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absurdthirst · 2 months

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A Roman Romp {Deiter Bravo *AS* Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Drug mentions, power imbalance, fucking the boss, clitoral play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), derogatory names, role play, rough sex, Dieter being unbelievably bad with emotions, costume play.

Comments: You've found a niche as Dieter Bravo's assistant. Taking care of him and sleeping with him work surprisingly easy until his new role as a Roman general makes you completely feral for him.

A/N: Completely inspired by the sexy, bloody gifs.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Deeper. Raspier.” You decide, ignoring the frown of the man in front of you as you contemplate the voice pitch he has changed into. Dieter Bravo loves to experiment with his voice and facial expressions, but being the consummate narcissist that he is, he doesn’t like it when it’s not immediately loved by all. You don’t work that way and he knows it. It’s why you are permitted to run through the dialogue with him and read the scripts when most assistants just scheduled appointments and bring the actors they work for the page changes. “This is a man who has screamed throughout the bloodiest battles, who has inhaled the smoke from a hundred thousand fires. He’s hardened by battle, by death, and he shows it.” You explain, painting a picture for him to visualize from the comfort of his plush designer sofa in his Sherman Oaks mansion.

Dieter nods, shifting to sit up and he clears his throat. “You’re right. He’s seen shit we could never imagine. He needs to be tortured but capable.” Dieter decides and rolls his shoulders. His eyes focus on the script and he says “I declare for Rome. For her Emperor. For her people.” He deepens his voice, letting it catch to be raspier than before. “How was that?” He asks, face softening as he expectedly looks at you.

Despite the massive ego, the demands, and his ability to act like a twelve year old boy at times, Dieter is surprisingly needy. He craves acceptance, like a feral cat who spits and hisses when you get too close, but is desperate to be loved on their own terms. You deal with him delicately at times, more harshly at others, all while understanding that neediness. It’s what made you work well for him. “That was good.” You nod in approval.

He thanks you with a slightly dazed, soppy smile, like he's grateful for the approval. Like it means the most coming from you. "Yeah?" He asks, hungry for more praise and you nod. He stares at you for a second before he looks back at the script, continuing with the new voice he's found for the character and he continues practicing his lines, his eyes drifting over to you every now and then as he seeks approval.

This time he runs through the lines without you reading the other parts, but sometimes he wants you to voice the other characters, to give him a tone to feed off of. Since the Cliff Beasts debacle and you coming to work for him, Dieter has been determined to win another Oscar and you think this might be the role to do that.

“I’m trying on the costumes this afternoon.” Dieter tells you like you didn’t already know that. You know every detail of his schedule. “I know.” You chuckle softly and he flushes slightly, “yeah. I am hoping it’s going to help me find the character posture.” He confesses, “and I get to check out my trailer before filming begins in a couple days.”

That’s code for he wants the trailer to feel like his own personal retreat so you need to pack up all of his favorite things. Like you hadn’t already planned that. “I will make sure that you can relax.” You promise, shooting him a soft smile. “Your favorite incense and candles, that serenity stone and I’ll pack up your favorite sheets to bring with us today.”

“You’re the best.” Dieter compliments you and it’s a rare occasion but he’s sincere as he offers you a soft smile. “I’m gonna go smoke a little before we go to the studio. Can you go get some tacos for me?” He asks, “carnitas.” He decides with a nod as he relaxes against the sofa.

“Sure thing, boss.” You wink at him and put a little away in your walk as you leave the room, knowing his eyes are on your ass. This thing you have with Dieter is incredibly easy and complicated at the same time. You sleep together, pretty damn often, but you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s sworn off relationships since Kate and Anika, but it’s not like you can blame him. You get sex and as a bonus, it puts your boss into a better mood for you to deal with him professionally. It doesn’t hurt that you care about him a lot, love him really, but that’s something you would never admit to him. You know that you just fill a void in his life.

Dieter watches until you disappear and he sets his script down, rubbing his scruffy cheek. Fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Too good for him to touch you honestly and he knows he’s putting everything on the line. Losing you would mean losing his assistant but also his best friend and some of the best fucking sex he’s ever had. He can’t tell you anything about how he feels in case you’re scared off and he loses it all. With a sigh, he looks back at his script and waits for you to return like the lovesick fool he is.

It doesn’t take you long, the place where you go makes the best fucking tacos and they know how Dieter likes them. He’s ordered from there often enough while he’s high. You get some extras because he said he wanted to smoke some weed when he gets back from having his costume fitted and you know he will have the munchies. Picking up some salad because you know he won’t eat greens unless you get them. “I’m back.” You sail through the door with the paper bag and grin. “You eat and I’ll get the bag together for your trailer.”

Dieter groans at the smell of the tacos and he pats the space next to him. “Come and sit down with me, babe.” He orders, wanting you to eat as well. You run around after him all the time and he knows you don’t always remember to eat.

“Okay.” You don’t argue, just plopping down beside him and handing him the agua fresca you had ordered for him from the drink carrier. “I can eat and then I’ll make sure we get you settled into your trailer.”

Dieter reaches out to squeeze your leg. He’s always been a touchy feely kind of man, needing that physical connection. That’s why he wants sex so much. He loves to feel wanted and to be touched. “You’re the best.” He says around a mouth full of tacos.

“You might not think so when you see this.” You tease, pulling out the salad to set in front of him. He doesn’t argue but he does pout, swallowing the mouth of tacos and sighs. “Did you get that adobo dressing?” He asks hopefully, knowing he would eat anything as long as that stuff is on it. “Two of them.” You promise. “So you can have one for a salad on set.”

“Fuck yes. You’re - you’re the fucking best. No one comes close to you. Literally no other assistant is like you, babe.” Dieter praises with a mouth full of tacos. His last assistant couldn’t make him hard and he certainly couldn’t make him eat salad. He was authoritative and while Dieter likes to be submissive, when it comes to his work, he is the one in control.

You shouldn’t let the praise get to you, knowing that Dieter is always expressive when he’s happy and then can throw full tantrums when he’s not. Still, you smirk and lean forward to grab a taco for yourself after putting a straw in your own drink. “That’s why you pay me so well.” You remind him. “Don’t forget you still have to make that happy birthday video to send to your niece.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’ve already sent the gift from you. It’s a battery operated kiddie jeep. She will love it.”

Dieter nods, knowing he would have completely forgotten about her birthday. He loves his niece but his brother is a stiff prick. Always the golden child. Better at everything including being monogamous and heterosexual. He went to college, got his finance degree. Has the wife and 2.5 kids in Dallas and Dieter is…never good enough. Even when he’s won a fucking Oscar. “I gotta go see that kid soon. Make sure she’s not fucking boring like her dad.” He snorts as he wipes his mouth.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll work it into your schedule.” You promise, reminding yourself to remind him of it when filming ends for this movie. He always wants to go somewhere after he’s wrapped a movie. “Just let me know and I’ll take care of everything.” From his flight to the drugs, you will make sure he has everything he needs.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, unsure if he wants to deal with his family. Especially his parents. He left Texas to come to L.A when he was eighteen and he struggled until he got spotted while he was failing at being a waiter. “You need a break too. At some point.” He announces as he reluctantly digs into his salad even with the adobo smothering it.

“I get breaks.” You remind him. But it’s true you don’t get them often. Even when Dieter travels, he brings you with him. He likes having you close and it’s not something you are completely opposed to. Spending months in Croatia or China is amazing. You reach over and brush his hair back and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for eating your salad.”

He loves the praise and hates that he loves it. His life is messy and the last thing he wants to do is lose you because he ruins it with his personality. At least like this you’re at a distance. “Fucking lettuce.” He grumbles and takes another bite, tilting his cheek out so he can get another kiss.

You grin against his skin as you pepper his cheek with little kisses. You don’t mind when he’s like this. It’s sweet, even if it’s needy. Dieter so desperately wants love and for someone to adore him. He just manages to ruin every relationship he gets in when someone new shows up and showers him with attention. You know that it’s possible with your situation. You just have to deal with it.

Dieter loves the way you give him affection and he chews his salad after you pull away, he looks down at the salad, setting it down after a moment to dig into another taco. “Tacos are better.” He decides and watches as you dig into your own food.

“I know they are, baby.” He hates eating salads and you try to make it fun most of the time, but there’s no chance against tacos. “But this counterbalances the tacos. You’ve been doing so good at the gym. That sexy body needs the good stuff for all those fight scenes.”

Dieter has definitely had to put in time at the gym to make sure he’s getting in shape for this role. He had a nutritionist and personal chef come in for the past few months and he’s done pretty good building up his arms. “Yeah? You think I’ll look convincing?” He asks, eager for your approval of the body he’s been working out for.

“You’ll be amazing.” You promise him. “You already have a look that can be so authoritative, but put you in Roman armor?” You groan quietly and shake your head. “I thought Maximus was sexy, but your Marcus Acacius will blow him out of the water.”

Dieter flushes slightly, ducking his head at your praise, and he loves how you compliment him. “Yeah? You think I’ll be sexy in the costume?” He smirks, “and the sex scene.” He adds, “gonna watch me on the closed set?”

You knew there was a sex scene, but you didn’t think Dieter would want you there. “If you want me to.” You tell him. “I know that day will be a long one for you.”

Dieter nods, reaching for your hand after he wipes his clean. “I want you there. I always want you there.” He admits, “I just - you know me best in that department and I want to make sure it looks real, natural.”

You could point out that Dieter has had so many more lovers than you have, but you don’t. “You’re going to look even sexier then.” You promise. “They are going to create a new Oscar category just for you. Best Sex Scene.”

Dieter chuckles, “I fucking wish. I could win that every damn year.” He says with conviction, “especially if I was filmed with you.” He says and winks, picking up the salad to reluctantly finish it even with the dressing.

You hum in approval and quickly finish your own taco before you pat his leg gently. “Let me go get you packed up so we can leave, baby.” You murmur. “You don’t want to be late with Wardrobe.”

Dieter nods, watching you get up and his eyes drop down to your ass again as you make your way into his room to get what he needs. You do everything for him and he can’t ever pay you enough for putting up with his shit.

Less than an hour later, you have Dieter loaded up in the car and you are headed to the studio where you will be filming the fight scenes. Some of the location work will be later but they want to get the fights filmed first to give them plenty of time to work on the CGI. Dieter decided to let you drive so he could read over the script again. “Don’t worry. While you are with wardrobe, I’ll get the key to your trailer. We can take a picture outside with your name on it for you IG.”

Dieter sighs, he hates social media but he knows it’s needed for him to keep himself relevant when his industry is suddenly flooded with fucking Tik Tok stars and IG models. “Sure.” He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose as he reads over the script, “you really think the voice is right?”

“That voice went straight to my pussy.” You admit, knowing that confession will give him a smug grin. He likes knowing when something turns you on. “Yeah?” His normal voice instantly changes to the once he had practiced for Marcus and you make sure to squirm in the driver’s seat a little. “Yeah, it’s good. Panties around the world will explode.”

Dieter smirks, imagining the reaction with his fans but he doesn’t care about their panties exploding when he only wants yours to explode. Sure, it helps his career to still be considered a sex symbol but he wants you to want him more than any woman thirsting on Twitter.

You giggle quietly to yourself, guiding the car to the studio and you get parked. “Okay. Do you want to see the trailer first and figure out where it is? I can get it set up while you are in wardrobe?”

“Yeah. I wanna see if they gave me a good one or if they put me in the fucking back again.” He had a meltdown when his trailer was at the very end of the lot on his last project. He’s a fucking Oscar winner not someone doing their first fucking movie. You nod and he gets out while you gather the bags with his things. He doesn’t ask if you need help. That’s never really been his nature so you carry the bags to the trailer that’s been assigned as his. “First row. Now that’s more fucking like it.” He declares as he claps his hands.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and follow him into the trailer. It’s perfectly clean and sterile in that brand new kind of way and it will bother Dieter if it stays that way for too long. “I’ll get all this set up to your liking.” You promise.

Dieter looks around before his eyes find yours again, "that would be awesome." He declares, "oh and get me some Kit Kats. You know I love snacking on those ever since Cliff Beasts." He shivers slightly at that movie. Something he took in the desperation of the pandemic when he was stuck at home alone and was losing his mind.

“Kit Kats.” You nod and walk up to him, sensing that he needs a little affection. You caress his cheek and press your lips to his. “You are going to be amazing.” You promise him. “We will make sure this is the best film shoot you’ve ever had.”

Dieter appreciates you and he sighs, “I better get to costume to try everyone on.” He hates costume design but he needs to get there since it’s his time and they will need to do adjustments. “I better go, babe.” He kisses your cheek and exits the trailer, disappearing while you sort out his trailer.

You run and get the KitKats and make four more trips from the car for the bags of stuff for Dieter’s trailer. Stripping the basic sheets off the bed, you replace them with the Egyptian cotton ones that are 2500 thread count, which he loves. Shoving the pillows that were on the bed into a small compartment because he prefers down alternative pillows and putting the soothing weighted blanket over it all. The candle and incense is already burning and there’s a whiff of sage still, letting Dieter know that you’ve done all the things he claims helps clear his mind and calm him down. The basket full of KitKats next to the room temperature San Pellegrino bottles that he prefers when his throat hurts. The small refrigerator is stocked with other drinks and you look around satisfied that he will be comfortable.

Dieter stares at himself in the mirror in his costume and he smirks, knowing you’re going to lose your mind when you see the armor on his body. It’s surprisingly heavy and he didn’t think they’d use metal but they have. He likes the weight of it, it helps him get into character a bit more. The costume designers take notes on adjustments and he changes back, making his way to his trailer. “Fuck. You are amazing.” He compliments as you fluff the pillows you brought from his home.

You hum in delight and turn back to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for.” You motion to the trailer. “Think you can decompress here?”

He nods, groaning as he lays down on the bed. “Come here.” He opens his arm to invite you to lay with him and you follow his order, making him sigh and he shifts to curl around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses, burying his face in your neck.

“Be late.” You tease, stroking his side and chest and you let him hold you. “Wear the same thing for a week and eat nothing but tacos.” You enjoy taking care of Dieter and for all his selfishness, you appreciate the moments like this where he acknowledges everything you do for him. “How did costume fitting go?” You ask, sensing that he’s in a pretty mellow mood so it must have been good.

Dieter loves how you touch him and he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “It went well. They just have to do some minor adjustments. I- I am worried that I look - that I’m too old to do this part. The fighting. Will I look believable?” He asks, a frown on his face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Completely believable.” You promise, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer curls that he’s grown out for this role. “You will look like the war-hardened general. Experienced and trained by years of fighting.” You remind him. “Generals have wisdom. They’ve experienced heartache and lost men. They are supposed to have some gray in their hair and beards.” You bring your fingers down to scratch through his facial hair, knowing how much he likes that. “They might have to add some more. You don’t have quite enough to be that salt and pepper look, if that’s what they want. You’re gonna win another Oscar. I just know it.”

Dieter loves how confident you are in his abilities and that makes him feel more secure, makes him a better actor. “Thank you.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “You - I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes. You hum, continuing to stroke his hair until he blurts out, “I want Chinese for dinner.”

You are so used to the way that Dieter suddenly shifts gears that it’s nearly automatic. “The fancy or the nasty?” You ask, wondering if he’s wanting the upscale Chinese fusion place or the tiny little hole in the wall that makes the best egg rolls you’ve ever eaten in your life.

He ponders it for a second, “the nasty.” He offers you a smirk. “The greasy egg rolls. The fried rice.” He groans at the thought, “then tomorrow I’ll be good. I’m training tomorrow.” He tells you like you don’t know his schedule off by heart.

“Sword training.” You agree. “Bright and early at seven.” He groans pitifully and pouts at the early morning call. “I’ll make sure that you have a powerful protein smoothie first thing.”

Dieter groans, “smoothies and sword training. Seven? Fuckkkkk.” He moans and curls around you again. “Baby baby baby. Let’s go back to mine and then we can get dirty Chinese food and then I can eat my dessert.” He smirks, sliding his down between your legs to cup your cunt through your leggings.

“Yeah?” You moan quietly, always loving how his large hands feel on your body. “We can call and pick it up on the way.” You don’t call it home, because technically you don’t live with him although you spend most nights at his house. “Maybe a bath after and I can rub your back before you fall asleep.”

“Fuck you spoil me. I gotta call Sally and tell her to give you a damn raise.” He groans, telling you he wants his manager to make sure you’re looked after. He presses his fingers against your clit through your leggings, wanting to hear you moan again.

You don’t bite your lip, knowing that Dieter doesn’t want you to suppress your sounds. He’s always greedy for the sounds you make, greedy for the approval. His fingers press insistently against your bundle of nerves expertly. “Dee, baby, that feels so good.” You praise breathlessly.

He loves hearing your praise. He’s greedy for it and he hisses when you lean in to kiss his jaw. His fingers continue to press against your bundle of nerves, pressing and rubbing, wanting you to fall apart for him.

“Dee, baby.” You arch your hips up under his hand, grinding your clit down against his fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m going to ruin these panties.”

He wants to hear your sweet cry. He groans, hardening in his pants, “I’ll buy you more.” He promises, continuing to rub you through the material. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to hear those sweet fucking moans.” He urges you on.

It doesn’t take long when Dieter wants to make you cum. He’s a skilled enough lover to have learned you, since you’ve slept with him so much. You hold onto his arm, gasping in pleasure until your toes curl. “Deeeeee!” You cry out, closing your eyes when the wave of pleasure washes over you and heat fires through your core.

He hisses when your thighs squeeze his hand, keeping him trapped there while you squirm through your orgasm. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He coos, watching you with fascination.

You doubt that. Sometimes you are a little disbelieving that he finds you sexy, but you understand that he might want you to think that so you continue to sleep with him. Whining drowsily, you pull him close and press your lips to his. “Do you want to break in this bed now or go home?”

Dieter smirks against your lips, "come on baby. Let's do it. Break in the bed then we will get Chinese food." It sounds like a fantasy he's jerked off to thinking about you. He is already hardening in his pants and he groans when you reach down to squeeze his bulge. "How do you want me?" He asks, "cowboy? doggy? waterfall? little dipper? the socket?" He lists off positions with raised eyebrows.

You squeeze his cock again and then slide your hand under the waist band to wrap around his shaft. Dieter moans and he twitches in your hand. “How do you want me?” You ask. “You know it’s the Big Dipper with this cock.” You tease, knowing how much he loves being praised for how big he feels inside you. “Do you want to fuck me? Or have me do the work?”

Dieter loves to be a pillow prince but right now, he wants to fuck you. "Strip off and lay on your side." He demands, his voice lowering as his cock twitches at the thought of sliding inside of you. You're so hot and wet, like fucking velvet, and you make his toes curl.

You have no problem stripping for him, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count. Pulling your bra down your arms, you toss it to the floor after pulling your shirt off and quickly strip down the leggings and ruined panties. “Are you going to fuck me wearing clothes or are you stripping too?”

Dieter wants to be naked too. He loves being naked. He would spend all weekend naked if he could. He shuffles off the bed and scrambles to pull his shirt over his head, shoving his sweats down to expose his hard cock. You lay down and he shifts to lay behind you, reaching down to grip his cock. He pumps himself a few times, "lift your leg, baby. I want to slide inside that wet pussy."

Lifting your leg gives him the access he wants and you reach back for his hip. Wanting to touch him as he rocks his hips forward. “It’s so wet.” You promise. “I need you inside me, Dieter.”

He shuffles closer, notching himself at your entrance as he pushes into you. "Fuckkk." He groans as your walls envelop him and he pushes deeper until he's nudging your cervix. "Fuck. So fucking wet." He lets go of his cock and grabs your leg, gripping it to keep it elevated.

“Shit.” Your body lights up when he pushes inside you. Taking him up on his offer of sex about four months after you started working for him had been the best decision you ever made. You squeeze your tits and moan, clenching down around him. “Feels so fucking big, baby. You fill me up perfectly.”

Your praise makes him twitch inside you. He loves it when you praise him, it makes his heart flutter and his stomach clench. "Fuck, you're so tight. Tightest little pussy I've ever fucked." He confesses and he has lost count of how many sexual partners he has had. He hadn't ventured out of your bedroom since a few weeks after you started sleeping together. He has become addicted to your body and he can't keep away from your bed. His fingers squeeze your flesh as he starts to rock into you.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and moan. “Easy to say when-“ you gasp when he pushes deep. “Your fat cock makes anything tight.” Your hand reaches back to caress his face, knowing how much Dieter loves to be stroked and caressed while fucking. “God baby, you just ruin me.” You honestly don’t know how you will get over losing the sexual part of your relationship when Dieter gets bored, but you know it will come eventually. Hell, you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened if you’re honest with yourself. But regular sex is something Dieter craves and you have never turned him down, your own sex drive is pretty high.

Dieter loves the praise, fuck, he loves hearing the way he makes you feel spill from your lips. His thrusts become harder and he hisses when you clench around him. “Fuck.” He groans and turns his head to kiss your palm, his other arm is trapped beneath you but he doesn’t care.

You feel that need in the frantic push of his hips. He’s craving the closeness he feels from sex and you push your ass back, encouraging him. “Yes baby, need this. Needed you to fuck me.” You pant. “Always need it.”

He grips your leg, shifting it more towards your stomach and he groans at the new angle. You’re so much tighter like this. “Fuck baby. You - you’re the best. The fucking best.” He murmurs, kissing along your shoulder.

The weight of him on top of you presses you into the bed, making it harder to push back against him, but you just squeeze him tight every time he thrusts back into you. “Deeeee.” You whine, loving the angle of his cock battering against your cervix. He feels like he’s in your guts when he pushes his hope forward. “Fuck baby, that cock is soooooo good.”

Dieter shifts his hips again, trying to find that spot inside you that makes you scream his name. He wants the entire fucking studio to know who is fucking you like this. He groans when you squeal on his best thrust and he focuses on that spot, wanting you to cum for him.

He’s demanding today. Your moans and squeals come easily, fingers gripping the covering on the bed. You’ll have to make it again later, but you don’t care. He feels amazing pounding into you against that spot. “Dee- Dieter- I’m- I’m gonna-“ you pant, trying to talk while he’s fucking you but it’s nearly impossible. “Oh shit!” You scream, clamping down around his cock when you feel the pressure suddenly reach its peak.

The way you gush around him has him panting as he tries to work himself into your cunt as you grip him like a vice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep. He’s never been great at stamina without drugs so sober, he’s thrusting into you a half dozen more times until he’s painting your walls with his cum.

You groan softly, feeling the hot pulse of his cum filling you. You have an IUD, and Dieter has regular STI testing for insurance reasons and you love that he feels comfortable enough to not use protection with you. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” You reach back and hold his head, wanting to touch him as he rides out his orgasm and collapses on top of you with a breathless huff.

“Fuck. I really don’t pay you enough.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best fucking pussy in L.A.” He compliments while he’s drunk on his orgasm and he kisses your shoulder, enjoying the feel of your hot cunt wrapped around his softening cock.

You snort at his comment and relax against the pillow. It could be ten minutes or an hour before Dieter moves but you always love the way he collapses into you bonelessly. “If I charged you for my pussy, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Dieter snorts, “probably not.” He doesn’t deny that. Sure, he’s had sex workers in his bed before but you are his assistant and there’s an emotional connection he hasn’t found before. He’s addicted to it and he can’t let you go. He is excited to start this new project with you by his side.

****

“Dieter has an interview at twelve that day, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” You tap a pencil against your notepad as you pour over his schedule. “As long as he doesn’t go over we can make it to the studio by four and then have him ready.” His manager is on the other side of the zoom call, video feed in the corner of your computer, wanting to squeeze in a late night talk show to talk about the movie being released next month, while also teasing about this movie. “Will that work for them?”

“Yeah. We can make that work.” His manager and his PR team agree and you add it to his schedule. “We can also get him on that podcast in the next week, if he has a gap. It’s about sexual exploration and of course people know he is quite active. I think it will develop some big hit content. As long as he doesn’t talk about drugs.” His manager sighs.

“He’s been doing a lot better.” You remind them. “Working out for this film is doing wonders for him, even if he complains. He’s just smoking a little weed on the off days.” You look over his schedule again. “On Thursday he is supposed to have a half day of shooting, if we can reschedule his meeting with the accountant, he could do the podcast then?”

