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highonakuweeds · 2 days ago

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Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness? (Part 6)

Sylus x right hand man!reader

Summary: You can't have just one peaceful day, huh? Something had to go wrong after a good morning.

After a week or so of doing what Dr. Zayne had prescribed of you, you woke up more refreshed now, which is a good thing. Before you had left his office, you’d taken a hold of his number so that he could monitor your pulse. You confessed to him that it wasn’t necessarily your heart, but the pulse points at your wrists, which is probably the reason why he chose to keep in touch in the first place. Well, either that, or that he knew that you were close with MC, so if she ever contacted you first, you could tell him how she was doing.

So, he added that before sleeping, it would be a good idea to calm yourself down with a good book, and drink some camomile tea to soothe your nerves. It had you sleeping like a baby, and when you woke up, you felt better than you did yesterday.

You picked up your phone in order to update the doctor.

you

thanks for the recommendation of the tea, dr

feel much better now lol

It didn’t take long for him to reply back.

MC’s boyfriend probs

Anytime.

Just keep on calming yourself down before sleeping.

you

🫡

May your relationship with MC flourish :333

MC’s boyfriend probs

???

You glanced outside, the red moon of the forever night brighter than usual. Today felt like a good day to take a walk along the N109 Zone’s border. It was a good in-between of the unusual home you had at the gleaming mornings of your day job. Plus, what’s a little exercise before going to work—

Wait. It was your day-off today.

You let out joyous laughter, laying back down as you stared at the small chandelier just above your bed. Could this day get any better?

—--

You raised your arms high into the air, a sigh of satisfaction coming out from your lips. It had been a while since you decided to take a walk along the border, and honestly, it’s been a while too long.

You started off your pace slow, small steps as breathed in the fresh air blowing from Linkon City. You couldn’t help yourself when a little giggle left you, feeling your heart float. You weren’t quite sure where this sudden burst of giddiness came from, but you welcomed it all the same; when working for the most infamous leader, moments like this are hard to come by.

With this rare instance of peace and tranquility, you could tell that your heart began to beat slower than normal, understanding that you were relaxed for the first time in a couple months or so. The feeling of actually having the chance to rest was too liberating to give up, so you forced yourself not to think about Sylus, or MC, or Aries, or anything that could possibly give you stress or anxiety.

The soft wind ran through your hair, making it sway towards the N109 Zone’s side of the border. You couldn’t care less, though; not with the morning light kissing your cheeks.

Of course, however, given your misfortune, you felt a wave of metaflux surge around you, making you groan. You hadn’t even brought your best day-to-day weapon today! All you had strapped to you (since it was strapped to you at all times) was the simple gun that the Association provided you, a little more than half the ammo right beside it, and a small dagger knife Sylus had gifted you a long time ago.

You let out a groan of annoyance the moment your wrist beeped a warning. You didn’t know how you managed to convince your boss, but you barely wore your Hunter’s Watch; your ‘intuition’ (analyzation of surroundings and calculating possible routes of danger) being accurate enough for Jenna to trust you to not wear it.

A tick of your jaw clicked in your ear, mimicking the sound of your gun cocking. Your eyes sharpened, darting around everywhere to scan the area for Wanderers. They were near, and attracted to the scent of a human after possible days of not being fed. Or perhaps they were hungry for something else.

The bushes behind you ruffled, causing you to whip your head and aim barely beside the shrub before shooting, just in time as the Wanderer’s failed retreat. It hissed in pain at the bullets, but locked its glare at you, making you purse your lips. It was a Herte Knave, and this specific kind of Knave usually came in groups…

You shot another bullet at its other leg, causing its knees to buckle. Quickly, you shot at its companion’s feet, which was stepping on scrapped metal. It ricocheted into its body, right into its heart. With a cry, it fell, and your attention focused on assessing how many Wanderers were around you.

… 1 at your 12:00—the one you just weakened, 1 at your 10:00—the one you had shot twice, 2 at your 4:00, and 3 at your 8:00, one of them being an Advanced Knave.

You could handle this.

You were quick to run towards the Wanderer at your 12:00, persuading the other Wanderers to follow suit. Since most of them—aside from the Advanced one—were melee, they took your bait, rushing towards you at full speed. You stepped on the Herte Knave below you, making it scream and squelch as the last of its life drained out of it. And just as the other Knaves were about to attack,

You swiftly move backwards, causing all 5 of them to collide with one another. In their dazed state—as quick as that was—you aimed at the Advanced Knave, easily dodging its ranged attacks.

You targeted the Advanced Knave immediately, knowing that if you were close enough, most of its attacks would be rendered useless. With one hand, you carried the Hunter’s gun, and in the other, you unsheathed Sylus’ dagger, its beautiful Damascus Steel blade glinting before you sank it into the chest of the Wanderer, making it screech. You could hear the other Wanderers charging at you already, and you rolled your eyes at the nuisance.

Your foot kicked the Wanderer down, effectively slipping the dagger out of its flesh cleanly. It stayed there as the monster struggled to get out of your weight on that foot, and you made sure to shoot it in its head before shooting the other Wanderers in their hearts. Some of them fell immediately, but the remaining two were resilient; it may be better to kill them with the dagger.

And so you did.

With a stomp to ensure that the Wanderer you had just killed with a headshot remained dead, you used that as leverage to speed up your sprint towards the two Knaves, dagger easily stabbing through their throats. As they fell down to their demise, your melee weapon was difficult to wrench out of one of their necks, leaving it there.

And with the final gush of their blood, the Wanderers were finally killed and dead for good, and you heaved in a sigh. Great, now you have to wash your dagger again. You kneeled down at the Herte Knave with the dagger in its neck, placing your gun back in its holster. Its tip felt hot against your thigh despite the thick elastic fabric distinguishing it from your bare skin.

Then, out of nowhere, you felt a sharp pain slicing through your other thigh, making you let out a guttural scream. You turned towards the other Wanderer, whose sword was about to cleanly cut your leg in half vertically. It was quick when you stabbed it one more time in its heart, and it dropped slack, no more resistance in its bones.

Fuck, you could barely even stand with how much pain you were in. you had no choice but to remove your shirt, using your already bloodied dagger to stab a hole into it, making you able to rip it into long strips. With careful and shaky hands, you wrapped it around your thigh, and you cursed when the wound was too big for your shirt to fully cover it. But this will have to do for now. Even if you could already see the blood seeping out of the makeshift bandage.

You didn’t even realize your eyes were tearing up until you tried to stand up. With a loud curse, your knees buckled, causing you to kneel once more. The impact of your knees hitting the hard ground traveled to your thigh, making you suck in a breath at the pain. You had to use something as a temporary cane… Ah, yes, the sword that sliced you in the first place would do.

You stood up with great effort, wincing and groaning throughout it. You placed the blunt end of the sword under your armpit as support, the tip of it digging into the dry dirt of the borders securely.

How far was home from here again?

—--

You quietly (as quietly as a person with a severe wound could) entered through the staff door that was tucked away somewhere in the back of Sylus’ base. A lot of the people there looked at you, clearly and rightfully alarmed, but you raised a shaky hand, pinching your pointer and thumb and running it across your lips, telling them to not speak a word.

They preferred you more than Sylus, anyway.

And with that, you were able to go to one of the vacant labs deep underground in Sylus’ base, immediately grabbing all of the tools needed to properly dress your wound. The staff knowing about your condition was inevitable, given they would notice the soiled shirt in the trash anyway. However, you did not want any of Sylus’ doctors to know; they reported everything to him. At least with the staff, you could plead to them to stay silent, but his doctors were relentless.

You sat down on one of the high tables, placing the leg with a wound on its thigh on a stool. The materials were right beside you, but you were just staring at the dripping blood pooling beneath your leg. You had to force yourself to not let any of your tears drip as your wound stung terribly, the flesh around it pulsating as your body desperately tried to fend off any potential infections from dressing the wound in unsanitary ‘bandages’. With shaky and slightly numb hands, you put on latex gloves. This shouldn’t hurt so much; you’ve been through worse. But you were usually under some kind of numbing agent, or under actual good hospital care provided by the Association. Nobody cared if you screamed until your lungs gave out.

But you couldn’t do that now.

Keep yourself quiet, keep yourself quiet, you chided, hissing when you began cleaning the wound, first with unscented, mild soap and water, and then Isopropyl alcohol. It solicited a small whimper from you, and you had to grab a towel from somewhere to bite down on it, muffling any slight noises you made.

You took a deep breath, staring at the thread and needle in your hands. Could you really do this without anesthesia?

The first stitch that had penetrated you almost made you scream, your hand tensing against the needle driver. You bit down on the towel so hard you couldn’t feel any saliva in your mouth anymore. Push through.

You were glad that you were taught how to suture wounds by Sylus’ doctors long ago. It wasn’t mandatory at all, since you knew that Sylus would most probably just carry you to the nearest doctor that was available. But you insisted on learning, if ever something like this happens. If ever you planned on ‘escaping’ and suddenly found yourself injured.

The thought of you even considering escaping distracted you a little, as it made you giggle a bit. 5 years ago and you were still thinking of leaving such a luxurious place like this.

You had 3 stitches tied and secured already. But with how big the slash was, you had assumed you needed… 8 more?

The more you worked against yourself, the more you could feel your stomach churn and your forehead dampen. The area burned white with how much it stung, especially after the endless amount of times you punctured yourself with the sharpest needle on Earth.

Well, it wasn’t. But it might as well be without anesthesia.

Finally, after a slow 10 minutes and painful trudges through the necessary procedure, it was stitched. Finally, it was stitched.

The room was deathly silent, only making the ringing of your ears even more piercing. Your hand slipped slightly with how it was slowly losing its grip, but you managed to place a long strip of gauze over the now neat, clean wound, though slightly jagged from the Wanderer’s sword. Your mouth was dry, your tongue flat against the cloth in your mouth, and you bit down even harder.

Your blood soaked through the first piece of gauze too easily. Too quickly. With a muted curse, you placed another strip, but this time with more conviction; you were slowly regaining your grip.

And so, you grabbed the bandage, finally easily able to wrap it around your thigh. The process was slow, painstaking, and you wouldn’t have been able to deny the times you would force yourself to peel your eyes away from your wound to let your liquid pain drip down onto the cold lab table.

Two more wrap-arounds and you were finished. Two more wrap-arounds and you were finished. Two more…

You swallowed thickly as you removed the towel in your mouth, sweat beading your forehead. The corners of your vision began to glitch, your physical exhaustion consuming you. But you had to push through; you were already done dressing your wound up. Quietly. Discreetly. Alone.

It took you a while to clean everything up, to remove the smell of blood from the room. You had grabbed a broom to place under your armpit once more and walked towards your room, which took another 20 minutes. Luckily, throughout the way there, a couple of servants had helped you, though secretly. It was like they didn’t want you to know.

But there wasn’t really anything that could get past your eyes.

—--

The moment you opened the door to your room, you noticed a small plate of your favorite food on your nightstand, still clearly fresh. A smile placed itself on your face; of course the chef knew, too.

You sat down on your bed, the mattress dipping. You didn’t hesitate to take a bite of your food, sighing in pleasure when you tasted the familiar sense of warmth spreading around your body. You laid down to rest your back on the headrest, a hand going down to your bed. There was a file on it, something you didn’t notice through the daze of blood loss you just went through.

You skimmed through it, right wrist beeping softly at the new information. So that’s what Sylus wanted to do…

Something uneasy and unsettling bubbled in your stomach. Not out of jealousy, though, no, totally not. But rather out of concern for MC’s health. How is Sylus so sure she can handle a mission like this?

You needed to reason out with him, surely.

…

Could you walk like this?

