through the papers, humming. Called out a name.

“You. You said you were running from a gang that was targeting you despite your innocence.” You scrutinised the sheet, then looked up to Sevika for conformation. She rolled her eyes.

“He blew up one of our cargo ships,” she said flatly. You moved onto the next guy.

“Needed a fresh start,” you said simply.

“Stole in bulk from a shimmer factory,” Sevika said. You sniffed distastefully, and she added: “While he was with you.”

You nodded silently, moving to the last paper. “And you… you said you were saving money to pay for your sister's illness treatment but couldn’t afford rent at the same time.”

Sevika shrugged. “Cargo. Explosion. He was involved.”

The first guy, a rather scrawny looking fellow, looked at you with panic. “Madam, you won’t- what are you-“ he looked at Sevika in panic. You raised a finger to your lips, eyes glittering dangerously, and he pressed his own together, eyes wide with fear.

Sevika rolled one of her shoulders back, eyes closing as her muscles stretched deliciously. “One would think you’d keep better tabs on your employees.” She looked down at you, a clear disdain in her eyes.

You raised an eyebrow as she continued. “You just take in anyone these days? What if they take advantage of you?” She jerked her head at the men. “Like these idiots?”

“Most of the people coming to me are women and children,” you said, struggling to keep your voice at a reasonable level. “And you think I just take them in for free? They pay rent and they work.”

“You need to look into people before you take them in,” she stressed. “And you definitely need to watch what they’re doing while under your employ.”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, watching her unflinchingly. She shifted uncomfortably under your scrutiny.

“What they do outside of work is none of my business,” you said boredly.

“It comes back around to you.”

“I’ll make sure it stays their problem.” You looked at the three men and smiled sweetly. They gulped.

“Some people won’t let it be just their problem,” Sevika protested. You raised a hand, stopping her mid-lecture, and tilted your head.

“Why do you care?” Your face was perpetually unimpressed as you watched her lean back and cross her arms. “What happens to me isn’t any of your problem.”

Sevika sighed slowly. “Right, well… I suggest looking into the credibility of your employees’ stories regardless.”

“Like I said. Big words don’t suit you.” You smirked, inhaling the smoke of your fag and blowing it out slowly. “Go back to talking like an idiot.” Sevika bristled.

“[name].”

Suddenly, you scoffed. Stubbing the cigarette out on the armrest, the fabric sizzling, you tossed the papers to the floor. A good number of people flinched.

“What makes you think I don’t look into them?” You hissed, voice dripping with venom. “What makes you think I didn’t know? You’re stupid if you think I wouldn’t take the chance to take in your adversaries. The fact that a couple of scrawny, chicken-legged boys could blow up one of your shipments is already sad enough.” You took a shaky drag of your cigarette, your leg bouncing up and down agitatedly. “And now you’re scrabbling at my feet for me to hand them over? Pathetic.” The last word was like a bullet.

With the storm brewing in her expression you expected her to stand up and lunge at you. But then she seemed to catch something in her vision, and froze. The entire room fell silent.

Clapping.

“Bravo.” The voice was smooth, steady. Cold. A shiver ran down your spine. “That was quite the speech.”

You turned to look at the desk. The high-backed chair turned slowly.

The first thing that met your gaze was the sea-blue you’d grown so accustomed to staring at in your past. And then the chair turned fully.

You stared straight into Silco’s mismatched eyes, horrified.

Furious.

68 notes · View notes

wonwoosthetic · 1 year ago

Text

series masterlist

word count - 7.6k

A/N: there's the Wonnie part I mentioned in my form! ˙ᵕ˙ thank you for all the cute suggestions and ideas you guys have been sending me!! <3

turning every carat into a wonnie stan in 2023

[in brackets] – text in the video

italics – conversations that weren’t caught on camera, but are just for you (the readers ˙ᵕ˙)

[now]

[you know me]

[if there's one wonnie stan on this earth left, it's me]

[therefore, I have a mission. a mission i made myself]

[and that is to turn every (especially new) carat into a wonnie stand because these two have my heart and will forever have it]

[forever and ever🫣]

[so, pls enjoy this☺️]

[Going Seventeen] EP.89 Guess Who Left Secretly #1

Minnie was walking around in her small cubicle before sitting down on the white chair, crossing her legs to find a comfortable position. All of a sudden a piece of paper flew in from the top of the wall, making her eyes go wide.

"Oh?" She wondered, putting her feet down to reach down to the floor, snatching it up with her hands. Leaning her elbows on the edge of the table, she opened the message sent to her, reading over it before chuckling, and turning it around to show it to the camera.

'You're a dummy'

[love that that's the first thing that came to his mind to write down]

"Ya!" She shouted with a giggle. "Wonwoo! I'm next to you!"

[the way she recognized his handwriting so quickly?! goals]

The sound of his laughter could be heard, followed by a, "Oh, sorry, my bad."

The girl put the piece of paper down on the table, took the pen provided for her, and decided to write a reply back, showing it to the camera before she folded it again and walked over to the wall.

['dummies are only friends with dummies, so that makes you one too, idiot' i can't with her😭😂]

[i love this childish side of them together]

Realising that it was too high for her to just throw it over, she chuckled to herself, shaking her head and crouching down on the floor to try and create a paper aeroplane, hoping it would help.

[I JUST KNOW IF MINGYU OR SCOUPS SAW THAT, THEY WOULD BULLY THE HECK OUT OF HER😭😭😭😭]

She managed to get it over, sitting back down in her seat to wait for a reaction, which followed shortly. The chuckle of her boyfriend made her grin proudly.

[i love them]

"Minnie-ah!" Wonwoo's voice called out to the girl who was sitting calmly on the floor, her back against one of the walls. "Minnie-ah! Open my door, please."

"Huh?" With a grin, she pushed herself up. "Can't you open your own door?"

"It's locked. Did you lock it?" He continued to tease her.

"What? Noo, how could you think of me like that," she answered before sending a guilty facial expression to the camera with her lips pressed tightly together.

[it's such a short but cute interaction]

GAM3BO1 #9

[NOW THIS]

[y'all better hold onto your horses bc when i opened the live and saw minnie sitting next to him, i literally almost screamed🫣🫢]

[so much happened and i highly suggest watching the entire live bc they were abolutely just too cute]

[but i gathered some of my favourite moments, so have fun]

Minnie was straightening down her hair when the live started while Wonwoo was unpacking the the chopsticks, placing one pair in front of the girl while keeping the other pair to himself. She quietly thanked him while her hands were still busy fixing her hair from the ponytail she had worn before,

"Good morning, Carats!" She greeted them, "Good day or good evening," and grinned into the camera when a piece of Kimbap got closer to her lips, making her lean forward and open her mouth to let herself get fed by the older member next to her.

[him giving her the first piece of food?! MARRIAGE IN HAND RN💍]

[i know, i know... the bar is in hell😒]

[bla bla bla, bla bla, bla bla]

[but this was cute alright?!]

Wonwoo did his greeting too, before eating another piece himself.

"Today," he started after swallowing, "I have the next guest on Gameboy," and motioned with his hand towards Minnie, who waved into the camera.

"Hey, everyone," she smiled.

"The reason for doing this live early is that we have to go to practice after this, so we have a time limit today," the '96 Liner explained while the female member nodded along, putting another piece of Kimbap into her mouth, happily moving around in her seat.

[HER LITTLE HAPPY DANCE]

The rapper looked to his left, eyeing the girl with amusement, waiting for her to see his reaction.

[oh you're even more of a fan of hers than i am, Jesus Christ😶]

[alright mr jeon simp wonwoo]

Once their eyes met, Minnie immediately stopped in her tracks, covering her mouth as she chuckled.

[stop being so adorable together]

"The Kimbap is really good."

"Mm," Wonwoo nodded with a smile. "Yeah, the food they give me here is always good."

"Well," the girl shrugged with a sigh, looking down at the floor, "I wasn't invited before, so I didn't know."

[OH, now she's throwing the shade, damn]

"Heyyy," the older member teased her as he reached for the food with his chopsticks, "Don't be sulky now."

[hell yeah she should be sulky about that]

"I'm not," she shook her head and crossed her arms, closing her eyes as she turned her head away from Wonwoo, making him chuckle.

"Mh, sure," he hummed.

[MH SURE]

[bro istg i felt my laptop vibrate bc of how deep that MH SURE was😫😫]

The two decided to read out some comments and eat first before jumping into the game.

"Did you perm your hair?" Wonwoo read out a question by a fan. Minnie's eyes went to fix themselves on his head, her fingers reaching out to touch a strand.

[and she just gets to do that on a regularly? how is that fair?]

[why do i not have a wonwoo who's hair i can just randomly touch whenever?]

"I did perm my hair, but it's not noticeable since it's still short. And the perm... It's not something that is very noticeable."

"But you did have really permed hair a few years ago," Minnie mentioned, getting a hold of the drink in a cup provided for her. "Carats really liked that."

[YES, YES WE DID]

[🤝🏼THANK YOU MINNIE FOR REMINDING HIM BC WE NEED THAT WONWOO BACK🤝🏼]

[THE CURLY BLACK HAIR WONWOO?! SIGN ME UP]

[i love minnie for being such a spokesperson for carats]

[i'm betting my ass she saw all the thirst tweets after he had just permed his hair]

"Oh yeah, that's true." Wonwoo agreed.

The girl chuckled, setting the cup down again. "When your hair's wet, it's really curly for some reason."

[oh right, yeah, thanks for reminding me that you get to see him with wet hair ON A REGULAR FUCKING BASIS]

[love getting reminded how lonely i am🥲]

"Mm," he hummed, chewing on his food. "But I don't know why it doesn't dry as curly."

[in the name of all carats: minnie, we would pls need a picture of wet curly hair wonwoo]

[for very important scientific reasons😬 thank you]

For a few seconds, they continued to look at the screen in front of them when another interesting question popped up.

"Is Minnie a fan of the Gameboy lives?" Wonwoo read out loud, leaning back to watch her as she answered with an excited nod, getting a grin to form on his lips.

"I've been there since day one. I've watched all of them."

[of course you have]

[wonwoo's biggest supporter, i'm telling you🤷🏼‍♀️]

[we've got the next simp right here]

"You've even watched some from over there," he mentioned and pointed to somewhere behind the camera.

[SEE]

[we love a supportive girlfriend]

She nodded, "Mh, I think... the first... two? Or maybe the first and third one?"

[this girl literally just sat in a room and watched him play games]

[you cannot tell me that they don't do that at home too]

[mingyu joins in sometimes probably too and they just oggle wonwoo together]

[who wouldn't though]

She eyed her boyfriend, but he just kept looking at her, not giving her an answer. "I don't remember," before turning back towards the camera. "But yes, I've watched a lot of them. Because I like them."

[like the game or like the player?👀👀]

[come on, minnie]

After discussing the pictures Wonwoo and Dokyeom took in Japan, and the collage he posted after their concert, Minnie found a comment she wanted to read out loud.

"Minnie should teach you how to edit collages," turning towards him with a proud smile on her lips.

"You can edit pictures very well, you make collages quite often," he told her, slightly chuckling at her facial expression.

[SIMP]

[he's so smithen and she's acting so cute around him wtf is in the air]

She nodded. "But," the female member pointed out, "the collages that you're talking about, Carats don't get to see."

[excu-the fuck-sez moi?]

[are we keeping secrets from each other now minnie?]

She looked back into the camera to continue. "I make collages with the members, so that at the end of each month, I can send them into the group chat and we can look back on what we did that month. Sometimes they take a bit longer, but I only send them to the members, I don't post them."

[AHA]

[alright]

[so that's how that is]

Wonwoo nodded, taking a sip from his own drink, "I forgot about that. But the other pictures you post are edited very well."

[jesus christ, alright, would you like to compliment her on her chopsticks skills as well?]

"But I don't think you should change your collage-making skills. It's very you. It's very Wonwoo."

[🥰🥰]

He grinned at the girl's comment. "Very Wonwoo?" She chuckled along with a nod. "Then you should like that, right?"

[WONWOO?!😳]

[you guys are still on a 🤨LIVE🤨 stream]

[i think bro thought it was just them two alone]

For a few seconds too long the girl looked at the older rapper stunned, who smiled at her.

['my dude, what did you just say in front of the camera'😳😅]

"W- Why...," she grinned before catching herself again, "I think, Carats should like it." Extending her arm to get a piece of chicken between her chopsticks. "They're the ones you should want to impress."

[what a quick save from our girly]

[but yeah, i mean... he's already impressed her enough probably]

"Oh, yeah, you're right," he smiled, looking back at the screen to read more comments, jolting slightly all of a sudden before both of them started chuckling.

[I'M TELLING YOU RIGHT NOW]

[this girl kicked him under the table🤣]

[you saw her smirk, and you saw his reaction]

[put two and two together]

The two of them explained that Minnie was the Animal Crossing expert and would be the first to tour a few islands. They got to work, put in the code and travelled to the first island made by a Carat.

The female member was moving the character around, taking in every corner and every little detail the fan had left for them, explaining everything along the way when they arrived at the beach.

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed with a happy smile on her face, "It's Raymond!"

[oh she's a REAL animal crossing fan]

She clicked on the right button to make the two characters interact, grinning at the screen while Wonwoo scrunched his eyebrows behind her.

"Raymond?"

"Yeah, he reminds me of you," she turned slightly to her left to look at the rapper next to her.

[all of caratland agress witht hat]

"That's why I have him on my island too."

[she has her own wonwoo in her little imaginary, fictional island]

[she's so cute]

[she's just like us]

Making the other member laugh out loud and even some of the staff members behind the camera chuckle. "What?" She smiled. "He doesn't talk much, he's very smart, he wears glasses and he's a cat. That's Wonwoo."