His manager hums and looks over the PR team who nods, confirming it with the podcast booker. “That will work. So that’s his schedule for the next month. Thanks for all your hard work. I know he’s not the easiest to handle.” His manager snorts just as Dieter opens the door to his trailer. He’s still in costume, covered in fake blood and dirt and he’s exhausted. He slumps onto the sofa with a groan.

“Okay, I’ll get back with you all later.” You promise, closing out the Zoom call and turning to look over at Dieter. It’s the first time you’ve properly seen him in costume and your mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as you take in the raw, rough and frankly sexy view of Dieter as a Roman general.

Dieter doesn’t notice your interest in his costume, rubbing his forehead as he is hot from the fighting. He’s exhausted. It’s been days of trying to get the scene just right. Including more takes than he’s ever known to cover the reaction of the crowd, of the emperor, of his lover in the stands. “It’s been a long fucking day.” He whines, opening one eye to look at you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is a little raspy, making you clear your throat as you sit up straighter and bite your lip. “It’s been a long day, baby?” You ask, wishing for a moment that Dieter was a method actor that stayed in character. Wanting to hear that voice he had developed for Marcus Acacius while he’s wearing that costume. “You need me to take care of you?”

He opens both eyes and smirks, seeing the way your eyes drop down to his costume. “Does this do it for you?” He asks slyly, standing up from the sofa and he brushes his costume down. His voice deepens as he asks you, “you want me to fuck you wearing this?” Instantly interested in this visceral reaction from you.

You shiver slightly, his voice changing to the authoritative tone he had practiced with you. His eyes are hardening as he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit immediately. “We can- I can ride you.” You offer, cunt dripping at the thought.

His cock hardens in his briefs under the tunic and he stiffens his spine, wanting to enjoy this role play with you. “Stand up and strip. I want to see you.” He demands, “I want to see what the emperor has gifted me for winning my battle.”

Shit. A whimper escapes you, biting your lip even harder when he slips into role play as he watches you expectantly. You reach for your shirt and drag it over your head to drop to the floor. Wishing you had worn a dress today. “Too bad they aren’t using me as an extra.” You moan. “Pulling off a Roman dress would be sexy.”

“Fuck. I could ask wardrobe for an extra.” He says as his eyes take in your tits and he breaks character for a moment. When you’re naked in front of him, he straightens his back again. “Kneel before your general and tell him your sins.” He demands, “tell him what your weeping pussy yearns for that angers the gods.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

You have no idea if that is anything remotely like a Roman general would say, but you are quick to drop down to your knees in front of him. You bow your head, feigning embarrassment, and there might be a little of the genuine emotion mixed in. Your reaction to his costume is so physical. “You, general.” You moan quietly. “I wish for the general to take his frustrations out on my body. To use my cunt.”

Dieter knows he should be more like a general but he wants to tease you since you’re turned on by this display. By his character. “You’re nothing but a servant. You are nothing to men like me. Someone to fetch my wine and let me fuck your cunt. You want to please your general?” He asks as he reaches down to pull his hard cock from his briefs. He pumps himself and shifts closer to you, “you’re going to suck my cock.” He demands, “and pray the gods forgive you for your lust.”

It’s demeaning and sexy because most of the time Dieter is a whiny, submissive mess who does what you say, but right now he’s in charge. Except he’s not Dieter Bravo, not completely. He’s his character, Marcus Acacius. You open your mouth immediately, your cunt clenching when he pushes the head of his cock onto your tongue and past your lips. Making you moan as you close your eyes. He’s a little salty from sweat but that only adds to the little scene he’s acting out.

He groans as you take him into your mouth but it’s not enough. He reaches down to grab the back of your neck. “You’re not taking my cock like a hungry, needy, little whore. Show me how much you fucking want it.” He demands, rocking his hips to push deeper into your mouth.

You gasp and sputter around his cock, loving the almost ruthless way he is pushed down your throat. You swallow around him, making him groan and you feel your pussy start to drip onto the floor of the trailer. The scene is obscene and you love it, eyes watering as you look up at his ‘dirty and bloody’ face.

His brow is furrowed as he watches you, makeup on his face making him look fierce and he hisses when you swallow around him. “Fuck. Look at you. I bet your cunt is dripping onto the floor, isn’t it? Knowing you are sucking the cock of a general. Someone you’d never be able to be near unless you’re pouring my wine or taking my cock.” He chuckles breathlessly, slapping your cheek.

Your body shivers in goosebumps and you whimper around him. Your nipples are hard and aching and you want to reach between your thighs to rub your clit, but you want to prolong the pleasure. Saliva is dripping down your chin and you bob your head eagerly as you moan around him again. So turned on that you feel like you might cum right now.

Dieter twitches in your mouth, loving the roleplay. It's not really been something that he has explored due to his occupation. "Fuck. Your mouth is the Elysian Fields. Shit. Taking it so well." He compliments you, bending over you to squeeze your breast.

You hollow your cheeks, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Moaning around his length again as your saliva slick jaw works to take him deeper. Wanting to see how long he can last in your mouth before he is pulling out to fuck you.

"Fuck. I - I don't want to-" He loses his character for a moment as he pulls out of your mouth, "I want to fuck you. Get on the bed and show me how much this little slut wants a general to fuck her." He demands, his cock slick with saliva and he wants to cum inside you.

You love the tone and honestly, it’s a little bit of a turn on to hear him call you a slut like that. Dieter doesn’t usually ever use derogatory names unless he’s talking about himself, but this is sexy. You want him to fuck you from behind, but you want to see the costume. Climbing on the bed and spreading your legs wide while you are on your back, you wait for him to react.

Dieter bites his lip, watching your chest heave and he chuckles at how eager you are for him to fuck you like this. “Look at you. Fucking dripping onto the sheets. Hungry for this General’s cock.” He mocks you as he stands at the end of the bed. He grabs your thighs, dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He orders and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance before he pushes inside you in one thrust.

Your cry is loud and you don’t care who hears you. It’s not unusual for cast and crew to hear the sounds of sex coming from Dieter’s hotel room or trailer so no one ever expects any less from him. The snap of his hips is more aggressive and your cunt clenches down around him in pleasure as your fingers twist in the sheets. “Fuck- fuck yes!”

He can see how desperate you are for him to fuck you and he loves it. He focuses on being his character, imagining how roughly he’d fuck someone with adrenaline from the battle racing through him. “Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore for me.” He praises as he grabs your legs and straightens them against his body so he can feel even bigger inside you.

Your eyes roll back because of the angle. His cock pushing deeper and kissing your womb. It pinches slightly but the pleasure overwhelms any pain. “G-gods!” You manage, finding it hard to think about anything but how fucking fierce he looks over you. His brows are pinched together and it makes him look furious, adding to the effect of the costume.

His body is still covered in fake dirt and blood, sweat beading on his forehead, and he looks down as your tits jiggle with each move and your mouth is open in pleasure. If you were a Roman god, you’d be Venus. “Taking my cock. Taking your general’s cock like a good slut. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? Bet you sat there wet and waiting for me to come back from battle. Fuck you hard and make you cum after my frustration in battle.” He grunts, squeezing your legs as he rocks impossibly harder.

You moan and nod. “Yes, General.” You pant out, reaching up and squeezing your left tit as he fucks you. “Waiting for you to come back. Thinking of you.” Your pussy is gushing and Dieter is playing up the part beautifully. You had never thought of role play with him before but it’s perfect.

Your gushing cunt has his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and his skin slaps against your thighs. “Fuck. So good. Feel so fucking good.” He groans and squeezes your calves. He hisses and slaps your flesh, “you gonna be a good girl for your general? You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You gasp out, knowing that will be easy to do. “Dee- general.” You moan, correcting yourself when he squeezes your thigh and grunts in disapproval when you almost say his name. He obviously likes playing the general right now and you will oblige him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He wants to see it, hear it, feel it. He groans your name and slaps your thigh, wanting you to fall apart around him. You pant, getting closer and your walls flutter around his cock. “That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, sliding his hand lower to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He demands, wanting to hear it, “cum for your general.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. It's so goddamn sexy and powerful that the sight of it makes you cum. Your cry is strangled, caught in your throat while your body bucks and heaves under him. Soaking his cock and you vaguely hope you don't ruin his costume as you fall apart.

You clamp down on his cock and your cry has to be heard on the entire lot as you soak his cock. "Fuck, you are - shit. Good girl. Such a good little whore for me. Gonna fill you up now. Don't care if you get knocked up. Will make sure you are looked after by the Emperor." He promises, still in character. "Fuck, I'm gonna - gonna cum." He pants, clenching his eyes as he pushes into you, thrusting a half dozen more times before he can't hold off. He pushes deep as he starts to cum, a whine escaping his lips as he breaks character.

You moan softly, watching his face relax and he literally changes from the character he was portraying to the actor that you work for and sleep with. His shoulder slump and his eyes shift back to a more soulful gaze, glazed over with pleasure as he rocks his hips forward to push every drop of cum into your pulsing walls. “Fuck, Dee.” You can’t help but giggle, your entire body tingling from the pure adrenaline of your orgasm. “That was- is your sex scene going to be like that?”

Dieter inhales deeply, his spine tingling from the orgasm, and he snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at you. "No. No. Fuck." He shakes his head, trying to get control of himself after some great fucking sex. "It's gonna be boring. She rides me, her naked, me in armor." He tells you and you nod, "not like this." He caresses your legs, "not like this."

You hum, smirking slightly and you reach down to caress the armored chest of his costume. “Well then, why don’t I ride you in your costume before you film, so you can imagine I’m the one on top of you?” You suggest, not even remotely upset by the idea of fucking him again like this. Your pussy clenches down around his softening cock. “Anything I can do to help you.”

Dieter smirks, "Jesus, you'll have me hardening in the damn sock thinking about you but fuck...I can bring the costume back to the trailer another day." He decides and reaches for your hand to kiss your palm. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks softly, knowing you deserve to know how he feels.

Dieter says he loves you all the time, most often after you do something for him he had expected you to refuse. It’s glib and flippant, not real so you don’t ever tell him how it hurts you when he does because you know he doesn’t love love you. “I could stand to hear it more.” You admit, heart twisting and you cup his cheek when he puts your hand against it. “Because I love you too.”

Your adoring gaze makes his heart flutter and he’s reminded once again how he cannot live without you. You’re his rock and you keep him on track, not letting him spiral when things go wrong. He sighs, “not like I want you to” and lets go of your hand to pull out of you. He can’t say how he really feels and he dejectedly tucks his cock away.

The ever shifting moods of Dieter reminds you that he isn’t yours and you decide to just giggle to cover the flare of hurt. “Of course not.” You hum. “That wouldn’t fit your reputation.” You sit up and reach for a towel. “Do you want a snack?” You ask, moving back into caretaker mode.

Dieter watches you shuffle off the bed, reaching for your panties and he sighs, “you don’t get it. I don’t mean- whatever. It’s whatever.” He huffs and decides to head back onto set and find himself something to drink.

You frown when he leaves the trailer before you can put yourself back together. Wondering why he seems so shiftless right now, if he’s feeling guilty about something. You know that he’s not great at expressing himself and sometimes acts out like a child would. He doesn’t like being emotionally vulnerable. You decide to go to the set and see if you can help him.

Dieter is nursing a black coffee when you arrive on set and he is sitting, waiting for the other actors to come back from their break. You walk over to him and he stares at the cup in his hand. “Sorry for - for that.” He manages to get out like it’s painful to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing you need is for Dieter to think you are mad at him. He needs to concentrate on the scenes being filmed today and hopefully by the time he’s done, whatever is upsetting him will have passed. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.” His blood sugar might be low. “I brought you a Kit Kat.” You pull the candy bar out of your bag and offer it to him.

He looks up at you in surprise and takes the chocolate, undoing the wrapper after you take his coffee and he groans as he chews it, not realizing how hungry he was. You stand there in silence and Dieter hands you the wrapper after the AD calls for everyone to return to set. He inhales deeply, mentally shifting into his character.

You sit in the chair he vacated, that is still warm from him sitting there. Watching as he takes his mark and his co-stars also get into position. It’s always interesting to watch Dieter work, the truth in the saying that all artists are slightly mad being very true. You think he is amazing.

Dieter grunts as soon as the director calls action, working on remembering his blocking and the choreography. People think that acting is easy, that it doesn't take a lot, but Dieter's life has been acting and it's exhausting physically and mentally. He gets lost in his character as he works his way through the scene.

You have memorized the lines and the action sequences. Seeing the hard work he has been putting in come to life as he goes through the scenes. Sometime they cut and reset, but you are so impressed and fucking turned on by his competence in this role, it makes you press your thighs together.

Dieter is sweating when he finishes his scene and he strides off set when the director calls cut, taking the bottle of water you have ready for him. He desperately wants a shower so he's relieved when the director calls it for the day and he hands you the water bottle. "Need a damn shower and some weed." He declares, walking off set and you follow him.

You know that he’s tired so you don’t try to talk to him. Just follow him back to the trailer and you pick up his costume as he strips it off, taking it back to wardrobe as he gets into the shower. His comfy sweats and crocs are set out and you have ordered dinner to be delivered to the house by the time you get there.

Dieter stands under the water, eyes closed as he tries to imagine his life when he’s older. He will be too old to be a movie star, too old to be considered another more than a washed up legend. His legacy will be his Oscar and nothing else. He hates the idea of not having anything else written in his eulogy. He hates the thought of being alone. He imagines if he gets the balls to say how he feels about you. Sure, he’s not conventional but he loves you. You don’t care about the fame or the money. You see him, you know him. He imagines being old, watching his kids grow up with you beside him. He wants that. He just needs to tell you for real and hope you don’t crush his crumbling heart in your hands.

Once you’ve returned the costume, you pick up the changes to the script and the blocking for tomorrow, going back to the trailer to pack up the bag you always carry for Dieter. He’s still in the shower, which is a little unusual but you just think that he’s sore. You’ll offer to give him a massage once he’s smoked a little and relaxed. It’s been a long day.

Dieter finally turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. He washes the makeup from his face with the organic cleanser you get him and he comes out to find you waiting for him. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing his eyes, “I just know I’m gonna lose you.” He admits, trying to ignore how fucking pretty you look waiting for him.

You frown, not sure what the hell he is talking about. “Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him and wondering if he might have taken something without you knowing. He's been doing so good with not taking random pills, but this is Dieter. “You aren’t going to lose me unless you wander off.” You joke playfully, reaching out and touching his arm.

He flinches and shakes his head, “no. No. You’re gonna go and all because I can’t control- I can’t stop thinking - fuck!” He yells and you jump, making his frown deepen. “There’s - it’s just all in my head bouncing around all the damn time.” He admits, waving his hands around his wet curls, “you’re gonna leave because you don’t - it’s gonna ruin everything but I can’t stop myself.” He admits and you frown, shaking your head, “Dieter. What’s wro-?” You don’t get to finish before he blurts out, “I’m in love with you!”

Your mouth drops open slightly, shocked by his outburst. His eyes are filled with sorrow, grief. As if you’ve already rejected him. “Dee…” he shakes his head “I knew it.” He mumbles and you step closer. “Know what?” You ask, tilting your head. “That I’m in love with you too? That I’m scared that you’ll find someone else? That you’ll be bored?” You ask, voice shallow and fearful. “Because that’s all true.”

Dieter stares at you in shock, thinking for a second that he’s high or this is some dream. He swallows harshly and reaches for his towel, dragging it from his body. “Dieter.” You whisper in confusion and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “I’m yours. All of me is yours and I stand in front of you now naked and totally exposed, physically and emotionally. I’ve been in love with you for - well, since you started working for me but I think I told myself that I couldn’t indulge in you, couldn’t ruin you, until that first night we slept together and I - no one else came close to you. I love you and I want you. You’re the only person I can ever see myself growing old with.” He admits, his heart pounding under your palm.

You bite your lip and your eyes fill with happy tears. “I always worried that you would move on. That I wasn’t enough.” You admit softly. “But I want you. Perfectly flawed you. I think you are amazing and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Dieter.”

Dieter offers you a soppy smile when he realizes you feel the same way. “You are - Jesus. Seriously?” He asks and you nod, offering him a soft smile as you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “I love you.” He declares before he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, throwing your arms around him and dragging him closer. He loves you. He’s whiny, sometimes annoying and always needy, but he loves you. You pour yourself into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lets it sink in that you love him. “Wanna- wanna grow old with you. Well, older.” He says when you pull back and he points at himself, his wrinkles that he’s insecure about.

Leaning in, you press your lips to the wrinkles and smile at him when you pull back. “Only if you’re willing to steal your costume after you finish shooting.” You joke, kissing him again.

Dieter chuckles, “now that I can agree to.” He promises, caressing your back. “Definitely going to steal that one to take home.” He promises, “for now though…let’s go home and have dinner before I spend all night making love to my girlfriend.” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered,” you tell him as you pull back and smile at him. “We’ll smoke a little and then I’ll ride you before rubbing your back.” You tell him the plan as you turn around to reach for his clothes. “How does that sound, baby?”

“Fuck, you really are my soulmate.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He orders, slapping your ass. “Uh, you might want to get dressed.” You say and he chuckles, nodding as he grabs the sweats you laid out for him. “Don’t want anyone else seeing the goods. Yours and only yours.” He winks at you as he pulls his pants up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head while he slides into his crocs. “Sports mode.” He jokes as he pulls the straps up over his ankle.

You roll your eyes, laughing at the complete dork that you love. He’s quirky in about a million ways and sometimes drives you crazy with his antics, but you don’t want him any other way. Especially if he’s going to roleplay a Roman general with you for the rest of your life. “Let’s go home, babe.” You tell him, grabbing the bag. “We’ll practice your sex scene until we get it right.”

“Fuck yes.” He cheers as you walk out of his trailer and he takes your hand, not caring about anything other than showing you how he feels about you. “Food, weed, then some crazy lovemaking.” He decides and squeezes your hand, “you know…I have a costume left over from Cliff Beasts we could try out.” He teases and you snort, “that’s just your robe. You used your own for the character.” Dieter smirks, “could be sexy if we roleplay it the right way.” He suggests, “these cliff beasts are so large-a.” He does his accent and you sigh, “I hate that that works on me.” Dieter grins, “gonna be a damn good life together, baby.” He declares and you giggle, “yeah it is, Bravo.”

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #the bubble #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo imagine

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kanmom51 · 1 month

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Jikook in bed - Part 1

I am pissed and in a not good way.

Worked over 4 hours writing this post, saved to drafts only for the whole damn thing to just disappear.

Did I mention I am pissed?

Cause I am.

Ok, let me take a breath and try to put down on paper my thoughts, hopefully I will remember some of them. Sob sob.

Jikook in bed.

Who would have thought that I would be writing a post about Jikook in bed?

Please don't answer my rhetorical question, lol.

Who thought after the Jikook drought we got in 2023 that we would be getting this, eh? And yet, here we are. Me losing count of the number of posts I’ve already written about episodes 1 and 2 alone of Are you sure?! And I’m not done yet. And another episode is coming today!!!

Did I mention just how overwhelmed I am? In the very best way. Well, other than being pissed at Tumblr for throwing away my hard work. 😭😭

I’ll be breaking this down into 2 parts because damn it, there is so much to say about these two short clips we get of the two in bed. Both playful. Both sus as shit. If shit is sus – I guess we can ask JM on his thoughts about that – yes I did go there. Poor man is not going to live this down, and now I understand why he kept asking if this could air – not because he was worried about their flirty handsy moments. NOPE. But because of the shit, lol.

Ok, so part 1 will be focusing on the brushing teeth in bed, while part 2 will focus on the handsy cuddly butt wacky master bedroom action.

When watching the whole brushing teeth in bed I had to ask myself a multiple why’s?

Why brush teeth in the bedroom?

Or more so, why in that bedroom?

Why not in the bathroom?

Perhaps because we would see they are both using the master bedroom ensuite?

It’s not that we couldn’t deduce that from the footage, but that would take more looking into, which let’s be real, most army don’t do. They watch it once or twice and many don’t pay attention to the details. A lot of details need us to view the footage multiple times something that most army are not into – they don’t care to find out more. They see the surface, JK and JM being cute, and that’s enough for them to say “oh, they are so brotherly…. Such brotherly love…” without wanting to see anything else.

But if you do look closer you see A LOT.

You see that JM does the tour of the house, showing us 4 bedrooms, first one being a master bedroom with a king size bed and an ensuite he shows us.

An ensuite we later see JK in while preparing to go out shopping.

So yes. They were both using the same bathroom in that huge modern fancy house with 4 bedrooms and obviously more than one bathroom that happened to be the ensuite to the master bedroom.

And perhaps they didn’t want it to be too obvious. Because why use that same bathroom?

*side note: at this point, when JM goes to check on JK there is clearly a staff member in there with them. The way the camera moves the angle of filming changes, it's clear that is not a static camera, unlike the ones we got from the bedrooms and hallway at night and in the morning. It looks like the staff member is using JM's go pro to film that and as JM walks out of the bathroom the camera changes hands and JM has it. And I state this because most of the time there wasn't staff in the house with them. For a lot of the time they had the house to themselves. My educated guess would be that just like we saw they had control over the cameras in the house, could easily turn them on and off (JK with the hallway camera), they were the ones to decide when the staff can join them in the house to film or resume filming.

Another possible reason why we got the bedroom scene would be that they didn’t want to place a camera in the bathroom, which they obviously didn’t. I mean, that bathroom was rather small – you know, as ensuites usually are, and having them both stand there and brush their teeth would be cramped and uncomfortable (we saw that in Sapporo we did have them place that camera for us to see them brush their teeth side by side). Also, obviously they wouldn’t want permanent cameras placed in the bathroom for privacy reasons – duh. Even if they did have control over turning the cameras on and off. In Sapporo it’s clearly a camera they set up themselves, one they could just pick up and take away. They placed it there for the purpose of filming themselves brushing their teeth side by side.

So basically, imo, this whole brushing teeth in the bedroom JK was supposedly sleeping in was a combination of it all.

They wanted us to see them brush their teeth prior to going to sleep. They didn’t want us to see that they were sharing the ensuite bathroom (the bathroom connected to the room JM was sleeping in).

And the cherry to top it all is showing us this is where JK is going to spend the night.

Because that was somehow something they needed to show us.

Unlike the cabin with the one bed, that didn’t ‘allow’ for another option, the two spending the night in the same bed while there are another 3 lovely empty rooms available, would be too much perhaps.

You know, deniability and all.

Makes even more sense seeing this was filmed in July 2023, and the two did not know just yet what lies ahead of them when it comes to their enlistment.

Let’s talk about that for a sec, why don’t we?

Those cameras in the house, they were placed ahead of time. Before the two arrived. I’m talking about the permanent cameras – the ones downstairs, the one in the hallway, the one in JK’s bedroom, the one in the master bedroom.

This was decided ahead of time – that they will not be sharing a bedroom. Not on camera anyway. And this wasn’t their decision!

I don’t think that JM asking while standing in that room whether to sleep together with JK, adding a comment about getting hit was an actual contemplation on his part. I think it was him signalling that it’s definitely an option and perhaps the reason why he won’t be is because of not wanting to get hit. Him doing all of that when JK is there in the room with him (probably going through his luggage which was probably there too – we don’t get to see, but it makes sense seeing how small the other room was and the fact that JK was using the ensuite). We also see JK throw something onto the bed – perhaps a heat pack he took out of that luggage? But he’s there and they leave the room together shortly after.

"Should I sleep next to Jungkook tonight? Will he hit me again?"...

Again, let me be clear here with what I’m saying. JM asking this was a mute question, and he knew it, seeing that they were both well aware of the fact that cameras were already placed in the two bedrooms expecting them not to be sharing that bed. At least not on camera.

And you know where else you see that bemusement about the separate beds?

In the trailer where we get them in Sapporo the two standing in the hotel room JK asking JM which bed he wants to choose. JM’s reaction super telling.

