#the 'new' camera I got is way too complicated

[jackass-jones]

Rebecca gales has bpd she told me herself

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫

chapter I | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, weed, creepy guy, slightly suggestive, tension (if u squint).

꩜ WC: 4.9K

꩜ A/N: okayyy soooo, i’m starting a new series, it will be a slow burn so bear with me. Im excited for this and all the yearning to come woohooooo! just your typical loser lesbians who are best friends and there’s tension but they don’t know it yet alright…

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How can we tell something is complicated? Is it because the easy way isn’t available — or because we crave the possibility of more?

Life is full of complex things like the human brain or death or love. Especially love.

The line between love and codependency is blurry, if it even exists. Do we cling to the people we love because we need them — or because we don’t know who we are without them?

Still, love is more than need. It's more than survival.

Of course the easy way is not to feel.

But then again — what’s the point of life without love?

Without being consumed by it? Without being absorbed?

Ellie always felt like love wasn’t meant for her. Yeah sure she had been in a few relationships in the past, casual summer flings, but nothing that got too serious. The moment someone wanted to put a label on her she was out the door.

Maybe she was doomed from the start, sentenced to suffer in loneliness for the rest of her life. Maybe it was karma for all the shit her ancestors had done.

Or maybe... she was just twenty-one, and spiraling.

But then she met you.

Her best friend. Her whole world.

You brought sunshine into her life like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

She smiled more. Went out more. God — she even made stupid jokes just to hear you laugh. Saying you made Ellie’s life better was an understatement.

How it started?

It was a casual Thursday. Ellie was tired — the kind of tired that settled deep in her bones. She’d been up since 5 a.m., chasing the sunrise for an early shoot, and stayed late at the studio the night before, hunched over rolls of film, watching images slowly come to life. Now, all she could think about was the couple she’d photographed that morning — mid-twenties, freshly engaged, smiling like they had the rest of their lives mapped out. Some people had it all figured out, she thought. Settled. Steady. Meanwhile, she was here — at her usual breakfast spot, an old fashioned diner, squinting at her laptop, scrolling through photo edits with aching eyes. Her camera bag sat beside her on the booth seat, worn and stickered to hell — Savage Starlight, Sleater-Kinney, a faded rainbow sticker that had started peeling at the corners.

She yawned into her tea, hood up, headphones loosely slung around her neck, when someone placed a plate down in front of her. chocolate chip pancakes, soft scrambled eggs and bacon — her usual.

Ellie blinked up, and you were standing there, wiping your hands on a dish towel tucked into your apron. Your eyes flicked toward the camera case.

“Savage Starlight,” you nodded at the sticker. “God-tier taste.”

Ellie froze for a second, then smirked. “You read that?”

“Duh,” you said like it was obvious. “Issue 8 ruined me emotionally for weeks.”

That pulled a laugh out of her, the first real one she’d had all morning. “Same. Still not over that ending.”

You smiled, shifting your weight to one foot, clearly not in a rush to leave. “Cool camera, by the way.”

“Thanks, she’s my baby” she said, suddenly aware of how wrecked she must look — messy bun barely held up, camera strap indenting her neck. “—I’m Ellie, by the way.” She stuck her hand out, immediately second-guessing it.

Was that too old-fashioned? Joel really was rubbing off on her.

“I know. I take your order every other Thursday.” you said, shaking her hand.

She blinked, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry. Early mornings kinda melt my brain.”

“No worries,” you grinned, and Ellie noticed the little pin on your apron — a tiny, pixelated spaceship with your name on it, stupid stupid stupid. she thought to herself for not noticing it earlier.

And since that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t anything loud or life-altering, not some cheesy movie moment with music swelling in the background. But it was something. A small click, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Ellie became obsessed with you, in a way that she needed to be around you or her day wouldn’t be complete, she needed to hear your voice, your laugh, you calling her stupid for a dad joke she made, she just needed you, her best friend.

From then on, Ellie started showing up more often — not just on Thursdays anymore. Sometimes it was Tuesdays. Sometimes Saturdays, right before the lunch rush. She claimed it was for the pancakes, and not the terrible service (she earned herself a playful smack on the head for that). She’d sit at her usual corner booth, camera bag by her side, flipping through photo previews on her laptop, waiting for your shift to end.

Ellie would usually show up with the latest issue of Savage Starlight, sliding it across the counter like some sort of sacred offering. It became an inside joke — your “weekly trade deal,” she'd say. In return, you’d draw ridiculous little faces into her pancakes with extra chocolate chips — crooked grins, wonky eyes, sometimes a very unflattering interpretation of Joel. She thought it was hilarious.

You’d complain about the usual chaos — rude customers, shit tips, kids treating the floor like their personal warzone. Ellie would listen between mouthfuls of bacon, eyes gleaming.

“Sounds like you need a cig break,” she’d propose, already halfway out of the booth.

And that’s how most of your breaks ended up — at the back of the diner, sharing a cigarette with your best friend, the smoke curling into lazy spirals between your fingers. Who would’ve thought the best thing to come out of this job would be the quiet girl who used to sit in the corner booth alone, camera gear spilling across the table and making it a logistical nightmare to serve her food?

You ducked behind the counter, catching your co-worker scribbling down an order on a pad.

“Taking five,” you whispered into her ear, already slipping off your apron and tossing it over the stool.

Ellie was waiting by the door, cigarette hanging from her lips, hands in her pockets, grinning like an idiot. Moments like these, quiet, in company of you, were the highlight of her day.

The metal door creaked behind you as you stepped out into the alley, greeted by the smell of old grease, cigarette smoke, and freedom.

“You have no idea how much I despise this uniform,” you groaned, tugging at the stiff collar of your work shirt like it personally offended you. “Why do they make us wear these stupid skirts and hats?”

Ellie chuckled, flicking the lighter and shielding the flame with her hand. “You look cute, very… militant barista chic”

You gave her a flat look. “It’s a literal open invitation for creepy dudes to stare”

“In that case I’ll beat them to death with my camera tripod” she said around the cigarette, grinning as she passed it to you. “I would like to see you try honestly.”

You took a drag, leaning your back against the brick wall, bumping your shoulder into hers lightly. “I’m just saying, Hooters uniform has more coverage than this… thing.”

Ellie nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah? Are you a Hooters expert now?”

You snorted, passing the cigarette back. “Certainly more than you. I wish I could just spend time with you in your stinky little studio instead of serving Ice lattes to Karens”

Ellie blinked, a flicker of something crossing her face — but she masked it quickly with a laugh. “Obviously. I’m way prettier.”

“Thats certainly one way to put it.”

“Rude.”

You both stood there for a while in comfortable silence, trading the cigarette and small complaints about the day, until your five minutes were definitely more like ten and your co-worker cracked open the back door to glare at you.

Ellie just winked and mouthed bitch. She checked her phone, winced, then let out a dramatic sigh like the world was ending. “Shit. I’ve got a shoot in twenty minutes.”

You blew out a stream of smoke. “Ugh, fine. Go be artsy and productive or whatever.”

“I will. Gotta make the girls look ethereal in a field of flowers or something,” she joked, already stubbing the cigarette out on the wall and stuffing it into an empty Altoids tin she kept just for that purpose.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell them to pose like they're not better looking than me or I’m gonna have a problem.”

Ellie gave you a look, smirking as she slung her camera bag over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re the muse.”

You flushed but covered it with a sarcastic bow. “Obviously. Anyway, I’m stuck in hell for two more hours, but I’ll text you after. You still down for the movies tonight?”

“Dina threatened me if I bail. Jesse’s picking the movie, though, so get ready to watch something with car chases and unnecessary explosions.”

You groaned. “He has the worst taste. I swear if it’s another Fast and Furious sequel I’m leaving.”

Ellie laughed and started backing down the alley, walking backwards. “You say that every time and yet you stay. For the family.”

You threw your apron at her. She dodged it.

“Text me when you're done,” she called out before disappearing around the corner, entering her beat up truck.

Back inside, the rest of your shift crawled by in a blur of clinking mugs, whiny toddlers, and low-tip customers — but it was easier to survive knowing you had a movie night waiting, with your best friends, and Ellie sitting next to you in the dark, probably whispering dumb commentary in your ear the whole time.

You smiled to yourself as you cleared a table. Just two more hours.

The field was nice. Golden-hour kind of nice — warm light slicing through the tall grass. Ellie adjusted the settings on her camera, peeking through the viewfinder at the group of girls twirling in their flowy pastel dresses, laughing like they were in a Greta Gerwig film.

“Alright, ladies, pretend you like each other!” she called out, grinning.

They laughed and did that overly-exaggerated cutesy pose thing, arms slung around each other, a couple fake-kissing cheeks. Ellie snapped the shots effortlessly, stepping around them with practiced ease. Her brain clicked into auto-pilot when she was shooting — light, angles, timing — the rest of the world faded.

Except for one of them.

Cat.

Bridesmaid number three. Mid-20s, pretty, clearly knew it — and knew how to work a camera. She'd been giving Ellie a look since they started, the kind with too much eye contact and a little too much lower lip biting.

"Should I hold the bouquet like this?" Cat asked sweetly, lifting it chest-level and tilting her head just enough to make it obvious.

Ellie didn’t skip a beat, snapping the shot. “Sure…unless you’re auditioning for a rom-com in which case, maybe tilt it a little more—yeah, that’s the angle. Nailed it.”

The girls laughed and whooped like they were in a music video.

Cat winked at her. “You’re kinda funny, camera girl.”

Ellie smirked but didn’t look up from her camera. “Only kinda?”

The flirting kept bouncing like that for a bit — harmless, surface-level, the way Ellie always played it when she wasn’t invested, just bored. She never let it get too deep, not like with you. After wrapping the shoot and handing off her card to the bride, Ellie was stuffing her camera into her bag when Cat came up to her, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers like she practiced that in the mirror.

“Hey,” she said, kind of sing-songy. “You should give me your number. You know, in case I wanna book you for something… personal.”

Ellie bit back a grin, already zipping her bag. “Oh, totally. Here—”

She grabbed a pen from her tote and scribbled a number on the back of a coffee receipt. Not hers, obviously. Some random number she made up.

Cat took it, all flirty and hopeful, and Ellie gave her a small salute before heading toward her truck.

As soon as she was out of sight, she cracked up to herself, shaking her head.

“Yeah, good luck with that one.”

She wasn’t mean. Just... not interested. Not in Cat. Not in anyone lately.

Only person she actually wanted to hear from was probably just clocking out of that stupid diner, peeling off that stupid uniform and texting her with some dumb meme or a rant about someone leaving syrup on the counter.

She checked her phone.

No text yet.

She leaned against the side of her truck, thumb tapping lazily against the metal, waiting. Like clockwork, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. A text from you.

It was a photo—your middle finger proudly raised beside your diner uniform, crumpled and defeated on your bed. “im out. pick me up at 6?”

Ellie chuckled, typing back: “Only if ur wearing the uniform.”

Your response came quick: middle finger emoji.

Still grinning, she climbed into her truck and headed to her studio (which, technically, was also her apartment—but calling it the studio made it feel a little more like she had her shit together). She was planning on washing off the day and changing into something comfortable for movie night at Dina’s.

Meanwhile, back at your place, you kicked off your shoes the second you walked in. Your roommate wasn’t home—probably still stuck at work—so you shot her a quick text letting her know you’d be out late. You peeled off your uniform, and threw on your robe before texting Ellie again: “home. picking me up at 6 still right?”

You stepped into the shower, determined to scrub off the smell of burnt bacon and sticky syrup, letting the steam pull the exhaustion out of your bones. Afterward, you got caught up scrolling on your phone, time slipping past unnoticed… until there was a sharp knock on your door.

“Shit,” you muttered. Then louder: “HOLD ON, I’M COMING!”

Still wrapped in your towel, you darted to the front door and flung it open. Ellie blinked, caught off guard. Her eyes flicked over your towel-wrapped frame a second too long, before she quickly covered her grin with a hand, trying (and failing) to play it cool.

“I am so, so sorry,” you said, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed. too self conscious. “I got distracted and totally lost track of time.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, but her voice stayed teasing. “You sure you’re not trying to seduce me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ten minutes. Swear.”

You vanished down the hallway. Ellie flopped onto the couch, pulling out her phone and texting the group chat: running late but grabbing snacks first. don’t start without us.

She shifted to get more comfortable—and caught a glimpse through the crack in your bedroom door. Two inches. Practically nothing. Not on purpose… right?

You were slipping on a hoodie, back turned, still in just your bra and pants. Ellie’s face flushed instantly. She snapped her head away like the door had personally scolded her. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. “Fuckin’ creep.”

Before her spiraling could get worse, you emerged from your room, hoodie on, tugging on your shoes.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing your keys and swinging the door open. “Let’s go.”

Ellie followed, still flustered, and absolutely not ready to unpack any of what just happened.

The sky was starting to turn soft and purple as Ellie pulled out of your complex’s parking lot, her tattooed arm flexing, hand grasping lazily on the wheel, the other fiddling with the volume knob. Some old indie playlist was shuffling through the speakers—Ellie music, as you called it. You leaned back in your seat, hair still a little damp from the shower, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over your hands.

“So?” you said, glancing at her. “How was the rest of your very glamorous day?”

Ellie let out a snort. “Oh, you know. Just got aggressively flirted with by someone named Cat.”

Your head turned so fast it nearly cracked. “Cat?”

“Bridesmaid number three. Said I looked like I’d be good with a camera and my hands.” Ellie smirked.

You groaned, but came out more like a failed laugh. “Ew. Who says that?”

“She did. With full confidence. Honestly? Kinda impressive.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Tell me you didn’t flirt back.”

“I mean, a little. For the bit.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “You’re shameless.”

“Hey—she asked for my number, I panicked and gave her Joel’s landline. So I think I redeemed myself.”

That made you burst out laughing, and gave you a weird sense of relief. “Oh my god, imagine her calling and Joel picking up.”

“‘Hello, Miller residence.’ And then just click.”

You were still giggling when you turned toward the window. “You’re evil.”

Ellie looked over at you for a second too long, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re just jealous.”

You scoffed. “Jealous of Cat? Please. I wear a dumb visor and serve bacon to men named Dennis who tip in nickels.”

“That’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “My shift was hell. I had a kid throw a hashbrown at me and scream because I gave him the wrong syrup. Like. What syrup could he possibly need at age four? It’s all just sugar.”

“Future criminal behavior,” Ellie said. “I would’ve drop-kicked him.”

“Oh believe me, I considered it. But then I remembered I’m trying not to go to jail this year.”

“Personal growth,” she nodded solemnly.

There was a comfortable silence after that. The kind that didn’t feel like it needed to be filled. The kind you only got with someone who knew you well enough to not need noise. But still, Ellie spoke again, a little quieter this time.

“Hey,” she said, eyes on the road, voice soft. “We still have to get those snacks.”

You turned your head, smiling without really meaning to. “7-Eleven stop?.”

“7-Eleven it is.”

The buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of the refrigerator coolers welcomed you as the door to the 7-Eleven swung open with a mechanical chime. Ellie held it open for you with a sarcastic bow. “After you.”

You rolled your eyes smiling. “Wow. So chivalrous. All for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged, grabbing a plastic basket. “I’m a provider.”

You split up for a second—Ellie going straight to the drinks section while you scanned the candy aisle, already filling your arms with too many options. Gummy worms. A Kit Kat. Those sour blue raspberry straws Ellie claimed she hated but somehow always ended up buying.

You were just about to decide between a regular-sized Snickers or the obnoxiously large King Size when a voice behind you broke the silence.

“Damn,” the guy said, eyeing you up like you were on sale. “If I was your man, I’d never let you out the house looking that good.”

You didn’t even turn to look at him at first, just dropped a pack of sour candy into your basket.

“If you were my man,” you said, glancing over with a tight smile, “I’d move states and change my name.”

He scoffed. “Damn, you don’t gotta be a bitch about it—”

“—And you gotta be stupid enough to not take a hint” Ellie appeared behind you, sliding an arm around your shoulders with a lazy grin, completely playing into the moment.

The guy blinked, probably about to say something else, until Ellie looked at him, really looked at him and whatever speech he had left drained from his face. He turned and walked off without another word.

“You find the sour blue raspberry straws?” she asked casually, like nothing had happened.

You nodded, leaning into her like it was muscle memory. “Yep.”

Something always shifted in Ellie when guys like that got too close. She didn’t make a scene, didn’t have to, but her jaw would clench just a little, her voice would drop, and suddenly she wasn’t just your best friend. She was your shield, your protector. And no one got to talk to you like that when she was around.

Once he was out of earshot, you burst out laughing, nearly dropping your armful of snacks. “Babe is new”

“It felt right,” Ellie said, grinning. “And also hilarious. You should’ve seen his face.”

You were still laughing as you dumped your haul on the counter. “Thanks for the save, my prince charming.”

“Anytime,” she said, tossing a couple of sodas beside your loot. “Protecting you from weird dudes is in my contract.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised a brow. “Where’s this contract?”

“In my head,” she said.

You shook your head, still smiling. “We should make it a real thing. Ellie Williams: official candy mule and creepy guy repellant.”

“I prefer the term bodyguard,” she said, pulling out her wallet. “But yeah. Works for me.”

Dina’s apartment smelled like buttery popcorn, weed, and that vaguely sweet candle she always left burning on her windowsill—something with a name like Midnight Fig or Velvet Moon. The TV was already on when you walked in, credits of some old romcom playing, Jesse sitting cross-legged on the floor, halfway through a bag of gummy worms.

“You’re late,” Dina called from the kitchen, not even looking up as she stirred something in a pot. “Movie night rule number one: punctuality. Rule number two: bring snacks. Did you guys bring snacks?”

“We were on time,” Ellie said, kicking the door closed behind her. “But somebody forgot I was picking them up.”

You shot her a look. “I was in the shower. I told you to pick me up at six, not barge in at six.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse muttered. “Just make out already.”

“Shut up,” both you and Ellie snapped at the same time. Jesse loved to poke the bear when it came to you two, claiming it was funny how flustered you both got.

That only made him grin wider.

You dropped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, pulling a throw blanket over your legs and tossing a bag of hot cheeto chips onto the coffee table. “There. Snacks.”

Ellie flopped down beside you, her thigh barely brushing yours. Not enough to say anything, not enough to move away—but enough to notice. She leaned back, hands behind her head.

“So,” Dina said, walking over with a bowl of something that looked suspiciously like boxed mac and cheese. “Ellie, how’d your shoot go? You flirt with any bridesmaids?”

You groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”

Ellie smirked. “Told you already. Bridesmaid number three. She winked at me and called me ‘camera girl.’”

Dina wheezed. “Wait. Wait. Did she give you her number?”

“She asked for mine,” Ellie corrected, proudly. “I gave her Joel’s landline.”

“Are you trying to get disowned?” Jesse asked, taking a handful of popcorn.

“I’m trying to avoid drama with a woman named Cat,” Ellie said, dead serious.

You shook your head, “You’re impossible.”

Dina squinted between you two, then looked at Jesse. “Tell me they’re not already dating.”

“Not yet,” Jesse said, popping a gummy into his mouth. “But they will be. I give it, like, three months. Maybe two if there’s a karaoke night.”

You threw a pillow at his head. Ellie snorted and leaned closer, her arm grazing yours again.

“Anyway,” Dina said, tossing a remote into Jesse’s lap, “are we watching Jennifer’s Body or are we letting Jesse pick another sad man movie again?”

“Jennifer’s Body,” you and Ellie said at the same time.

And just like that, the night rolled on—warm, loud, stupid. Full of bad jokes, half-eaten snacks, and shared glances neither of you really knew how to deal with yet.

Not tension, exactly. Not yet. But something.

The movie had long since faded into background noise, replaced by gossip and stolen bites of popcorn. Jesse and Ellie kept chucking snacks at each other like overgrown children, until Dina groaned from the armchair, "You idiots are cleaning all this shit up. Y’all are like toddlers when you're together."

They both laughed, Jesse flinging a pillow in her direction, which, of course, kicked off a full-on war. You were winning—striking Ellie with a pillow like your life depended on it—until she fought back three times harder, knocking you onto the couch and sending the whole group into hysterics.

This was your group. The best friends you ever had.

You’d all met not long after you and Ellie did. Jesse and Ellie were practically siblings, bonded since childhood, while you’d known Dina since high school—trauma-bonded over shitty exes and academic burnout. She knew you like the palm of her handl You definitely were an incredibly different group of humans, but it’s what made things more genuine with y’all.

You and Ellie had a secret running bet about Jesse and Dina. After one drunken party makeout they swore never happened, they’d been in full denial mode, sneaking glances and pretending it meant nothing.

Ellie bet $20 and a month of free rides that they'd never admit it. You, being the romantic, countered with a month of free pancakes and $10 that they would.

(Not that they needed to know about it.)

A blunt or two made its way around, leaving everyone pleasantly buzzed, limbs heavy, laughter echoing off the walls. Jesse and Ellie were laid out flat on the floor. You sprawled on the couch with Dina nestled between your legs, her back to your chest. It was warm, hazy, perfect.

You glanced at your phone—2:57 a.m. Saturday. No work tomorrow, thank god. You’d definitely get fired for showing up this stoned.

Your fingers idly played with Dina’s hair while she giggled at nothing. Jesse and Ellie were arguing about something in the background, their voices fuzzy through the weed fog. Eventually, Dina stretched and yawned, announcing she was going to bed.

“If anyone’s crashing, cool. Just don’t open the windows and don’t trip balls in my apartment,” she mumbled.

Jesse followed behind, only to get a very loud, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM, I’M NOT HIGH ENOUGH FOR THIS.” He retreated to the guest room in defeat.

Ellie dropped down on the couch next to you, head tipped back, eyes glossy.

"You don't have an early photoshoot with your kittycat tomorrow?" you teased, glancing at her sideways.

"You wish. I might as well just cave and give her my real number," she said with a lazy grin.

“And forget about me?” you said, bumping her shoulder.

"You know I would never."

"Oh, I know. Im just fucking with you" you smirked.

“Oh yeah?,” she shrugged, grin widening. “I think you would like that.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Your favorite one.”

“I think that’s why we’re best friends.”

“Yeah, you’re my best-best-best-friend-ever-in-the-world,” she said, slurring it like a spell. “But shh, don’t tell Jesse. Sensitive guy.”

She held a finger to her lips like she was sharing an FBI top-secret, you laughed, shaking your head.

Shortly after that, you dozed off on the couch, your head resting on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could smell your shampoo, faintly sweet, and the ever-present scent of maple syrup that always clung to you no matter what. Like it was just… yours. Branded in her brain.

Your thigh was warm against hers, and yeah—it wasn’t weird. You were always like this. Close. Safe.

But then Ellie’s mind flicked back to your apartment. That two-inch crack in the door. The sliver of skin, the bra strap, your back. She’d looked. Not on purpose—but she’d looked. The weed was fucking with her head.

Her chest tightened. Was that weird? Creepy?

But best friends think about stuff like that sometimes… right? Like, it wasn’t a big deal to know your friend was hot, and protecting her from creepy guys knowing you’d treat her so much better In a normal, totally non-weird, completely platonic way. Right?

She tilted her head slightly, watching you breathe, peaceful and soft beside her. Her brain finally quieted.

You were her best friend.

And that would always be enough.

Right?

[pankowcrumbs]

Blurred Lines X Pedro Pascal

MasterList

Word count: 6.8K

Sex implied in a movie scene but no actual smut.

Plot: You and Pedro are romantic love interests in a new movie but there is a 25 year aged gap and it gets complicated when the feelings are becoming real underneath the characters.

There’s always a strange rhythm to film sets. Long stretches of waiting around, interspersed with bursts of concentrated magic. I’d learnt that quickly, although this set Falling Slow was different. Maybe it was the subject matter, maybe it was the man I was working opposite. Or maybe it was both.

The film was a sweeping, slow-burn romance between a young academic and her older, world-weary professor. Forbidden, scandalous, but written with nuance and aching tenderness. And, yes, it was about a large age gap. Just like us.

I was twenty-five. Pedro was fifty.

On paper, it should’ve been awkward. But Pedro had this way about him all warm smiles, self-deprecating humour, and inappropriate dad jokes that made the whole cast and crew instantly at ease. He was like the sun on set. Infectious. Easy. Except when it came to scenes with me. Because when the cameras rolled, he changed. He became something else entirely. Something... intense. Something that curled low in my belly.

And today, we were filming that scene. The one everyone had been whispering about for weeks. The sex scene.

