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vintagecarat · 2 months

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Drunk Words are Sober Thoughts

Summary: Spencer’s been, uncharacteristically, ignoring you all day, and you’re determined to find out why.

A/N: I’m still alive, I promise! I forgot how much I loved posting my work on Tumblr (the validation seeker in me feels so fulfilled every time I look at my inbox). This was one of the first ‘x reader’ fics I ever wrote, but it’s been a couple of years since and I’m really hoping there’s been some improvement.

Enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day <3

Note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mentions of alcohol (reader gets quite drunk), shameless Korean movie name drop, drunken confessions and kisses (with consent!)

Word Count: 2801

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Heavy sheets of rain pelted down onto you as you weaved through the busy streets. Occasionally, a car would drive through the roadside puddles, splashing you and soaking you to the bone. You hadn’t brought a coat. You didn’t think you were going to need one. The sun had still been shining when you’d left your apartment in Quantico.

You had planned to go home, collapse onto your couch and work your way through a tub of cookie dough ice cream that you knew was sitting in the back of your freezer. Instead, you’d taken the hour-long journey to Washington DC. Spencer had been completely ignoring you, and Spencer was never the type to completely ignore you. You hadn’t managed to speak to him at all throughout the day, you'd barely been able to make eye contact with him for more than a millisecond, and you wanted to know why.

Standing outside Spencer's door, your eyes crossed as you watched a water droplet drip from your nose. You were acutely aware of the puddles you were leaving on the carpet and you shifted in place a little, hoping to not soak one particular spot too much.

You hadn't even noticed that Spencer had opened the door until he softly said your name, "What…" he started to say, speaking as if he was in a trance, "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Spencer," you gave him a little lopsided smile, "Can I come in?"

Spencer looked you up and down briefly, and for a moment you were convinced that he was about to slam the door in your face, "Yeah. Come in," he shuffled aside, "You must be freezing."

You slid past him, "Yeah," you laughed, your teeth chattering. You hadn't realised how cold you actually were until you stepped into his apartment where the heating system was on full blast, "You could say that."

"Hang on. Let me just…" Spencer scampered into a room on the other side of the apartment. You could hear him clattering around before he returned a moment later with a towel in one hand and a thread-worn jumper in the other, "Here."

You quickly and gratefully slipped the jumper over your head and draped the towel around your shoulders, breathing a tiny sigh of relief when the cold water stopped dripping onto your neck, "Thanks, Spencer."

A silence fell over the two of you. Spencer's eyes darted around the apartment, making sure to pay attention to everything except you. You and Spencer were never awkward with each other.

"Look, Spence," you clung to the towel a little bit tighter, "I didn't come here to steal a jumper, even though that seems like a great idea right now."

"We need to talk, don't we?"

"Yeah, we do," a sudden wave of self consciousness washed over you, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, why would…"

"You know you can always tell me if I've done something wrong," you started to ramble, "I don't mind. I'm not going to get mad, or offended, or…"

Spencer cut you off, "Why would you think you've done anything wrong?"

You ran a hand through your wet hair, "Spence, you've been ignoring me all day."

You triumphantly clutched the tickets in your balled up fist, "I did it!"

Derek's eyes followed the little scraps of paper as you waved them up and down, "Great. What did you do?"

"I got the tickets!" you excitedly shoved them in his face, "Look!"

"Yeah, I know what tickets are," he gently swatted your arm away, "What are they for?"

"Mother!" you told him, and only when he raised an eyebrow at you did you realise how strange it sounded with zero context, "It's a South Korean movie," you told him, "They're doing a screening of it later this week, and they haven't translated it so it still entirely in Korean."

"I didn't know you knew Korean."

You shrugged, "I'm not exactly conversational, but I understand most of the language. Spencer and I were discussing it the other day so I got tickets for the both of us so we could go together, and…" you stopped when you saw the smirk Derek was hiding behind his coffee cup, "What?"

"Nothing."

"No. What?"

Derek took a deliberately slow sip of his coffee, "It's not my place, really."

"That has literally never stopped you before," you rolled your eyes, "What's wrong? Do you think it's…" you were cut off when the elevator chimed and Spencer stepped out, "Oh! Spence!" you had to jog to catch up with his fast pace, "I got tickets for that movie we were talking about, and I managed to get two so we can go together!"

"I don't think I can."

Spencer's answer made you falter, "What? I thought you were looking forward to seeing it," you said, "It's not until next week, so…"

"No, it's fine. You go and see it, though."

You stopped and watched as Spencer entered the bullpen, took a seat at his desk and proceeded to busy himself in a case file, "Did I do something wrong?"

Derek sidled up to you, sipping on his coffee, "I'd say you did everything right, actually."

"Derek," you warned him, "I swear to God, you sip that coffee suspiciously one more time and it's going straight out of the nearest window."

"Hey! I paid good money for this."

"I haven't been ignoring you."

"Please don't deny it, Spencer. That makes it worse," you said, "Ignoring me. Avoiding me. Doesn't matter what you want to call it. You've been doing it."

Spencer avoided your eyes, "I guess I didn't realise."

"Yeah, I didn't think you did," with a sigh you flopped dramatically onto his couch, "I'd rather you be screaming at me, or I'd even rather you be passive aggressive with me, or something. At least then I'd know that I'd done something wrong."

"I told you, you haven't done anything wrong."

"I've obviously done something to make it seem like you suddenly hate me," you said, "You don't usually ignore your friends for no good reason."

"Hate you? I could never hate you," Spencer sighed, and he sat down on the couch beside you, "You really don't know what happened, do you?"

"If I did, do you think I'd be here?"

He sighed again, "The other night, when we went out after work," he started, "What do you remember?"

"I remember we all went to that new bar that Rossi’s always going on about, and I remember Prentiss getting us involved in that drinking game that I’m sure she was making up as the night went along, and…" you froze, "Oh. Oh no," you groaned, "Please don't tell me I did my Backstreet Boys karaoke set."

"It was quite good, actually," he paused, a smile taking over his face for a second, "Some interesting choreography, too."

You sank further into the couch cushions, buying your face in your hands, "This is the worst day of my life."

"That's it? You don't remember anything else?"

"No," you shook your head, "What else did I do? Did I drop some NSYNC into the mix, or something?" you noticed a faint blush creeping up Spencer's neck, "Spencer?"

"You kissed me."

"What?!"

"Are they going to be alright?"

Spencer and Derek looked to the doors of the bar where you and Penelope were stumbling out onto the street.

"I love you so much, Pen."

"I love you too, my sweet angel," Penelope grabbed your shoulders and gently shook you, "You are one of my bestest friends in the whole entire world."

"Alright," Derek slid into the conversation, "I think we best get you two home, hm?"

"And you," Penelope turned to Derek, prodding him in the chest, "You are just the most magnificent person I’ve ever seen," she gently slapped his cheek, "Mr.Magnificent."

You giggled, putting on your best Derek impression, "Lock up your doors. Mr. Magnificent is here."

"Okay. Alright. As much as I'm loving this conversation we're having," he took hold of Penelope firmly by the shoulders and steered her down the street, "You need to go home."

"Speak soon, my love," you blew Penelope a kiss as she and Derek disappeared into the night. You turned to Spencer, "Let's go!" you dramatically pointed in the vague direction of your apartment and strode off.

"Wait," Spencer ran to catch up with you, "You're not going home on your own."

"Obviously," you dramatically rolled your eyes, grabbing Spencer's wrist, "You're coming with me, silly!"

Spencer let out a sound akin to a yelp as you dragged him down the street, and he had to apologise profusely to a couple that you almost rammed into, "Slow down," he called, "Do you even know where you're going?"

You stopped and stared at him, a hand on your chin as you pretended to think, "Of course I do," you bounded off, though Spencer quickly caught your arm.

"You're going the wrong way."

"No, I'm not," you continued marching down the street, only to stop a few steps away and turn on your heel, "Oh."

Spencer shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips, "Told you."

You marched past Spencer, and you grabbed his hand, "We're going the wrong way."

"We?!"

You and Spencer wandered through the streets in near silence for a moment, the only sound being you humming a completely out of tune song to yourself. You didn’t live far from the bar, and you could’ve usually walked the distance in two minutes. It probably took you almost ten considering you decided to keep stopping at every single little thing that caught your interest.

At one point, Spencer had to grab your hand and drag you down the street. You didn’t mind, though. You could feel your skin tingle a little when your hands connected.

“Oh, come on,” Spencer stood in front of the elevator in your apartment building, practically groaning in frustration at the ‘out of order’ sign that was plastered to the doors, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“It’s broken.”

“I know it’s broken.”

You sat down heavily on the stairs. Your legs were starting to get a little wobbly, and your eyes were starting to droop from tiredness, “It’s always broken.”

Spencer turned to you, shaking his head in amusement when he saw you sitting on the stairs and staring at the ceiling. You weren’t exactly staring at anything in particular, though, “Are you even capable of using the stairs right now?”

“I will be if you carry me.”

“I’m not carrying you,” Spencer gently tugged on your arm, “Come on. What floor is your apartment on?”

“Tenth.”

“Oh, for…” he quickly cut himself off, and he began coaxing you towards the stairs, though he was considering dragging you upstairs at this point, “Alright. Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”

“I don’t want to,” you whined, and you tugged on his hand, “No… No, I have a secret…”

Spencer looked back at you with that same amused smile playing on his lips as he took in your dishevelled state. You looked even worse now that you were indoors, and you looked like you so desperately needed your bed.

“What is it?”

“I can’t shout it out loud, can I?” you giggled again, and you beckoned him closer, “Come here. Let me whisper it.”

“Alright,” Spencer rolled his eyes affectionately, and he took a step closer to you, “Can you tell me now?”

“No,” you grabbed a hold of his jacket as you tugged him a little closer to you, “There. Close enough,” you leant in so that your lips were practically on his ear, “I want to kiss you.”

Spencer’s reaction was as if someone had burned him with a hot iron. He took a step back, and his expression was one of pure unadulterated shock, “You… You want to…” he was at a complete loss for words, “You want to kiss me?”

You hummed in response to his shock, and you clapped your hands. You were practically bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet in excitement as if you’d won something, “Yeah! Can I kiss you? Because I really want to kiss you.”

For a long moment, Spencer’s mouth opened and closed as if he were a fish out of water. It was almost comical, and it definitely made you laugh harder than you already were. Even with your alcohol-clouded brain, you couldn’t help but admire how utterly cute he was.

“I… I…” Spencer fumbled over his words for a few more seconds, but then he seemed to collect himself. He straightened up, and despite the blush painting his cheeks, his shocked expression morphed into one of happiness, “Yeah. Okay. I… I really want to kiss you, too.”

“Yay!” you barely even gave him a chance to prepare himself before you grabbed his collar and pressed your lips to his. It felt like fireworks were exploding inside your mind for a moment, though you weren’t sure if that was because of the kiss or because of the alcohol. Either way, it was quite possibly one of the most magical moments of your life.

After a few seconds, the kiss broke. Spencer pulled away first, but he seemed almost reluctant to do so, “I… That was…”

“That was amazing!” you finished his sentence for him, “I want to do it again. Can we do it again?”

That got a real laugh out of Spencer, “I think we’ll wait until you’re sober before we do that again,” he gently took your arm and began helping you up the stairs, “Come on. You need to sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover in the world tomorrow.”

You whined at that, “No, I hate hangovers,” your whining was interrupted when you tripped on the stairs. You would’ve face planted had Spencer not caught you, “Ow. Who put that there?”

“Oh my God,” you slumped so far into the sofa cushions that it was a wonder you hadn’t sunk into them, “Spence, I…” you glanced at him through your fingers, “I am so sorry. I…”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry,” Spencer quickly reassured you, and he placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to try and ease the nerves that were creeping through in your tone, “You don’t have to apologise. I… I didn’t mind, actually.”

Your hands dropped from your face, and you stared at him, “You didn’t?”

Sure, you’d fancied the pants off of Spencer from the moment you’d walked into the BAU on your very first day. The only reason you never actually said anything was so that you didn’t ruin the friendship the two of you had. You weren’t sure if you were ready to kiss or kill your drunk self for getting you into this situation.

“I kissed you.”

“I know you did.”

“And you kissed me.”

“Oh, so we’ve got two geniuses at the BAU, apparently.”

You swatted his arm, though there was no use pretending to be annoyed when the goofiest grin was taking over your face by the second, “I can’t believe I asked you to kiss me, and I can’t believe you actually chose to kiss me.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh, “Yeah, well, you were pretty insistent,” he rubbed his shoulder, “I’m pretty sure I still have that bruise from where you shoved me against the door and demanded I kiss you again.”

You groaned in a mix of embarrassment and frustration, and you whacked him with the damp towel around your shoulders, “I hate you.”

“Your drunk self says otherwise,” he laughed and deflected the towel, and then he quickly grabbed your hand. That gesture in itself shocked you. You’d never seen Spencer be any type of forward before, “Actually, if you hadn’t had lost all of your inhibitions that night, I don’t think we’d have ever kissed.”

You don’t miss the way your fingers immediately interlace with Spencer’s. It happens so quickly that it’s almost like a natural reaction for the two of you, “Yeah, I guess we wouldn’t have,” you squeezed his hand, and you gave him a smile, “So, does this mean we can actually kiss while I’m sober, this time?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Spencer’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he scooted a little closer to you so that your knees were touching, “I’m glad you’ll actually remember this one.”

You giggled at that comment. You sounded as if you were on cloud nine. You felt it, too, “Yeah. I’ll definitely remember.”

As Spencer gently pressed his lips to yours in a kiss so sweet and so obviously full of affection, those same fireworks that you’d felt a few nights ago came rushing back. They definitely weren’t because of the alcohol.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

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sl-ut · 3 months

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streamer!ellie hcs

been thinking about gamer!ellie williams x fem!reader a little too much lately so here are some random ass hcs

she's a pretty big streamer on twitch, plays a lot of different games but she particularly likes rpgs bc she thinks they're the most fun kinds of streams to watch

she plays gta online (on nopixel ofc) A LOT

her rp character is definitely like a druglord or something lol

speaking of, total stoner

she usually smokes right before her streams to help her settle down (she gets kinda nervous before her streams)

she's up front about her drug use (just weed don't worry) w her fans, but definitely doesn't wanna smoke on stream bc she knows there are younger viewers watching

she streams at night, probably around 8:30-9pm AT THE EARLIEST

has a boss set up. she has an extra room in her apartment for streaming, has lots of fun little figurines and posters of her fav games/movies/artists, led lights (always set to either blue or red), and custom display, keyboard, and headset

off-topic, but she'd also an astrophysics major and is on the DEANS LIST??? our girl is so casually smart and doesn't even try that hard like

she's such a nerd, always been a big star wars, harry potter, and lotr fan since she was a kid

she casually drops the gf bomb on stream one day and the internet just about blows up

lesbian twitter died a little that day

she's kinda secretive about it tho, didn't even really mean to mention her gf (she hadn't even asked her to be her gf yet and she already publicly announced that she was off the market)

for plot purposes, i've always really liked the idea that y/n is also a public figure? maybe she's a small actor/singer or an influencer or something

y/n texted her during the stream saying "u got something u wanna ask me???"

ellie was trying so hard to not turn red and end the stream

a few days later, everyone's fav lowkey singer/actor/influencer happens to soft launch her new gf (everyone was a little sus but no one really assumed that it was ellie bc why would it be??? they've literally never interacted on the internet before?)

except what they don't know is that ellie had been really high one night and decided to shoot her shot, sending a risky dm on insta and almost pissing herself when she saw that she had actually responded

begins talking about the relationship more on stream

doesn't reveal who her gf is for a while tho, but when she gets a text from y/n asking for her help for a sec she'll just tell her chat that she'll be back bc she needs to "go help the missus"

such a loser fr

finally hard launches on y/n's bday, posting a photodump from the past few months that they've been together

lesbian twitter died again

two of the hottest internet gays off the market? oh no

but everyone really loves it

ellie likes when she brings her snacks or a drink during the stream, inviting her to sit on her lap and chat for a bit while they're waiting to join a server or something

she bought an additional gaming laptop so y/n could stream with her sometimes

ellie does random super loser stuff when this happens, like if they're playing gta she's taking her on a long car ride around the city bc she's roleplaying as y/n's sugar daddy

loves using her platform to hype up her gf's work

always reposting new songs or casting announcements that her gf is involved in, and loves being her date to big press events

omg i might have to make a little modern!ellie fic bc i love this smmmm

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie smut

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heich0e · 5 months

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suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #hq drabble #hq writing

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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

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Runaway Lover, Part 1

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. Use of n-word. Mentions of God, Christian leaning. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: On a girl's trip with your friends to Punta Cana, getting some much needed rest before spring semester, you bump into Stunna and a whirlwind romance rocks you to your core.

Word Count: 9,326k

Part 2

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @melaninpov. I'm sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, I've been watching romance movies all day and this turned sweet unexpectedly. Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia

“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” You asked your friends. You stood in the bathroom of your hotel suite. The bright, fluorescent lighting in the bathroom highlighted everything. Everything. You wore a simple gold dress with intricate bronze and burnished orange swirls. It was a tad too short and showed a tad too much.

You weren’t a prude but you were also unused to showing…so much. You tugged at the short sleeves, the low neckline, and pinched the areas around your sides. You weren’t sure why you packed the damn thing, but you were drinking while packing. Something you vowed to never do again.

“You look so hot!” Your friend, Stella, said and moved closer to you and faced the mirror. She wore a violet dress with sparkling beads woven in to make it look like she wore a dress made of stars. It fit her deep ebony skin perfectly and brought out the subtle jewel tones in her skin.

You bit your lip, tasting the sweet lipgloss you dabbed on your lips. Abusing your lips was your worst sin and you avoided putting anything on them but tonight, you were all about new experiences. Hopefully.

“I should change,” you said. You pushed past Stella’s calls out for you to stop and that there was no need.

Angela appeared in the doorway and trapped you in the bathroom. “Damn girl!” You said. Stella’s sister was gorgeous in a marigold bodycon dress that hugged all of her curves and showed off her perfectly round ass. Truly, an apple bottom that she claimed was her best feature.

Angela preened under the praise but did not lower her hands from the door frame. “You’re not changing. None of us are changing. We only have two days left before it’s back to fucking school and we’re going out with a bang. They better be throwing us out before the trip is over,” she said.

She pushed you back into the bathroom. Thank goodness the space was big enough for all three of you. There were wide tile squares on the floor, a discarded hotel towel on the floor to keep you all from slipping, and two large mirrors over a double sink.

Angela and Stella finished up their makeup and demanded that you applied more gloss. Stella handed you a clutch to match your dress and told you to take the gloss with you.

You accepted it with a roll of your eyes. You’d likely go through the entire tube before the night was over. You were constantly at battle with your anxiety. Ya’ll really didn’t fuck with each other but it was like a toxic ex that didn’t know how to leave you alone. You could block, skip, and hop away from it but it was always lurking around the corner.

“Alright! Let’s go!” Stella yelled, getting you two pumped for the night’s activities. You all put on your matching heels or sandals, grabbed purses and clutches, and tucked in last minute items you may need, and headed out of the door.

Punta Cana was a balmy destination spot with plenty of resorts. The trip there had been uneventful but you and your friends had stayed glued to the windows, snapping pictures of the local plantlife, hills, and palm trees.

At the resort, you couldn’t help looking around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in the people and accommodations. You had been here for a few days enjoying the beach and accompanying swimming pool at the resort.