And what about the house in Jeju? Clearly that second bed was brought up from the room downstairs (we know that from the original layout of the house). Yes, Tae was joining. But wouldn’t that be less sus them sharing a bed? We’ve seen them all share beds in previous content. Tae literally shared one with his mates back in 2022. I guess that the idea was to show us that when there is an option they won’t share a bed? That the CT cabin was a ‘must’ as there was only one bed and there was no choice? Strange, seeing that there were other options for cabins that were not 1 shared bed. Well, never mind that. In any case I guess there was need for the deniability, seeing as to how cozy those two were the next day in that one bed in the master bedroom.

Seeing that plus knowing they shared a bed could be construed as too much perhaps.

Btw, you know what that whole scene in bed reminded me of?

Remember that time JK was asked what his favourite memory from their trip to Tokyo?

Remember his answer?

JM staying up until 5 am on his phone and sleeping in the next morning?

Sorry, but that constant smirk on JM's face... to die...

and

Yes Jeon. "He" didn't sleep at night. That's why both of you overslept the next day.

*Side note: at the end of the interview/sit down JM won a gift which guess who was given straight away?

Well, them in bed together there in CT, seeing those few seconds we were allowed to see (with the many cuts) – that is how I picture them in Tokyo on that trip. Those calm almost boring moments in bed together. On their phones. Snuggling. Playing. Just enjoying being next to each other, just the two of them, outside world be damned.

That is what JK loved most in Tokyo. That is what was most memorable to him (our introvert sweetie).

And he got that here as well.

You could argue: "what's the difference here from the two spending time together in bed in Seoul at either of their palaces?" And my answer to that would be:

EVERYTHING.

How can you even compare? Being back in Seoul, with all the playing around their schedules and stress and pressures and anxiety that still linger even when you are home, even when you are together with your loved one. You can't compare it to this. JM taking the time off to be with him. JK taking the couple of days off during his promotions for his first solo debut. Getting away from it all. Spending those 3 days together alone. No work. No stress. No pressure. Even with JK feeling physically off and JM's diarrhea. Just the two of them, away. Away from everything and everyone. Having those tiny every so important soft moments.

Or in layman's words: having a cuddle at home is not the same as having that cuddle when away, taking that time to spend together as a couple. It's just not the same. It's so much more. And that is also why it was so memorable for JK back in 2017.

I’m getting kind of emotional here folks. Don’t mind me.

Let’s get back to the brushing teeth in bed, shall we?

Again, in the second bedroom and not the master, even though it’s the master ensuite they are using as a bathroom!!

Why not see them brush their teeth on the master bed? Yeah, I think I answered that one already. We weren’t supposed to deduct that JK was using the master ensuite.

We were to know that JK was sleeping in that room, we even got to see him go to sleep and wake up there. It was very important that we see that. Not make a mistake that maybe, just maybe, they spent the night together.

What do I think, you ask? I will tell you, even if you didn’t ask, lol.

I think that JK probably did sleep in that bed for a bit. A BIT. Like a really really short bit.

I also think that they spent much time together in that one bed in the master bedroom. They got the pre-sleep cuddles (that we didn’t get to see) and they got the post-sleep cuddles (that we also didn’t get to see – and I’ll get into that in the next post – just saying that JK walking into the room and out of it after he woke up – the first time he goes in and out – there was a HUGE chunk cut out of the footage).

Oh, and they got the post-JK eating crap for breakfast- cuddles too.

This isn’t going the way I wanted it to, lol. I’m talking too much about stuff that is meant for part 2 of Jikook in bed. You see, this is why it is all intertwined and if there wasn’t an issue with image limits or readers losing focus with too long posts this would all be one post. But 'tis what 'tis and I have to stop talking about the master bedroom!!!

So, back to the toothbrushing.

This was them:

JK literally pulling JM down to lie on the bed.

The giggles (oh, what I want to say now and am holding myself back).

Their playfulness is on another level.

Add the legs over shoulder.

After JM laying his legs on JK's shoulders, JK grabbing the legs and pulling JM even closer in.

I love how with Jikook we live on moments that remind us of other moments. And this one kind of reminds me of another moment back from 2019 during rehearsal for the LY concerts, JM coming in behind JK to hold him and JK pulling JM's arm in for an even closer hug.

And we have cuts, of course.

So many of them.

Including this one.

And this one.

The cuts. We should talk about them for a sec.

There is hours and hours of footage, and obviously there are things that are deemed to end up on the editing room floor. Footage that might be boring or irrelevant to whatever it is they want to be showing us. There is also a time constrict that needs to be kept. Understandably not everything can be left in.

But it’s some decisions that make you raise an eyebrow. Some of those editing decisions that make you think – why cut this? Why not leave the flow?

And these moments are exactly those type of moments.

Obviously the fans will go crazy for seeing them be so playful and mucking around. They are brushing their teeth and it’s clear this isn’t something that is going on for too long of a time. So, why not allow us to see the FULL interaction? I think we know the answer to that, don’t we? Once again it’s those two being too much. Too obvious. Too handsy. Too couplie.

How exactly does JK end up with his back to us?

Why is he with his back to us?

Why is the whole scene with JM’s legs hanging over JK’s shoulders cut short?

And why does JK continue to be with his back to us after this has clearly ended and JM is sitting on the edge of the bed?

I kind of think that I know why JK was sitting with his back to us, and why it’s cut at that point and we never get to see them get out of that bed.

Great time to sign off.

See you for part 2 of Jikook in bed.

#Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #jungkook #Jimin #JK #JM #Are you sure? Jikook

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gothcsz · 4 days

Text

Body Language | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 2 to this bad boy right here | ~8.2k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Caught in a charged and unexpected moment with Javier Peña, you struggle between resisting his relentless seduction and giving in to the tension that has been building since the last shoot.

Tags: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, no use of Y/N, reader is shorter than javier but other than that no physical descriptions, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (we're in an elevator this time around), reader really doesn't like javi, steve being steve, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then my ass had to drag it out just a little because their dynamic is very fun to write 😭 he's like whyyy don't you like me and she's like how much time do you have? lmfao. this is dedicated to @auteurdelabre 🖤 #1 pornstar javi stan, i almost submitted this for your trope off but decided to save that honor for my other story! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy javier begging to eat you out 🥂 let me know what you think 🖤 mandatory mutual tags: @almostempty / @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

You sit in the cramped waiting room outside of Robbie’s office, the stale air clinging to your skin as you shift uncomfortably in the worn-out chair. The place is too quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outdoors.

You glance at the clock on the wall, anxiety creeping up your spine. You have a shift at the bar in an hour, and time is slipping through your fingers. The laundry, the groceries, the endless list of errands— it all piled up today, and now you’re cutting it too close.

But you need this check. It’s the only reason you’re here, tapping your foot in impatience. If you don’t get it today, the money won’t hit your account in time to cover rent, and you really don’t want another lecture from your landlord. It’s bad enough you’re already behind— no need to give him more ammunition to chew you out.

You sigh and lean back, eyes closing as you try to drown out the frustration swirling in your head. That’s when you hear the unmistakable ding of the elevator down the hall and turn your head to see who’s joining.

Your stomach drops and you sit up straight. No. Not now. The air feels heavier, thick with that familiar irritation, as the slow, deliberate sound of boots against the tile grows louder.

Javier Peña.

Just the thought of him sends a hot wave through your being, a mix of irritation and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t want to think about that last shoot, the one where things shifted. Where shit got weird. You behind the camera, filming as always, while he was balls deep in another woman, claiming you were on his mind.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

“Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

It was like he’d stripped you bare with just a few words, leaving you more exposed than them in the midst of their carnal fucking. And the worst part? You’d been affected by it. Skin on fire, pussy wet. It also didn’t help that Steve had heard it too. The mic catching the flirting, the hitch of your breath getting stuck in your throat, clear as day.

He’d asked you about it later at Lucky’s, as promised, all smug and drinking that God-awful beer. But you’d brushed him off, hoping he’d drop it. Thankfully, he had— for the most part— but you could still feel his restlessness, wanting to stir the pot.

Now, Javier is here, of course, because the universe just loves to mess with you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back against the chair in defiance. You refuse to look at him. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets under your skin.

His footsteps stop just a few feet away, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore. You can feel him looking at you, feel the weight of his brown eyes like a physical thing as they rake over your body.

You keep your gaze glued to the wall, focusing on the ugly, generic painting hanging there like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You gonna act like you don’t see me?” His voice is deep, smooth, and frustratingly cocky, just like always.

You grit your teeth, biting back a response. You won’t give him an inch. Not again. This motherfucker will take a mile.

“Okay, so that’s what we’re doing.” Before you can react, he plops down beside you. You stiffen immediately, moving your crossed knees to the side, angling yourself away from him, as if the few inches of space will protect you from the onslaught of whatever the hell he’s about to say next.

He spreads his thighs wide, his posture screaming obnoxious confidence. You just barely catch a glimpse of his bulge pressing up against his left thigh and how the fuck does it look so big even when he’s soft? “You know,” he says, voice dripping with that lazy, arrogant drawl, “you’re the only woman that treats me like this, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

You snort, the sound sharp and humorless. You still don’t bother looking at him.

Javier frowns, flitting his tongue across the top row of his teeth. “Is it because I came off too strong the first time we met? ‘Cause if that’s the case; then I’m sorry. Can’t help myself from flirting with pretty little things like you.”

You roll your eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets. He doesn’t sound sincere at all.

Thing is, you didn’t mind the flirting. Even if he, like he’s so romantically put it, does flirt with pretty little things all the time; it did make you feel like just that. Pretty. It’s what came after that soured your Javier Peña experience.

He huffs, like a petulant child, frustrated by your silence. You don’t give him the satisfaction of even a glance. Instead, you shift in your seat, your mind racing, wondering what the hell is taking Robbie so damn long. He never works, barely lifts a finger unless there’s money or something else in it for him, and now, suddenly, he’s busy? Yeah, right. He’s probably in his office jerking it to one of his films, getting off on his own work. Typical.

You’re done waiting. With a sharp movement, you stand, startling Javier, though you still don’t give him the time of day. He’s used to women catering to his every whim, hanging on his every word. You aren’t going to be one of them. Not even if he did manage to get you all hot and bothered.

You stalk over to the door and knock harder than necessary. “I’m busy,” his voice grumbles through the wooden surface, and you resist the urge to scream.

“And I need my check. Just slide it under the door or something,” you snap, the urgency in your voice making it clear that you’re not in the mood to get fucked around with.

There’s a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling papers before the door cracks open just enough for Robbie to stick his hand out, an envelope clutched between his fingers. He practically shoves it into your hand before slamming the door shut again.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the envelope with your name scrawled across the front. Surrounded by imbeciles. Just one shift to get through tonight, and then maybe, just maybe, you can get some peace. Enjoy the first weekend off you’ve had in months.

Now that you have what you came for, you spin on your heel and stride down the hallway, ignoring the handsome pornstar still lounging in the chair behind you. From your peripheral, you can see him sitting there, skinny jean clad legs spread, looking all annoyingly sexy without even trying. It would be so much easier if he were ugly— or literally anyone else. But no, it’s Javier fucking Peña, with his ridiculous good looks and that cocky smirk that could probably charm the panties off half the city if he wanted to (it probably has, to be honest).

You mentally map out the next hour: hit the bank, dash home to change, then off to work. You could walk to the bank, maybe catch a taxi home if you’re lucky. But with traffic in this city, luck isn’t really on your side. You start considering your options— do you skip changing and just head to work as you are? Would your other boss even care if you showed up a little underdressed? You’re so lost in your thoughts, focused on cutting corners to save time, that you don’t hear the quiet footsteps behind you.

It’s not until the elevator dings and you step inside that you realize you’re not alone. Javier’s slipped in just before the doors close, sliding smoothly into the cramped space beside you. The sudden proximity makes your heart do this stupid little jump, and you curse yourself for it. You’re trapped now— stuck way too close to him in the tiny metal box.

The air feels charged, his presence impossible to ignore yet again. The smell of his aftershave hits you first— spicy, with a hint of something woodsy, layered under the scent of his leather jacket and the faint, lingering whiff of cigarette smoke. He tries to drown it out with minty gum, but it’s still there, clinging to him like an old habit. And damn it, your knees go a little weak, despite your best efforts to stay cool.

The height difference between you is glaringly obvious now. You’re eye level with the habitually open portion of his cream colored shirt, the buttons undone just enough to give a peek at his brown chest. It’s frustrating how effortlessly he pulls off the whole rugged look— like he doesn’t even try, but somehow manages to look better than most men who spend hours on it.

You swallow hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you can smell him, that you can feel the heat radiating off his body in the tight space. He’s just too close, and the damn elevator isn’t moving fast enough. You’ve got a million things to worry about right now—rent, work, your life— and the last thing you need is to be distracted by him.

But, like always, he’s right there, invading your space, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“What the fuck do you want?” You snap, breaking your vow of silence. You frown up at him, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface as you cross your arms defensively over your chest— a bad move, you realize too late, as the motion only pushes your braless tits together beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

Predictably, his eyes drop immediately. You curse yourself for not wearing something more substantial. It’s not like I was planning to run into him today, you think to yourself.

“To understand why you hate me so much,” Javier says, his voice low, carrying that annoyingly casual tone, as if this whole conversation is nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him.

Your brows knit together, and a dry laugh slips from your lips before you can stop it. “Well, for starters,” you bite out, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you ask.”

His gaze snaps up so fast it’s almost comical, his dark eyes locking with yours, defiance flaring there. But there’s something else too— something that makes the air between you even more tense. You hold his stare, daring him to say something, to make this worse for himself. His expression tightens, but you continue before he has a chance to speak. “And I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you. You annoy the shit out of me.”

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The smallest chink in his armor. You reach around him, your hand brushing against his side as you press the button for the main floor. The contact sends a ripple of awareness through you that you try to ignore. You don’t have time for this— for him.

Javier scowls, his mouth pulling into a frown that mirrors yours, and before you can react, he half-turns and punches a button for a different floor, effectively canceling your request. The elevator jolts, shifting direction.

You groan audibly, exasperation washing over you. “And here you are, proving my point,” you mutter under your breath. Every second you waste in this shitty elevator with him is another second closer to being late for work. Another second closer to not getting everything done that you needed to today. He’s not just in your way—he’s deliberately in your way, and the worst part is, he knows it.

“You don’t like me,” he counters, turning back to face you fully, his tone edging into frustration, “but you never even gave me a chance.” His jaw is set now, his eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit that there’s more to it than just annoyance. Like he wants you to say it’s something else, something deeper.

If you had the luxury of time, you’d lay it all out for him, explain in excruciating detail just why you’ve avoided giving him that chance. How his arrogance grates on you. How his charm, though admittedly effective, feels hollow. How the way he flirts isn’t even the problem—it’s the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t want to admit.

But you don’t have that kind of time.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. “As fun as it’d be to stand here and explain this shit to you like a child,” you say, your voice tight, “I have important things to do, and you’re keeping me from them.” You jab the elevator button again, hoping the damn thing will just go where you need it to without another unnecessary detour, but you already know it’s a losing battle.

Javier shifts closer, just slightly, his presence looming. You can smell that damn aftershave again, all spice and leather and smoke, and it only pisses you off more because your body reacts to it before your brain can stop it. You feel your resolve slipping, just a little. His eyes are on you, unwavering, intense in a way that makes you want to both slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“I’m not trying to keep you from anything,” he replies, softer now, the edge in his voice gone. His tone is almost... apologetic? No. It can’t be. Javier Peña doesn’t apologize. At least not in any way that feels real.

You don’t even bother responding, just stare at the numbers above the door, willing them to move faster. The sooner you’re out of here, the better.

“Just—fuck, give me something. Anything,” he growls, frustrated as all hell. His eyes are wild, and you can see the cracks in his usual suave demeanor, like he’s barely holding it together. “Ever since that last shoot, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and I don’t know why. You think you’re exasperated? How the fuck do you think I’m feeling over here?”

You raise a brow, leaning into your disdain as you pout at him mockingly. “Oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. A girl doesn’t like me back, wahh.” You mimic the sound of a crying baby, bringing your fists up to rub against your cheeks in the most exaggerated way possible. Then you drop the act, face deadpanning.

His eyes narrow, and you think you’ve finally hit a nerve. Good. Let him stew in it. But instead of backing down, he does something you don’t expect— he turns, reaches out, and slams his palm against the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches to a sudden halt, the hum of motion disappearing as the car freezes between floors.

Your eyes widen, a sharp spike of adrenaline shooting through you as the reality of the situation sets in. “What the hell, Javier?” You’re about to cuss him out, to let him know exactly what kind of shit he’s just gotten himself into, but before the words can leave your mouth, he takes two long, purposeful steps toward you.

Instinctively, you move back, the sudden intensity in his eyes sending warning signals through your brain. But there’s nowhere to go. You can’t escape the tight confines of the elevator, your back is pressed up against the cold metal railing. You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as his broad body looms over yours, trapping you in a way that leaves you feeling both furious and breathless.

He’s too close. His chest brushes against yours, and you can feel his gaze as it drags over your face, down your neck, and lower still, lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle.

Any insult you were ready to hurl at him gets stuck in your throat. You hate how your pulse quickens, how your breath catches. You can feel every inch of him— solid muscle, tense with whatever storm is brewing behind those dark eyes.

For a brief, dizzying moment, you forget to be mad. You forget that you’re supposed to dislike him, that he’s the last person you should let get under your skin like this but somehow is the only one who’s able to. All you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your cheek, the way the small space between you crackles with tension, like a wire pulled too tight.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, making your pussy tingle in ways you wish it didn’t. “You think it’s easy for me to just... shrug it off? Because it’s not. Not when I keep thinking about you, and I don’t even fucking understand why.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that catches you off guard, making you pause to wonder if this really isn’t a game to him.

But you can’t let him see that. You can’t let him know how much he’s getting to you (even though he’s more than aware). So instead, you tilt your chin up defiantly, forcing your voice to stay steady. “And stopping the elevator? Trapping me in here with you? That’s your brilliant solution?”

“No,” he breathes, voice dropping to a near whisper as his face inches closer to yours. “But it’s the only way I could get you to stop running from me.”

You hate how your stomach flips at his words. Hate how much you’re fighting against the instinct to lean into him instead of shoving him away. Every part of your body is screaming at you to tell him to fuck off and leave you the hell alone.

“Do you know what I think it is?” The words come out in a low, dangerous drawl, the kind that seems to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He leans in, crowding your space, eyes boring into you with an intensity that has your pulse skyrocketing. “I think you’re too fucking stubborn to let yourself have any fun. The idea of me fucking you is enticing, isn’t it?” His lips curl into a smirk, the kind that drips with arrogance and dark promises. “Could see it written all over your face that night at the hotel. That look in your eye while I was fucking Lexxie.”

His accusations slam into you, pulling up the exact moment you’ve been trying to bury. It should have been a professional gig, routine even, nothing personal… except that wasn’t the case. Not with the way he looked at you the entire time, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to react.

And, fuck, you had reacted. You felt the heat rise in your face, the way your body betrayed you as you stood behind the camera, mouth salivating, thighs pressing together.

“Javier…” You push at his chest, your hand meeting the hard wall of muscle beneath his shirt. The intent is to shove him back, to create some space between you. But the second your palm makes contact, it’s like the air shifts, and instead of moving him, it’s like you’ve anchored yourself to him.

Goddamn him. Goddamn you for your spineless ass, for not being able to follow through on resisting the temptation that he is.

He smirks wider, clearly reading the war going on behind your eyes. “You were shaking,” he continues, his voice a dark whisper that coils around your insides. “Damn near moaning while you watched me go down on her. Rubbing those thighs together while this pretty ass was in my face as she was sucking my cock.”

His large hand snakes around you, catching you off guard, fingers gripping a handful of your ass and pulling you closer. Your body collides with his, and that’s when you feel it— his erection, hard and insistent, pressing into your stomach. The heat between you flares up to unbearable levels, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, every nerve ending in your body on high alert, buzzing with want.

“You’re delusional,” it’s breathless but you’re still determined to keep some semblance of control. You squirm in his grip, your body betraying your words, the friction making your mind tilt. “You just can’t stand the fact that, for once, a woman isn’t throwing herself at you. That I’m not kissing the ground you walk on or falling to my knees, ready to suck you off.”

His hold tightens briefly, pulling you even closer, and for a second, you wonder if you’ll be able to break free at all. It’s damn near impossible to ignore the ache building between your thighs at this point. But somehow, you manage to slip out of his grip, your body twisting away from his until you’ve backed yourself into the far corner of the elevator.

You can’t breathe. Not properly, anyway. You’ve never felt so on edge, so exposed in such a small space. Every fiber of your being screams at you to keep your distance, to reassert control of the situation, but there’s a part of you— dangerous and impulsive— that wants to step right back into his arms.

Javier doesn’t move, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. The elevator is still locked in place, a silent reminder that you’re trapped here with him until one of you decides to relent. His jaw clenches, and you think he’s going to say something cutting, something to tear you down. But instead, he surprises you.

“You’re right.” His voice is rough, but it carries a weight that’s different from the cocky arrogance he usually hides behind. “I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavier than you expected. There’s no smirk this time, no sarcastic bite. Just honesty, and it’s a fucking curveball.

You weren’t prepared for him to actually admit it. For once, he’s not trying to fuck with you, not trying to win.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

You swallow hard, the weight of his confession making your heart leap out of your chest.

You don’t know what to say, so instead, you just stand there, staring at him, your body buzzing with a cocktail of adrenaline, lust, and confusion. Because as much as you want to dislike him, as much as you need to dislike him for your own sanity, you can’t deny the way your pussy responds to him. The way your mind keeps pulling you back to that night, to the way he made you feel without even touching you.

“Get over it,” you snap, cutting him off before he can sink any deeper into this conversation. You don’t need to entertain this further. It can’t happen, and it will never happen. The second you fall into bed with him, it’ll be game over. Javier Peña isn’t just a casual fuck— you know deep down he’d be the kind that wraps himself around your soul and doesn’t let go until he’s consumed every inch of you.

The problem is, you’re terrified that you’ll let him. It’s why you’re so dead set on not giving in.

You cross your arms over your chest again, as if trying to shield yourself from the strength in his eyes, the way he seems to reach into your very core with just a look.

You try to focus on anything else— on the fact that you still need to get to the bank, then to your apartment, and finally to your bar shift. You don’t have time for this shit, for the endless back-and-forth with him.

But then he says your name.

The sound of it on his lips makes you close your eyes, every muscle in your body tensing. Damn him. It sounds so fucking sweet, almost reverent, and you know if you make the mistake of looking at him right now— if you see those beautiful, pleading brown eyes— you’ll fold.

He says your name again, softer this time, and the way his voice wraps around each syllable has your resolve teetering on the edge of collapse. “Please, just let me show you how good I can make you feel,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “Just one taste, nena, por favor.”

And for the first time since you met Javier— he’s begging. You never imagined that he, of all people, would beg for anything. But here he is, his voice low and thick with desire, pleading with you to give him just one chance.

You blink your eyes open slowly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that have been ignited by his words. The synapses in your brain light up like fucking fireworks, each one triggering a new thought, a new possibility. There’s a moment— a split second— where you picture it.

You imagine his hands on your body, his lips trailing fire down your skin, his mouth between your legs. The image flashes so vividly, so intensely in your mind, that it steals the breath from your lungs.

You can practically feel the way he’d elicit things you’ve been trying to suppress. Your legs go weak just thinking about it, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself, to remember who you are, what this is.

But your cavewoman, horny brain betrays you— racing ahead, picturing every possible outcome. You can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to let him in, just once. How it would be to let him take control, to let him show you, like he’s promising, just how good he can make you feel.

You’re already late getting to the bank. You should be focusing on that, on getting out of this damn elevator and away from him, but your body won’t cooperate. Every part of you is ablaze, screaming at you to just give in.

Javier’s standing there, staring at you with those chocolate eyes, his dark brows drawn together, pouty lips parted just slightly as he waits for you to say something. Anything. He’s laid it all out in front of you, leaving you to make the next move. And fuck, as much as you hate to admit it, you want to. You want to let him pull you into his world, even though you know it’ll consume you. You want to feel his hands on your skin, his mouth everywhere, his name slipping from your lips.

But you can’t.