[that is wonwoo. can't argue with her about that]

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about him."

[can you pls just imagine an excited minnie skipping into his room, showing him this little animated cat and telling him it reminds her of him]

She nodded, "I have a lot of characters on my island because they remind me of the members."

[i need to see it]

Wonwoo took a sip of his iced tea before continuing, "Next time, you should bring your Nintendo Switch, and then we can look at your island."

[boyfriend supporting his girlfriend's little ficitonal fantady, love it]

Minnie smiled in agreement.

[THANK YOU]

[love how wonwoo wants to show of her achievements in a game haha]

"Oh, look! A puppy!" The female member smacked the rapper's chest, who had his right arm on the backrest of her chair, to make him turn his attention away from the screen with the comments.

[a lot to uncover here]

[first, the arm?! so casual?! literal butterflies from seeing his freaking arm around HER CHAIR]

[i need to see someone...😪]

He dramatically grunted, clutching the place she had just hit as she pointed at the computer screen in front of her. "It's Mingyu."

[how tf do they manage to include this man EVERYWHERE]

"How kind of them to even include Mingyu like that," Wonwoo chuckled.

[😭😭😭😭😭😭😭]

While the rapper had gone to the toilet, it was Minnie's turn to entertain Carats on her own, reading through their comments.

"Are you excited for the new Taylor Swift album? YES!" She shouted excitedly, "Yes I am! I already pre-ordered the vinyl. I'm happy. I'm more than happy."

[SWIFTIE CARATS UNITE]

[WE HAVE FOUND OUR LEADER]

[i love how she probably sees taylor the way we see her tbh]

[like just... UGH, i need them two to meet]

The smile never left her lips, giggling as she read the next comment, "Are you more excited about being on Gameboy or the Taylor Swift album?"

[that question was CRUEL]

[love it]

Minnie shook her head, "You guys... are really something. You can't compare those two. They're different types of happiness. But I'm also very very happy to be here. Although..."

[oh oh]

She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm kind of not happy about the fact that Coups was here before me. Wonwoo prefers the leader over his own roommate... I don't know how to feel about that..."

[damn, that hurt]

For the last few seconds of being alone, a Carat dared Minnie to spin in her chair and not get dizzy because she had said before that she doesn't get dizzy easily due to her ballerina training.

[just explain to me how this 25 year old woman can be so competitive with people she doesn't even know or see]

[like... she literally went 'oh, you don't think i can do it? watch me‘ MINNIE]

She was so focused on continuing to push herself with the help of the table, that she didn't notice the rapper coming back into the room. Not until the chair was suddenly stopped, scarring her as she looked up into the eyes of her boyfriend.

"Jesus! You scared me!"

[dude, you scared me, i thought you were gonna spin yourself out of that chair]

"What are you doing?" Wonwoo chuckled moving her slightly away to get to his chair, settling down as he kept his glance on the girl.

"A Carat dared me to spin and not get dizzy."

"And? Are you dizzy?"

She grinned at him. "Nope." Making him shake his head with a smile before turning his attention to the screen.

[i would've loved to see what the fuck was going on in his head when he saw her like this]

[THIS IS FR ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF THEM EVER]

[it's just so cute]

"No, you have to-"

"Like this?"

"No, tap th-"

"This one?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"You have to put it down-"

"I can't."

"Yes, you c-"

"Look, I can't-"

"Wonwoo! You-"

"Like that?"

"No, g-"

"This?"

"No, please-"

"But look-"

"Wonwoo, Jesus, give me the controller," Minnie huffed out loud with a smile after a debate that went on for way longer than she wanted, snatching the controller out of the man's grip.

[THE BICKERING]

[who would've thought she'd bicker like that with anyone but mingyu]

[and then WONWOO of all people]

The rapper grinned to himself at the frustration of the female member, looking ahead at the screen filling up with comments while the girl's eyes were trained on the game.

[WHY DOES HE LOOK SO PROUD HAHAHAH]

"I never thought there would be another member better at gaming than Wonwoo," he read out loud, making both of them chuckle. "Yeah," the '96 Liner sighed, "Minnie is a lot better than me in these types of games. And Sims, and-"

[YES, tell us all about how great minnie is, LETS GO WONWOO]

"Fifa," she interjected, earning her a confused glance by him. At the sudden silence, she turned her head towards him, giggling. "What?"

"You're not better than me at Fifa."

She shrugged, "I could be."

['i could be‘ she's literally challenging him?!]

But Wonwoo continued to shake his head, his eyes back on the camera. "She's not better than me at Fifa."

[he's letting her be better in animal crossing and sims, but this guy draws the line at fifa HAHAHAHA]

"Awww," Minnie's eyes went wide as she looked at the screen. "♪ We're going to the chapel and we're... gonna get married... going to the chapel, and we're... going to get married-♫"

Wonwoo away from the screen, taking a quick glance at the girl next to him. "What are you singing?"

"A wedding song. I think my mum used to listen to it. It's kinda old, but I just remembered it," she explained, while Wonwoo made his character run around the room to look at every detail.

"Aah, because it's a wedding hall?" He wondered, getting a hum from her in return.

[smart guy🤓]

"They made it really pretty," Minnie commented. "It reminds me of the set where we filmed the special video for 'April Shower'."

"Oh, right," the rapper agreed, "Maybe that's what the Carat wanted to portray."

"Maybe," the girl nodded.

"Maybe we should get married here."

[sorry, i just choked on my water]

[WHAT?!😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳]

[he just threw that question into the room like that?!]

The sudden question threw Minnie off as her head snapped towards him, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips.

"What?"

[yeah same]

[what?!]

He turned to meet her eyes, only grinning at the female member.

[HEY]

[ya can't say sth like that and then just smirk this handsomely]

[minnie move, i gotta take this man to a wedding chapel]

"Eyy, you can't say stuff like that," she pushed his shoulder, making him laugh while she shook her head. "Sorry Carats, he's weird."

[OR IS HE?]

[her reaction was everything]

[yes girl... you played that off... so well...]

After they clicked off and made sure to save the game, the two idols turned towards the camera. Wonwoo did a big stretch, reaching back with his arms as the girl turned towards him.

[eyeing the biceps, i see]

[as if you don't get to see enough of him every day already HUH]

"When can I come the next time?" He read out loud from the screen. Wonwoo thought for a second before answering, then directed his attention to one of the staff members behind the camera to make sure he wasn't spreading false information, all while Minnie was still focused on the comments.

"And Minnie-" the deep voice made her glance at the man next to her, "Will you be here next time?"

"If you invite me," she grinned at him.

[mh, tell him minnie]

With a chuckle, he nodded, "Okay, then let's see. If there's time we could play 'Howling Abyss'."

[is he trying to scare her away?]

[like... request another game she has never mentioned before dude]

"Oh..." she commented with a grimace.

"What?"

"Is that the one you tried teaching me?" She wondered. His nod confirmed her concern.

"Why?" A slight chuckle tumbled from his lips.

"I'm not good at it," she whined, suddenly clutching onto his arm, "Wonwoo, you can't make me play games that I'm bad at. I'll look like an idiot."

[the hand of the biceps]

[girly just had to touch it]

[i don't blame her]

[i'd be touching him all day everyday if i could]

Her reaction made him laugh out loud as his hand came up to cover hers, "Then you'll get better until next time. Or maybe the time after the next one. Then we can play together."

[WHY IS THIS MAKING ME SQUEAL]

[HIM TRYING TO SUPPORT HER?!]

[just kiss already for fuck's sake, I see the look in your eyes, come on]

A big huff left Minnie's lips as she dropped her hands. "Why can't we just play Sims together..."

[dream team]

Wonwoo chuckled, "You said you can't play that in multiplayer."

Which received him a glaring side-eye from the female dancer. "We could find a way."

"Sure," he nodded with a smile.

[and there comes the supporting boyfriend yet once again]

Incheon Airport 231112

[idk what is in the air, but they've been so much closer i feel like?!]

The entire group was making their way through their airport, each member walking at their own pace, next to each other, in a line, or by themselves as they waved to the cameras that were following them through the building. Wonwoo and Minnie were in the middle, the rapper carrying his roll suitcase while the female member only had a small shoulder bag casually by her side. Both covered in big coats due to the cold weather. With all the screaming, shouting, and camera clicking around them, the couple, as well as the rest of the group, was used to not talking to each other while in pace, only once they would come to a halt or find a quieter spot after making it through the security check.

[i don't even want to know how stressful this can be😖]

They had reached the passport checkpoint, making them form a somewhat ordered line, each member standing behind another one, their managers and bodyguards by their side. The couple, who had stood close to each other the entire time was facing each other, leaning in slightly to hear the other person better. As there were still people in front of them, they had some time to pass.

[idk if this is a coincidence or if they're each wearing just one airpot BUT the fact that minnie is only wearing a right one and wonwoo is only wearing a left one?!?!?!?👀👀👀]

[maybe not so much of a coincidence]

[sharing airpods?!?!?! stfu they're so adorable]

Minnie chuckled at something the '96 Liner had said, making her turn around to catch the lens of one of the cameras directly with her eye.

[i really want to know what he said hahaha]

[spill the tea about annoying paparazzi]

A quick smile was sent before she turned her direction back to the man in front of her, reaching up, thanks to his height, to adjust the bucket hat on his head, pulling it down just a tad bit more.

[she makes sure he stays covered bc that's how he feels comfortable]

[i'm gonna cry]

She let her left hand brush over his shoulder and to his back, giving him a few gentle and comforting pats.

[they really need each other omg]

The sound of his voice ringing through the one ear that didn't have an airpod in, made her lean in once again before nodding along to what the rapper was telling her.

[OH PLS just kiss already guyyyyssssss]

Once the people in front of them in line were done and their turn had come, Wonwoo's hand on her back now pushed her forward slowly to go first, letting her know by tapping his fingers against her.

[👀]

Minnie was quickly through, thanked the staff and moved further, coming to a halt behind the railing and taking the moment to turn to the cameras and fans one last time before they'd finally reached a more private area of the airport. The '96 Liner joined her, waving to the fans for a quick moment before turning around and following their manager with the female performer right by his side.

[i want someone to wait for me like that]

[INSIDE SEVENTEEN] SEVENTEEN ('FML' Promotions Sketch)

"Pre-recordings are usually always fun, but for some reason, the members are extra happy today," Minnie explained into the camera as they filmed a short interview in the hallway right before their Music Bank stage appearance.

[can we just real quick give a shoutout to her stylist?! the makeup?! The outfits?! I'm in LOVE]

"But I'm not gonna complain about that. I'm very happy that they're... so excited, early on in the morning."

[minnie... this isn't their fault... you're just a morning person that i will never understand]

For a second, she looked around the room, focusing on something behind the camera. "I already took my pictures. I'm gonna post them on Instagram later. Now it's Junnie's turn," motioning for the cameraman to focus on the Chinese member who had just waddled his way into the small gap by the railing.

[and the pictures were FIRE]

"You know," the camera shot back to her, "I'm really glad you always do these interviews before our performances," Minnie chuckled. "Because after them..." she pressed her lips into a tight line before continuing, "You... you really don't want to see us that gross and out of breath and sweaty."

[we do actually. we do.]

"I don't look good like that."

[yes you do, tf are you on about?!]

[this woman...]

"So thank you for always... showing us from our good side-" her demeanour changed within a second as her attention paced to someone next to the cameraman. "What are you doing?!" She whined. "You're making me nervous, looking at me like that."

Once the camera moved to the side, Wonwoo's figure was revealed.

[OF COURSE HE'S THERE]

[look at that grin]

[UGH]

[called me single just by smiling at her wtf]

He had his arms crossed and a smirk decorated his face as his eyes were fixed on the female member, who had gotten closer to him to push him away playfully. Thanks to his stature, the rapper only budged slightly, making the girl sigh out loud.

[big boy]

[i need him to put me in a headlock]

"He's been standing there the entire time," she told the camera.

The '96 Liner continued to look at her. "What? I'm not allowed to stand here?"

[DON'T DO HER LIKE THAT WONWOO]

[we know damn well why you were standing there]

[you little simp]

"I'm talking about being disgusting and sweating, and you're just standing there, laughing at me," she shook her head, crossing her arms as she gazed at him.

[*whispers* because he's secretly in love with you, but pssh]

Wonwoo chuckled at her comment, his nose scrunching up slightly. "I wasn't laughing AT you."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Whatever..."

Then, it was his turn to look into the camera. "Carats," he started, "I promise, I wasn't laughing at her. I was enjoying her interview just like you would."

[-... i'm gonna have a stroke]

Minnie's laugh echoed in the background before Wonwoo joined her, waving off the cameraman as he disappeared again.

[Going Seventeen] EP.91 Point of Omniscient Interfere Penalty #1

"If you get over 90 on that karaoke machine, I'll give you 10." Minnie overheard Woozi's voice as she was washing her hands by the sink in the kitchen.

Her ears perked up when DK continued. "Okay, if you give it your all, I'll give you 30 grapes." She quickly dried her hands and rushed over to where some of the other members were sitting, watching Hoshi standing by the karaoke machine.

Hoshi saw her excited facial expression. "Minnie, you wanna do it with me?" To which she eagerly nodded, getting a chuckle from Wonwoo and Minghao, who had joined to watch and listen.

[i LOVE hoshi and minnie interactions and i am begging for more]

"Okay," the leader of the performance unit spoke, "40 grapes for each, Minnie and I, and we will give you the best performance you have ever seen."

"20 each," Dokyeom tried to argue.

"30," the female member continued, raising her eyebrows at him as she accepted the microphone Hoshi was holding out for her.