It was a closed set. Just Pedro, me, the director, the sound guy, and Elodie, our lovely but terrifyingly precise intimacy coordinator. We’d choreographed it all beforehand where my hands would go, when to kiss, how long to linger down to the second. Every move mapped like a dance. Modesty garments in place. No actual sex. All smoke and mirrors.

But even with all the prep, I could feel the tension humming under my skin the moment I stepped onto the set a dimly lit bedroom dressed with crumpled linen sheets, soft golden light, and a half-empty bottle of red wine on the nightstand.

Pedro was already there, shirt unbuttoned, lounging against the headboard, eyes flicking up when he saw me. He smiled warm and reassuring but there was something unreadable beneath it. Like he knew the weight of what we were about to do. Like he felt it too.

"You good, cariño?" he asked softly as I sat on the edge of the bed.

I nodded, smiling back. “Just thinking I might’ve had one less coffee if I’d known I’d be straddling you today.”

He chuckled, low and warm. “I’m flattered. I didn’t even have to buy you dinner first.”

Elodie raised a brow. “Alright, Pascal. Save the charm for the camera.”

We all laughed, and the tension eased just a little.

After a final rundown of the choreography, we got into position. I climbed onto the bed, straddling Pedro, knees on either side of his hips. He was warm beneath me. Solid. I could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing under my palms as I pressed them lightly to his chest.

“Scene twenty-two, take one,” came the director’s voice.

The clapper snapped.

And then the world narrowed.

In the scene, my character was supposed to kiss him first shy at first, then hungry. So I did. I leaned in, my lips brushing his gently, then deeper, letting it linger. Pedro kissed me back not as himself, but as Henry, his mouth soft but full of restraint, like he was holding back years of want.

Our movements followed the choreography: my hands sliding up his chest, his fingers trailing down my sides, my hips rolling ever so slightly.

But somewhere, somewhere between the scripted kisses and the unspoken glances, something shifted.

His hands gripped my waist a little firmer. My fingers tangled in his hair, not because the script said so, but because I wanted to. And then just barely I felt it.

The faintest shift beneath me.

A subtle, growing pressure against my inner thigh.

Pedro stilled for the briefest second. A breath caught in his throat. And then he kissed me again slower this time, deeper. Less scripted. More real.

I should’ve pulled back. I knew I should. But I didn’t.

The lines blurred.

Heat rose in my cheeks, pooling low in my stomach as I rocked against him again, instinctively, almost imperceptibly. And this time, the pressure was unmistakable. He was getting hard.

I didn’t look away. Neither did he.

His pupils were blown, lips parted, chest rising faster than it had a minute ago. I could feel his fingers flexing where they held me not guiding me, not moving me, just feeling me.

“Cut,” the director called, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.

I jumped slightly, pulling back, blinking as if I’d just surfaced from underwater.

Pedro cleared his throat, giving me a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry. Got a bit... carried away.”

The intimacy coordinator stepped in immediately, her voice gentle. “That was great work. Let’s just take five. Everyone okay?”

I nodded quickly, slipping off Pedro’s lap and wrapping the robe around myself, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of skin.

Pedro stayed sitting on the bed, running a hand through his hair, then glancing at me with a crooked grin. “If I say I’m too old for this shit, do I sound appropriately flustered or just creepy?”

I laughed, breathless, still flushed. “Bit of both, honestly.”

He chuckled, then sobered, his eyes searching mine. “Hey. You alright?”

I met his gaze. There was no sleaze in it. No arrogance. Just genuine concern. And maybe a flicker of something else.

“I’m fine,” I said softly. “It was... intense. But I’m okay.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were incredible, by the way. I mean that. Professional. Committed. Very distracting.”

I raised a brow. “Distracting?”

He smirked, that familiar playful spark back in his eyes. “In the best possible way.”

We stood there for a beat, just looking at each other, and I wondered if he felt it too that slow pull. That blurred edge between fiction and something else entirely.

Then Elodie called us back.

The rest of the takes went by in a haze. We stuck to the choreography, reined it in, kept it clean. But the charge lingered. Like the air after lightning.

When we finally wrapped for the day, Pedro caught me just as I was leaving the trailer.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “Walk with me?”

I nodded, tugging my coat tighter around me as we stepped into the cool evening air. The sky was bruised with twilight, the last of the crew packing up around us.

We walked in silence for a while, side by side, shoulders brushing. Then he stopped.

“Today was...” He trailed off, frowning at the gravel beneath his boots. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “Not at all. If anything... I don’t know. I felt safe. Even when it got a bit... blurry.”

He looked up, meeting my eyes. “Yeah. Blurry’s a good word.”

Another pause.

Then: “You’re not just good at this, Y/N. You’re magnetic. I’ve worked with so many people, and you” he broke off, exhaling. “You’re dangerous.”

I smiled, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “So are you.”

He chuckled, the sound warm but laced with something heavier. “We’ve got more scenes like that coming up.”

“I know.”

“And we’ll keep it professional. Of course.”

“Of course.”

But neither of us moved. Neither of us turned away.

The next morning, set felt quieter than usual.

Not in the literal sense there were still cables being dragged across floors, PAs shouting about coffee orders, the wardrobe trailer buzzing with life. But there was a hush in the way people looked at us. Or maybe I was imagining that.

Maybe it was just the way he looked at me.

Pedro had always been good at eye contact playful, expressive, sincere. But today? He barely held mine for longer than a second. A quick glance. A smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. A soft “morning, cariño” that sounded more distant than usual.

And I understood. God, I understood.

Because the moment I’d gotten back to my flat last night, I’d played the scene over and over in my head the way his hands had felt on my waist, how his breathing had changed beneath me, the weight of his body and the way our kisses had slowed, deepened, blurred.

It had been just a scene. Technically. But we both knew it wasn’t just a scene.

Today’s call sheet had us shooting a quieter moment our characters sharing wine in the kitchen, stealing kisses in between bites of takeout. Innocent. Sweet. No sex. No straddling. Still, my heart had already begun its steady, traitorous drumbeat the moment I saw his name next to mine.

I was perched on the counter, wrapped in a faded jumper that wardrobe insisted made me look “young and lovesick”, when Pedro walked onto set.

He looked... tired. Not in the usual way actors did. This was something heavier. Like sleep hadn’t come easy. Like he’d been wrestling with something all night. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed.

But still, he smiled. Softly.

“You alright?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper as the crew adjusted lights around us.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Just... head’s full. Long night.”

Before I could ask more, the director called for quiet, and we rolled straight into the scene.

We were mid-take when Pedro, in character, leaned against the counter beside me, close but not touching. I offered him a chip from our fake takeout box, and his fingers brushed mine when he took it. He didn’t pull away right away. Neither did I.

Our eyes met. The silence stretched.

It wasn’t scripted.

“Cut,” the director called gently. “That was nice. Really natural. Let’s reset and go again.”

Pedro stepped away immediately, exhaling through his nose, like he’d just run a mile. I could feel the shift in him something coiled and tense, barely held together.

After the take, he hovered near me, hands shoved in his pockets. Then finally as the crew fiddled with lights and lens changes he stepped closer, voice low.

“Can I talk to you?” he murmured, eyes still not quite meeting mine.

I nodded, following him off-set to a quiet corner behind a lighting rig. The hum of activity faded, and suddenly it was just us. And the air between us felt impossibly thick.

He ran a hand through his hair, took a breath, and finally looked at me really looked at me.

“Listen,” he started, voice rough. “I need to say something, and I hope to God I don’t make this weird, but I can’t keep pretending nothing’s happening.”

My pulse spiked. “Pedro”

“I’m not going to cross a line,” he said quickly, firmly. “That’s not what this is. But yesterday… you felt it too, didn’t you?”

I swallowed. “Yeah. I did.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, like hearing it out loud confirmed some terrible truth. When he opened them again, they were filled with guilt and ache and something so tender it made my throat tighten.

“You’re twenty-five,” he said softly. “You’re brilliant and talented and beautiful and kind. And I am exactly double your age. I’ve been doing this for twenty years longer than you. I’m more famous. I have more power. That’s... that’s not a dynamic I want to mess with.”

I nodded slowly, my heart cracking open. “I know. I’ve thought about all of that too. People would talk. They’d assume the worst. I’ve already seen what they say when any young actress is seen next to an older man. They’d crucify you.”

His jaw flexed. “It’s not about them. It’s about you. I don’t ever want you to wonder if I respected you. If I saw you as just a... a pretty face or a fantasy. Because I don’t. You’re so much more than that.”

I blinked back sudden tears, overwhelmed by the gentleness in his voice.

“I don’t think you’re creepy,” I whispered. “Not even for a second. You’re not that guy.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not crossing internal lines,” he murmured, looking down. “Because I wake up thinking about you. And then I come to set and try to be professional, and then we’re kissing, and suddenly it’s not acting anymore, and I hate how easy it is to forget where the fiction ends.”

A silence fell between us. Neither of us moved. Neither of us breathed.

Finally, I said, “So what do we do?”

He looked up, eyes heavy. “We be smart. We finish this film. We keep it clean. We don’t give anyone a reason to whisper.”

“And after that?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

He hesitated.

“If you still feel the same when the dust settles... I’ll ask you to dinner. Properly. Not as a co-star. Just as me.”

My heart flipped, twisted, bloomed.

“I think I’d say yes,” I whispered.

He smiled small, tired, but real. “That scares the shit out of me.”

I laughed quietly, because it did the same to me.

We stayed there for a minute longer just two people suspended in that blurry space between right and wrong, between reality and longing. Then someone called for us, and the moment shattered.

Back to work. Back to the act.

The set is quiet, save for the sound of the camera rolling and the soft direction from the crew. The kitchen set is warmly lit, almost intimate, and it’s just the two of us in the frame. My heart races, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the scene we’re about to film or the electric tension between us. The weight of our confessions earlier still hangs in the air, unacknowledged yet palpable.

The director calls for a pause as the crew resets a light. I catch my breath, watching Pedro lean against the counter, his expression unreadable. He looks good in this scene his dark hair a little tousled, his shirt slightly undone at the collar. But there’s something deeper in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before. I know he’s feeling it too the same heat, the same unrelenting pull.

"Ready when you are," he says, his voice low, warm, almost inviting.

I swallow hard, nodding as the director signals for us to reset. My body feels light and heavy all at once. This scene it’s supposed to be a simple kiss. Nothing more. But the way Pedro looks at me makes it feel like everything else has faded away. The crew, the cameras, the world outside of this kitchen they don’t exist. It’s just him, and it’s just me.

We’re called into position, and my stomach flutters as Pedro moves closer. His hand brushes against my waist as he adjusts his position, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. It’s a light touch, but it carries an electricity I can’t ignore. This is the moment where everything we’ve been dancing around comes to a head.

The director calls out, “Action,” and I look up at Pedro, my breath catching in my throat. His eyes soften, his lips curling into a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes not completely. I feel my chest tighten, my heartbeat accelerating.

Then, we kiss. It’s slow at first, tender, like we’re still testing the waters. But there’s something else now, something different that wasn’t there before. The kiss deepens, and I can feel his hands on my back, pulling me closer. He’s no longer just my co-star he’s the man I’ve been trying to keep my distance from, and now he’s here, wrapped up in my arms, his lips on mine.

And for a moment, everything blurs. The scene, the cameras, even the crew they’re all nothing compared to the heat I feel building between us. It’s as if we can’t stop ourselves anymore, as if the line between acting and reality is fading.

“Cut,” the director calls. But it’s not a relief. It feels like a premature end to something we both want to continue. I pull back slightly, our lips just a breath apart, and I see it in his eyes desire, conflict, the same storm I feel swirling inside me.

“Sorry,” I murmur, stepping back to give us both space. I’m not sorry for the kiss, not exactly. But I am sorry for the mess this is going to cause. “That was…”

“I know,” Pedro interrupts softly. His voice is low, almost a whisper. “It’s getting harder to pretend, isn’t it?”

I nod, unable to speak. I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to convince myself it’s just the job, that the attraction is all part of the performance. But this? This is something different. Something real. And that makes everything so much more complicated.

The director seems to notice the shift, and he smiles approvingly. “That was perfect. We got what we needed. Let’s take a break, everyone.” The crew begins to pack up, but I can’t shake the tension in the air. It lingers, thick and palpable.

Pedro stays where he is, watching me carefully. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I can see the internal battle on his face. He knows this is all so wrong so forbidden but the chemistry between us doesn’t lie. He’s feeling it too.

The lights are blinding, and the cameras flash relentlessly as we make our way down the red carpet. The press tour for our film is in full swing, and I can feel the tension building inside me. Pedro walks beside me, as always with that calm, collected presence of his, but I know he’s feeling the weight of the questions just as much as I am.

“Y/N, Pedro! Over here!” A reporter calls out. They wave their hands, trying to catch our attention. We both smile, the practiced, polished smiles we’ve been wearing all day.

“Your on-screen chemistry has everyone talking,” another reporter chimes in. “What’s the secret to that incredible dynamic?”

Pedro chuckles lightly beside me, his arm casually brushing against mine as we pose for a photo. "I guess we just have a lot of fun with it," he says with his usual charm. "But, honestly, the whole thing is a team effort. It’s about trust, right?”

I nod, glancing over at him. There’s something almost too knowing in his eyes, but the smile on his face says it all. “Exactly. It’s all about trust and respect. We’re both in it together, and that’s what makes everything flow so naturally.”

Another reporter jumps in with a question that makes my heart skip a beat. “So, there’s been a lot of talk about the age gap between you two. How did that affect your dynamic, both on and off screen?”

I feel Pedro’s hand subtly brush against the small of my back as I step forward to answer. It’s almost imperceptible, but the touch still sends a wave of heat rushing through me.

“Well, I’ll say this,” I begin, keeping my voice steady, even though I’m aware of the weight of every word. “Pedro was always incredibly respectful, both in the work and outside of it. He’s very aware of the power he holds in this situation, and he made sure that I never felt pressured or uncomfortable in any way. It’s something that’s really important to me, especially with the age difference.”

Pedro turns toward me then, his smile warm, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that tells me he’s not quite as unaffected by all this as he’s trying to seem. “Yeah, it’s not lost on me that I have a certain... position, you know?” His gaze shifts, and I see the sincerity in his eyes. “But it’s all about making sure that everyone feels safe and respected. That’s the priority.”

The reporters are eating this up, their cameras clicking nonstop as we both speak. They want more, but they’re not going to get anything out of us that feels too revealing.

“I think we’ve both been really aware of the situation,” I continue, glancing back at Pedro to make sure we’re on the same page. He gives me a small nod, clearly in agreement. “We’ve worked together as equals, and that’s what makes the chemistry on screen feel so natural. It’s a partnership.”

Another reporter presses further. “So, with that in mind, do you think the age gap affected the way you approached the romantic scenes?”

Pedro gives a soft laugh, his hand running through his hair. “I don’t think it’s something we dwelled on. We’ve been doing this for a long time, both of us, and we know how to keep things professional. Of course, there’s always a certain level of vulnerability in those scenes, but you can’t let the circumstances get in the way of what you’re trying to achieve artistically.”

“Exactly,” I agree, trying to keep things light but feeling the tension in my chest as the press continues to ask about the dynamics between us. “We had an amazing team around us, especially the intimacy coordinator. Everything was choreographed with such care. So, honestly, it just made the process feel safe. And that’s key to making the chemistry believable.”

One reporter, seemingly a little more daring, steps forward and lowers their voice. “There’s obviously so much palpable chemistry between you two are you ever worried about people reading into it too much? I mean, you’re clearly very comfortable with each other. And let’s face it, the age gap is something that has a lot of people talking.”

I see Pedro stiffen beside me, his jaw tightening just slightly. He’s trying to keep his composure, but I can feel his internal conflict. I know what he’s thinking: This is a line we’re toeing, and if we’re not careful, it could all unravel.

“Well,” I say quickly, trying to steer the conversation, “Pedro and I have worked incredibly hard to develop this connection. It’s all been about creating a space where we both felt comfortable, respected, and safe. And yes, the chemistry is definitely there, but we’re also very aware of how people can interpret things. We have a responsibility to each other, as actors, to make sure we’re always in sync.”

Pedro’s eyes flick to mine then, something unspoken passing between us. He smiles again, but this time there’s a sadness in it, like he knows that the truth is always just beneath the surface, and yet we can’t allow ourselves to fully acknowledge it.

“Y/N is an amazing actress,” he says, turning to me. “She makes it so easy to get lost in the scene. But the most important thing is that we always communicate. Always make sure the other person is comfortable. And I think that’s what made the whole process work.”

I smile at him, feeling my heart swell a little. I’ve praised him countless times today, and I know he’s doing the same for me. The interviews, the questions they’re all just a front, a way to avoid saying what’s really on our minds.

But the truth is, we’re both terrified. Not of the chemistry or the age gap but of what it means if we were to ever let this connection spill over into something real. It’s not just the press, or the fans, or anyone else watching us that’s the problem. It’s that neither of us wants to cross that line. Not yet, at least. Not in a way that can’t be undone.

As we move on to the next round of questions, we’re both exhausted, but the answers keep coming, just as rehearsed, just as careful. Every word a mask for the real truth, the one we can’t say aloud.

I think Pedro feels it too the tension, the pull. But he’s always been good at keeping a straight face, keeping his emotions close. And for now, that’s what I’ll do too.

Because as much as we might want to, we can’t allow ourselves to fall too far into this. Not yet. Not when the consequences would be so much greater than the fleeting thrill of what we feel in this moment.

One month after the movie’s release the buzz still hasn’t died down.

Even with the press tour wrapped and the red carpets rolled away, the film has taken on a life of its own living, breathing, and growing in whispers and headlines, most of them no longer about the movie itself.

They're about us.

Pedro and I have been texting constantly. At first, it was innocent. A few “saw this meme, made me think of you” or “did you see that fan edit?” But slowly quietly it shifted. The texts got longer, deeper. Little confessions snuck in. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was thinking about that night we wrapped filming...” or “Do you ever replay our kitchen scene in your head?”

Now it’s every day. Every night. Sometimes I fall asleep with my phone in my hand, mid-conversation with him, and wake up to a sleepy reply at 3 a.m.

We’re not dating. We haven’t said that out loud. But we’re something.

Something complicated.

Something neither of us can define, because we’re both too scared to say the words.

So we start small.

A coffee run. Somewhere tucked away in a quiet part of the city. We wear sunglasses and hats and keep our heads down. But people notice. Of course they do. The blurry photos hit Twitter before we even finish our cappuccinos.

The headlines follow within the hour:

“Pedro Pascal & Y/N Seen Grabbing Coffee Post-Press Tour: Just Friends or Something More?”

Our publicists are fast. The statement goes out before the afternoon:

“Pedro and Y/N have remained close friends since working on the film. They’re simply catching up and celebrating the success of their project.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe we are just catching up.

But then it happens again. Another coffee. Then brunch. Then dinner with a group, but we still leave together.

The press might be playing along, but the fans?

They know better.

And they’re relentless.

It’s a rainy Thursday night when we finally cave and just let ourselves be still for once. Pedro’s place is warm and quiet, a world away from the noise. We’re on his couch, legs tangled beneath a throw blanket, my head on his chest. He smells like cedarwood and clean laundry, and his heartbeat is soft beneath my cheek.

He’s reading a book. I’m scrolling.

Bad combo.

“Oh my god,” I say, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Listen to this one: ‘Y’all, they’re not just friends. Look at the way he looks at her during interviews. That’s a man down BAD.’”

Pedro lets out a low chuckle, still not looking up from his book. “They’re observant, I’ll give them that.”

I keep scrolling, barely blinking. “This one says: ‘They think they’re being subtle, but the tension is screaming. Pedro blinked eleven times when she said his name.’”

That gets a real laugh from him. “Okay, that’s impressive. Eleven?”

“I’m serious! I think there’s a spreadsheet. These people are invested.”

I scroll again, my stomach sinking a little now. “Here we go... ‘Let’s not forget the age gap. I don’t care how good the chemistry is it’s inappropriate.’”

I feel Pedro tense slightly beneath me, just for a second.

I try to laugh it off. “Some people are really loud on the internet.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Then, gently, he reaches down and takes the phone from my hand, placing it on the coffee table.

“Hey,” he says softly. I glance up at him. “You don’t need to read that stuff.”

I bite my lip. “I know. I just... it’s hard to ignore. It’s like they’re waiting for us to mess up. Like we’re already doing something wrong, even though we’re not even...”

“Even though we’re not even saying what this is?” he finishes for me.

I nod.

He sighs, his hand finding mine under the blanket. His fingers are warm, steady. “People are always going to find a reason to tear something down. Especially something that doesn’t fit their version of what’s acceptable or normal.”

He pauses, then adds, “But this you and me this is real. Whatever it is, however it started... I’m not playing pretend anymore.”

My breath catches.

“I think about you constantly,” he continues, voice low and sure. “Even when I’m trying not to. And I’ve tried, believe me. I’ve run every reason through my head for why this shouldn’t happen. The age gap. The public eye. The press. But none of it matters when I’m with you.”

I blink, tears suddenly pricking the corners of my eyes. “Pedro...”

He reaches up, brushing his thumb along my cheek. “You’re smart, and kind, and brilliant at what you do. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. And I’m here. I’m real. And I’m... I’m falling in love with you.”

The words hang between us, so soft and certain, I swear the world goes still.

I sit up slightly, just enough to look at him properly. He’s nervous I can see it in the way he swallows hard, waiting for me to respond.

So I kiss him.

It’s slow, sweet, careful like we’re finally stepping into something we’ve both wanted for months. His hand cradles the back of my neck, anchoring me. When we pull apart, his forehead rests against mine.

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“Me too,” he admits. “But I’m more scared of not trying.”

We don’t say anything after that. We just settle back onto the couch, wrapped in each other, the rain still tapping gently against the windows.

And for once, there’s no press. No fans. No judgment.

Just us.

Three Months Post-Release we went on a holiday together to Amalfi Coast, Italy

What started as a “casual friends getaway” to Italy Pedro’s idea, after months of carefully planned dinners and movie nights behind drawn blinds turns into the headline of every entertainment outlet before our second gelato cone has even started to melt.

The pictures hit the internet first.

Pedro and I on a yacht, sun spilling across our skin, his hand around my waist as I laugh at something he whispered against my shoulder.

Then one of him pressing a kiss to my temple, his sunglasses pushed up into his curls, his fingers twined with mine.

Another of us walking along a cobblestone street in Positano, clearly mid-conversation, clearly not aware of the lens trained on us from a balcony above.

And the one that makes every news outlet spiral: us in a quiet candlelit restaurant, sitting side by side instead of across the table, my head tipped against his shoulder, his hand resting gently on my thigh, both of us smiling like there’s no one else in the world.

By the time we’re back in the hotel that night, our phones are buzzing nonstop.

Pedro scrolls through a few headlines and hands me his phone, half-laughing, half-terrified.

“Pedro Pascal, 50, and Co-Star Y/N, 25, Spark Romance Rumors With Intimate Italian Getaway”

“Too Close to Call It Platonic: Inside the Blossoming Off-Screen Relationship Fans Saw Coming”

“From On-Screen Chemistry to Real-Life Romance? Internet Reacts to Viral Yacht Kiss”

I let out a shaky breath. “Well. Subtle isn’t our strong suit, is it?”

He laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“No,” I say softly. “We weren’t. But they’re going to have opinions.”

Pedro is quiet for a moment, then presses a kiss to my forehead. “Let them. As long as we’re clear, and respectful, and... honest.”

We are. So we act fast.

The joint statement goes out the next morning:

“After the completion of our recent project together, we found ourselves growing close in a way neither of us anticipated. With mutual respect, open communication, and the support of those closest to us, we are exploring this relationship with full awareness of the scrutiny that may come with it. We want to be transparent in saying that our dynamic developed after the film wrapped and was not present during production. The age difference has been part of many conversations between us privately, and we’ve approached this connection with care, mutual consent, and a shared understanding of the power dynamics involved. Thank you for allowing us the space to navigate this thoughtfully and respectfully.”

It’s careful. It's honest. It’s us.

Still, the world explodes.

Some are skeptical. Some are cruel. But the overwhelming majority especially fans support it. The same people who tracked every blink in press interviews now stitch together fan edits of our vacation photos, pairing them with dreamy music and captions like “this wasn’t acting, it was real all along.”

There are comment threads filled with speculation:

“You can tell how much care Pedro has for her. Look at the way he moves with her protective, not possessive.”

“Y/N always looks so comfortable around him. Like she knows he’s a safe place.”

And others more direct:

“I don’t care about the age gap, I care about how happy they look. Let them live.”