If you give in now, you’ll never be able to walk away from him, and you can’t afford to let yourself get tangled up in Javier Peña. He’s chaos wrapped in temptation, and once you let him in, there’s no turning back.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you try to hold on to the last shred of control you have. “Javier,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. You feel like you’re on the edge of a cliff, teetering between desire and self-preservation. The weight of his gaze presses down on you, and for a moment, you think you might just jump.

But then, with every ounce of willpower you have left, you take a shaky breath, shaking your head and breaking the spell he’s woven around you.

“No,” you say, the word barely above a whisper, but firm enough to anchor you back to reality.

His face falls, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little. You almost regret it, almost, but then you remember who he is. What he does. And you know you made the right choice, even if every part of you is berating otherwise.

You stand there, locked in a silent standoff, both of you doing a piss poor job of pretending like you don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off right here in the elevator.

You’re hoping—no, praying— that he’ll finally let it go. That he’ll stop pushing, stop testing your resolve, and just leave you alone. You’re begging for him to go back to what he does best, to leave you to your job— both of them.

You break eye contact first, glancing down at your watch. You’re definitely not going to make it to your shift on time. Shit. You need to phone your boss and give him a heads up before this gets even worse. But right now, you can’t seem to focus, not with Javier standing there like a Roman statue, immovable and perfect, watching you with that infuriating intensity.

“Now, if you can get the elevator to take us down, I’d really appreciate it,” you say, but the words come out softer than you intended. You hate how small your voice sounds, like you’ve already lost the upper hand, and you mentally slap yourself for it.

But he doesn’t budge. He just stands there, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world, and it makes you want to scream. His gaze is piercing, boring holes into your entire existence, and it’s taking everything you have not to crumble beneath it.

“Do you really mean that?” He asks as he brings a hand up to smooth down his mustache. There’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, like he already knows the answer. “Because everything about your body language is screaming otherwise.”

When the fuck did he get so close again? He’s right there, towering over you, and suddenly the air between you feels impossibly thin.

“It’s my fuckin’ job to read a woman’s body,” he continues, his voice growing huskier with each word. “And you know what yours is telling me right now?”

Your pulse quickens, your heart slamming against your ribcage, and you can’t find the words to respond. You don’t trust yourself to speak— not when his presence is drowning you in your own body.

He leans in, lips so close to your ear that his breath almost has you fainting. “It’s telling me that you want it.”

Your stomach flips, every nerve ending in your body coming alive as his curved nose barely grazes your skin. The touch is featherlight, but it sends electricity straight to your cunt. You grip the railing behind you like a lifeline, your knuckles flushed as goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Javier’s smirk deepens, the asshole clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Stop fighting it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, his hand sliding down the length of your figure in a way that feels too natural, too right. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

You should stop him. You should. But you don’t. You can’t. His hands are on you now, moving with a confidence that’s impossible to resist. One large hand finds its way to your tit, groping it gently through the thin fabric of your tank top, and you gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it. Your body fails you, head falling back against the elevator wall, your chest arching into his touch.

The way his hand moves, so sure, so practiced, has your resistance crumbling, piece by piece.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your sensitive skin. “Barely done a thing and you’re already gone.”

Your mind is spinning, your resolve completely undone as you melt under his touch. Every kiss, every graze of his lips against your neck feels like it’s unraveling the last bit of control you have. His body is pressed up against yours, and you can feel his erection through his jeans again, the hard (pun intended) evidence of just how much he wants you.

God help you, it feels too good to resist.

You sigh, a low, breathy sound that’s equal parts surrender and relief. His lips trail lower, his hand still groping your breast, and you let him. You let him because you’ve been fighting this for too long, and right now, you just want to feel something.

Javier grins against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he pulls you even closer, his voice hoarse in your ear. “Told you,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I knew you wanted this.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. You’ve given in, you’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces later, but right now? Right now, you’re letting yourself fall apart.

It’s like your whole body just deflates against his, sinking into the solid warmth of him as if all the fight has finally drained out of you. You’re giving him the green light, and he knows it. The grunt that escapes his throat is guttural, and you feel the weight of his palm pressing harder against your chest, his thumb and pointer finger expertly pinching your now hardened nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

“After this,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone.” His words are punctuated by a sharp tug at your nipple that sends a surge of arousal straight between your legs. Then his hand moves, sliding up to cradle your jaw with a surprising gentleness. He tilts your head so that your eyes meet his, forcing you to look at him— forcing you to really see him. “You have my word.”

You search his eyes, not entirely sure what you’re looking for— honesty, maybe? A hint of something real beyond the heat of the moment? Whatever it is, you can’t find the words to respond, so you just nod weakly, your breath bated.

Javier smiles at that, a slow, predatory grin, and he leans in as if to kiss you. But you stop him, your hand pressing against his sternum with just enough force to halt him in his tracks.

“No kissing,” you say, your voice more resolute than you feel. “You said one taste, so get to it.” You’re setting boundaries, trying to keep some semblance of control in this situation. No kissing, no fucking— just head. That’s all this will be. He’ll get a taste of you, and you’ll finally get a taste of what all the hype is about. Then it’ll be over, and you’ll go your separate ways. That’s the deal.

His frown deepens, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, like he’s not used to anyone telling him no in any capacity. But it’s brief, because he’s not about to take the proverbial bone you’ve thrown him for granted. He agrees in his own way, pivoting without protest, his mouth returning to your neck like he’s already forgotten the attempt to kiss you.

Now that the rules are clear, you allow yourself to let your guard down— just a little. It’s not like your sex life has been riveting lately, and truth be told, you can’t even remember the last time a partner went down on you willingly. At least you’re getting something out of this fucked-up little arrangement, and for now, that’s enough.

He kisses and licks a line down your throat, his stubble scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh. You sigh, your breath hitching as you feel his hands roaming your body with a confidence that should piss you off but doesn’t.

His rough palms map out your curves like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He’s groping, squeezing, learning you in a way that makes you feel like you’re his personal discovery.

The warmth of his breath, the skill in his movements�� it’s intoxicating. You can’t help but respond, your hips shifting, your body bending instinctively toward him when one hand slides up under your shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast.

He’s good at this, you’ll give him that. Too damn good. It’s almost like he’s a fucking pornstar.

You hate that you’re enjoying it so much, hate that you’re already melting under his touch like some lovesick fool.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs against your skin, feeling the nerves radiating off of you.

His touch lingers as he reaches the button on your denim shorts, undoing it with a flick of his fingers before pulling down the zipper, slow and deliberate.

“You and these damn shorts…” you hear him say, more to himself than to you. His voice is gruff, frustrated, like he’s been waging a silent battle against his own restraint. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down over your hips, watching as the fabric slides off your skin. You step out of them, standing there in nothing but your underwear, top and sneakers, exposed in ways you hadn’t intended to be when you walked into that office earlier today.

His brows shoot up, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Of course, it’s laundry day. Of course, you’re left wearing your least practical pair of underwear— this skimpy, lacy purple number you hardly ever break out. The delicate string disappears between the cheeks of your ass, and the sheer front does little to conceal the soft tuft of hair just below your navel.

And he’s drinking it all in.

“Fuckin’ hell, nena,” he breathes, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lust. His eyes flick back up to yours, dark and hungry. “You always walkin’ around like this?” His hands grip your hips, and before you can even formulate a response, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, taking his sweet ass time, like this is some kind of worship.

“No, I—” Your voice is breathy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “I had to do laundry today…” It’s all you can manage, barely coherent as his lips begin pressing soft, teasing kisses to the inside of your knee.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you, his fingers gripping your thigh with enough pressure to leave you keening. You brace yourself against the elevator railing, your body tense with anticipation, your mind a chaotic swirl of logic and lust. You barely notice as the check you came here for flutters to the floor beside you, forgotten.

Don’t forget to deposit that, the reasonable part of your brain chimes in, but you tell that bitch to shut up because Javier Peña is currently on his knees in font of you, about to take you on the ride of your fucking life, and you’re nowhere near strapped in.

His head is tilted up, lips brushing dangerously close to where you want him most, and all rational thought is slipping through your fingers like sand.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes glinting with something wicked, and your breath catches again. You don’t know how to feel about any of this anymore. There’s a line you swore you wouldn’t cross, but now that he’s right there, so close to giving you what you’ve craved for longer than you care to admit, it’s hard to remember why you drew that line in the first place.

Javier’s lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and a quiet moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. He smirks against your skin, his fingers tracing a slow path up your leg, sending shivers coursing through you. “Relax, bonita,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I’ll take care of you.”

You want to tell him to hurry up, to stop teasing, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale as his hands part your thighs wider, positioning you exactly how he wants you. His grip is firm, possessive, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll survive whatever it is he’s about to do to you.

You don’t even have time to dwell on the thought before his mouth is on you, lips pressing a lingering kiss over the thin fabric of your panties. The sudden pressure sends a shockwave through your body, and your eyes fall closed, surrendering to the moment. His tongue teases the fabric, nudging against your already soaked cunt, and you can feel the wetness seeping through the lace. He hums low in his throat, savoring the first taste of you.

“These are so pretty. Don’t think I’ll take ’em off.”

He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to him completely. The cool air hits your slick folds, a contrast to the heat of his breath as he hovers just inches away. He’s staring, taking you in, and when he curses under his breath, it’s like he’s caught off guard by how badly he wants this. Wants you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, as he drags his nose up and down the length of your wet slit. The touch is maddeningly light, just enough to make you clench involuntarily, your body reacting without permission. More of your slick leaks out of your pussy, a response to the subtle stimulation, and you grip the elevator railing tighter to keep yourself from falling with how weak your knees get.

Javier flattens his tongue, delivering a slow, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like your entire body ignites at once. You throw your head back, a ragged cry of his name ripping from your throat as your hips buck instinctively, searching for more of him, more of that friction that feels like pure electricity.

He’s not done, though. Not even close. One hand snakes around your thighs, strong and sure. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open, forming an upside-down V, and then he does something so filthy, so perfectly Javier— he spits directly onto your exposed pussy.

The sound alone could get you off, but the sensation is something else entirely. His saliva mixes with your slick, making everything wetter, hotter, and you feel like you’re unraveling before he’s even truly begun. A series of high-pitched moans spill from your lips as he latches his mouth onto your cunt, sucking and licking with a precision that has your entire being quaking.

Lips, tongue, teeth—he’s using everything he has, dragging you deeper into a haze of pleasure where nothing exists but the heat coiling in your belly, tightening with every flick. He’s devouring you, utterly relentless, and it’s too much but not enough, all at once. Every nerve ending is on fire, your thighs trembling as you fight to keep your balance. His grip on your leg tightens, keeping you locked in place, helpless to do anything but take what he’s giving.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling back for just a moment, leaning his cheek against your inner thigh. His face is glistening, covered in your arousal, but his eyes are dark and hungry, never straying from your face. “With noises like that and a pussy this pretty— you’d be a fucking sight on camera.”

His words send another jolt through you, dirty and wrong and so fucking hot that you nearly forget how to breathe. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving faint marks in his wake, before diving back in with that skilled tongue of his. He’s a man with something to prove, alternating between broad strokes and tight circles, zeroing in on your fleshy clit with a precision that makes your head spin.

It’s obscene, the way he’s working you over, all these years spent perfecting this art, but there’s a rawness to it too, a desperation like he can’t get enough of you. You’re soaked, dripping onto his face, and he laps it up like a man starved, the sounds of his mouth slurping against your wetness filling the small space around you. Your moans are louder now, more desperate, each one pushing you closer to that edge where you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

His fingers tighten on your thigh again, and then he’s dragging them lower, inching toward your entrance as his tongue flicks mercilessly against your clit. When he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly scream. The combination of his mouth and his fingers is enough to send you spiraling, your legs trembling uncontrollably as you arch into him.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts when he pulls away to get a good look at your beautiful face and how you look when he’s making you feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s enough to get him to latch onto your clit, sucking on it harshly.

“God, Javier,” you gasp, your voice shaky, barely coherent. You can’t think, can’t form any rational thought, not with the way he’s pulling you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the pleasure.

“Let go,” he growls against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your core. “I’ve got you, nena. Just let go.”

And with that, the dam breaks. You’re coming hard, hips jerking wildly as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up for a second, working you through it with that relentless mouth until you’re gasping for air, hands clenching at the railing so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped.

Your vision blurs, your mind goes blank, and all you can do is hold on as Javier takes you on the ride of your life, just like you knew he would.

You don’t know how long it takes you to come back into your body after letting him take the reins for a little. You’re trembling, legs weak and body heavy against the cool metal wall of the elevator. He’s still on his knees, knuckle-deep inside you, lazily curling them as if savoring every last second.

His mouth trails soft, teasing kisses across your soaked panties, and the tenderness of the act startles you, nearly pulling you under again. But then he withdraws his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with an almost obscene groan, tasting you one last time as if to commit your flavor to memory. He carefully adjusts your underwear back into place.

Javier stands to his full height, your leg falling from his shoulder, towering over you. His hand comes to rest lightly on your waist as if to steady you. “You okay?”

You nod, though your bones feel like jelly. Your eyes stay closed as you try to gather yourself, forcing yourself back into reality, back into the woman who doesn’t fold like a house of cards for her co-worker. You bend down to retrieve your shorts and check from the floor, fingers fumbling with the zipper as you button yourself back up. He presses the button to resume the elevator, the gears shifting as you’re slowly carried back to the main floor.

And just like that, it hits you. It happened. You’ve came on Javier’s tongue and fingers. You swore it wouldn’t— swore up and down that he was nothing more than a nuisance at work, a distraction you wouldn’t let get to you. But here you are, post-orgasm, in a goddamn public elevator, of all places, with the man who was supposed to be just a headache.

“Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again,” you mutter, trying to summon the biting edge to your words, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Javier just smirks, that infuriating glint back in his eyes like he already knows better, but he doesn’t push it. Not now.

The elevator doors slide open with a sharp ding, and the scene before you is worse than any nightmare you could’ve concocted in the heat of the moment. Two firefighters, the building manager, and— of course because why the hell not— Steve Murphy are standing there with varying degrees of shock and amusement.

You can see the moment Steve takes it all in— your flushed cheeks, the slightly mussed state of your clothes, Javier standing just a bit too close to you. His blue eyes narrow, then widen, and then he breaks into a shit-eating grin so wide you could slap it right off his face.

“Well, well, well,” Steve drawls, barely containing his laughter. “What do we have here?”

Your stomach sinks. Not again.

Javier, ever the cocky bastard, simply raises an eyebrow and slides his hands into his pockets, all cool nonchalance like he hasn’t just been between your thighs minutes earlier. “Just crapped out on us randomly,” he says smoothly, and you want to strangle him for the audacity.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s in on some big joke that only you and Javier are the punchline for. And as you step past him, cheeks burning, all you can think is that this will never, ever happen again.

But even as you repeat it to yourself, a small part of you— the part still buzzing from the memory of Javier’s mouth— wonders if you’re lying.

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foxaftershocks · 6 months

Text

Ghost Boy (Lars Pinfield x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You and Lars have a pretty contentious relationship. Until you don't

Words: 3.1k

Basically some fun enemies to lovers stuff

“What is this?”

You looked up from your laptop, fingers stilling on the keyboard. Dr Lars Pinfield, the bane of your existence and the most combative towards your work, was standing over you, holding up a phone. The screen was playing a video, a TikTok edit of him around the lab playing with one of those viral songs.

“A video,” you replied with a small shrug.

“Why would you post this to the internet?” he demanded.

“I’m the lab’s social media manager. What do you want from me? I’m giving the people what they want,” you replied, already tired of the conversation.

Lars had never understood the point of you in the lab. You weren’t a scientist like the rest of them, but you were a one person communication team, educated in science communication and marketing. You were there to ensure their reputation continued to soar and they continued to get funding for their experiments and tech. It was a pretty simple concept. You let the world know how cool they were, and they could continue doing what they wanted.

Lars hated it. He’d made it clear that he thought there was no point to you being there and that you only got in the way of the real science. He hadn’t realised how the modern day functioned in so many ways. You were the one writing the press releases. You rewrote the grant applications that got them money. You explained exactly what it was they were doing so people couldn’t complain about their secrecy.

In truth, it was your dream job. You got to hang out with all kinds of paranormal phenomena and then show the world how cool the lab was. Your friends had grown tired of you constantly talking about, and yet you couldn’t stop. So for one of the scientists, the one you probably admired the most in the entire lab, to be so dismissive of your work was crushing.

“No one wants this,” he snapped.

“Really?” You raised a single eyebrow at him, “videos and photos with you in them perform the best. People demand to know who you are. They want more of you. So I made a tongue in cheek video acknowledging that. It is our best performing video.”

You were never going to admit that you fully understood why people liked the video so much. You felt like you might be half of the views by yourself. You’d never admit it, but that nerd had something about him. If you didn’t know any better, you might think you had a crush on him. Which would just be stupid.

“You’re meant to be telling people about the science,” he said, “that’s why you’re here. Not for this shit.”

“That shit is the foot in the door that gets people in to listen to the science,” you replied, waiting for him to understand something he never would.

“No one is listening to any science with this,” he snapped.

“What’s wrong, Lars? Does getting attention from women scare you? Not used to it so you don’t know how to react?” You laughed.

He scowled at you before storming off, muttering under his breath, most likely insulting you. You rolled your eyes, going back to the press release you’d been working on before he’d interrupted you. Something crashed in the background and you rolled your eyes again.

The next time he found you, you were filming in front of the containment units, explaining how proton streams were used in the trapping of ghosts. His phone was thrust in front of your face and you sighed.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Hello to you too, Lars. Is the science cooperating today?” You smiled sweetly up at him.

“You posted another one,” he snarled.

“The ladies were clamouring for it. I can’t disappoint our audience,” you replied, “now if you’ll excuse me I’m trying to talk about actual science, Lars. You probably don’t understand it. What I’m doing is very complicated.”

You gently patted him on the shoulder, giving him a faux commiserating look. His scowl darkened and you pouted up at him.

“Stop doing this,” he said.

“I hate to tell you this, ghost boy, but people like pretty people being the ones to tell them stuff. So I’ll keep posting your pretty face, and then they’ll listen to me be smart with the science. ‘Kay?”

“No, not “’kay”.” He used air quotes which made you glower up at him, “I’m the scientist. I’ll talk about the science.”

“Sure. How about you take over? I’m sure I’m not nearly as good as you at explaining proton streams without using all that technobabble you like so much,” you said, stepping back from him to let him take over the video.

“I don’t have time for this. I’m doing actual science,” he said.

“Whatever you say, ghost boy. But your fans will be disappointed,” you said with a small shrug.

He looked to the camera then back at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose. You offered him a winning smile and he shook his head.

“Fine. You’re probably getting the science wrong anyway,” he said.

You grinned to yourself as you skirted around him, standing behind the phone set up with the ring light. You gestured for him to start speaking but he looked at you blankly.

“I was explaining how the proton streams capture ghosts,” you said.

“Well, they’re made of a stream of positively charged ions which counters the negative charge of the ghosts,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Sure, and what are ions?” you asked.

“Ions are just atoms or groups of atoms that are charged positively or negatively,” he replied, “obviously ours are charged positively.”

“And how do they get that way?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You could feel the smirk on your face, his obvious frustration only making the moment sweeter. You sauntered back into frame, shoving him over to stand beside him, looking into the camera.

“So atoms are made up of three things. Protons, which have a positive charge, neutrons, which are neutral, and then you have the electrons which have a negative charge. The protons and the neutrons are together in the middle of the atom as the nucleus, and then the electron orbits around the nucleus. Depending on how many protons and electrons their are, atoms can have different charges, which is how they bond together into molecules,” you said, turning to look at him at the end to see how he was reacting.

“Everyone knows that,” he scoffed.

“Do they?” you asked, “not everyone pays attention in their science classes. Plenty of people don’t even turn up to them. Start with the basics and build up to the more complicated stuff.”

He rolled his eyes but he gestured for you to continue.

“Right, so if ions are made up of atoms then the charge is to do with how many protons and electrons those atoms have. Our proton streams use positively charged ions, meaning there are more protons than electrons,” you said, back to the camera.

“Our proton packs can strip the electrons from the atoms to positively charge the proton streams. And because ghosts are negatively charged, the proton streams hold them in place so we can lower them into the trap which holds them until they can be brought to a containment unit just like this one,” Lars said, gently patting the red metal door behind him.

“So there you go, Gina. That’s why you always see the ghostbusters with those massive backpacks on when they’re running around the city,” you said.

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding incredulous, “that’s the entire thing?”

“Bite sized science. Short enough to not lose their attention, factual enough that they learn something,” you said.

You weren’t sure how to interpret the look on his face but you didn’t have time to unpack it before he walked off, not even bothering with a goodbye. You chuckled, stopping the recording and taking your equipment back to your desk.

Editting the video, you couldn’t help but smile at the screen. There was something about watching your interaction with Lars that had you laughing to yourself. You shouldn’t have found it as amusing as you did. Something in your chest began to warm as you watched it over and over again. Eventually you had to slam your laptop and focus on something else or else you’d just watch him on repeat.

You had to ignore that it was one of the better performing science explainer videos you’d posted in quite some time.

“Hey, ghost boy,” you said, sauntering up to his desk a few days later.

His eyes were slow to look up at you. You held out the bag of chips you were eating, offering him some. He considered you a moment before his hand slipped into the bag. You rested against the edge of his desk, looking down at his work.

“Whatcha working on?” you asked.

“What do you want?” he asked rather than replying.

“Well, I was thinking since our last video did so well, we should do some more. Between your pretty face and my words we’d be unstoppable,” you said.

His eyes ran over you from behind those thick framed glasses and you found yourself feeling nervous about his answer. It wasn’t like you’d asked him on a date. His answer didn’t matter that much.

“I have better things to be doing with my time. Like actual science,” he replied, looking away from you.

“So you don’t want people to know about what you do?” you asked, “you don’t like talking about science with me?”

You saw a flush climb up his neck. You nudged his shoulder, offering him a wide smile.

“C’mon. We were amazing. Despite your personality issues, we make a pretty good team,” you said.

He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch. You lent closer, hoping to hear the acerbic comment you were sure he was making. He reared back, as if your presence was offending him, something so disgusting he couldn’t bare it. Your stomach swooped and you drew back again quickly.

“Never mind then. Clearly you’re so much busier than me and don’t have time for anything but nerd shit,” you said, “keep the chips.”

You got out of there as quickly as possible, not sure you’d be able to handle looking at his stupidly cute face anymore. The pressure behind your eyes was allergies, nothing to do with him. And the shame was just part and parcel for working on the internet.

You definitely were not feeling so bad because of Lars Pinfield.

Something made a soft noise as it was placed onto your desk. Raising your head from the cushioned position it had on your folded arms, you found the sweet scent of coffee wafting towards you. You reached for the mug, taking a long drink from it before looking up.

Lars was standing a few steps away, watching you. You gave him a small smile, sipping from the mug again. He readjusted his glasses, still watching you and you weren’t sure how to react. It had been a few days since you’d spoken to him, keeping your distance after the disaster that was your last conversation.

“Thanks, ghost boy,” you said, voice quiet.

“You were practically asleep at your desk. Who else is going to bother the scientists?” he replied.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, “have you been missing me?”

He scoffed.

“Or maybe you’re just jealous that I’ve been bothering all the other scientists instead of you,” you said, hiding your smile behind the rim of your coffee mug.

He couldn’t meet your gaze.

And then it hit you.

“You know my coffee order,” you said, looking down into the mug.

“I’m observant,” he replied, adjusting his glasses again, still not looking at you.

“Careful, ghost boy, or I’ll think there’s some sweetness under all that spice.”

That flush again. You wanted to know what it meant. You stood, ignoring him when he took a step back. Your fingers were soft when they brushed against the flushed skin, warm under your touch.

“What are you doing?” he asked, batting at your hand.

“You’re blushing,” you said.

Your fingers were still resting against his neck. You could feel how fast his pulse was thrumming and when you looked up into his face you found wide blue eyes staring down at you. Pink lips were parted and you felt frozen, caught up in his gaze.

You blink and he tore himself away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said before quickly retreating.

