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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

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artcallednaturalviews · 1 year

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Who’s the fucker gettin’ paid to watch coverage

Who let the kids die in a Building

Where’s their names?

Who was paid for watching coverages

No one

Dead kid

Dead child

Who was vigilant

During last lives lost

In America Phenomenon??????

I’m not a fucking Joker

How you feel now

Pay Attention

Prunts

•

Just in wrote

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ericandjessiedaily · 1 year

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Whiskey Drinks - Whiskey Ginger Cocktail

#The spicy snap of ginger ale blended with rye whiskey makes this super simple cocktail seem more complex than it actually is. view #rye whiskey #drinks #ginger #whiskey drinks #whiskey #whiskey ginger cocktail

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th3casscad3 · 1 month

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Endless Love

Alastor Had Always Held A Sort Of Soft Spot For You. But It Wasnt Until Tonight That He Truly Expressed How You Made Him Feel.. Perhaps It Was The Rye Or Maybe It Was The Way The Red Sky Shone Down Upon Your Delicate Skin.. Warnings/Triggers: Fluff, Confessions, Soft Kisses, Ear Handling And Antler Holding. SFW Characters: 4,051 ______________________________________________________________

It Was A Regular Night At The Hotel. Everyone Was Gathered Around In The Main Lobby, Having Casual Discussion. Vaggie And Charlie Could Be Seen Cuddling On The Couch, Angel Was Flirting With Husker At The Bar. Sir Pentious Was Petting Keekee And Nifty.. Nifty Was God Knows Where. It Seemed Like A Peaceful Evening. You Made Your Way Up To The Rooftop, Passed The Radio Tower. You Had Glanced Over At Alastor Who Seemed To Be Going Over His Controls And Functions. You Decided Not To Bother Him While He Was In There. You Could Say You Had A Liking Towards Alastor, When You First Met Him Upon His Arrival At The Hotel He Seemed Like A Overly Ego'd, Cocky, Self Confident Man. But Upon Getting To Know Him Better, You Realized That He's Just A Man, Who Tends To Hide His Emotions Through A Smile. While Everyone Else Was Still Weary Of Him, You Opened Yourself Up To Him. Before You Knew It, You And Him Were Always Hanging Around One Another. He Would Let You Touch Him Without Consequence And Didn't Even Mind When You Called Him Nicknames. As You Made Your Way To The Top Of The Rooftop, You Sat Down At The Big Lettering "Hazbin Hotel," You Placed Yourself In Between The E And The L. Taking A View Of The City You Noticed The Extermination Clock. Despite You Knowing What It Meant You Couldn't Help But Admire Its Glow. It Was Absolutely Breathtaking. So Engulfed With The Shine Of The Clock You Hadn't Even Noticed Alastor Take A Seat Next To You. " Beautiful, Isn't It. The Way The Clock Tower Shines. Distracts You From The Meaning Behind It " Alastor Said With A Soft Hum. The Smell Of Rye Lingered In His Breath.

" Its Heartbreaking. All Of These Families, Lovers, Friends.. Never Knowing Whose Going To Die Next. " You Sighed As You Leaned Your Head Against His Shoulder. The Two Of You Sat In A Comfortable Silence, Simply Taking In The Sounds Of The City. Breaking Glass, Gun Shots, Yelling, Arguing, The Lovely Sounds Of Hell. Little Did You Know, Alastor's Eyes Were Locked On You. Maybe It Was The Way The Red Light From The Sky Kissed Your Delicate Skin. Or The Rye In His System But You Seemed More Beautiful Today Than You Always Do.. And You Always Shined Brighter Than Anything He's Ever Seen. He Felt The Desire To Grab A Hold Of Your Hand And Make You Face Him. A Softened Smile On His Face As His Eyes Gazed Into Your With Adoration. His Other Hand Caressing Your Cheek. You Felt Your Face Turn Red At His Sudden Contact But You Didn't Dare Move. You Didn't Want To Move. Instead You Placed A Gentle Smile Upon Your Face. You Noticed The Twitch In His Ears, Displaying His Small Antlers Atop His Head. "My Dear, I Know I Say This Often.. But You Look Simply Divine. Every Moment I Spend With You Makes Me Feel More A Man. A Man In Love.. I Know I'm Suppose To Be This Big Scary Demon With All This Power, But I Would Trade It All In To Be With You, My Dear." Alastor Leaned In Closer To You. You Could Feel His Hands Tremble And His Heartbeat Quicken. He Was Nervous. You Leaned In As Well, Your Noses Now Brushed Together And Your Breath Hitting One Another's Cheek. "Alastor, You May Not Hold y Soul. But You Do Hold My Heart, I Want To Spend The Rest Of My Afterlife With You. Until Death Kills Me Again. To Be Yours Is All That I Long For "* Before You Know It, Alastor's Lips Is Met With Yours. There Was A Surge Of Excitement That Traveled Through Your Body As Your Lips Danced With His In A Tender Kiss. A Kiss That Spoke Thousands Of Words And Held Deep Emotions. Your Hands Traveled To His Hair As Your Body Pressed Together With His. Your Fingers Softly Scratching His Ears And Receiving A Soft Purr From His Lips. After A Few Moments The Kiss Was Broken For The Need To Collect Air. Your Forehead Touched His As You Two Caught Your Breath, Your Hands Now Holding His. The Only Thing You Cared About In This Moment Was Alastor. Nothing Else Mattered As The Two Of You Shared This Moment And Embraced Each Other. " I Vow To Love And Protect You Until The Day I Die Again, My Sweet Darling... "

#hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fluff

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austinsastrology8991 · 10 months

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> 2nd House Lord in the Houses <

2nd house is about values/Investments - its what you value, and how others see the potential growth in you. also where you stubborn/stuckup its also about your voice - (throat) or its 3rd > Idk still trynna figure that out - but just run with it on this post okay (but its probs both considering 2 houses away from 2 is 3....) I view 2nd house themes like business investments; where your the main shareholder of whatever you invested your time and energy into

2nd house lord in the 1st - you invest in yourself - you are very preoccupied by how much value that you bring to the table. your very self aware of what you are good at, and what you are not so good at. this is > 12 < houses away from the 2nd so what you invest into is something that will require much self actualisation, you will undergo a process of filtering what is and isn't of value many times over in this lifetime, because you are someone who only wants quality within yourself, and that of your surroundings. You also may have a voice that is very recognisable, and you can change the tone in your voice a lot, maybe a lil ethereal (12) but its very noticeable (1) “Hey, hey, motherfuckers!” - roman roy 2nd house lord in the 2nd - You invest in worthwhile investments - You are very conscious of how you invest your energy, and so you typically invest into high value things or what is 'worth'while, nothing grinds your gears more than wasting your time. this is > 1 < houses away from the 2nd so people can tell very quickly, your time is valuable, and you yourself are high value; your like the fortune 3 pick axe (yes I said that).... because of this they aware that they cannot waste your time, otherwise you'll just leave lol. You likely have a very sensual voice (2) which is highly noticeable (1) "two little mice fell into a bucket of cream..." type beat 2nd House lord in the 3rd - You invest into education - You believe knowledge is one of the most valuable things you can acquire, and because of this your knowledge is ever-growing, and one of your greatest assets. This is > 2 < houses away meaning you do not waste your time; 'time is money' and since you want to invest in only the most valuable sources of information, it pays off; the type to read only the most noteworthy books (catcher in the rye and the crucible; wassup), and watch the most talked about movies (wassup whiplash and nightcrawler). You value your time, and you value your education above everything else so you take it all very seriously. Your voice can be a bit more high pitched (3) but its also very sensual (2) and maybe you'll learn to value it more as you grow; 2nd house theme is about growth; 'started from the bottom now we here' 2nd house lord in the 4th - You make emotionally sound investments These natives are a natural at putting there money where their mouth is. because if they make the wrong investments it completely dishevels them emotionally. They also are growing into their comfort zones and this makes others feel very comfortable to be around them. This is > 3 < houses away meaning they are investing into education/research and because their intelligence is naturally in a state of growth, they feel very stupid if they make a bad decision, they get kinda emotional. This would also indicate they value their family a lot, and it should get better as time goes on. Their voice is likely a higher pitch (3) and a little soft (4) but its actually a great thing imo because the moon is exalted in taurus so I imagine some overlap here. "like a competent kind of clever filing cabinet that everyone seems content to have around." 2nd house lord in the 5th - you invest into your kingdom You value yourself a lot; you want to shine in how valuable you are and if you fail to do so you can get a bit of an ego tantrum. This is > 4 < houses away so you can get emotional about not living up to the value that your ego has set for yourself. Because of how much you put value into your >ego</emotions you are highly recognizable as someone who is constantly evolving and striving for better outcomes for yourself (5) and your a natural at this by now (4) Your also the type to only invest in the same thing over n over because you find comfort in it, and it feeds your ego > its like getting special discounts from your favourite store makes you feel a lil more special (me too fam i getchu) Your voice is loud (5) but also soft and comforting (4). "young moneay"

2nd house lord in the 6th - you invest in yo daily life for the best outcomes You value what you do a lot. you don't like to waste your time so you always spend it efficiently. This is > 5 < houses away so everyone recognises you as someone who don't fuck around with what you do with your life. You pride yourself on your achievements and this attitude is so healthy > many people admire your hard work, (6) and your dominant attitude (5) to get shit dun; people readily respect it. This is one of the better placements considering its trikona or whatever the fuck its called; but everyone respects a hard worker and we appreciate the effort <3 Your voice can be a bit raspy, you may not like to speak up (6) but others love it/ and its bald(5) He's offered seven million dollars for your life. Seven million dollars is a lot of money, Mr. Wick.