Everyone was friendly and open and a staff member was always around waiting to answer your questions. The goal of the trip was rest, rest, and more fucking rest. You were approaching your final year of school. After this spring semester, you were officially a senior and would have to enter the dreaded world of adults.

Stella and Angela kept up a steady stream of chatter on the ride down the elevator about what they were most excited for. The adults only resort was a breath of fresh air. No kids running around and no harried parents running after them.

Tonight, you were going to the club in the resort. So far, your activities have kept you from that venue. You rode ATVs and did a snorkeling tour off the shore of the beach. You also climbed into a boat to watch the local marine life. That part was your favorite.

Angela had to remind you that you were in fact young and it was okay to enjoy yourself. Half the time, you didn’t know where your anxiety came from. You could be having the time of your life and then boom! Your anxiety was snatching your breath away and warning you of an invisible threat. No matter how many times you asked for proof or begged to know what the threat was, your anxiety only shook its head and repeated the warning tone: danger, danger!

You shoved your anxiety in the recesses of your mind. You were not in danger. There was no threat. You were only here to have a good time.

On the main floor of the resort, the wide open arches and large windows let in enough of the view that you saw the moon ascending the sky. Sunset was losing its grip on this part of the world. Swirling colors of lilac, tangerine, and amber dotted the sky as night approached. The ambient lighting outside began to turn on one by one.

Stella looped her arms through yours and Angela’s arms and pulled you toward the entrance to the club. The music reached you first. Hotel guests were spilling in and out of the place so it must be a popular spot.

You swallowed around the huge lump in your throat as you pushed inside, flashing your wristbands that confirmed your age and the amenities you paid for. The staff member waved you in with a polite smile and soon you were entrenched in the booming club.

The space itself was huge with plenty of dancefloor area. The upbeat, fast paced music got everybody dancing and shaking their hips. There were pillars stationed around the room holding up the ceiling but other than that, it was pretty much open. There was a bar area on a raised platform filled with tables and chairs.

Most were all occupied as people looked over the railing at the brave people down below getting it on in various states of fancy clothing. Dresses flew through the space. Heels clacked on the floor. Hands were in the air in an undulating wave like the waters that crashed on the shore.

There was a heavy smell of liquor and sweat and some type of sweet perfume in the air that tried to combat it. There was no way to combat the funk so it ended up smelling like sweet sweat. But that was to be expected with so many people in one room shaking what the Lord gave them.

You and your friends made a beeline to the bar, immediately ordering sugary drinks that would go straight to your head. Alcohol was never a proper solution to anxiety. However, you’d take anything for a release from its shackles for the night.

As you waited for your drink, you bounced your shoulders trying to get your body to catch up to your mind. “Naw, show us what you got, girl!” Stella said. She whistled and encouraged you to dance a little more, shake a little more.

Fuck it. You couldn’t let your anxiety win this time around. You started getting into it, shaking your booty faster and then backing away from the bar. You felt the rhythm of the song, waving your hands and getting your whole body into it.

You backed up one more step and tripped, your body flying to the right. You shrieked, hands reaching out to catch your fall. However, you didn’t fall. Strong arms encircled you. It took a few moments for your mind to catch up to the fact that you weren’t kissing the nasty club floor.

Your heart roared in your chest, causing stops and starts that made you shake all over. The strong arms pulled you back to standing, righting yourself on your wedges. “Thank you,” you said.

You looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. Those eyes were framed by a long face, wide nose, and a trimmed dark beard. He had a big smile with perfect, symmetrical teeth encased in hollow grills.

The man had rich, deep golden brown skin that he showed off with a collared navy shirt and black jeans. His upper arms were bulging with muscles, straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He was in a word: devastating.

“Are you okay?” Sound finally filtered past your racing heartbeat. The way he looked at you gave you the indication that he had asked it more than once. You bit your lip and nodded. You forgot how words worked.

“Are you sure you didn’t twist anything?” He asked. His voice felt like what hot chocolate on a cold evening tasted like. It warmed you up from the inside out, awakening places that didn’t usually awaken for anything other than your favorite celebrity and brownies.

Your mind was slow, fuzzy around the edges, as it dawned on you that he was pointing to your feet. You moved each leg, leaning on him while you lifted your legs and moved them in a tiny circle.

You looked back into his eyes and nodded again. “Good,” you chirped.

He smiled slowly. Fuck, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and never get sick of it. He was so damn cute. And hot. A dangerous combination that had you acting like Helen Keller. ‘Cept you could plainly see how divinely sexy he was.

“Can I buy you a drink to apologize for ruining your dance?” He asked.

You smiled and ducked your head, cheeks warming up from the embarrassment of dancing in front of him. You looked down at his hands secured around your arms, at your hands on his.

You started to move them but he held on a little tighter, unwilling to let you go. “I…kind of already ordered one,” you said around the thick lump in your throat. Come on! Get it together! What the hell was wrong with you?

“Oh, are you here with someone?” He asked. He still didn’t let you go.

You licked your lips, the sweet taste of manufactured strawberries coating your tongue and snapping some sense back into you. You nodded and looked towards your friends. They were openly gawking at you.

“My friends,” you finally said.

“But no guy?” He asked.

You giggled and shook your head. “No girl?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m Stunna,” he said.

You told him your name. He said a few times, rolling the syllables around his tongue like one did to a lollipop. You focused on his mouth and the way he said your name. As if he had been saying it his whole life and never wanted to stop.

“If I can’t buy you a drink, can I get your number? You from the States?” He asked.

Anxiety reared its huge, ugly, monstrous head. You were nervous to just…abandon your friends. Let alone your drink. With your luck, you lived on complete opposite sides of the country. You nodded, to give him an answer about the States. But were too nervous to tell him where. To even hint at the possibility that you could occupy the same city and there wasn’t a national alert about it.

You were sure that he caused a storm of women wherever he went. You would have noticed if he lived around the Bay. You knew that you’d feel him in your blood, taste him in your veins if you lived in the same area. Certain that you would have bumped into each other already. Seen each other somewhere.

“I should probably get back to my friends. I’m sure your friends are missing you as well,” you said. You reluctantly withdrew your hold on him. Your small claim for the time being. Relinquishing that hold hurt.

He nodded. As you turned to leave, he swiftly caught your hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed your fingers. “Save a dance for me? I wanna see more of them moves.”

A nervous giggle pushed against your rib cage, threatening to spill over. You swallowed it back down and bit your lip. You didn’t want to keep turning him down but your stomach twisted and turned. Danger! Threat!

There was nothing threatening about the man so you figured that you needed away. You needed space to breathe and think. Time spent away from his spicy cologne that tickled your nose.

You nodded once more. What were the odds that he’d find you again in this club? If your friends weren’t at the bar, you wouldn’t know the first place to look for them.

Stunna let go of your hand and backed away, giving you a small wink before turning back to his friends. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all hot in some way or another? Damn. You checked out his back side as you walked back to your friends.

“The hell you doing back here?” Stella asked.

“What’s happening? Why aren’t you sitting in that man’s lap?” Angela asked.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed your drink, the glass sweating from sitting so long. How long had you been talking to Stunna? And why did you feel like you wanted to run right back into his arms?

You took deep gulps of the fruity concoction, letting the alcohol seep through your system and chase away your anxiety. The cold from the drink burned away the lump in your throat. Being away from him helped. It helped in a way that was foreign to you to name or identify.

People didn’t have physical reactions to others right? Like that was a thing made up by romance movies to get people’s heads in the clouds and sell more candy in stores, right?

Your friends hounded you for answers to their questions, wondering what you spoke about and why you weren’t still talking to him.

“I didn’t want to abandon you for some guy. This is a girl’s trip. A relaxing trip,” you said.

“You better relax on that man’s dick! Like you saw him right? Like you saw the way he looked at you? Girl, please tell me she’s not that oblivious,” Stella said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder.

Angela tossed her hands up as if she were preaching to a congregation. “Father God, grant your child the gift of sight because she’s clearly blind,” Angela said.

You laughed, rubbing your forehead at their embarrassing shenanigans. “I’m not oblivious!”

“I pray that I’ll never do some dumb shit like her, Lord. Smite her and send the nigga my way, because damn,” Stella said. She looked behind you and you panicked, standing in her way to not bring attention to the fact that you were discussing Stunna. You risked a glance over your shoulder.

Stunna was sitting down at a table, faced in your direction. He lifted his glass to you and you smiled, turning around and immediately dropping it. The drink wasn’t helping. Butterflies flapped tiny wings in your stomach. He was killing you.

“What happened to new experiences?” Angela asked.

“Not that damn new,” you muttered, sipping more of your drink. At this rate, you’d need ten drinks to calm the wings in your stomach.

Stella groaned dramatically, throwing her arms across your shoulders. “As sweet as it is to worry about us, you see us every damn day. How often do you run across someone that damn fine in real life? In real life? He belongs in a magazine or on TV or some shit,” she said.

That was the fucking truth. “He probably lives on the East Coast or something,” you said, waving Stella off of you. You were too hot. There were too many people here. Too many clusters of hot breath, sweat, and body heat raising the temperature in the room to dangerous levels.

You sipped more of your drink. You tapped your foot against the hard floor, vibrating with energy that had nowhere to go. Nothing to do but zip up and down your body and twist your insides.

“So? You ain’t trynna marry the nigga. Just get down,” Angela said and bent low, shaking her hips. Stella joined her, sticking their tongues out. Stella turned around and bounced her booty against Angela. Angela mimed hitting Stella’s ass and you laughed, waving them away.

“You two are a hot fucking mess!” You screamed. They continued to dance and giggle, shaking their ass and proceeding to make you wish the floor swallowed you whole.

“Since our girl is romantically deficient, let’s get on the floor,” Stella said. You finished your drink and followed your friends to the dance floor.

You started out stiff, not wanting to bump up against anyone. You didn’t need a repeat from earlier. Your friends noticed your reluctance and each took one of your hands. They began to swing you around.

You smiled, falling for their obvious charm. You loosened up and relaxed. The drink finally did the trick and you surrendered to the music. You closed your eyes and felt the thumping beats, the instruments, and sultry crooning of the singer.

You danced and laughed with your friends, relishing the feeling of being young and carefree. This was what you had been chasing this entire trip. This feeling of being present and in the moment.

You began to twerk as the music changed, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Your friends cheered you on. You placed your hands on your knees and got lower. Someone sidled up behind you, not one of your friends you were sure.

You shrugged your shoulders and kept dancing. Now was the time to keep living in the moment. You could dance with someone that wasn’t in your immediate comfort circle. You couldn’t always hang onto your friends like a barnacle.

Large hands circled your waist and you leaned back into a lean but strong frame. The stranger felt like a man and a good dancer on top of it. Able to match your changing moves. The stranger grabbed your hands and spun you around to face him.

Stunna grinned at the surprise on your face. “I thought I told you to save me a dance,” he yelled to be heard over the music.

“What took you so long?” You asked.

“Like that?” He asked, exaggerating his words. You nodded. He matched your nod and then spun you back around. You giggled, breathless at being spun around like a doll. He pulled you around the dancefloor dancing to the fast-paced music with ease. Now it was you that was having trouble keeping up with him.

You faced him now and your hands were in each other’s, dancing with complicated turns and twirling limbs that made you feel like you were on Dancing With the Stars. The song finished and you waved your heads. “I need a break!”

Stunna grinned, flashing those damn grills. You stared at them, wondering if he took them out during sex. Was he the type to go down on a woman? Stunna winked as he if sensed the direction of your thoughts.

He placed his hand on your lower back and led you back to the bar. You ordered some water and he made you order a drink. “Since you don’t wanna give a nigga your phone number,” he said with a show-stopping smile.

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you want my number?” You asked. You drank the water bottle at his nudging.

“So I can hear that sexy ass voice in my ear,” he said.

You rolled your eyes playfully and played with the paper around the water bottle. “You’re so bad,” you said.

He shrugged his shoulders, calling your name like he was savoring the taste of it. “I’m still right though. I want to keep talking to you,” he said.

You could practically feel your friends on your shoulders like little devils pushing you to give him your number. What harm could it do? You held out your hand for his phone. He dug it out of his pocket and handed it to you.

His total focus on you while you entered your number was unnerving. You couldn’t help giggling as you put in your number. He reached out and trailed a finger down your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. You messed up on a number and giggled in his direction.

“You’re distracting me,” you said.

“Yeah? Good. But make sure that number right,” he said. He peeked across the screen as you backspaced and entered your number correctly.

He smelled like his cologne, sweat, and whatever drink he had throughout the night. You handed his phone back to him. You fanned yourself with your clutch while he looked at his phone.

He smiled and tapped a few times. “There, now you have my number,” he said.

The butterflies returned to your stomach the longer you spent in his presence. He liked that he could fluster you so easily and tried his damndest to keep doing so. Your cheeks ached from all the smiling you did.

You talked more about yourself and your friends and why you came to the D.R. He told you that he was out here celebrating for his friend’s wedding. The wedding had already passed, cheaper during the week, so they were spending the weekend celebrating with friends.

“It’s nice of you all to come out here and celebrate with them,” you said. Stunna turned his head to the side, he didn’t hear you. The music seemed to get louder and even though you yelled, he couldn’t hear you.

Stunna scooted closer to you and yelled in your ear. “Wanna go outside?”

You looked at him and nodded. You couldn’t hear shit, but you were pretty sure you could hear your friends whooping for joy as Stunna took your hand and led you outside of the club.

Your ears popped as you reached the quiet interior of the lobby. There was a stark contrast between the two rooms and your ears rung. You shook your head, trying to clear the ringing. Stunna did the same, shaking his shoulders too for good measure.

Being out in the lobby, the base temperature felt like frost at the top of a mountain. You shivered as it highlighted buckets of sweat rolling down your spine and between your breasts.

A drop of sweat rolled down Stunna’s arm and you followed the movement as it trailed down a prominent vein. Stunna still held your hand and you walked out of the resort, past the open pool that shimmered with light from nearby lamps.

You walked along the concrete pathways heading down to the beach. Before you stepped onto the sand, you leaned down and took off your wedges. Stunna took off his boots, and rolled up his pants legs.

“Looks like I was smart to wear a dress,” you said and giggled at him.

“Damn smart. I’m glad you did. Your body in that dress, hmm,’ he said and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Stop,” you chuckled and shook your head. He was incorrigible.

“Naw, I can’t. Your ass looks amazing. Thighs I just wanna squeeze. Lips I wanna kiss,” he said. He stood up to his full height and you stared at him.

Soft moonlight fell over his features on one side of his face. The lamps gave a warm glow on the other side. He was light, soaking it all up and reflecting it back out to seem like he had an inner glow.

You sighed, staring at this work of art before you. You wanted to pinch yourself. You stepped closer but Stunna only smiled, grabbed your hand, and you took off down the beach. You spent time walking up and down, warm sand digging between your toes.

You talked more, learning about him and how much he loved to read. You shared that passion and spoke about books you’ve read and favorite authors. He took your recommendations seriously, pulling out his phone to add books to a list on his phone.

“Come back to my room,” he said.

You shook your head. “Won’t your friends be looking for you?”

“Naw. I got my own room. I ain’t sharing shit with them nasty niggas,” he said.

You laughed, moving away from him as the sand made you trip up. Stunna pulled you back to his side. “See, yo clumsy ass need somewhere to sit. Come sit in my room,” he said.

You were back in the same position from earlier when he rescued you from falling. He gripped your elbows, standing close enough to lick, and your hands were on his arms. He was too close, surrounding you with him. You couldn’t think past him. When you looked up, all you saw was him.

You waited to feel panicked and shaky. To warn you to step away and flee from him. It never came. “If I go back to your room, I doubt we’ll just be sitting,” you said.

“I never said that. That’s yo nasty mind,” he said. He licked his lips. “But I like the way you think. You wanna come sit in my lap?”

There were no reservations. No warning bells in your head. No screeches of noise or racing thoughts to prevent you from biting your lip and nodding. From grabbing his hand and watching each other as you left the beach and headed inside.

You didn’t talk as you leaned against one another in the elevator. He placed a kiss to your head and you melted even further into him. The elevator softly dinged and the doors opened to his floor. He stayed in the building next to your room. You were sort of relieved. Had he stayed in the same building or even on the same floor, it would have been too perfect. Too obviously a set up by God or whoever was out there listening.

Stunna swiped his keycard once he got to his room and opened the door. You walked inside the cool room and turned on lights.

He had a suitcase on the couch of his suite, open to reveal some clothes he packed. He had shoes strewn about but for the most part, he was a clean guest. He closed the door and you turned to look at him.

You placed your shoes on the ground next to his, marveling at the contrast between your sizes. It looked oddly perfect sitting side by side. You ignored that runaway thought as you quickly texted your friends that you would be late to the room. It was a good chance to not wait up for you at all if this night went how you were expecting.

Stunna watched you place your clutch on the TV stand. He moved about the room, cleaning up but it wasn’t necessary. Just bags and bottles of water that were on the nightstand.

“I’ll wash off this sand,” you told him.

“I’ll go after you. Take your time,” he said.

Take your time, yeah right. If you took long enough, you would summon your anxiety like an ancient deity out for your blood. You quickly went to the bathroom and freshened up a little, running the bath to clean off your feet. You didn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. If you did, you would chicken out.

You didn’t want to chicken out. You wanted a wild story. A story to tuck in your heart and bring out as the years passed and you lived your life. A story that you held on to when you got older and your partying days was nearing its end.

When you left the bathroom, Stunna had lowered the lights to make it more intimate and softer. He opened the curtains revealing a balcony that overlooked the ocean. He stood outside, twisting caps off of water bottles. He also had a bottle of Hennesy on the small table outside.

You approached and he smiled when you did. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He went to the bathroom to clean off the sand. You stepped out fully and enjoyed the breeze kissing your skin. You sipped some of the Hennessy, enjoying that sweet burn. The ocean waves crashed against the shore but from this height, you saw further than you did in your room.

Few stars were able to wink in and out behind dark clouds in the sky. The half moon shone down onto the beach and over the resort. Stunna returned and wrapped his hands around your waist, leaning against you.

He grabbed the cup from your hands and finished the rest. He kissed his way along your exposed neck, sending shivers down your spine. You sighed and relaxed into him. He made no move to do anything else, no roaming hands or nasty words.

“You are so gorgeous,” he said.

You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m done talking. Kiss me,” you said.

He grinned, flashing those damn golds that have been driving you crazy all night. “You sure?”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer before you lost your nerve. You finally tasted him, tasted the bite of Hennessy on his lips. His lips were warm and wet and his tongue dived into your mouth. You moaned as he explored, running his tongue along yours and along your teeth.

Stunna’s hands gripped your arms and moved lower, cupping your ass and squeezing tight. You growled from how good it felt. How wonderful it felt to be in his arms. Stunna hissed in between his kisses, like you were both on fire but he was willing to risk kissing you through the flames.

Your back was against the railing and he pushed into you, rubbing his erection against your tummy. You moaned.

“Keep moaning like that and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said against your lips. You opened your eyes to look at him.

“Don’t control yourself,” you said.

He laughed and licked his lips. He sat down in the closest chair and pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, wobbling a bit since his stance was so wide. Your legs draped on the outside of his and he spread his legs so that he could spread you wider.

His hands searched under your dress so that he could cup your ass directly. Dig those skillful fingers into the meat of your ass. He spanked one cheek and you jerked in his lap, your pussy rubbing against the fabric of his jeans.

