#i wonder what would change in the show if they were written as women

[germyjester]

yuri tomgreg you are everything to me…

[senanatheskenana]

The Sinclair Twins With Baby Fever

This contains smut so minors do not engage thank you. Contains graphic depictions of sex/ sexual acts.

(Also i havent written smut in a while so im sorry if its bad lmao)

Bo Sinclair

Bo never thought he'd want kids.

He thought they were sort of like inconveniences from how his parents acted when they were kids.

But that idea slowly began to change after meeting you

For one, it takes two people to make one, and in a ghost town, there isn't an abundance of living women.

And Bo didn't really believe he would be a good parent.

However, it all flipped rather suddenly for Bo.

You had been showing him photos from an old vacation you went on with family and he stumbled across one of you and your niece.

A tiny one-year-old, in cute pink dungarees, all swaddled up in your arms with big blue eyes and one of her chunky hands in her mouth on an exploration.

Bo admitted that it was rather cute and you started to ramble about the times you've looked after family and children.

And it occurs to Bo that while he may not be wonderful with children, you certainly were.

The thought comes along all too suddenly for his liking and before he knows what he's doing, he's imagining you with your baby- his baby.

It makes his chest flutter, the image of your swollen belly and milk-filled chest burning into his eyes.

He tries to give it some serious thought, weighing up the pros and cons of such an important choice.

Bo of course brought it up to you. He wasn't going to just grin and bear the need he was now experiencing.

~~~~~

"Oh my god," you grin up at him. He scowls and huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What? I don't see what the big deal is." he's still pouting and you have to admit he looks pretty cute like that, with blushy cheeks.

"Bo, you've got baby fever!" you giggle and him as he huffs again. 

Bo throws his arms up in the air and sighs. He knows he isn't going to win that battle. "Look did you want to have a baby or not, sugar?"

You give him a long drawn-out silence, leaving him in anticipation for what he deems to be far too long, however, he doesn't want to push his luck on the situation.

You finally give him a smile and a wink, "Of course I do, Bo." he fights back a smile and slinks closer to you to give you a peck on the cheek but lets out a chuckle when you pull him back again for a proper kiss.

He smirks and practically throws you into the bedroom, not wasting a moment to take off his shirt and throw it to the side. He tugs down his jeans and you both begin to shed clothing as fast as possible. You can hear the clink of your husband's belt hitting the floor over the sound of your loud heartbeat. He finally moves to slot himself between your thighs, grinding against your clothed heat.

Bo hasn't felt this nervous in a long time. Normally, sex is rough and teasing with Bo, but every little touch against him feels like fire and it has him moaning into your chest like a virgin. The image of your swollen belly ingrains itself into his mind again, and he feels himself becoming too needy to pace himself. Before he can fully grasp what he's doing, he's already rutting into you with quick deep thrusts. He doesn't bother pulling out and wasting time on long thrusts, choosing to just chase the pleasure you both want so badly.

Bo loves the way you look under him like this, eyes nearly closed and rolling back with your mouth agape from the breathless moans you're making after every rub of his cock against your g-spot. He can feel you tightening around him, and he honestly can't recall a better feeling than this. He can tell you're going to cum soon with how loud you are and how your hips try to chase his.

Bo slips a hand between you both and plants it on your folds. He'll be damned if he was going to cum this soon without you. You let out a moan that sounds like it was straight out of a porno, and Bo feels it travel like electricity down to his groin. You can feel him twitch deep inside you, kissing against your internal ridges. You're so tight that Bo can barely move without moaning like a bitch.  

He comes close to your face, watching your fucked out expression closely. His fingers speed up, deftly finding your clit and circling it like he's begging for you to cum around him. "'Gonna cum, sugar?" his southern drawl drags you out of your fever dream state and you nod up at him, failing to find words anymore. You grip his shoulders and you wrap your thighs around his waist. He laughs at the idea that you're stopping him from pulling out. You cum and he can feel you completely spasm around his cock. Bo knows he can't take another second of that intense pleasure before he's cumming so hard he's seeing coloured patches in his vision, moaning as he stills inside of you. Hot ropes of his cum spurt out into you, making you gasp from the new feeling.

Bo nearly collapses on top of you after, head laying on your comfortable chest while your fingers rake through his wet hair. He can't bring himself to pull out of you just yet, and he's still breathless from finishing inside you for the first time. He can feel your thighs rocking still with the aftershocks of the experience. He kisses your chest lightly and looks up at you.

"I love you, Sugar," he murmurs softly against your skin, "I love you so much."

You don't miss how one of his hands rubs gentle circles into your tummy.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent's biggest problem is his lack of communication. He can't simply speak about how he's feeling most of the time.

If he could, you may have found out about this sooner.

Vincent has always been more tolerant of children than Bo was so he experienced this quite early on but didn't know how to approach you about it.

He was worried that you would think he was weird or that you wouldn't want kids and then leave him.

So for months, he suffered in silence, fighting the urge to paint your insides with himself, and fantasising about what life would be like if you had a baby.

He's touched himself to the thought of you swollen and glowing, and imagining it's you he's coming in before the reality sets in again and he feels disgusted with himself once more.

You've started to notice his hesitance in intimate moments and you finally confront him, asking if he doesn't think you're attractive anymore.

He moves his hand to different parts of the basement, all filled with paintings and sculptures of you. It was a stupid thing to ask, of course, he thought you were gorgeous.

~~~~~

So you finally ask him what the problem was, and why he was suddenly not willing to touch you.

Vincent is of course quiet. He, in all honesty, was trying to hold off sex because he didn't feel he could trust himself to pull out anymore. He was worried that the temptation would be too great and he wouldn't be able to help himself. He's not really sure how he can say that and not come off as a huge pervert.

So he just comes close to you and embraces you momentarily, before placing a hand on your abdomen. It's just barely present but you can feel the touch. Then he takes his hands and makes a cradling motion.

For a moment you're confused. What does he mean by 'baby'? until it clicks in your mind. Did Vincent think you were pregnant? Was that why he was being so careful?

"Vinny, sweetheart, I'm not pregnant you dont need to worry about hurting me or anything-" Before you can finish, Vincent shakes his head and begins to sign.

'I know he looks at you to make sure you're following him, 'I think that's the problem'

Some sort of realisation becomes apparent to you and you ask the question he's been wanting to ask for months.

"Do you... Want a baby?"

He waits a moment and then nods before looking down. He begins signing again but doesn't look up, he doesn't want to see your grossed-out face.

'I was scared to force something on you but I wasn't sure how to say it. I didn't think I could trust my body during sex anymore.'

Your heart swells a little bit at the confession. Had Vincent been beating himself up for wanting to get you pregnant?

"I think I want a baby too, Vince" you giggle when his head shoots up from looking down at the floor. He signs too quickly for you to follow but you can just about catch the words 'Angel' and 'love'.

He stops signing and abruptly picks you up, spinning you before holding you bridal style in his arms. He hasn't said but you have an idea of where he's taking you. Vincent kicks the door to your shared bedroom open and gently places you on the covers. He removes his own clothing- save for his mask- and then patiently removes your own, kissing the skin that is revealed. 

Usually, Vincent gets quite needy during these moments, and his touch is feverish. He's painfully hard at this point, but he wants to savour you. He doesn't want to lose himself just yet. 

You're the one who removes his mask, taking in his flushed face and pulling him closer for a kiss. He can't begin to describe how much he loves you at this moment. He puts little weight on you as he traps you on the bed between his arms. 

You make a noise of surprise when he pulls back from you to lean on his feet. You're about to ask what he's doing but he's already sliding down your body to slot his head between your thighs. He gives the left of a small nip before kissing it again. Your core floods with anticipation when he gazes up at you like that. He waits for you to push his face closer to your folds to make sure you're okay. As soon as you do, he pushes his whole face against you, breathing you in and flattening his large tongue against your pussy. He lets out a raspy moan before he truly begins to lick. You know what's coming and the anticipation makes your thighs shudder around his head. 

He looks up through his hair to see you throw your head back in pleasure. He's always loved how you look like this, with his head between your thighs and your hands in his hair. The sight is so hot that he knows he could probably finish from it alone. 

Your breath hitches when you feel his hand travel from your hip to your folds. He uses his hand to part them before he gives a few kitten licks to your clit. His own eyes roll back as you spasm, and he continues that motion, fingers sliding into your wet core. He moves his two fingers slow and deep inside you, crooking them upwards halfway through each languid thrust. And just like that he can feel you tightening on his fingers with each lick and movement. Your moans get louder but he continues, spurred on by the look of pleasure you give him.

Your hips rut against his face and he moans against your clit, taking it into his mouth and sucking it. Just like that his fingers bring you over the edge, moaning and shaking as you wrap your legs around his face. Vincent removes his fingers and pushes his face into you again, licking up your juice before rising once more to be above you. You still look fucked out and he takes pride it in. You pull him in and kiss him deeply.

Vincent's hands travel down your thighs and stop at your knees. You briefly wonder what he's doing before he pushes them up and pins your legs against your chest. He's never tried this angle before.

But he likes it. A lot. 

You can see from his expression that he's enjoying the view and briefly his eyes flicker between you and a sketchbook. You grab his face gently and make him look at you.

"You can draw later. Right now I want you to fuck me, Vincent" 

His one good eye widens as if to say 'Yes ma'am' and before you know it, he's slotting himself into you, using his body weight to keep your legs pinned against your chest. Already he's so deep inside you that he's pushing against your sweet spot without trying. Vincent takes a moment to gather himself- he doesn't think he's ever been this deep inside you and suddenly he loves this position even more. He begins to roll his hips against you slowly, teasingly. He knows you want more so he begins to move, throwing a fair amount of his body weight into each deep thrust. Vincent can hear your breathless moan with each slap of his hips against your backside. He leans down on his strong left arm and uses his right to fondle your bouncing chest, making eye contact with you. It's your half-lidded hazy expression that makes his heart hammer in his chest. Vincent mouths the words 'I love you' and 'so pretty' over and over like a chant.

He's sure you can feel every little twitch and pulse of his cock with how tight you are around him. Fuck, he thinks, you feel so good. He's missed your pretty cunt so much and he's certain you've realised by how desperate his movement is becoming- degrading from measured, long, strong thrusts to irregular, quick jabs accompanied by crackly whimpers of pleasure. He's worried that he'll cum first now so he pulls his hand from your chest and pushes it between your folds to play with your clit.

A low, fractured murmur of "G-Gon' cu-um" falls from his open mouth and you're shocked for a moment.

Vincent stills against you and you feel your insides flood with warmth. The feeling along with his fingers still rubbing you tenderly, makes your own orgasm wash over you and he moans again as your pussy sucks him in further. He waits until you both finish before slowly pulling out of you, globs of excess cum seeping out of you. He uses his fingers to scoop the leaking cum up and fingers it back inside of you, humming when he sees that it isn't leaking anymore.

"I love you, Vinny," he looks at you and smiles, placing a pillow under your hips. He comes back to you with a flannel and washes the sweat from you and places a kiss on your forehead. Vincent lays beside you on the bed, placing his head against your chest and running his palm over the soft part of your tummy. 

[whowantslovergirl]

Espresso

track seven of the short n sweet series

Emily engstler x famous singer! reader (reader is female with she/her pronouns)

warnings: slight cursing, secret relationship, mother sabrinas new song, emily being whipped wbb masterlist

Summary: Y/n came out with a new song about an unknown lover, Emily wonders who it’s about..

posted: June 6, 2024

Now you’re probably wondering how someone like Y/n L/n a singer who sold out arenas got with someone like Emily Engstler a basketball player who plays in stadiums well let’s tell you.

Y/n always been into women’s sports. She played a little in college but not anything serious. Since the Mystics is her favorite team she tried to go to every game and today there was a game near where she was performing so of course she had to go.

_____

She’s in the Mystics’ colors, sitting courtside and excited to watch the game. When the players came out specifically one player that she never seen before came out. About 6’1 if she had to guess, clad in tattoos and jaw dropping. She asked her friend who was that.

“Oh I think it’s a new player. Emily something.”

Emily something is something else.

_____

It’s halftime the Mystics are up by a few points. They’re showing famous stars at the game and Y/n came, started smiling and waving. When Emily saw her. Her jaw actually dropped. If she knew someone like her was watching she would have been dropping three’s like they come easy to her .

“Engstler close your mouth you’re gonna get flies.” One of her teammates joked.

Y/n L/n is something else.

_____

After the Mystics won Emily never got changed and ready quicker. She saw Y/n about to leave. Ran up to her, introduced herself, made her laugh, and got her number and the rest is history.

_____

Y/n just got the instrumental version of her new song she’s writing she just needs lyrics and she has no idea what to write about.

When she was listening to it Emily walked in and sat down next to her. “Ooo I like this it sounds like summer.”

Y/n nodded. “Yea I’m trying to go for a song of the summer vibe.”

“Well what’s the song about?”

“I don’t know and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.” Emily scoffed. “Why not?!”

“Because I like it being a surprise for you.” Emily just looked at her. She looked backed and smiled.

“You’re so annoying bro.” Emily says while laughing.

______

Emily and Y/n was cuddling, mindlessly playing with each other’s hair. “You know I think about you all the time.” Y/n perked up. “Really?!”

