#IT'S HEEEEERE! enjoy

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (19/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong. Ten x Rose AU This Chapter: Explicit, ~5000 words AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 |

James can hardly hear past the roar of his pulse in his ears as he is the sole focus of Jackie Tyler’s—(Jackie Peters’s? He’ll have to ask Rose what last name her mum has)—ire. Gone is the cheerful grin he’d seen in the photos Rose had sent of herself and her mother on holiday in Barcelona; now that joy is replaced with the sort of rage only a mother is capable of. 

He throws a desperate glance at the other adult in the room, but Tyler Peters is stunned into silence, his eyes locked on James as though he’d never seen a human being before.

Absurdly, this is what unfreezes James, and he throws out a stupid little, “Hello. I’m James Noble. Pleasure.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showin’ up here,” Jackie spits, stalking ever-closer. James regrets that he didn’t use the last two seconds to free himself from his position of being backed against the countertop. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Mummy! Daddy!”

Jackie whirls around to face the corridor at the sound of a tiny voice and pitter-patter of feet. She automatically crouches, and Tony gallops headlong into his mother’s waiting arms. She scoops him up and peppers kisses across his fair skin.

“Did you have a good night with sissy?” Jacke coos, stroking his hair away from his face. “She didn’t feed you any ice cream, did she?”

“Yeah! An’ made hotdogs and cheesy ‘tatoes, then we played Jus’ Dance, an’ James was there!”

“Oh?” Jackie asks, flashing James a withering glare. “When did he get here?”

“Yeah, he’s so fun!” Tony squeals, pivoting in his mother’s arms to beam at James. “He’s my fav’rite.”

Rose finally emerges from down the hall, her cheeks stained scarlet as she squeaks, “Hi, Mum. I expected you to text when you got here.”

“Oh, so you could hide this one somewhere?” Jackie scowls, gesturing to James.

“I… I wanted… I was gonna tell you…”

“What, that you let ‘im come weaslin’ back into your life? Did he come up with a sob story? Made it real convincin’, did he?”

“Jacks,” Tyler says quietly, inclining his head slightly towards Tony, who is still ensconced in his mother’s arms and watching the exchange curiously. “Let’s save it, eh?

Jackie purses her lips, then presses them to her son’s temple before handing the child to his father. “Take him outside, yeah? Meet you downstairs.”

“Five minutes,” Tyler warns. “This one needs to get to bed.” To his son, he chirps, “Say bye to sissy!”

“Bye-bye sissy! Gimme hugs and kisses!”

Rose tiptoes around her mother, not sparing her a glance as she scoops her little brother into her arms and gives him a couple of big twirls around the room.

“Spinny hug, spinny hug!” Tony screeches, clinging to Rose for dear life.

The sight makes something hollow ache in the pit of James’s gut. The siblings clearly adore each other, and Rose is so good with him.

“Bye-bye James!” Small hands tap his legs, and he realizes Tony is gesturing for a hug. He hesitates for only a fraction, but he can’t say no to those big brown eyes.

“G’night Tony,” he whispers, kneeling for a brief embrace. “Thanks for playing with me tonight.”

“All right, little man, wanna see who can race down the stairs fastest?” Tyler asks his son, ruffling Tony’s fair blond hair.

“Yeah! Onetwothreego!”

Tony bolts out of the flat, giggling madly, leaving his father to leisurely stroll behind him. Before Tyler closes the door behind him, he spins and says, “Good night, Rosie.”

“Night,” she mumbles, looking increasingly uncomfortable at the prospect of being left alone with her mother.

James nearly fumbles out an excuse to leave, but realizes that would be the most cowardly thing he’d ever done, and Rose deserves better than that. So he pulls on his big boy pants and turns to face the music.

Before he can speak, Jackie turns on Rose and throws her arms up into the air. “What are you thinking?! Have you gone mental?!”

“Mum, please just…”

“Whatever happened to “I deserve better than bein’ the latest in a long line”? I thought you were over bein’ a good time for someone who would drop you in a heartbeat for someone younger and smarter and prettier?”

Rose flinches from her mother, and James takes an automatic step towards her, reaching across the space between them.

“It’s not… it’s not like that,” Rose says weakly. “I got it wrong.”

“Oh, did you? ‘Cos from where I’m sittin’, it’s bloody obvious what’s going on here. Mister Handsome Rich Rockstar has swindled you again, tellin’ you whatever it is you want to hear so he can keep you ‘til he’s done with you.”

“Er, I’m not technically a rockstar,” James blurts, and he can hardly believe what has just come out of his mouth. But he can’t stop. It’s like his brain has ceased all higher function and his mouth has taken over. “More folk-pop. Indy, maybe? Soft pop?”

“Oh, shut up,” Jackie snaps, turning to him with fire in her eyes.

He clacks his teeth together and nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets in an attempt to make himself seem as small as possible, which is quite the impossible feat, considering his height.

“You! You need to get the hell away from my daughter if you know what’s good for you. You men, you’re all the same, taking what you want, thinkin’ you’re entitled to get your way, lyin’ through your bleedin’ teeth to get what you want. Well I won’t stand for it! My Rose deserves better. She isn’t a girl you can shag and drop the moment someone else comes along.”

“I… I know,” James stammers, his mouth impossibly dry and his stomach roiling in discomfort.

“Oh, do you?” Jackie remarks, false surprise lifting her face. “You had no problem tellin’ the entire bloody world you were just havin’ a bit of fun. ‘Cos that’s all you really want, isn’t it? Fun and a place to wet your cock…”

“Mum! Enough!” Rose shouts, red-faced and near-tears. “I was wrong. We’d both misunderstood each other. But we’re together now. Properly.”

“That’s what he told you, didn’t he? Bet he sounded real sorry too. Bet he said all the right words, didn’t he?”

James’s heart falls when he sees Rose flinch and drop her gaze to her feet.

“That’s enough,” he says quietly. “Say whatever you want about me, but Rose is smart enough to make her own decisions about her life, no matter what you believe. Yes, when Rose and I first started seeing each other, we each thought it was something casual. And I was an idiot for what I told the reporters. But things are different now. I want what’s best for her.”

Jackie grunts dismissively. “You say that now, but the moment she gives you a bit of bad press, you’re going to spin whatever little tale you need to tell to get the public on your side, and my Rose is gonna be the one who gets smeared through the muck.”

“I wouldn’t…”

“Mum, please,” Rose whispers. “I know I have an awful track record with boyfriends, but those are my mistakes to make. Maybe James will be a mistake, maybe he won’t be, but you have to let me live my life the way I choose to. And right now, I choose him.”

Jackie softens a fraction as she turns to her daughter. It’s as though with him out of sight, the gentle mother returns. She reaches to Rose and cradles her jaw, stroking her cheeks as she says, “My Rose. I will always want the best for you. It killed me to see you in such a state on holiday. I don’t want to see you be taken advantage of. Is it money? Sweetheart, you know me and your dad will help you out, you don’t need to stay with him for that.”

James is slightly offended that Jackie thinks he’s paying Rose to hang out with him or paying her for sex, but before he can think of a response, Rose covers her mother’s hands and leans into the touch.

“It’s not money,” she assures. “He’s not paying for anything of mine.”

“He bloody well should—he’s rich! You better not be payin’ for your dates!”

Rose lets out a sniffly giggle and throws her arms around her mother, who holds her tightly and rocks her from side to side. James wonders if he should sneak out while they’re distracted, but he finds he’s rooted to the spot, trying to wrap his head around the last few minutes.

“Please be safe, sweetheart,” Jackie whispers. “Please.”

“I am safe, Mum. And I wish you’d believe me when I say I’m happy. Really happy.”

“I believe that you believe it,” Jackie says, pulling back just far enough to kiss Rose’s forehead. “Remember that I’m here for you the moment you need me. Don’t you ever think you can’t come home to your old mum.”

Rose nods wordlessly.

The fight seems to have left Jackie, but she turns to him and says, “Don’t you dare hurt her, or mess her over.”

“I–  I won’t,” he vows.

Jackie narrows her eyes, scanning him up and down, but doesn’t say anything else. She turns away from him and back to Rose. “I gotta go. It’s way past Tony’s bedtime. Thanks for watchin’ him.”

“Of course. I love spending time with him,” Rose says, guiding her mother to the door.

“I love you. More than anything.”

“Love you too. Drive safe.”

Jackie kisses both of Rose’s cheeks and doesn’t even look James’s way as she sweeps out of the flat.

oOoOo

Downstairs in the foyer, Tyler Peters is desperately trying to occupy his definitely-tired-but-pretending-he’s-not-tired four-year-old, and it’s going about as well as one could hope. Tony is racing laps around the room, skillfully dodging the amused (and mercifully tolerant) tenants of the building who are simply trying to enter or exit the building.

“Watch it, mate,” he calls when Tony nearly barrels into the little old lady who has lived in this building for decades. She is one of the few residents who already leased a flat here before Tyler became the owner of the building. “So sorry Mrs. Donovan.”

“Oh, my grandsons have just as much energy,” the old woman says cheerfully, smiling down at Tony. “These bones may be old, but they’re sturdier than they look.”

“Hi!” Tony chirps, flashing a toothy smile. “Bye!”

And so the laps continue.

And continue…

And continue…

Tyler sighs and checks his watch. He should’ve known Jackie couldn’t keep it to five minutes. It’s nearing on fifteen, and he’s about to corral his son so they can go fetch her when the lift dings and Jackie steps out, her eyes sparking and her jaw locked.

“Mummy!” Tony sprints over and takes her hand. “Time to go!”

Tyler joins his family and takes his wife’s free hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of hers.

“Chat go all right?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking,” Jackie grumbles. “I mean… James bloody Noble?! It was bad enough to hear my daughter was havin’ a lark with that… that… scoundrel in the first place. But now she’s taken him back? Stupid. Irresponsible.”

Tyler bites back a smirk and knocks his elbow into her ribs. “Put yourself in her shoes, eh? When you were her age, you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have bedded Bono if he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in you?”

“It’s not the same!” she complains. “Bono never would’ve…”

“And Rose likely thought James Noble never would’ve,” he says simply. “You know I love her dearly and that I want the best for her, but Rose seems happy right now. Will it last? Probably not. But let her have this, eh? How many people can say they dated a famous singer in their youth? It’ll be a story for the grandkids and great-grandkids.”

His wife huffs out another impatient breath, but doesn’t argue further. “Yeah. Maybe. But still. James bloody Noble. I just hope Rose knows what she’s doing, datin’ that man…”

Tyler wraps his arm around her waist and gives her a squeeze, but doesn’t say more. Together, they walk out of the foyer of the building, all while being watched by two young women leaning on the wall beside the lifts.

The women exchange stunned, disbelieving looks.

“James Noble? The James Noble?” one of them asks.

“With Rose Tyler?” the other asks. “The girl up in flat 10-2?”

No fucking way…

oOoOo

James stares at the front door for several long seconds after Jackie’s marvelous exit. Rose shifts away from his side to step forward, twisting the lock and fastening the deadbolt chain before she clunks her forehead into the door. She doesn’t move from her position, so he goes to her.

Carefully, he slips his arms around her waist and presses a whisper-soft kiss to the side of her neck. Though she feels limp, she manages to spin in his grasp to instead plonk her head into his chest rather than her front door. She simply stands there, unmoving, as he rubs her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice muffled. “I didn’t think… I thought she’d… I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, nestling his stubbly cheek into her hair and breathing her in. Never before has a parental introduction gone so poorly. Usually his partners are as famous as him, so the parents are accepting and gracious or simply indifferent. Occasionally they’ll fawn over him.

But the outright hostility and venom that Jackie just spat at him…

“I didn’t realize you’d told your mum about me,” he finally says, matching the volume of his voice with hers.

She groans and says, “During our holiday. I’d been out of sorts, thinkin’ you didn’t care about us at all. Mum caught on to my mood. I didn’t mean to tell her, but I was quite upset, and it all just sorta… came out. And when I saw your red-carpet interview that confirmed I was just a bit of fun for you… I lost it, and she saw my reaction, and it wasn’t good.”

James wishes he could go back in time and wallop his past self across the head for his thoughtless comments. He wishes he’d had the courage to tell the interviewer how he felt about Rose, to tell the world that he was riding the high of falling in love, and that he wanted to keep it private. But he hadn’t. He’d been a prick and a twat, and he’d broken Rose’s heart from five and a half thousand miles away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve forgiven you for it all. But I just… I guess I’d forgotten how much I’d told Mum about you. And I’d forgotten how upset she was on my behalf. I was stupid for thinking that telling her on the spot that you and I were properly together would be enough for her to accept you. I shouldn’t have done it this way… I should have talked to her first, then introduced you. I’m so stupid.”

His stomach churns as he squeezes her tightly, as though that could rid them both of the shock they’re in.

“Should I… should I go?” he asks, mentally pleading with her to say no. The thought of spending his night in his empty house makes him ache with loneliness. 

To his relief, she shakes his head. “I don’t want you to, but I don’t feel like I deserve to have you with me tonight. My mum just… verbally eviscerated you. You must be so angry.”

“Not at all,” he insists. “Well… I’m a bit chastened. And a bit embarrassed that I made such a poor first impression, and that you’d been so upset about my behavior that you told your mum how awful I am. But I still want to be here. With you. If that’s all right.”

In response, Rose finally lifts her face from where it had been pressed into his shirt. Her eyes are a little red but completely dry, though he barely registers that fact before she threads her fingers through his hair, presses up onto her toes, and brushes her mouth to his. His eyes flutter shut at the glorious pressure of her kiss. He melts into her, splaying his palm across her back to hold her close.

“Stay,” she murmurs when she breaks away, though she catches his lips in another kiss a moment later. “Please stay with me.”

“For as long as you wish,” he says, because there is nothing on this planet that could make him leave.

Apart from her kiss of greeting at the door, this is the first that James has had Rose’s hands and lips on him in over a week. He tries to keep it chaste and slow, still unsure whether it’s appropriate for him to stay, while hoping to convey comfort and support through his body. He really shouldn’t let them get carried away; Rose is obviously upset, but he just can’t help it. He’s drawing as much strength from her as she hopefully is from him.

He has the presence of mind to keep his hands in safe places, primarily across the expanse of her back. He grabs onto the fabric to anchor himself as he basks in the heady intoxication of her mouth.

They each know exactly where this kiss is headed but pretend not to, and instead they explore each other’s mouths in lazy, indolent strokes of lips and tongue. James quickly becomes far too hot, his skin flushed and tingling with anticipation of things to come. He tentatively dips his fingers beneath her jumper, shuddering to touch her bare skin. She sighs into his mouth and presses her front flush with his.

He’s steadily getting hard in his jeans, each beat of his heart sending his blood rushing down, down, down, helped along by the rocking of Rose’s hips. He drops a hand to her arse, caressing and squeezing and pulling her more tightly into him. With his other hand, he tangles his fingers into her hair and guides her head back a bit to get better access to her neck. She grips his hips with near-bruising force as he plants row after row of searing kisses to the sensitive patch of skin beneath her ear. That familiar whining moan rushes out of her as she shudders in his arms, holding him close to urge him on. Not that he needs the encouragement.

Without breaking the kiss or the press of their bodies, James slowly guides them down the hall and to Rose’s bedroom. It takes ages, as he keeps getting distracted with the taste of her skin and the sound of her quiet gasps. They move even more slowly when Rose remembers that she has hands, then proceeds to use them to cup him and stroke him through his jeans.

“Christ,” he chokes out as a spark of pleasure zips up his spine.

“Rose,” she counters, giving him a playful squeeze that sends a full-body shudder through him.

“Smart-arse. Fuck, do that again.”

A laugh hums up her throat, vibrating against his now-still lips as she grips him tightly and rubs. He’s going to fucking lose it, right here in the doorway of her bedroom, but Christ this feels so good and he never, ever wants her to stop.

The intensity recedes a moment later, and he regains his senses enough to tug her hand away from him to instead guide her all the way into her room. There’s a pile of laundry on her bed that Rose haphazardly shoves to the floor.

“Clothes off,” she orders as she fumbles with the hem of her jumper, tugging until she pulls it over her head.

He doesn’t need telling twice.

Neither of them bothers with trying to sexily disrobe the other. Rather, they go for speed and efficiency, and soon enough, they’re both wonderfully naked. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, even more so, and he drags her down to the mattress with him. They move together until Rose is on her back, her legs open for him, and he’s atop her, his hips cradled in hers. She reaches between them for his cock, and strokes him a few times as she guides him inside of her.

He presses in, slowly, inch by inch, shivering at the sensations rushing through him. He groans through clenched teeth as he’s fully seated, forcing himself to wait, to give Rose a moment to adjust. She’s panting beneath him, chest rising and falling as her nails bite into the fleshy part of his back.

“Okay,” she whispers, arching her hips up and pulling him close for a rough, sloppy kiss that conveys everything she wants and needs from him.

His skin sings, tingling at the sensation of so much of her body pressed to his. His blood turns molten, burning him from within as he begins to move.

“Feels so good,” he chokes out, pulling back and plunging forward in a steady, measured manner. The slick glide of her all around him is as addictive as ever, and he trembles with the pleasure slowly mounting in him.

“Uh huh.” Her agreement dies on a moan as he thrusts in with a little more force this time. “James.”

He catches her bottom lip between his before releasing it to kiss her again. He teases his tongue into her mouth, flicking at the roof of her mouth just behind her front teeth, then going back to simpler kisses. Rose clings to him, kissing him back in equal measure as her nails rake down his spine to cup his arse, guiding his quickening rhythm. The sting of her nails coils a raging, aching heat low in his spine, building higher and higher until he knows it won’t be much longer until he’s lost.

“I missed you,” he grunts as her muscles begin to tighten around him. Thank fuck; she’s as close as he is. He redoubles his effort, wanting to push her over the edge first. “So much.”

“Me too,” she gasps. “Fuck. Please…”

He speeds up his rhythm, giving up on kissing her lips and instead tucking his face into the side of her neck. He breathes her in then plants his mouth to that patch of skin beneath her ear that is always her undoing. He grins to himself as she shudders and curses and moans, and when he dips a hand between them to rub her, she breaks.

She cries out and writhes into the mattress, arching her hips up and up and up, closer to him, closer to the sensations he is wringing out of her. She’s perfect, and fucking hell, he’s right on her heels. The perfect pressure within him pulls tighter, making him lose all sense as he chases his high. He thrusts with abandon, clenching his teeth as the flames fan hotter, drowning him, consuming him…

He lets out a wrenching moan and thrusts deeply into her, releasing helplessly, shaking and cursing and burying his face into her. Sensation sparks through him, channeling relief and pleasure through his entire body, curling his toes and stealing his breath. She’s everywhere, all around him and holding him through this maelstrom that has never felt so fucking good.

Rose… he thinks he gasps her name, but the rushing in his ears deafens him to anything except his erratic heartbeat.

He returns to awareness by Rose lazily stroking his back and kissing the top of his shoulder. His body is too heavy to move, but he manages to pull out and flop indelicately beside her, keeping an arm and leg slung over her. She laughs quietly at his antics, and he grins into the pillow. He cracks open an eye to look at her, and the sight of her smile and sex-mussed hair and flushed cheeks ignites a joy and love so deep that he begins to giggle. His body is thrumming with hormones that make him feel boneless and content, and through it all, he laughs and folds himself closer to Rose.

She’s laughing with him and turns to face him fully. He mirrors her position so they’re both on their sides, their legs tangled lazily together. He reaches out and brushes a few rogue strands of hair away from her face, then leans in to kiss her softly.

“That was great,” he whispers into the sacred silence of her bedroom.

“Mhm. Very great.”

“The most great,” he says, beaming as she rolls her eyes.

“Did you have a nice trip?” she asks.

He hums in wordless assent, and briefly tells her all about the week he’d spent in east Asia, meeting fans and doing photoshoots while promoting Catalysis.

“How was your week? Are you feeling better?” While her voice is still raspy from the illness she’d contracted, she looks and sounds much better than she had during their video chat on his last night in Japan.

“Much better. Teaching classes while feeling like death is always frustrating, but it’s easier than arranging for a substitute,” she says with a shrug.

He frowns, but they already had this discussion about how shittily schools treat their teachers, so he lets it go.

“I’ve got an upcoming holiday concert at the O2, weekend after next,” he murmurs, remembering the monthly schedule Donna had sent him that morning. “I’d… I’d really like you to come. If you want. It’s not just me. I think Ed Sheeran is on the list too. And Astrid Peth. She’s a good mate of mine. You can bring a few friends with you. There’s a private suite for my guests, so you could stay hidden, mostly, as long as cameras aren’t wandering around. And my mum’ll be there too. I think. Well. I should invite her, shouldn’t I…?”

Rose interrupts his nervous rambling with a soft kiss. He melts into her, but she breaks it far too soon for his liking.

“I’d love to,” she says, cupping his cheek before scraping her nails through his hair.

His eyes flutter shut at the echoes of pleasure that ripple through him, and he grins at her acceptance of his invitation. He’s giddy at the thought of being on stage and looking into his private suite to see Rose. His favorite pieces of his life will be in the same place, melding together perfectly.

He leans forward to kiss her again, and she willingly reciprocates.

oOoOo

They sleep, eventually. Between (and during) bouts of sex, they talk about everything and nothing. It’s like nothing bad can happen to them here, not when they’re twined so intimately, not when they’re making each other laugh so freely.

Wrung out in that perfect post-marathon-sex way, James buries himself beneath Rose’s blankets and lets blissful unconsciousness claim him. His dreams are vague and foggy, and he doesn’t remember them when he awakes later that morning to sunlight peeking through Rose’s curtains.

His eyes are gritty and heavy as he leans over to check the time. It’s barely 8am, but he feels refreshed, even though the drowsiness of lingering sleep tugs at him again. His shuffling has disturbed Rose, who curls close to him and mutters something unintelligible. He kisses her forehead and closes his eyes once more.

He drifts in and out for many long minutes before the gurgling of his stomach is too distracting. Even Rose hears it, and she pokes his belly, mumbling, “Shush.”

“Can’t exactly help it. Mind if I order a breakfast and coffee delivery?”

“Go for it,” Rose says through a yawn.

“Then can I borrow your shower?” he asks, sitting up and letting the sheets pool around his naked waist.

“Go for it,” she repeats, tucking an arm beneath her pillow to glance up at him. Her gaze falls to the morning erection that is somehow poking at the blankets despite their multiple rounds of very satisfying sex the night before. “Well, hello.”

She gently prods it, giggling when it bobs a bit. “Bouncy.”

James stifles a snort. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy.”

“Pfft.”

He lets her mindlessly poke his cock as he scrolls to a food delivery app and orders a selection of bagels and croissants for them, as well as his favorite coffee and her favorite tea. His chest balloons with warmth when he adds Rose’s address to his list of favorites, then places their breakfast order.

“Should be here in half an hour,” he says, resting his phone on the nightstand, ignoring the handful of missed notifications. It’s the bloody weekend, for God’s sake. It can wait. For good measure, he completely silences everything, not wanting his morning with Rose to be disturbed.

“Hmmm, how can we pass the time?” Rose muses, blinking up at him through her lashes and grinning wickedly.

She shows him just how entertaining thirty minutes can be.

He doesn’t have time for a shower before there’s a knock at the door that has them scrambling for clothes. He tugs on his pants and t-shirt while Rose simply dons a robe overtop her knickers, cinching it tight at the waist to keep her modesty. They emerge from the bedroom, with James going to the kitchen for plates while Rose heads to the door.

There’s an odd commotion in the hallway, but James doesn’t really think much of it, not as he absently wonders what he and Rose could do today. Maybe they can sneak out somewhere and visit a museum or something. Maybe he could take her to the studio—it should be fairly empty on a Saturday morning. Maybe they can take an impromptu road trip to somewhere Rose has never been. Pack their bags and drive to the first place they can think of. Book a hotel and order in a bunch of fancy food and rent some films to watch and get drunk on expensive wine and kiss until their lips are bruised. God, that sounds like a perfect weekend, and he hopes Rose will be agreeable.

But all of those plans, those hopes, are dashed the moment Rose opens her front door to reveal a stunned delivery person and over a dozen paparazzi photographers, armed and ready with flashing cameras.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #sacred new beginnings #ten x rose au #james x rose #my fic #romance #angst #it's heeeeere!!! #enjoy 😘💜

[scuderiahoney]

Always Walk Me Home

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Pt I

Strawberry Wine Series

Masterlist

Summary: You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Heeeeere we go, his number is in my bio for a reason, it’s my other favorite boy! This one is heavily inspired by some of the prompts on this list. anyways enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol/mild intoxication, mild sexual references, google translated Dutch

Things with Max are… brand new. Everything is still fresh. Everything he does gives you butterflies, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s the honeymoon phase, as everyone calls it.

It’s so brand new that nobody knows. Nothing is… official, yet. You’ve just been on a few dates, had a few movie nights. You’ve stayed at his place a couple times, waking up with his arm around your waist and Jimmy and Sassy curled up next to you. It’s casual. You’re keeping things casual. Max seems content to feel things out, to keep seeing you without labeling it. You’re trying so hard to be casual about it that it’s almost embarrassing.

You feel like everyone sees straight through you. On top of spending time alone together, you and Max are friends, so you see each other at group outings and clubs and dinners with your other friends. Max acts the same there as he always has- kind, courteous, and friendly. You won’t lie, sometimes you wish he’d hold your hand or pull your chair out for you or something, anything to show you that you’re not the only one feeling less than casual. But you’re scared of scaring him away, so you keep your mouth shut.

…..

You’re out to dinner with friends, somehow ending up sitting next to him. It’s nice, really nice. You can smell his cologne, can feel the warmth radiating off of him at the packed table. You have to fight the urge to nudge his foot with yours, to press your knee against his. That wouldn’t be very casual of you. You can do this, you can be normal.

He’s saying something to the person next to him, laughing and leaning towards them. You want to be the reason he’s laughing, want to be in on the jokes. You keep your mouth shut and look at the menu instead.

“What are you going to get?” Max asks.

He’s suddenly in your space. He’s leaning close, his shoulder brushing against yours. Be normal. You shrug, sliding your finger down the menu.

“Probably the shrimp scampi,” you say, pointing at the item.

Max nods. “You love seafood.”

You blink, breath caught in your chest. He’s right, but you didn’t know he knew that. Let alone for him to say it as fact. It’s not like he’s whispering either- someone else could hear. It’s silly, because it’s such a small thing, but you’re overanalyzing everything about it.

“I do,” you agree, turning and smiling at him.

“I remember things,” he says, a soft smile on his face, and now your face is growing hot.

Someone draws his attention away, and you look back to the menu. You nearly yelp in shock when something brushes your knee, but- it’s Max, you realize with a start, his hand searching for something. You hold your breath. His fingers find yours, and he interlaces your hands, palm to palm. He keeps them resting on your leg.

You try to take even breaths. He’s holding your hand in public, with your friends right next to you. Sure, it’s under the table, but this is the most you’ve gotten from him in a setting like this. He’s held your hand on dates, done much more in the privacy of his home, but here it feels overwhelming. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, and you resist the urge to hold on so tightly to him that he can’t let go.

Eventually the food comes, and you both let go so you can eat. But it was nice while it lasted.

…..

Max’s apartment is spacious and cozy, despite the fact that he’s gone from it so often. There’s a warmth here, an aura that just screams Max. His cats roam freely, though while you’re there they have a tendency to follow you around.

“They are traitors,” Max accuses as Jimmy and Sassy weave around your ankles in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m just better than you,” you say.

“Oh, you are,” he says, sending up a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. “But I feed them. So they are traitors.”

You laugh, leaning down to pet the cats. They nudge their heads against your hands and legs, paw at your socks, and when you walk into the living room, they follow after. Max just watches with disappointment.

By the time he joins you in the living room, drinks in hand, both of them are curled up in your lap. He lets out a huff and sets the drinks on the table. Then he’s nudging at the cats, and you cry out when he pushes them both off your lap.

“Max!” You say, appalled.

He laughs, lays down on the couch, and promptly placed his head exactly where the two cats had been. He stares up at you with a wide grin, eyes squeezed nearly shut.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you answer.

He reaches for one of your hands. He squeezes your fingers softly before bringing your hand up to his hair. You laugh and take the hint, start running your fingers through the blonde strands. He lets his eyes fall shut. Then you watch as he brings his hand up, purses his lips, and points at them.

You take that hint too, lean over and plant a kiss on his lips. When you try to pull away, he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and keeps you there. He deepens the kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you there. It’s not the best angle, but it’s nice, always nice to kiss him.

He finally lets you go and collapses back into your lap, a satisfied smile on his reddened lips.

…..

“I can’t open it!” You squeak. “What the fuck, how do they make it look so easy?”

You’re holding a bottle of champagne in your friend’s apartment, trying to get the cork out. It doesn’t help that you’re scared- one too many horror stories about someone getting a cork to the eye, or breaking a window. You huff and try again, gently. No use.

“Lando slams it on the ground,” your friend suggests, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, and he also shattered one of Max’s trophies,” you say. “So maybe not the best example.”

You hear familiar laughter, then, and you drop one hand to your side, still holding the bottle in front of you with the other. Max makes his way through the kitchen, a smile on his lips that paints his whole face. You hold it out to him, pouting.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

He wraps his hand around yours, around the bottle. You can’t lie, your mind goes somewhere else for a second, but you tamp those thoughts down and try to focus.

“See, you put this hand on the cork,” he instructs, “and this hand on the bottom.”