He growled, fingers seeking your wet heat. When he found your clit, he had no mercy. He began to run his thumb around the sensitive nub. You scooted higher on his lap, needing the friction of his jeans to help speed your arousal along. Not that you really needed it. You were already dripping for him.

“Mm, so wet. You always sit your pretty ass on strangers and let them finger your pussy?” He asked around kissing you.

“N-No,” you moaned.

He suckled on your bottom lip and your pussy throbbed. He was working some type of magic between your legs. Some type of spell that threatened to rip you into pieces.

“No? You telling me that this is all for me?” He asked. “I get to be the one to play with you?”

“Yess,” you sighed against his lips.

“Then I should feel special that you’re soaking my fingers already and I’ve yet to feel you?”

“Shit,” you sighed. Your arms were wrapped completely around his neck, holding onto him and keeping him close.

He kissed your neck, licking it, while his fingers finally dipped into your entrance. You shook with a long moan, throwing your head back as pleasure rolled through you in cascading waves.

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” He asked.

“N-No,” you whined.

He chuckled. “You letting me play with your pussy. And it feels so good gripping my fingers. Bad little girl,” he growled against your throat.

His other hand snaked up your body until he gripped your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back as he squeezed with force. He brought your head closer so that your foreheads were touching.

His fingers increased in pressure and he drove them into you. Effectively fucking you with his fingers. “Say you’re a bad girl,” he said.

Your breathing was heavy and slow, not pumping enough oxygen into your brain. Or perhaps it was him. Perhaps he was some type of demon, stealing the oxygen from your lungs as your orgasm swam to the surface.

You couldn’t make your words work. The words stuck to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. Your mouth moved, working double time as he stuck two fingers inside and rolled your clit with his thumb.

“Say it if you wanna cum,” he said.

“I wanna,” you whined.

“You wanna what?” He asked. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet. Can’t wait to taste you. Do you taste as sweet as you look?”

You whined and gyrated your hips. Why couldn’t you say anything? Why couldn’t your mouth work to speak?

“I wanna cum,” you finally choked out. You leaned your head back. He allowed you to do so and he kissed your neck around his fingers, dipping low to kiss your chest and just above your breasts.

“Say you’re a bad girl if you wanna cum,” he demanded.

You were close. Incredibly close. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you moaned.

“I’m waiting,” he whispered against your skin. Blowing air across your chest, around the pools of saliva he left on your skin.

“I’m bad. I’m a bad girl,” you moaned.

“So bad,” he agreed.

“So bad. You make me feel so good,” you moaned.

His fingers never stopped pumping into you. Your legs squeezed his and your eyes shut as you cried with your orgasm. Stunna continued to pump his fingers as you came, cooing against your skin.

“So pretty when you cum,” he said. When you were done and slumped against him, he withdrew his fingers. Shivers still wracked your body. He moaned while he suckled on his fingers, licking up your essence.

You watched him as he closed his eyes and savored your taste. You licked your lips watching him. He cleaned his fingers and gave you a wink. “You okay?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I wanna taste you too,” you said.

He grinned. “Get on your knees,” he said. You slid off of his lap with a lopsided smile. The balcony floor wasn’t entirely comfortable, but you were too focused on him unzipping his pants. He released himself from his pants and briefs.

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing in your mouth?!

Stunna chuckled and moved to put his dick away but you gripped his thighs. “I said, I want to taste you too.” You glanced at him as you took him into your mouth. He gave you an impressed smirk, licking his lips at the look of you taking him deep within your mouth.

You couldn’t fit all of him like you thought. But you got enough of him down. You hoped that your inexperience didn’t show. You’ve sucked dicks before but he was probably used to throat goats. Used to women taking him down to the base, fondling his balls, or knowing what the fuck to do.

You only knew that you wanted to keep going. Wanted to please him. You drooled on him and released him to get some air. Using both hands, you twisted his long shaft and then suckled the head of his dick back into your mouth.

His eyes opened and closed, back bowing off of the chair, as he groaned. His hand palmed your head and pushed you down on his dick, pushing you past your limit until you choked. He eased up, but you took him how he wanted. Your saliva helped your hands twist around his dick and coat his tip.

“Gahh damn. Fuckin’ nasty,” he groaned. You made a pleased sound in the back of your throat and continued to take him deeper and faster. Your sloppy, wet suckling was loud in the quiet air.

You slurped him, drops of precum hitting your tongue. You suckled him all down, glancing at him periodically to see the ecstasy on his face. The pleasure you were bringing him.

“Gonna bust,” he groaned.

“Wanna taste,” you said around his dick.

His breathing turned choppy before he tensed. You felt his orgasm travel up his shaft before he moaned, releasing his cum in your mouth. You continued to milk him for every drop you could. You swallowed him all down.

He pushed at your shoulders to stop, sounds escaping him that you never heard from a man. “Too good,” he panted.

You grinned. You wiped at the corners of your mouth. “You’re dangerous,” he said.

You blinked up innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.

His eyebrows raised and he chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Remember you said that,” he said.

He scooted the chair back and stood up, helping you to your feet. He pushed you into the room and closed the balcony door, leaving behind a tiny crack to still let in the breeze from the ocean.

He unzipped your dress and dropped it to the floor, sighing at the look of your body. You never felt so cherished during sex. You weren’t expecting love and all that crap whenever you took someone to bed. It was more like an overwhelming itch that needed to be scratched.

After the deed, your anxiety returned with a vengeance and you were the first out of the door. No one wanted to deal with an anxious mess after getting off.

With Stunna, there was none of that usual nervousness or shyness holding you back. You just wanted him.

Your soaked panties went next. He knelt down, doing all the work of removing it. He kissed along your spine and back, the globes of your ass, and the back of your thighs. You shivered at the attention. The care with which he removed your panties.

He stood back up and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. He eagerly grabbed them from behind and rolled your nipples between his fingers. He pulled you until you leaned back against him.

“Can’t wait to get these in my mouth. I wanna be a gentleman, but fuck. I just want to break you,” he said.

A vicious tingle spread around your thighs. “I never asked you to be a gentleman,” you said.

He chuckled. “Fair, but I don’t wanna scare you away,” he said.

“I’m a big girl. I can use my words when I need to,” you said.

“Yeah? Get on the bed then. Hands and knees, bad girl,” he said. He smacked your ass, hard and you did as instructed. You climbed into his bed and got on your hands and knees.

You were too far away however. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He gripped himself and shoved into your inviting pussy with one savage thrust. His grip on your hip prevented you from escaping. You tried to lean forward, but he held you in place.

He pressed on your back until your chest was against the bed. Your ass was high in the air, giving him total access to you. He smacked your ass.

“You been talkin’ mad shit all night,” he said. He began to stroke, delivering hard and long thrusts that immediately found your G-spot.

“Oh shit!” You cried out.

“That’s my shit.” You heard the pleased grin in his tone. How did he find it so fast?

He continued to stroke, hitting your sweet spot over and over with military precision. He smacked your ass with one hand while the other kept a firm grip. “You ain’t so bold now. A little dick shuts you up?” He asked.

You couldn’t speak. He was slamming into you so hard, just the way you always dreamt of. It brought tears to your eyes. Most guys were afraid to be rough. Afraid of catching a case once you asked them to go a little deeper or stroke a little harder.

Not Stunna. He drove into you, seeking something you couldn’t name. It didn’t take long before you were convulsing, shaking on his dick.

“Talk to me, then. Say somethin’ else,” he said.

“Achgg,” you moaned, eyes rolling.

Stunna continued to work himself inside of you. His dick speared you. Nearly split you in half. You bounced back on his dick, giving as much as you got.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Don’t let me stand in your way. You take what you need from me,” he said.

Wet, smacking noises filled the room. The sound of your combined fucking pushed another orgasm to the surface. Your ass clapped on his thighs. Your screams were sure to draw the attention of his neighbors.

He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Fuuh,” you moaned.

Both of you matched each other’s intensity. He pulled you by your throat to swallow every long inch of him. Your desperate thrusts sounded like thunder against his skin.

“Goh, goh, fuh,” you chanted in rapid succession.

“So good, so good. Pussy feel so good. You were made to take this dick, weren’t you? You were made for it,” he groaned.

Your hands feebly held onto the bed in front of you but there was no use. This was so intense and passionate that your orgasm crushed you into a tiny ball and flung you into a tornado. You screamed until you were hoarse. Drool leaked out of your mouth with your whiny cries.

Stunna continued to hold your throat and pound, chasing his own climax. “Greedy ass. Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned.

You were shaking as you rode out your orgasm. As soon as you ended, he began. He flooded your pussy with his cum, roaring like an animal as he climaxed. Your body twitched and spasmed on his dick. His dick hit something deep inside, too deep to know what. But it hit a natural reset.

Stunna let go of your throat and held onto your hips to keep from falling on top of you. You both panted, harsh breaths filling the room. You sniffled as you recovered, brain quiet for once.

Stunna slipped out of you and he leaned back to watch his cum slip out. He panted and his breaths fell across your ass and pussy.

“Fuck,” he said.

You agreed. You never felt something like that before. Possessed. Owned. It was a feeling you would spend your entire life trying to find again. Would you be able to?

Both of you were too wobbly to move. As if with your dual climaxes, you had entered a new plane of existence. Being back in the real world sucked. It seemed foreign. You were changed by the experience so why hadn’t the world changed?

Stunna left to go to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. You cried at the sensation. “Shh, shh, I got you,” he said.

The rough fucking was everything you needed but you were fucking sore. You ached. It felt too damn good for you to complain though. He gently cleaned you up, wiping you down and wiping off some of the sweat.

You curled up into a ball, trying to will yourself to move. To get dressed and make your escape. You felt like the sex police would descend from the ceiling and arrest you for upsetting the natural law of the universe.

You couldn’t move. You felt too raw, too exposed. You focused on your breathing, on drawing air in and then out. Stunna returned from the bathroom and you cringed at the picture you must make.

“I’ll leave just as soon as my legs work,” you mumbled.

Stunna chuckled. “Can you stay?” He sat on the bed in front of you. You were too afraid to look in his eyes. You didn’t know if you were over exaggerating the moment. You wouldn’t be able to bear it if you felt like your world tilted on its axis while it was just Friday night to him.

Stunna laid down on the bed and lifted your chin with his fingers. “Please, stay,” he whispered.

His eyes swirled with emotion. As if the moment you left, this would all disappear from memory. Until he wasn’t sure if he dreamt this or it was real. It only mirrored what you were feeling so you nodded and he grinned. “What you need?”

For your skin to feel like it wasn't going to slough off the moment you unfurled. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded as if he understood the turmoil inside of you. He stood up and then came around to lay behind you. His hands came around your arms and knees, pulling you into the heat of his body.

You sighed. Exactly what you needed. He pulled the covers over you, wrapping you in a tiny cocoon of heat. You drifted off to the sound of his quiet breathing. The last thing you felt was a tiny kiss behind your ear.

In the morning, you yawned and stretched. Stunna was asleep next to you. Somehow, you were laying properly in the bed, head on a pillow and his hand draped across your tummy. You watched him in the early morning light.

This was dangerous. Ludicrous. It was crazy to feel this type of connection with someone else. Someone so obviously built for you yet it couldn’t last. Tomorrow you were flying back home. On Monday, it was back to classes.

After taking a peek at the edge of the universe, how did you go back to normal? How did you carry on and keep this in your memory bank?

You had to get out. You lifted his hand to scoot away from him. Away from the oppressive heat that made sweat pool behind your knees.

Stunna groaned and sniffed, pulling you back against his side. “Where you think you going?” He asked.

You giggled. “Back to my suite,” you said.

“You was gonna sneak out? That’s cold,” he said. His deep voice was rough from sleep and it made your pussy flutter. Really? After all that last night, she was still ready to go?!

“Sneak is such an ugly word.” You sighed as he finally cracked one eye open and looked at you.

“At least let me get you breakfast. You can get changed and meet me right back here,” he said.

You laughed. “What if I have plans?” You asked.

“You do. With me,” he said.

You shook your head. “You’re crazy.”

He grabbed your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were perfect against each other, skin tones perfectly aligned.

“Please? Text your friends and tell them you’re safe. When do you leave?” He asked.

“Tomorrow,” you said.

“See? Give me one last day until we can figure out when we’ll see each other again.”

You sighed. You couldn’t say no to that face. Those eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. He grinned, peppering you with kisses all over your face.

He ordered room service and ate you out before it came up. He moaned and suckled while he did so, grinding his hips into the bed like he wanted to bury his face into your pussy forever.

When the food arrived, you talked and ate and laughed, sharing more details about yourself but not personal information like the fact that you were in school or where he was working. You talked through safe subjects but all the information you gathered about him, you held it close to your heart.

Each passing moment spent with him carved out a section of your heart and replaced it with a gorgeous, sexy man named Stunna. You did make it back to your room where your friends gushed over your night. You still had no words but you squealed while you showered and begged their forgiveness while you planned to spend the day with Stunna.

They encouraged you, admitting that in a move that surprised no one, they found their way to their own flavor of the day. They agreed to come back to the room at a decent hour to pack away their shit and figure out their flight.

You spent the rest of the day with Stunna, outside of his suite, walking around the resort. It had a small gambling area where he tried to show you how to play poker. He was a very sweet teacher, but you couldn’t make heads nor tails of the rules. You were more of a spades player, but good luck finding that shit here.

You shared desserts and walked along the beach, sitting in the sand in between his legs and talking some more. Stunna stole kisses throughout the day, unwilling to leave your lips for the second it took to breathe and join back together.

As night fell, you ate dinner with him and found your way back to his room where you slowly peeled each other’s clothes off. Where you feasted your eyes on his skin. Gasped as he entered you once more and you gave each other untold amounts of pleasure.

Where he held you like he loved you but fucked you like you stole something from him. You came, looking into his molten brown eyes, nuzzling your cheek against the stubble on his chin. He came with your legs pinned to the mattress and his dick threatening to fuck you into the mattress, the floor, and the next floor down.

You kissed and cuddled while you talked about talking to him every day. He entered you again while you were stubborn, saying you might be busy.

“Naw, this shit belong to me now,” he said while he thrusted into you for the…third time that night? Fourth? Who kept count while his delicious dick was inside you and you felt whole again? Complete.

“It belongs to me,” you said.

He grinned and bit your nipple, then licked away the sting. He continued to nibble across delicate skin, moaning when he found your other nipple and tugged with his teeth. You hissed and your back curved, giving him all the access he wanted.

“Do we have a problem?” He asked.

“Do we?” You countered.

He grinned and then slipped out of you, only to hike one of your legs up in the air. He reentered you from the side, slamming into you until you were crying and shaking on his dick, screaming out his name.

“Stay talkin’ shit,” he groaned as he filled you up once more.

Saying goodbye to him was the hardest shit you ever had to do. It was like you both knew that even with talking every day, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as lying next to him and feeling him take up space in the room, in your heart, in your pussy.

He kept tugging you back for one more kiss, asking if he could walk you to your room. You were blinking back tears. You didn’t want to leave him. But you couldn’t stay either. Both of you had places to be, lives to get back to.

He leaned in the doorframe, holding your hand and not letting you leave. You smiled. “Stunna, you have to let go.”

“I’on want to,” he said.

“It’s not forever,” you said, trying to sound hopeful. Your words only sounded sad. He sighed and rubbed his head on his arm.

“I know. I know.”

He pulled you close to him, capturing your lips with a devastating kiss. You licked his lips, committing the taste and smell of him to memory. “Not forever,” he said.

“Not forever.”

You turned and snatched your hand. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have the strength to leave. A cold numbness seeped into your bones as you made the trek to your suite. Stella and Angela commented on how melancholy you seemed.

How could you explain it? That you possibly found your soulmate in Punta Cana and had to leave him here? To be happy with texts and phone calls? Poor substitutes to hugging him, cuddling him, kissing him, fucking him?

You told them that you were all fucked out to explain it now. Ask you in a week. When your heart wasn’t broken and the pain was less intense. Less potent.

They left you alone to wallow while you all packed up your things and souvenirs. The ride back home was uneventful. You weren’t up to the usual plane shenanigans of talking and comparing in-flight meals. You didn’t feel like eating at all.

You texted Stunna that you arrived safely and even spoke to him on the phone. But it only hurt worse. “C’mon, we said not forever,” he said.

The bastard was right though. Hearing his voice in your ear helped but it wasn’t the same.

“Not forever. I just want you here,” you said.

“I know. We did a few things backward, but when we’re comfortable, we’ll arrange something,” he said.

You talked until you absolutely had to go to sleep to get ready for class. Luckily, your first class of the day was in the afternoon. You had a chance to recover from the plane ride and time difference.

Everything was dull. The California sun was dull. The campus was boring. Students felt like aliens to you, playing and existing in a world that ended for you back in Punta Cana in Stunna’s arms.

You sighed, not for the hundredth time, as you dragged your carcass across campus and to your class. Settling into your literature class, you didn’t share this with Stella and Angela. You were left to look out of the window, mind far, far away.

Your pen tapped on the desk, picturing that accidental bump into Stunna over and over again. Act of fate? Accident? How could you meet the love of your life only for you to be ripped away from him and planted back into your normal life like nothing was wrong?

The door opened and you assumed your teacher came through. Whatever.

“Sorry, I’m late. Not used to the campus yet.”

Your head whipped around and there he was. Stunna stood at the front of the class wearing a deep brown sweater over chocolate colored pants. The sleeves were rolled up revealing his smooth forearms.

He wrote his name on the whiteboard and your heart seized in your chest. Panic made your heart pound against your rib cage, practically screaming to be let out. You sunk in your seat. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

Stunna turned around and smiled at the class. When his eyes found yours, his jaw dropped and he stared. He stared and stared and you didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

He cleared his throat and smiled at the class, introducing his real name. Not that you thought Stunna was his real name, but it was the name he usually went by. His eyes kept returning to yours.

You…slept with your college professor. Your life was over. Ruined. How the hell could you fall in love with your professor? And what the hell were you going to do now?

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 2

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Big Stunna Files #Big Stunna x Black!reader #Big Stunna x Black reader #x Black reader #Big Stunna x Fem!reader #Big Stunna x Fem reader #Big Stunna x reader #Big Stunna x you #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #All Day and a Night fanfic #All Day and a Night fan fic #All Day and a Night fan fiction #All Day and a Night fanfiction #Yahya abdul mateen ii fan fiction

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lokativa · 9 months

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People calling Hobie×Miles (punkflower) shippers proshippers as if we didn't ship them for longer than the movie even came out will always be crazy to me.

I've seen lots of people sending threats, or reporting people because they made punkflower, goldenflower (pavxhobie), ghostbyte (gwenxmargo), flowerbyte (margoxmiles), etc, arts or videos. Going to assume that it isn't because most of these ships are POCs ships, there's just literally no point to do that.

First of all, there's no confirmation of hobie's age. If ur basing urself of that one interview, then it was of the CONCEPT of hobie, and even so remember it was only one person who said it. Its heavily implied thats he's a teenager throughout the movie. (Also in the art book, its said that he's slightly older than Miles).

For the thing about him going to the pub and all, minors can and will go in pubs, (not saying that its always legal) are yall living under a rock or just dense on purpose? Teenagers do wtv the fuck they want, even when theyre not allowed to. Youre all going to tell me teenagers respect the rules of not drinking and go to clubs becuz theyre underage? Come off it. Also hobie literally merked his president and u think he'd draw the line at drinking alcohol as a minor? HA.

Aside from that, to be fair to everyone, the directors keeps on changing what they're saying about hobies age, one day they'll say and imply he's a minor and the next second say he's an adult. It's like they all have different idea of this character's age. So, nothing is really comfimed, and his age is really up to interpretation.