“Yea every night, sometimes I can’t even sleep.”

“Emily are you serious?!” She was blushing like crazy she’s lucky Emily can’t see her cause it’s dark. “Yea you’re like espresso or something.” Her eyes widened.

She has her lyrics.

______

Y/n’s new song ‘Espresso’ came out today and it had the whole world buzzing.

Everyone wonders who the song is about. People are asking left and right.

______

The team was practicing and someone had the bright idea to play Espresso to tease Emily. Emily heard the beat and already knew it was your new song.

Now she’s thinking bout me every night oh, isn’t that sweet? I guess so

Emily heard your voice and immediately asked to turn it up.

Say you can’t sleep baby I know that’s that me espresso

Her mind went to that one conversation that you guys had that one night and she started smiling like crazy. Teeth on full display.

When she was listening she had her hand over her mouth the whole time. She always gets shocked from your talent but she never expected a whole song written about her.

Too bad your ex don’t do it for ya

Walked in and dream came trued it for ya

Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya

I know I Mountain Dew it for ya

When she heard that part she realized why you randomly asked her what her favorite drink was.

You were in the kitchen writing the song and you’re trying to figure out what lyric should come next. You’re known for your clever writing style. So when Emily walked you asked her a question.

“Hey what’s your favorite drink?” Emily just turned around with a confused look on her face. “Why?”

“No reason just curious.”

“Um Mountain Dew again why?”

“Again no reason.”

“Ok….”

She’s literally geeking out right now. The attention to detail is incredible.

That’s that me espresso

Holy Schnitzel

The whole team screamed when they heard that line. They all know that that’s Emily’s favorite food. Again the attention to detail.

Oh, she looks so cute wrapped around my finger

She is indeed wrapped around your finger and she loves it.

She is smiling so hard. She is so proud of you and this song is absolutely incredible.

______

When she came home she saw you on the couch and jumped on you. You screamed. “Emily what the hell?!”

“That’s that me espresso?!” You laughed.

“You liked the song?” She nodded enthusiastically. “My favorite part was the schnitzel.”

Emily proceeded to play the song every day.

An: I LOVEEEEE THIS enjoy this edit I found

[tippenstoepens]

Prettiest Girl in the Room

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Wordcount: 1.2k

You couldn’t hold it against Joe. As an adult woman, you knew better by now. Kisses don’t come with strings attached and just because a person kisses you, doesn’t mean they want to spend the rest of their life with you - especially if that kiss happened while both parties were drunk.

Which Joe made pretty apparent when he didn’t call you the morning after your kiss. Or the three mornings after that. Or the three months after that. All you had heard from Joe was his reaction notifications from the cast group chat when someone would send a Twitter meme made of the show. Everyone fancied one of Jackson’s character screaming “Well, you can shove your ham up your ass!” 

“Joekeery loved an image”

That’s all you got. 

You went about your life the way you always did between gigs: waitressing during the week, babysitting your friends’ kids on weekends, and sending out the odd self-tape in hopes your career wasn’t over before it had even begun. It was a nice, simple life. Not every actor was fortunate enough to afford a roof over their head in New York City, no matter how many doubles they worked. You consider yourself spoiled rotten every day. What could possibly be missing?

You didn’t date. That was probably part of the problem. That’s what made Joe’s silence ache so deeply. You wondered if it would change anything if he knew that the most action you had gotten in months before the kiss was getting catcalled in the streets. A simple kiss meant the world to celibate, touch starved women like you.

Maybe you should be the one to call him… And maybe you should crawl on your knees begging him to pay you a modicum of attention with “DESPERATE” written on your forehead in red Sharpie just to put the icing on the idiot cake. 

He popped into your mind way more often than he was welcome. At the grocery store when one of the songs he always played in the makeup trailer started harassing you over the intercom. In your kitchen when you removed fish bones from your salmon. In bed when you were trying to… Well, that’s no one’s business. 

“Guess who has two thumbs and just got renewed for a second season,” the director bubbled in the group chat.

“Oh, I love this game,” David texted. “This show. Our show got greenlit.”

It was time to shake it off. Not just for the sake of the show, but for your own sake. It wasn’t healthy to dwell so much on the past. 

On the first day back from hiatus, the producers and director had the cast sit for a table read of the first few scripts they had written. As Joe’s TV wife, you’d expect to be sitting next to him considering most of your scenes were together. Maybe you should talk to Joe and clear the air before the table read started. Yes. That’s the mature thing to do.

You arrived twenty-five minutes early - which is on-the-dot on time in the acting world. Joe wasn’t there when you arrived. Or ten minutes after you did. Or five minutes after that.The anticipation of Joe’s arrival was turning your stomach into knots. He was usually punctual. Surely, he wasn’t tardy because of you.

“Any word from Joe?” The director mumbled to his assistant. 

“Haven’t heard from him,” they replied.

You began to worry. Was he skipping out on the table read because he didn’t want to see you? Had his avoidance of you gone that far? He’d have to get over it eventually. He had a contract to fulfill. Just as you began your descent into a catastrophizing spiral, the clock struck eleven and Joe jogged into the room - beads of sweat forming at his hairline. “So sorry,” he panted. “Traffic was terrible.”

“It’s okay, we wouldn’t get started without our golden boy,” David teased. “I hear he’s up for sexiest man alive this year.”

Joe blew a short raspberry in response.

“Alright, alright, let’s get right into it, shall we? From the top of episode one.” The director chirped, no doubt relieved that he didn’t have to read Joe’s lines for him. “Interior. The Henderson bedroom. John and Jane Henderson lie in bed, covered only by their silk bed sheets. They’re snuggled up together. Post-coitus is implied.”

Say sike right now. You had never done a scene like this with Joe before. Never! The Henderson’s didn’t even have a scene like this in their honeymoon episode.

Of course this would be the first scene on the first day back after your first time seeing Joe after your first kiss. It was fan service. Every girl, guy, and person wanted to see more of Joe’s skin these days. But why did you have to be dragged into it?

You turned to look Joe in the eyes as you would have at any other table reading. Normal. This is normal. Business as usual. But it didn’t feel as easy as it was before. At first, you struggled to make eye contact and when you finally did, the intensity of his gaze made you blush a bit. Only a bit. The show must go on.

“That was amazing, sweetheart,” he scooped the line off the page and met your gaze again. 

God, the script writing was really going downhill this season, huh?

You sighed contently as the script dictated. “You’re tellin’ me!”

The whole cast chuckled.

The rest of the table read went on without a single hitch. After the ice was broken, things weren’t nearly as awkward as you dreaded they would be. The cast went through the entire table read five times before the lunch break. The first thing you did with your free time was approach Joe.

“You didn’t call.”

“Neither did you."

Fair, but not really because Joe was the one with a booming career and Joe was the one everyone tuned in to the show for and Joe was the one with most of the power in this dynamic and Joe was the one who initiated the kiss and infinitely many other reasons that he was to blame came to mind before you finally came to the conclusion that you didn’t call Joe because you were afraid of the possibility of rejection. What if you followed up only to find out that he wasn’t interested in you? Your low-self esteem convinced you that reaching out to a person like Joe was asking for embarrassment.

“So what now?” The rough exterior melted, revealing the vulnerable little girl inside that just wanted a boy to like her back.

“Well, that’s up to you,” he shrugged.

Not necessarily the answer you wanted. You just stared him down until he said more things.

“If it was just a drunken kiss, I understand. We’ll never speak of it again. We’ll keep things professional.”

“And if it wasn’t?” You murmured while making sure to avoid eye contact lest you be made a fool of for saying that.

“If it wasn’t… I’d like you to have dinner with me," he blushed. "Some time. If you… I dunno if you have free time- Well, of course you have free time, but I meant- If you want to have dinner,” he stammered and stuttered.

“I’d love to.”

Joe sighed in relief. “Great. Do you like Italian?” He smiled a bashful, closed lipped smile and it made the corners of his big, brown eyes crinkle.

“I love Italian.”

“I know a spot in the lower east side near Ludlow. Friday at eight? I’ll pick you up if you like.” God, his eyes.

The submissive in you wished he would stop worrying about what you like and make you do what he liked. The romantic in you found his sheepishness so charming.

“I’d like that,” you beamed.

Taglist: @thefrontofmymind, @bejeweled13swiftie

[genderqueerdykes]

hi, i love your blog ❤️ i was wondering if you could talk a little about bi lesbians? as a gnc nb genderfluid femme bi dyke(fag) i'm again and again heartbroken by the hate and exclusion we get from fellow lesbians and especially from fellow femmes and it SUCKS to always have to check someones bio in fear and to be constantly likened to terfs and fascists. thank you 💖

hello there, sure! this is a great ask

i've observed that too- specifically in the white cis femme community, there is a lot of hostility toward lesbians who are attracted to men and/or have slept with men. a lot of it stems from lesbian separatism and radfeminism- a lot of white cis femmes get wrapped up in that culture very easily, unfortunately

there's a lot of hostility toward male and transmasculine lesbians in the white cis femme community. i love cis femmes, but unfortunately many have fallen down the terf rabbit hole and believe that lesbian means woman attracted woman only, and it's unfortunate, because it's such a narrow view on lesbianism and leaves out most of the varied and complex relationships with sexuality and gender when it comes to lesbianism. unfortunately many white cis femme lesbians get wrapped up in believing that any expression of masculinity beyond androgyny or soft butch is too "aggressive" or "hostile".

a lot of people hold the belief that for whatever reason a lesbian is "tainted" once they've slept with a man, as though other lesbians will catch some type of contageous disease just by being near a lesbian who sleeps with men. it's really childish behavior- it's okay to not be attracted to men, but it's not a personal attack when another lesbian does find men attractive. it doesn't say anything about you- your partner's sexual identity doesn't have to line up 1:1 with yours in order to be legitimate

i know MANY lesbians who are attracted to men in some capacity or another and don't even consider themselves bisexual. for some people they acknowledge that attraction but don't consider it to be something that changes who they are, and this is an okay expression of this experience as well

bi lesbians have always been a part of the community, there are many photographs from events both recent and further in the past that show support for and acknowledgement of bisexual lesbians. dyke marches in particular have been very inclusive spaces for bi lesbians, and queer protests and pride meetups usually have a good number of bi lesbians among the crowd. it's a term that's been used for decades, and the example that i have readily available is a comic strip written by Alison Bechdel in 1999:

there's no reason why lesbian/sapphic/dyke attraction would be "cancelled out" by being attracted to men- one does not stop having a sapphic relationship with other people just because they find men attractive, especially considering that some men are lesbians, too. genderfluid and bigender people exist as well and it's okay for lesbians to be attracted to people with multiple genders

a lot of butches identify as both men and women and it doesn't make their partners not lesbians to be attracted to them. lesbian attraction is complex and there is a lot more to it than just being attracted to women. there's a lot of culture rooted in genderfuckery here, and even if a lesbian is attracted to a cis man, it doesn't matter. that's still okay. it doesn't 'cancel out' their lesbianism

some bi lesbians aren't even attracted to men, but rather a multitude of other genders. that doesn't make them not lesbians, either. you don't just stop being a lesbian just because you're attracted to multiple genders. it doesn't change anything about you, especially not the rest of your identity and your focus in life. for some, the people they're attracted to is very important and for others it's just a fact of life that isn't their primary focus

it doesn't make a woman or lesbian "straight" to be attracted to genders other than women

i hope that was what you were looking for! if you have any questions feel free to ask!

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest Epilogue

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment and panic attacks, the power of fluff ]

[ description: Aemond and Wright have a year of their relationship behind them, full of joy, but also difficult situations for them, related to demons from his past. Despite this, they find their own ways to live normally and happily. Aemond, jealous that Cregan is now her professor, decides to find out if the girl who changed his life still loves him. Sexual tension, childhood traumas and sweet fluff. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place one year after Glass Cuts Deepest Series. This is a special chapter written to celebrate my one year on this platform, which falls on March 22.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

When a year had passed since he and Wright had officially announced that they were together, he was relieved to find that his panic attacks had almost disappeared, and if they did occur, they no longer involved vomiting and convulsions, causing only discomfort and a feeling of tightness in his stomach.

Wright was perfectly capable of recognising its symptoms, spotting instantly when he froze or turned pale, not touching him at the time, just asking quietly if he needed a moment alone or if he would like her to embrace him.

More and more often he wanted to simply cuddle up to her, so he would then ask her to let him, but not to touch him herself. He would then draw her close and sink his face into her neck, taking in her wonderful scent, listening to her breathing until he calmed down.

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled then, ashamed that, as usual, he thought he had got it over with, that it was so good after all. He fought then against the grim thoughts that he would never be normal, that she had to live with someone who didn't cope, who was constantly afraid.

"− don't apologise −" She whispered softly, resting her cheek on his head, playing with the fingers of her hand, waiting patiently for him to be able to function normally again.

"− I'm glad that now when you feel unwell, you don't feel discomfort when I'm close − it's very important to me −" She said warmly, kissing his hair, and he felt his muscles relax slowly − the fact that she never made sudden movements, never tried to embrace him against his will, made him feel safe.

She respected the fact that he knew for himself what was good for him and what he needed, and she never forced him into anything − on the contrary, she always carefully studied his barriers.