We do our best to stay grounded. For every sweet photo that gets posted, there are five blurry ones taken through restaurant windows or behind shrubs. I learn to ignore the flash of phones in the corners of cafés. Pedro tightens his hold on my hand when the paparazzi try to corner us leaving a small museum.

There’s one day hot, bright, filled with salt air and sun where we walk through a market in Ravello and split an ice cream cone because mine melted too fast. A fan catches it on video and uploads it with the caption: “They’re so in love it’s ridiculous.”

I want to argue. I want to say “we’re just figuring it out.” That we haven’t put a label on it, that we still talk more than we kiss, that some nights I stay up wondering if we’re really allowed to feel this way.

But then I look at Pedro.

The way he always lets me answer first in interviews, never interrupting. The way he sits just a little closer in photos, but never too close. The way he constantly checks in with soft glances and quiet, whispered questions: Are you okay? Are you overwhelmed? Do you want to go home?

And I know.

I’m allowed to feel this way. We both are.

The car door opens.

And for a split second, I hesitate. Not because I’m nervous about the flashing lights or the ocean of voices waiting to shout my name but because this time, I’m not walking this carpet alone.

I step out anyway, smoothing my hand over the satin of my dress as the warm Los Angeles evening hits my skin. The moment I reach back, his fingers find mine. No searching. No fumbling.

Just instinct.

Pedro’s hand is warm and steady as he steps out beside me, his other hand gently brushing the inside of my wrist in a quiet, grounding gesture. I glance at him, just for a moment. He’s smiling already soft, familiar, like this is just any other day between us. Not the moment the entire world has been waiting for.

Click. Flash. Clickclickclick.

The sound is deafening. But I keep my shoulders back and my chin high, hand wrapped in his.

We walk together down the carpet. Not arm-in-arm. Not anything too deliberate. Just two people... tethered.

And when the reporters catch on really catch on it becomes a blur. Questions shouted. Cameras flashing faster. One voice yells, “Is this official now?” and Pedro just lets out that low, breathy laugh of his. The one that says I’m not telling you everything, but I’m definitely not denying it either.

I feel his hand give mine a squeeze. I don’t look at him. If I do, I’ll melt into this feeling too much. And I need to stay composed professional. It’s what we agreed on. Even if we’re both failing miserably at hiding how giddy this feels.

We’re ushered toward one of the bigger outlets. I recognise the host. We’ve talked to her before back when all of this was just about the movie.

Now? She’s grinning like she’s sitting on a goldmine.

“Y/N, Pedro so good to see you together tonight!” she beams, and I can’t help it I smile too. Because despite the nerves and the constant beat of my heart trying to break through my ribs… I am happy.

“Lovely to see you again,” I say, my voice steady even though my hand is still clutching Pedro’s like a lifeline.

She dives right in. Of course she does. The Italy photos, the yacht kiss, the “mysterious gelato date.” I nearly roll my eyes but Pedro’s already laughing beside me, and it makes me laugh too.

He leans over, mutters, “Told you the yacht would haunt us,” and I elbow him gently.

Then the interviewer shifts. Her smile softens. Her tone goes from playful to genuinely curious.

“In all seriousness… you’ve both released such a thoughtful statement about your relationship. But people want to know what’s it really been like navigating something so personal, so publicly?”

Pedro lets me speak first. He always does.

I take a breath.

“It’s been… a process. But one we’ve been really intentional about,” I say slowly, making sure I mean every word. “We care about each other deeply, and we knew that if we were going to share any of this with the world, it had to be on our terms. Carefully. Gently. With respect.”

I feel Pedro’s hand brush the small of my back, and it steadies me.

“There were so many conversations,” I continue. “About power, about timing, about agency. Pedro’s been incredibly aware of his position throughout all of this. He’s never once made me feel pressured. He’s always made sure I felt safe and heard.”

She turns to him then, and he smiles at me before answering.

“She said everything I wanted to say,” he replies. “But I’ll just add that… being older, I was conscious from the start that I didn’t want to create any imbalance. I didn’t want to cross a line or risk anything we’ve built, professionally or personally. I just… wanted to honour her. And this.”

God. The way he says that.

Honour me.

I think it’s that moment that hits the crowd. Because the interviewer visibly softens. The air around us shifts. And suddenly, it’s not a story anymore. Not a scandal or a headline or a photo op.

It’s love.

Raw and warm and kind.

When the interview ends, we walk the rest of the carpet like it’s nothing. Like we haven’t just publicly opened a door we’ve been peeking through for months.

But I know what’s waiting online already. The screen grabs. The tweets. The shipping hashtags.

And for once, I don’t care. Because when we’re finally alone in the car again Pedro lacing his fingers through mine with a breathless little, “Well, that went alright” I don’t feel scared.

I feel seen. And protected. And quietly, fully adored.

The moment the hotel room door clicks shut behind us, I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath since the car ride over.

Pedro doesn’t say anything at first. He just slips off his jacket and tosses it gently over the back of the armchair, his fingers already moving to unbutton his shirt, just the top few buttons. Casual. Comfortable.

Safe.

I kick off my heels with a quiet groan and lean against the wall for a second, still in my dress, makeup still flawless under the dim golden light of the suite. It’s quiet here. No flashing lights, no crowd. Just muted city sounds through the window and the soft hum of air conditioning.

“Do you want to take it off?” Pedro asks gently, nodding toward my dress.

I smirk. “Smooth.”

He laughs and holds up both hands. “I meant the dress, because you’ve been yanking at the zipper all night.”

I sigh dramatically and spin around. “Then help me, smooth talker.”

His fingers are warm and steady as he finds the zipper and drags it down, slow and careful. It’s nothing we haven’t done before, on set or off but tonight, it feels different. Not charged. Just… soft. Unspoken.

When I step out of the dress, I leave it draped over the back of the couch and tug one of his oversized T-shirts from the open suitcase on the chair. He watches me pull it over my head with the tiniest smile.

“Was that mine?”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” I mutter, sinking onto the bed.

Pedro walks over, tugging the throw blanket from the foot of the bed, and wraps it around us both as he sinks down beside me. His arm slips easily around my shoulders, and I tuck into his side like muscle memory.

Everything feels quieter here. Like the world left us alone, just for tonight.

“You were amazing,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my hair.

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it again tomorrow too.”

I turn to face him slightly, my cheek pressed to his chest. “Do you think it was okay? What we said? How it came across?”

He hums thoughtfully, fingers tracing lazy shapes on my arm. “I think it was honest. And that’s the best we can do.”

I nod, letting the silence settle again.

For a few minutes, we just lie there. The weight of the evening slowly peeling away from our shoulders. The heels. The suits. The expectation.

“You know what I keep thinking about?” I whisper eventually.

Pedro tilts his head, brushing his lips against my forehead. “Tell me.”

“That first day we met. The chemistry test. When I walked in and you were so calm. And I was shaking so hard I couldn’t hold my water bottle.”

He smiles into my hair. “You hid it well.”

I pull back just enough to see his face, the tired lines near his eyes, the softness there now that he doesn’t have to perform. “And now here we are. Sharing a hotel bed, still kind of pretending it’s all professional.”

He chuckles. “I think we’re way past professional.”

His hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and he looks at me like I’m the only person on the planet.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs. “About falling. About being here, being real.”

My chest tightens. In a good way. In a how-is-this-my-life kind of way.

“I know,” I whisper. “I believe you.”

We kiss then. Soft and slow. No cameras. No stage directions. Just his lips and mine and the quiet hum of something real threading between us.

And when we fall asleep tangled up in each other, wrapped in the blanket and the safety of everything we’ve built, I let myself believe this might just be the beginning of something that finally, beautifully, isn’t pretending at all.

[obsessiveandutterlydelusional]

Quiet as worship.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Summary:

You and Wanda have spent the last year walking the tightrope between secrecy and devotion—navigating judgment, age gaps, and quiet mornings that feel more sacred than any spotlight. To the world, you're just two successful women in different stages of life. But behind closed doors, you're something far more intimate. When you return home during one of Wanda's livestreamed interviews, the quiet ache to be close becomes impossible to resist. And under the desk—where no one can see—you remind her exactly who she belongs to, even when the camera’s still rolling.

A story of stolen moments, soft worship, and the kind of love that doesn’t need an audience to feel real.

TW: NFSW, oral sex (w!receiving), fingering (w!receiving), age gap relationship (legal, duh), secretish relationship, praise & worship kink (implied), power dynamics, dom!wanda, sub!reader, established relationship, fem!reader, public sex?(concealed), A/U!Celebrities, MDI.

Word Count: around 1k (it's a short one)

A/N: honestly, i've never really written anything before, (unless you count making "fanfics" on youtube when i was like 13.) i've been obsessd with elizabeth olsen lately, and really just wanted to write something short for wanda. i don't expect this to really blow up or anything but thought i'd share and may write more fics if this gets any attention. feel free to comment your thoughts or critiques, i also barely know how to navigate anything on tumblr when it comes to posting so if you have any tips for that, greatly appreciated. enjoy! :)

You and Wanda had been navigating the blurred line between secrecy and intimacy for nearly a year. It wasn’t a tabloid-worthy secret—not exactly—not to those who mattered. Your families knew. So did your closest friends. But the rest of the world? The fans, the press, the ever-watchful industry eyes? They didn’t know. Not yet.

You both guarded it tightly, like something too rare and beautiful to survive under public scrutiny.

And truthfully, it wasn’t the kind of love story you could explain easily.

You were 21—young, ambitious, a rising force in music with a voice that turned heads. Acting had become your latest frontier, a new stage to conquer. Wanda was 30—powerful, poised, and captivating in ways that made people go silent mid-sentence. She’d lived through storms, carried shadows she rarely spoke of, and moved through the world with a calm intensity that demanded respect.

And that nine-year gap between you? It made people talk. Judge. Assume.

Her friends whispered their theories—maybe she was chasing youth, maybe it was a passing indulgence. Your family masked concern with logic, lacing their doubt with patronizing smiles. Too young. Too complicated. As if love bowed to reason.

But none of it mattered. Not anymore.

Because it worked.

The late nights. The quiet mornings. The language spoken in glances and silences. It bloomed into something undeniable. And after nearly a year of proving the world wrong, even the skeptics had started to soften. They saw it now—the connection, the depth, the truth.

A month ago, you moved in—into her secluded home nestled in the hills above L.A., wrapped in silence and red-hued sunsets that lasted just a little longer when she was beside you. It felt seamless. Like gravity.

Today had been ordinary, in the kind of way that only shared lives could make beautiful. You’d spent the morning in the studio, lost in harmonies and half-written lyrics. Wanda had stayed home, preparing for a livestreamed interview for a film she’d done more as a favor than anything else.

Before the call began, she left you a voice note—low, calm, clipped in that no-nonsense way she got when she was focused.

“I’ll be live when you get back. Mic and camera on. Be good for me, okay?”

There was a softness beneath the command, and you’d smiled at the sound of it.

You got home quietly, careful with your keys and the sound of the door, trying not to disturb her. But curiosity had a gravity all its own. You told yourself you just wanted to see her.

Drifting down the hall, you paused at the half-open door of her office. Warm light poured out, casting long golden shadows. And there she was.

Wanda sat like she owned the space—back straight, voice smooth, answering questions with calm poise and piercing intelligence. Her hair, back to its deep auburn, framed her face in soft waves, new bangs brushing her brows and easing the sharpness of her features. She wore a loose black pantsuit—elegant and commanding, clinging to her in ways that made your pulse stutter. She didn’t have to try. She just was.

And you stood there, breath caught in your throat.

She hadn’t noticed you. Her eyes were on the screen. But yours? They were only on her. The curve of her mouth, the angle of her jaw, the way her fingers moved lightly across the desk—it all drew you in. Unintended seduction. Unintended, and yet devastating.

Your body responded before your mind could argue. Quietly, you stepped inside. No grand plan—just a hunger to be close. You dropped to your knees, heart hammering, and crawled beneath the desk. Her mic was angled high, her camera facing away from the lower half. She wouldn’t be visible from this angle. Neither would you.

It wasn’t about teasing. It wasn’t about interruption. You just needed to be near her.

Face to face with her knees, you reached out, fingers ghosting over her ankles and slipping under the fabric of her pants to stroke the warm skin of her calves.

Wanda didn’t flinch. Didn’t skip a beat. But a subtle smile ghosted her lips—so faint it might’ve gone unnoticed.

‘I knew you’d find your way under my desk.’

Her thighs shifted, parting slightly, creating space for you. Space you moved into with reverent ease. You rested your head on her inner thigh, looking up through your lashes, just watching her speak—captivated. Worshipful.

Your hands trailed up, fingers pressing softly into the fabric of her slacks, drawing lazy circles on her skin beneath.

And Wanda responded in the quietest of ways.

A shift in her chair. A hand sliding down, curling beneath the desk to cradle your jaw. Another tangling into your hair, fingertips gripping gently. Guiding. Not forcing. Just showing you what she wanted.

Your cheeks burned under her touch, the intimacy of it pulling a shiver through you. You hadn’t expected this—thought maybe she’d hush you away with a glance. But Wanda rarely did what people expected.

Hands shaking just slightly, you moved to the waistband of her pants, undoing the button with deliberate slowness. Her hips lifted, offering permission, as she kept speaking to the screen with barely a hitch.

“So you could say the character’s inner struggle is something many of us can relate to…”

Her voice stayed calm, even as you slid the zipper down.

You pulled her pants and underwear just low enough, breath catching at the sight of her—already wet, already wanting. She was flushed, beautiful, and utterly composed.

Leaning in, you pressed soft kisses to her inner thighs, rewarded with the quietest sigh. A gentle tug at your hair—impatient.

You obeyed.

Your mouth found her center, tongue teasing a long stripe through her slit, savoring the taste of her. She shifted, hips rolling forward, breath catching as you sucked lightly on her clit.

“Mm… the theme of self-discovery was important to explore…”

A subtle breathiness laced her tone, barely there but so present to you.

The wet sounds of your mouth were louder now, shame and desire twisted together in your chest as you tried to stay quiet. Your fingers joined the rhythm, slipping into her slowly, curling up to find that one perfect spot.

She gripped the chair arm harder.

“It’s about… facing your fears. Finding courage to be who you truly are…”

You looked up at her—sweat at her brow, jaw clenched, chest rising with uneven breaths. She glanced down, and her green eyes met yours—dark, desperate, hungry.

She was close. So close.

“This film really shows the power of… of collaboration…”

Her thighs trembled around your head, clamping tighter. Her hands clenched, one still buried in your hair. She was trying so hard to hold it together.

“And—ah—it’s been an honor to work with such an incredibly talented ensemble…”

Her voice broke for a fraction of a second.

You knew that sound. That edge. She was there.

“Thank you for having me,” she said quickly, managing a final smile for the camera. “It’s been a pleasure.”

She ended the stream in one swift motion—shutting the laptop before anyone could respond.

In a blur, she pushed her chair back, pulling you from under the desk and onto her lap with startling strength.

Her lips grazed your ear. Her voice was low, dark, commanding.

“Naughty girl. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

A shiver licked up your spine.

“You know this isn’t going unpunished.”

And you knew. God, you knew. But you didn’t care. As long as it was Wanda... You’d take anything she gave.

[heartsriki]

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY ⌇ 우리를

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. sunghoon | word count: 5.7k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ childhood friends, tease ni-ki, middle school to highschool au, cussing, angst if you use a magnifying glass, fluff, kissing, underage drinking, miscommunication.

synopsis — Ever since middle school, Nishimura Riki has been an absolute pain. Now at your senior year of high school, things get complicated when confused feelings start to rise.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I am here to represent the playful over nonchalant riki agenda 🤓☝️I wanted this to give shitty 2000's romance movie did I succeed? (this is so ass but I haven't posted a pic in a while so muah, creative fics coming soon trust)

If there was one universal truth in your life, it was this: you hated Nishimura Riki.

Childhood best friends? The kind you see in movies, laughing over dumb jokes, sharing secrets under a blanket fort, or being there for each other no matter what? Yeah, that wasn’t you and Riki. Not even close.

Your history with him began the summer before middle school, a day you remembered all too clearly.

“Who’s moving in, Mom?” you asked, watching the moving truck parked outside the empty house next door.

She glanced over as she set down a stack of plates. “A family with a boy about your age,” she replied, patting your head. “Maybe you’ll make a new friend! Why don’t you go say hi?”

You wrinkled your nose, stepping back from the window. “I wish it was a girl.”

Mom sighed and gave you that knowing look as she moved around the kitchen. “You never know. Your dad and I were childhood friends once.”

“Gross,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “That’s so weird.”

And just like that, you moved on with your life, assuming the new boy next door was unimportant. After all, families came and went in your neighborhood. You didn’t expect him to stick around—or to matter.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The first day of middle school was supposed to be a fresh start. You had plans. Big plans. Make friends, fit in, and survive until High School. And for a moment, it seemed like everything would go smoothly. Until him.

Lunch was going fine. You grabbed your tray, scanning the cafeteria for a place to sit when you collided with someone. Hard.

Your lunch went flying, splattering all over you, and in your panic, you looked up, ready to apologize. But then you noticed he was perfectly fine—completely untouched—like the universe had gone out of its way to humiliate only you.

You glanced at his name tag. Nishimura Riki.

He crouched to help, concern etched across his face. “Are you okay—”

Before he could finish, a blinding camera flash went off, followed by whispers and giggles erupting all around you. Mortified, you bolted to the nearest bathroom.

You thought that would be the end of it, but Riki wasn’t done ruining your life. Far from it.

In gym class? He always aimed for you during dodgeball. At lunch? He somehow snagged the last banana milk every time. Clubs? Teachers practically begged him to join while you couldn’t even get a recommendation. Worst of all, everyone adored him. Everyone but you.

By the end of your first year, Nishimura Riki was your sworn enemy.

And then things got… complicated.

It happened one evening while you were studying in your room. A soft knock at the door interrupted your focus.

“Come in,” you called, expecting your mom.

She stepped inside with two glasses of water. “Remember the tutoring favor I mentioned? My friend’s son is here in need of help, Be nice, okay?”

“Sure,” you replied, not thinking much of it.

But when the door creaked open again, you froze.

“Not who you were expecting?” Riki grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You crossed your arms. “What are you doing here Riki?”

Riki winced. “Tutoring obviously, and could you please just call me ni-ki like everyone else?”

“You’re not coming in,” you snapped, blocking the doorway.

He sighed dramatically. “And what would I tell your mom?” He bent slightly to meet your glare, his grin widening when you finally moved aside.

“Fine. Sit down,” you muttered, plopping back at your desk.

For the next hour, you worked in tense silence. Or tried to, anyway. Riki kept fidgeting, pulling out a folded piece of paper halfway through.

“What’s that?” you asked, snatching it before he could stop you.

“Hey!” he yelped, scrambling to grab it back.

It didn’t take long to figure out what it was: another love letter. You rolled your eyes and tossed it back at him. “Veryyyy humble.”

“Not my fault I’m handsome, but it really is annoying though, I'm constantly surrounded… sometimes I feel like I'm drowning” he muttered, leaning back on his hands.

You were thrown off by his sincerity but you ignored him until he suddenly perked up as if struck by divine inspiration.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I have an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s never good.”

“Let’s be friends, like attached to the hip friends.”

You blinked. “What?”

He grinned. “Think about it. You don’t have anyone covering your back at school, and I need someone to scare off all the girls who keep following me around. It’s perfect.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hard pass.”

“Come on, at least think about it!” he whined.

Unfortunately, he didn’t leave you much of a choice. Day by day, Riki wormed his way into your life, showing up at your house, sticking by you at school, and, somehow, turning everyone’s attention to you.

It was annoying. It was infuriating. But, worst of all? It worked.

Fast forward to your senior year of high school, and here you were—still stuck with Nishimura Riki. And somehow, despite your ups and downs, things weren’t going to be quite so simple anymore.

You were buried in your assignments, your usual library spot surrounded by a fortress of papers, highlighters, and books. It was your sanctuary, a place where Riki always knew he could find you.

He wasn’t alone when he spotted you this time. A couple of his friends hung around, laughing about something entirely unimportant in his mind the second his eyes landed on you. His grin stretched wide, and with an exaggerated sigh, he excused himself. The girls groaned, rolling their eyes at his now-predictable antics. “You’re obsessed, ni-ki,” one of them muttered, but he didn’t care.

Jogging up to your table, he glanced at your mess of notes and books. You didn’t even look up. Of course.

“What is it, Riki?” you murmured, still scribbling, your tone bored, uninterested—classic.

“Would it kill you to talk to me lovingly every once in a while, Y/N?” he mocked, flopping into the chair across from you. His eyes darted to the pile of folded papers shoved to the side, and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh? What’s this? Love letters? These for me again?”

You finally glanced up, leveling him with that deadpan expression he swore you saved just for him. “They’re definitely not mine,” you replied flatly.

He gasped, hand over his chest like you’d shot him. “Poor baby. Jealous much?” he teased, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Of you? Hardly.”

Riki narrowed his eyes at you, suddenly curious. Now that he thought about it, he’d never actually seen you with anyone—no rumors, no dates, no shy confessions. And while you always rolled your eyes whenever he brought up girls in front of you, you never chimed in about any guy in your life. Suspicious.

“Y/N,” he started, his tone a little too casual as he began doodling nonsense shapes on the table. “When was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Well, you remember Choi—”

“Choi Soobin? That lasted, what, a week?” he scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“And why do you think that is, genius?” you shot back, pointing your pencil at him accusingly.

Riki faltered for a split second before looking away. “Well… I think you can do so much better than him,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Your brow shot up, amused. “Oh? Alright then, Mr. Matchmaker. Who’s my ‘better match,’ huh?”

His mouth opened, then shut. For once, he didn’t have a quick answer. He gulped, scrambling to save face. “How about I… set you up?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “With one of your fuckboy friends? No thanks.”

“Hey! Not them!” he laughed, hands up in defense. “I meant someone like… Sunghoon.”

That made you pause. “Sunghoon? Like tall, calm, cool, and basically perfect Sunghoon? Yeah, right. He wouldn’t go on a date with me in a million years.”

“What? Says who?” Riki shot back, standing up like he’d just been challenged to a duel. “I’ll talk to him. Watch and learn, Y/N. Watch and learn.”

“Riki—”

“Later! Don’t miss me too much” He winked and walked off, leaving you to roll your eyes at his retreating figure, wondering if he’d actually follow through or if this was just another one of his ridiculous schemes.

“Y/N? I thought you guys were dating,” Sunghoon said, his brow furrowing in confusion as he leaned back against the locker.

Riki nearly choked on his water, his eyes going wide as he turned to face him. “What? No, Y/N is just a friend.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Oh. Huh. Well, I think I’m gonna pass anyway. She’s kind of… boring?”

The words hit Riki like a slap. His head snapped toward Sunghoon so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Boring?” he echoed, his voice sharp. “Says who?”

Sunghoon shrugged nonchalantly. “Everyone. I mean, I haven’t seen her at a single party or game, not even during lunch. What would we even talk about?”

Riki scoffed, crossing his arms as he glared at him. “Y/N is plenty of fun, asshole. What do you even know?” His voice was defensive, almost protective, and it surprised even himself.

Sunghoon tilted his head, studying Riki’s reaction. “I mean, she seems… quiet,” he admitted. “But now that I think about it, if you’re the one setting me up with her, she’s probably pretty great. You don’t exactly play matchmaker for just anyone.”

Riki blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Uh… well, yeah, she is great,” he muttered, not meeting Sunghoon’s eyes.

Sunghoon grinned. “You know what? Why not? She’s cute.”

Riki froze. His grip tightened on the strap of his backpack, and for a split second, he wasn’t sure why his stomach twisted at Sunghoon’s words. Calling you cute? Of course, you were cute. He’d always known that. So why did it sound weird coming from someone else?

He quickly shook off the strange feeling, chalking it up to his usual overprotectiveness. “Alright,” he said, his voice coming out more clipped than he intended. “But don’t do anything weird. Seriously.”

Sunghoon laughed, pushing off the locker. “Weird? Relax, I’ll be a gentleman. So, you gonna tell her, or should I?”

Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her. Just… don’t mess this up, alright?”

Sunghoon smirked as he walked away. “I won’t. But, man, you’re acting real possessive for ‘just a friend,’ don’t you think?”

Riki didn’t respond, watching as Sunghoon disappeared down the hall. The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was more than just “overprotective” when it came to you.

Today, you felt a kind of giddiness you hadn’t experienced in a while. After weeks of drowning in study sessions, late-night cramming for club responsibilities, and endless schoolwork, you were finally doing something for yourself. And to top it all off, you weren’t just going out—you were going out with a boy.