—--

The gunshot was what made you narrow your eyes, your hand hesitant on the door handle. Was there a special client he had to have taken care of in his bedroom ? You knew you shouldn’t doubt your boss as just his subordinate, but when have you ever actually taken that role as serious as that?

So, you opened the door, ready to dispose of a dead body despite your leg, when all of a sudden,

“Oh.” Your heart sank even if you had forced your body not to. Sylus was on top of MC in just his robe, pinning her wrists down. A pink cloud that had the words ”LOVE” written in it was right above them, making your mouth dry.

Sylus cocked his head ever so slightly when he heard your voice, and he raised a brow. “Darling, you should know when to knock.” There was that stupid teasing tone when he spoke, as if taunting you to go batshit crazy.

MC, who came to the conclusion that you two were probably an item of some sort (well, what should she have assumed when he called you darling?), looked rather distressed, immediately pushing Sylus off (or at least attempting to). “Wait! Wait, Nyx, this isn’t what it looks like! I-I needed to get a brooch so I could go to the next auctio—”

“I’m sorry for bothering you both,” your voice hung low with forced professionalism as you bowed your head softly, closing the door

Sylus’ grip weakened at your words, disappointed that you had submitted so easily to what was going on. MC wasn’t having it, though, so the moment she felt his grip against your wrists falter, she slipped away with agility, running towards the door whilst shouting your ‘name’. But it was too late; when she opened the door, you were already gone.

So after she closed the door again, she stood there, anger boiling under her skin. And before Sylus could even sneak in a snarky remark, she marched towards him, making him tilt his head.

And to say that Sylus was caught off guard was an understatement.

MC’s slap barely made him turn his head, but it still stung nonetheless. He could tell she was fuming, especially since he’d never seen her this mad so far.

“You did not tell me Nyx was your lover .” She said in a low voice, as if restraining herself from doing anything bad. “Why do you treat her like she’s just one of your lowly workers?” Sylus opened his mouth to speak, but MC cut him off with a finger. “And why did you do something so suggestive when you had a girlfriend this entire time?”

“You were the one trying to look for the brooch in my bedroom.” He calmly stated, crossing his arms. “And she is not my lover.”

MC scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I only wanted to steal that damn brooch because I need it to go around the N109 Zone. Didn’t you tell me that yourself? Plus, you were the one insisting that I find it instead of just giving it to me. And I don’t believe she’s your lover. Your grip weakened when she came in. Surely that means something , right?”

Her grasp of the brooch tightened. “The auction isn’t that far from now, and as of the moment, I will go with you. That never changed. But,” she glanced at the door, pursing her lips. “Know your boundaries, Sylus.”

She left the room, pinning the brooch onto her shirt by herself before slamming the door, leaving Sylus in his bedroom, for once speechless.

—--

The tears that came from your eyes were not from the wound you had gotten an hour or three ago. Rather, it came from a more internal wound.

You clicked your tongue as tears dripped onto the dark hallway, MC’s voice quieting the more you walked away. The adrenaline of it all began to wear off, making you lose your balance slightly. You hugged the wall to your left with a thud, but it only hit your thigh, making you seethe in pain. Angry tears blurred your vision, but even with that, you were able to make out the two familiar figures, as well as their voices.

“(Name)!” Luke exclaimed, hooking your arm around his shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?” He pried you off of the wall, and you nodded your head, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you replied, but the quiver in your voice gave you away.

Kieran glanced at the way you kept your left leg on your toes instead of flat against the floor. He was quick to do the same that Luke did with your other arm, essentially making the pressure against your leg alleviate just a bit. “But you don’t look fine. Is there something wrong with your leg—”

“I said I’m fine.” You snapped, taking a sharp inhale before speaking again to keep your composure. “I… I had a little fight with Wanderers a couple hours ago, and my leg is…”

“Bleeding?” Kieran asked you, making you narrow your eyes and tilt your head. “Well, technically. But what do you mean?”

“Well,” Luke stared at your left thigh. “It’s—It’s bleeding. Like seeping through your clothes.”

“What? ” You quickly glanced at your leg and realized that you probably pulled a couple of stitches, making you hiss at the realization. Fuck, that means you’d have to redo everything all over again.

You bit your lip when the twins sat you down on your bed (you weren’t sure how you didn’t notice the walk there) before looking at them. “You two know how to suture, right?”

They nodded hesitantly, exchanging glances with each other.

“Get the supplies, especially the anesthesia, or a number agent, no matter how mild it is. Please. ”

@readerxyourbabe

#lads sylus #lnds #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #reader is not the mc #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus

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krkiiz · 11 months ago

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sly swordsman . luke castellan x reader

luke decides to distract you by confessing in the middle of a duel

luke castellan x f!reader , reader is the daughter of apollo , luke being head over heels , confessions , fluff , slight teasing

note : sorry if there are lots of mistakes, i wrote this on my phone with nail extensions and it’s so hard to type pls help 😭😭 apologies for grammars n errors, i’ll edit them tmrw hehe (also this is my first time writing pjo n fight scenes so i hope it’s decent!)

let me know your thoughts ! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3

“Let’s go Kayla! Beat his ass!” Shout one of your fellow half-siblings along with boos from the opposing side.

Clanking of swords can be heard from miles away. Today the children of Hermes and Apollo are scheduled to a joint swordsmanship practice. Where the two cabins will have to engage on a 1v1 duel against another.

Right now stands in the center of the battlefield is your half sister Kayla, along with one of Hermes’ son. Kayla is known to be a skilled archer just like any of Apollo’s children. But that doesn’t mean she can’t beat the swift son of Hermes.

The battle ends her sword pointed right at his throat as he gives a sign of defeat to his opponent. The children of Apollo cheers with glee as they congratulate their half sister.

The two retreat, their places soon replaced by none other than their head counselors. Luke and you approach the center of the battlefield as your fellow half-siblings watch in anticipation.

It is so secret that Luke is an outstanding swordsman. As his skills rivals Ares and Athena’s children themselves, you knew he was a challenging opponent.

Well that’s a good thing you love challenges.

“I admit my defeat on our archery battle last week. But now, let me show you how good I am with the blade, Yn.” He smirks as the two of you start circling one another.

“Must’ve hurt your ego, Castellan.” A chuckle left your lips like honey and Luke suppresses the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“Let’s see how good you really are, Son of Hermes.”

The two of you got in your positions, fingers tightly gripping on the sword and the shield, waiting for a sign to charge.

The hornet blows and Luke wastes no time to charge forward. The point of his blade almost piercing the epidermis of your skin before you block him with your own sword.

Luke knows better than to underestimate you. Sure, you are the daughter of the god of Archery, not swordsmanship. But everyone knows that you are an outstanding dancer and you treat the battlefield like it is your stage.

Your movements swift and laced with elegance. It’s always extremely difficult to predict your next moves. Your footing carefully calculated as you deflect all of his upcoming attacks.

Luke is also quick to encounter your offense as he blocks the side your blade that was aiming at his neck.

With such close proximity, Luke can see how the sun compliments your e/c irises. Complimenting every contrast and detail of the pupil.

Gods were your eyes always this beautiful? Were you always this beautiful?

Luke feels himself caught in a trance just for a second before earning back his composure. But one second is enough for you trip his leg leading him to fall right on his back as he looses his grip on his sword.

The sides of your blade nearly makes contact with his neck as you lay above him giving him a look of triumph.

“Yn, have I told you how beautiful you look on top of me right now?” The boy starts causing you to roll your eyes and scoff at his antics.

“Yeah, try again because that’s not going to work on me, Luke.” You press the blade against his adam’s apple causing him to wince slightly.

The crowd wonders on what was happening and why hasn’t Luke gave a sign of defeat knowing well that being under your sword doesn’t give him a good chance at winning.

They fail to see how his right hand is slowly reaching discreetly trying to get ahold of his fallen blade.

Luke lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I like you, Yn. Let’s go on a date.”

Now this caught you off guard. “What?”

The sly swordsman took your state to his advantage as he unclasps his knee from your hold and flipped your positions, your sword disregard in the process.

With his blade firm in his right hand, now it’s his turn to reside his sword against your neck, just like you did to him a few seconds ago.

You try fighting back but he just tuts and starts applying more pressure to his blade before you finally give the sign of defeat.

The Hermes cabin roared with glee congratulating their win, knowing that their head counselor will never fail them.

Luke quickly stands his ground giving you a helping hand, in which you accepted with a smile. He pulls you up against him, the sudden movement made you loose your footing but he’s quick to steady you with his free hand placed on your waist.

“So, about that date.”

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo tv show

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

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Hi Mae! First of all, congratulations on your 7k!

For the bake sale, could you please write “³¹⁾ three people sat on a two-seater sofa” with wolfstar x reader, please?

Thank you!!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 790 words

There are lots of things to love about your new apartment. It’s charming, not too expensive, almost perfectly equidistant between your work and the boys’. Remus is really pleased about the in-unit washer and dryer, and Sirius is obsessed with the kitchen backsplash. But you think your favorite part is this view.

You have a TV but you’d argue you hardly need it, what with the spellbinding appeal of your own sitting room window. You have your legs crossed on the loveseat, your knee spilling over Remus’ thigh while both of you sip coffee and watch the sun rise over the sidewalk.

Yours is a quaint neighborhood, far enough from the hustle and bustle of town that you still have trees and quiet but close enough that you get to see people walking by. With the new chill in the air it’s a fun time to people watch. Remus enjoys it nearly as much as you do.

“Fucking hell, there he goes again,” murmurs Remus, frowning at the man running on the sidewalk down below.

“Do you think he owns a longer pair of shorts?” you wonder.

“I don’t see how he can survive the winter without one.”

“That girl looks like she’s freezing her tits off.”

Remus hums. “It’s one of those days. Bring a jacket and you might end up carrying it around all afternoon, but don’t and in the morning you’ll suffer for it.”

“Maybe her guy friend will lend her his.”

“Likely. He’s more interested in putting his arm around her. He’s not going to give up that chance.”

“Wouldn’t he want the gentleman points for giving her his jacket, though?”

“That would be the smart choice, but he doesn’t strike me as a smart bloke. She can do better, I think.”

You blow on your coffee, letting the steam blow back onto your face. “I bet by the time he walks her home, she’s got his jacket.”

You hear the groan of the bedsprings, and then a human one louder than that. A minute later Sirius is padding into the sitting room with your comforter drawn around his shoulders. His eyes look half open.

“How could you do this to me?” he whines.

“Morning, love,” Remus says placidly as Sirius crawls over the arm of your loveseat, spilling onto Remus’ lap and wriggling his way over until his head lies in the nest of your crossed legs. He turns his face into your stomach, the picture of tortured misery.

“What are you both doing up?”

“I was awake,” you explain.

“And I wanted coffee,” says Remus.

“There was no need to abandon me like this,” Sirius goes on as if neither of you have spoken. His voice pitches with a yawn. “It’s Saturday, you masochists.”

You hold your mug in one hand to put the other in his hair. This seems to mollify him somewhat. He pushes his face harder into your tummy, making a disgruntled whining sound.

“Would you like some coffee?” you ask him.

“Coffee is only a balm for having to get out of bed, which neither of you had to do, because it’s Saturday.”

“But now that you’re out of bed, would you like some?”

“Yes, please.”

You ease out from under him. You top yourself off and make Sirius’ the way you both like it, with copious amounts of cream and sugar. When you get back he’s taken your spot, so you pass him his cup and sit half on his lap, squished between him and the armrest.

You’d have a bigger couch if the room allowed for it. Instead, you’ve put a chair along the wall that Remus usually prefers to sit in, but he doesn’t seem inclined to move now and you don’t want him to. You derive more contentment than is reasonable from all of you smushing together like this, touchy and close in a way that’d be awkward if there weren’t so much love between you.

