#all i have to offer people is hope and i feel so fucking hopeless so what's the point
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Perhaps...a Date?
Francis Mosses - Milkman
꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊
Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.
However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.
What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..
All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.
This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?
You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.
Angus...
Izaack...
Elenois and her Twin Selene..
Where is Francis?
You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.
Odd...
' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '
You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.
"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.
' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '
You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.
"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"
"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.
"I didn't take that into account.
You're not easy to fool.
That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.
"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.
"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.
"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.
You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'
You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.
Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.
He showed both of his ID and Entry request.
ID and expiration date? Good.
Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.
Appearance? perfect.
Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.
"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.
"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.
"Yes?."
"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.
"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.
"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.
"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.
"See you Y/n "
#that's not my neighbor#that's not my neighbor milkman#x reader#francis mosses#milkman#doppelgangers#oneshot
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Can you give examples of Aang showing Empathy? Oh wait, you can't.
Actually, I can - because unlike you, I base my opinion of the characters on the actual stuff that happened in the story, not the bad faith takes dumb people on the internet come up with.
Zuko literally only survived past book 1 because Aang was the ONLY person amongst the heroes that gave a single fuck about his well-being. Aang offered to be FRIENDS with him as early as episode 13, even though this dude is trying to kidnap him.
In the first damn episode we see him realize and try to remedy Katara's struggle with no longer being able to act like a kid and have fun. He wants to travel with her so SHE gets to learn waterbending. He willingly lets Zuko take him into his ship because he understood that a conflict could lead to the people of the water tribe getting hurt or killed.
In Warriors of Kyoshi he apologizes to Katara for letting all the praise and admiration go to this head. He makes sure to put out the fires Zuko and his crew started in Suki's village.
He tries to help remedy the Hei-Bai situation, even though he is unsure of himself and even scared, because he knows he is the only one that has any chance of helping - and the thing that allows him to connect with Hei-Bai is the fact that he is ALSO upset about the destruction the Fire Nation has caused AND hopeful that the world would eventually heal.
He thinks Jet is awesome because he wants to help people that are being oppressed by the Fire Nation - and then is horrified when he finds out his intension is to "free" them by killing everyone
He wants to help the two rival groups not only safely cross the Great Divide, but also stop hating each other.
He confesses that he hid the map to Hakoda because Bato, Katara and Sokka are showing how much they appreciate and trust him and he feels unworthy of it after what he did because he knows it'd hurt him if the roles were reversed.
He is so devastated by the fact that he ACCIDENTALLY hurt Katara that he swears to never firebend again. He is also able to recognize the same principle behind his mistake in Zhao's fighting style, allowing him to win the battle against the bastard.
He accepts the fact that the Northern Air Temple is now occupied by people who not only don't belong to his culture but also don't understand it and unknowingly destroyed something sacred to him (and that one of them had been forced to make weapons for the Fire Nation) because these people have nowhere else to go and he doesn't want them to suffer.
He is furious at Pakku for refusing to teach Katara waterbending, because he knows how much it'd mean to her and how unfair it is that she can't learn it just because of her gender.
He is so devastated by the death of the Moon Spirit that the Ocean Spirit latches onto him to avenge it and save the day - and the leve of destruction it causes haunts Aang, even though the violence was against his enemies. And still, he tries to go into the Avatar state again because people are dying and he can't accept that.
After the fall of Omashu, he wants to rescue Bumi, not because he needs a teacher, but because they're friends.
He felt empathy for Toph when she was explaining to her parents how lonely and unappriacted their over-protection made her feel.
He and Katara both feel bad for snapping at Toph during "The Chase" and wanted to apologize for not understanding that being part of a group was a radical change to her, even though she had refused to even try. He also didn't have a problem with fighting alongside Zuko and Iroh against Azula, AND he looked concerned when Iroh was injured.
After Katara comments on the fact he called Toph Sifu but not her, he calls her Sifu while bowing, to show that he respects her both as his master and friend.
The hopelessness and downright depression he was feeling after Appa was stolen only starts healing because he saw a couple being happy with their newborn baby - the same couple he decided to help cross the Serpent's Pass, even though he and his friends had just been allowed to take a much safer route to Ba Sing Se.
His understanding and sympathy towards Jet, even after everything the guy did, was so strong that it freed him from literal brainwashing.
He doesn't want to push his love for Katara aside to gain power because he cares about her too much - and then does it anyway because, even though not making her his main focus 24/7 offers the risk of her being hurt, him neglecting his mission guarantees she'll get hurt.
He is devastated to learn that the world thinks he is dead because he knows he was everyone's last hope - and yet in the end he still accepts the burden of failure because he understood that, at that moment, everyone would be safer if no one else knew he was still alive.
He goes to a Fire Nation school and bonds with the kids, wanting to give them a taste of freedom and joy, as well as trying to understand what the war is like from their perspective. The same episode also has him pull Katara for a dance because he noticed she was feeling left out.
The boy felt empathy for, and understood the mistakes of, both Ruko and Sozin. SOZIN. Aang could see the humanity in the monster that is responsible for him losing his entire culture and everyone he loved.
When Zuko spoke about wanting to control his impulses so he wouldn't accidentally hurt anyone, Aang explicitly connected with that struggle and saw them being teacher and student as fate, and Zuko agreed because that's how deep their connection was.
Aang is not happy about Katara wanting to murder a man, but he still lets her take Appa on her mission and is not disapproving when she ultimately spares the guy but does not forgive him and makes it clear she never will.
He feels empathy for freaking Ozai, to the point that refuses to kill the guy - even as he has the balls to say that Aang's family, his people, deserved to die. He spared that guy - but only after he had a way to do that without it meaning the death of more innocents. Aang, the pacifist, was going to turn his back on everything he believed in just to avoid more human suffering.
So yeah, miss me with your bullshit and don't come back until your brain is developed enough to understand a cartoon aimed at kindergarterners.
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Every time I learn something new about Batman: War Games I lose my mind a little bit more cause just, just fuckin, look okay so here's the thing:
Stephanie Brown tries to implement a contingency plan of Bruce's just after he fires her from being Robin and because of that gets tortured to (almost) death and no one knows she survived.
THIS STORY RUNS IN THE NEWS:
So, you know, anyone who might be paying even half a fucking ounce of attention to news about ROBINS would definitely absolutely notice this!!!
And then very very soon afterwards Jason comes back and specifically targets Black Mask to ruin the criminal empire he tortured Stephanie to get
As a way to torment Bruce about the fact that he doesn't take care of the nastiest criminals and they continue killing people
And how Jason should have been the last to die
and SOMEHOW
these two things are in no way related and Jason has nothing to do with or say about Stephanie Brown, fellow Robin, fellow martyred soldier, fellow child dead due to Bruce related villains.
HOLY DEAD SIDEKICKS BATMAN, DO YOU COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES HERE????
please walk with me down a timeline in which:
Lost Days Jason at first just tries to go after the Joker and can't because who he's really mad at is Bruce.
Then he sees Who Really Killed Stephanie Brown and the utter horror of another Robin dying on Bruce's watch (not just dying, but tortured to death!) is what convinces him to try to straight up kill Bruce via car bomb
Roman Sionis is no longer merely a tool against Batman, but another figure to demand vengeance be brought upon, another attempt to give Bruce a chance to right his wrongs and do what needs to be done
The confrontation with him and the Joker being all the more tragic due to how obvious Bruce's answer would have to be once Jason knows Bruce isn't going to avenge Stephanie either
Does Jason, once he escapes the rubble after UtRH is over, kill Black Mask anyways? Does he decide to avenge her himself? Or does he think that she too would demand that of Bruce, and find his death by a different hand unsatisfactory?
If he doesn't kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back, I feel confident he approaches her, tries to reach out to the other dead Robin, almost certainly makes the offer now that he can ask her. Does she take him up on it, gaining an ally and slipping into a far darker role? Does she instead refuse, either appealing to forgiveness or far more interestingly refusing both vengeance and forgiveness? How would Jason handle a refusal, which I gut instinct feel is more likely?
If he does kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back Jason drops his corpse at her feet like a loving housecat with a dead lizard and she has to grapple with her feelings about having someone really and truly avenge her!!! Like how DO you react to someone who you have been warned is wildly dangerous and mentally unstable coming up to you and saying, "I'm glad you're back, like me. I'm sorry you're back, like me. I made sure you could rest knowing he was dead, because I know what it feels like."
Like no matter how each character reacted to this happening there would be so much high stakes emotional shit to explore with both of them!! Revenge I feel like is such a pivotal thing for both characters, they mirror each other in so so many ways, they could be really interesting together if DC would just fucking let them!!!
Jason had a criminal father who he missed and wanted to avenge. Stephanie had a criminal father who she wanted vengeance on.
Jason started off as a fairly gentle soul who progressively became more violent and more hopeless as he was exposed to genuine horrors during his time as Robin. Stephanie starts off violent, angry and rash and finds her own courage and hope through her time as a crime fighter despite of the horrors she's been through.
Jason went to Africa and died there after Bruce failed to save him. Stephanie was taken to Africa via a fake death in order to save her from Bruce and the vigilante lifestyle.
I just...
There's just...
There's SO MUCH HERE I am genuinely fucking confused as to how this is not all deliberate?? And it's all just left on the cutting room floor because for no reason apparent to me they all just decided Stephanie and Jason were not gonna interact!
AAGHHHH!
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A Lovey Promise
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader
Word Count: 4,718
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, being tipsy, friends to lovers, kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dares, teasing, dom Jake, hickeys, praise, very very slight allusions to pain (only briefly), orgasm denial, 18+ MDNI!!!
Summary: Your best friend, dripping with a level of confidence that slightly annoys you, delivers an offer, a bet that you simply can't refuse...
6 empty shot glasses sit on the coffee table in front of you thanks to you and Jake’s ongoing tradition. That being shots and a movie, always picked at random (that part being very important), at least once a month although it usually ends up being more.
You lay on the couch curled into Jake’s side underneath a warm comforter. Your hand softly rests on his chest, feeling the gentle beat of his heart along with the subtle ruse and fall of his chest. His arm wraps around you, cocooning you in your shared world of peace, calming you in a way only capable by Jake. It’s so easy to feel safe with him like this. Sometimes when the two of you hang out, you forget that anyone else exists at all. Just the two of you in his small, old apartment.
The cuddling is entirely platonic of course. Not many people understand you and Jake’s friendship, but to the two of you, it makes perfect sense. Sure you guys cuddle and hang out constantly, and maybe you’ve shared a few makeout sessions after having one too many, but those were just “mistakes”. He’s your best friend. And nothing more.
You’re definitely feeling the alcohol and Jake must be as well due to his slightly slurred speech and uncensored Jake commentary.
“Whaddyou think ‘bout the movie Lovey?”
You can feel his head turn towards yours when he speaks, chin resting atop your head, although you can’t see his face. His use of your nickname warms your heart. Especially because of the way it floats off his adorably inebriated tongue. You had earned that nickname after buying a boyfriend of yours flowers years ago- an act Jake thought to be silly and just plain backwards. (“You’re such a hopeless romantic, you’re so lovey dovey, it's honestly sickening. What, does this guy not buy you flowers? Do I need to have a talk with him? Bet he doesn’t fuck you right either…)
The name stuck ever since, but of course you love it.
“I don’t really know what's going on to be honest.”
“Yeah… itsnot very good.” He states matter of factly before a yawn passes his lips. “Oh look, they're kissing, finally some action!”
Huffing a laugh at his almost childlike revelation, you sit up a little taller and turn your head back toward the screen. The two characters, nameless due to your lack of attention, sit on a couch, hands chasing after each other. She moans into the kiss, parting her lips for him as he lays her down on the couch. Your thighs clench together on their own accord and you could have sworn it’s subtle, but Jake lets out a giggle.
You decide to ignore him completely with your eyes still glued to the screen. Jake’s remarks have stopped, telling you he’s watching just as intently as you, and all of a sudden you’re very aware of how close you are to him. His breathing, his hair ticking your face, his smell. He always smells so good, fresh and clean, but buried below a layer of sweat and musk. So Jake, so perfect.
You wonder what he's thinking about. Maybe if he too notices the proximity of your bodies, or the way your breathing has slowly picked up.
The man’s hand drifts down as the girl let’s out another overly dramatic moan. Of course the screen doesn’t really show anything, but it sure leaves a lot to the imagination, letting your mind wander without hopes of stopping.
Jake shifts on the couch, his hand falling from around your shoulder to land around your hip. He pulls you closer to him and speaks again, but this time the playful quality to his voice is gone, and all that’s left is a low grumble.
“Do you think she’s enjoying it?” His other hand comes to your chin, pulling your face to look at him.
“What?” You try to look away from his eyes, the heated stare overwhelming you in your current flustered state, but his grip tightens forcing you to stare straight into his piercing brown eyes.
“Do you think that girl is having fun?” His lips curl into an alluring smile when he sees your slightly panicked state, releasing his hand from your chin, but not before quickly letting his thumb dart over your cheek.
You force yourself to maintain the contact, his dark gaze pulling you deeper into your thoughts and he offers you a smile that too closely resembles a smirk. You curse the heat growing between your legs at just the sight of that stupid smug look you want so badly to wipe from his face. Taking a grounding breath, you answer as if he hasn’t affected you at all.
“Yeah I mean she’s moaning like a pornstar so it can’t be that bad.”
He turns back to the screen nodding slowly, his lips pursed. “Well this guy is clearly not experienced.”
You look back to the screen, questioning it for yourself. You guess you haven't really been paying attention to the details. It’s funny how anything slightly erotic just shuts off the brain, causing it to act like a horny sex zombie.
“Yeah this guy has no idea what he’s doing.” He states again, an air of confidence in his tone that amuses you.
“Oh really? And you’ve got it all figured out right?”
“Well yeah.” He quips back.
You can’t help the laugh that trills out. All guys think the same; they all think they’re the best in bed, and they all think they make their girl cum when really… they never have.
“What, you don’t believe me?” A stupid grin paints his face and he pokes your cheek, making them instantly flame.
“No Jake, I don’t think you could please a woman any better than this guy.” You point to the small screen again, rolling your eyes.
“Oh reallyyy.” He drags out the last syllable as he sits up to face you.
You turn to him, cutting your eyes at his sneering face. He reaches for the bottle of vodka on the coffee table, taking a swig straight from the bottle. You force your eyes away from his bobbing adam's apple as the liquid goes down. He doesn’t even wince.
“I could make a girl cum with just my fingers.”
You roll your eyes again, trying to ignore the warmness that has made its way to your cheeks. When you look back to Jake, you can tell that he’s made no joke, no silly remark. He’s being serious.
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“No.”
“I could prove it to you.”
You let out a slow shaky breath after realizing you had been holding it in. You extend your hand to reach for the bottle. Taking a generous swing of the burning liquid, you return your attention to the man in front of you.
“You could prove it to me?”
“I bet I could make you cum with just these.” He holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the air.
“Bullshit.”
“You really don’t believe me huh Lovey? You’ve never heard what they say about guitarists?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.
His voice is low, dripping with sex and his tongue comes out licking a slow line along his bottom lip. He smirks when he notices you staring. And god, that little nickname, what used to seem so innocent now having a playful bite.
“I bet I could make you cum three times with just my fingers.” He holds them up again, reaching out to touch your face. You jump back and he laughs at you.
He stares at you, waiting for a response. Your mind is racing along with your heart. There’s no way he’s being serious… but the look on his face tells you otherwise. He raises his eyebrows again in question.
“Is that a bet?”
“Maybe it is… and you know I never lose.”