It had been forever since you’d made this much effort. You dolled yourself up, not too over the top, but more than your usual routine. Casual but undeniably cute. You felt like a new version of yourself, and it was exciting.

Standing in front of your mirror, you hummed along to the music playing softly in the background, carefully adjusting your hair. You tilted your head, giving yourself one last once-over with a satisfied grin when there was a knock on your door.

“Y/N, I’m coming in,” came the familiar voice.

Before you could even respond, the door creaked open, and Riki stepped inside. His usual easy-going demeanor faltered the second he saw you. The air felt heavy, and his eyes widened as if he’d been caught off guard.

For a moment, he just stared, the words dying in his throat. Why were you so dressed up? He’d seen you a thousand times, but never like this. Something about the way your hair framed your face, the slight gloss on your lips, and the way your outfit hugged your figure—it was like he was seeing you for the first time.

Were you always this pretty?

“Is he on his way? What kind of car does he drive?” you asked, practically buzzing with excitement.

Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance he was in, and he blinked, his expression hardening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Uh… yeah, he’s almost here,” he muttered, his tone uncharacteristically stiff.

The doorbell rang, and your face lit up instantly. Clapping your hands together, you grabbed your bag and checked your outfit one last time. You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Not too bad, right? Think he’ll like it?”

Riki froze again. The words caught in his throat, and for a second, he thought about telling you the truth. That you looked beautiful. That the thought of you being this excited about someone else was bothering him more than it should.

But instead, his pride got the better of him. “I—well—you look stupid,” he blurted out, his words harsher than he intended.

You rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Say whatever you want, Riki. Your opinion doesn’t matter tonight. I’ll text you the details tomorrow!”

And just like that, you were gone, your scent lingering in the room as you hurried past him and out the door.

Riki stood there, staring at the space you’d just left. His chest felt tight, an unfamiliar weight settling there as he replayed the moment in his head. What was this feeling? Why was his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the thought of you with someone else?

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair as he sat on your bed, shoulders slumping. Something was changing—something he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit yet. But as he sat there, his chest aching and his mind racing, one thing was becoming painfully clear.

He didn’t want to be the one you texted tomorrow to tell all the details about tonight. He wanted to be the one sitting across from you, the one you were so excited to see. And that realization scared him more than anything.

The next week was nothing short of torture for Riki. As if fate was playing a cruel joke, you and Sunghoon seemed to hit it off. You weren’t officially dating, but the two of you were in the so-called “talking stage.” It didn’t matter what stage it was—every second of it felt wrong to Riki.

Your usual library spot? You weren’t alone anymore. Sunghoon was always there, sitting across from you, leaning in too close, making you laugh in ways that Riki used to. Your desk? It was now stocked with your favorite snacks every morning—snacks that weren’t from Riki. And the final blow? You called Sunghoon by his nickname. His nickname. Riki clenched his fists every time he overheard it because not once in all the years he’d known you had you ever called him by a nickname.

What did Sunghoon have that Riki didn’t? He left snacks, visited you in the library, and called you nicknames. Riki did all of that first. So why wasn’t it enough?

For the first time, Riki felt you slipping away. And for the first time, he realized just how much you meant to him. But instead of confronting those feelings, he did what he always did best—he buried them.

The dismissal bell rang, and the school flooded with students rushing to leave. You were taking your time, slowly packing up while your music played softly in your headphones. A tap on your shoulder startled you, making you jump.

“Hey, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sunghoon said with an easy laugh.

You laughed back, pushing him playfully. “It’s fine. Yeah, I’m ready to go, but we should wait for Riki. He might need a ride home.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed, confused. “ni-ki? I thought he went on that date.”

Your hands paused mid-motion. “What?”

“Yeah, didn’t he tell you? He’s been talking about it all day.” Sunghoon said it so casually, but his words felt like a punch to your chest.

No. Riki hadn’t told you anything. And now that you thought about it, he’d been distant recently, skipping out on plans and barely texting back. But to go on a date and not even mention it? That wasn’t like him at all. A strange feeling bubbled in your chest—was it anxiety or something else entirely?

“Oh. I guess we should just go then,” you murmured, brushing past Sunghoon, who quickly followed after you.

It stayed like that for weeks. Riki kept avoiding you, making himself scarce. He didn’t leave snacks on your desk anymore, didn’t visit you in the library, and the only time you caught glimpses of him was when he was with her. That girl in his friend group—except now, his arm was around her shoulder.

Something about seeing them together twisted your stomach into knots. You couldn’t figure out what was going on. The absence of Nishimura Riki was a void you weren’t coping with well. You missed his annoying presence, his whining, his endless teasing. When had he become so important to you? And more importantly, why did it hurt so much to see him with someone else?

Days passed, your short fling with Sunghoon had come to an end. You and Sunghoon realized you weren’t a good match. It wasn’t dramatic; the spark just wasn’t there. You were relieved to have gained a friend, but even that small resolution didn’t fill the aching gap that Riki had left behind.

One day, as you trudged toward class, your thoughts heavy, you spotted him. For a moment, everything else faded. His uniform was crisp for once, his hair falling perfectly across his forehead, and his headphones hung loosely around his neck. You felt your heart skip, a familiar warmth creeping in. But then you saw her—the girl. She was right next to him, laughing as she leaned closer.

Riki caught your eyes, and for a moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. But then he looked away, a fake smile plastered back on his face, and it felt like someone had ripped the air out of your lungs.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The sudden, painful realization hit you like a truck—you had fallen for Nishimura Riki. The cocky, annoying, rude, childish Riki. And you had realized it far too late.

Fueled by a sense of urgency, you stormed over to him. The closer you got, the more his eyes widened. His body tensed, his jaw clenching as if he knew what was coming.

“Riki, I need to talk to you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

He scoffed, avoiding your gaze as he shifted awkwardly. “What could we possibly need to talk about?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you’ve been ignoring me for weeks? How about the fact that you’ve completely shut me out?”

He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes now locking with yours. “Me? Ignoring you? Don’t make me laugh. Weren’t you the one who ditched me first? The second Sunghoon gave you a little attention, you were all over him like he was your whole world.”

You flinched at the venom in his words. “What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb!” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’ve been desperate for attention since day one. The moment someone else gave it to you, you didn’t even think twice about ditching me.”

The words stung more than you thought possible, and tears welled in your eyes. “Is that how you really see me? Someone who just begs for love and clings to anyone willing to give it? Or is that what you wanted me to be? Someone who would never leave you, so you could string me along whenever you wanted? Like you always have?”

His eyes softened, regret flickering through them, but before he could respond, the girl at his side stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm.

“Alright ni-ki.. I get it now.” You took that as your cue. Turning on your heel, you walked away without looking back, tears blurring your vision.

He gulped as he watched you walk away, Itching to chase after you. He never thought the loss of his first name coming from your lips would hurt this much. But it did.

For the nights after that, sleep was impossible. You lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying the confrontation with Riki over and over in your head. His words, his tone, the hurt that lingered in his eyes despite the venom in his voice—it was all too much. The raw pain left a lump in your throat, and the longer you thought about it, the more your chest ached.

You didn’t know how to move past it. Slowly, you started closing yourself off. The window you always left unlocked for Riki to climb through at night? It was shut now, the latch sealed as if closing it would somehow lock away the memories too.

Everything was weighing on you, dragging you deeper into a pit of emotions you couldn’t escape from. You needed something—anything to distract yourself. That’s when you remembered Sunghoon’s message from earlier.

Sunghoon:

Hey I know parties aren’t really your thing, but you can always come and stick with me tonight if you want? LMK.

You sighed, staring at the screen for what felt like forever before finally making a decision. Maybe this was what you needed, a change of scenery, a chance to forget for just one night. Without overthinking, you hit the call button.

He answered almost immediately, his voice casual but with a hint of surprise. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?”

“Hey, Hoon,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’ll be on my way soon.”

When you arrived at the party, the air was buzzing with energy. Music thumped loudly in the background, lights flickered through the windows, and the yard was packed with groups of people chatting and laughing. You felt a pang of anxiety as you stepped inside, but it was quickly drowned out when Sunghoon spotted you from across the room.

“Y/N!” he called, weaving through the crowd with a grin. “You made it.”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I thought I’d give it a shot.”

“I’m glad you came,” he said, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people, and we can hang out.”

He led you through the party, his presence grounding you as you met new faces and settled into the environment. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you felt yourself relaxing. Laughing. Forgetting.

But that peace was short-lived.

Halfway through the night, as you stood by the kitchen with Sunghoon, sipping on a red solo cup which he’d handed you, your eyes landed on someone you weren’t prepared to see. Riki.

He was standing on the far side of the room, a red Solo cup in hand, his face half-hidden by the shadowy lighting. But it was unmistakably him. His posture was relaxed, but he wasn’t speaking as his group of friends talked. You looked around for the girl he grasped onto recently but she was nowhere in sight.

Your chest tightened, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, all the progress you’d made to distract yourself unraveled. You tried to look away, but it was like your eyes were glued to him.

Sunghoon noticed immediately. “Hey,” he said gently, stepping in front of you to block your view. “You okay?”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not at all.

Riki hadn’t noticed you at first, too caught up in the chaos of the party. But when he finally glanced toward the kitchen, his heart stopped. There you were, standing next to Sunghoon, looking beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.

His grip on his cup tightened as he watched Sunghoon lean closer, whispering something that made you laugh softly. That laugh. The one he hadn’t heard in weeks. It was his laugh, the one you used to share with him.

“ni-ki,” a girl next to him said, tugging on his sleeve to grab his attention. But he barely heard her, his focus still glued to you.

“Excuse me for a second,” he mumbled, setting his cup down and stepping away from his group. He didn’t even know what he was doing. His feet carried him across the room before his brain had the chance to catch up.

You saw him coming before he even reached you. The sight of him walking toward you, his expression unreadable, made your stomach twist. Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder and immediately stiffened.

“Y/N,” Riki said, his voice low but firm as he stopped in front of you. His gaze flickered to Sunghoon briefly before settling back on you. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, your walls immediately going up. “What is there to talk about, ni-ki?”

“Please,” he said, his tone softer now, almost desperate wincing at the way you spit his nickname.

Sunghoon stepped closer, his presence protective. “Maybe now isn’t the time, Riki.”

Riki’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I wasn’t asking you, Sunghoon.”

Your heart was racing, caught between the two of them. The tension in the air was suffocating, and you didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Sunghoon finally said, his voice steady but his eyes lingering on you for reassurance before he walked off.

Riki took a step closer, his hands buried in his pockets as he looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “For everything.”

You swallowed hard, your emotions a whirlwind. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he said quickly. “Just… listen. Please.”

And so, for the first time in weeks, you let him talk.

He led you up the stairs, weaving through the chaos of the party. The bass of the music faded the further you went, replaced by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. He stopped in front of an empty room, pushing the door open and letting you step inside first. The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window. When he followed, the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt heavier than it should have.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms defensively. Your guard was up, and he could see it all over your face—your hurt, your anger, your confusion. He hated that he was the one who put that look in your eyes. How had things gotten so messed up? It reminded him of when you were younger, back in middle school, when he could never find the right words to say to you. But this time, it felt like so much more was at stake.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet, laced with hesitation, his dark eyes glowing softly under the light. “I haven’t been real with you lately.”

You didn’t say anything, your glare sharp enough to cut through him.

“To be honest…” He froze, the words catching in his throat as his face heated up. He looked down, running a hand through his hair as if it would steady him. “Well, I’ve realized that you mean… a lot more to me than I thought.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat, but your defenses didn’t falter. “What are you trying to say?”

He sighed, taking a tentative step closer. “I’m saying I screwed up, okay? I’ve been jealous, selfish, and downright stupid. Seeing you with Sunghoon, thinking I might lose you… it made me realize something.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting, your breath catching as he took another step closer.

“I like you, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his confession. “No, scratch that—I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I was too dumb to figure it out until I almost lost you.”

Your heart was pounding, the walls you’d built around yourself threatening to crumble. His words felt like a punch to the gut, but in the best way possible.

“Why now?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why did it take all of this for you to say something?”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his tone filled with regret. “Scared of ruining what we already had. But when I saw you with him, I realized I couldn’t just stand by and lose you. I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I just… I need you to know how I feel.”

You stared at him, your emotions a whirlwind. Part of you wanted to stay mad, to keep your guard up and protect yourself. But the other part—the part that had always been soft for him—wanted to believe every word he was saying.

“Riki,” you started, your voice trembling. “You really hurt me, you know that, right?”

He nodded, guilt washing over his face. “I know, and I’ll spend however long it takes making it up to you pretty. I swear.”

There was a long silence as you studied him, searching his face for any sign that he wasn’t being genuine. But all you saw was raw vulnerability.

Finally, you sighed, stepping closer to him. “You’re such an idiot,” you muttered, but there was no malice in your voice.

He smiled softly, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. “I’ve been told.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached up, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands found your waist as you stood on your toes, and then, without another word, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative, like the two of you were still testing the waters. But as the moment deepened, all the tension, all the weeks of hurt and miscommunication melted away. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself fall into him completely.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathless. He smiled at you, his usual cocky grin softened by the tenderness in his eyes.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Riki had known you since middle school. Back then, you were the girl who sat by the window during lunch, scribbling in your notebook or reading while everyone else was too busy trying to be cool. You were quiet but quick-witted, and for some reason, that always fascinated him.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he started noticing you more. Maybe it was the time you helped him with a history project because he procrastinated and would’ve failed without you, Maybe… It was the day you both ran into each other. Literally.

He hated admitting it, but he always found himself drawn to you. You weren’t flashy or loud like the other people in his life. You were just you—calm, focused, and, most of all, real.

But middle school Riki wasn’t great at handling feelings. Instead of being sweet to you, he’d tease you mercilessly, always looking for a reaction. He loved how your face would scrunch up when you were annoyed or how you’d mutter sarcastic comebacks under your breath, pretending you weren’t affected.

Even then, he knew you were different. Special. But he never let himself think too much about it.

As the years passed, his feelings only grew, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. By the time high school rolled around, you were still his constant. The one person he could always count on, the one who somehow understood him without needing a million words.

But somewhere along the way, he’d started feeling something heavier whenever he saw you. When you smiled at him, it felt like a spark ignited in his chest. When you scolded him for slacking off, he’d secretly enjoy the attention. And when you laughed—God, when you laughed—he swore it was his favorite sound in the world.

Still, he buried those feelings deep. He figured it was better to keep things the way they were. If he said something and you didn’t feel the same, he could lose you entirely, and the thought of that terrified him.

Then Sunghoon came into the picture. And for the first time, he realized he wasn’t the only one who could see how amazing you were. Watching you smile at someone else, laugh at someone else’s jokes, give someone else the attention that used to be his—it tore him apart. He felt like he was suffocating, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Even now, standing in that room with you after finally confessing everything, he couldn’t help but think back to all those moments from middle school. How blind had he been? How stupid to waste so much time pretending he didn’t care?

Looking at you now, your cheeks flushed, your eyes searching his face like you were trying to figure him out, he realized he didn’t want to hold back anymore.

He smiled, soft and genuine, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I think I’ve been falling for you since middle school. I just didn’t know how to say it back then. Guess I’m still figuring it out now.”

You blinked at him, stunned for a moment, before a small laugh escaped your lips. “You’ve been a mess since middle school, Riki.”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin growing wider. “But I’m your mess now.”

And with that, he kissed you again, pouring years of unspoken feelings into the moment, knowing he’d finally found where he belonged—right there, with you.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 15

Summary: You rebuild your relationship with Wanda, one date at a time.

A/N: Hey, I guess I owe Team Wanda some fluff after everything hehe. Enjoy!

There’s excitement going around the hospital.

After having to push the xenotransplant one week, it seems like everything’s finally ready to go.

Though you’re excited for very different reasons.

Wanda’s finally coming back to Boston and you can’t wait to see her. You’ve been texting every day, sometimes calling whenever you have a minute.

It feels like when you started dating, and everything was new and magical. Your heart practically skips a beat when you get a call from her.

“Hey, gorgeous” you greet.

“Hello” Wanda says.

“Hi, good morning” Yelena answers and you glare.

“Not you. Sorry, Wands. Gimme a sec” you find an empty room. “There. How’s it going?”

“I’m doing good. Packing for tomorrow. And it looks like I’ll stay for a bit longer so we can definitely have dinner if you’re up for it” she says, and you make a little dance. “You still there?”

“Yes! And yes, let’s have dinner. I’ll ask around for some restaurants”

Maybe Strange or Christine can suggest a nice place for a date.

A date with Wanda! You’re so excited.

“Actually… do you mind if I plan it? You planned our first date and I’d really like to do it this time”

“Well, if you’re sure. I know you’re busy with work and traveling so I don’t mind”

“I got it, no worries” she says. “See you soon. Good luck on that big surgery”

“Just observing, but thanks either way”

“Bye”

“Bye, Wands”

You leave the room with a big smile, and Yelena hums.

“Did you have phone sex?”

“Gross. You’re one to talk, with your girlfriend Kate”

“That’s none of your business. And she’s not my girlfriend”

“Because you haven’t asked her yet” Natasha joins you.

“Long distance is too complicated” Yelena sighs, pushing the elevator button. She then turns to you. “No offense”

“Hey, Wanda and I are just talking. There’s no relationship right now”

“Right, which is why she sent you flowers and you’re texting and calling all day” Yelena mocks. She gets off on the second floor, as she has to check on some of your patients.

“What about you? Ready for the transplant?” you ask Natasha.

“Yeah, I’ll have to do post op which means less time on my research” she mumbles, clearly upset.

“Want help? I can stick around”

“I don’t want you to get in any trouble” Natasha says, avoiding your eyes.

“Hey, you’re my colleague and friend and there’s nothing wrong with helping you out. If that’s an issue in a relationship, then maybe I shouldn’t be in it”

Yes, you had barely survived. But every day you got up and made an effort to move on. This month had made it clear that you let work, and then your relationship be the driving force behind your life.

But now you want your happiness to be about doing what you love, and having someone who supports you as much as you support them.

“Are we friends now?” Natasha teases.

“Well, would you like to be? I mean, shit. I was an asshole to you, don’t feel like you have to say yes just because…”

“You know, when you ask someone a question, you should let them answer” she says. “Yeah, I’d like to be friends”

“Ok, cool. Wanna hang out sometime?”

“Let’s scrub in for now” she jokes and you nod, remembering why you’re here.

You follow her to the OR, full of doctors and nurses.

There are also cameras broadcasting to medical facilities around the world.

“Nice day to make history, everyone” Melina looks around the room. “Let’s begin”

Everyone nods, and there’s silence as the woman asks for a scalpel.

You interrupt that silence with a sneeze.

When you open your eyes everyone’s looking at you.

“Sorry. I must have a bit of dust on my nose” you say, embarrassed.

“No worries, Doctor Y/L/N” Melina says without looking up. “But get out of the OR”

“What? But, it’s nothing…”

“Let’s hope it isn’t” she says, glaring. “Now out”

—

A Covid and influenza test, general bloodwork, and chest X-ray later, Yelena comes by to check on you.

“How you doing?”

“Great. I love being locked up in a quarantine room while I get probbed and swapped everywhere. Would you like to add a colonoscopy while we’re at it?”

“Hey, you get a discount if you want one”

“Really? It’s not even free for the head of a department?” you ramble. “Ok, not the point! Yelena, I’m fine”

“You have a slight fever and a runny nose. It’s just a cold”

“Ok, let me out”

“Sure. But you can’t work. You have to go home”

“I’m fine” you say, but sneeze after that.

“Go home, rest. We’ve got this” Yelena unlocks the room for you.

“What? You gonna follow me around to sanitize anything I touch on my way out?” you challenge. Yelena lifts up a spray as if it were a gun, shrugging her shoulders.

“Maybe. Now, nice and easy. No sudden moves. Straight to the exit”

“I hate you”

—

It was hard saying goodbye to the kids. Even if their grandma and uncle were there to look after them, Billy and Tommy hugged Wanda a bit longer and waved until she went through airport security.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she’d see you that evening, Wanda would have decided to stay home, dream job be damned.

But now she’s in a middle of an editorial meeting, where Wendy Lawson’s team is looking at her sketches, making observations and pointing out changes. Wanda’s pleased to notice their feedback is mostly positive.

“It was so hard to find the right person” Wendy says when they’re talking over lunch. “But then I got a sneak peek at your new book and thought the art was beautiful”

“Thank you. I’m really proud of it” Wanda nods, remembering how much love and care went into it.

“And that story is so cute and funny. Those are the hardest ones to write”

“Actually, I was mumbling in my sleep and my girlfriend wrote it all down” Wanda smiles at the memory. “I really have to thank her”

“Oh, I have to meet her!” Wendy says, excited. Wanda nods, but doesn’t really know if the term girlfriend is accurate at this time.

Actually, she’s not sure if you should call each other friends or what.

“Wendy, can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me two things” the woman jokes, making Wanda smile.

“I know you wrote crime novels before switching to children stories… and you were a best selling author in the genre. Were you scared to make the change, or did you get any pushback?”

“I mean, my publisher reminded me how much better the money is before making the switch. And he told me I could try, but he also forgot how many of my adult readers have children. So it was a success” Wendy looks at Wanda with those piercing blue eyes. “Are you writing a murder mystery?”

“No, nothing like that” Wanda laughs. She doesn’t even like crime movies. “I was thinking about something… like a trilogy for young adults. Something that maybe my kids could read when they’re older too”

“Oh, that sounds fun! Tell you what, work on a draft and if you need any help to get traction, I’ll be more than happy to speak to some people”

“That means the world to me, thank you” Wanda smiles, excited at the idea of working in something new.

She’s still thinking about it while working, but the rest of the meetings keep her busy and she completely misses your call.

“Hey, Wands” you say on the voicemail. “I’m a little sick. Or a lot. I mean it’s just a cold, but I’m no fun right now, runny nose and constant sneezing considered. I’m so sorry because I was dying to see you but I gotta stay home. I’ll make it up to you, I promise”

Wanda’s never seen you get sick. Injured, yes. But not even so much as a sneeze after plowing snow early morning.

“Would you like a ride to the hotel?” Wendy’s assistant offers when they’re done with the meetings.

“Oh, I was actually going to stop by a friend’s house. She’s sick and I wanted to check on her”

Great, you told Wendy she’s your girlfriend, now you’re a friend. If Wanda keeps this up, you’re gonna end up being a distant cousin.

“I can drive you, no problem” the woman says.

Wanda’s grateful, even when Wendy’s assistant agrees to stop by to get some stuff at the grocery.

Since Wanda has no idea if you have any food (and knowing you, there’s probably nothing), she gets the basic stuff to make some soup and other things.

“Wow, that’s a fancy place”

“Yeah” Wanda agrees as they park outside, looking at the huge building with security. She hopes they let her in or she’ll be stuck with her luggage and the stuff she bought in the middle of the street.

Luckily, you do answer when the guard calls for you and you let Wanda in.

Her heart beats faster while the elevator goes up, and when the doors open she has to force herself to step outside. She’s struggling with all the stuff in her hands, so she’s caught off guard when you finally open.

“Wanda?” you say between coughs. “I thought it was the food I ordered”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a coughing fit.

“Hey, how are you? Sorry I couldn’t stop by sooner. Had a lot of meetings” Wanda apologizes.

You are wearing a hoodie, your nose is red and it looks like you were in the middle of a medicine induced nap.

“As much as I want to see you, I don’t want you getting sick. So you should probably…”

Wanda rolls her eyes, walking past you.

“I have two kids. Whatever it is you caught, I’m immune”

“Oh, immune, wow” you mock. “According to Yelena’s thourough testing, it’s nothing more than a cold”

“See? It’s fine” Wanda insists. “I couldn’t possibly leave you alone while you’re sick, detka”

“Thank you” you mutter, hugging her. Honestly, you rarely get sick but when you do, you absolutely hate it.

“No need to thank me” Wanda wants to sink in your arms and never let go, but she notices how warm you are. “You have a fever. Take a shower, and I’ll make some food for us”

“I don’t wanna shower” you complain, still clinging to her. “I wanna cuddle”

“Later” Wanda promises, butterflies dancing in her stomach at the idea of spending an evening in your arms.

You finally let go, and she feels a little guilty at how excited she is to take care of you.

While you shower, she opens the fridge, surprised to find there’s a lot of groceries and stuff to cook.