Once when she showed him a picture of a nightgown, finding it lovely and pretty, white, lacy and strapless, of slippery, shiny material − he turned pale and shook his head quickly, looking away, seeing her enter his room then, what she was wearing was all too similar in his mind, a cold sweat on his back.

"− oh, I'm sorry − I won't show you this kind of things anymore − I just − I'd like to buy myself some nice pyjamas − the kind you'd like −" She muttered, looking up at him, turning on the couch − he sighed quietly, rubbing her bare legs that rested on his thighs.

"− I like it when you wear my Tshirts − nothing turns me on more −" He hummed, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her blush as she lay dressed in his black shirt covering her thighs − he knew she had nothing but panties underneath, just the way he liked it.

"− oh −" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed, pretending to scroll something further on her phone.

Since he had left the university and focused on his own studio, he felt that the immense frustration that had been with him all those years, of having to deal with strange women, having to constantly explain his decisions and apologise for the way he was, had left him.

In his new workshop, more spacious and brighter than the one he had worked in before, he felt free, and the only girl who was allowed inside was Wright.

Sometimes he couldn't help himself and would ask her how Cregan was doing in his job, seeing that she was progressing more and more each month, jealous that now someone else was her professor − she was spending a lot of time in class which was hard for him to come to terms with after they had spent so much time in each other's company up to that point.

"He is a really good teacher. He has a lot of patience and explains complicated things so that they seem simple, or he shows us something by doing it himself and we can watch." She said lightly, standing beside him, helping him cut out templates for his new commission, which he was working on with some of his former students he had hired. He hit the side of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, impatient for some reason.

"That's good." He replied dispassionately, feeling her cast him a quick glance upon hearing the tone of his voice, leaning lower to bend forward and look at his face.

"Are you jealous, Professor?" She hummed softly and he pressed his lips together, recognising that he hadn't given a shit, that he'd wanted to do this for a long time.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her by the arm and turned her around facing the backlit table − his hands slid her panties down in a swift, sure movement, leaving her in a state of shock, his hand on the nape of her neck forced her to bend over. The material of her dress lifted slightly, revealing her naked buttocks − he noticed out of the corner of his eye her puffy entrance, glistening from her wetness.

She was his Eve, and although neither of them had ever completely undressed, and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do so or endure such a sight without the memories overwhelming him, the sight of her partial nudity no longer frightened him, for her body was his temple, pure, warm and safe.

"− I've been thinking about this ever since I met you − you don't even know how many times I've stood over you barely restraining myself from fucking you good on a table like this −" He breathed out, quickly unzipping his trousers, lowering them a tad once with his boxers, not waiting a moment, forcing the swollen head of his cock between her swollen, weeping folds.

"− wider − that's it − fuck − are you okay? −" He muttered, casting her an uncertain look after he thrust deeper into her, sliding all the way in, her tight walls resisting him as he hadn't prepared her for this as well as usual.

"− y-yes − keep going − just − take it slow −" She mumbled softly, and he hummed under his breath, leaning down, placing his hands on either side of her on the backlit top of his table on which he usually cut glass, his lips pressed against her long, perfumed neck as his hips began to rock slowly inside her, barely sliding out of her without any rush, letting her walls get used to his size.

"− so warm − fuck, baby −" He gasped out, hearing her first shy moans, feeling his cock slide into her with increasing ease, slick with her moisture, her muscles began to throb around him, squeezing him − he looked down, watching as he opened her wide with deep, sure thrusts of his hips.

"− please, Professor − please −" She mewled and he sighed loudly; she knew how it affected him, she knew how much it aroused him − he involuntarily picked up his pace, his thighs began to slam against her buttocks with loud splats, all around them just their panting and the sticky clicks of her leaking wetness.

"− you have no shame − begging for your Professor's cock − is this how you got good grades at university? huh? − you like it when they fuck you well? −" He sneered, clamping his hands over her bare buttocks, letting go of control completely, allowing his subconscious to take over him and his movements, his pushes faster and more aggressive, rubbing her where she needed it. She leaned back on her palms against the table top, responding to his thrusts by rocking her hips, her hot, wet muscles sucking him inside with her moans of delight.

"− n-no − I work so hard −" She muttered frightened, as if some part of her really believed he could think that about her − he chuckled under his breath, running his hand through her hair, pounding into her so fast and deep that he was no longer sliding out of her with loud slaps of skin against skin.

"− I can see how hard you're working − how much it costs you to fit it in −" He scoffed, and she whimpered at his words, responding more and more eagerly to his thrusts, his knee spreading her thighs wider, forcing her to bend over again with her loud gasp of exertion.

"− I-I'm sorry − I promise I'll be good already, I promise, I promise, I promise −" She mewled, moaning low as he felt her muscles begin to throb in orgasm, her body arching backwards. He embraced her around the waist, his other hand gripping her cheeks, his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, greedy, hot kiss as, after a few sloppy, messy thrusts, he came deep inside her with a heavy sigh of delight.

"− I know − my sweet little girl, am I right? −" He gasped, panting loudly along with her, embracing her tightly from behind, nuzzling his cheek against hers, her hands clasped around his arms, stroking them steadily, his half-hard manhood still twitching deep inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled, burying her face in his cheek, as she always did after their rapprochement, needing his closeness and the tenderness he never denied her.

"− you don't think of him that way, do you? −" He asked quietly, ashamed of his insecurity, of his own fear and imaginings, of the fact that someone else, someone better could easily take his place at her side when he needed her so much, loved her so much.

"− oh, no, silly − I never felt anything like that before you − I think I was in love with you long before I realised it −" She said warmly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, a sweet, girlish smile full of tenderness on her lips that melted his heart, his confirmation that all was well.

"− yes − yes, me too −" He murmured, leaning lower, placing warm, wet kisses on her face. He began to wonder intensely if the ring he had chosen for her, which lay tucked deep in one of his drawers where he kept his designs was still there, and if he would be a complete idiot to propose to her now.

After a moment he decided that yes, he would be a complete idiot and sighed quietly, smiling involuntarily under his breath, sliding out of her gently. He helped her put her panties back on over her buttocks, then zipped up his trousers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye − she turned to face him, all red from exertion, her eyes big, her breathing still slightly accelerated.

"Take me today to the church where you first saw the stained glass windows. You told me that story once, I think you mentioned that your father took you there." He said softly and she blinked, curious, cocking her head, leaning her palms against the edge of the table.

"Alright, why not, Professor. Where did you suddenly get this idea?" She asked cheerfully, excitedly, and he snorted under his breath.

"You'll see."

[the-boy-meets-evil]

with the band | ksy

pairing: drummer!soonyoung x journalist!f!reader genre: 70s!au, band!au, fluff, smut, tiny bit of angstsummary: you’re fresh out of college with big dreams about changing the world with your words on a page. The last thing you expect is to end up covering a tour and you certainly don’t expect to fight falling for the drummer. rating: explicit, minors dni word count: ~8.2k (i literally don't know, don't @ me, it was supposed to be short) warnings: brief mention of drinking, brief mention of assumed infidelity (not actual), reader mentions difficulties of male dominated profession and being a woman, 1 mention of drinking, explicit smut: kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this), multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. receiving), briefest handjob/blowjob, reader is a little obsessed with hoshi's arms, hoshi picks reader up 1 time, idk i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's 70s;teen collab and i'm so thankful that i got to take part in it. make sure you check out all the other amazing fics here! also a massive thank you to my bby indi @classicscreations for another last minute banner with minimal info from me. ily. (this is unbeta'd because i finished it late sorry!)

When you went to school, you had all these big dreams. It’s easier for women to get an education now, universities that had been single sex are going co-ed, and women are allowed to have ideas. You feel excited about your future. You’re going to change the world. At least, that’s what you think.

Before you know it, graduation is around the corner and it’s time to try to find a job with your journalism degree. While you’ve become a standout contributor at your school paper, this is entirely different. Your big dreams start to feel a little deflated. Sure, you can get a job at a big newspaper, like you’ve always wanted, you just have to be fine with being the assistant to someone else. Getting their coffee and lunch orders, handling their schedule, fetching dry cleaning. And it’s not that you mind paying your dues, you don’t. You know that you’re going to have to work your ass off just to get that chance. But you’re not sure you can take the chance of getting boxed into being someone’s assistant. Close enough to get a hint of the story while never actually writing it yourself.

As you’re about to take one of the positions you’re so opposed to, you happen to get to know someone from the infamous Rolling Stone magazine. It’s not really your style, the whole sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll scene. You don’t feel like you know more than the average person when it comes to music. Music is great, you like it, and you’ve covered the occasional show for your school paper. It’s just not where you feel comfortable. However, as your new contact points out, they’re more than music. They’re culture and politics and just the heartbeat of the country. So, okay, why not take a shot? The worst that happens is they say no and you still have the papers to fall back on.

You don’t need to fall back. They like your writing at Rolling Stone, like your perspective. They like your honesty most of all, that sticks out. Someone tells you that they can tell exactly what you think about something and it’s exactly what they’re looking for. Maybe later, you’ll look back and wonder if this was really the right fit. If you knew what you were getting into. All you can do when you get the offer is say yes. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, you tell yourself, to actually get to say something right away. Who cares what you’re talking about? If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s form an opinion. 

Several months into the job, you actually like it a lot more than you expected you would. Yeah, there’s a lot of partying, a lot of drinking, a lot of other things you’re not going to mention. But, the world is changing and you want to be there for it. 

As much as you initially expected to join Rolling Stone for the culture and political pieces, you’ve written just as many pieces about music. There’s a human element to it that draws you in, a commentary on the artists and what they’re trying to say. You don’t think twice when your boss assigns you to cover a show in the area. A big group is headlining, something you know will draw everyone out, but your boss wants you to pay attention to the other acts. Find out if there’s a story.

You’re somewhere in an open staff room before the show, taking time to catch up with people you know through work, through other shows, just from being around the area. It’s there that you hear the commotion outside the room. It sounds like a group of girls reacting to someone, probably one of the musicians. Seconds later, the musician in question opens the door, smiling softly over his shoulder and calling out a string of thank yous before heading around the corner.

It’s familiar with the shows you’ve covered. He’s hiding out from the fans that hang around and try to get closer to them. Some of them are familiar with the staff, both for the groups and the venues, though, and they come and go as they please. He seems to realize this and rushes over to your table, sits down in an empty seat and tries to look like he belongs.

“What’s the low down?” he asks without preamble. 

You’re caught off guard for a lot of reasons. The first is that you have no idea who this man, with his short hair and denim shirt actually is. He looks like a musician, probably could be a member of one of the other, smaller groups playing tonight. He seems like he’s probably in his mid-20s. But you don’t know him. The second reason is that you’re not really sure what he’s asking.

“With what?” you finally ask.

“The group of girls hanging around outside,” he supplies. Of course.

“This your first show or something?” you ask.

“Not exactly,” he says. “I mostly did studio work until I replaced the guy before me in Moonwalker. They needed a new drummer.”

“I’m sure you had plenty of girls hanging around the studio,” you say. 

“Including you?” he wonders. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.”

You give him your name in return. “And no, I write for Rolling Stone.”

That catches his interest in the way it always does with musicians. They all want to be in the magazine, want to know they’ve made it. Just as many want to make sure whatever’s published about them is positive, paints them in a good light. It’s why your boss has always stressed to remember the musicians aren’t your friends. That’s never been an issue for you, so you’ll continue to chat with Soonyoung. Try to see if his band might be the one you pitch to your boss. 

He wants to keep talking, you can tell, but a man that looks like a manager pops his head into the room. Once his eyes land on Soonyoung, he’s calling him away. The rest of the band is going over something pre-show and they need him. Soonyoung looks back at you.

“Catch ya later?” Soonyoung asks it as a question instead of making it a statement.

“Maybe,” you answer, noncommittal. 

The next day at work you fill your boss in about the show and pitch Moonwalker for a feature. They’re young and hungry, saying a lot with their music, and there were almost as many fans there to see them as there were to see the headliner. Culturally and musically, they’re relevant. If you can get the jump on this story, you might even be able to beat out the competition. Which is always a gamble. You don’t have some magic 8 ball telling you if these guys are the real deal. 

After your boss loops in a couple of the big music guys at the magazine, he agrees that you can try to get the story. If the band will let you go to the next several stops, and actually answer your questions, your boss will sign off on it. Well, you have to stay on top of your other assignments too, but you assure him that won’t be an issue. 

Three days later you’re headed to your first stop on the tour. Their manager had initially been skeptical, but called back a few hours after the pitch. Apparently Soonyoung had asked if it would be you doing the story, said you seemed cool, and the rest of the band was eager for the exposure. So you packed your bags and got on the next bus out to meet them on their tour. From there, you would be traveling with the band. That had also come with the warning from your boss and colleagues, a reminder that the guys in the band weren’t your friends and the women who traveled with them were even less so. Not that it was news to you. 

(And not that you’re thinking about the phone call you got after work that night.

“Hello?” You’re balancing the phone against your ear as you sort through some recent mail.

“Hey! This is Soonyoung!” comes a cheery voice on the other end.

“Oh, uh, hi,” you say. “How did you get my number?”

“My manager called the magazine for a couple last minute questions and they gave him this number,” Soonyoung answers.