He’s referring to his competitiveness by nature. It’s true that as long as you've known him, he won’t stand losing. It’s a part of being a Kiszka you’ve figured out by now. They always bend the rules in their favor, making sure they’re on the winning side of whatever bet, whatever contest.
“I don’t think you’re winning this one Jakey.” You mean for it to come off as condescending but the second you hear the words come out of your mouth you wish to pull them back in. You can tell he’s taken them as an even further challenge as his eyebrows raise in question.
He leans forward on the couch, planting his hands on his knees until you can feel his breath.
“Well I wouldn’t lose, but just to humor you, I’ll bet you whatever you want.”
A low tingle has formed inside your stomach. A familiar feeling - the anxious excitement. The thrill of the flirt, although you still can’t tell just how playful it is, and that thought alone makes you want to hurl or pounce on him, you still haven’t decided.
“I get whatever I want?” For some reason, confidence is building inside you. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you - so sure of himself that you have no choice but to match the energy. Or maybe it’s because deep down, you know you want whatever he’s thinking of giving to you.
He gives you a slow nod, smiling again at your new slightly eager tone.
“I want you to admit that you’re not some guitar god, you’re just another guy. You need to stop acting so full of yourself, you need to be humbled.”
He laughs again, a genuine laugh that reminds you of your best friend, although it doesn’t seem that’s the person sitting in front of you right now.
“Sure y/n, and if I win, you have to call me ‘The Sex God.’ ”
The nervous laughter bubbles out of you as you cast your eyes to your feet. The worst part of this is that he’s acting like such a douchebag, but you don’t hate it. In fact you find yourself wanting to know what it’s like to sleep with the sex god, as stupid as it sounds.
“Why do you want to so bad Jakey?”
“Well first of all, don’t act like you don’t want to, I can see it written all over your face. You forget I know you better than anyone. And second, don’t act so naive.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, simultaneously nervous and excited for the answer.
“I love you and care about you, so much, you’re my best friend, but don’t act like we’re above all that. We’ve kissed before y/n, you really think we’d never go farther?”
“Well… I’m not really sure. I guess the thought crossed my mind… maybe I thought it would happen eventually.”
Your own confession slightly shocks you, but as soon as you say the words aloud, nothing has ever made more sense. You look back to him and he looks almost proud of you, and it makes you want to jump into his arms and suck the praise right out of him.
“That’s my girl.” He smiles again, flashing you all his teeth, making your heart melt all over again.
“Come on, don’t overthink it.”
He starts to stand up, making the whole situation seem very, very real. You close your eyes for a moment, just in case this is some sort of dream, but when you open them, you’re even more sure that this is what you want. You want him. You want your best friend, and as wrong as it might be, it's the truth.
He extends his hand, a simple gesture, an invitation, and you take it, letting him lead you into unknown waters.
He pulls you in front of him, letting you lead the way to the room you’ve slept in a million times. His hands meet your hips as you walk, the touch feeling searing hot and trickling down until you can feel the wetness between your legs.
Your mind is simultaneously racing and completely empty. How is it that an act so forbidden could feel so right? So simple?
The curtains are pulled back on the window allowing a sliver of moonlight to poke into the room. Aside from that, the lights are off and you almost ask him to turn them on but then decide it’s probably for the best.
Once he reaches the bed, he turns to face you and his features start to come into view as your eyes adjust to the darkness. He wears a smug grin as he extends his hand for you to grab once more. He sits on the bed, shuffling backwards as you grab his hand, letting him pull you to meet him.
He rests his body along the headboard and you crawl closer, stilling in front of him on your knees, unsure of your next move. Thankfully he does the thinking for you.
“Turn around.”
Without second guessing it, you turn around so that your back is to him, and impatiently, he pulls your hips back, reminding you of his strength so that you rest, slotted in between his extended legs, back flush against his chest.
Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to melt into his touch, after all, it is familiar. Your head lays back in the crook of his neck and his lips ghost over your ear.
“Can I take off your shirt?”
His voice is barely above a whisper and sends a shiver down your spine. Without saying a word you lift up your arms and allow him to slide off the thin fabric. Having chosen to skip the bra this morning, your chest springs free to which he hums in approval.
“Can I touch you?”
“Please.”
Carefully, his fingers slide against your skin, trailing along the top of your breast before kneading into the soft skin. He emits a low growl in your ear as your back arches, chasing his touch.
Before he has the chance to ask, you lift your hips off the bed to slide your pants down, along with the lacey panties you had chosen this morning - such a shame he isn’t able to see them. Upon your eager initiative, Jake grants you a kiss to the exposed flesh of your neck, traveling up to whisper in your ear.
“Good girl.”
The proximity of his voice, the words he speaks, the rush of it all makes you utter a small moan that doesn’t go unnoticed. He seems to suck it in along with the small mark he makes just below your ear. You savor the feeling of his wet mouth on you, hoping it never leaves as his hand starts to slide down your stomach.
Your legs part for him as his hand reaches your mound, stilling there, garnering anticipation that makes you hold your breath, releasing it when he slides an inch further.
Finally, like the first gasp you take upon emerging from water, his fingers slide over your clit to your entrance to gather up the evidence of your arousal. A small moan is muffled through your gritted teeth as his fingers slide through you, he laughs against your ear.
“All this for me?”
His breath tickles you and in an act that makes your head spin, he sucks gingerly on your earlobe while plunging his middle and ring finger deep inside you. The sudden pressure causes your head to push back even further as you arch away from him. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back to meet his chest as his fingers push in even deeper, testing the limits of your tight walls.
Whines and moans surpass your lips as his fingers start to curl inside you, pulling in and out as they tuck in. Have his fingers always been this thick? This heavy? Watching him play guitar they always seemed so nimble but now, now you aren’t so sure.
The mere stretch of only two of them makes you wonder what it would feel like to have a third, a fourth or perhaps to have his cock instead. How it would feel stretching you out even further.
With his hand picking up a steady rhyme, his lips are back on you, biting and licking their way up to your ear to whisper sweet praises. He moves back to the skin of your shoulder, marking you in a way that may make you feel ashamed tomorrow, but today, all you feel is the pure ecstasy he’s supplying you with.
“How does it feel, baby?”
“Good.” You manage to choke out, hardley comprehending what he’s saying as his fingers jolt inside of you.
“Just keep on feeling, I'll get you there.”
He licks a stripe up to the skin behind your ear, circling it there as you push your head deeper into his touch. Your legs start to tremble, feeling as if the pleasure is too much while being not nearly enough. The slow build starts in your stomach and travels to your chest, tightening while your muscles contract, flowing to your toes as they gently curl and flex.
“That’s it, just give it up baby.”
Your moans become sporadic and in mere seconds you feel almost there, except he slows his fingers down to which you whine in protest. His low gravely laughter hits the shell of your ear going straight to your core as he picks the pace back up, reminding you of how close you were.
Your hips arch away from him again but this time his hand travels to the flesh of your breast, squeezing and pulling you back to him. It almost hurts as his fingers pinch around your nipple, but at the same time, pain feels like a foreign concept entirely. You scoot back too, feeling his rock solid cock threatening to burst from his pants. You want to see it, want to touch it, taste it. However your thoughts are cut off when it finally explodes inside of you.
You can’t hear the sounds you’re making as your legs thrash against the sheets, head turning and arching as his fingers work away inside of you. It washes you over, seeming like it has no end, making you feel like this was the best decision you’ve ever made.
However as soon as it starts, it slows, letting you still feel the pleasant buzz as your legs calm down, still twitching and jolting with every slowed movement of his strong fingers.
“Number 1.”
He hums in your ear. He sounds amused, like you're only a toy he gets the pleasure of playing with, however you have no problem with that if it means you get to feel like this.
“Can you give me another?” He poses it as a question, but you know it's really a demand.
His fingers don’t stop inside you, threatening to pull you into overstimulation as they continue to deliciously curl inside. You turn your face to his, whining against his lips which he presses into yours, for just a split second before pulling back - like he regrets the action, however you don’t have enough time to process it.
The fizzling orgasm picks back up, this time coming from deeper within, almost sizzling white hot, making your legs shake even harder. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s coming. Bubbling up slower so that you hope it can be over with, to save you from the burning anticipation.
“Jake I- I can’t… it’s too much.”
“No it isn’t, just relax, feel it. You’re so close, let me have it, I want it.”
Fuck. The greed he so shamelessly emits. The greed for you, for your cum. It’s enough to make your mind go blank as you force yourself to just feel the feelings he’s giving you.
He pushes his hand back so that the crook of his thumb rubs against your clit with every drag of his fingers. One of two swipes and you’re rocking your hips into his them, chasing the feeling as it washes you over again.
His name falls from your lips until it’s the only word you know, and in the far distance you can hear his own struggling moans of pleasure, his own ragged breathing as you tremble against him.
When it becomes too much, your legs shut around his hand, but his feet lock over your ankles, pulling your legs apart and overpowering them with his weight until you’re spread even wider while his hand finishes the job.
Finally, before you would have fallen into the waters of bliss, drowned forever, his hand slows and fingers gently slide out of you. You watch them, glistening with the moonlight as they rest on your heaving stomach.
Your legs are still open as they jolt and shudder. A single nip is given to your neck before a kiss is placed in its spot. “You did so good for me, so so good.”
A small smile makes its way across your face, although he can’t see it. You want to find the right words to let him know how good he can make you feel, better than anyone else, but your lack of words must do for now. You can’t help yourself as you turn your face to tuck into his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent.
His other hand pets your hair as you take a few deep breaths, grounding yourself. Before you’ve barely regained your footing, his hand is drifting lower, you can feel the wetness it leaves in its path before a single digit circles your swollen clit. You yelp in surprise as it presses in further. You bite the skin of his neck, listening and reveling in the hiss he makes that flows out of him like a soft whine. It’s delectable and reignites that flame inside you.
“Can you give me number 3?” He whispers to you, like he’s scared to wake you even though you’re far from asleep. You give a slow nod and pick your face up to watch his soaked fingers drag further down your slit until three of them tease at your entrance.
You bite your bottom lip as they start to slide in, stretching you with every inch, stinging in the perfect way when he pushes them deeper in, relying on a little force to press them all the way in. A chokes out moan struggles out of you, filling the room in a way that should make you feel ashamed, but in this moment, you feel nothing of the sort.
Once his fingers reach in as far as they'll go, he wastes no time in picking up a merciless pace. It's hard to even register the speed as they pump in and out, filling you up in the most satisfying way you’ve ever experienced.
His mouth is on you again. Hot. Wet. And strong as he licks and sucks with no real purpose, only to satisfy his needs through watching you like this.
“Cum for me Lovey, make me win, I wanna watch it come out of you, soak my hand even more. Come on, let me have it… fuck Lovey…”
It’s something about that stupid nickname falling from his lips so desperately as his dominant demeanor falters, showing you his true need for you. It’s not hard to give it up as it builds faster than before. It feels like it springs out of nowhere until you're screaming into the otherwise quiet room. You’ll surely get strange looks walking from his apartment in the morning, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters. You feel on fire, perfect, fulfilled.
His teeth drag along your skin as your head thrashes in the crook of his neck, legs threatening to break free from his grasp as he struggles to hold you there. His hand works relentlessly as you moan and whine while your hands twist into the sheets, toes curling, eyes rolling back as you lose sense of the world around you.
His other hand snakes down to tease over your sensitive clit as his teeth bite into the flesh of your neck. Your whole body is numb the second he touches you there. The white hot pleasure is enough to make you cease to exist. You’re just a body floating in a colorless void with sounds in the distance you aren’t sure you're making.
His voice raises in volume until it breaks through your void, allowing you to hear him. He’s choking on his words through a cloud of lust, “Come on Lovey, you can give me one more, give me number 4.” It sounds like he’s never wanted something more in his life. Sounds like he needs it more than you do. His voice is quivering through painted breaths as his hands move even faster, working you with perfect opposition.
His tongue darts out, licking into your ear before teeth come to bite around your earlobe, enough to make it sting, enough to make you want more. And then it burst out of you. The only sense - touch, the warmness seeping in from under you. Your legs threaten to break the bed as they break free from Jake’s grasp, clenching around his hands that show no sign of stopping.
You feel it around your legs too, the warmness, the flow, the wetness. His breath is on your neck again, you can hear him moaning into your ear.
“That’s it Lovey, good girl, good girl baby. Just give it up, come on, that’s it, soak me, yeah just like that…”
A few more seconds and he slows his movements down until your legs fall from around his hands. They lay defeated on the bed as he removes his fingers from you. Your chest is heaving up and down as you come back to earth to find a dark spot sitting on the bed beneath you.
When you realize what it is you cast your eyes away, hiding once more in the crook of his neck, but he sits you up taller to pull your face away.
“What's wrong y/n?”
You don’t answer, don't speak. There's nothing you could possibly say to him, that is until you meet his eyes, once dark with lust now turned sweet, and you can almost see them shine in the moonlight.
For some reason, in this moment, the air of seriousness breaks and your face erupts in laughter. It doesn’t take much for him to join in and soon you’re laughing together, just like old times, but it doesn't feel wrong. Not in the slightest.
“I’ve never done that before.” You finally speak up, looking back to the ruined sheets.
“Well that. Was easily the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Without a doubt.”
You stare at him for a moment, letting yourself blush and smile as he repeats the action. The sweet moment is short lived however when he turns it back to the bet.
“So if making you cum 3 times makes me the Sex God… then what does 4 times make me?”
“Oh shut the fuck up Jake.”
“Well I won the bet. You better uphold your side of the deal.”
You stare at him angrily before muttering under your breath, but of course that isn’t enough for him. His smile, despite being covered by shadows, lights up the room with his pride, flowing off of him like sex.
“You’re The Sex God.”
“What was that? Couldn’t really hear you.”
“You’re The fucking Sex God Jake, I swear to god if you make me say it one more time.”
“Okay thank you. I’m satisfied. By the way, do you want to put some clothes on?”
You look down, blushing once more at your exposed skin. Before you even have time to have any shred of decency to cover yourself up, he's lifting his shirt up and handing it to you. You thank him and slide it over your body before stealing a quick glance to his smooth chest. You quickly look back up to his smirking face, and roll your eyes once more.
“Oh uh by the way.. I know this isn’t the best timing but uhh I don’t have any extra sheets so we’re gonna have to sleep on the couch…”
.
.
.
.
Part 2
#jake kiszka#jake x reader#greta van fleet#greta van fic#smut#romance#friends to lovers#best friends
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જ⁀➴ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋 . . . (𝐆. 𝐑.)
— two things are definite: you like george, and george likes you. unfortunately, you two seem to be the only ones who don't see it.
+ part of my 'be my valentine' mixtape series ! love this song and i was so excited to use it for a george fic, so i hope you enjoy <3
“oh mate, you’re joking.”
“shut up!” george huffed, running the palm of his hand down his face in exasperation. “it was not that bad.”
he could defend himself all he liked, because in spite of that, george knew it really was.
this was possibly the third time this month that george had fumbled his chance to ask you out, and alex was beginning to grow tired of his friend’s constant pining and lingering stares.
“here’s what you’re gonna do,” alex said, his voice growing more serious as he looked george dead in the eyes. “you’re gonna ring y/n, and you’re gonna tell her you forgot something at her place. a shirt, socks, anything.”
"but i haven't?"
"not the point," alex groaned. "you're gonna tell her that, so you have an excuse to turn up there. this is your chance. don't be a stupid. tell her you think she's cool, that you like her, something to charm her."
george still wasn't convinced. his brows were pinched together as he ran over alex's plan in his mind, able to find a thousand different ways it could go wrong for him.