For a second, Wanda thinks you might have someone over that cooks because there’s no way…

While preparing everything for the soup, she glances around the penthouse. It’s luxurious and it’s clear you haven’t added anything to the decoration, except for the Polaroids in the fridge. There’s one with Yelena, and others with Kate and Natasha that are obviously from the gala you attended together.

The first drawing Billy made for you is also on the side of the fridge. You always kept it in your wallet, for good luck.

Of course, there’s nothing else of yours around, as all your stuff is in Wanda’s house.

Wanda feels overwhelmed by guilt when she realises she forced you to leave your home behind overnight.

“Hey” you come back, looking a bit better. “You didn’t have to cook, I ordered Chinese”

“Chinese? You’re supposed to be eating stuff like soup, my darling”

“I love your soup” you watch over Wanda’s shoulder as she stirs everything in the pot, your hand on her waist.

All your talk about going slow has gone out the window. You feel like shit and having Wanda here is the only thing that will make it all better.

“So, I noticed there’s a lot of stuff in the fridge…” Wanda tries to sound casual. But she’s dying to know if you’ve had someone over… like a date that cooks and spends the evenings with you.

“Yeah, I cook now” you smile, going back to sit at the counter. You let out a laugh at her shocked expression. “Nothing fancy. Pasta, easiest version of chicken parmesan. My roast beef is pretty fucking good, though”

“How?”

“Learned by watching the best” you smile adoringly at her. “But also, a lot of sleepless nights and YouTube tutorials”

“That’s fair. Will you cook for me one day?”

“Of course. Have to return the favor somehow, shouldn’t I? Unless you have other ideas” you tease as she hands you the  bowl of soup.

“Hm. I can think of a few” she looks down at your lips.

“Too bad I’m sick”

“Yes, too bad” Wanda smiles, knowing you’re messing with her.

You eat together, Wanda telling you about the book release happening soon and how amazing Wendy is. You smile at her enthusiasm, happy that she’s got so much going on for her.

“How are the kids?” you ask at one point.

“They enjoy being spoiled by their grandma” Wanda says, and that makes you smile. Though it goes away a second later.

“I didn’t mean to… make everything so hard for you. And hurt them. I’m sorry, Wanda”

“Hey, look at me” she asks, taking your face in her hands. “You didn’t… it’s fine. We’re fixing it, little by little. Right? We got this”

“Right” you lean your forehead against hers, wishing you could kiss her. But you’re not about to get her sick, and even if she was the one wanting to close the distance, you abruptly turn your head away, sneezing. “Ah, shit”

“Come on, let’s watch a movie” she says, smiling as you pout. “Wow, can you steal this couch? It’s so comfy”

“I know, I love it. Maybe I should have put it in my contract” you sink in it, and Wanda lets you rest on her legs, her hands going through your hair.

“What were you watching?”

“Dick Van Dyke show” you say. “The episode where Laura does the pool trick. I just love their faces, considering it was unscripted”

“What? No, that can’t be right” Wanda says. It’s one of her favorite shows, she would know.

“Uh, yeah!” you say like it’s obvious. “Mary Tyler Moore was supposed to pretend to do it, then they’d switch the angle of the camera to a stand in. But she pulled it off. You can totally see it in their faces”

“Ok, now I need to watch this. I can’t believe it” Wanda says, frowning as she rewinds the episode.

“Wanna bet dinner at a fancy place that I’m right?”

“Oh, you are so on” she laughs, smiling as you keep your head on her lap.

—

You’re driving to the airport in record time. An emergency surgery delayed you -not by much- but you’ll be damned if you don’t make the most of the time you get with Wanda.

Darcy’s calling and you press a button on the command center without taking your eyes off the road.

“Lesbian emergency services, how may I assist you?”

“Riddle me this, you big lesbo. Why did I bother with planning the sapphic parent trap if you’re not coming back anytime soon?”

“Good morning to you too, friend”

“I’m gonna kill Barnes. You have to come back”

“And I will. For Carol’s wedding. No sooner. I do appreciate you putting in the effort, though” you smile. “Here I was thinking you didn’t like Wanda, and you’re trying to get us back together”

“I don’t like her, but as I said, I’m going to kill Barnes” Darcy raises her voice, probably so Bucky can hear her. “So, what do you have planned for today?”

“Picking her up from the airport and then she has work. Will meet for dinner”

“Nice. Well, I hope she bangs you so hard you turn into a useless lesbian and she makes you come back to Westview”

“Aw, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me”

You’re about to say bye when Darcy clears her throat.

“Listen… I know I joke about you getting back together with Wanda. And honestly? I do want you to come back here and work with me again. But she said and did some nasty shit, Y/N. Don’t forgive her because you feel like you have to. At least make her work for it a bit? It’s nearly impossible with how whipped you’ve always been, but… couldn’t hurt to try”

“You’re right. For what is worth, I miss you too. And you’re my best friend”

“I know. I’m awesome” Darcy says, making you laugh. “Bye”

She hangs up, and you pause the music, wanting a bit of silence to consider her words.

“Hey, gorgeous” you say as Wanda waits for you, looking all cute with her little suitcase. “Want a ride?”

“Someone’s picking me up already” she follows along and you take her stuff.

“Well lucky them. Come here” you pull her for a hug, kissing her cheek. “Hey, thanks for taking care of me. I’m sorry we couldn’t go out”

“Anything for you, detka” she pulls apart, looking at your lips.

“Come on, you must be starving”

Not that you don’t want to kiss her but a part of you wants it to be special.

Another part of you really enjoys teasing Wanda.

“When did you buy a fancy car?” Wanda says when you reach the Corvette.

“Didn’t. It’s a loan. But hey, it’s a cool car and I might get one for myself” you say, putting her things in the trunk. You miss the way a girl glances at you, smiling.

“Oh, good” Wanda glares at her. By the time you open the passenger door, she doesn’t miss the chance to kiss that spot in your jaw that makes you weak. “Thank you, darling”

“M-my pleasure”

Wanda likes teasing you too.

“How are Jenny and Zach?” she asks once you’re waiting for your food.

“They’re good. I’m happy that my mother’s little outburst was enough to convince their father to leave her”

“You mean…”

“Something that happened when she picked up Jenny that time she ran away, doesn’t matter” you look away, trying to forget how much it actually hurt.

“What did she do? Why didn’t I know?” Wanda insists, reaching for your hand across the table.

“Doesn’t matter, honestly”

“It matters to me” she says, and her frown only softens when you bring her hand to your lips.

“Can I ask how are things with your mom?” you say, curious about the mysterious Mrs. Maximoff. Of course Darcy had told you about the woman, but you knew your friend could blow things out of proportion for a good story.

“Well… we haven’t really spoken about the elephant in the room. To be honest, I’m not sure what’s really going with her. I know she came back because Pietro told her we needed some help. It just feels weird to me, that she has taken over everything. Like no time has passed, and I’m a teenager again while she bosses us around”

“Lovingly, I hope”

“Of course. She’s a very strong, stubborn woman”

“Ah. I see now. You got it from her”

“I am not stubborn!” she kicks you under the table, and you laugh.

You keep talking about work, especifically her meetings with Wendy Lawson and her team.

Noticing it’s almost time for her to go, you ask for the check.

“Be right back” Wanda says, going to the bathroom to check her hair isn’t a mess after taking an early flight.

You’re replying to one of Yelena’s texts when a familiar voice greets you.

“Y/N, hey!”

“Laura. How are you?” you recognise the bartender. “Good to see you”

“All those ladies have missed you at the club. I was begining to think you found a better place to hang”

“No, after that last time I definitely stopped getting drunk. I still owe you that coffee for helping me out, though”

“Yes, you do. But looks like your date’s back. See ya around” Laura waves goodbye.

Oh, shit.

When you turn around, Wanda is looking at you, tilting her head in that way that activates your fight or flight response.

Run, run, run.

“Wands, what are you doing?” you say when she begins to dial a number.

“Cancelling our reservation”

“Hey, come on” you throw some money at the table, going after her. “I didn’t hook up with anyone, I just liked to go and drink”

“You’re taking me to that club tonight” Wanda stops in her tracks, pulling you by the collar of your shirt until you’re inches apart. “So that all those girls know that you’re not going anymore because you’re taken”

You nod dumbly, leaning forward. But Wanda doesn’t let you kiss her, pinching your cheek and then smiling.

“Good girl”

—

You’re not sure this is a good idea.

Either Wanda gets jealous and you fight. Or she gets extremely jealous and you fuck in the bathroom of the club.

That’s not bad per se, but you really wanted to take things easy.

As you wait for her in the lobby of the hotel, you’re thinking of arguments to persuade her to go to dinner instead. Or a movie. Anything.

“There you are”

Any coherent thought goes out the window when you see what she’s wearing. A short red leather dress, with nearly matching thights. Her hair is completely straight, and frames her beautiful face, lips standing out because of the darker shade of lipstick.

“Let’s just go back to my place and I’ll cook for you”

And eat you out, you wanna add.

But Wanda’s already shaking her head no.

“It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a bar. I’m looking forward to it” she places her hand around your arm. “Come on, now”

You open the car door for her, and play some music to take your mind off of Wanda looking like a whole meal in that sinful dress.

“Huh. I was just listening to that song. Why are you smiling?” she adds when you almost let out a laugh.

“You’ve been using my account this whole time, babe. So, whenever you’re listening to something, I listen too”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because” you shrug your shoulders. “I liked it. It was like being able to know a bit about your day. Like say, at noon, I knew you were driving to pick up the kids. And I could picture you listening to The Carpenters on the way there. The real struggle was to stop Yelena from messing with it. Can’t tell you how many times she begged me to stop playing Norah Jones”

“I did get a little too into her, I guess” Wanda jokes, but it’s still overwhelming. To think about all the ways in which you tried to stay connected to her life.

“What’s wrong? Did you change your mind? We can go get some food…” you pull over, worried about her sudden silence.

“I love you” Wanda interrupts, looking at you. She keeps going when you stay quiet. “I know, we said to take things slow but I don’t care. I love you so much and I need you to know that”

Without saying anything, you reach for her across the car, pulling her in for a kiss that takes her breath away.

It’s passionate and needy and rushed, but it also feels perfect. You missed her so damn much and it was stupid to wait this long to kiss Wanda again.

“I love you too, you know that” you say when you pull apart, making her smile.

“Ok, then. Let’s go”

“Back to my place”

“To the club” she insists and you groan.

“It’s nothing special. It’s just full of drunk people dancing and fighting. Sometimes. Ok, I did the fighting”

“It will be fun, I promise” Wanda squeezes your hand and you nod, knowing you’ll do what she asks.

Once you reach the club, you notice it’s not as crowded as other days. Hopefully, that means it will be a bit less likely to get into trouble, as it often happened when you came by to get drunk and flirt around.

“What’s the deal with that Laura girl?” Wanda asks when she nods your way and you smile.

“She may have saved me from getting my ass kicked once or twice. You know how I get sometimes”

“You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

You nod, looking around and ordering a beer for you and a glass of wine for Wanda. You notice she stands closer to you when a girl stops by and taps your shoulder.

“Remember me?”

No, not really.

“How’s it going?” you greet, placing your arm around Wanda’s waist.

“You owe me a drink”

“Oh, of course! Order anything, I’ll ask Laura to put it on my tab” you agree, hoping that’s it.

“If you don’t wanna buy me a drink we could dance”

“Here” Wanda gives her the glass of wine. “Since you enjoy getting hand-me-downs so much”

“Excuse me?”

“Oookaaay” you drag Wanda away, stepping into the dance floor. “Let’s just dance”

And you do, for a little while. You feel Wanda grinding against you and it takes every ounce of self control to stay there, instead of dragging her to the bathroom to have your way with her.

“Are you thristy?” she says against your ear and you gulp.

“Yeah”

“Let’s get something to drink”

Let’s get out of here, you want to plead, but she’s in control and all you can do is hope she gets tired of playing with you soon.

“Can we get a round of shots?” Wanda leans against the bar, her dress riding up. You blush as you get a peak at her beautiful legs but also place yourself behind her so no one else sees her.

Wanda laughs, rubbing her ass against your front and you think you might collapse any minute now.

You’re about to ask her once again to please just leave when she hands you a shot of tequila.

“Truth or dare”

“Truth” you down the shot.

“What did you think of me when you first saw me?”

“Now that’s what I call a MILF” you admit, making her laugh.

“You wanna fuck me?” she says, pulling you by the shirt, her lips touching yours as she speaks.

“I have fucked you before” you remind her.

“But you still want to do it”

“Of course I do. The day I say I’m not in the mood just shoot me, because it means I’ve gone insane”

Wanda rolls her eyes, taking a shot and pulling you in for a messy kiss. Her lips travel down to your neck, and you feel her biting down with enough strenght to leave a bruise.

“I dare you to fuck me in the back of your car” she says when you stop for air.

“It’s a really small backseat”

“Is that a no?”

“I never said no” you smile, kissing her again. This time she grabs the belt loop of your pants, pulling you to the exit.

“Hurry or I’ll have to do it myself and you’ll only be able to watch”

“Wanda” you groan, tired of the teasing.

Unfortunately, someone stops you by the door.

“You never called me” a girl that you absolutely don’t even remember stands in front of you.

“She’s taken. Move”

“Make me”

“Alright!” Wanda begins to remove her earrings, so you carry her over your shoulders, making a quick exit.

“Put me down, I wanna show her who you belong to”

“Hey, just calm…”

It’s a stupid idea, looking back. Of course the sudden shift and the movement make Wanda sick, so the minute you set her down, she bends over and pukes.

“It’s ok” you ease her, rubbing her back. When she’s done, she drops all her weight against you, and you have to carry her to the car.

Wanda only wakes up when you’re taking off her shoes, and she looks around the room, disoriented.

“Did we…? How was it, did you like it?”

“Baby” you laugh, watching her adorable expression. “Just put on some pajamas and drink water. You’ll feel better”

She listens, taking your hand to stand up and walk to the master bathroom. On the way there, she pulls down the dress, wearing nothing but matching red underwear and her thights.

You’re not strong enough to resist this.

Wanda takes a toothbrush that you left out for her, and by the time she cleans up, she’s feeling a little bit better.

You’re in bed, wearing a tank top and shorts. Wanda’s previous observation was right. You have been spending more time at the gym; your muscles look a lot more toned. She allows herself to admire you, as your eyes are closed. Wanda doesn’t know if you’re asleep or not, but that doesn’t matter at all right now.

The redhead takes you by surprise, climbing on top of your lap and kissing you.

“Hey, slow down”

“Come on, I’ve missed you” she pleads.

“I’ve missed you too. But you had too much to drink and it wouldn’t be right, darling. Don’t wanna take advantage”

“I want you to take advantage. Don’t you wanna taste me?”

“Wanda” you sigh, knowing that if she keeps going you’ll have a hard time controlling yourself.

“I want your fingers deep inside me, it’s been over a month and nothing works, not like your hand… or your cock”

“Wanda” you repeat, this time with a more stern tone. The woman smiles as she lifts her top, and you have seriously missed those two.

You flip her over, so she’s on her back. Wanda moans as you kiss down her neck, rubbing her back while your lips travel lower and lower…

“Wands?” you look up, to find her fast asleep. You have to hold back a laugh when you see her snoring.

After covering her, you kiss her forehead and leave to stay in the guest bedroom.

“Sleep well, love of my life”

—

Time goes by slowly. You really don’t want anything to interfere with your date with Wanda.

A nice dinner with her is all you need right now. Hell, you even agreed she could stay at your place, seeing as the last two times she ended up sleeping there anyway.

Nothing happened, though. This time you think it might.

You hope it might.

Wanda left you all hot and bothered last time, wearing that dress and saying those dirty things while showing you those perfect, beautiful breasts that you love to bite and…

“Someone’s asking for you in the ER” Nurse Roman says, making you snap out of your thoughts.

“Thanks”

You have no idea who that might be, until you pull the curtain and find Wendy Lawson in a hospital bed.

“Detka, hi” Wanda says, joining you a second later.

“Hi, love. Is everything ok?” you look between Wanda and the other woman.

“Wendy fell and we were just worried”

“Honestly, it’s nothing. I’m an old broad” Wendy says, clearly ashamed and not wanting to make a fuss. You can tell there’s some blood on her elbow.

“May I?” you approach, putting on a pair of gloves. “It’s a scratch. Wanna tell me where you hurt yourself? Head?”

“No, just the elbow and my wrist. The elbow feels a little numb, that’s all. It’s probably nothing”

“You fell with your arm stretched before you, to prevent the fall, huh?” you say, touching and bending Wendy’s arm. “It’s an injury of soft tissue on the elbow, but I’d like to confirm nothing’s wrong on your wrist with an X-ray if that’s ok with you?”

“Like I said, it’s probably nothing…”

“Miss Lawson, worse comes to worst, it’s in fact nothing and we get to keep your X-ray along with the other ones from famous people. There’s an available spot on our wall next to Matt Damon”

“Well, alright. Wanda was right. You are very charming”

“Oh, what else did she say about me?” you turn to look at her, excited when you notice Wanda is blushing. “We definitely need to talk more, Miss Lawson. For now, nurse Lorne will take you to get the X-ray”

You vaguely hear Ed tell Wendy that he is a huge fan of her work. But your mind is elsewhere, pulling Wanda into an empty on call room.

“Hi” she laughs when you kiss her cheeks, nose, neck and even behind her ear.

“Missed you” you say, finally kissing her lips. She places a hand on your cheek and you corner her against the door. Wanda lets out a sigh as you dart your tongue out, and one of your hands squeeze her breast. “Missed those too”

“Bet you did” she laughs.

“Hey, you’re the one that flashed me and then proceeded to pass out”

“Stop, I’m so embarrassed about last week” she hides her face in the crook of your neck.

“Come on, I’m joking” you kiss her temple. “It was fun going out. But now we are going someplace fancy where I can spoil you. Agreed?”

“I don’t deserve that” she tries to joke, but you can tell she means part of it.

“You do” you kiss her again, this time slower, until you break apart. Your eyes are closed, and you smile. “I love you”

“Me too, detka”

“Come on, looks like Wendy’s results are ready” you say when Lorne pages you.

Yelena lets out a loud laugh when you leave the room with Wanda and you roll your eyes.

“Not like you’re not having phone sex with Bishop when it’s a slow day” you shut her up.

“Y/N” someone else calls for you as you walk down the hallway, and you turn to find Valkyrie, smiling at you. “Hey, wanna have lunch today?“

“Yeah, we never got around to speaking about that project” you agree. “Oh, sorry about my manners. This is my girlfriend, Wanda. Wanda, meet Valkyrie”

Wanda tries to keep herself from dancing around at the mention of the word girlfriend. Instead she shakes Valkyrie’s hand.

“Were you at the gala? With that pregnant woman” Val says, confused.

“It’s kind of a long story, but yes. Pleased to meet you. Don’t let me keep you longer, I can find Wendy and head out”

“Nonesense. It won’t take more than a couple of minutes. Be right back, Val”

The woman nods and you walk with Wanda to find Wendy.

After you confirm it’s nothing serious, you prescribe some painkillers and insist that the woman can call you on your personal number with any questions.

“Thank you, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you”

“Likewise. Wanda’s so happy that she gets to work with you”

You walk them out and smile when Wanda kisses your cheek.

“I’ll wait for you at the penthouse?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Be there as soon as I finish my shift”

Just a couple more hours.

Ed comes back making a dance, showing you Wendy’s X-ray.

“Can I pleeease keep it?”

“Fine. If someone asks, you stole it. And you can’t sing any of the songs from Waitress for the rest of the week”

“Deal!”

—

Today of all days. You’re late. Not excessively, but enough to go over the speed limit and say goodbye to the idea of a shower before heading out.

“Hi, wanted to check if I can move a reservation by half an hour?” you remember to call the restaurant. Even if Wanda made the reservation, you don’t want to lose the spot because of your tardiness.

“We don’t have any reservations under that name” the hostess says after a second.

“How about Wanda Maximoff?”

“No, nothing either”

Well, damn. Did she get the day wrong? You’re about to ask to be put on the waitlist as it’s a busy restaurant when the elevetor doors open and you spot a couple of candles lighting up the penthouse.

“Alright, sorry for the trouble” you hang up, walking inside and looking for Wanda.

She’s waiting by the terrace, a soft smile as you take it all in. There are candles, roses and something that smells amazing.

“I thought we were going out”

“This is better” Wanda greets you with a kiss. “You like it?”

“I love it but I wanted you to relax and just have fun, you didn’t have to do all this”

“Would it make you feel better if I tell you I ordered the food instead of cooking?” Wanda smiles when you pull her by the waist.

“Did you really?”

“Yeah”

“Then alright. Thank you, love”

You hurry to shower and by the time you’re out, Wanda’s looking out the night sky, smiling as she sips from her glass of wine.

“Nice view” she comments and you hum, looking at her instead of the buildings and parks around you.

“The best”

“Penthouse, an expensive car, a big city… it’s very different from Westview” Wanda sighs.

“It’s also very lonely” you admit. “It’s nice, but it’s not home”

“It’s not home without you either” she admits, sighing. You kiss her temple, pulling her to the small table that’s on the terrace.

“How was lunch with Val?” she asks after eating in silence for a bit.

“Nice. We met at the gala; she works at Doctors Without Borders. I was curious about a thing or two they do there”

“That sounds interesting”

“Yeah, I always wanted to do it. Never had a chance to, with student debt right out of college and once that was settled I was offered the position as Head of Trauma so…”

“Do you want to do it now?” Wanda asks. You can tell a part of her is anxious. About you leaving again, about changing everything now that you’re fixing things.

“One day. But I’d ask you about it first. See how things might work. Or when the kids go to college, we could both travel to wherever it is they send me. Would you like that?”

“Yeah” Wanda nods, her heart skipping a beat once she notices you’re planning for a future together, like you used to do before.

Before she screwed up.

“Tell me something you’ve always wanted to do” you ask with a smile, kissing the back of her hand.

“Like? In general?” Wanda hums as you nod, waiting for her to answer. “Well, this is something I’ve been thinking since my mother came back. She was telling the kids some Sokovian tales and I thought… when people hear about our country they only think about a small place that was destroyed by a war. But we’re so much more than that. I was thinking maybe I should write a book about legends and tales from my childhood”

“That would be great, actually. It could be fun to travel back there and do some research” you mention, thinking back to your conversation with Val.

As the evening continues, Wanda remembers about the ring she found. Ultimately, she had decided to not tell you she knew about it.

If and when you decided to propose, it should be because you felt like you were ready, not because Wanda knew and you felt pressured to do it.

Honestly? Wanda even thought it would be better if she proposed to you. You had already proven to be committed to your life together. It was Wanda’s turn.

“What’s got you so smiley all of the sudden?” you notice she’s staring at you.

“I just… love you so much” she admits.

“Come here” you pull her up and into your lap. “You were right, this is better than a restaurant. I can have you here all night if I want to”

“Not all night” she stutters when you leave a trail of wet kisses down her throat, squeezing her ass as your hands travel lower.

“Yes, absolutely all night. I got two months of pent up energy and my beautiful girlfriend all to myself”

“Wait” she laughs when you stand up, carrying her to the bedroom.

“Wanna do it in the balcony for the world to see?” you joke, walking inside.

“No, but I did have a speech planned about how I want to make it up to you for hurting you”

“Cool, I’d love to hear it… after I make you come at least three times”

Wanda’s about to protest when you push the door to the bedroom open. Unlike other times, you’re not that gentle with your movements, throwing her in the bed and falling right on top of her, desperate to continue kissing her.

And you are right, intimacy had always been such a huge part of your relationship, even with a crowded house. Wanda can’t believe she managed to spend two months without your touch.

“You said nothing worked… so you tried to fuck yourself without me? How many fingers, Wanda? Two? Three?”

“The toy… the one we…”

“So needy” you whisper hotly against her ear. “And yet you couldn’t come, huh?”

“I want to…” she gasps for air when you pull her pants down.

“I don’t really wanna hear anything leave those lips of yours unless it’s my name, got it, princess?”

Maybe later you’ll have time for a more romantic exchange. But now? You really need to taste her.

“Hey!” she protests when you rip her panties instead of taking them off. You smile, sinking yourself in her center and you moan at the first taste.

It seems impossible, but it’s so much better than you remember.

Wanda’s hands anchor her by pulling your hair until your nose nudges her clit, and you both moan when you feel her shaking, legs closing around your head.

“Give me a minute” she asks when you go up her body, kissing and leaving traces of her own arousal.

“Nah. You had two months. I’m fucking you all night” you surprise her by flipping her body, and she ends up face down, head pressed against the pillow. You pull her ass in the air, spanking her, albeit gently. “Unless you want me to stop”

“Keep going” she pleads, embarassed at the way her arousal is running down her thighs.