Once again you were left feeling stupid, like you’d been rejected by your crush. The whiplash was staggering. You fell back into your chair, robotically drinking the coffee he’d made for you. You hated that it was perfect. You hated that he’d run away from you. You hated that he could make you feel like this.

It all came to a head a week later. You’d been avoiding him, and if your gut was right, he was avoiding you too. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. None of it had been making any sense to you.

You were in the middle of setting up a shot of one of the ghosts when raised voices began to grow closer. You ignored it, used to the outbreak of arguments in the lab. Stress and frustration were not unusual in the parapsychology field.

“She’s making a mockery of us.”

Oh yes, you knew that voice.

“Lars, she’s just doing her job,” Winston said.

“She’s a distraction,” Lars said.

Turning the corner he looked furious. You blinked at him and he blinked back, clearly not expecting you to be right there.

“I hired her for this. There’s been a significant decrease in online outcry about the work going on here. The news hasn’t complained about the Ghostbusters in weeks. People seem to finally be understanding what we do here,” Winston said.

“Everything she does makes fun of us online. No one is taking us seriously here. Have you seen those videos of me she’s been posting? She doesn’t care about the science and she certainly doesn’t understand how important our work is here,” Lars complained.

“Are you kidding me?” burst from you, “do you seriously think I don’t care about this place?”

“I know you don’t. You wouldn’t make light of everything we do here if you did,” he replied, pointing his finger at you, “you have no idea how brilliant we are.”

“Seriously? You were a laughing stock before I got here. I did the research. I know how people talked about you. Because of me people understand what you do here. I write all your press releases so the news isn’t making fun of you. I rewrite all of your grant applications so you have money. I make it clear that what you’re doing here is very serious business and not just fucking around with ghosts. And if you think I don’t care, then you’re not as smart as you think you are. Of course I know how brilliant you are, Lars. I’m the person constantly telling the world exactly how brilliant you are. So don’t think I don’t know because I do. Probably better than anyone.”

He strode towards you, something fierce on his face. You held your ground, not going to be cowed by him again. You were sick and tired of him constantly looking down on your work just because it wasn’t science. He had no right to complain about you or the work you did.

He stopped in front of you and you stared up at him, waiting for the next acidic words out of his mouth. Instead, both of his hands came up to cup your cheeks and he was pulling you in. His lips landed on yours and you felt yourself freeze. He kissed you harder and you melted, hands landing on his chest.

Oh.

So that’s what the flush was about.

It took until Winston cleared his throat for the two of you to break apart. You looked up into his face, at a loss for words.

“I think I’ll leave you two to sort this out between you,” Winston said, “but I doubt you’re going to want her to leave now.”

He chuckled as he left, sauntering away from the two of you.

“You kissed me,” you said.

“I’ll do it again if you’re not careful,” he replied.

“You have to take me to dinner first.” You gently tapped his nose, “or agree to film more videos with me. You do kind of owe me. You did try to get me fired.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“Why do you hate them so much?” you asked, “are you actually uncomfortable with scores of women finding you hot? Because if so you should know that I’m one of those women that finds you hot.

“Of course you do. I don’t like the ones about me because it’s not about the science. They shouldn’t care about how I look but about what I do,” he said.

“And the one where we explained the proton streams?” you asked.

“It was so obvious how I feel about you in that one. People were talking about it in the comments. It wasn’t about the science, just speculation about our relationship. And I thought if you saw it you might… realise exactly how I feel about you,” he said with a soft sigh.

“Aw, ghost boy, I think I’ve figured it out.” You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, just like you’d once spent too long imagining doing, “and who cares if they’er speculating about our relationship. They’re still listening to the science as they do it. Foot in the door.”

His hands landed on your hips, pulling you a half a step closer.

“I suppose I can force myself to film some more videos with you,” he murmured.

“I think you’ll like the rewards you get if you do,” you whispered.

“Oh?” His nose brushed against yours.

“How about we do a pilot study right now?” you breathed.

“It’s so hot when you talk science to me,” he said.

Your lips pressed to his again and you sighed into his mouth. You thought you could kiss him for hours, doing nothing but melting into him until you didn’t know where you stopped and he begun. His arms curled around your waist and you found your back hitting the cool glass of the ghost’s prison, pressed against it with his body moulding to yours.

“Your hypothesis seems to be correct. I think I will like my rewards for filming your videos,” he murmured against your lips.

You kissed him again in response.

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield x reader #ghostbusters frozen empire #lars pinfield imagine

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pastanest · 1 year

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Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: the day I don’t write about a sunshine!reader is the day one of you needs to action a welfare check on me bc I bawled my eyes out writing this angsty shit fr

warning: mentions of Maeve (rip queen x)

A Chance

It was strange, getting to know someone through the words of friends, before being able to actually meet that person. The board had requested you transfer to the BAU while Spencer was in prison, and you were only ever meant to be there as a placeholder of sorts, to lend your expertise to the team that struggled in their dear friend’s absence. It was a temporary arrangement, but from the moment Emily Prentiss referenced you to Spencer during a visit to him in prison, he could see in her eyes that your presence had already proven itself invaluable.

The tales she told him of you were silly things that made him laugh, and that was something he had long forgotten how to do. Spencer had no idea what you looked like, because you had insisted that you didn’t want to take a visitation slot from someone that he knew; a notion Emily had passed on to him when he had asked, and his sombre heart had ached from beneath the rubble in his chest, the ruins that once housed a heart of gold. He had no way of picturing you, but he did, he tried. Hearing the jokes you had told the team through Emily, seeing the enjoyment you brought to his friends simply by talking about you, hearing of your efforts to bring smiles to everyone on the team like it was second nature for you. In every way, you made it clear you had no intention of taking Spencer’s place, you were only there to take care of those he loved by making them laugh again, and somehow, that endless stream of kindness reached Spencer, too. Flowing through prison bars, through tense muscles, to the cold, grey, shattered fragments of his heart.

On the day of his release, you had conducted the team in arranging a surprise party for him at the office, just a small get-together for him and his closest friends, who you understood were his family. Your efforts did not go unnoticed to the genius, and neither did the absence of you, amongst his friends.

“Is (Y/N) here?” Spencer had asked.

And David Rossi had shaken his head with a fond smile. “No, she insisted she didn’t want to impose or put you in the position of having to meet someone new, so she’s at home, but she’ll be back in tomorrow.”

You had done it again, without even being there to do it. You had single-handedly reached into Spencer’s chest and lifted those fragments out of the rubble, dusting them off and setting them down gently atop the rubble, letting the sun shine on his heart again.

The next day, Spencer had arrived early at the office for a multitude of reasons. To sit at his desk in the silence of the morning, with nobody around, just to feel back where he belonged, the serenity of it; that was one of the reasons. And as he sat, contemplating that very notion, another reason for his early arrival stepped into the office. Though he had never seen you before, Spencer’s heart recognised you immediately, and he stood from his desk, the softest smile on his face as he watched you. It took you several seconds to acknowledge his presence, what with your big headphones covering your ears and a large pile of boxes in your arms. Spencer watched you like you were a silent film, an enchanting and nostalgic wonder that he had never been lucky enough to lay his eyes on before. It was only when you had set your things down and turned to his desk, with just one large box in your arms, that your eyes widened. And Spencer continued to watch as the brightest smile he had ever seen blossomed on your face, like the first flower he’d seen after a year-long winter.

“Spencer! Hello!” You greeted him cheerfully, removing your headphones. “These are for you! Emily said that you liked ones with chocolate frosting and sprinkles best?” You had asked, setting the large box down on his desk in front of him.

He stared down at it, and you, in absolute wonder. How could you possibly be real?

“(Y/N)...” Spencer spoke your name to you for the first time, having rehearsed it and played around with the way it sounded in his mind during particularly lonely nights in his cell, but finding that it sounded different when he said it to you.

“I can’t thank you enough. For this, for the party yesterday, for the happiness you’ve brought the team- thank you.” Spencer said, his voice as gentle as he could make it, afraid that the slightest of harsh tones could shatter the fragile ray of sunshine that stood before him.

“Oh, that’s alright! You don’t need to thank me, not for any of it, the team have all been so welcoming to me, and they talk about you all the time, you know.” You beamed up at him.

“They do?” Spencer asked, his words unexpectedly shy.

You nodded fervently. “Everyday, they had a new tale to tell me about you, a new fact to share that they learned from you- honestly, I feel like I was getting to know you before I’d even met you!” The chuckle that passed your lips was that of an angel.

You had been getting to know him in the same way he had been getting to know you. What did you think of the things you heard? Did you think of him as often as he thought of you? Were you as curious about him? Did thoughts of him make you smile, in the way thoughts of you made him, when he would walk back to his cell after a visit from Emily?

A lump formed in Spencer’s throat. How different is he now, to the person you were getting to know? Will prison have made him unrecognizable to you, too?

But as he gazed down at you and searched your eyes, unable to find a single shred of judgment, or fear, he felt hope. A glimmer, a spark, beneath the rubble.

“Emily’s been telling me about you, too.” He managed to reply, his voice quiet in a way he hoped you wouldn’t address.

“All good things, I hope!” You chuckled again, busying yourself at your desk and looking over your shoulder at him.

It felt normal. Like a conversation between two old friends. Spencer felt comfortable, for the first time since…even his eidetic memory faltered in recalling.

“All good things.” He assured you, a smile playing on his lips and in his chest.

Somehow, it came as a surprise to you when the team requested you join the team permanently. You had enjoyed your time with them tremendously, but you had never suspected they enjoyed you just as much, enough to ask you to stay. They had waited to ask you, wanting Spencer to meet you first and give his verdict. He couldn’t form his thoughts into coherent strings of sentences, but the smile on his face after meeting you told the team that he shared their resounding 'yes'.

And when he saw the way you lit up, the happy tears in your eyes as the team asked you if you’d consider making your position permanent, Spencer grinned. Your tearful eyes landed on him, sensing that he had agreed to ask you to stay, and that one thought made the tears in your eyes cascade down your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You had blubbered, gaze traveling across each and every member of the team, but lingering on Spencer in a way that made him question whether his IQ points were evaporating, leaving his head emptier, his mind happier, with the simple joy of you, smiling at him like that.

With your place on the team set in stone, you all began working on cases together, quickly discovering that your true place was at Spencer’s side, much to his delight and dismay in equal measure. You made him smile like nobody else, made him feel normal, seen, for who he was, who he could be as long as you were around to encourage a side of him he had learned to keep well hidden, to protect himself. Even his mother, on his first visit to her since getting out of prison, had commented that he seemed so much more himself. How had you reminded him of who he was, when you had not known who he was before? Spencer felt selfish for collecting your smiles, treasuring them all to himself. He wondered if he had any right to make you smile at all. He was unworthy of causing a smile like yours. And there was guilt, so much guilt, the moment you were out of sight and he became excruciatingly aware of just how much more you deserved. An angel like you, walking on hot coals beside him, burning the soles of your feet but still smiling up at him like he’s worth it.

Tonight, the pain is worse. To celebrate a particularly gruelling case being solved, you suggested a garden party at your house, and Spencer had been the very first person you asked to attend. As if he needed any further proof to his ongoing theory of it being physically impossible for him to ever deny you of anything. And here he stands, in your garden, nursing a drink and watching you just as he did the first time he saw you. There is music playing, and you are aware of his presence, but you are still the same vision to him, all sound fading until you are that same silent film. Until your laugh breaks the barrier; a sound he is certain could reach his ears from miles away. Through any sea of other voices, he can pinpoint yours.

He is nothing more than a shadow, standing alone, a few feet away from everyone else, on the outside of their bubble but peering in just to torture himself. The smiles on his friends faces, on yours, as you all dance around together, dressed to the nines and laughing like it’s the silliest joy you’ve ever known. Spencer looks at the perfect image before him until he can bear it no longer, and he sets his drink down on the nearest table. Enough, he thinks to himself.

Nobody notices when a shadow slowly fades out of view.

He walks through your home, towards the front door, the scent of your perfume trying to persuade him to stay. The trinkets on your shelves, the art on your walls, every single thing exuding you in the most beautiful way; he knows he could stand right here, in your hallway, just drinking you in until he died of old age, but he keeps walking. Shoes heavy, legs of lead, he trudges out of your front door and onto the street, under the same stars as you and feeling the weight of how little he deserves to share such a thing.

Every step further away from where you are kills him just a little more. He wonders how far he’ll make it, whether he’ll manage to reach the sea before he sinks to his knees and lets himself wither away entirely, the force of you no longer binding his atoms and holding him to this Earth; an echo that you have been selfless enough to maintain, no matter the cost to you. The cost, Spencer is sure, has been insurmountable. How can it not have been? A burden as heavy as him, a stain you can’t wash out of your life that somehow exacerbates every time you check in on it, a husk that you remind how to live, simply by existing.

Seven steps from your front door, his legs start to falter, wobbling beneath him under the weight of the crime he has committed and the sentence he serves now, for stringing you along like he’s ever been worthy of walking the same ground. His trembling hands grip garden fences as he forces himself onwards, away, away.

“Spencer?”

A vision, a mirage, the perfect and only balm to restore his strength enough to stand up straight. Thank you, thank you, his mind spins, continuing to walk until your footsteps reach his ears.

“Where are we going?”

And there it is, that smile, looking up at him like you can fix everything in his world, and you have. Again.

He can’t tell you, he can’t possibly speak such heartbreaking thoughts aloud. He can’t do anything that’ll cause your smile to even falter, not now, when his heart breathes to life and rises from the rubble, reaching for you.

“Just…needed some air.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse, and he can tell from the look in your eyes that you see right through him, see that something is wrong, but you don’t pry.

Instead, you do what feels right to you.

For the first time, you slip your hand into Spencer’s and squeeze it, so gently. His hand all but engulfs yours, but he can feel every inch of your skin that touches his, and his heart soars.

“Okay, you wanna walk round the block?” You ask, your words casual, gentle, and holding no judgement, like always.

Spencer can only nod, his IQ reduced to zero because you are holding his hand and he cannot possibly think about anything else.

Taking his agreement, you start walking, and he walks in step beside you. On the same ground, under the same night sky, in a silent film that he feels he is a part of now.

For a few minutes, neither of you say anything. Only casting shy smiles at each other every so often, until you decide to speak words that alter Spencer’s very brain chemistry.

“You know, you’ve become my favorite person in the world.” Your voice is quiet, almost bashful, in a way he has never heard you speak before.

Spencer frowns, his eyebrows knitted together by the confusion and bliss that swirls within him in a perfect storm, but your hand is still holding his, so he is still incapable of speaking.

“Every new thing I come to learn about you, I adore more than the last.” You continue. “And I didn’t know what to do with that, at first, because I didn’t want to drop my feelings on you and give you no choice but to address them, I didn’t think that would be fair. So I’ve thought about it, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay.” You smile up at him in a way that makes his heart splutter frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, because even if you don’t, I’ll still adore you just as much, and I’ll help you find the person that you come to adore in that way.” The sincerity in your eyes very nearly breaks Spencer in two, and he stops walking.

He is at an agonizing crossroads. His eidetic memory forces him to relive his tragic romantic history, from the date he asked JJ on that she invited Penelope to, to the worst day of his life, when the only girl he thought that would ever love him, was murdered right in front of him. Maeve. He never even got to hold her hand like this, say the words he’d always wanted to, thank her for giving him the chance, for letting him love her until her last moments, and beyond that.

Tears gather in Spencer’s eyes as he looks down at you and thinks of Maeve. He had always thought that she was it, that she was his one and only chance at love, at a family, at the life he had always dreamed of, and that was out of his reach because she was. But as he gazes down at you, feels your hand squeeze his again in a way he never got to feel with Maeve, he realizes that this is different, that he is different. There is no way to know how his life would differ if he had not lost Maeve, how long they would have lasted, if at all; he stopped plaguing himself with the what-ifs long ago, settling with the agony that it was his fault, that he deserved to suffer, and he deserved to do so alone.

But you are here. Right here.

Smiling up at him like he’s worth more than he feels he is, pouring your heart out to him and not expecting anything in return, just wanting him to know that you adore him, because that’s who you are. And he is the person you adore. He is not without love, he is not a lost cause, his fate is not sealed.

You are here, with Spencer, because you have chosen to be. You adore him as he is now, and he doesn’t even know who that is, but he doesn’t care anymore, because as long as you adore him, he’s okay with that.

The tears gathering in his eyes break past the barriers and slip down his stubbled cheeks, a small smile curling at his lips, before it blossoms just as yours did the first time you saw him, into a grin, and then a quiet laugh. He looks up at the stars and takes a moment to thank them for allowing him to stay here with you, and then he takes hold of your other hand, holding both of your smaller ones in his.

“You’ll have to give me time to formulate my thoughts into words, but for now, let me just say that I…” Spencer takes a deep breath, blinking back the tears that dare blur his perfect vision of you, and then he sighs, shaking his head. “Adore isn’t a strong enough word.” He smiles down at you. “I’m enchanted by you, and I’d be willing to challenge any belief that tries to advise me against worshipping you.”

The chuckle that passes your lips as your eyes glaze over is the most beautiful sound Spencer has ever heard, and he is definitely not biased, because he absolutely has not thought that every time he’s heard you laugh.

“Very profound, Doctor Reid.” You muse. “So, where does that leave us?”

The smile on Spencer’s face is dazed, lost in the dream of you. The stars shine above and the ground sighs below, the universe relieved to have finally guided the two of you to where you were always intended to be.

Your question is a good one - an excellent one, Spencer would argue, solely because you were the one to ask it - and it takes several seconds for his whirring mind to piece together the words to correctly phrase the sentiment he feels deep within the heart that you have taken the time to intricately piece back together with the same gentle hands that hold his now. Eventually, though, the words find him, and he parts his smile to let that same heart speak to you.

“I honestly don’t know, but anywhere that you are, is where I want to be.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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monkeyzilla · 3 months

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CAN I RANT ABOUT KEN SATO??? AM I ALLOWED TO? BECAUSE I WILL. ALSO LMK IF I GET DETAILS WRONG!!! LMAO!! I watched the film like 4 times I don’t think I should have missed out on anything or gotten anything wrong but if I do let me know I’m not good at writing shit like this😭

I wanted to talk about the themes of “balancing” mixed cultural identity being kinda hinted at bc it’s something I immediately picked up as an Asian living in a western country. I’m not even gonna say it’s an “interpretation” because I feel like it was quite obviously hinted at would be pretty easy to pick up for anyone that has a similar experience as mine.

In that first interview with Ami, Ken stated that people made fun of him for the way he looked, talked and behaved when he first moved to the US. Since he was born and raised in Japan for a bit, he kept most of that culture that he grew up suffered by with him and got alienated for being too Japanese or not white enough. It’s a really negative experience that I think most people, me included can relate to because you can’t control the fact that you have a particular ethnic background, or that you look a certain way.

But like I also think living in the US for a significant amount of time has also influenced the way he thinks and talks too, the press conference scene stands out with him repeatedly saying bro, as well as the baseball match where he got mocked and told that he should just “go back to America”. It’s kinda clear for most of the film that he’s “not Japanese” enough too.

It’s a difficult situation because on one hand he’s “too Japanese” in America but not “Japanese enough” in his home country. There’s this feeling that there’s no pleasing anyone here! So I believe to avoid having to “balance” his American and Japanese identity, he does things “his own way”. Or “giving the people something else to talk about” in his own words. At least that’s how I’ve interpreted it, idk if I’m stretching or yapping too much.

Him doing things the “Ken Sato” way is a kinda funny excuse for him to do whatever he wants, but I also think it’s just an excuse to avoid sticking to one “culture” (identity), because he can’t. Going back to the the first one-on-one interview with Ami, she points out that he’s eating noodles the “wrong way” and while it is just one single action, to me it seems representative of Ken’s behaviour as a whole when being confronted about tradition or culture. Am I wording that right? I’m not good at articulating complicated thoughts because I have A LOT!! It’s just difficult to type it out.

I just think the inclusion of all of these seemingly insignificant scenes makes Ken’s character seven more meaningful as a someone who’s Asian-Australian because I relate to it so much!! I just wanted to share my own thoughts and feelings about this movie and the little themes it hints at bc I don’t know any other big animated film that mentions this kinda experience😭 I’m not sure if Ken’s experience with his heritage/identity was intentional or not but it seems hinted at enough for it to be a purposeful inclusion, at least that’s how I see it.

I do wish they could’ve explored it a bit more in depth, maybe showing Ken’s life in America a lot more because I doubt they’d go back to it in the possible sequel, but I’m happy nonetheless because I feel really seen when I watch Kenji talk about his own experience. Sorry for yapping too much omfg

#ultraman rising #kenji sato #ken sato #personal rant

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icequeenbae · 9 months

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Hii! This is a more slow burn request so I’m sorry if it’s a little difficult, but could I request Heartsteel Ezreal x reader who’s knowledgeable and quite sarcastic and quick witted with their replies? I just wonder how their meeting would go with the whole Black cat, golden retriever vibe!

And maybe the reader sometimes suffers from low self-esteem and burnout.

Pairing: Heartsteel!Ezreal x Reader ft. all members

Heartsteel AU, attempted humor, fluff

Warnings: grumpymanager!Reader, Kayn is annoying as fuck… language? lol

Word Count: ~1.4k

Author’s Note: Hiii~ Thank you for the Ezreal request, sweetie! I do have my favorites in Heartsteel to write for, and he is definitely at the top of that list <3 Not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but let’s give it a try! As usual, let me know via comments/ asks/ reblogs, I try stay on it~ P.S. The stuff I post for requests is usually not beta’ed, so pls bear with me…

You rubbed your tired eyes and cursed, checking if your fingers had any mascara on them. There was an issue to resolve, and you had hoped to finish up before the Heartsteel members returned to the waiting room after their rehearsal. But your plan failed miserably.

‘Our dearest manager!’ Kayn appeared next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. ‘Always working, what a busy little bee!’

You raised your eyebrow at him and stayed silent until he cleared his throat and retracted his arm, while the rest of the members scattered around the room, minding their own business.

‘Someone has to work around here,’ you replied, typing away on your laptop.

‘You should take a break and go grab something to eat at least,’ Yone suggested.

His amiable comment made you release a desperate sigh.

‘They messed up the mic backup, Yone. Not to mention that we have the music video budget due tomorrow and someone screwed up the calculations. I cannot let you film without the drones or the special effects crew. If you do everything yourselves, you’ll be dead before you go on stage again, and I will be ripped into a million tiny pieces by the company or your fans. And I don’t know which one’s worse…’

‘If that’s Sett’s fans you’ll live. They all twinky as shit, look at Phel.’ Kayn cackled, and Yone glared at him.

Sett and Aphelios exchanged looks, probably deciding to give their most annoying member a proper thrashing another time just for the sake of your emotional wellbeing. At least someone understood how dire the situation was.

‘How can I help?’ The producer asked.

Although you appreciated the offer, you knew that they had to perform tomorrow, so Yone would have to supervise the last of preparations starting early morning. You could not allow him to spend the night helping you and then go straight into tomorrow’s work. The price of a screwup was too high on this one.

‘You can help by taking them out for dinner and making sure they’re tucked in later. I don’t want anyone out wreaking any havoc while I’m not around to settle everything.’

‘That I can arrange.’ Yone nodded, giving the rest of the members a solid onceover. ‘You heard Y/N, boys. No fun for you tonight, we have a very long day tomorrow.’

‘Ugh. Buzzkill…’ Sett sighed, and Phel pinched him on the arm, hard. ‘Ow!!’

‘I think we can live with one night in, guys,’ Ezreal interjected. ‘We’re so tired anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself, young man. I am full of energy!’ K’Sante retorted.

What a traitorous blow! You’d expect it from anyone but him.

Noticing your flabbergasted expression, K’Sante quickly continued.

‘…which I can spend by working some iron in the gym before bed time.’

You shook your head, trying to focus on your spreadsheet again. It was a little- no, it was extremely overwhelming, trying to fix several urgent issues at once, while running on a couple hours of sleep, half a sandwich (had to donate the rest to Sett – he’s still growing, after all… or so he thinks) and way too much coffee.

‘Are you going to stay here though?’ Ezreal asked, sounding too quiet for his usual bubbly self.