2nd house lord in the 7th - you invest in sum people (choosy) You value your close partners/bestfriends and because of how much you appreciate them, you are very decisive on who you let in; in your life. It is > 6 < houses away so you may view everyone as a bit of a work in progress, but some people you consider are worth the effort. so you don't mind pulling out yo credit card and tappin for the bill on the people who are your favourites. You also value hard work a lot, and you may look for 'high value' people who are worth dealing with. Your voice is likely very balanced/stable (wtf does that mean fuck me idk but libra shit okay) (7) and a bit raspy but people like it (6). "I call you gata, 'cause you's a wild cat" 2nd house lord in the 8th - you invest like a gambler You value what you get from something.... Consider the concept of gambling; high risk; high reward and ya'll love that shit. and well consider it being > 7 < houses away there is nothing more high risk than placing value onto someone else, because people are probably the most disappointing thingz we all have to deal with. But ya'll are exceptional at power (8) and because of this power you have developed/ constantly growing, its really only useful against others (7) when it comes down to it. Your voice is likely deep (8) and well balanced and stuff (7) "So I tell him there's one of me, he makin' fun of me (ha-ha) His girl is a bum to me (grrah)" - what a fkn banger cuh but have you heard the cartman remix? its better (youtooz advert)

2nd house lord in the 9th - you invest into pyramid schemes You invest wisely / extremely strategically with lots of well renowned philosophies to back you up; makes it easier to feel better about spending yo money, when it is likely gonna pay off.. this is > 8 < houses away so you have been developing your power/allure and its paying off in your mindset/ belief in yoself and I mean you too like a bit of gamblin in life; it pays well don't it? Business savy and everyone knows the real money is always hiding (8) and you are well aware of this fact (9). Your voice is likely naturally loud (9) and seductive/deep (8) "you take the blue pill.... but if you take the red pill tho...." 2nd house lord in the 10th - you invest in business and business is business and business is good You are a manifestor investor... wait thats not a word... did ya'll know thats not a word? anyway; your well known to place your money into the enrichment of your ultimate destiny, and well it likely has or will pay off for you, because no one stfu about how you spend your time/energy/money. this is > 9 < houses away, so you have a carefully constructed philosophy on how you are going to thrive in the business landscape. Your reputation should grow much and well, but in terms of what you place your value in; it would have taken much effort to finally grasp what really is worthy of your time (10 about mastery) but since 9 blessin yo ass you should be fine. This is probably one of the best ones to have in terms of growth - but I didn't say that. Your voice is likely deep/authoritative (10) and louddd (9) "Everyday I'm hustlin' hustlin' Hustle, hustlin' hustlin'" 2nd house lord in the 11th - you invest in yo people fo da people You are kinda a genius at investments because you've spread out your investments in many different avenues/affiliates/communites and well one has to fkn pay off at this point (and it likely will pay it big for you, because 11 is massive gains). This is > 10 < houses away so your like known for ur investments and well maybe you gettin a lot of eyes on you as people are wondering if they can invest in you, or if you'd invest into them... your voice is likely something of a wat da fuck; (11) and authoritative (10) "you can pay me and I'll play a song or dance for you; what would you like?" - every other quote is real i made this up because i have a scene from Futurama in my head but i cbf finding it > respect the honesty okay 2nd house lord in 12th - you invest in strange things and most of them are your stupid friends you don't have the soundest judgement for business, but you know what it somehow does pay off, because the 12th house is confusing af, and people are confused at how tf you made a profit outta that investment you made. But It is > 11 < houses away and well you do love to invest in your mates, and it actually could grow into lots of fortune (11th house is massive gains) however it is primarly 12th house energy and your investments are mostly surrounded by cloudy judgement that can and should pay off later and massively (11). Your voice is ethereal and hard to pin point because of its changeable nature (12) and also a bit wat da fuq (11) "I was born rich life ain't fair"

Sidenote - when I speak about the tone in your voice please check the planets in the 2nd. but also the degrees of the cusp, and the house lord planet/degrees. > I don't wanna hear a bunch of squeakers tellin me they don't sound like that CHECK YO WHOLE CHART <

before anyone asks about the gifs - itz call of duty zombiez > my childhood ;p > goood timez < 1st gif is called 'random weapon' or 'mystery box'; it is easily the most worthy investment to make in the game (950 points), and you never know how profitable it is hence the name 2nd gif is called 'pack a punch' and to go the furthest in the game it is necessary to invest 5000 points into your weapon to make it the most powerful it can be if anyone played - my highest round is like 80 or someshit and that was on Revalations. and on Mob of the Dead I got 70 i'm pretty sure but idr its been so long..... basically all you need to know I was a god at that game... and Ik most of ya'll don't care/play but dont make fun of my gifs or imma eat your face off like a zombie

#astrology blog #2nd house lord #astro community #astrology #house placements #astrology placements #astrology observations #astrology notes #astrology houses

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zepskies · 1 year

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Break Me Down - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Get ready, there be some surprises in store for this one…

Word Count: 5,100 Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (m. receiving oral and implied smut), SB’s attempts at flirting lol.

Part 5: Morning, Night & Day

Now that you were allowed to roam the mansion freely, you were able to confirm that it was huge. And it was beautiful…if a bit dusty.

The house boasted Spanish style arches and textured walls, cherry wood furniture and rod iron lamps and wall sconces, not to mention various art pieces on the walls that looked well-curated. No doubt Soldier Boy had hired an excellent interior designer.

You were more interested in the garden outside. It was tucked away behind the pool, in the shade of large palm fronds and bigger trees. Peeking through them was a lovely view of the mountains.

Though it reminded you of the damn cliff where you fell, Soldier Boy saving you, and of course, being an arrogant asshole about it.

Your lips pursed in annoyance. What a dick.

Expelling a heavy sigh, you shook the thought of him out of your head as best you could, and tilted your head up to the sunshine. You’d found a nice stone bench to just sit and be, and try not to think about why you were here.

“Lunch time,” Frank said, encroaching on your solitude. He wasn’t a chatty man, always one to hand off your meal and leave. Escort you back to your room and leave.

You were bored enough (and perhaps lonely enough) to attempt a conversation.

“You seem to be the brains of the operation,” you remarked. “Yet he’s got you babysitting me. My condolences.”

Frank gave you a bland look. He wasn’t a hothead like Tony, but he was starting to look annoyed as he was still holding out the plate to you. It looked like a roast beef sandwich on rye with some mixed fruit on the side. At least they were trying to keep you healthy.

“I’m not a fan of rye bread,” you admitted. “Tastes like sour cardboard.”

But you took the plate anyway.

“Want to sit?” you offered a place next to you on the bench, before Frank could scurry off. “I doubt doing Soldier Boy’s bidding is more fun than ignoring me for a few minutes.”

You could tell he was about to leave anyway. So you tried one more thing.

“He’d probably want you to watch me,” you pointed out. “Make sure I don’t choke on a grape or something.”

Frank’s mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. After a moment of indecision, he surprised you by sitting down with you. You’d been trying to get Frank to talk to you for days, but he was definitely the strong and silent type. The good soldier, following his orders.

You were a curious person by nature, but more than that, you wanted to know what kind of men your captors were. You weren’t just learning Soldier Boy. You had to learn his team too.

So you offered Frank a grape. He met you with a raised brow, but he didn’t take it. You shrugged and popped it into your mouth.

“So,” you started, tucking into your sandwich next. “Ex-military, turned private sector?”

Frank shot you another look. He was older than you, though not quite old enough to be your father. He could have been around M.M.’s age.

“You carry yourself like an military man. Marine maybe,” you guessed.

Frank sighed and gave a short nod. “Good guess.”

“My father was a Marine,” you said. And that was the truth. Military men ran in your family—from your father to your grandfather, though you’d never met the latter. He’d died of liver and kidney failure, thanks to good old-fashioned alcoholism.

Frank snorted. “My condolences.”

You eyed him with a small smile. “You got a family? Wife and kids?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze ahead. You sensed it was a question with a potentially loaded answer, so you let it be.

“Yeah,” you said. “I know the feeling, being married to your job. Harder to quit than heroin.”

When you offered him another grape, this time, he actually took one.

Being able to tell between night and day somehow told your body that the night was no longer for sleeping. So your wandering continued that night.

Moonlight poured through the tall windows outlooking the garden, but most of the mansion was dark and eerie and all but silent, except for some quiet rain pattering outside.

It’s like an episode of Scooby Doo in here, you thought with a shiver. The long halls were empty and mostly dark, with just a few dim wall lights along the way. Still, you’d rather be alone than run into one of Soldier Boy’s goons, or even the man himself.

But you wanted to rejoice when you found the kitchen. Finally, you could put together a meal for yourself that wasn’t a damn sandwich.

Both the pantry and fridge were fully stocked with expensive-looking ingredients. At the moment though, you weren’t so hungry for a heavy meal as you were for a snack. Maybe something for your incurable sweet tooth.

You rifled through and found something you recognized: a family-sized tray of Chips Ahoy.

Ooh, success! With a grin, you ripped open the top and rifled through the cupboards for a glass.

“The hell’re you doing?”

You jumped with a yelp at the voice that startled you. You looked over your shoulder and frowned in annoyance when you noted Soldier Boy in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. A snappish retort was on your tongue, but at the last moment, you held onto the threads of your temper.

Don’t be difficult, you reminded yourself, however much the thought grated.

“Midnight snack,” you replied, nodding to the open parcel of cookies. “Want some?”

You took out two glasses without looking at him, but you could hear him approach. When you went to the fridge to look for some milk, you noticed him take a seat at the kitchen island in front of you, where there were three stools.

“What’re you, a fucking eight-year-old?” he remarked. You raised a brow at him and took no less than five cookies from the tray.

“You’re never too old for milk and cookies,” you said sagely. You were a proud dunker, and you did so until your cookie was half-soggy with milk. You shoved an entire one into your mouth and looked him in the eyes when you did it.

His lips tugged upwards, dryly amused, while his gaze not-so-subtly raked over your form. You almost rolled your eyes, but you resisted. He could take in your oversized shirt and sweats all he wanted.

“‘S that a man’s shirt?” he asked.

“Yeah. Not a lot to pick from here at the Holiday Inn,” you quipped. You were running out of clean items that would actually fit you, and you weren’t about to run around here in some of the slutty shit you’d found.

“Can’t sleep?” You distracted him with the question, then slid a glass of milk in front of him. Regardless of what he said, he’d glanced at those cookies twice.

This was an opportunity, you thought. A chance to get into his head, see what the fuck made him tick.

Soldier Boy eyed the milk, then you. After a moment, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He didn’t answer your question, and instead asked one of his own.

“How’d you get caught up with Butcher?” he asked.

You smiled behind your glass. It seemed he was curious about you too.