"right. and what happens when she realises that i haven't actually left anything there, and i just look like a massive twat for showing up?"
alex wasn't sure that he could take any more.
"mate, you can't just sit around and wait for some sort of fairy tale ending to come out of nowhere for you. at some point, you're just going to have to confess to her."
though he was being assertive, alex was still trying to be supportive, laying a hand on george's shoulder and delivering a friendly pat of encouragement.
"i can promise you she's probably thinking the exact same thing right now, anyways."
george scoffed, his answer hanging in the air unspoken. as if.
unbeknownst to george, alex was a lot closer to the truth than even he may have realised.
the events of the afternoon were playing on a loop in your mind as you tried to dissect every last piece of your interaction with george, from how he'd greeted you - a brief side hug and a smile - to how he'd said goodbye - a weak effort to get you to stay and a silly, yet endearing, wave.
was this your life now? driving yourself mad over even the smallest little details, all because of some stupid feelings?
when you'd first started developing somewhat of a crush on the mercedes driver, you made a promise to yourself that it would never become a thing. and you had kept that promise for roughly four months, until you made a huge error: revealing your feelings to someone else.
ever since you had let it slip to a friend that you actually quite liked george in ways that far surpassed the platonic label, you'd been - for lack of a better phrase - absolutely fucked.
now you had people to fuel your delusions, try to convince you that george had to feel the same way, and no, of course he wasn't just being polite when he offered you his jacket, you fool. outside interference and reassurance should have made you more confident in your feelings, maybe even push you to confess, but instead they'd had the opposite effect.
the weight of the word 'hopeless' in hopeless romantic had really started to resonate with you. though you weren't allowed to dwell on your misfortunes for too long.
some may have chalked it up to fate, some may have attributed it to a divine power wanting to laugh at a poor mortal, but whatever the reason, your phone rang with an incoming call from george.
the stupid candid photo you’d taken as a contact picture flashed up on your screen, and the automatic smile that painted your lips made you want to yell in frustration.
"y/n, hi!"
pathetic was the perfect word to describe you, thanks to how utterly gone you were for george, as the mere sound of your name leaving his lips was enough to make your heart jump.
"sorry, know i only saw you a few hours ago, but i just remembered that i think i left one of my mercedes shirts at yours when i was there the other day."
you didn't even think twice about it, why would you? george had left countless items at your place in the past, and he would leave more in the future.
"no problem. y'can always come by and get it, i'll try and grab it for you."
george's chest ached at how ready to help you were.
"yeah? you're a lifesaver, y/n, really. i'll set off now, should be there in about fifteen minutes."
brief 'see you later's were exchanged, and the moment you set your phone down onto the coffee table, your hunt began.
you didn't recall seeing one of george's shirts anywhere around, but previous mishaps had enlightened you to the fact that things could turn up anywhere. you'd thought that the shoes buried right underneath your bed were odd, until a sock turned up in your bread bin a few weeks later.
nothing was off limits anymore.
yet, somehow, no matter where you looked, you couldn't find the fucking shirt. frustration slowly nibbled at your mind, the sound of a knock being the only thing to break you from your frantic search.
an annoyingly attractive george russell greeted you when you swung open the front door.
in all of the years he'd known you, george thought this was the most adorable you'd looked.
your hair was in disarray, the strands unkempt as though you'd been running your hands through it over and over again. your face shone a little, and you were clearly a little out of breath, if the small, panting gasps you took were anything to go by.
your apartment was a mess, and george quickly realised that you'd turned your entire place practically upside down to try and find a shirt that wasn't even there in the first place.
guilt began to bubble up in his throat, and george hoped that, after today, it would all be worth it. he only had one chance, and he wasn't going to fuck it up.
before he could allow doubt to creep into his mind and sow seeds of regret, george lifted a hand to cup your jaw. the feeling of your soft skin against his palm elicited a gasp to slip from his mouth. the parting of his lips provided you with the perfect opportunity to meld your lips together in a chaste, sweet kiss.
feelings went unspoken, for now. time would grant you the chance to properly word every last affection you harboured for one another at a later date.
besides, george was a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words, and this kiss was living proof.
george forced himself to pull back, his forehead resting against your own, and he believed that to die like this would be a blessed fate. because you were definitely going to kill him when you found out the truth.
"i lied, by the way. there was no shirt," he mumbled, blue eyes meeting yours with a wince.
"you fucking dick."
#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles#𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 becca's 'be my valentine' special#george russell#george russell x reader#george russell x you#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#f1 x you#formula one x you
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I really truly, from the bottom of my heart, hate you bitches so much, because on the tiktok of literally COCK AND BALL jokes w brittany broski, there were a few notes/messages like this:
And I KNOW you don't think anyone's going to check. You had someone go into your askbox and say "hiii brittany broski is shitty about palestine she's really ignorant :/" and you went oh omg I didn't know!! thanks for telling me!
So I checked! This is in reference to her talking in her podcast, because people were asking why she hadn't done any big press statements about Palestine, you didn't retweet this or that, you must not care, don't you care, what's your stance, etc etc please say more
OKAY COOL. So what's going on there? What did Brittany say on her podcast? Is she a Bad Person? Can I have some transcript, please?
____
"Hey guys, before we get into this week's episode, I want to talk to you about the ongoing and prolonged suffering and loss of life in Gaza, in Israel, and the oppression of Palestinian people widespread. I don't ever want it to be a question that I would ever not be against the oppression of any group of people, that I would ever stand on the side of the oppressor."
"There was a lot of fear of misusing my platform." ... "I will admit that I was nervous to talk about it, because I don't want to say the wrong thing. And this is too fucking serious of an issue to misspeak, or to spread misinformation, or to speak over or for someone." ... "So I want to take a moment on my biggest platform- which is this podcast, to say that I stand with the people of Palestine, I stand for the liberation of Palestinian people." ... "Every day, to log on to social media, and be just inundated with graphic, unimaginable violence, and loss, and grief, it's just--There are no words." ... "And I feel helpless. That's part of it too, when you feel helpless, the last thing you want to do is talk to people about it-- but visibility is a resource in and of itself. And I can offer that."
... "The outpouring of rage and passion online, and anger at what's happening, I would argue needs to be dedicated and focused on our elected officials. We live in a democracy- albeit an inherently flawed one- we live in a democracy where we have elected officials who were elected and put in power to represent us, and if we feel misrepresented, if we feel underrepresented in foreign affairs? These officials have public phone numbers and emails. There are scripts available online to express your disdain and your rage, and unfortunately that's one of the only ways we'll see actionable change."
"If you expected more from me, it's a terrible feeling- but I don't want to center myself, this needs to be all eyes on Palestine right now, where the real activism is happening.
I would encourage you to follow journalists that are on the ground, people who are in Gaza, we need to be listening to them.
I would also hope that we're at a point in this conversation where I can express my desire to stand in solidarity with the people of Palestine and that NOT meaning or suggesting or condoning anti-Semitism of any kind. There's a rise of anti-Semitism and islamophobia in the United States and it's just-- it's disgusting, and it's scary, so I want that to be said too. I just wanted to share that I am experiencing part of this collective sense of helplessness and hopelessness-- but it DOESN'T HAVE to be hopeless.
I'm going to include a phone number in the description of this episode where, if you don't know the name of your senators or your Congressman, it's never too late to learn, and you can reach out to them."
_______
Hm. What a bitch!! Yeah, just so ignorant and uncaring. Obviously she's not keeping up with anything. Should've retweeted more shit ig!
#sergle.txt#I will turn off reblogs on this so fucking fast I swear to god. I have a gun. I needed to complain about this#up in my notes and my asks bc you already didn't like somebody and you believe what ppl say on anon indiscriminately.#so what I'm hearing is she didn't talk about it enough / didn't put out statements soon enough. I see.#basically a criminal offense. she should get the electric chair ig#god I mean. if my thing was comedy and I had a big audience I don't think I'd know how/when/if to do basically a#Press Conference on Literal Genocide or if I should not make it about me and my thoughts? but do shit in the small ways I can#what do you even say... I think what she said here makes sense. but maybe I'm not reading it with enough bad faith#like oh my god. OH MY GOD#so no I'm not gonna delete the clips I posted what. the fuck are we talking about#''she was frustrated on ig stories that ppl were messaging her to put out a statement'' yeah... yeah. frustration. in response to so much#bad faith directed at you. hundreds of thousands of people all saying shit At You like it all rests on you#and being told to say these words so if you say them they will be empty. myeah what a bitch basically#I personally would not experience a human emotion in response to this.
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while i eat up practically every valgrace fic i see, down bad jason grace for leo valdez is always one of my absolute favorites; so, here are 5 valgrace fics where jason is the pining one :)) (for the most part)
1. hopeless case by restinreeses
rating: teen and up
warnings: none
“Nico,” Jason wheezes as he slams the door to the Hades cabin open. “Nico, I think I’m in love with my best friend.”
“No, really?” Nico drawls, barely looking up from his book.
Or: in which nico is jason’s wingman this time around.
AHHHHH!!!!!! this is REALLY good; i love the characterization and the many implications of jason having helped nico get with will prior to the events of the fic. also, platonic jasico will ALWAYS get me.
2. EP: things leo does; by jason grace by jacksonpercy (robertmontauk)
rating: not rated
warnings: none
God, he loves Leo’s laugh. It’s more like a giggle than anything - all high-pitched and bubbly; his mouth stretches into the widest smile Jason’s ever seen, and his tongue sticks out of his tongue just a little bit, and holy fuck Jason’s in love with Leo.
Shit.
[leo does things sometimes, and jason notices.]
i was very much obsessed with this fic at some point (still kind of am, actually). it’s basically a 5 + 1 of jason just pining for leo and i LOVE it. small warning though, there is a mention of kinks in the second chapter, if that’s weird for you. it’s really just an offhand comment and doesn’t get brought up again, so do with that what you will. they are teenagers after all, and as a teenager myself, i can confirm i’ve thought of similar stuff several times! but, anyway, this fic is really good.
3. staring at me (with your lips and tongue) by ethannku
rating: teen and up
warnings: none
“You really believe all that?” Leo asks, and if Jason were more aware of the world, he might’ve registered the hopeful breathiness in his voice. But as it is, he’s far too focused on the hand on his chest. He nods anyway, once he realizes Leo’s asked him a question.
Leo huffs and leans closer while simultaneously pulling Jason closer.
For a moment, they just look at each other, their noses inches apart. Leo’s breath comes in soft puffs on his face. There’s a hint of a smile on Leo’s face, but the corners waver as if he’s having second thoughts. Jason registers Leo’s eyelashes flickering, and his blood sings when he realizes he’s looking at Jason’s mouth.
Or; Jason is down bad, and Leo might be too.
this one’s really good, too. lot of kissing. a few suggestive references/jokes but no suggestive actions, just kissing. also has many piper moments mixed in :)
4. Crooked Glasses by thebigqueer
rating: teen and up
warnings: graphic depictions of violence
leo & jason confess their feelings for each other in an arcane-themed alternate universe.
~~
Leo has always been flirty. When he casually smirks at Jason and tells him how handsome he looks; when he bites his lip suggestively and tells Jason that no, he doesn’t mind if he changes his shirt in front of him; when Jason asks what’s for dinner and Leo responds, “Not sure, but I know you’re the desert,” Jason doesn’t make much of it. Sure, an occasional blush and an attempt at jokingly flirting back, but Jason knows he doesn’t mean it. Besides, he isn’t special. If Jason had to count the amount of people Leo had made out with just in the past year, it might take both his hands.
But lately it’s been different. There’s a softness in Leo’s eyes when he catches sight of Jason, a more soulful smirk when he offers that they sleep in the same bed, a hopefulness when he asks Jason if he wants to come with him on his next haul.
i’m gonna be honest: although i plan to someday, i’ve never seen arcane. and this is an arcane au. however, even though i know absolutely nothing about arcane, i did understand this, i think. i’m putting it here because a) it’s well written, b) it does in fact feature pining jason grace, and c) i have very limited options when it comes to valgrace fics anyway, so i don’t have much of a choice. yes, there is action and a mild fight with sherman yang and connor stoll, but it’s not that graphic in my opinion, but that’s just me; what’s more graphic is actually the gratuitous descriptions of leo’s gorgeousness from jason’s pov (understandably so). anyway, this is a good fic; if you’re not familiar with arcane, you can probably still read it, because i enjoyed it quite a lot!
5. hold me, thrill me, kiss me by restinreeses
rating: teen and up
warnings: none
“You love me,” Leo declares, his smirk widening with every passing second. “You, the great Jason Grace, love me.”
He fumbles for his words, but they melt in his mouth as Leo's hands snaked up the small of his back – those delicate fingers tracing patterns into his skin that burnt worse than his SPQR tattoo.
“I wouldn’t call myself great,” he mutters at last. Leo leans in, raising one thick eyebrow.
“I dunno,” he says, “I’d say you’re pretty great.” His lips brush over Jason's, once, twice. “You know. For loving me.”
...
In which Jason falls and Leo catches him.
okay, so i was debating whether or not to put this one because jason is still dating piper during this fic. she doesn’t make an appearance, she’s only mentioned, but jason and leo kissing is referred to by the both of them as an affair, which might make some uncomfortable. however, this has absolutely gorgeous writing. is jason still in love with piper during this fic, though? no. a bit complicated. however, it is, once again, pining jason as promised. they kiss a lot in this one, too.
enjoy!
— piper <33
#valgrace#valgrace fic recs#fic recs#valgrace fics#jason grace#leo valdez#piper mclean#nico di angelo#the lost trio#heroes of olympus#heroes of olympus fanfiction
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Again and again, Only Friends brings in the many, many perspectives on sex and how people not just related to sex but relate sex to other people.
Boston finds his own value in sex. When asked about more or seeing others seek more, he looks down on it and disparages it or is just absolutely confused by the entire concept. Sex, for him, is utilitarian and pleasure, to be used to get what he wants and to control people and that is what sex is to him. Sex is about control and about pleasure and about his own importance and value and what he can get from people and the only thing he knows to give to people.
Nick is using sex to feel closer to someone he is coming to care about and falling in love with him through sex and hoping for more but never able to fully articulate what he wants so turning back to sex again and again to try to find what he wants only to realize that sex isn't what he wants here but he isn't getting anywhere with it either... but without it he has nothing of what he wants.
Sand is facing down his own rules about sex and friendship and relationships. He is looking straight at his own feelings and try to both face them and hide from them at the same time. He's playing with fire and he knows he can't control it, he knows he's losing the tenuous hold he had on his feelings, but he can't admit it because admitting means he will genuinely stop himself and pull away from Ray and he doesn't want to pull away from him. He wants to love him.
Ray has been using sex as an escape from his own feelings, just like he drinks to flee himself as well. But he also has an abiding and longlasting crush on Mew that has kept him from falling in love or acknowledging other people in his heart, even people he could have loved. He uses sex as an escape and even with Sand, who is definitely catching feelings for, he does not know how that face that part of himself because that part of himself has never felt worthwhile. He loves Mew without a chance or hope but he loves and loves and loves him and drops everything for him because that love for Mew feels better to him, that hopeless love is easier to handle than anything he'd have to work for.
Mew does not have sex. This is one type of control that he has, not having sex and drinking less than his friends. That's what he does. That's how he finds part of his identity. He chooses not to do what his friends do, to control himself, to watch them 'waste their lives' while he controls himself and feels in control, feels better about his choices, knows that he is making the 'right choice' over them. He wants his sex to look different than his friends, nothing casual, an entirely different kind of control than Boston and a different kind of escape than Ray.