Now that we're past THAT point, the other kind of people talking about his age are people saying "oh but he looks old" "that man is most definitely 30yo" "there's no way he's underage" things of the sort, u get it. And I'm just over here like??? Why is it impossible for you to think that this guy could be a teen? Is it the air? The wrinkles? What makes it seem like for you that there's no way he could be around the other teens' age? And 30??? Cmon. People often assume black people are older than they look, which is a universal experience for all of us. Did none of u ever see a blk teen who doesnt have a baby face? Because thats literally what hobie looks like to me. To others we can seem too "mature" for our age, or just look too "old" to be the age we say we are, so is it really impossible for him to be a teenager? Think about it.

(Speaking of him being black, this discourse turned into some kind of racist thing that honestly was not unexpected at all. Yall come over here shitting on people talking and educating u about a character they relate to cuz hes like them, and the representation is making them go bonkers. I don't know why yall can just sit ur arses and listen for a bit, its not that difficult tbh. And dont get me started on the mischaracterisation of his character. Marking him as "an angry black man"? Really? Be. Fucking. Original.)

Same goes with Margo?? Yeah in the comics she's in college, but cmon now u guys know damn well she's a teenager in atsv😭. Gwen is also much older in the comics but i never see anyone talk about it, so what does that mean???The only reasons I can see that you all don't want Miles & margo to be together is because you're all stuck on the milesxgwen ship. News everyone, other ships exist, not everyone is going to like the same ships as you, so either move on or stop being on the Internet.

Also, the thing about pav being 13 is bonkers, where'd u even get that from? I need to know asap. "Oh, but he has a gf!" Yeah? Well he has two hands. (Idk why u all act as if that has ever stopped anyone)

Everything just seem like a race thing to me tbh.

The movies might be inspired from the comics, but not everything is going to be 100% the same. For exemple: gwen is 2 yrs older than Miles in the comics, but in movies she's only 15 months older, Jess Drew is white in the comics and black in the movie, Miguel O'hara is white passing in the comics, compared to his version in atsv where he has brown skin, lyla's disign is also different.

You get it? Things are going to differ as much as things are going to be the same, because (get ready!!) this is the multiverse! Just as earth-616 is just one universe in all the marvel comics, atsv is another universe.

All in all, im not saying u can't view them as adults, or wtv u want, thats ur interpretation, but don't go around being pissy at people around u cuz they have different point of views.

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 8 months

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taedros tresdros

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part one: taedros taedros ☆ part two: taedros twodros wc: 2.2k reader: afab reader (pretty sure no specific gender mentioned but putting this disclaimer just in case!) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some fluff :) summary: uh-oh... you fell for your best friend taerae. but was it all in vain after he's ghosted you the past two weeks? *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ITS DONEEE! you will notice i've went with "taedros tresdros" for the title. decided to keep all three parts with taedros as the first word lol. this is the finale for this little series and i really hope you like this ending i've made lol. i am so happy you've all enjoyed taedros taedros -- stay tuned for more works soon (hopefully) xx

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, fingering and oral (reader receiving), cumming in pants, eavesdropping/voyeurism by reader but it's only out of shock/anger, swearing, lots of innuendo in this one lmao... i think that's it!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“so, the ring finger goes here?” you hear a feminine voice ask; ear pressed gently to taerae’s door to hear better. just a few moments ago, you’d been taking deep, steadying breaths as you walked through the entrance to your best friend’s dorm building on your way to finally confront him.

something that was so familiar now made your heart race with anxiety.

but when you’d rounded the corner to taerae’s room, you were surprised to find the door shut almost all the way. usually taerae left his door wide open, even when he was playing the guitar or getting changed or sleeping. in fact, his dorm-mates told you one night when you were leaving that the only time taerae made an effort to close it was when you were over... you couldn’t hear any noise coming from his room, which made you all the more curious as to what was going on in there.

walking up to his door, you’d seen it was propped open just a bit by one of taerae’s shoes. you couldn’t see through the gap in the door, but you’d heard quiet murmurings from inside and gently placed your ear to the door to listen closer. the sound of a girl’s voice had completely shocked you. especially considering what you’d come here to talk about with taerae.

“yeah, it might take a bit to find the sweet spot,” taerae answers with a chuckle; his answer causing your jaw to drop. fingers? sweet spots? what the fuck is going on in there!?

“mmm, thank you again for teaching me, taerae,” the voice responds. upon closer listening, you realize you know this voice. it belongs to your world history classmate, jinah-- the girl who sits behind you and doodles the entire period. she’s very nice-- pretty and athletic, too, but...

you didn’t really think taerae was her type.

you hadn’t spoken to taerae much in the last couple weeks. ever since you’d actually slept together... things had changed. it felt like your best friend was avoiding you. when you’d texted to ask about movie night the past two fridays, taerae had said he was busy with homework both times. normally taerae would meet you for lunch in the student union every other day in between his music theory class, but he hadn’t come by since then. he’d barely said two words to you at choir practice last night.

was this why? he’d decided he liked jinah instead? he couldn’t face you after... using you?

taerae would never do that. not to you. probably not to anyone.

then again, you’d never talked about whether what was going on between you was exclusive or not. and what it meant to you; what he meant to you. had you completely misinterpreted this whole situation?

“and the middle finger...” jinah trails off and the mental picture you have unfortunately painted in your head of the scene taking place is enough to make you gag.

“that one’s gonna reach as far up as possible,” taerae explains. if you had known your best friend was offering masturbation classes out of his dorm room, you probably would’ve been more careful about where you were sitting on his bed.

“i don’t think i can reach that far,” jinah huffs with a frustrated sigh. “it kind of hurts.”

“relax,” taerae soothes. “it’ll feel better if you relax.”

your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound of the audible gasp that escapes you, but your elbow hitting the door blows your cover. you stand up quickly as taerae’s door swings open-- revealing you in the doorway to taerae and jinah.

... and revealing jinah sitting on taerae’s bed and holding a guitar (quite clumsily, if you may be so brazen) in her hands; taerae sitting next to her and seemingly offering some sort of instruction.

“you--...” you stutter, surprised and also incredibly relieved to find that the lessons taerae was giving were much more wholesome than you’d been forced to imagine for the past few minutes. “oh thank fuck holy shit.”

as the uncontrollable string of grateful curse words leaves your mouth, jinah clears her throat awkwardly and stands up; removing the guitar strap from around her neck and handing the instrument to its owner.

“sorry for interrupting,” you mumble, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as taerae glares at you.

“no, it’s okay! i have to finish an essay for tomorrow anyway,” jinah replies, picking up her bag and walking towards the door. you step to the side for her to get by, awkwardly smiling as she calls behind her, “thank you, taerae! see you next week!”

jinah retreats down the hallway, leaving just you and taerae alone in a tense silence.

“what are you doing here?” taerae asks, rather unceremoniously. “it’s a thursday night. you have tutoring on thursday nights. that's why we have movie night on fridays.”

you nod, still leaning against the doorframe. “my last appointment cancelled so i--... i wanted to come talk to you.”

“oh,” taerae replies with a nod. “okay.”

you frown. “okay?”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his guitar in his hands; starting to strum it lightly. “okay.”

your eyebrows raise in shock as your best friend seemingly shrugs you off. you walk over to him and snatch the guitar from his hands by its neck.

“HEY!” he protests as you bring the instrument over to its stand and place it there annoyedly (but carefully; you’re not an asshole). “i was playing that.”

“what the fuck is the matter with you!?” you snap, turning back around to face him. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks!”

taerae visibly gulps; eyes falling to the floor.

“and this is how you’re gonna act?” you scold, folding your arms across your chest. “after we...”

for some reason you’re unable to say it. taerae is silent-- seemingly holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. coward.

“i came here to talk to you about everything and--... and then i heard you through the door giving jinah a fucking guitar lesson,” you explain while rolling your eyes. “better than the lesson i thought you were giving her, but...”

taerae looks up at you now; brow furrowed as his head tilts to the side confusedly. “w--... what kind of a lesson did you think i was giving her?”

you blink back at him; unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. but taerae catches on before you can commit to a lie.

his jaw drops in shock. “you thought--... did you think--”

you look down at your feet: embarrassed, anxious, and just plain sad after the events of the last couple weeks. this mixture of emotions forms a lump in your throat that you are now hopelessly trying to suppress. “i’m really sorry for interrupting. and for listening a bit. i just don't know what happened. i thought we were--... i thought you felt the same way that i did, but... you just must be really upset with me and i don’t know what i did but i’m so sorry and i really miss you so i wanted to talk to you and i just was... i dunno, i thought--”

taerae cuts off your rambling by standing up and wrapping his arms around you tightly. against your neck, he soothes, “ssh, baby. it’s okay-- it’s all okay. i promise.”

“i like you,” you confess into taerae’s sweatshirt. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know this would happen. but i really like you, tae.”

"fuck-- i like you, too. of course i like you, too,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “and this is all my fault.”

you sniffle as you ask, “what did you do this time?”

“something really, really stupid,” he replies with a sad smile.

mirroring his expression, you quip, “what else is new?”

“yeah, yeah,” he accepts with a laugh. cupping your cheek in his hand, he runs his thumb across the skin sweetly. “i thought i was the one who fucked up... by falling for you.”

“... oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“oh is right,” he says, leaning in and kissing your lips gently. “i honestly wasn’t sure what to do about it. i didn’t want to hurt you and i thought maybe just... avoiding you for a bit would make it easier for me to stop having feelings for you. but it didn’t. it just hurt you and me more-- and it was really immature. i’m so sorry.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, having forgiven your idiot of a best friend before he even apologized. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you more,” taerae says, peppering your cheeks with kisses. you giggle; taerae grinning before attaching his lips to yours again.

“but, um,” you say quickly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “i’d love to put in a request for no more guitar lessons with the door closed, if the suggestion box is still open.”

“it is,” taerae says with a laugh. “suggestion accepted, approved and implemented.”

“and, uh, maybe they don’t have to take place on your bed,” you say, biting your bottom lip and hiding your face in his chest.

“i will have you know my conduct is strictly professional at all times,” taerae replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but you’re completely right. not to mention, it was probably rude of me to let her sit on my bed... without telling her what it’s covered in.”

“TAERAE-YA!” you shout, hitting his chest as he pulls you toward his bed-- pushing you down gently onto the mattress and climbing between your legs with ease. “you do wash your sheets, don’t you?”

he just laughs.

“tae, that’s gross,” you reply, shaking your head as he cups your center over your jeans. your protesting starts to waiver as he applies more pressure to where you need him most. “you--... you really should--”

“enough, enough, baby-- of course i wash them,” he replies, hooking his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans and shimmying them along with your underwear down your legs before discarding them on the floor. then he smirks at you, adding, “but sometimes i do wonder what the point is when you’re just gonna get them dirty again.”

“fuck,” you whine as taerae admires you. he’s licking his lips like he hasn’t eaten in days-- and he hasn’t. you wonder how he’s survived this long without you.

“so,” he says, starting to circle your clit with two fingers. his rhythm isn’t steady though; it’s intoxicatingly teasing. “what did you think i was teaching in these ‘lessons’?”

you feel your face heat up again at the mention of your faux pas. “don’t make fun of me.”

“never, baby,” he says; a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “i’m just curious what you think i’m enough of an expert in to be qualified to teach.”

“i--... oh my god,” you say, shaking your head with embarrassment. “i thought you were teaching her how to finger herself!"

“hmm, i guess i can understand the confusion,” taerae runs his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and painting it across your stomach. “since playing guitar requires so much skill with your fingers.”

“shut up,” you reply, pouting at him.

“no, really,” he insists with a nod. as he pushes his middle finger into you gently, you gasp at the sensation. “like, to play a chord; each of your fingers needs to hold down the correct string and in the correct spot. like, to play a d chord for example.”

taerae strokes up into your walls with his middle finger, causing you to whimper. “see this middle finger needs to be on that ‘high e’ string. and then the ring finger...”

plunging another finger into you, your hand reaches to grab onto taerae to steady yourself. he smiles at you, pressing both fingers firmly against your walls now. “will sit nicely on that ‘b’ string right here.”

as he works his fingers against your walls lazily, you whine-- desperate for more friction and soon. your prayers are answered when taerae inserts a third finger, stretching you carefully until he’s able to push it all the way in.

“and finally, the index finger is going to go...” he laughs lightly before pushing his index finger into the spongy, firm spot in your walls that only he has ever been able to find. as you cry out in pleasure, taerae presses kisses to your thighs. “you might’ve guessed, but that one’s on the ‘g’ string. and listen to that beautiful sound it's making.”

“did you--... did you plan that g-spot joke?” you ask breathlessly in between pleading moans as taerae picks up the pace of his fingers. “you’re the--*hic!*... worst person i know.”

the little hiccup from pleasure that separates your insult sends taerae reeling. “fucking perfect, huh? every inch of you.”

“baby, please,” you beg, self-control low after two weeks without taerae. “wanna cum. please, wanna cum for you.”

taerae moans and, from the way he’s looking at you, you know he’s just as desperate as you are. he falls to his stomach now between your legs as he says, “was gonna try to... keep my mouth off of you. show you i really like you. you-- not just your pussy but...”

“fuck it,” you both say at the same time.

lips attaching to your clit, taerae wastes no time in pushing you closer to the edge as he laps, sucks, eats at you-- one leg of yours hooked over his back as he continues to work you with his left hand.

“tae,” you whimper, hands in his hair as you grind your hips into his touch. “g’nna cum... please, gonna cum.”

taerae whines and, with the state you’re in, you don’t even notice how feverishly he’s grinding into the bed. he switches to sucking, lips tugging perfectly on your clit and it’s all over for you.

“fuck, i--... i--... m’cumming,” you moan, taerae’s name falling from your lips a few dozen times as you come down from your high. “oh my god.”

taerae is noticeably quiet; removing his fingers from inside of you, he laps at the juices that drip out of you with his eyes closed. you know he really likes you... but it’s very possible he likes your pussy just as much. you’re not complaining.

“tae,” you call sweetly, sitting up on your elbows. “baby? come here-- want you to fuck me.”

he opens his eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up a bit. “um... so, about that.”

his gaze trails down to the crotch of his jeans and you follow it to find a nice, big wet spot soaking through the denim.

“are you serious!?” you whine in frustration; sighing as taerae smiles at you sheepishly.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes with a cute little pout. “will you forgive me if i say it’s because you’re just too hot?”

you roll your eyes-- grinning at him. “i’ll consider it.”

“thank god, because i think i can probably make it up to you...” he says, sitting up and grabbing your jeans from the floor. “after some dinner.”

you laugh. “are you asking me out?”

“i totally am,” he answers with a smile.

“you’re sure you’re not too... full?” you joke, grabbing his hand in yours. “you did just eat.”

taerae shakes his head, smirking at you:

“trust me-- i’m never full when i’m with you.”

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lovelybrooke · 9 months

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Hello can I request platonic yandre teen gojo and child reader with a strong curse technique?

Gojo x high cursed energy reader

I don't know much about teen Gojo, since I haven't been able to watch past season 1. So for these headcanons I'm doing teacher Gojo. Hope that's okay. If not, I can always rewrite it if you want.

Check out my other work here: Masterlist

I've always liked the idea of Gojo taking in a high curse energy reader as a way of protecting them. You were so young, you didn't understand the power you contained, so it was Gojo's job to protect you.

I view Gojo as a goofy father, someone who just wants to make his child happy more than anything. From what I've read, Gojo didn't have that great of a childhood, so he strives to give you what he couldn't. He doesn't place a value on you based your strength, he doesn't force you to become a sorcerer if you don't want to. He does everything he can to make you happy every second of the day.

Gojo is naturally possessive of his child, wanting to keep you all to himself. His possessiveness is due to his fear of you growing up. He's afraid that if you go out a see the world, you'll realize how possessive and controlling he is and leave him. It's why he does everything for you, so that you're in this constant state of dependance on him. Even as you get older, Gojo keeps babying you, like there's still a little baby somewhere inside you.

Gojo doesn't talk about he found you, even when you ask, he keeps it as a secret. It's mainly because he doesn't want you to know about your own strength. While he doubts, you'll ever be able to defeat him, he fears your power might motivate you to leave him. He'll keep your power a secret until you eventually figure it out, which then he'll offer to train you.

Training is something Gojo learns to love. He sees it as some ultimate form of bonding. He never goes too hard on you, fearing he'll hurt you. He also always stops training if he believes you're going to hurt yourself, even if you think you can handle more.

Training is never done with the purpose of you becoming a sorcerer, he doesn't even think you'd want to be a sorcerer. Training is done so that you can control your cursed energy in case of an emergency. If you ever bring up becoming a sorcerer he'd ask if he could think about it and then never bring it up again. He believes you becoming a sorcerer would drive you two away from each other by making you more independent.

Gojo desperately wants you to have a good relationship with Megumi. There's nothing more that he wants than a happy family, and he believes you're the final piece. Whenever he sees you and Megumi together, he gets so happy, its everything he's ever wanted.

Gojo will do anything to protect you. He doesn't care if it puts his job or safety at risk, he'll destroy whatever he can to protect you. If you're in a situation where he knows you can protect yourself than he might hold back and let you do your thing. But, if you're in even an iota of danger, then he's stepping in immediately to take you to safety. Afterwords, he reprimands you lightly, hoping you know that it's because he couldn't live with himself if you were hurt in any way.

---

A/n: Hope you enjoy. If I ever watch the movie/new season, I'll rewrite this to fit the ask better.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #platonic yandere jjk #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #yandere gojo satoru #platonic gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #platonic yandere gojo #yandere gojo

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strawnarrries · 9 months

Text

because im sad about the last show, here's a little imagine about y/n and harry reminiscing the past two years the night before the last show :(

warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

Your eyes fluttered open and you realized it was still dark outside, a sign that it was not quite morning just yet. You're not sure why you woke up. It was like your body knew something was off because when you turned over, the bed was empty beside you.

Rubbing your eyes to clear the sleepy haze, you noticed light coming from under the closed door of the bedroom in the villa you and Harry are staying in. Getting up out of bed, you opened the door and the sudden change in lighting burned your eyes. After getting used to it, you walked towards the kitchen and spotted your husband, leaning up against the counter, sipping on something inside of a mug.

“Harry?” you hummed, walking up to him.

“Oh hey, did I wake you up? I’m sorry," he looked up at you with doe eyes and messy hair sticking up in every direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You popped your bottom lip out and wrapped your arms around his bare waist, his instinctively wrapping around yours after setting his mug on the counter, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just can't believe the last show's tomorrow night.”

“Aw, I know. You wanna talk about it?” you hummed, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"I'm gonna miss it. A lot," he whispered, "but at the same time I'm excited for a long break."

"It's bittersweet."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"It's gonna be weird not getting to watch you on stage every night in your sparkly outfits."

He chuckled softly, "You don't get those outfits at home, do ya?"

"No, I get you either naked or in the one stupid shirt that you refuse to throw away even though it's practically in shreds."

"Thought you loved that shirt?" he teased.

You glared up at him before changing the subject, "What'dya think you'll miss the most? Just being on stage?"

"Yeah. Performing. It's one of my favorite things in the world to do. I just get such a rush from being out there and interacting with the fans and hearing them scream my lyrics."

"And hearing them bark at you," you added.

He giggled, "Yes, that too."

"You'll be back though. It's not the end."