“I work at Supe Affairs.” That was easy enough for you to admit. And if he was smart, he would’ve had Frank run a background check on you.

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah, I figured that fucking much. Doesn’t answer my fucking question.”

So damn rude. You wanted to sigh.

“I help run surveillance,” you said. But before he could ask his next predictable question, you continued, “Grace Mallory recruited me because I was a private investigator…and like you, I worked at Vought for a while.”

His attention piqued at that.

“Though your tenure was a bit before my time,” you couldn’t help a light jab.

His lips curved again. “Why’d you take a job you couldn’t hope to win? You got some vendetta against me, like Butcher?”

You arched a brow, watching him shove another cookie into his mouth. If anyone had a vendetta against him it was M.M., but trust Soldier Boy to conveniently forget murdering the man’s grandfather.

“You’re asking if I’m obsessed with you? I think not,” you said with a genuine chuckle, then sipped at your milk with some decency. Unlike your companion, who already had a pile of soggy crumbs on the counter beneath him.

Soldier Boy shot you a frown, and his eyes said he didn’t believe you. He sat back in his chair, his jean-clad legs falling open casually. His gaze on you, however, was anything but. You wouldn’t admit it, but it made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Really?” he said. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. During your slutty little seduction act, you were pretty fucking responsive.”

He rubbed his palms slow down his thighs, like he could still feel yours wrapped around his hips and grinding your hot core against his slacks.

You stared back at him as your lips pressed together.

Soldier Boy tilted his head at you, his smile turning smug. “The filthy sounds I was getting outta you…”

You set down your glass on the counter. Reaching for another cookie, you rested your elbows on the counter and leveled him with a teasing smile of your own.

“Unlike you, Ben, I’m a good actor,” you replied.

His brow twitched at that, however subtle. You couldn’t tell if using his real name annoyed him, or if it just added to the game you two were playing. But it felt right, stripping him of at least that façade.

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t even a superhero, really. He was just a man.

Albeit, a super fucking strong one with an ego the size of Empire State. But a man. The same kind you’d dealt with all your life.

And he crossed his arms, like he was starting to lose his patience with you.

“Then why’d you come out here?”

Munching on a dry chocolate chip, you answered, “To get paid. Why else?”

Again, it didn’t look like he believed you.

“You don’t look the type,” he said.

“Don’t I?” you said. He seemed to know you were holding something back, but not willing to admit he wanted to know it.

And you weren’t willing to give it to him. He didn’t need to know that you’d taken this job to support your family. Because what the hell would he know about family?

…But at the same time, his curiosity just made it all the clearer: in whatever small way, you’d piqued his interest. He wanted to figure you out.

And maybe that was the real reason you were still alive.

It started to happen like that more often.

Midnight snacks, as you’d continued to call it in your head. When you couldn’t take being alone with your thoughts (or being alone at all), if you made your way to the kitchen you often found Ben.

Whatever was keeping him awake, he seemed to crave the company as you rifled through the pantry. From alfajores, macarons, and chips, to the entire leftover ham from dinner, he often smoked a large blunt and ate whatever you found.

You’d taken a hit once when he offered, but the shit was so strong than you abstained afterwards. You wanted to be in your fully right mind around him.

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.)

“In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.”

You also talked about the movies he missed out on. The ones you thought he’d probably enjoy, like the Terminator sequels and Liam Neeson’s Taken (if only for the sheer irony). And all the while, he asked you probing questions he likely thought were subtle.

“What did you do at Vought?” he asked over chips and salsa.

You thought the salsa was a bit too spicy, but he was lapping it up. It both amused and disgusted you.

Until he licked some of it off his fingers. Catching your gaze, his became mischievous. He slid his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene noise. All the while, his deep green eyes held yours.

You would never admit to being turned on, but you felt your cheeks warming up as you fought not to react, watching the juices drip down his fingers.

“I ran down criminals for the supes to ‘catch’ them,” you managed to reply. “They just got to do the sweeping in part.”

“Lazy shits,” he remarked, licking off the remaining salsa from his hand. You tried not to focus on the sight of his tongue. Afterwards, he gave you reprieve by wiping his hands on a paper towel.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You inwardly shook your head at yourself.

“Back in my day, we actually ran down our own leads,” he said. “Sure, we got tips every now and then, but we did our own busts.”

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe, considering he’d never even fought in World War II, despite his numerous claims of pounding Nazis up the ass.

“How’d you end up there, anyway?” he asked.

“Vought paid more than private practice,” you wryly replied.

He eyed you then. “And before?”

Before? Was he just bored, or did he genuinely want to know about your life?

Still, this was starting to veer into things you’d rather not talk about.

“Worked for my dad’s P.I. firm,” you said, making an effort to untighten your spine. “I learned what I know from him.”

That much was the truth, though you hadn’t spoken to him in over a year.

Ben chortled, making you frown. “‘A’ for fucking effort there, sweetheart.”

You huffed. Yes, you did realize the irony of being kidnapped by the man you’d hunted down (sort of). Didn’t mean he had to be such an asshole about it.

“He must be fucking proud,” he added. Your gaze sharpened with irritation.

“Like your dad was proud of you?” out came your pointed reply, before you could stop yourself.

His amusement faded, likely as he stared back at you and saw that you knew for a fact what he’d told Butcher.

A fucking disappointment.

He didn’t bother lying, but his lip curled into a sneer.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned. You heard the underlying threat in his voice. You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, lowering your eyes. The act was grating on you, boiling your blood.

But it seemed to mollify him enough. He let out a low chuckle.

“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “Next time, I might not be so fucking nice.”

You believed him.

It was a week of this, before you finally found out the hard way where Ben’s room was.

You were wandering down a long hallway on the second floor, over in the west wing of the house. Your room was in the east, so you really hadn’t seen this side of the mansion before. The problem was, all these halls were looking the same to you.

And now you had no idea how to get back to the main hall, where by now you could navigate downstairs to the kitchen, the back garden, the pool hall, a study room (with several shelves of books), a gym, and even an indoor movie theater.

Suddenly, you thought you heard a woman’s voice, high and giggly. What the hell?

Your natural curiosity led you farther down the hall, where you could see light and movement beneath the closed door. Whatever (and whoever) was in there, you really should just let it be.

You’d been able to successfully avoid Ben for the past few days, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the headache of another encounter with him—for as long as you could manage it.

So you were just about to turn back and keep on your merry way.

But when you heard a slap, followed by a feminine cry of pain, you halted in your step. With your brows crunching in concern, you couldn’t help but approach the door again. You leaned in to listen.

Another slap, another pained mewling from the girl. Your mouth turned down in an angry frown of alarm.

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away.

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open.

What you found seared your eyes.

In unblinking shock, you took in the shambled state of Ben’s room. Clothes strewn haphazardly about, remnants of lines of coke on the coffee table, plates of half-eaten delicacies left on a wheeled in buffet, bottles of liquor, half-empty glasses and shots rolling around.

And a California king bed occupied the center, where the sheets and pillows had fallen off while Soldier Boy fucked no less than five prostitutes. All looked to be of various ethnicities and a wide age range. The oldest of them looked saggy enough to be in her seventies, but she was working as hard and skillfully as the rest of them.

One of the younger ones, maybe around your age, was getting spanked by one of his large hands while another girl’s head bobbed over his lap with gusto. The other three were finding things to do, whether on the man himself, or to each other in front of him on the bed.

In reality, you probably took all this in for just a few seconds.

But a gasp fell unbidden from your lips, along with a “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ben looked like he had been working up a mild sweat. Broken from his concentration though, he glanced up at you. And then the broadest, Cheshire cat fucking grin spread across his face.

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted mischievously. “You here to join in? Here, tag in for, uh…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

He looked down and grabbed the shoulder of the girl in his lap. She released his cock out of her mouth for a second to answer, “Jasmine.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. Then he frowned and gestured to his still rock-hard dick. Your eyes widened in shock—both at the audacity, and at the size of it. You blushed hotly.

“But don’t fucking stop now, Jesus,” he said to the girl. And he looked over at you with a raised brow. “Unless you wanna jump in…but seriously, don’t make me wait all fuckin’ day here.”

Your face contorted in disgust.

“There’s not enough fucking therapy for this,” you muttered.

Then you fled the room, slamming the door behind you so hard that it rattled. It still didn’t muffle his laughter behind the door.

Your face, neck, and the tips of your ears were on fire as you hastened down the hall.

By the time you got to the kitchen, you could even hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You set a hand over your chest and felt the thump, thump, thumping under your palm.

Images continued to flash through your mind—naked flesh, bouncing tits, shockingly adept wrinkled hands. And then the man’s chiseled bare form, planes of tanned skin over muscle, and strong-looking hands.

Fucking hell. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of your brain’s ongoing loop, but it was a losing battle. With a long and frustrated sigh, you reached into the fridge and grabbed all the ingredients you needed to make a damn sandwich.

You knew Ben had hired a personal chef (Simone, you thought her name was), but you were pretty sure she was currently part of the service the supe entourage today.

You slapped together a turkey and provolone sandwich with some lettuce, mayo, and a pickle for added “razzle dazzle.”

Though on second thought, you put the pickle back.

With an aggravated huff, you stood at the counter and tore into your dinner (you were too angry to sit at this point). You devoured half of it and nearly a whole bag of Doritos by the time that cocky bastard strolled in like the cat that got the cream, and clearly, more than once.

He looked freshly showered, and finally clothed in casual pants and a buttoned down shirt, rolled up on the sleeves.

Ben eyed you with a smirk. You raised a brow at him.

“That was fast,” you remarked. “I expected you to be in that fuck dungeon all night.”

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon,” he said, leaning on the other side of the counter opposite you. “More like a cellar of fine delectables.”

You snorted. “All right, Hugh Hefner. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sitting, doll face,” he quipped. His brow rose at you with a salacious, curling smile. You leveled him with a look.

“At the very least, you would’ve ended that little dry spell of yours,” he added playfully.

Your gaze sharpened at that. You dropped your sandwich on the plate to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s it been?” he asked, leaning closer into your personal space with a more knowing grin. “Don’t really fucking tell me it’s been three years since somebody’s laid you out right.”

Despite your outrage at his audacity, your mouth fell open the slightest bit.