“Is that very comfortable?” Remus looks over at you, concerned. “Why don’t you come sit over here, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got her just fine,” Sirius argues, adjusting so that you’re entirely on his lap, his arm possessively around your waist.

You turn agreeably, pivoting until you’re sitting sideways with your back against the armrest. Remus pulls your feet into his lap.

“There he goes again,” you say, looking out the window. Both of your boyfriends follow your gaze.

“Bloody hell.” Sirius’ face screws up like his coffee is bitterer than he’d expected. “Are those children’s shorts?”

“This is what you’re treated to when you wake up,” Remus teases. “Not worth it. And now that I know you’re out here ogling men that aren’t me, I’m tying you both to the bed.”

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endless-ineffabilities · 5 days ago

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chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done.

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’.

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face.

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout.

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind.

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further.

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time.

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her.

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no.

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused.

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday.

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner.

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.”

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true.

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan.

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy.

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair.

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly.

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you.

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response.

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…”

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands.

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers.

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand.

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist.

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?”

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it.

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face.

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin.

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt.

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence?

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms?

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him.

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm.

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder.

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on.

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you.

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast.

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises.

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment.

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter.

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt.

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate.

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him.

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #matt smith #matt smith x reader

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cloudstrky · 4 months ago

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After Sun - rafe cameron smau

ch 5: best friend's sister

tags: best friend's brother!rafe, f2l, older!rafe,

warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol

an: this part is written sorry if u don't like that :( really wanted this scene written out but im literally shit at writing so i hope it doesn't give u the ick

mlst

Rafe Cameron was having fun. Scratch that, Rafe Cameron was having a blast. You, on the other hand, not so much. It didn't take long to convince Sarah to go to the country club with you after seeing that picture of Rafe. Selfishly, you wanted to grab his attention and prevent him from having another random fling. Sarah was just down for the drama.

You didn't expect to spot him so quickly. You half expected him to already be locked away in some room. You also half wished he was in a room after seeing the way he was pressing the girl from the picture against the wall.

His big hands on her thighs, her toned arms around his neck. God, this felt like torture.

"Do you want to leave?" Sarah asked as soon as she spotted him.

Yes.

"No," you sighed, turning to her. "This is what we came for right?"

Sarah smiled before grabbing your hand and pulling you further into the club, towards an empty table. "So what's the plan?"

You had an even better view of Rafe from your table. You could see every muscle in his arms flexing as his hands ran up and down the girls body. You couldn't be more jealous of a person.

"So," you said, tearing your eyes away from them. "I need to find someone to entertain."

"Easy," Sarah said, pointing at numerous guys before you even had a chance to look around the room.

"You're more eager than I am." You laughed, glancing over your choices. The truth was, no one was coming close to beating Rafe. No one could even count as competition.

"No fucking way," Sarah gasped, "Tyler."

Your eyes widened, looking over to where Sarah was pointing. "No fucking way Sar!"

"PLEASE!" She yelled, grabbing you by the shoulders. "You know how much this is going to annoy Rafe!"

"Sar he hates him!" You yelled back before turning to look at Tyler. "Although he has gotten seriously hot."

Rafe was known for being a hot-headed teenager and an even more hot-headed adult. He was mostly liked, or at the very least respected throughout high school, but he had certain people he just couldn't stand (and they couldn't stand him).

He and Tyler were rivals in high school since they were both captains of the two rival basketball teams. You remember Rafe being on the verge of expulsion after a game because Tyler had elbowed him so hard on the nose that he had to sit the rest of the game out and so when the game was over, he performed a tit-for-tat show, punching Tyler in the face.

They were both older now and more mature, but the hatred didn't seem to slip away with the years. Just last year, they had gotten into a fight at the beach, and you had stepped in because Topper was too busy oiling up a girl blissfully. You remember Tyler had been very respectful of your presence and had walked away immediately, although Rafe had been the one to step away first.

So yes, Tyler would be the perfect candidate for your evil plan to work, but he also would be the lowest blow.

"Yn, you know this is the best timing ever." Sarah was almost shaking with excitement. You were almost shaking with anxiety. What if your plan didn't work and instead all you could manage to do was make Rafe hate you?

"Isn't this low Sar?"

"You know what's low? Topper making out with Allison. There's no way my brother doesn't know. Tit for tat. Now, wave him over before I do."

You sighed, looking back at Tyler. He was already looking in your direction, so you quickly took your chance to wave him over. He was skeptical for a second before letting his friend know he'd be right back.

You watched him make your way over to you and watched as Sarah slipped away slowly, giving you the thumbs up.

"Yn," he yelled over the loud music as he reached your table. "Hey!"

"Hi, Tyler!" You smiled before he pulled you in for a half hug. "Sorry I waved you over, I was just shocked to see you." You made up a quick lie as you both pulled away from the hug.

He smiled for a moment, taking you in before looking around the club, "You here alone?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, actually, I'm here with Sarah. Remember her?"

"Cameron's sister, yeah." His eyes moved back to you as his smile returned to his face. "Well, you've certainly grown."

"College treating me well, you see." You blushed, almost forgetting about your plan and why you were talking to him in the first place.

"You're in college now, huh?" he sighed in disbelief, "Are you drinking anything?"

Now he was getting to the point. You looked around and you felt your heart race as you caught Rafe staring at you from across the room. The girl was gone from his arms and a beer had taken her place in his right hand as he was leaning against a wall, talking to someone. He looked so pretty in his striped shirt, the first few buttons now undone, giving you a full view of his toned torso and his shiny chain. His hair, slightly wet over his forehead from the warmth of the summer night. His eyes burnt holes into you before focusing on Tyler.

You snapped your head back towards Tyler, "A lemon vodka would be nice."

He grinned, nodding swiftly. "I'll be right back."

You watched him leave and head towards the bar for a moment before your eyes were searching for Rafe again.

You found him still staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. You gave him a short smile and a weak wave. You knew he didn't want you here. You had asked if you could come, and he had said no, so you were already overstepping before even talking to Tyler. You saw him give you a confused look before taking a sip of his beer. You furrowed your brows at him, mimicking his expression, and he rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the person who was talking. He thought that was the last of your interaction with Tyler.

As soon as you turned your head away to look for Sarah, Rafe's eyes were back on you. Now that he knew you were here, he couldn't get you out of his mind, and so he wouldn't let you out of his sight.

"I'm just not interested in paying 2m's for a fucking boat y'know?"

No, Rafe didn't know. He had stopped listening seven minutes ago when he spotted you across the room. "Yeah, man, definitely," he answered mindlessly, something that didn't seem to phase the speaker because he kept rambling on, saying his piece.

Rafe watched as you looked around the room. He watched as your black open-back mini dress stopped dangerously high on your hips. He watched as the dip of the open back lingered dangerously low on your spine. Watched as your hair moved flawlessly around with the summer breeze, watched as your fingers anxiously snaked around your gold bracelets, and watched as Tyler came back with your drinks.

Rafe was sure he hadn't felt so angry in ages. Probably since he crashed his back four summers ago. Or maybe seven summers ago, when he was forced to sit out the most important basketball game of his life, causing him to lose the scholarship he so badly wanted because a certain rival had decided to do everything in his power to secure a scholarship.

So, in other words, Rafe was fuming. He watched as you took the drink from him with a big smile. The sound of his heart racing and his blood boiling overshadowing every other sound around him.

Clueless to what was going on around you, he watched you take a sip. He had to stop himself from racing over to you and snatching that drink from your hands.

"Excuse me," he said to the guy next to him, who was left confused as he watched Rafe walk away.

He pushed through the crowd, ignoring people calling his name.

"Party's over, let's go." Rafe's voice sent shivers down your spine. His tone has never been like that around you. His voice, soft and silky, was always a sound you cherished. And it couldn't be more different than his voice now, low and threatening.

"Rafe," you breathed as you turned to look at him. His eyes dark and heavy, show and tell that he had been partying.

"I think it just started, man." Tyler spoke, a massive grin plastered across his face.

Rafe didn't turn to look at him. "Yn." His voice was firm. With the beer in his hand long gone, he reached out his right hand to touch your lower back gently. His rough hands firm but soft on your exposed skin made you shiver unwillingly. Regret was quick to wash over you as you realized how low you had stepped because of your jealousy.

"I think she wants to stay, brother." Tyler rasped from next to you. His hand gently pushed your hair out of your face as he leaned in closer, "Don't you?"

If Rafe hadn't been pushed over the edge, he was now.

"Get your fucking hand off her." He growled, shoving Tyler's hand away.

Tyler taken aback, took a step forward.

"Walk away." Rafe rasped pulling you closer.

"Rafey, let's go." You turned towards him, leaving your drink on the table.

Rafe's eyes softened at the sound of your voice. He could feel his hand burning at the bottom of your spine. He guided you away from Tyler before he could get a word in. All you heard was a loud scoff and something about the drink.

The walk out of the club was tense. His hand on your lower back made you feel as if you were on fire. His breath hitting the back of your neck pointedly, smelling of beer and mint. You didn't even notice you were shaking until you stepped completely off the club's terrace and headed towards the parking.

Rafe's hand was gone in a heartbeat once you entered the parking area. He walked behind you in silence, the hand that was touching you flexing by his side, aching to get rid of the burning sensation.

"Rafe-"

"Get in the car, Yn." His voice was firm. You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him, observing him as he stepped around the car and into the driver's seat.

You followed and got into the passenger's seat. He didn't start the car, and so the silence became so thick you felt like you were choking.

"Sarah is also here..." You said weakly, scared of his silence.

"Fucking great."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and you watched as he texted Topper. He locked the screen and threw his phone on the dashboard. His head fell back on the headrest, a loud sigh escaping his lips.

"Rafe-" you tried again.

"Are you into him?" he finally asked, looking over at you. His features tired and dark and filled with confusion.

"What?" you muttered, unsure of what he actually meant.

"Or do you hate me?" his voice was raspy. The firmness was long gone, and exhaustion had taken its place.

"Rafe what are you-"

"Do what you fucking want doll. Have JJ. Have Tyler. Fucking have them both. But don't do it in front of me because I won't stand for it." He breathed heavily. "You know how hard it was for me to not break his slimy fucking hand?"

You were at a loss for words. Your hands still shaky, adrenaline rushing through your body so quickly, making it hard to breathe. He looked desperate. His eyes tore away from you as he started the engine.

You reached out, your small hand grabbing his. He pulled away as if you burned him and got out of the car. You stayed still, your eyes wide. You had never seen Rafe like that before. His back was turned to you but you could tell from the way it moved he was breathing heavily. You turned back and looked out of your window, deciding to give him space.

Seconds later, he was back in the car. The way home seemed longer than it was. His eyes didn't roam, and neither did yours. You kept looking out the window until he pulled into the driveway of the summer house. Neither of you moved and after a minute of silence, you undid your belt.

The tension was thick. You had never felt so claustrophobic before in your life. You knew what you did was wrong but you didn't think it'd bother him this much. Or perhaps you did.

"You're my best friend's sister. So please, doll, don't make it so fucking hard for me."

And then he was out of the car.

#obx #rafe cameron #jj maybank #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron smau #after sun smau

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runnning-outof-time · 11 months ago

Note

I believe that “Are you jealous?” is the last available prompt 😅 Do your magic with it, K 🤗 With Tommy, please and happy 3.5 K 😘

Thanks for sending this in, Isa! I’m sorry it took me a bit to write it…..I hope you like the path I chose for it. This prompt was requested 3 times, so I’m trying to give it a little variety. Out of the 3 brothers, Tommy feels like he’d be the one to go about it in this way…he’s a bit of a jerk in this one. Alright, enough with the talking…Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

I’m Walking Home

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, use of derogatory word (whore), (Y/N)’s a bit unhinged in this one

Word Count: 999

Summary: (Y/N) decides to walk home after a question that Tommy asks makes her anger soar.