Top is the one we can't be as sure about yet. He seems to treat sex as something that is simply... there. Possibly part of trying to make sure people are sleeping beside him at night. But all we've seen of him actually having sex is always in places that look deeply uncomfortable and is always entirely devoid of an emotion. He turned Boston down at the bar but still goes ahead with the sex twice after that. Top seems to have little to no control once it comes to sex. He won't act on his urges but he won't turn people down entirely either, not once they're offering him something he wants. Which is why the idea of him turning Mew down next week is beautiful. I would like that.
Sex is about control and desire and love and need and want and escape and every single character uses it differently and that's what makes the entire show so fascinating.
(I also posit that Boston and Mew are opposites, Sand and Ray are opposites and Nick and Top are opposites and that's why Sand and Ray are the couple most likely to actually work out in the show in my opinion. Everyone else has crossed wires across two relationships while Sand and Ray are just internally fucked up more than anything else.)
#only friends#only friends the series#only friends meta#only friends series#thai bl#thai drama#bl drama#bl series#thai series#thaibl#asianlgbtqdramas#asian lgbtq dramas#thai bl series#thai bl drama
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Bad for Business - Mikko Rantanen
Pairing: Mikko Rantanen x massage therapist!Reader (f)
Summary: Mikko has a crush on his massage therapist.
Word Count: 4.2K
Author’s Note: I don't know where this came from and I’m not sorry. I didn’t research if this is anywhere near factually accurate (I’m pretty confident it’s not), but it does the trick.
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Language, unprotected sex, risqué sex, voyeurism (kind of?), size kink, morally/ethically gray professional decisions (don’t fuck your clients people), Mikko’s a little bit of a simp.
NHL Masterlist
Hockey is and always will be Mikko’s first true love. The feeling of stepping out onto a fresh sheet of ice, the sound of a puck hitting a stick right on the tape, the euphoria of scoring a goal under bright lights and the eruption of thousands of fans—it’s something he’ll never, ever get tired of.
The other perks—millions of dollars, private jets, personal chefs and five-star cuisine—are all great, but not why he got into the league in the first place. They certainly don’t hurt, though, especially not the myriad of girls at his disposal. His DM’s are chock full of them, some more blatant than others, but either way, he’s definitely a fan of the accessibility his celebrity provides.
And then there’s you. One of the team’s massage therapists, but you’re undoubtedly everyone’s favorite, considering the other two are middle-aged men. You’re not employed directly by the team, so you technically have other clients, but the Avalanche are certainly your highest priority and most important.
Most of the guys certainly prefer when they’re on your schedule, but they don’t complain if it’s one of the other two. Mikko, on the other hand, specifically requests you, a half-assed excuse that your smaller hands work his muscles better. But really, he just likes getting to talk to you afterwards.
It’s safe to say he has a crush. A hopeless crush, one that’s surely unrequited, but it doesn’t stop him from asking you about your day, your weekend, and of course, your cat.
What he doesn’t know, what you’ve never told him, is that he is your favorite client for that exact reason. For the most part, all of your clients are polite, especially the Avalanche players, but Mikko’s the only one who’s made a real effort to talk to you, to get to know you past the usual salutations. Sure, a few of the guys flirt a little, but it’s all surface level, while something about Mikko seems so genuine.
You’re not sure you’d use the word “crush,” but you certainly feel a flutter in your chest when you see his name on your docket for the day, pleased that he’s your last appointment. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll walk you to your car so you can spend a few more minutes bathing yourself in his sweet smile and the deep boom of his voice.
So, maybe it is a crush. Whatever.
It’s a quarter to 4, and Mikko’s knee bounces as he pulls into the parking lot. He likes to arrive early even though he’s already filled out the paperwork, just in case you’re free to spend a few minutes chatting before the session. Today, he’s disappointed when it’s only the receptionist that greets him with a smile, offering him a lemon water and asking if he needs to be walked back to the locker room.
He doesn’t, instead glancing down the hall toward the massage rooms, wondering if you’re in one and who you’re with. Once he’s changed into his robe, he sips his lemon water as he waits for you.
“Hi, Mikko,” you greet him with a smile, and he smiles nervously back. “How are you?”
“Hi,” he breathes, his heartbeat quickening at the sight of you—the exact opposite of what it should be doing. “Good, and you?”
“I’m good,” you say, and he hopes that he’s part of the reason why.
He follows your lead into room 4, appreciating the intimacy that’s created when you quietly close the door behind you.
“The usual, right? Swedish deep tissue massage?”
“Actually, I’ll take the Finnish massage,” he jokes, then immediately wants to kick himself for how stupid it is. You laugh anyway, and he feels warmth emanating in his chest.
“Any problem areas?”
He grimaces. “My shoulders and my quads are pretty tight. Think I might’ve strained something in practice.”
“We’ll take a look at it. You know the drill by now,” you say, gesturing to the table. “Dress to your comfort level, and we’ll start with the back first—so face down on the table. I’ll give you a few minutes to get situated.”
Mikko nods, watching you step out and shut the door quietly, finally breathing once it latches. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. The robe is soft on his body, discarded and set on the table beside the massage table as he climbs in the warm bed, letting the sheet cover his back. He adjusts so his face is resting on the cushion, enough room for him to breathe.
As promised, you return a few moments later, knocking softly and pausing before gently pushing the door open. Mikko listens to the sound of you preparing the towels and nods when you quietly ask if the temperature of the heated table cushion is okay.
He can feel himself tense even before your hands touch him, when they’re still collecting the oil you’ll soon rub into his back. He almost jumps when your hands come into contact with his shoulders, soft and warm and already working sinful magic on the sore muscles between his shoulder blades.
“Is the pressure okay?” you ask, voice soft.
All you hear in response is a low groan of approval, followed by a muffled, “Perfect.”
For the next while, it’s quiet except for the sound of the aromatherapy steamer humming softly in the corner and the slick sounds of your hands and arms rubbing over his back. Mikko can’t tell what feels better; the way your fingers expertly massage out the tension in his back, or the gentle, smooth glide of your hands on his skin. Either way, he’s in heaven, lost in the haze of your presence.
When you carefully pull his arm out from under the sheet, you gulp almost audibly when you see the size of his bicep. It’s strong and prominent in your hands as you work your way down his forearm. When you reach his hands, he feels the tingle where your fingertips caress his, threading your fingers with his to maneuver his wrist. Mikko closes his eyes and pretends that you’re just holding his hand because you want to, and not because you’re being paid to.
He has to stop himself from huffing in disappointment when you let go, placing his hand back down. Then it’s on to his other arm, and he gets to enjoy your fingers laced together for another few precious moments.
Every time you’re finished with an area, he’s filled with a brief despair before you’re moving onto a different body part, and he’s appeased again once your hands return to his skin. This time, you’re moving to the end of the table, shifting his left leg out from under the sheet. It isn’t until you’re halfway up his leg that you realize there is no additional fabric barrier around his hips—he’s naked.
This time, you can’t help the gasp that leaves your throat. You can feel your cheeks turn hot, embarrassed even though he chose this; you did tell him to dress to his comfort level, after all. It certainly isn’t your first naked client, but it is the first one that’s stopped you dead in your tracks, mind shamelessly wandering to what lies between the apex of his massive thighs.
You keep yourself contained, though you can’t help from glancing at the edge of the privacy sheet that’s bunched near his ass, part of you wishing he’d had a sore glute so you could have an excuse to touch it. The second leg is a little easier, and you lose yourself in the motions and the feeling of his strong muscles beneath your fingertips.
“Mikko,” you whisper, unsure if he’s fallen asleep. He hums to let you know he hasn’t. “I’m going to lift the sheet over you, and I want you to flip over onto your back and scoot down, okay?”
“Mmhmm.”
It’s only once he starts to turn around that he realizes he’s got a problem—one that’s throbbing against his leg. Before he can do anything to adjust himself, you’ve laid the sheet down over him and made a small gasp of surprise as you, too, realize his situation. There’s a tent—a big one, you think as you gulp—in the sheet, and for a moment all you can do is stare. You don’t know if you should acknowledge it or ignore it, teetering on the edge of indecision.
Mikko stammers an apology, mortified, his cheeks pink as he tries to tuck it between his legs. He wishes he could melt into the massage table and never show his face again.
“It’s okay,” you say gently. “It happens more often than you think.”
You meant for it to be comforting, but all it does is make Mikko blind with jealousy, the thought of your hands on his teammates and witnessing their boners. He wonders, have any of them ever made a pass at you? Do you wish any of them had? Is there any part of ou that wishes he would?
He clears his throat in an effort to vanish some of the discomfort that hangs in the room, accepting the weighted cover you place over his eyes, grateful for an excuse to hide his face. If you’re flustered, you don’t show it, though part of him is disappointed you didn’t react—selfishly, he wants you to be impressed, or turned on, or something. Mostly, he’s glad that you didn’t instantly kick him out, never to speak to him again.
You pull out his tree trunk of a leg, tucking the sheet underneath in an effort to keep him protected and contained. Your work on his leg begins, intimidated by the sheer size of his thigh that’s staring at you. The bareness of his hip reminds you of his lack of clothing, and you’re once again struck with the revelation that only a very, very thin sheet lies between you and his most private possession.
You do your best to ignore it, but as your fingers massage his leg, it’s difficult to avoid brushing him in more delicate places. But, hell, maybe you want to.
It’s on the next leg that your knuckles graze against something soft between his legs, and he lets out a guttural groan that has your low belly igniting in a blazing flame. You mutter an apology, even though you don’t entirely mean it.
The first time was an accident. The second, less so. The third time—well, now you’re just playing with fire.
A warning flashes through your mind, a memory seared into your brain of ethics and boundaries, and part of you can’t believe you’re really considering crossing them, here, now, for this man in front of you. His eyes are covered, but you’ve seen him lick his lips enough times to wish his tongue was your own, and you’ve stared at the aromatherapy steam puffing and billowing for long enough in an effort to avoid the dilemma that’s still standing proudly before you.
The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it. Though, once it’s out, you don’t regret it.
Mikko’s eyes shoot open from underneath the covering over his face, hearing the way you purr the words. He doesn’t know if it’s real or if he imagined it, not until he feels your fingers tracing the inside of his thigh in a massage technique he’s pretty certain is not something you learned in school.
“Do you want me to take care of that for you?”
He can’t nod fast enough, the words caught in his throat as he tries to swallow his sharp inhale. His hands fight against the sheet over his torso, quickly ripping off the face covering to find you smiling.
“You don’t—I—you—” he stammers, his cheeks flushing a gorgeous shade of pink.
“I don’t? You don’t want me to?” you pout. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees your hands move to the buttons on your polo.
“No—I mean, fuck yes I do—” he gulps, eyes darting down to the shadow of cleavage that you reveal. “I just want to make sure you’re sure.”
It’s sweet, so incredibly sweet, that you can’t help but smile. You walk to the head of the table so you’re looking upside down at him as you gently lay him back down, only this time, instead of covering his body with the sheet, you’re working it down his torso. Your movement is slow, deliberate, holding his eyes as you press forward.
“I’m sure, Mikko.”
His mouth surges forward, blindly mouthing at the material of your uniform as he pulls your body to him. The next thing you know, his hands are tugging the material of your top down to get a better taste of your breasts. It’s clumsy, given your position, but neither of you care; he’s just happy to finally get his hands on you after so many months the other way around.
Mikko maneuvers your body with ease, pausing frequently to grope your body and press his lips against any open skin he can find, ultimately getting you where he wants you: on top of him on the massage table. The new position is intimate, somehow more intimate than you with your hands all over his naked body; this time, you can feel the width of him as your legs straddle his hips, the sheet barely covering his modesty—and certainly not covering the cut muscles of his torso.
His hands run up the sides of your legs, scorching you even through the material of your uniform pants. You’re distracted as you trail your hands up the firm muscle on his stomach, one of the few places on his body you’ve never touched, and certainly never at your own leisure. Mikko flexes his abs, hard and tight as he gives you a cheeky wink, allowing you to admire the fruits of his labor. What’s the point in being a professional athlete if not to have pretty girls ogle your body?
Before long, your desire urges you to move past his muscles—though you’re convinced he’s got nicer tits than you do—and lean down until your face is inches from his. His expression is soft despite the darkness in his eyes and the pulse in his neck that’s heightened with every touch on his body.
Mikko pauses, waiting for your action, itching to know what it feels like to have your lips against his own. His eyes are drawn to the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, slow and teasing in a way that has him twitching between your thighs.
“I could get in so much trouble,” you murmur. There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your voice; instead, it’s replaced with desire, a compulsion to do something bad.
“We don’t have to,” he says quickly. He means it, but he’s hoping—praying—that you won’t change your mind.
“Maybe I want to get in trouble,” is your reply. Mikko doesn’t even wait for you to say anything else before he’s lunging forward to kiss you, finally capturing your lips with his. It’s just as magical as he thought it’d be, even better that he’s already naked.
His tongue slides into your mouth, meeting yours for the first time, and you moan when your hips begin to move of their own accord, dragging your core over the flimsy sheet and his throbbing length. It doesn’t take long for the temperature to reach searing levels, his hands fumbling with the hem of your top before you’re helping him to tug it off, tossed haphazardly on the floor.
Mikko’s frozen in place, staring at the way your breasts sit, perfect, in your bra. Part of you wishes you’d put on cuter undergarments today, but then you remember you weren’t exactly planning on this happening. He doesn’t seem to be fazed by the ‘boring’ nude, too transfixed by the way your breasts feel in his large hands. Before you know it, he’s shifting you so he can sit up, pressing his mouth against your chest while his hands work their way to the clasp of your bra, expertly flicking it open. He barely pauses when the fabric falls between your bodies, flinging it blindly out of the way before his mouth is attaching to your nipple, hot and wet in a way that causes you to gasp.
“Mikko,” you sigh, and he decides in the moment that the way his name sounds in your mouth is his new favorite sound. He hums against your chest, switching to grant your other breast attention while his hand is quick to replace his mouth against your now wet nipple.
His hum morphs into a groan when your hand snakes between your bodies to stroke his erection, almost painfully hard now. Your eyes widen when you feel how fucking thick he is, barely able to fit him in your fist, and you let out a mewl as you imagine what it’ll feel like inside you.
“Fuck,” he grits out, mouth trailing up to the sensitive place where your neck meets your shoulder, careful to nip gently to avoid making too big a mark. Your hands are magic, having worked miracles on the majority of his muscles, though this time undoubtedly takes the cake for his favorite session with you.
He can’t wait any longer, his hand sneaking past the elastic waistband of your uniform pants, teasing at the hem of your panties. His fingers dance over your mound, familiarizing himself, before he’s probing at the damp fabric at the apex of your thighs with a curse, deeply aroused at how wet you are. A choked moan leaves your throat, vibrating against his lips that are trailing across your neck.
When his fingers slip into your panties, the mere heat of his hand against your clit is enough to make you moan. The feeling of his finger slipping inside your walls has you throwing your head back, relishing the way he grunts at how snugly you squeeze him.
“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, voice muffled as he laves at your collarbone. A second finger joins his first and immediately they curl together to hit the spot that makes you see stars. He grins when he feels your hand clutching onto his shoulder as he works you, drawing out the sweetest whimpers.