“What…”

Again, he eyed your form, and not subtly at that. Today you’d found a pair of jeans that you’d managed to squeeze into. The polo shirt clinging to your waist and ribs and tight across your breasts wasn’t helping you either.

But you were honestly surprised he could still be looking at you like that when he’d just been doing some Olympic-level fucking.

Your spine tightened nervously when he straightened to his full height, walking around the kitchen counter towards you. His hand slid across the surface, his head tilting at you in amusement.

“It’s amazing what you can hear on shitty hotel roofs,” he said.

Your eyes widened when you understood what he was getting at. When you were on the phone with your sister…

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa had said. “And finally put an end to that three-year goddamn dry spell.”

And that prickly feeling you’d felt then, licking up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck…

“You were watching me,” you realized.

Ben just looked down on you with a deepening smirk. His green eyes were alight with mischief, and yeah, probably lust too.

“You fucking creep,” you said, with both a sigh and a roll of your eyes (despite your growing blush).

He chuckled and raised a hand to lightly grip your chin. “That’s not very nice.”

You glared up at him, too angry and stubborn to remember to mind your temper. He seemed to like it though, working you up. He teased and prodded you enough, almost like a little boy trying to get a girl’s attention. Except this one was the most powerful supe alive.

So why does he like it so much, this stupid cat and mouse thing?

Not for the first time, you wondered why he decided to keep you around. And you had a feeling it wasn’t just to bait your friends. Maybe he just liked toying with you, seeing how far he could push until you snapped.

And then what? you wondered.

Though if you were honest with yourself…you were just as into this little game as he was, albeit for different reasons. You wanted to understand him.

At first, it was the job. Know the man you’re after.

But now, it was more. Knowing Soldier Boy, getting to know Ben would be the key to making it out of this situation alive. You just knew it…if only he didn’t make it so damn frustrating.

“Seriously, tell me,” he said, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched?” he asked. “‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a crying shame.”

For a moment, your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt a hot blush rising in your cheeks, down your neck…and maybe warmth between your legs at the mere suggestion.

You inwardly steeled yourself, clamping down on your anger and your embarrassment. Instead, you leveled him with a cool smile.

“Not forty years, I’ll tell you that,” you said.

While he raised a brow, he let you slowly push his hand away. You left him in the kitchen soon after, but he watched you go. Whether you meant to or not, the sway in your hips and your delectable ass in those tight fucking jeans made his dick twitch.

Figures, he thought, that you’d get all fucking huffy. He shrugged and picked up half the sandwich you left behind.

You found nothing else for your frustration but to head outside.

With a sigh, you sat down at the edge of the massive pool and just dipped your legs in. You didn’t have a swimsuit, and you didn’t want to take any chances by getting your clothes wet around here. Or even worse, stripping down to your bra and underwear.

You blushed at the memory of Ben’s proximity, his touch, his rich, teasing voice that dripped with lustful promise. And that just reminded you of the scenes from his room, which flashed in your mind every so often like a bad porno.

Shit. You absently bit at one of your nails. Ben had also heard that entire conversation with your sister. That meant he knew about her, and that gave you no small amount of anxiety.

But he already had you. He hadn’t tried to extort you for anything (yet). You knew though, that if he threatened Luisa, or tried to use her to manipulate you in any way, there wasn’t much you could do but play along, like everything else.

Right now, anyway…

You noticed a dark shape out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you were annoyed, ready to tell Ben to give you a moment’s peace.

But it wasn’t him. It was Tony standing near the end of the pool. He must’ve been freed from desk duty, or whatever Ben had him doing while he presumably recovered from his injuries.

“What up, Tony?” you greeted, unable to resist a teasing smile when you noticed the large boot for his broken foot. Now plus a few extra bruises from your last tussle. They were dark, but yellowing around the edges.

His lips twitched at a cold smile. “They’re letting the little mouse out of her room now?”

You shrugged, smirking.

“You look good,” you replied. “How’re the balls though? Still broken?”

Tony expression tightened into a glare. “You better watch it, bitch.”

“Or what?” you challenged.

There was enough distance between you and him across the pool for you to feel comfortable, but really, you weren’t too afraid of Tony.

Yeah, he was a dick. But you’d taken him down before. You could literally break his balls again if he needed more encouragement to fuck off.

Tony just smirked back at you, deciding to leave you alone for now. You watched him head back into the house with sharp eyes. He wouldn’t take you by surprise again.

Frank was waiting for you when you got back to your room. You were more relieved to see him than you’d like to admit, and you greeted him with a genuine smile, before you noticed the shopping bags in his hands.

“What’s this?” you asked. Frank dutifully handed you the bags, and inside you found new clothes. They actually seemed to be your size.

You looked up at Frank, both shocked and grateful. “You got me clothes?”

“Boss’s orders,” he revealed. Your brows rose high at that.

“He told you to do this?”

Frank expelled a breath through his nose, hesitating, like he was debating how to frame his reply.

“He provided them,” he said. It felt like a confession, one that made your eyes widen at the implication.

Soldier Boy bought you new clothes?

You didn’t know how to compute on this one, honestly. But you still answered with a tentative, “Oh. Well…thanks.”

He nodded, and soon left you with your thoughts and your spoils. You went into your room and dumped the bags onto the bed so you could examine their contents.

There were casual shirts and yoga pants, a couple pairs of jeans, some sneakers, thank God. All the bras and panties, however, were lacey and expensive.

You shook your head with a smile, eyeing the labels. This man really went to Victoria’s Secret to buy you new underwear.

It was both kind and somewhat sleazy, knowing he was going to be imagining you in the sexy, but admittedly tasteful lingerie.

The “kind” part took you by surprise though. The clothes overall weren’t revealing or obnoxious. Even the underwear and bras were in styles you’d probably wear, under normal circumstances.

So you put together an outfit out of one of the shirts and a pair of jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when you could peel the old ones off.

This was a far cry from bullying and annoying you, and generally being an arrogant son of a bitch.

The truth was, Ben was confusing you.

Perhaps now more than ever.

AN: 🤭 Well, one would argue that she saw more sides of Ben than she thought she would (or wanted to). 😜

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Things are definitely going to ramp up in the next one...

Keep Reading: PART 6

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avastrasposts · 4 months

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A Baker's Dozen - Four

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I kinda figured you all would like Joel's visit to the bakery! Handy man Joel with his green plaid flannel shirt and tool belt... 🥰

This week's Pedro boy is actually forcing me to adjust the warning level, things get a bit spicier than usual with this one around and I think you'll understand when you see who it is....

Series Master List

The little bakery is buzzing with customers this warm summer evening, you’re serving everyone as fast as possible, cursing the stomach bug that had put the kid who worked extra out of commission for the week. As you ring up two slices of lemon meringue pie for Mrs Callahan from down the street, you notice the buzz increasing in the shop, almost like a wave of excitement. You glance towards the door to see if you can spot the source of the commotion and see a tall, proud looking, man closing it behind himself. His rich yellow jacket is all you have time to notice before you’re pulled back to Mrs Jones asking about the amount of sugar in the Millionaire’s Shortbread (a lot, you assure her, no, it’s not healthy just because it contains peanuts).

You lose track of the stranger as you work your way through the long line, finally looking up to realize he’s the only one left in the shop, except for little Mrs Levinson who is just stepping through the door. The man gallantly takes a step back and indicates with his outstretched hand that she should be served before him.

“Please, my lady, I would be offended if you insisted on waiting behind me.”

He has an accent that you can’t place, vaguely Mediterranean maybe, and clearly very good manners. Mrs Levinson gives him a pleased smile and steps up to the counter to buy her regular weekend dark rye loaf, six chocolate chip cookies and one whole apple and cinnamon crumb coffee cake.

“The grandchildren are visiting on Sunday, and they love your cookies, dear,” she informs you, “the mother just doesn’t know how to bake, why my son married a woman who can’t cook or bake I will never understand.”

“I’m sure she has many other good qualities and skills, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, this is a weekly complaint.

“He should’ve married you, dear, how you are still single is beyond me, such a talented girl in the kitchen,” she pats your hand as she hands over her purse for you to count out what she owes. “But Mrs Pike’s son is single, recently divorced, I’ll make sure she sends him here to buy something, he’s such a lovely boy.”

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, but I don’t need to be set up, I barely have time to run this bakery, I don’t have time for dating.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find time, my dear,” she winks at you and gives the dark haired man behind her another wink as she turns to leave.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say to him as the door closes behind Mrs Levinson.

“No trouble, my lady, I was more than delighted to enjoy the view of such a talented girl,” he says with a confident smile, sauntering over towards the counter.

Now that he’s not hidden by the crowd you can see that he is in fact wearing a long robe, reaching down below his knees. But that’s not where your eyes are drawn, instead you find yourself actively trying not to stare at the deep v of bare, tan skin visible where his robe sits open, adorned by an expensive looking necklace. You pull your eyes up to his face, putting on your customer smile, and mentally slapping yourself.

“What can I help you with today, sir?”

At your words you see his mouth quirk in a wicked grin and his eyes wander over as much of you as he can see behind the counter. Ordinarily you’d be somewhat offended by such blatant staring but…considering your own struggle to not gawk at him, if feels admissible.

“I’m sure you can help me with a great many things, my lady,” he says, the lilt in his voice fitting his strange clothes, and the double meaning isn’t lost on you. You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

“Really?” you challenge, “And what else but baked goods do you enter a bakery for?”

“Depends on the girl, or the woman, working in the bakery,” he smirks, “when the lady of the bakery is as beautiful as you, I’d like to buy a great many other things than her cakes.”

This line makes you roll your eyes so far back into your head you think they might get stuck there.

“You really think coming into a bakery and suggesting prostitution to the woman who works there is going to win you any favors?”

Now it’s the man’s turn to raise his eyebrows and look surprised for a moment, then he bends his head, bowing deeply to you.

“My lady, I did not wish to offend you at all, I was not suggesting that I would buy any such services from you. Rather I was, badly I’m sure, suggesting that I would like to buy such a beautiful lady gifts, rather than just buying her cakes.”

He looks up at you, his handsome face giving you an apologetic smile, “Please, truly, I did not mean to offend you.”

“Alright, I believe you for now,” you reply, accepting his apology with a slight scowl, “So what can I help you with? In the baked goods department,” you emphasize, waving over towards the display cases.