You’re wondering why your boss, always worrying about keeping those lines firmly in place, gave out your personal number. But that’s an issue for another day. 

“So you’re hitting the road,” Soonyoung carries on. “You must’ve been into our sound.”

“You’re different and the crowd seemed to dig it,” you say.

“Can’t wait to catch you on the trail,” Soonyoung finishes.)

The band is funny to be around, you think. It’s a little like herding children at times, even though they’re a few years older than you. But their attention is constantly somewhere and rarely on the question you’re asking. Which should be frustrating, except that Soonyoung is always looking over at you with an apology in his eyes. Always filling in every answer that he can with this band he’s gotten used to at light speed. 

You do get your answers, though. Answers about everything from how the band got together to where they see themselves going to what they think about where the country is headed. In between the booze and the women and the drugs, you’re able to piece together who this group actually is and what they’re about. The more you learn, the more you want to learn. The more you relate to the things they’re saying. For the first time in your career, you’re actually wondering if you can capture the energy of this band when you put it to paper. Can you capture the way they vibe together? Can you capture the way the singer mesmerizes an entire crowd? Can you capture the way Soonyoung goes from smiling and happy to laser focused on stage? There’s magic in seeing them perform live.

There’s also the small matter of getting too close to them. Or to one of them in particular. From the beginning you knew that Soonyoung would be a problem. He’s too loud and he’s not all that smooth, but there’s a real tenderness to him. There’s a softness to his approach that you weren’t quite expecting. The first time he invites you to hang out with the band after a show, you ignore it. It’s easy. You’re thinking of the advice from your boss and your coworkers. The second and third times are easy too. Well, easy enough. You say no and go back to your room to work on notes for the story.

Except, that’s when it changes. You get on the phone with your boss, tell me how much bigger the story is becoming than you ever anticipated. There’s so much more than just the band, from the backgrounds of the members, to the lyrics of their songs, to where they see themselves heading. Three members, including Soonyoung, are the children of immigrants in this country. Where you expect push back from your boss, instead you’re met with agreement. Stay on the road, you’ve been on top of your assignments. He’ll give you more words for the piece you’re writing. Just carry on, he loves all the notes and ideas he’s seen so far. 

It’s exactly what you’re hoping for and yet there’s still a feeling in the pit of your stomach like things are about to change. Not because this is a big article, though it is. You’ve never been given more than a thousand words and you have three thousand now. It’s more than just a chance. Yet you’re still unsettled about something. 

It’s another day. Another set of pre-show questions, a depth to each band members’ background, an insight in the process of writing songs, even a little bit of a look into why each of them got into music in the first place. The leader of the band and the manager are more reserved, concerned with how the group will come across when you write this article. They’re always asking what you’ll say or if they can see the article before it comes out. 

Your answer is always the same: no. But, you assure them that you’re not in this to ruin their careers. What would be the point? Who would want to answer your questions moving forward? You just want to paint an honest picture of what they’re like and what they’re about. 

Post show is the same song and dance as always. Soonyoung asks for you to come by their routine after-party. You see the way some of the other hangers-on watch for your answer, seem annoyed that he’s asking yet again when you’ve said no every other time. You say no, like every other time, and watch the smiles that form instantly on the faces of those who drag Soonyoung off. His eyes stay on you even after you turn around to head to your room. 

That’s where the similarities stop. You’re reading over your notes at the desk in your dingy hotel room. It’s far too late and the lighting is awful, but you want to make sure you get it all down before you forget. You also want to test out a few sentences or even passages to send back to your boss. The article really has taken shape in your head and you’re excited to actually write it.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts about word choice. You figure it’s probably just some drunk person looking for the band and getting the room wrong. Or looking for friends after the show. It’s not like that would be the first time. So you don’t consider that you’re not really dressed for company.

“Hey,” from a voice that’s entirely too familiar. 

There’s a moment when you’re both just looking at each other. You’re trying to figure out what he’s doing here and why he doesn’t seem drunk. He’s taking in your open bathroom over your nightgown. After another moment, you pull the bathrobe closed, definitely too late by the smirk playing on Soonyoung’s mouth. 

“Uh, what are you doing here?” you ask after clearing your throat.

“I wanted to see what was so important that kept you from hanging with us,” Soonyoung answers. “‘M I interrupting something?” 

“Yes, actually,” you say before you can think better.

“Really?” he challenges.

“I was writing,” you rush out. “I don’t have my typewriter here but I’ve been putting passages together.”

“And that couldn’t wait til morning to hang out with us? See what we’re like outside of the venue?” Soonyoung presses.

“I’ve seen you outside the venues,” you argue. “And it’s not that it’s keeping me from hanging out with you.”

“Then what is?” he asks. 

“We’re not friends, Soonyoung, and you’ve got plenty of people to keep you distracted,” you offer with an eye roll.

“They’re not that distracting…or entertaining,” he says and you actually laugh. 

“They’ll be heartbroken,” you muse.

“Let me come in for a drink,” Soonyoung presses. “It’s rude to leave company in the hall.”

“I don’t have anything to drink,” you say, almost regretful.

“I do,” Soonyoung says, holding up a six pack.

This is dumb, a terrible idea. It’s exactly what your boss warned you about. But you step to the side anyway and let Soonyoung walk around you. With a look down the hallway to confirm nobody saw him, you close the door.  

“What are you doing here, really?” you ask.

Soonyoung settles on the edge of the bed and opens one of the beers. He holds one out to you and you take it. He’s already inside the room, might as well appreciate something free to drink.

“I don’t know, I like being around you. There’s more to you than most of the people that hang around the band,” Soonyoung says.

“That’s because I’m not just hanging around the band. I’m here working,” you reason.

“And that means you can’t have fun?” Soonyoung wonders.

“I am having fun,” you disagree. 

“You know what I mean,” he says, not letting you get away with it. You hesitate, unsure where to go from here. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m interested in you. I want to actually know you in the way you’re getting to know us. I’m laying myself bare and you don’t have to do the same, I just want to know you.”

Which is fair, isn’t it? Of all the band members, Soonyoung has been the most open, the most honest about who he is, what he’s about, and where he wants to go. So you make the decision you probably always were going to make. You sit down on the bed next to him, instead of leaving space by sitting in the chair, and you start to tell him who you are. Nothing feels off limits from your struggles in a male-dominated field to your family life to your past relationships. To his credit, he’s a good listener. His face is so expressive and open that you find yourself saying more than you have to anyone in ages. 

As you continue to talk, your beers sit largely untouched. Soonyoung’s taken a few sips, but mostly his eyes have been focused on you, like he’s looking for the things your face is saying that your words aren’t. Somewhere it progresses from you talking about who you are to the two of you talking about anything that comes up. It’s not a level of comfort you were ever expecting to feel in a place like this. It’s also really difficult to remember what your boss said.

“So we’re not friends, huh?” Soonyoung asks during a lull.

“Oh, well…” you stutter.

He laughs. “Luckily I’m not so easily scared off.”

“It’s just, my boss…well he warned me not to get too close to you,” you admit.

“Me specifically?” Soonyoung asks.

“No, the band as a whole,” you answer without meeting his eyes. 

You start when Soonyoung’s finger lifts your chin up to meet his eyes. It’s hard to meet them when you feel like he sees through you. “I think you seem smart enough to make that call for yourself, don’t you?” 

All you can do is nod. That seems to make him happy. You feel more exposed though, more raw. Even more so when you remember that you’re only in your nightgown and bathrobe. Without even realizing it, you pull the bathrobe closed again.

“Do you want me to go?” Soonyoung’s voice is quiet, not a whisper but deep with something else. The entire mood shifts. 

You shake your head immediately. This time it’s not enough.

“I need to hear you,” he says.

“No, Soonyoung, I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly. 

His fingers are on your chin again, soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. Which you don’t. His voice is still low, thick with something you now realize is desire. It’s the same feeling you got when you extended your trip following Moonwalker on the road. And it’s definitely trouble. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice gentle like he has to be careful with you. 

You nod again before considering if he needs to hear you. He doesn’t. Not this time. His lips meet yours gently, so soft like he’s not really sure it’s happening. Like he’s worried this is all a dream. You’re kind of worried about that too, but you’re not sure if it would be better that way. If this should all just be something you’re dreaming up instead of something that’s actually happening. 

It’s not enough, you open your mouth and he takes it as an invitation almost immediately. The kiss deepens, becomes a little more insistent and a little more desperate. He’s testing the waters at the same time. One hand rests on your bare thigh and the other slides up your neck into your hair, anchoring you to his mouth. You gasp a bit at the firmness. It’s a different side to him than you’ve seen. Well, except when he’s on stage. He’s just as focused then as he is now. 

But it’s not quite enough and you’re not really sure what makes you adjust. You’ve never really been someone to be forward, not like this. So you’re not really sure why you readjust to straddle his lap. Not that he’s complaining. His groan is low, from the back of his throat, as you settle on top of him. For a moment, you’re aware that you’re still just in your nightgown. 

Until Soonyoung’s hands run along the bare skin of your thighs and you shiver under his touch. Until his fingers dig into your skin, just hard enough to anchor you but not so hard it’ll leave marks. Until your own fingers find their purchase in Soonyoung’s hair, shorter than you’re used to on men, yet perfect for him. You’re not used to straddling someone like this either, so you try not to move too much. Except when you need to adjust because your knees aren’t comfortable as they’re digging into the mattress. That single movement drags your core across his lap and pulls a deep groan from him. You can feel him hardening when he jerks his hips up into you.

Soonyoung moves one hand up your back, underneath the nightgown so his fingers are on your skin. His other hand holds the back of your head so you can’t stop kissing him. Then he’s leaning back onto the bed, bringing you with him so that now you’re on top of him. You feel a little out of your element like this, not entirely used to being the one in control. Even if the control is an illusion and it really rests with Soonyoung. It’s like he can sense that and wraps his strong arms around you to flip the two of you over. He breaks the kiss only for a moment as he’s hovering over to look down at you. You’re sure you blush under his attention, there’s so much affection. Then you’re kissing again. 

You know where this is heading, know and don’t want to stop it. His hips rut against your core more as the kisses continue to intensify and you want more. Need more than the friction with too much clothing between you. You’re about to pull his shirt off, have your fingers on the hem, when there’s a loud banging on the door. It startles you both from your little bubble. After a second, the banging starts again.

You reluctantly slide out from underneath Soonyoung to go look out the peephole. Something you did not do when he showed up. It’s one of his bandmates. You crack the door open and try to act like you’d been sleeping.

“Hey sorry, we’re looking for Soon, have you seen him?” he asks.

You pretend to yawn and shake your head. “Sorry, been sleeping.”

“Huh, well sorry,” he says and is gone before you can say anything else.

Soonyoung is behind you before the door even closes, wrapping his arms around you and holding you back against his chest. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear, gentle like his first kiss. 

“I should probably go before they come back,” he whispers against your skin.

“About what I said,” you begin, turning around in his arms to face him.

“S’okay, I get it,” he assures you. He places the gentlest kiss on your lips. “I know what you’re dealing with.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“And maybe we’ll get to continue this,” Soonyoung offers. He sounds like he’s trying to be nonchalant, but his face gives away how badly he wants you to agree.

“God, yes, please,” you respond. You don’t care how you sound when his face lights up. That’s all you need.

The next day has you packing up and heading to the next city. Road days are actually some of your favorite because it’s just you with the people on the bus. It’s a much smaller group than at the venues or at the hotel afterwards. It also gives you a better glimpse into who Moonwalker are outside of the performances. You see how they interact, how they approach conversations, what they do to fill their time.

Of course, now, Soonyoung wants to be around you whenever he can. A fact entirely too obvious to some of the people on the bus. He accepts that you want to keep some amount of distance, doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The two of you just kind of gravitate together anyway. Whether it’s sitting near each other on the bus or stopping at the same places for food when you stop. Most people seem to write it off as how he’s been with you the entire time. Most don’t realize that you’re seeking him out almost as much now. 

You get enough time without prying ears to let him know that you don’t want to distract him the night before a show. You also know how their manager can be, so you think it’s best for him to be in the bed that he’s supposed to be in. He pouts for a second but understands. You’re trying to keep at least the appearance of separation. 

The day of the next show finds you in the lobby waiting for some coffee and something to eat when a woman breezes in through the open doors. You hate to generalize, but she looks like a lot of the other women that hang around bands, except a little more confident. A little more sure of herself or her position. Maybe she’s someone’s girlfriend. You’re sure that whatever Moonwalker gets up to on the road, at least some of them are in relationships. Not Soonyoung, you’re sure he would’ve mentioned it. 

For some reason, the woman approaches you after speaking to someone at the desk. She’s glamorous up close, for lack of a better way to put it, but maybe not as confident as you’d initially thought.

“Is this where Moonwalker is staying?” she asks without preamble. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer.

“Oh good, I’ve been looking for Soonyoung and I keep missing his stops,” she says with a smile.

Your stomach drops and you do everything you can not to let your face show how bothered you are. She’s looking for who?

“Soonyoung?” you ask. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to pick up on your distress.

“It’s an unusual name, I know, but he’s the drummer for Moonwalker,” she carries on.

“Uh, I haven’t seen him today,” you offer.