“You're right. I feel like this tour was just special for some reason, I dunno. I fear I’m gonna get really emotional tomorrow on stage though. I was holding back tears at the show the other night," he chuckled.

“It’s okay to get emotional. You know me and your mom will be sobbing the entire night."

He smiled softly as he cupped your jaw and rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheek, "I've been reflecting a lot recently. So much has happened in the last two years. It's wild."

“You've done, like what, 150 shows?”

“169 tomorrow."

“Holy shit, Harry. Most of them were completely sold out too. Do you realize how incredible that is?”

“It's mad. I think this has been the most successful tour I’ve ever been on.”

“Oh, by far.”

“Gonna miss seeing everyone every day. Gonna miss the fans and being up on stage. I've had some of the best shows of my life on this tour.”

“Harryween,” you giggled fondly at the memory that popped into your head.

“That was fun as fuck,” he giggled back.

“You’ve done more than just tour though. So many award shows, Coachella, music videos, you starred in two different movies, Harry.”

“I have,” he nodded, smiling proudly at himself, "Looking back, the amount of love and support that I've gotten from everyone, the fans, my team, my friends, and family, and from you is just - it's - it's so overwhelming like I can't even explain it to you. Like my mind can't comprehend that this is my life. Been 13 years and I still can't believe it."

"'cause you deserve it, baby. With the amount of love you give out and just the type of person you are in general, you deserve everything that's come your way. Have I ever told you how proud of you I am?" you teased, being the fact that those words leave your lips multiple times after every single one of his accomplishments.

"Never. Not once," he chuckled.

“Well, I am,” you hummed pressing a sweet kiss to his sternum, just under where his cross necklace lay, "It makes me feel so prideful that I get to call you my husband."

“Thank you, my love. You know I wouldn't be here without you.”

You rested your head on his warm chest, hugging him tighter, embracing the sweet silence before breaking it, "Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded as you looked back up at him.

“I know it's selfish but a big part of me is excited that it’s over because then I get you all to myself and don’t have to share you with the world.”

“Finally don’t have to hear you nagging for my attention all the time,” he chuckled.

“Heyyyyyy,” you whined.

“I’m joking, baby.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly.

“We have a lot to look forward to.”

“Like what?” he asked, although he knew exactly what you were referencing to, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“You becoming a daddy.”

“Really lookin forward to that. I can’t wait ‘till you have a cute little baby bump.”

“Gotta get me pregnant first.”

"You don't gotta worry 'bout that. We’re gonna be goin' at it all day every day when we’re on holiday next month,” he smirked.

“I can't even explain to you how excited I am for that. Vacation Harry is my favorite Harry."

He grinned, “I love you, Y/N."

“I love you too.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a few sweet kisses before you hummed sleepily, “Will you come back to bed with me now?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #hslot #fluff #harry fluff #one direction fluff #harry styles fluff

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ktgoodmorning · 2 months

Text

Useless: Part 2

Claudia Pina x Reader

Part 2 to useless, Both Claudia and Reader struggle to cope with Claudia's injury

Find part one here

Masterlist

Likely one more part coming to this as I've still got unused ideas for this storyline and continue to make these longer than I think I will.

It had only been a couple days since Claudia’s injury. After that first night, she had quickly returned to her original state of emotionless silence. Physically, she was progressing as much as could be expected in the small amount of time. Mentally, Claudia was struggling big time.

You knew it wasn’t intentional but she continued to shut you out. The injury had seemingly destroyed her confidence. Having to rely on others for almost everything was nearly killing her. Claudia normally prided herself on her confidence and independence, making this even harder on her.

The first two days following her injury, you were given time off to help take care of her. After that, you had to return to training, without your partner in crime. Your return was difficult for both of you. For you, it sent you into a spiral of worries knowing that she was alone in your apartment with a limited ability to take care of herself. Even though you knew you had made sure she had everything she needed before you left, you couldn’t help but worry about her. It also wasn’t easy for you to not have her by your side throughout the day. Normally the two of you were always joking around with each other and with your teammates. The absence of your girlfriend suddenly made your training session much quieter.

Even though Claudia wasn’t willing to share it with you, your return to training made her nervous as well. While she hadn’t allowed you to get too close to her, knowing that you were there if she needed something still brought her some peace of mind. She was rarely willing to ask you for any help she needed but somehow you always knew what she needed anyway. You had been cooking, forcing her to eat, keeping up with her pain meds, and anything else you could think of. Her pride would never allow her to ask for these things, but she also knew how much she had been relying on you. Deep down, she was extremely nervous to be without you. What if she needed something? What if she couldn’t get through a short couple hours alone?

You had told her to call Mapi if she needed anything. At training you wouldn’t have your phone on you for most of the sessions and you didn’t want to risk missing her call if she needed something. Mapi was close with both of you and was still home recovering from her own injury, so you had talked with her to have her “on call” for when you were gone. Unbeknownst to you, Mapi was planning on going over to check on Claudia whether she called her or not. Her and your girlfriend were extremely similar and she knew that with her own injury, she had a difficult time asking for help. She was smart enough to realize that Claudia would likely feel the same way.

When you pulled up to training, Patri was the first to greet you. She was quite close with your girlfriend and therefore you as well. Typically you, Claudia, Patri, and Mapi would be hanging out together outside of training. Sometimes it was breakfast or coffee beforehand, sometimes dinner or a movie night afterwards. The four of you were an extremely close group, so Patri was definitely concerned upon not hearing from Pina since her injury. She had tried to check on her friend many times in the past week and hadn’t gotten a single response. If it weren’t for you sending her updates, she would’ve thought her best friend was dead.

Patri caught up to you as you walked inside, greeting you with a hug. “How is she?” The dark haired woman looked at you sympathetically, already knowing the answer thanks to the texts you had been sending her.

You responded with a heavy sigh, “not great. She refuses to ask for help or really talk to me at all.” Patri put her arm around your shoulders as the two of you continued to walk in. She gave your shoulder a tight squeeze, not shocked by her best friend’s behavior. She had seen your girlfriend shut down in the past although it had only happened a couple times.

You took this opportunity to continue on, letting out some of your pent up feelings for the first time in awhile. “I just don’t know what else to do. She’s obviously struggling but I can’t get her to open up about it. She hasn’t even cried since the night it happened. All she does is lay on the couch just doing nothing, it’s horrible.” Your voice cracked a bit as you finished talking, trying to hold in your own tears. It killed you not knowing how to help your girlfriend.

Patri pulled you into a tight hug, just in front of the locker room. “She’ll come around. It won’t be pretty, but she will. If she keeps getting worse, I’ll come knock some sense into her.” She pulled back from her hug, making eye contact with you to make sure you were okay, “you’re doing good, okay? I promise you’re doing everything right, and eventually she’ll realize that. She just has a hard time working past her pride. But I’m serious, call me if you need me to come help- for her or for you.”

You nodded sincerely and pulled her into another quick hug. “Thank you, Patri, seriously. I really appreciate it.” Patri pulled away and grabbed your hand to lead you into the locker room. She gave your hand a quick squeeze before you separated and started getting ready for training.

Alexia seemed to notice your exhaustion on your face as you tied the laces to your boots, “She’s that bad, huh?” Claudia was like a younger sister to Alexia, so Alexia had seen her at her worst.

You nodded, “yeah, she won’t really talk at all. I don’t know.” You didn’t know. You didn’t know what your girlfriend needed, how to help her, what she was feeling, what you were feeling.

Your captain offered you a hand to help you up. “Don’t give up on her, please. Even if she doesn’t show it, she needs you.” You nodded again, knowing she was right. “Give me a call if you need help with her. I can go full captain on her if you need me to.” Alexia offered you a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a little, even though you knew she wasn’t joking. The two of you headed outside to start training, completely unaware of what was going on at your apartment.

As soon as you left for training, Claudia’s anxiety started to spike. Even though she hadn’t spent much time with you, having you around brought her a huge amount of comfort. You knew what she needed even before she knew it herself. You being gone made Claudia realize just how much she relied on you. The brunette didn’t even realize how long you had been gone while she just sat thinking and further spiraling. Before she knew it, she was somehow on the ground in front of the couch, her breathing had quickened and tears started running down her face. Claudia felt paralyzed. Paralyzed by her fear- of being alone, of her recovery process, of her feelings. Everything. It was all just too much and it had hit her like a train.

Mapi arrived at your apartment around lunch time, mostly planning on keeping her company and getting her anything she needed help with. Thankfully, you and Claudia had given her a spare key, knowing she lived close by, and would drop anything to help you out if you needed it. The older girl unlocked the door herself, not wanting to make Claudia have to get up to deal with it. She opened the door and immediately spotted your girlfriend on the floor, sobbing hard, gasping as she struggled to catch her breath.

Mapi’s heart broke as she ran over to her. Claudia was laying in a way that looked eerily similar to how she had looked laying on the pitch just a few days before. Her face was pressed into the carpet, as she choked on her own cries. One hand gripped at the carpet and the other at the boot covering her ankle. Mapi pulled your girlfriend into her lap on the floor, “Pina, it’s just me, you’re okay.” The older girl rubbed her back as Claudia curled into a ball on Mapi’s lap. She buried her face into Mapi’s neck, still sobbing violently. “Try to breathe for me, Pina. You’re okay, you’re safe, I’ve got you,” she tried everything she could to calm your girlfriend. Mapi watched her grab at her chest, as she gasped for air. “Try to match my breaths, breathe with me, you’ve got it, Clau.”

Slowly, your girlfriend became more and more receptive to Mapi’s guidance. She continued to rub her back and hold her tight while she whispered words of comfort to her. Claudia seemed to be coming out of her panic as she gripped on to Mapi’s shirt tightly, starting to sit up more. Mapi reached over and pushed her hair from her face gently, trying to read how the younger girl was feeling. “Do you want me to call (Y/N) for-” Claudia cut off Mapi, shaking her head quickly before she could even finish the sentence. The last thing she wanted was to bother you while you were at training. She had bothered you enough when you were home, she needed to let you have at least a little bit of time without you having to care for her.

Mapi nodded understandingly, and continued to sit with her, still on the floor. She knew that by now it wouldn’t be much longer until you came home. Going against your girlfriend’s wishes, she sent you a short text to let you know what was going on. She wasn’t trying to worry you, letting you know that she had everything handled, but also felt like you deserved to know. The two of them continued to sit on the floor, Mapi providing constant comfort to your girlfriend until you got home. Claudia had returned to her silence but allowed her friend to hold her as she sat with her head on Mapi’s shoulder.

When you got done with training, you made a beeline to your phone, trying to see if you had missed anything from your girlfriend. The text from Mapi made your heart rate spike although you knew Claudia was in good hands with her. You quickly changed clothes and made your way home, eager to check on your girlfriend.

You opened the door to your shared apartment and spotted the two on the floor in front of your couch. Your bag dropped to the floor as you ran to the pair, pulling Claudia against you. She fell limply against you as you whispered in her ear, “Amor, what happened?” The only response you got was a small shrug and shake of her head. Back to her silence. Mapi gave you a small smile, and kissed you both on the top of your head before getting up and heading out, leaving you to comfort your girlfriend.

You pulled away from Claudia slightly, taking in her appearance. She had clearly been crying, her eyes red and face puffy. Her usually neat ponytail was a total mess, and there were tear stains down the front of her sweatshirt that she seemed to have stolen from your closet. You held her face in your hands and wiped her remaining tears with your thumb. “Clau, why don’t we get you up on the couch, get your ankle up?” She only nodded softly at you but allowed you to pick her up off the floor.

You set her on the couch gently and stood up to grab her more ice. Before you could, Claudia had grabbed at your shirt pulling you back to her, “stay,” she insisted quietly, “please.”

“I’m just going to grab you some ice. I’ll be quick I promise, then I’ll be right back to sit with you. Is there anything else you need?”

“Just you,” she whispered sadly, “but also maybe some more pain meds.” You smiled at her as she had said the last part with a little more conviction. It was the first time she had given you an answer when you asked that question.

Even though it was small, this interaction gave you a lot of hope. It was progress. It was a step forward in her recovery and it was a step you both desperately needed at the moment. You were quick in grabbing her ice and pain meds, also deciding to get her a few snacks while you were up. When you returned to your girlfriend, she opened her arms for a hug as soon as she laid eyes on you. You set down everything you had brought, giving her the hug she seemed so desperate for. She held you tightly, holding on for dear life. When she relaxed her hold on you, you pulled away to undo her boot and place the ice on her ankle, giving her the pain meds and snacks as you did so. When you finished getting her ankle situated, she reached out to you to pull you back next to her on the couch, “thank you, amor.” This was the first she had thanked you since the night her injury happened. It was also the most she had welcomed your physical presence, making you melt into her even further.

You gave your girlfriend a tight squeeze in acknowledgement of her words. You wanted to sit in this comfort with her as long as you could but you also wanted to use this opportunity to talk about how she’d been coping with this injury. Claudia had sensed your sudden tension as you got lost in your thoughts, “amor? What are you thinking? Are you okay?” It was hard for you to hold in a chuckle at how your girlfriend, who had hardly spoken to you in the last three days, had just asked you what you should be asking her.

The two of you each sat up a little so you could see each other’s faces. “Clau, that’s what I’d like to know about you. I have no idea where your head’s been at these last few days. I’m worried about you.” The brunette shrank at your words, not wanting to talk but knowing that she needed to.

She let out a heavy sigh, eyes glued to the ground. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Amor, you’re allowed to have whatever feelings you do. You’re allowed to be sad or mad or frustrated or whatever you are. It’s okay. I’m here for you. Always. Just please let me in.” you were basically begging with your girlfriend, trying anything to get her to open up.

Claudia nodded slightly, taking a deep breath before finally saying more, “I don’t know how to feel.” She spoke hesitantly, looking up at you slightly before continuing. “It’s like I feel everything but also nothing all at the same time. I’m so scared that I won’t come back like before. And I’m frustrated at how I can’t do anything I want to. But also I’m a little bit relieved that I finally have a break but I feel so guilty for even thinking that. And I’m terrified to be alone, that something will happen to me and I won’t be able to help myself. And I hate that you’ve been stressed out trying to take care of me. And I’m so helpless, I can’t do anything myself. And also I’m just so lonely, I want to go out with the girls and do stuff but I can’t. And I can’t even think straight to figure it all out because oh my god my ankle hurts. And I know I should’ve been more careful when you were gone today but I just didn’t want to feel so useless and then I fell and I know I’m fine but holy shit it hurts and I know it was stupid but I just couldn’t help myself and-”

“Clau, stop,” you finally interrupted her as she seemed to get herself more and more worked up in her rant. “Take a deep breath,” you grabbed each of her hands and gave them a tight squeeze, trying to get her to relax again. Your girlfriend did as you asked, before you continued to try to figure out what she was saying, “Amor, what are you talking about? You fell?”

Claudia sighed again, realizing she maybe said more than she should’ve but was too far in to stop now. “Si. When you were at training today, I just wanted to get up and change clothes, make myself look a bit more like myself. I just feel so lazy and gross,” you nodded for her to continue on, brushing some of the hair out of her face as she did so. “I had been really anxious after you left. I don’t know why, just scared to be alone I guess.”

Your heart broke hearing this from her, “Amor, why didn’t you tell me? I-”

The brunette shook her head, cutting you off so she could continue on, “I wanted to prove that I would be fine. Both to you, and to myself, I guess.” She trailed off slightly, before focusing her attention back to you. “When I got up, I think I was so distracted and in my head, I just-” she took a deep breath, recognizing that she was getting herself worked up. “I don’t know what happened, I tripped, and next thing I knew I was on the ground, my ankle hurting even more than it already did, and I just spiraled from there.”

“Oh Clau,” you looked at her sympathy, wishing you could take away all of her pain. “Why didn’t you call me, I would’ve come home? I told you to be careful, Mapi could’ve-”

“Amor, since when am I ever careful?” she laughed lightly, trying to make you feel better, still prioritizing you. “I didn’t want to bother you, I know how much I’ve been stressing you out. You needed a break. I also just wasn’t thinking clearly enough to think of that if I wanted to.” This time your girlfriend chuckled lightly and shook her head, almost in disbelief at how she had acted earlier in the day. “But Mapi came over,” she perked up a bit, trying to reassure you. “I think she just knew I would need checking on. I guess she was right. By the time she came over I was in full panic mode. But she calmed me down. And then you came home. And that’s everything, I think. It’s just… a lot.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were proud of your girlfriend for opening up to you as you knew how hard it was for her. All you could do was pull her into a bone crushing hug, holding her as tight as you could. “Amor, I’m okay. Or at least I will be. I promise.” Claudia was back in her usual protective mode over you, trying to prevent you from worrying about her.

As much as this response was more of her usual reaction, you just wanted to take care of her right now. “Please just let me hold you right now.” You could feel your girlfriend nod against you, finally settling in to allow you to comfort her. Gently you pulled out her ponytail and combed your fingers through her hair. Neither of you had felt this much comfort since before her injury. “Promise me that you’ll keep being honest about how you’re feeling? It kills me when I can’t tell what you need and when you don’t let me help you. Please Claudia, I need you to communicate with me.” You were basically begging your girlfriend but you knew after this conversation that it would likely work.

Claudia squeezed you even tighter, nodding against you again, “I promise, mi amor. Thank you for taking care of me, even if I’m not the nicest.”

You hummed at her in response, “I will always take care of you, no matter what. It’s gonna take a lot more than that for you to get rid of me, amor.” She adjusted herself against you, trying to settle into a position that still kept her ankle elevated. You misunderstood her movement as discomfort, “do you need me to get you anything? Or I can just keep playing with your hair if you want?” Claudia finally settled, basically laying on top of you, humming against you and just nodding at you to continue playing with her hair. Slowly, you both drifted off to sleep, together on the couch, finally at peace with the situation. It was the best sleep either of you had gotten in days. The two of you peacefully slept through the night, tightly in each other’s embrace.

Part 3

Masterlist

Feedback and requests are always welcome! :)

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #fcb femini #woso imagines #woso one shot #woso #claudia pina #mapi leon #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso imagine #womens football #claudia pina imagine #espwnt #claudia pina x reader #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingclaudia

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siriusleee · 5 months

Text

For @glitterypirateduck Call of Duty Christmas Special. Author's Note: For the holiday season, I wanted to write some things for some of my mutuals I've met the past year I've had my blog. This is for @lethargicluv - have fun with finals. Christmas Movie: White Christmas Premise: Simon is your neighbor; neither of you want to spend Christmas alone.

It’s bitterly cold outside, but the plates in your hand keep you warm as your boots crunch across the snow covering your yard. Thankfully it’s a quick trip next door; you knock the crusted snow off of your boots on the steps before juggling the plates around so you can knock on Simon’s door.

You see his curtain twitch and know that he’s looking out to see who’s knocking. Half a minute later, you hear the locks being undone and the door swings open.

“I brought you dinner,” you say before he can say anything, shoving the plates towards him. “I saw your truck pulled in late, and I had extra. I figured you hadn’t eaten.”

His eyebrows knit together above the black hospital mask he’s always wearing, but he still reaches out to take the plates from you.

“Thanks.”

“No problem!”

The two of you stand awkwardly in the cold until finally, you give a half turn, shooting a smile over your shoulder at the man glowering in his doorway.

“Have a good night!”

The next day the plates are washed and stacked on top of each other outside your front door.

It starts a game between the two of you: every time you bake something there’s just too much extra for yourself, and every time Simon spots something wrong at your place he’s there to fix it, grumbling about your shit landlord.

