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someonegoood · 29 days

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MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 2 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which life does not go on after Mason breaks your heart over and over again. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 2 ! Mason made his first goal for United and I'm emotional 💞 I'll do part 3 later

taglist: @dreamingofautopia @xjval @sunflower-tia @sad-fridge2323 @girlidekanymore @borbolwra3

Chelsea added to their story.

Your phone notified you, immediately dampening your mood. Everything was related to him.

It’s been two months since Mason shattered your heart after that nightmare of a night. The funny thing is that a part of you didn’t hate him, a part of you that still loved him existed.

You had waited for him to text you to ask how you were and if you were free to hang out. And by the time you realized that he wasn’t going to, it was too late… too awkward for you to ask as well. So, both of you had resorted to ignorance and hostility.

Life eventually went on, even though you had cut one of the most important people out of your life. And you’d see yourself by night, in your dreams. All these faces in the crowded city of London, and for some reason, you’d still try to find his. Mason was no longer yours.

Although he never was.

The first time Mason saw you after that night was a couple of months later, at a family lunch. The two families —Mounts and yours—had united in your family's garden for a little lunch to catch up on life. You had turned twenty and Lyon was old news.

But Mason’s eyes were stuck on your body as he watched you sit between his sister and your brother just before him. Sipping from a glass of wine that you most likely didn’t like, he glanced at you.

Your brother had brought his new girlfriend with him and even though you were still as close as ever, his attention was on the pretty blonde talking to your nanny.

Mason had spent so much of his life avoiding you, but after the night of the party, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Although he just couldn’t.

—Dear, will you serve me a little piece of that cake? —Your mother had her plate in her hand, waiting for Mason to react. It took him about five seconds to come out of his trance and then he served her what she had ordered.

He was too busy thinking about you.

—So, Mason… when is your next match? Your dad told me you were playing for England. —Your mom tried to lighten up the mood since you were not bickering with Mason as you were on other occasions.

Mason smiled up while you looked at him and caught a glimpse of his beautiful Cheshire cat smile.

—I’m playing next week, on Sunday… —He looked around at everyone and proceeded. —You are all invited, of course.

After an hour or two, everyone stood up, scattering around the decorated garden. Mason grabbed his phone from the table and headed to the kitchen in search of a beer.

In the background, the voices of the two families blurred together as you finished washing your plate. Both Mount sisters were busy playing card games with their mother and your brother was having a talk about politics, which you were not at all interested in. You had no one to talk to.

Suddenly, you feel someone behind you trying to open the refrigerator. That bloody refrigerator, which, being so old, could not be opened correctly. You turned around, not expecting to see Mason looking at you.

You headed to the refrigerator to open it, so Mason moved from where he was previously standing, leaning on the kitchen counter. You gave the refrigerator a little kick and it opened.

—Thanks… —He said grabbing the beer, the tension being palpable in the air. After a long pause, you continued:

—How are you? —you asked, he could feel your eyes staring into his side profile, but he stared at the sun setting over the British landscape.

—I’m alright.

Scoring some scarce points with Chelsea has become almost impossible under a year ago now, and you really felt sorry for him, knowing everything he and his team put in.

—How are you holding up? —you stood next to him, nudging his shoulder with yours, before looking down at the floor. You felt the look of pity that Mason was giving you, but you tried to ignore it.

—Thank you, really.

—Mase...

He looked in your eyes this time, he looked so sad, so broken. So desperate for a hug. You didn’t pressure him to answer your question, instead, you gently placed your head on his shoulder looking along the garden in silence.

—It will be alright, you know. —He hummed, knowing you were still hurt because of what he had said.

—I know. —You whispered back. —And don't worry much about scoring, in the least expected moments your shot is the one that serves the most.

He hated how much you believed him because at that moment he felt like the six-year-old boy with dreams bigger than the world itself, who thought everything was possible.

Mason looked down at you, the smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart, and threw his head back in a laugh.

—I don't think I’m ever getting rid of you.

Now it was your turn to laugh. After all the laughing he noticed how your eyes shifted from his own to his lips, and then he remembered why he was avoiding you in the first place. He did a face.

—I know, I know. —You said with a sad look on your face.

—You know I’m too old for you, right? —Mason whispered as he leaned his forehead on yours.

—I’m in it for the long game, Mount.

It felt like your heart was twisting and stuttering, sometimes beating too quickly that you were afraid it was going to push you over the edge. You wanted him to notice, to do something to fix it.

Time went on flying, the last few days being hectic. It was already Sunday and today Mason was playing with England and obviously, you were more than proud. He had invited your brother —his best friend—, you and your family to watch him from the special box for family and friends.

The cold air hits your face as soon as you enter the box with your family. Excited, you see Debbie and Tony, and their children already seated. You were so nervous that your hands were even sweating.

You sit next to Stacey, Mason's older sister. She gives you a smile.

—Nervous about the game? —she asks.

—A bit, yes... —you say as you settle down, your eyes scanning the pitch, looking for him. For Mason.

—This should be an easy game, England has a better team.

—You never know. —you reply. You were almost freezing, you only had the basic England t-shirt on.

Stacey noticed that you were shivering from the cold and decided to take off the sweatshirt she had tied around her shoulders. She put it on your lap and smiled.

—Put it on, otherwise, you'll freeze to death here. —she said, laughing.

—I'm... —You said about to deny it. For a second, you thought about the cold that you would catch without the sweatshirt, so you decided to take it. —Oh, never mind.

The sweatshirt was white and had his number and surname printed on the front, in a blue font. This made you remember the uncountable times when you stole Mason's sweatshirts just to have his number on you.

Stacey, without you seeing, grabbed her phone and texted his brother: "Just wanted to say that she's here and she's got your name on her sweatshirt. Good luck! We're all rooting for you. And don't worry, she'll wait for you."

All of a sudden, Summer, Mason's niece, came up to you asking if she could sit in your lap to have a better look at the pitch. It was no secret that Summer enjoyed seeing you, as she had grown up seeing your brother and you in the Mount household.

—Look over there, Summer! There is your uncle. —said Stacey, and both Summer and you looked over to where the players were entering the enormous pitch. There he was, beautiful as always.

The whistle was blown and the match started. Everyone was immersed in the excitement of the box, watching the match carefully. The atmosphere was electric, and each second increased the tension.

—Yes! —You screamed when Mason's friend, Declan, scored the opening goal, feeling your heart beat against your chest rapidly. Summer looked up at you with wide eyes, before she started giggling. You smiled and leaned down to where she was and kissed her on the forehead.

The second half started and your eyes only followed Mason running up and down the pitch. Only one goal was scored in the whole 45 minutes of the first half, that being Declan's goal.

Abruptly, Stones stole the ball from a player on the opposing team. He ran alone, jumped over some defenders and, feinting, the ball passed to Henderson on the right side. He analyzed the position of the players spread around the pitch before passing it to Foden, who was almost close to the goal.

He passed it to Mason and he, avoiding the players, aimed and kicked with all his strength.

The world went silent for a moment. He had scored.

After realizing that he had scored a goal, Mason ran to the end of the field, right where you were. The atmosphere was pure shouting, people jumping and celebrating but you only had eyes for Mason.

He looked towards the box looking for those who truly love him and just at that precise moment, you connected glances. With a shaky breath, you stood up from your seat and waved to him, also trying to hold Summer up with your other arm.

Mason's heart melted when he saw that scene and many things went through his head: he couldn't believe he had scored a goal after so long and he also couldn't believe how beautiful you looked with his niece in your arms.

In celebration, he pointed to both of you and you could only sigh in love. The game ended with a great performance from Mason and a win for England.

As soon as he stepped into the box, he scanned the room for you, but Summer caught him off guard.

—Uncle Mase! —she ran toward him and he picked her up, planting a kiss on her cheek while she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

—My favourite person! —His eyes fell on you and he didn't know if it was his imagination or the fact that he hadn't seen you in days, but you looked prettier than usual.

You were standing at the back, watching Mason greet his family. You felt shy and awkward, which made you hate the feeling even more. All you wanted was love from him and for that, you haven't slept well in the days after the family lunch with the Mount's.

—I played well, all thanks to you. —He kissed her head and his niece giggled. The little girl ran toward her mother and then closed the door, leaving you and Mason all alone. Your family had congratulated Mason before and told you they were waiting outside.

—How have you been? —His voice was gentle like he was afraid to say something.

—Mason! —you laughed. —You just scored a tremendous goal for England and you ask me how am I? Sometimes I don't understand you.

—Alright, alright. You have a point! —he laughed, definitely not missing those nervous butterflies in his stomach. He felt like a little boy.

His gaze searched yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He scratched the back of his neck and then looked at your sweatshirt with his surname and number.

His number looked very good on you, he thought.

He gazed at your lips and he came dangerously close to you. You stepped back, hitting the table. Mason was looking straight into your eyes when he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and sat you on the table. You let out a little squeal. The air was thick with tension, and all you craved was to pull him close and kiss him passionately.

—We-we should go. —you said, clearing your throat. —Your family is waiting.

Quickly, Mason grabbed your wrist.

—Mase... You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. His breath hitches.

—I feel things… —your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him say that.

Pushing his hand down, you look back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again.

What he didn't know is that he's everything you were imagining those long nights… he had never kissed you, not even touched you.

—It’s okay if you want to stop- —he said, while you slid your hands under his t-shirt. Running up and down your hands through his lower torso, you felt his abs contract.

—Mount, I'm certain that I'm okay. —you said, giggling. He smirked. Your core grows tighter with his expressions, now holding onto his broad shoulders.

Unexpectedly, you both heard from behind the closed door someone shout: —Mate, are you there? The party starts at ten, hurry!

Fuck. That was your brother.

Mason had completely forgotten about the party in honour of their win. How the fuck was he getting out of that room with a hard-on? He had to calm himself.

You, on the other side, felt your heart falls into pieces. You thought about how long you had waited for this exact moment, every time you gave your endless hope all you ended up doing was bleeding. And this time, not only he was about to leave you alone but he was going to leave you turned on.

—I'm-I'm sorry... —he said, exiting quickly from the room.

After that match, you only heard from Mason through your brother. He had told you that after the match, at the party, Mason had rejected every girl who appeared to flirt with him.

Apparently, you've had an effect on him.

Mason hated how his heartbeat boomed in his ear when he saw you standing in his parents' house, with a blue shirt that had printed out the number 19 on the back, hugging your figure.

You had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, you had for sure gone through puberty. He didn’t like to stare but he found it hard not to sometimes. Especially on family boat trips when you would wear a bikini in front of him.

—So, we're leaving after lunch. Do you want to meet at the stadium or at home?

You took a minute to understand. —What?

—The game, remember? We're having lunch here and then driving up to watch the game. —Said your brother, while getting on the boat. About three weeks had passed since you almost kissed Mason and now you were about to hop on the Mount's boat in Portsmouth.

You had completely forgotten about the game. During your conversations with your brother, you could sense that Mason hadn't mentioned anything about that night which was, in a way, kind of relieving.

Just like you, Mason had also forgotten that your family was coming over. But when his sister sent him a text saying that your family would join him before his game, he was flabbergasted.

You both hadn't spoken since the night of the win, but you both were thinking about that interaction since then. To forget that incident, he had spoken to one of his best friends, Ben, in search of a solution.

—Mate, what you need is a good fling. Maybe you should invite someone next time you're going on a family boat day —said Ben, laughing because of what Mason was asking him.

You got on Mason's boat, feeling heavy-hearted once again. After an hour, you were seated on the floor, helping Stacey with a puzzle, after your mom expelled you from the kitchen when trying to help her. Meanwhile, Mason and his mother sat down on the couch.

—She has grown into a beautiful woman, don't you think? —His mom said teasingly, already knowing that you were not the only one fallen for someone.

—Yes, she has. —He looked at you, seeing you laugh at something his sister had said. —Mom... I think I fucked up.

—If you had fucked up, she wouldn't be here.

—No mom, I really- —Mason got interrupted by the entrance of a tall, dark-eye, skinny blond, almost gotten out from a runway. She turned toward Mason and presented herself as Daphne, a friend. Debbie now understood why her son said he had fucked up really bad.

Your brother, seeing Daphne —the supposed fling of Mason— talking with him, turned to you.

—Forget your stuff, let’s just get off this boat. Don’t turn around okay? —his hands gripping strongly your shoulders. He knew how much you liked his best friend.

You laughed and followed your brother down the steps of the boat before stopping in your tracks.

—Since when have I ever listened to you? Dear God, I- — Your mouth fell open as you turned around to be met with Mason and his mother, and the presence of a girl that looked like an actual model.

She was leaning on him and he was laughing at whatever she had to say, while Debbie looked at you with pity. You felt like he had personally ripped your heart out, for a hundred times.

—You knew?

Your brother sighed before running his hands through his hair: —She's only a side thing, a one-time fling. I mean she’s not you, but he decided to find someone before Christmas. —He shrugged his shoulders and you felt the rage creeping up your body.

—What about me? When will I be happy? —you said, crying.

That sentence broke your brother's heart.

19 years to be exact, that's the time you've been waiting for him.

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effervescentdragon · 6 months

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i dont know how to deal with this pain in my chest that's a constant. i dont't know how to take this much hurt.

i was a child of war, i type out and then i say to myself no, i am a child of war. its a funny story i tell people, how when i was to be born they bombarded our city the whole night. the gas that my dad spared so they could take my mother to the hospital was stolen, siphoned from the car, so what happened was that my mother's water broke in the back of a military vehicle that my dad's friends-colleagues-soldiers drove us all in to the hospital. i was born almost 12 hours later during a night when they bombarded my hometown from every mountain around it. it doesnt really matter; they bombarded us all the time.

my mother is a doctor. she worked in the hospital the whole time during the war and she worked relentlessly. she tells the stories of that time with a detachment that used to be curious to me when i was younger and is now just horrifying. "mom," i said to her years ago, "im learning about porphyrias." - "oh," she says, eyes lighting up, "the first time i encountered a case of porphyria was during the war, when we were shut in the hospital for 5 days because they kept bombarding us and we couldnt go home. one of the doctors not on call when we got stuck came with his daughter, drove to the hospital because his daughter was unconscious and we determined she had porphyria. it was really interesting to see." she doesn't see my horrified gaze. she doesn't know what she sounds like. she still doesn't, to this day. i stopped begging her to go to therapy one day when she looked at me, eyes far away, and said "if i go, where do i start?"

my friend was 5 when the war started. she asked me on saturday "are you always afraid of everything?". i shake my head. she said she wakes up sometimes gripped with fear and has to list out all the things in her life that are alright and asks her husband to hug her and still it doesnt help. she thought she was the only one to feel that way and then she tells me a new phrase she learned. generational trauma. i nod and remember her telling me how a grenade hit their building when she was 8, in the year i was born, and how she still has the burn scar on her leg from the shell.

my high school teacher told me a story once. it was war and she was 15, and it was a friday and they stopped bombarding for three days. the youth gathered at the main square on the date that used to be a celebration of youth. her friend had strict parents, "but whose parents arent strict in a war," she says with a laugh, and they all decided to walk her home before her curfew. a bomb hit the square, civillian target, and killed over 70 people. the youngest was 2. he died because a shrapnel pierced his heart as his mother was clutching him. she didn't notice until it was too late. i know her and her husband. i see them around the town sometimes. my mother worked in the hospital that day, when they brought in the wounded. my father brought them in. "thats what i always remember when my kids say im too strict," my teacher says and laughs. i laugh along. what else am i supposed to do.

the year my sister was born another genocide happened. the world looked away then too, like it does now. when the war in ukraine started my gynecologist tells me about it; about a woman who came in and said "i have 5 children." my gynecologist said "what do you mean five," lookimg at the four surrounding her. the women said "i had to leave my wounded son behind. it was the best chance these other four had to survive, if im with them". she has a placid smile on her face as i look at her in horror. "i learned not to ask stupid questions then," she says, and laughs, and i laugh along because what the fuck am i supposed to do.

i dont know how to take this pain of palestine right now and still i look. i look at the victims, thousands of innocent children and people murdered by israel's carpet bombing. i look at the ethnic cleansing happening in front of my eyes, all our eyes. i look at the world which refuses to call it what it is - an ongoing genocide of a whole population. i dont have the privilege of looking away. i opened my eyes into a war when i took my first breath, and i cannot in good conscience look away. war is in my blood; i am a child of war.

there is no point to this except to say somewhere what hurts me the most right now.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free. it has to be. anything else is unnaceptable.

#its about palestine but i dont want to put it in the main tag because this is just my grief right now #cw war #and everything it entails #personal #effervescentdragonrants

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starrycassi · 8 months

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Ballister's been through this many times. Ambrosius comes into his room, hysterical, to announce him of some ridiculous upper crust rule or ball or challenge that he's got to participate in. He knows the drill by now; listen to him, reassure him and help him get ready, be it brushing his hair or co-writing a speech for him to give.

The Goldenloin family puts up an act for people to show off Ambrosius and his many qualities every so often. He doesn't really care, not anymore. He used to panic alongside Ambrosius, when they were thirteen. He's seventeen, now, and the novelty of it has worn off — it's just kind of funny, really, to see his boyfriend suffer through hours and hours of whatever bullshit he's supposed to do now.

This upcoming event, however, is doing a number on Ambrosius's nerves. He's pacing back and forth the room, and he hasn't even looked at Ballister yet. His tic — the one in his left eye, is back, and his lips are red and swollen in the places where he's been bitting them. It's barely five am, and Ballister knows that this is going to be a long day.

"You're going to get nauseous if you keep spinning around, Amber" he tries to start the conversation, voice soft and words slow. Between them, Ambrosius has always been the worst when it comes to keeping his emotions under control. Ballister's learnt, by now, that sometimes it's just better to give him space.

"I'm nauseous already. Some spinning won't hurt, I'm sure" he snaps back, almost screaming. Ballister decides that talking to him won't be possible right now, and goes back to the project on his table, making sure to hold the screwdriver at the right angle.

After fifteen minutes or so, Ambrosius finally stops. He whines, letting his body weight drag him down on Ballister's mattress.

"What is it, this time?"

Ambrosius's silent, only whining a bit more after the question, like a wounded dog. That's new. He usually loves to go on rants about how everything is going to go wrong and how the whole world hates him in secret. Ballister puts down the tools, quickly scribbles down what he's supposed to do next to avoid future mistakes, and sits down next to his boyfriend, threading a hand through the other teen's hair.

They stay like that some minutes, Ballister working his way through the blond strands and Ambrosius simply lying there. Ballister's starting to think that he's fallen asleep, when Ambrosius finally speaks up, face still buried in pillows.

"They're marrying me off, Bal"

The world stops spinning.

Ballister goes static. His whole body freezes, and his heart stops beating. He can feel the blood on his veins going cold, so cold his bones feel stuck, too.

This was a expected situation, kind of. Captain Gloria, Ambrosius's mom, had been married off, too. She didn't like her husband in the slightest and they never talked to each other. Ambrosius told him all that.

She had also promised to keep her son away from that predicament. But Ballister knew better than to trust mothers. His own had abandoned him some years ago, after all.

"What... How? What?"

Ambrosius sits up, criss cross, hugging a pillow. He's such a kid. His eyes are already watery, and he's got a red nose, probably from slamming his face into the pillows.

"Not- well, not actually marrying me off. Mum doesn't want that, y'know" He shrugs, looking at his own hands. "But she can't really... just go against tradition, I guess. So, uh, there's going to be a tournament, figths, you know? And I know I'll probably win, she chose combat because she knows I'm good at it, but what if I don't win?"

He takes a deep breath, grunting. Ballister's brain is struggling to catch up, so he can't do much more than nod, encouraging his boyfriend to keep talking.

"It's not going to be like here, only us, cadets and students, where I know I will undoubtedly win. Actual grown ups could get in there, Ballister. My mom's been screaming to anyone and everyone about how ridiculous everything is, but- I guess rules are rules. I haven't slept. We stayed up all night on the phone, she tore down the whole family's library, called all of our lawyers, we tried every single article and law ever written. Nothing. The best we can do is... hope"

"The Captain's right. This is ridiculous, Ambrosius. What do you mean grown ups? Why? That's fucking creepy. Can't you guys just... say no? You're a Goldenloin, surely you-"

Ambrosius grunts, again, tugging at one of his hair strands.

"It's not that easy!" He screams, shutting Ballister up. "I've been getting proposals for... for forever! It's not really a matter of love as it is a matter of money, Bal. I've been getting proposals even from before I was actually born. Political alliances and all that. Mom's been doing her best, I know she has, but when a heir has said "no" enough times, then a duel or something can be called up, and an actual tournament would be way easier than just fighting every single idiot that wants to get my last name!"

Ballister's never been happier to be an orphan commoner than right now. His only worry when it comes to marriage is whether or not he can afford a pretty ring.

It's not like commoners don't marry for money. Arranged marriages were a pretty common thing around him, young kids marrying older people to try and get their families ahead, forced by their parents, their "spouses" or their economical situations. He just... never really had to worry about it, ever since he became a knight.

"That's incredibly fucked up, Ambrosius"

"I know ! I am well aware of how weird this must be for you, Bal. And I have absolutely no backup plan. My mom's confident that I'm winning, because Goldenloins never lose, but I'm not her! She can still beat me when we spar together, what am I going to do if someone else wins? Just... get married?"