His hands are warm over yours. Your face feels hot. Does he feel the sparks when his skin touches yours, too? Or is this normal for him? Is it just a friend helping another friend? You wish you knew, wish he’d say something to quell your worries and calm your racing heart.

“-and then you twist, like this,” he demonstrates.

The bottle hisses, and you jump, but there’s no dramatic pop, no shooting of the cork. You just pull it out, and you stare at the bottle with wide eyes. Oh. That was-

“Easy, right?” He says. “You are already a pro.”

You laugh, shake your head, and hold out the bottle to your friends, standing there with their empty glasses. You want to study their faces, ask them if they noticed anything. You want to ask if they saw the sparks, too. Someone takes the bottle, and your hands fall to your side, the cork still between your fingers.

Your knuckles brush against something- when you look, it’s Max’s hand. He’s still standing there, watching as everyone passes the bottle around. You swallow tightly, bump your hand into his. Deliberately. You want to look up at his face, want to gauge his reaction, but you resist the urge.

Max reaches his pinky out and hooks it with yours. For just a moment, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by your friends, you’re linked. The sparks run from his finger, up your wrist and arm and straight to your heart. Your chest fizzes like the champagne, bubbly and overflowing.

…..

You weren’t even planning on seeing Max tonight. It’s a girls night, one that’s been suggested over and over, each of you being too busy to make it happen until tonight. You’re at your favorite bar, bass thudding in your chest, your friends all around you.

And then, there’s a tingling feeling in your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you. You turn over your shoulder and lock eyes with Max.

He’s leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He has a black t-shirt on that’s always been one of your favorites- it hugs his upper arms and his chest so perfectly. He’s watching you, a soft smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand. Everyone is moving around you, but you’re stuck on him.

You smile, wave, and force yourself to turn back to your friends. You like him, you want to spend time with him, but you’ve been neglecting your friendships because of it. Your friends have been teasing you all night about how you’ve been too busy, how you keep checking your phone, how there must be a guy. You’ve denied it at every turn. You can’t leave them now. Ditching your friends for the guy who isn’t even your boyfriend would be the opposite of casual. You force yourself not to look at him, but you swear you can still feel him staring.

Ten minutes later, a bartender appears with a tray of shots and lime wedges. “For you,” she says, pointing at you, and your friends squeal in excitement. She points behind you, then. “From him.”

You turn over your shoulder again. Max is watching, and waving this time. You laugh and wave back, and your friends all do the same. He’s far away, too far to make it in time as you each grab a shot and throw them back in unison. You put the lime between your lips and turn to look at him again, raising your brows. He laughs, eyes lit up so bright you can see the blue even across the room, you swear. Then he juts his chin in the direction of the hallway when nobody else is looking. A message just for you.

You find him out there ten minutes later, trying not to make it obvious and taking the time to come up with an excuse- you fake a phone call. The hall is empty when you walk out, and you wonder if he’s given up on you- you know you saw him walk out. Then he pops his head out from around a corner and waves you over frantically.

He’s leaning against the wall, the same way he was in the club. You stand against the wall on the other side of the hallway and stare at him.

“I’m not leaving right now,” you say. “I promised I’d stay out late.”

“I know,” he says. “Just wanted to see you.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? Seeing me across the bar wasn’t enough?”

The tequila running in your veins has you feeling braver than usual. It doesn’t seem to scare Max. He just grins wider, brow quirked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. “You’re pretty from far away, but even prettier up close.”

Your face feels hot. He pushes off from the wall, leans towards you. He could box you in if he wanted, could pin you right there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes your hand in his and pulls you away from the wall, too. The kiss he sweeps you into is sweet. He wraps his arm around you, and you sling yours around the back of his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. Out of all of it, you’re much more focused on the feeling of his thumb on your cheek than the feeling of his lips on yours. It’s strangely intimate, strangely soft, the way he holds you as he kisses you in the hallway of a bar. The way his nose nudges against your cheek, the way he pulls you closer and closer like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away, leaves you gasping for air.

“You taste like lime,” he says.

You nod, dumbfounded.

“You should go back to your friends,” he suggests, kissing your temple. “If I keep kissing you I won’t want to let you go.”

You breathe out a laugh and slap his shoulder. “If you keep staring at me in the club I won’t be able to focus on anything else.”

He laughs. “I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’re fun to watch.”

…..

Three days later, Max is holding your purse. He’d taken it from you when you were all standing in the lobby of the restaurant and your friend dragged you into the bathroom. He’d promised to keep it safe. Now you’re back, your friends are gathering their things and saying goodbyes, getting ready to go home. You’re watching him.

The little black bag looks even smaller in his hands. His fingers are wrapped around the clutch, thumb rubbing back and forth across one of the stitches the same way it had on your skin the night before. He’s talking to someone else, but when there’s a break in the conversation, you nudge him.

“I can take that back,” you say, holding your hand out.

He tilts his head, blinks softly. “That’s okay. I’ll carry it.”

You’re sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I need my purse.”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

You nod in response, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The two of you exit the restaurant, waving goodbye to your friends. He takes your hand the second you’re outside, your purse still in his other one. Your fingers knit together like second nature, now. You could predict the pattern of the brush of his thumb against your skin like clockwork.

Your apartment isn’t far, but you find yourself walking slow on purpose, prolonging the moment. You pass people on the street and you know that to them, the two of you look like a real, actual couple. It’s nice to pretend. You lean into his shoulder, and he stumbles and laughs and keeps both of you upright. The two of you talk the whole way there, about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

When you reach the apartment building, he finally holds your purse out to you. You open the clutch, digging through it to find your keys and the front door access card. He watches in amusement as your fingers fumble through the bag.

“D’you wanna come up?” You ask. “I have some of that wine you like.”

You pull the card triumphantly from your bag. You look up at him, and he’s smiling softly, something sparkling in his eyes that makes your breath hitch. Makes the champagne bubble in your chest all over again.

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “I’ve got to get back to the cats. But can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You blink, card still pinched between your fingers. “Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head at you. “Maybe brunch. You are going to need sleep. How about you text me when you wake up and we’ll go from there?”

You nod. He nods back. Then he reaches up, cups the side of your face in his hand. He’s so gentle about it, more so than he normally is. When he presses his lips to yours, he tastes like gin and he kisses like… like he cares for you. Like this isn’t leading somewhere else, like he’s not going to pull you into his lap and start trailing kisses down your neck. He kisses you just to kiss you, just to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when he pulls away. “Goodnight, liefje.”

You smile up at him. “Goodnight, Max.”

He smiles back. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead softly. You swear you’re melting into the sidewalk. You must be a puddle under his feet. You want to press yourself into his chest, tell him to wrap his arms around you, ask him to never let you go.

But you’re trying so hard to be so good at being casual, so you kiss his cheek, turn around, and walk inside. You take the elevator up, leaning against the wall and covering your giddy smile with your hand. When you get into your apartment, kick off your heels, and drop your bag on the counter, your phone buzzes. It’s a call. You look at the screen and see Max’s face.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Did you get in alright?” He asks.

Your heart squeezes fiercely in your chest. He sounds so soft, asking it. You walk over to the window, peel back the curtains, hoping you’re right about what you think you’ll see. There he is, still standing in front of the entrance, phone to his ear. He’s staring up at your window. When he sees you, he waves.

“Yeah,” you say. “You didn’t have to wait, you know.”

But I’m so glad you did.

“Yes I did,” he says, voice soft and scratchy from the night out. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” he says. You watch as he waves again, smiling up at you. “Goodnight.”

…..

He picks you up for brunch the next day. By the time you’re in his car, it’s nearly 10:30. He drives with his hand on your knee, like always, fingers dancing across your exposed skin below the hem of your sundress. You like watching him drive, like being here with him. He pulls up to the restaurant and runs around to open your door for you, leaving you laughing. He hands the keys to the valet. Then he slips his arm around your waist and leads you inside.

You’ve been on dates with him, but none this fancy, none where you feel a little out of your element. Max seems comfortable, though- it’s moments like these where you’re reminded he’s not just your-friend-Max. He’s F1-world-champion-Max-Verstappen. Of course he can get a reservation here with such short notice. They’re honored to have him here.

A waiter leads you to a booth in the back. The restaurant is bright and airy, fresh flowers on every table. Max asks for a pitcher of water and orange juice before the waiter leaves. He pulls your chair out for you, pushes it in when you sit down. Your palms are sweating, heart beating rapidly. It’s just- this is the closest you’ve come to feeling like you’re actually dating him. Suddenly, it’s terrifying.

You ask him what’s good on the menu. He points out his favorites- the French toast, the eggs Benedict, the omelettes. He tells you he’s going to order a fruit sampler for the two of you to share, and you smile softly.

“They always have the best strawberries,” he tells you, eyes lit up. “You love strawberries.”

“I do,” you tell him, warmth filling your cheeks. “You do too.”

You’d bonded over that, when you first became friends. A strawberry wine that nobody else wanted to drink. Too sweet. You’d split the bottle with Max and went to bed with a sugar rush, your lips still tasting like strawberry. Ever since, for every special occasion, the two of you have gifted each other that same strawberry wine. It’s a running joke, among your friends- you’ll open the bottle, ask if anyone wants a glass. They’ll ignore you, but Max will come running.

He opens his mouth to say something, but over his shoulder, you spot something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He looks at you in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just-“ you sigh. “Your coworker is here.”

Charles Leclerc has just walked in the door, a girl on his arm. The waiter is pointing in your general direction, towards an open table a little ways away. There goes your whole morning. He’s going to want to leave now.

Max turns to look, brows raised. “Oh. At least it’s one I like.”

You can’t help the laugh. “Should we go?”

Max turns back to you, perplexed. “What, get up to say hi? I don’t like him that much. He’ll come over here when he sees us.”

Us. You wish he meant it how you want him to.

“No, like-“ you sigh, gaze flickering down to the table. “You don’t want people to know, so-“

“What?” He asks, wide eyed. “What do you mean, I don’t want-“

“You didn’t want to tell anyone,” you say, quietly. You can’t look at him. “We haven’t even really talked about this, and… I figured you…”

You trail off, because you can feel him staring at you. He reaches over and tucks his finger under your chin. He tilts your face upwards towards his. His gaze is soft, a small smile on his face.

“Schatje, you have to be joking,” he says, and you stare back at him. “Of course I want to tell people. I have wanted to tell the whole world since I kissed you the first time.”

You blink. “But you- you didn’t want to put a label on it. You never…”

“We never talked about it,” he says. “I was giving you time. I’m a lot. Dating me is a lot. You are… I was following your lead.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, a giddy feeling in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so dumb.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. His eyes are bright and sparkling, his smile spreading across his whole face. You’re so done being casual.

Charles appears at the end of your table seconds later, smiling at the two of you. “Max, hi, good to see you. And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, turning to you.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend,” Max says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

When you greet Charles, you can’t wipe the giddy grin from your face. It stays there the whole rest of the day- through breakfast, through a walk through a park, through a late lunch at Max’s with the cats winding around your ankles. Every time it starts to fade you think of Max, bright blue eyes, his finger under your chin. You fall asleep still smiling. You’re pretty sure it’ll be there when you wake up.

…..

The next time you go out with your friends, Max carries your bag the whole night. He also keeps his hand on the small of your back nearly constantly. He orders and pays for all of your drinks, includes you in all the conversations, and brushes his lips against your temple every time there’s a lull in the talking.

Nobody questions it. None of your friends even bat an eye. You find out why when you end up in the bathroom with the girls, a tradition as old as time itself.

It turns out they all already knew.

“Max told us all the day after he kissed you the first time,” someone tells you. “And then he told us we all had to act like nothing was different, because he didn’t want to scare you off.”

You collapse into a fit of laughter, bracing yourself against the sink. All this time, you were worried about it, and he’d told everyone right away. You’d thought you were the one struggling to be casual. God, you’d have saved yourself so much trouble if you’d only asked. If you’d only told him straightforward what you wanted. If you’d only been up front.

You’re giddy with it, then. You can feel it coursing through your veins and buzzing in your fingertips. You won’t call it love yet, at least not out loud. It’s too soon, right? It can’t be love. But it’s something, and now you want him next to you. You want his lips on yours again. You’re missing him even though he’s just through the door, waiting for you, your bag in his hand.

When you return to his side, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. You watch his smile grow and his cheeks turn red. You place your hand on his shoulder and put your lips against his ear.

“You should take me home,” you tell him.

His cheeks get even redder, and he turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “You’ll walk me home, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

He takes your hand, squeezes lightly. You feel like you’re glowing brighter than the neon lights above your head.

…..

You slip up over your morning cup of coffee three days later. The cats are in your lap. There’s the perfect amount of cream and sugar in the mug, he’s made it exactly right. The sun is shining through the windows, bouncing off his hair and painting his skin in golden light. You weren’t going to say it out loud, you really weren’t, but it slips past your lips anyways.

“I love you,” you say.

Max laughs, takes the mug from your hands, and kisses you.

Then he says it right back.

read the prequel/ sequel, Someone Sane

okay, now I’ve got my three favorite boys in the masterlist! thanks for reading! come say hi, or check out more of my writing here. drop an ask or a dm to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max Verstappen #fanfic #max verstappen fluff #fluff #honeywrites #mv1 #strawberry wine verse

[bangtanintotheroom]

Plug & Play (M)

• Pairing: Guitarist!Hongjoong x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rock Band!AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 10.3k

• Summary: Tonight is the night that you quit being a bystander and make a move towards the guitarist on stage with the devilish smile.

• Warnings/themes: a rock show!, swearing, drinking, pining, Y/N is a horny bean, Hongjoong and his dangerous smiles 🫠, Yeosang the wingman, flirting, making out, semi-public sex, oral (f. receiving), mentions of oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, fingering, fingers in mouth, finger sucking, protected sex (be responsible!), clothed sex, multiple orgasms

• Notes: SHE’S HEEEEERE 🗣️ the manifestation of my new love for yet another leader hehehehe 😚 I don't have much to say other than thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for doing a look-over, everyone enjoy and think of blond, rockstar HJ the whole time!

• Taglist: @loveateez @mellikestoread @itza-meee @roomsofangel @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @kiestrokes

“I’m gonna fuck him.”

Yeosang stared at you from behind the counter, wondering if he heard you right amidst the clinking glasses and rock music.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m gonna fuck him, Yeo.”

“Who?”

You rolled your eyes, rotating ninety degrees to point at the object of your desire on the stage.

“Him.”

There was little surprise on your end at the scoff you heard from behind.

“You’re still on that mission?”

Your head whipped around incredulously. “Yes! Why are you shocked by this?”

Yeosang’s expression reeked of indifference as he wiped some bottles down.

“Because I thought you would have given up by now.”

“I don’t give up easily, dude—” Your eyes watched as that certain someone tuned their guitar strings. “—especially when I really want something.”

And you really wanted the man you had in your sights.

Your roommate Yeosang worked as a bartender at a small yet intimate venue where many up-and-coming bands liked to perform, in hopes of recognition. He invited you to visit one night, knowing you loved to get a peek at new music. You couldn’t refuse the offer, especially when he snuck you a couple of free drink vouchers.

When you had come by the first night, you were surprised at the amount of people hanging both outside and inside the building. The couple of times you had stopped by previously to drop something off, only half of the room was filled. But this time had attendees hugging the wall and the bar counter, shoulder to shoulder.

Once you managed to reach Yeosang, you waited until he wasn’t scurrying with shot glasses to ask if there was a special occasion. He answered mid-pour and said one of the local bands was playing soon and their loyal fans flocked in when they got word. Leaving him to his work, you melded into the crowd, studying what the demographic was.

The ratio of women to men was in favor of the former, making you wonder just what kind of group was performing tonight.

You got your answer when the lights went down and screams erupted around you, nearly rupturing your poor eardrums. But when the lights came back on, you could see why.

Five insanely gorgeous men were spread across the stage, each with an instrument in their hands.

They all had their own aura, represented by their outfits and the expressions on their faces. Although, there was one in particular that caught your attention.

The one holding a shiny black guitar like it was his child.

His platinum blond hair caught your eye before you took in the rest of him. You liked how the sharp angles of his face had areas of softness that could disarm even the coldest of people. His outfit was flattering and a good balance of comfortable yet showy. But his smile was what nearly knocked you off your feet.

The way his white teeth would often flash while he strummed his instrument had a grin coming up on your own face. You could see that he was someone who cherished his craft by the way he’d keep up with the other members’ pace. And he would never stay in one place; you’d often catch him jumping around on the stage, from standing next to the drummer to nearly teetering on the edge in front of fans.

Plus, he was just adorable. But the cuteness would go into its hiding place at times, leaving a man that began altering your brain chemistry.

Too many times did you find your breath hitching whenever he’d throw his head back, mouth agape as he got into the music, fixated on the drops of sweat rolling down his neck. Or whenever he’d lower his head, looking up into the crowd with the wickedest of smirks that had you fantasizing about a certain position that would grant that view as well.

Before your mind could fully catch up on whatever was happening in front of your eyes, cheers erupted around you. You blinked into reality and watched as the band waved and thanked everyone for attending tonight before making their way off the stage. You were jostled into moving when an attendee bumped your shoulder, shooting an apology to your still form.

Desperately needing to decompress, you ran to the bar to catch Yeosang as he finished making a tray of shots. He could tell by the look on your face that he made a good choice in inviting you out before your mouth began running a mile a minute. You didn’t care if he wasn’t able to hear half of your ramblings, running to continue doing his job as a sudden wave of people came by.

Your excitement had to get out of your system somehow.

But it turns out even that wasn’t enough.

You would keep thinking about the handsome guitarist on a day to day basis, at the most inopportune moments. It didn’t help that you would look up the band’s music online and listen during your commutes and free time. They legitimately made good tunes, playing to their strengths and composing lyrics that wouldn’t escape your head.

Lyrics that were joined by the constant flashing of a devious smile.

And so you found yourself returning to the venue for their next show. To say Yeosang was stunned by your surprise appearance was an understatement. You managed to shrug it off and say that you were starting to become a budding fan of Halazia.

It was technically the truth. He didn’t need to know about your other reason…yet.

With this visit, you were hoping you’d catch the blond doing something that would kill your interest or that your eye would wander onto some of his bandmates instead.

You realized by the end of the performance that it was futile.

Not even the drummer going shirtless halfway through to show off his well-muscled physique could completely distract you from the fully clothed one wailing on his guitar. Trudging out of the building with two cocktails down had you realizing how doomed you were.

When your titillating thoughts started forming into full-blown fantasies, you had to come up with a solid way to get them to disappear. At first, you hoped your hand and a few explicit videos would be enough, but even that got old after a while.

Which led to your current objective as you watched the band continue to set up for the night.

It might be a pipe dream, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried, right?

Yeosang thought it was ridiculous, but never said it was impossible or a bad idea. He begrudgingly supported you from the sidelines, even if he called you crazy at times. A true friend, through and through.

“Oh, don’t I know it. You kept hounding me for weeks to help you put your bookshelf up.”

“And you did such a fantastic job! Shit would have fallen apart if I did it myself.”

Yeosang shook his head at your flattery, yet the tiniest of smiles tugged at his mouth. “Uh huh.”

Giggling, you picked up your glass and finished off the last sip. After you set it down, you sensed a person coming up to stand next to you.

“Yeosang!”

The bartender grinned at them. “Yunho! Amazing job, as always.”

“Ah, stop, you say that every time. Do you mind if I put in an order?”

“Not at all. What would you like?”

Curiosity got the best of you and you looked up to see what this Yunho looked like. Imagine your surprise when you saw the bassist of Halazia standing next to you. Damn, he was tall.

“Two rounds of shots and eight beers, please.”

Yeosang lifted his brow in that fashion of his before replying, “Eight? Not ten?”

Yunho sighed and shrugged. “Seonghwa is feeling fussy tonight and San needs to be able to walk home.”

“Makes sense. Alright, give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Yunho seemed to notice you watching the conversation now, giving you a polite smile before heading back to his table. Your eyes followed him until he sat down, switching targets to take in the blond man with a megawatt smile next to him. Just watching as he threw his head back and laughed had your heart pumping faster.

You couldn’t hold off any longer. You had to do something tonight.

Your mind began coming up with a plan on how to approach while you turned back around, watching as Yeosang began putting together the drinks.

“Damn, big order.”

“Tell me about it. They must be parched after their performance.”

You studied the two trays as he started filling it with shot glasses and beer bottles, knowing that he’d have to make two trips to get everything there.

…or just one trip, if he had an extra set of hands.

You could see the lightbulb start to flicker on now. A simple yet effective plan to get within speaking distance of the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for the last couple of weeks came to fruition. You committed to your decision just as the bartender finished up the order.

Okay. Showtime.

“Hey Yeo—” Your roommate paused as he was reaching for one of the full drink trays. “—need some help there?”

Yeosang blinked owlishly at your offer.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know, Y/N. It wouldn’t be good if you dropped these.”

“Hey now, I used to be a waitress, remember? Come on, it’ll save you some time.”

You watched as he pondered for a moment, grinning in triumph when he nodded.

“Alright, grab one and let’s go.”

A salute was given as you hopped off your stool, carefully reaching for one of the trays and lifting it above your shoulder. Muscle memory took over as you balanced it, waiting until Yeosang came out from behind the counter and led the way. You made sure to not run into anyone and kept an eye out for any sudden surprises, thankful when you reached the table in one piece.

And even more thankful at one of the pairs of eyes that landed on you.

“Our savior!”

The one man you recognized as the lead singer rejoiced as you and Yeosang set the trays down on the table, bringing a giggle out of you.

“Jongho, I didn’t hear water in Yunho’s order…”

Yeosang’s playfully stern tone made Jongho wave a hand in the air. “Water, shmater, we’re big boys! We can hold our drinks!”

“We can, not this one, though.”

The next one that piped up was the unusually beautiful man you saw strumming away at his rhythm guitar, pointing to the pouting drummer who now wore a white tee.

“Hyung, don’t call me out like that!”

“San, we had to carry you out the last time, we’re not looking for a repeat.”

Your focus was now on the object of your desires as he gave San a strict yet concerned look, the expression only making him look even better.

“You won’t, that’s why I passed on the beer!”

The guitarist made an unconvinced sound. “We shall see.”

Yeosang chuckled and interjected, “I’ll bring some water over, just to be safe. Sound good, Hongjoong?”

Now you learned that the man you had been eyeing up was Hongjoong, trying not to stare too hard as he grinned at your friend.

“Definitely.”

He caught you off-guard by shooting you a smile now.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Your reaction was delayed, but you managed to give a nod, forcing yourself to follow Yeosang as he headed back to the bar. Only then did you realize you were holding a breath in, exhaling as you leaned on the counter.

“Fuck.”

“I thought you were going to hop on his lap for a moment.”

You shot a scowl at Yeosang as he worked on getting the water together.

“Yeo, I’m not that shameless. I was just…taken aback.”

He looked up to give you an unconvinced stare, paired with a lifted brow.

“Sure, let’s call it that.”

He looked back down in time to miss the middle finger you shot. While he continued, you started reining yourself in from the very brief encounter.

You learned two things; Hongjoong was his name and he was even more handsome up close. Stage lights weren’t over exaggerating his sharp features, his nose and jaw looking like they’d be able to cut glass. His grin was blinding and the teeth beneath them were damn near perfect.

Although, you wished you had mustered enough courage to say something to him.

It would be somewhat awkward to go back empty-handed and start a conversation with him, especially with his bandmates right there. Just because you wanted to get in his pants didn’t mean you wanted to come off as nothing but a groupie to them.

“Here.”

Your thinking was interrupted when two full pitchers of water were placed in front of you, prompting you to look at Yeosang with bewilderment.

“Maybe this time you can actually talk to the guy.”

His suggestion finally clicked, your eyes widening in gratitude.

“I fucking love you, Yeosang.”

He smiled and shook his head, giving one of your hands a pat. “You can tell me through your teriyaki chicken, Y/N. Go on.”

With a megawatt grin and a mental note to pick up some chicken to cook tomorrow, you lifted both pitchers before turning to make your way back to the table. You had to make sure your hands didn’t shake the closer you got, not wanting to spill water on any of the guys.

As soon as you were close enough, you cleared your throat to capture their attention.

“Your water, gentlemen.”

Setting the refreshments down brought a small wave of cheers.

“Thank you! Maybe we can get San out of here in one piece tonight.”

“Aish, stop!” San batted at Jongho’s head, the vocalist dodging as he snickered.

You grinned at the two’s antics, straightening up when you realized something.

“Oh, I should get you guys some glasses. I’ll be right back.”

You quickly turned around and power walked to the bar, asking Yeosang for a small stack of drinking glasses before returning.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Are you new here?”

Your head shook at Seonghwa’s question. “No, I don’t even work here. Just helping my friend out while he gets slammed with customers.”

The pretty guitarist smiled softly.

“That’s very nice of you.”

Your cheeks couldn’t help but warm a tiny bit, shooting him the same look. “Thank you. He has to listen to enough of my ranting at home, might as well ease his pain somehow.”

Yunho blinked curiously before asking, “You’re roommates?”

“Mhm.”

He made a sound of understanding, yet another voice cut in before he could say anything.

“Thought you looked familiar.”

You focused your sight on Hongjoong, recognition on his attractive face that had your heart beating a little faster.

“Me?”

“Yeah—” His mouth quirked. “—thought I saw you hanging around Yeosang the last few times we were here.”

Oof. You weren’t sure how to react to him basically saying that he recognized you from afar. It wasn’t a bad thing, at all, considering your end goal, but you were surprised he even remembered with the amount of people in this building.

All you could muster was a scratch of the back of your neck, trying not to fluster further under his gaze.

“Haha, that’s me, always bugging him.”

Hongjoong gave a soft laugh, eyes scrunching in humor. It only made you more bashful, trying your best not to rub the toe of your boot into the ground.

Noticing that Yunho was roped into a conversation with the others now, it left you alone with the lead guitarist.

A window of opportunity!

But for some reason, you couldn’t muster the words to continue speaking with him. Even though he continued to acknowledge you with his gaze, your eyes averted to watch the stage behind the dining tables.

“Hey.”

Your ears perked up, looking down to see Hongjoong eyeing you with curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

A lifesaver.

You had to hold back the large grin you wanted to give, settling for a polite smile instead.

“Y/N.”

He returned your expression, nodding before replying, “Nice to meet you, I’m Hongjoong. Actually, you probably already knew that.”

With a little more confidence, you replied, “I actually didn’t. I’m pretty bad with names, plus I was too distracted by your performances to really focus on that.”

Hongjoong lifted a bleached brow, cocking his head.

“Oh yeah? You like us that much?”

You nodded with little shame. “Absolutely. I’m surprised you guys aren’t a household name by now.”

Hongjoong grinned, although it was paired with a slight flush of his cheeks.

“Stop, we’re not that good.”

“But you are! Look, I’ve been seeing local bands since I was a teen and I can say you guys are one of the best.”

Something a bit sobering slithered in his eyes as he stared you down, lips straight as a line.

“No bullshit?”

Now you managed to keep the gaze steady.

“None whatsoever.”

It was another few seconds before he finally took your compliment, appreciation written all over his face now.

“Thank you, Y/N. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course! I wish I knew about your music earlier—” You frowned. “—I’ve only seen you guys play a couple of times.”

Hongjoong shrugged, saying with more positivity, “A couple is better than none.”

You could see he had a point so you nodded in agreement. But all of a sudden, you wondered if you were bothering him. He had just finished a harrowing performance; maybe he wanted to kick back and relax with his friends, not indulge you with conversation.

“Hongjoong?”

“Hm?”

This hurt to say, but—

“If you want me to give you some space, I can.”

The musician gave you a look that came off as bewildered. “I don’t mind. Unless you have somewhere to get to?”

A hand came up to wave in the air as you placated, “No, I don’t, but I’d hate to impose—”

“Looooving youuu~ Is easy ‘cause you’re beautiful~”

Out of nowhere, singing erupted, prompting both you and Hongjoong to look at the source of the sudden noise. What greeted you had you chuckling.

“Seems like the drinks are already starting to set in.”

The blond’s wisecrack had you raising a brow as you both took in Jongho holding San’s face as he crooned a love song to him and Yunho waving his hands to the beat while Seonghwa pulled his phone out to record the tender moment.

“I can see that.”

Hongjoong scoffed in amusement and shook his head.

“Every time.” He glanced aside for a moment before looking at you again. “Maybe we should move somewhere quieter.”

The suggestion made your heart skip, unaware of what the intentions were behind it.

“Oh?”

“Yeah—” His sudden beam erased any doubt you had. “—I can’t get to know you with all this noise here.”

You uttered a silent thanks to both Yeosang and whatever being resided in the sky for giving you this opportunity. You held back a bit as you grinned and said, “Lead the way.”

Hongjoong was quick to stand up, grabbing his two beer bottles before jerking his head towards the stage. With a quick glance to make sure his friends were still occupied, you began following him. He walked to the foot of the stage and sat his drinks down, using his hands to lift himself and sit on the ledge. You followed suit, taking care to make sure your skirt didn’t ride up, sitting as close as possible without getting in his personal space.

As soon as you were situated, a bottle turned up under your nose.

“Thirsty?”

You blinked at the offer. “You sure? It’s your beer.”

The blond shrugged, wiggling the brown glass a bit.

“My beer, but I’ll make it yours now.”

A chuckle came out as you accepted the drink, peeling off the half-open cap before taking a sip.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So—” Hongjoong took a sip from his own bottle. “—are you a regular here?”