[scoups taught her so well]

Her fellow '97 Liner nodded, "Alright, 30 for each of you if you get over 90 points and give a good performance."

Some of the other members joined in once they heard the start of the song, now very eager to see the two as they knew how dramatic they could get once given the opportunity.

"If your voices don't crack when we raise it up by two keys, you get ten," Mingyu offered loudly, making the girl turn around.

"Ten each!" She quickly interjected before focusing back on the song.

Hoshi and she continued, spinning each other around and truly giving the performance of their lifetime as theatrically and dramatically as possible as they sang their hearts out at the sad song they had chosen.

After the first verse was over, DK told them to cancel it and see what score they had gotten, but it didn't show, starting a small argument, that was quickly resolved.

Dokyeom took out the purple stickers, counting each one. "Okay, there's thirty for now, divide it by two, I can't be bothered to take out the other thirty."

"What? Wait, hold on," Minnie immediately argued.

[oooh... he fucked up]

"Mister Mediator! That's out of line! Isn't he out of line?" Hoshi immediately took her side.

Wonwoo raised his head to look at the trio.

"They only sang the first verse," DK tried to explain, but the female member pushed his hand away.

"Because you told us to cancel it after the first verse!"

"Wait, wait," the Mediator reached out, "Who said to cut it off?"

"He did!"

"Him!" Hoshi and Minnie pointed at their member at the same time, who raised his hands in defence.

[they're such siblings]

[imagine the reaction of hoshi and minnie if you had told them like 10 years go that they would one day be such a strong duo to go up against dk... they'd laugh in your face]

"I thought you could still see the score after the first verse," he explained.

The female performer took her leader's hand and made him sit down with her. Dokyeom copied their antics, and soon all four of them were sitting in a circle, trying to explain the situation to Wonwoo.

"Wonwoo, you have to explain to him that he can't do that! He has to keep his promise," Minnie whined at the older member, her hand unknowingly on his knee.

[i love her so much]

"He's Mister Mediator, not Wonwoo," the main singer warned her.

She sent him a glare in return, "I can call him Wonwoo if I want to. And you stop nagging me and keep your promise!"

[why do i feel like the '97 line is like constantly bickering haha]

[and wonwoo seems to always kinda be right in the middle😭😭]

"But I didn't know!"

"That doesn't matter!"

After a bit more discussing, the '96 Liner rapper made sure they got the extra thirty they were promised when Hoshi decided to add something.

"But I was also deeply emotionally hurt by Dokyeom."

"You were?" Wonwoo questioned, turning to Minnie. "You as well?" Who nodded with a pout,

"Very."

[gotta ask the girlfreind as well]

"Okay," he patted her hand. "Dokyeom, give them five each extra."

[gotta make sure they're happy]

[well done mister mediator]

The other members watched the four in amusement when Mingyu decided to comment,

"Woah, everyone's making good money."

"That's right," Woozi chuckled, "But the mediator keeps making odd decisions."

"The mediator's a little weird."

"I think he's a bit biased," the producer of the group smiled at the facial expression from the girl that she made as an answer to his comment.

[BRO GOT CALLED OUT]

[minnie's reaction killed me hahah]

She grinned. "And I think others just need to learn, how to be more kind."

[OH]

[Going Seventeen] EP.88 BOOmily Outing #4

"Ugh, we need someone that got it right," Jeonghan sighed out loud after getting sent back in line a third time, still not getting the song right they had to chant out to Seungkwan.

[i could feel their tiredness through the screen during this entire scene]

Wonwoo, who was right next to him, eyes still half closed from being sleep-deprived, looked around the garden, finding the person he was looking for lying on the wooden floor of the porch.

"Minnie!" He called out, catching her attention as she raised her head to look at the members.

[LOOK AT HER]

[how could you not be in love with her]

[she looks so cute without makeup]

"Can you come here for a second?"

"Why?" She asked back, sitting up straighter.

"We need someone to sing the song for us," the '95 Liner explained. Shortly after Woozi, the female member remembered the song correctly as well and was able to go back into the house. Too bad for her that after waking up in the morning, the girl is usually unable to go back to sleep, explaining why she had decided to lounge outside instead, not joining their producer inside.

With a smirk, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Then you have to come here."

Jeonghan slapped Wonwoo's shoulder gently nutdging towards the '97 Liner. "Go."

[sending the boyfriend, yes, we support]

[the way he didn't even start to argue but just went]

Before even starting to argue, the rapper made his way over to his girlfriend, who was already smiling at him.

"You really don't remember it after three rounds?" She wondered. Wonwoo took a seat right next to her, his hand gently grazing her knee, stopping to rest it right there as she was sitting with her legs crisscrossed.

[WE ARE ALL SEEING THIS I HOPE]

[listen here]

[when it comes to wonnie]

[it's the little things alright]

[JUST LIKE THIS]

*insert zoomed-in picture of the two and Wonwoo's hand*

[this is what this stan fandom is surviving on]

[we're in pain]

The older member yawned, his eyes trained on the rest of the group that was still getting hit on the head with the rubber hammer. "No one remembers the second verse correctly."

Minnie nodded. "It's 'Let's go to the market, the FUNNY market. Everything is there, the market's full of fun'. All of you are saying 'the fun market'."

With scrunched eyebrows, he turned his head, gazing at the girl who was grinning teasingly at him. "How long have you been listening to our struggle?"

"Ever since I finished," she couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, her forehead touching his shoulder affectionately.

[AAAAH BACKGROUND ACTION]

[AFFECTION FROM WONNIE]

Wonwoo chuckled, "And you didn't think to help us?"

"You never asked."

The rapper stood up with a shaking head, the smile still prominent on his face as he walked back to Jeonghan, who was already awaiting him, but not before he let his fingers tighten around Minnie's knee, making her jolt up and slap him out of reflex.

[i saw that wonwoo]

[he's so annyoing, i love him]

He laughed at her reaction - he knew how much she hated whenever someone did that to her.

[and i react just like her anytime someone does that to me]

[that shit hurts]

[INSIDE SEVENTEEN] ('Super' Choreography Practice Sketch)

The idol group had finished their final practice of the choreo to 'Super' and everyone was cleaning up to leave. Some decided to stand behind for a few more minutes, talking to the choreographers and dancers. The cameraman for this Inside Seventeen episode caught Dokyeom and Dino before they were able to head off, now standing in front of the camera, talking about the exhausting day they had just put behind.

[not wonnie related but can we talk about how fucking good they look, thank you]

In the background, Wonwoo, wearing a green puffer vest, was engulfed in a conversation with three of the 200 extra dancers they had brought in for that last day. Nodding along to whatever story they were telling, he got distracted when Minnie's familiar figure walked up next to him.

Without even thinking about it, he opened his left arm, welcoming the girl into a comforting side hug. A warm smile spread on her lips as she wrapped her arms around his torso, letting her cheek rest on his shoulder.

[NOT SO LITTLE, BUT STILL BACKGROUND]

[i don't even know if they realise the camera caught them]

[i love how the cameraman didn't even budge though]

[like they're clearly directly in the middle of the screen hahaha]

[inse editors are wonnie supporters <3]

For a quick minute, the rapper leaned down to whisper something into her ear, to which the girl nodded before getting included in the conversation by one of the female dancers who had been talking. As soon as the sound of the '96 Liner's deep voice rang through her ears, Minnie lifted her head to look at him.

[that, ladies and gentleman, is called lovey-dovey eyes]

[i have no fucking idea if you actually call it that but that's what it looks like to me, fight me]

When everyone started chuckling at something that was being said, she straightened her back and dropped the arm that was wrapped around his front - Wonwoo's stayed around her shoulders, gently rubbing up and down her upper arm.

[i love small cute domestic shit like that]

[they just look so comfortable like that]

[like imagine you're in a friend group with them and suddenly they do this shit]

[i'd start crying because of how cute it looks]

[but it's probably the most normal thing ever for them]

[UGH pls adopt me into this group]

[INSIDE SEVENTEEN] SEVENTEEN (The Game Caterers Shoot Sketch)

Just as Seungcheol was coming down the stairs, Wonwoo and Minnie arrived and made their way up, passing the cameraman who was filming for their new Inside Seventeen episode. The female member was behind the rapper, both of her hands on his back, playfully pushing him to move quicker as he was slow in his steps.

[pls]

With sleep still written all across his face, Wonwoo turned to his left to wave at the camera. "Hi," he simply said, continuing his walk up.

Minnie stopped in her tracks to look at the camera with a big smile, taking a step forward to get a bit closer. "Good morning!"

[again: everyone else is completely normal, and then we have minnie. the morning person]

Her voice held much more cheer than any of the other members.

But as quick as she was there, she jolted up the steps as the camera moved to show that Wonwoo had also stopped to wait on her. The two continued side by side.

[he waited for her...]

[he WAITED for her]

[what in the low expectations... why am i reacting like this]

[BUT LOOK AT THEM]

Incheon Airport 230515

Wonwoo had just gotten out of the car, coming to a halt right at the door. Next, and last, Minnie stepped out, revealing her figure. Over one shoulder, she had a dark backpack, that was swiftly taken off her by the '96 Liner, who threw it over his own shoulders in a quick move.

[he ain't letting her carry ANYTHING]

The girl put on her sunglasses right away as the flashing lights had already started to blind her, making the rapper react quickly. He tried to cover her as she turned around to use the car door as an emergency mirror, for just a moment.

[it's giving timothée chalamet and saoirse ronan and I'm so here for it]

When she was about to lean forward, wanting to get something out of the vehicle, Wonwoo beat her to it and pulled out a rolling suitcase. He let it hit the floor before pulling the handle up, ready to move forward and join the other members that had already gathered by the crosswalk.

[I TOLD YOU]

[princess treatment and nothing less👑]

The couple started to make their way past the cars, straight ahead, with Wonwoo at a slightly quicker pace due to his longer legs, making the girl have to almost jog to catch up with him as she reached out for the handle to take control over her luggage. The rapper's head, half of his face covered by a bucked hat, turned to her, looking down at where their hands met. He placed his free on on top of hers, pushing it away, only for her to repeat her action, still trying to claim her suitcase.

[if your man doesn't fight you wanting to carry your luggage, is he even your man?]

[never settle for less is what I'm learning here]

[thank you wonwoo for raising my standards yet once again]

Wonwoo stood his ground and just continued to carry it forward, making the girl shake her head as she stopped next to Dokyeom, turning to him with a smile that he returned.

[INSIDE SEVENTEEN] SEVENTEEN WORLD TOUR [BE THE SUN] NORTH AMERICA BEHIND #1

During one of their breaks in their concert, some of the members had gathered around right behind the stage, some having decided on sitting on the stairs, while others went for the possibly slightly more comfortable choice on one of the plastic chairs the staff had put up - Hoshi and Wonwoo were two of them. With a grin on his face, patted the rapper his own thigh as soon as Dino had approached him, a bottle of water in his grip. The maknae denied the proposal, only for the older to continue the action, his palm repeatedly hitting the silver fabric of his pants.

Minnie was right behind Minghao, appearing from one of the black doors, joining the members that were currently being filmed. She was still adjusting the microphone around her head as she saw the '96 and '99 Liners' interaction, giggling.

The corner of her lips curled up as she watched the youngest shaking his head each time Wonwoo motioned for him to sit down, giving her the opportunity to take his place. With only a few steps, she stopped right in front of the rapper, turning around and taking a seat on the thigh he had been patting only a second ago, getting a burst of laughter from him in return.

[girl took that like it was reserved for her]

[dang]

[so hot]

Dino, who now had his eyes on the couple almost choked on his water as he started laughing, putting down the bottle he was holding.

[HIS REACTION😂😂]

"If you won't, I'll gladly accept the seat," she grinned at the youngest, who saluted her, making her and Wonwoo chuckle.

[oh minnie same]

[same same same...]

The camera didn't miss the hand he had placed on her left thigh as he rested his forehead on her shoulder, his shoulders still shaking from laughing.

[MH, WE ALL CAUGHT THAT TOO]

[INSIDE SEVENTEEN] SEVENTEEN WORLD TOUR [BE THE SUN] NORTH AMERICA BEHIND #2

The couple hadn't yet realised they had gotten caught during the thumb wrestle they had started with each other while waiting to go back on stage in Fort Worth. Minnie was trying to free her hand from Wonwoo's tight grip, pulling away with the strength she had left, but he easily caught her thumb with his, making him laugh and her whine out loud.

[again, so cute for what]

[just get a room and get to it, jesus]

Only then, did she realise the camera had been on them, gazing at the cameraman with wide eyes and her lips pressed together as she mouthed, 'Did you just see me lose?' To which the camera moved up and down.

[GIRL]

[we've been watching you WINNING in life for quite a while]

[you get to do stuff like this on the regular]

[you are WINNING my friend, trust me]

The rapper turned his head in confusion, which got washed away as soon as he saw the light that was attached to the device.

With their hands still interlocked, the female member released her fingers and used her other hand for more strength as she held onto Wonwoo's, trying hard to curve his fingers, so they'd create the other half of her heart. The '96 Liner continued to laugh at her antics as he watched her struggle.

[HE'S A MENACE]

[let her live]

[let her do a godforsaken heart, JESUS😂😭]

For a second, the girl managed to get his fingers in the right position, making her quickly turn to the camera and smile before dropping his hand only a second later, getting another chuckle from the man in return. While she kept a disappointed look on her face, Wonwoo got a hold of her hand, patting it gently as he formed a finger heart with his free hand, getting a chuckle out of her.

[he's actually really cute, we all know that]

[he'd do anything for her, i just know it]

Minnie joined him and sent a wink in the camera's direction in addition.