Trying to come up with a solution, Ballister stutters and stammers his way through a sentence.

"You could, uh, get married and have a divorce, right?"

"No! Totally no! You don't get it! Whoever wins gets to ask whatever they want from my family, money, land, my hand- whatever, and then that's irrevocable!"

Stressed out, Ballister screechs. Of course he doesn't get it. No one ever bothered to explain this to him. He knew that parents could force their kids to marry (Captain Gloria once told him the story, very drunk and very mad at her departed dad) but not that a whole fucking event could be staged even if the family said no.

"It's not my fault I don't get it, you twat! Do you think the knigth training automatically gave me political marriage bullshit training, too? Well, no, it didn't! I'm so sorry for not knowing you weird ass nobility traditions, Ambrosius, I didn't realize I was supposed to!"

Getting up from the bed, mad at the world for being unfair and at himself for snapping, he runs his hands through his hair, with the impulse to simply rip it all off. It quickly gets replaced by guilt. Ambrosius has done nothing wrong, and here he is, being an asshole instead of helping.

"Amber... Shit, I'm sorry. This is just-"

Chuckling humorlessly, Ambrosius waves his hand in the air. He looks up at Ballister, and shakes his head.

"You're right. Sorry. I just forgot. I always do"

They already went through this, too. Ambrosius is good at keeping Ballister up to date, always happy to explain the situation, but sometimes things just... slip his mind. It isn't anyone's fault, but it's still annoying when it happens.

"Sorry, too. For calling you a twat"

Ballister leans down, tentatively. Ambrosius doesn't hesitate to lift himself up, and they share a quick kiss. All is forgiven.

"So... what now?"

Silently, they both try their best to think. Ballister's mind is blank, just screaming at him to get a sword and go decapitate however wrote the fuckin rules. He ignores that voice, per usual. The fucker's probably dead, by now, anyway.

Ambrosius is the one who gasps, and smiles all of the sudden, so bright that the sun should be jealous. He bounces on the bed a couple of times, clapping to get his boyfriend's attention.

"We're both idiots!"

Ballister frowns, confused. An awkward smile is all he can offer Ambrosius, wondering if his man finally went crazy.

"I see no correlation between our supposed idiocy and the problem at hand, Amber."

"Come on, Bal! This is easy. I have the best plan" he giggles, like a kid that just got a new toy. Ballister can tell that this plan probably will suck and get them in more danger than necessary. And he's so on board. Always on board, when it comes to Ambrosius.

"Which is?"

"You!" Exclaims Ambrosius, rolling his eyes. "You're my plan"

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to compete and win, Bal"

Perhaps he never should've become a knight, that way he never would've fallen in love with this absolute trainwreck of a man. Is it too late to go back to being a random kid and forget about all this? Probably.

#goldenheart #nimona movie #ballister nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister boldheart #nimona (2023)#ambrosius nimona #ambrosius x ballister #nimona #ballister blackheart #i should be doing homework #forced marriaged but he's trying to save his boyfriend from it #tournament au

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jamneuromain · 2 months

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Hii!!! I just read A Whiff of Blood and it was amazing!!! Omg its been a while since I read Lloyd being caring without having another motive. This is pure goodness 😍

I was wondering if there could be a scene where y/n asks to leave work early bc she has a date. Lloyd says fine but ends up at the same restaurant as her with Danny to spy🤣 and y/n saw them and this will be the first time she yells at her boss. how would the boss react? falling for her even more or trying to save his dignity and ego 😎

Hi babe! So sorry that this one-shot is taking forever to come out (and I've made a little adjustment to it :3 hope you don't mind

A Rush of Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader, Lloyd is being a (surprisingly) softie(?

Summary: You asked whether you could leave early for a date, while Lloyd decided not to keep his feelings bottled up any more.

W/C: ~4.5k

A/N: This is the final sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love for Mob!Lloyd<333

Lloyd can’t help but look at your empty seat for the fifth time in a row. The boring-ass meeting for the quarterly revenue of his properties drags on, yet you haven’t returned for a while now.

Lloyd checks his watch.

It’s been fucking two minutes and forty-two seconds since you excused yourself with your phone buzzing in hand.

The ticking watch gets him more annoyed and impatient by the second. Two minutes and forty-four seconds, two minutes and forty-five seconds, two minutes and forty-six - where the heck are you?

You pick up the call as soon as you reach your desk, “Allie?”

“Hey hon. Bad news, I’m stuck at the airport. There has been a huge blizzard here in Alaska and all flights are banned from taking off.” Allie remains her chirpy sound, but a hit of restraint peeks from her words.

Allie has been your friend since high school. You’ve bonded over the mutual love of boy bands during your teen years. Though you have moved on from your love of pop singers/bands, Allie maintains her enthusiasm for K-pop idols.

“I’m in the middle of a conference, so, sorry about making this short,” you sigh, “I assume they can’t get any plane in or out for today?”

You scheduled for fine dining with Allie at one of Lloyd’s restaurants later this evening. At this rate, you are no longer surprised if he owns the Hollywood landmark too.

“Not in this damn weather, no.” She curses under her breath, “Not for three days as far as I’m aware.”

“Jesus.” You rub your temple as it is throbbing, “Sorry about the weather. I’ll reschedule the dinner.”

“No… don’t be.” Her hesitation on the phone sounds slightly suspicious.

“Allie?” You raise your voice dangerously, “What did you do?”

“Don’t be mad,” she holds a pregnant pause, “I’ve got this really cute boy – he’s a year behind us, by the way – and he’s working now in LA, Scott McCall – that’s double C in McCall, and I planned to introduce you two during dinner.”

“The fu- Allie!” You whisper-yell in the phone, “You’re gonna dump me and let me have dinner with a completely random person?”

Allie squeezes a few dry laughs over the speaker, “Eh- Sorry?”

“You better pray there’s no plane in three days because I’m going to crawl through the phone lines and strangle you if I have the chance.” You sputter a curse, “And burn all your K-pop albums.”

She gasps, “NOT THE ALBUMS!”

Typical Allie.

“Seriously though, you had the chance of meeting him two months ago... at an exhibition. The gallery downtown near the bakery? The Retro-modern Exhibition? The one you left early? It took him a lot of strength to get to me and then to you, so … just try, okay? If it doesn’t work out, it’s fine.” Allie sounds unlike her usual self, “If it works out … I guess you’d have a great story to tell your kids.” She can’t help but joke at the end.

“Yeah yeah, ha-ha, very funny.” With a sigh, you agree to her match-making plan, “Fine. But I really have to go back to work now, ‘kay?” You roll your eyes instinctively when the other end of the phone passes a squeaky “yes” to your ears, “I’ll be there on time. Dinner, six thirty, he’d better not be late.”

“You’re my life-saver. Mwah! Love ya’ bye!” After blowing a kiss via mid-air, Allie hangs up the phone as if fearing you will regret your decision in less than a second.

You end the call at the same moment the door to the conference room swings open, and out came a few executives for his real estate.

“Sorry, Mr. Hansen,” you put your phone into your pocket, straightening your shirt because you have been leaning on your desk. You know how much Lloyd hates disturbance, and creases on a shirt.

Lloyd purses his lips with a frown, an expression he wears often to indicate he’s not happy.

“If it’s okay for you, Mr. Hansen, I’d like to leave early today.” You request rather boldly.

For three years of your work as a secretary, the only other time you left early was a medical emergency of your mother. She fell down the stairs, hit her head, and had a broken femur. Though it wasn’t much of a big deal when she was transferred to a ward later, it scared the hell out of you to take the call from the local hospital, telling you your mother was sent to the ER in an ambulance.

Lloyd was generous enough to grant you a week of leave, but you got back on Day 5 after making sure your mother was well and taken care of.

“Is your family alright?” He asks, clearly still remembering the last time when you got kidnapped on the street, for which he had to assign Claire – a bright young lady, whom you’ve grown fond of over these past weeks – to act as your bodyguard and occasionally your assistant. Under Lloyd’s orders, she went to oversee the security cam installation at your apartment door.

“They are fine.” You suppose it’s better to tell him the truth regarding your leave, rather than having him meet you in his restaurant a few hours later, “I uh… have a date tonight.”

“A date?” He raises his eyebrows, repeating syllable by syllable, “A date, you say?”

“Yes, a date.” It feels like a betrayal all of a sudden, a betrayal of your work ethic. Your throat tightens, “Ahem, I’ll be leaving at five, if that’s alright with you, Mr. Hansen.”

Lloyd studies you for a moment.

“Okay.” He shrugs, sounding carelessly, “If you finish the work for today.”

You are pretty sure that there’s no more itinerary for either Hansen or you after this meeting, but you still play your role as a dutiful secretary and ask, “Anything else you would like me to do?”

“Call James and tell him to pick up the loan I gave out to the Dawson scum, five mil’ in cash or non-bearer bonds. If Dawson returns even one dime short, I want his arm broken. And deliver the drycleaning to my place by five tonight. Tell my butler, while you’re at it, he can hold off the repair down at the basement, this can wait till January. And,” he pauses, “I want you to tell Dani, head to her place personally, and tell her that I’m cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You pick up the landline straight away, ready to dial James’ number.

“You are not taking any notes whatsoever.” Lloyd narrows his eyes, “What are the tasks I just gave you?”

Lloyd seems extra grumpy today, plus you are not a note-taker anyway. You cover the speaker with your palm, though puzzled as to why he’s moody all of a sudden, but comply with his demands, “Call James, collect the debt from Dawson; get the drycleaning to your house by five, and tell your butler Marlin not to rush on the basement repair; and lastly, tell Dani you’re cancelling the Cuban appointment.” And you have no clue what this “Cuban” appointment is. Darn, Lloyd does keep a whole lot of secrets from you, “Anything else, Mr. Hansen?”

Fuck.

He sounds like fucking Cinderella’s stepmom dumping beans into the fireplace. Since when did he get off on ordering you around doing meaningless chores? He could perfectly do them himself, not to mention some of the biddings he has just told you were unnecessary – the basement repair? It was a damn doorknob getting stuck, not a pipeline that leaks like a faucet.

“Claire’s not here, take Avik with you.” He grumbles, returning to his office and slamming the door shut.

Avik is a silent, tanned man who often acts as Lloyd’s muscle. He emerges from thin air – or probably from some corner, standing rigidly behind you like a statue.

“Hey Avik, mind if I drive?” You put a warm smile on your face, swinging the car key on your finger.

Avik merely nods, gesturing that he’ll walk in front of you.

After picking up Lloyd’s drycleaning and telling Marlin the exact words from Lloyd's mouth, you head off to your next assignment.

Dani.

Dani is a woman approximately your age, speaks fluent Spanish, English, and Italian, probably a couple of other languages that you couldn’t understand too, and rumored to be Lloyd’s ex.

She is a charming lady living in a mansion away from the glamourous nightlife of LA, but not shy of parties. In fact, you’ve accompanied Lloyd to a few that she hosts, and if you ever need a party planner, she would be your No. 1 choice – if you can afford it.

You tap on the steering wheel somewhat anxiously, checking your watch. It’s five to six, and Dani’s residence is halfway across the city, and you have yet to finish the job that Lloyd told you to.

It feels like double standards when you explicitly told Allie that your date cannot be late.

Dani’s lovely butler, Mrs. Santos invited you in, leading you to the guest room.

“To what do I own this honor of having Lloyd’s personal assistant arriving at my place?” Dani flips her hair and giggles.

“Lloyd has sent me to tell you that,” you still remember the strange code phrase word by word, “He’s cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

Dani carefully studies you for a moment, before bursting out laughter, “He… He said that? The Cuban appointment?”

Darn, even when she’s laughing, she’s charming as always.

“Yes.” You answer her question, “If there’s no message you want me to forward to him, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Dani hangs a mysterious smile on the corner of her lips, her honey-toned skin practically gleaming as she speaks, “None. But if you don’t mind me asking, do you have any plans for tonight? I want to borrow you for one of my parties – you know,” she shrugs, “connections and all that.”

Dani’s parties are always filled with delightful cocktails and exquisite people she knows from all over the world. It’s a perfect chance to refresh your connections with all sorts of people – thieves, CEOs, fences, politicians - part of the reason why she asked you to stay.

Yet, you were already booked for tonight.

“Sorry,” you politely rejected, “I’d love to, but I have a date tonight.”

“Well, you-” Dani points at you with her perfectly manicured finger, sounding cheerful, “are welcome at my place, anytime. You can bring your date here even, if you need a place to chill.”

“Thank you, Dani.” You respond, “Have fun at your party.”

Dani cocks her head to the side. The bright flashy diamond earrings peek from under her hair, swaying as if they were about to fall. She hums thoughtfully before wishing you a pleasant evening.

As soon as you step out of her estate, Dani picks up her phone and dials Lloyd’s number, “I recall a certain someone claims that he needs absolutely no help landing a girl,” She twirls her hair around her fingertips, chuckling, “the Cuban appointment, Lloyd? Wow, you must be really desperate. Now, you want me to help you sabotage her date? That I can do...”

With Lady Luck by your side, you’ve successfully reached the restaurant five minutes early with someone already at your table, while Avik sits at a table on the other side of the aisle, keeping an eye on you.

“You must be Scott.” You pull your chair to sit, trying your best to ignore the bulk of muscles on your righthand-side, watching as the young man across the table hastily puts down his water glass and stands abruptly with his face flushed.

“H… Hi.” He can barely stop the grin on his face, “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Allie is right. He is cute.

Scott scratches the back of his head, plopping down on his seat, asking hesitantly, “If this is not too intrusive, how did you get a reservation? My friend has been dying to try this place for a week and the nearest spot available is three months later.”

“My boss is a close friend of the restaurant manager.” Lloyd practically runs this place. The manager gets scared shitless every time he needs to deliver the quarterly books to Lloyd and he asks you to do it in his place. Hence, he’s greatly in your debt. But you are not going to tell Scott you work for the largest gang in the city, so you feign your interest and ask, “What about you? Allie didn’t tell me what you do for a living.”

His face goes flushed pink again, “I uh… I work as an assistant curator,” he adds, “but I paint.”

“Oh really? That sounds fun. What do you paint?”

Scott chats on and on about his love for contemporary art and various ways of making a beautiful moment permanent when you notice Avik stands up and leaves.

“… sorry,” you apologize to Scott, for you have missed the question he asks, having paid too much attention to the bodyguard Avik who doesn’t seem like returning, “what was that again?”

Scott shuts his mouth momentarily before managing a small smile, “I was just thinking that we should get the waiter. Is there anything you like on the menu?”

The food was divine, and the wine was savory too. Though the waiters seemed a little distracted – you guessed it was probably their boss telling them to stay away from your table for you to enjoy your date. After exchanging pleasant conversations, you know it’s time to end this lovely date.

Before getting the check and leaving, you excuse yourself to freshen up.

Scott nods with his curls bouncing.

Scott is nice.

He is smart, funny, and cute with his untamed curls.

You put on a thin layer of lipstick. Looking into the mirror, the polite smile breaks away when you watch your reflection.

Scott is a decent guy. Why don’t you like him?

A vague outline rises in your head, before evaporating.

Stop it. You tell yourself. Scott is a nice guy. You should enjoy this date.

Only when your figure disappears behind a few tables, did someone sit on your spot.

“Evening.” A moustache man traces his finger on the cup from which you drank, crossing his legs, “Scotty, right?”

Scott clenches his hand on the arm of his chair, but Avik appears quietly behind him, grabbing his shoulders to have him sit down. A hard piece of metal is pressed to the back of his head. It doesn’t take much common sense to understand that Avik has a gun pointing at him.

“Don’t get all flustered,” Lloyd pours some wine into both glasses, “I’m just here to… be nice.” A wicked grin creeps up his lips as Lloyd continues, “The woman who you’re dating tonight?”

Scott gulps, squeezing a “yeah” out of his teeth.

“That’s my girl.” Lloyd dead-pans, massaging the light smudge of your lipstick on the glass, “So, if you have any wrong idea, or any thoughts about her…” Lloyd has a cold gleam in his eyes, shakes his head and tuts, “Don’t.”

Poor Scott has his face drained of colors. His lips quivering, “I-I’m not- I don’t want to be part of this…”

“Good.” Lloyd smirks. Drinking from your glass, he licks his lips to savour the sweet honey taste of your lipstick, before giving his final order, “Now be a good boy, say your ‘nighty night’s, and get the fuck out of my turf.”

“Boss.” Avik’s eyes dart to the lavatory, signalling that you are approaching this table.

“Aaaand that’s my cue.” Lloyd stands up from the chair, looking content, “Keep this little interaction between us, will ya’?” He pouts, “I’d hate if she gets upset.”

By the time you reach this table, Scott sweats in buckets like he has just been to a sauna.

“Is everything alright?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yeah… yeah.” Scott could barely mask his trembling voice, or keep his eye contact, “I’m … feeling uncomfortable… right now.”

“Is it the food? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No… I mean, I think so. The asparagus was raw.” Scott wipes the sweat off his pale face, “It’s been lovely, but …”

Your eyes dart to the table where Avik was sitting. Nope, he isn’t there. For a second you thought that Avik might have terrorized Scott into backing out. Such a stupid idea, why would Avik do that? You throw this thought to the back of your head, before suggesting if Scott needs a lift home, or to the hospital.

Scott nearly jumps from his spot upon hearing the offer, which confuses you as he avoids speaking or looking at you, as if you were a plague.

He takes his belongings, bids you good night before sprinting out of the restaurant.

What the fuck have you done???

You trouble yourself with the question when Avik returns to your side without a single sound, “Avik, I was wondering where you’ve been.”

“The backroom where I can observe the surveillance footage, ma’am.” His voice booms, “Shall I drive you home?”

“Yes, I suppose.” You sigh.

Avik gestures for you to walk, but you stop in your tracks.

“Avik?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Did you have any food yet?”

You did not see him ordering anything when he was sitting across the aisle, nor do you believe that he’d risk losing his job over some half-cooked asparagus.

“… No Ma’am.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. The exhaustion of trying to satisfy Lloyd’s tasks and doubting whether he’s being paranoid again takes over you for so long, you seem to lose a little bit of human emotions – neglecting dutiful Avik, as a result.

“Sorry about that, Avik.” You apologize, feeling slightly better that you’ve come to your senses after a long day, “I’ll have them prepare something vegan for takeaway.”

“…thank you, Ma’am.”

Grabbing a waiter passing by, you tell him about your request, before resting on your chair.

Out of sheer boredom, you tap on your glass, scraping the lipstick smudge off the crystal-clear surface with a used napkin.

Avik coughs as if he has just choked on his own spit.

“Everything alright, Avik?”

It seems like you’ve said this for the second time tonight.

“Yes. Ahem. Yes, all is well.” Avik clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Because you can totally have tonight off. I’m more than capable of driving home myself.” You offer sweetly, expecting him to take the suggestion and leave you here.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Avik replies rigidly, his shirt collar tightening around his tanned skin as he speaks, “Thank you, but your safety is my priority.”

You should have known better than to negotiate with Lloyd’s muscle. They follow his orders like workers around a queen bee. Pursing your lips together, you decide not to spend time bargaining with Avik, but scroll on social media to distract yourself.

Avik lets out a long, slow exhale when you are focusing on your phone. He’s great at bodyguarding, but terrible at being a double agent.

The takeaway package arrives shortly – or it could be you are too tied up in the TikTok drama to notice time slipping away from the tip of your fingers. Avik takes the wheel while you sit in the back, trying hard not to think about the sudden change in Scott’s attitude.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy Scott’s company. You do. But Scott’s dashing out of the restaurant leaves a certain impression that you don’t think you’d forget anytime soon. Maybe the food was raw. Or burned. Or he had some pills. Still, it doesn’t explain why he ran out of the place like a bloodhound was chasing him.

Or is there something wrong with you? Something he’d grow repulsive of?

“Stop the car, please.” The thoughts in your head are preventing you from breathing. With Avik’s puzzled frown in the rearview mirror, you shrug, “You can go park the car. I want to have a little walk and some fresh air.”

After what must be an internal debate in Avik’s silence, he slowly stops at the curb, agreeing for you to have your fresh air.

The street is silent, not a living soul in sight. You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh air.

Oh well, maybe the air is not so fresh after all, with the smell of gasoline and dust and … smoke?

You turn around.

Lloyd’s Rolls-Royce follows you like a toddler in small steps, with a hand outstretched from the window that flicks his cigarette stub to the curb.

“Mr. Hansen?” You could’ve been dreaming. Why would Lloyd’s car follow you? Why – “What are you doing here?”

Lloyd steps out of the vehicle, popping a peppermint into his mouth. Crushing the candy with his jaw, he mumbles, “Just having a late-night stroll.”

A ridiculous idea comes into mind, and you ask in disbelief: “Are you following me?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at you straight into your eyes, but you’ve seen him lie better, “This is my turf. And you can’t ban me from patrolling my own territory.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Sure. Patrolling. Very convincing. He just happened to stumble in front of your apartment building among hundreds of thousands of streets.