You shook your head.

“Surprisingly, no. I’ve been to almost every venue in town except for this one. Figured I’d give Yeo a rest from seeing me at home and work.”

Hongjoong snickered, lips curled in humor.

“Understandable. I’m guessing we were your first show here?”

“You were. Have you guys been playing here for a while?”

He hummed, looking up in thought before responding, “Kind of. This was our seventh performance here, but we’ve been playing at other places too. I’d have to say this is the best looking one, by far.”

“Let me guess—” Your mouth twisted up on one side. “—you’ve performed at Miroh?”

The way Hongjoong grimaced was enough of an answer for you.

“Sadly. Never again. Yunho almost got a bottle to the head because his amp was a little too loud.”

“Yikes.”

The two of you decided to move away from the topic of horrendous dive bars and to lighter ones, from behind the scenes knowledge about Halazia to what you did outside of going to concerts. You liked that Hongjoong had an equal part in the conversation continuing, not wanting to come off as desperate and scrambling for something else to talk about.

Not that you couldn’t find anything.

He was rather easy to talk to, paying close attention whenever you spoke and answering your questions with thoroughness. The way he would motion with his hands at certain points endeared him to you, smiling and giggling with admiration at his theatrics. It was also fun just to watch him, in general.

“So how do you like living with Yeosang?”

The subject change surprised you a bit, but you answered after finishing off your beer. “No complaints on my end. Well, except that he can be a space cadet at times.”

Hongjoong snickered over the lip of his bottle.

“Not surprised he’s still like that.”

Your ears perked at his statement, giving him a curious stare.

“Still?”

“Mhm. We used to live together, at one point.”

If you were in the middle of drinking, you would have had to hold back from choking or spitting in shock.

“Really?!”

Hongjoong nodded, lips stretched at your stunned reaction.

“He mentioned having a roommate before me, but I never would have dreamed that it’d be you.”

The musician shrugged and replied, “To be fair, I wasn’t around much. Spent most of my time at the studio or at work. I only moved out when Seonghwa got a spot open at his place.”

Following along with his explanation, you decided to be mischievous and question, “Was it that or did you drive poor Yeo crazy?”

Hongjoong feigned offense, a twinkle in his widened eyes as he leaned back.

“Y/N, are you accusing me of being a bad roommate?”

You couldn’t hold the urge to lightly tap your foot against his, smirking with impishness.

“And what if I am?”

Lifting a bleached brow, the guitarist leaned towards you, making your heart beat quicker with how close he got. Close enough for him to whisper, “Then I’d have to defend myself against that.”

Your eyes remained locked with his, jerking your chin lightly before challenging, “Go on, then.”

Hongjoong seemed pleased with your encouragement, setting his now empty bottle to the side as the gleam in his eye shone brighter.

“I was well-behaved. Kept the place clean, rotated chores, minded my own business. Yeosang almost didn’t want me to leave.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah—” He chuckled. “—gave me the biggest pout when I gave him the heads up. Made me feel like an asshole.”

Your eyes rolled with no hint of annoyance. “Sounds like Yeo. But I guess you really helped take care of the guy, huh?”

“I sure did.”

Hongjoong lightly knocked his knee into yours, but it remained pressed as he purred, “I like to take care of people close to me.”

Whatever wholesomeness that statement would have had was erased by his actions. You welcomed the touch, though. It merely boosted your confidence and will to step closer to your long-awaited goal.

You did your best not to overthink as you gently rubbed the side of your foot on his calf, lips twitching at the subtle shift in his expression.

“What about the people close to Yeosang? Would you take care of them too?”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow ticked at your question.

“Of course.”

Play coy, Y/N.

“It would be nice if I was included too…”

After you trailed off, nothing was said. Only sounds from the rest of the bar came through, various conversations mixing with background music from the speakers. But you weren’t too focused on that right now.

No, you were hyper-focused on the way Hongjoong was watching you.

The way his eyes traveled down your face and over your form let you know that digging in your closet for this outfit was worth it. Everything only became sweeter with what he said next.

“Taking care of you would be a pleasure.”

The heat underneath his words took your interaction to the next level, bringing a light feeling to the base of your gut. Thinking about what ‘taking care of you’ would entail erased the last bit of caution you had.

“Then maybe you can help me with a problem I’ve been having.”

“Shoot.”

You laid one of your hands on his jean-covered thigh, faintly feeling the muscle underneath twitch.

“Ever since I started watching you guys perform, I’ve been wondering something.”

Hongjoong jerked his chin forward, prompting you to continue. Not wanting to take a chance at someone walking up and overhearing at the last minute, you leaned in closer, almost brushing your lips against his ear to breath out, “I keep thinking about what it would feel like to fuck you. Something about you caught my eye from the jump and I haven’t been able to shake the idea. But there’s only one way I can figure it out.”

Your head pulled back enough to get a clear view of Hongjoong’s now intrigued face, shooting the sugariest of smiles at him.

“Will you help me solve my problem?”

Even though it was becoming clear that the blond shared a mutual attraction, a part of you couldn’t help but prepare for rejection. But your fear was allayed when he presented you with a low chuckle, followed by a smirk that was rife with teeth.

“Of course, Y/N. Although—” Now he came close to whisper in your ear. “—I don’t think we’re gonna find out by sitting near all these people.”

The underlying sensuality in his voice brought a pleasant shiver down your spine. Were you actually about to sneak off with Halazia’s main guitarist to help satiate the improper fantasies you’ve been having about him?

Yes. Yes you fucking were.

“Then do you mind if we have some one on one time?”

The hand that reached for your own to take it into a firm grip let you know that you hit the jackpot.

“Not at all.”

You were sure the rest of the guys eventually noticed and picked up on what you two snuck off for, but you couldn’t care less about what they thought. Your wish was finally coming true.

Hongjoong led the way, clearly more familiar with backstage than you were. The two of you passed a handful of workers, the man in front of you giving them polite greetings and acknowledgments. It was nice to see that he wasn’t one of those snobby types of rockstars.

He stopped in front of a door with a sign that said ‘Reserved for Halazia’, going for the handle before turning it and pushing. His hand let go of yours, only to motion you in first with a smile. You gave one of your own and stepped into the room, looking around with curiosity. It was a typical dressing room, nothing too chaotic.

But the best part was that it was empty, perfect for what was about to go down.

“So…”

You turned around, hearing the door shut and lock before Hongjoong approached you, lips curled akin to someone ready to indulge in the sweetest dessert of their life.

“Is this a much better spot?”

Your mouth twisted in humor, nodding as you replied with delight, “Much better.”

“Good.”

The both of you looked into each other’s eyes, bodies thrumming with energy that was ready to be unleashed at any moment. Although, no one made a move for a moment.

That is, until Hongjoong chose to take a step forward, leaving the tiniest of spaces between you two.

Having him so close directly in front of you had even more of an effect than before, his fresh scent invading your nostrils while your heart pumped faster. It got worse when a hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear, his touch making you bite your lip.

Hongjoong noticed your shift and chuckled, “Nervous?”

You shook your head.

“No, just…excited.”

His grin only widened at your admission, sliding his hand down to gently cradle your jaw.

“Same. Didn’t think I’d ever get to be up close and personal with Yeosang’s pretty friend.”

Although you were melting inside at the compliment, your eyebrow raised in amazement.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So why didn’t you make a move first?”

You hoped to trip him up, but the guitarist didn’t seem fazed, straight teeth almost blinding you.

“I wanted to see how badly you wanted me.”

His low response brought a mixture of exasperation and lust to you, your eyes rolling as you huffed, “You rockstars and your egos.”

Hongjoong laughed at your quip before leaning in to plant his lips on yours, ironically making the first move into what was expected to go down in here. Not a second passed before you kissed back, upping the pace a bit. The two of you got lost in each other until he started walking forward, forcing you to step back to avoid having your toes crushed.

He managed to distract you with his skills as you suddenly felt something hard press against your spine. One of your hands went back to feel a smooth surface behind you, realizing that he had walked you towards one of the vanity tables.

A nip to your bottom lip made you focus on the bigger picture once more, answering back with a bite of your own. The groan that rumbled against you was nothing short of satisfying.

Hongjoong pulled apart to pant softly, “Nice to see you’re not shy.”

You brought a hand to the nape of his neck, absentmindedly playing with the short, blond strands as you queried, “You think I’d be back here with you if I was shy?”

He conceded with an amused ‘no’, allowing you to pull him back in for another kiss. The longer this went on, the warmer you were beginning to get. You skipped on a jacket tonight, leaving you with a thinner, long-sleeved shirt on top, but the leather skirt below seemed to be the cause of your rising temperature.

Time for it to go.

You released Hongjoong’s neck and reached back to unzip your skirt, only to feel his hands take a hold of yours. Lips pulled away to give him a confused stare.

“Uh uh—“ He released you before grabbing onto the hem and pushing it up with a smirk. “—the skirt stays on.”

Well then. Whatever he wants, he gets.

You nodded, bringing your hands away from the garment as further approval. He pecked your lips in gratitude and went for the top of your stockings next, shimmying them down until your boots interrupted the journey. Humming at the inconvenience, he unzipped before sliding them off your feet and tossing them to the side. You didn’t even get a chance to wiggle your toes as he continued relieving you of your tights, letting them join your shoes.

The slightly cool air hit your now exposed legs, but the heat Hongjoong directed up at you next erased it.

“Sit on the table.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his command, bringing your hands behind to hoist yourself onto the vanity. The guitarist was quick to stand and slot himself between your spread legs, taking your mouth in another hungry kiss. Even though he was doing an excellent job occupying you with his tongue, you could feel his fingers run down your hips until he brushed the soft skin of your thighs. You enjoyed the sensations, lulling into a pleasant vibe until he traveled inwards and stroked a finger along the front of your panties.

You felt him hum before he released your lips, giving you one of his sharp smirks.

“I hope you haven’t been like this all night.”

A giggle left as you bucked your hips forward. “I plead the fifth.”

Hongjoong chuckled and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Poor baby. Lemme fix that for you.”

With lightning precision, his fingers dove up to grasp the elastic, tugging the damp fabric down until it was pulled off and tossed to join its friends. The air hitting that area only exacerbated just how wet you were, thanks to the man in front of you. Although, he was swift in covering you with his hand, digits beginning to tease with confidence.

“Oh…”

The soft exclamation left when you felt him travel upwards and circle your swelling clit. He applied just the right amount of pressure to make a pleasant heat begin to form in your belly. Just when you were about to close your eyes in bliss, Hongjoong slid back down to play with your folds, the slickness allowing him to glide with ease.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All this for me?”

Your reply meant to come out as words, but the way he spread you open made it turn into a positive hum. He chuckled at you, bringing his free hand up to rest a thumb on your swollen lips.

“You like how I’m playing with this little pussy of yours?”

“Yes—”

Hongjoong began stroking his thumb over your mouth, choosing to match the rhythm with the one between your legs, making your eyelids flutter.

“Is this what you thought about every time you watched me play?”

You breathed out, “I don’t know if I should say yes. Your rockstar ego might over-inflate.”

Hongjoong laughed, little offense in his tone. “I wouldn’t mind the push.”

You played as if you were mulling over a decision, trying not to crack the facade at the mild pout on his lips. Just when he was about to ask, you directed a smirk at him.

“This is tame compared to what’s been running through my head.”

Now you captured his entire attention, eyes burning with curiosity.

“Oh yeah? Indulge me.”

This time, you didn’t want to hold back, nonchalance coloring your face as you looked dead into his eyes.

“I’ve thought about how your fingers would feel inside me.”

The image of his digits flying across the fret of his guitar only emphasized your current pleasure, spurring you on.

“Wondered if they’d play me as well as you play your guitar.”

A low hum came from Hongjoong at your words, dark eyes twinkling with sensuality.

“I think I’m answering your question right now, no?”

A sudden strum to your quivering bud followed, making your hips jerk.

“You are—“ It took a second to find your breath. “—but I still have a couple more.”

“Oh?”

It was a struggle to speak past the moans building in your throat as he continued, but you powered through.

“Thought your head would look nice between my legs.”

You wouldn’t call yourself timid at all, but even this was a new level for you. To be so blunt with someone who you had only known for a short time was crazy. But the spark lighting up on Hongjoong’s face took away whatever shock you had at yourself.

“Is that so?”

Your nod brought the most salacious smirk from him. He moved his hands away from your body, disappointment at not having his touch anymore hitting you. But he was quick to bring up your spirits, placing them on your knees before spreading them further. He then dropped down to the floor, gaze still steady as he raised a brow.

“Like this?”

Your pulse spiked at the sight. It was a nice start, but it wasn’t quite there yet.

“Come closer.”

Hongjoong obliged, cheeks nearly brushing your inner thighs now.

“How about now?”

Much better.

“Perfect.”

The guitarist chuckled, blinding you with his smile.

“Good. Now you can sleep at night.”

A mix of a scoff and a giggle escaped, leaning down to give his forehead a gentle poke.

“Thank you for your services.”

“Any time, baby. Although…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes lowered, looking directly at your exposed cunt. “While I’m already down here—”

You had little chance to prepare as he darted forward and ran his tongue over the entirety of you, ripping a hitched gasp from your throat.

Shit.

Clearly the one lick wasn’t enough for Hongjoong, going back in with a few more that had your head tipping back against the mirror. Soft pants left you, morphing into stronger moans when he directed attention onto your clit. You could feel vibrations from him at times, feeling pleased to know that he was enjoying this as well.

“Fuck, Hongjoong—”

He pulled off, lips glistening as he husked, “You taste fucking amazing, baby. Gonna make sure I get my fill tonight.”

Your lower body bucked at his words, shifting forward until your ass nearly went over the edge of the table. The blond shot you a grateful look for giving him more access, hands sliding up your trembling thighs to take a firm hold of your hips before continuing his actions.

You were trying your best to keep your eyes on him the entire time, but he was too damn good.

Certain moves would make you throw your head back, whining as Hongjoong worked you up with his mouth. You got frustrated at one point when your skirt partially obscured his handsome face. A grunt left your lips before you reached down and tugged the offending fabric up even higher, giving you a clearer view of him eating your pussy.

Watching him had you transfixed, seeing his eyes closed for a good moment as he indulged in you. Though they would open up soon, focusing on you with a heat and precision that you’d only see a fraction of while he was on stage. You weren’t uncomfortable with the stare at all.

It turned you on beyond all belief.

Your fingers tangled into his short, blond strands, feeling the slight perspiration on his scalp. Whether it was leftover from the show or because of the current situation, you didn’t know. You gave the lightest of pulls, subtly asking for more.

Hongjoong raised a brow before moving his mouth away, just a few centimeters. He then went and stuck his tongue out, running the flat of it from the bottom of your slit up until he reached your clit, giving it a harsh flick.

“Oh fuck—“

A short chuckle washed over your area before he did the move again. And again. And again.

“You’re gonna kill me, swear to God.”

The musician giggled at your claim, eyes and nose scrunching with humor.

“You’ll live. But in case you don’t—“ You felt something prodding your entrance, looking down to see one of his fingers there. “—I need to see how good this pussy feels first.”

Hongjoong began sliding it in, your grip on your skirt tightening as he stretched you out a bit. He was quick to start thrusting, pausing at one point to curl and search for that sweet spot inside. When you felt him brush against it, you squeezed around his finger, bringing a triumphant smirk to his face.

“Right there, baby?”

“Right there—!”

He paired his cooing with a solid pump into the area, ruining whatever composure you had. There was no mercy as he kept on with the movements, making you squirm on his digit as a ball of pleasure started to form in your gut. Unable to take anymore of his teasing, you pulled his head closer again before pleading, “Keep eating my pussy, please.”

Hongjoong had no qualms about your begging, groaning lowly before diving back in.

The dual sensations of his mouth and finger working together pushed you higher and higher towards a precipice. Your own lips were babbling praises and noises to let him know how fucking good he was at this. He never pulled off to banter like before, laser-focused on your pleasure. All you received were his sharp brown eyes, watching you like a hawk.

Just when you felt yourself getting close, you tugged at Hongjoong’s hair. He pulled off, albeit reluctantly, shooting you a questioning stare. You gave a wobbly grin, bringing him back in until his wet lips were level with your pulsating nub.

“I come easier this way.”

Thankful for your advice, the guitarist winked before giving his undivided attention there. As you expected, your high raced towards you in no time, showing itself as you cried out and clamped down on his still thrusting finger. Your entire body trembled while he continued to roll his tongue over you, hand letting go of his hair at some point so as to not pull any strands out by accident.

Finally, the tremors stopped, making you slump against the mirror like a limp noodle. Your eyes couldn’t help but shut, feeling more tired than content thanks to the good orgasm.

A good orgasm at the hands (and mouth) of Hongjoong.

“You still alive up there?”

The teasing made your eyes open, shooting a deadpan expression down at his beaming face.

“Nope. Died and went to heaven. Murderer.”

Hongjoong cackled at your quip, standing up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll send my condolences to Yeosang.”

Now you laughed, reaching for the lapels of his star-printed jacket to tug him in for a deep kiss. Your tongue was quick in meeting up with his, tasting the lingering of your arousal. The longer your lips were locked, the faster your desire returned, wanting to take this even further. You needed to see how his cock would feel inside you, fucking you until your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Hongjoong removed his lips to catch his breath, hot puffs of air washing over your swollen ones before he husked, “Satisfied?”

You knew your answer right away.

“Would you be mad if I said no?”

The guitarist’s head shook. “I was hoping you would say that—” He took the chance to come closer, pressing his concealed cock into your bare thigh. “—didn’t want to let you out of here just yet.”

Your mouth twisted into a delighted smirk, pleased at the mutual feeling.

“Good, because I also thought about how it would feel if you fucked me.”

Now that you threw your final thought out into the open, the goalpost looked clearer than ever. Especially when Hongjoong presented you with the slyest grin you had ever seen on him. The ones he would give on stage paled in comparison to this.

“Is that right?”

When you nodded, his hand came up to hold your chin. A thumb tapped against it as he purred, “The feeling’s mutual.”

A peck landed on your lips before Hongjoong stepped away to head to the opposite side of the room where a few duffel bags laid. He began rummaging in one of them, standing once he found whatever he was looking for. That something was revealed to be a condom when he turned around. You were glad he wasn’t averse to protection; as horny as you were for him, your safety came first.

But just as he was about to make his way back, a few knocks came from the door.

Your expressions matched with irritation as you both frowned at the interruption. Hongjoong gave you an apologetic look before calling out, “Yes?”

“Hyung, it’s me!”

Because you were further from the muffled voice, you couldn’t decipher who was there until the guitarist swore quietly.

“Jongho, I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“I know, but I really need something from inside! Can you just grab it for me, please?”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he seemed to debate on telling his bandmate to either leave or give him a moment. He went with the latter as he stomped over to the door, unlocking and opening it enough to poke his head out and avoid Jongho witnessing you in your partially-undressed state.

“What do you need?”

“Hyung, I need some condoms.”

“Why didn’t you pick them up when we were in here earlier?”

You could picture the vocalist shrugging, wide eyes adding to his defensive expression.

“I didn’t think I needed them! But Lia sent me a message a few minutes ago and she lives right down the road, so…”

You heard Hongjoong sigh before telling him to wait one second. He shut the door, turning and mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’, to which you waved him off with little bother. A momentary interruption was better than losing your entire chance.

He ran back to his bag to grab a handful of the foil packets before jogging back to the door, opening it and stretching his arm out.

“Here. Now can you promise you or the others won’t bother me until I come back?”

“Of course, captain! Have fun!”

Hongjoong shook his head at his bandmate’s well wishes, but saw him off with a chuckle and a humored goodbye before shutting and locking the door once more. With a swiftness, he turned and ran back over to you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

Hongjoong looked grateful for your nonchalance, setting the condom down next to you before shucking his jacket off and tossing it to the side. Your eyes couldn’t hold back from raking over the skin now exposed, toned arms and shoulders causing your mouth to water. Just as you peeped the ink scrawled on one of his inner biceps, he started undoing his pants, bringing your attention to something even more interesting as he lowered them.

He caught your stare, smirking at how little modesty you had before reaching for the foiled wrapper. His hands were steady yet swift as he opened and slid the protection onto his stiff dick. As soon as he finished, Hongjoong grabbed your hips, tugging you down just enough to rest his tip against the apex of your thigh.

“Ready for me, beautiful?”

With little apprehension, you reached between your bodies to take a hold of him, lining up with your weeping entrance before giving him a confident nod. As soon as he earned your approval, the musician shifted forward, parting your folds until he started spreading you open. Both of your breaths hitched at the sensation, feeling his ringed fingers dig further into your hips.

“You’re just swallowing me up—“

Hongjoong’s gritted growl made your walls pulsate around his cock for a moment, proving his observation correct. Once he got in as far as you were pleased with, you took a hold of his waist before husking, “Fuck me already.”

A sharp inhale was all you got as you felt him slightly pull out before entering at a quicker pace. The rhythm built up soon enough, giving you the friction you oh so desired.

You were finally getting your wish.

Hongjoong was no slouch in this department, delivering strokes that were the right balance between gratifying and not quite enough. Perfect to have you whining for more a few minutes in.

“Hongjoong, give it to me—”

“Mm? Want me to fuck you harder, baby?”

The hold you had on his shirt tightened.

“Please.”

The chuckle you received had a thrill running down your spine, only to be replaced with a sharper sting as soon as he started plunging into you harder.

“So generous, letting me fuck this pussy how I really want to—”

Between the elevated pleasure and the way he hissed out his words, you were living the dream. You tried to fire back with your own quips, but couldn’t keep up with the way the blond was doing you and staring you down with those dark eyes of his. All you could do to let him know how good you were feeling was to tug him into messy kisses and rubs of your hands along his clothed torso. It seemed to be enough for him, judging by the groans you’d hear or feel.

At one point, Hongjoong pulled away from your lips, his own bearing hints of your smudged lipstick. Your fixation on his appearance was interrupted when he boldly stated, “Wish I could’ve been more thorough about this.”

Your head tilted as you asked, “What do you mean?”

His mouth twisted as if you made a joke, pausing his hips to make sure you focused on what he was about to say.

“I mean, I would’ve liked to do this somewhere a little more private. Because it’s a shame I can’t see all of you right now.”

His admission made your pussy flutter around him, watching as he looked over your still-covered body with heavy and curious eyes.

“Wouldn’t mind having more time to see what else is running through this pretty head of yours.”

He wanted to know what else you would have done with him, huh? There was one little act that you both skipped over, for time’s sake.

“Actually…there’s one thing I forgot to mention.”

Hongjoong’s brow lifted as you took a hold of one of the hands on your body and brought it close to your swollen lips. Making sure to keep eye contact, you rested his index and middle finger on your bottom lip before purring, “I’ve thought about how nice it’d be to suck your dick.”

Before you could get a reaction, you slipped his digits into your mouth, starting to gently suck them as if you were actually carrying out your wish.

The variety of emotions that came over Hongjoong’s face only upped your confidence, bobbing your head carefully to really sell the act. Only then did he finally say something, husking, “Fuck, baby— I’m really missing out right now, huh?”

A wink was what you gave, followed by your tongue beginning to swirl around the appendages, eyes fluttering shut as you pictured a different scenario.

Hongjoong leaning against this very vanity table, pants and briefs pulled halfway down. Watching close as you sat on your knees and worked his cock over with your mouth. You could feel his hips tremble occasionally, surely holding back from the primal urge to fuck into your hot and wet cavern.

But just as you were getting deep into your fantasy, the fingers slipped out of your mouth. Your eyes flew open as you made a mild noise of surprise, only for them to widen at the hungry look on his sweat-beaded face. The same hand was quick to grab your jaw, Hongjoong leaning in so close that you could feel his harsh breath mingling with yours as he hissed, “Next time.”

He didn’t give you a second to process his foreboding words as he took your lips into a starving kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead laid on yours as his hips went up to a reckless pace, burying his cock so deep that your back arched at the sharp jolt of pleasure racing throughout your body. This gave him the opportunity to attack your exposed neck with bites and kisses, pausing at times to growl sheer filth into your ear.

Everything combined had your body giving in to Hongjoong completely, leaning back against the mirror as all sorts of sounds surrounded you.

The slight creaking of the vanity and the jostling of the bottles sitting on it.

The smacking of his damp skin against yours.

How the groans leaving him gradually became tinged with a hint of whining as time passed.

Deducing that he was getting close to his end, you took his hand and slid it between your hips to give him a hint that you needed some help. He was quick on the draw, pushing your hand up as he began circling and rubbing your swollen clit with a saliva-covered fingertip. This only made a long moan escape you, head throwing back as it didn’t take long to catch up with your partner.

“That’s it, baby— Gonna make this little pussy come all over my cock.”

Hongjoong’s thick declaration made your legs wrap tight around his waist and your hands grasp onto the damp skin of his bare shoulders, holding on as he continued transporting you towards your end. You could feel his thrusts become a bit off-centered, but they were still enough for you to enjoy, and more than enough to bring another orgasm.

You announced it through a strained cry of the guitarist’s name, digging your nails into him as you trembled between his tense body and the mirror. It only took a few strokes for Hongjoong to join, swearing through gritted teeth as he plunged into you as far as humanly possible, throbbing as he filled up the condom.

Once the euphoria stopped running through your veins, the urge to slump backwards came strong. You followed your body’s wish, letting out a sigh of fatigue and satisfaction. A soft chuckle sounded near your ear.

“Tell me about it.”

The tiniest of laughs escaped you before taking a moment to simply enjoy the peace in the room. After the two of you got your bearings, it was inevitable that you’d part ways and head home with your respective parties.

But for now, you’d enjoy the way Hongjoong silently hummed into the crook of your neck as you ran your fingers up and down his back.

Yeosang was polishing the last of the clean glasses and talking to San when you strolled up to the bar, a pep in your step.

“Hey guys!”

Your roommate looked up, scrutinizing your appearance with a knowing smirk.

“Well, look who finally returned.”

You waved him off, only to now hear San teasing, “I hope you didn’t wear him out too much.”

A light laugh came out as you grinned at the drummer.

“He’s still standing on two legs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good, the guys and I decided that none of us should be carried out tonight.”

The two of you giggled before he stood up from his stool, stretching muscled arms into the air.

“I think we should start heading out as soon as hyung is put together, I’m sure the two of you are tired.”

Yeosang shrugged, although you could see the slight lidding of his eyes.

“Take your time, I still have to do an inventory count.”

San shook his head. “No no, you definitely need your rest, it’s been nonstop for you. I’ll go gather everyone.”

You were grateful for his insistence, knowing how stubborn Yeosang could get when it came to his job.

“Thank you, San.”

A soft smile was directed at you before the drummer went off to get all of his bandmates together. Now that the two of you were alone, you spun around and gave your friend a winning grin.

“Mission accomplished, Yeo. And it was so worth it.”

Yeosang flicked a brow up at your declaration while grabbing his tablet to take inventory.

“Please don’t give me details. I still have to work with the guy on a weekly basis.”

“I’m not, I’m not! Just letting you know that I got my wish and now you won’t have to hear your horny freak of a roommate lament on how badly she wants Hongjoong’s dick.”

He shot you an exasperated look, clearly not as enthused about the news as you figured he’d be.

“Excellent.”

Snickering, you gave it a rest, leaving him to his work so the two of you could go home ASAP. You turned to take in the venue, noting the janitor sweeping up the last bit of trash and the busboys wiping down the tables that were sticky with alcohol. A few minutes passed before you spotted Halazia, minus Jongho, emerging from backstage. The men wore varying expressions, but all seemed to have a hint of exhaustion as well.

Although, most of your attention was on one specific member.

Hongjoong looked to be the most energetic of the group, eyes alert and responses swift. You weren’t surprised, considering what the two of you went through recently. It might be a different story when he reached home, though.

After nodding at whatever Seonghwa said, his head turned, blinking as he caught you watching him. A blinding grin was quick to come on before he made a beeline your way, making your pulse quicken. But he stopped next to your sitting figure rather than stand in front of you, his gaze on Yeosang as he typed.

“Yeosang, we’re gonna head out now.”

The bartender looked up, only to refocus on his tablet after giving the other a nod. “Stay safe. Great job, as always.”

Hongjoong chuckled, scratching the back of his neck in slight bashfulness.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying that, man.”

“Well, you better. Before you guys get snatched up by some big record label and I’ll need to go through security to speak to you.”

You giggled at his quip, receiving Hongjoong’s eyes now. “He has a point. We might be demoted to fans at this rate.”

The blond’s mouth twisted into a smirk as he continued to look at you, saying, “Oh, I could never forget you guys.”

Thank goodness Yeosang wasn’t paying attention to the way you were being stared down by the man who had his hands all over you not long ago; he definitely would not have let you live it down.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. Have a good night, Hongjoong, tell the others for me.”

“Will do, Yeosang.”

Hongjoong slipped his hand out of his jacket pocket before holding it towards you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked at the formal gesture from someone who was up in your guts, but brought your own hand up to allow his to take a firm grasp.

“A real pleasure meeting you. Well, officially, I mean.”

A short laugh left as you teased, “Likewise, Hongjoong. I guess we’ll see each other at your next show?”

He kept a hold of your palm as he flashed his perfect teeth and winked.

“Absolutely.”

You almost didn’t want to let go, but you allowed the musician to pull away. But then you felt something odd. Looking at your palm, you spotted a piece of paper, folded over and over until it was a tiny square. Thinking that Hongjoong left something by accident, you prepared to call out until he brought a finger up to his lips.