After a brief pause to shove your pants further down your hips to grant him more space, his fingers are back in your greedy cunt, eagerly accepting the long, thick digits. Mikko knows what he’s doing, knows exactly where to put his fingers, knows how much pressure to use, knows the perfect way to circle your clit with his thumb. He wants to drink in the erotic noises that spill from your mouth, heart beating faster at the way his name sounds like in a moan.
“Mikko, I’m—s-so—”
His lips press kisses against your jaw as your eyes squeeze shut, an explosion erupting in your belly. Your hips roll against his hand, dragging out the waves of your high as you feel him hum against your skin. He’s pleased with himself, feeling the way his balls clench at the way his entire hand is soaked with your juices.
“Fuck, gotta have you,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, before he’s wrenching his hands away from your core and flipping you onto your back. Your legs can’t kick off your pants fast enough, his hands smoothly slipping your panties over your thighs. Once all of the offending garments are removed, Mikko takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out and naked for him after all this time. He’s sure none of his teammates have had this type of session.
His calloused hands are rough on your skin as they slide up your thighs, spreading them apart slowly to create space for his hips. As he sits up on his knees, the privacy sheet slips from his body, freeing his erection. Your jaw drops as he releases one of your legs in favor of stroking it, and your mouth waters watching it slide in and out of his hand. Unconsciously, your leg falls open as you begin to imagine what it’s going to feel like inside you, part of you wondering if it’s even going to fit.
Mikko smirks at the way your legs spread for him, taking in the lust in your eyes. He can’t believe he’s here, right now, with you, and he wants to pinch himself. But, he thinks, if it is a dream, he’s not ready for it to end quite yet—not when he hasn’t even been inside you.
He has to squeeze his eyes shut at the mewl you let out when he lets the tip of his cock bump against your swollen clit. Repeating the action, Mikko bites his lip as the sound trails directly to his balls. He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last before he loses control, but he pushes through it as he guides himself down, positioning himself at your entrance.
“You sure you want this?” he asks with a smile that tells you he knows you want it and that he just wants to hear you say it.
“Yes, Mikko,” you whine out, bucking your hips until he rewards you with the very tip pressing into your entrance. With a frustrated sigh, you add, “Fuck me, Mikko.”
He groans at your words, eyes shutting again as he wills himself not to finish right then and there. Another call of his name brings him back to the present, eyes connecting with yours, powered by the desperation in them. Slowly, patiently, he pushes forward, feeling the way your pussy grips even the first inch of him. He watches the way your eyes roll backward, relishing the way he stretches you.
It’s delicious, and as much as you want to tell him you can take it, part of you loves how he takes his time, letting you feel every single ridge and vein as they ease past your drooling lips. Before long, though, he’s sheathed inside you, feeling the flutter of your walls surrounding him.
“Holy fuck,” he groans, face buried in your neck. “You feel so fucking good.”
“You f—so—” gasp— “big. Fuck, Mikk—”
He wants to celebrate the fact that he’s rendered you almost speechless, that you’re a whimpering mess stuttering about how big his dick is, but he needs to move or he’ll die. He does, and he’s rewarded with your fingers digging into his shoulder blades—which is impressive, considering they’re covered in massage oil.
You’re in awe of the sheer size of him and the way that he reaches places you didn’t know existed. He reveals more of them each time he punches his hips forward, and you’re absolutely positive that he’s touching your organs when they nestle against the back of your thighs. It’s hot, it’s raw, it’s real, the way his skin feels on yours and the hot puffs of breath he exhales onto your neck.
Mikko is loving the way you mewl in his ear, determined to keep drawing those delicious sounds until you’re crying out his name and creaming on his cock. A hand slips from his shoulders to frantically paw at your clit, adding fuel to the fire that’s now roaring in your core. He can feel how wet you are, how tightly you’re squeezing him, the way your body is begging him to let you come.
The way you orgasm is ethereal, he thinks, how your mouth falls open and your head tilts back and your eyes flutter closed as the ripples of your release flow through you. The sound of the cry of his name is even better. He drinks it in, using it to drive himself home inside your quaking walls. A few pumps later and he’s pulling out to shoot his load on your lower stomach with a groan. Your pussy clenches at the sight, already wishing for a round two as you gaze up at him and how big he looks kneeling over you.
With a shy grin, Mikko slides off the bed and grabs an extra cloth from the counter to clean you off. It isn’t until after he’s pressed a few gentle kisses to your lips that he searches for your clothes and hands them to you; as the moment returns to normal, the reality of what you’ve just done sinks in and you gasp.
“I can’t believe we just did that—I—this is so unethical,” you say, envisioning the Board tearing your license to shreds.
Mikko frowns, slipping his robe back over his shoulders. “I’m not going to tell anyone, you know.”
You glance at him gratefully but shake your head. “It’s not just that—it’s so taboo and—I mean, a relationship is one thing, but just sex is so demeaning to myself as a female massage therapist—”
“Do you want to go out with me?”
“—and I—what?”
“Like, to dinner.”
“What?” you repeat incredulously.
His pinks turn pink and he casts his eyes to the floor. “Oh, it was just a question—”
“Mikko, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”
With the excitement of a child, your heart melts at the way his eyes light up in an instant. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nod with a smile. “You owe me for making me risk my career.”
“I think that’s more than fair,” he grins. “But I can’t honestly tell you I’m sorry.”
“Me either.”
Six days later, when you’re panting through your third orgasm of the night, Mikko’s name a prayer on your lips, you think to yourself it was more than worth the risk.
#mikko rantanen fic#mikko rantanen smut#mikko rantanen imagine#nhl imagine#hockey fic#mikko rantanen blurb#mikko rantanen imagines#nhl blurb#nhl fic#hockey imagine#hockey blurb
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CHAPTER 7
Joe Burrow x Bisexual OC.
Warnings: 18+MDNI. Angsty. Mentions of homophobia. Fluffy. Smut.
Word Count: 3.1k
"Those pinks don't match." Karina says.
"What do you mean they don't match?" Gen sighs in annoyance.
"That's regular pink and this one is ...baby pink." Karina says holding up the balloons.
"What the fuck is baby pink? Do you mean pastel pink!?" Genesis says annoyed.
"You guys are giving me a headache." Val sighs getting up from her chair and looking for aspirin.
"She's making this more complicated than it is, it's an engagement party not your actual wedding!" Genesis says to Val.
"You guys offered to throw it! Of course I want it to be perfect." Karina argues back. Val ignores them and takes the pills with some water returning back to them.
"Okay! Okay... we'll get your baby pink balloons, no worries. Now, the food." Val says going down her list.
"Oh boy." Gen mutters and Karina gives her a look.
"Kelly wants to do like finger foods, so doesn't have to be a proper meal or anything." Karina shakes her head.
"Anything in particular?" Genesis asks.
"Fruit, crackers, cheeses, pretzels...all that sort of stuff." Karina nods.
"Have you guys set a date for the wedding at all?" Val asks.
"Yeah...we're going to announce it at the engagement party." Karina smiles.
"Aww, I'm so excited!" Genesis claps her hands. Gen was a hopeless romantic so this was her favorite thing ever.
"I have a question to ask though...are we inviting Joe to any of this?" Karina asks Val.
"Uh, it's your party and wedding, you invite who you want." Val shrugs.
"Well, we know things are kind of in the air and usually he'd be your plus one but I feel like it'd be mean to not invite him...especially since he's gotten Karina and Kelly us tickets the games over the years." Karina says awkwardly.
"Like I said...it's up to you guys." Val says not knowing what to say to them. It's been two full week now since her and Joe have gone on a break and they've only texted once to see how one another was doing.
"Have things gotten any better?" Gen asks.
"Nothings changed if that's what you're asking." Val bites her lip.
"I really hate that you guys are going through this because of me." Gen sighs.
"It's not because of you, even if that video was never posted I would of came clean to him anyway about what happened between Summer and I. Plus he still would of done what he did as well." Val rolls her eyes at Gen.
"Yeah, but you're still getting hat from people online and stuff...that has to take a toll on you." Gen responds.
"It sucked at first but I haven't been letting it get to me, I've focused on other stuff." Val shrugs.
"Has Joe said anything about it?" Karina asks.
"He just asked if I was doing okay and that he was sorry about everything." Val sighs.
"That's it? He's not gonna stick up for you?" Gen scoffs rolling her eyes.
"Like his publicist would let him, they'd question why he would be defending me if we never dated or aren't dating like we've both said publicly before. Everyone will try to spin it some way." Val chuckles.
"So!? I publicly apologized on my account for basically outing you and putting that video up without your permission. Plus the entire group has been defending you left and right on social media. Joe could say something if he really wanted." Gen says annoyed.
"I...have to agree. He could at least make a statement about respecting you and his privacy or something because the homophobic comments are all over his own Instagram comments and he doesn't even limit them either." Karina says.
"Him saying something isn't going to change that, it might actually do the opposite. We're dealing with NFL bro's here, they are vile already unprovoked. Imagine if he did say something? I'd have to delete my account." Val says hoping her friends would understand just how delicate this matter is.
"I guess... I'm just tired of seeing you always be put second in your own relationship. Joe's cool and all... but he's losing my respect day by day, you deserve better than a half ass relationship." Gen says getting up from her seat and going to the bathroom. Val hearing that was like a stab in the chest.
"Does everyone feel like that about him?" Val asks Karina. Karina sighs and leans on the table.
"We just want you to be in a relationship where you receive back what you put in, Joe is a good guy but not the best partner to you and it sucks seeing you suffer when you put him first plenty of times and he never really does that for you." Karina says patting Val's arm. Hearing this from her friends was a slap to the face for Valeria. Maybe it was for the best that they just broke up and she focused on herself. If she had to do this, she would have to do this now before the season starts and Val didn't know if she was prepared for that.
*******************************************
It was later in the night now, Genesis and Karina left a while ago and Val was currently falling asleep on her couch when there was a knock on the door. Checking her watch she see's that it was 11:26PM. Confused on who could it be she gets up and checks the peep hole to see Joe. Taken off guard as to why he was here out of the blue she opens the door. He was in a hoodie and sweat pants and the infamous ugg slippers Val hated that he would wear to places that weren't his house.
"Hey...what are you doing here?" Val yawns letting him in and closing the door behind him.
"I just wanted to see you." Joe shrugs looking at the flowers on your counter.
"At 11:30 at night?" Val questions.
"Who gave you these flowers?" Joe asks looking over at her.
"You came here at 11 at night to snoop on me?" Val crosses her arms.
"No, I couldn't sleep and I wanted to see you." He mutters like an embarrassed little kid. Val takes a deep breath and locks her door. She knew the drill when Joe was like this. This wasn't the first time he came over here like this before.
"No funny business." Val says to Joe making him smile before he makes his way to her room. Val shuts all the lights off and heads to her room where Joe was already comfy in her bed. She knew better than to let Joe stay the night but she knew something else was up with him and regardless of it all, she still loved him and cared for him at the end of the day. Val joins him already being showered and in her pajamas.
"So you want to tell me what's really going on?" Val asks looking over to him.
"I'm stressed out of my mind, I miss you...my parents are on my ass about everything that's happened, especially my mom. The fans and their comments are getting to me and I know they're bothering you. I just, needed you." Joe mumbles as he lays downs and plays with Val's fingers in his hands. She wasn't expecting him to unload like that on her.
"You can still text me and stuff...I'm not going to ignore you." Val says brushing his hair back.
"I know... I'm sorry for showing up here like this. But you're not talking to me either, I worry about you." Joe sighs.
"It's okay and I'm alright I guess...people are starting to leave me alone."
"That's good I guess... but, since I told you the truth, wanna tell me who you got you those flowers?" Joe looks at her with his big blue eyes.
"Why couldn't I have gotten those flowers myself? Why are you automatically thinking someone had to get them for me?" Val asks smirking.
"Because your favorite flowers are burgundy or purple carnations, not lavender roses from...Krogers." Joe snorts.
"Summer got them for me as an apology." Val admits and she could tell Joe didn't like hearing that.
"Apology for what exactly?" He asks.
"I uh...came clean about us to her and she apologized for how she acted when I first told her and for how she flirted with me in front of you that day at the store." Val answers truthfully.
"Mmm...I still don't like her or trust her." Joe says which makes her snort.
"May I ask why?" Val asks.
"I know she's going to end up right here where I am currently on one random night." Joe says somberly.
"What?" Val sits up.
"She wants you, if another night happens like the club night...it's going to be inevitable. I'm not stupid plus whatever is left of our relationship is hanging on a thread, it won't be long before she has your attention again" He shrugs.
"You don't know what you're talking about, that was a drunken mistake which you should know all about as well since you did the same thing." Val scoffs.
"I see the way she looks at you Val, I look at you like that...and you look at her like you look at me...or at least used to anyway." He sighs.
"Joe--let's just drop it. Let's get some sleep." Joe cuts her off before she could say anything to that. Val doesn't say anything else getting up from the bed to turn the lights off. As she lays on her side getting back in bed & setting her devices to charge for the night, Joe wraps his arm around her and kisses her neck softly a few times.
"It's been so long since I've had you, I've missed you so much." Joe whispers, Val feeling his hand slowly creep his way under shirt.
"Joe..." Val bites her lip trying not to give into his touch right now but she couldn't help wanting him as bad as he wanted her.
"Hm?" He hums back as he slowly grabs her tit and massages them in his warm hand making her let out faint moan. Turning around, Val makes out Joe's face with the help of the outside lighting shining through her blinds and into the room. Joe leans in filling the small gap between them and kissing her lips, softly at first but the kiss soon became intense and filled with all the emotion they had both been feeling. Val runs her fingers through his soft hair tugging on it a bit receiving a low groan from Joe. Everything then happens so quickly, clothes were off and both of them were beyond aroused by each other as if they were two animals in heat.
Val went to get into the position she normally gets into for Joe which is always either on her stomach or face down or ass up but he stops her and shakes his head no. Instead she lays on her back he settles between her legs as she lays back onto the pillows, giving her a few more tender kisses as he aligns himself at her wet entrance and slowly slips inside her. Both of them moaning into each other mouths at the feel of one another. Slowly Joe moves his hips, moans and whimpers escaping both of them as they get lost in each other after so long of not feeling each other.
**************************
The next morning Val wakes up to her usual alarm and notices Joe was gone. Sighing as she turns her alarm off she notices a note on the pillow Joe slept on the night prior.
"Sorry I didn't say goodbye, had run to practice because I promised the guys I'd be there and didn't want to wake you. Don't worry I locked the door, Have a great day at work! - Joey <3
Val sighs remembering last nights events and feeling stupid for having sex with Joe like that. She failed miserably at creating boundaries with him while she still tried to figure out what she wanted to do in this relationship. She gets up from bed, still completely nude from the night before and she takes a long much needed shower. She makes a mental note to change her sheets when she comes home and gets ready for her long work day ahead of her.
The store was getting the shipment of the Pride collection today and she knew Kade & Elsa were going to be brainstorming about the display all day so she had to mentally prepare for that. After showering and getting dressed, Val left her condo locking the door and making her way to her parking spot, getting in her car. She still couldn't get last night out of her head so she decided to call Karina for some clarity since she knew Genesis was probably already at work and busy.
"Hello?" Karina answers as Val drives in the crazy Cincinnati morning traffic.
"Hey, Goodmorning! Got time to talk for like 10 minutes?" Val bites her lip hoping she did.
"Yeah, I'm just getting ready for work but I'll put you on speaker. What's up?" Karina asks.
"I fucked up last night and I'm stressing over it!" Val blurts out and Karina lightly chuckles.
"What do you mean? What happened!" She asks.