“Of course.” Maybe it’s the wine, because for crying out loud you would be tongue-tied if you were to say this at work, but the sarcasm drips out of your tone like water out of a broken faucet, because you are not in the mood. At all. “Good night, Mr. Hansen.”

“I had a great night.” Since he counts the scurrying of one horny young man as a win, Lloyd casually drops, “Can’t say the same about you.”

What the heck is wrong with him?

Now it’s definitely the wine that does the talking, as you poke him square in the chest with your index finger, your voice littered with fury, “It’s after-hours, and you don’t own my after-hours, in case you don’t have a watch, okay?”

Lloyd offers his characteristic lop-sided smile, “What - you’re gonna buy me one?”

“No?!” You huff out in disbelief. Has he taken hallucinating drugs? Why on earth is he acting funny? “This is not - look, Mr. Hansen-”

Lloyd steps closer. You get that whiff of smoke from his body, and the musky cologne that he occasionally uses in rare circumstances, and your words somehow get stuck in your throat.

“Lloyd.” He pronounces his name, loud and clear, “C’mon sunshine, lllllloyd.”

Lloyd. The name rolls to the tip of your tongue. It feels natural and soft, unlike Lloyd Hansen himself. But the syllable drives your heartbeat wild. He is your boss. You are obligated to call him Mr. Hansen.

Well, maybe not obligated. But you would feel more comfortable calling him Mr. Hansen. The name Lloyd sounds like an over-step of your work relationship.

Your work. Your beloved secretary job. Which is fine. Which you enjoy, as you handle his affairs with some effort. But the name. He’s asking you to call him Lloyd and that sounds more intimate than what you should be calling your boss.

“I- ” You are at a loss of words. What does he want? Does he want you to be his mistress? Which is ridiculous, because you don’t want to be the type of canary living in a birdcage and sing for him whenever he pleases. More importantly, he cannot be having thoughts about you – or does he want this to be a one-night thing where he could pull up his pants and comment on how long since he had a good fuck?

-stop it. It’s an insane thought. He’s not interested. So are you.

You accidentally look at his eyes, and you recognize the burning desire rooting deep down. It scorches you instantly as your eyes meet, before you lower your head to avoid the demanding gaze.

“You’re my boss…” You mutter weakly, knowing well that this stupid excuse does not prevent you from enjoying (or feeling safe at) Lloyd’s presence – most of the time, when he’s not bloody or throwing punches – or from the plain fact that maybe, just maybe that you feel a little different towards him, and that for the briefest of moments, you wished that he was sitting across the dinner table tonight, taking you out on a date.

Lloyd’s expression goes still for a second.

You can’t tell whether he’s mad or upset.

He sighs, taking a step towards you to close the space between you two, before framing your face in his hands and whispering in frustration, “God, you’re so dumb.”

His lips are soft, contrary to his mean words. They land on you with a bitter taste of burned tobacco, as his tongue swipes the seam of your lips, forcing an embarrassing mewl out of you.

It felt like Lloyd and his roughness. It felt like an iceberg breaking into chucks, whales lifting their head to breathe and the dam that withholds feelings inside your head cracks. It felt … right.

He slowly breaks away the kiss, sighing again, right next to your lips, his moustache making your cheek itch.

“Am I about to get a kick in the balls?” He asks softly, nose gently rubbing on yours.

“No…no.” Not that you don’t want to, because how dares he! Following you and kissing you like that! But because your head turning into a warm mush.

“Good.” He nibbles on your lips, you can feel his lips curving into a smile, “ ’cause I kinda like them.”

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.” He lands another kiss on you before pulling away. The bad-boy grin visible on his face.

You feel like you need to say something. Anything. So, you open your mouth and: “Do you want … a cup of coffee at my place?”

Lloyd cocks his eyebrows in surprise, but there’s no way he’d let slip of this chance, “Sure, why not.”

The mush in your brain refuses to leave. Your body acts on auto-pilot, leading you away from him.

You don’t even notice that he’s not following you this time, until he calls your name out of the blue, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen?”

Lloyd decides to let slip of your poor choice of words this time, simply pointing his thumb in the other direction: “Your home is this way.”

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading @yearningforsappho @esposadomd @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

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athenamikaelson · 2 months

Text

War of Scars - A Luke Castellan Story

PART 1

Thunder Daddy is Real?

Word Count- 3.7k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, gore, fighting, some mature content

“What the actual fuck is a half-blood?”

I scream to Keiko as she grips the steering wheel of the stolen Passat we were now flooring down the vacant back road of New York. Keiko’s short, white-bleached hair stuck up as if she’d just been electrocuted, and a look of concern in her dark eyes as she glanced between both front-view mirrors. I tried to figure out what she was so worried about as I glanced through my passenger seat mirror but was only met with the darkening road. The red cast from the taillights shone a light on the passing forest and trees. The branches from the trees cast shadows over the backroad, a small shiver goes through my back as I imagine that they look like limbs and arms reaching for our car as we drive away. As if begging us not to drive any further. I want to yell to them that I don’t want to go any further either, that I want to go back home. Home to my mother and father, a mother and father that no longer want me I remind myself, and home to my brothers who probably don’t even know I’ve left.

“A half-blood is what you are Y/N.”

Keiko’s words snap my attention back into the car as I turn to her with an annoyed look. I can feel the tips of my nails scratching against the skin of my palms, reading to break the already calloused skin. A nasty habit I picked up a few years ago.

“Ya, that’s what everyone keeps telling me! But that doesn’t answer what the fuck it is!” I can feel the breaking of skin as I dig my nails deeper, trying to ground my feelings and stop another outburst from happening.

“Do you remember all those stories I used to tell you about the Greek Gods and myths?”

Keiko’s eyes briefly meet mine for the first time since I watched her steal this car over 3 hours ago. I think over what she said. The stories about the woman who the goddess Athena turned into a snake lady, and the man who stole fire from the Gods just to give to humans come to mind. I slowly nod my head at her, hoping that this isn’t some psychotic break she’s having because I’m on the verge of having my own right now and this car is already tiny as fuck. Two people freaking the fuck out would not be a good idea.

I watch as Keiko’s chest rises and falls deeply, her ACDC shirt that she had stolen from a lost and found at school stretches at the movement.

“All those stories I told you, about the Gods, Zeus, Posideon, Hades, and all the others,” She turns back to look at me, “they’re all true. And one of them is your biological parent,” Her face scrunches up as she goes back to look at the road, “well technically not biological per se since gods don’t have DNA.”

She goes to continue speaking but stops once I let out a laugh that comes deep from the back of my throat. I watch with scrunched eyes as she stares at me in slight worry I hunch over gripping my stomach as more laughter rises out of my mouth.

“Are you ok?”

Keiko’s worried voice comes from beside me and I sit up and wipe stray tears from my eyes.

“Am I alright? I should be the one asking you that question, you’re the one saying that the almighty thunder daddy Zeus is real, and then saying that one of his buddies is my parent.”

Keiko’s face scrunches up in disgust and she casts a glance to the star-covered sky for some reason.

“You really shouldn’t talk like that, the Gods don’t like to be disrespected.”

Her worried expression halts my jokes as I stare at the now serious face in front of mine. Keiko has never been the one in this friendship to care about following the rules or being scared of anything, she’s the fearless one. So why the hell does she look terrified at the talk of a bunch of fictional deities?

“Ok, Kio the joke was funny for the first five minutes but I want the truth now. Why did my parents kick me out after saying I’m not theirs and that you’d know what to do?”

I try to cover up the slight break in my voice at the mention of my parents, or adopted parents I guess, telling me that after 18 years I wasn’t theirs. Flashes of my caring mother holding me when I was a child telling me that I was a gift to her, that she would never let anything happen to me. Was all of that some sick lie?

“Y/N listen to me,” Keiko catches my attention, “I’m not lying to you. Your mother or father is a god. A Greek god. Which makes you a half-blood, half mortal half god. And because of this, it means being out here in the mortal world is going to get you killed. I was sent here, as your satyr to protect you until the time came where I’d take you to camp. I’m not sure why it’s taken this long for the monsters to catch up to you, most of the time half-bloods are brought to camp around 12. But you being 18 brings up some questions. I think your parent is a smaller god that’s why there hasn't been much focus on you.”

I can feel my mouth start to dry up from the air entering my now-opened mouth. I’ve been staring at Keiko with wide eyes the entire time she's been going on about gods and death and shit. She must have noticed my lack of response because she stopped talking and looked at me. Her serious expression brings a wave of anger through my system which is the final breaking point for the palms as my nails break skin and a warm liquid coats my nails.

“Stop the car.”

Three words are all I say to her as I unbuckle my seat belt.

“What?”

I turn to Keiko, my teeth grinding against one another.

“Stop the goddamn car. I’m done being lied to. My parents have lied to me my entire life and now my so-called best friend is making fun of my shitty life with made-up fairytales. So stop the fucking car or I’ll jump out myself.”

“I’m not stopping, we can’t if we want to make it to camp as soon as possible. And we’re going,” Keiko glances at the speedometer, “64 miles per hour. If you jump out of the car now you’ll die.”

I look out of the forest and think of all that has happened in the past 12 hours.

“It’s not like I have anything to lose. I’d rather be mangled and dead than sit in this car with you, driving to god knows where, while you tell me a bunch of lies.”

I hear a deep sigh come from Keiko and wait a moment to hear whatever bullshit she’s about to start spewing at me but it never comes. Instead, I feel the car start to accelerate, and a few words in an unknown language spill from her mouth.

“Put your seatbelt on.”

Keiko’s voice comes out harsh and deadly as I watch her grip the worn steering wheel. Her frantic gaze moves from the back of us to the dark road ahead.

“I’m not putting my seatbelt on, just stop the car already.”

I try to argue back at her but she just lets out a huff of air and reaches over the center console of the car, grabs my seatbelt, and snaps it back into place. I watch her with wide eyes at the fucking audacity of the bitch. I go to yell at her but she raises a single finger at me, just like a mother who’s had enough of her child talking would.

“We’re being followed.”

Her dark eyes move frantically all over the place as if she sees something I don’t. Ok, maybe she is losing her mind. Fuck now I feel like an asshole.

“Listen Keiko maybe we should just take some deep breaths and talk this through. Cause it seems like right now some of us are going a bit crazy. And by some of us, I don’t mean me.”

I lightly raise a finger and point at her. I go to laugh at my joke but the car jolts forward as if we’d just got rear-ended.

“What the-”

“It’s right there shit!”

Keiko slams her leg onto the gas pedal but it doesn’t seem to do much help as another hit comes from behind us. My long legs bang against the dash of the car as I look behind us trying to figure out what asshat doesn’t know how to drive, but I freeze when I see nothing there. No headlights, no cars, nothing. We’re the only ones on the road.

“There you see it! You see I’m not lying! I can’t tell what creature it is but it’s big and has wings so that crosses out giants, thankfully.”

Kieko glances between the front and me and her face falls once she reads my features.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? There is nothing there.”

I turn to the back of the car and point to the vacant road behind us. Keiko turns around and her eyebrows raise.

“No, it was right there.”

But as she turns back around to face the front, I jump from the loud yelp that escapes her lips as she appears to see something before us on the road. Something I can’t seem to see. What I don’t see coming either is the tight right turn Keiko makes to miss the invisible “creature.” I grasped onto the passenger side door and turned wide-eyed to her. About to yell at her when the driver’s side of the car is lifted and I feel my heart fall to my ass as I watch the trees that were once reaching and calling for me, get their wish as the car is thrown into the woods.

“Y/N, come wake up, Y/N!”

I hear muffled voices come from above me as cold winds envelop me. I must be in heaven, God must be calling for me. I try to open my eyes but the overwhelming pressure in my head urges me to keep them closed for just five more minutes. I’m about to give in to the thought when a sharp pressure hits the side of my cheek, shocking me awake.

I abruptly sit up but quickly regret it when a pounding pain comes from every part of my body. My eyes can’t seem to register my dark surroundings either as more pain enters my frontal lobe.

“I’m sorry I did that but I need you to get up, I don’t know where the chimera is, but I can feel it’s close.”

Kieko, that’s Kieko. My brain tries to get me to register her words but the throbbing in my head is halting any thought process from going on. Another wave of red pain goes through my body as I feel an arm wrap itself around my waist and lift me.

“Do you think you can walk?”

A voice asks me. No, not a voice, Kieko’s voice. Kieko is talking to me. I try to shake my head as if to fight away the overwhelming urge to close my eyes and lay down and sleep for the foreseen future.

“Get up and walk”.

A voice comes into my head. Why does my subconscious sound so manly and bossy? But I listen to it as I feel my feet try to move one after the other. The overwhelming pressure coming from my entire body though makes it feel as if I’m dragging two cinderblocks on each leg.

“OK, good. We’re about a mile from camp I think if I got my constellations correct.”

I finally can get my eyes open as I stare at Kieko beside me. If I wasn’t feeling like absolute dogshit right now I’d laugh at the image of her short body leaning awkwardly to the side trying to carry my taller one. I try to lean off of her slightly to give her help but her grip tightens on me.

“Don’t, you got banged up pretty hard in the accident. I thought I had lost you for a moment there, but it was my mistake for thinking you’d ever let death take you this young or without your approval.”

Kieko lets out a small laugh which quickly turns into a cough as she winces in pain.

“Are you hurt?”

My voice comes out strained and rough, like an old woman who’s been smoking since she was 13 years old. Kieko just shakes her head and picks up the pace of her walking.

“Just a few scratches, nothing as bad as you. We need to move faster though I can sense the chimera getting closer. The smell of your blood is making it easier for it to track us.”

My face scrunches up at the words. I want to argue to her that there’s no creature out there hunting us and that she is just having a psychotic break but once I feel the cold metallic-smelling liquid move down my face as if it was caressing it, I stay quiet.

We continue to walk for what seems like hours, or well Kieko walks and I latch on to her and get dragged. I don’t know where the hell she’s going but I have no other choice but to go with her. I lurch forward as Kieko abruptly stops. Her heading whipped around us like a mad woman.

“Did you hear that?”

She whispers into my ear. I shake my head in response. And we stand there for a moment before she tightens her hold on me and starts to walk again. Her hand around my waist quickly detaches and I can only watch in what seems like slow motion as she is thrown against a neighboring tree. A sickening crack comes from her body as I watch it fall to the ground. I go to run to her a roar turns my attention to behind me. I can feel my heart beat erratically as I slowly turn to the monstrous being behind me. With a body that must stand above 10 feet tall, a lion stands before me. Wait. No. Not a lion. Defiantly not a lion.

Acidic bile starts to make its way up my throat as my eyes meet the red beady eyes of a goat, a goat that is protruding from the lion's back. A hissing sound catches my attention as I slowly turn my gaze to the python that has replaced the lion goat’s tail.

As I stare at the creature I want to pass out. Or maybe I’m already asleep and this is some bad nightmare. But as the lion-goat-snake thing takes a step toward me, with its paws that rival the size of my big head I use whatever strength I have left and run. If I can lead it away from Kieko that's all that matters.

I don’t have to worry about it not following me as I hear the thundering footsteps catch up behind me. I try to dodge tree after tree, jumping over fallen logs, and feel my sneakers imprint into the mud that has started to form from the light downfall of rain that has started to coat myself and the forest.

I go to turn right, the downpour of the rain falling harder and blocking much of my already shitty vision. But a burst of heat and flames come from behind me hitting the trees to my right. I whip my head around to see smoke coming from the lion-goat-snake thing and curse to myself. Of course, it can breathe fire too. I try to go to my left but a searing pain catches on my back as I drop to the ground.

I lift myself on my elbows as I watch the monster lift its large paw and lick the red liquid off of its nails as if it were mocking me. Its eyes glint with malice as the goat lets out a strangled noise.

“We’re a gift from Athena.”

A strangled hiss comes from the snake's mouth.

I go to close my eyes and just accept my fate but stop when my manly subconscious chimes in again.

“Get up and fight, you’re a warrior. Grab the stick next to you and fight back. Make it bleed. If it can bleed it can be killed.”

God, when did I become so melodramatic? But I realize manly me is right, if I die this thing will go back for Keiko. The monster continues its prowl toward me as I keep eye contact with it. Hoping it doesn’t see my right hand that has grasped onto the stick by my side. I wait until the lion opens its mouth, probably to light me on fucking fire and that’s when I strike.

I lift myself onto my knees and lurch forward with the stick in my hand and as the lion opens its ginormous mouth and I see the start of embers begin to light in its throat I stab the stick right down into it. I loud howl of pain comes from the creature as it tries to dislodge the stick that is now protruding from its mouth. I watch for another moment as the goat and the snake move around frantically trying to help their injured creature. But I know if they do succeed in getting that out I’m fucked so I push myself up with a hiss. The overwhelming smell of blood coming from my back, the more I move the harsher the pull and pain. But I'm not letting the ugly motherfucker be my demise.

I come up from behind the creature, which is now facing away from me with its entire focus on dislodging the stick, and I leap onto its back. The goat and the snake are the only ones to notice my arrival as they start hissing and making whatever strange noise the goat is making. I grab onto the fur of the creature to keep myself upright and I grasp the snake into my hands. It thrashes in my hands, its cool slimy body almost making me drop it as I try to wrap the snake around the goat's throat. I pull in the opposite direction with all my weight as the hissing constricts until I hear the crack of the goat's neck. The strangled snake and the now dead goat have caught the attention of the lion who has finally dislodged the stick and has now noticed me.

The lion roars so deeply that it makes my body shake. I would almost feel bad for killing its friends/body sharers if it wasn’t trying to y’know fucking kill me. The lion stands to its full height and starts to thrash its body as a means to get me off. I quickly grasp the curled horns of the goat as a means of stabilization. But as the thrashing gets harsher I hear a sharp snap as I’m thrown against yet another tree.

Bark scratches up my already bloody back as I let out a loud wail. The rain from before crashing down all around me thunder shakes the earth and forest and lightning strikes a nearby tree. But my attention is fully on the lion who has now started its attack on me. I can sit there as I lift my hands to protect my face as the lion comes rushing at me.

I sit there drenched, cold, and bloody waiting for my demise, but nothing comes. I slowly open one eye and flinch as I see the lion staring at me. But it’s not moving. It’s not breathing either. Its once hatred-filled eyes are now glossed over with death. My gaze goes from its haunting eyes to its chest where the goat horn I had cracked off is now lodged into the lion's heart. Red liquid coated my hands as I loosened my grip on the horn and backed away from the dead creature.

“How did you do that?”

I thrash my head to the side grabbing the horn a second time in defense. I halt though when I see Keiko holding herself up against a tree. Blood trickles down her whitening skin as she looks at the monster in awe and slight disgust. She pushes off the tree and starts to walk to me but her knees lock up and she falls to the ground. I push myself back up quickly and crawl to her.

“Are you ok?”

I quickly ask her, wiping away the blood that has now made its way onto her eyebrows. Keiko sends me an unreadable look.

“How did you kill the Chimera?”

I go to answer, but a shock of lightning comes down between us. The only thing I can focus on is the scorching pain that has taken over my body and left arm. My vision goes black as I feel my heart start to give out.

“We need a medic.” A strained voice yells from beside me. Or is it coming from behind me? I can’t tell. All I can focus on is the searing pain that has taken over my being, I can’t seem to focus on the campers running over to me and Kieko, I can’t hear any more of Keiko's cries for help, and I don’t feel the muscular arms wrap around my body as I feel my heart start to slow down again, everything going back to dark.

“I think she’s waking up!”

A loud girlish voice comes from beside me.

“That’s what you said two days ago.”

Another more annoyed voice talks back. I strain to open my eyes as light crashes against my burning pupils. But I do I open them enough to look up to see dark brown eyes staring down at my Y/E/C ones.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood Sleeping Beauty.”

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan imagine #pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood #pjo #percy jackson #camp half blood #percy series #author #athenamikaelson #percy jackson tv show

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softdykellie · 1 year

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ ivy | ellie w.

PAIRING: ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY: although years have gone by, ellie cannot seem to get over the one that got away when a drunk night with friends lead to unexpected past places.

WARNING: somewhat nsfw and somewhat angst

WORD COUNT: 1.049

love, what’s it good for? a neurological con job, an excruciatingly slow but certain downwards spiral towards heartbreak– ellie was painfully aware of the sole two outcomes the feeling could possibly amount to, both of which meant agony ripping at her insides, a flesh eating beast doomed to haunt her ribcage as a lonely heart’s guard. she drowned out the sound of her cries permanently stuck in a lump between the clavicules with alcohol as though it would wipe her insides clean of romance’s remnants. five years was an eternity of time; she cursed the motherfucker who claimed time healed all wounds while hers remained too fresh for scabs. jesse was the one to pull her away from the destructive thoughts, a hand to the shoulder immediately flinched from.