The motion quieted you when he glanced sideways at Yeosang before looking at the paper and then at your face. With that, he turned and headed towards his bandmates to exit the establishment, leaving you to stare down at your hand.

Whatever he left was meant for your eyes and your eyes only.

Curiosity took over as you carefully unfolded the note. You had to bite back a gasp at what was scrawled inside.

‘So we don’t have to wait for the next show to meet up’

xxx-xxxx

Fuck!

You almost slipped and swore out loud, but managed to hold it in. Peeking at your friend to make sure he was still occupied, you stared at Hongjoong’s neat writing, processing this new info.

He actually gave you his number! Was this how groupies felt? Or were you a step above them?

Either way, this was an unexpected development. It was luck that you were able to get close enough to Hongjoong to sleep with him, but to get this as well felt like a miracle.

“Hey.”

You swiftly brought the paper down to your lap as you peered up to see Yeosang, hands now free from the tablet.

“Are you ready to go?”

With a smile that might have been a little too enthusiastic, you nodded, slipping the note into your pocket.

“Absolutely.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez hard hours #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #kim hongjoong fic #kim hongjoong fanfic #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x you #kim hongjoong x y/n #plug and play #ksmutsociety

[qcomicsy]

Convos between civilians and vigilantes that I bet that happened Part ll

Gothamite: Honey why don't you come here so I can blow your mind?

Nightwing: You're very kind lady but I have to decline, I mean you're really pretty and nothing against your job but I don't usually pay for these stuff

Gothamite: For you baby I do it for free~

Nightwing:

Batman: Nightwing.

Nightwing: Alright, alright jesus.

---

Gothamite, squinting: Wasn't you who broke that tug arm that one time?

Robin (Tim), enjoying Damian is out town: It was my evil twin (lying)

---

Gothamite, who's also a stripper: You look like a guy who used to work here

Nightwing:

Red Hood (looking at him):

Red Hood: Nightwing–

Nightwing: So about the bodies found on Upper West Side–

---

Henchmen: Yo Bruce–

Henchmen: Bruce Wayne?

Henchmen: Man– he's hot!

Henchmen: Naah

Henchmen: C'mon you telling me you would't ride him until–

Henchmen: Naaaaah

Henchmen: It becomes a core memory.

Red Robin (on the top of the warehouse): I wonder if this fall will kill me.

Spoiler: I'll be right after you.

---

Robin (Damian): Don't be stupid that route will take forever

Red Robin: Not if we go around Fashion District.

Robin: Yeah, dumbass and it's a turn. We should go through Fashion District.

Red Robin: I'm sorry do you really want to throw Penguin's territory Right Now?

Robin: I always knew you were a fucking coward– Yes, obviously.

Gothamite: Not to interrupt or anything, but I'm still pretty much tied up right now.

Robin and Red Robin at the same time: Shut up

Gothamite: Okay–

---

Batman: Robin call the ambulance.

Gothamite: Please no I really don't have any money.

Batman:

Gothamite bleeding out on the Batmobile in his way to the Wayne Clinic: What does this button do.

Batman: You touch, you go walking.

Gothamite: Alright.

---

Gothamite: Ask the gay one–

Red Robin: The fuck you just said to me?

Gothamite:

Gothamite: I was talking about Nightwing

Red Robin:

Nightwing:

Nightwing really trying not to laugh: I don't even have the words for this one hold on.

The other gothamite immediately turning to Red Robin: You're GAY???

---

Nightwing doing his acrobatics on stores rooftop's:

Drag Queens from Bludhaven: Heeeeere he comes, *starts snapping their fingers in rhythm* work, work, work

Nightwing *goes along with it*:

---

The same Drag Queen later: Ever tried to add vogue to your crime fighting?

Dick, seriously considering:

---

Dick after implementing vogue in his crime fighting having the time of his life:

Red Robin: This is getting ridiculous I will have to kill you

Gothamite: Oh my god he's homophobic-

---

Gothamite: Do you think that Wayne kid is on Grindr?

Gothamite: Doesn't he have like a boyfriend?

Gothamite: Like that ever stopped you–

Gothamite: Stoooop~~

Red Robin unfortunately in a stake out:

Spoiler: Well are you?

Red Robin: Shut up

Spoiler: I mean it wouldn't be the first time you–

#batfamily shenaningans #Nightwing #Red Robin #Spoiler #Robin #Batman #yes I did open Gotham map in my notebook just for that joke thank you very much

[kirby-manga-translated]

It’s Kirby Time - Book 9 English Translation + An Update on Blog Happenings

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! IT'S HEEEEERE!! A truly adorable story about Kirby and Meta Knight deciding to spend some alone time and the activities they like to do during that time. Featuring beautiful illustrations painstakingly cleaned up by myself, this one is a must-read for fans of the relationship between Kirby and Meta Knight. Read the full thing at the links below:

Imgur

MangaDex

Google Drive

...But wait, there's more! Because the illustrations are so pretty, here's a link to a folder containing just those illustrations with no text at all! https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/19z8WLah-ZGES2jnyZOILJKc9kE75Wvs9?usp=drive_link (I'm probably also gonna make a post featuring all these images on their own soon.)

Finally, I have an update regarding the blog. tl;dr, I'm definitely gonna keep doing translations, but the rate at which they are completed and uploaded is most likely going to change soon. I don't know by how much or even if it will be positive or negative. For a more detailed explanation, click the Keep Reading.

So, I got a job! *audience cheers* But the job does not involve translating Kirby manga. *audience "aww"s* Ordinarily I wouldn't get more specific than that since I try to avoid revealing too much about my personal life, but in this case the explanation won't make much sense unless I do, so: The job entails working on fishing boats. This means that there isn't really a set daily schedule or even a weekly schedule. When the boats are fishing, I'm working, and when they're not, I have next to nothing to do.

I've been told by many people that I should expect a lot of down time for that reason, so I'll definitely have time to work on translations. However, I can't predict exactly how much I get and I also most likely won't have an internet connection on the boat. All this is to say that I literally do not know how this is going to affect the rate of translations on this blog beyond just, "It's going to change." I could find that I have so much down time on the boat that translating is the only thing that keeps me sane and I actually get more done. I could find that the boat I'm on is a super-busy one and I get barely any time at all. And regardless of which one of those happens, I won't be able to actually upload anything until the boat gets back into port, which is entirely dependent on how long it takes for the boat to catch all the fish it needs.

The job doesn't start for a couple weeks yet, so I'm gonna try to fulfill a few more requested chapters before then. Once again: I'm definitely going to keep translating, I just don't know how often I'll actually be able to do it. So enjoy this translation, look forward to more coming in the future, and please wish me luck both in my work and in getting time to translate!

#kirby #kirby manga #it's kirby time #meta knight #nintendo #blog update #still not over how pretty this one is... #honestly its kinda cool this wound up being the “new year” post? #wasnt my plan but it worked out that way

[jeannineee]

Intertwined (Ⅱ)

Batboys x Reader

a/n: part two is heeeeere!! Hope you guys enjoy!! Part one can be found in my masterlist. This was quickly proofread, sorry for any errors.

Side note: my requests are still open, I have 2 smut fics in the works for Azriel. Working on part 3!!

PART THREE

warnings: canon-typical shit, misogynistic Illyrians, sexual suggestiveness

You gawked like a fish at the three men in front of you, where you still stood in Rhys’s foyer.

That…feeling had subsided slightly. But it was still there. A pulling sensation, in your chest.

No, deeper than that. In your soul. In your very being.

You didn’t dare consider what it was. Couldn’t bring yourself to—

“Y/n?” Azriel called to you, brows furrowed with worry. Cassian and Rhysand shared the same look on their own faces.

“You checked out, for a minute there,” Cassian said, smiling sheepishly. “Everything okay?”

“Y-Yes.”

Rhysand studied you, as though he were trying to piece together what just happened. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You inwardly checked your mental shields—not that Rhys would intrude, but you checked anyway.

You stepped back, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I’m fine. ‘M gonna head back to the house. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day, so…”

They knew something was wrong. Did they feel it, too? They didn’t act like it.

“Well, let one of us fly you,” Rhys offered. There was nervousness in his voice, now.

“No,” you said, the word coming out harsher than intended, judging by the way all three of them flinched. “I just mean—I can winnow. I’ll winnow myself.”

You didn’t give them the chance to reply before you followed through, finding yourself back at the House of Wind within seconds. You went straight to your bedroom, ignoring the growling of your stomach as you readied yourself for bed.

You were sure any food you ate would taste like ash in your mouth, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you woke early, dressing yourself in fleece-lined Illyrian leathers.

You didn’t dare go downstairs. Not yet.

You sat on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands as you allowed yourself to ponder on what happened, yesterday. You knew what you felt. Knew what that snap was.

The mating bond.

Or was it? Was it even possible to have three mates? You’d heard stories of two…but three?

An insistent knocking at your door jolted you from your thoughts, sending you to your feet.

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart!”

Cassian.

You took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your pants, before opening your door.

Cassian stood there, in his leathers, red siphons gleaming. He looked down at you, a lopsided grin plastered to his face. You interrupted him before he could speak.

“The next time you pound on my door, you lose your kneecaps,” you told the general, silently praying to the Mother that he couldn’t hear the way your heart was racing.

“Mean,” Cassian said, daring to dip his head even more. His warm breath tickled your face.

“You haven’t begun to see ‘mean,’ Cas.”

His grin widened. “Gonna show me?”

Your face reddened. Cassian smirked, his body almost flush against yours, now.

“Don’t back out now, sweetheart,” he murmured, tracing a calloused hand down your side. “Show me that attitude again.”

Your leathers were far too tight.

Mor’s voice echoing downstairs snapped you both out of the moment. “Get your sorry asses down here!”

Cassian moved from your doorway, allowing you through. But once you reached the top of the staircase, he grabbed your arm, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “This isn’t over, y/n.”

Mother save you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saying the Illyrian Steppes were cold was an understatement.

Icy. Frigid. Bone-chilling.

You couldn’t think of a word that would do justice to the way it felt.

The shivering, teeth-chattering cold, despite being in Azriel’s arms as you flew to Windhaven. He was warm. So warm. But even that wasn’t enough against this frozen hellhole.

Azriel’s bridal-style hold on you tightened, his hazel eyes scanning over your form.

“Won’t be much longer,” he said, attempting to sound reassuring. “They’ll have a cabin ready for all of us. A fire, warm food.”

“You’re teasing me,” you replied as you pressed your face against his chest, greedily absorbing his body heat.

Azriel’s voice was calm and quiet as he said, “This isn’t teasing, trust me.”

‘Trust me.’

You tried not to let your mind wander towards the ways the Shadowsinger could really tease you as you descended upon Windhaven.

Rhys landed next, and then Cassian, with Mor in his arms.

Lord Devlon already waited, a couple of Illyrian grunts on either side of him. He didn’t spare you, or Mor a single glance as he acknowledged Rhys.

“We’ll need accommodations,” Rhys said, sounding almost bored.

“Already done,” Devlon replied.

You tried to ignore the way the men around the camp eyed you and Mor, like prized mares. Rhysand caught on, a low growl leaving his throat as he spoke again to Devlon.

“Tell your men that if they value their hands, they won’t touch y/n or Morrigan. If they value their eyes, they won’t look at them for too long, either.”

Devlon looked inclined to protest, but thought better of it as he nodded. “You have my word.”

You doubted his word meant much as your group was escorted to the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mor stole the warm bath first, leaving you, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel to pile around the fireplace.

Those three tethers that snapped into place yesterday roared in their presence. Even more so as Rhys spoke in your mind.

There are other ways to warm up, besides a bath, you know.

So go find an Illyrian woman to warm your bed, you quipped back.

There’s only one woman I want in my bed.

Rhys looked at you pointedly.

Poor baby.

You swore he chuckled faintly in your mind.

“So, are we going to discuss what happened yesterday?” Rhys questioned you aloud.

Cassian and Azriel both perked up at that, waiting for your response.

Shit.

“After the meeting tomorrow,” you finally said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Rhys hummed. “Leaving us in suspense, darling?”

“Cope.”

Cassian snickered at that, and even Azriel’s lips twitched up. Rhysand’s violet eyes gave you a painfully-slow once-over, the gesture sending heat pooling between your legs.

“Tomorrow, then.”

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #smut #acomaf #female reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #rhysand x reader #Cassian x reader #batboys x reader #acotar fluff #acosf #acofas #acowar #fluff

[morallyinept]

Thrash Metal - A Dieter Bravo One Shot

Summary: When you arrive home, Dieter has a surprise for you.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5.4k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.” 

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.  

Explicit - Oral F receiving/fingering/anal play/squirting/lots of spit & saliva/masturbation/mild dirty talk.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.  

Author’s Note: Dieter, what dat tongue do? 👅 Alright, he's heeeeere. Tongue pierced Dieter. Woot.

Tagging @for-a-longlongtime @sp00kymulderr @ravensmadreads @whatsnewalycat @agentjackdaniels @chronically-ghosted because of stud-gate this week 😜

Has Frankie found a contender for title of 🐱👑??

MASTERLIST | DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

“D, has something happened to your teeth?”

You narrow your gaze at him as you regard him standing before you, and there’s something... off.

He shakes his head. But keeps his mouth closed.

“Oh shit, you’ve not lost a tooth have you? Let me see.”

He shakes his head again; that fluff on his crown swaying, and steps back from your reach deliberately.

“Uhm-uhm.” His lips are rolled tight against each other.

“Dieter, what's up with you? What’s wrong with your mouth?” You say, trying not to smirk at his odd behaviour. But then again, that’s a fucking understatement where Dieter Bravo is concerned.

You’ve been back all of five minutes, jet-lagged to hell and needing a shower, and already there’s some quirky drama unfolding before your eyes.

Attempting - and failing at - nonchalance, he had greeted you with a seemingly forced smile as you stepped in the bedroom with consternation brewing around your temples, but his rapid eye blinking betrayed the subtle nervous energy lingering beneath the surface. It stopped you in your tracks as you lugged your case in.

You knew immeadiately something was up.

And as you try to engage in conversation now, his attempts at passive behaviour are punctuated by occasional fidgets, a breakdance of twitches that hint at a hidden unease, an untold secret.

The same look a dog gives you when they’ve shit all over the floor.

“Are you high?” You question speculatively. Ask a stupid question and ye shall receive a stupid answer, right?

The bedroom echoes with a delicate, yet rabid symphony of Dieter's astute nervous ticks - a restless tap of the foot, a darting glance toward the window and back through red, tired eyes; a momentary pause as he tries to control the involuntary movements. Fingers cracking silver metal bands against one another.

Despite his efforts to appear at ease, there's an undeniable undercurrent of tension, like a tightly wound spring threatening to unravel. A constant hungover spiral in his eyes.

Then Dieter shrugs with a lazy eyebrow cock and sheepish smile. Busted. He’s probably been high all fucking weekend.

You giggle. “What have you been up to?”

You cast your eye about the bedroom, nothing too telling or untoward to witness. The bed is unmade, nothing new there, and there’s no evidence of any bodily fluids in lumpy puddles that you can obviously spy.

When you ask the question, the room becomes a stage where he struggles to perform the role of casual indifference anymore; a two and fro between concealing and revealing the subtle nuances of his nervous twitches.

Do you even want to know?

But then, he beckons you over, with his two fingers and a smile that keeps his lips sealed shut like gummy glue.

He’s not said a word to you. Not even greeted you when you came in, despite you calling out to him repeatedly like a parrot. Just standing silently in the bedroom waiting for you.

An oversized sweatshirt, with the sleeves bunched around the elbows, hangs off of him. Baggy Harem pants sit lazily on his paunchy waist, with a pattern that makes you dizzier the more you look at it.

Hard to believe sometimes, that this man is an Emmy nominated actor, and not some vagabond that’s crawled in off the street looking to warm up.

He looks wildly uncouth, like he’s just rolled out of bed, and probably has, you deduce. You've learned that Dieter, although a fully grown man, doesn't do much when you're not around.

Almost like he's lost his inner compass and twirls in stuck circles of bad decisions, waiting for you to come back and set his navigational dial right again. You're his magnetic pole.

His hands are knotted behind his back and channelling an innocent little boy, rocking back and forth on his heels, who’s just done something suspiciously naughty. Like throw up in your Louboutins again.

Dieter doesn't answer your questions. He just offers nods or shakes of his head, with puzzling mmm’s or uhm’s being tossed at you, as you regale him with ranty anecdotes about your flight back from hell.

But you soon catch on that all is not well in the Bravo mansion as he remains suspiciously tight lipped.

“You’re being weird, why are you being weird?” You narrow, as you reach him.

You don’t want to panic or suspect the worst, but he’a giving you little recourse as it prickles at your scalp.

Past experience tells you that each time you leave, you come back to some sort of carnage. The man can't help it; anarchy sticks to him like Peter Pan's shadow. And Dieter has never been truly ready to grow up and vacate Neverland.

You feel his arms wrap around your lower back, his chest presses taught against yours as he pulls you in. Stacked shoulders mountain over you as one of your hands peak the summit, squeezing gently. You reach under the hem of his bobbling sweater with your other and rub his soft tummy affectionately.

“What did you do this time?” You probe looking into his chocolate browns. They’re a little tired and bloodshot. Puffy, with aging skin dried out a little up this close.

Dieter waggles his eyebrows and then leans in for a welcome kiss.

You avoid it, swerving, as he grazes your cheek; his breathy chortle ebbs out from behind his teeth clamped shut.

“I’m on to you, Mister. Something’s incredibly awry here.”

Smirking, he growls at your playful resistence, grabbing your chin and planting one on you, and your resolve instantly melts down your legs.

You moan gently as he places his lips on yours, delicately at first. As you inhale, he smells like Rasinettes, peculiarly. Dieter plants soft, little pecks that morph into hungry nips, and they soon have you wrestling for the deep trench of his mouth.

God, you've missed this quirky doof.

You slip your tongue in; your hands in the nape of his neck. Fingers curling around the unruly fluff there, matted with styling product that’s probably days old.

He whines into your mouth, clutching onto you tightly with a strength that lights fireworks inside your chest.

His warm tongue slithers against yours, and you gasp when you feel something cool and hard run across it suddenly.

You baulk, breaking the kiss.

"Is that... what I think it is?” You question, bewildered and instantly smirking.

You watch as the pale, pink flush of his lips shifts into the apples of his cheeks, lighting them up a neon magenta. Glowing, like a sleazy, back alley strip joint.

He didn’t… no way.

“Show me,” you cajole, your fingers trying to pull on his bottom lip eagerly.

Dieter slowly protrudes his tongue out at you; it's so long it reaches the end of his chin with ease. Towards the bottom of his tongue, nestled in the pink, wet velvet, lies a silver metal ball.

You start laughing. You can’t help it. It kind of just rolls up the back of your throat and out into his sheepish face.

Then he laughs, his hands rubbing up and down your back. His nails cragg down against the fibres of your top, your spine, and entice your nipples to wake up and pebble in response.

You can see your reflection in it; a cleverly crafted, hidden secret which you can’t stop staring at, despite your animated heckling.

He sucks his tongue back in and you shake your head incredulously.

“Are you having a midlife crisis?” You ask, trying to compose yourself.

He shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “I was high.”

You notice his speech is a little slurred. The foreign invasion in his mouth is somewhat difficult to navigate around basic colloquialism it seems.

Dieter with a lisp is inherently cute, you decide. You can feel your skin coming alive with goose bumps as a wave of delightful shivers dances along the hairs on your arms.

Eager neurons fire, creating a wave of exhilaration. It's a visceral experience, a fusion of giddy butterflies and a magnetic pull towards the rogue source of your body amping up - that darned piercing.

Every heartbeat seems synchronised with the rhythm of your sudden enthusiasm for it, orchestrating a melody of hedonistic anticipation that resonates within your sweat glands as you feel it trickle across the back of your neck and under your arms.

Your clit is standing at full attention.

Your mind is polluted with lewd imagery on a static screen, and you want to pause them all and zoom in so you can get off to them. The bedroom suddenly feels stifling.

“Let me see that again.” You sway.

Smirking at you, Dieter’s tongue rolls out of his mouth once more and you examine it closely.

The slight dip and rise of the barbell certainly hints at some drugged up rebellion. You can only imagine the state he must have been in to embark on such a perilous, and stupid, endeavour. His agent will be pissed.

But you’re not surprised in the slightest that he’d try something wild like this. It’s almost as bold as the kiss print tattoo on his ass cheek. Fucking idiot.

“It’s coming out, it fucking kills, babe. I swear, I’ve chipped a tooth already.” The rhythmic clinks of the stud against his gnashers creates a distinct soundtrack to his words.

“Can you see?” He opens wide and points to his back molars. “Ack ere,” he mouths.

“No, no chip.” You confirm. Nothing but pink gums and filled molars.

“You sure?” He sucks in around his cheeks ungraciously, like he’s got wadding in his mouth from a horrific visit to the dentist, and is trying not to drool from numbed out lips.

“D. Why did you do this?” You ask, pecking at his scruff and nuzzling into him.

He shrugs. “I woke up with it three days ago... Went out. I don't remember. Can’t eat solids. I bit down on it and almost shit myself. Hurts too much.”

You can't help but titter again. “Then why didn’t you just take it out?”

And despite his inert melancholy, and some possible resentment about it, he shifts. His stance and his facial expression mould into something all too wildly familiar.

And you feel it too as he tunes into that x-rated channel hopping in your mutual, debauched hive mind to pick something he knows you'll both enjoy.

“Because,” he says with that shit eating grin getting wider “I heard it can be fun.”

As he speaks, the metallic gleam of the tongue stud catches the light, accentuating his confident, brash words with a hint of flippant audacity.

Yeah, baby. You know you want me.

Each subtle movement from the sly smile to the now thoughtful pause, draws attention to the unconventional accessory that whispers a sordid tale of some narcotic imposed masochism. Chaotic alignment in all its glory, punctured right through that fleshy muscle that clicks in his mouth at you.

Calling you out, persuading you to join the darkside, because your partner now has a tongue stud. Fuck.

“Fun you say?” You query with another smirk brewing.

“Yeah,” he tightens his grip around you and pulls you closer, fingers slipping down onto your ass. You can already feel what kind of fun hardening between his legs.

“For you, I mean.” Dieter clarifies.

You swallow and grin, and the room sways as you register the whiplash from such an impulse. Anticipation wraps around your veins like a tightly coiled spring, ready to release a burst of energy at the slightest trigger.

Your senses heighten, capturing every nuance in the air that crackles like electric. Time seems to stretch, elongating moments as you eagerly conjure and play out every scenario that can, and will more than likely go down.

And you can see he’s pulling it apart too. Mentally jacking off to the sights it envokes.

Your imaginations play like a vivid movie collection, building suspense with each scene of that infernal tongue, sheathed with a metal counterpart added into your foreplay.

It's a crescendo of excitement, a cacaphony of heightened awareness and the sweet agony of expectation that makes your cunt clench wildly.

“Are you telling me you mutilated yourself so you could eat me out with a tongue stud?” You put to him.

“Don’t act like you’re not intrigued, babe.” He sucks back the fluid pooling in his mouth again with a wispy slurp.

“Oh, you can colour me fucking intrigued, D.”

“I thought so.” He croons with that razor grin coming for you like a chainsaw.

He slips his tongue back into your mouth and your own vies for the stud, sliding over it smoothly, and waking something carnal with lacquer claws inside you.

Tongues flicking and sliding over one another, you can taste the herbal, ashy remnants of a probable joint on his. You suck on his tongue feverishly; each of you braying with one another to choke the other on those twisty muscles.

“Ah Jesus.” He whimpers.

“Did I hurt you?” You ask, pulling back.

You cup his cheek, fingers reaching to fiddle with his earring glinting in his lobe, affectionately.

He’s always had a flair for flouting the conventional. A man of his advancing age with tattoos and piercings has a great appeal. You often admire his body art with curious fingertips, or a swirling tongue that traces the patterns, making his skin shiver.

“No, that actually feels better. Do it again.” Dieter prompts.

You run your tongue gently around the circumference of the stud in his mouth as you kiss him once again.

“Mmm,” he sighs into your cheeks. “Yeah, like that.” His grip on you becomes tighter, desperate.

You suck gently on his bottom lip and he crushes your head in his giant hands, guiding you backwards, clumsily, to the uncouthly made bed.

His tongue licks deep to get more of that sensual relief from the aching pang, as your breathing muffles around his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re making me so hard,” he whines. You reach down and give him a gentle squeeze over his jazzy pants and another grunt tumbles out of him.

“You need something, D?” You tease, stroking the obvious tenting. There’s already a wet patch blooming into the material.

He catches his breath, his lips shiny from your kiss and nods his head quickly and excitedly. “But you first.” He smirks.

Your breath becomes a frantic, rhythmic cadence, syncing with the anticipation pulsating through you. The warmth between your thighs radiates, burning you up.

Dieter reaches for your jeans and tugs them down as you sit backwards on the bed. You jostle with your panties, almost comically as you fumble around your desperateness - the elastic getting caught round your toes.

You roll them up and chuck them at him. Catching them, he brings them to his nose and sniffs in deep, emitting a low growl. You watch, as he brazenly stuffs them into the front of his pants, wrapping the flimsy silk of them around his cock.

He jerks himself, once, twice, three times with them before climbing in between your now spread wide legs.

“What a welcome home,” you grin as he smooches up your inner thigh.

He eyes your cunt, sopping and glistening at him. “Touch yourself,” he mutters.

He sucks the saliva down his throat again and it makes you giggle rambunctiously at the sound.

“It’s.” Kiss. “Not.” Kiss. “Funny.” Kiss.

“It’s a little funny.” You titter as his dark eyes flick up at you, hungrily.

Your fingers find their way, slipping into your folds as Dieter hums out in praise as he continues kissing up your thigh.

“How good does that pussy feel?”

“So good.” You moan as you slip over your clit and feel the delicious pang of sweetly mixed pleasure that aches. "I'm so wet for you, Dieter."

“Yeah, you’re soaking.” He agrees, gawping at it, lips dragging closer. "All because of this?"

You watch, in breathless awe, as he rolls his tongue out again; the gleam of the stud flashing at you, and then disappearing from sight as he lowers his head.

You hitch your breath in anticipation, your own fingers removed from your apex, and waiting eagerly for the moment.

You can feel his breath, so warm and moist against you already. So fucking close, but he lingers.

You feel him blow gently and you shudder with the alternating warmth and coolness against you.

“D! Don’t tease me,” you gasp.

“What?” He muses innocently as you feel his breath waft against your lips again. The very slight, tiniest probe of his tongue is felt at the bottom of your slit.

“Oh my God.” You whine.

You hear him laugh, snuffling around his breaths with his tongue still hanging out. A throaty wheeze reverberates as he tickles you ever so lightly, barely ghosting over you there.

Another tiny little prod of his tongue and he withdraws quickly. “You taste so good.” He moans, sucking in again with the hypersalivation.

“Please.”

“What, babe? Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear you tell me. Slut it up for me.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “You want me to beg?”

“Yah. Pretty much.” He confirms with a smirk. “Beg me to tongue fuck you.” His eyes almost appear jet now. His fingers feel absorb into your skin. “Tell me.” He grizzles.

“I wanna feel your tongue fucking the shit out of my pussy, D.”

“Yeah!”

“Mmhm. I wanna come all over your face, I want to see it dripping down your chin.”

“Oh, that’s amazing, so hot! I love it when you squirt all over me.”

“Wanna see you soaked. Want to smell it in your beard...” You hum. "Fuck I want to taste myself in your mouth, D."

“Drown me in it.”

“Just please... eat me, Dieter!” You wail, reaching forward for his head and shoving it against your cunt in desperation.

He immediately clamps his mouth over your mound, and you feel that tongue delve into your folds. Running his lips over your outer labia, then wiggling that uneashed tongue deeper inside.

You feel the stud, probing against you in a contrasting coolness, despite it being nestled in the warmth of his plush mouth.

“Mmm, God.” You groan, fingering through his scalp; scissoring tufts of his ratty hair between your fingers.

You can feel the soft prickle from the scruff above his lips tickle and graze as he plunders in further, teasing the outer well of your entrance with the pointed tip of his tongue.

You hiss, head becoming slack on your shoulders; a weightless ball with no pivot, as you shudder.

He pushes in, fucks you slowly and deviously. Lapping, you can feel the stud rub deliciously against your honeyed insides.

“Mmm, fuck. I can feel it,” you smile blissfully. “Oh wow!”

“You like it?”

You nod dreamily, with blown pupils like you’re tripping balls. “Feels really good, D… ah yeah.”

He pulls you apart gently with his fingers, spreading you to reveal the shiny layers of glossy skin. Your clit’s raised and swollen out of its hood as he teases across the tip with the point of his tongue.

Then he lets you feel it; lets the ball of the stud roll over it with ease in a slippery stroke.

Your thighs twitch at the sensation. The slight weight of it - swift and fluid as it skates effortlessly in your slick - makes you groan deeply.

You watch it, how it brushes and knocks against you. Watch how he watches you back, knowing that he’s just utterly fucked your shit up.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“Yeah? Watch me tongue you.” He smirks as he flickers back and forth, looking back at you with those deep browns.

Watching you watch him as he suctions his lips fully over your clit, sucking like a man starved of water in the desert. Then he lets it go, and flicks his tongue and the stud over that hard, buzzing nub again.

“Yeah!” You pant. "Yes, yes!"