“I have this,” he says, pulling a bottle of wine from the satchel he has hanging at his side, “it’s cold and delicious on this warm day, but I would like to have something to eat with it. And I saw that you have these,” he points to one of the bags of lemon and almond biscotti in your display case. “They remind me of the small cakes we have back in my city, Sunspear. Will you please let me buy a bag of them?”

“Of course,” you reply, reaching for the biscotti, “Anything else?”

“An hour of your company?” he says, smoothly, with a smile, “But I won’t offer to pay for it, just beg that you will join me with this wine, and your lovely cakes, as a small apology for offending you.”

You look at the man standing on the other side of the counter. His confident smirk has been replaced by an apologetic smile, his arms outstretched as if he’s holding himself open for you to review and decide upon. You glance at the clock on the wall, fifteen minutes to closing but the foot traffic outside on the street has trickled down to nothing, everyone is on their way home to enjoy the last of the warm sunshine. It won’t be the end of the world if you close up a few minutes early today. And this man does intrigue you, with his accent and his strange clothes.

“Ok, fine,” you say, “An hour, but I have no wine glasses.”

“My sweet lady of the bakery, I’m sure I will survive without glasses, as long as I have your company to keep me distracted,” he winks at you and his demeanor changes back into confidence once again as you wave him behind the counter.

“C’mon then, we can sit out back, but only on the stairs I’m afraid.”

“I have sat on much worse in my days, I assure you,” he chuckles, “even a prince of Dorne can’t expect to sit only on feather pillows every hour of his life.”

“You’re a prince?” you ask but it really doesn’t surprise you. He looks every bit like a prince from some exotic country you’ve never heard of.

“Prince Oberyn Martell, my lady,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “It is my pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” you smirk, his over the top chivalry is making your inner rebel come out, and you gladly direct him to the somewhat crumbling back stairs, fishing a bottle opener out of a drawer on the way. Drinking wine from the bottle on the back stairs, overlooking the trash cans and patchy grass that lines the dingy alley behind your bakery, is probably not something a prince usually does.

Oberyn is looking around the area outside the door as you bring the bottle opener and the biscotti.

“Wait a moment,” he says, holding up his hand to you before he unbuckles the belt that’s holding his robe together, and dropping it on the ground. He shrugs out of the robe and shakes it out, spreading the luxurious looking fabric out over the steps and then holding out his hand for you.

“Please, my lady,” he says, “it will be a little bit more comfortable for you than sitting on the cold stone.”

“No, but your robe, it’ll be ruined,” you protest, but he shakes his head, “It’s nothing, just a little dust. Do not think me such a feeble prince that I am above getting a little bit dirty.” With his last word he winks at you with a smile, and you can’t help but smile back, taking his hand.

“I don’t know what kind of prince you are, I’ve never even heard of Dorne.”

He lets go of your hand as you settle on the top step and he sits himself on the one below, taking the bottle opener from you.

“Dorne is a beautiful country, warm, much warmer than here, surrounded by turquoise blue ocean, white beaches and fragrant lemon groves,” he says, “And my home, the city of Sunspear, is the world’s most beautiful city, colorful, richly decorated, cooled from the hot sun by our water gardens and palm trees. It is ruled by my brother, the king. I am my father’s second son, fortunately enough for me, for I would’ve made a terrible king.”

He smiles as he speaks of his home, a warm smile, as he pulls the cork from the wine bottle.

“Ladies first,” he says and holds the bottle out to you, you accept it, taking a sip of the cool white wine. It really is delicious; crisp, fresh and an undertone of a rich, buttery flavor.

“This is very nice wine,” you say, giving the bottle back to him and he smiles.

“Made all that much better by the company.”

“Cheesy, but I appreciate the effort,” you grin and he looks confused, lowering the bottle that he was just about to drink from. “Cheesy?” he asks, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah, you know, ‘cheesy’, when something is lame, or over the top, corny?”

“I assure you, my lady, I did not intend to be over the top with my compliment, if anything, it was not enough,” he smiles warmly at you, and you feel butterflies in the pit of your belly. Either the wine is working very fast, or this strange man and his flirtatious way is getting to you.

“I could say so much more about your beauty and the joy it is to spend a warm summer evening in your company with good wine and delicious cakes,” Oberyn’s eyes are glinting as he watches you squirm and he takes a sip from the bottle.

You feel your cheeks heat up and you drop your eyes to your hands, suddenly feeling very flustered by his flattery, distracting yourself by picking at some dry dough caught on your nail.

“Oh, the biscuits!” he exclaims suddenly and stands up, “We need just a…” he disappears into the kitchen and you look up as he turns around, scanning the shelves before he finds what he’s looking for, “Ah! Just what we need!” he says and returns to the steps, sinking down next to you again with a small bowl in his hand. “The biscuits are to be dipped in the wine, to soak up its delicious flavor and blend with the sweetness.”

He demonstrates by pouring some of the wine into the bowl and taking the bag of biscuits from you, opening it up. He takes one of the biscotti and dips the end in the wine, letting it sit for a few seconds before taking a bite.

His eyes hold yours as he slowly chews the biscotti, humming slightly under his breath. “My sweet lady, this is exquisite,” he says, awe in his voice once he’s swallowed. “I would hire you as my own personal baker any day, would you wish to leave these premises.”

“Thank you for the offer, that’s very generous,” you say, taking one of the biscuits and dipping it in the wine, copying Oberyn, “but I like running my own business.”

As you bite into the biscotti you hold back a moan, you’ve never tried this before but now you understand why he insisted, the crunchy biscotti has softened slightly and been filled with the crips flavors of the wine, the lemon and almond adding to the complexity.

“This is really good, Oberyn,” you smile, taking the second half, “Thank you for introducing me to it.”

“It was all my pleasure, my lady,” he replies, leaning back against the stairs and taking a sip of the wine from the bottle. When he tilts his head back, his long neck is exposed, even more now when he’s only wearing his shirt, a smattering of freckles on his tanned skin, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. It occurs to you that the man exudes confidence in everything he does, even the way he brings the bottle back down, handing it to you with a small, crooked smile, the way he’s leaning on one elbow against the step just above him, long legs stretched out comfortably in his soft looking leather boots, utterly relaxed even on the crumbling back stairs.

You take the bottle from him and take another sip, the cool wine slipping down far too easily. From the corner of your eye you see Oberyn take another biscotti and dip it into the wine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. With a small smirk he puts the biscuit in his mouth, closing his soft looking lips around it, sucking lightly while he lets his eyes linger on you. You feel heat creep up your throat, there is such promise in his eyes, such a challenge in his flirting. It’s like he’s daring you to flirt back, to push him just a little to see how he reacts. You feel a familiar heat spread through your core, a temptation to entice him. But his confidence, just the way he takes the bottle from your hand, his long fingers caressing yours with intent, almost intimidates you. If you flirt with him, even just a little bit, you think he might challenge you even more, see how far you’re willing to go, and you’re not sure you can trust your body to resist. His easy assertiveness, the way he leans back against the stairs, his hand now resting just an inch from your waist, it both unnerves you and makes arousal thrum under your skin.

With a slight tremble to your hand, you take the bottle again and take another sip, bigger this time and it goes down the wrong way, your nerves getting the better of you. With a cough you splutter into the crook of your elbow, your eyes watering. The prince shoots up and immediately puts his hand on your back, patting you lightly a few times before he begins to rub circles between your shoulder blades.

“Careful there, my lady, are you all right?” His eyebrows have pulled together in concern and he leans forward, looking at your face. You feel the tears that formed spill over and roll down your cheeks as you cough a few more times.

“Y-yes, yes, I-I think so, thank you,” you finally say with a croaky voice, “it just went down the wrong way.”

Taking a deep breath, you almost choke again when Oberyn gently cups your face with his large hands and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, softly running them under your eyes.

“Can I fetch you some water?” he asks, his voice low and concerned, but you shake your head.

“No, thank you, I’m ok now,” you say, taking a steadying breath. He’s so very close now, looking into your eyes with a soft smile and you notice how one of his eyes is made amber by the evening sunlight, the other dark chocolate brown, half hidden in shadow. You feel like your brain is spinning in place, wheels turning but not moving forward, as you’re unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze. His hands are still on your cheeks, warm and soft even though you can feel the rough calluses on his palms.

His eyes finally leave yours, only to very slowly move down to your lips, holding his gaze there for several seconds before he looks back up again. His face transforms into a more roguish smile and he drops his hands from your face, moving to pick up another biscotti and dipping it into the wine.

“My lady, please,” he says, holding it up to you, one hand cupped under it to catch any drops of wine, as he offers it to you, holding it by your lips.

You don’t know why, but you obediently open your mouth, letting him feed you the biscotti, tasting the tang of the wine and the sweetness of the sugar as you break it off in the middle. The tip of Oberyn’s tongue comes out to wet his lips as he watches you swallow it down, and then he dips the second half in the wine again, and places it between his own lips. All the while his eyes never leave yours.

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a crooked smile, and he leans back against the door frame, crossing his arms over his lap.

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he says, matter of factly, “if you want me too.”

You reach for the wine bottle to distract yourself while you calm your beating heart, keeping your eyes on him, that smirk still lingering on his lips as he watches you take a small, controlled sip, this time.

You pour some more wine into the bowl and place the bottle on the top step, reaching for another biscotti and making up your mind. Dipping the delicate biscuit in the wine you look up at Oberyn, holding his gaze while you bring it up to his mouth, mimicking his gesture of cupping your hand under it. A wicked smile flickers across his face as he obediently opens his mouth and takes the biscotti. But he doesn’t bite it in half, instead he leans forward and closes his lips around your fingertips, his tongue licking at them as he takes the whole thing into his mouth. It’s warm and wet around your fingers and he gently sucks on them as he pulls back, a low hum escaping his throat. The touch of his tongue shoots a jolt of electricity through your body, settling firmly between your legs and your breath hitches.

Oberyn swallows the biscuit and takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth again, with his eyes locked on yours he takes each finger between his lips and sucks them clean. When your pinky leaves his lips he moves forward, taking your chin between his thumb and finger, holding you steady, your heart beating its own erratic rhythm in your chest.

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he repeats, looking from your eyes to your lips and up again.