“you know when we first became friends i lost a ten dollar bet ‘cause i was sure you’d be a fun drunk? two cups later you turned into fucking nietzsche or some shit. every time we go out just know i mourn my money”

ellie smirked in response before her body reminded itself why it has become that way.

eighteen year olds with raging hormones smuggling contraband to a half acquaintance’s garage party were the stupidest people allowed to carry hearts on their sleeve, always a truth or dare game away from confessing shakesperian feelings in stutters and chokeholds. your first kiss together was a seven minutes in heaven, where ellie swore she’d moved the empty bottle through newly acquired telekinesis.

she was cocky back then, careless too. entered the closet with a hand by your lowerback and so quickly crashed your lips together there was barely time to catch a breath. it was chapped, and desperate, and golden. she tasted of weed and every shooting star wish you ever made coming true, you tasted of cheap wine and candy rush on a five year old– your bodies pressed so close against eachother the wooden shelves trembled at the embrace. ellie used to be funny and you, god, you used to be made of giggles that put the sun to shame. she remembered your laugh into the kiss, the way it echoed down her throat, and that thought in its pureness lead to less holy memories of your moans, of how she used to rub herself against you till the wetness made you one, and her core ached. another sip of her drink to mask your taste still so effortlessly by her tongue through thought only she was sure to be going insane.

“you just need to get laid” jesse pointed out every attractive girl by the bar that drooled at her sight and blushed under her gaze, all predictable, none you. she wanted to get laid alright, she just needed it to be with you.

ellie remembered the last time you fucked; remembered the airport bathroom becoming increasingly smaller with every finger thrust, remembered whispering in your ear you would always be hers, remembered best of all you agreeing in hushed, choked out moans. you were late and you were wet dripping past your thighs, she licked you clean and savored it.

“found your little miss sunshine” dina struck her out of her thoughts so frantically ellie’s head spun even as she coaxed words to come out.

“what are you talking about?”

“her address. it’s wonders what one can do with a full name and the internet nowadays. it’s a five hour drive, if we get going now we’ll be there by two a.m for sure–“

“are you insane? what the fuck am i gonna do, ring my ex girlfriend’s doorbell at two in the morning half a decade after we last seen eachother and go hey i haven’t gotten over you since you left me five years ago to a new city, wanna get back together?” ellie mocked sincerely.

“i mean you don’t really have to do anything, we could always just stand there and think this whole thing was super funny tomorrow”

half a whiskey bottle in and two road trip! chants that coaxed the entire clueless bar of drunks to join in unknowingly later, it was a mostly convincing idea. that’s how she lost a hundred bucks to an unknown chatty bartender newly designated driver who had nothing to lose but a job shift and spent the next hours of her life being sobered up by dina’s relentlessly flirting towards the girl. ellie wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, only noticed jesse’s shoulder beneath her cheek poking her face as to wake her up once the car was at a full stop, anticipation bouncing off of every member of the drive choking her in anxiety now fully soberly aware of her actions.

the neighborhood was different, quiet, green. it was odd knowing your exact house despite never being close to it before– she knew by the garden, infested of dandelions. you called them the wishing flowers and teared up when ellie told you they were actually weeds. you two had planned a dandelion filled front porch together, and there you were, living it alone. she felt pathetic, letting the feeling sink to the pit of her stomach, refused to get out of the car and finally had her arguments interrupted by a loud meowing. and saw you. messy hair left to roam free, mismatched socks, an oversized band t-shirt, her t-shirt, and nothing else.

“joel” you cooed, raising the impatient and loud kitten up towards your arms and it nuzzled onto your tired face “you have to stop leaving in the middle of the night okay? i can’t keep waking up like this”

ellie was frozen in place, watching your every move. your baby voice so soft she barely heard it from parking, the softness of your touch melting even a cat into submission, the way you had not changed one bit immediately transporting her into the past. the spell she had been under to observe you endlessly having only been broken by the front seat window rolling open noisily, though not fast enough to stop the wreckage coming as dina opened her mouth, inconsequential.

“hey, miss sunshine! i got your ex girlfriend in the back!”

your eyes met. the kisses, the taste, the skin, the caressing, the warmth, the words, the foreheads, the flowers, everything rushed back.

“els?”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem!reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #tlou #softdykellie #ellie fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ellie x you

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positivexcellence · 26 days

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Interview: Jared Padalecki on Walker Season 4, The Show’s Future & More

KSITETV’S CRAIG BYRNE: What can you tease about The Jackal, particularly in relation to his history with certain characters?

JARED PADALECKI: The Jackal is a serial killer who haunted then-Ranger James and Ranger Walker five years prior when they were partners, and before Ranger James became Captain James. The Jackal, and his choice of kills and the victims he left behind, really tortured and tormented James and he took it personally. We were never able to solve it, and the Jackal;s case went cold, and we have kind of assumed he had died or stopped or something. And then, as we found out during James’s wedding of all times, someone with a similar M.O. to the Jackal surfaced, and because of how dark it sent James five years prior, Trey and Walker decide to look into it low-key with Detective Luna from Corpus Christi, who Walker and James had worked with back in the day.

We find out in Season 4 that sure enough, the Jackal is back, And so, Walker finds himself stuck in a position. We’ve learned in the first three seasons that keeping secrets among Rangers is not a great idea, but Walker thinks he’s doing what’s best for James. He doesn’t want to him spiraling. James just went on his honeymoon, and he’s married, and he’s going well. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe this is a coincidence. But we soon seem to settle that it is the original Jackal, and the Jackal is back. Walker takes it on himself to save James from that same torment that he went through five years ago., but the question is how much can Walker take on on James’ behalf, without falling prey to the same feelings himself?

Twitter made me ask you this: Is there any chance that The Jacckal might be played by an actor that you’ve referred to as “Jackles” before?

[LAUGHS] No. All But that’s a great question!

The readers of KSiteTV loved Walker Independence, and it’s great that hopefully we’ll be seeing more of Justin Johnson Cortez as Detective Luna. Is there any chance we might see more people from the show in new roles in the present day, or maybe another Hoyt flashback?

JARED: Let’s say yes. We will be seeing some of our our Windy family. We loved the show as well.

And is there any chance we’ll see those classic characters again?

The answer, again, is yes.

Jensen [Ackles] and I used to have something funny during Supernatural. We did several seasons with 23 episodes, and we likened it to sports analogies. We’d be like “you know, if you’re going to shoot 23 three pointers during a game, you’re not going to make ’em all. If you’re gonna drive the lane 23 times, or go to bat 23 times, then you’re gonna put some air balls. You’re gonna strike out sometimes. But with 13 episodes, they’re all knockouts. They’re all home runs.

We didn’t waste any time this year [on Walker]. We have 13 episodes to make an amazing season of television. I’m on set right now shooting the finale, and I can say with confidence that this is our strongest season.

Are you feeling good about the possibility of a fifth season?

I am. I don’t know… I mean, even during Supernatural’s last season, something can always happen. There can be a strike. There can be COVID. There can be a merger. There can be something.

My career for the last 25 years has been based around not really knowing what’s going to happen. You know, “is Gilmore Girls gonna go? Am I going to get an option to do it again? Oh, now it’s CW instead of Warner Brothers. Oh, now we have a new showrunner. Oh, now we have another showrunner! Now we’re changing nights. Now there’s COVID. Now there’s a strike.” [Last year’s strike] was the second strike I had been through in my career. So, all I can speak to is the quality of work we’re putting out, and there’s nothing I could change.

I will say that I have no reason to think that we we will not carry on. I intend to do the show for another 10 years, so hopefully the powers that be feel the same way. I know our cast and crew all hope for the same. We’re willing and able. Our writers are incredible, with the stories they come up with and the speed with which they can come up with great storylines and great arcs for each and every character… and our crew that makes it… if I was a network, then I would want this show to go as long as everybody who’s making the show would go.

I couldn’t be more proud of the work that we’re putting out there. I think we kind of stand alone, as far as new scripted hour-longs out there. We’re a great combination of heart and action, and trying to mimic reality as best as possible, which I think is needed and necessary. I’ve certainly heard from fans on the street and via social media and whatnot, how much they appreciate it and enjoy it. I’m very optimistic.

How are things with Cordell and Geri as we get into Season 4?

They’ve had five months together since Larry and Kelly’s wedding, snd things have been going well. Things have kind of cooled off; the Jackal’s trail went cold, and so maybe it was not a big deal. They’ve kind of been enjoying the summer with August and Stella and Bonham and Abeline, and they’ve had some time together.

There’s been work for Cordell and for Geri, obviously, but they’re on the same page. They’re living together, and they’re enjoying each other’s company, and they found a place.

Obviously, they both went through some hardships in their prior relationships. Luckily, I think with a lot of great relationships, when they become romantic, they start as friendships. Because Geri and Cordell started as a platonic relationship for many years, they’ve seen each other as friends, and they kind of know who each other’s hearts are. I think they’re enjoying that time and chance to breathe together, and just be with each other.

Is it hard for Cordell that Stella and August are both growing up, with Stella already off to school and August approaching senior year?

It’s very, very hard, and I think you’re more prescient than maybe you even realize; we kind get into that in Episode 2, and as the season goes on, of what it’s like to be to be preparing to be an empty nester, especially without your spouse. So we certainly do see that, and again, going back to what I said earlier about Walker’s storylines imitating life as best as we can, we certainly do see Walker going through that very real [situation].

At work, he is this big Texas Ranger who gets to go in and save the day and all as well, and then at home, he wants to be a Dad, but the clock is ticking. One of his kids is already gone, and the second is a senior in high school, and presumably soon to be spreading his wings. So what does that look like and feel like for this big tough dude?

Will we get to see Walker’s reaction to the situation that Stella got into at the end of last season?

Oh, yeah. And that storyline doesn’t stop, because it’s not all over. Obviously, months have passed and there have been investigations and there is conclusion of sorts, but as with most things in life, it brings about a whole new set of problems that we will deal with through the entire season.

Why should people check out the season premiere on Wednesday night?

I think a lot of us, myself included, have been dying to see what the whole Walker clan is up to. Not with the Walker clan with with the last name Walker. And we get a great catch up with a friend we haven’t talked to in a while. We have action. We have comedy, we have drama… but also, it feels like a dear friend that I haven’t caught up with in way too long, and I get all the ins and outs of what’s been going on their lives over the last period of time

ksite

#jared padalecki #walker

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thedoctorsthings · 2 months

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Power to the king | Min Yoongi pt. 1

Fantasy/historical au, viking au (attempted lmao), Yoongi x female reader

aaangst, female melancholia, sexism, Yoongi is an asshole (he gets better i promise), loss of girlhood :(

cw: writer trying to be funny and failing, typos probably

This chapter is just the intro, just to introduce you to the characters and to explain the motivation behind the main characters further behaviour.

word count: as always i have no idea

The air is thick in the reception room you’re standing in. Your father is looking at you with stern eyes. His face is rock hard as always and so is your mother’s. they had called you in here to talk to you and now you were awkwardly sitting in a chair while your parents tower over you. Everything involving your parents was always awkward. Their mere presence made temperatures drop five degrees, which was a spectacular skill to have in the icecold climate already you lived in. You think you know what this is about. You’re getting married off. Nineteen years under your parents’ roof is enough. You had been waiting for it with a rock in your stomach since your eighteenth birthday because they had married your older sister when she was that age. This was two years ago, and she was supposed to marry the crown prince of the kingdom but then your father and the king fell out over something you don’t bother to understand. Your sister married some other rich man of noble blood and moved away to a town in the middle of nowhere. You had barely seen her since. Your father had been the king’s right-hand man for years until two years ago. Now they were on less good terms, but your father was still an important adviser to the king. The prince had remained unmarried.

“you’re getting married Y/N”. Even though you had seen this coming from miles away the statement still stole the air from your lungs for a second. There was no arguing with your father, this had been taught to you a long time ago. Even if your father had been kinder there would have been no escaping this. A life without marriage was out of the question for a woman of your status. Besides you’d have to be pretty unlucky to end up with a husband who created an even colder environment than your parents. You had observed your mother for years and learned that the best way for a woman to find happiness was to just make the best of it. Quietly undergo the whole ordeal and if you’re subtle enough you can do whatever you want out of the public eye. If you play your husband just right, you could get him to do anything and more importantly get him to let you do what you want. If that wasn’t the case, there were enough tricks to keep him in the dark about whatever you said and did with your friends. “To whom?”, you asked and it felt like those words got stuck in your throat not allowing any air to pass. Who was to decide what the rest of your life would look like? If you were lucky, they’d marry you off to Jung Hoseok, he was the son of another noble adviser and he had been your friend for years. Although you wouldn’t be in love at least you knew you would be safe, which is more than most women could say. “Crown prince Min Yoongi”, your father replied curtly. You almost felt the need to straighten your back at the mention of the prince. He had a reputation for being cold and unkind but at least you had never heard anything about a tendency for violence. “How is that possible? I thought your relations with the king were strained”. “The last harvest in this province wasn’t good, the people are struggling and can barely pay what they owe us, as governor I have to make sure our people survive and the kind could help us, this marriage could be what we need to restore the relationship with the king”. This was typical for your family; everything was explained simply without drama or euphemisms. Not a single acknowledgment of what the impact of this marriage might have on you. They don’t care and you know you don’t have the right to care either. “The king has apparently been fearing a revolt from my side, so he agreed. You can go now”. That was it. This coldness towards you was all you had ever known but you never managed to shake the frog that appeared in your throat every time.

“I found a wife for you”. “You mean the maid that just served us dinner?” “This is no time for jokes Jungkook, your brother should have been married two years ago but because of her father’s stubbornness it took me two more years to find yoongi a bride”. “I guess you’ll be marrying the maid then Jungkook”, Yoongi says without as much as a smirk. “Nobody will be marrying any maids any time soon; this is serious”, the king barks. Yoongi finally looks at his father: “Who is she?” “The daughter of governor Leifsdottir”, “Are ya not quarreling anymore then?” “Stop speaking in that stupid accent Jungkook!”, the king barked again. That seemed to be the only thing he was truly good at. “You sound like an old farmer”, yoongi said and this time with a hint of a smile. “Mother thinks it’s funny”, Jungkook dramatically pouts. “The queen is not in her right mind, quit your fooling around!” dogs could learn something from our dear king. “The governor of Varberg and I have put aside our differences. Besides, we both could benefit from this union. It will keep him calm and in exchange I will help financially, his people are suffering”. “May I at least know her name before you throw me into this joyous union?” “Leifsdottir Y/N” “When are we to marry?” “In two weeks”. Yoongi simply nodded and got up. No point in arguing this, he knew that. Besides, he didn’t care who he would marry, he didn’t care about much anymore. Living with a father sucks the life out of a person. The king did it to Yoongi’s mother and he could feel he was doing it to him too.

On the day of the occasion, you wake up feeling rotten inside. The last two weeks you had spent filled with dread. You never asked to be queen, it involved being liked and that was not your forte. It was so much responsibility that had just been dropped on your shoulders. On top of that you weren’t ready to give up the relative freedom you enjoyed. After this day it would be marital duties and nothing else for you, and as future queen you wouldn’t even have a household to run to keep you occupied. You had met Yoongi once, when he was set to marry your sister. He had visited you here and you had talked to him briefly while your sister was getting ready. Since you had already had the opportunity to talk once your parents hadn’t found it necessary to make you meet a second time, convenient as always. Now you’re sitting on a bed in a room in the palace they appointed to you. You feel like you’re choking, all last night was spent crying and panicking. When you hear a knock on the door you straighten your back, over your dead body were you going to let anyone know how you’re feeling right now. If you were going to be made queen you’d do it well, you weren’t going to spend your first day as queen to be, crying. You’re not a coward. “Good morning, madam, it’s time to get you ready”. They wash and dress you and your face doesn’t move a muscle. You don’t struggle, there’s no point.

Yoongi casts a look into the mirror as he gets into his formal attire, “Come in”, he says after hearing a knock on his door. “Ready to give the people what they want?”, Jungkook says as he saunters into the room. “Why do there need to be so many people?”, Yoongi exclaims as Jungkook flings himself onto his bed. “You’re the crown prince brother dearest, everyone wants to know who their future queen will be. They need to see if she’s pretty so they can know if they like her”. “Really, they don’t want to know if she has any interesting takes on how to run the kingdom?”, Yoongi asks sarcastically. “If yer gonna be king yer gonna have to get a better perspective of ye people”. “Jungkook stop impersonating your professor, it’s so bad nobody even gets who you’re trying to imitate”. “If this is any indicator of how you’re going to treat your wife maybe I should take her of your hands”, Jungkook laughs but is brutally interrupted by a pillow in his face. “All right mister grump, they sent me in here to tell you it’s time to get you married”.

According to custom you walk from the palace to the church in procession, and since Yoongi is the crown prince everyone is there to watch the procession. You walk beside your soon-to-be husband, when the procession started, you had tried to seek eye contact, but he didn’t attempt once to look you in the face. You might as well not have been there and so you didn’t try to make contact again. You feel naked in your wedding attire. You’re dressed to the nines but every eye in the city is on you, and you can feel it in your chest. Finally, after what seems like ages you arrive at the cathedral’s doors. The high priest is waiting for you with an unsettling smile on his face. He spreads his arms and welcomes you. You and Yoongi stand face to face while the priest starts rattling off what he has to say. You don’t hear any of it, you don’t make eye contact, instead choosing to look at the crown prince’s chest. He might be looking at your face but you wouldn’t know because you refuse to look at him at suffer the same rejection as before. Your father hands you a sword, the sword with your family crest. Yoongi is handed his family’s sword and when the priest gives the sign you exchange swords. In the process, your hands touch for a split second. His hands are warm which is surprising with the freezing cold blowing around you. After that there’s an oath which you mindlessly repeat, Yoongi does the same. The priest stops talking and before you know it the ceremony is over. You’re driven to the palace for a festive dinner and when you walk into the rowdy dining hall you finally wake up. The entire wedding had gone by in a haze, you had barely had a thought since this morning. It was like your brain had shut down in fear of the realisations you would have if you were conscious. When you sat in your chair next to Yoongi’s at a table looking out over the entire hall, the thoughts came flooding in. This was your life now, the quiet well-behaved wife of the king. No more walks on your own, from now on you would be shadowed by guards step you took outside the palace. No more playing with the animals your family owned, no more cooking or baking to calm your nerves. It wasn’t fitting for the queen to be in the kitchen. You would always love to go to the forest and just run or find herbs to use in the kitchen. That too would be over now. You were no longer a girl, you were a wife, you were a woman. The little freedom that girls have women have to say goodbye to. From now on you got to enjoy in the endless performance that is every woman’s life. You feel tears well up in your eyes. You clench your fists, no way would you let them see your weakness so soon, but it was too late. The tears were falling down your cheeks now and everybody could see. You feel Yoongi turn to you on your right. “Get yourself together”, he sneer whispers.

Now is the moment you’ve been most nervous for. Men think that woman don’t exactly know what happens on a wedding night until it happens to them, but they don’t know just how well women have managed to pass on information without them knowing. Behind closed doors and in hushed voices, most young girls are told everything they need to know. You know what’s coming and as rational as you are you know that Yoongi will not give you any love or warmth. You know he will come into your room, barely undress himself and only touch you when it’s absolutely needed. Still, you find yourself hoping that he will be kinder, that under his ice-cold exterior hides a man full of love. That this man would only reveal himself to you and that you would not need to be so alone for the rest of your life. The moment Yoongi enters the room and closes the door you know it’s idle hope. He doesn’t even look at you. “I will not touch you if you don’t want me to, nobody’s going to check”, it’s a kindness you’d never expected. People always acted like it was absolutely necessary to consummate the marriage the first night. You’d never known that the crown prince would go against tradition that easily. Besides, wasn’t producing an heir your only purpose here? “What am I here for then? I thought I was meant to give you an heir. “We have time, the rest of our lives even, besides I couldn’t touch you anyways”. Ah there was the real reason, you weren’t desirable enough, of course. “Well then I will just get to bed”, you said. At that Yoongi walked back to the door. With his hand already on the door handle he said: “don’t cry like that in public again, I don’t need all my subjects seeing that my wife hates me. It’s not good for my reputation. If you can’t control your emotions excuse yourself and deal with them somewhere private”. With that he slammed the door behind him. You were left in complete silence, sitting on the bed. How dare he. As if he wasn’t the one who dragged you from your home to marry him against your will. This is the moment you made a decision. You would never show any emotion in front of your husband. If he wanted stone cold, he could get stone cold. He didn’t deserve to see the vulnerable side of you and so he never would.

@lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes

#yoongi #namjoon #hoseok #jungkook #taehyung #seokjin #jimin #historical au #bts #bts fanfiction #bangtan #x reader #yoongi x reader

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feeder86 · 1 year

Text

Acting Out

Cam could definitely say he’d given it his best shot. After years of dreaming about being a star, he’d packed up his things and headed straight to Los Angeles at the age of eighteen. He’d been convinced that he could make it; that he had what it took - even his high school Yearbook had said so. When he got the commercial job, he’d been sure that it was the start of big things for him. But that was six years ago now.

Fed up of living in a dump and barely making enough from working in a trashy downtown bar, Cam had finally decided that enough was enough. There was always going to be someone better looking than he was; someone more talented and versatile. It was time to admit defeat and head home.

Cam had been surprised by how many of his old high school buddies had wanted to meet up for a drink upon his return. Everyone had seen the commercial he’d done and, for a small town like this, Cam realised that, in their eyes at least, he’d made something of himself during those awkward early years of adulthood.

“So what’s your plan now you’re back home?” Fin asked, as the conversation remained steadily focused on Cam.