Your eyes cloud over, your vision steams around the edges. It feels so good, so tight and bunching as the ball end runs delicious, chaotic circles around you, making your thighs ripple with each stroke.

Dieter pauses momentarily to swipe into your fleshy ribbons; strings of your slick break from his tongue as he pulls back and observes the mess he’s making of you, with your gloss smeared across his greying, prickly cheek.

You reach forward and run your thumb over his lip and suck it off, tasting yourself. He mouths the word fuck at you in stunned awe as you do so.

He’s relentless as you start moaning, your pants becoming strangled in your throat, fists wrenching in the sheets. Hips lifting and pushing further into his face to seek more, more!

God, you fucking need more!

He works you up with his tongue, relentlessly stroking, licking and sucking all over your saturated cunt. The tongue stud adding to the heightened sensations; the giddy thrill and pleasure of it all builds as glittery phosphenes start to blind you.

He knows you’re so close, so easy to shunt over that edge right now with a mere jab in your lower back. And you’ll be free falling, diving head first into an ocean full of electrical waves.

And he’s enjoying your show of moans and whispers of his name so much to deny you of a good push, or two. Hell, maybe even three.

Dieter speeds up, tongue going twenty to the dozen on your clit like it’s battery operated. The metal ball thrumming against you with just the perfect amount of pressure.

He only stops to suck you up; swallow the glassy slick that pools and leaves tracks, and then he’s settling back into that giddy pace of bubbling annihilation.

“God, your fucking tongue, D!” You wail beside yourself. Legs akimbo and up in the air as though they’re resting in stirrups.

He leans on his elbow, head cocked and resting against your thigh. Insipid tongue wiggling all over your clit ferociously.

You start shaking; your hole already contracting, yearning for his cock to squeeze around. Bearing down on an empty space as you clench and tighten; all of your coils about ready to snap.

And the son of a bitch knows it.

Dieter is wild; like a rabid dog drooling all over you. He shakes his head back and forth crazily as his tongue sweeps side to side over that juicy, swollen clit, humming in delight as he suckles and licks it.

He pulls on your labia, sucking and popping it out of his mouth in lewd squelches.

“Look at you, all spread open for me.” Dieter croons with that slick, sticky smile.

He spits on your pussy and you gasp, biting your lip as his eyes flicker up to you darkly.

He runs his saliva with his fingers all over your cunt. He holds eye contact as he leans in again and sucks on your clit; your body jerking wildly in response.

“Oooooooh fuck!” You cry. “Yeah, oh don’t stop…”

The tongue tornado he’s blasting you with now is making you shake and see ultraviolet stars, sewn like sequins into the back of your eyelids.

He stops licking and sucking, and slips his fingers into you; index and middle right up to the base of his rings.

With his other hand, he pinches your clit out of the hood and runs the ball of the stud around it relentlessly as he fucks you with his fingers curling inside of you.

An insidious puppet master controlling his marionette as you dance on your giddy strings before him.

“Holy shit!” You gasp and cream like crazy.

He can feel you contracting around his fingers as he continues the lick job. Your legs shake violently like in the throes of a demonic possession.

“Fuck, fuuuuuuck! D, I'm coming!”

With your legs spread wide, Dieter, Dieter pussy eater, draws back to watch you come, pulling his fingers out. Just watching with rapt attention as that slit of wet, drenched lips pulses like it’s breathing of its own volition.

Your hole flexing and contracting like a small mouth breathing; the nib of your clit jerking and pulsing as though headbanging to thrash metal.

He marvels, with a wide grin, as your body shakes, the smarmy bastard, and then dives right back in to taste you and repeat the carnage all over again.

You try to shut your legs, crushing his chin and cheeks into your thigh meat, but he keeps you anchored. Preventing you from squirming away, despite how intense it now feels as he continues gnawing on your over-sensitized clit and knocking the stud against it like thunder.

You’re panting now, breathless. Choking on the sensation of his name being lodged and wrenched from the back of your throat.

"D... Oh fuck, Dieter."

And he's got you there again; pulls you up and balances you on the ledge once more, to simply push you off and watch you fly.

As you come again, it froths around his lips. Bubbles of your slick squelching and catching in his scruffy ‘tache, and Dieter hums deeply in satisfaction as he swallows it all down.

He licks you through it, barely settling his pace as he pushes you towards overstimulation. You try to squirm away, but his hands anchor your thighs open and apply the pressure. His eyes flick up to you, flaring brilliantly.

I’m not done with you yet, babe.

He smirks around his tongue hanging out, flashing the fucking audacity of that stud at you as he waggles it about on your clit, and watches you shake with every zap it causes.

“Oh-fuck-fuck-don't-stop-please-D! Fuck!” You blabber.

And then he places a kiss on your pussy, a gentle little mwah. The sweetest of smooches before he dives inside you with his tongue again.

“Dieter!” You holler.

His hands wind under your thighs and rest on your stomach, slowly massaging and squeezing the soft fat there.

“Mmm,” he whines. The tip of his nose grazes your clit as he slides his tongue in and out of your hole.

You feel him go lower still and run his tongue around the tight knot of your ass.

“Mmm,” you coo as you gasp.

You feel the stud run over that puckered, tight flesh and back up again as he detours to your ass, and you feel the tip of his tongue circle it teasingly.

Tracks of his saliva and your slick have slid down to your ass and they glisten at him as he pulls back. His cock twitches in exasperation to just rub himself all in it.

It takes every inch of restraint not to pull himself out and splash you down with his come already. But he wants you to enjoy this; savour the piercing whilst it’s still in because after this, that bitch is coming out.

He works through the pain, that dull throbbing, and for a while forgets about it completely as he drowns himself in your folds.

He wants to fuck you so bad. Just get his cock wet inside you and feel you gush all over him. Shit, it’s a fucking drug. He’s addicted to this pussy, can’t give it up.

Just one more hit. Just one more hit.

He reaches down and gives himself a squeeze, feels your panties still stuffed in there around him and pumps. He grunts into your hole, fluttering around his tongue.

He wants to cover you with his come. Paint you with it. Watch as it seeps through your lips and down to your ass.

Flood you with every bit of him and lick it all up after.

“Oh, fuck.” He growls audibly around your pussy at the thought; his cock pulses in his grip and he swears he’s almost there himself. A few more pumps and he’ll be spilling liberally in your panties.

The best part is when he’s come, and then he slips himself back inside you; feels your mutual wet warmth and carries on thrusting gently. Sometimes, and when he’s not completely whacked out of his gourd, Dieter can get fully hard again inside you doing just that.

Just feeling the gentle pulsing of your walls post-orgasm, twitching around him, brings him back from the brink of a floppy death. Building himself up and spraying you down again and again.

The sex between you lasting for hours. Just fucking you with his come all over your mound, sticking in your thighs and on his belly. Watching in intense awe as that cream pie pearls out of you.

Yeah, fuck that’s nice.

Dieter thinks about the way in which he fucks you; flexing his hips upwards in a circular motion to hit directly on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed every damn time.

Your reach forward through your legs, feeling your stomach crunch as you weave your hand through his hair again, subtly crushing his face to your centre, grinding up against it and he thrashes back and forth.

“I want you to squirt, babe. You think you can do that for me?”

“Make me,” you plead, hoarsely and nodding.

He circles, teasing up and down; sweetly sinful licks as he brushes the hub of you with the bar. He runs his fingertips gently over you; your clit bobbling under the pads of them and you groan before he slides back and inserts a finger into you, pulling it out and dragging the gooey slick over it.

He teases those swollen pussy lips around his tongue as you buzz wildly.

“I love how soaked you get. Fuck.” His eyes twinkle as you glance down at him.

He slips in another finger, down to the hilt, and pulls it out; rubbing them together and feeling the silky wet of you around his thick digits.

“Come all over my face. Soak me. Soak me!” He instructs. He pluders his fingers deep inside you, stroking fast against your spot. The metal batters against your clit as he flicks his tongue back and forth over it.

“Oh fuck, D!” You wail, arching and writhing as he increases his speed and the pressure of his deeply buried digits. “Holy shit, that’s so fucking good! Keep going, baby! I'm almost there!”

You hear him quaff in; the wetness of your cunt sucked to the back of his throat as he thrashes his tongue about like in the throes of a mosh pit.

The beads on his wrist clack together in a fast tempo as he finger fucks you hard. Those two fingers sluicing in and out of your hole as the stud flicks back and forth, sending you soaring, higher and higher.

Frothy, cream foams in your lips. And he tastes it all in his mouth, groaning for more.

You can feel it, rushing into your core, bearing down and contracting. The weight felt against your bladder like a shock. Your core muscles tighten and weigh heavier as it builds.

And he pulls it out of you like an incantation.

You go momentarily deaf; your body feels like it's rising, floating off the bed entirely in those few seconds before it hits.

Before the wave crashes through your core and gushes out of you.

“Oh my God, oh shit! DIETER!!”

You give him what he wants, you utterly soak him. Wet splashes of you spray his face and sluice down his chin. You soak the front of his sweater as he draws back to watch you squirt buck wild as you explode.

“Fuck yeah!” He’s utterly beside himself and can feel his cock pulse wildly as he immeadiately spurts around your panties too.

Thick, pearly strings congeal around your labia as he breathes out groaning, and licks up and down your slit slowly and languidly.

The stud hits your overly sensitised clit and you flinch like you’ve been tasered.

He pants as he licks you clean like he’s just run a marathon. He runs his chin up, smirking as your slick catches in the fuzzy hairs of it, and he leans up and plants a kiss on the soft skin just under your belly button, gently making out with it.

“Mmm,” you groan languidly with heavy lids. He climbs up your body and rubs his sticky chin and lips across your mouth and cheeks, as you giggle and wail at him to get off you.

He chuckles and rests up over you on his palms; broad shoulders hunched and his sweater riding up over his belly. You can feel the jab of his thick cock against you.

“Show me that tongue,” you prompt and he sticks it out at you, craning his neck down into you so you can suck gently on the end of it; taste the stud inside your mouth and the sweet tang of your cunt.

You smile at him, completely blissed out through heavy eyes, that same relaxed glassiness about you when you’ve just taken a deep drag of dope and cuddle up with him to watch Weekend At Bernies.

“Maybe I should keep it, the stud?” Dieter suggests with that hint of a lisp again.

You giggle and toss a pillow up at him. It boffs the side of his face and he chortles, trying not to drool once more.

“Maybe you should,” you smirk as he plants a fat, sticky kiss on your mouth.

You reach down inside his pants to give him a squeeze and feel how wet it is in there.

“Couldn’t help it,” he says to you bashfully as you grin at him. “That was too fucking hot.”

Dieter smirks, sticking his damned, metal filled tongue back out at you again.

Thanks ever so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed some tongue time with Dieter! 👅🖤

MASTERLIST | DIETER BRAVO MASTERLIST

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[nolita-fairytale]

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | part two: august

summary: you head down to savannah, georgia with syd, sugar, liz, and maya for a not-bachelorette weekend.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 5.5k

a/n: it's finally heeeeere!!! i know i've gotten quite side tracked with my luca fic, but chapter two of don't want to walk alone is finally here thank god. anyways, this is a carmy-lite chapter, but i think this is just as important. enjoy, besties. chapter three is thee wedding, so it may take a while for me to get that one out and honestly, i like taking my time with this one. i have some very fun ideas and yes we will be getting honeymoon smut don't worry. please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part one | masterlist | part three

Thursday

“Hey, did Syd go out already?” you hear Natalie ask, causing you to pause what you’re doing. 

You’re in the middle of laying out the gifts you’ve brought for your friends for the weekend, as a thank you for coming to Savannah to help you find a wedding dress. You’re not looking for anything extravagant – you are eloping at the courthouse after all – but it felt like a good excuse to get your best friends together for the weekend too. While you’ve spent most of your time planning this trip insisting that it’s not a bachelorette party, it’s certainly beginning to feel like one. 

“Just because we’re not doing a big wedding thing doesn’t mean we can’t do a pre-wedding girls’ trip,” you’d explained to Liz and Maya over your group FaceTime. 

“Hmmm, sounds a bit like a bachelorette party,” Maya had observed with every intent of provoking you.

“It’s not a bachelorette party!” you had vehemently insisted on the call. 

“Sounds a little like one to me,” Liz had added, earning an eye roll from you as you murmured something about the two of them always ganging up on you. 

So here you are, deciding that, maybe, you should just lean into it. 

While Sydney’s gone to the grocery to do the shopping (something she insisted on doing since you’re both making brunch for tomorrow morning) it’s just you and Nat in the house. You could’ve sworn Nat was on the phone earlier – Pete being the every-worrying, doting husband who hasn’t spent a night away from his wife since she got pregnant. 

“Hey, you!” you finally greet her, a broad smile spreading across your face as you turn to see your very pregnant almost-sister-in-law. “Uh… yeah she was going to the grocery store for some things. Need me to text her?”

Natalie shakes her head ‘no,’ before stepping into one of the many rooms that fill the airbnb that you have rented for the weekend. 

“Watcha got goin’ on over here?” Nat asks curiously, as she takes a few steps towards you. 

“Well,” you sigh, placing the neatly folded set of washable silk PJs down on one of the two twin beds that fill the bedroom that Maya and Liz will be sleeping in. “Just because you’re not technically my bridesmaids doesn’t mean that I can’t get you guys gifts, right?”

Sugar snorts, “Huh. That’s funny.”

“Hm?” you hum in response. 

“Soooo many things, especially since you won’t just admit this is your version of a bachelorette party but…” she teases you, pausing before she continues with: 

“I mostly came in here because I have a gift for you.

“What? You didn’t have to get me a gift,” you start, watching as Nat presents a gift bag stuffed to the brim with tissue paper. 

“I know. But just because you refuse to admit that this is a bachelorette party, doesn’t mean I can’t get you a bridal gift,” she answers, taking a seat on one of the beds as she repeats your own reasoning back to you. 

“Fair enough,” you chuckle sitting down on the bed as you accept her gift. 

Parting the mountain of tissue paper, you pull a neatly folded article of clothing wrapped in more tissue paper. Gently, you slide the fabric out of its sleeve, revealing a silk lace slip nightgown out of the gift bag. 

You gasp, examining the soft, delicate material in your hands. 

“Nat, this is-, holy shit. It’s stunning,” you marvel, running your fingers over the creme-colored material. 

“I saw it and couldn’t help myself,” she smiles proudly, happy to see that you love it. 

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, this time moving your fingers over the black lace trim at the hemline. 

“I wanted to give it to you before everyone got here,” she explains softly. “Wear it this weekend. Or for the honeymoon. I don’t know. I saw it and… it just felt like you.”

“Thank you,” you smile, your heart warming as you lean over to give her a hug. She squeezes you back, ecstatic that you love her gift. 

“Think Carmy’ll be jealous I didn’t get him anything?” she asks, jokingly, her eyes narrowing. 

“Oh, this is a gift for him too,” you’re quick to reply with a smirk. 

“Ew!” she glares at you, earning a laugh from you as you defend yourself. 

You shrug, “You set yourself up with that one, mama.”

You exchange a look, and a laugh, as Sugar playfully rolls her eyes at the thought of her brother doing anything more explicit than what could be in a PG-rated film. 

“How ya doin? How’s my soon-to-be-nephew?” you ask, shifting your body so that you’re facing here even more so now as you change the subject. 

“I’m alright,” she sighs, leaning back on her hands behind her. “Second trimester’s been a whole lot better than the first but… this whole pregnancy thing? Wow.”

“Yeah, we are in no hurry,” you empathize, adding a little humor to your sentiment. 

“Well, from what I hear, it hasn’t stopped either of you from-,” she begins to tease you and now it’s your turn to say:

“Oh my god, Natalie! Ew!” 

You roll your eyes this time, no stranger to the fact that you and Carmy’s sex life has started a rumor or two that’s gotten passed around the restaurant staff like wildfire.

She nudges you playfully, earning another laugh from you before the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, sitting side by side. 

Natalie takes a beat, carefully choosing what she wants to say to you, especially since heart to hearts weren’t exactly common for her growing up. 

“I also came in here to say…” she begins, her voice softening because she really means it. “I am so glad that he met you – Carmy – that you found each other. And I meant it when I said that I couldn’t wait for us to be sisters.”

The memory of the night you both got violently high together before Sugar got pregnant – the night she first called you her sister-in-law – brings the biggest smile to your face as you laugh. 

“You’ve changed his life,” she finishes, the deepest of gratitude coloring the words she says. 

You think someone should’ve warned you that getting married would bring up so many goddamn feelings, because you’ve been feeling pretty damn nostalgic and emotional lately too. 

With watery eyes, you grab Sugar’s hand, giving it a squeeze as you say, “Nat, he changed mine. He keeps… changing mine.” You pause for a moment wondering when, all of a sudden, you’ve gotten this sappy. “I love Carmen… so much. And… I’m so glad that in loving him… it brought us together too.”

She nods in agreement, as she whispers a tearful ‘yeah,’ giving your hand a squeeze in return before releasing it. 

“Jesus Christ. When did we become these people?” you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I have no fucking clue but I’m blaming the pregnancy hormones,” Nat laughs with you. 

She pauses once more, and it’s as if she can’t help herself, diving into it again because there’s so much more she wants to say. 

“You know, I always wanted a sister…” Natalie starts with a disappointed nod of her head. “I always thought… like, maybe things would’ve been different or something. Mikey and Carmy could do no wrong, you know, but me?” 

She lets out another sigh, shifting her sitting position in pursuit of something more comfortable. 

“I don’t know… I always wondered what it would be like – to have an ally in it all, a partner in crime – because Mom was Mom… and-. Well, you know. But now with the baby coming, I just can’t picture putting a child through that.” 

She takes a beat this time, making sure she’s clear on what she’s trying to communicate to you. 

“I think what I’m trying to say is, selfishly, I’m so damn glad Carmy swallowed his pride and called you all those years ago.”

You’re grinning from ear to ear as you listen, agreeing with, “Me fucking too, buddy.”

The sound of the front door is an almost-welcomed interruption as you and Nat exchange a look, the both of you coming to the conclusion that it’s probably Sydney, back from the store. 

“Helloooooooo!” you both hear Sydney call out in the empty downstairs area of the airbnb. 

“We should probably go. See if Sydney needs our help?” Natalie suggests.

“Yeah,” you reply, standing up from where you’re seated on the bed. 

“Nat,” you say, offering a hand to help her up. 

She takes it, murmuring a thank you before groaning about her feet. You giggle, but this time, you have one last thing you want to say to her. 

“Thank you for the gift… and for what you just told me,” you say, before finishing your thought with, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, a soft smile on her face. 

You share a look, and one more moment, before heading downstairs. 

“Look who I found!” Sydney squeals, her voice resonating broadly throughout the house. 

It’s then that you hear the sounds of luggage being rolled, as Maya goes on about how cute this place is, while Liz, following closely behind exclaims something about how goddamn hot it is outside. 

“Oh my god!” you exclaim, leaping over the last few stairs as you crowd both of your New York friends. 

It’s an exchange of squeals, how are you’s, how were your trips, and enthusiastic hugs exchanged between old friends. 

“Liz, Maya, you remember Natalie, right?” you introduce, as Nat gives both of your friends a small wave. 

While Liz and Maya have met Sydney multiple times (including a few trips to New York Sydney’s taken by herself), you know your two best friends have only met Sugar once or twice when visiting you in Chicago. 

“Yes, Carmy’s sister!” Liz says, her eyes lighting up with recognition. 

“Yes,” Nat nods, confirming the statement. 

“Well, come on in! I’ll show you up to your room so you can put your stuff down and whatnot,” you encourage, ushering the both of them upstairs as Natalie asks if Syd needs help unloading the car. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally here!” Maya exclaims, excitedly. 

“In Savannah… That you two idiots somehow figured it out and are getting married,” Liz continues, adding clarity around the very layered statement. 

You laugh, “Listen, you and I both, sister.”

You show both Liz and Maya to their shared room as the three of you catch up about the flight here, shared exclamations about how stoked you are for the weekend, about how much you were all in need of a good vacation anyways. As you watch your best friends set their things down and begin to settle in, it feels surreal. 

Like you and Carmy’s last trip to New York, it feels as if your worlds are once again colliding – two sets of friends from two very different chapters of your life as you approach a new one. 

Friday 

Your not-bachelorette brunch menu goes as follows: 

Syd’s famous potato chip omelet, a vanilla bean yogurt with Liz’s favorite homemade granola recipe, made last night before bed, bacon you’re frying up in a cast iron pan that belongs to the stocked rental kitchen, and one of Liz’s favorite mocktails because, yes,

“You’re making us go for a hike?!” Maya exclaims. “In this heat? In this humidity?!”

“I thought you were… on your whole SoulCycle kick,” you’re quick to reply. 

“Yeah, because it’s indoors,” she emphasizes with a sigh of defeat. 

“Thank god you didn’t get your hair done for this, babe,” Liz teases her friend, earning a ‘seconded’ from Maya. 

“Oh my god! I forgot that we both love SouCycle!” Sugar chimes in, simultaneously. 

“Add it to the list,” Maya replies, because she and Nat have gotten quite chummy over the last 12 hours. 

After ordering pizza last night, Maya and Nat had promptly curled up in a corner of the couch with a glass of wine for Maya, and an non-alcoholic cocktail for Nat, and spent almost two uninterrupted hours of realizing that they had way too much in common to not become instant-besties.

“So let me get this straight. It’s your bachelorette party and-,” Maya begins, straightening up on the barstool that lines the other side of the breakfast bar. 

“It’s not a bachelorette party, it’s just a girls’ weekend,” you and Syd say in unison, you more insistent while Syd simply recites the words as that you’ve droned on about again and again. 

“And we’re not going out?” Maya asks, unamused by your lack of enthusiasm.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you shrug, careless for the idea of going out this weekend. 

“What about the strippers?!” Maya exclaims, a little louder this time, sending all of you into a fit of giggles. 

“What strippers?!” Syd exclaims. 

“Listen, I’m not against strippers…” you laugh with a shake of your head. “...but I just wanted this weekend to be about getting my favorite people together and looking for a dress. YOU are the one who called it a bachelorette party.”

“You’ll have to excuse Maya. It’s been a while since she’s had a weekend away from full-time mom duty,” Liz teases her, as the two of you share a knowing look. 

“Not to mention full-time work! And full-time wife-ing,” Maya adds insistently. “I’m ready to shake my ass!” 

You and Sugar both snort with laughter and Syd snickers again, plating her final omelet. 

“And while she’s somehow the first one of us to settle down, she’s also always been the biggest party animal of the both of us,” you continue, picking up where Liz left off. 

“See, this is what you have to look forward to,” Syd jokes, directing her comment to Nat. “The both of you.”

“Oh shut up,” she quips back, playfully. 

You shrug, before offering to help Syd distribute her stunningly plated omelets to the kitchen table that Liz has already set. 

“Tell us what you made today,” you joke, doing your best Padma Lakshmi impression, as if Sydney were a contestant on Top Chef. 

Sydney laughs, while the rest of the girls take their seats, standing at the head of the table as she takes your invitation to roleplay a little too seriously:

“So this… is a potato chip omelet with boursin cheese inspired by our very own Natalie Berzatto.”

“You’re amazing,” Natalie coos, because she truly cannot get enough of this omelet. 

“This looks incredible,” Maya compliments, admiring the neatly shaped French omelet. 

“And the potato chips are fucking genius,” Liz marvels, simultaneously.

“Something I started making at the restaurant just for Nat since, you know, it kinda hits all the cravings. It’s salty. It’s filling. You know you got a little texture going on with the chips. Aaaaand I’m starving so let’s end this Top Chef cosplay right now and eat,” Syd says, earning a laugh and statements of agreement from the rest of you as she rushes to the last empty chair. 

You spend the morning enjoying breakfast before ushering everyone out to the car for your hike. Insistent on heading out there before it gets too hot, you decide it’s probably best to go before noon. As you head out to the Skidaway Island State Park trail, the fact that you friends are finally all together in one room begins to hit you. While Nat and Maya have hit it off over their love for SoulCycle, how strange pregnancy cravings are, and their mutual adoration for Maggie Rogers, you smile to yourself while you listen to Sydney and Liz dissect the most recent season of Love Island. 

And despite the few yet passionate protestations, the hiking trail really isn’t all that bad. The five of you spend about an hour out there, hanging out a little longer along the boardwalk, before heading back into town for lunch, and then home for showers and some downtime. Tonight’s game plan is to get all dressed up (sort of) then head to Mashama Bailey’s restaurant, The Grey. 

You take some time (and a nap) to yourself this afternoon, knowing that everyone else has taken some time to read, catch up a little, or just hang out. As you awaken from your nap, you flip through your phone for a bit, and, you think to yourself, it feels really damn good to slow down. 

You decide to call Carmy, Facetime-ing him as you remain snuggled up in the airbnb bed. It takes a few rings before Carmy answers, his hair wild, dressed in his chef whites. 

“Hey, babe,” Carmy smiles, as soon as your face appears on his phone screen. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“You too. I’m glad you picked up,” you reply, a lightness in your voice that only comes with vacation-you. 

“How’s my girl doing?” he asks you, adoration in his eyes. 

You hum happily in response, stretching a little in your bed. 

“She’s great. But she misses you,” you answer, soaking in how much you love when he calls you his girl. “The trip’s been great so far, baby. We went for a hike this morning and uh, well, everyone’s really hit it off. Pretty sure Nat and Maya have become best friends now.”

“Uh oh.”

“Oh come on,” you chuckle, snuggling deeper into the duvet. “You know Maya’s always been your biggest fan.”

“Yeah,” he nods softly, because he does know that, for whatever reason, she’s always been his biggest advocate. 

“But how are you? How’s Aioli? What am I missing?” you ask your future husband. 

“We’re good. And Aioli is still the most spoiled cat in the Greater Chicago area. Not much to report here. Just taking a smoke break before dinner service,” he answers with a shrug. 

“What’re you up to?”

“Just waking up from a nap,” you reply with a yawn, your disheveled bedhead more of a turnon then Carmy will admit. “And we’re going to The Grey later.”

“Mashama’s place?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna get all dressed up?” he asks, his interest piquing. 

“Yeah, I think we are,” you reply, the conversation taking a slightly flirtier turn as you add, “Don’t worry. I’ll send pictures.” 

With a shy look on his face, Carmy returns with a:

“Oh shit. Well, let me know how it is. The restaurant.”

“I’ll report back,” you assure him. “You know… maybe we can come back here together. Another time.”

Carmy hums in response, barely able to wrap his head around the idea of a vacation. It’s not like you’d never been on one together, but no matter how many steps he takes back, how much he’s learned he’s allowed to (sometimes) slowdown, the unshakeable fear of falling behind hangs over his head. He’s learning, getting better at it, and you’ve helped, but it somehow always still feels a little unsettling at first. 

You can see that Carmy’s mind is running a mile a minute, so you decide to cut to the chase as you say: 

“I just… wanted to call and see what was up. Tell you I was thinking about you, babe.”

He smiles softly. 

“Yeah,” he exhales. “I’m thinking about you too.”

He waits a beat before following up with:

“I’m always thinking about you.”

“I love you, Bear,” you whisper, a smile on your lips. 

“I love you too,” he says back, and you swear Apple has installed a filter on FaceTime with how vibrant and blue his eyes are as he looks at you. 

The knock at your bedroom door grabs your attention, your eyes shifting immediately to where the door hangs slightly open.

“Hey, I heard you were up,” Sydney says, poking her head in. “Can I come in?”

“Oh my god! Yeah, of course. I’m just on the phone with Carmy. Wanna come say hi?” you encourage, waving her your way. 

“Sure!” she grins, quick to hop onto the bed, settling down right next to where you lay. 

“Great. It’s like you never left Chicago,” Carmy groans dryly, as Sydney snuggles in. 

“Whatever. You miss us,” Sydney shoots back with a playful eye roll.

Carmy’s become no stranger to getting kicked out of his own bed when Sydney comes over – you and her taking it over to watch a movie or giggle while watching TikTok videos for hours on end. Most days he’s so glad that you found a friend in each other, while other days, he’d very much like his bed back. 

“Well, babe. I won’t keep you. I’ll see you Sunday?” Carmy asks, more than happy to let you spend time with your friends. 

“See ya Sunday, honey,” you reply before ending the call. 

You toss your phone on your bed with a sigh as Sydney fake vomits at your sickeningly sweet goodbye. 

“Did you nap?” she asks you. 

“Dude I passed the fuck out,” you reply, enthusiastically. 

“I don’t know how you do it. Like, I think I’ve seen you sleep in…” she starts, trying to pull together a rough guesstimate in her head of how many times she’s seen you nap in a public place. “... more places than I can count.”

“OH! I have not forgotten about your little… photo album,” you remind her, in reference to the photo collection of you sleeping that she has of you. “I’m begging you to release this photo album AT our wedding brunch.” 

And you’re only half-joking about it. 

“Did you get a nap in?”

“Nah.” 

You take another breath as you and Sydney lay next to each other, settling into a comfortable quiet as you reflect on the moment you had with Sugar yesterday, suddenly consumed with an immense amount of gratitude for her and Sydney’s presence in your life. 

“Shit…” you exhale. 

“What’s up?” Sydney asks you, turning her head to look over at you this time. 

“Somebody should’ve warned me that getting married would like… bring up all these extra feelings about… literally everything,” you admit, your eyes fixed to the patterns on the popcorn ceiling above you. 