[well... time to go find myself a wonwoo, brb]

Minnie x Members Content (open)

poly!mimiwon (open)

Taglist: @shrynkk @chaebb @lunarxsun @hoe4wonwoo @kimhyejin3108 @soobzao @billboard-singer @cosmicwintr @zwiehe @alixnsuperstxr @angie-x3 @smooore @allthings-fandoms

#minnie 🌷#seventeen #seventeen oc #seventeen 14th member #wonwoo #kpop oc #svt #imagines

410 notes · View notes

monstertreden · 4 months ago

Text

「RUFUS'S EXPENSIVE CAKE ORDER 」

-Reader: Written with a female reader in mind -TW: none -Character: Reno (Final Fantasy 7) -Summary: Rufus decided to purchase a unique tower cake to celebrate his successful new board meeting, leaving Reno with the task of safely retrieving it. -Word count : 774 -A/N: This is my first time writing, thus forgive me for some grammatical errors or if I didn’t exactly nail Reno’s character🧍‍♀️I'm open to any feedback! I need to get back on my FF7 old hypetrain

It’s another lazy afternoon at the Turks’ headquarters in Midgar. Everyone else had been dismissed hours ago and, since then, you’ve been texting Elena about the new shop you recently visited. Just now everything seemed so peaceful— oh so peaceful—until Reno bursts through the door, stumbling over his own feet and nearly crashing into the meeting table. His signature red hair is messier than usual... was that sour cream on his goggles..?

As soon as he stumbled, he quickly recomposed himself and adjusted the stray strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face, trying to look cool despite his grand entrance. "Alright-, listen- up pretty! We... got abitofasituationonourhands." He catches his breath and sits up beside you on the comfortable leather sofa, his arm draped over the backrest as he crosses his legs.

The gears in your head take a moment to process his words, then it hits you. You glance at him “Reno… shouldn’t you be working, instead of—whatever this is?” You gesture to his dishevelled appearance, plucking a strawberry from his hair. “Did you crash a wedding?”

“Pssh, nahh, plus I’m always workin’, no time for weddings...Heyy, listenn, hear me out, 'cause this is extremely serious” He leans in closer, a very exaggerated, overly dramatic, stare painted on his face, hands inching closer to the sides of your head, before impulsively shaking it.

“It’s the cake!”

“The hell are you talking about-“

"-A cake emergency!” Reno cuts you off “Rufus ordered this, like, super deluxe, tower cake from that fancy bakery in Sector 1, right? It’s that kind of cake that costs more than our week's pay combined! But here’s the thing—Tseng’s definitely gonna kill me if I bring this to him."

"Wait, you’re delivering cakes now? Did Tseng promote you to be Rufus’s personal Uber driver?"

“It’s not ‘delivering,’ alright? It’s more like escorting— see, it’s a top-priority mission.”

He says it with an air of importance, puffing out his chest, but then quickly deflates as he realizes the state of the cake box he put on the table, the bakery label on it is so faded it’s unreadable.

"But I... kinda...smashed it..."

Reno sulks, holding the slightly crumpled cake box like it’s a priceless treasure, while you burst into laughter.

“You’re kidding, right? Ohhh, he’s going to be soooo mad.”

“Look, it’s still edible!” He taps the wrinkled package “It’s just, you know... restructured.”

He opens the box, revealing the once-perfect cake in a state of complete chaos. Macarons and strawberries are scattered everywhere, and the longer you stare at it, the more it resembles an abstract art piece than a cake.

"Yeah, good luck explaining that to Tseng—let alone Rufus.”

Reno, completely unfazed, grins at you as if he has a brilliant plan.

“That’s where you come in! You’re good at talking to people, aren't you? My favorite schemer! You just gotta, you know, help me spin this whole thing. Maybe we can blame Rude or something. He won’t mind. We could smash the cake on his bald head..."

He says it with a casual wave of his hand, as if throwing his partner under the bus is no big deal.

“Yeahh, no thanks. This one’s all yours, buddy. Have fun with that. I’m not taking the blame for your mess if we get caught.”

The redhead groans and slumps back on the sofa. "Man, I was hoping you’d go along with me. How can you not agree to this?”

Just then, your phone buzzes. Expecting another text from Elena, you glance down, only to see a message from Rude pop up instead:

Rude: "That idiot dropped the cake, didn’t he? Rufus is getting impatient with each passing minute"

"Rude’s onto you."

"Of course he is..."

With a sigh and a big cat stretch, Reno stands up, grabbing the cake box with a determined look, despite its sorry state.

"Alright, alright, I’ll fix this. Maybe if I just... slap it back together? Yeah, yeah, that’ll do. Thanks for the pep talk. You can keep whatever fell out of my hair! …Maybee give me a call if I don’t make it back in, let’s say... 40 minutes, m’kay?"

And with that, Reno rushes out of Tusk's headquarters, shouting back as the cake box nearly slips from his hands. “But if this works, you owe me a nice, expensive dinner!”.

His plan was bound to fail, regardless of what he attempted.

#I did try my best for this first writing🧍‍♀️#reno ff7 #final fantasy #final fantasy 7 #fanfic #reno x reader #ff vii #reno of the turks #turks #elena of the turks #rude of the turks #tseng of the turks #ff7 x reader #final fantasy x reader #monstertredenwriting

64 notes · View notes

kombuuuu · 1 year ago

Note

Okay so this song, right?

Now the original version (the one above) is fun so you don’t realize it, but when you listen to the MTV Unplugged version (the one below) you realize that it’s really fucking sad

So, upon doing research, I learned that the song is about asking someone to give them a chance. ‘Take on me, take me on’ is saying, “give me chance, let me try.”

And what did that make me think of? Earth 42! Miles Morales.

Think about it.

Reader likes him, he likes them, but he’s scared of (A) being abandoned, (B) giving them a reason to leave, or (C) hurting them. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, and that makes it hard to be happy.

But reader? They know. They get it. And they know that, with communication and a little bit of faith, it can work. So they’re literally telling him to give it a chance. To let it work.

This is what my silly little brain does sometimes.

he so baby

also wtf why would u bring up this song it’s been years but tlou is still fresh on the mind bro wtf wtf what the hell

Take me on, Please.

42!Miles Morales x GN!Reader

—

Not a day passed when Miles hasn’t thought of you. When he was ‘working’, or in school — or in the late of night, trying so hard to get to sleep, but with the image of you making the back of his eyelids burn. He stayed awake to maybe escape them— And you still couldn’t leave his mind.

His room would get too dark, and when the ceiling would start to form your silhouette, he would give up. And resign to the deeps of his own mind. Resign to you.

He would toss and turn, clutching his bedsheets in bruised knuckles.

He would slide the other hand down his face, would relish in the pain, pull his skin. Pick at his hands, grip his hair. Would lay lax, and think and think and think.

Until he couldn’t — Until, like to his thoughts. He would concede.

And he’d call you — and you’d answer, and he’d sigh — relieved, stressed, scared, loved.

—

He’d try to avoid you, don’t get him wrong — he would.

He would ignore your texts, and skip his classes when he knew you were in them. He’d pick the locks to the schools roof, sit legs crossed on the touch concrete, and watch the students idle below him.

But it’d only last so long.

He’d call you, dead of night. Then wake up to a “gud morning C:” text the morning after, and he’d scroll through everything he’d missed and reply to every one.

He’d get scolded by his Momma for skipping class, and bashfully return to your shared table — you welcoming him back with a smile and a pencil already in your hand, ready for him to ask. Because you knew he never brought one, you knew him.

You’d see him from your spot on the courtyard, chatting with your other friends. The ones he’d envy for being so carefree with you.

And you’d send him a discreet wave, watching him stiffen as you put a finger to your lips in sworn secrecy.

“My lips are sealed

(I wish you’d shut them).”

You were a plague. A torturous, sickeningly sweet plague.

—

You huffed to yourself as you made your way up the last set of stairs, leaning on your knees a little at the top and cursing Miles for being difficult.

You groaned again as you pushed up, grasping the doors handle and opening it with ease.

The boy in question was sat on the edge of the roof, watching students and teachers alike.

“You ‘kay?”

He barely flinched, head titling towards you for a moment in consideration, eyes never meeting yours, but he saw your concern through his peripherals.

“Mm..” He hummed in acknowledgment, a relatively positive — but somewhat unsure sound.

Your brows furrowed slightly, lips curling in on themselves for a moment in silent disagreement.

He didn’t want to speak on it, so you wouldn’t make him.

You walked to his side, and he watched the way the world shifted around you, almost revolved around your movements.

He sighed and turned to face in front of him again — desperate not to meet your eye.

You sat down, your feet sidling off the edge of the roof in swift movements, just like he had. His breath stuttered in worry, and he had an instinct to pull you back. Keep you safe from the dangers he seemed to bring — but that would be counterproductive, wouldn’t it?

But you were fine, and your feet had started kicking. He huffed, scratching away the smile that tried to surface and shoving it back down.

He sniffed, leaning back on one of his hands.

He was so smooth, calculated. Like every movement he made had a lifetime worth of of thought put into it. Maybe it was just confidence, sureness in himself.

Maybe you missed the tremble in his hands, the irritated and blushed skin of his knuckles, creaking with every movement and splitting every night.

The way his skin peeled around the bed of his nails, dry and lifted.

You admired his controlled breathing, and he struggled to steady it — heart rate rising with his efforts.

It’s like you didn’t understand the effect you had on him, oblivious to his nervous nature.

He refocused, and the way the wind hit your face, tracing along the shape of your lips, ruffling your clothes in a soft breeze.

He would envy it — if it didn’t feel stupid.

You gazed at shifting clouds and blue skies, smiling at the hint of the Moon you could still see. And he watched, ever observing in your prose.

“You know —,” He savoured the way your lips moved, how they curled around each word “,—I’d never push you to talk to me, Miles. I’d never be that person.” You glanced at him, and the pulse of electricity that ran through his spine when your eyes met his, it was anything but healthy.

“I know.”

He affirmed your statement, knowing you had never, and would never force him to be open with you. He’d wish you were more demanding.

You hummed and turned back to the sky, eyes shining against sunlight, dancing with something too caring, too intimate for him. He turned to the sky.

“You can talk to me, though.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, shivering at your tone of voice.

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to?”

It was your turn to stutter now, breath catching in your throat and trying to find the right words.

“I—“ You laughed nervously, hands fiddling with the little weeds that had sprouted between seems of concrete. “,I wouldn’t wanna be pushy—“

“[Name].”

You stopped, guiltily humming in acknowledgment. If he didn’t want to—

“Mirame.”

Miles pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the shame well behind your eyes, like the mere thought of being overbearing was something to fear.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you looked at him, and the sight made him swoon.

He tilted his head towards you, braids sliding down his shoulders, encouraging you to go on — and you conceded, a subtle frown gracing your features.

“I do.”

He sighed, relieved — and perturbed.

“I can’t..,” You bit your lip and let him find his footing. “,..I can’t talk to you, I want to,”

His heart was stuck in his throat, constricting it enough to suffocate — he’d wished it would claw the confessions out of him.

I cant.”

Your eyes flickered to his hands beside your own, watching them twitch before you met his gaze again, heavy and heart-felt.

“I know.”

—

You were determined. The previous apprehensions you’d felt and faced being forced away in a moment of clarity.

You needed him to talk to you, needed him to be open. He’d never get himself there alone.

You needed him to know you could take him. You wanted to try. At the very least.

You slipped your hands down the windowsill, dangling off the edge and checking to see if you could drop down.

When the fire escape touched the tips of your toes, you let go, listening to see if you’d been to loud as you slowly lowered onto your heels.

When no movement seemed to be heard without your apartment, you turned to the steps, making your way down as quiet as possible and jumping off the last step. You landed on the pavement with a stumble before you righted yourself.

“Ahh, Shit—,” A stray pedestrian sent you you a weird look and you chuckled nervously, muttering an apology and scattering off to find Miles in the vast of a city’s night.

—

You were nearing the corner of his street, his apartment coming into view as you walked. You watched the plants Momma Rio had set on her windowsill sway in a light breeze, and the light flicker different colours from her TV before your eyes drifted towards Miles’ window.

It was dark in there, but you knew he preferred it like that.

He might’ve been asleep, considering how late it was — but it wasn’t likely.

He might’ve lost his passion for art, but you knew sometimes, when he thought no one was looking — he’d sketch or draw whatever came to mind.

Sometimes glancing at the copic markers his dad had got him, the ones he shoved under his bed, before harshly furrowing his brows and disregarding the thought.

The ringing of a stores bell grabbed your attention, whipping your head to the left. A lone man walked out of what looked to be a convenience store, waving to the store clerk with a smile and a cheerful goodbye before going on his way.

You eyed the store, checking its contents through the ceiling to floor windows and purposefully ignoring the graffiti littering them.

When your eye caught onto a Prowler themed face mask (strawberry scented!), you smirked to yourself and headed in.

—

The Prowler wasn’t something exactly looked down upon by the public, if anything — he was favoured.

People were weary at first, scared even. Of the man going around killing strangers, but true to the way of the general public — when the victims names had been revealed, and a string of murders all lined up and marked with a signature slash to the throat —, people had begun to investigate.

And every immoral thing those ‘Victims’ had ever done was brought to light.

No matter how many times the government tried to quiet those things down, to save face, whatever forum you decided to look just a tad deeper in—…

Safe to say he was admired.

So seeing things branded with The Prowler theme wasn’t very out of the blue.

Which is why, walking out of that store, you now had a bag filled to the brim with Prowler merch (?), to tease said Prowler with.

—

Miles followed along to the song playing in his headphones, bouncing his head to Kendrick’s words and mouthing the lyrics with him.

The sketches he made along thick paper formed the shape of your body, the same silhouette stuck in his mind now stained clean paper in led.