Cam shrugged. “Get a job, I guess. Start trying to work my way out of my folk’s place.” It was something that was easier said than done. He’d not paid all that much attention in school and had since breezed from one bar job to another, never picking up much in the way of experience or skills.

“That home decor place by the old quarry is looking for someone,” Daz jumped in. “I saw a sign up in their window.”

“I hardly think Cam wants to spend his time just selling bathroom tiles,” Fin countered, as if he was trying to protect Cam’s imaginary celebrity status.

“Isn’t that where Kirk Ploughman works now?” Bill asked with a smirk.

Cam’s mind whirred into life at the mention of the name. He hadn’t thought about Kirk in years. The guy had been high school royalty, with his tall frame and built, lean, muscular body that seemed a biological impossibility for someone who was just eighteen. When he’d run with the football, guys didn’t want to go in for that tackle. But he hadn’t been all that interested in school and, consequently, Kirk had shared many of the same classes with Cam; though neither of them had ever really taken the time to get to know each other. Still, he’d been great eye-candy back then. “Kirk Ploughman?” Cam asked, feeling the familiarity of that name as it rolled off his tongue. “He still lives in town? I thought he’d have been signed up for some big football club by now?”

Cam had no idea what it was about what he’d said that had been so funny, but suddenly everyone around him had burst into fits of laughter. “Kirk Ploughman?” Bill echoed, chuckling. “A professional athlete? Geez! You can tell you haven’t been back here for some time!”

“Why?” Cam asked, feeling completely lost as the laughter continued rolling around the room. “Did something happen?”

“Kirk started to put on a little weight after high school,” Fin explained over the chorus of laughter.

“A little weight?” Bill retorted. “Now that’s a fucking understatement! Every time I see the guy he’s gained about fifty pounds of fresh blubber!”

Cam blushed. He both loved and hated tales such as these; ones where high school jocks became consumed by their own gluttonous appetites and started to balloon. There was something so erotic about it. They were fantasies he’d jacked off to his whole life and developed into a kink that he just couldn’t seem to shake off. Even now he could feel his dick hardening.

“Oh, I see him all the time down the supermarket,” Vinny added, pulling a face of utter disgust. “You only need to take one look in his shopping cart to see why he’s probably close to five hundred pounds now.”

Now Cam’s dick really did pulse and stiffen. Kirk Ploughman, a five hundred pound superchub? It was like the ultimate fantasy. It was all he could do to resist the urge to ask if anyone had a picture.

“Yeah, I don’t think you want to be stuck working with Kirk,” Bill finally summarised. “I don’t think the fat fuck gets off his ass much to do anything around that place. You’d probably have to do his job as well as your own.”

The seed had been sown. Cam knew he’d need to go and enquire about the job tomorrow; even just for curiosity’s sake. The erotic images he had of Kirk in his mind right then were just too enticing to ignore.

The store was every bit the small town cliché. A little bell rang as Cam opened the door and he had the sense that the place was waking up from a late morning nap. He looked around, spotting an older guy at the counter and headed straight over. He’d begun by asking about the job, and the man, calling himself Bob, had seemed so relieved that someone was in there asking about the position. Cam soon found himself agreeing to a paid trial shift right there and then. For the next two hours, he’d learned almost everything there was to know, while only a handful of customers came in to interrupt them.

“Our busiest days are at the weekend,” the older man explained. “The other regular guy who works here is… Well, you get used to him. I sold him part of the business a couple of years ago when I wanted to step back from it. However, I’m not quite sure how up for it he really is. Anyway, you’ll be working with him a lot.”

“You mean, Kirk?” Cam asked. “I knew him in high school.”

Bob seemed relieved that he didn’t need to go on explaining about Kirk. He’d taken an obvious amount of care with the words he had chosen to desscibe Kirk and tried to phrase things with such diplomacy, it was like he had been put on trial. With that done, he simply shook Cam’s hand. “Welcome to the team!”

As Cam started work early the next day, he found the vibe of the store very much changed. Rock music was blasting from the back room and, with only half the lights switched on, the store seemed oddly disorientating. He shouted to the back, not wanting to progress behind the counter right away and potentially startle whoever was on the shift with him that day, but there really was no choice. He stepped gingerly into the little room at the back, where the loud music was coming from, only to see a very large, spherically shaped guy snacking from a tall stack of buttery toast he’d just made himself and slurping on a can of soda.

So engrossed was he in his breakfast, the guy had yet to notice him and Cam simply watched as the enormously fat man demolished a slice of toast in seconds. It was Kirk, even under all that fat, there was no doubting it. He’d grown a thick, stubbly beard that failed to conceal the fact that his neck was no longer visible. All traces of the jock physique had gone and Cam found himself almost swooning as he surveyed the size of the guy’s blubbery chest and nipples. Still, it was his gut that was the main event. So round and ball-like, it sat in his lap, filling most of it with ease. And those ginormous, doughy arms, that had once been so strong and muscular, now strained the fit of the already tight work shirt Kirk was having to wear.

“Hello,” Cam waved, using his arms to grab Kirk’s attention, realising that he had to stop silently standing there like some sort of creepy stalker.

Kirk raised his eyebrows and looked over. He nodded and pushed the remaining half of one of his slices of toast into his greedy mouth, put his plate down, and then carefully lowered the volume of the speaker.

“You’re the new guy?” Kirk asked. Already his tongue was licking his lips like he wanted another slice of his toast. Still, he squinted at Cam and then finally raised his gigantic body up. “It’s… Cam, right?” he considered, as if he had lifted the name up from the bottom of a very deep well.

Cam outstretched his hand and reintroduced himself, surprised at how buttery the palm of Kirk’s large hands actually felt. It hadn’t taken long for them to get the small talk over with and it was immediately clear that Kirk didn’t have the same fascination about his life in LA as everyone else he had met so far. Cam knew he’d gone a little far, choosing a job simply because he’d been turned on by the thought of working with such a superb specimen of ‘ex-jock’. But now that he was here and Kirk was standing in front of him in all his lardy, five hundred pound glory, he realised that he really didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Oof! Check her out!” Kirk whispered slyly, later that day. He nodded his head towards a very large woman, probably twenty years older than both of them, pulling a face that immediately spoke of his attraction to her.

Cam looked over at the big woman, hardly believing that Kirk, the sexiest guy in their high school, who had dated every hot girl in their class, was now checking out such a plain, obese woman in her late forties. “I take it you’re an ass man then?” Cam simply replied, seeing the enormous butt on the lady as she turned around.

“I do like some junk in the trunk,” Kirk nodded, fixated at the sight of the massive glutes. Then, for the first time in at least three hours, the man picked himself off his extra large chair and started striding over, his chest puffed out, ready to help the new customer.

Cam felt his dick harden for the hundredth time that day. Kirk’s own ass was so wide and thick as he headed over to the big lady. But something about seeing Kirk getting aroused had also turned Cam on; like it was an enticing window into the ex-jock’s mind.

“She’s married,” Cam grunted as he returned a couple of minutes later. “I saw the wedding ring. Lucky bastard!” he went on, throwing himself back down into the aching, tortured chair. Then, he simply reached under the counter to the mini-fridge he’d set himself up with, and took out another can of soda to crack open.

Cam slowly started to realise why everyone he had spoken to about Kirk regarded him with such disdain. The guy simply had no matters at all. He was a slave to his own appetite, constantly grazing throughout the day and throwing out large, guttural burps, no matter how many customers were wandering about in the store. Cam could also have counted on a single hand how many times the man had gotten up off his chair; lazily sending Cam as often as he could.

Not for the first time, Cam found himself wishing that he could rid himself of his strange infatuation. Why did he find Kirk’s gluttony, slobbishness and lazy work ethic to be such a turn on? It wasn’t normal! Yet, he knew for certain, there hadn’t been anyone in his entire life he’d had a crush on like this. Five days into his new job and Cam knew he was absolutely lost to it. The amount of calories he’d seen Kirk take down had been out of this world, and he came, thinking about just that, within five minutes of getting home each night.

It was easy to see why Kirk kept a plentiful stash of soda cans in his little fridge at work; with faulty air conditioning, the place could start to feel uncomfortable very quickly. But he was also generous to share them out with Cam. The days could be long and boring when fewer people came into the store. Kirk’s interests lay more with the online aspect of the business, which he himself had initiated; explaining that there was a surprising amount of cash to be made in selling on discontinued lines that were hard to come by. Kirk could buy and sell thousands of dollars worth of tiles without even having to get up off his wide rear; it was an enterprise that was bound to keep the business afloat for many years to come; even on those slow days in the store.

“Here,” called Kirk, sliding a can of soda down the counter to Cam. “Have another one. You need a sugar boost. You’re looking tired.”

Cam nodded and popped the can open, taking a long slurp. Kirk was right; hot, stuffy days like this tended to leech all the energy from his body as he looked at his watch and saw that he still had another four hours to go. There was just something about the building; the enormity of it and the stale air inside. Kirk offered him one of his doughnuts and Cam took it gratefully, already starting to feel a little perkier. “Any collections you need me to get ready?” he asked Kirk, checking on the online orders, desperate for something to do.

“Maybe later,” Kirk replied dismissively, taking a large slurp from his own soda and then cracking out another, after a long, drain-like burp. “You should listen to this…” he went on enthusiastically, clicking for a song to play on the computer. Kirk was passionate about his rock music and Cam was slowly acquiring quite an education about it all; especially after Kirk had downloaded some tracks for him to listen to at home. “Pretty good, huh?” he smiled as the heavy drums came into their own.

Cam had to admit that he quite liked Kirk’s taste in music and the pair of them sat there for the next hour, playing track after track as the large box of donuts slowly diminished.

“So, what’s it like working with Kirk?” Bill asked a few weeks later, as Cam met up with some of the guys once again.

“Well, Kirk pretty much runs the place; so it’s more like I’m the one working for him,” Cam clarified.

“I bet it’s a complete shit show if Kirk’s in charge!” Vinny joked. “My sister had to coach him through algebra back in high school. He’s not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, is he?”

Everyone laughed, happy to mock Kirk, just like last time. It made Cam’s jaws clench and his teeth start to grind in frustration. Kirk’s rapid weight gain since high school had left him exposed to unjustified assumptions about his intelligence from everyone else. “Actually, Kirk’s business model is very successful,” he countered. “Some days, Kirk can make more cash sat on his butt than you guys make in a month. He’s even buying more of a stake in the business, so he’ll be the majority owner.”

It was hard for the guys to think of a witty retort to the revelation that Kirk did have some business sense after all, but they soon managed it. Cam was relieved when the conversation finally turned away from the subject of his new boss. He swallowed down his third beer and burped to relieve the gas that had quickly built up in his stomach. The others laughed, but looked at each other, seeming perplexed to see their suave LA buddy showing such a blatant lack of manners. It made Cam blush slightly, thinking to himself: had he been spending too much time in Kirk’s company?

Cam had received more shifts at the store than he had been expecting. During the week, it was pretty quiet, but Kirk seemed to like the fact that he could concentrate on the online sales, without customers getting to him. For the most part, it was easy money; despite the long hours. Kirk was decent company and he didn’t mind closing up for an hour or so as they went for lunch somewhere. Kirk always paid, as his way of knocking off some tax for the business. It meant that Cam was slowly building up a little pot of savings, ready for him to rent his own place. Living with his folks had been a welcome relief after struggling for years in LA; but now he was more than ready to move on. Not least because of the tightness he was starting to feel in his clothes as he dressed for work each day. His mother’s home cooking had always been a comfort, but without a gym subscription or the metabolism of a teenager, Cam slowly felt like he was constantly bloated. It was mortifying. He’d met up for some fun with a guy a few nights earlier who had directly called him out on it, claiming that he looked much ‘chubbier’ in real life. Chubbier! Really? Back in LA, he’d had to work hard to maintain his image, always waiting for that big break just around the corner. Had he really let things slide that badly since he’d come home?

“There’re some fresh pastries in the back,” Kirk pointed as Cam arrived at work the next morning.

Cam had bought some more relaxed pants for work but his mom had obviously shrunk them, trying to help him with his washing even though he had asked her not to. They pinched into his hips, making him grumpy as he helped himself to a couple of the pastries. What a waste of money buying these pants had been!

“What’s got you in a mood this morning?” Kirk asked, spotting Cam’s frustration as he wriggled to get comfortable in his restrictive pants.

“I need to get out of my parents’ place,” Cam huffed. “They mean well but… fuck! I need my own space!” he sighed, reaching under the counter to help himself to a cool soda from the small refrigerator. He cracked it open and chugged it like an ice cold beer after a long day of hard labour.

“I know that feeling!” Kirk nodded. “I moved out not long after high school. I just needed to feel more in control of my own life,” he went on, placing both of his hands on the shelf of his giant stomach and watching as Cam took large bites out of his pastries.

“Do you still do much with your family?” Cam asked, realising now that Kirk had never mentioned them before.

“Not really,” Kirk replied. “My dad really wanted me to take the football thing more seriously and when I told him I was bored of it and preferred eating cheeseburgers instead, he never quite forgave me. I knew I had to get out of there if I was ever going to have the sort of life I really wanted for myself. They actually moved out of town about four years ago.”

“Ouch!” Cam responded, feeling bad for his friend. “That must have been rough?”

“Nah,” Kirk replied dismissively. “It’s awesome, not having to worry about their looks of disapproval, seeing them around town.” One hand rubbed against his belly as if it comforted him. He stood, getting the box of pastries from the back room and plopping them down on the counter between them as the two men prepared for another quiet day.

“Hey, Bob, do you have any more work shirts in your van? My mom has done my washing again and…” he raised his arms to show how short and tight it had become, “...she has a tendency to shrink stuff.”

Bob didn’t do many shifts, and even fewer where he was paired up with Cam, but he looked at the fit of Cam’s shirt without any hint of humour. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you about Kirk,” he sighed. “He has a habit of doing this.”

“Doing what?” Cam asked, starting to search for the box of shirts himself.

“If Kirk offers you food, just say no,” Bob stated with absolute certainty. “I’ll find you a new shirt for now, but…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “He does this every time. He starts putting a little gut on all the guys who come work here,” the older man grumbled, shaking his head in disapproval. “Kirk is a lovely guy, don’t get me wrong, but his sense of humor is warped. Just be aware that he’s more than likely getting some sort of weird thrill out of playing with you.”

Cam’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not quite sure what you mean?” he asked, despite already starting to feel his heart racing with inexplicable adrenaline.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think the world of Kirk. I was friends with his grandfather back in the day and I’ve known him since he was a little boy. But how does a strapping football athlete from a good family suddenly get a giant, fat belly like that on him?” he asked, pointing at the enormous, empty chair where Kirk usually sat during his shifts; the lower cushion flattened into a dish shape by the huge heavy rear. “We watched it happen when he was nineteen. He was such a good-looking boy, but folks in town said he was stuffing himself like he actually wanted to get fat! And he was dating these really fat… and I mean FAT women,” he repeated for emphasis, holding his short arms out almost as wide as they would go. “Believe it or not, that massive chair was what he asked his family to get for him for his twenty-first birthday. And he’s spent the last few years eating as if he’s actively trying to outgrow it. Have you heard the way it creaks now?” he asked, shaking the tortured frame of the chair. “Before he went into a home, his grandfather asked me to take him on here; see if I could sort him out a bit and give him some stability. But…” he pointed again at the empty chair, “...I think what the people in town said was true: he wants to be fat. And I think he gets off on seeing it happen to other people as well.”

Cam’s dick was tingling in his pants and he knew that he’d need to sit down pretty fast. The idea that Kirk enjoyed being fat wasn’t a complete surprise, but the thought of him getting some sort of erotic thrill out of pushing extra calories on Cam was a strangely arousing prospect. He snuck off to the bathroom fairly soon afterwards and just gazed at himself in the privacy of the mirror. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to properly appraise his reflection like this? But now that he was looking, it was obvious how much his middle had been thickening. Was it Kirk who had convinced him that it was his mom shrinking his clothes in the wash? Cam hadn’t given that idea any consideration at all. It had been a lie; a cunning lie, implanted into his head as Kirk brought in more and more delicious treats as the weeks had gone on. Had Cam… had he actually been… fattened up on purpose?

The next day, Kirk was already back in his seat, with the early morning radio blasting out before the doors officially opened. “I was in the mood for muffins this morning,” he stated casually. “Help yourself.”

Despite how foolish Cam felt, the sight of Kirk never failed to take his breath away. That handsome face, all bloated with the lard he had packed on since high school. Thinking about Kirk deliberately fattening himself had supercharged Cam’s libido yesterday and he had come five times, alone in his bedroom, just imagining it.

“Aren’t you going to have a muffin?” Kirk pressed a few minutes later when Cam had simply sat himself down without heading into the back room. “I’ll get them for you,” he offered helpfully, picking up his gigantic body and squeezing by, into the backroom. “Enjoy!” he smiled, throwing the box down by Cam’s side.

Had it not been for the conversation with Bob the day before, Cam knew he would have picked up at least two muffins without a second thought. Now, he knew he needed to sort himself out and not be taken in by Kirk any more. But his mouth had been filling with saliva since the moment Kirk had mentioned them and now that the muffins were glistening in front of him, he felt genuinely hungry. Turned on by the sight of his biggest crush, Cam found his resolve wavering. He knew that he was attracted enough to Kirk that he would have shot up off his chair, climbed into the man’s crotch and sucked that massive fatty off until closing time. So, why wouldn’t he just eat a little muffin for him? After all, Bob seemed to believe that there was some sort of thrill in it for Kirk.

Cam heard the refrigerator door opening and the crack of a soda can opening and then being placed next to him. It was all true; Kirk really was trying to deliberately fatten him up! “I think it’s going to get pretty stuffy in here soon,” the fat man stated; his chosen casual excuse for serving a sweet, sugary calorie bomb to his work coleague.

It was the idea of playing to Kirk’s supposed kinks that finally made Cam pick up his first muffin and slurp on the soda. He wondered what it was about this whole scenario that did it for the big man. After all, now that Cam thought about it, Kirk must have spent a fair amount of money on all those casual treats and snacks for him over the last few months. Perhaps there was a slight submissive side to Cam’s sexuality; suddenly wondering how he could play his part in Kirk’s twisted games; to entertain and arouse him. Just the thought of creating even the tiniest twitch in Kirk’s dick sent Cam into a tailspin of longing. He’d been so aroused since his conversation with Bob and he felt that same breathless lust within him as he took a second large bite out of the muffin, already finding his other hand preloading the next sugary treat. “These are good!” he exclaimed, speaking with a full mouth, just as Kirk always did. He noticed now that Kirk was watching keenly as he ate. Had he always done that? The sensation of being watched now seemed to ignite a spark of sexual energy in Cam and he soon found himself taking down that second muffin, followed by a third and, inexplicably, a fourth as well; all washed down with a second fresh soda, supplied to him by Kirk. He burped, letting it all out and enjoying the fact that Kirk didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Are we closing at lunch again today?” Kirk asked. “It’s Friday and I’m sort of in the mood for burgers and fries.”

Cam glanced down at himself, suddenly finding that that tight pinch of his pants and strange fit of his work shirt had become a source of a strange eroticism for him. He nodded. The way he was feeling right then, he would have eaten anything Kirk asked him to.

Getting out of the shower a few weeks later, Cam wiped off the steam from the mirror and took a hard look at himself. He’d spent years developing his chest muscles in LA, but even with all the protein shakes and supplements, he’d never had a thick little tummy like he had now. He could see the build up of fat, deepening his belly button and swelling around his waist, creating love handles for the first time in his life. He thought about what his LA friends would have said if they saw him like this, or the notes he would have received from casting directors if he went into an audition looking like this. He probably could have allowed that shame to have spurred him on to do something about it, were it not for the immediate levitation of his dick, knowing exactly who was doing this to him. He spun around, looking in the mirror at how his love handles pitched and bulged as he did so. He stared at his glutes, once so pert and beefy, but now oversized and obviously swollen with fresh blubber and jiggly from the lack of exercise. Was the weight spreading into his thighs too? That was new. What would they have described this as in LA? The dad-bod? He definitely now looked like a guy who was more into his food and sitting on the couch, rather than one who frequented the gym. He took his hand to his dick, knowing that he’d never get any peace until he drained it again; staring with a mixture of shock, disgust and awe at his own reflection.

The comments soon started cropping up as Cam entered his eighth month of being back home. Despite multiple payments he had made, the interest rates on Cam’s credit cards were starting to bite and, despite all the hours he was working, Cam felt like he had very little to show for it. Cheap sweatshorts became his new best friend for work, but he didn’t have much cash to replace anything else. His old shirts still hugged nicely against his arms and chest, but their tight fit left him exposed to criticism about how rounded his middle had become. His dad had even offered to pay for a gym subscription for him, but when would he ever have the time for that? It seemed like a good compromise; still getting to overeat for Kirk, but at least maintaining a bit of control about how he looked by working out at the gym. Yet, Cam resisted, simply getting harder and harder the longer he allowed his current sloth-like lifestyle to continue.