“You’re going to break your neck one of the days,” he grumbles at you, bouncing on your front steps, the wood bowing beneath his weight. You frown at him from your spot at the front door; you’re still bleary-eyed from the sleep he interrupted with his knocking on the door.

“I’ll call the landlord and have him fix it,” you tell him, biting off a yawn.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You can tell from the way he stands that in less than an hour, he’ll be there with a hammer to straighten everything back up.

It goes on for weeks until you’re knocking on his door again, but this time empty-handed. Simon opens the door, fully dressed like he somehow expected your request.

“Do you think you help me get a Christmas tree?”

You almost expect him to say no, but agrees without question, and an hour later finds the two of you wandering between pre-cut Christmas trees. The snow falls lightly, tangling in the fur around your hood.

The aisles are thin, picked almost clean of everything but the Charlie Brown trees. You pause to look at one, fingertips tracing the green needles before moving on to the next.

“Bit late for a tree isn’t it?” Simon asks from behind his mask, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah probably. It just felt a little depressing around my house.”

You’re evaluating the trees with an air of expertise, but not knowing what you’re looking for. While you do, you find yourself talking to Simon, just to fill the silence.

“I usually go home each year, but my parents are going on a vacation this year. I wasn’t going to decorate for just myself, but then everything seemed so boring and drab. What do you think of this one?

This one is skinny and little but still filled out more than most of the trees on the lot.

“I don’t think it’ll hold any ornaments,” Simon says, amusement coloring his voice, “but it isn’t the worst-looking one.”

“That’s fine because I don’t have any ornaments.”

You step back, admiring the tree before giving yourself a small nod.

“Yeah, I think this one. Do you think we have to ask the guy-”

You don’t have the sentence out of your mouth before Simon gently nudges you out of the way and shoulders the tree. You trail him back to the front of the lot, watching how green needles shower onto his back. He pauses just long enough to let you press a bill into the lot owner's hand before setting off to his truck.

He doesn’t let you help tie the tree down in the back of the truck, telling you to go buckle in instead. You watch him wrestle with the limbs in the rearview mirror, hurriedly pretending to be playing on your phone when he climbs in.

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Christmas music plays on the radio as Simon takes the two of you through a drive-through, passing your burger and fries without hurry. The two of you eat in the parking lot, and you try not to stare at his face as the two of you eat.

“Are you - are you doing anything for Christmas this year?” You ask timidly, picking at your fries. In all the weeks the two of you had spent rotating around each other, you’d never seen anyone else at his house, never heard him mention anyone else.

“Watch TV and sleep,” Simon replies, wiping his hands on a napkin before tucking his trash into the bag. “Don’t do much other than that usually.”

“Oh.” Is your simple reply, and then you speak again before thinking. “Do you want to come do Christmas at my house? Just me and you?”

You see the way he moves slower with the trash and the way he hurriedly pulls his mask back over his face. You think you’ve overstepped a boundary, but Simon finally answers as he puts the truck into reverse.

“Ok.”

It starts a nervous excitement in you. You can’t remember the last time someone’s come by to visit, much less the last time you’ve had someone over for a holiday. You find yourself nearly on your hands and knees scrubbing at the baseboards to try to get the place gleaming. The Christmas tree Simon carried into your house is sparsely decorated, but what you lack in ornaments, you make up for in enthusiasm.

You hadn’t known what to cook - would a guy like Simon like traditional Christmas food? You’d spent forty-five minutes at the grocery store standing in front of the Christmas hams before your hands migrated over to the steaks. What man doesn’t eat steak? You’d chosen two: a bigger one for Simon, and promptly spent too much money on all the sides.

It all culminated in your house being cleaner than you’d ever had it, the steaks cooking in the oven, and your fingernails nervously bitten down as you tried not to watch out the window obsessively to see when he would finally exit his house.

Five minutes before he agreed to be at your house for dinner, you spotted Simon exit his front door, not bothering to lock it after it swung shut behind him. You leave the television on to try and fill the silence - Bing Crosby talking about Christmas in White Christmas - and open the door just a minute too early to be completely casual.

Simon stands on the bottom step, too tense to be casual himself. His black mask is gone for the evening, and it’s an act of extreme willpower not to stare at his face. You have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his own.

“Hi,” you feel lame, so you keep going, “you’re right on time.”

“Traffic was pretty light tonight.”

You laugh; the corner of Simon’s mouth twitches up, and your stomach flips. You step aside, a wordless invitation, and Simon takes it.

He looks gargantuan in your living room as he takes in the last-minute Christmas decorations, and the classic Christmas movie on the TV. His nostrils flare.

“Smells good.”

You feel a satisfied blush start at your chest, so you scurry around him to try to hide it.

“Thanks; it’s the chef special tonight.”

You check the potatoes; the entire time you can feel Simon’s eyes boring into your back. It makes you nervous in a way you haven’t been in a long time, your fingers hesitate on the pan before turning around to face him again.

Simon’s leaning against the kitchen island - much too casual for the irregular heartbeat that you’ve had since you first opened the door for him. Nervously, you rub your hands on your dark jeans and try to think of something to say that doesn’t make the conversation fall flat.

“I didn’t get you a present; I couldn’t figure out what to get a guy like you.”

“I don’t need anything; it’s nice enough you invited me over.”

You lean across the counter, emboldened by the look on his face. You trace the edge of the countertop and let yourself study the wrinkles and scars that litter Simon’s face.

“How else was I supposed to pay you back for all the things you’ve done around here.”

Simon shrugs, a mischievous look in his eye that you want to follow, but not tonight. He pulls out one of the bar chairs with his feet, settling down on it like he’s always been there.

“You’ve got some loose shingles on the roof - I think I’d fix those for a New Year's dinner.”

Your grin is so wide it nearly breaks your face apart.

“I can do that.”

#my fics #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #codholiday2023

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meraki-yao · 29 days

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Ok I got four asks in my inbox about the new Nick interview and I'm actually mad. I'm actually livid and exasperated because I've been getting and answering similar asks over and over again, and yet people still come to me with the same statement and the same conviction EVEN AFTER I POINTED OUT EVERY FUCKING FACT THAT CONTRADICTS IT.

Do you really need a 19-year-old to teach you reading comprehension and media literacy?

Ok, fine.

Statement One: Nick doesn't appreciate RWRB, he's brushing it aside, which is why it wasn't mentioned in the New York Times

One: Editorials don't always portray the actual thoughts or agenda of the interviewee.

Unlike a video interview or a podcast interview where we can hear the whole conversation directly from Nick with his voice, and even if there are cuts and edits we can pick it up via visual or audio continuity, in a written editorial the only thing we can rely on is the writer's words, or in other words, the writer's paraphrase or quotation of what Nick said to him. This gives much bigger room for any changes or manipulation in content because we have nothing else to reference.

It is clear that in the past three editorials, the writer or the magazine itself has deliberately demeaning and devaluing RWRB. In NY Magazine, it was only mentioned in one line and degraded to "a queer take on a common straight trope" (see the choice of word "president's daughter"), with the implication being at its core, it's a straight story/ reliant on past straight stories to be interesting; Hunger Magazine calls it fujoshi-pleasing (fujoshi: Japanese slang, denoting how a straight woman who enjoys fictional gay content is "rotten", too ruined to be married, an insult to both the audience/fans and the movie itself ); and this time New York Magazine didn't even mention RWRB, when let's be honest, it's Nick's biggest breakout role.

"Once Is Chance, Twice is Coincidence, Third Time's A Pattern" this is deliberate. I can't say what the agenda is, my guess is some extent of latent homophobia, but it's clear that this is a fucking pattern. In fact, besides the hidden agenda of devaluing RWRB, these editorials show another hidden agenda, but that's something for a later day. PM me id you want to now, I won't discuss that one on my public platform yet.

Again, there is so much more room for twisting and hiding words in a written editorial. In all the video interviews Nick did, especially in the UK, when has he ever avoided a question about RWRB? When has he ever not shown gratitude towards the project?

Two: In all video evidence that can't be manipulated, that clearly shows Nick's own thoughts which not influenced by any other party, he has made it clear that he adores RWRB.

Why else would he sign books during the M&G London premiere, going as far as to stay behind after the event just to sign books? Same with the LA M&G premiere and TIOY premiere: those were promotions for other projects, he had a valid reason to refuse to sign the RWRB books and posters, but he didn't, always signing with a big smile on his face, even playfully signing on Taylor's face. He said it himself in his Instagram post, and I quote: "The love that Henry has received has been one of the most heartwarming things to watch. It's been difficult to not talk about him. So thank you for seeing him for all he is. He was a joy to bring to life." There's your proof, directly from the man himself.

Statement Two: Nick's not interested in doing a sequel, he said he's done playing princes and he's done playing romantic leads

One: "Done playing princes" doesn't mean literally done playing princes, it means he wants to try more roles and not be stuck with only being known as the "prince" guy. (even though he's literally a prince lol)

Plus, he said that after Robert, but then Henry came along and he was attracted to Henry as a character with his scared but loving heart. He doesn't just view Henry as a prince, he views Henry as a complex, delicate person who so happens to be a prince. Him saying he's done playing princes means in the future, he doesn't really want another royal on his filmography, but this doesn't mean he doesn't want to continue Henry's story. With the given context, namely asking him about future projects he wants to take up, "he's done playing princes" and "he doesn't want to play Henry anymore" are not mutually inclusive.

Two: "Done playing romantic leads" means he wants to try new things and take up new projects that aren't romance films.

This doesn't include the continuation of already established characters i.e. sequels, this just means if he were to take up brand new projects, he wants to try something else. Sequels are inherently different from new projects because again, sequels are based on already established characters.

Three: He said several times ON VIDEO that he'd be in for a sequel

In this one, when asked if he'd be up for a sequel, he said, and I quote "Look, I think with any opportunity of doing a sequel, I think, you know, the script has to be right. But obviously, it was so lovely to see how many people it touched and having that resonance is incredibly important to me, so, yeah. Of course."

In this one, when asked if they have had conservation on a potential sequel, he said, and again I quote: "Yeah, I mean definitely had conversations. I think we're all on the same page in the sense that, you know, the script needs to be right, and sort of all the different components need to be right because we made something that has such a positive effect and I think the last thing you'd wanna do is ruin that or take that in a way, so, you know, the conversations are definitely being had."

And there are more videos from red carpet interviews that I can't be bothered to find right now but he says more or less the same thing.

(look I even transcribed it)

Not only is he on board with a sequel, he's also being careful about it to make sure once they do get to making it, it's something good. He's on board, and he values it. And again, that's directly from him.

We have a phrase in Chinese: 斷章取義, meaning "breaking off a small part of an article and deriving the meaning from that single part" That's what so many of you, in particular, the people who come to my inbox with the sentiments of the above-mentioned statement are doing. Please, use critical thinking and look at the whole picture. Stop making judgments from the surface of one source.

Tagging my friends @alittlefrenchtree and @myteavsricochet because it looks like they've been getting the same things I got

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #nicholas galitzine #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #rwrb thoughts #meraki essay #i'm not someone who gets mad easily but I've had enough of this #nick galitzine

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pedges · 1 year

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the one where things are messy

pairing: joel miller x reader (no apocalypse and accidentally on purpose gender neutral)

summary: you leave joel a drunk voicemail.

content: drunk reader. like, drunk. miscommunications, angst, but mostly just a silly little time. reader is joel's neighbor of several years. gratuitous use of the word "fuck." let me know if i've missed anything!

a/n: this is 100% based off friends the tv show. the one where ross finds out. i have not written in a very long time, so i apologize in advance! this is just a nonsensical drabble that ended up being 5k words, so please enjoy <3

The thing is, Joel doesn’t like cats.

Joel doesn’t hate cats, but he has never expressed any sign of liking cats, at least not enough to warrant the sudden desire to adopt one. With his girlfriend. Who he plans on asking to move in with him. When he tells you, it’s like he just ordered an airstrike to your chest, and you’re thinking maybe you should have slashed his tires before he went to Dallas on business for two weeks and came back with a sweet little thing shacked up in his heart.

It’s just that when Tommy and you got drunk together a few days after he left, sitting on the couch in Joel’s living room while Tommy played world’s worst babysitter, he had dropped the first of what now seems to be a series of inconvenient bombshells.

“Don’t get rom-coms, they’re real fuckin’ dumb,” he had been saying, adamantly complaining about your choice of movie. When Harry Met Sally was too cute and too good to receive his vitriol, but the alcohol in your system tore down your usual defense mechanisms. All you could really do was roll your eyes. “Just fuckin’ talk to each other, maybe, maybe this shit wouldn’t take so long.”

“The hell do you know about communicating, Tommy?” you said, and though you were mostly teasing, you had to bite back a remark about his past relationships never making it past the six month mark. Still, you kept the levity in your voice, the drunken grin on your lips. “Swear, you and Joel think you know everything. Must be an annoying Miller thing.”

“Know more than you,” he said with a scoff, then a hiccup. Taking the last swig of his beer, he set the empty bottle down on the coffee table and looked at you. “Way fuckin’ more than Joel. M’like—the fuck is the word—ret-i-cant. Always watchin’. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Reticent, and I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull,” Tommy insisted. “Cause—‘cause I know if Harry and Sally just admitted shit from the getgo—they’da saved so much fuckin’ time.”

You wanted to argue. You want to tell him that was the point of the story, of the insistence for two people who very clearly wanted each other being brought back together each time they tried to stay away from one another. You wanted to tell Tommy that sometimes difficult things were beautiful, and romantic, and heartfelt, and great. But before you could, he was grumbling something as he sank into the couch, something that sounded like, “S’like I kept tellin’ Joel, tired of him tiptoein’ ‘round you.”

“What?” you said in lieu of everything else running through your quickly sobering mind.

“Ah, shit.”

It only took a couple threats of bodily harm for Tommy to tell you that Joel had feelings for you. Keyword: had. He stopped asking about it a while ago, stopped caring when it was obvious Joel “wasn’t goin’ to do a damn thing,” so don’t ask him if he knew more than what he did a few months ago. All of it was quickly followed by pleads to not say shit and that he was sorry he said anything at all.

You wondered what he would have said if you told him you'd wanted Joel Miller since the moment you laid eyes on him.

But, you didn’t. And a week and a half later, when Joel came back talking up a storm about an old flame he met up with in Dallas, how fate would have it that she was moving back to Austin—well, needless to say—Tommy’s inability to keep a secret meant nothing now.

Now, six months later, you’re left to wonder if it hurt Joel this bad when you went on dates, and had partners, and did everything you could to drown out the feelings you had for him. You’d think finding out he had feelings for you—but was now in a relationship with a woman who didn’t playfully (annoyingly) bicker with him, or snort, or make fun—would kill the ones you had for him. But the universe is cruel, and your heart has never really been one to quit.

Part of you feels bad for thinking it wouldn’t last. Well, not thinking—hoping. But it did, and you realize woefully that you’ve missed your chance with Joel Miller—the man you have spent too many years pining after, too many nights thinking that his brand of affection meant more than he was letting on, and buried too many sorrows in glasses of wine or bottles of beer over. But worst of all, you realize that Tommy was right.

So, he tells you he wants her to move in with him and Sarah one Saturday evening on his porch. Then he tells you she wants a cat. And you say you’re happy for him.

“You, uh, don’t think it’s too…soon?” he asks then, like he’s looking to you for a reason to back out. Every fiber of your being is aching to give him one, especially with the way he looks at you with those big browns of his, but the words scratch at your throat hard enough that they don’t make their way out. Instead, you shake your head slowly, forcing a shrug as you sip on the coffee Joel so tenderly prepared for you—the way you like it; he didn’t even have to ask.

“I think,” you start, though these words aren’t any less sharp than the ones you truly want to say, “if you’re happy, you should do what you want.”

“You ever picture me with a cat?” Joel snickers. He wears the gentlest smile, enough of one to form those crinkles by his eyes that you love so much.

“I think you’d look adorable with a cat,” you tell him, and it might be the first true thing you’ve said all night. You picture it, a purring cat curled on his chest, and someone he loves at his side. In your mind, you can’t help but put yourself in that spot. “But,” you continue, “can’t say I’ve ever thought of you actually getting one. You’re more of a…hm. German shepherd guy, maybe even a lizard.”

Joel laughs—that hearty, full, intoxicating laugh of his. It floods your veins and gives you goosebumps. If the world were to fall to ruins tomorrow, you’d survive on the memory of it alone, you think.

“Can’t say I disagree with you,” he says then, a leftover grin still curled on his lips, and you want to do anything in your power to keep it there. But then he gets lost in thought, and you watch it soften. It doesn’t disappear completely, but the fact that it’s gone so quickly makes you ache. He speaks again, voice soft as he says, “Guess I just want to make her happy. Lot of things stopped bein’ about me a long time ago, I think.”

Your heart cinches. Of course he’d say something like that. Of course he’d go and utter words that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place. And god, that realization hits hard. You are quite, disgustingly in love with Joel. Though it stings, and you’re going to go home and lick your wounds for the hundredth time soon, you get what he means. You stayed silent when he got back from Dallas for the same reason—the smile on his face when he talked about someone he might truly, genuinely like.

That, and because the someone wasn’t you.

You pull up your britches.

You have no other choice, you decide, because you’re young, and you’re an adult, and you can get over someone without feeling like you’re going to die. You use your little black book (read: an old Lisa Frank notepad) to call up the fling you had last winter. He’d wanted you, badly, but because there was a night where you thought Joel might’ve kissed you, you never called back. It seems stupid now, looking back.

But, you thank your lucky stars, or one man’s utter desperation, that he’s still single and he still wants you. He takes you out to a nice restaurant, in a nice suit, and nice shoes. The conversation isn’t even bad, and he’s putting your drinks on his tab. The second one in, you think maybe this could work.

It’s when you lose count that things go bad.

“I don’t even think Joel likes cats,” you’re slurring to this poor man, who is desperately scanning the restaurant for a waiter, a check, and a way out of your ramblings about Joel’s love life. You can’t tell if you’re crying or not, though it really feels like you want to. Because one moment you were having a nice time, and the next someone was ordering Joel’s drink—whiskey on the rocks, with a twist—at the table over and you weren’t able to keep him out of your mind from that point on.

It’s ridiculous, because it’s not Joel’s Drink, it’s A Drink—one that Joel only ever orders, but you could see someone in a worn down green and gray flannel and wonder when Joel Miller became such a trendsetter. Still, nothing can stop you from ordering one yourself, and then another, and then another. It’s like you’re trying to flood your senses with Joel Joel Joel because you know it’ll never be him sitting across from you with the intention of taking you home and maybe kissing you outside your door.

Though, if you weren’t gone by your fourth whiskey, you’d see that your date has lost any and all intentions of that manner. It’s probably not even because you’re drunk, it’s because you’re still wearing Joel’s name on your lips like it’s going out of style.

“Like—like, I can’t just tell Joel, no, y’know? Or, I don’t think you should get a cat with a woman you had a thing with before you met the mother of your child, and especially shouldn’t have her move in with you after six months. But I want to. Because he’s smarter than this, and I don’t think it’s the right move, especially because of Sarah, and Tommy, ugh, Tommy. Idiot. They’re both idiots. Joel especially, methinks.”

You don’t know when your date finally flagged down the waiter, or when he dropped you off at home, or when you got inside and picked up your landline. You especially don’t know when you dialed Joel’s number and left him a voicemail when he inevitably didn’t answer.

All you know is that you mixed your alcohols that night, and you’re probably going to wake up in some version of hell in the morning, but it seems like falling asleep has never been so easy before.