He flicked his pencil up slightly, curling is to the shape of your neck and slip of your shoulder. He leant back, trying to see his work from a new angle and take it — you — in from a full scale.

He admired your features before going to fix a smudge on the right side of the page just as the song came to a close.

Through the fade-out, a small ‘clack’ caught his attention.

He dismissed it, glancing in the direction of his window and playing it off as a stray leaf.

Until it happened again a minute later.

He groaned, pausing the song, which he wasn’t happy about — because IFHY is not something you just ‘pause’ — and ripping his headphones out. Spinning on his chair and launching off towards the window, his chair rolled back at his sudden movement, but he was too caught up eyeing the glass to pay attention as to where it went.

He crept closer with a sneer on his face, and as he passed the shelf, reached back behind a book to grab his gun.

Better safe than sorry, was what his Uncle told him.

He ducked behind the wall next to his window, legs crouched enough to have him able to peek smoothly.

His breath left him at the sight of your creased brows, a furrow in them he couldn’t explain. Your lips parted as you focused on aiming at his window, a moment later — another clack, and he almost snorted as the small rock hit the glass and you bent to pick it up again.

Reaching forward and dragging his body in view of the window, he slammed it open, glaring playfully down at you.

Your head snapped up, caught with a stone in your metaphorically red hands.

You smiled up at him, sheepish and unbelievably sweet.

He crossed his arms, raising his brows with an expecting look on his face, he wasn’t mad — could never be — but he wouldn’t let *you know that.

“Hey—,” You dragged out the ‘y’ with an awkward laugh. “,Morales. Funny ahh—,”

You sniffed and shifted to stand up straight again.

“,Funny seein’ you here.”

His smile grew as he watched you cringe at yourself, rolling his eyes and snarking at you.

“At my house?”

“More an apartment, you know? My personal preference, I’ll say—,”

“[Name].”

He titled his head down at you with a condescending look in his eyes. You laughed again, just as nervous as before, and swung the bag in your hand to occupy them.

“Yeah— Sorry.”

He bent over, leaning his elbows on his windowsill and letting his free hand hang over the edge, hiding the gun behind the wall.

He flashed it at you and you made a sour face, giving him a deadpanned look as he smirked.

“Really?”

“Not my fault you showed up without so much as a text.” His tone dipped lower, teasing your decisions to surprise someone you *knew to be a vigilante.

You pouted, puffing your cheeks up in dismay and crossing your arms, dropping the rock as you went. The bag shifting with your movements caught his attention and he gave it a questioning look before focusing back on you when you spoke.

“And here I thought I could come and surprise my best friend without a glock getting pulled on me.” You dramatically tipped your head up at him, exposing your neck and jawline for him to eye.

“Ooh, yeah — poor you, huh?” He bit his lip and watched you peek at him, fighting off a smile.

“Yes. Poor me. So poor, in fact — that I’m standing out here,” You looked to the left and he followed, both of you going quiet as someone left their apartment.

You awkwardly waved when they gave you a weird look. As soon as they were out of earshot, you lowered your voice to a harsh whisper and whined up at him. His fingers twitched at the expression you wore, watching you with a keen eye.

“,looking like a fucking psycho!”

“More like a schitzo. Talk’n to yo’self.”

“Miles!”

He snorted, turning to set the gun back in its place and returning to the window, he watched you look around again and tap your foot impatiently before you caught his eye once more.

“Here, I’ll buzz you up, Bambi.”

You gave him a curious look and begun to speak before he rushed out of your view, hearing you mutter to yourself —,

“Bambi?”

—

Going up to meet him wasn’t hard, neither was sneaking through his apartment, giggling with him when he was too caught up looking at you to watch where he was going, and ending up knocking his foot on his coffee table. He cursed into the dark room, a harsh whisper — before forgetting his pains when you snickered at him. Putting a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself and the other gripping your bag tighter. He watched the Moons light hit your eyes and make them sparkle something romantic, and when you offered him a questioned “You okay?”, he just laughed with you.

Being with you was so, so easy.

You both eventually stumbled into his room, shucking off your shoes by his door and sitting cross legged, facing each other on his bed.

Not before he rushed to hide the drawing of you while you were preoccupied with your shoes.

Short quips and poking insults were thrown at each others’ stupidity, throughout.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention!”

“Actually, it was.”

“What was that?”

“I said ‘I was’!”

You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes, “Liar, you were too caught up eyeing my bag!”

He smirked, voice low and smooth, “What’d you bring—? Protection?”

A sudden burst of laughter left you before he put a hand over your mouth, shushing you through his own gavelled chuckles.

You peeled his hand off your mouth by his wrist, holding it between you both and gave him a sly smile.

“You’re gonna want some real protection in a second.”

He raised his brows, turning his palm over to trace his fingers over your palm.

“Oh yeah?”

You hummed an affirmation before using your other hand to set down the bag. The one he had in his own going limp in his hold.

“Yup. But you won’t deny me.”

“I won’t?”

His accent curled smoothened over the words, dripping honey malt into your ears.

“Nuh uh.”

Another chuckle was granted at your antics before it suddenly ceased, only as soon as you pulled out the first item.

“Is that—,”

“Yeah.”

“And you want—“

“Yuh huh.”

“God, [Name]. Where did you even find this!” His hand dropped your own and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Watching him grab the mask with a scrunched up look on his face was worth it, though.

“It’s honestly pretty popular—,”

“We’re not doing this!” He glanced up at you through his lashes, and when he caught you already watching him, he shut down his fluttering heart by focusing on the item in hand.

“Oh, yes we are —! And there’s more!”

“Nah. No fuckin’ way.”

You bit your lip and rummaged through the bag again, and his attention was stolen by you once more.

Flame from a candle *you got him complimenting your features in a romantic light.

The longer he admired you, the more he realised he could never possibly do you justice. No still drawing could ever compare to the real thing.

Nothing could compare to you.

“Look! There’s even a hand mask! It has claws like you, it’s so cute—…”

Your voice faded in and out through his mind, more so focused on the way your lips moved than anything. On how your eyes kept flicking to look into his, exaggerated hand movements emphasising your excitement in a way he could only describe as endearing.

You were so soft, so sweet to him.

He couldn’t love you, he couldn’t let you love him.

Not with your innocence, your purity. Something so simple to have, and yet complicated to love.

He didn’t want to ruin you, to taint your view of this world — and of him.

Your candidness wasn’t built on naïveté, but trust, and hope for virtue. You believed in good, believed that not everything was black and white — and that some things were.

There was simplicity in you, that could only be admired by a troubled mind. Those with troubled existence longed to have the tranquility of a partner rid of pain. To have someone they could shield from the depths they’d travelled, and to never let them lie witness to the bottom of a raging sea.

He’d never let you feel pain like he has.

And yet, he can’t help but feel he’d be one to cause it.

The things he did were dangerous, the life he lived was worse. He’d get killed, or get you killed.

He couldn’t do that to you.

You gently grabbed his hands, snapping him out of his spiralling as you examined them.

“You might not be able to do the hand mask—…” You looked up at him again, a thoughtful squint to your eyes. “Got a lot of cuts.”

You looked down again and his breath escaped him, Miles watched your nose twitch as you considered his wounds, his hand shaking under your touch.

“Oh! Wait I—“

Your face lit up once more, hand dipping into the bag and searching around for a moment with an excited gleam.

“Mm?”

He tilted his head in question, and when you glanced back at him, he averted his eyes to the bag. Right as you pulled out Prowler themed bandaids.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

You laughed again, giggling at the mere coincidence.

“I didn’t even—,” You choked a little and tested up, laughing harder and trying to keep quiet.

“,I didn’t even go in to get these! They were just there and I couldn’t not get them.”

You squinted in laughter and his thick chuckle made your smile widen.

“Ohh,” He dragged out the word, a disbelieving lull to his tone. “,Yeah sure, Chiquita.”

Your laughter died down and his find stare came to your attention, rendering you flustered for a solid second. Your grip on his fingers twitching.

“Here, I’ll—,” You distracted yourself, trying to rid your face from any sign of crush.

Silly, childish crush (That you wouldn’t dream of trying to get rid of).

You grabbed the box of band-aids with one hand, other gently placing his injured one over your knee, mumbling as you went.“,Put these on..”

“Yeah..” He spoke breathlessly, staring at you without an ounce of shame.

You ignored the flutter of hope in your chest, focusing on unwrapping the adhesive — and taking care of him.

—

You smoothed the mask over his face, running your thumb over his cheek bone to straighten out a crease.

“Stop making faces—!”

He snorted, lip curling up at your grumpy demand.

“Lo siento, cordero.”

"I'm sorry, lamb."

“Just—.” You leaned in closer to him, subconsciously being drawn to him.

His, now band-aid adorned, hands slipped up to your hips, Miles not even realising he was doing it until he felt your flesh under his calloused hands.

He didn’t move them, guilt being outweighed by his indulgence. He could focus on the way your hands lost their steady hold, how you had to refocus to continue fixing his stupid mask.

How you looked so good, so sweet, being this close to him.

Felt so warm under his rough fingers.

“Just?”

He went to raise his eyebrows, before schooling his expression again. You gave him an approving look at the action.

“It was rhetoric.”

“Wh—?” He snorted, eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Yeah? ‘Just’ — Rhetoric?”

You bit your lip and hummed. “Yup.”

“Oh, so sorry— Should’ve known.”

He pinched the skin along your hip and you gave a yelp and playfully bat his hand away.

“Play fair!”

“I am.”

His hands slid up your thighs again, you scoffed but didn’t stop him. And he watched your face, tracing your features like he’d done a thousand times before, he let himself have this.

Just for tonight, he swears.

You turned from him slightly, shuffling through the bag again to look for another item. Purple lip masks, it wasn’t inherently “Prowler”, but it was cute.

“[Name].”

“Mm?” You hummed, glancing at him before finding the lip mask and pulling it out, shaking it a little in a cheer.

“[Name].”

You looked at him more intently now, curiosity overpowering your urge to smooth out the crease he’s now made by talking.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

Your voice was light, worried but not enough to be off putting.

Miles sighed through a stuttered breath, nails dragging over your flesh in small circles, and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind him.

You watched his eyes drop, focusing not on your face, but on where he touched you — a nervous glint in his eye that you hadn’t seen before.

“I find it hard to talk to you.”

His eyes snapped back up, mask scrunching with his face.

“What?” Voice confused, and a little tired — like he knew this was coming, he knew you’d get tired.

*But that’s not what you were getting at.

Your skin prickled once more when he spread his hands out, disregarding his calm circling to grip your waist, his fingers sliding just under the hem of your shirt.

“It’s hard, Yknow?—,” You fiddled with the packet in your hand and you swear you felt him tug your hips closer, like a plea for you not to leave him.

“,—I feel like every time we’re together, I’m this close to telling you everything I’m thinking.”

The tremors in your body grew larger, shaking in nerve as you ran your tongue along your lip.

“Like I trust you so much I have to hold back. — And it’s hard to.”

You met his gaze, watching his lips part in batted breath.

“You make me feel safe.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. Just stared at you in silent apprehension.

You shifted on your knees, squirming at his quietness.

“Please say something.”

You whispered to him, backing down to a reticent tone.

He took a breath, still considering you, his look much softer now. You watched his face flash again, bringing a rather domestic look to his face.

He sighed out the aforementioned gasp, and his hands clenched again, you felt it all.

His warmth against your face, his hands along your body. The nerves under his skin digging into your own, bringing both of you into an interlinked bundle of edge.

“You know I—..”

He stuttered, voice breaking.

“Nunca te lo confesarè.”

His voice was small, smaller than you’d ever heard it. Like he was trying to tell you something, but could only force the words out.

“I won’t be able to.”

“You don’t need to.”

Miles watched as you dropped the packet in your hands, the lack of noise palpable once the rustling was gone.

He could only look on as you bring a hand up to smooth over his shoulder, and slipped the other to his jaw.

“You don’t need to, Miles.”

He felt like crying, holding back emotions so strong his body shuddered.

“You don’t need to say a thing,”

Your fingers ran over a scar and he melted further into you, leaning forward in your hold, his own hands grabbing at you in a firm, but never hurtful, hold.

“,Not to me.”

You watched as the man above you shrunk, losing the tension in his body the longer you held him.

His eyes closed, savouring the feeling of your softened body.

“Tell me you understand.”

He furrowed his brows, shyly opening his eyes, his heart to you.

“I understand, I do.”

He pressed forward, crowding over you. His head dropped closer to your ear, leaning his head on your shoulder despite the face mask still being on. You hadn’t even cared for your now wet shirt, dragging your hands down to his forearms and let him make the pace. Keep him comfortable no matter how bad you wanted to kiss his woes away.

You would be the person he could lean on, whether you mean that metaphorically or not.

“Sleep here tonight?”

It’s not like you hadn’t before. You and Miles having slept in the same bed plenty of times prior, at an all time high when his dad passed, and he could barely sleep without you. It’d just be different now, better.

“Stay with you?”

“Stay with me.”

You hummed, leaning closer so his upper body was dependent solely on yours. His hands slipped further around you, in a sweet hug, and yours traced his arms and neck, dragging nails down scarred skin.

“Okay.”

—

Everything was stripped down, both the face masks and the wrapping around his bloodied hands, although the Cat-Vigilante themed bandaids still remained.

Miles had basically fell asleep, getting calmer by the minute when you rubbed his shoulders, the tension in his muscles leaving him more relaxed than he’d been in years.

He was breathing softly against your neck and his hands lay limp, wrists hanging off your thighs.

You shifted, slipping the bag full of both trash and stuff you still hadn’t unpacked off the bed, cringing at the rustle and double checking Miles to make sure he hadn’t been startled.