Tommy had had enough. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and killed the engine, setting both of his hands on his thighs as he let out a harsh sigh. “Alright…what is it?” he asked the woman sitting to his left.

“What is what?” (Y/N) responded with a curt question of her own, her eyes focused on the road ahead of them.

“You’ve not spoken a word to me since we started driving. What’s on your mind?” he elaborated on his previous question. (Y/N) snorted in response.

“Of course you’d be completely oblivious to it,” she stated, her words dripping with sarcasm. Even though she’d yet to look at him, she could still feel his heavy eyes boring into the side of her face. Her statement was met with silence, and she let it ring for a few moments before letting out a scoff. Bastard wants me to spell it out for him, she thought to herself as she relented and finally looked in his direction. “You really don’t know?” she asked, giving one last chance to redeem himself before she went off on him.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did,” he answered her in his typical, abrupt fashion.

“You don’t recall the woman at the party?” she tried to jog his memory with a more specific question.

“What woman?” he still wasn’t helping himself.

“The woman that was practically hanging on you; the one looking for your attention? You didn’t seem to notice her? And the fact that she was giving you the ‘please fuck me’ eyes for the entirety of the conversation you were having, whilst I was present?!” she finally let the levee break, her voice inflecting towards the end to let her frustration become known.

“She was discussing business, (Y/N),” came Tommy’s terrible response.

“Business?! What part of her fucking giggles and the batting of her eyelashes had to do anything with your fucking business, Tommy?!”

“Her husband’s money is good. His investment will help our company, and she plays a big part in deciding who he gives it to. So I didn’t take notice to what her fucking eyelashes were doing because that was not of any fucking importance,” he kept his voice level, delivering his statement in a stoic way. He knew better than to rise to meet her level of anger.

“Oh and she’s got a husband!” she exclaimed dramatically, completely disregarding the second half of his statement.

“(Y/N),” there was a warning tone present in his voice now. She was blowing this out of porportion.

“She’s fucking married, and her husband cares about what she thinks before he throws his money around, but yet he doesn’t care that she’s acting like a whore in front of his potential business partners,” (Y/N) broke into a rant, not caring at that moment that she was basically disparaging a woman who she did not know.

At this point, there was nothing that could be done that would quickly clear this up. Her anger was too elevated for that. But there was something that could be said to make this situation so much worse.

“Are you jealous?” Tommy blatantly asked. His question had (Y/N) seeing red.

“Excuse me?” she asked in disbelief, shock quickly filling her features. She spoke in such a way that would usually make most people rescind their statement, but Tommy wasn’t like most people.

“You’re jealous of this woman, aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes flitting over to match hers then as he waited for her answer.

(Y/N)’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to ask such a question outright. A scoff left her lips as she tried to find the words to respond to his statement. Her mind wasn’t computing.

A few tense moments passed before she swung the car door open. Without saying anything, she snatched her purse from the seat and made a move to exit the vehicle.

“Where are you going?” Tommy asked, acting as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on her with the last question. He honestly probably didn’t think he did.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” she snapped at him, sending a glare his way before she slammed the car door shut, not caring at all how expensive the vehicle was. And if looks could kill, there would have been a dead man inside the car with the shattered door.

(Y/N) stormed off down the road, not knowing - nor caring - where she was going. The car’s engine came to life behind her, but it didn’t make her break her step, and she didn’t dare look to her right as Tommy pulled up beside her.

“What the fuck are you doing, (Y/N)?” he asked, glancing between her and the road as he continued to drive beside her.

“I’m walking home,” she snapped back at him, still looking straight ahead, “as a matter of fact…I’m not even sure where I’m walking to, but I sure as hell know that I don’t want to be around you right now. So leave me.”

“(Y/N)…”

“Leave me,” she cut him off, finally looking at him so that she could send him one more deadly glare before she continued on her way.

Tommy put his foot on the brake and thought for a moment. There wasn’t anything more he could do now. His efforts would only make the situation worse. With a sigh, he ran his hand along the back of his head before he took his foot off the brake and continued down the road.

(Y/N) watched as the tail-lights faded off into the distance. She let out a huff and tried to calm herself down. Was she acting jealous at the moment? Yeah, probably. But she wouldn’t give Tommy the satisfaction of answering the question he so blatantly asked. She was just lucky that it was still warm out.

I’m adding taglists in reblogs in hopes that people will actually be tagged.

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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beatrixstonehill2 · 6 months ago

Text

"I'm a bit nervous but still pretty excited. My parents always raised me to believe it's a woman's job to please her man no matter what. If your bf is into big tits, you better grow bigger boobs or get the biggest implants you can stuff into them! Is he into fat girls? You better pile on all the weight you can for him. My friend Marcy dated a guy who was really turned on by girls with no arms or legs. She didn't hesitate for a minute to pop into the nearest surgeon and ask to have her limbs removed, despite being a gymnastics coach. I always admired any girl with that level of dedication and would feel like a failure as a woman if I couldn't reach the same standard.....

So, when I met Josh four months ago, and on our first date he confided he had a fetish for girls who get so pregnant they pop, my heart skipped a beat! Maybe..... this was like my ultimate test to prove how devoted I am to pleasing men and being a proper, good girl? I consulted with my parents and they were shocked I even thought the need to get their blessing. Sure enough a day later and my bf tells my doctor to put me on Femruptarin. My doctor looked very pleased about this, telling him he was a very lucky man, and to expect me to blow up in seven to eight months and enjoy the show. That he better flaunt me and show me off the whole time I'm pregnant. He promised he would, and that this isn't his first rodeo with bursting a girl by a long shot. I'm his tenth..... The whole time my bf and doctor never addressed me directly or asked my permission. I was perfectly womanly, acted on as an object for others' pleasure and nothing more. Like how Marcy existed to become her bf's limbless, breeder sex slave I exist to burst like a balloon for Josh.

I'm technically only about three and a half months pregnant and look at the size of me! I'm as big as a house. My womb is stuffed to the bursting point already and I'm tiny compared to how big I'll be by the time I fulfill my womanly duties for Josh and pop. True to his word, Josh trots me around town dressed in ludicrously skimpy clothes, showing me off, offering my body to men, since my body is technically his to give out! He makes me perform the wildest sex acts in public and I have to admit it is a lot of fun, and I do climax quite a lot before the crowds of people that gather, but my pleasure is not what's important..... Even if it is amazing to be sprawled out naked before a huge crowd, serving five cocks at once, my puffy, swollen pussy brutalized so utterly I squirt like a fire hydrant across the paved walkways of the local park. I love to be ravaged and fucked so savagely by random men, it's so very thrilling, I feel blessed to become Josh's girlfriend, even if it'll only last another five or six months if we're lucky.

Then I'll put on my best show yet for my community, and pop in front of them all, my uterus at last tearing and giving way as I shower my offering of twenty-some kids before my watchful audience. Free gifts for them to raise into the future devoted girlfriends and wives of our fair town..... It's so fulfilling to serve such an incredible man like Josh and be given the opportunity to be used as the community's personal receptacle for pent up sexual aggression. I hope Josh's next girlfriend is just as eager to burst for him, and he gets to indulge his fantasies with many, many more girls after her! Bursting is such a true sign of devotion that I'm positively blessed to be given the chance to give my body to do it for a guy!"

#breeding k1nk #bursting kink #belly burst #morbid kink #dark kinks #belly expansion #belly popping

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staytinyville · 4 months ago

Text

Ride It Like Hydraulics (MDNI)

↣ Summary: Hoshi has a huge following which he makes well money off of. But that don’t mean he doesn’t love when others spoil him.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Hoshi (Soonyoung) x Reader

↣ Genre: Mature (MDNI)

↣ AU/Trope info: idol!Au, CEO!Reader , Sugar Mommy!Au,

↣ Word Count: 2.8k

↣ Warnings: sub!Hoshi, Sugar baby!Hoshi, Sugar mommy!reader, dom!reader , mommy kink , blow job, face sitting , cum play

↣ A/N: NOT BETA! Inspired by the Song Tyrant by Beyonce. Honestly I’ve had this since I first heard it a few days ago and I was like: Subby boys?? Fuck Yeah. Also I can get behind the whole sugar baby hoshi agenda. The last part had me fucked.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

A tired sigh fell from your lips as you leaned back in your chair, arm slung over the back of it and your legs spread wide open. You nails tapped on the wooden table in front of you as you waited for the rest of your board to finish up what they were talking about.

Your phone pinged off to the side, making you turn to look at the notification that had popped up. Your wallpaper was visible from behind the transparent message that caught your attention when it said Attachment 1. The dark lighting photo on your device had you sighing, picking it up to take a look at what was sent.

Swiping up your tired eyes held a bit of playfulness as they scanned over the shirtless picture of a man on your wallpaper. He was sitting on the floor scooted up to a mirror. His lips were formed into a pout as half of his face was covered by the phone he was using. His broad shoulders were on display, allowing you the chance to view his chest and smooth skin.

You smiled lightly, opening the messaging app to find a picture from the exact man you had as your wallpaper. It was another mirror picture, but this time he was fully clothed. He leaned over a bathroom sink to showcase his neck to you. His head was leaned back, allowing you to see the thin diamond encrusted silver chain you had bought for him the other day.

It laid down across his collarbones, not too long but not too short to look like a choker. It fit him perfectly along with the other jewelry his stylist must have made him wear for today’s schedule. You smiled to yourself, saving the picture before moving to send a reply his way.

You : did you like my gift?

He was quick to start typing letting you know that he was waiting for your reply as you knew he would be.

Kitty : i made sure to have the stylist fit my outfit with it

Kitty : have to show it off to the others and the fans

Looking up you noticed that all the other members of your board were in their own conversations going over things. You took it as a moment to get up and leave the room, giving them a bow of your head and ‘a have a nice day’ before making your way to your office.

Now that you were finally out of the confines of the stale hot room, the cooling system in your office allowed you to breathe better. Dropping down into your desk chair, you slipped your feet out of your heels and allowed your body to relax. You went back to your messages with Hoshi, smiling to yourself at the selfies he always sends you.

You: can i see it without the outfit?

Kitty : whenever you want.

Leaning back in your chair, you popped open some buttons on your blouse, allowing your bra to come into view. Lucky for you, since you enjoyed getting the fancier ones that had clippings in the front, you unhooked it allowing your nipples to harden with the cold air. Moving the cups around, your boobs squished together, allowing everything to show as you tilted your phone out in front of you.

You : i am in desperate need of you today. can you make it after your schedule?

Kitty : for you and those always

It felt good to get rid of all your business clothing and just strut around your home naked without a care in the world. But what felt even better, was having your pretty boy withering under you as you languidly sucked on his cock. Watching his chest rise up and down rapidly as his face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Mommy…” Hoshi cried quietly, huffing as his eyes opened just enough to look at you.

You looked up at him, cock hanging from your lips as you hollowed out your cheeks at a slow pace. You took your time, allowing your tongue to go over every inch of him as you took your own pleasure from just having him in your mouth.

With Hoshi laying down on the bed, his legs spread wide open to accommodate you, your back was arched allowing him to see over your back and to your ass sticking out. Your manicured hands ran along the inside of his thighs, lightly messaging into the skin which caused him to moan at the feeling. Each time you would grow closer to his dick with your hands his legs would indistinctly try to fall more open and allow you more room to move your hand.

You popped him out of your mouth, his face scrunching up in a groan. You began to pump him as your tongue fell out to lick a long stripe up from his balls to the tip. When he whimpered you moved lower, sucking on his balls softly and using your tongue to move them around.

This caused him to move his hips, thrusting forward into your hand as his whimpers grew louder.

His lips formed a pout, huffs coming out. “Mommy, ‘wanna touch you.”