“I wasn’t expecting you had, you’re clearly not a groupie,” she says with a slightly sympathetic smile. You’re not really sure what to do with that. “But he’s staying here?”

“Yeah, they’re staying here,” you confirm. “Who are you?”

“Oh well I’m his…well it’s complicated, but we’re seeing each other,” she says.

“Right,” is all you can muster.

“Who are you?” she asks.

You give your name. “I write for Rolling Stone.”

“You’re a journalist?” She asks the question with all the surprise and disdain of someone that thinks only men can write.

“I am,” you confirm and stand up. “It’s been great speaking, I’m sure Soonyoung will be around soon. They haven’t left for the venue yet.”

You’re off before she can say anything else without coffee or the snack you’d been looking for. Before the tour, you never drank coffee in the afternoons because of the caffeine. Now, you’re staying up much later. 

Once you’re back in your room, you let yourself cry. For so many reasons. For breaking the rule and getting so close to Soonyoung. For allowing yourself to feel something for him. For being stupid enough to think he felt something for you too. For how hard it’s going to be to carry on with this story now that you know who he really is. For having to separate personal from professional. For all the things that could have been. 

You keep your distance from Soonyoung through the rest of the day and the show. He’s visibly confused when you make excuse after excuse to walk away or talk to someone else. But why should he be? Surely the woman ended up finding him after speaking to you and surely she’s waiting somewhere for him. Why should he keep bothering with you? 

It’s not until you’re back in your room post-show that you start to plan your next steps. You’re scheduled to join the band for at least 3 more shows. It’s what you and your boss agreed to. And it was fine, before everything happened with Soonyoung. Could you find a way to convince your boss that you do actually have enough for the article and it’s time to come home? Maybe. You’ll have to start thinking of good reasons.

It’s during this inner monologue that you hear a quiet knock at the door. You know who it’s going to be before you even open the door. Soonyoung stands on the other side looking much more subdued than normal. He looks sad, maybe even hurt.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

His voice sounds just as sad as he looks, which causes anger to flare in you for a moment. What reason does he have to be hurt? But you step aside anyway because this isn’t a conversation to have in the doorway where anyone could overhear.

“What is it?” you ask once you’re both inside. He sits on the edge of your bed and you take the chair at the desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in response.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you ask louder than you intended.

“Everything was good and we were on the same page, what changed?” Soonyoung asks.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you having a girlfriend? I met her in the lobby this afternoon, she was looking for you,” you fire back. 

Soonyoung goes quiet. Not like he’s been caught, like he’s confused. Like he doesn’t know what you mean. Then his face changes into one of annoyance. “Do you mean Mary?”

“I’m not sure, Soonyoung, how many girlfriends do you have?” you ask, irritated.

“None,” he insists and then describes the woman from earlier.

“Sounds right, she didn’t mention her name,” you agree. 

Soonyoung huffs out an overly annoyed sigh. “That’s not my girlfriend and again, I do not have a girlfriend…”

“Girlfriend, friend, groupie, whatever,” you dismiss. “I’m not interested in the drama.”

“Neither am I,” Soonyoung insists. You want to believe him. His face is so kind, so honest. But this is why you don’t get involved with the band.

“I want to believe you,” you start.

“Then believe me,” Soonyoung pleads. “Mary used to hang around at the studio I worked at before coming on this tour. I was nice to her, we chatted a couple times, but I never even got her number. I never even went out with her or kissed her or anything. I have no idea why she showed up here.”

“You promise?” you ask. 

Soonyoung is off the bed and coming to kneel before you in a single move. He takes your hands in his, so still and serious. Like nothing else matters. 

“I promise you, there is nothing going on there. The only person I’m interested in getting to know is you,” he says. 

“Soonyoung,” you caution.

“I know, your career, the article, all of it, I get it,” Soonyoung assures you. “I’m willing to take whatever you can give me.”

It’s dumb. You know it’s dumb. And you don’t care because this man in front of you is doing more than you ever expected. So you lean forward to kiss him and feel him smile against your lips. The next second, he hoists you up (you’re thankful for that drummer arm strength) and carries you to the bed. He’s so gentle when he puts you down, so careful to make sure you don’t hit your head on the headboard. 

And then his lips are on yours again, kissing you so fiercely that you lose your breath. His hands wander your body like he’s trying to map every piece of you. Every curve, every spot, every place that makes you shudder. His lips on you are a constant, keeping you grounded in this moment, allowing it to feel like more than a dream. His hands wander up the skirt you wore to the show earlier. You had put off changing for bed beyond removing your stockings and shoes. Now you’re almost thankful for that decision with how your skin erupts into goosebumps under Soonyoung’s touch. 

This time when you reach to remove his shirt, there’s no loud knock to disrupt you. There’s nothing at all to distract you from the beautiful man hovering over you on the bed. It seems ridiculous, now, that you ever thought you could ignore him. Once you get his clothes off, he removes your own, so you’re laying bare on your bed. Everything inside you wants you to cover yourself, unused to anyone taking you in with the attention Soonyoung gives you. But when you go to move your hands to cover yourself, he catches them, places the softest kisses on your knuckles, and lightly puts them over your head. His eyes take your body in like he’s never seen anything better.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re perfect.”

“Look who’s talking,” you manage to reply. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, pulls away so he can look you in your eyes. “It’s okay if you say no.”

“Little late for that,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s not,” he reiterates. 

“I know, Soon,” you say through a smile. “I do want this.” 

It’s all the reassurance that he needs when his lips meet yours again, insistent. One of his hands runs down your body and along your thigh before he separates your legs. It makes you shiver in anticipation. Every part of you longs for him. You know he must realize. He runs one of his fingers between your folds and moans into the kiss with how wet you are. How badly you want him. How ready you are for him. After he does this several more times, you pull away.

“Please,” you beg him. 

You’re expecting him to tease you or to ask you what it is you’re begging for. Instead, he slides one finger inside you and captures your gasp. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away again, this time to watch your body react to his finger pumping slowly in and out of you. He’s encouraging your moans, muttering praises into your skin, making you feel like nothing else matters. He slides a second finger into you and your back arches at the feeling. He hooks his middle finger inside you and you know you’re going to be done for entirely too soon. 

As his pace quickens, he trails kisses along your neck, your chest, your stomach. You can’t even be self conscious because he doesn’t give you the chance. Just makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt with just his fingers. Your hands tangle in the sheets as you writhe under his attention.

“Soonyoung, please, I’m gonna come,” you whine out. He doesn’t slow, just adds a third finger.

“Then come, baby, I want to watch you come all over my fingers,” he urges.

And that’s, well that’s got you even closer. Never have you had a guy put your own needs above his own like that. He keeps his rhythm steady and it’s all too much, you’re feeling him everywhere and your body is on fire.

“Let go,” he whispers low into your ear.

So you do, you let go and drench his fingers, the release so strong that it takes you a minute to come back down or to realize you feel empty without his fingers. He’s laying on his side next to you and running a hand through your hair to brush it out of your face.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung,” you rasp out.

“Yeah?” he asks and you nod. 

He adjusts his position and you feel his hard length against your hip. You reach a hand down to lightly grip his cock. It’s longer than you were expecting but not too thick. Not entirely intimidating to think about inside of you. 

“You don’t have to…” he starts.

“I want to,” you disagree.

You run your finger over the head, collecting a little of the precum and then run your hand back down. It’s not enough though, so you push yourself up. He follows you with his eyes and readjusts so he’s leaning back against the headboard. You get between his legs and lick a stripe up the underside of his length, watch as he shudders over the briefest touch. You can tell he’s trying to sit back and enjoy it, but he’s sensitive. He must have enjoyed you coming on his fingers more than you realized. 

He lets you tease him, running your tongue along him entirely too slowly, your hand pumping without enough friction. But his desires win out before long.

“I need to be inside of you,” Soonyoung whines. “Please?”

You swallow hard and nod. “Yes, oh my god.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, he gathers you up in his arms and lays you down underneath him. He spreads your leg and kisses all the way up from your thigh to your lips, leaving you desperate for more of him when he pulls away. It’s only so he can line himself up at your entrance, though. He eases into you slow enough that you can adjust to the feel of him. And then he’s rolling his hips into you.

You’re not sure if it’s the build up between the two of you, the realization of your feelings when you met the woman claiming to be his girlfriend, or what, but everything just feels…better. The stretch is that perfect kind of pleasure and the way he rolls his hips into you is just the right pace. He whispers constant reassurances into your skin and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this safe or whole with someone before. 

He takes his time with you, doesn’t thrust into you too hard or too fast, just wants to savor the moment. You can’t recall your last relationship taking this much care. It’s overwhelming in the best way, in the way that you don’t want it to end.

“I’m so close,” he hisses out too soon. 

“I’m almost there,” you whine out, heading towards your second orgasm of the night.

Soonyoung reaches between you and starts to rub your clit, making you cry out from the sensitivity. In no time, you’re screaming out as you come seconds apart from each other. 

“Wow,” Soonyoung says when he’s caught his breath and laying next to you on the bed. 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

He rolls over onto his side and faces you, looking both incredibly relaxed and impossibly happy. “Are we okay?”

“Oh my god, this is when you ask?” you laugh out.

“Well, I don’t wanna make the wrong assumption!” he defends.

“Yes, we’re good,” you start, “and before you say it, I will talk to you before making assumptions next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time? Do you like me?” Soonyoung asks, all gentle teasing in his voice.

“I am going to kick you out of this room,” you threaten.

You don’t follow through. Not when he wets a towel to come help you clean up or when he offers to get you clothes to wear to bed. Not when he fills up a glass with water for you to drink so you’re not dehydrated. Not when he offers to leave so that people don’t get the wrong idea. Not when you’re pulling him into a kiss and back into bed. Not when you’re talking until you fall asleep tangled up in each other.

The next couple days pass in kind of a blur with traveling and getting settled into the next tour stop. Needless to say, you don’t reach out to your boss about ending your trip early. You do have a conversation with Soonyoung, though, about how it is almost your last stop. He gets it, but he’s not ready to think about it, instead wrapping himself around you and pressing kisses to any part of your body that he can reach. He’s incredibly distracting and you find you don’t really mind. You also don’t mind if he lets his bandmates think there’s something going on with you. None of them seem surprised, which makes you wonder what he said before he won you over. 

After the next show, he doesn’t even pretend to go to the afterparty before coming to see you. He departs from his band and the hangers-on at the entrance to the hotel and comes straight to your room. Just as the two of you planned. And not that you’re expecting anything, but you’re waiting in your nightgown just in case, unable to stop thinking about Soonyoung moaning over being interrupted the first time. 

“Hey…wow,” Soonyoung says when you open the door and he takes you in.

“You were whining about being interrupted the first time,” you offer with a shrug. 

“I was not whining,” he protests, but kisses you anyway when he steps inside. 

“You were and it was cute,” you disagree. Calling Soonyoung cute is a mistake, you realize that the second you see his face.

“You think I’m cute,” he preens.

“I take it back,” you say immediately.

“Nope,” he says and pulls you into him. “Can’t take it back.”

He kisses you hard and deep before you can continue the argument. Not that you’re complaining about it. He moves backwards to sit down on the bed and pulls you onto his lap. Same position, different bed. You’ll still take it. 

“Soon, can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Anything,” he offers.

“Tonight, can you…don’t be gentle with me,” you manage.

“You didn’t like that?” Of course that’s his first worry.

“No, no, it was amazing, completely perfect,” you assure him and he relaxes beneath you. “It’s just…I want…”

“Something else,” he finishes.

You nod and look down, absently playing with the hem of his shirt. “I just, I feel safe with you and I want to try things.” 

Soonyoung lifts your chin with a finger so you can see how much care there is behind his eyes. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then to your lips. 

“I won’t be so gentle with you, then,” he agrees. “But you have to tell me if it’s too much okay?” 

“Okay,” you agree.

And he’s not gentle. He takes his time building up to it, kissing you hard and pulling your lip between his teeth. Pulling off your clothes so you’re naked on his lap. Leaving marks where nobody else will see them. Grinding against your core even though he’s still dressed. Pulling endless moans out of you. Until he flips you onto your bag and pushes your legs open. He’s got his fingers inside you again and it’s nothing like the first time. Nothing like the gentle rhythm. He’s scissoring his fingers and pumping them quickly. He’s using this thumb to rub your clit. The stream of words coming out of your mouth is incomprehensible and you’re sure the people in the rooms on either side can hear you. You’re equally sure you don’t care.

It feels like record time when he’s coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your whole body is sensitive and the waves continue to ripple through you. It doesn’t even feel like you’ve recovered from the first orgasm when you feel Soonyoung’s tongue run between your folds. He’s spreading your lips with his fingers and lapping into you.

“Soonyoung, fuck, oh my god,” you scream out.

He pops his head up from between your legs just long enough for a single question. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, fuck, please don’t,” you whine out and he’s between your legs again. 

You can’t even see straight but you’re sure that the sight of this man between your legs, tongue working you like he’s starving, is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His thumb rubs over your clit again and you arch into him. You move your hand into his hair to anchor him or yourself, you’re not sure. You’re oversensitive and overstimulated, but it’s the best kind of mix of pain and pleasure. There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes and you urge him on, beg him to keep going. 