You assumed he was afraid to get the short end of the stick and make you explode with his question. But you were too tired to even yell at any of them.

‘Not that I have any choice,’ you answered dryly. ‘Not everyone can teleport, Ezzie.’

He pursed his lips, probably realizing that it was best to leave you alone before you gave him the same glare that Kayn had earned earlier. Unlike the demonic bastard, Ezreal was among the members who preferred to stay away from you when you were fuming, as opposed to irritating you further to poke some fun. Yone had already spent a week negotiating for you to take back your resignation once, so they were on their best behavior ever since. Well, the best they could muster, which wasn’t that great but in the grand scheme of things… you’d take what you could get.

After they all vacated the premises, you finally managed to send the updated budget numbers for approval, and made a few calls about the mic replacement. It was unbelievable, but you really had to find someone to get the necessary equipment and fly in to bring it on time. So you stayed at the venue to be able to check whether everything worked fine right away.

But later that night, a mystery visitor woke you up while scooping you off the chair to get you onto the sofa.

‘Mhm- what… Who’s here??’ You jerked up from your uncomfortable sleeping position, accidentally hitting someone in the face with your head.

‘Ow!’ You heard someone squeak and turned around, finding Ezreal in pain, holding his hand to his nose.

‘What on Earth brings you here??’ You instinctively pinched the bridge of his nose as if that would help with the pain. ‘Wait, what time is it? Where is my phone??’

‘I took it,’ he said, wiping under his nose to check for blood.

Thankfully, there was none, and he was okay. Your nervous system, however, was not as lucky.

‘What do you mean, you took it??’ You frantically checked the time on your laptop. ‘3:23? I was supposed to meet someone an hour ago! Why didn’t you wake me up?!’

You grabbed your phone from blabbering Ezreal, but he clung to you like a koala.

‘Y/N, I-’

‘I know. You didn’t think properly, and now I will have to find a way to get that guy to come back if he isn’t sleeping in his hotel already… Shit, Ezzie, you fucked up! No, I fucked up. How could I have fallen asleep?? Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You knocked on your own head with your knuckles to make a point, and Ezreal caught you by the wrist with his two hands, looking as if you had hit him and not yourself.

‘Y/N, I already met with him and took the mics. We ran a test downstairs with some of the overnight technicians. Everything is set up and working fine.’

You blinked at him a few times, still confused.

‘Uh- You… did?’

‘Yes. I came back earlier and you were asleep. Then someone called you, so I figured- And then I went down and checked everything,’ he delivered anxiously. ‘I also brought you a sandwich- but I didn’t want to wake you, so…’

He grabbed a paper bag from the sofa and shoved it into your hands. You looked at it, and then back at Ezreal, your sleepy and stressed-out brain still catching up with everything.

‘Um- so you brought me… a sandwich?’ You asked.

‘Yes,’ he nodded, strangely bashful. ‘And a juice box.’

His cheeks became rosy, and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Ezreal looked like a stray puppy, unsure about whether it was safe to express his affection.

As your laughter settled, you finally exhaled. Everything was okay, thanks to your unexpected little helper for tonight. And now that he’d mentioned the food…

‘I hope you got me an extra-large one.’ You hummed, sitting your butt down.

‘I got two,’ he beamed. ‘And a chocolate bar.’

‘Good. You look like you could have some chocolate right about now.’

And of course, after such an eventful night, as well as the previous few days, having a full belly made you dozy again. Although you did notice Ezreal’s head slowly tilting towards your shoulder through the layer of drowsiness, you didn’t catch your own head leaning onto his.

Due to your carelessness, you were in for a rude awakening in just a few hours.

‘Now, isn’t that adorable?’ Even from the depths of hell you would have heard Kayn exclaim in the most obnoxious voice possible.

‘I’m taking a picture. For the family album!’ K’Sante announced, quick to utilize the camera on his phone.

‘Or future blackmail…’ Kayn sneered evilly.

‘Maybe I should post that picture of you stuck in the vault with your pants down, Shieda Kayn.’ You mused out loud, eyes still shut.

There were a few sounds resembling muffled cursing, and then Kayn walked it back.

‘Hey man, we shouldn’t take pictures of people sleeping. It’s illegal or some shit. Let’s just go check on the preparations, come on.’

And so, they went back to where they came from. ‘Manager…’ You heard Ezreal whisper, head still laying on your shoulder. ‘You’re amazing.’

Non-EXO masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading and happy holidays my sweethearts!! I have just a couple more requests to go~ I don't think I will take more for the time being but I might come up with another requests event for 900 or 1000 milestone! Please don't forget to comment and reblog if you want to support me 💜 And check out my masterlist for more of my HEARTSTEEL and kpop content 💕

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justfandomwritings · 3 months

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An essay on why I won’t be watching next season.

1. Obviously actors have to promote their shows and hype them up. But the interactions between Nicola and Luke during the press tour were, in retrospect, clearly also acting performances, and it is rare to see acting within the press tour to the degree that those two put on while grossly exaggerating things like how sexy this season would be or how much Polin we would get. I don’t blame them. It’s clearly what they were told to do. And it’s fine to hype a show, but I think a lot of people felt genuinely lied to with the WAY this season was hyped.

2. The casting has been color conscious and inclusive in a way I greatly admire. But they have not been inclusive in other ways. And that’s not to say they should have to be. One show shouldn’t bear the responsibility of being inclusive to everyone and making up for an industries worth of exclusion. But we have exactly one size inclusive character in this whole show, and I’m not even demanding more, but to butcher the season of the only size inclusive person in this show this badly and in these ways sends me a clear message of what the writers thought they could get away with with a curvy actress and how they saw her.

3. The wait times for this season and next season are just too long. The hype dies down too much between seasons such that we care less and less each time we get a new one, especially when you only give eight episodes, regardless of their length. You know who also gave us a season in 2022 and then an eight episode season this year? house of the dragon. And they have to CGI a fuck ton of dragons. Yall were sitting on this season being done filming for over a year and for what? What did you do in post? A bee? And then to have the audacity to do it in two parts? Fuck off.

4. Add to that. The costumes and new sets looked so much cheaper this season than previous seasons. Where did the budget go.

5. The plot is too crowded. Maybe you thought a curvy girl couldn’t carry a season. Maybe it was bad writing. Obviously you needed Cressida and Eloise to have decent amounts of screen time but you also did half of Francesca’s story and set one up for Violet and Benedict that collectively took the majority of the screen time and left us with very little Pen and Colin. Which was a disservice you never gave Anthony or Daphne’s seasons and was why they were good. We got enough crumbs of the others to tell us what was happening but not enough to make them feel like main characters or to make it feel like an ensemble show. There were leads in season 1 and 2. This season it was an ensemble with too many moving parts. But everyone’s said that. It’s not surprising.

6. My biggest problem is the tone. The blame. Admittedly I’m a woman who relates strongly to Penelope so I’m not impartial here. But for a character who spends her entire life being abused by every single person in this show, who is pushed to her absolute breaking point before finally giving her mother and the tonne a taste of their own medicine. For that character to receive no grace, no understanding, no respect, for the vast majority of the season hurt. To not only have zero understanding of her situation but to frame the entire plot of the show around the fact that SHE alone should be sorry. To have minimal to no groveling from Colin over what he said last season, to have no acknowledgment of how he treated her as a safety net, to humanize Cressida who made her life hell with minimal acknowledgment of that fact, to have Eloise get ONE comment from Cressida of all people about her friendship with Penelope but no real reflection from Eloise or acknowledgment on her part or apologies for what a truly SHIT friend she was for DECADES. That hurt. Because the message is that sure, they can push you to your fucking limit, you can break after years of being bullied for your weight and your looks and your status. Your own mother and sisters hands can be filthy with insults and abuse. Your friends can treat you like utter garbage for years. They can befriend your bullies. Your soon to be husband can, very recently, insult you to his friends behind your back. But you owe them the apology for breaking after years of abuse. It’s not that the tonne couldn’t be angry or that they all should’ve fallen at Pen’s feet. It’s that those arguments never happen at all because once again, just like when she was being used and abused by everyone, everything was put on Penelope. And the cycle continues.

7. Colin should’ve groveled more. I know I said that in the previous point but it really ruined things for me so I want to emphasize it. I wanted that man on his knees the whole season, and I should’ve known I wasn’t gonna get that when y’all dropped the list of songs and there wasn’t any of the A List Yearners on the list. But I’m still mad.

8. Actually that’s a good point. Did anyone else think the songs didn’t go as hard this year? Except Pitbull were we excited about any of them?

9. You did the Pride and Prejudice ballroom trick with the dancing alone thing and you didn’t nail it. If you’re gonna do that trick it has to fucking HIT. (And it has to be enemies to lovers.) And you did it half assed. You should be ashamed.

10. There was a two second window there when Cressida asked the maid for help where I thought they were gonna swap lives and the maid would go with her aunt and Cressida would become a maid and I was like “holy fuck is Cressida gonna become Bennys love interest?” and that would’ve been better than what y’all did I think. And it would’ve justified her excessive screen time.

11. I love gender swapping Michaela and making Francesca bi. We love it. But why was Francesca immediately interested. Once again the writers don’t understand pining. Michaela is PINING for Francesca and can do nothing but love her from afar. Francesca loved John completely and whole heartedly. Michaela was a beautiful love story for her but was also a second chance. She loved John completely. She would never have an emotional affair on him. How did you immediately ruin such a beautiful second chance romance?

12. Where was Pen’s friendship with Anthony or Lady Danbury? Why wasn’t Colin proud of Pen the way he was in the book? To make her even more alone? To emphasize that she was alone and at fault and helpless? Fuck off.

I just don’t have it in me to watch this show deteriorate further.

#bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton critical

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jazminrhode1 · 1 year

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Hey! Just wanted to say 1. i love ur writing, it gives me so much comfort and happy chemicals :D and 2. could you do one with reader being besties with the triplets and if you want, just some ideas that popped in my head- chris being chaotic and shaking soda, opening it and getting in readers eye thus more chaos insuing and/or "tell me im pretty >:(" "you'e pretty fucking annoying". pls don't feel obligated to do so!! <3

You Don't Like Dr Pepper? Sturniolo Triplets x Reader One Shot

Summary: You join the triplets for a soda tasting video.

Word Count: 804 words

Author's note: I literally had no ideas for this one, I'm so sorry! I hope this is okay ❤️

Chris was in a mood. It was 2am and you just wanted to go to bed. But, the boys were filming a video and they claimed that they needed your help.

“Today we’re going to see if we can tell which soda is which,” Nick started the video.

They had covered the cans in duct tape but, under the light, you could still see the colours coming through. Chris had initially thought it was a good idea but, his enthusiasm was waning.

“So we just drink it and say what we think it is?” you asked, less than interested.

“Yes,” Nick said with an eye roll, “this is what I told you Chris, no one wants to see us drink soda.”

You exchanged a look with Matt, he was trying his best not to laugh as he took a sip. “I think it’s Sprite,” Matt said. Nick was done.

“I told you before that there is no clear fucking liquid because that would defeat the fucking point. Do you ever fucking listen?” Nick screamed.

You took Matt by the shoulders and positioned him in front of you to hide yourself from Nick’s wrath. “I forgot,” Matt said as you stifled a laugh in his shoulder blade.

“I think it’s Coke,” Chris said. “I agree,” you replied.

Nick took the lead and placed the drinks by the labels on the table. He didn’t agree with half of the choices but, he wanted it to be over so, he didn’t contest.

Nick passed you one of the cans after he took as sip and said, “Tell me this isn’t Pepsi,”

You took a sip and ran to spit it out in the sink. “This is 100% Dr Pepper,” you said.

Nick’s clapped a hand over his mouth. He was being dramatic and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you not like Dr Pepper?” he asked.

“No,” you said - this was something he should know. Chris gasped, Matt’s mouth hung open. “How did you not know that?” you asked.

“You’re crazy,” Nick said as you rolled your eyes. “Are we going with Dr Pepper?” he asked his bothers.

Chris nodded, Matt shrugged. They were getting tired and their energy was fading.

As made your way through the drinks, convinced that they were all wrong, you prayed that the sugar would give you an ounce of energy but, it wasn’t working.

You looked over at Chris and he looked guilty. You didn’t know what he was about to pull out of his hat but, you didn’t want any part of it.

“Are we done?” you asked. Nick was looking around, you could see his temper rising. “Where the fuck is the last can?” he asked.

Chris put the can on the table and slid it over to Nick. “Final can,” he announced to the camera before he opened it. The contents shot out like a burst pipe. It was on the floor, on the ceiling, on the table, on the cabinets, on the walls and all over you.

“Chris!” Nick said. It was enough for Chris to take off running but, Nick grabbed the back of his shirt and stopped him in his tracks.

“Who gave him that?” you asked Nick and Matt. Matt was laughing, handing you a tea towel. Nick’s whacked Chris on the top of his head. “Don’t do shit like that,” he warned.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh. He was pretty fucking proud of himself until he saw Matt checking your eye.

His face dropped, “What happened?” “You got it in her eye, you dumb fucking bitch,” Matt said.

“It’s fine,” you assured Chris but, he felt guilty none the less.

“Are we done?” Nick asked. Before anyone could respond. “We’re done,” he decided.

He stalked around the table trying not to slip. “You look like shit,” Chris joked, nudging your arm.

“This is your fault,” you said, twisting the tea towel and whipping him with it. “Ouch!” he screeched.

You felt sticky and you felt gross. You just wanted to go home and get in the shower asap.

Chris stuck his tongue out jokingly and you pinched it between your fingers. “Hey,” Chris said, “let go.”

“Tell me I’m pretty,” you said jokingly, you could only picture how hideous you looked. You regretted it as soon as you said it. He was not in the mood to play nice, he was in the mood to act like a 5-year-old. His eyes widened with excitement as he took the bait.

“Pretty fucking annoying,” he said before you let go of his tongue and he burst into laughter. A cackle that was at times endearing but, at this moment, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

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sabsturned · 2 months

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ABOUT ME!! 🎀

NAME: hi!! my name is sabrina, but my close friends call me sab, and you’re all my close friends 🩷🩷

AGE: i’m eighteen years old and i still don’t know how to drive a car

GENDER: i’m a female and i use she/her pronouns :)

BIRTHDAY: june 24th 2006 (and i’m a cancer!)

🎀 i also love pink and bows as you can tell!! 🎀

HOBBIES!! 🎀

WRITING: i really enjoy writing and have ever since i was young. when we wrote essays in ela class i went all out because i just loved shit like that

CROCHETING: i first self-taught myself how to crochet when i was like seven or eight, and started doing it again when i was ten. now i crochet gifts for my friends birthdays, for christmas, and i also make myself clothes a lot

VOLLEYBALL: volleyball was just always my go-to sport and i still love it now. i love going to the beach and playing beach volleyball

NAILS: i also really enjoy doing gel and acrylic nails on people. obviously getting your nails done is kind of expensive, so i just learned how to do it myself and now i do my own nails and my friends nails for free. i also do nail services for random people and that’s where most of my money comes from.

SINGING: don’t really know if it counts as a hobby but i absolutely love love love singing. i’m constantly singing around the house. i also did musical theatre in high school and i was in drama club in middle school. my favorite role i played was regina george when i was 15. i also just have a passion for theatre and musicals.

MUSIC TASTE!! 🎀

i have very generic white girl music taste, so it’s not really anything special lol

TOP ARTISTS (NOT IN ORDER): taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, kesha, melanie martinez, billie eilish, ariana grande, madison beer, chappell roan, doja cat, megan thee stallion, rihanna, katy perry, macklemore

TOP SONGS RIGHT NOW (IN ORDER)

1. joyride - kesha

2. femininomenom - chappell roan

3. you need to calm down - taylor swift

4. hope ur ok - olivia rodrigo

5. all american bitch - olivia rodrigo

CONCERTS I’VE BEEN TO: kesha, billie eilish, olivia rodrigo, melanie martinez, taylor swift

i absolutely love concerts. i think they are so fun and i enjoy them sooo much.

STUFF I WATCH!! 🎀

FAV SHOWS: grey’s anatomy, victorious, sam and cat, icarly, stranger things, creeped out, jessie, heart stopper, never have i ever, sofia the first (hey don’t judge)

FAV MOVIES: fear street part one, fear street part two, jumanji, jumanji : the next level, legally blonde, ten things i hate about you, inside out two, mean girls (2024), sleepover

FAV YOUTUBERS: sturniolo triplets, brittany broski, quenlin blackwell, larray, kamryn cain (check her out she’s so underrated), flamingo, avascreams, caseoh

give me show and movie recs!! i always need them

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE STURNIOLO’S!! 🎀

WHEN DID YOU FIRST START WATCHING THE TRIPLETS: late 2022!

ARE YOU A NICK, MATT, OR CHRIS GIRL: chris girl all the way no doubt about it

FAVORITE YOUTUBE VIDEO: we filmed this video as bros….

FAVORITE CHALLENGE: disgusting food roulette *matt almost throws up*

FAVORITE VLOG: nick gets his wisdom teeth removed!!

FAVORITE FRIENDSHIP: madison 🩷🩷

FAVORITE MERCH/BRAND: space camp

WHAT WAS THE FIRST VIDEO YOU SAW: sturniolo zombie apocalypse survival guide

HAVE YOU EVER MET THEM: nope, and i don’t plan to or rlly want to because i feel like i would be way too awkward 😭😭

WHY DO YOU LIKE THE TRIPLETS: a lot of it is their humor and the fact that they make me laugh more than literally anybody in this entire world, but i also just love watching them live life and hang out with their friends. i find joy in seeing other people happy, and seeing them live happily like this makes me happier than ever. i love vlogs and watching them have fun. their bond together is also unmatched. they love each other so much and it’s so clear to see that, and i just love it. i also just feel so safe when i watch them. i feel like i would trust them with my life. they’re the only grown men that don’t absolutely terrify me 🩷

thanks for reading!! with love, sabrina 🤍🎀

(working on a fic rn!! please leave requests and lmk if the “leave requests” box doesn’t show up in my description)

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joshs-big-toe · 10 months

Note

CAN YOU PLZ DO DOM! MIKE IM BEGGING

Hey guys, this request basically gave me free rein to do whatever I want, so please enjoy this toe-curling story I write here. This is going to be a longer one (word count: 4,919) so sit back and enjoy. This is basically pure smut so if you don’t want that, keep scrolling :) (also, Abby is not relevant in this story, so just pretend she is staying the week at a friend’s house if that’s something you're concerned about I guess lol)

Cw: heavy smut, dom! Mike, sub fem! Reader, deprivation, edging, jealous mike, possessive mike, sweet mike, dirty talk, HELLA EDGING, slight degradation, slight praise, mentions of CONSENTUAL somnophelia, slight fluff toward the end

Mike Schmidt, your boyfriend, supported your acting career with his entire being. Actuality, he was damn proud of you. No matter the role, he was on board, flooding you with support and affirmations. However, you had just gotten a role, your dream role, in this Blumhouse film, starring alongside an actor you loved: Evan Peters. You have loved Evan Peters since you saw him in Kick-Ass. When you got your script, you read through it. The storyline was amazing, but there was a lot of sex between you and Evan’s character. For the first time, you didn’t want to tell Mike about a role. You knew Mike more than likely would support your decision to take on this role, but nervousness filled you. Before you told Mike, you decided you wanted to think about it, hiding your script under your bed. Soon enough, the thought of the script slipped your mind and you moved on with your day. The day consisted of a tabling, meeting Evan for the first time, and getting to know the cast and directors better. It was almost time for Mike to go to work when you finally got home. You sighed, putting your bag on the table by the door after closing it behind you. “Mike, love, I’m home.” Silence. You were confused, his shift at the Pizzaria didn’t start until midnight. It was only 11:00 pm. “Mike?” You strolled past the living room into your room, seeing Mike on the floor, holding your script.

He looked up at you, a mix of sadness and anger filling his eyes. “What is this, y/n?” You were speechless, mouth hanging open slightly.

Your mouth opened slightly, trying to come up with what to say. “Mike, um, it's just-“

He cut you off. “When were you going to tell me about this? Clearly, you’ve had this for a couple of days now.” His voice was monotone, showing clear frustration.

“I was going to tell you,” you mumbled.

“Why didn’t you?” He set the script down on the ground.

“I was nervous, Mike. I didn’t want you to get upset.”

“I wouldn’t have been upset if you would’ve just told me. Now I just feel like you lied to me, y/n.” He flipped the pages. “And of course Evan Peters. Really?” I nodded, feeling guilty for not telling him. Now keep in mind, Mike was never rude or controlling when it came to you, he just was extremely attached. He typically wouldn’t mind sex scenes, but he knew about your love for Evan, and immediately he was filled with jealousy.

“It's not real sex, Mike.” You said, hiding the redness that filled your face. He put his face in his hands, groaning.

“That’s not the point, y/n. The point is, you felt the need to hide this shit from me.” He looked down at his watch. “I have to go to work, this,” he holds up the script, “is coming with me.” He stood up, loading his pockets with his essentials and then grabbing highlighters, note tabs, and sticky notes from your desk drawer. Without a word, he kissed your cheek and left your room. His skin was hot against yours, making your body shudder. You stood there, unsure of how to even react. You heard the door shutting and the lock click as Mike left. You knew you were fucked, that you'd be in the doghouse tomorrow. Why did he want my script, you thought to yourself. You began to overthink the whole situation, making it difficult for you to fall asleep. You lay on your bed, tossing and turning. You texted Mike, no answer. You had no idea how long it had been before you heard your phone ding. It was Mike.

Mike: I hate how you kept that from me, not only is it one scene, but three? Multiple make-out scenes. Nobody else but me should be fucking touching you like that. All I can imagine is that angry sex scene, fuck y/n people are going to see you, hear you make the sounds only I can hear.

You read the text over and over again, slightly turned on by the jealousy but guilt-ridden. You knew you should’ve just told him. After a few seconds, your phone let out a ding again. You look down, seeing a video. You clicked on it, blackness filling the screen at first. You heard soft grunts and whimpers coming from the other side. Eventually, an image came into view making your hand fly to your mouth. The video consisted of him fucking his hand in the bathroom, rubbing his dick in a rough manner. You couldn’t make out what he was saying except for an exasperated ‘Is this what you fucking wanted?’ You felt an immediate heat pooling between your legs at the sight, at his moans and whimpers and unintelligible grumbles across the screen. Your body buzzed, you had never seen anything hotter in your life. Fuck. You knew this was the start of something you didn’t know if you were worried about or extremely excited about. He continued to write messages to you throughout the night. ‘I know you’re ready to take me. You’re such a naughty girl. You’re going to listen to me like the slut you are.’ You knew you weren’t going to sleep tonight, so you decided to go to your desk and work on some of the scoring work for the movie. Your mind is so stuck on the video, that you didn’t notice Mike walking into the house before he dropped the script onto your keyboard. He is home early. He kissed your neck, running his mouth down it before whispering, “I’m gonna show you, think about what you’ve done,” before mumbling something about a shower and disappearing again.

Looking back down at the script, you saw that it was annotated. Sticky tabs marking certain pages, as well as color-coordinated highlighted marks. You flicked through the script, realizing it was every single bit of dirty dialogue, make-out, and sex scene. On the back page, you noticed a sticky note that decoded his highlights. There was a yellow highlight mark, an orange highlight mark, and a pink highlight mark. The yellow one read ‘tonight’, the orange one read ‘tomorrow’, and the pink one read ‘day after tomorrow’. Fuck.

The First Night

Mike came out of the shower, only boxers covering him. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, drops of water slid down his chest. You stared at him, a deep red covering your cheeks. “Did you think about it?” You nodded, barely visible.

“Yes, Mike, I am so sorry I didn’t-“ He cut you off with a ‘tsk’ and shook his head.

“You need to learn your lines, don’t you? Knees, now.” This wasn’t him asking, you knew he was serious. He grabbed the script on his way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. You comply to his demand, getting on your knees and facing him. He handed you the script, repeating, “You need to learn your lines. So read them. The ones highlighted in yellow. His jaw was set, eyes an impossible shade darker. You took the script from him, scanning the pages for the yellow highlights. All dirty talk. The only thing highlighted for tonight was dirty talk. You were fucked. You let out a shaky sigh, beginning to read the lines aloud.