"Joe showed up at my door late at night, seemed in distress, and we ended up having sex. We haven't had sex for awhile even before this whole 'break' we're taking and I gave in like an idiot going against my own boundary." Val sighs slowly moving in this bumper to bumper traffic.
"What if... that's what you guys might need? It sounds like you guys were lacking in that department. Maybe more intimacy is what you guys needed? Kelly and I always make time for that and it helps us reconnect when we go through a few bumps." Karina says and Val sighs.
"I don't know, I feel like I got played somehow. He was being all vulnerable and then one thing suddenly lead to another and we had sex. Then when I woke up this morning, he was gone and only left a note about how he had to go to practice." Val explains.
"Oh he wasn't even there when you woke up? That's... strange. You're not some one night stand where he can come dip in and run out." Karina responds.
"That's exactly how I felt. Now I'm sitting here confused as shit and feeling regretful more than anything which is fucked up because he's boyfriend." Val sighs in annoyance with herself.
"Well next time you get a chance you should tell him how you feel about this. If you don't appreciate something, say so. If he doesn't like it, that's too damn bad." Karina says making Val chuckle.
"You're right... he also officially dislikes Summer too and didn't hesitate to let me know. So, I have to figure out how to let her know that we need to distance ourselves." Val sighs not taking her eyes off the traffic and she hears Karina laugh.
"What's so funny?" Val asks confused.
"He's threatened by her, typical man. " Karina snorts.
"Why do you say that?"
"Uh..did you see the video of the club? He know she can turn you inside out like a sock better than he can." Karina laughs.
"Karina!--
"What!? I'm not wrong. I remember hearing the stories you used to tell us about your hook ups with Summer, she knew what she was doing and you would brag about it...you don't seem to do the same with Joe..." Karina mutters the last part.
"That's because we're in a serious committed relationship and I'm not going to talk about our sex life out of respect." Valeria defends herself.
"If you say so, just remember he already complained about having limp dick with a hot model. Ours doesn't do that and it comes in different sizes & colors. When he can do that, then come talk to me." Karina says which makes Val almost choke on her spit.
"Bye Rina! I should of called Mateo or something instead." Val shakes her head.
"Hey, I'm just being honest. Even if you don't do anything with Summer but end up with a girl instead of Joe...he should know why so the next girl doesn't suffer cause what do you mean you guys guys haven't fucked in a long time? C'mon now. " Karina scoffs and Val just rolls her eyes to herself. Val thanks her for answering the phone so early and they say goodbye to each other, hanging up. Having that conversation with Karina didn't really help her clarify things in the way she's hoped but now Val was wondering if she was trying to hold onto Joe despite calling the break herself and she wondered if she wasn't being so honest about her feelings towards Summer. She decided to push them to the back of her mind and focus on her work day.
Making it to the shop, she parks her car and enters to see Elsa and Kade already with the shipments on the floor. She wasn't expecting them to be delivered yet so it caught her by surprise. Setting her things aside at the register she walks up to them looking at everything they were unpacking.
"Morning guys!" Val smiles.
"Hey! Didn't think you'd be in this early." Elsa says and Kade smiles at her.
"I knew the shipment was going to be here but I didn't think this early. They always come at like 2PM or later." Val says grabbing one of the mugs and looking at it.
"That's cause Kade is messing around with the delivery guy so we're first on his route now." Elsa chuckles.
"Hey! Don't go telling my business!" Kade laughs but he doesn't deny it.
They look through the few boxes, Dani eventually coming in for her afternoon shift around 1PM. As Kade and Val move stuff around the store to start setting up their pride displays in the window and another in the store, a man comes in holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Hi! What can I do for you?" Val smiles politely for him.
"Hello, I uh...have flowers for a Valeria?" He says reading reading a scanner hanging on his side.
"That's me." She nods confused.
"Here you go, have a nice day!" He smiles handing her the flowers and walking out quickly.
"Ooo, secret admirer!" Kade teases and she just shrugs. Val goes to the back and finds the card in the sea of Burgundy Carnations. She opens it and reads the white and gold card.
Here's a real bouquet with flowers you actually like, I'd suggest throwing the other ones out. She's not winning this round. - J.
Val scoffs at the petty note from Joe and shakes her head looking at the gorgeous flowers.
"What the fuck is happening." She mutters to herself.
A/N: Joe seems a lil jelly, what do y'all think? 👀
#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow smut#joe burrow fanfiction#joe burrow fic#joe burrow fan fic#joe burrow x oc#joe burrow fluff#joe burrow angst#joe burrow series
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I’m sorry if this is an intense thing to ask here but you have reach that I just don’t get on my blog and I’m scared to even pose this question because I feel like there will be a lot of judgment potentially hence the anon…
As a woman in a situation that feels extremely hopeless (basically housewife with no income of my own, 4 pets which makes a lot of housing less accessible not that any of it would be more affordable than the shithole we live in now, mental health struggles/ ASD making employment feel impossible to maintain at full time level) how the fuck do I actually manage to get out of my marriage 🥲 like any and all advice would be welcomed but absolutely don’t want to give up my pets as they’ve basically been all I hold on for. I’m married to a TIM (I bought into trans stuff for a while and considered myself non-binary for years, I’m desisted now) who excuses all their issues with mental health and trauma and has become honestly emotionally abusive and neglects any of my needs. At this point the only reason I am still here is because I cannot fathom any way I could afford to live on my own… I have no friends, my family is abusive so can’t rely on any help there, and I’m terrified that if I left I’d lose my pets and end up on the streets… I feel like in my head the only option is something I did before and absolutely fucking hated and don’t want to go back into because it’s absolutely shameful and brings up so much trauma I have which is cam SW but any time I’ve managed to get a job I cannot maintain enough hours to afford to survive alone, even full time with minimum wage here being $15 I would barely be scraping by and have no extra income beyond absolute necessities. I’ve tried looking for remote work but almost nothing is an option due to not having a degree or any specific skills, I’ve only worked in fast food and low skill care professions that emotionally ruined me. I feel hopeless and like I’m just stuck in a dead end where at best I get a day of good and then weeks of neglect or at the worse times fully emotional abuse, I truly have no clue what to do and I’m feeling like I’d rather just not exist than deal with any of this any longer… I’m just hoping to find ANY resources or advice on how to manage pulling myself out of this place and I’m at a point that I’m so desperate that I’m out here messaging people I don’t even actually know because I have NOBODY in my life who can offer any guidance or help 🥲 again I’m sorry if this is a lot and I know you personally probably don’t have any answer for this I’m just hoping that someone with some reach and access to others in a community who might understand might have any advice for me 😞
Hey I'm sorry you're going through this. I was in an abusive relationship for years and I understand leaving seems impossible while you're in the situation. But you can leave and there is hope.
I would suggest starting by looking into domestic violence support groups first. They can usually later point you to other resources like job placement, mental health care, financial assistance, legal advice, and housing. Be adamant about wanting to keep your pets because many will try to get you to give them up in this situation.
Hopefully people see this and can add more advice. You're not the only woman to have abuse by a transwoman partner and reaching out to other survivors could help.
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sorry for the #UKthings rant but ive gone private for mental health stuff but are trying to get my foot in the door with public stuff because i cant afford mental health over stuff like, having food to eat, but ohhhh my god. nhs please. next week will be week five of an eight week deal (maybe some kind of assessment? i'm not sure what the exact point is) where i have a meeting with a mental health nurse and there is nothing more demoralizing on my journey to more stable mental health than hearing from her that all it seems i do is push people away and reject help. i'm sorry that saying that i dont think downloading an app is going to help me!! especially since i've already got one that i have been using. lol. i've tried to determine what it is she can actually do to help me because i feel like this whole thing is wasting both of our times but all i really get is "well i'm a mental health nurse not a psychiatrist so i can't help with that" OKAY !!!!! what CAN you do!!!! god. god . chloe do you know what a mental health nurse's role is? do any of your followers know??? how am i meant to work with her best rn i really dont know...
omg no honestly i could go on about this FOREVER!!!! but for ur sanity i won't. i'm so so sorry they're messing you around like this when it comes to something as serious as your health - i've had very similiar experiences and honestly at this point i see our healthcare system as nothing but a cardboard charade rather than a system that seeks to provide genuine support to people but that's a whole other thing. i'm on like a million waiting lists for various different things and i think if i do end up getting through to someone it is very much going to mirror your experience i.e dull platitudes and empty promises. they expect you to download a mediation app and get over severe mental illness and the fact that you're struggling with that is truly reflective of them and the state of the country - not you or your ability to heal/get over things/whatever other bullshit expectation they force onto us. i haven't worked with a mental health nurse since i was like 17 for this exact reason like they do not offer the consistent, in-depth and intensive help a lot of us need and their answer to everything is to try yoga or drink more water and it's like, how are you even SUPPOSED to work with that?? one thing i will say is that venting to these people and just letting that be their position in your life - to let you get off some steam - is somewhat helpful but obviously doesn't confront the underlying issues. through this she may come to understand that you showing up to these frustrating sessions and talking IS you trying, is proof of you not "rejecting help." it's wild she would even imply that honestly. i genuinely hope you find a treatment plan that actually does delve into why you feel this way and what you can proactively do about it - which you do deserve, but i know it's not super realistic to think that the nhs in its current state is going to provide you with. it sucks and it feels so fucking hopeless, i've never even entertained the idea of getting serious help for yrs because of this and i totally get it. if you need a friend or someone to talk to about this, please don't hesitate to send me a message fr. i feel like we're in super similar positions rn and it truly is its own type of hell. x
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The Thing Is: - 3 : The Ni99a In The Room.
HARD PLACE - by H.E.R. [I Used To Know Her]
[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]
–🐺–🐺–🐺–
Time to give elephants a break, so let’s talk about the ni99as in the room instead. So here I am offering my two cents, as one of your resident black people, cause I heard it’s about to be some tough years ahead, economically, so every cent will have to count I was not gonna say anything as I feel like this chapter 2 is surrounded by crazies, but the crazies done did it, so I needed to get this out of my chest. Oh and this sentence right here will be the only one where I will use the word nigga, as you’ve seen, I’m writing ni99a, in the same way in which I’d be writing fa99ot instead of faggot, which in a way is kinda related to what happened as Tae didn’t say the word, but regardless we all saw it being mouthed right? And, In case you just so happen to not know what went down, during his WEVERSE live, two days ago 28 August 2023, Tae was vibing to a song, during which, he didn’t say, but did mouth the word ni99a.
As ALWAYS solos, in this case Tae’s, and diet ARMY began to deny everything, to the point in which they were downright gaslighting people, when it is all out there to see. And as always every non-black person, and their mamas, begin to yap, yap, and yap; but not listen to those who are directly affected by the usage of this particular word; us. Black people. And let me tell you, there’s been all ranges of reactions and opinions in regards, and when I say all ranges, I mean ALL.
I, for example, once it was clear that it he had indeed mouthed ni99a, loudly sighed and mentally yelled at Tae “for fuck sake!”. I personally feel that Tae’s heart is in the right place, he is not the type of person to intentionally mean to harm anyone and it wasn’t like he was yelling ni99a, while wearing a durag over cornrows. YET it was made clear that he didn’t understand the fact that “just not saying it, isn't enough” meaning that there is a deeper level of understanding, which is still not clear to him and I, talking about me personally, can understand that. And how can this be fixed? BY ACKNOWLEDGING THAT IT HAPPENED IN THE FIRST PLACE AND CONSEQUENTLY PROVIDE MEANS TO FURTHER EDUCATE.
But how, I ask you, is he to even realise any of this well now that he caused a ruckus he knows for sure, if the first thing the majority of “his fans” did was pretend like it didn’t happen? In order to what? Continue to make him look stupid and ignorant? Aren’t we supposed to be walking this path with him, and all the other members? As friends rather than fans? If your friend says or does something out of order, won’t you let them know? Doesn’t the same happen to you when you make a mistake? The saying is live and learn for a reason. To be honest with you, all I did was hope that perhaps having people like Namjoon, Yoongi and Hobi around, who are actually rappers and as far as I know haven’t been going around publicly mouthing ni99as left-and-right, would sit his ass down and explain what’s up.
That’s how I saw it, and I am sure there are other people who thought the same, BUT there is a whole other section of black fans who were deeply disappointed, aggravated and just felt frustration and hopelessness; and THAT is ALSO VALID. There are black fans out there who can’t comprehend why it is that Tae doesn’t know, or understand, still, after all this time, that even just mouthing ni99a is just as bad. These people feel like black lives don’t matter after all, that perhaps it was all just a facade and that the extra mile wasn’t taken, and now it has made this whole experience, being his fan, tainted. “But Tae didn’t mean …”, “But Tae didn’t …”, etc, it doesn’t matter; none of that changes the fact that what happened, happened and nobody has the right to tell anybody how to feel and react about anything that directly involves them.
If you are a non-black person, and perhaps don’t understand fully, and maybe, all you want to do is make things better for Tae, then LISTEN TO YOUR FELLOW BLACK FANS. Understand their emotions, the positive and the negative in particular, understand why it is jarring in some cases, and why it is not seen as a problem in others, but don’t discount one for the other. ALL BLACK OPINIONS MATTER.
Trust me, our experiences come in all shapes and colors. An African American life will most likely be radically different from the one of an African European, such as myself. I never was called a nigga, in fact just using the word black in the purposefully harmful was offensive enough, even though the equivalent of ni99a exists, but also that was never used on me. Yet, what really aggravated me, was for example being refused a house, no matter how much money they possessed, which happened to a friend of mine I’ve moved out of that country long ago, just like me black, and just like me born in that country. So for those like us being called ni99a is the last of our worries; YET doesn’t mean it is not a real problematic, damning and serious issue for an African American. And then there’s Asian Africans … chile, and etc etc. As I said, all walks of life, all different triggers, same fucking skin.
The way I’ve always seen ARMY, was a benevolent force that is there with the boys in the good times and the bad times. This is an example of bad times. This is the time where ARMY can, in an educated manner, let their fav know that “hey, we know you didn’t mean it that way, but look, this, this, and that”, and if in this specific case it is probably impossible to reach them through the useless loud noise of the majority of the fandom in this stupidass chapter 2, then at least don’t go around hypocritically gaslighting and invalidating people’s emotions. As I said an I’ll keep repeating, I really do think that Tae’s heart is in the right place and just needs, some/more guidance, the way I see it, if I had to cut every friend that made a mistake in my life, I’d have to move to Mars, and many a person would send me to Venus based on my own mistakes.
I remember the time my brother was so angry at someone, not present, and described them as a fa99ot, and I literally gave him the lecture of a lifetime, we were at my church and he’s sinned in front of his pansexual sister “You know i wasn’t talking about you” he said “But that’s not the problem, is it? …” I began. Took a bit for him to properly understand and a while longer for him to stop using the word out of habit, but I haven’t heard him say it ever since, at least not in front of me, or in public, and for now, that is the most I can ask for. What he does in his private time, is his own karma, but none of that shit will happen around me.
So I’m just going to hope that someone in his life is able to get to him, and help correct where needed. It would be great if ARMY helped as well where possible and all we have to do is watch and see how things change from here on. However, if there are people out there who are not ready to give Tae the benefit of the doubt, ever again, I’m afraid that this is a consequence of his actions and we have no place to tell these people otherwise. All we can do is listen, understand and keep it moving.
And that’s my 2 cents. I know I need to give y’all that CHAPTER 2 BPOST, keep bearing with me, that is a reaaaaaally long as blog, so it will come eventually. So be there for Tae if want, don't if you don't. It's a free world and once again, in such instances, all decisions and emotions are valid and ultimately, it is what it is. But most of all be kind with one another, don’t be scared of facing adversities, everything happens for a reason, and most of the time, it is not about the mistakes in itself, but is what you do after it or to prevent it from ever happening again.