You don’t trust your voice, so instead you inhale, his warm scent; oranges, cinnamon, sandalwood, filling your nose, and you lean forward. He doesn’t smile this time, instead he mirrors your movement until your lips brush, your heads tilting ever so slightly to come closer together, mouths angeling as he presses a soft, gentle, explorative kiss to your tingling lips. Warm hands slip up your neck, into your hair, large enough to cup the back of your head as his thumbs stroke your cheeks.

His next kiss is more insistent, his lips parting to taste with the tip of his soft tongue, licking the seam of your mouth. Your body seems to have lost all will to follow your head, it just moves as he moves you, pulling you closer to his lips, opening up to his tongue, letting him slip inside and explore, tangelling together as he tangles his hands in your hair, making you lean closer into him. Without knowing how you got there, you find yourself sitting on his lap, his hand finding your thigh and pulling your leg over. When he puts his hands on your hips and slides your body closer to his, your mind goes blank and you moan into his mouth. He’s distinctly hard underneath you, the thin fabric of his trousers doing nothing to hide the firm length of his cock, and he groans with delight as you roll your hips over him.

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, his lips momentarily leaving yours, “sweet, sweet lady, I knew your kisses would be as sweet as your cakes.” His fingers dig into your hips, his mouth pressing firmer against yours as he sucks on the tip of your tongue, pulling back just a fraction and trailing kisses and bites over your jaw, down your throat, pushing back your t-shirt to suck a mark into your collar bone, making you keen and whimper under his warm mouth.

“I wonder if you’re as sweet everywhere,” he mumbles, fingers digging into your hips and dragging you over his heavy length, straining against his trousers, “I would very much like to find out.”

You lean your head back, exposing your throat to him as he continues to kiss and lick the soft skin of your neck, heat is building rapidly in your body and for a second you feel as if you’re looking down on yourself from above. Straddling the handsome prince on the stairs, sitting on his golden yellow robe, his face buried against your neck, his hands rolling your hips over his erection as you pant to the darkening sky above. With a groan you put your hands on his shoulders and push away, stumbling back onto your feet.

“You’re dangerous to be around, Oberyn,” you pant as his hands slip away from your hips. His mouth hangs open as he reaches for you. In the dimming light you can see the prominent bulge of his trousers, it makes your mouth water, the image of sliding down over it coming unbidden to your mind.

“It’s just pleasure,” he says, his voice dark and mischievous, “no guilt to be had over feeling pleasure.”

“No, but I’m not about to have sex with a stranger on the back steps of my bakery,” you say, taking a deep breath, running your hands over your head, down your face, to ground yourself again.

“Well, then the question beckons to be asked,” Oberyn grins, “where would you have sex with a stranger?”

“I don’t have sex with strangers,” you say, shaking your head and quickly stepping past him, into the kitchen again. Behind you, you hear him get up and pick up the bottle, the remaining biscuits and the bowl. Placing them on the counter inside the door he follows you out to the shop as he slips his robe back on, where you unlock the door and wait for him to approach. A big part of you doesn't want him to leave, but you know that if you let him stay, he’ll have you naked on one of the counters within minutes, your body will betray you and let him do whatever he wants.

“If you let me, I would like to not be a stranger to you,” Oberyn says as he reaches you by the door, “Would you let me come back and take you out, maybe show you Sunspear, my city?”

“Show me the life of a prince?” you ask, you doubt you’ll see him again once he leaves, “Sure, come back and show me another side of yourself, and I’ll consider whether or not I want you to be a stranger.”

“You don’t think I’ll come back,” he replies, a crooked smile on his lips, “have I made such a flighty impression on you, such a poor representation of who I am?” He chuckles, taking your hand and bowing low, pressing a feather light kiss to it.

“I promise, my sweet lady of the bakery, I will come back and I will show you the true colors of a prince of Dorne. Until then I will keep your honeyed kisses close in my memory.”

He opens the front door and steps through it, before turning and smiling back at you, “And I’ll keep your delicious moans even closer on lonely nights.”

You feel heat rise in your cheeks again as he winks, a mischievous smirk on his face, before he bow lows again and disappears down the street.

Part Five

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #game of thrones #a bakers dozen #pedrostories

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rye-views · 1 month

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Alien vs. Predator (2004) dir. Paul W. S. Anderson. 7.6/10

I would recommend this movie to my friends. I wouldn't rewatch this movie.

I like all the shifting mechanics of this place. I enjoyed that perfectly created hole/slide down into the pyramid. Sebastian is cute and smart. Graeme is who you want to go on a trip like this with. He's so good. I think the lore behind the Predator and Alien history is interesting. That predator making those weapons for Lex is badass. Wow the ascent out was crazy.

Verheiden is who I don't want to travel with.

I would've never made it across that jump where Lex separated from Sebastian.

I originally only liked Aliens and not predators, but this one made me feel more connection with the predators. My gasp at when predator got pierced.

#alien #alien vs. predator #alien vs predator #alien versus predator #Paul W. S. Anderson #2004 #movie #film #review #commentary #rye-views #predator #7.6

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hayakawalove · 11 days

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Wisteria and Ciabatta

Summary: Traveling merchant Suguru has led a relatively tame life thus far. Growing his flowers, baking his bread. One day, when he ventures out further than normal he comes across something more beautiful than all the flowers in the world. You.

A/N: I'm not really sure where this came from. I don't expect it to get a huge reaction, just because it's like way niche. But I couldn't get this out of my head. I am like pretty certain there will be a part two with smut, but this first chapter is just very sweet. This chapter can be read alone, you won't need to read the next one if you don't want to. Suguru is a loserboy in this but I like him that way. Enjoy!

CW: SFW, food, fluff

W/C: 5,608

The forest was quieter than usual today, he couldn’t help but notice. Suguru had become well acquainted with the sounds of the forest over the years. He traversed them for work often, always traveling from town to town to sell his flowers and bread. Flowers from his own backyard, and bread made to perfection from his own two hands. He enjoyed the way people's faces lit up when they saw the beautiful flora or when the food passed their lips. Suguru had to go out of his way today, venturing out further than normal. He didn’t sell as much as he wanted to in the towns near his home, so he figured he may as well see if anyone else would be interested.

Lavender, Hydrangea, Yarrow.

Suguru ran the list through his mind repeatedly. The basket he carried beside him held heaps of flowers, all trimmed to perfection. Along with the flowers he had several loaves of bread.

Dutch, Rye, French.

His footsteps slow when he notices a cluster of homes come into view. It was a small town, one he had never been to before. There couldn’t have been more than 50 buildings, but they were all full evident by the smoke rising from each chimney. His feet fall onto the stone path as he makes his way to the first house. When he knocks, he plasters a smile on his face. He had danced this routine many times before, always donning a careful mask when interacting with potential customers.

“Hello?” An old man opens the door carefully. He must have been twice as short as Suguru.

“Hello, I’m selling flowers and bread. Would you be interested in buying any?”

The man opens his mouth to decline when a woman’s voice sounds out behind him.

“Who is that?”

She hobbles into view, situating herself beside what Suguru can only assume is her husband.

“This fellow is selling flowers and bread, I was just going to-“

“You never buy me flowers anymore!”

Suguru averts his gaze, training them on the floor below. He doesn’t mind being there while they argue, but he’s learned that an unwanted ear can make people uncomfortable.

The old man grumbles before walking away further into the house to grab his money. Suguru can feel her eyes wandering over him. He digs his hand into his basket and produces a Hydrangea.

“On the house.” He speaks quietly, winking at her.

Her face flushes as she takes the flower, admiring the color. Her husband comes back and counts his cash before handing it to Suguru who doesn’t bother counting it. He grabs a heap of flowers, all three types tossed in, before handing them to the man.

“Thank you, sir.” Suguru smiles before stepping back, watching him give the flowers to his wife.

An adorable moment by nature. It almost feels too vulnerable to see the look of love on the old woman’s face as she receives the gift.

Suguru continues on to the next house, selling flowers and bread as he goes. He went to every house in town until there was only one remaining.

He walks up to the dwelling, knocking on the door and waits patiently for whoever’s living there.

The door opens, your body standing there.

If you asked Suguru a day ago what he thought the most beautiful thing was he would say a dicentra or maybe even tulips. That was before he saw you. Your cheeks like petals, soft and plump. You also had eyes that shined brighter than the early morning dew that clung to his garden. You were magnificent. You were the most beautiful flower he had ever seen.

“Hello?”

Suguru never found himself speechless. Throughout his life he had found himself in a multitude of situations that would warrant it, but he wasn’t, not even once. He had trained himself on how to smile and talk to people, he prided himself on it. No one was too hard to talk to.

Until he met you.

His lips refused to cooperate with him, throat muddled up. You look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m selling homemade bread and flowers.”

Idiot.

That’s what he decided to say? Not even a proper hello first?

“Oh, lovely. I was hoping to make something for dinner but didn’t have anything around the house. How much for the bread?” You ask, digging in your pocket for money.

Suguru tears his eyes from you, a painful task, and opens his basket. Most of his inventory was gone. He did have a loaf of Dutch bread at the bottom of the basket, the sight of it mocking him. He couldn’t give you that. It was no longer fresh, and it was cold to the touch. He couldn’t give you it.

You pull out your hand, palm cupped with money.

“I’m out of bread.” He finds himself saying.

Your brow raises. A beat passes before you speak.

“Okay, what about flowers?”

He wordlessly thanks your graciousness. In his basket he finds two Yarrows. All of his flowers were beautiful, but he found himself cursing God for not making anything more beautiful.

Suguru holds them up to you, fighting back a whimper when your hand grazes him as you pluck the stems from his grasp.

“How much?”

“You don’t have to pay.”

He would never force you to pay for anything, especially not something that could never rival your beauty.

He watches your lips slowly morph into a smile.

“You’re an interesting merchant.”

He’s sure you’re making fun of him, but he doesn’t care. His cheeks feel hot as he looks into your eyes.

“I was planning on visiting this village again tomorrow, I will bring more bread then.”

He wasn’t planning on visiting this village again until now. It had been a random stop he never was going to make again.

Your eyes flit down to the Yarrow, admiring them.