You still needed to move him though, gently using your free hand, the one not cradling his head to your neck, to lift the corner of the cover so you could lay him down.

He sniffles and you freeze, cringing.

“Mm.. Quit movin’…”

You huff amusedly at his grumpy tone. Watching as he shoved his face deeper into you, inhaling slowly. His lips brushed your throat and you worried he could feel the race of your pulse under them.

“Miles, baby lay down.”

“You’re s’ warm.”

Another small laugh, airy and light, left you.

You moved to lie down with him, and he begrudgingly pulled himself away to get under the covers, dragging his body to tuck under his quilts.

He eyed you from under heavy lids, and furrowed his brows, unhappy — before grabbing the front of your shirt and tugging you towards him.

You followed his hands with a goofy smile and he let himself grin back.

“C’mere, Chiquita.”

He settled his head under your chin, tangling his legs with yours and pulling the covers back over you both.

His arm slithered over your waist, and up your shirt, cold hands smoothing against your warm back.

Soft breaths tickled your skin and you let yourself relax, letting his rising chest lull you to sleep.

He pressed soft kisses to your neck, touch as light as a butterflies kiss.

“Eres toda una belleza.”

He kissed your skin again, muttering words of admiration to you that got more drowsy by the second. After a minute, turning into incoherent mumbles and soft tones.

You yawned lightly, and felt your own eyelids droop. “Go sleep, Miles.”

You kissed his crown, and he sighed against you, dragging his head to look up at you and fighting off sleep.

He kissed your jaw one last time and you gave him a smile that could’ve flatlined him had he be a lesser man.

“Goodnight, [Name].”

You slowly blinked at him.

Your glossy eyes suddenly looked the best they ever had, and your skin glowed with a new found love he couldn’t describe if it killed him.

Your voice was softer than he thought possible and he felt like he had the first time he’d met you.

A small boy smitten. Riddled with an infatuation at such heights he didn’t understand. Love too big for his body, too big for his heart. So much of it that it spilled from his eyes, leaking into the tears he shed. Filled his veins, and pumped throughout his body. It dug it’s way into his bones and set in the hollow like the marrow that lived there.

It was too much for him, so he gave it to you.

And you took it.

You took him.

“Goodnight, Miles.”

—

BRO THIS TOOK SO LONG LMFAO

also ao3 is so fucking funny

548 notes · View notes

keravnous · 2 years ago

Text

the hunter! ; tangerine x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 2 here | read pt. 3 here

Tangerine expected someone else - but he'll do just fine with you, too.

(Based on that one scene from the Kraven The Hunter trailer where he turns around in that chair with the loaded crossbow)

warnings: kids, this is dark; this is like the darkest version of tangerine my brain has cooked up thus far; he is a sociopath by source sooo: manipulation; dub-con/non-con, coercion, gun kink, anger issues, crying, blood, murder/injuries, daddy kink, masturbation, slight dumbification, name-calling, pet names, corruption kink, spit kink

SO I SAW THE KRAVEN THE HUNTER TRAILER AND I REALLY COULDNT HELP MYSELF

"You fucking asshole!", you scream at the top of your lungs, bursting through the large door of your husband's office. It slams back into the lock just as you come to a halt on the expensive fur carpet in the middle of the spacious room.

His chair is facing the wall, a lit cigarette slowly glimming away in the ashtray. It lights up your rage like a match to gasoline.

"I am fucking speaking to you, you fucking dickhead! Can't you keep your dirty-ass dick out of that disgusting bitch you call a secretary for one day?", you are fuming, heart racing as you stomp down with your left heel, throwing your expensive and ridiculously small purse at him, missing the chair by nearly a whole foot. It crashes into the massive painting hanging behind the desk, where it leaves a nasty cut before falling to ground uselessly.

Your husband does not react and that, oh that, that get's you going alright, makes your blood race through your veins so hard you can hear it in your ears.

"I am fucking speaking to you -- turn the fuck around you coward!", you yell, hands clutched to tight fists, your jewellery cutting into the flesh.

Slowly, comedically slowly even, the chair turns. The man sitting in it puts his feet up on the table, legs clad in an expensive navy pin-stripe as he crosses them. And that --

That is not your husband.

The man, sitting in a chair that clearly isn't his, in an office that surely doesn't belong to him, is lean and a lot more handsome than the man you so reluctantly married a few years ago. His face is expressionless, bland like piece of paper, except for the anger pooling around his eyes. He is wearing an expensive looking pin-stripe suit and his hair is neatly combed back, 70s porn stache trimmed just as carefully - the only thing that looks out of place is the blood splattered on his face like freckles, one large splatter on his left cheek.

He is also pointing a gun at you. An actual fucking gun.

"And who the fuck are you, Lady?", he says, casually, but a little irritated nonetheless.

You choke on your own tongue, backing up a little. This is not good. It has your fight or flight kicking in, muscles in your back and legs tensing up and brain going numb, fingers starting to tingle.

"Don't ya move an inch", he growls, his gun following your movement. You freeze. You wonder if he will actually shoot you. You wonder what he is doing here.

"I-, I--"

The man rolls his eyes at you - pretty, pretty eyes; blue like the sea - and huffs out an exasperated sigh.

"Fuckin' answer me." His tone sends shivers down your spine and, if you did not already do so by his gun, you now know for sure that he is not playing around.

"I-", you take a deep breath, voice shaking and thin, "I- I am Markov's wife?"

It comes out more like a question, than an answer, really. You hope it will do; you hope he is happy with what is the - for you, rather sad - truth.

Tangerine cocks an eyebrow, leans back in the leather chair, gun still pointing at you. "'S that so?"

"Y-yes", you gulp.

"Didn't know he had a wife", he mutters, more to himself, really.

Tangerine can feel how the wheels in his head start to turn - the intel didn't suggest a marriage. It genuinely surprises him - not only because people in this profession rarely have spouses - but also because the young lady in front of him is way too pretty. Angelic, even. Too good for a boastful, careless cockroach of a criminal like Markov is. And he wants her, wants to own her. Wants to take take take. He wonders just how quickly she will break.

You, in the meantime, sense an opening.

"W-what do you want? I can g-give you money", you hastily stumble over the words, anxiety crawling up your spine, "A-all of it!"

The man raises his eyebrows, snorts amused. "No, love, I don't need your money."

"A-anything, p-please - just, just", and the dam breaks, eyes tearing up as your eyes zero in on the gun, "Just please d-don't kill me."

Something in his eyes changes, a dark shadow dancing over his face, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and then he pulls back the hammer of his revolver with his thumb. Your knees buckle a little as you hear the bullet snapping in place.

"Care to say that again, eh?" - Anything for your life, really.

"P-please don't kill me", you nearly sob, voice small and quiet, and you are ready, willing to put it all in there, "Please, I am begging you, Mister. I- I don't know why you're here, this - this is one big misunderstanding, I don't know anything about my husband's business. J-just let me go, please."

He does not move. You don't want to die, you are young, you still have a life to live. Maybe you will finally file for divorce. Maybe you will buy a house in Europe. Maybe, maybe, maybe -- You don't want to die.

"Please."

Tangerine says nothing for a moment, then his lips tilt up. "Tell me, love, d'ya beg for him that prettily, too? Or 's that just f'me?"

You blink. "What?", you blurt out.

"Jus' lemme hear it again, sugar - sounded so sweet, that."

You do not know what game he is playing but you really aren't ready to die yet either, so you give in.

"Please", you beg, looking at him with big, teary eyes - the barrel of the revolver stares back, a small black hole of ultimate death -, "Please, let me live." His lips tilt up and you decide to make a move on it, catch him off-guard.

"I-I'd do anything, I give you whatever you want!", you are growing desperate now, your brain trying its hardest to come up with something that will safe your ass. And that, that has his eyebrows knotting together.

The man seems to mull it over for a short while, eyes you up and down. Your skin tingles with it, feels numb and like it is on fire at the same time. "Did ya just say Anything, love?"

"I-I did, y-yes", and your voice grows desperate, "I'd do anything - just don't kill me, please, what do you want, I'll do --"

You ramble on and Tangerine rolls his eyes at you, exhales annoyed.

"Fuckin' shut up", he growls and you do, chin quivering a little with the tears still pooling in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, sniffling a little.

"Here's what we're gonna do, love", he smiles cooly, shows his teeth like a predator, eyes drilling into you, "We're gonna have a little fun. And once we're done, I'll let ya go. How does that sound? Agreed?"

You have a suspicion what fun means, both, painfully clear and enforced by the way his gaze wanders over your body and you gulp. You really don't have a choice now, do you?

So you can hear yourself say: "Y-yes."

"Yes --?", he lifts his gun a little, gestures with it, "C'mon be a good girl."

Your eyes widen. You are not stupid; you know what he most likely wants to hear - you have met men like him before your marriage - and despite it making your stomach tingle a little it also makes painfully clear what he is imagining as A little fun.

Your voice is small, fingers fumbling with the hem of your tweed blazer. "Y-yes, Daddy", shivers run down your spine as his eyes turn dark dark dark, gaze transfixed by you and then he barks out a mean laugh.

"Fuckin' hell", what?, "I wanted you to thank me, you dumb fuckin' thing, not be a complete 'n utter slut about it."

Shame burns on your cheeks and you scramble for words - anything to say, to excuse or justify yourself - as mortification swallows you whole, crawls up your spine and mingles with your fear, has your head swimming.

"What a poor lil' airhead ya are", he grins at you meanly, "But I like it, go 'head, keep callin' me that. Probably gets you all wet, dunnit?"

You shake your head wildly - "N-no" - bottom lip quivering a little and he knows you are lying.

And Tangerine starts to grow bored. He has been feeling quite bored for a good while - since he blew Markov's lights out to be exact. He wishes he had not done it so soon, would have rather tied him up and let him watch how he has his way with his wife. Tangerine sighs, puffs his cheeks and let’s go off a breath dramatically, looks you straight in the eye.

"Alright, listen. I just don't have all day, so ya better get going, before I pop ya too", he waves his revolver at you, "Get undressed. 'n do it slowly."

You nod - I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die - fingers brush over the first button of your blazer, as he interrupts you: "Ah ah ah, what d'ya say?"

Your eyelids flutter and your knees feel like giving in. "Y-yes, Daddy."

Tangerine hums deep in his throat. "Atta girl - now keep going."

With shaking hands, cold sweat pooling between your fingers, you start to slowly unbutton the first few buttons of your costume's blazer. It's a Chanel tweed set, since you had just been out with some friends for lunch, before one of them told you about what had she'd seen yesterday. Part of you wishes you had never left the restaurant, just shrugged it off and ordered another drink instead. You don't even know why you fight for this marriage - you never really spoke to him; he never touched you or even really looked at you - not that you minded that much. But it's losing your status, the money he brings in, that you'd miss and thus, you had grown a nice pair of manicured claws over time.

See where that got you.

Your blazer falls to the ground with a thud and Tangerine licks his lips. And that is when another part of you, very quietly at the back of your mind, is a little glad you came here. It's in his eyes mostly, a strange and unknown hunger, like an animal gone wild. And it ignites something in you, shoots pleasure straight down your loins and has your breath hitching.

No one, no one has ever looked at you like that, like he is close to dashing over the desk and swallowing you whole, eating you up and ripping you apart with razor-sharp teeth.

Your blouse follows next, as you pop open the first few buttons, pulling the thin fabric out of your short tweed skirt. It flows to the ground shortly after, leaves you in your bra, skirt, and heels. Tangerine does not give you as much as a few seconds to accommodate to being partially exposed to him, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Skirt's next, darlin'."

You inhale audibly through your lips and Tangerine chuckles quietly at that as you unhook the clasp on your skirt, slooowly pulling down the zipper at the side. You feel ridiculous, like a very bad caricature of a housewife stripping for her husband. It's nothing like you imagined it to be, fingers buried deep inside of you, imagining your husband to be someone else, someone prettier, someone who valued you - someone who you'd love to get dirty for. You don't feel sexy or tempting - but to him you certainly do look the part, the way your body quivers and shakes, all shy by avoiding his gaze.

The expensive tweed falls to the floor and you step out of the fabric of your clothing, pooling around your feet. You gulp, carefully looking up at him. You wonder if he likes what he sees, if it's enough for him to spare your life, to --

Tangerine's heart skips a beat, a sharp noise erupting in his ears. The lingerie you are wearing, a stunning pale-pink lace set, hugs your curves nicely and leaves nothing to the imagination - with the way your nipples poke through the bra, the string cupping your cunt, dipping a little into the cleft of your folds.

He can also see the damp patch on your lacey string and it makes his dick rock-hard, pressing against his slacks. He lifts an eyebrow, as he looks at you. "Who would've thought", and you blush, swallowing, "He married a common whore."

The humiliation burns on your cheeks, turns them red and your mouth goes dry, but there's also fresh wetness pooling between your legs at his words. Oh, you are fucked.

He reads you like an opened book, watches you shifting uncomfortably. "Say it", he whispers softly.

You swallow, licking your lips, before replying quietly: "I am a common whore - Daddy."

"That you are, darlin', aren't ya", Tangerine grins, "Get that bra off, show me what ya got."

You reach back and unclasp the soft lace, pulling the strings over your shoulders and down your arms, carelessly throwing the fabric to the side. Tangerine tilts his head a little, his eyes assessing your tits. He seems satisfied, waves his revolver at you.

"Touch yourself, I wanna see those pretty tits movin'", swallowing, your hands come up, damp with cold sweat and cup your tits, bouncing and squeezing them a little, pressing them together. You do not dare looking at him, gaze focussed on the desk instead, hands brushing over your breasts.