“Oh god,” she groans. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“God no!” you snort, reassuring her that you just finished your period. 

You and Sydney exchange another laugh, and a look of mutual affection, before returning your gazes back to the ceiling. 

“You wanna… talk about it?” Sydney asks, carefully. 

It’s not that you and Sydney don’t do the heavy stuff together, but she’s become one of your best friend because she makes you laugh harder than anyone ever has, so it always feels different – foreign in a way – when you have these moments together. 

Your friendship with Syd is lighter. It’s laugh until your abs hurt kind of lighter. 

But you know she’s here for all the rest of it too. 

“Uh… sure,” you answer, as you share what’s on your mind. “I’ve just been so nostalgic lately. Just thinking about… you know… me and Carmy’s relationship. The life I’ve built with him. You guys….”

“Ew,” she jokes, her face twisting into an expression of repulsion. 

“I know,” you groan, unable to stifle the life that escapes your lips. 

“Not to get all, you know, emotional or anything,” Sydney starts, shrugging it off like it’s no big deal. 

“But like… I wanted to work with Carmy, you know? Which is why I came to The Beef. And… It was a lot.” She pauses, thinking about what she wants to say next as you nod along because you know it was a lot. “I wanted to learn from him and… I wanted to be somewhere that I could make an impact – where I could make something good.”

And in the spirit of being sappy and nostalgic Syd continues. 

“And… I never thought, like, in a million years… that on top of building a restaurant… I’d meet you. You’re like… one of my best friends.” 

“Woahhhh,” you tease her, pretending to be surprised. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

You both take a beat, knowing that you’re both using humor to deflect from the moment of vulnerability that you’re sharing. 

“Syd?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re one of my best friends too.”

Saturday

“This isn’t me. I mean… none of this… is me,” you say to yourself, examining your reflection in the mirror. “I mean. We’re getting married at the courthouse, you know?!” 

Maya had booked you an appointment at one of those high end bridal boutiques where they make a custom sign for you and serve champagne, and while it was more than a lovely gesture, even the least-fancy dresses here still don’t feel right.

“I figured as much but thought we’d give it a shot,” Maya sighs, disappointedly, as Syd and Nat exchange glances. 

“If it helps, your tits look great,” Liz suggests, earning a laugh from you because, she’s not wrong and it may be the highlight of this dress stop. 

A mischievous smile spreads across your lips as you say: 

“C’mon. I have an idea!”

It’s those five words that lead you to the most ridiculous bridal consignment shop with the floofiest gowns you’ve seen all day. Deciding that you should have a little more fun with today, you use the fact that you’re the bride and it’s your weekend to convince your friends that they have to try the most extravagant and silly dresses on with you.

“Oh my god! Well we’re going to make beautiful brides,” Maya gasps facetiously, as she steps out of the fitting room in what can only be looked at as a ball gown. 

“I’m pretty sure this thing has a built-in petticoat,” Liz adds, spinning around in the dress she’s tried on, something that looks like it should be what one milks cows in. 

“I’m SO sending this to Patrick,” you laugh, snapping photo after photo on your phone while Nat cackles along with you. “I think you guys are going to have to get married again just so you can wear this dress.”

Before you know it, Sydney is pushing you into a dressing room with another dress to try on, promising you that she’ll try something on this time too. It takes way too long to put on the ball of taffeta, and Sugar has to come in to help figure out what goes where, before you emerge once again, like a cotton ball of a bride. 

“Well, I think this is the one,” you joke, staring at your reflection in the mirror. 

“And we can’t forget thiiiiiis,” Maya says in a sing-song voice, adding a hand beaded veil to your head this time. 

“Wait, this is actually really pretty,” Nat says, in reference to the veil. 

You agree with her, as Maya slips away to grab a few more dresses from out front, before turning your attention to the still-closed dressing room that Syd is hiding in. 

“Sydney Adamu. Get your ass out here!” you holler, just as she makes her dramatic entrance, pulling back the curtain to the fitting room. 

“Oh my god!” you gasp, the minute you see her in the beaded, fitted white dress. Aside from the mermaid tail-like hem, the fitted bodice fits her like a glove. “Ummm… this is hot!” 

“Excuse me?!” Nat squeals as Liz simultaneously adds, “Okay, miss thing! Give us a walk! Give us a spin.” 

“You guys are out of control,” Sydney says, gesturing towards the three of you, even though she knows you’re right. 

She looks phenomenal. 

“Okay, okay. Go try these on. I think I finally found some good ones,” Maya encourages. And before you can even protest, she’s handing you a few hangers worth of white dresses and shoving you into a dressing room while Syd continues to strut around the fitting room area. 

You smile to yourself, listening to your friends giggle and squeal over the silly dresses, while you hang up the few that Maya’s picked out for you. One in particular catches your eye: a slip-like silhouette with a high halter-like neckline that cuts low in the back. You run your fingers over the smooth material and decide to try this one on first. 

The dress fits a little big, and the hemline is a little long, but it’s nothing you can’t take to a tailor. You pinch the fabric, picturing what it would look like fitting a little closer to your body as you shout:

“Guys!!” 

“What? Did we do the impossible? You find something you actually like?” Sydney teases you, as you pull the curtain back. 

“Um… well it needs to be taken in some. And hemmed. But… yeah,” you reply, the reactions immediate on your friend’s faces as soon as they see you. 

Maya gasps, while Liz’s jaw drops. Tears well in Nat’s eyes while Syd rubs a few soothing circles on Nat’s upper back. 

“Holy shit,” Liz says. 

“We did the impossible,” Maya adds, awestruck. “We actually found something that you, the anti-bride, actually like.”

“Oh sweetheart, you look so, so beautiful,” Nat whispers, so overwhelmed with emotion as she thinks of you and Carmy. And because this is so not any of you, Sugar can’t help herself, instantly deflecting with a dry, “God, I can’t believe you haven’t left his ass,” as the five of you burst into another fit of giggles. 

As the laughter subsides, and the reality that you’re going to marry the love of your life sets in, you stare back at yourself in the mirror once more, the words falling out of your mouth. 

“Yeah. I… think this is it.”

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

Crowded around the dinner table, the five of you work through what seems like a never-ending amount of Chinese takeout, as you wonder to yourself who let Liz over-order when you’re all leaving tomorrow morning. You sit next to Sydney, one of her knees tucked into her chest as she listens to all the drama from Liz’s last kitchen job. 

“Shit,” Sydney commiserates. “When do you just say ‘fuck it’ and start your own spot?”

“Uh… when I marry rich and don’t have to worry about the business of it all?” Liz replies, earning an ‘amen’ from Nat and a laugh from you. 

“I always knew,” Maya says, a sure smile on her face as she changes the subject. 

“What?” you ask her, quizzically. 

“I always knew that you and Carmy would end up together,” she replies with a certain amount of aplomb that baffles you. 

It’s a simultaneous “How could you know?” from Liz and “How could you know that?” from Sydney, and an “I didn’t even know!” from you, as Nat exclaims a skeptical, “My brother?!”

“I knew! Because…” she declares insistently. 

“I saw the way that Carmen looked at you. How he always looked at you. Even when you thought you were just friends. Even when you guys banged and thought you fucked it all up. And especially when he finally got over himself and invited you to Chicago.”

It’s a strange feeling, that one of your best friends in the whole wide world could see something that you, for a long time, could barely understand yourself, and it reminds you of the magnitude of you and Carmy’s love story. 

“That was really beautiful,” Sydney admits, so casually that you have to laugh. 

“You always were his biggest champion,” you say, earning a confident nod from Maya. 

“Hey, remember when he was so nervous to even talk to you that he spilled your drink all over you?” Liz brings up, almost jokingly as you all burst out into laughter. 

“You were soooooo mad.”

“So mad!” you agree passionately. 

“Poor guy didn’t know what he was doing,” Liz chuckles. 

“What an asshole,” Nat adds, as she and Sydney exchange a knowing look. 

“Well. I will cheers to that,” you announce, even though you know, for all the shit you give him, he is and always will be the love of your life. 

“To our last night here in Savannah. And you, our best friend, in all of her anti-bride glory who got us all here this weekend. And to Carmy, for loving our girl. Our king and queen of (not-so-much-anymore) denial,” Maya toasts, holding up her glass. 

You cheers with your friends, exchanging laughs and quips as your glasses clink. You look around the table, and it’s not just the wine you’re drinking that brings a warmth to your cheeks. There’s Liz and Maya, the friends that loved you through your life before Carmy, through hating him, and eventually, through falling in love with him. And then there’s Nat and Syd, the two women who, had you and Carmy not taken a chance on each other, you never would’ve met. Never would’ve gotten to know. Never would’ve gotten to love. 

You’re starting to understand this whole bachelorette party thing. You may not have bridesmaids, or all of the bells and whistles that come with having a big ceremony, but the love that you have in your life is bigger than just romantic love. 

It’s in this room right now, a living, breathing thing that fills the air and warms you from the inside out. 

It’s palpable, it’s real, and most importantly, it’s yours.

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #dont want to walk alone

[laismoura-art]

Hey everyone! Remember when I told y'all I was gonna make a huge post about Harumi Shirai being playable? Well, it's heeeeere!! :D ✨️

Before we start! A thanks to @meme099 for requesting this post and a thanks to all my Harumi girlies (in special @mikka-minns @thedragonholder @madamealtruist @orbitinytheworld and @running-with-the-feels ) who have always been so supportive of my Harumi content! Hope you guys enjoy this!🩷

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Canon info used as inspo:

Harumi and Kuai are childhood friends and are in a relationship;

Harumi is head of her clan (that is not the Shirai Ryu);

Harumi uses her knowledge as Grandmistress to help Kuai and Tomas assemble the Shirai Ryu;

Harumi has connections with the Umgadi.

Everything else I used is based on Headcanons of mine, Harumi's clan being the most blatant case, I'll be linking previous posts in case you want more details!

I wanted to make Harumi a brand new character, with her own unique backstory and skill set! (It's what she deserves)

With all that in mind, LET'S BEGIN!

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TW: This will be much more explicitly violent than my regular Tumblr content, as there will be Fatalities and Brutalities. I know in this Fandom this is expected, but as it's not usual for MY content, I feel like a warning is welcome!

New Playable Fighter: Harumi Shirai🌸

🌸 Bio:

Fierce leader, talented herbalist and honorary Umgadi, Harumi Shirai is the head of her clan, the Order of Cetrion.

Founded by her ancestors and composed by women only, her clan uses their skills to aid the Elder Goddess of Life and Virtue, Cetrion, in her never-ending mission to protect all life in Earthrealm.

Nowadays, Harumi is not only the Grandmistress of her clan, but also mentor of her childhood friend and lover, Kuai Liang, as he struggles and persists in his quest to assemble a clan that will rival the Lin Kuei's might and serve as Earthrealm's new line of defence.

For more of my thoughts and HCs on Harumi and her clan, you can read these:

🌸 Gear:

As stablished in the previously mentioned posts The Daughters of Cetrion are herbalists with access to Outworldly magic and spices, so most her arsenal will reflect that!

Bottles of healing potions and deadly poisons.

Pouches of grated herbs that can heal, cause allergic reactions and, of course, kill. (Pocket sand!)

A scythe (small one, used to harvest plants but can and will slit a throat)

It is canon that Harumi has connections with the Umgadi and it's safe to assume she was trained by them (my HC is that Li Mei was her teacher), so I gave her an Umgadi skill:

Umgadi energy constructs. Only the Grandmistresses are allowed to learn this skill from the Umgadi. Harumi's constructs are pink and she shapes them like flowers and red foxes (a nod to her Animality).

🌸 Skins:

Now being quite fair, MK1 can be hardly known for its variety in skins. It is however, pretty creative when if comes to colour palettes, so I decided to rely on that!

Bellow you have Harumi's main outfit, the long sleeve nods to her canon fit while the rest was made with her clan in mind (the main reference were Cetrion's outfits)

The Grandmistress: The main colour. This is her Grandmistress outfit, all in pinkish tones, which I HC to be her family's colours)

The Scorpion: 1st colour variant has my Scorpion!Harumi colours, with a brighter shade of pink and yellow (the flower on her hair nods to her Scorpion hairpin)

Daughter of Cetrion: 3rd variation brings her clan's colours, a mix of her family's colours and Cetrion's. The colours are to represent their commitment as protectors of life and nature.

Li Mei's Apprentice: 4th variation is for her Umgadi outfit! She wears the traditional shades of yellow and silver!

The Shirai Ryu's Bride: 5th variation has Kuai's colours (and yes, the name is a nod to their relationship)

Honorary Lin Kuei: 6th variation might look controversial, but I find it hard to believe Harumi was only Kuai's friend. I HC Harumi was named honorary Lin Kuei warrior many years ago. (She wears Bi-Han’s colours to imply they were once friends too)

Bonus info:

Kuai has two of her colour palettes, "The Grandmistress" as nod to their relationship and "Daughter of Cetrion" as I HC him to be a honorary Cetrion warrior;

I drew Harumi slightly different here to make her resemble her new face model, Jiwon Ra, but I kept some of my HCs, meaning her freckles and slight heterochromia;

The tattoo on Harumi's arm is the Umgadi insignia and the pendant on her belt is her clan's.

🌸 Special moves:

Fireworks: Harumi shoots fireworks through her finger (Umgadi magic) they work as projectiles and can be shot to any height and also as she jumps or ducks; (it looks like Charlie's fireworks)

Witchy makes you dizzy: She throws a concoction that makes the opponent dizzy (it inverts your remote);

Pocket sand: She throws a pouch that makes the opponent cough (makes them stand in place)

They don't bite... much: Harumi creates two foxes with her constructs and sends them to bite the opponent;

Cetrion's healer: She uses one of her potions to heal herself.

Bonus: For stronger hits and during kombos, she will strike with her scythe;

She throws bottles and pouches of potions during her kombos.

The first and fourth move can become Brutalities. With "Fireworks" she blows up the opponent and with "They don't bite... much" her foxes eat the opponent alive.

🌸 Fatal Blow:

Beware the Forest Witch:

Harumi blows one of her powder mixes on the opponents face, the powder makes their skin itchy and they scratch their face aggressively (drawing a lot of blood).

She steps back and sends her foxes, the creatures start to bite, one of them givas a particularly strong bite, breaking the opponets leg, the other breaks their arm right after.

Harumi finishes the move with a firework attack, breaking the opponents ribs and sending them away!

The Fatal Blow can also be used as a brutality, her foxes will tear the opponents limbs off as they bite them!

🌸 Fatality:

Sacrifice for the Goddess:

Harumi uses her constructs to open holes into the opponent's chest and stomach.

She calmly walks closer, holding a pouch and a bottle as she's still deciding which one to use.

She places the pouch in the opponent's stomach hole and the bottle on their chest hole, only to change her mind at the last minute and replace the bottle with another one from her belt.

She places a smaller bottle at the opponent's mouth and slowly walks away.

The bottles and pouch explode into plants and vines with beautiful flowers that start to grow inside the opponent's holes and mouth as they fall backwards. The opponent starts to look like a gory flower pot.

From the opponent's mouth grows a singular pink flower, which Harumi gently plucks and sniffs as her victory is announced.

🌸 Intro animations:

When she's pushed away by her opponent, she carves her scythe on the ground to stop her momentum. Her foxes constructs are already by her side. She pets them to assure she's ok and raises up saying "my foxes will be eating well today"

When she's the one pushing, she distances herself with a one-handed cartwheel and a back flip. Her hands glows as she moves, summoning flowery shapes around them. She mocks the opponent calling them "fertilizer for Cetrion's gardens"

🌸 In-between rounds animation:

When she wins: She recreates her foxes constructs and pets them, sweetly calling them "good boys"

When she loses: She uses one of her potions to "heal" herself (she'll grunt in pain and anger as she does)

🌸 Victory animation:

She will use her constructs to slightly recriate this one victory animation of Cetrion from MK11. Her foxes will be lying by each of her sides.

🌸Ending:

"The arrival of Titan Shang Tsung inspired many other foes to rise and act on their darkest desires.

In their path they left behind only death and destruction. Among their victims, were the Living forests and the Capital of Seido.

As Daughters of Cetrion, it is my clan's duty to protect life and preserve the nature. Such disasters would never pass unnoticed by us.

Lady Cetrion healed the forest and put a stop to the flood that had already killed so many. In a way only her magic could!

My sisters and I helped as we could, searching for survivors, protecting and healing them.

Once they were out of harm, it was time to get them justice. Reunited with my old friends and mentor in the Umgadi, we went after the responsible for this atrocity.

Havik, the agent of chaos."

🌸 A few intro dialogues:

🔥 With Kuai:

Harumi: Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're my fiancé.

Kuai: I know you'll go harder on me because I'm your fiancé.

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

Kuai: I'll join you against Havik in a heartbeat.

Harumi: I appreciate it, but you already have much in your plate, Grandmaster.

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Kuai: When you're around Hanzo, do you ever feel...

Harumi: Like I've met him before? All the time.

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Kuai: So, about those comic books you borrowed?

Harumi, chuckling: We're married now, Sunbeam. What's yours is mine!

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

Kuai: So when you said "Summer camping" you actually meant training with the Umgadi?

Harumi: Uh... Surprise?

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Kuai: So you and Tanya...?

Harumi: So you and Cyrax?

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Kuai: You think things will ever get better with Bi-Han?

Harumi: Of course! As long as we don't give up on him!

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❄️ With Bi-Han:

Bi-Han: I only wish to speak to my brothers.

Harumi: And your men lurking on my territory, are they here only to speak too?

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Bi-Han: Step aside, Harumi, this is family matter.

Harumi: Have you forgotten, dear? I am family.

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Harumi: Come alone to the Shirai Ryu. Let's put our differences aside.

Bi-Han: So you can stab me in the back?

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

Harumi: We used to be friends, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han: Regrettably, Harumi, things have changed.

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Harumi: So how is Cyrax doing?

Bi-Han: Your concoctions have been quite helpful...

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💨 With Tomas:

Tomas: Are you sure Hanzo is over 18?

Harumi: *Sigh* For the last time, Tom. Yes!

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Tomas: Wait, you know Kuai has a crush on you?

Harumi, chuckling: Who doesn't know?

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Harumi: You drank my truth serum??

Tomas: it's not my fault you stash your potions with the kitchen spices!

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Harumi: The Shirai Ryu is turning out great!

Tomas: And you thought we were total lost causes!

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Harumi: Where did you say you found your apprentice again?

Tomas: He fell from a tree!

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

Tomas: So your Umgadi friend Jade...

Harumi: Want me to introduce you to her?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

So for now I only have these dialogues with the Sub-Zero siblings, but I'll tell you that:

If you want so see Harumi interacting with other characters, you can send me an ask with the character(s) you want and will make some intro dialogues with them! (Maximum 3 characters per ask, please)🩷

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Yoo folks! We made it!! Playable Fighter Harumi Shirai at your services!!!

Thank you very much for reading, I hope you have enjoyed!

If you have thoughts, questions and/or suggestions, please DO TELL! I'd love to chat to you about my girl!💕

🌸 🦊 ✨️

#harumi shirai #harumi hasashi #lady shirai #scorpion!harumi au #the order of cetrion #umgadi #character headcanons #character design #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #kuai liang #kuairumi #bi han #hanzo hasashi #subscorprumi #scorpion #cetrion #li mei #mortal kombat #my art <3 #thought a “read more” would be welcomed so i added one

[lysenfeu]

Pair of Aces - Chapter 6. Day Six

Pair of Aces

Chapter 6. Day Six

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Things get messy with the Butterflies and even messier with our pair back at the motel. Chapter Content: Graphic violence/ Canon-typical violence, Explosions, Blood, Mild gore, Smut (F/M)

A/N: It's finally heeeeere! Sorry this took a trillion years, real life has been a pain and this is a beast of a chapter. Hopefully, the length (and 🔥content🔥) will make up for the delay! All I have to say is that it's the last night in the motel and we all knew where this was headed 👀

(NOTE: The smut-specific content warnings are after the cut because they kind of include spoilers, please read at your own discretion!)

[Read Previous Chapter]

[Read on AO3]

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*SPOILERS* Kissing, Biting (like, a lot), Nipple play, Fingering (F receiving), Oral (F and M receiving), Hair Pulling, a little Facefucking, PIV, Rough sex, Unprotected sex, Creampie, a tiny bit of Cum play *END SPOILERS*

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She groaned as her alarm went off way earlier than she ever would have liked. They needed an early start to put their plan into action but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it. The grumpy wake-up call was followed by a rushed breakfast of fruit and granola bars. They needed to be at the mission site and finish preparing for the Glen Tai delivery before their scheduled drop-off at noon. The pair were finally finishing gearing up just before it was time to head out.

She looked over at the mess spread out on his bed and rolled her eyes. "You don't need four guns, Vig. You only have two hands."

"What if one of the guns gets knocked out of my hands?"

She sighed. "Okay, fine. Three guns, then you have an extra. But that's it!"

"But what if another one gets knocked out of my hands!"

"Then you're bad at your job and shouldn't be in the field." She shot him a pointed look.

"Hm." Vig wrinkled his nose in thought as he packed away the three weapons. "Note to self: don't let the bad guys take more than one gun." He finished fiddling with his gear and met her at the front door.

"Ready for this?"

She grinned at him. "This is what I live for. Let's go."

They climbed in the Sebring and headed over to the unassuming farmhouse, anxious to get the day started.

The plan was simple. First, they needed to get into the tunnels before the delivery was scheduled to arrive. They had scoped out a route the night before while exploring, so that was easy. They'd place the adhesive explosion prototypes Task Force X had included in their gear along key structure points in the tunnels.

When the Butterflies show up, they would blow up the entrance to trap them inside and then mow them down in waves until nothing was left standing. After that, they could collapse the tunnel exit once they were clear and call it a day. Just some high-tech explosions and murder. You know, simple stuff.

Setting up was the easiest part, planting the sticky-backed bombs evenly along the cavern went smoothly. Then they camped out by the car, well hidden behind the foliage, and waited for the delivery truck's arrival.

Shortly after noon, a large white delivery truck pulled up to the edge of the property. Two dozen people climbed out the back, all carrying crates full of glass jars into the house.

They waited for a few moments to ensure they wouldn't be spotted and then quickly followed after them. They knew exactly where the hatch was this time, kicking it open and dropping down to catch the delivery squad off guard.

She could barely take her eyes off him as he immediately opened fire on the group of Butterflies. He was a blur of black and teal as he expertly cleared the room, dropping half the group with ease. The noise was insane, gunfire and screams mixed with smashing glass and broken crates. The remaining people begin screeching and running down the underground maze in an attempt to escape.

That was her cue, she whipped out the prototype trigger and started setting off the bombs furthest back first. Several loud booms sounded one after the other and the tunnels began collapsing, trapping the Butterflies in an increasingly smaller space as Vigilante pushed forward.

She followed along behind him, double-tapping the downed bodies through the skull to ensure they all stayed down. She didn't even have a clear shot ahead as Vig raced after the last few stragglers.

Fucking hell, he's good at this.

He had managed to take down nearly the entire group in less than a half hour. Finally the last of the screeching stopped and he popped back into view. He walked back towards her and headed to the ladder leading back to the farmhouse.

"All clear! Let's blow this fucker up!"

She laughed a little at his obvious excitement, but hell he deserved it after that performance. She turned around and started walking back with him, pulling out the trigger to set off the last two charges. Just as she pressed the 3-second timer, her foot caught on a splintered crate and she tumbled to the floor.

She scrambled to get back up, she needed to get the hell out of range immediately. Suddenly two strong hands were wrapped around her, Vigilante tugged her off the filthy ground and around the corner just before the walls collapsed behind her.

"Holy shit!" She coughed violently as she rolled over and stared up at the roof of the nearly destroyed cavern.

Vigilante was on the ground next to her, covered in dirt. He looked over at her. "You good?"

She carefully inspected herself for any damage, minus some dirt of her own everything seemed fine. "Yeah, still all in one piece." She looked back at him. "Thanks."

He wiped off his visor and wiped the dust off his pants as he stood up. "No problem. I wasn't going to let you get blown up, that would just be stupid."

She scrambled to her feet and surveyed the damage. Everything behind them was blown to rubble, the entire system of tunnels had been reduced to a pile of rocks and dirt, effectively camouflaging all the bodies they'd left behind. She would have been one of them if Vigilante hadn't grabbed her.

"Well, I'm glad you also think me dying is stupid." She shot him a grateful smile and grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the exit they'd blocked off for their escape route. "Come on, let's get the fuck out of this mess."

"One second!" He stopped in his tracks and whipped his phone out of his pocket. Turning around, he angled his front-facing camera and snapped a picture throwing a peace sign with the collapsed rubble behind him.

"Peacemaker is gonna love this, what a great day."

She was halfway up the exit ladder with him closely behind, tucking his phone into his utility belt. After they both made it back to the car a safe distance away, she detonated the last explosive and the entrance to the tunnel collapsed in on itself, destroying a significant portion of the house's foundation along with it. She stared for a moment at the destruction, the culmination of the entire week-long mission. They'd done it, had a literal blast and successfully completed their objective. Tomorrow they'd check out of the motel and be back in Evergreen by dinner. A pang hit her stomach at the thought but she wasn't sure why.

Shoving the thoughts aside, she climbed into the passenger seat of the Sebring. Vig had just started driving them back to town when the tinny echoes of Aqua started playing from his pocket.

“Ah shit, can you grab that?”

She reached over and grabbed the cell phone out of his utility belt. Checking the display, she saw that it was Harcourt calling.

The call was quick. After informing Emilia about what they’d found and why they had needed to blow the whole thing up, she promised to file the reports quickly and it was all taken care of.

She hung up the phone and looked over at Vigilante with an unimpressed expression. "So, why the fuck is your ringtone 'Barbie Girl'?"

“Hey! Aqua is the bomb!" He was immediately defensive, under no circumstances would Vigilante tolerate Aqua slander.

"Obviously, I would never insult the legendary Europop group Aqua! I just think Barbie Girl is super overrated." She shrugged dismissively. "Dr.Jones does way more of the heavy lifting on Aquarium and never gets the same respect."

He scoffed in disgust. “Uh, hard no. Barbie Girl is the definitive Aqua single, no contest.”

"Clearly you've been concussed because you're talking absolute fucking nonsense right now." She was not going to back down from this, he was undeniably incorrect. However, the offended noises he emitted in response did not seem to agree with her.

"Look, there's only one way to settle this debate. Pass me the aux cord!" She pulled out her phone and gestured towards him.

Vig coughed awkwardly. “Uh…yeah, so the Vigilantemobile doesn't have one. Cassettes or CDs only."

"Fucking cassettes?" She wrinkled her nose. "Dude, your car sucks."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. But it's mine, you know?" He patted the steering wheel fondly. "Anyways, just pop the glove box."

She grabbed at the latch in front of her and opened the passenger glove box. Stuffed next to some crumpled papers and napkins was a beat-up CD folder. She flipped it open and quickly located the bright blue disc they needed, Aqua's debut album Aquarium. She briefly stared down at the decades-old CD, it truly was a relic of the past, just like the Sebring.

She popped the album into the disc drive and queued up track three before grinning at him.

"Ready to lose?"

"You fucking wish." Vig took his eyes off the road for a second to address her with a deadly serious tone. “You do not get to be Barbie right now, got it?”

“Damn dude, fine. It’s all you.” She threw up her hands in deference and accepted her role as Ken.

Hiya, Barbie. Hi, Ken! You wanna go for a ride? Sure, Ken. Jump in!

She waited patiently as Vig sang out the chorus by himself. She hated to admit it but he really was nailing the song.

I'm a blonde bimbo girl in a fantasy world Dress me up, make it tight, I'm your dolly You're my doll, rock and roll, feel the glamour in pink Kiss me here, touch me there, hanky-panky

She paused for a moment after finishing her two lines of the verse.

Has Aqua always been this horny? Geez.

Vig finally finished singing along with the track and “How do you not love this song?”

“I do! It’s a great track, that was never in question. I just think it’s overrated in comparison. You’ll see.” She skipped forward a track and queued up her song.

“You can do the chorus and the dude parts but that’s it, okay?” She had her own rules for this sing-off too.

He nodded at her. “That’s fair.”

Sometimes the feelin' is right You fall in love for the first time Heartbeat and kisses so sweet Summertime love in the moonlight

It had been ages since she listened to this album but she still knew all the words by heart, Dr.Jones really was the supporting pillar of Aquarium.

Baby, I am missin' you I want you by my side And I hope you'll miss me too Come back and stay I'll think about you every day I really want you too You swept my feet right off the ground You're the love I found

Her cheeks hurt from grinning with enthusiasm as they belted out the duet verse and launched into the chorus together. There was nothing like some impromptu karaoke to cap off a brutal murder spree!

The song faded out just as Vig pulled into the motel parking lot and the pair tumbled into their room, giddy from all the adrenaline and Europop.

She kicked off her boots and unzipped her dirt-covered jacket, tossing them in a pile by the door. She was relieved her outfit underneath was still fairly clean, it had been a very messy day.

"So, are you going to change your ringtone now that we've established the superior song?" She spun around to grin at him, expecting a snappy defence of Barbie Girl but she was startled by just how close he was.

He had finished stripping off his armour and was just in his black shirt and pants standing right behind her. She took a step back to make some room between them but he stepped towards her in return, quickly invading her space. She shuffled backwards and he was almost directly in front of her when she suddenly collided with the back of the couch and nearly toppled over.

"Woah!"