You pulled away from him, leaning up as you licked your lips. “My pretty kitty.” You pouted playfully, lightly scratching up his chest and to his neck that was covered with the chain you gave him.

You gently tugged on it, getting him to realize that you wanted him to lean up. He was slow in his movements but he listened to you either way, coming up to you with hooded eyes. His hands immediately went to the fat of your ass, palms gripping them with all his might as his head dropped down into your chest.

His lips latched onto your nipples, kitty licking at them as he played with the hard buds. Your hands made their way to his blonde hair, lightly scratching at his scalp that had him swallowing. Little noises of content seemed to fall from his lips and you were sure if he was actually a cat he would be purring from your affection.

His tongue flicking at your nippled once more had you smiling to yourself as you looked down at him. Your knees were placed on either side of his thighs, trapping him between you. You scooted closer, crawling further up him to have the tip of his cock touch your heat.

Hoshi whimpered around your bud, suckling like a baby as he pawed where he could.

“Kitty, what do you want?” You asked him softly, cooing as you rubbed at his cheek.

“But you were the one who had a rough day.” He looked up at you with wide eyes, a film over them as lust clouded his vision.

His chin was placed between your breasts, fingers continuing their message into your hips and thighs as he seemed to be in a sub headspace.

“Giving my baby boy the best kind of pleasure is the best thing to help me.” You smiled holding his chubby cheeks in your hands.

You smooshed his cheeks together getting a grin from him. “Such a perfect little boy.” You leaned down giving him a kiss.

“Can you sit on my face?” He asked quietly, hand moving to lightly rub at your wet slit.

You hummed, thighs clenching and unclenching with his ministrations. Your hips moved just a bit, humming as you pretended to think about his request.

You giggled when you noticed his pout, rubbing his nose against yours in a Eskimo kiss from how adorable you found him. “Anything my baby boy wants.”

He grinned, a bright red taking over his face. You let go of him for a moment, slowly pushing him down and crawling up his chest along the way. He quickly made himself comfortable looking up at you with sparkling eyes.

You smiled, thinking he looked like a kid waiting for ice cream with the way his eyes sparkled. But you knew it wasn’t because he was about to get a sugar high, it was because he was about to have some of his favorite food. The way Soonyoung ate you out with gusto let you know just how much he enjoyed having your pussy in his face.

Having him eat you out in every position available was something you would never get tired of. And when your pretty kitty asked you so nicely to sit on his face you were more than happy to oblige the good boy.

You placed your knees on either side of his head, legs digging under his arms to get more comfortable. He quickly moved them up to grip onto your thighs, shoulders flexing from how he seemed to tighten his grip on you. You chuckled at his eagerness, rubbing a hand through his scalp as you gave him attention.

He hummed tongue swiping against his lips as he stared at your pussy before looking up at you expectantly. If there was something you knew about the man was that he had a set of lungs on him so you were more then generous when it came to sitting on him.

He moaned when your pussy came in contact with his lips. And he got even more eager when you started to use his nose and tongue to your pleasure. Your hips moved back and forth huffs falling from your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Soonyoung was humming against your lips, tongue lapping at your entrance before going back up to find your clit. You groaned, eyes falling down to look at him as on of you hands moved to the headboard to hold yourself steady.

“My good boy.” You moaned. “Always making mommy feel so good. Her little prince—deserves everything.”

Hoshi moaned out at your words, eyes falling shut as he sucked even harder at your clit. Your hips stuttered, eyes falling shut as a loud moan came from your chest. You began to cry, shifting back and forth in small intervals as you pressed hard on his face.

Soonyoung didn’t care though, he knew you were close so all he did was shove his face deeper in you as his tongue probed your hole.

“I’m cumming, kitty. Gonna make mommy cum.” You told him.

And as a moan fell from your lips, one came from him as well as your juices flowed from you. He lapped you up, not caring to allow you space from over stimulation as he knew you always told him to clean you up after cumming. He was more than happy to have his favorite dessert.

You sighed loudly as you pulled back from him, his head falling onto the pillows and tongue lapping at his chin. You say back on his chest, the cold silver chain touching the warm skin of your thighs. Stretching your legs, you scooted down him again, placing his cock between your pussy lips.

He was breathing steadily, waiting for the next part patiently like the good boy he was. When you settled down, you gave him a tired smile reaching up to wipe at the slick on chin with your thumb. He didn’t let you get far, pulling your finger into his mouth to suck.

You smiled gratefully leaning over to give him a kiss. He let you push your tongue into his mouth, swirling his own around with yours before sucking on it.

Pulling back you sat up, hand running down his chest and toned stomach. Your nails scratched at his skin very lightly, enough to give him a buzzing feeling. You couldn’t mark him but you still loved how sensitive he got to your touch just as much.

Soonyoung’s hips lifted up just a bit, allowing his dick to slide between your pussy lips as it rubbed against you. You giggled, lifting up just a bit as your hand went to pump him.

“Want mommy to ride you?” You asked quietly, pumping him harder.

“Please. ‘love it when you ride me.” Hoshi whined, eyes scrunching up as he panted.

“Of course, baby boy.” You cooed.

You took his cock and lined him up with your entrance. His breathing was ragged, fingers gripping onto your hips tightly as you slowly lowered yourself down on him. As his tip popped in you hummed, squeezing your core with each inch you took. Soonyoung began to pant, letting out little noises as he felt you throbbing around him.

“Such a good boy.” You moaned, placing your hands on his chest as you sat down all the way. Your eyes squeezed shut, groaning from how good he felt to have inside you. “Taking all of mommy.” You moaned.

“You feel so good.” Hoshi whined, lips forming a pout.

He suddenly thrust his hips upwards, making you shift over him. You let out a whine, nails lightly scratching at his skin. You huffed, moving your hips back and forth slowly. Your thighs began to burn but you weren’t focused on that.

You were focused on the little faces and noises Soonyoung would let out each time you would clench down on him or have his tip brush against your walls. You were high off his looks–finding pleasure in how you can bring him down to nothing but whimpers and whines.

You began to speed up your hips, moving back and forth quickly which lead to him withering in the sheets.

You chuckled, spreading your knees out just a bit more as you suddenly lifted off him. His eyes shot open, crying out when you slammed back down onto his hips.

“Don’t sto–op.” He cried, feet planting themselves into the bed.

His hips rose and his legs pushed himself up each time you rose to chase after your warmth.

“Mommy…” He cried, fingers digging into your flesh.

“You gonna cum, kitty?” You moaned, hand reaching out for his cheek.

Tears bubbled at the edge of his lash lines, making you moan and wipe at the ones the fell down his skin.

“Feel good?”

“So good!” He threw his head back, swallowing hard. “You feel so good! ‘Wanna cum.”

“You wanna cum?” You leaned back down, allowing him to take his moment. “You gonna cum in mommy, baby?”

You heard his words get stuck in his throat, but when he felt you stop bouncing on him, he was quick to grab your hips and start pistoning his hips up into you. You fell forward to push your chest into his face, his lips immediately latching onto a nipple. He began to whimper each time his cock thrusted into you–his fingers getting tighter around you.

“Kitty, you gotta tell me what you want. Tell me.” You demanded, lightly slapping his cheek.

“I’m cumming. Mommy, I wanna cum in your pussy.” He cried out, a tear falling down his cheek.

“Cum in mommy, kitty.”

You both moaned in sync–Hoshi letting out a cry while you whined from the warm feeling filling you up. Your legs tensed up, mouth falling open as your core clenched Soonyoung’s cock with each spurt he let out.

Hoshi began to cry, feeling overstimulated as you continued to bounce just a bit. His hips fell down onto the bed, whining as you tried to pull you off him. When you got what he wanted, you quickly got off him, turning onto you side as you spread your legs open.

“‘Wanna see.” Soonyoung lightly gripped your arm, shaking it with the strength he had left.

You turned to look at him, giggling at the sleepy pout on his face. But you obliged your pretty boy, turning around so that you were laying with your pussy facing him. Hoshi whined again when he saw his cum run out of you as you pushed it out.

Your muscles were still tense but you weren’t in a subspace like he had been. So when he reached over to push his cum back in you chuckled and threw your head back at your sweet boy.

“Want you to keep it inside.” He said quietly.

“I’ll keep my kitty’s cum inside.” You reassured him, moving to try and push his seed back in alongside his fingers.

He hummed, his breathing going down at being so harsh. He suddenly popped back up, leaning on his elbows as his legs spread open again. You smiled and made your way back up to him, giving him a sloppy kiss which had him reeling back.

Soonyoung was a dancer, even if he was in subspace, he was ready to go a few more rounds.

“What do you want this time for that one?” You hummed against his lips, fingers playing with his lips.

He gave you a grin, moving back in to kiss you.

“Are those new earrings?” Seokmin asked, trying to get a better view of the earrings on Soonyoung.

“Yeah.” Hoshi smiled, turning his head from left and right to give his friend a better view.

“And a rolex watch!?” Seungkwan gasped, pointing at the man’s wrist.

“And Gucci Loafers!” Soonyoung grinned, sticking his foot out to showcase his new shoes.

In case you didn't know, Hoshi came three time lol

Permanent Taglist : @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @smilingtokki , @tinyelfperson , @wolfgurl2600-blog , @wannabecoolakid , @misshale21 , @aaniag , @wonuwrites , @asteriadaydreams

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 1 year ago

Text

Sketch me down, see me through – pt. 1

Summary: After a quiet day, you decide to sketch Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: it's really just a fluffy thing, lots of pining, they're both touch-starved

A/N: I wrote this a while back and it's not too bad, so enjoy! Here you can find Part 2 (@tripleyeeet you know this already but enjoy still! also, @yn-ymn-yln you might like this)

\_/

The day was slowly fading into the night as the fire of the camp stretched towards the burning sky.

It had been a weirdly uneventful day: you had wandered around without a real aim or purpose all day, mostly enjoying the view than actively looking for more loot. You still managed to stumble across a couple of lonely barrels and chests, gaining nothing really useful other than a well-crafted dagger with neat gold details in the handle.

Your companions were nowhere to be seen, probably drinking in the village nearby or resting in their tents or simply enjoying the company of somebody else.

As you sat alone next to the fire, sketching a bird roaming a few feet away and looking for food in the grass, you didn’t really mind a chance to enjoy your own company.

“There you are!”

The bird flew away in a ruffle of feathers when Astarion’s voice rumbled in the small clearing your camp was set in.

“I thought you had joined the others at the tavern,” he said, plopping down behind you with a tired sigh.

“I wasn’t really in the mood for drinking…” you mumbled with a shrug, your hand jotting down the last details of the bird before they left your brain, “or being among other people.”

“I better hope you don’t mind my company.”

His head popped over your shoulder, but you didn’t raise your gaze from the drawing, too focused shading the charcoal with your finger than giving in to his egotistical nature.

“You know I don’t,” you assured, blowing away the excess black dust from the parchment, “but you did make my model fly away.”

Astarion scanned silently the small sketchbook still open in your hands from behind your shoulder. You could feel his breath brushing your ear, creating a web of shivers that ran one after the other along your spine.

“Look at that.” His fingers reached for your drawing. You held your breath as they hovered over the dark and slightly smudged lines. “I had no idea we had such a talented artist within our group.”

“I’m not that good,” you scoffed with a smile, turning your head ever so slightly towards his, “but thank you.”

“However,” he continued, scratching thoughtfully his chin, “you could definitely use a better model.”

You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together before clicking your tongue. “You’re right, I should ask Gale to pose for me.”

“Gale?!”

“Or Shadowheart,” you added, ignoring his insulted tone. “Her features are so soft, perfect for a portrait.” You met his eyes with a grin. “Don’t you agree?”