—

Hell is an understatement. You don’t get sick, but you wish you could throw up your brain, or at least the part of it that still gets headaches like this. It’s with the most gut wrenching revelation that you don’t have any ibuprofen, or any recollection of the night before.

For the time being, it’s truly the least of your worries. The most of them are getting rid of your life threatening headache. So, after making yourself as presentable as you can, you trudge across the street to Joel’s house—it’s because his house is closer than the drugstore three blocks down. Not because seeing his face would make you feel better anyways.

“Aren’t you a beauty this afternoon,” Joel laughs when he opens the door, because really, you look like death, and you hadn’t even realized it was past one o’clock. You’re grateful it’s Saturday, and Sarah has soccer practice right now, because she looks up to you, and the last thing you need is for her to see you like this.

“Shut up,” you grumble, shoving your way past him despite his teasing. He doesn’t mind, and you know he doesn’t. If the smile still on his face is anything to go by. It’s then you realize that yeah, okay, seeing him does make you feel better. Even if it’s just by a fraction.

“Thought you left your partyin’ days in college,” he continues with his teasing. “Let me guess: you came over here to raid my medicine cabinet.”

By the time he closes his front door and turns around, you’re already sinking into his plush couch, giving him a look with raised brows that could only mean, You mean you’re going to raid your medicine cabinet, for me.

“Ah,” he says. Any other moment, your heart would stutter at the ease in which he reads you. Now, your heart is threatening to fail for an entirely different reason. “Got it. Be right back.”

Joel sticks by his word. He comes back, not just with painkillers, but with water, warmed up coffee, and one of the store-bought muffins you love so much. If you weren’t dying, you’d hug the man. If you weren’t so smart, you’d probably even kiss him.

“Don’t die on me, alright? Need you around for shenanigans and such,” Joel tells you, leaving you to your devices on his couch. The pain meds go down, and the coffee does wonders from just one sip. You allow yourself to lie on the couch, pillow over your face to block out the harsh light. It seems that as the seconds pass, and by some miracle, you start to feel more and more at ease. Fragments of last night come back slowly, but not enough to piece together the entire puzzle.

You drank a lot, that much is clear.

It’s not until you hear a series of beeps from the kitchen, where Joel keeps his landline and answering machine, do the cogs in your brain start cranking a little harder. One voicemail plays over the speaker, something about work that makes Joel sigh and skip it before he can play it all the way through.

Beeeeep.

“Heeeeello, Joel. Hi, hello, howdy. It’s me.”

Joel calls out, “Did you call me last night?”

You sit up in record time.

It comes rushing back.

“I just don’t see why he can’t get something that doesn’t live so long. Like a hamster. Or goldfish. Or a fruit fly. It’s just so—“

“Listen! Listen. I don’t know who Joel or Tommy or Sarah are. You sound—hung up. But if you really want my advice? Get some closure. You clearly have feelings for this guy and you won’t get over him until you do.”

“Closure! Oh, you’re a genius!”

“Joel,” you call over the sound of your own drunken voice, dread now filling your body to the fucking brim. But it seems like your body can’t move fast enough. “Joel, hang up, hang it up, hang it up.”

“I just—just wanted to call and tell you I am so happy for you. And your future cat. And I think you should name it Frank. And because I am giving you names, that means I am getting closure—“

You can hear your heartbeat sounding against your eardrums, but feel it falling to the ground as you finally muster up the memory of how to work your legs. But by the time you’re stumbling into the kitchen, you can hear the worst of the voicemail that has Joel’s face drained of any possible readable emotion. You start praying for the ground to swallow you whole and munch your bones. It would be a more peaceful way to go than this.

“Because you’re over me, I am over you, my sweet Joel. That’s right. I am over you. How’s that for closure?”

The machine beeps, and then the heaviest silence enters the kitchen.

Seconds, minutes, maybe even years pass as you stand in the doorway, looking at Joel looking at the answering machine. Then at you.

“You’re…over me?” he finally says. You swallow the softball that had lodged itself in your throat and almost choke on it. “When, uh, when were you under me?”

Suddenly, you think the whole life flashing before your eyes thing is true. Because you feel like you’re dying, and all you can think about is every happy moment you’ve had surrounded by Joel. The first time you met, the way Sarah took a liking to you, the unlikely friendship you formed with his brother. You think of all the nights spent on Joel’s porch, sometimes talking, but most times in such a genuinely comfortable silence, where you could do nothing but enjoy each other’s presence. You think of all the fleeting touches, lingering glances, pet names reserved just for you—and how you doubted all the thoughts that they could mean something more.

You don’t know what hurts more—the fact that, according to Tommy, they did, or that now they didn’t.

But most of all, you think of how when you were searching for a home several years ago, you didn’t expect to find it in the family of a man named Joel Miller.

And you didn’t expect to lose it in the worst way possible.

When you remember where you are, what is happening, and realize that you haven’t actually died, you let out a pathetic little noise. Halfway between a whimper and the words you can’t yet form.

“What, uh—what did you mean, over me?” Joel finally asks. He’s never been one to beat around the bush, but god, you wish just this time he would. In fact, you wish he’d pretend that this never happened. But you know better. You know there’s no ignoring this.

“I—“ you barely manage to choke out. Because truly, what do you say? Against your better judgment, you opt for the truth. “I…may or may not have feelings,” you say, and then, “For you. Tommy told me you—you used to feel the same.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“…And you’re over me?”

You wince. Maybe drunk-you convinced yourself so briefly that saying it would make it true. But by the weight of your heart, and the way it feels like there’s been barbed wire wrapped around it, gripping it tight, you know any answer besides No would be a lie. But because you can’t really bring yourself to say it, not with the way tears threaten to burn your eyes any second now, you instead say, “I don’t know.”

It seems though, Joel wanted so desperately for you to say yes. By the way he jumps into action, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter and making a break for it, he wanted you to say Yes, I’m completely over you. But you didn’t, and now he’s leaving you alone in his own house.

You don’t speak for a week.

You’re not exactly sure who’s avoiding who. You just know you’re wallowing in something that feels akin to lava that refuses to swallow you whole. Inside you there’s this ache, like there’s an empty space where someone should be inside your heart. It feels like three empty spaces, actually, and you had never weighed the consequences of losing Joel before. Part of you wishes you could have just gotten rid of your feelings for him a long time ago. Collecting the evidence now, though, told you there was no easy way to do that. Maybe quitting him cold turkey would have done the trick, or moving to Antarctica. But apparently, when you fell in love with Joel, you fell in love with his entire family, and three people was a hell of a lot harder to give up than one.

In fact, on day seven, you’re stealthing your way back inside your home after a trip to the grocery store, like you have been all week, when you hear a familiar voice call your name. You turn to see Sarah across the street, standing at the backdoor of Tommy’s truck in her soccer uniform, waving at you with this sad little smile on her face. One that says she doesn’t know what’s going on, just that she hasn’t seen you in a while, and you realize that this is the longest you’ve gone without speaking to her since you first met her.

You look around like you’re going to get caught committing a crime when you send the most timid wave back. It ends up feeling like a crime anyways when the face you’ve been aching to see comes out of the house, followed by his brother, and he follows Sarah’s line of sight. Meeting his eye is a serrated knife slicing through you, jagged, and harsh, and no clean cuts.

But what hurts the most is when he opens Sarah’s door and all but forcefully guides her inside the truck, like he’s ushering her away from a bad thing. You think maybe he is.

You rush inside afterwards and think of ways to never leave your house again.

Hours later, you’re sitting on your couch watching another ridiculous rom-com, the only comfort you’ve found, with perpetual tears brimming your eyes. Tommy really was fucking right, wasn’t he? Had there been some inkling of communication, you wouldn’t be here. But there wasn’t, and you are, and it sucks—somehow, it seems like this will never not hurt.

At ten o’clock, there’s a knock at your door. It makes you jump, mostly because this sense of knowing dread fills your body—like you know who it is before you can even open it, because you do. When Joel is standing on the other side, those big brown eyes of his full of something you can’t make out, he asks if he can come in. You aren’t even sure he’d listen if you said no, so you say yes.

He steps inside, you close the door, and there’s a beat of silence before, “Sarah was askin’ about you all day.”

You stand at your door, hands together as you toy with your own fingers nervously. Your heart is racing and your mind is reeling, but most of all, there’s this resounding ache echoing throughout your entire body.

“Sorry,” is all you can really say in return.

“I didn’t get a cat,” Joel says then. Your heart jolts at the mention.

“Oh.” You look down at your hands. “Interesting.”

“No, not interestin’.” When Joel speaks this time, he almost sounds angry. Frustrated, maybe, but he doesn’t sound happy, especially not with you. When you force yourself to look up, he has the face to match—brows furrowed, pout on his lips, gaze firm. “I should have a cat right now. I should have a movin’ truck outside my house, I should be living with my girlfriend—instead I’ve got a daughter askin’ too many questions, a shit talkin’ brother, and I’m standin’ inside your living room angry as all hell right now.”

“Angry?” you say. He absolutely just said too many words with too many implications, but that’s the one you happen to get caught up on. Mostly because it lights a fire in you. Part of you thinks he has every right to be angry, but the other part feels justified in your own anger. “I’m sorry, why the hell are you angry with me?”

“Because,” Joel responds quickly, voice harder, louder. He looks as if he didn’t expect you to fight back, but what a dumb presumption to have made. “Because you had no fuckin’ right to tell me you felt something about me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Joel,” you spit back, voice dripping with sarcasm, but really? You are.

“No, it’s not fuckin’ fair, and you don’t fuckin’ get it.” Joel steps forward, and for the first time, he does look genuinely angry. But after looking at him for a second longer, you realize it’s not that. He’s hurt. “I was doin’ fine before you came along with that mess. I was doin’ fuckin’ fantastic before I found out about you!”

“I was doing great before I found out about you!” you shout back even though you weren’t doing great before. Not even close. Still, you want to stay angry, but your voice betrays you. “You think it was easy to find out you used to feel the same way about me? You think it was easy watching you be all happy with someone else, huh?”

“Oh, like I haven’t done it a thousand times, darlin’.” Joel’s words are sharp.

“You never said anything!” Yours are too.

“There was never a good fuckin’ time,” he says coldly. Your own blood begins to turn icy in your veins as he huffs angrily.

“And now is?” you respond coolly, before your walls begin to crumble. They had a while ago, actually, but now you’re resorting to kicking the rubble around. “Why did you come over here, Joel? To rub it in my face, tell me that you’re just—just going to get rid of whatever you felt?”

There’s a flash of pain on Joel’s face before he resolves to a glower at you. “I was happy.” He says your name, broken and small. “And I’ve been doin’ it for a helluva long time, sweetheart. I can keep doing it now.”

Even though it truly does sound like he’s trying to convince himself of his own words, the suffocating pain in your chest is becoming too much to bear. So you point towards your door. “Then go.”

“Fine,” he spits, stomping towards the exit at your command.

“Fine!”

Before you know it, he walks out, your door slams, and he’s gone.

You finally reach a crossroads. As tears brim your eyes, you realize that this is it, isn’t it? You were an asteroid that missed Joel by a mile, and now you were sentenced to a life drifting aimlessly in space. You missed out on a place to land—this is it.

Moments pass. You do whatever you can to soak in everything that unraveled before you, and there’s no hope in picking up the pieces. No hope in weaving them back together. Before you can let out a pathetic little sob and stalk off towards your room, you suddenly hear footsteps leading back to your front door. Then there’s a knock at it, soft—quiet.

As your heart begins to race, you step to open the door, only to find Joel on the other side. As if you could be surprised. It’s safe to say you’ve never seen the man look so dejected, like a dog bringing a bird to your front door. He’s illuminated by your flickering porch light and the glow from the moon, and if you weren’t suffering so, you’d tell him you’d never seen a man look so ethereal.

Searching his eyes for any semblance of an answer to all the questions you now have doesn’t last long. Because before either of you can say a word, Joel’s hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you like he’s been underwater for far too long, and you’re fresh fucking air.

And you let him.

You let him, because the universe hasn’t offered you any other choice—if it has, you’re not fucking taking it. You let him kiss you, and push you inside, and kick the door closed behind him, because you’ve wanted this for years. You’ve ached for this, yearned for the feeling of Joel’s lips on yours, the warmth of his mouth and tongue—the feeling of his hands on your waist.

Joel kisses you for as long as either of you can stand it, which is a pretty long time considering the way your hearts are racing and lungs are clawing for air. It’s when the back of your knees are pressed against the arm of your couch, and you’re falling backwards onto it, pulling him down with you, do you both pull back long enough to breathe. Though, it’s mostly huffs, recovering from the sudden fall and shock of the best fucking kiss either of you have ever had in your life. Still, the urge to smile hits you for the first time in over a week.

You start to speak, whispering, “What about—“

“It’s over,” he says quietly into the space between your lips. “It was over the moment I heard that voicemail, I think. But only officially as of this afternoon.”

Your throat tightens. You look up at him, your eyes still glistening with unshed tears, but that ache in your heart has begun to dull. “So why did you—“

“Scared, mostly,” Joel interrupts you again, because it really isn’t that hard for him to know what you’re asking and why. He brushes stray hair from your face. “Confused. Because I really thought I was over you, sweetness. Took me a week to deal with the fact that I wasn’t. Didn’t even truly figure it out until my feet dragged me over here.”

Your brow furrows, but a sweet smile draws over your lips as you bring your own hand to his face. You caress his cheek, running your hand over his beard. Deep down, you get it. You really do. But you no longer have it in you to ask any questions. Joel is here, and he is kissing you, and even though nothing has been set in stone, you suddenly don’t feel the need to carry the hurt you had anymore.

“Think I owe Tommy a drink or two,” you joke then, and you both laugh. Joel even snorts.

“Like hell you do,” he scoffs, “Tommy ain’t do shit besides spill my secrets and cause us grief.”

“Okay, then we need to send Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal some gift baskets, at least.”

“What?” Joel laughs, but you pull him down for another kiss that melts your goddamn heart. You’ve had a taste, and you’re never going to get enough. But instead of getting into it completely, you just soak in the moment. Maybe Tommy was right about the whole talkin’ it out thing, but so were you, you realize.

Sometimes difficult things could end up being beautiful.

So when you pull back and meet Joel’s eyes once more, you give him the softest little smile.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” you say. “Promise.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #wah wah wah #my fics

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la-petite-lapin · 16 days

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Double the Love | Part Eight

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.1k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, excessive swearing, mentions of sexually explicit content, self doubt, OC has anxiety, poor communication, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is (once again) bad at feelings

The morning after

The next morning, John calls.

Simon and Johnny have left to get some food shopping in, allowing me some much needed time to decompress. I woke up this morning feeling... I don't know. Conflicted. Confused. Like the consequences of getting myself into this - whatever this is - are finally starting to land.

"Hey, Tali," John says softly, and I can hear voices talking in the background. A woman, not Marcella, and a man who sounds fairly pissed off. It takes me a minute to recognise that it belongs to Gaz. "How are things on your end?"

I blow out a long breath. "Everything's okay."

There's a pause. A long pause. An I-know-that's-bullshit kind of one. "Talia, come on. It's me you're talking to." When I don't immediately spill my guts, he adds, "If you won't tell me what's playing on your mind, at least talk to Winslow. Marcella, even. Or, if it's something that the boys have done, try and talk to them about it. They're far more understanding than they look."

My heart stutters in my chest. That's part of the problem. And, to add to that, I don't even know what's wrong.

In the past few days, I've gone from not wanting any sort of relationship at all, to wanting nothing more than to have both of them tell me that they want me. Not even that they love me - God knows that it's far too soon for anything that serious - but something. Any sign that last night was more meaningful to them than a couple hours of mindless fun with a brand-new toy.

But I don't know how to ask. And I don't kind I'm strong enough to handle the inevitable rejection. Not when I've grown to consider them as friends.

"I would... if there was something wrong," I grumble back. My eyes flicker around the empty apartment/ Maybe having some more company around would be a good distraction. "Can you and Kyle come over again, please?"

I can hear the smile in John's voice as he replies. "We're a little busy at the moment, but I'm sure we can sort something out for the weekend. We could watch some more of those God-awful military movies Gaz likes to rip apart."

I snort out a laugh. "Perfect."

We say our goodbyes and John hangs up, muttering something about an 'incident' that he needs to deal with. But, before I can put my phone down, I catch a glimpse of a missed call and a text message from Winslow, all while I was on the call with John.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Call me xx

I'm calling her number before I can even think about it, a sense of panic gripping my chest as I raise the phone to my ear. What if she'd been in an accident? What if she was hurt? Stuck somewhere in a foreign country with no way of me getting to her...?

"Hey, honey," Winnie says immediately, answering on the third ring. Her voice soothes my frayed nerves, so much so that I almost let out a sigh of relief. Just hearing her makes me feel lighter than I have all day.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice." It's only been a matter of days since we last spoke on the phone, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago somehow. Thank God she only has two weeks of her France trip left before she's back home again. "How's Paris?"

Winnie lets out a breathy laugh. "It's been... interesting to say the least. But it's part of the reason why I called." The cold feeling of realisation slides in as she elaborates, "It looks like I might have to stay a little while longer. Just while I help them sort some stuff out and tidy up some loose ends."

My heart seizes at the vagueness of 'a little while longer'. "Okay. How long is that looking?"

"Um... maybe an extra week."

"Oh." It's the only word I can think of.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry, Tali," Winnie says, and I can hear the genuine sadness in her voice. "I'll be back in time for Alex's birthday though, I promise."

My gaze trails across to the calendar hanging up beside the kitchen. Just under a month. In four weeks, he would have turned thirty.

We would have thrown a big party; which would have pissed Alex off to no end. He would've grumbled about it for months, complaining that he's a private person, which is just a code word for boring, but secretly loving that I'd gone to the effort. Just like his twenty-first.

My heart aching in my chest, I say, "It's okay, Win. You've got to do what you've got to do, and I have the guys here to keep me company." There's a beat of silence, so I follow it up with, "And I'm going back to work, which I've strangely missed."

We both laugh at that.

"Anyway, how've you been?" I can hear Winnie settling in on the other end of the line. I find it more amusing than I care to admit that she's still so invested in what's going on back here while she's living it up overseas. Despite it being a work trip, I've seen her Instagram posts. She's thriving over there.

"I've been good. But there is something you might be interested to know."

Winnie giggles. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

A mischievous grin forms on my lips. "I slept with them. Both of them."

There's a long stretch of silence. It's a pause so long that, for a minute, I think the call might have dropped.

"Winnie? You still there?"

She coughs, spluttering for a second. "Still here. Just stunned into silence because... wow! You really did it? With both of them? How did that even work? What was it like? I have so many questions, Tali! You can't just drop a bomb like that than and not expect me to have questions!"

A laugh slips past my lips, dissolving into a burst of laughter. "It was something new. But it was fun. They didn't take everything all serious and alpha like some guys probably would. They made it fun, we laughed about stuff, and the aftercare was perfect."

"10 out of 10 would recommend then?"

"I would," I reply, letting myself smile. Despite all of the conflicted feelings I have about what happens now, it doesn't in any way diminish how unwaveringly happy I feel thinking about last night.

We talk a bit more - mostly about all of the interesting people Winnie has met in Paris, the new places she's seen, and all the restaurants she's tried - before she has to go. We say our goodbyes and I promise to call her in the morning on my way into the office. Not long after, I hear the sound of the spare key turning in the lock, and I look up to see Johnny nudging the front door open.