“That’s it. Good girl” you say when you place two fingers before her and she sucks them greedily. “Nice to see you still remember how to use your mouth, babe”

“Y/N” she sighs, hiding her face in the pillow.

“I wanna hear you” you remind her, entering her easily. She’s so wet there’s no resistance, not even when you add a third finger.

Your fingers and mouth move in tandem, and  Wanda’s so worked up that it doesn’t take a lot for her to come again.

The only reason you show mercy is because her legs are shaking and she can’t hold herself up any longer.

“Five minute break” you kiss behind her ear. “Then you’re riding my face”

A mix of a moan and a laugh leaves Wanda’s lips.

It’s gonna be a long, great night.

—

The last time she woke up this late, you were home.

Months ago, when things were ok.

And now, as Wanda opens her eyes, looking out the window, it feels like that again.

She grabs your clothes, like she always does and walks up to the kitchen.

“Breakfast is almost ready” you say over your shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Mhm” she nods. Before you can reach out and pour her a cup, she pulls you down to kiss you. She nudges her nose against yours, smiling. “Morning”

“Fucked all night looks good on you” you tease, making her roll her eyes.

“I’m sleepy. Feels like I ran a marathon”

“Poor Wanda, getting orgasm after orgasm” you whisper against her ear when you place a plate with french toast and eggs in front of her.

“You’re mean”

“You’re delicious” you say back, kissing her. “Now, eat. Gotta get ready for round two”

“You’ll be the death of me” she says, blushing.

“I’m just saying, your flight doesn’t leave until noon. Don’t you want to try the jacuzzi?”

“Tempting” she says, smiling.

The sight of her wearing your clothes, and having breakfast with adorable bed hair and a relaxed expression makes your heart soar.

“Hey… I was thinking. Why don’t the kids join you next time?” you propose, looking at your plate, afraid of Wanda’s reaction.

Her words stuck with you. You knew she was upset and didn’t mean it. You knew you were good to the kids and they loved you.

But maybe it’s too soon to see them again.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Wanda picks up on your mood.

“Nothing. It was stupid, forget I mentioned it…” you shake your head.

Wanda stands up and sits on your lap.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea” she says, her hands cupping your cheeks gently to make you look up. “But be prepared because they’ll be hyper verbal”

“I can live with that” you smile.

“And we’ll probably not have a moment to… you know” she plays with the collar of your shirt, raising her eyebrows.

“Then we better make the most of our time right now” you pick her up, and Wanda laughs. “You were done with breakfast, right?”

“Well, I actually had some toast left on my plate”

“Here” you offer her a bite and then take one for yourself. “And off we go”

Needless to say, Wanda almost missed her flight.

[alphajocklover]

I was wondering if you could make me a super hot movie star. Like the kind of guy who plays the main male role in a rom com. I’m good either way of it makes me straight as a side effect.

You had never really liked rom coms growing up. You didn’t hate all rom coms, as some were generally good and creative, but a lot of them were just so… formulaic and repetitive. It felt like it was always the same damned story, the same formula over and over again: A stereotypical meet cute between two people who are just attractive enough to be in the movies leads to scripted, unrealistic but fairly cute bickering, which turns into them semi-dating, which is complicated by some dumb misunderstanding that breaks them up, before the two leads dramatically get back together and realize love is the answer to literally every problem in their lives. You knew hating Rom Coms because they were formulaic wasn’t very original either, but you couldn’t help it. They were just so… cheesy! But as you grew up, your opinion of them started to change. You still thought they were repetitive, but you couldn’t help but admire the male leads. They were always so strong, handsome, naturally charming and romantic, everything you, as an awkward young gay man who couldn’t get a date, weren’t. Even the actors had an effortless charm, and you began to fantasize about what it would be to be like them. To be that charming, handsome guy, the kind of guy who could sweep a girl off their feet without even trying, who the camera and audience just loved. Your fantasy evolved from you just being like a rom com male lead, into you actually being one of those actors. Which was why you were so thrilled when you got those free lessons in the new local acting classes. You knew it was probably a little too late to break into the movie scene, but these lessons gave you a chance to live out your leading man fantasies, even just for a moment. 

“Ok, first I need you to take off your shirt.”  “I’m sorry, what?” You asked, confused. You had been more than a little disappointed to find out that, besides the woman actually teaching the class, you were the only person to actually show up. It was a little concerning, but you figured that the class was free, and that less people meant more one-on-one attention from the teacher, a blonde girl named Kennedy who seemed very nice. Until she asked you to take off your shirt, that is.

“Look, I need to know what I’m working with. I know it sounds shallow, but a lot of acting has to do with image, and like it or not, certain physiques get certain roles.” She said, sending you a disarming smile. You weren’t exactly comfortable taking off your shirt in front of someone, as you were a little embarrassed by your average physique, but… it was just the two of you. And it wasn’t like she was a hot guy or anything. While still uncertain, you decided to just get it over with and quickly stripped off your shirt. For a moment you couldn’t meet Kennedy’s eyes, too embarrassed, but a quick look up turned all your embarrassment into utter confusion. It took you a moment to realize that the voluptuous blonde was looking at you with… lust? You felt your cheeks burn as she stepped closer, and a strange feeling built up in your stomach. Seeing the shocked look on your face, Kennedy giggled, a light, almost ditzy giggle that made your head spin. What the hell was happening?

As Kennedy stepped closer and closer to you, your head swam and your skin burned. You felt an unexpected sense of confidence and arousal come over you as she brought her hand up to your beefy chest. Something about that felt… wrong, but… who gave a fuck when this whole thing felt so right? You smirked slightly as you squeezed her ass with your big, manly hand, and pulled her into a deep, dominating kiss. You knew going to a movie intimacy class would be fun, but you had a feeling you and Kennedy were going to have a lot more fun than just pretending to fuck. It wasn’t like you really needed the help anyways. You had kissed and fucked a lot of girls, both on and off the screen. Not a lot of guys can do both professional acting and actual porn, but hey, you were just that good.

[yzzart]

hii!! love your work and i appreciate you so much for writing for tom <3 i was wondering if you could write a tom blyth x reader for the interview the cast did of how well the know each other??

An unfair test.

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: do you, Rachel and Josh, really, know Tom?

word count: 1.990!

notes: anon, you don't know how much i enjoy writing these types of interviews and i love you for requesting this! — and i'm serious, I LOVE writing this!

"And today, we'll be competing against each other to see how well we know our friend Tom Blyth!" — You explained, crossing your legs and excited about what could happen.

"And I'm saying…" — Rachel raised a finger up, supporting it in a sign of pronouncement. — "I'm saying that I think it's unfair for Y/N to participate in this!" — She laughed, looking at you and, soon, wanting support from Josh; you took one of the small cards that Tom was holding, which was part of the game, and placed it on your face, holding it.

"I also think!" — Josh confessed. — "Is asking his girlfriend to answer questions about him cheating?" — He asked, jokingly, with his arms raised.

"Not in my world." — Tom mentioned, shrugging his shoulders, looking at the camera and pointing the small white cards towards it.

"Are you afraid of losing?" — Now it was your turn to tease, arching your eyebrows and running a hand through some strands of your hair and returning the small card to your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah?" —Rachel said; while, Tom's hand gently and knowingly held your and the camera captured and focused on the moment. - "Look at this!" — She exclaimed, surprised and Josh's laugh was followed by the camera.

"Alright, let's do it." — Tom continued with an excited tone, moving the pen, which will be used, and reading for quick seconds the question that was on one of the cards. — "First question…" — He placed the card with the name 'Vanity Fair' on his chest. — "…what is my biggest fear?"

Tom looked at you, with a funny look of complicity and as if he was saying "oh, you know the answer" and it was, impossible, to try or contain the laughter. — Receiving looks and attention from Rachel and Josh.

"She knows." — Josh stated, thinking about his possible answer or something that could come to a correct conclusion. — "She definitely knows." — Leaning on the chain, you touched his arm.

"It's kind of funny to look at you and be like, hm, let me guess." — Rachel leaned over, resting her fingers on her chin, indicating a thoughtful pose and appearance. — "Let me guess, you don't wanna die alone." — She laughed. — "Please, Y/N, give me a clue!" — Her head rested on your shoulder.

"Wait, i guess i'm not so sure about my answer." — Tom's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened, dramatically, a little at your words. — "I just think! "— You bit your lip, poking his knee.

"I have a guess." — Rachel turned to her boyfriend, waiting for him to say something or even give the correct answer.

"I think, mine is probably a little bit more shallow, but i think i got a guess, too." — Tom laughed at Josh's comment.

"Mine's the opposite." — Rachel said. — "You have a fear of like open water." — She observed some reaction or at least a simple speck of something new on his face, trying to guess if she was correct, but, she found nothing. — "Okay, you don't."

"What, is that your guess?" — He asked, tilting his head, as if wanting confirmation and certainty, to Rachel.

"Yeah, that's my guess." — She shook her head.

"Okay, Josh?" — Tom asked.

"I was gonna say mountain lions." — He reflected, still not sure if he would really go ahead with this guess and loud, synchronized laughter erupted in the room.

"In what way is this more shallow?" — Your boyfriend questioned himself and looked for a justification, a meaning for that comment. — "I'm curious."

"That's very poetic, in certain words." — You raised his hand in defense.

"I thought you were gonna say something like conceptual." — He referred to Rachel's guess, which failed along the way, and tried to justify it.

"Are you sure about your guess, darling?" — Tom pointed the card, with the answer, at you and he couldn't hide, even biting his lip, the anxious smile and, really, hoping that you would say the right answer. — "Or will it be a concrete answer?"

"You're making me nervous, excuse me?" — Rachel and Josh laughed. — "Definitely snakes." — You replied confidently, looking at your boyfriend and then at the camera.

"Actually, ironically, and that's like my childhood fear…" — He waved his hand. — "…which i've already overcome." — Tom finally turned the little card over so that the answer was visible and being revealed. — "Snakes!"

"The purest irony, that's incredible." — Tom pointed at you, a sign of affirmation. — "And so funny at the same time."

"Yes!" — He turned the card over again.. — "I was afraid of snakes when i was a kid because i saw a lot of Indiana Jones, and i watched a lot." — A scenario of little Tom watching Indiana Jones played in his head, causing a smile to appear on his lips. — "And i feel like this fear transformed me, you know?"

"Because cool people can be afraid of snakes." — Rachel added.

"Because cool people are afraid of snakes." — Tom agreed.

"And the fact that on set, we had two snakes, and you had to act with them for one part, is impressive." — Tom once again placed his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly.

"But, i'm not afraid of them anymore." — Maybe, a little, but, he wouldn't say at that moment. — "I've had a lot of therapy, honey." — You laughed. — "That's my biggest childhood fear, like, it's the first thing that would come to my mind if you asked me that."

In the future, during the editing of the video, a scoreboard with your name, Rachel's and Josh's would appear at that moment and with each one's score. — And you would be ahead, even with your colleagues' comments about how unfair it seemed that you were winning. — Indeed.

"Next question!" — Tom warned, holding up another card. — "Who is my ideal dinner guest?" — He looked at you again as you thought of yet another answer or possible guess.

"Normally, i would say, but, anyway." — You shrugged, pretending to be thinking about something and got laughs in the room, including from the people who were working behind the cameras; Rachel rested her hand on your back, still laughing. — "This is difficult even for me."

"That's my first and foremost answer!" — Tom stuttered confidently, lifting the paper carefully so that the answer wasn't visible. — "But, let's consider a second option."

"I'm going to say Francis Lawrence…" — Rachel suggested, slowly, and focusing on the main camera in front of her. — "…director of The Hunger Games." — You laughed. — "And to be fair, we'd all have him as a special guest, and he's the best guest."

"He's a great dinner guest." — You mumbled. — "I think he could easily be my guess."

"Oh, mine too." — Rachel positioned herself. — “And i feel like you, that's your ideal, someone who can talk about wine and loves food.” — She paused, thinking about her words and acting as if she said something. — "Y/N could fit that description like a shame, now that i see it." — Her voice swore, and turning her head towards you .

"I was going to say that now!" — Josh said, crossing his arms. — "My guess, which i feel is terrible, is going to be Cyndi Lauper, you know." — He uncrossed his arms, resting one of them on his leg and Rachel hugged the other.

"Okay, okay." — Tom turns the paper to the camera. — "I think it would be David Bowie." — God, you would never get that right.

"I swear he didn't cross my mind for a second." — Your head shook in denial, and in disbelief.

"Me too, i wouldn't understand that." — Josh looked at one of the cameras and Rachel moved one of her hands, a little in disbelief and intrigued.

"What it is, i just think it would be really fun." — Tom tried to justify. — "Okay, so, we have no points for Rachel and Josh and…" — He acted out a movement like they were playing a drum. — "…one point for Y/N."

"We are terrible." — Rachel confessed to her boyfriend. — "Terrible."

“And i feel like she can get another point now.” — Tom read the question quickly, before looking at you, who furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"Really?" — You questioned, shook your leg and the british nodded.

"What's my go-to karaoke song?" — He read it and, in the same second, he started writing the answer and thousands of songs ran through his mind; one after the other.

The last karaoke night where you and Tom were present was recent; and, magically, incredible to the point of completing an album of photos and videos in your gallery. — However, it was clearly impossible to conclude what his favorite song was. — And it wasn't an exaggeration or anything like that.

"And you saying i was going to get this one right." — Your complaint passed through the ears of your boyfriend, who showed an incredulous expression.

"Our last karaoke night was, like, two weeks ago?" — Tom didn't remember, and he remembered few things. — "I think, i'm not sure."

"I'm not going to karaoke with you guys" — Rachel's soft voice introduced. — "And i need to start going." — She turned to Josh and you.

"I don't think you sing." — Josh looked up as he spoke.

"He actually sings." — You answered him. — "And he dedicates himself like no one else, a true spectacle."

“I will say it was definitely a punk rock thing.” — Josh's guess entered his mind, and he thought about agreeing with it. — "Something like."

"I would say that a chorus of a Spice Girls or Backsteet Boys song with your voice crossed my mind, but i don't want to consider it as a guess right now." — You placed your hand on your mouth, laughing at the fictional scenario.

"And i would say i don't know what to say." — Rachel murmured. — "Serious."

"I'll give you a hint, it's probably not what you'd expect." — Tom tried to help, but nothing came to her mind.

"I guess that didn't help, dear."

"Mambo number five…" — Josh suggested, speaking quietly, but sure of his guess.

"Josh's mambo number five, what's your guess?" — Blyth directed the small card towards you and Rachel, waiting for your response.

"Any of backsteet boys." — You didn't even specify any of the group's songs, and you wouldn't even have time to choose them; it was as if all their names had disappeared from your consciousness. — "Any one."

"I'm gonna say…" — Rachel thought.

"No, i'll change mine to All the small things." — At the last second, Josh changed his guess and you thought about changing but decided against it.

"All the small things, okay." — Tom pointed out.

"I'm going to say 'I miss you' by Blink 182." — Rachel said with certainty, as there weren't many options due to the lack of opportunities to attend singing nights.

"Wow, it's really the 2000s." — He separated some cards on his lap before turning to the question. — "The answer is, somewhat surprisingly…" — For the third time, Tom turns over the paper with the answer. — "Senhorita by Justin Timberlake."

The disbelieving and doubtful reactions and expressions on your faces were met by Tom's warm and loud laugh. — None of you expected that song. — And you don't remember him singing it.

Or, simply put, that memory was in the back of your mind.

"No chance, not possible." — You said intrigued, looking at your boyfriend and shaking your head in denial, for the second time.

"I don't remember you singing that." — Josh also tried to remember or have some memory with the mentioned song but nothing happened, he didn't remember either. — "Serious."

"We sing!" — Tom insinuated, pointing at you and Josh, who looked at each other and still don't remember the moment; that is if it really existed and he sang that song. — "Because Y/N mentioned Backsteet boys, we can put at least half a point." — Therefore, your name would have a new punctuation, even though it was small and not very valid. — "And she continues ahead!"

"Oh, i give up." — Rachel and Josh spoke at the same time, holding their hands up and laughing loudly.

[13uswntimagines]

The Royal Playbook (Alessia X Leah X Royal!R)

Summary: It wasn't often that you used your name or your titles, but to see your girlfriends, you would do just about anything. Even if it means going head-to-head with your new security. 

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but otherwise nothing. It's a fluff piece.

Your life was complicated. Well… that may have been putting it lightly. 

Everything in your life had been planned for you since well before you were born. You had a tutor, an etiquette instructor, and an equestrian coach from the moment you came screaming into the world. Along with a security detail and a personal team of butlers to help you navigate life. 

It was simple, you would be academically trained, coached in diplomacy (and swordsmanship as was customary on Braavos), and exposed to different cultures so that you could continue to lead your country like your father and his mother before him. You would marry a foreign diplomat, and make political bonds that would strengthen your little island nation’s place in Europe. 

Falling in love had never been a part of that plan. 

Neither had your absolute obsession with football. Specifically, your obsession with English football. 

But your parents had taken it in stride and were far more accepting than you had any right to believe they would be. They were supportive even after they found out you preferred the fairer sex, and they absolutely adored the women who had stolen your heart.

You happened to adore them too. 

Well, something stronger than adore. 

You would do anything for them. 

They made you willing to break all of the carefully constructed rules you had grown up with. They made you forget the weight of responsibility that had been balanced on your shoulders since your coronation date was set the day you turned 16. 

They treated you like Y/n instead of Her Majesty the heir to the throne. They made you feel normal. 

It killed you that you couldn’t be… open with your relationship. That having the world know would put them in the firing line. 

You sighed, leaning back into the leather seat as the SUV slowed, turning in front of the Emirates. The dark window tint blocked out the flashing lights, and the thousands of pounds of armor plating dulled the chanting from the throngs of people. The little flags on the cars in your motorcade told them all who was inside, even if they didn’t know which of the 4 cars you were in. 

You shifted, tugging at the hem of your jersey. “Do you think we’ll make it in time for warmups?”

The new material was still tight on your skin, so much different than the cotton dress shirts you normally wore, and the two little names above your favorite number felt unnaturally… weighted. 

They were in a way. As soon as a photographer caught a picture of them, your secret would be out. 

“I’ve sent a team ahead to clear your entrance and the box you’ll be staying in, so as long as we can get through this crowd we should make it,” Davis said, glancing up at you in the rearview mirror. “I know they’re your favorite part,”

You hummed, glancing back out of the darkened windows at the masses of people dressed in white and red. 

A part of you envied them. 

You would never be able to walk into a stadium through its entrance. You would never get to see the mural of the team that existed in the main hall of the Emirates. You would never get to sit in the supporters section, surrounded by the various chants. 

The other, larger part knew how much you despised being surrounded by people. How claustrophobic it made you feel, and how hard it made it for you to breathe.

But you still wondered if it would be different if those people weren’t carrying cameras and screaming for your attention. You wondered if watching your girlfriends do the things they loved would negate how incredibly uncomfortable you got when people were too close. 

“It just completes the whole experience,” You mumbled into the glass. 

Davis made a noise of agreement. “Yes, it does,”

He knew that one of the reasons you loved it so much was because it gave you time to not have to think. To just exist in a space where you weren’t the air to the throne. Where all that mattered was what was happening in front of you. 

You didn’t have to say it for him to know. 

He could read you like a book. He had experienced every day of your life with you. He acted more like a father than your own father did, and you trusted him implicitly. 

The car inched forward, past another gaggle of people holding their phones up to video the caravan.

“We might have to go with plan b if Her Majesty wishes to see the warmups,” Your driver said more to Davis than to you.“There’s an obstruction ahead,”

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together as the car crawled forward through the growing crowd. 

Your head of security made a gruff sound, already lifting his phone and speaking rapidly into the receiver. 

You barely paid attention to what he was saying. It didn’t really matter anyway. 

You knew he would explain when they had a plan, just like he had always done before. 

The car came to a stop, and men dressed in bright yellow jackets came pouring out of an entrance you hadn’t recognized, forming a human tunnel. 

Davis turned in his seat to face you. 

“We’re going to go in a different entrance. I’ll guide you, Gabriel and Tomas will flank us,” He explained. “It’s 16 steps to the door. Stadium security will make sure that they’re unobstructed,”

You hummed. “Will you cover my back?”

It wasn’t that you were ashamed to wear your Loves names. 

It actually made you incredibly proud and had a warmth blooming in your chest that was hard to explain. 

But you weren’t quite ready to share that with the world yet. 

You wanted to protect them from your world for as long as you could. To prevent the people who didn’t agree with your family’s policies from hurting them to get to you. 

“My jacket will block you,” Davis assured you, understanding glinting in his eyes. “We’re ready whenever you are,” 

You leaned back into the leather seat, glancing at the little walkway that had been created. Fans pressed against it, and you could imagine the wall of sound that would meet you. 

You flipped your sunglasses down over your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” 

“I’ll get out and open your door,” Your security chief said, reiterating the protocol you always followed when you had to exit your car in a crowd. 

You nodded, never looking away from the window. 

You took a deep breath when the car door opened, letting in the onslaught of screams and cheers. They only got louder when Davis opened your door and held his hand out to help you out of the car. 

He shielded you as soon as your feet were both on the ground, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, directly blocking the names on your back. 

You tucked your face into his chest, closing your eyes at the roar of squeals and cheers that met you. 

You never did like crowds. 

You felt Tomas take up your other side and counted down the steps in your head as they guided you through the crowd. You didn’t look up at the calls of your name, or the blinding flashes of light, or the jostling that your security tried to protect you from. 

This was routine. 

The press didn’t pay for photos when your face wasn’t clearly visible. 

You let out a long breath when the entrance doors closed solidly behind you. 

“It’s over little commander,” Your burly chief of security mumbled into your hair when you didn’t immediately begin to untangle yourself from him, running his hand up and down your back. 

You really didn’t like crowds. 

You sucked in another long breath before carefully pulling away from him. 

“Thank you,” You said, straightening your hair and jersey. Smiling just a bit at the name he had given you after an incident involving your country’s general and an assassin when you were five. 

“I don’t think anyone caught a photo of your jersey, your majesty. The Captain's jacket was covering the lettering,” Gabriel added, glancing out the glass doors. “Though I think it’ll be harder to hide if we leave with guests. We’ll also need extra security,” 

It made you sigh. 

Gabriel was not a bad person, but he was young, and far too serious all of the time. 

He hadn’t learned that you didn’t need to know all of the inner workings of their operation yet, or that you were the one who would dictate what you wanted. 

You hadn’t even decided if your girlfriends would be leaving with you yet, and when you did, Davis would work it out. 

He always figured it out. 

“We’ll cross that bridge later,” Davis said, glaring at the younger guard (they would pull the SUV on the fucking field if that’s what it took), before his eyes returned to you, softening. “First, I believe your attendant is waiting to scan your ticket,”

Your eyes lit up at the prospect, looking past your burly squad towards a very shy looking girl. 

“I can scan you in,” The girl's voice shook as she spoke, her eyes darting towards your guards before meeting yours again. “Your majesty,” 

You rolled your eyes at the title. 

You hated it as much now as you had when you first learned you would be your fathers successor. As much as when people started using when you were 16 and your coordination date was set for the day you turned 22. 

Davis passed you a paper ticket and nudged you forward. 

It was a superfluous detail that your girlfriends had teased you mercilessly about. 

No one used paper tickets anymore, they said. Everything was mobile, not that you had ever needed an actual ticket. 

You stepped towards the girl, holding out the ticket with a grin. 

She very gently took it, running it under the little scanner. You walked past her after it beeped. 

It was nice to get the full experience, even if it was a bit outdated. 

“We’ll take that back,” Davis said, as the girl turned to throw the scrap of paper away. 

He reached for the ticket, tucking it into his jacket for safe keeping. 

“To the box little commander?” He asked you directly, stepping past the girl. 

You shook your head, a smirk playing at your lips. “I think a little… exploration is in order first. Especially since we’ve never come into the stadium this way before,” 

“Lead the way then,” He matched your smirk, gesturing for you to head down the hallway. “The mural you’re obsessed with is to the left,” 

Your eyes brightened again and you looked down the hallway he had gestured to. 

You would definitely have to check it out before warmups started. 

******

Alessia and Leah were… distracted, even as they passed the ball back and forth. 

Warmups had barely started and they couldn’t help the way their eyes kept falling to the box now occupied by a tall, bald man in a well-tailored suit, his aviators reflecting the field back at them. 

They should have expected it. Tomas was always the first of your personal team to arrive to a location, but usually, you followed closely behind him. 