His hands reached out and grabbed onto her shoulders at the same time she instinctively wrapped hers around his waist to steady herself. She was caught off guard by how warm and solid he felt under her hands. She fisted her fingers into the material of his shirt and suddenly felt something …wet?

"Uh, who's blood is this?" She awkwardly let him go and brought her hand up to show him the bright red splotches left on her skin.

"Oh, shit!" He jumped back from her and immediately tugged at his shirt, feeling out the stain she had discovered on his side. He grimaced as he felt the blood-soaked fabric and quickly stripped it off. Her eyes widened at the unexpected sight of a now half-naked Vigilante in front of her, wildly spinning around on the way to the bathroom mirror trying to inspect himself for wounds. He shut the door behind him and she heard water running for a moment.

She was still in a bit of a daze staring at the bathroom door when he came back out a few minutes later.

"False alarm, definitely not my blood but man was there a lot of it. Did I miss any?" He gestured at his still-bare torso and held his arms out, slowly spinning in a circle for her to inspect.

Oh, goddammit.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm as she surveyed his barely dressed body. He was in incredible shape, that's for certain. There were a few droplets of water dripping down his chest, drawing her eye across his pecs and down his abs, before hitting the waistband of his tactical pants. Frankly, she wasn't sure if she was disappointed or not that there wasn't any blood left on him.

Fuck. Okay, that's enough.

She swallowed hard and shook her head, managing to tear her gaze away from him. "You're all good." She was halfway into giving him a thumbs up before she remembered the mess on her hand.

"Gross." She murmured, looking down at the bloodstains.

"Here, let me help." Vigilante quickly grabbed something from the bathroom, walked over and grabbed her wrist. He held her hand up and gently wiped a damp washcloth across her palm, slowly washing away the blood.

She fought down a blush at how close he suddenly was, still shirtless. She could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin. She stared down at his hands working to clean her up, slightly dazed at how sweet he was being. Two hours ago, those same hands were responsible for the deaths of over a dozen people and now they were ever so softly holding hers, cleaning off his victim's blood.

He swiped the cloth over her palm one more time and then stepped back a bit. "There we go."

"Thanks."

"No problem! You should probably take your shirt off now."

Her dazed mind raced to process the sudden request. "W-what?"

He frowned in concern. "To make sure there's no blood on you?"

"Oh."

She was still entirely distracted and without thinking, moved her hand to grab the edge of her shirt. She was about to lift it over her head when Vigilante interrupted her, holding out her duffel bag in his hands.

"You should clean up and get changed, the bathroom's all yours!"

"Right, yes. Obviously. That makes sense." She dropped the hem of her top and lost the fight against blushing, turning a lovely shade of tomato red as she grabbed her bag, ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Thankfully, there wasn't much blood on her. A few small stains on her top had soaked through to her bra and she quickly stripped it off and ducked into the tub. She was towelling off from her quick shower when she heard a knock on the motel room's front door. She immediately started to panic, no one was supposed to know they were there.

She heard Vigilante's muffled voice and pressed an ear to the door. He was saying something that sounded like 'thank you' to someone and then she heard the door close.

She quickly got dressed in her last pair of clean pyjamas, her usual tank top and shorts combo, and flew out of the bathroom to assess the situation. Vigilante was standing beside the couch, still shirtless but having changed into a pair of sweatpants.

"What's going on?"

He cocked his head to the side at her in confusion. "Hm?"

"I heard someone?"

"Oh!" He reached over and held up a large brown paper bag. "I got us Chinese food!"

She stared at him blankly. "You ordered delivery… to the room no one is supposed to know we're staying in?"

He had the decency to look a little nervous at her question. "Well, we're leaving tomorrow morning and there's no one around and he didn't see anything weird so it's fine, right?"

"You don't think the delivery guy is going to remember a half-naked dude in a fucking mask?"

"He might remember me, sure, but it's not like he knows who I am! Who's he going to tell?" He put the bag down on the coffee table. "I was just trying to surprise you, today was fucking awesome and I thought we deserved a treat."

She sighed and relaxed a little, it was a nice surprise. She eyed the takeout bag appreciatively before snapping her attention back to Vigilante. "Why are you still shirtless anyways? Get dressed."

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, I can't."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Why not?"

"I'm out of clean shirts."

"You…you're out of clean shirts." She stared at him in disbelief. "How many shirts did you pack?"

"Two."

"For a week?!"

"Yes! Usually that's fine but you got gross goo on one, now the other is all bloody and I can't do anything about that now!"

He crossed his arms defensively across his chest, forcing her attention to his well-defined pecs. He wasn't seriously going to spend the whole night like this, was he?

Oh god, I'm not going to survive.

She flopped down on the couch with a sigh. "Fine, whatever. Let's just eat, I'm starving."

Vig tore open the takeout bag and began to unpack the various containers. He leaned over to grab some of the food, placing his shirtless self right in front of her face. She scooted back as far as she could, trying to resist the urge to grab his bicep and see if it was as firm as it looked. She accidentally knocked against his knee moving away and the soup container in his hands wobbled, threatening to splash over.

"Hey, watch it!" She glared at him. "If you make a mess, you're cleaning it up."

"Okay, okay!"

He steadied his hand and finished serving them both. She flicked on the TV, barely paying any attention to whatever was on but grateful for the small distraction as they ate.

She eyed the last piece of chicken in the container and glanced over at Vig. He had his eyes glued to the TV and didn't seem to notice her staring down his last bite.

What's the worst that could happen?

She darted her hand forward and speared the chicken on her fork, quickly raising it to her mouth. She had made it about halfway before he lunged at her and knocked her flat on the couch, grasping at the fork she held.

She let out a noise of outrage as his body pressed her firmly into the couch, pinning her down. She desperately tried to pull the fork out of his grip, trying her best to ignore how hard he was pressed against her. How the hell had he reacted that quickly?

"How dare you!" He hissed at her, still trying to wrestle the fork out of her hand. "That was mine and you know it."

"No way!" She protested weakly, she wasn't going to admit he was right.

"You're a thief. You know thieves need to be punished." He looked down at her, his face mere inches away from her. "At this point, you're practically begging for it."

She flushed a bright pink at his accusation, there was absolutely no way she was admitting he was right again. She tried to wrench her hand out of his grasp but failed against his strong grip. "I most certainly am no-" She stopped in surprise as their tug of war over the fork caused large blobs of sauce to fly off the utensil and splatter down her arm.

"Oh, great. Now you're making a fucking mess." She glared up at him.

He tightened his grip on her wrist and focused his gaze on the gooey drops splashed on her skin. "Well, then I better clean it up."

Her eyes widened as he leaned in closer and slowly parted his lips. The tip of his tongue flicked out and he licked a stripe up the inside of her wrist, trailing a wet line across her skin as he cleaned up the sticky mess.

Heat pooled between her legs and her heart started to race as she felt his tongue working along the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. What little of her self-control remained was dangerously close to snapping. She had spent the entire week avoiding this ridiculous tension and now she could feel every muscle, every hard edge of his torso on top of her. She couldn't give in now. She didn't hook up on the job, it was a liability. It was unprofessional. It was a risk. There was too much at stake. It was never worth it…

It's not worth it. It's …not …

She was shaken from her inner lecture when Vigilante pressed a small kiss to her wrist and turned towards her.

"There, all better."

He grinned at her and swiped his tongue along his bottom lip to lick the last of the sauce off.

Oh fuck it.

She moved her hand to grab his jaw and without giving either of them a moment to think about what was happening, she pulled him towards her and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was hard and desperate, she was pouring out the entire week’s worth of frustration into it. She swiped her tongue against his bottom lip and he easily opened his mouth to let her in. He tasted like sweet and sour sauce, they probably both did.

Finally, they were forced to break away for air. The pair were left breathless and panting, staring at each other in a mix of confusion and arousal. Vigilante broke the heavy silence first.

"Don't think this will let you off the hook for stealing my food.”

She was about to protest his accusation but he ducked down for another kiss before she could speak. The fork clattered to the floor as they both dropped it, he slipped his hand behind her head instead and she moved hers to cup his jaw. He tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her firm in his grasp as he kissed her. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, tugging on it. She moaned at the slight twinge of pain mixed with pleasure before he pulled back.

“Fuck.” He swore as he looked her over, her eyes were half-lidded and dark, her lips shiny and swollen from his kiss. "I knew you'd like that."

He shifted his weight and moved his hand from the back of her head down to her shoulder. He brushed his fingertips softly along her collarbone and up the side of her neck. Hooking his thumb under her jaw, he applied some pressure and forced her to turn her head and expose her throat to him.

"I'm biting you again."

There was no question in his tone, he was simply telling her what was about to happen. He leaned down and nipped at a spot right under her ear, smirking against her skin as he heard her breath hitch.

He whispered softly next to her ear, "That's for stealing my food."

He moved down, nuzzling against her neck before biting the side of her throat with more pressure.

"That's for not admitting you liked this last night."

Finally, he reached the junction between her neck and shoulder. Without waiting, he sank his teeth hard into the soft flesh right over her pulse point. She cried out, arching against him as the sharp points of his incisors dug into her skin.

He whispered into her shoulder. "And that's because I fucking wanted to."

He planted a soft kiss over the mark he'd made to slightly soothe the sting and started to pull away from her. She shot out her hand and grabbed the back of his neck, pressing his face against her before he could pull back. She could barely think straight, heat was coursing through her veins and there was only one thing she needed.

Her voice was thick and laced with desire when she finally spoke. "Don't stop."

He let out a low growl that vibrated against her skin and immediately acquiesced to her request. He nipped along her shoulder and back up her neck, a path of red marks tracing his steps. She arched up into him, feeling the warmth from his bare chest radiate through the painfully thin tank top she had on.

He kissed and bit every inch of skin he could reach, leaving scorching trails across her body. Taking full advantage of the low-cut neckline of her top, he dipped his head down to sink his teeth into the soft flesh at the swell of her breasts. He smirked against her skin when he felt her nipples tighten in response. She gasped when he leaned down and caught her left nipple between his teeth, the sharpness of his canines barely blunted by the thin fabric barrier.

She dug her nails into his shoulder as he swirled his tongue around the hardened bud, saliva soaking through her top. The ache between her thighs was growing and she knew her panties were already soaked.

He slid his hand over her hip and tugged at the hem of her top.

"Can I take this off?" He mumbled the question as he fidgeted with the edge of the soft material.

She pushed him back slightly and arched her back off the couch in response. In a single motion, she grabbed the hem and yanked the tank top over her head, throwing it across the room behind her.

"Better?"

He swallowed hard as he stared down at her, now half-naked beneath him. His gaze roved over her exposed chest, down her sternum and across her stomach before ultimately settling directly on her bare breasts.

"Fucking perfect." His voice was low and hoarse as he drank her in. He cautiously smoothed his fingertips across her skin, tracing a path up her sides and along her ribs to the undersides of her breasts. Her head tipped back and her eyes fluttered closed as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She let out a small squeak as he suddenly pinched one and he chuckled at her reaction.

"Shut up, they're sensitive." She flushed in embarrassment and smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

He cocked his head to the side and softly squeezed the flesh under his hand. "Should I be gentle?"

She bit her lip and looked up at him. "That's not what I said."

A grin split across his face and he squeezed her breast harder, watching her eyes roll back as she bit down on her lip. He kneaded the soft flesh in his hands, teasing her nipples into stiff peaks. Soft moans escaped her as she arched into his touch, his hands were calloused and rough against her skin. They were hands that got used regularly, to fight, shoot and kill, and right now, turn her insides to jelly.

She nearly bit through her lip when he caught a nipple between his teeth, biting down until she hissed and dug her nails into his shoulder. He released the tender bud and soothed it with his tongue.

He skimmed a hand down her side and across her lower abdomen until he hit the waistband of her shorts, briefly dipping his fingers past the elastic before retreating. He did it again before she huffed and pushed at his wrist, quickly shoving his hand past the band of both her shorts and underwear. He let out a short laugh at her desperation.

"You're so impatient."

As he slid his hand further down he quickly realized why she was so eager for him to touch her, groaning loudly as his fingers swiped through the absolute mess between her legs.

"Holy shit, you're soaked. How long have you been this turned on?"

Her face burned at the question. The answer was rather embarrassing at this point and she was having a hard enough time thinking straight while his fingers swirled around, teasing her slick entrance.

"Come on, answer me."

"Is this your usual interrogation technique?" She bit out a sarcastic response, trying to deflect the questioning.

"Nope. You're just special."

She bit back a whimper as his fingers ghosted over her clit but still avoided giving her the friction she was craving.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "All fucking day."

"All day? Why?"

She bit her lip and avoided his curious gaze. He frowned slightly and slid the pad of his middle finger over her clit, lightly pressing against it.

"Oh, god." She threw her head back as a jolt of electricity shot through her.

"Tell me." He pressed a finger against her clit again.

Her inner resolve snapped for the second time that evening and she couldn't help but blurt out the truth. "Fine! I like watching you work."

His hand stilled and she fought the instinct to whine at the loss of movement. He looked at her in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Yes."

He moved his fingers away and she failed to hold back another whine as her hips rocked up, desperate for more contact.

"You like watching me fight?"

He was being such a fucking tease, she couldn't take much more of this. She'd behaved all week long and now she just needed to lose herself, turn off all the thoughts in the back of her head. Her voice was low but still audible as she quietly admitted more. "Not just fight, I like watching you win."

She was about to go on when she was interrupted by him roughly capturing her lips, swallowing the loud moan she let out as he suddenly plunged a finger inside her. He quickly added a second, easily sinking them into her wet heat.

He released her mouth and started sucking marks along her neck and chest as he found a steady rhythm fucking into her with his hand, his thumb brushing against her clit as she whimpered underneath his touch. His teeth grazed against her nipple and her walls clenched around his fingers. This, this is what she needed from Vigilante right now.

She was moving against him, angling her hips to try and get his fingers in deeper. He was so close to hitting that sweet spot hidden inside but to her annoyance, his wrist was trapped by the waistband of her shorts and she couldn't quite get the relief she needed.

"Fuck, hold on one second!" She huffed and tugged on his wrist, biting back a whine as he pulled his digits from her and sat back with a confused look on his face.

"Need these off, now." She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and slid the offending clothing off her hips. He quickly caught on and helped her pull them down her legs, flinging them somewhere into the room behind him. He shifted his position on the couch, placing his hands between her knees and slowly spread them apart.

She rested one foot on the back of the couch cushion and the other on the floor as she opened her thighs as far as she could. She was now completely naked and fully exposed to him. He groaned, red-tinted visor trained firmly on her glistening cunt. He unconsciously licked his lips at the sight before realizing there was something important he could ask her.

"Hey. Can… Can I eat your pussy?" He rested his cheek on her inner thigh as he searched her expression for a reaction.

She nearly choked on her own spit at the unexpected filth that just flew out of his mouth. He sounded like he was asking if he could have the last granola bar, not fuck her with his tongue.

It was an enticing offer she had to admit. It had been ages since she'd let someone do that, it never ended up being worth it. But he knew that already and was still offering... She watched his tongue flick out and drag across his bottom lip, his hungry gaze fixed firmly between her legs. The momentary anxiety she felt was quickly shoved to the side as the throbbing in her pussy helped her make a decision. There was just one thing she needed to make sure of.

"One condition."

"Anything."

She hesitated for a second before continuing. "Promise you'll make me cum?"

He seemed surprised by her request but quickly agreed. "That's pretty much the best part, so yeah. Absolutely."

"Say it." She caught his gaze behind the red glass of his visor and they locked eyes.

"I promise I'll make you cum with my mouth."

She sucked in a sharp breath at the way the words just rolled off his tongue nonchalantly before nodding at him, giving him the permission he needed.

He moved slowly, placing light kisses on her inner thigh as he inched his half-masked face down to her core. He gently spread her open with his fingers and she squirmed under his touch. He made an absolutely gorgeous sight between her legs, the exposed half of his face disappearing behind her thighs as he leaned in to taste her, leaving just part of his visor, black fabric, and white and teal stripes on his mask visible.

He gave a few experimental licks, humming softly with appreciation as her flavour hit his tongue. She shifted her hips under him, urging him closer. He started to swirl his tongue around, trying to find that sweet spot he had under his thumb just before.

He finally hit just the right spot, brushing the flat of his tongue against her clit and he felt her respond instantly. A loud gasp flew from her lips as her hips jerked upwards against his mouth. He wrapped an arm across her lower stomach and pressed down, trying to hold her still as he focused his attention on that sweet spot.

He relentlessly ran the tip of his tongue over her clit, relishing the noises she was making in response. She rocked her hips against him and slid a hand behind his head, trying to hold on to something as she writhed against his face. Her fingers accidentally grazed the seam at the back of his mask and he instinctively flinched, pulling back from her. She withdrew her hand as fast as she could.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I wasn't going to take it off, I just needed to hold on to something."

She panted, trying to catch her breath as she pleaded with him. She was so fucking close, she needed him to keep going. "Please, please don't stop."

His tone was cautious. "Just don't-"

"I won't. I'd never."

He slowly nodded. "Okay, I trust you."

She didn't have time to deal with the full implication of his words before he dove back between her legs with confidence. All traces of rational thought flew from her mind as his tongue plunged into her soaking pussy, eager to fulfil his promise.

She fisted her hands in the fabric of the couch as best she could as her hips lifted entirely off the cushions, grinding harder and harder against his face. Her taste flooded his mouth and he couldn't help but moan into her core, the vibrations rippling through her dripping center.

The waves of pleasure she was riding quickly started to reach the shore as Vigilante pushed her closer and closer to the edge. A barely coherent string of curses fell from her lips when he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, hard.

When he did it a second time she was sent flying over the edge, crying out and clamping her shaky thighs down around his head as she gushed all over his tongue, lips and chin. His mask rubbed against the sensitive skin on her inner thighs as he continued to lick at her, consuming every drop of pleasure that spilled out. When she couldn't take any more stimulation she lightly pushed at his shoulders and he finally let her go.

He sat back on his heels as he licked his lips and wiped his face clean with the back of his hand.

"Promise fulfilled?"

A lazy smile spread across her face as she basked in the afterglow of his successfully completed guarantee.

"Fuck yes."

She slowly sat up on the couch and looked over at him. She couldn't help but chuckle at the satisfied smirk that was plastered on his face, his adorable dimples on full display.

"Good. That was really fun, you taste amazing."

"Oh yeah?"

She leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. She could taste herself, rich and heavy on his lips and determined he was correct. She quickly deepened the kiss chasing more of it, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

She sat up further and slid over to him, shoving at his shoulders to push him against the back of the couch and climbing onto his lap. She straddled him, instantly feeling his hard cock trapped through the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

She placed her hand along his throat, moving her thumb under his jaw and turning his head to the side in a mirror of his earlier actions.

"Your turn."

Her voice was raspy and thick with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She leaned over and nipped at the soft spot under his jaw, smiling when he twitched and grabbed at her waist in response. His large hands spread across her entire back as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She gasped as her bare chest was pressed against his, her sensitive nipples rubbing against the hard lines of his muscles.

As long as she kept touching him, there was nothing else occupying her mind but the stunning sight of the gorgeous and deadly man coming undone in front of her. Consequences be damned, she needed this. Right here, right now, she needed him.

She sank her teeth into the junction between his neck and shoulder, his nails digging into her sides at the sharp pinch. She continued biting down along his throat and shoulder while her hips found a steady rhythm grinding against his cock, her bare pussy making a mess of the fabric beneath her.

She released his neck and leaned back, placing her hands on his pecs and curling her fingers to dig into his skin. She slowly raked her nails down his chest, across his pecs and abs, decorating him with bright red lines. She scraped across his nipples and he hissed, bucking his hips up into her at the momentary discomfort.

The feeling of Vigilante squirming underneath her was overwhelmingly powerful. She knew he was letting her have this, if he really wanted he could break her hold and throw her across the room. But instead, he held still and behaved, willingly taking the onslaught of her teeth and nails against his skin.

She dragged her nails back up his chest, leaving a second set of marks on him. She quickly ducked her head down and replaced her hands with her lips, trailing soothing open-mouth kisses along the angry red paths she'd etched into his skin. She took her time, licking and gently dragging her teeth along every inch of his muscled torso. She finally made her way back down the waistband of his sweatpants. She slid off his lap to settle on her knees between his legs, tugging on the material.

"You're overdressed, take these off."

He quickly hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, tugging them down to free his painfully hard cock and kicked them off to the side. She was shamelessly staring at his dick, fuck he was gorgeous. Long and reasonably thick, it would be a challenge for her but nothing impossible to handle.

"Hey, you're making that face again."

She was very confused. "What face?"

"The face where you stare at me with your mouth open. Your eyes get all glazed over, kinda makes you look like a fish."

He raised a hand and squished her cheeks together into a fishy face. She made an annoyed noise and smacked his hands away, glaring at him.

"Quit it! Do you want me to blow you or not?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Yes, what?"

She leaned forward and grasped his cock firmly at the base before leaning in to slowly lick a slow languid stripe up to the tip.

"Fuck, yes. This. Yes to this."

She slowly pumped her hand up and down his hard length while she licked around the head, watching his eyes flutter shut behind his visor.

He bucked into his hips up her grip again and groaned

She found an alternating pattern between her mouth and hand, hand wrapped around the base as she fluttered her tongue up and down the shaft as she travelled along his length.

She started to swallow more of his cock, testing how far down she could take him. He flexed his grip on her hair instinctively when he hit the back of her throat and she moaned slightly from the tension on her scalp.

"Is this okay?" He asks, voice strained. She hummed in response and his hips jerked as the vibrations rocked against his sensitive hardness. "Fuck. Can I pull harder?"

She couldn't exactly reply properly with his cock shoved down her throat but the loud moan gave him enough assurance she was fine with it.

He gripped her hair firmly and started to tug, sliding her up and down on his cock. He slowly picked up the pace, his hand fisting hard in her hair as he thrust further into her mouth and entered her throat.

His breathing was ragged and heavy, getting harsher as he used her face to bring him closer and closer to the tipping point. She moaned around him, saliva starting to drip down around her mouth and chin. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"You know, I thought you were super pretty when we met and I didn't think you could get any prettier than when I made you cum, but this?"

He pushed her down til she nearly gagged, forcing her to swallow him entirely down to the base. He held her there for a moment, just watching her try not to choke.

"Fuck, you look incredible like this."

He let her go and she pulled back, trying to catch her breath. He ran a thumb along her cheek, swiping up some of the spit and rubbing it against her lips.

"Absolutely beautiful."

She braced her hands on his thighs and took a deep breath, then wrapped her mouth around him and slid his cock right back down all the way on her own. He was already teetering on the edge, ready to spill down her throat when she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked him hard.

"Oh, shiiit."

He couldn't hold back any longer and exploded over her tongue. She held him in her mouth as he finished, swallowing down every last drop before she released him and watched him twitch with aftershocks, a very satisfied grin on both their faces.

He slid sideways on the couch and tugged her up from her knees, pulling her on top of him. She melted into his embrace and curled up in his arms with a contented sigh. He couldn't hold still, running his hands over every inch of her he could reach and pressing tiny kisses to her shoulder and neck. As long as this never stopped, everything would be fine.

She wasn't keeping close track of the time, laying in a foggy haze of pleasure, but after what felt like an impossibly short moment, she felt his cock twitch to life against her side.

"...are you getting hard again?"

"Uh, yeah? Obviously. You're extremely hot. And also naked. It's kind of unavoidable."

She flushed at the compliment. "I just meant it's really soon after you already came."

He blinked at her a few times. "It's been at least fifteen minutes, that's plenty."

She shook her head, making another mental note for the 'weird shit about Vigilante' file when she felt his cock nudge her side again and made a decision. She carefully extricated herself from his hold and stood up, reaching out a hand out to him.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

"Oh, okay yeah. I guess you're tired. That makes sense." He looked up at her, eyes trailing up her body to her face but getting stuck halfway up her chest, focusing on her tits instead.

"No! Vig." She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Not for sleeping."

"...then for what?"

"You. In bed. With me. Together. Awake."

She stood there naked in front of him speaking patiently, staring at his erection and waiting for him to connect the dots.

After a brief pause, he finally had a lightbulb moment of realization. "Oh! Holy shit, yes."

She nodded and he scrambled off the couch, scooping her off her feet and quickly carrying her over to the bed. He promptly dropped her down in the middle of the mattress

She giggled a little at his enthusiasm as she bounced on impact against the soft surface. She scooted back against the pillows and slowly spread her legs apart. He couldn't help but moan at the sight of her on full display for him, open wide and waiting.

As he crawled up the bed to meet her, she focused on the pitch black of his mask and the strip of red glass hiding his eyes. The dark armour was in such sharp contrast to the rest of his exposed and naked form. She was fully exposed to him but he could only show her almost everything about himself. That was more than enough for now.

He gripped the base of his cock and pumped it into his hand a few times before leaning over her. He started teasing the head against her slick folds, gathering some of the wetness.

"Viiiig…" She whined, grabbing at his upper arms.

"Yes?" He tapped his cockhead against her clit and smirked when her hips jolted.

"Stop teasing me!"

"You want me to stop, hm?" He held still for a moment and laughed at her when she immediately pouted up at him.

She bucked her hips forward, desperately trying to nudge his cock further in. "Don't you fucking dare."

He chuckled again and pulled his hips back, thwarting her efforts.

"Calm down. I'm just trying to warm you up, I don't want to hurt you."

She huffed in frustration. "I can take it, just fuck me already!"

He looked at her closely as she glared up at him. Her breathing was ragged, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dark, pupils blown out wide with a hungry expression.

"You sure?"

The corner of his lips twitched up into that godforsaken grin. He slid his cock against her folds one more time before lining up his hard length at her entrance. He didn't want to hurt her but if she insisted, well…

She bucked her hips towards him again and practically yelled. "Yes!"

"Alright. Just remember, you asked for it."

He pushed all the way in with a single thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside her within seconds. She shrieked at the sharp sting as he stretched her wide open and quickly bottomed out deep inside.

Her noises quickly melted into whimpers and her eyes rolled back as the pain faded and the complete and utter fullness of having him sheathed fully inside her overwhelmed her.

"Damn. I guess you can take it." He held still as she squirmed against him.

"Honestly, I wasn't sure I'd fit. You're so fucking tight. You know what they say, tiny hands, tiny pus-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll fucking shoot you." She reached out and wrapped a hand around his throat as she hissed out the threat.

He was going to wait patiently, give her a few moments to adjust, but that's certainly not what she wanted right now.

"Move, now." She squeezed the sides of his neck along with her demand. For a moment she worried she may have gone too far as he completely froze under her grip but she watched carefully as the outline of his eyes fluttered shut behind his visor and his fingertips dug harder into her thighs with a barely audible whimper escaping his lips.

He started to roll his hips against her, ever so slowly dragging his cock along her walls.

"Is this what you wanted?"

"Fuck, yes." Her voice was breathless and raw, and her grip on his neck loosened as she threw her head back against the pillows.

He took the opportunity to wrench her hand away from his neck and grab her other hand, pinning them both beside her head. He leaned over, pressing his chest flat against hers and caging her against the mattress with his body. He peppered small kisses all along her cheek, jaw and throat, anywhere he could reach.

"I meant it, by the way." He panted out, looking down at her. "So fucking tight."

His weight on top of her pinned her to the mattress along with her hands, she was unable to do anything but take what he was giving her. He picked up the pace, the sound of her moans spurring him on.

He couldn't help but smile at the absolute vision underneath him. She was taking him so well, crying out with each thrust and biting down on her bottom lip as she looked up at him with glassy eyes.

"So fucking perfect."

He suddenly snapped his hips up harshly, bottoming out and grinding his hips against her.

"Fuck, Vig!" She practically screamed as she writhed against him.

He had a smug grin plastered on his face as he listened to her shout.

"Hey, do me a favour?"

She squinted at him, this was a pretty strange time to ask for favours. "Uh, okay?"

"Next time you scream my name, can you say the whole thing?"

She puffed out her cheeks, now glowing red with embarrassment. "I am not screaming!"

He cocked his head to the side. "You sure?" His grin widened. "Does that mean you can get louder?"

"I-I…" She stuttered, failing to come up with a reply.

"Yeah? You gonna scream for me?"

Something daring sparked in her eyes as she looked back at him, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Make me."

His expression turned downright predatory as he stared at her and her heart sped up at the dangerous look. He released her hands from beside her head and leaned back. He slid his palms along the backs of her thighs up behind her knees, and he slowly pressed her legs further into the mattress.

"You asked for it." His voice was barely above a whisper but carried the same dangerous tone as his face.

She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as he set a punishing pace, every thrust shoving her further into the mattress. The new angle let his cock hit deeper inside her, brushing against her G-spot and making her feel impossibly full.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck as she clung to him, desperately raking her nails over his shoulders as he pounded into her. Her tits bounced with every pump of his hips, her tender nipples rubbing back and forth against his chiselled chest, sending pure fire through her veins.

He bit down on her shoulder and she yelped, her cunt clenching around him. He groaned as her walls squeezed him tightly, his harsh grip on her hips digging bruises into her flesh.

"That's it, as loud as you can."

At this point, she wasn't sure which was louder, the sounds of pleasure he was wringing from her or the creaking springs of the shitty motel bed.

He slammed his hips back into her and fucked her relentlessly, driving her closer and closer to the edge. He hit just the right spot at the exact moment he clamped his teeth hard around her breast, right over her nipple. The mix of delicious pleasure and sharp pain caused her to shriek the loudest she could.