He's beaming, a broad smile on his face and two overflowing shopping bags in his hands. Simon follows him into the kitchen, carrying the other three. He nods to me on his way past, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Want to help us with the meal plan, princess?" Si calls out from the kitchen.

Huh?

I follow them through into the kitchen to find Johnny leaning over the counter with a piece of paper and a pen, as Simon dutifully unpacks the bags. Johnny takes one glance at the questioning look on my face before offering me one of his most charming smiles. "Me and Si were talking. Did'nae think it's fair for ye to be doing all the cooking, not when ye're going back to work now. And we eat most of it."

A frown forms on my lips. "I didn't complain about it."

Si turns around now. "We know, but we don't think it's right. You do a lot for us already, darlin'. Just let us do something for you."

I try not to blush as I fold my arms across my chest. "Fine. Okay."

Johnny grins. "So, what do ye want on Monday?"

After dinner, we settle in to watch TV in the living room. I fold myself into my armchair, letting Johnny and Simon cuddle up together on the sofa.

It's hard not to keep glancing over at them; even harder to hold back the un-earned feeling of jealousy that keeps nipping at my heart. They're a couple. They're allowed to act lovey-dovey in the privacy of their own home.

Home. Thinking about that makes it even worse. At some point - when all of their army drama blows over - they're going to leave.

Logically, I know that. I know that me, them, and Winnie can't all live in this two-bedroom apartment together, but it still stings. It's irrational, and I know it.

I watch as Simon runs his fingers through Johnny's hair - the Scotsman all but asleep with his head in his partner's lap - as I swallow down the growing resentment. Bitterness coats my tongue, and I swallow thickly.

Simon looks over, because of course he does, with a questioning look of concern. Mask-free, it's all too easy to see his expression now. It almost hurts to look at his face; to know just how beautiful he was.

I shake my head and close my eyes, kicking myself for being so stupid about this.

We're all grown-ups. We agreed to have sex. It was one night.

But then why does my chest burn when I think about them, like someone's trying to squeeze the life out of me?

"You alright, love?"

I nod, my eyes still firmly shut. Why did I do this to myself? Let myself have a taste of the one thing I can't have from them?

"Hey, love," Simon calls again, voice laced with something I can't place. "Open your eyes for me, yeah?"

So, I do. I open my eyes and level him with the blankest expression I can muster. "I don't feel well. I'm going to go for a walk," I say, thankfully giving no hint of my emotions. "I'll be back before midnight."

His hazel eyes harden. "Not on your own you're fucking not."

I wince, but something in my resolve strengthens. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," he growls. "I'm saying it's dark out, it's cold as fuck, and I'm not having you out there alone surrounded by a bunch of creeps while I sit in here like a lemon."

We stare at each other for a long, long time.

Uncharacteristically, he breaks the silence first. "Just let me put Johnny in our room and I'll come with you." He nods to the dead-weight of a completely knocked-out Johnny's cheek resting on his muscular thighs.

My temper flares. "I didn't invite you."

I can feel Simon battling his anger from here. I also get the distinct impression that if I was anybody else - other than Johnny - I'd have already received the bollocking of my lifetime for being so damned difficult right now.

"The only way you're leaving this flat tonight, princess, is if I'm with you," he grumbles, hazel eyes dark and unwavering as he pins me with a glare. A glare that tells me Ghost is back. "I'll lock you in your room to keep you safe if I fucking have to."

I match him with a fierce glare of my own. "Why do you fucking care?"

That seems to take him aback. His eyes soften, the harsh line of his mouth pulling down at the corners, making the scars around it all the more apparent. "Of course I care."

"But why?" A hollow laugh slips past my kips and I spring up from my armchair, starting to pace in front of the TV. I'm completely aware that I must look borderline hysterical as I look at him with wild eyes. "I'm just one of the many, many women you two have fucked. Why do you care if I want to go walking at night? If I cook dinner?"

Simon's frown deepens. "That's not what this is. You know that."

"Really?" I gesture wildly to Johnny, who's still blissfully unaware of what's happening. "All night you've been cuddled up, while I've just sat here and... and watched you. Do you know how much that hurts? After last night when you made me feel so fucking included? And now you're back to making me feel like an outsider." The words spill out of their own accord, frantic and rushed as I feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks. A broken-sounding laugh bubbles up from my throat. "I've spent all day telling myself I wouldn't do this because it's so fucking embarrassing. It was one night, and now you're both going to think I'm crazy."

Si stares back at me and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that it hurts. "I... we didn't know you'd see it like that."

My heart cracks in two inside my chest. The tears pour even faster as I glare down at my slipper-covered feet.

How could I be so reckless? I've just ruined everything.

"Tali, can you come here please?"

My eyes trail back to Simon. To his hand patting the tiny space on the sofa beside him - the side not occupied by Johnny, soft snores pouring out of his mouth like cats' purrs. My feet carry me across the room. I slot myself into the gap beside Simon, trying not to let any part of my body touch his. Preparing myself for whatever it's not you, it's us speech that is inevitably coming.

a/n: hey guys! hope you've enjoyed part 8 :) sorry that it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it was getting quite long and I try to stick around 2.5k words to make it flow better i'm aiming to have part 9 out by the end of next week, but I won't make any promises just yet <3 - much love, lapetitelapin

#cod #cod fanfic #fanfic #ghoap x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #angst

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velvrei · 1 year

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CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

summary: robby and the reader go to prom and kyler’s after party, what happens when robby misbehaves and annoys the reader?

pairings: robby keene x female!reader

warnings: smut, season 4? handjobs, semi-public sex (except they don't actually have sex), begging, underage drinking, praise kink, pda (kissing in public), degradation, edging, overstimulation, choking

word count: 3k

author’s note: another early morning post<3 hope everyone has an amazing day and i hope you enjoy!

That content smile your father seldomly showed always uplifted you at the greatest times possible. He didn't smile much, however, when he did, it was for a good reason. Today's reason, it was prom night.

You and your father were very close. He was the type of dad to threaten or even hurt anyone who hurt you. And oh, the advantage of having a filthy rich father. He let you pick out your dress, no matter the price, and then not too long after took your date, Robby Keene, out to buy a tux. You insisted that you would go with though, cause you sensed your dad would doubtlessly have that father-daughters-boyfriend talk about how "if you hurt her I'll hurt you", or "you better treat her how she deserves".

Robby treated you like a queen, which is something your dad observed and it something he appreciated.

Robby constantly told you how perfect you were. He knew how to make you feel appreciated, and you constantly made sure he felt appreciated as well. You and Robby were sublime together.

"Daddy? Robby? Can I come down now?!" You yelled yearningly down the stairs. It was time for your big reveal with your new dress, as they did in basically every teen-movie involving some kind of dance. It was finally your turn, and you got to be escorted by the karate star of your dreams. It was the perfect moment.

"Yes, honey, we're ready."

You began your walk down the stairs, holding the railing to make sure you didn't stumble upon yourself. You looked up and saw your dad holding the phone on it's side, recording with his jaw dropped as one would. You looked beautiful. You had great taste.

Your dress was a gorgeous burgundy, with spaghetti width straps as well as a v cut that ended slowly above your breasts, far enough to make them perk up but you pulled it up until you got past your dad. You didn't feel like getting 'questioned' (which was Terry's replacement word for getting screamed at) on prom night.

Your gaze met Keene's and his jaw was dropped. He looked astonishing in his matching tux. His blazer and pants were jet black, as well as his tie and pocket square.

"Y- You look-" Robby was inarticulate, he was unable to speak.

"Beautiful, honey! I'm so glad I let you pick out your dress. You look amazing. Pretty sure Robby agrees, he's speechless!" Terry smiled brightly and you walked down the last step, instantaneously giving him a bear hug.

"Thank you so much daddy, for everything," You let go of your dad not wanting to crush his soul, "Today has been so perfect and I already know we'll have so much fun." His smile grew hearing your appreciation. He loved you so much, all he needed was to make sure his little girl had fun.

"Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Silver. Thank you for the tux, I'll pay you back when I can-"

"Don't worry about that kid, all I ask for is that you two stay safe. Tonight is supposed to be enjoyable, if you get in fights, first you win, then after the dance or whatever after party I'm sure someone will throw come back to tell me. I will handle it if it needs to be handled afterwards." Hearing those words made you feel safe.

"Of course, if something goes on that doesn't involve us we will disregard the entire situation." Robby looked Terry straight in the eye, but it wasn't a challenging stare per say, more of a 'I've got your back' look.

"Okay! Let me get some pictures and then you two should be on your way!" Terry spoke, searching around for one of his butlers to take a photo of the three of them.

"Ophelia, could you come here and take a picture for me and my two favorite teens, please?" He shouted, and Ophelia came running. She was always your favorite, she was adorable. Brown hair, ocean blue eyes, which was exceptionally rare for her darker skin tone.

"Of course, Mr. Silver." Her voice was always incredibly calming.

Your father's scoff turned into a laugh, "Remember, love, you can call me Terry. I get you work for me and you feel the need to but I really prefer Terry no matter who it is."

Your dad smiled sweetly toward Ophelia, and she smiled back gratefully, ready to take the picture on Terry's phone as he wrapped his arms around the both of you, standing in the middle. 'If he stood on the side it would've looked awkward', was probably something he would say later on.

The picture was taken, along with a few selfies taken by Terry and his long armed, substantial tall figure. Terry escorted the two of you into his lamborghini veneno that he gave you for the night.

Then, you were off to live the night of your dreams.

彡

You arrived to prom in style, you and Robby's whole goal was to make everyone turn their heads and cluelessly wonder how the former criminal bagged Samantha LaRusso's ex-buddy and Yasmine and Moon's current bestie. Sam used to be your friend, but she had messed up way to many times.

Robby quickly jogged to the passenger seat, almost tripping on the cement but he ceased himself and opened your door successfully.

"M'lady," He said, bowing with one hand behind his back then quickly reaching out and helping you out do the car.

"Thank you, kind sir." The playful banter didn't last very long, and no surprise you were the won to end it, "I swear to the devil if these heels ache my feet one more time I will fucking throw them at literally anyone's stupid face-"

Robby shushed you, his finger hovering your sultry lips. It smelled of cologne. How much cologne did he put on that day?

"It's okay, just let me know if it continues so I can sweep you off your feet." He said with a cunning smirk.

You were in for a tedious night of cheesy pick-up lines.

As you walked up to the door, thundering music filled your ears, the smell of school and alcohol filling your nose, which is something you should've expected but didn't in the slightest.

"Okay, if we see Sam or even Miguel, just look for like 2 seconds and look away, let's give them the act that we don't give a fuck. Cause we don't," His arm linked with yours, "Am I correct, Lady Silver?"

"You sure are, Sir Keene."

You slightly pushed passed the coral curtain, your steps in sync as you felt your chest become moderately warm. You both looked to the left of you, seeing Samantha and Miguel together at one of the many punched bowls that were spiked.

As soon as you even felt them notice, you looked away, and straight ahead, your eyes pausing on Moon and Yasmine.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," You heard Sam murmur, you could tell the frustration in her voice even if it was just a careless whisper.

Speaking of careless whispers, you heard the song by George Michael begin playing. You looked Robby directly in the eye and he knew exactly what you wanted. He was ready to go mingle with Kyler and Piper as you did so.

He gave you the gaze of approval, even thought you technically didn't need his permission. You kissed his cheek and ran off with Moon and Yasmine to sing your heart outs as if you were just broken up with and still in love with your former partner. But none of you were actually.

After you sung noisily with your closest friends, not even somewhat embarrassed of how heartbroken you may've sounded, and intensely danced with Robby to LES by Childish Gambino.

"Hey love, I heard our old teacher buddy Stingray is throwing an after party at his place," His eyes met yours and his right hand that was covered in rings found a place in your waist, "Wanna get out of here?" His eyebrows raised, his gaze moved down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

"You know it, baby."

彡

You and Robby were both been expecting some kind of after party to be held after prom, it was a tradition and it was finally your turn to be apart of it. Your whole night felt surreal.

You and Robby stumbled in through the door, his lips separating from your warm ones as he removed his hands from your waist.

"Aye look at Robby over there getting some, why don't I have that?" Kyler remarked, you could tell his dumbass was already intoxicated, you could smell his breath from a mile away.

"Maybe if you actually became tolerable more girls would be attracted to you," You shook your head with a chuckle.

Robby swiftly moved his hand up to your mouth, turning your chin toward him so you were eye level and wiped off your wet bottom lip as you tried not to internally freak out and played it somewhat normal by fixing his undone tie, maybe you should've have pulled on it as hard as you did outside.

"We'll continue that later," You whispered, then smacked his ass causing him to wince somewhat loudly.

Tory laughed, attempting to get Kyler some water to stay at least some what allegeable, "You alright over there, Keene?" She grabbed a dishrag from the drawer next to her, which she had remembered from the countless times she and the cobra gang had hung out with Stingray in the previous times.

"Yeah," Robby lied with a voice crack.

You laughed, then strolled over to find something else to do, Robby quickly following. "Why do you keep smacking my ass?" He questioned, you could tell he was becoming a frantic mess already. It was only eleven thirty-five post meridiem.

"You've got a voluptuous ass on you, man, if you haven't realized that already," You had smacked it at least seventeen times throughout the night, and it wasn't even close to being finished yet. "Oh?" You ignored his simple remark.

"Why? Do you not like it?"

"I never said that," He laughed and scratched his neck awkwardly.

You hummed, your left hand grasping his tie and your right ran along his stabbing jawline, you raised your lips up to his ear, "You know I wouldn't purposely do anything you're uncomfortable with, right, love?"

You softly kissed below his ear, knowing that was his sweet spot. You heard an almost silent sigh leave his lips, the actions you executed always left him desired for more.

He mumbled a ‘mhm’.

"Use your words, my king."

His knees became week and he almost collapsed in the middle of the room. Your voice was so sexy. "Yes, I know that, Y/N." His voice was raspy and low, as if he just had sexual intercourse although you've just been teasing him with your words.

"Good. Just wanted to make sure," Your nails lightly heaved the soft skin of his face. "Let's go find somewhere more private, shall we?" He nodded eagerly, but then remembered to use his words.

"Please, Y/N."

The sound of him begging quietly in your ear made you get butterflies in the place a little lower than your stomach, you felt your heart skip a beat as you made eye contact, grabbed him by his tie and pulled him in for a kiss, at this point, it didn't even matter if Sam or Miguel saw you.

You winked, then turn around, your fingers still firmly grasping his tie, leading him to find a somewhat empty closet.

Once you did just that, Robby felt his pants get tighter as you closed the door behind the two of you and pushed him up against the door.

You were so enticing. "You look so good, my love," Your hand traced faintly down his chest, he was so aroused his pale cheeks were almost red.

"Please, Y/N."

"Please what, my love? What do you want?" He let out a frustrated groan as your hand advanced lower and lower, stopping at his V-line. "T- touch me."

You enjoyed this side of him, he rarely showed vulnerability, and when he did it was with you. It made you aroused at the thought and sight of him begging for you to touch him.

Your lips firmly pushed against his, your left hand ran into his hair, pulling roughly and he let out an raucous moan. He eagerly pushed his crotch against you in attempt for some class of friction, failing miserably as you caught the act and stepped away, your lips separating.

"How cute, you're impatient," Your words were sweet like honey but what they meant made him stuck. He was officially sexually frustrated because of you, and you were adoring it.

You pushed his blazer off, his button-up displayed his chest beautifully. "Just thought I would help you, cause you seem to be very hot and bothered." He whined at your words.

"Please don't tease me. Please, please just do something. I don't care what it is," God, he was so needy. "Just touch me, Y/N."

You slowly undid the first three buttons of his shirt, leaving the remaining ones together as Robby's hands flit up to both verges of your face. "Y/N. Do something. I'm begging you," You could hear the direct need in his tone, and it made your knees give in.

You couldn't wait any longer to watch your boyfriend lose it.

"Fine."

You moved quickly, your hands swiftly undoing his pants and shoving them down. His boxers joined his pants and you grabbed ahold of him. He let out a needy whimper. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it, love? For me to touch you? You're so fucking needy."

He panted heavily, "You really have a way with words, huh?" He shuttered, his cheeks were bright pink and his hair was slightly messed up from your hands grasping at it.

"Only you would know that," A shiver traveled down his spine as you bent over and spat, then began pumping him faster.

You didn't bother shielding his lips with your free hand because you knew the loudly blasting music would cover his mellow whines and whimpers. "Holy shit." His hand fumbled on the door nob, trying to find something to lean himself on.

You looked him directly in the eye, you then turned him so his back was faced on the inside wall of the colorless closet.

Precum leaked off of him, he watched you in awe as you swiped your thumb across him and brought the remains up, your swollen lips closed around, your tongue worshipped his sweet taste.

He moaned at the sight, everything you did evoked him.

"Your hands are so, fuck," He wasn't able to form a proper sentence so you finished it for him, "Talented? Soft? Perfect? Something along those lines I'm assuming?" You said with a grin, your cocky side began to show, it made him weaker by the second.

"I'm so close, fuck," He whispered as his legs began to shake and his heart began to beat much faster than before. You slowly pulled away, and he suddenly became cold at the loss of your touch. He whined desperately, by now his entire body was alight with arousal and it was really pissing him off how you kept teasing but he knew if he did something about it he would regret it poorly.

"You want to come? Okay, I want to hear you beg for it. I want to hear you explain what you want me to do and then I may just do it." You spoke. He took that as a challenge. Challenge excepted.

He knew just how to make you listen.

"Please, Y/N, please, let me come," He begged with the tiniest smirk you've ever seen, "Please, I'll do anything, I'll be such a good boy for you," You almost moaned but you ceased yourself, "Please, please let me come." He begged.

You looked him in the eye and pumped him as fast as your hand could possibly go, he moaned loudly and began thrusting up to your hand. You wanted him to regret that he ever sassed you, even if it was just a little smirk he gave, however you saw it.

He mouth fell open, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Even after he came, you continued pumping him and he groaned.

Your fingers firmly gripped his throat.

"You really think you can purposely turn me on and not expect any consequences? Think again, Keene, you may have got what you wanted, but oh, honey, I'm going to do so much more than that." He whimpered at your words, and your hand continued loving at the same speed.

You began to get a cramp in your hand but you ignored it and continued your assault by rotating your hand and rubbing your thumb along his tip. "Fuck!"

He came again.

And again.

The overstimulations were enjoyable at first but it eventually became too much, and he begged for you to stop or else he would explode. You knew that. "You gonna be sassy to me?" Your hand tightened on his neck, and you examined his eyes. His pupils were dilating like crazy.

"No, Y/N, I promise I won't. You're in charge, I know that now. I'm so sorry, please forgive me." His attempted apology was like music to your ears. "Are you really sorry?"

"Yes!"

You smirked, and pursued to pump him. "Oh god I'm so close again, please please let this be the last one I w- won't be able to walk." He was a mess. It was beautiful.

"Okay my king, come for me. One last time." Your soft whispers caused him to throw his head back, he didn't care how hard it hit the door or how loud it could've sounded. He shouted your name as he orgasmed, and you swore he was about to cry.

After he finished he almost fell over but you caught him before he could. You put his weight back into the wall and cupped his cheek carefully. "You did so well, honey."

He melted into the warmth of your hand, and he stopped the arise of the red on his cheeks. "Thank you."

It made you happy knowing he trusted you enough to be vulnerable around you. You got him to beg multiple times, even if quite a few seemed sarcastic, he clearly learned his lesson.

He challenged you, and you won. You always won.

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