You just started rolling your left nipple between your index finger and thumb, gasping quietly, the slight pain and pleasure running straight between your legs as he suddenly moves. You flinch, arms immediately clutching around your exposed chest while he gets up, deliberately strolls over to you.

Maybe he is not satisfied, he surely isn't, it must've been too little, not enough he's gonna kill you, kill you, kill you --

"Such perfect fuckin' tits", he weighs his revolver in his hands, the metal of it clinking against his rings, and closes in on you. "Have ya been touched often?", the barrel of the gun hooks underneath your chin and your lift your head with it obediently, looking up at him. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your eyes big and teary again. You don't think he's one to slip on the trigger but it still has anxiety crawling up your spine - don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me --

"Answer me, ya stupid twat."

You just wish he would take that fucking gun away from your face.

"N-no", you answer truthfully. The last time you had sex was literal ages ago, in your time at Harvard. Since your parents had married you off you haven't been touched by another fucking human being, assured so by the constant observation of your husband's men. He was allowed to cheat, but God forbid you had some fun. So, you had retreated to fucking yourself, lacking any physical contact, making every single time you masturbated feel shallow and incomplete. Tangerine watches the way your face changes as you reminisce.

"Oh, ya poor thing", he coos, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and you look up at him, "Bet that felt horrible, didn't it?"

And you nod, his thumb caressing your cheek and you get a first good look at him. He is really pretty. The blood looks good on him, bright red in a glooming contrast to his blue eyes. Your head swims with it a little. "How did that make ya feel, eh?"

"Lonely", you croak, before you can stop yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks, pooling between his fingers and rings.

He hums in his throat. "Bet it did", something dances across his eyes, "D'ya want someone to take care of ya? D'ya want to stop feeling so bloody lonely all the time?"

The truth behind his words runs you over like a freight train, barely leaves you wondering with how he got that about you so fast, brain erupting in a static noise.

You do. You feel lonely, locked up in a golden cage of money and bodyguards, with no one opening its door to spend some time with the little bird inside.

"Y-yeah", you whisper, blinking away the tears.

"Wanna know something, love?", and you nod, carefully, not to spook him into shooting, "I could be that person. How's that sound, eh? I could keep ya safe -"

Tangerine's hand leaves your cheek and touches your waist instead, a feather-light touch that has goosebumps spreading all over your body.

"I could touch ya -", his hand sprawls over your lower back, "'N keep you happy, get ya lots'n lots of pretty, sparkly things."

Your breath hitches, brain slowly growing mushy because - because, despite the gun underneath your chin, that does sound heavenly. It sounds easy. Painless. Better. A little exciting even.

"C'mon, how's that sound?", he coos, hand running over your back, to your side again, thumb toying with the hem of your string.

"Sounds so good, Daddy", you sigh, images of a new life, a different life flashing by.

"Mh, I know it does. I could take you with me, make ya mine. You'd love that, wouldn't ya?", his fingers dance over your abdomen, dipping lower and between your legs. His thumb presses down on the damp patch, rubs over your clit, his bracelet rustling.

And it is like your brain has completely given up, surrendering yourself to this very handsome man. But you just can't since - "I-I am married", you croak, a little helplessly, like you don't quite know what to make out of that either.

He does, anger flickering behind his eyes like someone pulled a lighter out and ignited his gaze.

Tangerine growls, the barrel of his revolver pressing against your temple roughly, thumb rubbing smaller circles over your clit through your dampened string, "You belong to me now, d'ya understand? There's nothing he can do about it, y'hear me?"

"Y-yes Daddy, I do", you whine, eyelids fluttering and small tears running down your cheeks.

"Oh, stop fuckin' crying - I can feel how wet ya little cunt's gotten, fuckin' slut", and you blink up at him, a small gasp escaping your mouth as your gazes meet through teary eyes.

You just look so fucking hot to him. Adrenaline from his kill still pumps through his veins and it makes him so so mad, his ears ringing. He feels like he is about to fucking burst and your tears only spurr him on, making something in his stomach growl, stretching its claws out.

Tangerine is too far gone already, everything tinted red red red and he just wants to lash at you, bury his teeth in your throat and end your life like that, bury his dick deep inside of you and feel you twitch around him while blood spurts from your open wound, flows from your mouth. He wants.

But you are also so very very pretty to him, tears running down your cheeks, lips plush and quivering a little and nipples hard like glass, testing his patience with the way they poke out at him.

"Or actually, don't", his lips curl up into a cold smile, "I like to see you cry, hm? Y'real pretty like this."

And you sob heavily, his words making your head swim. Pretty pretty pretty - when was the last time someone called you pretty?

"Oh, darlin'", Tangerine whispers, gun grazing your temple, thumb rubbing small and hard circles on your clit, "Don't be hurt by Daddy, hm? I don't mean to hurt ya, now do I?"

"N-no", you shake your head a little, "Di-didn't hurt m-me."

"Mhm, you are such a good girl, aren't ya? Never hurt by your new Daddy, eh?"

You shake your head again but this time, his face grows stern. "Ah ah ah, words, love. Use your words."

"N-no, y-you could never hurt me."

"Yeah, I couldn't, how could I? I can say anything to you, call you whatever I like and you would never be hurt, would ya?"

And you do not want him to be angry, do not want him to think that he could hurt you - so that he doesn't accidentally slip and does just that - and you notice that fresh tears stream down your cheeks.

"I-I wouldn't, no", you blink away the tears and Tangerine smiles at you.

"That's right. I can call you whatever I like", his thumb speeds up and you moan sweetly, "What d'ya think? Doesn't slut fit you well?"

He says it with such adoration that you cannot help but sigh, nodding. "Y-yeah, it does", you reply quietly, ready to wear it with pride.

"Alright then, slut - take that sorry excuse of a panty off."

You follow his command, shaking fingers hooking underneath the hem of your string, pulling it down slowly.

"Faster, you dumb fuckin' slut."

"Uh-huh", you mumble, nodding, and hastily shoving your string down your legs until it falls down and pools at your feet - a pretty pink on a bright fur carpet. Now, with being fully naked, you feel incredibly vulnerable.

You still wonder if he really won't hurt you. You decide that if you stick by rules, he most likely won't.

Tangerine slowly walks around you, like a predator surrounding its prey, then comes to a halt behind you. The barrel of his revolver presses against the nape of your neck and then glides over your body - down down down - cold metal against warm skin, and then he reaches around your waist. The gun grazes your abdomen and slips between your legs, barrel running cooly through your folds. And you can't hold back the moan crawling up your throat, parting your lips, has you inhaling sharply.

"Yeah, that's more like it, innit?", he rubs the cold metal along your folds, "I can fuckin' smell how wet your cunt is."

And you can hear it, too - the way your pussy squelches obscenely around the barrel, wetness dripping down your thighs. Your knees buckle as the metal rubs along your clit, has you moaning shyly.

Tangerine wraps one arm around you, holds you upright with your back pressed flush against his chest and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you feel his hard dick pressing against your ass, hotly through his slacks.

"Lift your leg, love", he whispers, moustache brushing over the shell of your ear and you comply like you are a fucking robot, and his large hand wraps around the back of your knee, holds your leg up. You mewl as the gun wanders further, barrel brushing against your hole and then dips in with barely any effort, so so slick by your juices and your breath hitches, whole body trembling as the cold metal enters you.

"O-oh", you gasp dumbly, your body sacking back against him. The barrel isn't too big, barely larger than a finger, and rather short but it still feels - good? Tangerine starts to fuck you with it slowly, moves the gun in and out of you and your head swims with the thought, that he could just pull the trigger and blow your lights out, could leave you here bleeding to death.

Your legs start to shake, anxiety and lust mingling dangerously, and in a desperate attempt for any leverage your hand shoots up, reaches back and finds the back of his neck, clutches onto it, fists the pristine white banker's collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, that feels fuckin' good, dunnit?"

"Uh-huh", you breathe, the cold metal pumping in and out of you has lust pooling your stomach and you look down to where his tattooed arm wraps around your waist, where the black sparrow and the golden bracelet vanish along your pussy - watching the way you can see the grip and trigger moving against your folds.

You should be scared, afraid of him and afraid of the gun fucking into you - but you just aren't. Lust washes over your brain, makes everything go just a little hazy, wraps you in cotton candy - hot and syrupy, sweet.

"My god - shit", you breathe, your cunt aching to be touched and you wish for the barrel to just be a bit longer, able to fuck you properly, reach the parts only his cock could - the one that's pressing against your ass hotly, pulsing through his slacks. Instead, you roll your hips once, best you can with his iron grip on your thigh, meeting the thrusts of his gun.

It has you whining, the way the cold metal presses against your hot and slick skin, throwing your head back, resting on his shoulder. Tangerine moves in, like a hungry animal, lips and stache brushing over your exposed shoulder, tickling the naked skin while his eyes wander down your body - taking in your desperate thrusts, bouncing tits and hard nipples. You are fucking hot, maybe the hottest thing he has seen in a while, hotter than the tarts he fucks sometimes.

You seem clean - innocent and virginal and it nearly makes him bust a nut thinking about you: on all fours crawling towards him, sucking his cock until your throat bruises and you are a crying mess, tied to the bedposts taking him like a good fucking personal sex doll would. He groans against your skin, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your leg.

The sound has you vibrating. It leaves you wanting, wanting to feel more, to feel full; to hear more of him, more of where that came from. You can't hold yourself back. "D-daddy", you moan, the feeling of his hard dick pressing against you and the warmth that his firm chest radiates leaving you a little dizzy, "N-need your cock."

Tangerine chuckles against your shoulders. "Oh, now you're wantin' something, eh? What about me, love? What about our little deal?"

"'S for y-you, too", you whine helplessly.

"Oh no no no", he sounds genuinely amused, presses the gun snugly against your aching cunt and your legs tremble, "Don't ya try to get me all soft 'n shit, hm? You'll lose, love, you'll lose."

His tongue darts out, licks a fat stripe over your neck, testing your sweat mingling with your expensive perfume. It takes all his willpower not bury his teeth into your soft flesh until he draws blood and life fades from your eyes.

"N-need m-more", you gasp, hole clenching around the short barrel, cunt needy and aching and squirting against his fingers and the gun in anticipation.

"Well, then -- Why don't ya show me how you got yourself off all those years, hm? Show me how to work that sweet cunt of yours", his lips brush over the nape of your neck and your knees buckle at the soft touch, "Show Daddy how to do it."

Tangerine pulls the gun out of you and you gasp, eyelids fluttering, hole clenching around nothing at the loss, wanting the friction back and he slowly puts your leg back down. His hand brushes up your thigh and waist, rests on your shoulder, presses down a little. And you turn to puddy in his hands, knees giving in and you sink down, landing on your knees with a soft thud.

The fur feels soft around your knees and you lay your head back obediently, looking up at him through hazy eyes. You can see him swallowing, licking his lips. His revolver drips with your juices.

His hand grabs your chin, slight pressure on your throat and then he moves in, rubs his crotch over the back of your head. You can feel his hard, big dick against your skull and you can't help your mind from wandering there, wondering how might he taste.

"Feel that? That's what ya fuckin' slutty behaviour does t'Daddy", he bows down, grins at you and then, without warning, spits.

You flinch as his saliva hits your face, lands across your forehead and you cheeks. His thumb spreads it out, rubs it into your skin and you moan, humiliation pooling in your stomach and shooting down between your legs.

Tangerine chuckles, straightens back up and the hand leaves your face, your throat. "Spread ya legs, I wanna see what's gonna be mine."

You comply, sitting down on your ass and planting your feet in front of you, heels digging into the soft fur. He strolls around you, makes is way back to the desk.

"'N you fuckin' whore better put on a fuckin' good show for me, too", he growls, "It's what ya want, innit? Be a good girl f'me?"

It kind of is. The part of your brain that just doesn't want to die is oddly silent. There is something else, something that buries its claws deep deep in your mind and tears and tears and tears until everything is a little mushy and your brain complies - good girl good girl good girl.

Tangerine leans against the table, crosses his feet and places his hands on the edges, gun dangling from his slender fingers. "C'mon love, ya better don't wanna keep me waiting."

You look down at yourself and a surprised gasp leaves you mouth - you are incredibly wet, thighs sticky with your own juices. You run your fingers through your folds in awe, feeling your own slick, and you moan as you brush by your clit. You need more, body and cunt aching for it and your index finger starts to rub over your clit.

Squelching sounds erupt between your legs and you mewl at the sensation, your cunt so responsive, hole fluttering and your free hand darts out, grabs the fur beneath you.

"Such a pretty fuckin' cunt ya got", and your gaze darts up at him, stomach doing a funny little flip as your eyes meet his, breath hitching in your throat.

Tangerine licks his lips, gestures with his gun. "Rub faster, I wanna hear more of ya sweet moans, slut."

You comply immediately, rubbing your clit faster and you do moan for him, gasping with the pleasure shooting through your body, igniting your nerves. You throw your head back, not waiting for his next instruction, adding a second finger, rubbing large and quick circles around your clit, hips bucking and rolling against them, heightening the sensation.

Arching your back you moan and gasp, lust swallowing you whole and taking over your brain - eradicating anything and everything despite the need to feel more more more.

"C'mon, I know you wan'it, push one in and finger yourself", and your other hand flies to your wanton pussy; index finger briefly, impatiently circling your hole before eagerly dipping in, burying itself deep in one quick thrust. You hiss, quickly exchanged by a sweet gasp as you bottom your finger out.

You start to move it in and out of you, rubbing it along your walls and you can't help but sink onto your back, mewling as it enters you deeper, slips back in more easily. You feel so so dirty, naked in nothing but your jewellery and heels with his spit across your face, but you have never felt better either.