The second orgasm rips through you even harder than the first and you’re screaming out your praise for him as he guides you through it. Once you come down, you feel him come up next to you and roll towards him. His lips are on yours in the next second and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You think you could kiss him for hours without getting bored or wanting to stop. Yet he pulls away from you entirely too soon. 

There’s confusion on your face as he gets out of the bed (and maybe a little bit of embarrassment that you’ve come twice and he’s still dressed). His eyes are on you as he strips himself out of his clothing before leaning over the bed. If you’re waiting for another kiss, you’re left waiting. He grabs behind your legs and pulls you to the edge. His eyes are full of fire, yet still checking to see if you’re okay. You ease any worries with a quick nod of your head. With that he pulls you up against him and kisses you quickly.

You’re so dazed that you don’t even realize he’s changing your position until you’re leaning over the edge of the bed with your ass in the air. He uses his foot to spread your legs apart so that he can line himself up. Even though you want to watch him, he presses between your shoulder blades so you’re leaning forward as much as possible. And maybe he’s got a point because the feeling of him pressing into you is so much better when you’re not watching him do it. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to him, just immediately snaps his hips into you, burying his cock fully inside on the first thrust. Even though he’s being rougher, his praise is still constant. Still talking you through every moment. When he lifts one of your legs up so your knee is on the edge of the bed, you think you see stars at the new position. He’s hitting you so deep and filling you so completely that you’re not sure how you ever survived without him. Dramatic, you chastise yourself, but you’re a little beyond sex stupid right now. 

His fingers dig into your hips where he holds you in place, keeping up the pace that has your eyes watering yet again. You’re so sensitive and you’re sure you’re not going to come again. Until you feel the orgasm building and the pressure in your tummy. Until his own words become unintelligible, just a string of curses and praise. Until you hear yourself tell him that you’re gonna come again and feel his own release just after yours. 

Your legs feel like jelly as he guides you back into the bed and disappears for a towel. You can hear the water running just before he reappears to clean you up. It’s such a stark contrast from minutes earlier when he’s gentle with you again. It’s way too early to feel anything for him, you remind yourself again, but you also can’t pretend not to feel anything. 

Once he cleans himself up, he gets into the bed and tucks the two of you under the covers without bothering to get dressed. His arms circle you and you feel safe, like this. Wanted and special and right. The kiss he presses to your forehead almost makes you sigh.

“How are you?” he asks softly into your hair.

“Amazing? Perfect? I don’t even know,” you answer.

“But you’re okay,” he presses.

“No, I’m a lot better than okay,” you assure him. He must see your smile. 

“Me too,” he agrees.

You’re not sure what happens next or how you’re going to be able to make this work. Or if it’s even going to work. You’re not sure any of that matters because you have this night and you have Soonyoung, at least for now. Nothing else matters.

thank you for reading, i hope you liked it 💕

[talaok]

Love your writing!!!! I’m obsessed! Can you do one where a mutual friend sets Pedro and (y/n) on a blind date? Xoxo

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: thank you love, and thank you for the really cute request💗💗

Why did I agree to this?

This is not like me. Not even close to how I am.

I don't go on blind dates, I don't even have Tinder for fucks sake, that's how much I don't like hanging out with strangers.

It had taken Julie a whole night and more drinks than you'd like (or could) remember to make you agree to this, and as soon as you woke up the next morning, regret had settled into your chest like a fucking life sentence, but as much as you would have loved to call your friend up and tell her how much of a mistake you had made, a part of you couldn't help but wonder how bad could it really be.

It had been a while since you'd been on a date, and from what Julie had said, this Pedro looked like a nice enough guy, so you had taken the downright mental decision to not tell her you'd changed your mind, decision that, as you walked into the restaurant, you were starting to really regret.

he waved at you as you entered, and as you walked closer and he stood up from the table, a part of that regret couldn't help but shimmer out of your mind.

He was... handsome.

The photos Julie had shown you didn't do him any justice.

"hi" you smiled nervously "I'm y/n" you said, shaking his hand

"I'm Pedro, it's nice to meet you"

He had a nice smile, very comforting and very much matching yours in terms of nervousness.

It had been a while for him too.

And the photos Julie had shown him definitely didn't do you justice either.

He had never been good at talking to such beautiful women.

"nice to meet you too," you said, sitting down opposite to him.

"so" he cleared his throat after a few moments of embarrassing silence "umh- How are you?"

A smile pulled at your lips "I'm good, thank you" you nodded "what about you?"

"oh I'm- I'm nervous" he let out a small chukle, making you laugh softly.

"yeah, me too" you said "It's been a while"

"yeah, for me too" he confessed "and you are... well you're very beautiful, so you're not making things easier for me"

A soft blush crept up your cheeks but you managed to chukle nonetheless.

"Well I'm sorry, I'll go into the bathroom and take off some of my makeup if that'll help"

He laughed at that "No, no I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you for offering"

"anytime" you joked

"So umh, Julie told me you're a writer"

"Yup, that's me" you smiled

"That's incredible"

"Oh c'mon you're an actor, now that's incredible" You raised an eyebrow

"Oh no no, I just repeat stuff that's been written for me in front of a camera, you create whole stories from your imagination" he debated "That's far more impressive"

You rolled your eyes playfully, as your smile got only wider.

"You're a real flatterer you know that Pedro?"

"Who, me?" he grinned, putting a hand on his chest at the accusation "I'm just speaking the facts" he spoke, making you huff a laugh "so what do you write about?"

"all sorts of things, I don't really have a genre" you explained "I've written sad stuff, romantic stuff, creepy stuff..." you shrugged "It mostly depends on my mood"

"that's nice" he nodded,

"and what about you, are you working on something right now?" you asked

"I've just been cast in a tv-show"

"really? What show, if I may ask"

"Oh it's umh- It's the Mandalorian, it's in the Star Wars universe"

"oh my god" your eyes widened in surprise "You're joking right?"

"nope" he smiled "yeah trust me, I was pretty freaked out myself"

"Oh my god" you breathed, "I think I need a moment to take this in"

"I take it you like Star Wars?"

"like?" you laughed "I've grown up watching Star Wars, My brother and I know every single line to The Return of the Jedi, I-" you stopped yourself "I think I just fell in love with you Pedro, I think we ought to get married as soon as possible"

"Well that was easy" he chuckled

"How are you not freaking out?" you asked, watching him as if he were an alien doing cartwheels

"I think you're doing enough of that for the both of us" he joked

"Yeah I really am, aren't I?" you smiled, coming back down to earth a little bit "it's just- that's crazy. I'm- I'm really happy for you"

"Thank you" he flashed you a smile, and that's when you noticed that it wasn't only his smile that was comforting, but his eyes too, they were so incredibly... expressive.

The rest of the dinner went by so smoothly you completely forgot you hadn't known this man your whole life, but in fact, just met him two hours ago.

"Well, I... I had a really great time y/n" he smiled, looking nervous again all of a sudden as you stopped in front of your car. 

"Me too" you grinned 

"So, since I have your number..." he cleared his throat "I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind me calling you sometime soon, to umh- to maybe do this again?"

Your heart started beating a little bit faster

"I'd love that Pedro"

"Oh thank God" he let out a sigh of relief

"You were nervous I'd say no?" you asked, doing a poor job of hiding your shock

"well... yeah"

"I proposed to you during the first five minutes of this date, of course I want to see you again" you laughed

"well I suppose that's true" he chuckled, letting his eyes take you in one last time "So umh, have a good night" he said " I can't wait to see you again"

"me either" you beamed "have a good night Pedro"

And as you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but smile up at the sky.

Thank god I didn't call Julie back

[supremechancellorrex]

In Avatar: The Last Airbender, I think the finale I have the most problems with is the Book 2 finale for a number of reasons that have always bothered me.

Azula's Plan

Despite how the show presents it, Azula's plan kinda isn't that smart. She turns up with Mai and Ty Lee in Kyoshi garb while having zero intelligence, and just lucky for her the GAang isn't there at her welcoming ceremony. Because Sokka just happens to be off to see his Dad (something she didn't know), Toph was kidnapped (something she didn't know), Aang is with the Guru (again, something she does not know) and for some reason Katara, despite being at Ba Sing Se, doesn't bother going to welcoming ceremony to see "Suki". *Convenient*. This is something Azula could not have predicted yet she's just that lucky. What was Azula's plan if the Gaang were there and had no other commitments? They'd seen through her disguise immediately and she and her team would be surrounded by hundreds of enemy benders with no clear exit. And Azula had figured that the Kyoshi Warriors knew the Avatar, so this is what she should have been expecting.

Another aspect of Azula's plan I didn't like was how she so easily won over the Dai Li. They never show the Dai Li's disenfranchisement, that perhaps if members of the Dai Li were growing wary of brainwashing women to be smiling Joo Dee tour guides, and wonder what the point was. Azula could have easily had an in if it was thought to be written. Perhaps she could have convinced them Sozin's comet was gonna destroy their little utopia in a few months, and Long Feng was in denial and like "fake news"? That it was ultimately pointless this entire Ba Sing Se project. It might have been better to show Azula chip away at them with some kind of logic over a "divine rule" speech about something the Dai Li would hardly care for. But they don't really do that, we're just to assume Azula is just that "uber-powerful" and "inspirational" and that's the only thing the Dai Li care about enough to sell out to Firebenders after hundreds of years of being embedded in the Earth Kingdom operatus, which is a bit weak reasoning to say the least for such a risk and change in their entire point. How did they know that the Fire Nation, who have such a fascist superiority complex, wouldn't dispose of them once the Fire Nation troops rolled in?

And then, despite taking over the Dai Li, the show never really uses them again except in the Day of Black Sun briefly. It was all just to give Azula a quick win and then be discarded as a real plot point .

The Invasion

Sokka *shocked*: "They knew."

One of the worst tie-ins with the Ba Sing Se arc is the invasion plan and that the GAang remain oblivious to the fact that the Fire Nation expects an attack on the Day of Black Sun. King Kuei told Azula about the invasion plan while she was in disguise and then found out she was an imposter later, yet never mentions this to the GAang. Moreover, Katara had the invasion plans scroll that was given to her by the Council of Five when she was captured by Azula, yet never wonders what happened to this very important information she was tasked to keep safe. This is pretty hilarious since the GAang talk about the upcoming invasion quite frequently in early Book 3. And furthermore, Sokka and Toph know that the Council of Five, who planned the whole invasion, were captured by Azula's agents. On top of this, the entire of Ba Sing Se fell, meaning the Fire Nation had access to their entire archives and anyone involved in drafting or writing the plans.

This is such a basic and unbelievable communication issue that normally would naturally resolve itself with just a modicum of effort, yet the GAang are surprised to find out on the Day of Black Sun the Fire Nation had an inkling of being attacked on an eclipse and upped their defences.

Sokka (shocked): "They knew."

Me: "No fucking shit, dude."

[cringecompanionapologist]

Moffat, Sexy Women, and More 80s Who Complaints:

Note: I am a woman and everything I'm saying is my opinion as an individual woman and not an attempt to represent women as a whole. We're like half the world's population. We're not gonna agree on everything.

I'm just gonna randomly say a bit about the Moffat era and women that's sort of a defense in an "this still feels better than other things" sort of way.

Look, I will not deny that the Moffat era (mostly 11's part) has some issues with women. Most of it, at least for me, has less to do with how the female characters are written and more to do with how the male characters address them (Let's Kill Hitler, I'm looking at you).

But, one thing that bothers other people that doesn't bother me as much is the sexualization. This is mostly compared to what came before it.

For me, because sexuality isn't an inherently negative thing, a character of any gender being sexualized isn't automatically a bad thing. It's more of a matter of subject vs. object.

To illustrate my point, let's bitch about 80s Who for a bit.

Now, when I say 80s Who, I'm mostly referring to the Saward Era (seasons 19-23/5th and 6th Doctors). Ace wasn't really sexualized in the same way the companions before her were.

If you dig through this blog, you'll find that this is sort of the third in a miniseries about various issues with 80s companions that mostly come down to something about gender. With Tegan, it's that she's an outspoken woman and treated negatively for it. With Turlough, it's that the EU tries to downplay the more gender-nonconforming aspects of his character, which admittedly mostly happened by accident.

This time, I'm talking about Peri. Peri was heavily sexualized but in a way that I don't particularly like. It ultimately comes down to how the era handles sexuality in general.

JNT was more of a marketing guy than a creative guy, but his ideas of marketing the show ended up contradicting one another. On one hand, he wanted to avoid controversy. Doctor Who had a bit of a history of controversy, though most of it was about how violent it was, something this era of the show clearly did not care about. Instead, the primary JNT/Saward obsession was with sex. It had to be clear that the Doctor did not fuck and never had. But, this sort of extended to the companions as well. 60s and 70s Who would occasionally give companions one-off love interests. This didn't happen a lot, but there was a history of it dating back to The Daleks, where Barbara makes out with one of the Thals for a bit. In 80s Who, the only time a companion got a love interest was right as she was leaving the show and that was a last minute change.

(Side Note: I'd once again like to comment that Doctor Who wrote women better in 1964 than in 1984 and that Barbara is a great character. The worst thing Moffat every did was have Twice Upon a Time trick people into thinking of this era as The Sexist One.)