“The queen has arrived,” Millie chuckled, intercepting the ball Leah had passed towards  Alessia. 

“She’s not queen yet,” Alessia huffed.

“How could I forget? The coronation isn’t for 2 more months,” Millie said, waving her arm dramatically. 

Leah rolled her eyes. “3 more months, actually,”

“And Y/n isn’t exactly counting down the days,” Alessia added, stealing the ball back. “She doesn’t seem too keen on the title,”

“I’m not surprised,” Ella said, catching the ball when Alessia tried to pass it to Leah. “She got mobbed coming into the stadium,”

Leah’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought she was using the player entrance,” 

You had discussed the plan with them in detail during your nightly phone conversation, asking about the location of the locker rooms in relation to the entrance your security wanted you to use. 

They weren’t sure if you intended to surprise them before or after the match, but it didn’t really matter. 

“Apparently not,” Ella said, skirting around the forward's outstretched leg and passing it to Millie. “I saw the clip before we came out here. Looked like they formed a wall of security and then ushered her in the front gate,” 

Leah and Alessia shared a look. 

They knew how much you disliked being in a crowd. 

They could picture you tucked into your security chief’s chest like a small child, trying to hide yourself from the noise of the crowd. It was an image that had been splashed across front pages of newspapers more times than they could (or wanted) to count. It still never failed to break their hearts. 

“I never realized how big her security team was,” Ella mumbled, glancing up at the box again. “Like physically. They’re fucking mountains,” 

More of your team had joined Tomas, all wearing the same black suits and dark aviators, tall, and muscular.

They looked intimidating. Like they could take down any threat that would come at you. 

Neither Alessia nor Leah had any doubt that they would. 

Alessia shrugged. Frankly, they had both been very nervous too until you had actually introduced them to your security. They learned quickly to expect pranks from your security when they weren’t on duty, and that their protectiveness extended to them as well as you when they were. 

Considering all 12 members of your team had given them the shovel talk, they knew you were in very good hands. Hands that looked out for your mental health as well as your physical health. 

“Looks like she only brought half her team,” Leah hummed, counting the men in the suite, noting your missing head of security. He would certainly be wherever you were, and she found it slightly strange you weren’t in the box yet. 

You hated missing warmups. 

But then a group standing near the benches, behind Serina caught her eyes. 

There were 4 tall, burly men surrounded by stadium workers dressed in bright orange vests. 

“Maybe not,” Alessia mumbled, her gaze also falling to the growing crowd behind the benches. “She doesn’t usually try to come down to the field,”

“She’s never had to come through the front door before either,” Leah answered. 

Ella wiggled her eyebrows, shimming between them. “Maybe she wants to do something wild before she has the weight of a country on her back,” 

“She already has that,” Both blonde women said in unison, eyes snapping away from the sea of orange towards the midfielder. 

“She’s had that since her father put her in charge of their trade negotiations,” Alessia added. “And their UK commerce,”

Frankly, you had been taking more and more responsibility for years. Trying to gain the trust of your people so the transition of power was an easy one. A safe one. 

An uncontested one. 

“And she’s been doing a bang-up job,” Leah said, just as Davis appeared in the mix of security next to a blonde man she had never seen before. “She’s actually coming in the field,” 

“You mean we finally get to meet the Queen?” Millie said dramatically, standing on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of you, the ball forgotten at her feet. 

Alessia slapped her stomach. “You’ve met her before. You tried to get her drunk after our Euros win and convince her to fly the England flag on her father’s palace,”

“Details,” Millie rolled her eyes, shoving the striker. “How can she see through the mass of people though?”

“It’s a special formation,” Leah grumbled, pushing Millie, and stealing the ball they had all disregarded as she moved it forward she saw Davis shift and the flash of a pair of aviators. You were certainly on the field. “Designed so she can see out but no one can see her. They’re trying not to draw attention,” 

Ella snorted. “Well, they failed at that,”

It was true. 

The fans in the stands seemed to be clamoring over themselves to see why there was a substantial crowd near the benches. 

Leah and Alessia shared a look. 

They both knew how much you hated attention. It was why you usually stayed in your box and came in through back entrances. They joked you were like a ghost coming to their games, never seen or heard. 

But this. This was different. 

Before they could respond Geriant clapped his hands, “Alright ladies let’s do some through balls on goal. Lineup,”

Leah tapped him the ball and followed Alessia to the back of the line. 

There would be time later to figure out why you had come down in the field. 

Right now they had to focus on beating Australia, especially if they wanted a good game kiss from you after the game. 

You only kissed winners. 

******

You shifted awkwardly as you leaned against the cool, stone wall outside the locker rooms, playing with the identification lanyard around your neck. 

It wasn’t often that you used your… status to get into areas no fans could. That you finagled your way into the tunnel of the stadium after a game. 

You were much more prone to letting your security whisk you in and out so you weren’t seen and no one knew if you were actually there, but today, you had been feeling bold. 

Well, kind of. 

Davis had been the one to suggest that seeing warmups at field level might be fun if you were going to venture to see the mural. 

You had agreed. 

And he had been right. 

You had gotten to chat with Serina about tactics and formations while getting a close-up view of your girlfriends in action, even if it was just warmups. 

You had gone back up to your fancy box for the game, but couldn’t resist Serina’s invitation to wait for the team in the tunnel after. 

That’s how you ended up here, shifting nervously from foot to foot while the players made their mandatory lap around the field. 

It wasn’t really being in the tunnel that had you on edge. It was that Davis had gone to coordinate your motorcade out of the stadium, and left you with Gabriel. You didn’t feel as… safe with the blonde man, and his seriousness was really starting to set you off. 

You would have to very carefully bring it up with Davis later, though you hated doing anything that could potentially make his job harder. 

“Can you, um, not stand so close please?” you mumbled, as he pressed more closely to you as players from the Australian team started to make their way down the tunnels. “I want to say hello to the players,” 

Gabriel shook his head, standing firmly. “They haven’t been checked through security,”

“They just played a match,” You rolled your eyes, pushing him away from you, trying to create some space. “I doubt any of them are smuggling a weapon between here and the locker room, or have Ill intent,” 

They were your friends. People, your girlfriends played with every day. People you had spent a lot of time with. People who saw you as a person and not as a title. They wouldn’t cause you harm. 

“We can’t take that risk, Your Majesty,” Gabriel answered, already pressing back to pin you between his back and the wall, as his head whipped back and forth. 

You shoved him off of you more harshly, stumbling with the force. “I told you to go away. Why don’t you go stand at the front of the tunnel if you’re so worried,” 

You would have face-planted had strong arms not caught you. 

“Whoa there Princess,” Leah’s warm voice chuckled in your ear, using the term of endearment that annoyed you when it came from anyone but your girlfriends. “You only had to fall for me once,”

“Leah,” Your shoulders instantly relaxed at her voice, and you looked up to meet her eyes. “You guys played so well!”

She smiled brilliantly at you, and you leaned up to place a gentle kiss on her lips. 

It only lasted a second before a large hand appeared between you. 

“No physical contact please,” Gabriel said, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s policy,” 

You glared at the side of his face. 

You were definitely going to have to talk to Davis about this. 

“What about me pretty girl?” Alessia asked,  materializing to Gabriel’s right. “Do I not deserve a kiss too?

“You definitely do. That goal was a fucking banger,” You said, pulling away from the defender, and throwing out a foot mocking the way Alessia had smashed the ball. “Lee crossed it in and then woosh,”

You threw your arms out, mimicking the goal celebration that Alessia did. The one that reminded you of an airplane, right into her waiting grasp. 

She leaned forward, brushing your nose with her. “You’re adorable,”

You closed the last millimeter, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss. 

She tasted like mint gum, and blue Gatorade, and something so… Alessia. She tasted like home. 

“And you look very fit with our names on your back,” Leah added, running her fingers across the bold letters across your shoulders before she wrapped her arms around the two of you. 

You buried your face in Alessia’s chest to hide the red blooming across your cheeks, earning a giggle from both women. 

“Your majesty, I don't feel comfortable with this situation,” Gabriel said, clearing his throat, and stepping into your space. He leaned down and lowered his voice like he thought it would prevent Leah and Alessia from hearing him.  “We’re in too public of a place. It’s not befitting of the crown,”

You froze, your back going rigid. 

It was one thing for him to not understand personal boundaries. For him to be hyper-vigilant. 

You could chalk that up to his… newness. 

But this. This you could not tolerate. 

Your fingers caught Alessia’s top before she could pull away, forcing her to stay pressed against you, as your other hand reached back to hold Leah’s hip. You didn’t need them to move. You didn’t want them to move. 

You took a deep breath before pulling your face out of Alessia’s chest to stare daggers at the bulky, blonde man. 

“Call for backup,” You said, your voice deadly calm. 

He raised an eyebrow at you. “There’s no need. I have it-“ 

“It wasn’t a request,” You cut him off icily. “Call for backup now, or I will do it myself,” 

He paused at your tone, glancing at the teammates and friends that had been on their way to the locker room, also frozen at the foreign chill in your voice. 

It was the tone you saved for meetings with world leaders you didn’t particularly like. Ones with foreign dignitaries who thought they could walk all over you, your family, and your country. 

He took a step back, lowering his voice like he was talking to a child. “Your majesty, I don’t think this is a proper conversation to have with an audience,” 

You weren’t in the mood to be scolded. 

“And I don’t care what you think,” You bit back, letting go of Leah’s hip to reach up to your necklace, pressing the bottom button hidden on the pendant twice. 

The signal that you needed assistance, but it wasn’t emergent or life-threatening. 

Still, within 30 seconds Tomas was rounding the corner near the locker rooms, speed walking towards you. The crowd of white and yellow jerseys parted for him like he was Mosis. 

You were slightly disappointed it wasn’t Davis, but Tomas would do. 

“Little commander,” He nodded his head in greeting, his eyes flickering across the scene before returning to you. “How can I be of assistance,”

You appreciated that he had addressed you first. 

That he acknowledged that you were the one in control here. 

But Gabriel didn’t seem to get that message. 

“Your presence isn’t needed,” The blonde security man huffed, “Her majesty is throwing a temper tantrum,”

Alessia’s fingers tightened around your hips, and you didn’t have to look at her to see the scowl pulling across her lips. Leah’s arms similarly squeezed around your shoulders and you knew daggers were being thrown his way. 

Had this been any other circumstance you were sure the growing crowd of footballers would have oooed. 

Not that you needed them.

You had this all under control. 

“Take Gabriel to the exit,” You said evenly, command and… dominance, radiating through the simple words. “or to the dumpster or the Thames. I don’t really care but get him away from me. He is relieved of his duty,”

The blonde security man sputtered. “You can’t do that. I’m-“

“Actually I can,” You cut him off. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. Tomas, please remind Gabriel of the terms of his service,”

Tomas cleared his throat, suppressing a grin. “We serve at the pleasure of our charge, Her Majesty, Princess of Braavos, heir to the throne,”

Your chest puffed a bit at your full title. 

One you generally despised, but it served its purpose here. 

“And you certainly have not… pleasured me. Not that you’re capable,” Your lips turned upwards in a cruel smirk, as Alessia and Leah, and the surrounding crowd didn’t hold in their giggles. “Perhaps you should work on your listening, and little things called consent and common sense,”

“Let’s go,” Tomas caught Gabriel’s arms before he could protest or argue with you, not that there was anything he could say. The taller, balder security man made eye contact with you before he hauled Gabriel away. “Davis and Matthew will be by shortly. I’ve left Carson at the top of the tunnel and I’ll have him perform personal security until they arrive,”

You sent him a stiff nod, standing at your full height until they were out of sight before you let yourself collapse back into Alessia. 

You would never. Could never truly be alone. 

“I fucking hate doing that,” You groaned into her chest, and Leah leaned forward to press a kiss to the back of your neck.

“We know love,” The defender hummed into your soft skin, and Alessia made a sound of agreement, shooing the crowd of football players around you to go about their way.  

“But on the bright side, you did look proper sexy,” Alessia said, gently pinching the skin just beneath the hem of your jersey. “Her Majesty, Princess of Braavos, heir to the throne,”

You couldn’t help the giggle that bugged from your lips at her terrible rendition of Tomas’ heavy accent. The one you worked incredibly hard to suppress.

It had come out slightly in the exchange, the only indicator that English was not your first language. 

It was something that happened when you were annoyed, which was rare in itself. You didn’t like to wield your power, and thankfully, you usually didn’t have to in your personal life. 

“For a second I thought you were going to yell at him in Valyrian,” Leah said, her lips working from the back of your neck up to just behind your ear. 

You hummed. “I try not to do that in mixed company,” 

Despite how much you had pushed against the mold of your upbringing, your impeccable manners could not be changed. 

Plus you knew how much Leah and Alessia loved when you spoke in your native language. How… wound up… it made them. You didn’t want to associate your annoyance with that. Ever. 

Alessia smirked. “So he can’t pleasure you?” 

You rolled your eyes at the change in subject. 

“No. He was only on my team for 3 days, and I wanted to strangle him for most of it,” Your lips pulled up in an impish smirk. “Plus I could tell that he’s never given out a feminominon in his fucking life,” 

Leah mirrored the expression against your neck, and Alessia’s eyes sparkled.

“I think we could definitely show you what we know about feminominons,” Leah said, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just below your ear. 

 “Would you like to shower with us?”Alessia’s thumb ran over the skin just above your pants. “We promise we won’t bite, “

“Unless you ask nicely,” Leah finished, her teeth grazing over the wet skin she had just kissed. 

It was sometimes scary how they could finish each other's thoughts, though you weren’t convinced that this had been their endgame all along. 

You melted into them, the rest of your annoyance fading. 

“I would love nothing more,” 

They nodded at Carson as they dragged you towards the locker room, the shorter, muscular man shifting to stand by the door, already talking into his earpiece. 

You just needed some time with your girls. 

It’s what you wanted and the security team would respect that and leave you undisturbed. 

They served at your pleasure after all, and so did your girlfriends apparently. 

Well, at least at the moment, they would serve to pleasure you. 

[elllisaaa]

SUPER FREAKY BOY - P. SEONGHWA

KINKTOBER DAY 27 - BITING

SUMMARY : you never knew about your boyfriend biting kink until wooyoung revealed it in one of their videos. quickly, an idea emerges in your mind and you decide to make his fantasy come true.

-> pairing : bf!seonghwa x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.5k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!seonghwa x soft dom!reader, biting kink, marking, teasing, dirty talk, use of 'good boy', blowjob, cum eating

+ the way i'm depicting seonghwa does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist | kinktober 2024

Seonghwa had been nothing but the perfect boyfriend since you started dating. Your relationship was still fairly new, and the fact that you had to keep it a secret for the most part because of his job as an idol made it more complicated to spend some quality time together but he always made time for you. That being said, neither of you had wanted to wait for too long until you got intimate with each other. You loved him, and he loved you, so there was nothing wrong in sleeping with each other within weeks of dating. 

And the way he made sure to take care of you, to make you feel loved and appreciated every time was really pleasurable. However, you were still discovering things about each other, in and out of the bedroom. And you were only starting to experiment a little with what both of you liked. So you weren’t surprised to learn that he had some kinks that he didn’t talk about with you yet. What surprised you a little bit more was the way you learned about it. 

You would’ve never expected Wooyoung to be the one making you aware of your boyfriend’s biting kink. The way he said it so nonchalantly - and on camera - that Seonghwa loved it when the other members were playfully biting him. You weren’t even mad about the fact that you learned it that way, or that the whole world knew about it too now, you were just glad to be aware, and to be able to fulfill his wishes. 

“- I’m home, sweetheart.”

Your smile had a hint of playfulness as you walked to the entrance of your apartment to welcome your boyfriend. He had some schedules in Japan for the past few days, and you hadn’t seen each other for almost a week which was the ideal occasion for you to perfect your plan. You engulfed Seonghwa in a hug and he held you close against him for a moment. All nasty thoughts aside, you had truly missed him and your heart beat faster when he leaned down to give you one of his sweet kisses that made your head spin with love. 

“- I cooked dinner for you my love, you just have to sit down and let me take care of you.

- Have I already told you that you’re perfect ?

- Every day.”

You both giggled as you went to warm up what you made, all while Seonghwa set up the table and told you about what happened in Japan. You didn’t mention your discovery, not even when you were all cuddled up on the couch, watching one of the romantic movies your boyfriend loved so much. And if usually, you were happy to watch them with him, tonight, you were focused on something else. 

You slowly moved to bury your head in the crook of his neck, acting like you were tired when truly, you had other things in mind. You started by softly kissing his neck, smiling against his skin as he sighed and relaxed more against you. His hands came up to play with your hair, not knowing what you had in mind at all. And when he least expected it, you gently bit down on his skin, making it look like you were playfully teasing him when truly you were testing his reactions. Seonghwa tensed up but he didn’t push you away. So you left another bite mark, going a little harder this time. And this time, Seonghwa couldn’t hold back a little whimper at your action. 

“- What are you doing, sweetheart ? 

- Don’t you like that ?”

You teasingly bit on his neck again, right under his jaw this time and Seonghwa’s hold around your waist strengthened, and he couldn’t pretend that you weren’t right when his body was reacting for him. 

“- I do…”

Seonghwa didn’t even have the mind to ask you how you figured it out, or if it meant that you liked it too because he could already feel himself melt under your gentle bites. You climbed up on top of him to get a better access to his neck. From then on, you didn’t let him breathe, didn’t let him keep his sounds for himself because he truly sounded so good when you were making him feel great. 

“- You’re so freaky, my love… Didn’t expect that from you…”

You whispered with a provocative tone as you pushed down the collar of his shirt to get a glimpse of his collarbones. You bent down to be able to kiss them, lick them and finally bite down on them. Seonghwa closed his eyes as he let out a small, airy moan, his thoughts already drifting away. You were so perfect, so made for him it was making his head spin with love and want. 

“- I’m not a freak…

- But you love it when I do that, don’t you ?”

And you bit down on his skin again, this time close to his Adam’s apple that bobbed up as he gulped down, biting on his own lip to not let out another sound that would give away just how much he liked this. But you knew him too well, and you could tell that he was too turned on to be coherent. It was so easy to have him whipped like this, and you liked this side of him so much. You smirked when you saw the pout on his lips as you detached yourself from his neck, his skin already having purple marks blossoming all over. You didn’t expect it to turn you on too, but visually having proof that he was yours made you wet. 

“- Admit it. You love it.”

You moved to be able to kneel in between his legs and you pushed his sweats and his underwear out of the way. His cock was already hard and leaking precum - just another hint that he was enjoying this a little too much. Without waiting for his answer, you started to kiss the inside of his thighs. And just like you did with his neck, you switched to licking, and then biting down on the plush skin. First, it was tender and almost gentle. And when you heard Seomghwa’s noises getting louder, you switched to harsher bites, leaving a deeper mark behind you as you slowly made your way to his dick. But you stopped right before you could reach it, tilting your head to the side and looking up at him with a daring gaze. 

“- Say it. Say that you like it when I bite you and I’ll help you.”

Seonghwa avoided your eyes, his cheeks a deep shade of red and his chest heaving to the rhythm of his rapid breathing. He didn’t know why he was so shy to admit it when you already knew it, when you already indulged in it, when you had made him felt so good he could’ve cummed just from your teeth sinking into his skin. But this had always been his dirty secret - hiding his moans and pleas when one of his exes accidentally bit him, and wishing they would do it again, with intent this time. And here you were, diligently nipping at the skin of his inner thighs as you looked up at him with adoration in your eyes. Oh, he was gonna marry you. Very soon.

“- Shit… I love it so much sweetheart…

- Good boy.”

The nickname was new too, but Seonghwa realized that he didn’t hate it as you started to lick his cock up and down. No, he even loved it, the words making some unknown feeling swarm in his chest, and he was already dying to hear you call him that again. What had you made of him ? But you weren’t aware of his inner turmoil, too focused on slowly sliding his whole member into your mouth. You gaged as you finally managed to take him completely. 

And Seonghwa seemed so gone, eyes closed shut and one of his hands slapped on his mouth to stop any noise from coming through. That was something you were still working on making him accept - that you loved to hear his moans and all the sounds he was making. You lazily started to suck around him, moving your head up and down at a slow pace that you knew he liked a lot. You took your time to lick at the underside of his dick and to kitten lick his tip now glistening with a mix of precum and saliva. 

“- You’re too good at this…”

His voice was strained, and his words came out almost choked, mumbled in between two whimpers. The slight pain from all your bite marks was starting to get to him, and the thrill of it made him throb inside of your mouth. Maybe you were right. Maybe he was freaky for liking that. But damn, with the way you were swallowing his cum like you were made for it with a smile on your face, you were definitely just as freaky.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

ateez taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@sharonxdevi @hann1bee @lil-kpopstan @rikiives @foxinnie8 @lovelyuyu @lala-----------lala @seomisaho @dylanobr1ens @straytiny127

kinktober taglist (comment or dm to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @anxiousskylar @mikaelless @leeknowinggg

[deadbeetleblog]

the batkids finds a box with shitton of VHS so they plug them in and to their surprise is just a bunch of Christmases,birthdays,graduations, party's,etc that Bruce recorded

the first one is dicks 10 birthday (none of this is chronological or anything I'm making shit up as I want)the camera quality was shit all grainy,it was in the manor and part of the league were there and Donna,Roy,wally,Garth are there with their mentors plus superman and the gordons and there's like this cheesy decoration and theres gifts bags for the kids and ice cream and I'm thinking dick is going to have a mj obsession so all of micheal Jackson's songs are playing on the background and the kids are all trying to do the beat it dance

then there's a shot of Dickies small kid face covered in cake and ice cream and he looks gross,off camera a voice says (Bruce) "you're liking your party lad?" his voice is so soft and young and so dad "yeS! thank you Bruce this is the best party ever!!" and he goes away running to superman,he looks young too, mullet and all as he catches Dickie laughing. the video ends, the next tape rolls

It's Christmas,it seems like Bruce is hiding while he records, the tv is on, "can't touch this" is playing and a young Jason Todd is clumsily trying to do the dance, you can hear Bruce's giggles as he watches the kid, he stops hiding and enters the room, Jason looks at him,his smile wide "look! dad look! I'm doing it!!" he isn't doing it but Bruce claps anyways "good job Jaylad!! you look just like hammer!" Jason squeaks, the video ends.

this time tim is on view,he's in the cave doing his homework on the floor, he looks like he's 13-15 at least all sparred on baggy jeans and a too big shirt,this was from a digital camera very clearly, the quality much better, on a monitor of the batcomputer, Britney spears was singing,he was humming along softly, Bruce made his presence clear Clark In front of him with a cake, singing softly "happy birthday to you....happy birthday to you.... happy birthday dear Timmy,happy birthday to you" Tim looked back a bit shocked before smiling wide,his braces all clear for the camera

next tape was toddler damian bouncing and clapping while watching toy story 3 bruce giggling as he danced, "dami,dami, I love youu" his voice was so incredibly soft "I uv yu" Bruce awed as baby damian talked, all chubby limbs and big green eyes,"Dami papa loves you" bruce keep repeating and he keep getting i love yous back when a new set of footsteps interrupted him "hey sugar" clarks midwester accent break through the quiet ambience "hey you" Bruce focused the camera on him "got anything to say to your baby?" Bruce asked humourous,Clark had a tiny baby strapped to his chest ,Damian squeaked loudly getting Bruce's attention back on him "I'm here baby no need to spit" Clark laughed and the video ended

they watched the black screen for a while, it was heartwarming in a way,dick no longer danced thriller on Halloween with his friends, Jason no longer tried to copy vanilla ice, tim no longer had a fringe or a myspace account and Damian was no longer a baby. Bruce was getting older and older and the only thing left of those days were these videos.

the complication of videos grows bigger and bigger with dukes graduation,Cass first recital, Barbara's wedding, Steph's birthday, and eventually they found two curious videos

one was marked "olly,lexie and brucie 72" and the other "happy together 81", turns out lex Luther not only had a beautiful head of red locks but he also had a complete disco choreography with oliver queen and bruce wayne for their graduation, Bruce had the most adorable crooked teeth and straight nose,he really changed with none of his original teeth and multiple rhinoplasties.

the other one was a short video of Bruce combing his hair, humming softly until he caughts the cameraman, he turns with a smile " if we're late for your fault I'm going to be so pissed" the cameraman laughed warmly, "I just have to get my shoes on, I'm waiting for you,it's been an hour you don't need to comb that much" Clarks voice bombed through the speakers "it's my wedding Clark,of course I have to comb that much","you know I love your hair no matter how it is" Bruce pouted and turned pissed, going to the bathroom "Bruce please, don't get pissed" the video ended.