Cam got very used to seeing those faces from high school he’d long forgotten about. He was surprised how fast their full names came back to him. He saw a young couple coming in and recognised the girl as being one of the cheerleaders from back in the day: Sadie Parry. She walked hand in hand with a strapping, athletic-looking guy, wandering the aisles.

“Didn’t you used to date her?” Cam asked, turning to Kirk, sitting engrossed in the computer screen.

Kirk looked across the store, making his old chair scream, just as the couple came back into view for a brief moment. A vague recognition then relaxed Kirk’s face of concentration. “Probably,” he shrugged. “I dated a lot of that crowd in high school.”

“You don’t even remember?” Cam laughed.

Kirk shrugged. “I was with a lot of girls in high school. It was the expected thing in the football team.”

“Oh, how awful for you!” Cam joked. “All those hot girls lining up for you like that!”

Kirk looked over at the couple with disapproval. “Well, it made me realise one thing: I knew I didn’t want to be stuck the rest of my life with girls like Sadie Parry. I bet she makes that guy absolutely miserable if ever he misses a gym session. Appearances are everything to girls like that. Check out the handbag and shoes.” With that, he picked up a doughnut from the tray in front of them and bit into a full half of it. “No thanks!” he finally huffed.

“I know what you mean,” Cam agreed. “LA was completely superficial like that as well. Everyone had to look a certain way and, in the end, you just get so sick of it. Coming back here has really helped me see that.” He too picked up a doughnut and took a bite, but had to put it down when Sadie and her boyfriend came wandering over.

“Do you do these in another colour?” she questioned, holding a tile sample. “Oh.. wait. Cam?” she asked, taking in his face. Her eyes travelled up and down his body. “I saw you in that commercial a few years ago. I hardly recognised you,” she stated, with her eyes fixed on his budding paunch.

“Yeah, I moved back here a few months ago,” Cam mumbled as he saw Sadie’s eyes find the half-eaten doughnut on the desk beside him.

“We all thought you were going to be a real movie star,” she went on, in that slyly obnoxious way that was all coming back to Cam now. “Now you’re here, obviously eating far too many crappy doughnuts and working in a dump like this.” Her boyfriend was standing beside her, but she clearly didn’t think enough of Cam now to introduce him. As for Kirk, she didn’t even bother looking at him. “So, do you do this in another colour then?” she repeated, holding the tile up once more.

Incensed, Cam picked up the sugary snack beside him and took a giant bite. “No,” he simply stated, ending the conversation flat and staring at her as he chewed.

Seeming to sense the slight, Sadie turned, put the tile down on the nearest shelf and led her hapless boyfriend out of the store.

Kirk broke into a roar of laughter as the door closed behind them.

“Your exes are bitches!” Cam joked, still standing up from the subtle confrontation. “I think I just got fat shamed!” he chuckled in disbelief.

“I think you might be right!” Kirk agreed, sliding over in his chair to give Cam’s think rump a pat. It was an odd thing to do, but the sensation of being touched, however innocently by Kirk, made Cam’s heart race. “You handled her perfectly though. I was so proud!”

“Yeah?” Cam asked, enjoying Kirk’s praise.

“Of course!” he smiled. “I’m delighted with my little apprentice.” They held a stare for a moment, then as Cam sat himself back down, he saw the tray of doughnuts being gently pushed in his direction; letting Cam know that it wasn’t the running of the store that he was being trained in.

Cam’s supposed Holywood status had long since worn off in town, which had been a welcome relief. He didn’t really have the cash to go out drinking when the guys asked and it eased his finances when the invitations became fewer and farther between. Kirk had given him one of his old games consoles and was lending him a few titles. Having never really been much of a gamer growing up, Cam found his new hobby strangely addictive. Sometimes, on the days he was not working, he could go the entire time without leaving the house. Shamefully, he could feel his ass spreading as he sat up in his bed, snacking on whatever he had found in the refrigerator. His body shape was changing yet again. Another layer of fat seemed to be spreading across this body, softening him up a lot more than before. He could feel the blubber on his pecs and arms, and was becoming quite used to the mass of a small gut starting to creep out in front of him. He’d had no choice but to use some of his pay on some larger clothes; with the elastic on his old underwear finding the changes to his body particularly stressful. His family didn’t waste time trying to be subtle about how fat he was getting. His mother had even stuck pictures of him from a couple of years earlier on the refrigerator; a tip she had picked up from daytime tv that was supposed to make Cam think twice before he went raiding in there. She couldn’t possibly have realised that the actual effect was the complete opposite. Just like the memory of how fit and muscular Kirk had once been added to Cam’s attraction to him, so did the thrill of being reminded about his own transformation, building into an arousal that he couldn’t quite put into words. He’d certainly never imagined himself getting to two hundred and forty pounds after maintaining a sleek one sixty-five his entire adult life.

Cam put on his new favourite shirt and stared hard at the little round belly it still showed underneath. Having been invited round to play games at Kirk’s place that night, he knew that he wanted to look good. He’d pictured Kirk’s apartment for so long and he was genuinely surprised when the reality matched up almost entirely with that vision in his head. Kirk cared little about tidiness. Clothes and junk littered the floor and the big man had to add even more to it as he cleared a space on the couch for Cam to sit down. Forgetting the pizza they would be ordering later, everything they could possibly want was on the coffee table: beers, chips, doughnuts, candy bars. It was exactly the sort of life Cam had pictured Kirk settling into. They’d often ordered pizza into the store at lunchtime, so it was no surprise to see the way Kirk stacked the slices up and gorged; however, it was no less erotic to see each time.

“You can see why I haven’t invited you her until now,” Kirk pointed around at his apartment. I moved in when I was nineteen and never really got into the idea of keeping the place tidy. I need a new chair as well,” he grumbled, reaching forward for another beer and hearing his tortured armchair groan underneath his heavy form. “I fritter most of my cash away each month, on takeout, music and games.”

Cam tried to ignore how turned on he felt, sat next to a bundle of enormous Kirk’s dirty clothes. He wanted to hold them and marvel at the great expanse of material that was needed to clothe the ex-football star’s body. “Have you always lived her alone?” he asked, knowing that Kirk had had at least a few girlfriends in the last few years.

“A couple of girlfriends lived here in the past,” Kirk nodded in a noncommittal manner. “Never for very long. Those abs I had in high school disappeared pretty quickly once I moved in here.” He sat up more, as if he was energised by the conversation. “The girl I was with at the time couldn’t quite believe it. One minute she was dating this muscular athlete and the next, I was this doughy little pig. I gained one hundred pounds in the first year I was living on my own!”

Cam nodded knowingly. He knew the feeling, having gained almost eighty pounds in the last fourteen months. He pictured Kirk in those early days of getting fat and his dick pulsed down in his crotch.

“I tried dating some larger women in my early twenties. Some people don’t mind that I’m fat now,” Kirk went on. “I was in a long-distance relationship with a girl from New York a few years ago. She was really into me, but the attraction wasn’t quite there for me, unfortunately. If she’d have gained a few pounds with me, I think she would have looked a lot better. But she was dead against that idea and, in the end, the distance got the better of us.”

“So, you’re just into chubby girls?” Cam asked him, having always been intrigued by Kirk’s sexual tastes.

“Fat, not chubby,” Kirk corrected him, as if that distinction was of the utmost importance to him. “Someone like me.”

“I’m not sure that exists. I think you’re just one of a kind,” Cam joked.

“I don’t know about that…” Kirk grinned. “I can think of at least one person who is very similar to me.”

Cam blushed, sensing that Kirk was actually talking about him. They’d finished gaming and sat, nursing their beers contemplatively. The beer was giving Cam a little courage, so that when a question popped into his head, he suddenly found it rolling off his tongue. “Did you get fat on purpose?” he asked. “Because, that’s what some people in town think.”

A massive, wicked grin filled Kirk’s face. “You really want to know?” he asked teasingly.

Cam thought for a moment, sensing that the answer could alter the way he saw Kirk forever. He nodded.

“It was the whole reason why I moved out of home,” Kirk stated frankly, sliding a hand over the bulk of his ginormous gut. “I hated my abs in high school. I hated the expectation that I had to play football just cause I was taller and more built than everyone else. I used to gorge myself all the time, but the pounds never stuck in the way I wanted. Once I moved out I was free to just stuff myself on everything I needed to grow a belly. And it worked! I quit working out and started looking chubby really fast. It felt amazing!” He lifted the bottom of his shirt and grabbed a wedge of his soft flesh, jiggling it for emphasis. “The fact that my girlfriend at the time hated it just seemed to spur me on even more.”

“Was she a big girl too?” Cam asked, not sure what to say, but desperate to keep this surprisingly kinky ramble going.

“No,” Kirk replied. “She was just like every other person I’d dated up to that point. But, like I said, it’s FAT that gets me going more than anything else. And in those days, I was riding the most erotic wave of my life. It was only after that, when I began to feel confident as an overweight guy, that I started to look at dating other fatties. Some I was with just because I was into how much excess weight they carried, but others, the ones I was really interested in, I’d test them; see how much of a glutton like me they could be under the right circumstances.”

“And did it work?” Cam chimed in, again to keep the conversation going. He already remembered Bob telling him that Kirk had a strange fascination with overfeeding people.

“Yeah, it did,” Kirk nodded with a smug grin on his face. “I’ve gained almost three hundred pounds since high school. I know how to get someone to fatten up and push a belly on them.”

Now it was Cam’s turn to feel under the spotlight. What Kirk had said was innocent enough, but the way he looked at him and kept looking at him, it was obvious who had been the focus of his attention all these months.

“You’re welcome by the way,” Kirk smirked, taking another sip of his beer and chuckling to himself. Cam didn’t even know what to say. He sat there, dumbfounded that Kirk had practically just admitted to fattening him up on purpose. “Stand up for me,” the big man ordered; beer starting to course through his veins. “I want to see all my hard work.”

Cam chuckled, not quite believing that any of this was actually happening. But, curious to know what Kirk’s next move would be, he stood up and waited.

“Over here,” Kirk ordered, beckoning Cam closer with just a rock of his head.

Stepping over the mess, Cam did as he was told, surprised to find Kirk’s large hand slipping straight onto his butt the moment he was within reach. But he stood there, enjoying the feeling of being touched, despite not understanding exactly what was going on.

“Ah!” Kirk marvelled, sliding one hand, then two once lowering his beer, right over Cam’s glutes. “Remember how tight and pert these things used to be before you started working with me?” he sighed with joy. “Now they’re getting so fucking doughy!”

The beer was clearly getting the better of Kirk; rather surprising considering the sheer scale of him. He slouched more in his chair and smiled mischievously.

“Yeah, well, all we do is eat at work…” Cam replied, stepping away and trying to keep things light hearted. After all, despite the odd sexual chemistry between them, Cam had to remind himself that Kirk was straight.

“Get back here!” Kirk grunted. “I want to check out the rest of you.” Then, seeing how obedient Cam was, stepping straight back, he pushed things a little further. “Take off your shirt too.”

Cam followed the instruction, only realising as he pulled the shirt over his head that Kirk was probably getting a full view of his raging hard-on pressing up against his pants. Even so, he suddenly felt the sweaty palm of Kirk rubbing the great mass of stomach fat.

“Beautiful!” Kirk simply marvelled. “Absolutely fucking beautiful!”

Cam felt the button of his pants being released and that big, chubby hand sliding down his shaft as the fly was lowered.

“Do you know how lucky you are? How much I would have loved to have been fattened up like this by someone when I was younger?” Kirk smirked, freely showing how much all of this turned him on.

“I’ve loved it,” Cam tried, finding his heartbeat racing as Kirk’s hand started working his shaft.

“I thought so,” Kirk agreed, slipping down in the chair even more and reaching another hand down his own sweatshorts, trying to reach his dick at the same time. “You’re turning into such a fat pig!”

Cam shuddered with lust. He’d never been sure about how he felt about being called a pig, but coming out of Kirk’s mouth, he’d never heard anything more arousing. Caught by the lust of it all, he found himself giving two little snorts before his brain even had the chance to think about it.

“Oh, fuuuck!” Kirk groaned with arousal; his enormous double chin suddenly amplified as he squinted his eyes and pulled his head back, tugging himself off under his shorts.

Cam came. He hadn’t meant to let it happen so fast, but it was all too much for him. Fast, energetic shots sprayed over Kirk’s skin tight t-shirt, all over his gigantic gut. Kirk didn’t even open his eyes, but moaned at the feeling of it hitting him, redoubling his efforts and making himself come about ten seconds later.

The five-hundred pound man sat up with a huge grin, and a little trickle of sweat travelled down his forehead. He didn’t seem to care that he had made such a mess inside his pants, but lunged for Cam’s empty shirt and used that to wipe up the fresh stains all over his own clothing.

“Hey!” Cam laughed, shirtless before the giant fat man in the chair. “What am I supposed to wear to go home now?” he asked.

Kirk scoffed at the question. “We both know you’re not going home to your parents’ place again,” he stated. “Now sit your fat ass down so we can play another game.” He cracked open a fresh bottle of beer and passed it over to Cam, keeping one for himself. They drank, eyeing each other greedily, silently competing for the longest chug. Kirk won, of course, burping like a drain afterwards and throwing Cam a pack of chips as if it was his consolation prize. Then they both sat back, settling into their futures.

Cam recalled the look of horror on his parents’ faces as he told them he’d moved in with Kirk. They knew of the great fallen football star, just like most people in town, and they didn’t approve in the slightest. But, like everyone else, they had underestimated him. Kirk’s savvy business skills had provided them with a good income, and once Bob had been bought out entirely, Kirk swiftly closed the store down, shifting the business to being online-only. Together with Cam, he’d negotiated a handsome sale price for the land and instead bought a much more generously sized warehouse, nestled within the suburbs of the new, better-connected city they would call home.

Despite the lavish style of the penthouse apartment the two men now occupied, it was still just as messy as Kirk’s old place had been. They’d lost count of how many cleaners they’d tried to hire over the years, but it was a futile task. Who wanted to clean up after two enormously fat guys only to come back a couple of days later and see the place was in an even worse mess than before?

“Are these grey sweatshorts yours, or mine?” Cam shouted through to the living area, holding up the mass of material that had been discarded on the bedroom floor. Only as he said the words did he realise the enormity of the moment. Despite Kirk’s fifty pound lead on him, to the average viewer, Cam probably looked no less obese than his lover. He’d become so used to the contrast between them, he’d hardly noticed the gradual dimishment of their size difference. His ass was just as wide and out of shape, his gut only slightly smaller. Sure, he didn’t quite have the flabby arms and tits that Kirk had, but he sensed the twelve cartons of ice cream the man had picked up that morning were probably part of a larger plan to solve that problem.

Realising that he was holding Kirk’s sweatshorts after all, Cam slipped them on, feeling a wave of arousal as the material fitted like a glove around his enormous hips and glutes. Not bothering with a shirt, he trotted out of the bedroom and into the living area, where a similarly shirtless Kirk was playing a game with his headphones on. So that was why the fat man hadn’t replied, Cam thought, chuckling to himself as he sat down on the couch to watch.

“Nice shorts, Fatty!” Kirk joked, clocking Cam’s new attire in the corner of his eye without even moving his head away from the screen. Once the level was over, he threw the controller down and switched the channel. “A movie and a few pizzas tonight?” he asked, knowing that Cam always went along with whatever he wanted to do.

“Sure,” Cam nodded, mindlessly stroking the huge belly infront of him and not being able to shift the semi he had from being inside Kirk’s shorts. As he watched his lover scrolling through their movie options on the screen, he thought back to his teenage years, when he would imagine himself in those huge blockbusters and the glamorous lifestyle that he thought he had wanted. He also pictured an eighteen year old Kirk in his mind; his athleticism and perfect, muscular physique; a pretty, popular girl under his strong arm. There wouldn’t have been a single person who could have guessed that Kirk had actually wanted to give it all up for a life of gluttony and sloth. And, best of all, that he would wind up taking Cam along for the ride with him.

“Pizza’s going to be here in thirty minutes,” the former football star grunted, lowering his enormous rear onto the couch next to Cam; only ever leaving his giant chair for the couch when they were both ready to settle in for the night. It had become a tighter squeeze for them in recent months and, even now, the fatty flesh of their bodies pressed erotically up against each other.

Both men smiled wickedly as they sensed this ever decreasing space on their couch; both so proud to be able to share this strange, unconventional love that worked so well for them both. They kissed, not needing to say a word as their hands began to reach out and touch the others’ giant belly; jiggling and massaging it.

“I’ve left a couple of tubs of ice cream out to melt so that we can drink it when the pizzas arrive,” Kirk explained a moment later.

“Just a couple?” Cam joked, loving how much of a bad influence Kirk was.

The larger man laughed. “You clearly haven’t seen how much food I’ve ordered you then!” He leaned in for another kiss. “In about an hour’s time, your gut is going to be tighter than ever before, and my dick is going to be so fucking hard!”

Cam smiled. Putting on a show for Kirk had always been his undoing. Seeing Kirk get more and more aroused with the greater quantities he could stuff himself with, Cam had inadvertently developed an appetite that could rival even Kirk’s insatiable lust for food. He didn’t reply to the kinky man who had fattened him to such extremes. All he did was simply give two short, quiet little pig snorts.

“Oh, fuuuck!” Kirk moaned with arousal, suddenly losing interest in watching a movie altogether.

For both of the men, those pizzas couldn’t arrive fast enough.

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smok3r7 · 4 months

Text

MAIN MASTERLIST

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Here's the link to my Ao3 also

- Joel Miller Stories -

Latching On To You (finished)

| Joel Miller x F!reader

Series summary: What happens when, after thirteen loving years of being with Joel, you start to feel like he’s slipping away from your grasp? How much of yourself will you lose because of the trauma your father put you through at such a young age? You could be wrong about Joel, but something is telling you otherwise - or are you just not healed enough to see past your own insecurities?

Is Leaving Even An Option? (finished)

Joel x F!reader

EXTREME TW: Extreme domestic abuse (verbal and physical), PLEASE READ WARNING BEFORE READING!!

Summary: Your days have become one in the same - even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson, being home is evidently worse. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

One Door Closes & Another One Opens (ongoing)

Joel Miller x OFC! Divorce Attorney

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and she gets to see this man fight for the safety of his ten year old daughter, Sarah. Will she be able to keep it professional? For her sake.

Christmas Getaway (One-Shot)

| Joel Miller x Softball Coach!F!reader

Summary: You met Joel by coincidence. You picked up a little side job to be a high school softball coach for fun, and Sarah was one of your top players. Sarah introduces you to Joel after the first game and both of you hit it off immediately. The three of you grow closer throughout the year and end up spending the holidays together on a getaway trip. Joel treats you to a nice night.

Three, Two, One - Draw! (One-shot)

Cowboy Joel x F!reader

Summary: In Tombstone, you’re the bartender at Wyatt Earp’s saloon, a favorite actually. You’re one of the fastest shooters in the west, having learned from the best - your brother, Doc Holiday. One night after your shift at the saloon, your husband Joel Miller, tells you he wants to practice your draw speed. However, he’s not talking about guns.

New Traditions // Valentine’s Day (One-shot)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: The last Valentine’s Day two years ago has shattered your view of the so-called holiday. When Joel brings up the idea, you shut him down immediately, but he doesn’t listen. He hopes he can change your opinion on the holiday of Love.

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- Aaron Hotchner Stories -

They Always Come Back (Ongoing)

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a couple decades you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

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allmyn1ghts · 5 months

Note

Can I pls have Dominik Mysterio x Fem reader where they confess their feelings for each other in the rain with the prompts "I didn't know people like you existed" + "I wasn't expecting you to change my life... but you did"? Make it fluffy!

confessions in the rain ༘⋆✿

Dominik Mysterio x fem!reader

synopsis: you and dom finally confess those hidden feelings :)

warnings: none! just fluff and some cursing

wc: 871

a/n: thank you for this super cute request, I hope I did it justice! enjoy, love! <3

Dominik was your best friend and the man you've been swooning over the past year.

A year ago you couldn't stand the thought of him or the rest of The Judgement Day. You felt that their presence every Monday night was just… annoying to say the least. But, After many many many attempts at getting you to join, you finally gave in. Rhea was the one who convinced you.

“C'mon y/n think about all the opportunities we could get you! You could be the next Women’s Champion. I've seen how hard you've been working for that opportunity. Let JD help you.”

"Fine, but if you guys screw me over, it's not gonna be pretty"

"Now why would we do that y/n?" she says with her signature smirk

So here you are now, the women's Champion, with the four people you now consider family. Shortly after joining, you realized that they weren't that terrible after all. And that's also when you stopped seeing Dom as a nuisance and saw him as the sweet and caring person he truly is. Out of everyone, you and Dom were the closest. The two you just clicked, always together, whether it be ringside supporting each other or just chilling, y'all were inseparable. Your little crush on Dom didn't go unnoticed either. The group often teased you when Dom wasn't around.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up Preist, I wasn't even looking at him”

“Sure”

“Finn, have you seen Dom? I gotta talk to him before his match”

“Nope, I haven't seen your little boyfriend, I'm surprised you don't know where he is.”

“Ha ha very funny, thanks for your help.”

“Anytime love!”