Always respectfully yours.
Marengo.
#Marengo TTI#This is bad times and it is okay#Acknowledge it; Face it; Deal with it#Future is gonna HOPEFULLY be okay
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Can you write a fic where the incubi comfort MC after her boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend? This just happened to me and I could rlly use some incubi love T_T
So sorry to hear that happened to you, hope all is better soon<3! Hope you enjoy this fic:3
(Platonic)
Me Before You-Incubi x Reader
I walked back into my house and closed the door behind me, turning to face the door and sink against it, my forehead against the door. I didn’t let myself cry. Didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I tried to convince myself it was all for the best. Tried to hold everything in. Tried to be strong. But I don’t feel strong. I feel weak. I feel broken. I feel sick to my stomach. My mind kept going back to the two of them in bed together. Two people I trusted. Two people I loved the most. Two hours ago, I was happy, everything in my life was fine. My heart wasn’t completely fucking shattered with the fact my boyfriend and my best friend were sleeping with each other behind my back. And they didn’t even seem a little fucking sorry. Didn’t seem a bit scared to lose me. What’s wrong with me? What did I do to deserve this?
My chest felt hollow as the tears finally started to pour down my face. I feel so hopeless.
“Mika?”
I quickly turned around to see Damien, standing in front me with a deep frown on his face. I couldn’t even try to deflect. I couldn’t speak. I felt like I was drowning. Damien simply opened his arms to me. I let out a loud sob as I practically ran into his arms.
“I’m so sorry.” He said softly as he rubbed my back. I couldn’t do anything but sob into his shirt. I’m so pathetic. “No you’re not. Not at all.”
“Hey, what happened?” Matthew asked as he rushed in followed by the rest of the incubi. I could hear Damien hesitate. I mentally gave him permission to tell them what happened.
“Her boyfriend cheated on her. With her best friend.” I could hear a mix between sourness and sympathy in his voice as he said it.
“Oh my goodness.” James said breathlessly.
“We’re so sorry that happened to you.” Erik said, frowning. I finally pulled away from Damien and looked towards the boys. I took a deep breath, trying to finally say something, but the lump in my throat was fighting to keep my words down. Stupid.
“You’re not stupid.” Damien said with a quarter of sterness in his voice.
“Yeah,” Sam piped in, “Those dipshits are the ones that are stupid!”
James placed a hand on my shoulder, “You are amazing, Mika. You don’t at all deserve what happened to you.” But how could that be true? Why would the two people I gave everything to completely break me if I didn’t do anything to deserve it?
“We’re here for you, okay?” Matthew told me, “Anything you need, we got you!”
I pushed down the lump in my throat and breathed some air back into my lungs. I eventually spoke up, “…I- I just wanna stop feeling like this…” I managed to quietly mumble out, and it wasn’t even well articulated. What is the matter with me?
The boys exchanged looks with each other before Damien lifted me into his arms. He brought me to the living room and sat me down on the couch.
“I could make you your favorite dessert? Would that be okay with you?” Matthew asked. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I still nodded. Matthew smiled at me before he went off to the kitchen.
“You wanna play?” Sam asked, offering me a controller and gesturing to the paused multiplayer screen on the tv, “You can kick James’s ass at video games. That outta cheer you up.” That started to bring a smile to my face. But my mind started to drift back to my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.
“I’ll just watch for now.” I muttered.
“Hey, you know what happened wasn’t at all your fault right?” Erik said, sitting next to me on the couch.
“I don’t know. I just,” I swallowed. Everything was spinning around in my head, “I feel so used and…discarded. I loved him so much. I gave him everything. I helped him through so much. But obviously he didn’t give two shits about me. He dropped me for someone he found more interesting. My fucking best friend of all people,” The sinking feeling in my chest came and I began to cry again, “The person I trusted most in the world. The person I was there for through everything. The person who was there for me through everything, was nothing but a liar. I meant nothing to them.” I sighed, letting out a shaky breath, “I miss the person I was before them. The person who didn’t feel so pathetic and miserable right now.” I didn’t realize I was rambling until I looked up and everyone was sitting silently, listening. Matthew even came back into the room and I didn’t notice. I suddenly felt small.
“You’re an amazing person,” James said, softly, “Those two are idiotic for betraying the trust of someone as great as you. They obviously have sorrowful lives themselves to do something so despicable.”
“Yeah, hurt people hurt people. There is nothing wrong with you,” Erik said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “You deserve the world.”
“Those losers are the ones who are pathetic and miserable!” Matthew added.
“I oughta punch the guy in the nose.” Sam grumbled, and that made me smile a bit.
“Don’t listen to the negative thoughts in your head,” Damien told me, “This isn’t the end of your life. Soon enough, you’ll get over them and realize they were never worth it at all. Even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.” Damien scooped me up in a hug and the others followed his lead and started one big cuddle sesh.
There was a spark in my heart and I felt the hollowness go away slightly. I don’t know if they were enthralling me or what, but either way, their presence was definitely helping. They pulled away from the hug and a small smile formed on my face, “Thank you guys. So much,” I looked at each of them, “For being here with me even when I’m a mess.” I laughed slightly.
“We’ll always be here for ya, doofus. No matter what.” Sam said sincerely as he reached to ruffle my hair. James went on to massage my shoulders while Damien provided cuddles and Matthew fed me my favorite dessert. Sam got Erik to play against him on the game and to be honest, it did make me laugh seeing Erik being terrible at video games. Sam turned to look at me, “You ready to get in on this?”
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem beating me.” Erik laughed at himself.
I smiled, “Alright.” I grabbed the controller from Sam.
“Woo! You got this!” Matthew cheered me on.
The incubi spent the rest of the night by my side cheering me up. After a video game marathon, we got a bunch of snacks, loaded up with blankets and pillows, and built a big fort in the living room before turning on Disney movies.
“This is stupid,” Sam said to the tv as we were watching Disney’s Cinderella, “You’re saying no one else in that damn town has the same shoe size as her?”
“Sam, do you have to talk through the entire movie?” James sighed.
“I mean i’m just saying-“ Sam was cut off by Matthew hitting him with a pillow. Matthew laughed hysterically at Sam’s offended face. “Oh no you didn’t.” Sam said before grabbing a pillow and hurling it at Matthew. In the blink of an eye, the two got caught up on their impromptu pillow fight, tackling each other with their pillows.
“Guys come on.” Damien tried to interject. But the two weren’t listening as they got really into it. They were at least having fun, until Sam accidentally hit me in the face with his pillow. Everyone froze.
“Holy shit! Sorry!” Sam rushed to say. I paused for a moment, considering my attack. It wasn’t long before I quickly grabbed a pillow and hit Sam with enough force to knock him down. I laughed at everyone’s shocked faces.
“Yeah! Pillow fight!” Matthew shouted before practically jumping on Sam and attacking him with a pillow when his guard was down. Damien eventually joined in, followed by Erik even. I managed to step off to the side and sit with James as the rest of the boys went at it. I couldn’t help my laughter seeing them all being so playful with each other. I noticed in the corner of my eye James was smiling at me.
“What is it?” I asked, confused.
“I’m glad to see you’re smiling. I’ll take this as we were successful in making you feel better?” He asked hopefully. I didn’t realize the sinking feeling in my chest had gone. Just being around the boys and seeing them act like brothers was helpful. I giggled.
“Yeah, you guys are awesome.” I genuinely smiled. James leaned in and kissed my forehead, “That’s good. I am quite upset about the movie interruption though.” I chuckled as I had completely forgotten about the movie.
“They’ll tire out soon enough.” I leaned my head on his shoulder, relaxing into him. I was just now noticing how heavy my eyes felt. I feel comfortable. I feel safe surrounded by these boys even as they were beating each other with pillows. I feel so loved in this moment. Whatever else happened in the future, I knew I would have these guys by my side to help me through anything. And that thought comforted me as I drifted off to sleep.
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Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 6
Summary: (Y/n) begins training.
A/n: Sorry for any inconsistencies and spelling errors, enjoyyyyyy!
Pt.5 Pt.4 Pt.3 Pt.2 Pt.1
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Chapter 5: Training pt. 2
“So tell me why you’re in a feud with a career.” Ramsey bit into his apple. The mentor sat across from you and Buckley.
“Where’s Dolly?” You hadn’t seen her in the room and were starting to get worried.
“Don’t worry about her.” Ramsey dismissed.
“Where is she?” Buckley then repeated.
The room had grown quiet. Even Pradain who had been watching the Capitol news had gone silent. Ramsey shook his head, avoiding eye contact with either of you. You turned to look at Buckley who intently waited for an answer.
“She’s talking with the President.” Praidain offered you an answer. “Apparently (Y/n)’s stunt didn’t sit right with him.”
“Fuck.” You cursed as you threw your head into your hands and onto the table.
Dolly had warned you. She had told you that you’d get her in trouble. Buckley seemed taken back but was quick to come to your defense.
“I'm sure it's nothing,” He began, “Maybe he’s just telling her to keep an eye on you.”
“Buck’s right.” Ramsey shrugged. “It’s not like the presidents going to hurt any of us. There’s rumors of rebels in the districts. He’s worried that your little horse trick might’ve sent the wrong message. That’s all he’s worried about.”
“That and the girl from 12.” Pradain added.
“I wouldn’t worry about her. She seems like another Joanna if anything.” Ramsey added.
“Have you seen how she stares at the Capitol Citizens? She practically skins the President with that nasty glare of hers.” Pradain sprawled out on the couch.
All the talk couldn’t distract you from the immense guilt you felt. You’ve heard stories about people getting punished by the Capitol. You knew about how cruel they could be since you practically lived with the lingering threat of the peacekeepers. You hoped that Buckley was right. That she was just getting a little scolding. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if your actions had caused her to get hurt or worse.
“Why don’t they just kill us on the spot?” Came your hopeless reply.
“Don’t go around saying things like that (Y/n)” Pradain’s sympathy shone for the first time.
“They like entertainment.” Ramsey said, looking out into space.
Buckley looked uneasy. It seemed the guilt had gone to him as well. You wondered if he hated you. Of course he probably didn’t but you were sure he thought of you differently.
You could feel the flood of emotions swirl in your brain. This was all getting to be so much and the games haven't even started. You’d lost your appetite. Shakily you got up. Your body felt weak. It seemed you’d spent most of your time here fighting off panic attacks and the urge to cry. Quickly you marched into your room. You could hear Buckley’s chair screech as he stood up to follow but Ramsey kept him back.
“Let her,” He instructed him. “Why don’t we chat about winning?” He followed up.
Your tears didn’t hesitate any longer. A familiar flood of salt water streamed down your face as you slouched down the door. The cries were progressively getting harder to contain. Ugly cries erupted from you and you knew the rest of the group would be able to hear them. You threw yourself onto the strange bed. Cries were muffled but now you were drowning in your snot and tears.
Why did you ever believe Buckley? Why did you think you could be strong. You weren’t the same person you were 10 years ago. That brash little girl left when your mother died. She left when reality took over your fantasy of a better life.
You were weak.
In your time here so far you’d proven to be difficult, negative, and living off of false confidence. There was no possible way you’d win the games. Especially since you’ve managed to make enemies out of the tributes with the highest chance at victory. Amaranto was wrong. You weren’t even good at your job back home. Skilled with knives? If anything you’d get killed by one. Amaranto. He’d be left with a heartbroken father. Clarabell was there for him which gave you some sense of hope but even then. What use does it have for him to have a life, a family- if his kids would be reaped too.
You thought of your mother. What would she think of you if she were still here? You hadn’t talked to her in years. You weren’t able to. Life got hectic and visits to the meadow were replaced with shifts at the slaughterhouse. Instantly your mind is filled with memories of your mother. She’d told you that anything was possible. That you were strong and capable yet wild and fierce.
The cold air kissed your tears away as you laid looking at the ceiling. Her last words echoed as you closed your eyes. Sleep was hard to get by these days. Fortunately for you, you’d exhausted yourself enough to drift into a blissful nap.
“(Y/n).” A voice came through your dream.
You shifted in place, the untouched part of the sheets cold, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps.
“(Y/n), come on you gotta go to training.” The feminine voice came again.
Your eyelids fought to open, refusing to be awoken by the gift of a nap. When they finally did open you were met with Dolly’s gentle eyes. She shook you slightly to get you up. Your groginess was replaced and you basically threw yourself onto her.
“You’re ok!” Your arms grasped her into a tight hug.
Dolly hugged back, “Are you ok? Did something happen?” She asked you. She thought it was unlike you to be so forward.
“I should be asking you that- What happened?” Came your worried reply.
“Nothing much.” She smiled. “You have training in 10-”
You cut her off, “Ramsey and Pradain said you were talking to the President.”
She looked confused. She stood back, getting off the bed she had been hugged on to.
“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” She sighed.
“What's going on Dolly? Was it about me?” You wondered, glad she didn’t seem to be hurt.
“Well Snow called me in because of you, so that parts true.” She placed a hand on your arm, “But don’t worry about it nothings going to happen.” She took a deep breath as she began to explain. “You cant tell anyone I told you this but Snow suspects another rebel uprising. He’s concerned about the tributes showing defiance towards the Capitol.”
“Yeah Pradain and Ramsey told me about the rebels.”
“Great.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyways, I was going to tell you later since I know you’re busy with training but I guess now’ll have to do.” She tried to find the right wording. “Snow wants you to play up the part of a cowgirl from 10.”
“What?” Her answer didn’t seem real.
“You’re joking right?” You laughed.
“No (Y/n). Your parade stunt, in his words, ‘ can be seen as an act of defiance.’ So to counter that he wants you to show the Capitol that you’re really, again his words not mine, ‘A good ol’ fashioned- wild and dense country girl.” She said the last part with disdain. She was from district 10 too, something that you’d forgotten from time to time.
You felt offended. “Wait why- that doesn’t even make any sense. He didn’t like that I rode a horse so he wants me to act stupid?”
“It could be worse.” She reminded . Suddenly you had no problem with it. Except you did. Cato would have a hayday with this.
The second day of training was already different as soon as you walked in. You’d all be spending the first half training as a group, the next would be individual. Like yesterday, you dreaded group training. The tributes lined up by districts as they waited to spar against trainers.
You looked up to the balcony. The game makers were stationed up there to evaluate the tributes, but in reality all they did was get drunk and cause distractions. You paid no mind to them yesterday since there were only a few, but the rest of them seemed to join in today.
“So they’re really making you play an idiot?” Buckley whispered. He was in front of you, waiting for his turn.
“Yeah. Keep that on the down low please.” You asked, not wanting to let any other tributes in on it.
“Of course. Can you believe we have three days of this? Like it's going to help anyone. The game makers like to kill people off when the games get stale.” His face scrunched in annoyance as he looked towards them. “They say may the odds be ever in your favor, but they make it so that they never are.”
You didn’t like thinking about the games. You knew you’d die eventually, even if you did manage to make it far. Out of the 24 people here there’s bound to be at least 16 ahead of you. The only thing that got you through the long days were memories of 10, thinking of going home to Amaranto, Pa, and Clarabell, and Buckley. Though you tried not to think of him too much. You’ve grown attached to your neighbor, but there could only be one. He’d have a chance, you hoped he would, but he could get in over his head at times.
The girl from 12 overheard, she looked like she wanted to pipe in but went against it. Buckley had previously told you that she had also made Cato’s list. So even if you did want to talk to her you knew it’d make things worse for the both of you.