[ilovegeorgie]

her majesty is a pretty nice girl

george harrison x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none !

summary: geo gets a camera and cant wait to try it

a/n: hiii, srry for not being here that much lately :// i havent been on my best these days and wrote this on a rush, so hope yall like it :)

it was a chilly afternoon, george stood in the living room, holding a brand-new camera in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world, the excitement on his face was unmistakable.

"darling, you must have a look at this beauty," he said, tilting the camera to the side to admire design. his fingers gently traced the body of it, as if it were some sort of artifact. "i’ve been wanting one like this for ages."

she smiled at his enthusiasm from across the room, her arms crossed casually. "it’s really nice, george. but... do you even have any film for it?"

his expression faltered for a moment. "uh… well… no, not exactly.. but we can get some, right?"

she couldn’t help but laugh at how he’d been so swept up in the excitement of the camera that he’d forgotten the most important part. "alright, let’s go get some film, then."

both slipped on their coats, george zipping his up with a sudden burst of purpose. "let’s make it an adventure," he grinned, taking her hand as they headed out the door. "besides, i’ve been wanting to talk to you about something anyway."

as they walked down the quiet street, george casually slipped into a conversation. "you know, the band’s been on a bit of a break lately, and i’ve been thinking about how everything’s changed."

she looked over at him, her hand still tucked in his, noticing the slight wistfulness in his voice. "yeah, i’ve been thinking about that too. it feels like things have gotten… complicated, doesn’t it?"

"complicated’s one way to put it," he said. "i guess we’re all just figuring it out. i mean, paul’s doing his own thing, john’s always got something to say, and ringo’s… well, hes just being himself."

she chuckled. "i guess that’s true. but, you know, i think it’s nice. we’ve all kind of grown, in a way."

george glanced at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "i think so too. it’s just different now, isn’t it?"

"pretty much." she squeezed his hand, the cool air carrying the sound of their footsteps as they approached the corner store. "but hey, at least you’ve got your new camera. you’re gonna capture everything that’s worth remembering."

"that’s the plan," he said with a wink.

as they entered the store, a jingle of a bell above the door announcing your arrival, the familiar smell of old wood and musty books filled the air. mr. smith, the man behind the counter, looked up, adjusting his glasses. he gave a friendly smile as he noticed both of them.

“well, well, if it isn’t the two lovebirds.” he said playfully.

she felt the sudden heat in her cheeks. george, of course, caught the way she squirmed, and she could feel his gaze on her as she awkwardly shuffled her feet. "i.. uh.. thanks," she mumbled, feeling shy.

george, on the other hand, was completely unfazed. "hello, mister," he said with an easy grin, leaning over to ask the man for some film.

mr. smith handed george a few rolls of film, a knowing smile on his face as he waved them off.

george grinned widely, and with a quick "thanks," he ushered her out of the store, the doorbell jingling behind them. as she walked back down the street, george turned to her, his playful grin still on his face.

“you okay there, love? mr. smith seemed to make you blush.”

she rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "he’s just… he’s just one of those people. you know? the ones that make you smile easily"

george’s grin widened. "i think he just knows you’re a catch."

she shoved him gently with her shoulder. "stop it," she said, trying not to laugh.

he nudged her back, laughing too, but then fell silent for a moment. before she could ask what he was thinking, she felt a light click sound behind her. she turned, eyes widening as she saw george casually taking a picture of her with his new camera, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

"george! what are you doing?" she exclaimed, half laughing, half protesting.

"i’m capturing my beautiful girlfriend," he said, clicking again. "i don’t need someone’s compliment to know how amazing you are."

she could feel her heart flutter at his words.

george’s eyes lit up as she walked up to the front door, his excitement palpable. "i’ll take a few shots of everything!"

she smiled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, a sudden realization dawning on her "wait… we’re out of film, aren’t we?"

"what are you talking about? we just bought the film, do you really think that i would spent it so quickly?" as he checked the camera, george’s face fell. "oh, love… you’re right."

she couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. "well, that’s what happens when you get all caught up in the excitement of new toys, huh?"

george chuckled, shaking his head as he set the camera down on the table. "guess we’ll just have to go back for more film, but no flirting this time, alright?"

[mattslvrxo]

first series!!

{secret addiction}

part {1 }

꣑ৎ { insta famous user x chris sturniolo } ꣑ৎ

{ ! } contains: sex, stalking, nsfw content, adulatory , only fans, swearing, .. etc

based on the song

╰┈➤ ❝ . ۫ . my strange addiction . ۫ . ❞۫

by billie eilish

{your pov }

a few years ago, i kind of blew up without really meaning to. it started with a few instagram posts — random selfies, outfit pics, nothing groundbreaking — but for some reason, people latched on. called me an “it girl.” an “instagram model.” whatever the fuck that even means.

i didn’t fight it. i leaned into it. posted more, gained more followers, brands started reaching out. next thing i knew, i was verified, making money just for existing online. and when the offers came to start an onlyfans… i didn’t even hesitate. it wasn’t some deep, complicated decision. i had the face. i had the body. people were already staring — might as well make them pay for it.

the money was stupid. the attention was overwhelming. but i couldn’t lie — i loved it. the attention i got from it. the way it made people lose their minds. the thing is, i barely dipped into youtube. maybe a vlog once a month, if i remembered. nothing serious. i wasn’t trying to be an influencer. i was just me. so when i was mindlessly scrolling on tiktok one night and a random edit popped up — my face mashed next to some guy i’d never seen before — i was confused as fuck.

“omg they would be SO tea tg.”

“they match each other’s energy so bad.”

“manifesting this.” the comments were insane. i didn’t even know who the hell this guy was.

curious, i searched his name. “chris sturniolo.” apparently, he was a youtuber. a triplet, which was… weirdly hot. i clicked through his instagram, half-expecting to be unimpressed.

nope.

he was attractive. way too attractive.

the kind of boy you try to convince yourself isn’t your type just so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.

messy brown hair, effortless smirk, not too tall but not too short, great style , kinda broad shoulders but still looked like he didn’t take himself too seriously. only one tattoo — clean skin, sharp jawline, heavy-lidded blue eyes that looked like they could ruin your life without trying.

i hated how quickly i was interested.. i hated how i scrolled back months on his profile without even realizing. seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours.

i told myself it was just curiosity.

just research.

but every time i posted a new story, every time i dropped a new set, i’d wonder would he see it? would he care?

i never followed him, never liked a post, and never commented. i just watched, silent, invisible,like a fucking coward.

and what i didn’t know — what i couldn’t have known — was that he was doing the exact same thing.

{chris’s pov }

saturday night, absolutely nothing to do.

i was half-dead on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, thinking about how much i fucking hated social media.

everything felt recycled lately. nothing new. nothing exciting. i was looking at my mentions until something caught my eye, i kept getting tagged in one specific video,

a fan edit.

me… and this.. girl?

the caption was some dumb shit like “soulmates fr.” what the fuck? how the fuck would i be soulmates with a chick that i don’t even know. i almost scrolled past it, almost.

but something about her face — the way she looked at the camera like she already knew how attractive she was, her smile wasnt bright.. her sharp eyes stared into the camera — made me pause.

who the fuck was she? i clicked her account that was tagged in the caption.. next to my @ , and before i could even blink, i was on her instagram page. 2.5 million followers. verified. full-blown star.

she was gorgeous. not just pretty — dangerous. the kind of gorgeous that makes your chest hurt a little. i saw the link in her bio. clicked it without thinking.

onlyfans,of course. because why the fuck would anything ever be simple?

i didn’t subscribe, but it didn’t matter, her posts were enough.

bikinis, short skirts, tight tops, sometimes baggy pants, her style was fire and it was fucking torture. i hated myself for not being able to look away.

i stalked harder than i should have, found her tiktoks. her youtube. even her pinterest.

it was bad.

i knew it was bad.

but i couldn’t stop.

i never followed her. never liked her pictures,

never commented.

i just watched,quiet,obsessed,paralyzed.

it became a sick routine, open instagram. check her page. close the app. pretend i didn’t just waste another twenty minutes memorizing someone i’d never met.

i told myself it was harmless, but deep down, i knew.

written by adeline!

part 2 coming soon..

[fqolai]

thinking about the new avengers first fight. they have a million firsts together and a million fights. but i mean their first really big, really bad fight. like team is breaking up kind of fight. it’s bound to happen and probably already did in those fourteen months we skipped.

i’m not a fic writer at all but here’s how i think it would play out...

with no one taking them seriously as the new avengers, tensions are high. especially for valentina. she banked everything she had left, which was admittedly, not much, on this whole sham. everyone’s doubting them. no one believes they measure up to the old avengers. and to top it all off, sam wilson is threatening to sue.

feeling pressured to get them good publicity, valentina arranges — what should’ve been — a layup for them. some small community assignment. all they had to do was show up, smile for the cameras, shake a few hands, etc. but one thing led to another and boom: utter catastrophe.

the press is having a field day. fourteen year olds on tiktok are having the time of their lives. reddit users have never felt so employed.

everyone on the team is arguing. the worst in everyone is coming out. alexei is trying to keep the team positive but it’s only making things worse (and everyone more annoyed). it’s getting bad and bob is frightened.

yelena… who has finally got a taste of what walking in her sisters footsteps felt like — who finally had a shot at a real family, at belonging — can see it all crumbling. she’s trying to hold them together (maybe even trying too hard). it comes from a place of love, of desperation, but she can’t express that in the moment.

ava can see the end coming and she’s seen enough to know it’s better to leave than to be left behind. so she’s the first to throw in the towel.

john follows quickly after. he should’ve known this would never work out. alexei, confident that he can bring them back around, rushes after them.

bucky had been silent the whole time. and yelena, in her anger, lashes out at him. she accuses bucky of not really being a part of the team. of never really letting any of them in. of never getting to know them or letting them get to know him. oh, how he must be so relieved that he can go back to sam wilson now that the whole charade is over. no pesky complications getting in his way.

yelena storms out and bucky doesn’t bother to follow.

and mel? mel needs a raise. again. cleaning up valentina’s messes is never an easy task. but this might just be her toughest assignment yet.

in talking with bucky, mel realizes that they’re all still dealing with their traumas and regrets and that maybe they just need a push in the right direction.

and quickly. valentina is seriously considering creating a world-ending event to bring them all back together. that cannot happen.

so she goes to yelena first. makes it clear val didn’t send her and asks how she’s doing. yelena insists she’s fine. who needed the avengers anyway? not her. and what a relief to no longer have to worry about valentina or the public breathing down their necks and judging their every move.

mel asks after bob. how is he doing? it must’ve been hard on him with the team breaking up and all. yelena stops to realize that in her anger, she didn’t check in on him before leaving. she had promised him they would stick together. yet, she had broken promise.

she sets out to find him and make things right.

she finds bob in his room in the tower. the darkness creeping up on him. she pulls him back. they’re still a family. sometimes family fights. but it will work out in the end. yelena does her best to sound more confident than she feels. she thinks bob can probably see right through it though.

mel finds alexei after. he’s inconsolable. he’s lost yelena again. he couldn’t stop their team from breaking up. he had to watch the light slowly fade from yelena’s eyes as the arguments got louder and louder. mel points out that he hasn’t lost anyone yet. yelena or the team. but he could, if he doesn’t do something about it. alexei leaves, convinced that a grand gesture is the only way to bring the team back together and bring some light back to yelena's eyes.

next, mel goes to john, who is spiraling into new levels of self-hatred. she thinks she sees him arguing with a reddit user under a burner account before he manages to hide his phone screen from her.

mel asks about his ex-wife. how are the custody negotiations going? she heard he got visitation once a week. that olivia was finally starting to trust him again. though, being an avenger after all, it may be hard to keep to a regular schedule. but, hey, on the bright side, if the avengers are done, that means john has free time on his hands. he can go back home, make things right with olivia, get a regular 9-5, watch the rest of the action play out on social media like everyone else these days. maybe that would be enough?

john sees through what she’s trying to do, but he supposes that she’s not wrong. he wouldn’t be satisfied with that life. she leaves him with a lot to think about.

then mel goes to find ava. she asks her why she was the first one to walk out. mel understands. it’s scary to let people in and know that they’re the only ones with the power to hurt you as a result. but if ava recalls, no one had mentioned leaving until she had brought it up. it was only after ava had left, that the others had followed.

was she too ready to give up at the first sign of strive? to protect what was left of her already fragile heart. perhaps, she had been too hasty...

bucky goes to see sam. to tell him… he was right? it all blew up in their faces? it was never gonna work out? whatever he meant to say, he doesn’t get a chance.

you see, sam has some opinions on this so-calle d‘team’ if that’s what they still are. he doesn’t know them. not really. he only sees what anyone else on the outside does:

yelena, an assassin, who loves being an avenger and all the glory that comes with it. who’s never had to work to make up for the bad things she’s done. and didn’t she just try to kill clint last christmas?? (sam doesn’t know how much she regrets what she’s done. that being an avenger is how she begins to make up for it all. and the whole killing clint thing, well… bucky can’t really defend that and if he’s being honest, it’s the first he’s heard of it)

alexei, a former soviet asset, working for one of america’s biggest enemies for most his life, and seems to want nothing more than to go back to the good old days. (sam doesn’t know about alexei’s biggest mistakes. and maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. but he doesn’t know alexei’s regrets. of allowing natasha and yelena to be taken to the red room. of not being there for his daughter who died worlds away. of almost losing yelena right in front of him. of failing both his daughters, time and time again, and trying to get it right this time)

john walker, a murderer, an asshole, who killed a man with steve’s shield. who’s wife left him and took custody of his child with her. whose ego won’t allow him to admit that he’s a terrible person. (sam knows john more than the others, certainly, but he hasn’t seen what bucky has over the last year... sam doesn’t know that john hates himself more than anyone could ever hate him for all those reasons and more. and that’s not to say he’s absolved of his sins because he feels bad about them. but bucky had heard from yelena about john nearly walking straight off the edge of the elevator shaft when faced with those regrets… hard to argue about the asshole part though)

ava starr, who sam knows has some history with scott before going completely off the grid. she seems to have as much trouble playing with others and making nice as the rest of them. self-isolating. alone. doesn’t really spell ‘reliable teammate’ does it? (sam wasn’t there during the fight. he doesn’t know that she was the first to suggest going after yelena in the void. he doesn’t know that she’s the first one to throw herself into danger to protect the people she cares about. that she would always come back for them and never leave anyone behind in battle)

and who the hell is this bob guy anyway???

it was all wrong. they were never a real team. not to sam. not to the public either. they're not cut out to be heros and everyone knows it.

but bucky? bucky who was the winter soldier. who was a former asset, though, against his will. who's killed a lot more people than john walker ever could. who has trouble nurturing his friendships and is alone more times than not. who is lucky enough to be one of bob’s friends.

for the first time since this had happened to them all, bucky gets defensive. protective of this thing they had made their own. hearing sam speak about all the reasons why the others weren't good people and realizing how much he has in common with them really puts things into perspective.

sam doesn’t mean to offend bucky. bucky isn’t like them after all. he’s different. but bucky isn’t so sure that’s true.

defensive and faced with their differences, bucky decides to leave without telling sam that the team was done and goes for a long walk. he has a lot to think about.

back at avengers tower, ava, the first to come back, finds yelena and bob asleep on opposite ends of the couch. a movie still on the tv. she turns the volume down and settles into the reclining chair for the night.

the next morning they awake to john loudly complaining about the mess left out. bob volunteers to clean up and do the dishes.

ava and john quietly acknowledge the other came back. but they don’t make a big deal about it.

bucky returns to the tower next. yelena teases him. says that he looks awful. like he hasn’t slept. bucky knows it's her way of saying that it was good to have him back. her way of apologizing for how they’d left things. bucky keeps the mood light. jokes that this is where is bed was so of course he didn’t sleep. they don’t talk about it any further, just an unspoken agreement to let bygones be bygones.

this is when alexei returns. he teases yelena about how cute she and bob were, snoring away on the couch. sleeping like the dead. yelena tries to protest that she doesn’t snore but doesn’t get the chance — not that anyone would have believed her.

alexei ushers them into another room where he's set up a huge party while they were sleeping, with mel’s help, of course, to celebrate their 1 year anniversary as a team. it hasn't been one year yet technically, but alexei insists it’s close enough (and "happy anniversary" was the only cake topper left at the market so they’d just have to go with it).

alexei gets emotional about how much the team means to him. and about how much he knows it means to yelena. how they need to do better. to really be there for one another.

yelena, teary-eyed, accepts a hug from her dad. says she doesn’t blame anyone for their mistakes at valentina’s stupid publicity event. being honest, they never should’ve agreed to go to begin with.

bob repeats what yelena had told him the night before. that family fights but they always come back together.

ava apologizes for being the first to leave. she promises not to assume the worst anymore and to stick around, even when it gets tough.

john jokes that the team is better with him on it anyway. what with his practical skillset. no one is amused. but he admits that maybe, just maybe, he’s better with the team at his side too.

everyone turns to bucky. it’s his turn now.

it looks painful for him, but bucky opens up about how being open to friendships is a reoccurring issue for him, according to his therapit anyway. this is the first time he’s had people who truly understand the things he’s been though. who have been through some of those same things. this is all new to him: the whole letting people in thing. but he's making an effort to learn to trust them. they'll just need to be a little patient with him.

john commends him for the beautiful speech. bucky tells him to shut up. they enjoy alexei’s party.

mel calls valentina to let her know the crisis has been averted. and to cancel the attack she was planning for new york, for god's sake.

[apomaro-mellow]

This was such a cute mermay idea I had to do it

Nancy watched as they took the first mer out of the tank, nicknamed 'Billy'. His tail was a deep blue but she knew better than to attach too much connection between the coloration of the tail and their personality. He was anything but calm and soothing. If anything, she would call him a brute, but it was hard to even say that regarding an animal.

Sometimes fish could be aggressive. And clearly putting two males in one tank had amped up that aggression. Poor Steve had yet to leave his cave after Billy's last attack. They'd need a diver to help coax him out and tend to his wounds.

It takes a couple of weeks for him to recover and in that time, the team brings in a new mer, another male. Robin was vehemently against putting him in the same tank as Steve.

"He just got over what happened with Billy. What're you gonna do if this one tries to fight him again?"

"Steve isn't totally helpless", Nancy said, remembering the wounds inflicted on Billy as well. "Besides, we need to figure out if it really is just instinctual, territorial stuff or if there's something else going on."

And so the second male was put into the same tank as Steve's. At first, he was appropriately cautious, as was the other mer. They both kept to opposite sides of the tank. Then Robin began to notice some odd behaviors in them.

The new one, dubbed 'Eddie' by his wrangler Wayne, would sometimes poke and prod at Steve. He would do so and then immediately swim away, like he was bold but shy at the same time. Steve didn't lash out the way he had with Billy, so perhaps it was some form of play? It was times like these that she wished they knew more about these creatures.

Then Steve did more than just not lash out. He appeared to be playing along. Steve had never engaged in play. Honestly, to Robin he seemed a little haughty, like a prima donna of a fish. The gossamer frills of his tail, almost like a betta fish, gave him that look of someone above it all. But when he played with Eddie, he looked, well, goofy.

But he seemed happy. Healthy even.

Then, one day, while passing by on her lunch break, Robin noticed something she had never seen Steve do before. Eddie floated nearby while Steve swam in an alluring display, his tail undulating in a way that made Robin feel like she shouldn't be watching. So she didn't stay for long. There were always cameras on the tanks just in case something happened while no one was around anyway.

But she brought it up to Nancy immediately. Because if her suspicions were correct...

"It looked like a mating dance to me, Nance."

"Don't be silly, they're both males. And if that was possible, then why didn't Steve perform for Billy?"

"Uhh, he kept biting and clawing at him? Not very romantic. And let's not pretend homosexuality is a purely human invention", Robin pointed out.

Nancy was still skeptical. "Well, even if they are engaging in courtship, the fact remains that they can't reproduce together."

Unexpected babies could complicate things in the tank when they knew so little about mers to begin with. How did they even raise their young? It was the kind of question they'd learn the answer to sooner rather than later.

A few days after Robin took notice of the supposed mating rituals, a diver noticed that Steve's belly appeared to be a bit more full. They tried to get closer to inspect but in his first act of aggression, Eddie pounced with the intention to bite their head off. Thankfully, they were fully covered and got away with just a chunk taken from their goggles. Unable to inspect up close, the research team chalked it up gaining weight. It could either be from preparing for winter or having less stress to effect his appetite.

About a week after that, during a routine clean up, Nancy saw that the moment a diver went into the water, Eddie stood sentry at the cave and Steve was nowhere to be seen, presumably inside. Not wanting to agitate him, they waited until he was asleep to send a camera down. Through its night vision lens, they saw the two adult mer and what appeared to be a clutch of about five eggs, the size of grapefuit settled between them.

When the evidence came back, Nancy pointedly kept her gaze from Robin's 'I told you so' face.

"Don't look so smug unless you can tell me how this happened", Nancy said.

Robin shrugged. "I have theories."

It took about three weeks for the eggs to hatch, after doubling in size. The team kept their distance as Eddie's territorial streak rivaled Billy's when his mate was in a vulnerable state. But they checked in whenever they could. Only two of the eggs grew to full term and hatched, the other three deflating not long after being laid.

Nancy chalked it up to it likely being Steve's first mating and having come from a stressful situation. She was proven correct when a year later, he laid again, six this time, and they all made it to full term. She and Robin watched as Eddie and Steve floated together, tails in a twist and holding hands, letting the current carry them as their eight children chased each other around.

Robin nudged her partner. "We're gonna need a bigger tank."

[bellestarot]

Quick Tarot Celeb Readings

March 23, 2025

Some questions are straightforward and require less time to answer. That's why I created this to make it easier.

🌞 "Are Jungkook's 'seven' and Yuqi's 'radio' song reference songs or is this just a tiktok theory?"

🌹It's just a TikTok theory. It was when they were producing those songs. They weren’t thinking about each other; they were basing them on other experiences they had. I think Jungkook had help from other people to make the songs rather than putting too much of his own experiences into them.

🌞"Hey! I’m curious how Kentaro Sakaguchi views Wonyoung? Does he find her attractive?"

🌹He's recovering from a breakup and going through a healing process, but he does find her attractive. He thinks she’s his ideal type, but emotionally, he doesn’t feel good at the moment.

🌞"Did Jungkook had a crush on Chaewon?"

🌹No, he sees her as a colleague, someone in the same industry as him. He doesn’t like the idea of dating someone much younger.

🌞 "Enhypen Sunghoon love life? There is rumor that he is dating non-celeb girl."

🌹He’s in a complicated situation because he deceived two people and was seeing both without them knowing. He got caught, and now he can’t communicate with them. They left him because he lied and manipulated them, so he’s going through a tough time.

🌞 "can you read about nct dream jaemins love life? "

🌹He’s just having fun. He’s interested in more than one person and is developing something with multiple people. He finds it exciting.

🌞 "Please do a reading of wonyoung and hyunjin from Straykids. About their friendship, if there is a chance of a romantic relationship."

🌹They definitely have very similar personalities, almost like a mirror of each other. The way they act is alike, and if they wanted a relationship, it would be positive, full of understanding and love.

🌞 "Is Jungkook dating Miyeon gidle? I feel like they have romance relationship together"

🌹No, one of them is more free-spirited, wanting to meet new people and have fun, while the other is more introspective, still tied to a past relationship and trying to move on.

🌞 "Did jayb from got7 and nayeon from twice ever date?"

🌹Yes, they had a relationship in the past and were deeply in love. They’ve known each other for a long time and thought it would work out to the point of getting married, but things didn’t go that way. Their breakup was difficult for both of them to overcome and move forward.

🌞 "hello please can you do what blackpink actually are like off camera? thanks so much! "

🌹Even though they seem very outgoing, they’re actually quite shy. They are careful about what they say and do and remain professional even on their worst days.

Behind the cameras, even though they appear confident, they struggle with indecision and frustration, facing many internal issues that only close people know about. They are deeply passionate about music and their work.

They enjoy socializing, including others, throwing parties, and giving gifts. They love being surrounded by people.

🌞 "Hello ,I want to know if Seunghan since he is a soloist if he has changed centers and is with new people around him who support him, will he win awards or be nominated for international awards, I would like to know If he is going to meet with the group members, people will like his music i want to know that"

🌹There’s a possibility he might win those awards, but when it comes to reuniting with the members, that seems a bit difficult.

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