“You know where to find me.”

~~~

Suguru’s feet hurt when he finally arrives back home. He wants to go to bed but he can’t. Not when he needs to make bread for you. Usually he had extra dough laying around, but he didn’t. Even if he did, he would’ve preferred to make it fresh. He works tirelessly as he prepares the dough, pouring all his love into it. Flour cakes under his fingernails, his palms hurting from kneading the dough for so long.

He wouldn’t dream of complaining. Not when he knew who this was for. He didn’t even catch your name. Once he knew it, he would spell it in the stars so everyone did too.

Suguru barely gets any sleep. It was a concoction of baking and nerves. His house smells like bread while he walks around, preparing for his long journey ahead. He searched in his kitchen before finding a small jar of homemade strawberry jam. One of his neighbors, a kind elderly widow, had made it for him. They often traded breads and jams, occasionally sharing them outside when the weather was right.

Once everything was ready, he placed it all in his basket before setting off into the forest again.

The walk was way faster than he remembered it being. His mind was too clouded with thoughts of you. He enters the town, making his way directly to your house first thing. He wasn’t even really sure if he was going to go to the other houses after.

The door rattles with his fist, and he wills the butterflies going off in his body to settle down.

If he had at all been worried your beauty was a fluke, which he wasn’t, his worries certainly died down the moment he looked at you for a second time.

You’re just as beautiful the second time around as you were the first.

Your chest was heaving with sweat lining your forehead. You must’ve been hard at work. Doing what, he wondered?

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.” He responds with a smile. “Much more prepared this time, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t want to tell you he stayed up until the sun rose to prepare your bread.

A sly grin breaks across your face. You lean against the door frame, your eyes sliding down his figure. Suguru can feel his skin tingling with each inch your eyes covered.

“What have you brought for me today?”

Suguru holds up his basket and reveals the fresh bread. It was a simple loaf of wheat bread, and although it was basic, it was renowned as his best selling one. He feels his heart flutter the second the scent reaches your nose, your face lightening up.

“That smells wonderful.”

“Tastes wonderful too, or so I’ve been told.”

You open the door a bit more, revealing the rest of the house behind you. It was humble, an aboad that was probably common in these parts of town.

“Why don’t you come in and share it with me?”

The offer stops Suguru in his tracks. Out of all the things you could have said to him, he wasn’t expecting that.

The first thought that crosses his mind is flattery. You want to eat with him?

The second feeling that follows after is worry. You want to eat with him, and he’s a stranger.

“You hardly know me.” He speaks.

The idea that you would open your door to just anyone frightened him a bit. What if it was someone with bad intentions?

“What’s your name?”

You don’t look afraid, even though Suguru feels you should be.

“Suguru.”

You toss his name across your brain several times. You say your name back and step away, letting him come in.

“Now you know my name and I know yours. Share it with me?”

He's touched by your kindness, but still mildly unnerved at the idea you might do this for someone with unsavory motives.

It’s hard to refuse your offer, so he finds himself stepping in after you. The close proximity whisks his breath away but you hardly notice. You don’t even spare him a glance as you head over to your table.

You sit down and look up at him, waiting for him to join you. He places the basket on the table before rummaging around, pulling the loaf out.

“I also brought more flowers, in case you were interested.”

“Will you let me pay this time?”

“Maybe.” No, he wouldn’t.

Suguru didn’t need any form of payment. As long as he got to see the joy on your face again, that was all he needed.

You grab a knife and begin to slide through the loaf, slicing several pieces for the two of you. He wondered if you were able to tell he made the bread fresh for you. Did the warmth of it tingle your fingers? Could you feel the love that seeped from it?

Suguru pulls out the jam and sets it aside.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“My neighbor made it. It’s strawberry.”

You pick up the jar, eyes gliding across the glass in amazement.

“Where do you live? The people in this town don’t bake bread or make jam. Maybe I should move to your town.” You joke.

Don’t say that, he thinks. If you say that, he might beg you to.

He hardly knows you, yet he’s finding himself completely entranced by you. He aches to learn more.

“A town further South. A couple hours at most.” He keeps his eyes trained down on your hands, watching as you spread the jam on the bread.

Only when the silence stretches on for too long does he rip his eyes from your fingers, looking up.

He doesn’t know whether he should be startled or not at the face you’re making. Your eyes are open wide, like you’re looking through him.

“Hours?” You repeat.

Suguru nods, his brows raising.

“I didn’t see a horse.”

“I walked.”

You stutter a bit before placing the knife down, pushing the plate in the middle of the table. Suguru’s eyes drift down, the intimacy of sharing a dish not lost on him.

“I could never walk that long.” You murmur, picking up a piece of bread, raising it to your lips.

Suguru tries not to stare at the way your lips part, but it’s difficult.

“It’s not that bad.” He pulls his piece up to him, taking a bite.

“Not everyone has such long legs.” You say around the food.

Suguru’s mouth perks up, a smile gracing his features. He was used to people commenting on his height, but he felt an extra ounce of pride when you were the one saying it.

You mumble around the food, hand flying up to cover your mouth.

“Suguru, this is wonderful!” Excitement seeps from your words and Suguru’s heart jumps.

“Thank you.” He dips his head down, suddenly bashful.

The two of you share the meal, words flowing flawlessly between you.

“It’s a shame that my father isn’t here, I’m sure he would love this as much as I do.” You comment.

Suguru leans back, not sure if this is a touchy subject.

“He’s just out of town today, I’ll share some with him when he comes back. Maybe.” You smirk.

“What does he do for work?”

“He helps people get their farms up and running. I think he traveled to help a young couple get theirs set up.”

Suguru begins to daydream about owning a farm with you. Would you adore his flowers as much as he did? Would you let him do all the work? He wouldn’t mind it, he preferred it.

He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help the infatuation that grew in his heart.

Besides, Suguru never was one to love normally or calmly.

“I was trying to clean the house before he returns, but I must admit I’m having a hard time reaching things.”

“Would you allow me to help? I’ve got long legs, you know.”

A song floats over to his ears, a song built on your laughter. He could get used to that.

“I couldn’t make you do that. I already dragged you inside to eat with me. I’m sure you have much more important things to be doing.”

Never, he thinks. Nothing would be more important than this.

“It’s okay.” He says plainly.

He watches as you seem to be debating inside your head. You give up, standing up to carry the dishes to the sink.

“I would love help changing out the candles.” You say sheepishly.

Suguru waits as you leave to go find the extra candles, his head racing with thoughts. After you finished, there would be no reason for him to stay. He would have to go back home. He wanted to stay and talk with you more. Your words facisnated him. He felt like a child, the way he longed to hear you tell him stories. He didn’t want to go home. Not when being with you felt more like home than his own ever did.

“I found them.” You speak, snapping him out of it.

You guide him around the house, showing him every spot that needed a new candle.

It should be a simple task for him. He finds it increasingly difficult, however. He feels your eyes bore into him each time he reaches up, making his heart pound. Even though it’s easy to do, he’s just replacing old candles, he almost feels like he’s never done anything so hard before. He can feel the way your eyes track his movement, almost making it impossible to focus. His linen shirt suddenly feels too hot, as he tries to keep his eyes on his hands.

“There, how does that look?”

You stare at the metal candle holder for a minute before nodding, a soft hum coming from your lips.

“It looks wonderful, Suguru.”

He decides no one has ever said his name as beautifully as you do.

He steps back, following you towards the kitchen. He can tell that he needs to leave, but a small part of him is upset at that fact.

“Will you be in town anytime soon? I’d love to purchase more bread, if that’s alright.” You stare at him as he gathers his things.

He nods, and looks down at you.

“I can come back in several days.”

“Fantastic, I’ll be looking forward to it.” You say happily.

So will I, Suguru thinks.

~~~

Suguru leans back, watching you chew a new recipe he tried for bread. So far, so good, he thinks. Your lips are played in a smile as you taste it, swallowing it with a sigh.

“I don't think you can make something bad.”

“Is that a challenge?” Suguru jokes.

“One you’d fail, I’m sure.”

Your flattery causes his heart to race, a throb settling deep in his chest.

“I wish I could bake like you.” You say.

“I could teach you, if you’d like. It isn’t that hard.”

Your eyes flash with excitement and Suguru has to swallow the knot that forms in his throat.

“You can?”

Yes, anything for you.

“Sure. I can bring the ingredients tomorrow.”

You jump up and down in your seat, chattering away to him about all that you want to do with the bread. Are you aware of how you make his stomach twist? He thinks there’s no way you are.

~~~

When Suguru comes the next morning he has a burlap sack filled to the brim with ingredients, all for your bread. You open the door the second he knocks it, taking him by surprise.

“I apologize, I didn’t sleep much last night.” You say all giddy, opening up the door more.

Suguru steps inside and follows you to your table. You already have it set up according to how he told you. There’s bowls and spoons, all perfectly set. His hair is already tied back, so all he needs to do is roll up his sleeves.

He stands next to you, reading out what ingredients to add next. He watches over your shoulder as you eagerly mix, chuckling to himself when some of it spills out the sides.

“Slowly, sweetheart.” He murmurs.

You apologize quietly, following his order of slowing your hand down.

It was looking good, but now was the time to start getting your hands dirty.

“The next step is to knead it. You do this by placing it on the table, and pressing your hands into it.” Suguru explains, watching you scrap the bowl and plop the dough in front of you.

“Mmm like this?” You ask, folding it over itself.

“Just like that, a little more pressure.” He adds.

Without even thinking, he reaches his arms on either side of you, correcting your form to knead it harder. His hands hover over yours, pressing your palms down more against the plush dough.

“You have big hands.” You chuckle, and suddenly Suguru’s aware of what he’s doing.

“Oh, my bad. I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s okay. You should keep your hands there, so I don't mess up.” You correct him.

You turn your head over your shoulder, looking at him. His face is unbearingly close to yours, heat from your cheeks radiating off and scorching his face. He looks deep into your eyes before you’re quickly looking back down, watching the bread below your hands.

Suguru berates his heart as he helps you, hoping it slows down. That moment with you kept repeating in his mind, over and over again.

He snaps out of it when you squeal, pulling the bread from the oven. The top of it is perfectly golden, the smell of it filling your tiny kitchen.

“Look, Suguru!” You say, placing it down.

He looks over the top of your head and smiles.

“It looks good, let’s wait for it to cool before we try it.”

He would have liked to wait a little longer, afraid it would burn your tongue, but he couldn’t say no with the way you were tilting back and forth, begging to cut into it. Suguru takes the liberty, pouring the bread from the pan before sliding a knife down the side of it. It cuts smoother than butter, steam wafting up from it.

“Okay, let’s try it.” Suguru raises a small piece, holding it in his hand as he lifts it to your mouth.

The heat soaks into the pads of his finger tips, but he’d much rather get burned than you. You look down and blow on the bread, Suguru has to force himself not to gasp at the air caressing his skin. You look up at him and take a bite, smiling as crumbs dust your lips.

“It’s so good!” You murmur around the mouth full of food.

Suguru uses his other hand to lift up a separate piece, taking a slight nibble. It was fantastic. Sweeter than the bread he made, he wondered if that was just because you were the one who created it.

“You may put me out of business.” He jokes.

You pull your piece from his hand, holding it tightly next to your face. A shame, he thinks. He would’ve preferred for you to keep eating from his palm. Did that say something about him?

“I might, you better watch over your back.” You say, eating the rest of your bread with a grin.

“I will.” Suguru says back, treasuring the way the food melts on his tongue.