Each day your feelings for him grew and you only hoped he felt the same. Telling him the truth was always on your mind. Could it possibly ruin the friendship you have with him? Maybe. but, you never know unless you try… right? Yeah, that wasn't an option at the moment.

After an eventful Raw, it was time for everyone to get back to the hotel. Everyone seemed to have left already except for you and Dom. It was weird, the five of you guys usually always left together. “You whipped some major ass out there!’ you complimented Dom as the two of yall packed up. “You think so? Felt like I didn't give my best tonight.” he shrugs. “Dom you always give a good show, dont doubt it.” He smiles at your comment. “Now cmon, I think the cab is here” You wrap an arm around his neck and head towards the exit. What you didn't know is that one, it was raining, and two, once you exit, you can't get back in.

“Oh shit! I didn't know it was gonna be pouring out here,” you said running toward the door. You attempted to open the door. “What the…” you tried again. “Dom I think we're stuck out here…” You begin to anxiously laugh at the situation. “You know this is your fault right” You look at Dom like he has two heads. “My fault?! How was I supposed to know it was gonna be pouring out and-” “Relax y/n, I'm just fucking with you” he laughs at your mini outburst.

“You're an asshole, you know that right?” the uncomfortable feeling of being wet starting to sink in.

“An asshole you looove”

“Yeah right, in your dreams”

The two of you laugh and settle into a comfortable silence.

Dom notices you start to shiver. “Here take my jacket” He handed it to you and you put it on quickly. “Thanks” you smile to yourself. Little acts like this is what made you fall in love with him, if only you could tell him that. Minutes pass by still waiting for transportation, and the two of you switch between looking at your phones or watching the rain fall peacefully. Dom decides to break that comfortable silence.

“Y/n can I tell you something?”

“Of course, what's up”

He turns to look down at you. “I don't know why I have this sudden urge to tell you this but fuck it,” you look at him confused. “Y/N I like you, a lot." Oh? Oh. "Even before you joined JD, when you hated my guts. You're- you're just so perfect, and funny, and beautiful and I can't explain what you do to me, but I love it. I didn't know people like you existed. You mean a lot to me and I don't even know if you feel the same b-” You cut him off, putting your hand on his wet cheek, and smile. “Dom, I've had the biggest crush on you for months now. I'm surprised you didn't notice! He stares at you baffled. "You're lying" "I swear!" Laughs come from both of you, he leans in, kissing you softly. He's the one to break the kiss. “I wasn't expecting you to change my life... but you did" You give him the biggest smile, and as you begin to respond to him, you are interrupted by the sound of a car horn. It's Rhea, Finn, and Damien all smiling at the two of you from the car.

“About damn time!” Damien says.

i hope you all enjoyed! pls comment and reblog! <3

request - masterlist - about me - who I write for

#dominik mysterio #dirty dominik mysterio #wwe #dominik mysterio x reader #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #dom dom #dominik mysterio fanfiction #the judgement day #the judgement day x reader #dirty dom #the judgement day fanfiction #black writers #fluff #fanfic #wrestling #wrestling fanfiction #dominik mysterio fluff

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luvangelbreak · 3 months

Text

Deprived | Five

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of drugs (weed) word count: 3.3k a/n: the italics are a flashback to allie and layla in their gym class btw! love you guys <3

pov: layla

I decided to stay home from school for the rest of the week, I just didn't have the energy to endure the looks people would give me. The whispering during my last two subjects after Matt and I came back at lunch was already too much and it was worse in gym when Allie stuck to her word and paired up with me.

She seemed nice, much nicer than Mia was to me. She talked my ear off the whole lesson but I didn't mind because then I didn't have to talk.

"Don't worry about Mia, by the way. She can be really bitchy at times but she just doesn't like change. I promise she is usually a lot nicer," Allie rambled as we walked around the gym as a warm-up, "It was kinda funny though. No one ever really stands up to her when she gets bitchy because everyone's scared that her dad will arrest them."

Oh, I've met her dad.

"Matt also stood up for you after you left. I trust Matt's opinion on people, he's kinda my scapegoat when it comes to talking to people. I told him to start talking to you like three weeks ago so I could ask you to hang out. I just get nervous talking to people I don't know sometimes."

You don't seem nervous now, motor mouth.

"Sorry if I'm rambling a lot. I'm just really glad you decided to pair up with me because I've been paired with Mia for like the past 2 years. It's nice to have a new friend. It's not like I don't like my friends but Mia is my only girl friend and the guys are such guys sometimes it drives me mad. You get your nails done?"

I shook my head no before she continued, "We should go get our nails done sometime. My shout of course, I'm not gonna force you to get your nails done as well as make you pay."

She was a ray of sunshine and I was sure people were confused as someone as sweet as her was talking to someone like me who looked like they had a constant rain cloud over their head. I found myself amused by her rambling and I decided that it wouldn't be the worst thing to talk to her every now and then.

I spent the rest of my week smoking weed when my father wasn't home and drawing on the last few pages of my sketchbook. The time passed quickly considering I slept for most of the days. Suddenly it was Friday afternoon and I heard a knock at my front door.

I paused my music, frowning when I looked at the clock to see it was 3:30. It was far too early for my dad to be home so I grabbed the metal bat that was lying on the bottom of my underwear drawer, sneaking towards the door silently. Another round of light knocks were placed on the door and I crept up to it before looking through the peephole.

My tense shoulders slumped as I looked at two people with the same face and their familiar brown hair. I unlocked the deadbolt on the door as well as the regular lock before I swung the door open.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, leaning my left hand on the handle of the bat now that the other end was placed on the floor.

"Hi to you too," Chris mumbled as he looked side to side, clearly tense to be in South End as Matt smiled at me.

"I figured you would forget about the game. Decided to come earlier in case you were ready which..." he looked down at my outfit which was my small sleep shorts and an old ratty t-shirt, "I don't think you are?"

"You didn't say it was this Friday!" I frowned and Chris looked down at the bat I was leaning on before shaking his head.

"Good thing I came early then," Matt smirked at me and I chewed at my lip. I tapped the bat on the ground as I thought making Chris look at me again.

"Calm down. I'm not gonna use it on you," I deadpanned to Chris and he just shrugged, looking back out at the street. I felt a nervousness in my chest because they were at my house but I knew if they stayed on the porch or in their car, someone would try something. So I reluctantly said, "Come in."

"We can wait in the ca-"

I cut off Matt quickly, "Get inside now." They looked at each other in surprise before shuffling past me and I closed the door behind them before saying, "Do you have anything valuable in your car? Phone, wallet, laptop?"

They both shook their heads and I locked both of the locks on the door before I spun around to face them again.

"Why?" Chris asked and I tilted my head, giving him an unimpressed look.

"I'll just say you're lucky you drive a fucking soccer mom car or it would be broken into within 15 minutes," I answered blandly and they seemed somewhat shocked but didn't talk, "Come on."

I walked down the hall towards my room, slipping inside and they followed shortly behind me.

"We could've waited on the couch," Matt said as I closed the door of my bedroom and raised my eyebrows.

"If my dad came home and you were sitting on the couch, say goodbye to hockey for the rest of your life," I replied dryly and he pursed his lips, "If he comes home, you will just have to go out my window and jump the fence around the side of the house."

"You don't know when he's coming home?" Chris asked as he leaned against the wall beside my mattress and I shook my head. I was suddenly very conscious that I had the two most loved boys in our school standing in my dirty bedroom. I looked around my room, realising that I looked like I lived in a trap house with my mattress on the floor, empty beer bottles in the corner of my room with cigarettes stuck in them and clothes all over the floor.

"Sorry about the mess. No one ever comes over," I mumbled as I moved a couple clothes off of my mattress, "Sit wherever. Just don't look over here because I'm gonna get changed."

I travelled to the corner of my room where my chest of drawers sat and I saw them both turn to face away from me quickly. After placing the bat beside the drawers, I pulled out black baggy jeans, took off my shorts quickly and slid them on. I then took off my old T-shirt and slid on a baby blue hoodie. I didn't bother putting on a shirt since it would be cold at the game and I wouldn't have to take my hoodie off at any point.

"I'm dressed," I let them know as I grabbed my boots off of the floor, sitting down next to my dresser so I could slide them on easily. I looked up to see both of them sitting on my mattress, looking around my room. Their expressions were unreadable as they looked around my room.

"I like your posters," Chris spoke up and I looked to the wall above my mattress where my Bob Marley, Frank Ocean and Kurt Cobain posters were hung.

"Thanks," I answered, a half-hearted smile being sent his way which he reciprocated, "When do we have to leave by?"

"Four," Matt answered and I nodded, checking the time to see it was 3:40. I hopped off of the floor, walked over to my desk and sat down on the old desk chair.

I scribbled some eyeliner on my eyes before smudging it with my finger and then putting mascara on. I grabbed my lip balm, placing it on my lips before I ran a hand through my curly hair. I grabbed the white beanie that was thrown onto the floor, sliding it onto my head. I jumped up from the seat, grabbed my leather jacket that was hanging over the back of the chair and slid it on.

"Do I need to bring anything?" I asked, having no clue what else to bring to a hockey game.

"Just your team spirit," Chris cheered sarcastically and I tilted my head with an amused look on my face.

"I'm not a cheerleader for a reason," I answered and he shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't cheer when we win," he retorted and I nodded in agreement.

"I'm good as long as I'm not expected to start screaming 'Go Bats go!' like an idiot," I did a small jump when I said the slogan that I heard all the cheerleaders say proudly and Matt laughed in response as Chris shook his head with a smile.

"You wanna get food on the way?" Matt asked and I shook my head in response.

"I'm good, I just ate," I explained and he nodded, quickly checking his phone.

"We should probably go," he said, turning his phone to me to see that it was 3:55. I couldn't believe another 15 minutes had passed so quickly but I nodded. Making sure I had my phone, cigarettes, lighter and keys in my pocket, I swung the bedroom door open as Matt and Chris followed behind me. I unlocked the front door swinging it open and motioning for Chris and Matt to go outside.

They walked past me and walked to their car as I turned around to lock the door with my keys. After triple-checking the door, I wandered down the driveway to the minivan. I noticed that Matt was always the one to drive and Chris was seated in the passenger seat, phone already plugged into the aux.

I slid the back door open, jumping inside before I closed the door behind me. As I buckled myself in, Matt started the car and Chris played a song by Lil Skies.

"We good?" Matt asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror and I nodded before he spun around to look at me, "I didn't even have to remind you about your seatbelt, so proud."

"Start driving before I change my mind and go back to the comfort of my bed," I smiled slightly and he beamed back at me before he spun around and we took off down the street.

Within 5 minutes, we were in the parking lot and Chris was wriggling his body along to the beat of the next Lil Skies song. I could take a wild guess as to who his favourite artist is.

Matt turned the music down, earning a glare from Chris but he turned around to look at me ignoring his brother for a moment, "You waiting in the car or coming in?"

"I'm gonna have a smoke first then I'll come in," I explained and he nodded before turning off the car.

"You head in. I'll be there in a sec," Matt told Chris who was clicking away on his phone. With a nod, he jumped out of the car and walked around to the back of the car.

"You want me to take your shit inside?" Chris called from the trunk as I turned around to see Chris lugging his huge duffle bag full of hockey shit.

"Nah I got it," Matt called back to him and Chris raised his eyebrows as he leaned into the trunk again.

"Don't start fuckin in the car or I swear to god," he deadpanned before slamming the trunk closed and I saw him start walking towards the building.

"Sorry about him," Matt mumbled apologetically and I shrugged as I turned to face him.

"It's fine. Wouldn't expect anything less," I told him with an amused smirk making him shake his head, a smile creeping onto his lips, "Are you gonna go inside?"

"I'll wait for you to finish and then I'll show you where to sit inside," he explained and I nodded before hopping out of the car. I closed the door behind me before leaning against the car, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between my lips before lighting it. I heard Matt's door open and close before he rounded the car to get to the trunk.

As I began smoking my cigarette, a car pulled into the space next to Matt's and a few moments passed before Nate and Allie appeared out of the car.

"Hey! Matt told me you were coming," Allie beamed at me and I observed her outfit, feeling strange to see her out of her usual cheer or gym attire. Instead, she had blue jeans, a black puffer jacket with a blue beanie on and black and white vans.

"He failed to mention the game was this Friday," I told her and she rolled her eyes as Nate waved at me. I sent him a wave back with the hand that held my cigarette before I took another puff.

"Is Nick coming?" Nate asked and Matt appeared beside me, duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Nah. He said something about doing homework tonight. Chris is already inside," Matt explained with a shrug as Nate rounded the back of his car and popped the trunk open, grabbing a duffle bag of his own hockey gear.

"You coming in?" Allie asked me and I held the cigarette up.

"When I finish this," I told her, a smile tugging at my lips at her beaming personality.

"See you guys in there!" Nate called as he started walking towards the building with Allie following behind him.

"Is Miss Cheer herself coming?" I asked Matt once Allie and Nate were out of earshot and he shrugged, moving to stand in front of me as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

"No clue. She usually shows up late if she comes though," he told me honestly and I nodded, noticing my cigarette almost being done. I quickly finished it before dropping it onto the ground and squishing it underneath my foot. I went to push away from the car but Matt stopped me by saying, "Hold up."

"What?" I asked, confusion written on my face. He held his hand up before he dropped his duffle bag to the ground and squatted down to rummage through one of the smaller pockets.

He pulled out a small pot of black face paint and a brush before standing back up, "Move your hair."

"What are you doing?" I squinted at him as he opened the pot of black face paint and he smiled at me.

"Just trust me," he shrugged and I squinted my eyes at him for a moment before I tucked my hair behind my ears. I tilted my head back as I peered up at him and he dipped the brush into the pot before he started painting my right cheek.

"If you're drawing a dick on my face I'll kill you with my bare hands, Matthew," I mumbled, trying not to move my mouth much as his tongue poked out between his lips in concentration.

"If I was gonna do that..." he trailed off before leaning back with a smile, "I'd use a sharpie."

"What did you do?" I asked and he just shrugged as he closed the pot again, sliding it back into his bag before swinging it over his shoulder again. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, opening the front camera to see he had painted the number 81 on my cheek, "What does this mean?"

"You'll see," he shrugged with a smirk and I frowned as he started to walk backwards before he tilted his head towards the building, "Come on. I gotta warm up."

I pushed away from the car, trailing behind him as we walked towards the entrance. He swung the door open, standing behind it as he let me walk in first. We walked through the front area, some of his teammates being gathered around to grab snacks or energy drinks.

"Matty B!" one of the guys called who I recognised as Daniel and he jogged over to us as Matt paused, dapping him up quickly, "Who's this?"

"Layla, Daniel. Daniel, Layla," Matt introduced us and I just nodded at Daniel, not surprised that he didn't know my name.

"No Mia?" he asked Matt and Matt just shrugged in response.

"She's being weird. I don't know dude," Matt answered before he looked towards the rest of their team, "You guys gotta hurry up. We have 45 to warm up."

"Sir, yes, sir," Daniel sent Matt a salute before he started walking backwards and looked at me, "Nice to meet you, princess."

I sent him another nod before Matt started walking towards the doors of the rink, "Ignore Dan. He'll try to fuck anything with legs."

"Don't worry, Captain. I don't do goalies," I smirked and he chuckled in response, holding the door open to the rink for me to enter first again. I walked in, the cold air hitting my cheeks making me shiver.

"Layla!" I heard Allie's chirpy voice call out from the bleachers and I looked to my left to see her sitting front and centre, I sent her a small wave as I started to walk over to her with Matt following behind me.

"I gotta go get ready but are you good to sit with Allie?" Matt asked me and I turned my head to look at him now that he was on my right and I nodded.

"Yeah. Go make sure your hair is nice before you play," I joked as he rolled his eyes, pushing my shoulder slightly before spinning around to walk backwards while I paused at the steps that led up to where Allie was seated, "Break a leg, pretty boy."

"Thanks, pretty girl," he smirked at me and I bit my lip to hide my smile as he spun back around and walked into the locker room at the end of the rink. I shook my head to get rid of my smile as I walked up a few steps before sitting down next to Allie.

She smirked at me and I gave her a confused expression, "What?"

"Nothing," she hummed, her smirk turning into a smile as she looked out onto the ice. She pulled a packet of Sour Patch Kids out from her small handbag that I hadn't even noticed before she pulled open the packet, "You want one?"

"Sure," I shrugged, picking out a couple before throwing them into my mouth and her actions followed mine.

"So you and Matt..." she trailed off and I looked back at her as she smiled at me.

"Me and Matt?" I questioned, waiting for her to continue.

"You guys are cute," she shrugged, a genuine joy spread across her face and I let my mouth fall open.

"Uh... I don't even know if we're friends let alone anything else," I told her honestly and she rolled her eyes playfully before she hummed.

"Matt doesn't talk to just anyone. If he's asking you to come to his games clearly he wants you around," she told me as if it were obvious and I shrugged as I chewed on my lip. A few players from the other team skated onto the ice with their full gear, doing laps around the ice lazily.

"I don't think Chris and Nick like me though. His brothers' opinions probably mean a lot to him," I answered, looking at the players skating in circles. A couple players from Matt's team slid onto the ice as they started doing the same as the opposition.

"Chris is just focused on other shit. Nick tends to stick to himself a lot so just give them both time," she tried to reassure me and I looked back to her before she continued, "Besides, I like you so they're not getting rid of you that easily while I'm around."

"What about Mia?" I asked, genuinely curious as to how heavily Mia's opinion influenced her friends.

Allie sighed as she looked out at the rink, "Mia will figure it out. I don't know why she's being so weird about it. I think it's because she's protective over us."

"Matt's the one that came to me. I don't know why she was acting like I'm tryna break up your entire friend group," I mumbled as I looked out onto the ice to see a couple more players.

Only then did I realise that number 81 with a small C on the chest of his blue and white jersey was skating around the rink and it was none other than Matthew Sturniolo.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo

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writingxfootballl · 1 year

Text

don’t wait for some day (kiss her you fool) (leah williamson x reader)

Why is there so much mistletoe everywhere?

Word count: 1105 ish

Ratings: H for happy holidays!

Title: kiss her you fool by kids that fly

——

As soon as you walk into training you groan.

“Seriously guys? Get a room or something.”

Beth pulls away from Viv to shoot you a glare.

“There was a mistletoe. What else were we supposed to do?”

You follow her finger up towards the ceiling and roll your eyes.

“Very funny guys, but you know I’m going to have to take that down.”

Beth pouts at you.

“You’re no fun.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah yeah I’m the Grinch I get it. But no training is going to get done if everyone keeps making out everywhere.”

Viv butts in.

“You’re just saying that because you’re single.”

You scoff.

“Me being single has nothing to do with this.”

Beth smirks.

“Orrrr it’s because she’s upset over a certain blonde-“

You cut her off by walking away and throwing up your arms.

“Okay- Enough! I’m going to go get the ladder.”

The two forwards share a look that you miss.

“Order more mistletoe?”

“Already on it.”

As you’re walking to the locker room the next day, you run into Leah in the doorway.

Your heart races a little at the meeting but you stifle it down like you’ve done for the past years, instead giving her a smile and saying:

“Team meeting in five.”

Leah nods towards the field.

“Already on my way there captain.”

You’re pretty sure Leah can see the way your face flushes at that. You clear your throat and say:

“I’ll see you there.”

Leah nods and heads out, leaving you swallowing drying after her.

You remember when you first met, years ago back when you both played for different youth teams.

Your first meeting was in a friendly between Arsenal and Manchester City that quickly turned physical, and you had scars on your legs to prove it.

The up and coming midfielder at the time was tackling you poorly, leaving you wincing in constantly on the ground, and drawing a lot of fouls.

One particularly poor tackle left you crying in pain beneath her, a cleat mark showing on your left thigh.

Even then, you didn’t meet—officially.

It was after the game that you did.

While you made your way to the locker room, you were almost knocked over by a flash of red.

Leah looked so distraught that you had to ask her if she was okay.

But she didn’t even hear you, considering the midfielder was sputtering so many apologies as she rushed to check on your leg.

After a long while of reassurance that you were in fact fine, Leah, with a flushed face, finally introduced herself to you.

You shook her hand and gulped.

You were smitten from the start.

Eventually, you would go on to join Arsenal on loan, where you’d meet again.

The very first day you caught the eyes of the now defender, who immediately sauntered over to introduce herself.

You, being completely forgetful, didn’t recognize her, until her hand was in yours.

That handshake brought you back five years, to that one game on the field.

The once awkward teen was now stunning and radiant, and you honestly felt like the breath got knocked out of you.

“Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Leah.”

Safe to say, you stuck with Arsenal after that year.

As you and Leah got closer over the years both on and off the field, your feelings for her grew and grew.

You stole glances at her whenever you could, not very subtly, considering that everyone else on the team could tell.

Beth had bet the rest of the team that you’d get together by the end of Christmas, and she was adamant on winning.

If nothing else could bring you together, maybe mistletoe would.

You shook your head as you made it onto the field.

“Alright. Who did this?”

You were met with snickers by the team, all of which had seen the green plant hanging from the goalpost.

You shake your head even more.

“No more mistletoe at training. Got it?”

A quiet agreeing murmur broke out, but you could see the mischievous smile on Beth’s face, and you knew you were in for it.