Astarion huffed through his nose, pulling back and leaning on his arms. “I suppose she could be a decent model, but I don’t see her around to be sketched.”

You snorted, turning around on your seat to face his narrow scarlet eyes.

“Oh, is my annoyance amusing to you?”

“If you wanted me to sketch you so badly,” you started, turning to a blank page of your sketchbook, “you could’ve simply asked.”

Astarion stared at you for a second, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide in surprise. Those were the small expressions that you loved more about him: those seconds in between, where his facade broke for a moment, revealing something so brief that simply couldn’t be faked.

Then he cleared his throat and his mask of smugness covered his face once again, annihilating whatever real emotion that had made its appearance on his features. “If you insist, darling.”

He laid down on the grass, propping himself up with his elbow. His head rested on his closed fist, tilted as his half-lidded gaze was stuck on you. “So, how do you want me?”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. No matter how many times he looked at you like that or his words tickled your brain with lewd thoughts, Astarion always managed to stir something in your guts; a pull you couldn’t always ignore, especially when you were completely alone.

“You can just sit up,” you assured him, breaking away from his eyes to sharpen your pencil. “I’m not that good of an artist to draw you like that,” you explained a moment later, pointing at the relaxed —and obviously thought-out— position he was in.

“As you wish.”

Surprisingly, Astarion immediately followed your request, sitting back up with not even one objecting word.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, leaning towards you, “if anatomy is the department you lack, I’ll be more than happy to aid you with your… sketches.” A devilish grin appeared on his face as his hand moved in the air with his words. “In every position you might ever need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your calm voice and mischievous grin, almost mirroring Astarion’s, were in no way a faithful reflection of the turmoil storming your chest and mind.

“Now stay still,” you told him, your focus slowly shifting to the drawing as you started laying down the first few guiding lines.

“I’ll be as immovable as a rock, darling.”

“And silent,” you mumbled, your eyes darting from the page to Astarion’s slightly vexed expression.

Astarion noticed your frowning, however he had no time to articulate the question on the tip of his tongue that you had leaned in. Your hand reached out hesitantly, almost waiting for him to pull away or shoving you back in an instinctive reaction. But he didn’t.

You gently grabbed his chin, guiding his face slightly to the side. Then your thumb moved to the spot between his eyebrows, smoothing away the crease of irritation altering his features. You could feel the tension in his muscles give away under your touch, any resistance crumbling under your fingertips.

“There,” you whispered, admiring the calm expression on Astarion’s face. “Can you stay like that for a while?”

“Of course, darling.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke. There was a sudden softness to him, one that you had never seen for longer than the blink of an eye. It was almost overwhelming, even after you had lowered your gaze to work on the small portrait.

Your pencil, guided by your hand, moved quickly on the page. You didn’t really need to look at Astarion to sketch him. His cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, his features had long been carved in your mind.

If he had taken the sketchbook —as you feared he was going to— when he appeared next to you, he would’ve found pages and pages covered in quick and small drawings of him. Studies of his face, hair, hands; whatever your mind could recall accurately.

Nonetheless, there was always something that you never managed to get exactly right.

You moved your gaze from the page, studying closely his eyes and the ever-changing glint behind them as you tried to recreate it with charcoal and parchment. An impossible task that made you sigh more loudly than you expected.

“I can almost smell your brain fuming, darling.”

You put down the pencil, straightening your spine and stretching your sore neck. You scrunched your eyes, exhausted of drawing in the dim and shifting light of the flames.

“Is it done?”

When you opened your eyes, Astarion was subtly peering over the page, the smug grin on his face unable to hide his nervous anticipation.

“I think so,” you mumbled, shading one last detail before staring critically at your creation. As you looked at it, you noticed so many details out of place: a line too straight, a curl too twirly, a shadow too dark…

“It could be better,” you said apologetically as you handed the sketchbook to your model, “but I hope you like it.”

Hesitantly, almost as if the book was made of fire, Astarion took it.

He stared at your drawing for a long time, his fingers following the charcoal lines and then looking for those same shapes on his face. A small shaky breath left his lips as his fingertips moved on his neck, brushing the scars of the bite.

“I had never seen them on me before,” he whispered, scoffing slightly as his hand fell back on the drawing.

“I actually drew them a bit too high,” you explained, pointing at the sketch with your smudged fingertips. “And the nose is too straight, and it’s all a bit of a mess-”

Your voice was cut off when Astarion took your hand in his. Before you could utter another syllable, he brought it to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Nonsense, darling. You’ve given me a mirror in which I will always be able to see myself.”

He kissed the inner part of your wrist, his eyes locked in yours as his teeth grazed your veins. “How will I ever be able to repay you for this?”

“You don’t have to.” Ignoring your burning skin, you squeezed gently Astarion’s hand in yours as his eyebrows shot up. “I did this for you and you only. I’m not expecting anything in return.”

Astarion still looked at you with a puzzled expression while you took your sketchbook out of his grip, took the short dagger hidden in your boot and carefully cut the page with his portrait out of it.

“This is yours,” you said handing him the rough sheet of parchment, “and it should’ve never been taken from you in the first place.”

As if he was handling the smallest and frailest animal, Astarion accepted the page in his hand, his wide eyes still marveling at the way your lines came together to recreate him.

“I…”

For once, words failed him.

He looked up from the sketch and a million emotions crossed his face. Confusion and relief. Sadness and recognition. Fear and joy. And that softness, that overwhelming look empty of all the sharp edges that defined him every other moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, placing a shaky hand on your cheek. “I won’t forget it.”

That touch was alien to you.

It wasn’t the kind of touch that you had learned to expect from Astarion. It wasn’t sexual or teasing, anticipating a pleasure that he seemed always so eager to satisfy. It was gentle, hinting at an intimacy you had never dared to entertain, not even when you were falling asleep in your tent and your neck was still sore where his teeth had dug their way into your flesh.

His thumb moved slowly, hesitantly on your skin. You were both entering uncharted territories and you could do nothing more than being careful. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch as you always did, kissing softly his palm to let him know that you wanted it.

That you craved this intimacy, no matter how long you both needed to get there.

Some voices reached your ears —drunken and loud singing— and before you could make out who they belonged to, Astarion had already moved away, leaving your cheek to the cold touch of the night.

He quickly folded the drawing and put it away, giving you one last small smile before a smug grin bloomed on his face and removed every other emotion. He stood up and headed towards Gale and Wyll, the swaying owners of those voices that had just entered the camp.

As the crowd was becoming a little too much for your liking, you headed into your tent, falling with a sigh on your pillow. You could still hear the other three outside, but your mind was wandering far away, relishing in the memories of that night as you slowly fell asleep.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd #astarion ancunin #astarion fic

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chaifootsteps · 27 days ago

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strap in, this one's a long post

I had an idea of how they could fix Millie that would make her more interesting without stapling an angsty backstory onto her:

Have her marriage with Moxxie go into a bumpy patch or fall apart completely.

It's kind of a throwaway line, but Millie in Unhappy Campers points out that she's let down that Moxxie hasn't supported her half as much as she's supported him that week. She went with his stupid idea to investigate even though she spotted the guilty party immediately and she tried to help him befriend the teenagers just because his ego was hurt. And that's been their dynamic consistently throughout the show - Moxxie is the neurotic one, the one who needs reassurance and is insecure. Short of having her tell Blitzo to knock it off when he's mean to Moxxie (and he is their boss) I don't think Moxxie could ask for a more supportive wife.

So have that evolve into the problem. Have Millie have some minor frustrations that Moxxie doesn't notice or support her with, but she's constantly supporting his attempts to become a better assassin and impress her parents/Blitzo. Have Moxxie be good at romantic gestures and dates but not the emotional work of being there for her since he's always preoccupied with his own problems. Have Millie be frustrated not just with him but everyone assuming that they're just this effortlessly perfect couple and that she has no problems of her own, even though she's the one carrying a lot of the team's weight on assassinations if Blitzo and Moxxie mess up.

Have it get worse when Millie does get another external stressor - maybe she has an argument with Sallie Mae or her siblings, maybe her parents get sick or something goes sideways with the farm and she can't just go home. And right when she needs Moxxie to actually pick up some of the slack at work or at home, he isn't there for her because he's too distracted by issue of his own that's much smaller by comparison but Moxxie blowing it out of proportion gives Millie another thing to be stressed with.

Right before they have a massive fight, the relationship stresses can work in to the stol1tz plotline. Maybe explain Millie isn't as mad at Moxxie at Blitzo intruding in their relationship because she realizes he just wants what they have and can't admit it. But have Millie simultaneously start to project her own relationship problems onto Blitzo/Stolas. At first it's just the surface level similarities - Moxxie is more of a sophisticate who likes musicals and opera, just like the educated Stolas. But then she starts to see that both Stolas and Moxxie have the trait of being sweet on the surface but being all take and no give, then sensitive enough to make everyone assume Millie is the one blowing up for no reason (Moxxie does this by accident where Stolas does it habitually, of course). This actually gives Millie's relationship with Blitzo some texture, since he's trying his best to get M&M to make up because he thinks they're perfect and Millie keeps getting frustrated trying to get Blitzo to see that she's not what he's projecting onto her.

It's when she tells him all the issues with her family and how she can't deal with Moxxie's issues on top of it and she feels like she's drowing alone that it clicks for Blitzo, because that's exactly what he's going through with Stolas, who expects Blitzo to rescue him from his own problems and fulfil his romantic fantasies at all hours of the day. But it terrifies him too because if relatively nice demons like M&M can't make it work, what chance does he have?

Use this to inform her relationship with Loona, too. Without Millie there the office falls into nonstop tension. The writers said Millie is the heart - use her absence to actually show it, because everyone is just fighting constantly and there's no one to right the ship.

Maybe also interrogate the other pillars of Millie's identity. She seems self-actualised, so instead of giving her angst attack the things that makes her sure of herself. Maybe when her marriage begins to struggle her family uses it as an excuse to attack her choice of husband and her "freelance" work. Millie feels like she's failed leaving home, she should have never left the farm. She has to define herself outside of Moxxie and her job. She has to figure out a source of strength within herself. And have Sallie Mae, the one who complained about missing her, be the one to encourage to go out and look because she loves Millie selflessly enough to know she belongs in the city and wants more than staying in the Wrath ring.

And since Moxxie isn't Stolas, have him wise up, apologize and actually change to support her more and help her through whatever the challenge is she's facing. He doesn't immediately get more confident but he stops using Millie as his go-to fix and pick me up for all his problems, especially the little ones. Then they get back together just in time for a second anniversary, with the punchline being them expecting Blitzo to crash their next date - except he doesn't. Because he's learnt better than to keep doing it, and he knows he needs to work on his own relationships. But in his case, he'll soon realize when he tries to make things up with Stolas that Stolas is not Moxxie, and he should just leave since nothing short of being a slave to Stolas' every whim will be good enough. That way the show displays how love is worth fighting for with M&M, but not when abuse is involved.

I love everything about this. The character development all around, Moxxie and Millie growing as people, Blitzo growing as a person and realizing he deserves better than Stolas...even Sallie Mae gets something real and substantial to do! It's everything this show should have been!

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post #stolitz critical #helluva boss critical

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sw33tlight · 5 months ago

Text

Infatuated.[Part. 1]

David McCall x F. Reader

WARNINGS.