~~~

“Hey Suguru?”

The two of you have settled into a comfortable routine, as he had visited a couple of more times, always sitting in your kitchen to share a plate of bread with you.

He flicks his eyes up to you before looking back down.

“Is the forest dangerous?” You finish.

Suguru takes a moment to think. He’s never thought about it before. His feet have carried him through the trees for countless years.

“Not really. The only thing you have to look out for is bandits.”

He takes a moment to appreciate the way you’re gaping at him.

“I’ve never seen any though. Just know they’re out there.”

“They’d be a fool to try to rob you.” You mutter under your breath.

Suguru lets out a quiet chuckle. Any reason to point out his height, you’d take it.

“As children we’re warned not to go in too deep.” You mumble.

“I can bring you if you like? They have some Gardenia’s there, not too deep in. We can go and get them if you want?”

“You’d keep me safe from bandits?”

Yes, you don’t even have to ask. He’d go toe to toe for you.

“Of course.”

The more he got to know you, the more Suguru grew to like you, really like you. It was no longer infatuation, it grew into something more beautiful and large.

He notices you dip your head down at the tone of his soft voice. You have a few habits he’s picked up on. One of them is every reaction you have to his words. You like to poke and prod him, but the second he pushes back or uses a specific tone you look away, teeth nibbling on your lip. It’s adorable, he thinks.

~~~

You both decide to go to the forest tomorrow. He decides to stay in your town overnight because there would be no point in making the long trek back to his only to come back tomorrow morning. You offered a bed in your house, knowing your father would not have it, but Suguru declined. It would be improper, he told you. He had never felt his body fight so hard against him before. Even though it’s hard for him to say no, he doesn’t relent. He ends up staying at the only Inn in town. It was a normal house, with five extra rooms spread out. His host was a sweet older woman who insisted on helping carry his bags to his room. The act pained him, but he knew better than to tell a woman no.

As he lay in bed that night he stared up at the ceiling, thoughts of you curling around his mind.

You were here, in this town.

Suguru wakes up earlier than you do. His eyes crack open the second the sun shines through, his body restless. There was so much to show you, he didn’t know where to begin. Along with that, he felt the early onsets of fear begin to take hold. He had never thought about bandits before, but now that you mention it he couldn’t shake the idea. What if there were some when you went out? He wasn’t afraid of taking care of you. He knew he could do that. He just didn’t want you to see something ugly. He feared he would never forgive himself.

Suguru walks to your house, stopping a short ways away outside to linger near a bunch of trees. He didn’t want to intrude, and he had no idea what you’ve told your father about your relationship with him.

What was your relationship with him?

Friendly, he thought. You had always welcomed him with a smile. However there were lingering touches and stolen glances over fresh bread, conversations floating across your tongues easily. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. There was a chance you thought nothing of him, treating him as you would anyone else.

“Suguru!”

His head shoots up the second his name falls from your lips.

“I apologize for making you wait.” You say, stopping short in front of him.

You look like you got together hastily, sleep marks imbedded in your flesh with several of your hairs out of place.

Did you know how perfect you were?

“I wasn’t waiting long, are you ready to go?”

Suguru smiles at the excitement spreading across your face. He knew the flowers were in bloom, but he wasn’t sure they could rival you.

As the two of you walk, you take careful calculated steps as you notice the weather. It was sunny without being too temperamental. You could hear laughter of the village children carrying over the wind to you. Suguru listened to you as you rattled on, occasionally dropping his input, but he much preferred to listen.

When the trees started to get thicker Suguru noticed you start to walk closer to him. It was cute, the way you looked towards him for shelter and protection.

“I think this is where I saw them last time.” Suguru says aloud, stopping to the side and looking around.

“They’re bright red, so they're easy to spot.”

He sees excitement curl in your eyes at the prospect of finding some hidden treasure, even if that treasure was just flowers.

Suguru locates them after several minutes, grabbing your hand and leading you towards it. There were several bushes laid together, all of them overflowing with the red petals.

He smiles to himself at the gasp you let out, your fingers tentatively reaching forward to kiss the leaves.

“Pretty, right? I always think about taking some home with me so I can plant them but I can never bring myself to do it. They look much better out here anyhow.”

Suguru sits next to you as you stare at the bush. He finds it cute that you’re interested in his interests. If you asked, he would tell you anything you wanted to know about plants or baking. Suguru wasn’t an expert in everything, but he was an expert in those.

“Suguru, thank you for showing me these.” Your voice trails off, still focused on what was in front of you.

He smiles and picks a red Gardenia, careful placing it behind your ear.

“Anytime.”

Your hand trembles as you reach up to touch the flower on your ear. The forest was silent, save for the sounds of birds and bugs, complete serenity falling over you.

The only way Suguru’s able to tell that time is passing is by the view of the sun, now completely overhead, shining through the canopy of trees around you. Neither of you wanted to leave, so instead you lay on your backs, looking at the trees above you. The leaves and sun paint beautiful pictures, yellow shapes being shined upon your skin.

“Hey Suguru?”

Suguru hums, turning his head to the side to look at you.

Your arm is outstretched, holding the flower he gave you in front of you. Your fingers are twirling it around, spinning the flower over and over. Suguru’s dizzy at the sight, but he can’t tell if it’s because of your beauty or the the spinning.

“They say flowers have a language of their own, don't they?”

Suguru’s lashes flit as he memorizes the lines on your face, wanting to capture this moment.

“They do.”

“Do you know the meanings of flowers?”

“Some of them.”

Suguru sits up and pulls the tie from his hair, letting the black silk cacoon him. He looks over his shoulder back at you, but you’re too preoccupied with the sight of the twirling.

“What does this one mean?”

Suguru ponders for a moment, unsure whether or not he should tell you. Would it come off too strong? He couldn’t bare the thought of lying to you though. He’s a strong man so he fights the urge to look away from you when he says,

“Secret love.”

He swears the forest ceases all sound at that moment, that or the beating of his heart is far louder than anything else.

“Is that so?” You ask, peeking around the bright flower to look at him.

He hums, waiting to see if you would have a negative reaction. Would you get up and leave him here, never to allow him back into your home? He wouldn’t blame you.

A demure smile spreads across your face, sitting up until you’re laying on your elbow. You bring the flower to your face, taking in a deep breath before you sit up completely. Suguru tracks your movements carefully.

“In that case,” you say, sliding the flower behind Suguru’s ear, the bright pop of red constrasting with his dark hair.

Suguru swears his heart stops beating in that moment, his body completely rigid with surprise. You knew the meaning of the flower, and you were giving it to him?

A silent understanding flows between you two, Suguru no longer on edge as the seconds pass. You both are aware now, your feelings as out in the open as they could be without physically saying it. It was funny, the flower meant secret love but his admiration for you was no longer a secret.

“It’s a shame we can’t stay out here forever.” You say.

You lay back down, closing your eyes.

Suguru silently agrees, leaning back until he’s laying next to you, much closer this time. He wonders what’s going to happen next. Would he be able to court you properly, would your father accept him?

He hears you shuffle around before your face pops into view, blocking out the sun above him. His brows raise in surprise as he looks at you. You looked nothing short of an Angel, golden light haloing around your head as you smile down at him.

“I know you’re busy where you live, but why don't we meet in this forest once a week?” You say.

“Or I can walk down and meet you closer to your village, that might be easier.”

No, he couldn’t handle the idea of you walking these forests alone, or walking that long at all.

“Let’s meet here.” Suguru agrees, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek.

Neither of you want to be the one to look away first. So instead, you just continue to gaze into the others eyes.

Suguru hears an older man call your name just outside the sanctity of the forest. It must be your father, and by the sounds of it he was angry. Probably upset that dinner hadn’t been made yet, if Suguru had to come up with a reason. He didn’t want to dislike your father, after all he had a hand in creating you, but he didn’t appreciate the way he treated you.

“I suppose I’ll have to leave now…” you trail off, your voice caked in sadness.

Suguru’s grip on your cheek tightens, and he resolves to do something he’s never done before, yet dreamed of countless times.

He sits up and leans in, his lips ghosting yours.

“Suguru…” You whisper, looking into his eyes, the movement of your lips tickling his.

“May I?” Just this once, he wants to beg. Let me taste you just this once.

He waits for an answer that doesn’t come. Instead, you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him softly. It was everything he had dreamed of. Your lips were soft, the lingering taste of the sweet strawberry jam he always brought to you mingling with his own.

If only he could stop time.

If only nothing existed but the two of you.

As soon as it starts, it’s over. You’re pulling away, your eyes flickering open to look at him. He can hardly breathe under your gaze. His fingers itch with the need to grab you, press you against him, show the love he’s been feeling all this time but has been too afraid to say aloud.

Suguru’s lips tingle as he watches you slowly rise to your feet. You dip your head in acknowledgment, tossing over your shoulder.

“Coming, father!”

Stay, he thinks. Stay.

“Goodbye Suguru.” You murmur, giving him a smile.

He watches you scamper out of the forest, feeling like you took his heart with you.

He isn’t sure he’s ever going to want it back.

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