You might be wondering, "so what? It's a kids show. Of course nobody's gonna be horny!". And yeah. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. The problem is that the show isn't horny, but it is sexy.

What I mean: Horny is sexuality in-universe. It's the characters having sexual attraction and interests. Sexy is sexuality out-of-universe. It's characters being attractive to the audience.

Peri is the ultimate example of this. She's completely normal for this era of the show when it comes to sexuality. It's not really a thing and when it is it leads to almost immediate marriage. But, she's always dressed in revealing outfits. In Planet of Fire, she's on vacation in a warm region, so that makes sense, but she continues to dress that way everywhere she goes.

Peri is sexualized as fanservice for the audience and for villainous characters to leer at to make them more threatening. Her personality doesn't really match her choice of outfits. It's all for the benefit of the audience and a justification for creepy bad guy behavior.

I mentioned before the sexual subject vs. object. A subject does while an object is done to. A subject looks while an object is looked at. When a character's sexuality isn't an aspect of their character, existing primarily as something for the audience and other characters to leer at, she's a sexual object. And that sucks.

The reason Moffat's sexualization of characters like Amy and River doesn't bother me is that they do not have this problem. The women in this era are just as horny as the men. It's clear that these characters are the sort of people who'd choose to wear the outfits they wear. Yes, it's still fanservice written that way due to Moffat's horniness, but the female characters he writes have sexual agency. They're sexy because they're horny. They flirt with people they're attracted to. They're not just being leered at by the audience and other characters. They're looking as well as being looked at. They actively participate in the show's sexuality. They are sexual subjects.

Of course this doesn't work all the time. There's a lot of "men are horny idiots about women" jokes. When it comes to other aspects of female characters, there's a lot of talk of them being overly emotional and focused on romantic relationships. This did get better over time, being less of a thing with Clara and basically not a thing at all with Bill. I think Moffat was aware of the criticism he was getting and learned from his mistakes. But mistakes were certainly made.

But, though Moffat was obviously horny for his female characters, he them sexual agency. It might not be for everyone but it meant that the horniness of the era didn't bother me.

Besides, I'm horny for Moffat's female companions too. Is it morally different because I'm a woman being horny in a gay way?

[littleblackraincloudofcourse]

I've been wondering for a while now why out of all the premature cancelations of any show I've ever watched Willow was the most upsetting to me. I finally understand why. This felt more than any of the others like a betrayal. I have been a fan of Disney since I was three. I watched and loved so many stories but never felt quite like I was apart of them. Characters like me were always sort of on the periphery of epic tales. It was rare to feel included and when I was the story often left others feeling as I normally did. They could enjoy the story but where not quite part of it.

Then last year, Willow premiered and finally there was something bringing us all together. Women, people of color, queer people, and people with disabilities where all equally apart of the story. They weren't a liability, villans or even helplessly waiting for rescue. They were the heroes. We were the heroes in a world of fantasy. Even better, the "straight" white male was the one in need of rescue. It was the kind of story I never thought I would see on screen. Best of all, it was good. Willow is funny, dramatic, action filled and romantic. It's a well written story full of love of all kinds for all of us. Watching it filled me with joy and hope.

Then Disney announced it was canceled and I was heartbroken. Then they claimed it was not canceled but on hiatus. It was like emotional whiplash and before we could recover, Willow was removed like it never existed. After more than three decades of being a Disney fan, after people like us have been Disney fans for literally 100 years, they erased our stories and acted like nothing had changed.

I didn't understand what I was feeling before because I've never felt it outside a personal relationship before. I had never been this connected to a series before. I believed Disney cared about our stories, that they cared about us. In hindsight, that was a bit naive for someone my age, but again this all new to me.

The fact is, this was a betrayal. This was worse than being sidelined or excluded. This was saying our stories weren't worth. That our stories didn't matter to them. It wasn't just a show and they knew that, they know that. The entire cast expressed how important Willow was to them for the same reasons. We saw that in Behind the Magic. Fans have been campaigning every day since they announced the cancelation to show how much the series mean. Over the last six months, I have found some the kindest, most inclusive and respectful people not just on the internet but truly in the world. I have never been apart of a fandom so filled with love that there's no room for hate.

I haven't been able to enjoy Disney the way I use to since Willow. I canceled Disney+ immediately once it was removed and now that more and more of their content has moved to Hulu, I've had to canceled them as well. I haven't even watched any movie they've put out this year. It feels like going back to an ex-lover that mistreated me because I did love them. I loved Disney but they don't love any of us. I still hope to get Willow back some day and for their stories to continue but I don't think I will ever feel the same about Disney.

[rookiesbookies]

Greek God!Price x MaidenFem!Reader pt 2

Masterlist is pinned as always and please submit any requests to my inbox I dont bite

She had always been nervous around men, in her village they had always seemed rude and misogynist. Women were a commodity, their value based on purity and age. But Price was different. He treated her with respect and tenderness, making her feel safe and cherished. It was a new experience for her, and she couldn't help but feel nervous about it.

As she lay there, wide awake, she couldn't help but notice Price's movements in his sleep. He had gone from a respectful distance to spooning her side, his warm body pressed against hers. It was both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

She had agreed to spend the night in his bed, a decision that made her anxious. Changing in his master bathroom, she had put on one of his white undershirts that barely covered her upper-mid thigh. She worried about him seeing her exposed, about her own vulnerability in this unfamiliar situation.

The clock on the wall ticked away, reminding her of the late hour. She shivered, feeling the coldness of the room seep into her bones. Despite Price's warm body heat and the thick blankets, she couldn't find comfort. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her nipples showing through the shirt or the possibility of her underwear being revealed.

But amidst her restlessness, she couldn't help but appreciate Price's gentle and kind nature. It was a stark contrast to her past experiences with the men who had tried to court her - often older and looking for a young housewife to act as a slave due to their wealth. She found herself slowly letting go of her fears and embracing the unfamiliar warmth that he offered.

Price stood out among the men she had encountered. He possessed a genuine gentlemanly demeanor that made her wonder if all gods were like him.

As her mind aimlessly drifted, she couldn't help but become fixated on Price's physique. Questions began to swirl in her thoughts, particularly about what lay beneath that thick sweater he now slept in. Were his muscles well-defined, sculpted from hours of hard work and dedication? Or were they hidden beneath a layer of softness, adding a touch of comfort to his appearance? The curiosity grew stronger, fueling her imagination as she envisioned the possibilities. It was a tantalizing mystery, one that she couldn't help but ponder, wondering if one day she would have the chance to uncover the truth.

As her mind wandered, it delved even deeper into his physical attributes, specifically focusing on what he possessed between his legs. Questions arose about its thickness, length, girth, and whether it was thin or substantial. She pondered whether he preferred a clean-shaven look or if his hair was coarse yet well-maintained, similar to his facial hair. Curiosity arose about the presence of freckles and whether it leaned towards one direction or the other. She wondered if it was pale or tan, what color the tip was. These thoughts consumed her mind, leaving her with a multitude of unanswered questions.

Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she realized the direction her thoughts were taking. It felt criminal. It was inappropriate to think of a man in such a way, especially someone like Price who was so sweet and such a gentleman. She began to question her own feelings towards him, fearing that she might be falling for a man who deserved a woman equally as remarkable to be his eternal partner. She pondered the qualities that would make a woman worthy of Price's affection. Would she need to possess extraordinary beauty, intelligence, or perhaps a combination of both?

The weight of her own self-doubt began to settle upon her, as she questioned whether she could ever measure up to the standards she imagined Price had. Perhaps he was waiting for some magic spark to ignite, maybe Eros to strike them with arrows to let him know it was meant to be or a letter hand-written from Aphrodite or Hera with approval. Something he seemingly so desired based on his adamant refusal of the other sacrificial women he considered for brides. He even said it himself, he wanted someone closer to his physical age to keep for an eternity as a partner, not just a wife.

Lost in her thoughts, she yearned for a sign, a glimpse into Price's true nature. She longed to know if he was as extraordinary as he appeared, or if her infatuation was merely a figment of her imagination, the facade of a god. Only time would reveal the answers she sought, and until then, she would continue to question her own worthiness of a god like Price.

He shifted again in his sleep, pulling her closer. His beard tickling against her neck, he took a deep breath. She couldn't help but think about the advice her friends had given her as a teenager. They had told her that men could determine if they wanted to marry a girl by the end of their first date. As she lay there, she wondered if the dinner they had just shared counted as a date. Did it hold any significance or was it just a casual outing with his friends? Her mind raced as she rubbed her legs together and nervously bit her lip. Being in such close proximity with a man was a new experience for her.

Suddenly, he began to stir in his sleep, a soft grunt escaping his mouth. Startled, she realized he was awake. "Why aren't you asleep?" he questioned, his voice filled with curiosity. "Humans need a good deal of sleep compared to us gods."

Her heart skipped a beat as she tried to come up with a response. "I... I couldn't sleep," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "I guess I'm just not used to... this."

He looked at her intently, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's okay," he said softly, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "We can take things slow. There's no rush."

As he held her close, she felt a warm and comforting feeling, giving her hope for a happy future. Could this amazing man be the one she would marry? And, by some lucky chance, did he really understand her deepest desires?

Finally, she drifted into a peaceful slumber, feeling a sense of tranquility and optimism. The man she had discovered, whom she might be falling in love with, had filled her heart with hope and affection. The thought of marrying him brought her immense joy and contentment. He was truly remarkable, and she could only wish that he felt the same way about her. Thankfully, it seemed like he did, and that realization filled her with even more happiness.

[chocosea]

Article Title: プリキュアの“恋愛描写”は20年間でどう変わった？　「彼氏」すら表現できなかったプリキュアがわんぷりで「カップル誕生」を描けるまでに至った理由

What has changed in 20 years of Precure's depictions of romance? Reasons behind the change from seasons that couldn't include boyfriends to the birth of a couple in Wonderful Precure

Some basic summary of this post written by Kasumi, the guy who keeps track of Precure sales and makes handy graphs and whatnot.

The beginning of this article is summary of Wonderful Precure's Satoiro developments.

Later in the article, there's some quotes from Narita. Summarized: After the first few seasons, the response they got from parents was that they would prefer not to have romance because the girls watching this were like 3, 4 years old. So it was a taboo to write about romantic relationships.

The first few seasons were about falling in love with older boys shoujo manga-style, then we have Fresh's whole "I'm not telling you my answer" ending.

In Happiness Charge Narita was uncertain about whether they should do romance as one of the main themes but Nagamine wanted to go for it. So they did a love triangle as one of the main writing setups. Narita still asked multiple times if it was okay to write what she was writing. When Megumi lost in love at the end of the series it became a big topic.

After Happiness Charge they took a step back again and romance barely features besides crushes that don't go anywhere.

This changed in Hugtto when Homare gets turned down by Harry, and Hana's whole thing with George (aka her future schrodinger's evil husband).

None of these depictions are like focused on romance as something that actually leads to a mutual, intentional relationship.

Tropirouge was made specifically to have 0 romance

Black Pepper was created with the idea that he was supposed to work with the girls to save each other rather than just saving them from a pinch. His feelings were only written in to add a bit of spice to the show. But he signals a shift from possible love interests being a prince you admire to a partner that fights with you.

Every season that has served as a turning point in Precure's depiction of romance has had Narita in charge of series composition (Happiness Charge, Otona, and Wonderful).

Article mentions that while before it was unthinkable for idols and actors to have romantic partners, in the 2020 era it's become more normal for actors and TV talent to declare that they're dating and for idols to continue their idol work while being married.

プリキュアでも、かつては「コクる」「彼氏」という言葉1つだけでも保護者から大ブーイングだった時代がありました。

In Precure as well, there was an era where the words "confession" or "boyfriend" were met with loud booing from guardians.

But the times and mindsets have changed so now we have a married Precure and a Precure with a boyfriend.

梅澤　実は大ブーイングでした。「コクる」「彼氏」というセリフも評判が悪かったです。中学生だから、必然性があるから、大丈夫というわけじゃない。両親が観せたくない作品になっては『プリキュア』じゃない、と痛感しました。 ぴあ『プリキュアぴあ』（P87）

This quote is basically what was just summarized above. In addition to the booing thing, Umezawa (producer for Fresh, Heartcatch, Suite) says that he realized that if they wrote things that parents wouldn't want to show their kids then it wouldn't be Precure

So I guess parent opposition is indeed a big reason why they've been avoiding romance. But nowadays:

Satoiro has been massively popular with elementary school girls.

The target range for Precure has risen now also with the cosmetics and the like, ranging from elementary schoolers to young women.

We should expect to see more depictions of romantic love in Precure in the future.

"Change is Precure's strong point."