"Atta girl."

He placed kisses all along her chest and up her neck, mumbling half-hearted nonsense into her skin. She caught random words through the haze of her pleasure.

"So pretty…"

"…feel so good."

"So fucking loud."

Beads of sweat dripped down his temples, his mask sticking to his forehead as he kept up the pace and sent them both hurtling toward the finish line.

"Where do you want…?"

She could barely form coherent thoughts but managed to choke out an answer. "Inside."

He groaned loudly, his hips stuttering and eyes rolling back behind his visor at the suggestion.

"Seriously? Are you sure?"

"It's fine, I'm -ahh- …it's safe!"

She locked her ankles behind him and pulled him as close as possible, holding him in place inside her. Her nails dragged across his back and shoulders, leaving angry red scratches as she pressed every inch of herself against him.

He sunk his teeth into her shoulder in a vicious bite, right over top of the small mark he had left there the night before. The shock sent her flying over the edge, walls tightly fluttering around his cock as she screamed his name and shattered in his arms.

He continued to fuck her through her high, trying desperately to hold on and drag it out as long as possible for the both of them. She felt like heaven and he never wanted to leave.

She was going to scream herself hoarse if he kept going at this rate, so she bit down on his shoulder to muffle herself. He whimpered loudly as she caught the hard muscle between her teeth and she felt his hips stutter as his pace finally started to falter.

"Come on." She whispered encouragement into his neck, "Cum for me, Vigilante." She drew out each syllable of his chosen name breathlessly in his ear before she leaned down and sunk her teeth into the side of his throat.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" He practically howled as he came undone, emptying his aching cock deep inside her. She held him close, peppering kisses along the bite marks she'd left as he went limp in her arms.

He slowly eased his softening cock out and collapsed on the bed beside her, careful not to crush her under his weight. They both lay there for a moment, shaky and sweaty, trying to catch their breath as they floated back down to Earth together.

"You're sure this was okay?" He had sat up and his gaze was firmly lowered on her exposed pussy, drenched in a mix of their cum.

She nodded. "Yeah, it's a whole thing. No kids."

He only hummed softly in response, clearly distracted by the sight in front of him. He leaned over and brushed his fingers against her dripping cunt, smearing his cum against her clit. She twitched, still slightly sensitive and he slowed his pace.

"You're making a mess." She couldn't help but smile a little as she watched his awestruck expression staring at the mess leaking out of her.

Another quiet hum was the only response he gave as he continued to run his fingers through the mix of their combined fluids.

She gave him another moment or two before gently grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away.

"That's enough of that, I need to clean this up." She tugged his hand up to her mouth and quickly stuck his fingers in her mouth. He watched in wide-eyed silence as she licked them clean. She released them with a small pop only when no trace of their mess remained.

"Hand me the tissues?"

Vig snapped out of his trance, wordlessly grabbing the box sitting on the nightstand and handing it to her before flopping down on the mattress next to her.

"Give me twenty minutes and we can do that again." He quickly glanced down at the glistening mess between her thighs. "Maybe ten…"

She rolled her eyes as she cleaned herself up. "Again, seriously? Are you sure you don't have superpowers?"

He just laughed and started trailing kisses down her neck, following the path of the bites he had decorated her with. She swatted his face away from her body before he started something she was way too tired to finish. After the day they'd had, she was absolutely exhausted. She rolled over to face him and before she could say anything she failed to contain a wide yawn.

"I think it's bedtime." She carefully extricated herself from his embrace and got off the bed. "Come on, Vig."

"I'm already in bed though?"

She glanced down at the sweat (and other fluids) soaked covers crumpled on the bed he was laying on.

"We kind of ruined the sheets on this one. I'm not going to make you sleep in the wet spot, we'll just share." She climbed into the other twin bed and pulled back the covers, motioning for him to join her.

She moved over as much as she could but there still wasn't much space. Vigilante stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed fidgeting with the duvet.

"You alright?"

"Um, I just …don't usually don't get to stay for this part." He admitted as he cautiously climbed onto the bed next to her.

She snorted at his shyness, finding it deeply amusing that the man who just came inside her was being so awkward about some cuddling. Rolling over to her side, she reached over and gently took one of his arms, pulling it under her head before taking the other and draping it over her waist. She tried her best to reassure him.

“You can touch me, it's okay.”

He shifted a little behind her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Just don- oof!" She was cut off mid-sentence as he wrapped his arm around her middle and yanked her backwards into his chest. He held her firmly against him and buried his face in her shoulder, folding around her like a cocoon.

"…don't move around too much." She managed to finish her sentence.

"Okie doke." He mumbled in response.

She smiled into the pillow at his silly tone and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body as he held her. "Goodnight, Vigilante."

He placed a small kiss on her shoulder before fidgeting with his mask, then he settled back against the pillows.

"Goodnight."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: Holy shit we made it, the slow burn is a full-on inferno. Thank you all for sticking through 20k of exposition just to get here 😂 This was such a challenging chapter to finish but I really hope it was worth it and you all enjoyed it! This is just the beginning for these two, don't worry. Please let me know what you think :) Feedback makes my world go round.

PS: I've mapped out the rest of this series, there should be about 18-20 chapters in total. Chapters 7 and 8 are already half done and hopefully there won't be such a long delay between future updates~

TAGLIST: @pretendfan @fatherdannydevito @dallasvakarian @she-wolf09231982 @tsukette @afraidofshrimp @neenieweenie

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase fanfiction #freddie stroma #vigilante fanfiction #peacemaker dcu #fanfiction #lysenfeu fics #pair of aces fic #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x f!reader #adrian chase x female reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante x f!reader #vigilante x female reader #adrian chase smut #vigilante smut #peacemaker fanfiction #adrian chase fic #adrian chase fanfic

[sunlitmcgee]

Lo, Elnos storytime

IT IS HEEEEERE. THE FIRST THING I'VE WRITTEN WITH ELNOS AND THE FIRST THING I'VE BEEN ABLE TO WRITE SINCE I GOT SICK AND MY BRAIN WENT TO THE SLUUUDGE! I've posted this story on Ao3 and World Anvil. Ao3 has more indepth tagging, but WA's in more of a general content warning type deal. Either way, I hope you all enjoy this, should you give it a read. It was very fun and silly to write!

Please check the tags/content warnings of whichever site you go to reach on. There be furry sucking and fucking in here. Lots of it. It is like 75% of the story-

#setting: estea

[masterofrecords]

It's heeeeere!

Brain maintenance finished, we're back on track (hopefully).

Enjoy some board games from Jade's POV, interrogations and some much-needed, if not always fully welcome, hugs.

#ashenviper #jamil x azul #azul x jamil #jamil viper #azul ashengrotto #jamiazu #azujami #masterofrecords writes

[slasher-catcher]

Alrightalrightalright it’s heeeeere guys! Sorry for the delay -- it’s been finished for a few days and I’ve been trying to post them but I’ve been so sick we couldn’t go to the library to bum their wifi ;; but in any case, I wanted to give the links here, since there’s two versions. Enjoy, and thanks for sticking around for this long <3 AMAB -- AFAB 

#Art the Clown #art the clown x reader #NOT SFW #clowns #long post #long read #a03 #a03 link #terrifier

[averagejoesolomon]

It's heeeeere! This one surprised even me, so I hope you're ready! I'm so stoked to share 1986 with you all. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle from the beginning on Ao3. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

In the white-steepled churches of Nebraska, Hell is said to be fire, and brimstone, and torture. Nine layers of labyrinthine stone cast in a heat so demonic that even a soul can feel it. There are stories devoted to its wrath. Songs written about its misfortune. Matt’s childhood church, situated on the far edge of Hay Springs, has an entire window dedicated to the fall of Lucifer, wings burning as the angel descends from clean, uniform strands of blue to the chaotic, shattered shards of red. He always wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched the glass—if he would feel the fire in his fingertips. He’s never had the guts to try.

And anyway, Matt knows better now. Hell isn’t hot embers and smoldering chains. Hell is a two-cushion loveseat in a Russian safe house.

He blinks awake for the sixth time in five hours, his right foot on the verge of total numbness. Last time, it was his left hand and the time before that it was his entire right shoulder. It seems every part of his body is keen to fall deeply asleep before he gets the chance. In a halfhearted attempt to soothe the prickling static, he throws his leg over the arm of the loveseat and sinks back into his drowsiness.

When his entire calf begins to buzz in response, Matt reckons this is some sort of karmic payback—for what, he doesn’t know, though he’s surely tallied up some serious ill will over the past few years—and he finally surrenders. With a sigh, he rolls to his feet and convinces himself that five hours of sleep is enough to run an op on.

This is Moscow, after all, and mornings always come early in Moscow.

It helps when the crisp, smoky scent of bacon wafts through the room. Matt latches onto it like a hound on a rabbit, shaking feeling back into his foot as he lumbers through the predawn darkness. With as little noise as he can muster, he cracks open the door and slips into the low, golden light of the living room, careful not to cross into any of the shadows Rachel still sleeps through. 

“Morning, mate,” someone greets him. “You must be Matthew.”

Across the room, where carpet gives way to linoleum, a broad-shouldered brick of a man stands at the stove top. The glow of the range light outlines the stockiness of his silhouette as he scrapes a spatula against cast iron, dueling with the pops and sizzles of bacon fat. “Uh, yeah. Matt’s fine,” Matt mutters, softly shutting the door at his back. “You must be… the husband?”

At this, the man breaks out into a broad grin, as though the wind is at his back from here on out. It’s beyond endearing. “That I am, Matt,” he says. “Although most people call me Abe.”

Matt’s next words get caught up in a yawn. “Mighty nice to meet you, Abe,” he drawls, twisting sleep from his eye. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee over there?”

“Tea?”

“Mm.”

Abe’s laugh, much like the rest of him, is a small but mighty sort of ordeal that’s perfectly suited to the ease of slow mornings. “Understood,” he says. “I did spot some grounds in one of these cabinets—ah, yes, the one with the map of the Moskva shoreline taped to it. How about I heat up another kettle and let you handle the rest?”

“Sounds awfully fair to me,” Matt agrees. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Without breaking focus, Abe points the spatula toward the living room’s sole chair, just at Matt’s side. “Your bag, by the way. You’ll be happy to know it’s bug free.”

Sure enough, Matt’s backpack rests beside a lonely throw pillow. It looks pristine and untouched, but Matt knows better. Abe has been through every zipper, every pocket, every shirt, every sock, and every last bristle on Matt’s toothbrush. Probably for the best. A fella can never be too careful in Moscow.

“Thanks,” Matt says, grabbing the bag by its top and unzipping the main compartment. This early into an op, all of his clothes are still neatly folded and grouped by type, so it’s easy enough to rummage below his sole sweatshirt and slip into the concealed pocket sewn into the lining. The resulting device is no bigger than his palm, save the long rubberized antenna sticking from the top. He runs his thumbs against each ridged knob. Finds the hard plastic switch along the side. “D’you mind if I…?”

Abe eyes Matt just in time to see him gesture broadly toward the room. “Not at all,” Abe tells him. “Although you should know that I already swept the place last night. We’re clear.”

This is said with the sort of calm, reassuring tone that probably works wonders on assets and assailants alike, but it doesn’t do much to put Matt at ease. Not in Moscow. Not when he’s lost three guys in the last year, not when Langley won’t let him fly overseas without signing a half-dozen waivers, not when he’s only just learned Abe’s name. Rachel Cameron is one room over and Matt would prefer to live long enough to make things right with her.

“Sure,” he cautions, still sluggish from a night of sporadic sleep. “And I’m not looking to offend, but they do build bugs straight into the walls, here in Moscow.”

Abe nods, laying another few strips of bacon into his pan. “Yes, I’m aware.”

The part of Matt that was raised with Midwest politeness struggles against the part of him that’s trained to survive a volatile Russia. “Sometimes they’re remote activated,” he goes on, trying to keep his tone light. “And after your first sweep, once you’re sure you’ve got everything, they turn on a second batch.”

At Matt’s continued insistence, Abe finally glances up at Matt when he says, “Which is why I did another sweep this morning.”

This ain’t the first impression Matt likes to make, but he also can’t compromise like he’s used to. Instead, he holds his arms out to each side, trying to broker a little bit of peace on the subject. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” he promises. “It’s just the Soviets can be real bastards sometimes, is all.”

“Right.” Abe considers this and seems to take in Matt anew. Then, just as quickly, he drops his attention back down to breakfast. “Well, I’m told you’re the expert. Far be it from me to stop you. Do you want one piece of bacon or two?”

And that’s that. “Four, please,” says Matt. “If we can spare it.”

“Four it is,” Abe replies.

Matt’s stomach rumbles at the thought. “And eggs?”

“Of course,” says Abe. “I like to fry them in the leftover fat.”

“Good man.”

With breakfast on the horizon, they leave one another to work, descending into the sort of easy quiet that doesn’t feel like it needs filling. For his part, Matt searches the room the way he was taught, starting with the perimeter and spiraling inward. He has access to the kind of tech that Langley only spares for agents regularly posted in this part of the world—minimizing the risk of equipment being captured, reverse engineered, and shared among enemies—which might explain why he finds his first bug in five minutes flat. It’s a tricky one, tucked inside a hollowed door hinge, but it’s enough to keep Matt vigilant throughout the rest of his search. The scanner click, click, clicks in his hand as he goes. Goddamn Moscow.

He’s about halfway through his sweep, ruling out a potential false positive triggered by a wayward nail sunken into a crooked floorboard, when Grace makes her first appearance of the morning. She seems to have gotten no shortage of sleep, positively glowing as she joins Abe at the stove top with a soft, “Good morning, darling.”

He mutters his own sweet nothings in return, lends her a kiss on the cheek, and leans into the way her arms wrap around his waist. Something about the way they sway, and touch, and giggle sends a flush to Matt’s face. Even though he knows he ought to look away, he can’t seem to stop himself from stealing glances at their casual intimacy. The simplicity of her chin on his shoulder. The peace of his voice, kept low and rumbling so only she can truly hear. A calm and unbroken back-and-forth between two people who really, honestly love one another.

Matt turns his attention back toward the floorboards, lest his chest collapse under the weight of his own want.

He overturns every cushion, unscrews every light bulb, checks every outlet, and disassembles the entire phone, promising to piece it back together when he’s done. Meanwhile, Grace pours herself a cup of tea, props herself onto the countertop, and begins to debate the finer points of egg making with her husband. “Honestly, Abraham,” she says, taking a sip. “The yolks are meant to be runny.”

“That may be so, my love,” he allows, “but sometimes a yolk simply must be sacrificed for a crispy edge—I don’t make the rules.”

“Likely story,” she teases. Then, across the room, “What was that you said to me last night, Matt? The guy with the spatula makes all the rules?”

By now, Matt is standing on top of the dining table, combing through each component of the overhead lighting. He doesn’t break focus when he says, “Guy with the knife, I think is what I said.”

“Close enough,” Grace replies.

This prompts another one of Abe’s compact laughs. “Close enough,” he echoes, breaking away from a busy stove top to make a move toward Grace. “I ought to show you close enough.”

“I’d like to see you try—” But her words are interrupted by her own short squeaks as Abe pokes at her sides, her legs, and anywhere else that may cause her to squirm and smile.  “Oh, you absolute beast of a man,” she says through a laugh like sunshine. “You stop it, stop that right now.”

Abe obliges, but not without trading ticklish teasing for an eager and earnest kiss. Grace meets him with equal enthusiasm, leaning in without another word. Her arms fall loose along his shoulders while her legs wrap around his torso. With no end in sight, Matt glues his eyes to the light fixture, focusing hard on each individual piece needed to reconstruct it. It takes everything in him not to clear his throat, as he wonders whether or not this is how the third wheel on his Radio Flyer trike always felt.

Thankfully, Grace has the good sense to break away in the presence of company.  “You’re going to burn your eggs,” she tells Abe.

“Eggs?” Abe sounds like he’s never even heard of such a concept, still leaning in close to his beloved. “Who ever cared about eggs? Let them burn—let the whole world burn.”

“I would, darling,” she says. “Except I think Matt probably prefers his breakfast to be… well, eatable.”

Matt would do just about anything not to be included in this particular conversation, but this point does seem to slow Abe in his tracks. With a sigh, he gives up his hold on Grace and returns to the perfectly mundane task of frying eggs. “Yes, well,” he says. “You really ought to try sitting at the table, Matt, rather than standing on it. Really, breakfast will be ready shortly.”

Matt, glad to be back in more neutral conversational territory, screws the final piece back into the light fixture. “Just wrapping up,” he says. “Can never be too careful.”

“Even so,” Abe agrees, “nothing that can’t wait until after a good breakfast. Titanium locks, bullet-proof windows, sound-proof paneling in every wall—”

“Amen to that,” Grace chimes in, with a little more flirtation in her tone than Matt feels comfortable hearing.

“We’re safe for now,” Abe assures him. “So come make yourself some coffee while the kettle’s hot.”

Matt reckons they’re about as safe as mice running through a room full of spring traps, and it’s only going to take one wrong step to bring fury down upon their necks. Frankly, he’s a little concerned by the attitude in the room. He likes Abe. He likes Grace. He’d hate to see them end up dead before he really got to know them, so he channels the same energy Joe once gave him, when he needed a wake-up call of his own.

He climbs down to the ground, reaches into his pocket, and leaves six missed bugs at the center of the table. 

Their eyes both go wide, and they’re not smiling anymore. “Look,” says Matt. “I’m sure you’re excellent agents. Rachel knows how to pick‘em—except maybe myself, as the one notable exception. And I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but this ain’t a usual romp through western Europe. This is Moscow. When the agencies send us in, they immediately assume we’re dead until proven otherwise. We’re not safe here, and we won’t be safe anywhere we go.”

The pair of them take on the same look Matt’s teammates used to when his mama scolded them for playing ball in the house. It sends his insides twisting, because he’s never been good at this kind of thing. Maybe that’s why he lets them off the hook so soon. “Good news for us, though,” he says, crossing into the kitchen. “Those bugs are long dead, which is why we didn’t catch them sooner. No signal. Must’ve fried up years ago, and the Soviets didn’t want to risk retrieving them. Probably out of date, too, so they won’t tell us much—my guess is mid-to-late sixties. Completely useless, and if I’m remembering the specs right, they wouldn’t be able to transmit through our jammers anyway.”

He rattles this off during a thoughtless coffee routine, moving through mugs, filters, and grounds. “As far as live bugs go, you’re right. We’re clear for now,” he goes on, reaching for the kettle. The water steams as he pours it over dark roast. “Well done on that, Abe.”

Abe plates the last of his eggs, a little more life in him now that Matt’s scorn has been met with renewed reassurance. “Thank you.”

Matt’s well within his wheelhouse now and can’t stop himself from rolling onward. “We should keep up with regular sweeps, in case of sleepers. And we’ll need to sweep again every time we leave and come back—there’s no telling who can get in while we’re away, I don’t care how secure Langley says we are. The pencil pushers in charge of  managing the safe houses aren’t the same people putting their ass on the line by staying in one, y’know?” Water trickles into his cup and it seems like a waste to get so little use out of these grounds. “And no matter how many times we sweep, don’t say anything you wouldn’t want to explain to a KGB agent after twelve-to-eighteen hours of torture—coffee for anyone else?”

He might be imagining the dumbfounded shock on Abe and Grace’s face, with the way they watch him, jaws dropped ever so slightly, as though they’re not quite sure if he’s some half-man-half-computer hybrid. It’s possible they just didn’t hear his call for coffee, but before he can offer again, a third voice answers. 

“I’ll have one.”

The thing about Rachel Cameron is that she never looks out of place in a room. This is different from Matt, who sinks into the crevices of a crowd to go unseen—Rachel doesn’t go unseen, and she never will. She’s a lot like Abby in that way, wrapped up in enough beauty and stature that it’s impossible to miss her presence. But while Abby is the white-hot crackle of static over a signal, Rachel is the low and even buzz. She is the steady constant that’s always supposed to be there, acting as she’s expected to act, being as she’s expected to be.

Even now, buried somewhere in the backmost forests of Russia, she looks well and truly in her element. Gone is the heiress he last saw, replaced with someone who has spent the last two years getting her hands dirty and isn’t afraid to show it. She’s a mix of denim, and flannel, and a good night’s sleep, leaning in the doorway with an eye toward the entire room. “Now you see why I looped in a specialist,” she says, working her way toward the table. “And a coffee aficionado.”

When Rachel sits, the entire room follows suit. Abe and Grace bring plates to the table and Matt makes quick work out of pouring a second cup of coffee, delivering it, and taking the seat at her side. “He’s clever, Rachel,” Grace comments. She finds a seat in Abe’s lap, ignoring the table’s fourth and final chair. Abe doesn’t seem to mind. “You didn’t say he was clever.”

Rachel blows ever so slightly at the steam of her mug. “Sure I did.”

Abe, who has already cut into his eggs with the side of his fork, shakes his head. “I distinctly remember you saying trustworthy,” he says, one cheek stuffed. Matt finds this tidbit to be awfully interesting. “Reliable and trustworthy—”

“And good in a crowd,” Grace adds. Even more interesting.

“Yes, good in a crowd, thank you love,” he says. Then, back to Rachel. “But you never warned us he’d be clever, too.”

Matt does his best to bite back a creeping grin, glancing up at Rachel. There’s no sign of a crack in her usual cool demeanor, save the slightest purse of pink lips, but she swiftly covers this with her first sip of coffee. Like a barn cat with eyes on a field mouse, he can’t resist pouncing on the moment. “Reliable and trustworthy, huh?”

Her eyes flit toward him. “Careful, Matthew.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hides the rest of his smile behind a sip of his own coffee and by the time he turns back to Abe and Grace, he’s got his grin reigned in. “In Rachel’s defense, I’m only clever on occasion. Y’all happen to have met me in my area of expertise—I’ve been in and out of Moscow so many times, they ought to give me a key to the city.”

Grace rips off a bite of bacon. “I’m surprised Langley sends you over that often,” she says. “Six only sends in agents as a last resort.”

A twinge of something sharp and electric zips between Matt and Rachel, because they both know Grace is onto something. More often than not, Matt is in the Soviet Union on his own orders, not Langley’s, and that’s the kind of thing that has all the makings of their usual fights. Rather than work their way toward an argument so early in the morning, Matt shifts the subject. “MI6?” he asks. “I didn’t realize this was a joint mission.”

Grace shrugs. “More like a tag-along, really,” she says. “You lot are running this one—Six just wants to know what you find.”

“Grace is being humble,” Rachel cuts in, apparently satisfied to skirt around the frustration, same as Matt. “We worked an extraction job in France a couple years back, and you’d be hard pressed to find someone more knowledgeable about escape and evasion tactics.”

Matt digs into his breakfast. “Useful skill set to have in this part of the world.”

Rachel joins him. “When they told me to put a team together, she was one of the first on my list,” she goes on. “And lucky for us, she was able to open up her schedule.”

“Yes, well,” says Grace, “I do still owe you one after Paris, and anyway you’re much better company than some of the stiffs at Six. Acting all high and mighty with their Windsor knots and their posh boarding school backgrounds.”

Abe is gentle in her ear when he reminds her, “Darling, you have a posh boarding school background.”

“Yes, but I don’t go around acting like it, do I?”

“Certainly not, you’re perfect in every way.”

This is said with another one of their sickly sweet kisses, which prompts Matt to fixate on his eggs as though they are the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. When they carry on a little too long for comfort, Rachel steps in. “You’ll have to excuse these two,” she tells Matt. “They’re still in their honeymoon phase.”

Grace breaks free with a doting glance toward Rachel. “You can hardly blame us.”

“That’s sweet,” says Matt, and he means it. “How long have you been married?”

The two of them turn toward one another, mentally running through the numbers. Grace hangs from Abe’s shoulders. Abe’s hand rests along her leg. Finally, Abe replies with, “Oh, probably, sixteen hours, by this point?”

Matt, who made the mistake of sipping his coffee again, chokes on the answer. “Sixteen hours?” he repeats through a cough. “You’re not in the honeymoon phase—you’re on your honeymoon.”

“Why travel on your own dime when your agency will pay the airfare for you?” says Grace, downright logical about the whole thing. “And this will be better than sitting on some boring old beach anyway.”

Matt’s morning starts to make more sense, given the context, and he’s glad to have a reason for all of the extra love going around. He’s not quite sure how he would have handled it, if Grace and Abe were like this all the time. Honeymoon is fine. Honeymoon is good. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Grace waves a hand. “We left our congratulations back in London where they belong,” she says. “I’m far more interested to find out what I’m supposed to be doing in Moscow.”

The table turns toward Rachel, who sits completely at ease as she finishes her last bite of eggs. Once again, she looks perfectly positioned to rise to this moment, as though she knew the conversation would lead this way eventually and all she had to do was wait patiently for everyone else to catch up with her brain. Matt wonders how many times she’s had to wait for the rest of the world to rise to her level. He’s not sure a number that high can be counted. “We’re confident there are no bugs?”

“As confident as we can be,” Matt confirms. “And if we’re wrong, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Rachel doesn’t seem especially satisfied with this answer, but she must decide to contend with it, because she goes on with a strong and easy cadence. “Right,” she says. “The details are need-to-know, but long story short, my last op uncovered a possible exchange happening in the city tomorrow.”

It’s like a switch has flipped in the room, and he’s now sharing the table with entirely different people. 

Grace asks, “Two agents?”

Rachel answers, “As far as we know.”

Abe asks, “What agencies?”

Rachel answers, “Langley would very much like us to find that out.”

Grace asks, “What are they exchanging?”

Rachel answers, “Passports.”

Abe asks, “We’re in Moscow for a bunch of bloody passports?”

Rachel hesitates. The moment is brief, but Matt knows her well enough to spot it. He watches closely, looking for any of her usual tells. Chewing on her cheek. Jutting out her jaw. None of them come, which tells Matt that she’s trying very hard not to say something, and she’s trying even harder not to show it. 

“We have reason to believe,” she starts, “that hostile agents have intelligence about select US operatives. Aliases. Cover legends. Official cryptonyms. And we suspect that once they get their hands on the passports, they’ll be able to confirm the real identities of everyone on that list—walk back every mission they’ve taken part in, target their families, target their allies, target them.”

Rachel speaks like stone. Sits like glass. She divides her eye contact in perfect thirds across each of them, as though she’s counting the seconds. Rachel is strict and disciplined by nature, but she is never rigid. Not like this.

Abe doesn’t seem to notice. “So these aren’t fakes,” he clarifies. “These are real, genuine passports—name, picture, birth date.”

“Correct,” says Rachel.

“And we need to intercept them,” says Grace. “Before our hostiles blow the cover of every US operative they have access to.”

Rachel nods. “They get the passports, some of our best operatives die,” she confirms. “We get the passports, those operatives get to live another day.”

It’s a continuation of the same dangers he’s been hearing all summer—agents selling out other agents for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Stolen identities leading to the very real executions of significant allies and informants. Ten dead last summer. Plenty more missing. Now Rachel’s gone and pulled him into a Moscow op, and there’s no such thing as coincidence.

So Matt asks, “You said select US operatives?”

And Rachel answers, “Yes.”

Matt asks, “How select?”

Rachel answers, “We think it’s between six and ten passports.”

Matt asks, “Who are they targeting?”

Her eyes linger now, no longer bouncing evenly between everyone and landing firmly on Matt. Rachel’s out-of-character reluctance reads a lot like her in-character stubbornness, but somehow Matt can spot the subtle difference. She’s nervous, which ought to scare the shit out of everyone else at the table. She’s nervous, which ought to tell them all everything they need to know. 

Still, he needs her to say it. “Rachel,” he tries again. “Who are they tar—?”

“Soviet specialists.” It comes out fast. Cold. An icicle falling from a rooftop and shattering along the sidewalk. “US operatives with ties to the Soviet Union.”

Abe and Grace turn toward him, and suddenly everyone at the table is watching him like he’s a dead man walking. Logistically speaking, he doesn’t need to ask his next question. Everyone already knows the answer. But he still has to get it out, if only for the sake of his sanity. “Do they have my passport?”

Fire and brimstone have nothing on the look in Rachel Cameron’s eyes when she doesn’t seem to have an answer. “I don’t know… I tried to—” She takes a deep breath. Sets her jaw, the same way she always has. “I don’t know, Matthew.”

It’s his mama that comes to mind first. Then his pops. Joe, Joe, Joe. He’s always known the risks of this profession, but he’s always had a way of justifying them. Rationalizing them. Except now all he can picture is a Soviet bullet in his mama’s forehead and that’s a mighty hard image to wave away. Before he knows what he’s doing, he stands. Nods. “Excuse me.”

And then Matt bolts toward the sole bathroom, hunches over the toilet bowl, and hurls up all four pieces of bacon.

#Full Circle #Gallagher Girls #Ally Carter #Matthew Morgan #Rachel Morgan

[lilunaire]

Til we burn our skins - Chapter 6

Read it on -> AO3 <-

(link to first chapter)

Chapter summary : A sunset, a little sister, a mother, and a shower.

Note : IT IS HEEEEERE !! I hope you'll enjoy it all everyone 💕💕 Note 2 : still haven't made a cover, kill me...

#ghostflower #🔔newschapters #lilu's writing #til we burn our skins #gwiles

[arietisstarowl]

Just realised I never posted this. I thought I did LONG ago lol. Anyway, heeeeere's Pinkie! Did you know she she originally had wings?

𖤐~~~~~~𖤐~~~~~~𖤐

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