Obsession, Mental Ab/se,S/x

“Can you like stop and get the fuck off me you creep.” Rolling her eyes (y/n) pushed her way through the crowd. How was she supposed to find her friend of years in this large ass crowd with gross sweaty people and gyrating everywhere. She decided to take a break and step outside while flipping off random creeps and pushing people out the way. When she finally managed to get outside she felt someone grab her hand she turned and there was her best friend Maya “Maya where the fuck were you.” “Are you fucking crazy, you can’t run off like that”. Giving her friend a nice big glare before noticing the two boys behind her. One with an ugly beard smoking a cigarette and another one younger looking built cute face, nice eyes, and a pretty smile. She hadn’t noticed how long she’d been staring at the kid till he said “What got somethin’ on my face or am I just sexy” she scoffed and rolled her eyes turning her attention back to Maya who was playing with the other dudes hair. “Maya who the fuck are these guys and can you stop that we were supposed to be home an a hour ago.” Maya turned to face the girl yelling at her about curfew like she ever followed hers. “Y/n since when did you care about curfew plus isn’t David here a cutie” She winked at (y/n) but before she could say anything the supposed David kid started talking “Yeah ain’t I cute honey?” He asked smiling. She couldn’t help but give a breathy laugh. She looked him up and down bit her lip and then dragged Maya away saying “Nice to meet you boys but we’d better be going”. She took Maya back to her motorcycle “Put the helmet on and hold onto me I will not be driving the speed limit” She said to Maya who reluctantly followed as she was told “thank you sweetheart”

As the two girls rode away and home, the guy David stood there watching until they were out of vision. ‘That Maya chick had a fat ass” said Logan “Yeah okay Loggie” David replied looking over the pier. “Igh’t time to head home.” The two men went into their respective cars and to the house. Maya stepped off the bike and onto the pavement. Teasing the rider as she returned the helmet. “ you know your parents are actually gonna murder you this time right?” the girl with (y/hc) sighed and flipped the girl off as she started the bike.

Returning home she walked the long drive way to make sure no one would hear she snuck through her window and changed it to PJs, wiping her makeup off, brushing out her hair and brushing her teeth. Hopping into bed she looked at the time on the clock next to her. 2:00 am. She seen the light turn on in the hallway and footsteps her dad’s. She turned so her face wasn’t visible and pretended to sleep as her door slowly creeped open and closed again. The light shutting off in the hallway. She stayed there a moment slowly falling asleep. She had classes to study for she had a huge test on Monday even if it was now at this point Saturday morning.

She rose in the late morning 10:00 am read her clock. She got up brushed her teeth, did her hair, washed her face properly, picked an outfit of the day and set it on the bed. She went down stairs to see if any breakfast was waiting for her or if anyone was up. Her step-mom was down there doing work. “Oh (y/n) there some pancake batter in the fridge if you give me a moment I can make you some or there some cereal” smiling she replied “pancakes sound nice, thank you” going back upstairs she took this chance to get ready for the day. She hopped in the shower washing her hair, shaving, styling her hair, blow drying it, changing, doing light makeup. After about and hour and a half she went backs downstairs the pancakes in the toaster oven waiting to be heated up. In admits her eating her pancakes the phone rings. She picks it up it’s Maya. The two girls are having a hushed but exciting conversation. “Hey do you think I could go over Mayas today and sleepover?” Her step-mom gave her a look but reluctantly agreed. Finishing her breakfast and going upstairs she packed a bag, said bye to her step-mom and brother and left for Mayas.

#Spotify #david mccall xreader #david mccall #fear 1996 #mark wahlberg #david mccall x you #david mccall on shots #david McCall imagines #David McCall infatuated

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 8 months ago

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This one has been circling in my mind for a while and I’ve been waiting for the full headcanons to open up for it.

M6 and MC have an argument, and MC abruptly left to clear their head. It’s been an hour or two and it’s begun to storm, and MC hasn’t come back yet. Whether MC returns on their own or the M6 end up going out to find them, they find MC soaked to the bone and freezing cold.

- 🌿

The Arcana HCs: When MC argues with M6 and gets stuck in a storm

-- to set the scene --

It was so inconsequential, you don't even remember what it was about. All you can remember is that you had decided to take a walk to avoid blowing the disagreement out of proportion, and before you knew it, you were a good ways away from shelter and a storm was rolling in. It's impossible to stay warm in the downpour that soaks your thin clothes. When you see your lover again, you're drenched, shivering, and much more lonely and depressed than you expected to be.

Julian

He originally tried to follow you out, if only because he could tell that you were upset and he didn't want you to have to deal with it alone. Once he saw that being alone was the point, he left it

Of course, being left by himself wasn't helpful. His anxiety began to blow the whole ordeal out of proportion, and by the time the storm hit, he was half convinced that he had ruined your life

It goes without saying that Julian and storms do not mix well

When you finally make it back to the front door of your home, soaked and shivering, it's eerily dark and quiet inside

Julian's curled up in the corner, anxiously wadding his coat up into a crumpled ball in his lap, sniffling because the fire went out

He's leaping up and fussing over you as soon as you walk in

Building the fire back up, bringing you a warm change of clothes and a towel, chafing your cold hands between his for warmth

He's babbling almost incoherently about how worried and frightened he was and it's not hard to realize half of it is the storm

It ends in a resolution shaky with relief, holding each other and slowly warming up as you both agree to try processing better

Asra

They're more than happy to give you space - if an independent moment to yourself is what you need to figure things out and self regulate, then please, have at it! Take your time and be safe

While you're gone, he'll try to take his mind off of things - and then get fidgety when he can't - and then get frustrated when his best option is to just ... wait until you get back

They eventually give up and head out after a couple hours to check on you, not realizing it's raining until they open the door and you're standing right outside dripping wet

All of the heartache is catching up and hitting him right now and he's bundling you inside, eyes full of concern and hurt on your behalf, trying to care for you without overstepping your space

You're freezing! Can they - can they hold you? Only if you want

As upset as he is by the poor state you're in, he's a little relieved that he has the chance to put things back in perspective without needing to scramble for elaborate words to communicate

They love you so much more than an argument - disagreements can be resolved, what matters is you, safe and happy, and loved

Nadia

Fine. Take your space, and while you're doing that, she'll enjoy some time to herself as well. She doesn't take well to feeling brushed off, and this is triggering that just a little bit

Spends the whole time you're gone trying to be productive and muttering to herself about just wanting to fix the problem

Notices that the time drags on, notices the storm rolling in, and stubbornly stands by letting you have what you chose for yourself

And then blaming herself when you return soaked and shivering

This, though, this is problem with a clear solution that she can implement, and she drops everything she's doing to get you into a hot bath and full of warm food and dressed in soft clothes

She's not leaving your side for a moment

But she does want to talk - about how helpless she felt when she wasn't able to reach you to make things right, about how you deserve your space but she doesn't like to feel brushed off

Her tone is disappointed, not in you, but in herself

Highly likely to cuddle you and suggest a spot where you can take your space but she can still reach you in an emergency

Muriel

You needing space is more than understandable. Take as much as you need, he'll be here when you come back

He doesn't love sitting with negative thoughts and feelings, but he's used to it and can handle it fairly healthily

He still worries, though, and when an hour passes and he feels the atmosphere shift, he's getting on his feet and walking out the door to track you down and bring you something rainproof and warm

He doesn't expect you to have walked so far, or for the rain to come down so quickly, or for you to look so small and feel so cold when he reaches you

You can stay upset with him if you want to, but he wants to carry you home. Please let him carry you home

You might be ready to talk about it, you might only want to mumble an apology for leaving without speaking, you might prefer to stay quiet. He'll still hold you like you're made of glass

He'll lay out everything you need and bring you a hot drink, focusing far more on the safety and stability of your home together than the thing that made you upset. You can talk about it later

Portia

She understands you needing space and you're welcome to take it but she hates being left alone to feel strung along and unimportant and she knows that wasn't your intention but -

By the time you walk in the door shivering, she's crying from frustration and working it out by aggressively cleaning out the cottage and making food from Nevivon

The first thing you hear when you walk in is a horrified gasp

She assumed you were fine, you're clearly not fine, don't tell her you've been out in the rain all this time! Get in here, she's fixing you up until it feels like it never happened at all. Talk to her!

Her main impulse is to scold you, considering how much you're accidentally reminding her of her brother right now

More than anything, she's worrying that her love for you might not be enough, that she was too pushy about talking to her and forced you away, that she wasn't clear about her core motive being love

To cut a long story short, she needs a decent amount of comforting too. After the scare, after she's fed and cuddled and snuggled you, she needs some safe, gentle hugs from you

Lucio

He actually thought it would be fine. He's an adult, you're an adult, adults need space sometimes! It doesn't necessarily mean that he did anything wrong -

Okay you've been gone for five minutes and you left really fast and really quietly and the abandonment issues he doesn't want to acknowledge are making their existence felt

He's just going to distract himself and pout in self denial until you get back, and then give you a big hug when you do

YOU'RE FREEZING AND NOW HE'S AS SOAKED AS YOU ARE

What happened? Did you stay out in the storm like that, alone?? Are you that mad at him??? Tell him it isn't so!

It's not, thankfully, but after that roller coaster of emotions he's gluing himself to your side for mutual comforting purposes

He's drawing a bath, and then he's taking it with you. He's getting something warm to drink, and he's drinking it with you. He's hunting down blankets, and he's snuggling under them with you

Sometimes, in life, people make oopsies. He's lucky enough to have a partner who knows how to recover from them with him

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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belle--ofthebrawl · 4 months ago

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Oooh, for the thing - holding them close by the hips, with either Swiss/Aeon or Cirrus/Aurora plsssss

Double whammy >:3c

“Act natural.” Aeon whispers, whirling her into his arms. The welcoming gala for the next Papa was in full ceremonial swing, which meant no one had a chance to get naked yet. She couldn't wait to slip out of the short and poofy little number she’d picked out. Aeon's blush told her it would happen sooner rather than later. “Watchers at two and five o clock.”

“Who?” She breathes, next to his skin and smiles at the goosebumps that prickle up. He's so easy.

“Swiss. And Cirrus. Lookin’ like a couple of predators.” He leads her in some half-assed waltz, keeps stepping on her toes. What clumsy, easy prey they must seem to the older ghouls.

“Okay.” She says nonchalantly. “Are we leading them on a chase? Causin’ trouble?” They turn and she spots them. Closer together now, eyes narrow. Calculating. She smiles and blows a little air kiss. It isn't returned. Her heart skips a beat.

“Are we in trouble?” She asks with a little giggle as the crowd closes around them, and the hunters vanish. “I didn't do anything. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Aeon says nervously. His ears twitch, his obvious tell. Aurora pokes her tongue out between her lips at him and he scrunches his face as she tries to lick him.

“Tell me!” She sings breathlessly.

“Rory!” He pleads.

“Kiss me.” She demands, and he does without protest. Her little Bug was always so good at following orders, from the time they met each other fighting for food scraps in the pit. Now here, the source of Lucifer’s power on earth and he still runs to her for help getting out of hot water.

“Smoked Swiss' weed and stole one of Cir’s bras.” He mutters when they part. “I heard her coming and panicked so I hid in your room. That's why she's mad at you.”

“Aeon!” She gasps, scandalized. Still grinning wickedly when he finally looks at her again. “Nasty little thief.”

Coincidentally, her first words to him when he tried to steal a particularly meaty behemoth thigh away from her. They’d tussled until she realized he was hard and then she rode him in the blood of the dead beast. No truer friendship had there been since.

“Do you think you’ll learn your lesson this time?” She coos, turning again. She can't see the hunters anywhere. Could be a good thing. Could be a bad thing.

“Yes.” He says instantly.

“Too fast, liar.” She teases. “Ooh, do you think she'll spank us?”

She doesn't care that she's being framed. Hell knew she deserved some kind of comeuppance for her own mischief, although she was far better at concealing her tracks than Aeon.

“We’ll start with a spanking.” Comes a cold voice. "Then proceed as we see fit from there." Firm hands slide around her waist, gripping tight and wrinkling the materials of her gown. Aeon goes pale as Swiss copies Cirrus, pinching and tickling the lithe quintessence ghoul before gripping his hips just as firmly.