[nish-bean]

okay so far—i’ve heard a lot of bridgerton book fans complain about how the writers “messed up” francesca’s story by making it “too inclusive” in gender-bending michael who is now, in the show, michaela.

whether or not you have an opinion yet, here’s a little rant on why i think the francesca/michaela pairing is not a bad change and why the show is actually taking a better turn than the books.

to start with, let me be frank about my opinions of the show vs the books. imo, there were some things the show messed up, however, their improvements to the stories of the characters far outweighed the negatives. season 1 was done quite well i think (although there was a rushed epilogue) and it definitely held my attention. season 2 was a bit more of a let down in comparison to the books because the story felt even more rushed in the show than the books which really is saying something. season 3 was delightful but i do wish we had more depth in penelope and colin’s relationship instead of just a checklist few feelings addressed. nonetheless, it was by far the most enjoyable season.

now to love on to francesca’s story. in the original books, francesca is married to john and loves him dearly until he dies leaving her pregnant and alone. michael, her love interest in the book, is john’s cousin and best friend. francesca, soon after john’s death, has a miscarriage and struggles with the fact that she very much wants a child. meanwhile, michael struggles with fitting into john’s shoes and the fact that he has been in love with francesca for years. honestly, this was my least favorite bridgerton book. so much so that i would say i did not like it at all.

the storyline seemed fine at first, but really the entire book was just michael pining after francesca and having a talk with colin after which he forces francesca to marry him and then there’s just a lot of sex. it was, i’m sad to say, a poorly written book. i’m sure many people like it but i for one can’t understand why. the characters never resolve their struggles—instead they just get married OUT OF THE BLUE. it didn’t feel like a good romance at that point.

the show is trying to (or at least what it looks like they intend to do) give francesca a more fulfilling storyline that doesn’t err on the creepy side of things. instead of a crazy, smitten male cousin who forces francesca to marry him—we have a soft but strong feminine character that doesn’t compete with john for francesca’s affections, but rather, allows the viewer to see her as a different love. yes, it explores sexuality and seems “too inclusive” but honestly i feel like it was a good choice. plus, given that they are both women, francesca will still deal with her infertility problems and perhaps find a solution or be given a different storyline altogether but certainly not worse than the books.

now, many argue that a gender-bending might’ve been better for eloise given her disdain for the “normalcy” of mundane society. while that is a valid point, eloise’s main love interest has already been introduced as marina’s (lady crane) new husband. assuming the writers want to continue with eloise’s original love story, they can no longer gender-bend eloise’s love interest without changing the characters altogether (which is a possibility i’m not opposed to).

all in all, the reason i’m so defensive about francesca’s show arc is probably because when i read the books i knew she deserved better than michael. he was overbearing and obsessed and i didn’t see francesca reciprocate anything but mild friendship and lust. i’m hoping that with the liberty to change this character, they give francesca the all-consuming, wonderful love story she deserves.

sorry for the rant haha :)

[comradekarin]

Daemon was possibly worst off that Alicent and Rhaenyra in the repetitive scene front and yet he managed to gather the biggest land army TB has. Jacaerys secured key alliances with the North, Vale and the Twins & suggested a more stable version of the dragonseed plan. Aemond is hadcore carrying Team Black. Cole had managed to basically cut Dragonstone by land and his plan took down the most dangerous dragon the Blacks had. They Did Stuff, amidst having their own emotional character arcs and they have made moves that are logical and further their causes. The biggest thing Rhaenyra did was a desperate ritual sacrifice, giving dragons to guy she doesn't know anything of and one of which is very obvious loose cannon. The most significant thing Alicent did was... sell her entire side off, which kinda goes against her previous characterization. Rhaenys? Died the silliest death, by being a experienced dragon rider that allowed a downed lizard the size of a building to sneak up on her. Rhaena left All her resposibilities, to go chase a dragon in the dumbest way possible, without any forethought; the amount of plot armor required for a girl without provisions to survive IN THE VALE (where raiders are plentiful, remember Cate and Co having to fight back in GoT) in colder times. There' a pretty big difference in how men and women were portrayed and I wouldn't call the show particularly feminist, despite the overexposition of Rhaenyra and Alicent.

anon, you perfectly articulated my thoughts. the men in the show are able to have their own emotional arcs without it hindering the execution of their end goals. on the other hand, all the female characters follow this identical “no violence” prototype that actually harms not just their relationship with other characters but the narrative itself. and what’s worse is that a few of these female characters are portrayed differently than their season 1 counterparts. in season 2, there are a lot of contradictions and inconsistent characterizations that don’t serve a narrative purpose. and this is not to say that all of the men are perfectly written, either, nor am i trying to imply that rational characters are inherently good characters. but, all of the choices the female characters are making aren’t reflective of their season one traits, let alone the books. and these choices are being made so we can stick with this narrative that “its the men that are violent, and all the women are trying to navigate around them”. it’s silly. i go further into how exactly here.

i do wonder what we mean when we say a piece of film is “feminist” though. just because female characters are centered in a show doesn’t inherently mean a work is inherently feminist. as you said, rhaenyra and alicent do have the most screentime in the show yet nothing of substance is really created with that time. how can the show even be seen as “feminist” when the women are reduced to these one dimensional archetypes that don’t move the plot forward.

furthermore, how many times can the writers get away with the narrative that “fire and blood is ambiguous and not wholly rooted in truth”? it’s true, yes, but they are using this to make drastic changes to characters and plots that don’t even make sense half the time. it’s just bad writing. yet when i bring up how drastic the writing between the male and female characters are in the show differ, everyone throws a fit. it’s not wrong to have critiques, especially when the writing choices made in the show resemble one of fanfiction. at what point does “taking creative liberty” turn into “writing what i want to see”?

again, this is not me hating the show per se. i still have my own favorite characters, favorite moments, and favorite dynamics. i just wish the intentions with the female characters were there. how the writers baited the audience into thinking this would be the case with the season one finale just for it to not turn out to be true? it’s just wild to me.

[softguarnere]

HEY BABY GIRL!!!!

It's your girl, your sweet cheese, your good time gal (someone please shut me up omfg). Now...you know i am a Joe Toye lover, and if you've seen me recently...he is the only man on my mind. I was wondering if you might indulge me a little with a Joe Toye x reader where they're besties since young and both end up being paratroopers together but then something happens and he thinks he's lost her but she's actually fine and maybe like fluffy reunion...idk tbh i'd take anything you write and eat it up so do whatever. Love youuuuu xx

Seven

Joe Toye x reader

A/N: OMG BELLA I MISSED YOU!!!! 💖 WELCOME BACK BABE! And of course we have a fic with a T Swift reference for you hehehe (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Thanks so much for the request, and I hope you like this 💕 Warnings: mentions of war, death

You would kill him if you knew where he was right now. And yet, here he is. Trying to reassure and comfort your mother while sipping coffee from her finest set of teacups. The same teacups, he’s now realizing, that you used to serve him water in as children, calling it tea while the two of you played house, discussing the workplace as if you had any idea what went on there, while the adults around you struggled through the lack of those very places during the thirties. It could just be a coincidence, but after spending most of his life around her, Joe Toye would like to think that he knows your mother better than that.

“And you know how hardheaded she is,” your mother is ranting, cutting a fresh slice of poundcake and placing it on Joe’s plate. “She isn’t going to listen to me. Or anyone for that matter, now that her mind is made up.”

Oh, Joe knows exactly how hardheaded you are. In no small part thanks to the times that he accidentally clobbered that very head during neighborhood football games.

“(Y/N) feels good about this, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Joe says, unsure of what he’s supposed to say during your mother’s hour of need. She’s right, after all – your mind has been made up, and it will not be changed.

“But do you?” Your mother fixes him with a hard gaze, raised brow and all.

You were with Joe when he went to enlist. He had watched your eyes sparkle when they fell onto the sign stating that women should inquire within about an exciting new opportunity that would allow them to serve their country like never before. And he had been by your side when you both left the building, both holding papers and smiling at the thought that you would be becoming paratroopers – together.

“Yes. (Y/N) is strong. She’ll be good in – “

“Joesph,” your mother interrupts. The façade finally falls as she collapses into the chair across the table from him, head in her hands. “She’s my baby! What if something – oh, God forbid! – happens to her? I couldn’t live with myself.”

Joe is by her side in an instant. When he announced that he was joining the Airborne, everyone had clapped him on the back and congratulated him. You have not had the same experience. While everyone keeps assuring Joe that he’ll do great things, the same people have been cautioning you to be careful. Some have even warned you that you should just give up now. And it’s all only served to strengthen your determination, with every underestimation making you more sure that this is what needs to be done.

All that is to say, Joe has no clue what to say to your mother. She needs to be comforted. But he’s out of his depth.

“I’ll watch out for her,” he finally manages.

Beneath the comforting hand that Joe has placed on her shoulder, your mother freezes. Watery eyes gaze up at him. “You – you will?”

“Of course.” The two of you have grown up together. You’ve always been friends. Why would he stop looking out for you now?

Your mother throws her arms around his neck, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “Oh, thank you!”

Joe is struggling to come up with something more to say when the sound of the front door opening and shutting saves him. Your footsteps echo through the front of the house as you call out in greeting.

“Ma! I’m home!” Stepping into the kitchen, you cross your arms, leaning onto the doorframe as you let out a loud sigh. “Wow, you would almost think that Joe is the child that you’re sending off to war instead of me.” You smile, and anyone could see how much you love your mother.

She wipes her teary eyes and pats Joe’s arm as he stands, returning to his seat. “I’m going to miss having someone around who doesn’t get into trouble all the time,” she teases as she cuts a slice of poundcake for you.

Something about the change of topic tells Joe that she would rather not have you find out about their conversation. His watching over you can be their little secret. And a job that he’ll readily accept.

After all, he tells himself as he watches you laugh at something your mother says. You would do the same for him.

--

The adrenaline from taking Brécourt Manor still hasn’t worn off yet. Joe is laughing at something that Guarnere said as they head back down the road. Something about this moment makes him feel invincible. This is why he chose to become a paratrooper, he realizes.

More men and women have congregated in the town since he’s been gone. Finally glancing at his watch reveals that he’s been gone most of the day. Wow, really? It didn’t feel like the assault took that long at all. At least it kept him busy, instead of sitting around here, waiting.

Joe scans the crowd, hoping to catch sight of you. When he doesn’t immediately spot you, he stops one of the other female paratroopers as she passes.

“Hey, Lilian. You seen (Y/N) around?”

Lilian pauses, her pretty green eyes widening slightly. “Oh. No.” She bites her lip, holding back something more.

“What is it?” Joe presses.

Her hesitation is not a good sign. Then she blurts out, “No one has seen her since the jump.”

“You mean – “

“She was supposed to be in my drop zone – but she wasn’t.”

The reality of it all sets in. (Y/N) didn’t reach the drop zone. Did she even make it out of the plane? God, he promised your mother that he would look out for you. Yet, here he is, with no clue where you might be.

He may have only just reached Europe, but he’s already failed his mission.

--

The dust is settling over Carentan when the incongruous cheer and subsequent peel of laughter hits Joe’s ears. Somewhere off in the distance, someone is celebrating. Meanwhile, he’s guarding Doc Roe as the medic moves along the streets, inspecting the bodies strewn over them to see if there’s anybody still alive that he can help.

“Thanks for doing this,” Roe says as he stands once more, moving on to another body.

“Hmm?” Joe snaps his attention back to the moment at hand. “Oh, no problem.”

Except there is a problem. He’s trying to catch a glimpse of every face as Doc Roe checks the bodies. He tries to make out names on dog tags, dreading that one of them might belong to you. He couldn’t stand it if he found you here, like this. What would he tell your mother? How would he ever erase that awful image from his mind? Of the little girl that he once played house with, lying motionless on these cold streets? It’s no better to imagine you going down in a plane doing a fiery corkscrew as it nosedives to the unforgiving soil of a foreign land. But at least he didn’t have to see that.

The terrible job done, he follows Roe back to the rest of the company. Despite everything that just happened, a few smiles can be expected, along with congratulatory words. But this is more than that.

A small group of men mill about, talking, smiling, as they watch a smaller group of the female paratroopers huddled together in a group, all talking loudly and looking excited. From the corner of his eye, he can see Doc Roe glance at him, but before the medic can ask what’s going on, the crowd parts and Joe freezes.

There, in the middle of it all, is you.

“(Y/N)?” It comes out louder than he means for it to, and his feet are already carrying him, double time, in your direction before he realizes what he’s doing.

You look up, your eyes widening. “Joe!” You launch yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in close.

Something rushes through Joe’s chest like a flash of lightning, too many feelings at once. There’s shock, relief, and something that he can’t quite name. Not caring about getting written up for fraternizing, Joe hugs you back, holding you close, lest you slip away from him again.

“Jesus Christ. I thought I lost you,” he says into your hair.

“I’m fine, as usual. Can’t believe you would doubt me like that.” Your voice is light, teasing, but your grip on him tightens. The usual confident swagger doesn’t leave your voice, but you admit in a quieter voice, “I, uh – I missed my drop zone. Had a hell of a time trying to find the rest of the company. But here I am!”

When the embrace ends, Joe still isn’t ready to let go. He leaves his hands on your shoulders, studying you. And you, for your part, hold onto his webbing. “I was just worried about you, is all.”

You nod. “I was worried about you, too. I – “

“Easy Company!” A booming voice interrupts. “We’re moving out!”

Quickly, while everyone is distracted, you raise yourself up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. Heat rushes to Joe’s cheeks. He feels his eyes widen. You just smile at him, casual as can be.

“We’ve been friends since we were seven. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Joseph.” Then, you rejoin your friends, leaving him to replay the scene over and over in his mind.

He turns to watch you go, unable to move his feet from where they suddenly appear to be stuck to the ground. He’s held in place by the weight of his realization – the emotion that he couldn’t name was love, for you.