"O-one more, please", you beg, "Please, let me have one more."

Don't you just beg so prettily? He wonders if you will beg like that when he will shove a plug up your ass and fuck your throat, stuffing your cunt with a vibrator. He wonders if you will ask for another one to fuck your ass.

Oh, he will ruin you alright. "Since you ask so nicely", he coos, "Go ahead, slut. Whatever ya need."

Pushing a second finger in, the circles you rub on your clit become smaller and faster. You moan in rhythm with your fingers thrusting into you, curling them a little. Your legs go a little limp, knees darting away from each other, giving him an even better view of your assault on your pussy, the way your slick spreads up to your thighs. Your cunt gushes around your fingers as you force them in deeper, squirts against your hand.

Tangerine watches you coming apart smugly, weighs his revolver in his hands. Who would've thought a simple gun was enough to get you to buckle, give in and surrender yourself to him?

You are his now, he will never let you got. He will keep you and train you and make you needy and dumb for no one else but him.

The thought nearly makes his chest burst with the power trip it sends him on, and he spreads his legs a little, feels his hard cock pressing against his slacks. He can't fucking wait to get in that sweet sweet cunt of yours - show you how a real man fucks his wife, fucks what belongs to him. Tangerine can see, even from where he is standing, that you are fucking tight - the way your hole stretches around your delicate fingers has him licking his lips.

He can't fucking wait to claim you.

"Yeah, I can see he never fucked you properly", Tangerine rasps, shakes his head in silent disapproval as you mewl, arching your back, "I'd take care of you, y'know? Y'want that, don't ya?"

You nod nod nod, moaning as your fingers brush over your walls, stretching you out as you scissor yourself open - thinking about how good his huge fucking dick would feel inside of you instead - your hole fluttering around your digits.

"Bet ya do, lil' slut. Daddy's gonna take real good care of ya, ya'd never ever have to think again. Jus' lemme do the thinking."

"Shit, please, yes", you moan, rocking down on your fingers, pushing a third one in. You are so so full, juices squelching around your hole and wetting your hand and the fur underneath you but it's not enough. You start to pump the in and out of you quicker, deep thrusts hitting the spot inside of you just right.

"Yeah, I'd tell you exactly what to do", Tangerine hums, "I'd be coming home and tell my little slut to bend over the fuckin' kitchen table, stuff her tight 'n needy holes, 'n what would she say?"

"I-I'd thank y-you", you nearly cry out, your whole body feeling light and shuddering at the thought.

"Mhm, atta girl - and if I put ya pretty throat on a leash? Drag ya through the house and stuff ya full of toys? What would ya say to Daddy?"

"T-thank you, Daddy", you huff, chest heaving with your rapidly approaching orgasm, legs tensing up and toes curling.

"And what would ya say when I let ya cum, slut?"

"Thank you!", you sob, the two fingers on your clit rubbing mercilessly, your other hand fucking you hard and fast.

"That's a good girl. Lemme hear it then, cum you fuckin' whore."

Your orgasm hits you like a fucking train, your cunt pushing your fingers out as you convulse around them - a high pitched chant Thank you thank you thank you falling from your lips. Your arms fall to the side uselessly as you ride your orgasm out, wave after wave of warm squirt wetting the fur, as you moan and roll your hips, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes flutter open as you hear footsteps, see him approaching. He is still holding his revolver, the outline of where his large cock is pressing angrily against his expensive trousers.

"Too sad your husband couldn't just see that, eh?", there is genuine joy marking Tangerine's features, making his bright eyes gleam.

Oh shit - that reminds you of something.

"W-where is he?", you croak, legs still shaking with your recent orgasm, body sinking into the fur.

"Oh, love", he seems to smile at you, but his eyes don't join in on his lips tilting up, "He's right 'ere, ain't he?"

He points his revolver away from you, to the side and your eyes warily follow the movement. There is nothing there except the locked closet and --

And a dark pool of something on the ground, a trail of it slooowly creeping your way over the polished floor boards. It looks like-

You stretch your arm out, fingers darting out and the index finger dipping into the liquid. It's still warm and sticky.

And red. It does not take a genius to get what it is.

Tangerine licks his lips as he watches you, how realization creeps in, changes your facial expression. You look horrified and his dick twitches at the sight.

He closes in on you, bows down over your exposed body and grabs your hand roughly, pulls it in. "Would'ya mind cleaning that up f'me, love?", and your eyelids flutter and you do, like you are on autopilot, licking your dead husband's blood from your finger.

"Mhm", Tangerine hums and you gag a little around the metallic taste, which makes his face light up. He pulls his finger from your mouth, unbuckles his belt instead. "I think, I really might just keep ya."

"Y-you said you'd let me go", you gasp as his hand dips between your legs.

"Well, love - change of plans, innit?"

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine imagine #kraven the hunter #kraven #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022

698 notes · View notes

sinsandsweetness · 2 years ago

Text

POKER NIGHT

(Rick x fem!reader x Rosita)

Happy pride month loveys!! I am working on a million things rn but I started this a while ago and thought, what better time to finish it up then now…

Let me know what you think!

warnings: 18+ content. mdni, not really proof read sorry, alcohol comsumption, smutty smutty smut stuff, oral sex, FFM threesome, girl on girl.

“Alright, turn 'em over,” Rick tapped his cards against the coffee table, giving you a playful grin. You, Rosita, Tara and him all turned them over at the same time.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Again?”

“Jeez Rosita.”

She only laughed and collected the pot from the table, pulling the goodies into a pile in front of her.

“That’s like three weeks in a row. I don’t have anything left to even bet on…” Tara complained. Making you all laugh even harder as you sipped on some cherry wine.

“Im giving up. I'm going to bed.” Tara put her arms up in surrender and got up, making her way to the front porch.

“Night!” you called as she put her shoes on.

“Next week? Same time?” She asked and you all nodded, agreeing and giving a thumbs up before she shut the door.

You grabbed the bottle of wine from Rosita and took a swig.

“Another game or are you guys too tired?” You asked.

“I'm not really tired but I think my brain’s definitely done for the day.” Rick grabbed the bottle from your hands, took a swig and passed it back.

“Same here.” Rosita took the bottle back and a long chug. “Let's just sit and drink. Nobody has watch in the morning, right?”

“I’m off till Saturday.”

“Me too.” Rick answered.

“Looks like we can stay up then.” Rosita kicked her feet up and crossed her legs. Sending the wine for another circle around the table.

Two more bottles had the three of you trying your absolute hardest to keep in your drunken giggles.

“No, Rick you don't even know. She had him like this,” Rosita had moved to mount you on your spot beside him on the couch. Being sure to tuck your hands under her thighs as she straddled you. You were trying not to laugh as she was fake swinging at your face with sound effects and everything. “And he literally couldn't move or anything!”

You looked over and Rick was smiling big and leaning even further into the couch, knees spread wide.

“She’s a tough one.” He said, all amused from the show in front of him.

“Yeah she is. Got him real good. Shoulda known not to mess with our girl.”

He hummed in agreement. You looked over and up at him, cheeks all flush from the wine, pupils dilated and glued to you.

Rosita climbed off but plopped down right next to you, legs almost on top of yours. Suddenly extra aware of her touches on your leg.

“Wasn’t the first time she kicked ass. Won't be the last.” She patted your thigh a couple times, and kept her hand there. The action definitely not going without Rick's notice.

“Ohmygosh and then-” She kept rambling. You were sort of lost by the feeling of Rick staring at you. And Rositas thumb rubbing a pattern onto your thigh wasn't helping either.

“Don't you agree? Rick?” Rosita asked, sparking Rick’s attention.

“Hm?”

“That new haul from the Hilltop run? These jeans. Don't they just hug her so nicely?”

He licked his lips and looked right at you, down to your jeans and back up. “Oh. Yeah,” He chuckled. They were looking at each other now, silently agreeing on something. A very interesting cloud of tension filled the air and Rositas hand moved further up your thigh.

“She always looks so good doesn't she?”

Rick sat up, leaning his elbow on his knees.

“So cute, I could just eat her right up.” She leaned in and nuzzled her nose into your neck. You let out a nervous sigh and could actually feel your heart rate start to rise.

“Mhm.” He slowly started running his own hand up your opposite leg.

“No wonder you’re always pulling her away. Taking her on those runs, just the two of you.”

“Can't even blame me can you?”

“I’m right here you guys.” You sounded out of breath, the attention from the two of them making your head feel light. Though it was probably more so the wines fault than anything.

“We know, sweetheart.” Rick tipped your chin towards him and caught your lips with his own, kissing you gently. Rosita took the opportunity to start kissing down your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin on your jaw, and then back down to your shoulder.

Ok. This was happening. Alright.

Rick's hands started at your shirt, lifting and pulling its delicate fabric, up and over your head. While Rosita started on your pants. You didn't even know where to put your hands. It didn't matter much since she just put them where she wanted them anyway. She took you by the hips and pulled you down on top of her, with her back to the cool leather of the living room couch. Pulling on your thighs so you had no choice but to straddle her. She pulled you down to meet her lips. Rick moved to press himself up behind you, hands on your sides, right above rositas.

Grinding you down onto her as you kissed her back. Her tongue exploring your whole mouth, soft, plush lips so warm against your own. She kissed like she knew what she was doing. Which was really no surprise to you. Your own hands, without even realizing, went to unbutton her shirt. Peeling it off as Rick pulled you by the hips, dragging you back towards him. You whined at the loss of contact with Rositas lap, but he just let out an amused huff.

“She can’t have all o’ you.” He teased, pulling your jeans down, so they were around your knees, ass exposed as he palmed it with rough hands.

Rosita smiled up at him and shimmied out of her own pants, positioning herself right in front of you. When you looked up, you saw her cherry stained lips, and when you looked down, you saw her black lace thong.

Wow. Yeah this was definitely happening. The wine must have given you some sort of courage you didn’t even know you had, because you reached forward and pulled her hips towards your face. Looking back for a moment. The heat had already raise to your cheeks and you just needed some sort of reassurance. Rick was smirking and giving you a very approving nod.

“Go on, don’t be gettin all shy on us…” He teased, while his fingers dragged through your wetness. So you turned back and dipped down, to kiss her over the lacy fabric. Her hands went to your hair as you peeled her panties off, kissing her stomach and down further until you heard a real moan. There it is.

You started to lick and lap at her cunt. Trying to replicate the way Rick would always do it to you. The technique was obviously working based on the firm grip she had on your hair and the wetness seeping out onto your chin. Your tongue working her soft folds, sucking on her clit and trying to work out a pattern that would earn the best reaction from her. Whatever got her breathing all heavy and gripping your hair even tighter.

Rick was still behind you, clearly enjoying the show. He’d lined himself up with your own cunt, rubbing his precum around in your slick, before slowly pushing all the way in.

“How is she?” Rick asked from behind you as he started slowly fucking you from behind.

“Uh- so good…” Rosita let her head fall back. Relishing in the feel of your tongue.

“Atta girl.” He praised you, hand reaching around to rub your clit. “Her mouth is just heaven, ain’t it?”

“Uhuh.” Her legs tightened around your head and Rick started to thrust hard enough that you couldn’t help but moan against her. The vibration of your muffled moans made her twitch and already you could feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. Rick had the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot with every single thrust, in combination with the circles he was rubbing against your clit. You both knew you wouldn’t last too long.

You felt a little more confident, with the way she was stuttering and cute little sounds were threatening to pour out of her mouth. So you decided to insert your fingers. If you were gonna eat the girl out, you were gonna be damn sure you made her cum.

And you did.

Two digits inside, curling upwards. The sounds of her juices squelching as you sucked on her clit, your own spit starting to run down your chin. Giving every ounce of attention you could possibly give. Even with the man pounding into you. Which by the way, definitely made it ten times more difficult. Because part of you wanted to just close your eyes and let Rick push your face into the carpet and fuck you into a shaky mess. But the other was so drunk off wine and pussy, that you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. Stuck in a determined trance between the two bodies.

You could actually feel Rositas walls tighten around you and you could tell she was close. Your name escaping her lips all rushed and quick, “I’m cumming-I’m cumming I- uh,” and the most adorable, sexy moan left her pretty mouth as she held your face against her cunt. Grinding down onto your tongue as you finger fucked her right through the orgasm. Her shaky breaths matching your own as Rick pulled up on your hair.

You thought your eyes could have rolled back to your brain. The way he twisted you around and kissed you, the taste of Rositas cum still on your lips. Moaning against him, you could feel hands on your breasts. Rosita positioning herself further under you, kissing and sucking at your chest. Gently tugging your nipple with her teeth, while her hand went to replace Ricks, rubbing on your clit. That was it for you. The attention from them both sent you over the edge, moaning into Rick's mouth as your grabbed onto Rositas arm. Rick's own hips stuttered slightly as he released almost at the exact same time.

The three of you caught your breaths in a sweaty, tangled pile on the ground. Drunken, post orgasm smiled were on each of your faces as you slowly pieced your clothes back together. Staying there for a few moments right in between them.

Rick started moving to plant lazy kisses scattering down your neck. Clearly not quite done with the evening, and trying to initiate another round. Rosita noticed and took it as a queue to leave. Not that either of you would have minded her staying. Clearly.

But regardless, she got up to gather her stuff. Dressed and ready to head back to her house.

“I’ll see you next week, sweetie,” she dipped down to kiss your cheek. Blushing hard as she walked away.

“G’night, Rick.” She winked at him and waved at you both from the porch, closing the door behind her.

You didn’t know if you wanted to wait a full week.

#twd fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x reader x Rosita #rosita x reader #rosita espinosa #rosita espinosa x reader #sinsandsweetness

450 notes · View notes