“P-please baby,” you began reading. He reached down, grabbing your jaw to make him look up at you.

“The only way you’ll learn is if you do it right, no stuttering. Again.” You could see the hardness in his boxers. “My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he slipped them off, grabbing his length. You cleared your throat, embarrassed.

“Please, baby I need you,” you started again, your tone was shaky. He stroked his cock slowly, shaking his head.

He stopped, mumbling a curse word. “You’re supposed to be begging, y/n,” he teased. “I thought you already read the script. Probably touched yourself while reading it too, huh? Again.” Your face was impossibly redder. You watched his hand run over the tip of his dick, squeezing it before pumping it faster. He let out a quiet groan, letting his head lull back slightly. You glanced back down at your script.

“I-I’m sorry, Mike, I-“

“If you make any noises or movements other than your lines, you’re starting over again. Now read it, y/n.” You nodded again.

“Please, baby,” you began, making your tone more whiny, needy. “Please, I need you. I need to feel you inside me. Please f-fuck me,” you stuttered out the words. A moan escaped his mouth, his mouth open slightly as he kept his gaze on you. You wanted him so fucking bad. Instinctively, you reached up to touch him. With his free hand, he slapped yours away.

“If you fucking touch me,” he paused his movements, letting out a shaky breath. “If you fucking touch me, I'll make you start over again.” He started up again. You could see his body shaking, telling you that he was close.

“Please,” you begged, it sounding more sincere than before. You started to reach down to touch yourself, trying to ease the aching in your core. He grabbed my jaw again, making me look up at him.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? As far as I know, I didn’t give you fucking permission. Again.” Once again, you relayed your line to him, not breaking eye contact, finishing them perfectly. You watched him, a loud moan echoing your room. “F-fuck,” he groaned out, letting out whimpers as he came, beads landing on your face and script, causing the letters and highlighter to bleed. He laid back on the bed for a moment, his dick still tightly gripped in his hand, chest heaving. Finally, sitting up, he pulled up his boxers and found a shirt to wipe his hand off with, tossing it back to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled. “Now get cleaned up.” With that, he kissed your forehead and got into bed, turning to face away from you. You continued to look at him, watching him breathe from under the covers. Looking back down at your script, I realize that you needed a new one now. You grabbed the shirt that Mike had thrown at you, wiping your face clean, and getting into bed. You turned toward him, he refused to look at you. You groaned, turning onto your side. You weren’t going to let him win this little game he decided to play with you. Throughout the night, Mike periodically woke you up, rubbing his hand along your heat, and kissing your neck. By the third time, it was 5 am you were fed up, grabbing his hand and putting it back. “Im not sure you’ve learned your lesson, y/n. So, no.” He rolled over on his side, falling asleep again. You groaned, willing yourself to go back to sleep. This was going to be a long few days.

The Second Night

Today consisted of a few more table readings, as well as a couple of preemptive press interviews to promote your movie. By the time you got home, it was 7 pm. You walked into your room, seeing Mike on his phone, barely glancing at you before going back to his phone. Seeing as your day was rough, you decided today was the day to officially apologize to him. You drop your stuff to the floor and make your way over to the bed. You sit on the edge, looking toward him. “Hey Mikey,” you start. He set his phone, sitting up to face you. “I um,” his eyes meet yours. You were unable to read him this time. “I think we should talk,” you mumble, refusing to look away from his eyes. He grabbed your neck, not too hard but hard enough to hurt you. His lips connected to yours, kissing you with a force that sent you spiraling. Your mouth gaped, allowing him to shove his tongue in your mouth, making you moan as your tongues danced. Without breaking the kiss, he got up, shoving you down on the bed. He finally broke the kiss and walked over to your desk, grabbing the script and tossing it at you.

“In the orange. Tell me what happens next.” You look at him, your eyes wide. You pick up the script, flicking through the pages until you reached the orange. “Out loud, sweetheart.”

“In this scene,” you pause, allowing yourself to read before you spoke. “Evan’s character and I um, he and I are supposed to make out while he…” You pause, not wanting to say it.

“Hmm?”

“He is fingering me while we ma- while we kiss.”

“Wrong. Try again.” He gave off a devilish grin.

“While w-we make out, Mike.” You whisper.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled as he made his way over to you, immediately attacking your neck and working at your jeans, sliding them off of you. You gasp, immediately grabbing onto his hair. You could feel yourself getting wet under his touch, aching for any sort of friction. You push your hips up against him. “Hands to yourself, love,” he growled against your neck. He grabs the script, shoving it into my hand. “Read it, tell me what it says.” His breath tickled my neck, sending chills down my spine.

“It- look I-“ You are unable to get the words out as his lips latch onto yours. He kisses you like he’s starving, taking you in as much as he can.

“Come on, sweetheart, read your little script. Memorize it. Know every noise, every movement you're supposed to make. And if you forget,” he pauses, twisting a finger around your panties, pulling them aside. “I’ll make you remember.” He grumbles, connecting his lips against yours again, sliding a finger inside you. He moves in and out impossibly slow, making you groan. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, letting himself in as your tongues danced together aggressively. You moan onto his mouth, prompting him to quicken his movements. He was holding you against him as he inserted another finger, curling them upward, hitting that special spot that made pleasure jolt through your body. Your head lolled back, a moan escaping your lips.

“F-fuck, Mike,” you whine.

“You're so fucking wet, baby. Fuck look at you, helpless under me.” He whispered. You allowed your eyes to close. He grabbed your jaw with his free hand, very gently. Your eyes opened, his eyes were full of lust. “Oh no, you're going to look at me as I show you the effect I have on you.” His lips connected to your collarbone, sucking on it until a purple mark appeared. His fingers kept hooking up into you, and you could feel the heat building up in your belly. You buck your hips forward as he whispers, “You really think you get to cum tonight? Not until you’ve learned your lesson.” Right before you were granted a release, he pulled his fingers out, standing upright and looking at you. You were a mess before him: face red and eyes glazed over. He sticks his fingers in his mouth, licking your arousal off of them. You lost.

“Oh god please Mike, please no I promise I won’t do it again Mike please I miss you I need you so bad-“ You rambled on, looking at him with puppy dog eyes, eyebrows strewn together. Instead, he chuckles and crosses his arms.

“You haven’t learned anything, so you don’t get me, nor do you get to finish. Understand?” You whined, laying back on the bed, covering your face. Your body ached for him, you wanted to feel him inside you again. He leaned over you, planting a soft kiss on your temple. He moved to your ear and whispered, “And y/n? If you even try to make yourself cum, you’ll regret it, trust me.” He kissed your cheek again before getting off of you and heading to the bathroom to take another shower. You groaned, rubbing your legs together trying to give yourself any kind of friction. As he was showering, you devised a plan. You could try and ride his thigh when he gets back to bed. Yeah, that should work. You laid in bed, and after about 30 minutes he finally returned, climbing in bed next to you. You smiled, rolling over and straddling his thigh, kissing his face. You slowly started to grind your hips against him, but he grabbed your hips before you could derive any sort of pleasure. “You don’t think I know what you’re doing, love?” You decided to play dumb.

“What do you mean, Mike? I’m just kissing you.” Who were you kidding, you weren’t even convincing yourself.

“As good as you look doing that,” he paused, studying your face and biting his lower lip. “And as badly as I want you to continue, you won’t. Like I said earlier. No lesson learned.” In a swift movement, he hoisted your leg off of him. You were extremely embarrassed. He got what he wanted from you: You begged. Eventually, you were able to will yourself to sleep.

--------------------------

You woke up with a sensation on your thigh. “Mike?” You mumble in your sleepy state. There was no response, his arms were wrapped around your thighs as he trailed kisses down to your core. He pressed a kiss against your aching clit through your panties, causing you to groan out. Your hands found his hair, grabbing a fistful of it.

“You’re intoxicating, y/n,” he grumbled against you. He slid your panties to the side, running his tongue along your slit until he reached your clit. “Fuck,” he breathed out against you before sucking on you, causing your body to jolt. You were extremely sensitive, but god it felt so good. “God you make me so fucking hard,” he groaned, grinding against the bed.

“P-please mike,” you moaned out. “Please, I n-need to come.” You threw your head back in frustration as he pulled away, leaving a small kiss on your thigh before crawling back up next to you.

“Not yet,” he grinned before turning over and falling back asleep. You were on the verge of tears at this point. You were so fucking horny but you were afraid to do anything, you didn’t want to prolong the punishment longer than it was planned to be. Finally, after what felt like agonizing hours of laying and staring at the ceiling, you were able to finally fall asleep.

The Final Night

The next morning, you woke up to Mike on his phone. He looked over at you, an innocent smile on his lips. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. You were buzzing, your body craving some sort of release. You needed Mike. You were tired of whatever he was playing at. You just wanted to feel him, you craved the feeling of him inside you. He shifted his body to where he was on top of you. You felt his hard cock pressing into your lower belly. “Do you remember your lines we went over?” He ran his hands under your shirt, grabbing at your tits, causing a pleasure-filled sigh to escape your lips.

“I do,” you lied, trying to get him to finally fuck you.

“Good girl, I'm glad you remember.” He leaned down, kissing your neck. “Let's see if you still remember after I fuck the words out of your pretty little mouth.” He was quoting the script. Your mouth falls open slightly as you watch him remove his boxers, his dick springing free. He gave you a look, as if asking if it was okay. You give a soft nod.

“Please, M-Mike, I’m desperate,” You beg. He smiles, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“You don’t get to look at me, understand?” He asked, slipping his shirt off and putting it over your eyes. “Only I get to look at you, looking at me would bring you too much pleasure.”

“Please mike, just fuck me please,” you groan. Without a word, you feel his cock slide into you. You throw your head back, gripping at the bedsheets and moaning. You hear soft groans and whimpers coming from Mike, making you impossibly hornier. He’s attacking your neck as he's thrusting into you with no mercy, “F-fuck mike please!” You cry out.

“Now’s your time, say you’re fucking mine, y/n.” You weren’t able to get the words out. You feel his thumb circle your clit as he continues ruthlessly thrusting. The familiar heat is building up in you, making you throw out a string of incoherent pleas and whines. You grab onto his arms, praying he’s going to let you cum. “Looks like I’m fucking the words right out of your mouth, huh? That’s such a shame,” he said, taking deep breaths in between his words. With that, he pulls out of you, moving his thumb off your clit. He removes the shirt off your face and looks down at you, seeing tears forming in your eyes. You groan, silently begging him to let you have your release. He wipes the tears from your eyes before giving you a soft kiss. He puts his boxers back on, getting off the bed and making his way out of the room, you presume to the bathroom to ‘finish himself off.’

“Mike p-please,” you whine. “I don’t want to wait any longer p-please,” He only shakes his head in response.

“Look at your script, love. Patience is key.” He walked out of the room, leaving you aching for him. You got up, stumbling over to your desk and picking up the script. You scanned over the highlighted parts. He is recreating this almost identically, you think to yourself. You look over the pink highlights, blushing at what you have coming for you tonight. Thank god you have nothing to do today.

-------------------

Your legs were buzzing and your skin was on fire. Mike called out of work tonight, making you hopeful. You weren’t sure where he was though. You were laying on your bed, reading a book when he came in, panting. You looked up at him. “H-hey Mikey,” you say sheepishly. “Where have you been?”

“I was on a run,” he walked over to you, picking you up and attacking your lips with his in an aggressive kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist as he picked you up. “Enough is enough,” he grumbled, pushing you up against the wall. His tongue pushes past your lips, you greedily taking him in as he roughly kisses you. As he uses the wall as leverage, he manages to peel your shirt off, grabbing at your tits as he is kissing and sucking on your neck. You lean your head back against the wall, letting your mouth fall open, small moans escaping. “You’re so fucking needy, you need this soooo fucking bad don’t you?” He teased you in between kisses. You were useless, seeing stars as he groped your tits. He’s basically eating you, lips traveling from your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbone, gingerly leaving kisses on the marks he gave you the previous night. His hand reaches between the two of you, pushing up against your core, rubbing you through your clothed cunt. You’re a mess at this point, your body reacting exactly the way he wanted it to. “Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he grumbled. You are nearly at your breaking point, that heat building up inside you once again.

“M-Mikey please, please just this once please I need-“ Those words cause him to speed up. You moan, feeling yourself come undone in his arms.

“Oh baby no, I’m going to make you cum however many times I want to make you cum,” he groans.

“Oh f-fuck, Mike!” You cry out. Your body tenses as you finally get your release. You grab onto mike, clawing at his back as you ride out your orgasm, moans and whimpers escaping you. Immediately, he brings you over to the bed, laying you down gently with your ass hanging over the edge. He strips you, immediately attacking your entrance with his tongue. You grab his hair, your hips bucking up onto him. “M-mike yo- this is too much, i-im so fucking sensitive I-“

“Its enough when Ive had enough,” he mumbles against you. His tongue runs over your folds, flicking against your clit periodically. He pushes your legs apart as far as they could go, spreading you open as he tongue-fucked you. You feel your orgasm building again, causing you to pull back slightly. It was almost too much for you to handle. Mike pulls you against him again. You whine and squirm under his touch, your vision hazy with pleasure. “if you don’t fucking be still Im going to extend your punishment, and I don’t believe you want that, do you, you pathetic mess.” Mike goes at it again. You tug his hair, making him whimper into you. His tongue flicks over your clit a couple more time before you finally tip over the edge, coming on his face. Your back arched as you rode out your orgasm, him planting soft kisses and nips on your inner thigh. Your body ached, but it felt so fucking good. Mike pushed you further up the bed, taking off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his cock, twitching in anticipation. He gets on top of you, planting sloppy lazy kisses all over you before kissing you, sliding his tongue in your mouth. You immediately tasted yourself on his tongue. “Bet you can fucking taste what I do to you. Yeah? You understand you’re fucking mine right? Those pretty noises? Mine. Those pretty faces you make? Mine. The obscene words you say when you’re close? ONLY mine. No one else’s” You nodded your head quickly. “Use your fucking words, love. Put that pretty mouth of yours to use.”

“I-I’m yours, mike,” you moan through kisses. You continue to repeat those words when you feel him push his cock into you spreading you open, making you gasp. Fucking, finally.

“Fucking right you are,” he growls before attacking his lips to yours again. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. He thrust in and out of you at a sloppy yet quick pace, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room. Mike was letting out small whimpers here and there, struggling to speak. “What did you learn y/n? What did you learn from this experience, hmm? That’s you’re a slut for me? How you make me fucking horny by you just looking at me? How I want to fuck you so hard that the only word you can say is MY name?? Tell me my love, what did you learn?”

You start babbling “I- I learned never to keep things from you, fuck, H-how no amount of fake sex on the screen will change the fact that we fit perfectly together. How- holy shit M-Mike,” he didn’t let up. He was pounding into you. You were unfolding again. “how you know me so well. How you love me so well. How I’ll never lie about anything ever again. How I’m only yours. Only, y-yours, Mike.”

“Good girl. Goooood fucking girl” he said as he started peppering kisses all over your face. “My sweet girl. You’re so perfect, fuck. I want to breathe you in always.” He slowed his pace down, becoming more gentle. “I want you to feel safe to tell me things, fuck-“ He’s a groaning mess. In fact you were both a fucking mess. “I fucking love you so much.” You felt him twitch inside you, his eyes screwing shut. You felt it too, and finally, you spilled, clenching around him, moaning out his name. You felt him cum inside you as he tried to stifle his whimpers. You two stayed there for a moment, catching your breath. You wrap your arms around him in a bear hug, holding onto him tightly. He chuckles, kissing your cheek. “You did so well, you took me so well. You were so patient, you’re so fucking good,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. He rolls off of you, taking off his shirt to clean you and him up. He pulled you against him when he was done, wrapping you up in his arms. You buried your head in his chest. He rubs your back, making random shapes against your skin.

“Mike I’m really sorry. I never should have done that. I got in my own head and got worried. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He hugs you tighter.

“Love, I forgave you after night one. I just wanted to have some fun. See how you could come undone under me. It was fucking mesmerizing. Fucking beautiful.” He paused for a moment. “Y/n, you’re going to do so good in that movie. You always do. I can’t wait to see it.” Mike kisses your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, love. You never fail to amaze me with what you can do. Whether it’s school, your thousands of movie jobs, or how you take me…you always do amazing.” You smile against his chest.

“I love you, Mike.”

“I love you too, more than anything.” His words were sluggish. “Sleep?” You nodded, already drifting off. “Goodnight, my love.” You hum a response into his chest before fading into a, finally, peaceful sleep.

If yall made it to the end, thanks for reading, I appreciate your support for my page. You guys are literally amazing! Please forgive me for any typos, it is in fact 6AM lmao. Anyways, thanks again if you made it to the end!

#josh hutcherson #michael schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson smut #peeta mellark #fnaf mike schmidt

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cloveroctobers · 2 years

Text

RIO/OC/MICK — spring prompts 🦋

A/N: okay so I’m piggybacking off another idea that I still have in my drafts that was meant for the season of Valentine’s Day but…I lost all motivation to write during that time so here we are! Except I’m moving things further along, slightly this time in this piece and giving Mick a bit of a background so this is more mick focused.

Using this prompt list + numbers 21.) weekend trips + 29.) starting to heal & more prompts from [user: @corvase] 1. “how’s life?” “shut up we talked yesterday.” + 2. “you’re still on that?” “still on that..??? STILL ON THAT?????? I CANT STAND YOU???!!!(!;!” 3. “let me know now if this isn’t something you want to work through.”

S|N: Also featuring other characters from a few other shows that make a cameo here or are mentioned such as: BMF, The Have & The Have Nots, + The Cleaning Lady. + some slander on Beth, sorry!

Synopsis: Rio takes a weekend trip to the rural side to revisit a old friend who moved out of the country to further pursue her dream. What happens when Rio brings along open doors for the past?

︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶

Rio’s never been on this side of the town before (or rather this county) this was her showing him something new. He wasn’t much of a rural kind of person and he knew she wasn’t either but he was already aware that moving out of the country half of the year, influenced this new residence.

It was evident that she had company, with Rio finding two other parked cars beside her’s on the lengthy driveway. He hummed to himself, not thinking much of this as he made his way back to the front of the house, leaving him to think that the Tudor styled home could be featured in a “home alone” film. The man stood with his hands clasped in front him, lightly whistling as he silently surveyed the area around him.

The grass was still covered in frost but it was clear that spring would be arriving shortly, as the leaves on the hydrangeas bush caught his eye. His dark eyes drifted back to the front door which creaked open, revealing a smaller guy with caramel skin, curly hair, a tattoo on the side of his neck, and a blank stare.

He was confused as he pushed the question through his lips, “Can I help you?”

His tone was strong for someone who appeared so young. Something Rio was used to hearing himself way back when.

Rio dipped his head, getting a brief view of the brown almost golden entry way, “yeah, I’m sure you can. I’m a friend of Siobhán’s…she invited me for the weekend.”

The younger man’s eyes went into slits then, not liking the looks of Rio or his purpose of being alone with the mentioned woman, it probably had to do with the own tattoo on his neck and relaxed but sneaky demeanor, which Rio easily guessed his judgments. He could tell this kid was with the shits if needed and Rio didn’t need to take it there.

“That little red corvette yours? Or are you more of a Bentley kinda dude?” Rio tilted his head a bit, towards the back of the house where the vehicles sat, attempting to keep the convo light-hearted.

That’s when the shorter man sized Rio up menacingly, “who’s asking?”

Rio kept his hands clasped and let out a laugh, “I’m Rio man. I told you, I’m a friend of Siobhán’s.”

His lips curled at that, “Whatchu from Brazil or something?”

A smile broke out onto Rio’s lips at that, “Nah, I’m from here, Detroit. Born and raised. It’s just a name.”

That had that in common.

“Meech! Your cuz hooked us up with the good shit, so we don’t got to make this long ass trip back for leftovers.” A male voiced called out as he came up behind Meech.

This one was taller than “Meech,” possibly younger, brown skinned, sported a high-top, rocked some chains, he had more facial hair that sat above his lip and on his chin, and he was lanky compared in weight as he held onto two plastic bags.

He lifted his chin towards Rio, “Who the hell are they?”

Meech sighed as he leaned against the front door, “this dude says he’s a friend of Siobhán’s and he goes by Rio but he’s not from there…and I don’t know who the strawberry shortcake chick is beside ‘em.”

The lanky one was immediately suspicious as he shifted on his two feet, probably thinking about reaching for something. All he needed was the signal.

“I’m Mayor Elizabeth Boland,” Beth cleared her throat, holding her hand out for the two men to shake, “but you can call me Beth.”

“Look…” Meech started as he ignored her hand, “From what I gather, a dude like you who brings a snow bunny to my cousin’s door step ain’t no good news. So either you’re lying about what you’re really here for or you’re plotting and trying to get her involved in some shit—which she don’t need. So here’s my advice: don’t bother her with your bullshit or you’re gonna have to see me.”

Beth was lost for words at how quickly Meech was able to put that together. He was a complete stranger to her but once Rio heard his name, he put it together that this was Siobhán’s little cousin.

“That’s interesting because last I heard, Siobhán only sees you at family functions lately, which is strange since y’all used to be so close growing up…but now that you found new ways to make money too, you’re here at her house when she’s reaching the top of the fashion industry. That’s convenient huh?” Rio gave his perspective just as Meech read him and that angered the youngin quite quickly.

He was quick to grab at his belt making Beth inhale a sharp breath, “Ni—you don’t know me—

“Hey! What’s going on y’all?” Another voice boomed, making the lanky one nudge Meech as he sucked his teeth.

Meech let out a low laugh as he pointed at Rio in understanding. Before he turned sideways to reveal a bulky lighter skinned man, with a thick beard, oval eyes; muscular along with his arm tossed over Siobhán’s shoulders.

“Nothing,” Meech sent a gleaming smile at the pair, “Cuzzo, you got something at the door for you. He calls himself Rio and he brought a tag along that I’m sure you ain’t invite.”

The other man who held onto Siobhán glanced down at her, muttering something to her as she kept her eyes on Rio and Beth. She let out a soft sigh as she walked the rest of the length of the entry way, silently commanding that everyone watch her walk.

“How’s life?” Rio started, while Siobhán approached him.

The cocoa skinned woman with wide doll-like eyes immediately rolled them, “shut up, we talked yesterday.”

Which was true. She reached out to him on a Thursday afternoon to touch basis on when she would be expecting him the next day and she last saw him about a week ago for the first time in six months.

“Hi, Are you going to invite us in? It’s actually chilly out here so…” Beth let out a awkward laugh as Siobhán flicked her eyes back and forth between the two.

Siobhán bit her tongue as she let out a light laugh, her eyes saying just enough while meeting Rio’s eyes. His shoulders lifted innocently and before he could say anything else, Beth continued on.

“I’m guessing Rio didn’t inform you of my arrival…I can just go back to the hotel and let you two enjoy your time together.” Beth shifted the bag on her shoulder, ready to step back.

Siobhán hummed, “you’re here now so you might as well stay. It wouldn’t be very hospitable for me to kick you out right? so come in.”

Some more teeth sucking sounded but came from the man on the right. He didn’t agree with Siobhán’s method but he also didn’t know Beth Boland.

“Everyone this is Rio, a friend of mine.” Siobhán introduced him first before saying, “and his friend Beth.”

“Mayor Beth Boland.” The strawberry blonde boasted with pride.

“Yeah, we heard you the first time, Pippy longstocking.”

“Bryan!” Siobhán hissed, while Meech chuckled to himself.

That was a good one.

The lighter man scanned the room as he stepped forward to hold his hand out to shake the two stranger’s, “I’m Benny, nice to meet ya’ll. How’d you meet Siobhán?”

“Damn Benny, you staying for dinner to hear all that? Because Meech and I are about to slide.” Bryan told the older man who was keen on knowing this information.

Rio smiled, “Siobhán and I met at the park when I first brought my newborn son out in the next two counties over. It was my first day alone caring for him, while his mother had a self-care day and he wouldn’t stop crying until I rolled him out to the park. That should have been my first clue that boy loves the outdoors…anyways Siobhán was out there watching after some bad ass cousins.”