And you were right.

Day after day, more and more mistletoe popped up around the stadium.

They were like hydra heads, for every one you took down, two more seemed to show up in its place.

Eventually, you gave up.

By this point the locker room ceiling was filled with the plant, and you had to knock before going in to avoid seeing your teammates going at it.

So far, you had the luck of not standing under it with anyone. You really didn’t want to have that conversation with anyone.

But eventually, your luck would run out.

Or not, depending on how you looked at it.

As you were making your way to Jonas’s office one day, you passed by Leah.

The defender caught your arm, making you abruptly stop, and your heart caught in your throat when you saw what she was pointing to.

Right above your head, where the two of you stood, in all its glory, was another mistletoe.

You gulped and your heart was pounding.

Leah was looking at you expectantly and that made you even more nervous.

You started rambling.

“I mean it’s just a stupid tradition. I’m sure nothing would happen if we, I mean unless you want- I mean we don’t have to-“

Leah’s soft “shut up” made you close your mouth.

“For a captain you sure are dense aren’t you?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in puzzlement.

“What?”

Leah chuckles and just grabs your face.

“Kiss me already.”

You don’t wait for another second before leaning in.

It’s only when air becomes an issue that you pull away, your cheeks flushing as you do so.

Leah’s soft smile makes it all worth it.

“I’ve been flirting with you since you joined Arsenal you know.”

Your look of surprise makes her laugh.

“I didn’t know how else to get you to respond so…”

It’s your turn to laugh this time.

“So you put mistletoe everywhere just so you could kiss me?”

Leah says a little embarrassed:

“I mean Beth and Viv helped a little too.”

Your smile is blinding.

“Go on a date with me then?”

Leah nods before kissing you again.

“Of course.”

And just before your lips meet, your eyes trail up to the ceiling back to the plant that started it all.

You wouldn’t mind leaving this one up after all.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #uswnt x reader

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elzdaizy · 2 years

Text

I Need U More Than Life

Eddie Munson

Warnings: 18+, sexual content, drug use (weed), knife play, choking.

Masterlist

Recommended song to listen to whilst reading is I Want You by Kings Of Leon

Blurb: You and Eddie have been fuck buddies for a few months now and when the events of the upside down and vecna take place, it makes you realise how much you actually like him. This is set in a universe where Eddie survives.

“You like him.” Steve suddenly speaks up, carefully inhaling some smoke before he looks at you.

His words surprise you and you furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what he’s talking about. Your brain is almost a bit slow now, and you’re really glad this was working after the events of hell that just occurred from Vecna.

“What?” You ask, smoothing your hands up and down your bare thighs. The cotton shorts you were wearing exposed most of them and you could see the many scars that graced your body from the war you’d just been in.

You actually didn’t mind your scars. They told the story of how brave you’d been, representing your strength.

“Eddie. You like him.” Steve smiles at you, his eyes were a bit intimidating with the dim light in his living room making them appear that way.

You look away from him, poking your finger nails into your skin on your legs. You really liked that you could relax now, wearing comfy clothes and smoking weed to calm the remaining nerves.

“Eddie is stubborn,” You speak up after a few seconds and furrow your eyebrows, reaching to grab the joint Steve was handing to you for another hit. “He’s arrogant, annoying, hard to handle..”

You look up to meet his eyes and he is already smiling at you.

“You didn’t deny it.” Steve points out. “I know you two have been fucking, I can see the hickeys all over your chest, and I also know that doesn’t make you two in love, but anyone can see that you like each other. He trusts you and that says a lot.”

You choke on the smoke and cough several times, completely forgetting the fact you were wearing a tank top.

You didn’t know Eddie had told Steve about you two having sex, so this caught you off guard a little.

You started sleeping with Eddie about two months ago. Strictly just a benefits situation because you were both drunk one night at the Hideout and ended up back at Eddie’s trailer. You were in his original year at school, the year he was supposed to graduate the first time around.

Throughout high school, you were one of the mean girls, unfortunately. Not a bully, but you wouldn’t have been caught dead associating yourself with Eddie and his friends. In fact, throughout high school Eddie used to purposefully get under your skin, teasing you and your cheerleader friends about how stuck up you were. He was right, but it annoyed you and you were surprised when you slept with him that night, two years after you’d graduated and hadn’t seen Eddie in almost a year.

You returned to Hawkins after backpacking around the world for eighteen months and when you got back all of your friends had moved away to college and you were stuck working in the family video store with Steve and Robin, who you had become close with in the five months since you returned.

You and Eddie used to have sex a shameful amount before Vecna appeared, three weeks ago, yet all the events make it feel like he hasn’t touched you in months. It’s been two weeks since you left the Upside Down after defeating the evil and god, you missed feeling Eddie close to you. You missed feeling him inside of you.

You forgot how horny you get whenever you smoke, it was a dangerous combination that you had around Eddie.

“I don’t like him.” You pout, hugging your knees against your chest. “I like the way he’s around me now. He’s funny sometimes too. I like his hands. I also like his eyes, and I like the way he touches me.”

Shut up, you think to yourself.

“Sure, that’s all you like.” Steve snorts, grabbing the joint back. “You know, I’ve been watching you two through all of this shit. The dynamic between you two is something natural, your behaviour is so similar that you don’t even realise. It’s funny.”

“We’re not similar.” You huff. “I’m smarter.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re talking about me?” Eddie’s voice startles you and you didn’t even realise he walked down the stairs, you were so lost in this conversation with Steve that you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

Eddie’s wearing just some black sweatpants, his long hair was wet and falling down his shoulders. You notice he has changed his bandage on his own. You hate that it covers his tattoos, you miss tracing them with your fingers. And your tongue.

The tattoos on his chest were exposed though... he was so fucking pretty.

“I’ll take the way you’re staring at me as a yes.” Eddie says, and you quickly look up to his face, and he’s already smiling at you. “Your living room reeks of weed, did you take my stash, Steve?”

“I helped you find your stash, you’re welcome.” Steve chuckles. “I’m off to bed, I’m tired. (y/n) is great company, though.”

“When she wants to be.” Eddie bites his lower lip to hide a smile, stepping closer to you.

Steve handed you the joint and you watched as he managed to stand up on his own, before Eddie could even rush to help him. He waved at you and then made his way to his bedroom, leaving you and Eddie alone in the living room. You noticed Steve often did that when Eddie was around, he’d just leave you two alone... and now Eddie was sitting down next to you, which made your brain focus solely on him.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifts the moment Eddie grabs the joint from your hand, allowing your fingers to brush in the process.

You get chills whenever he touches you, you could never get used to it. You watch as he wraps his lips around the joint, slowly inhaling smoke and making his jaw seem sharper in the process, and his side profile is so beautiful.

His biceps flexed when he pulled the joint away from his mouth, but he didn’t exhale the smoke. He grabs the glass of water you had left on the floor and he tosses the small joint inside, this time focusing on you.

Eddie reaches out his hand to grasp your jaw roughly, suddenly pulling you closer to him until he presses his lips against yours, surprising you a lot with the kiss.

You don’t even think twice before kissing him back though, opening your mouth for him and feeling as he exhales the smoke into the kiss. You moan into his mouth, tangling your tongues together before you can control yourself, and your body moves on its own when you straddle his lap, threading your fingers in his hair and deepening the kiss.

The taste of weed is mixed with his own taste, and this is working much better than any drug ever would. Your mind would go completely blank and it was only him... it felt like it’d been so long since you kissed him like this.

His hands were quick to grope your ass as his fingers slip under your shorts, and he digs his nails into your soft flesh as he pulls your hips down. “Fuck,” you moan, lowering your hands to the nape of his neck so you can feel his skin... touching him as much as you possibly can, moving your fingers to his toned chest, and then his arms.

You grab his biceps just when he gropes your ass more roughly, and you could feel his muscles flexing under your touch. He is so fucking hot.

“Yeah, I think I really like it when you’re high.” He whispers against your lips, leaving soft kisses down to your jaw and keeping your body against his. “You haven’t kissed me like this in a while.”

“I need more.” You groan, crashing your lips together again and you both inhale sharply the moment you start grinding your hips down on his.

The kiss turns urgent and hungry, his ring-clad fingers were suddenly around your throat and you moan again, pulling his hair tightly so he could tilt his head back, and you left a trail of wet kisses down his neck as he tightened his grip.

You sucked the sensitive spot near the base of his neck, and his raspy moan was enough to drive you crazy. You never needed something so bad in your whole life. He was the only thing you could feel and think about... and you really needed to feel something good again.

“I think you’re very high.” He chuckles. “And Steve is just down the hall. Let’s go to the guest room, you seem like you could use some sleep.”

“What if we don’t sleep?” You blurted out, wrapping your hand around his on your neck, slowly circling your hips over his very apparent erection now as he arched his eyebrows at you, hiding a smile.

“I was being ironic, baby. Of course we aren’t going to sleep. Especially after you kissed me like that.” He gropes your ass again, very slowly this time. “I have missed that boldness, you can talk some more if you want.”

“I want you,” You whisper, leaning closer to kiss him again, but he chokes you harder and pushes you away slightly, so his lips are less than an inch away from yours.

You try moving forward again but he’s really strong and he was enjoying this, that smug smile on his tempting lips was proof enough.

“What do you want me to do?” He whispers back. “Tell me... you’re so desperate. Did you miss me?”

“Yes, I did.” You weren’t in control of your brain anymore, and this was exactly what you needed. “You make me feel so good... I just want to feel good.”

Eddie’s eyes soften and he lets go of your neck, sliding his hand to your cheek.

“Is that why you were smoking, baby?” He asks, but he wasn’t teasing anymore.

You bite your bottom lip, pulling away slightly and keeping your eyes on his. You could feel the way he was caring about you lately, and it felt really strange to know that this was probably more than just a casual fuck now.

“I just need to stop thinking a bit,” You admit. “Do you want to help me?”

Eddie didn’t even give you time to prepare yourself before his lips found yours again, his fingers were in your hair and you were having a hard time keeping up with his sudden urgency.

Fuck, you really missed him.

The kiss was a mess of tongues and clashing teeth, and it reminded you a lot of the first time you were with him. There was this consuming desire and tension that you would never be able to comprehend, but you really loved it.

“Bedroom. Right now.” You pull away to catch a breath, but his mouth was already lowering to the swell of your breasts, hungrily exploring your body and sucking bruises along the way. “Eddie, fuck!”

He suddenly stood up from the couch, keeping his hands on your ass as he guided your legs to wrap around his hips when he literally carried you towards the stairs. But he put you down before he could start making his way up, and just then you remembered about his deep wound on his side.

“Sorry, baby. We’ll have to do this the less fun way.” He places his hand over his abdomen as he takes a deep breath, and you hated that you’d forgotten about that detail. “I have to take it easy or else future you, tomorrow morning, will be mad at me, you know, when you’re not high anymore.”

His words made you giggle as you rushed up the stairs, hearing as he followed you up.

“Why am I starting to like it when you tease me? It’s mostly super annoying but now it’s starting to sound really sexy.” You admit once you’re both on the top of the stairs, and he grabs your hips to pull you closer.

“Sexy? Keep the compliments coming.” He grins, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “Let’s go, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

You were pathetically desperate, quick to make your way into the bedroom and Eddie laughs, closing the door behind him after he walks in. You completely freeze when he suddenly decides to take off his pants.

He has a casual look on his face when he throws them to the side, and you realise he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Your eyes instantly drop to his very hard erection, knowing you have this effect on him always makes you feel so powerful. You can see the pre-come starting to leak from his tip and the prominent veins along his thick length make your mouth water.

“I think someone missed me a little too much.” His tone makes you look into his eyes again, and he was so fucking smug.

Eddie pushes his hair off his face and then he makes his way to the bed, simply lying down with his arms folded behind his head, completely shameless. And then he starts to lower his hand down his chest... and even lower.

He lets out a deep moan the moment he wraps his fingers around his erection, and you literally have to clench your thighs together. You step closer to the bed, watching him under the yellowish light of the lamps, making his eyes seem even darker.

“Take off your clothes,” He says simply. “let me see you.”

You instantly obey, your brain is lost in him and it was very apparent. You can’t look away from his eyes as you reach the hem of your tank top, quickly taking it off and discarding it on the floor. The desire coursing through your veins was making your head spin, and you reach out your hand to wrap your fingers around his length.

“Let me touch you,” You whisper desperately, and he pulls his hand away and proceeds to fold his arms behind his head again as you stroke him, but he suddenly stops and freezes.

“Why is there a knife under your pillow?” His wicked smile widens when he grabs the knife, and you keep touching him, feeling his dick twitch in your hand.

“Makes me feel safer,” You answer honestly.

“Do you want to play with it tonight?” His dimples indented on his cheeks when he starts to slide the blade down his body, going down his stomach and past the bandage he had to put over his deep wound.

Fuck me, you thought.

“Yes.” You nod.

Eddie clicks his tongue, wrapping his hand around yours on his cock and keeping it still when he softly brushes the knife over his leaking tip, collecting some of his pre-come.

His pupils are completely dilated when he sits up, keeping you on his lap. But his sudden movements make you pull your hand away from his dick and hold his shoulders for some support.

“Do you want a taste too?” He asks, bringing the knife closer to your mouth. “You know what to say.”

“Yes, please.” You whisper, opening your mouth just when he brushes the sharp end of the blade on your bottom lip, and he’s quick to press the knife on your tongue so you can taste his salty arousal.

“That’s it, baby... you really need me tonight, don’t you?” He smiles, tracing the shape of your lips with the blade.

“Please.” You actually beg... but you’re desperate and way too weak and tired to deny it.

“Put your knees on either side of my head, you’re going to ride my face before you ride my cock.” He lays back down, still keeping the knife in his hand.

You had dreamed about riding him several times and you were more than excited.

Being on top of Eddie itself was something very fun because he was always in control. And you really liked that he was still in control, even underneath you.

So you move slowly, until your knees are resting on either side of his head, and you’re careful not to pull his hair. You keep your hips lifted enough but his face was inches away from your soaking wet centre.

You look down at him and he’s smiling again, this time bringing the knife closer to your thigh and grazing it upwards.

“You’re dripping for me... I’ll be gentle tonight so you can manage to walk in the morning.” He chuckles under his breath, continuing to slide the knife until he reaches your trimmed public hair, making you shiver. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod, since there’s no way you can find your voice at the moment. You’re completely hypnotised by him and watching as he starts to lower the knife. He presses the flat side of the blade over your clit without a warning, and you have to stop yourself from squirming because of how cold it feels against your warm and sensitive skin.

“I could get used to seeing you on top like this, I could spend hours with my head buried between your thighs... is this pretty cunt only mine, baby?” His voice was much deeper than usual, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin just by the sound of him.

“Yes, only yours.” You moan when he starts to slide the knife lower, and you look down to watch as he grazes the flat side back and forth. He surprises you when he moves it lower to your opening, teasingly circling it near your entrance and you instantly clench.

“You’re soaking the knife, baby.” He whispers, pulling it away and you can finally move again, watching as he brings it to his mouth so he can lick the blade clean. “You taste so fucking good.”

“Fuck,” You breath, aching to lower your hips on his mouth to get some sort of relief, this was making your stomach clench almost painfully.

And then Eddie reaches out his hand again, tracing your nipples with the knife before lowering your hips and his mouth his quick to latch onto your core.

“Jesus fucking Christ- fuck!” You nearly scream, feeling as he squeezes your ass so tightly that you can almost already feel the bruises that are to be left behind.

He guides you to start moving your hips, and you allow your body to take the lead when you feel the electricity coursing through your veins. His tongue slips inside of you and you look down to watch, grinding your hips against his mouth as he fucks you with his tongue, curling it in you, making your thighs tremble.

You circle your hips slowly now, feeling your orgasm start to build inside of you. After all of his teasing and the knife play, you were really fucking wet and needy. The fact that you were high also contributed to the uncontrolled amount of arousal.

“Did you miss my pussy, baby?” The words leave your mouth before you could stop yourself and Eddie moaned so loudly that the sound reverberated through your whole body, making you throw your head back.

That seemed to have spurred him on because now his tongue was flicking on your clit as he then sucked it into his mouth. You missed this feeling… no one has ever made you feel this way.

He alternates between slow licks and then he nibbles at your clit, holding it between his teeth until it almost became painful, and that was enough to trigger your sudden orgasm.

“Eddie! Fuck,” Your moan echoes around the room and you move your hips faster on his face, knowing you were soaking him with your release and his moans are the most addictive thing to hear.

Your ears are ringing with the intensity of your climax and you grab his hair, circling your hips one last time before slowly pulling away. His mouth and chin are drenched and the smug smile on his face is the same as always.

“You came fast... I’ll help you relax from now on, baby.” He says, licking a long stripe from your opening to your clit, and you have to pull away before you get too sensitive. You move back until you’re straddling his hips again, trying to catch your breath as he watches you with hooded eyes.

You’re sitting right on top of his erection, feeling him throbbing between your folds as you reach out to grab his hand. He watches you as you bite your lip, reaching between your bodies so you can position his cock right under your entrance. “Is your cock only mine too, Eds?”

“Fuck, yes.” Eddie closes his eyes to take a deep breath and you don’t give him any warning when you sink down, feeling his length burry all the way inside of you.

“Fuck...” You both moan at the same time, your walls clenching around him because of your orgasm and he grabs your hips, keeping you still on top of him.

You can feel his cold rings on your heated skin and you need a while to adjust, you’d forgotten just how big he is. He also reached much deeper in this angle... massaging just the right stop when you dare to circle your hips.

“Oh, fuck.” You let out a shaky breath and he reaches out his hands to grab your boobs now, kneading them softly before he pinches your nipples, making you whimper his name.

His hands then lower to your stomach, and he spreads his fingers there as his other hand instructs you to move your hips again. And just when you comply, he presses his hand on your lower abdomen, making a strangled moan escape from your lips.

“I’m so deep like this... with you riding me.” He sounds out of breath, keeping his hand pressed when you circle your hips again, feeling how deep he is inside of you. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes, Eddie. You feel so good.” You moan, placing your hands on his chest when you start moving faster, and he gropes your ass so roughly that you just knew you were going to have an imprint of his hand there.

“You’re soaking me, fuck-” Eddie’s jaw clenches and his eyes roll back when you start bobbing your hips up and down, clenching even more as you fuck him.

He’s hitting just the right spot over and over again and you can feel another orgasm building up inside you, and he suddenly reaches out his hand, wrapping his fingers around your throat and pulling your face closer to his.

You gasp for air when he chokes you harder that he’s done before, and you can feel his rings leaving a mark on the side of your neck.

Eddie keeps you still as he bends his knees, and now he’s the one who starts thrusting up into you, so fucking hard that he knocks the air out of your lungs and you can’t even moan properly, you were just breathing very heavily.

“Did you have fun riding me?” He whispers, slamming his hips against yours and you keep your hands on the bed on either side of his head, moving your hips back to meet his every thrust.

“Fuck! Harder, Eddie.” You moan, the loud sounds of your centres connecting only spurring him on and you watch as he grabs the knife with his free hand, slowing down his pace so can hand it to you.

“Hurt me, baby.” He smiles when you wrap your fingers around the handle. “Leave your mark on me.”

His words make you throb even more around him and you push his hand away from your neck, sitting up and feeling as his cock reaches even deeper inside you. You take a deep breath before you slide the knife down his neck, until you reach just below a small scar on his collarbone.

You look deep into his eyes when you start moving your hips... very slowly so he can feel what you’re doing. And the way his jaw goes slack and he digs his fingers into your thighs is enough.

“Fuck... spelling your name, yeah?” He moans very shamelessly, and after you’re done you push your damp hair off your face so you can press the knife on his chest, starting to press lightly into his skin. “Fucking hell...”

You can feel him twitching inside you and he moans louder because of the pain, and you watch the small drop of blood starting to fall down his chest. You toss the knife to the floor after you’re done, leaning down to lick the drop before it can reach the sheets.

His fingers thread into the back of your hair and you lower your tongue to his nipple, softly holding it between your teeth before you flick your tongue. Eddie’s moan is obscene and you’re so fucking close. You pull away so you can start moving again, bouncing on top of him more roughly than before.

“Oh, god-” You roll your head back when your thighs start spasming on their own and his hands on your ass are guiding you to go even faster, until your orgasm hits you again and you literally scream his name.

“(Y/N)-fuck!” He moans just as loud, bucking his hips from the bed when he comes, and you feel the short spurts of his release inside you as your walls clamp around his cock.

You collapse on top of his chest, completely out of breath and worn out, but your mind is blank and the only thing you can feel is pleasure.

You feel really good.

His arms wrap around you, and he keeps you close while he’s still inside you, your chests are pressed together and your fast heartbeats are loud enough to be heard.

“Fuck” He sighs. “I needed that too.”

You hum, nuzzling against his chest and having no control over your brain, since now you were enjoying two types of highs at once, and your mouth moves on its own.

“Eddie?” You whisper, feeling as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

“Steve said that I like you.” You wonder if he can even hear your voice.

“Do you, baby?” His voice is as low as yours, almost careful.

This time, you didn’t hesitate before answering.

“Yeah... I do.”

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