“Maybe we'll let you hold hands through your punishment.” Swiss adds thoughtfully. They're tugged away from each other in one stunning quick motion, ending up in their predator's arms in a showy display of strength. “I think that'd be so cute.”

“Busted!” Aurora sings cheerfully, already thrumming to her core at the way Cirrus is touching her. She doesn't need to look to know Aeon's stiffy is poking up through his dress pants; a little fear always did it for him.

“How are you so happy about all this?” Aeon hisses as they're easily hefted up over strong shoulders. Swiss even gives Aeon a pre-emptive, light-hearted smack. Cirrus is tickling the back of her thighs.

“Because silly,” she snickers as they're taken away to their fate. “You aren't the only one who steals weed. And who do you think told Swiss in exchange for less spanks?”

“Rory!” Aeon wails.

“That's what you get for trying to frame me!” She sings. “I’ll take us both down babe.”

“I think I'll have her warm my strap.” Cirrus says to no one in particular. “Since she wants to be so mouthy.”

“We're doing whatever we want tonight, Mama.” Swiss purrs. “Eventually these troublemakers will learn their lesson.”

“Probably not.” Is Aurora's cheeky reply.

#swiss ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #aeon ghoul #ficlet #yay i get to hint at my thoughts on aeon and aurora knowing each other pre summoning!!#she loves her little bug

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waddingham · 7 months ago

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oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision.

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice.

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it.

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting.

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?”

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring.

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder.

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet.

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea.

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday.

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again?

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise!

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter.

It's well, well worth the extra step.

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen.

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.”

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.”

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.”

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles.

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters.

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food.

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it.

“Yeah? That one a winner?”

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles.

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns.

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls.

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?”

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him.

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds.

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated.

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit.

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin.

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips.

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink.

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners.

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile.

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind.

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen.

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth.

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself.

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him.

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite.

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening.

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.”

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips.

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

#i don't know how you accidentally write five thousand words of fanfiction but it happened to me...#a gift for you anon. just cause 💌#also sorry the formatting sucks here but i don't feel like titling and tagging and summarizing and posting on ao3 rn #anon #tl drabbles

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 11 months ago

Text

A Healing Kiss

This fic will cover my "Let me kiss it better." square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt will be in bold.

Summary: Y/N causes Dean a bit of damage. Can she fix it with a...kiss?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Just a little bit of smutty goodness. Blowjob. slight handjob. Oral (m receiving). Implied oral (f receiving). Crack if you squint.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,968

A/N: Here is the next request for my second @jacklesversebingo card. It came from @suckitands33 :

Oh I’d love ‘let me kiss it better’ how about along the lines of flirting Dean and reader. Nothing actually happening though then reader hurts Dean in the dick and balls by mistake and says that ‘line’ and dean thinks she’s joking but she follows through with it. Love a bit of mutual pining then they give in to their desires. 🙏🏼

The pining ended up being a bit more from the reader's POV, but there's a hint that Dean's in the same mindset. Hope you enjoy it, hon! Hope everyone enjoys it! If you do, please don't forget to reblog, comment and/or like. I so appreciate it! ❤️

The beautiful dividers are created by @talesmaniac89 .

“Shit! Shit! I'm so sorry!”

Y/N winced as Dean just groaned out his pain and rolled into the fetal position.

“Dean! I'm so sorry!” She repeated, kneeling beside him, hands running up and down his sweaty bicep. “I just stumbled, I was aiming for your thigh.”

She grimaced again as she remembered the powerful kick she'd delivered, intending to connect with his meaty thigh, a move he could have blocked, or taken easily. They were training and Dean was on the attack, she was on the defense. But she’d just lost her center of gravity for a half second as she shot her foot out and she stumbled, landing the blow to a much more sensitive area.

Dean just waved at her as he sucked in deep breaths. She wasn’t sure if he was telling her it was okay, or telling her to get lost. Eventually he pulled himself up and disappeared into the bathroom. She thought he might be checking for permanent damage. She grabbed the bucket and filled it with ice from the machine just outside their room.

She knocked on the door of the bathroom. “Dean? I have some ice for you.”

The door opened a crack, but only Dean’s big hand stuck out, reaching for the bucket. He groped in the air for a minute until she grabbed his wrist and set the bucket on his palm. It disappeared back inside and the lock clicked.

She sighed and flopped down on her bed. This was definitely not how she’d wanted this evening to go.

This was only the third time she’d been out hunting with the Winchesters; there was a lull in the case and they had to wait until the next day to interview a couple of witnesses to what they were fairly certain was a demon possession. So Sam was off with the pretty librarian they’d met earlier, and had texted Dean not to wait up.

So it was just the two of them in the motel. This was the first time they'd ever been completely alone for any length of time and Y/N was feeling the tension. She felt as though there had always been a bit of something between them, just a spark that sprang to life sometimes, a touch here and there that felt like it could be much more if they allowed it.

Or at least, she thought there was a spark. She was a tiny bit worried she'd become delusional because of how badly she wanted the green-eyed hunter. So when Dean had suggested they spend their evening getting in some training, Y/N had jumped at the chance, hoping he was suggesting it as a way for them to get close - and physical.

She did her best to be at least a little subtle in her excitement over the prospect of sweaty, hand to hand grappling with the hottest fucking man she’d ever known. Since they’d met less than a year before she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head. She was crossing every finger she had that this evening would lead to something she’d been craving for a very long time.

Everything Dean did was sexy, every part of him made her melt - his thick, solid, hunter’s body, long and powerful and begging to be taken for a ride. His deep, rumbling voice, like a shot of strong whiskey, always made her shiver. His eyes and the way they held secrets and promises in equal measure within their mossy green depths. And that mouth - Jesus, it should be illegal for a man to have a mouth that pretty.

He was basically walking temptation and she desperately wanted to give in.

But now, instead of using their physical closeness and panting exertion to finally get him naked, she’d probably made it impossible for him to have children. She clapped her hands to her face and tried not to scream.

Finally, ten minutes later, Dean came out of the bathroom. Y/N sat up as he set the bucket of melting ice onto the counter beside the coffee maker. She scrunched up her face in sympathy.

“I’m really sorry.”

But Dean just shook his head and fell onto his bed. “Nah, it’s fine, sweetheart. I’ll live. But you should definitely use that kick on a bad guy; he’ll be down and out like that.” He said with a snap of his fingers.

Y/N bit her lip. “Good to know.”

Dean folded his arms behind his head and grinned at her. “Where’d you learn that little ninja kick, by the way? It’s pretty badass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s much more badass when I don’t stumble and miss my target.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, I will admit that wasn’t exactly how I was hoping our sparring session would end.”

Y/N’s stomach clenched. She licked her lips, eyes locked with his. “Really? How uh…how were you hoping it would end?”

Those wicked promises were back in his gaze as he shrugged and smirked. “I was hoping to win, of course.”

“Ah, of course.” Y/N said, trying to gauge his mood. Was this friendly flirting or something more real? “Sorry I nailed you in the nads instead.”

Dean chuckled again, a low rumble. “I feel like that apology wasn’t as sincere as the others.”

Trying hard not to think of the consequences if she was reading him wrong, Y/N got up to walk to his bed and sit down at his hip. “I’m sorry, Dean.” She said sincerely, but slightly breathless. “Let me kiss it better.”

Dean’s eyes widened and warmed. His tongue darted out and he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before letting it go, leaving it plump and wet and enticing. He forced another small laugh and a smirk. “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled and then moved her hand to his belt buckle, just resting it there. “And if I wasn’t joking?”

Dean breathed out roughly, his eyes downcast and staring at her hand. When they raised back to hers, the pupils were bleeding into his bright green irises. “Then I’d say, it will probably take more than a kiss to make it all better.”

Y/N’s grin became wicked as she worked at his belt with one hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Dean’s breathing picked up as she unzipped his jeans and reached her hand inside. She groaned along with him as she ran her hand over his underwear and along his incredible length. He was semi-hard already and so thick it made Y/N’s mouth water.

She tugged on his jeans and he lifted his hips to let her pull them off. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his bare legs before running her hands up his thighs. She dug her nails into the thick, meaty muscles there and Dean hissed.

She bent her head down and pushed his t-shirt up so she could lay wet, sucking kisses across his flat stomach. She lowered the waistband of his boxer briefs just a bit so she could bite into the taut v-shaped muscle that disappeared into his underwear, making Dean buck slightly beneath her.

He moved his hands from behind his head to grip the sheets in his big fists as Y/N slid down his body slightly so she could place a light kiss to the thick ridge straining against the black cotton.

“All better?” She teased. Dean huffed out a laugh and his voice was pure rasp as he answered.

“Not quite.”

She hummed and nodded. “Better get a closer look then.”

She slowly peeled his snug briefs down over his hips. He lifted for her again briefly and she freed his dick to slap against his lower abdomen.

“Fuck me.” She said quietly as she took in the beauty of his perfectly marbled cock, long and thick and leaking.

“That's the idea, sweetheart.” Dean said with a breathy chuckle.

She leaned down to kiss the very tip, flicking her tongue into his slit and making his cock twitch. She moaned as she wrapped her hand around the base and couldn’t quite make her fingers touch. She began placing feather light kisses all along the shaft and she could feel it throb beneath her lips.

She pushed it flat against his stomach and swirled her tongue around each of his balls, earning a grunt and a ragged curse from Dean.

“Fuck Y/N, fuck.” He mumbled.

She mouthed her way up his shaft, teasing and tormenting him by occasionally scraping her teeth very gently over his velvety skin. Finally she closed her mouth tight around the tip pulling in her cheeks and sucking on him like a popsicle. He groaned deeply and her core muscles clenched painfully.

His left hand moved into her hair and he gave it a tug as she slid further down his length. “Yes, baby take it all, swallow me down.” He ground out between clenched teeth.

Y/N hummed her agreement and pushed down as far as she could, till he was touching the back of her throat. She dropped her jaw, and let go of the base of his dick so she could plant her hands on the mattress on either side of his hips and arch her neck so that she could take his whole cock, pressing her nose against his pelvic bone and letting him stretch her throat.

Dean’s hips bucked and she pulled all the way off of him, letting her spit and his cum keep them connected as she looked up the length of his body to watch him push his head back into the pillow and growl. His hand in her hair kept tugging and pulling as she began bobbing up and down on his cock. The slight sting spurred her on, and she moved faster and faster on him, letting him hit the back of her throat every time.

She pushed down hard on him and the spongy head of his cock slipped down her throat once again. She swallowed around him, and then sealed her lips tight and sucked hard as she pulled back up.

Dean pushed against her shoulders. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N gripped his dick in her hand again, pumping it a few times, before she opened her mouth wide and bounced his heavy cock against her tongue. Her saliva ran down his length, allowing her hand to glide over him smoothly as she kept milking him. Finally with a fierce yell, Dean gushed into her mouth and down her chin.

She pumped him through his whole climax, licking and sucking on him as his hips stuttered and he finally fell back onto the mattress, spent and panting. Y/N cleaned him up with her tongue, making sure she got every drop.

As his breathing normalized and began to even out Dean grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward to fall across him. He brought her mouth to his and kissed her long and hard, not caring that he could taste himself on her lips. He rolled her over and pinned her beneath him before pushing to his knees and yanking his shirt off so he was completely naked. She was still fully dressed.

He tugged on her t-shirt. “Gotta do something about this.” He said as he pulled it off.

Y/N giggled breathlessly and then gasped as he moved to unzip her jeans. “Does this mean my kiss worked?” She gasped. “Feeling all better now?”

Dean yanked down her jeans and panties with one tug and groaned as he saw how wet she already was.

He nodded. “Yeah, much better, but now I’m starving.” He said with a grin before sinking down to feast.

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction

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