All eyes went to Meech who scoffed, “I know you’re not talking about me. Must of been Terry’s stupid ass.”

“Nah, it was you.” Bryan laughed.

It was actually all three of them but Siobhán didn’t want to burst their bubble.

“Shut up, B-Mickie.”

Beth added, “and we met through Rio…at a much later date when Rio’s son was able to run all over the place with a soccer ball. Just not through his son, however. Through much trickier terms?”

Siobhán didn’t miss the look Rio sent Beth’s way and wondered if that was a jab or not. Trouble in paradise? Who knows.

The raised brows she sent Rio was enough for him to realize that she was going to pry him later on that, for now they just had to get over this whole questionnaire.

“Trickier terms huh?” Benny crossed his arms, making Rio hum.

“Yeah man,” Rio stated, “we’re in business together.”

“You’re working with some mayor?” Bryan asked in disbelief before turning his attention back to Beth, “and what did you do before that?”

“I actually want to know that too since you’re giving me mini van mom vibes right now.” Meech asked, digging into his pocket to pull out a joint.

Rio snickered at that, making Beth carry on with a tight smile.

She redirected the conversation, “Well…How do you guys know Siobhán?”

“We’re family,” Meech stated the obvious.

Bryan huffed, “Friend of the family for practically my entire life.”

“And you?” Rio pried Benny who was staring at Siobhán who seemed much lighter than when he last saw her, not counting the week he saw her last.

“We’re also friends.” Benny stated but the smirk on his lips made Rio believe otherwise.

Beth perked up at that, figuring that tone also meant something as well, “oh, how lovely. For how long?”

“Damn she nosy,” Bryan coughed as he gave the signal to Meech, “let’s go.”

Meech removed the joint from his mouth to place behind his ear, “uh yeah not that this conversation is dry but it’s dry. Cuz, you seem comfortable with Rico suave and Mayor Beth so we’re gonna hit the road, we got some business to tend to.”

“Oh, okay. Let me walk you out.” Siobhán carefully spun in the entry way, leading the two boys away, she embraced them each at the door, lightly warning them to, “be good and to say hello to everybody else except cousin Charles.”

Meech snorted as he pulled away from embracing the girl, “you’re a trip, you know that?”

“I mean that.”

“I know you do.” Meech had his eyes burning on the back of Rio’s frame as he kept up the conversation with Beth and Benny, “if things get out of hand—

“They won’t.”

“You sure? I don’t know what they’re into but you don’t need to get wrapped up in their white collar shit. They’re gonna ruin your life when you’re already at the top and you don’t need nobody fucking with that.” Meech kept his voice low, however he wasn’t scared if anybody did hear this.

He already said his peace at the front door.

Siobhán smiled, “I appreciate you but there’s nothing to worry about. All I care about is mostly wedding attire…not the activities y’all like to get involved in.”

“So he is on that illegal shit too?” Bryan whispered-yelled at he got back in the conversation, “like what?”

“Dont worry about it,” Siobhán was firm, “I said I wanted you two to stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble can also lead to success tho, big cuz.” Meech winked while she scoffed, “let your friends know we may or may not be in touch soon.”

Siobhán gripped the twenty year old’s shoulders steering him away, “Bye Meech.”

“So you’re gonna kick your family out but not Bethany? I see how it is.” Meech joked before calling out, “Catch you later, Benny!”

Siobhán turned just in time to be engulfed by Benny himself, “I’m actually going to head out too unfortunately. I have a early morning at the shop tomorrow but I’ll be checking on you.”

“I know you will,” Siobhán gripped his forearms as he placed a kiss on her cheek before exiting.

She carefully watched as the men crossed the lawn towards the back/side of the house, climbing into their cars with a beep and wave as they pulled out of the driveway. Siobhán let out a soft sigh with a shut of the door before turning to the two guests awaiting her. Rio had a smirk on his lips that she ignored while she moved towards them.

“You two must be hungry, there’s plenty of food set up in the dining room.”

“You have a gorgeous house,” Beth trailed off as she followed after the host through a peach-painted sitting room, which contained some furniture, a piano and a huge sketch pad on a easel, “is this the room where you create your ideas?”

“Mainly yes. It’s one of the rooms that has the best lighting.” Siobhán informed as she took a seat at the table, followed by the two others.

Beth nodded, “I sense that. Do you mind giving us a tour later?”

“Theres not much to see, the house is dated and I plan on renovating it.”

“That’s a lot of work for one person.”

“I like keeping busy, I’m sure you know how that is.” Siobhán picks up a biscuit, drizzling honey onto it before taking a bite out of it with a mocking smile.

Rio cleared his throat, “regardless, I’m proud of you.”

“And I’m happy for you.” Beth told Siobhán as she reached for the tea pot.

Siobhán and Elizabeth weren’t the best of friends, in fact they didn’t have much of a relationship—which was fine by her. So Siobhán didn’t feel that statement was necessarily genuine. Mainly they were acquaintances that crossed paths because Beth, her sister, and their friend owed one of her best friends money and couldn’t cut ties with him. Elizabeth got a thrill out of this lifestyle and to learn that she was a mayor in the next two counties over was another power trip the housewife did not need.

Yet Rio still wanted her around.

Even when she put a bullet in him and she got one in return by someone Siobhán shared a personal relationship with.

However she knew when things needed to be let go of but she couldn’t say the same for her dear friend, Rio.

The doorbell chimed through the house making the thirty-two year old get to her feet. She figured it must have been one of the boys who forgot something. Which she kicked herself for as she yanked open the door to see Mick and a long haired Annie standing at her front door.

Together.

Again.

What the hell is going on?

“Hey,” Mick rasped, “…I take it you weren’t aware we were coming.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous! I’m sure Beth let Siobhán know. You know my sister, always planning.” Annie said as she quickly held out a bottle, “We brought Prosecco. Mick said it was one of your favorites.”

Siobhán took a large inhale and exhaled as a small smile appeared on her lips. She held out her hand for the bottle, “thank you. Why don’t you guys come in? we’re having a bite to eat in the dinning room through the left there, next to the staircase.”

Annie stepped in first as she spun around looking at the interior, “sick house! It’s almost like the inside of the titanic with the grand staircase! Perks of being a well-known fashion designer, am I right?” She clicked her tongue, sending finger guns Siobhán’s way before carrying on into the easier way to get to the dining room, loudly greeting the other two in there.

Shutting the door behind them, Siobhán paused at the door, realizing that Mick lingered back, not analyzing the inside of the house much.

“I wanted to talk more at the reunion but there was a lot going on that night. I didn’t want to press you.” His hands were in his pockets but his eyes stayed trained on the woman in front of him.

Siobhán remembered all the emotions she was feeling when she saw Mick enter the hall with Annie on his arm. It wasn’t her place to question what was going on there or when Annie got out of jail but it did send her mind wondering! There was plenty of time for Siobhán and Mick to hash out their old business…once she found out that Mick’s been working for Rio for quite some time, she just didn’t fight to make it a priority.

She needed to create distance and the least Mick could do was give her that. He picked up on that and gave her what she wanted, keeping his focus on what he was being paid to do.

“And now you’re here…at my house…uninvited.” The sarcasm did not go unnoticed.

Mick shrugged his shoulders, “you’ll have to take that up with Beth.”

“I think I will but first…is she gonna pull a gun out on you if you go in there?”

Mick thought about it, “she might. I hear she keeps one in her purse now. It’s not like I’m scared though.”

“Never that…” Siobhán slowly made her way towards the stocky man, “just don’t want to deal with the cleanup.”

Mick blinked, “The place can use some updating anyways.”

Was this the way it would be between the two now? Walking on eggshells since they were unsure where the other stood? There was so much history there. It was sixteen years maybe? since they last saw each other back in 2005 when Mick decided to up and join the marines a month after they received devastating news…

“Jackass.” Siobhán scoffed, walking by him to enter the dining room where eyes set on the pair.

Siobhán set the bottle on the table before plopping down, eyes locked on Beth who gave a sheepish smile.

“Don’t blame Rio for this, it was all my idea. I wasn’t totally sure Mick would be here.” Beth placed her hand on her chest in sincerity.

“I wasn’t sure if I would be here either since there’s this thing called range on this ankle monitor but Mick found a way around that so… shout out to you, mick!” Annie beamed as she popped grapes into her mouth.

Rio had his mouth pressed in his hand, not entirely agreeing with whatever Beth’s approach was.

Siobhán laughed, “you have a lot of nerve showing up here when I didn’t personally invite you and you also felt like involving two other people. Will Ruby be showing up too?”

“She’s in Nevada, so no.” Annie chatted.

Beth sat up straight, “yet she knows everything and will always know what’s going on.”

“So tell us Beth, what is going on?” Mick asked.

Beth glanced at Rio, which annoyed Siobhán.

“Well as the new mayor…I have a proposal for you. I’ll need some new attire for press conferences and events I’ll have to attend; also for my daughter and Annie too.”

Annie raised her brows at this.

“Mick has some business with a french man that you’re friendly with that can help with the shipping process.” Beth continued.

Siobhán folded her arms as she listened to Beth poke around the point of this conversation, “not only are you imposing but you’re also asking me to make clothes for you and your family but want me to get involved with some French man? Why?”

“You spent half of the year in France so it only makes sense that we expand the business.” Beth got excited as she talked.

“Business that you have with Rio?” Siobhán confirmed, “so what does a mayor really want from the French man and my designs?”

Beth rambled, “We need more funding of course. I have to be a successful mayor so that I can continue running and making this the best damn town ever.”

Siobhán failed to cover her laugh, letting out a cackle at the pure audacity of Beth that Rio and Mick thought she snapped. Once she got herself together, she wiped at the tears at the corners of her eyes.

“So let me get this straight, Beth. You ran this idea by one of my friends…which I’m sure he told you that you needed to find someone else to do it. Then you reached out to someone who used to be his right hand man, which so happens to be Mick and also has deep history with me to what? Persuade me? Because we know the same French man who also does illegal shit? Because I’ll be weak in the knees and take Rio and Mick’s word over yours? I’ll trust them? And then to have your baby sister back in your bullshit when she’s fresh on house arrest?! Whew!! you are a whole new level of a selfish cocky bitch.” Siobhán declared all of this to the older woman with a wicked smile.

She reached for the bottle, getting to work on the top as she awaited for someone to say anything else to her.

Beth swallowed as she looked at all the faces in the room, Annie shook her head at her sibling, not knowing this was her intentions on being here.

“Go on, tell us more on how you plan to fuck up my life since yours continues to spiral and you don’t even see it.” Siobhán encouraged as she poured the Prosecco into a teacup.

Beth pulled the sleeves down to her blazer, “I…believe with your sketches sent over to the French man, he’ll send the product back to us, we’ll wear the final product, make profit with a resell and do the whole money-switch-a-roo and give the French man his percentage back.”

“And when he comes after us, that’s when Rio and I come in.” Mick summarized what Beth didn’t say.

“Yes. We send him a little money to make the product, Give it some exposure, resell it, pocket the money for ourselves and the fake money goes to whatever I need to purchase to keep Detroit functioning. Everybody wins.” Beth explained in a chipper tone.

Annie let out a low-whistle, “that’s risky.”

“Oh and there’s also one more thing.” Beth kept on going, “Dawn Roslyn Parker wants in on it. We ran into each other at a conference yesterday and she says she actually loves your designs.”

“Huh? You didn’t say a thing about her.” Rio quizzed, knowing the heated stares from Mick and Siobhán were fair.

Rio was also in attendance as Siobhán’s plus one for her high school reunion last week, so he saw Dawn just for who she is with what she pulled. It was clear she was going overboard on poking the bear and hornets nest.

Beth rushed out , “she only wants a small cut. I’ve got it handled.”

“No, the problem is you think you do.” Mick shook his head, now taking a seat beside Siobhán.

“What do I look like working with the woman who used Mick and I’s dead daughter and her dead sister, who was my friend that she murdered out of jealousy! at the reunion for a slideshow presentation as a way to credit her revamped ways? And Why would I ever work with you? The woman who wants to take advantage of anyone to get ahead? Y’all are not my type of people.”

“Well that’s funny…” Beth almost puffed up her shoulders, “you don’t seem to mind Rio or Mick or even your family members…Meech and Bryan or B-Mickie was it? I’m still trying to figure out what Benny is into, besides you.”

Her eyes flicked to Mick’s then, almost seeking a reaction.

He simply didn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Beth Boland,” Siobhán leaned forward at the table, “I’m going to tell you this only one time since you seem to misunderstand me. I will never stoop to your conniving level of mixed up version of success that you’re looking for. You’ll never be happy that way. I am in my healing era and I’m not going to allow you to disrupt that so…You’re gonna take your things and exit the premises with your bullshit, before I have to get out of character and put a split right in between those pretty eyes.”

Annie gasped, appearing shook at Siobhán’s unexpected words.

Beth held Siobhán’s stare for awhile. It’s not like she didn’t think she was capable, despite the whole whimsical aura and poised persona she had going on. After all she was connected to Rio and Mick so that had to mean something right?

“Okay,” Beth was bubbly as she pushed back from the table, “Time is ticking and the offer expires by Sunday so if you change your mind, I’m sure you know where to find me. Come on, Annie.”

Annie sighed, “I didn’t get to enjoy this meal, Beth.”

“I’ve had better.”

“Not with your weekly unseasoned prep meals. Be forreal, girl.” Siobhán fanned her hand at Beth who just rolled her eyes with a snicker.

“Annie!” Beth called over her shoulder again, not wanting to do the walk of shame solo.

Annie grumbled to herself, scrapping the chair back as she met Siobhán’s stare, “sorry about Beth she’s—Beth. Do you mind if I take something to go?”

Rio rubbed at his face in aggravation, “just go tinker bell.”

Annie shoved some items into her coat sleeve and into her jean pockets muttering to herself, “tinker bell is a new one, is it because I decided to grow my hair out? Don’t know if i like that one, Ree-Oh!”

Once the front door slammed shut, the three sat in the warm dining room in deafening silence.

“You knew she was gonna bring that shit here when Siobhán has a lot to lose. What sense did that make?” Mick started the conversation, which surprised Siobhán—she couldn’t lie, since Mick was usually the sit back and watch type before or if he said anything.

“I think Elizabeth is at a level that can bring in better business for me. Us. If I would have known that you knew this Frenchman too, Mick, I wouldn’t have went along with this.” Rio admitted.

Siobhán snorted, “so you didn’t turn down this stupid idea for the sake of your so called best friend? Yikes, Rio.”

“I had your interest at heart too. Success looks different for everybody and when we all pulled it off, you’d be better than you are now.” Rio gave his perspective.

Siobhán rubbed at the tension in between her brows, “By having a target on my back? Something about her doesn’t have you thinking straight. The Rio I know wouldn’t want my hard work to be jeopardized…unless you’re desperate because if that’s it, you would have talked to me first, privately or you’re really being controlled by Beth.”

“I don’t get controlled by anything. I run this. I’m watching her do her thing from the side lines. She came up with the idea, I just wanted to see how well she executed it.”

“With no regard for my well-being?”

“Of course. I wanted to see how far you’re willing to go to keep things clean too.” He pressed his hands together.

Siobhán fired back, “is everything a test to you? Is it all tactical for you?”

“Nah, that’s just life. Look ma, I don’t mean to disrespect you—

“Too late for that,” Mick commented, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at Rio.

Who sent him a mean side-eye.

“You just have to be ready for these situations. Like how you met with…what was her name, you know her since you met up with her first husband right mick?” Rio tried to rope Mick in who puffed out a laugh in irritation.

What was he talking about?

Mick rubbed at his thick beard and sighed as he glanced at Siobhán who was frowning, “I met with Arman Morales who was with or still currently with—I don’t know their situation— a client that you worked with. Nadia. Nadia Morales. You created a piece for her and in return she gave you a significant sum of money and some jewelry right?”

“Where do you think that dirty money and emerald came from? She runs a casino doesn’t she?” Rio quizzed, “you may run a clean business but not a lot of people do. She’s one of us.”

Siobhán shouldn’t ask how they knew this because of course they had ways. Rio was supposed to be her friend and Mick was her past yet they were keeping tabs on her every move. Some might find themselves secure with that but Siobhan’s always been her own woman.

“So you can snoop around in my business but you couldn’t speak to me six months ago?” She grilled the man to the left her, first.

Mick licked his bottom lip, “you’re still on that?” He replied.

Wrong choice of words.

“Still on that?” She repeated louder this time with a scrape back of the chair as she placed the bottle she was cradling back on the table, “Still on that?! I can’t stand you!”

And walked off from the dining room.

“See what you started? You and Beth just dump everything on everybody else and expect people to go along with it when you know that’s not Siobhán.”

“Careful, now. You’re starting to sound like Nick.” Rio taunted as he nudged his chin outwards, “Siobhán’s a grown woman, she can handle her shit. Now ya’ll need to go get closure so we can collectively decide what happens next.”

Mick exhaled ignoring the insult the man threw his way, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“You’re right I don’t but the both of you will feel better once you do. And believe it or not Mick, I care. Even about you too.” Rio pulled out his phone, but held Mick’s stare who scoffed, pushing back from the table in search of the long haired woman.

He didn’t have to look far as he went to the right from the dining room, into the kitchen. Mick peered around the corner seeing her at the kitchen sink, scrubbing away at a pan that sat inside of it. Stress cleaning must still be her thing and he found himself taking a inhale as he went back to the glass door to the dining room and gently pulled it closed.

Silently he moved into the kitchen, actually taking the time to look around it. There was a small hallway from which he came, the first door was also left open revealing the path back to the entryway of the home, the door to the right held a tan almost orange small room with a flatscreen, a sofa, decent lighting, and some plastic containers shoved against the wall underneath the window. It was a spacious home but still felt empty to Mick, which made Mick question how happy was she? Yes Siobhán purchased this home a couple of months before she decided to come back to the states, however it didn’t feel homey just yet.

Maybe it was Mick’s ego but he felt like he had a part to play in that.

He decided to take a seat at the corner island that was built into the wall of the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if he really liked this set up but it wasn’t his place to comment on what he liked or disliked about this home. The dragging of the chair, caused her to stop scrubbing away at the pan in the sink, glancing over her shoulder with the loose strands of hair that framed her face floated with her movements.

“What did you come here for?”

Mick folded his hands against the counter, briefly thinking about how he should answer this. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate any coyness from him.

“You say you’re ready to talk but it ain’t feel that way back then. I gave you the space you wanted.”

She let the pan slip back into the deep sink and whipped around, her hands gripping the sink behind her as she laughed, “what I wanted? I didn’t think you care what I wanted. You didn’t back when I was seventeen, you eighteen and running off to be a marine. I had to hear that shit from your mother and sister instead of you. You didn’t even bother to leave a note or write a letter or pick up the phone and just try to talk to me. You up and decided what you wanted, leaving me alone to bury our daughter.”

Mick molded his lips into his mouth, carefully listening. This wasn’t news to him, he’s known what he’s done. He’s lived with it and he also knew how to numb it down. It was the best thing for him to do before he ended up doing something really stupid. He wished eighteen year old him knew how to communicate better but all he was surrounded with growing up was screaming matches and that’s not what he wanted to do with Siobhán…ever again.

“You weren’t ever alone, you had my mother and my sister. You had your dad and your cousin-aunt Lucille to rally around you—

“I didn’t want them I wanted you! Don’t you get that?! I wanted the guy I created life with to just hold me down like I would have done him. I know losing our girl was fucking painful and it’ll always be…but I never thought you would have hit me with nothing but white noise. Our relationship was never like that.” She sniffed.

Seventeen year old Siobhán and eighteen year old Mick happened to be very vocal towards one or another. They shared a class with each other, goofing off and everyone knew they liked each other but they always had to one up the other. Mick was the first to ask her out but she declined all because she wanted to be the one to ask him first.

“I hear you,” Mick said, “I’m sorry I put you through that, truly.”

“Then why did it take sixteen years?” She was accusatory, “did you know Rio and I were friends before you decided to work with him?”

Mick felt his eye twitch at that. He understood where Siobhán was coming from but his actions had nothing to do with her.

“…let me know now if this isn’t something you want to work through.”

“What, Michael?” She used his government and that was something she rarely did.

Mick toyed with his beard as he spoke what he was feeling, “I can’t ever make up for that time…especially if you’re always going to feel a way about it. I was acting off hurt emotions and I know you’re still hurt too but I can’t be face to face with you if it’s going to be the same story on loop. I want better for us.”

“I can’t keep up with you anymore,” Siobhán placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart thud rapidly against its cage, “one minute you’re telling me you’re trying to give me what you think I want, then you’re telling me you’re sorry, and now you’re telling me that you’re assuming that I’ll be unable to forgive you, just like that.”

“It’s okay if you don’t, I can learn to respect that but what I won’t do, is take you blaming me for our daughter’s death. I won’t be that punching bag, I gotta heal too.”

Siobhán felt her lips tremble, “I-I don’t blame you. Did you overthink that while you were away from me?”

“…it’s crossed my mind.”

“Well you’re a dumbass!”

Mick chewed on his lips, a bit vulnerable now.

“This is why I wished you just talked to me even if you couldn’t face me. A phone call, a letter. I would have told you that I never blamed you for what happened to her.” Siobhán expressed.

Mick rubbed at his face, feeling the weight of it all circling back around when he’s shoved it away for so long. “Kadene Solina Peraza…she would be fifteen this year. That’s crazy.”

“It is isn’t it?”

“I talk about her often with my therapist,” Mick pinched at the bridge of his nose to get his emotions together, “what she would be into, who she would look more like as she aged, since we all know she looked exactly like her fine daddy.”

Siobhán rolled her eyes, “you know what that means right? You’re the person that got on my nerves the most during the pregnancy.”

“Nah don’t try to downplay my genes.”

“Don’t want to hear anything else surrounding that,” Siobhán rolled her fingers around in Mick’s direction, making him snort out a laugh.

A actual comfortable silence filled the white once stuffy kitchen.

“You should come to one of my sessions with me…to fully close this chapter with some guidance…if that’s what you want?” Mick suggested.

Kadene wasn’t the only one he talked about and he was sure his therapist wouldn’t oppose to this as she already knew the tale of Mick and Bhán.

Siobhán scooped her strands of hair behind her ears as she exhaled, “I’d like that. Just let me know when.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“So…can we hug it out or is that pushing it?”

Siobhán let a small smile crack onto her lips as she held out her hands, taking steps to meet Mick at the bar stool he sat on. He got to his feet, arms reaching up to lock around her shoulders as her hands crept to latch onto his back. Being in his arms again felt like how it always did, safe and warm.

And if he held on any longer she might have cried.

“I’ve missed you for a long time, Bhán.” He whispered as the side of his head rested against hers.

She did too, Mick meant a lot to her. He’s been in her life since she was fourteen and him fifteen back when he had wavy thick hair, one chest tattoo, and loved listening to big pun, Jay-Z and had the biggest crush on Ashanti…you just don’t get over someone like him.

Siobhán thought about mentioning Annie, not to stir things up but to get that curiosity to shut up. Yet she just wanted to enjoy this moment for what it was, before she had to get in Rio’s ass about this plan to cater to the new mayor.

“What a cute Kodak moment, so everything good in here?” Rio’s smooth voice interrupted, causing Siobhán to pull away and look over at the thin but tall man who leaned in the doorway.

Mick didn’t rush to let go of Siobhán, which Rio noticed as his eyes flicked to the position of Mick’s hands resting on the small of her back.

“It will be.” Was Mick’s response.

Rio pushed off the doorway, “Good, good. Love to see it. Shall we discuss business back in the dining room? Food’s getting cold and I’m getting kinda lonely back there.”

Siobhán sent a look to Mick and moved from his grasp as she roughly patted Rio on his chest, “you’ll survive. You always do. Also just to let you know, I’m starting to regret inviting your ass here.”

“I bet but let’s talk about it,” Rio was all high cheek bones and smiles as Siobhán walked by him, followed by Mick who shook his head at him, “I’m told putting your feelings all out on the table is a healthy approach.”

And so the three sat down at the dining table, facing each other, ready to say what must be said.

︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶︶ׂׂૢ ︶︶

Continue along with my spring anthology prompts here.

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