“I wonder if they program them to be psychopaths.” You chatted with Buckley.
“They probably feed them sheet metal.” He joked.
Routinely the careers finished fast. They went to their familiar spot and proceeded to judge and ridicule the efforts of the others.
“I’m surprised 4 isn’t with them. Aren’t they also careers?” You looked over at the pair of tributes.
“Have you seen them (y/n)? They may be from 4, but they don’t seem like the career type. They would’ve been with the pack already.” Buckley moved slightly so they were in your field of vision. It was true. The boy from 4 looked too young to be here. It broke your heart. The girl looked capable, but she kept to herself, not really helping the boy.
“Have you decided on your chosen skill yet?” You asked him.
Buckley shrugged, “No, but I might just throw some knives around.”
You nodded. He looked at you as if waiting for your answer. “I think I’ll do something with rope.”
His face lit up, “You have to!”
Individual training was better than group training. Partially because the careers were focused on themselves and not on the less capable tributes. Buckley had gone on to do some strength training. You could see him trying to talk to Thresh. It was clear the boy didn’t want to talk, but Buckley didn’t know any better. You on the other hand were in a simulation pod. It was a small rectangular room within the building. It simulated different weather and textures. One of your least favorite parts of the game that you came to realize was the randomly selected arena. In past years there’d been tundras, deserts, beaches, and cities. There was no telling which one they’d come up with this year. You hoped it’d be anything but a jungle. You could handle heat but not humidity.
When you first started using the pod, all eyes were on you. Mostly because it piqued the interest of the other tributes and you were sure they’d want to use it after you. It was filled with coarse sand first, cold but then gradually heating up. The pod went from room temperature to a scorching heat and you had to take your jacket off. The sand quickly morphed into liquid, and you were floating in the water. You weren’t much of a swimmer, so of course you panicked. The worst part came when the water evaporated and you stood on leaves while the air around you got humid. Your jacket was already off and you couldn’t get rid of any more layers. The simulation ended with the water turning into snow. When you were done you stepped out, already regretting having chosen it. You were however pushed back in by a trainer. The pod inhaled the sand, snow, and water particles, leaving you good as new.
Stepping out you’ve noticed the tributes lining up. In a weird way you could tell they were excited to try out capitol technology. Marvel was the first in line. He was surprised to see you walk out the door. He peeked his head in the pod before looking at you.
“Can’t swim?” He asked. You couldn't tell whether he was trying to make conversation or insult you. Saying nothing you walked past him.
Your mentors had instructed you to try to at least learn some lethal skills since trying to run wouldn’t always work. The weapons area was intimidating, but you had to at least try. There were spears, bow and arrows, knives, daggers, swords, axes, sickles. An array of weapons you didn’t know how to use.
You picked up a knife and examined it. A trainer looked ready to help you so you walked toward them. “I’m not sure what to do.”
“Why don’t you try with the dummy first?” They suggested.
Nodding you went over to one of the training dummies. You tried stabbing the knife into the wood. Your arm was a bit wobbly at first but you eventually got the hang of it. The trainer came over to help you out with a technique. After a half hour you were finally able to train with them. It was hard at first since you never really had to fight with anyone. You were skilled to an extent with a knife, but those skills were only permitted in the arena.
“Alright, why don’t you try the spears next?” The trainer pointed to where the said weapon lied.
Spears were a weird weapon to you. It was essentially an elongated knife mixed with a needle. You’d seen Marvel use these before. He was the only one who could effectively use one, so you’ve come to learn. Eventually the trainer got whisked away to help another tribute, leaving you alone. The metal felt heavy in your hands. You lifted the spear to poke the point, drawing blood from your finger. Hissing, you put the finger in your mouth, hoping that it wouldn’t bleed too much and cause a mess. As you approached a dummy you messed around with the weapon, hoping to find your grip. When you did you hit the dummy- lightly at first- deciding what the best way to weaken your opponent would be. Driving the point into the dummy’s stomach, you let out a sound as you tripped over your own feet, the force of your stab stronger than you anticipated.
“You know those are meant to be thrown too right?” Marvel appeared besides you, his hands on his hip as he observed your technique. “Give me that.” He took the spear out of your dry hands, immediately getting into a stance before throwing it at the dummy’s head.
Marvel turned to you and smiled, acting like a boy who had just made a basketball shot. Your mouth twitched as you forced yourself to keep a stoic expression. Your nerves were around the place but you didn’t need Marvel knowing that.
“Come on 10, it’s not that hard.” He said as he retrieved the spear. You could see his muscles when he grabbed the base of the spear, using force to get it out of the foam head he had stuck it through.
“(Y/n)?” Buckley called your name. You turned around and saw him on the opposite side of the room. He gave you the ‘you good?’ eyes. Dismissing him you turned back around to face Marvel who was examining the build of the spear.
“These things are wicked huh? I’ve never seen one this sleek.” He commented, running his hands over the metallic stick.
“The Capitol loves making things shiny.” Came your reply. Since your talk with Dolly, you’ve come to learn that being friendly with the careers might be your only way of not getting killed in the games, especially now that snow was on your case.
Marvel looked astounded that you even spoke. You’d kept quiet for the most part. Your comment made his smirk grow. Marvel handed the spear to you. It was only then that you noticed he smelled like cologne. It was sharp enough to give you a headache. It didn’t surprise you that he would take advantage of the Capitol’s amenities. He was from district one after all.
“Here, I’ll try again.” You got into a stance, “Can you show me how you get ready to throw?” Your voice sounded artificial. You knew he could tell you were acting differently. He raised an eyebrow but helped you anyways.
“You want to spread your feet. No-not like that.” He said as he tapped your leg to fix your stance. “Make sure you don’t poke your damn eye out.” Marvel warned as he fixed your arm. When he saw that you had perfected your stance he nodded. “Alright, that's a start. Go.” He ordered.
You mentally slapped yourself. You had made the spear go through the dummy’s neck- which was impressive, however you didn’t like the fact that you needed Marvel’s help in order to attain it.
“Look at that!” He shouted. Marvel looked proud, he wrapped an arm over your shoulder and you quickly stepped away from him. “Not bad.” He said still impressed by your work. “If it were up to me you’d be in our pack.” He joked.
“Are you serious?” Again, you never knew when he was lying.
“No. Of course not.” He said and walked away to bug some other poor tribute.
.
.
.
.
.
“You guys know what to do right?” Ramsey and Dolly stood by the door as they watched the district 9 tributes enter the waiting room.
“Show off?” Buckley answered.
“Exactly. You have fifteen minutes, so use them wisely.” Dolly looked nervous. You wondered if she was worried about you since you hadn’t shown as much skill as Buckley since you got here.
“If they get bored of you they’ll ask you to leave earlier, so don’t bore them.” Ramsey eyed the two of you. “I assume you’ll be showing off your throwing skills?” He turned to Ramsey. He shrugged, “I’m teetering between that and strength.”
“Remember, the higher you score, the more likely you are to get sponsors.” You could tell that was aimed towards you by the way Dolly intentionally faced Buckley.
It didn’t take a genius to piece together that you were the weak link in the district 10 team. A few other tributes made their way to the waiting room, leaving team 10 behind.
“Alright, well they’ll call you by your names. Good luck.” Dolly bid the two of you farewell as she and Ramsey turned to make their leave.
“They didn’t even ask you what you chose.” Buckley commented, sticking to your side as the doors to the waiting room opened.
If it weren’t for the fact that it was deadly quiet, you would’ve responded to him. Instead you sat down next to the district 9 and 11 tributes, sandwiched in the middle. The freckled girl looked at you, offering a scared look, the boy next to her looked frightened as well. You could tell they didn’t speak much by the way they weren’t facing each other. On the other side of Buckley sat a small girl with the curliest locks you’ve ever seen. You’ve seen her before, each time a sharp pain would reach your heart since she looked so young and innocent. The thought of her meeting her demise in the arena sickened you and you wished that she’d at least go peacefully. Next to her was Thresh. You knew his name since he was the biggest one here, everyone even Cato seemed to be wary of him. You even heard Pradain talk about how he’d probably be this year’s victor.
You hadn’t noticed how anxious Buckley was. In fact this was the first time you’ve noticed how much he bounced his leg and fiddled with his fingers. In your eyes he was the peace in all of this chaos, always finding a way to calm you down, even in the moments where the two of you faced the reality of possibly having to kill each other.
The nerves in your body were just as bad as his, but you fought to put a smile on his face, your hand going to his forearm as a way to reassure him. He nodded at your action, his bounces dying down. As you removed your hand you noticed the girl from 12 observing you. She had a blank expression on her face, and before you could return it the intercom went off.
“Marvel Sanford.”
Everyone’s attention was on him as he stood up.
“You got this Marvel.” Glimmer cheered him on, patting him on the back as he went to take his turn. He did a little pre-game jump before he disappeared into the other side.
One by one the tributes went, some of them taking longer than others. The careers took the longest, you assumed the game makers were infatuated with their natural-born skills. As it got closer to the lower districts, the tributes took less, some of them lasting not even 5 minutes. Soon enough it was Buckley’s turn.
“You’ll do great.” You didn’t know how well your words would encourage him, but you hoped he’d feel less anxious about the whole thing.
“Thanks.” He smiled, leaving you alone with the tributes from 11 and 12.
Once again quiet filled the room. You looked over at the tributes and observed them, making eye contact with the little girl. She looked away quickly before you could give her a smile. The baker from 12 also made eye contact with you. It lingered for a while, the two of you feeling a spark of similarity, it was like looking at a mirror. You recognized the look on his face.
“You had blood on your clothes when you got reaped.” The girl from 12 spoke up, probably noticing how long you had been staring at them.
Not sure if you should respond, you simply nodded.
The boy gave her a look but she ignored him, pressing on. “Why?”
The tributes from 11 were now also intrigued, Thresh turning to size you up.
“I-” Your voice came out crackled from the lack of speaking, “I was working in my reaping clothes.” You replied quietly as if you’d just gotten in trouble.
“Oh.” There was a lull and silence overtook the room once again. “You’re a butcher?”
You shrugged. You could tell why the baker looked like that, you assumed she was the more capable one from the two of them. She was his Buckley.
She left the conversation at that. You thought to yourself. Were people afraid of you? You hoped the Capitol didn’t paint you as some psychopath, although you’d take psycho over a ditzy cowgirl.
“(Y/N) Cuernos.” The speaker announced your turn. Buckley came back from the doors, his face red and misty from sweat. He gave you a look, a silent cheer as he left.
The training arena looked scarier when it was empty. All the weapons were lined up at the same point, tables with supplies were also lined up, the two opposite of eachother. Tributes got to choose what they wanted to show off, and it was between survival and combat skills.
The game makers were enjoying their drinks, laughing up there as if they didn’t have a job to do. Seneca Crane, a devilish looking man who happened to be the head game maker was causing a ruckus up there. His jokes seemed to have a chokehold on the men as they laughed their drinks down.
You had 15 minutes. 15 minutes to impress a group of drunk men who weren’t even paying attention to you. Immediately you looked for rope. There was no way you’d score high with a weapon. On the steel table there were about three piles of rope. It was dark and heavy, and unlike any you’d seen before. You struggled to pick them all up, but eventually hoisted them on your shoulder as you began to scurry around.
Memories were what you relied on as you quickly unraveled the rope, your hands working fast as you tied knots. Your mind went back to when you were young and working as a farmhand with Amaranto. The old man who you had worked for would always forget to close his gate right, causing all the livestock to scurry around. Even though you were small, you had a fire burning inside of you. Amaranto taught you how to make a lasso, more importantly he taught you how to rope in the livestock. On weekends you’d practice your lasso skills with him, trying to see who could bring down barrels full of sand the quickest.
Suddenly you were back home. The dummies in front of you were the frantic animals trying to run into the forbidden lands. You built up speed, spinning the lasso in different directions, the time showing as the first one immediately fell. Embarrassed, you looked over to the game makers and to your relief they still weren’t paying attention. You tried again, this time you had an idea of how to get it to work, the child in you peeking out as you managed to get the loop over a dummy’s head. Quickly with force you pulled it close to you, the dummy falling with a loud thud that echoed through the metallic room.
You took haste as you worked your muscles to bring it next to you. It was heavier than you anticipated, you groaned with every pull. The game makers were now watching you, curious as to what the hell you were doing. You didn’t stop there. Once it was close enough to you, you knelt down to tie it in a hogtie. It took longer than you remembered, and you were sure it was a weak tie. Immediately after you finished, you went to grab the other lasso, this time showing off since you knew they were watching you. Once again with full force you threw the rope over another dummy, repeating the process only this time quicker. Your third and Final attempt was faster, this time you took down two dummies at the same time.
By the time you were done the cheeks on your face had reddened, your hair was messy from wiping your forehead of sweat. When you looked back up the only audience you had were about four game makers, the rest of them going back to drinking. As you were dismissed you couldn’t help but feel impressed by yourself. You’d left the dummies on the ground, bound and tied. You only hoped you’d be able to do that in the arena.
When you arrived on your floor, Buckley was already in the shower. Dolly greeted you and sat you down.
“How’d it go?” Her bright eyes looked excited, hoping to hear something good.
“They were drunk, so I don’t think they were paying much attention, but good I hope.” Her face fell when you told her that.
“Those assholes.” She sneered.
“What did you end up doing?” She pressed on.
“Lasso tricks.” You should have worded it better, but you didn’t want her to be disappointed when they gave you a 4 for showing off the best ability you thought of at the time.
“Lasso tricks? That’s it? Like swinging around a rope?” She seemed surprised, irritated almost. “(Y/n), ya were supposed t’ show off dear.”
“I did.”
“S’pose that’ll feed into the whole act Snow’s got you doing.” She sighed.
“About that- Dolly.” There were a few questions you had in mind. “I don’t have to keep that up in the arena do I?”
She clicked her tongue, “Truth be told I think it depends. If the arena you get is western then yes, but either way I think you’ll have to keep it up until he shows interest in another tribute.” She warned. Interest in Snow was like a Lion being interested in a wounded gazelle.
“Dolly I don’t think I’m gonna win.” In your heart you knew it was true. No matter how many people wished for the odds to be in your favor, you knew you wouldn’t see home again.
“Don’t say-”
“No. I mean it.” Your mood had shifted immensely, and once again you were breaking down. The games were so close, the only thing left being the interviews before you met your eventual demise. “I have no skills, there’s about 9 tributes here who can kill me no problem, and probably more that are hiding the fact that they can kill me.” You choked trying to not ugly cry in front of your mentor.
“(Y/n)-” You cut her off again.
“I’ve got about three Careers who have it out for me only because I won’t be their little bitch, I don’t think I’d be able to kill Buckley if I win, and I’m weaker than I’ve ever been. I can’t even hold my own in combat.” You sniffed. Your eyes were hurting now, you’d been holding in your tears and they were starting to fall involuntarily. “I can’t do this.”
Dolly sighed, she rubbed your back. “Look- even if you don’t think you can, you have to try. You’re going to try. I am not going to let you go in there thinking you’re going to die. Alright? Me and Ramsey are gonna go around getting people to sponsor you. You just try to survive alright? Hide out just make sure the game makers don’t catch on, try to live until you’re the last one there. Most importantly put on a show.” She paused to wipe your tears away. “What do all of the Victors have in common?” She asked as you sniffled. “They all put on shows. And you-” She poked your chest. “You are going to put on the best one alright? That’s all they want.”
A good show. Show. To you it was life or death. To them you were entertainment. That’s why the crowd went wild when you rode the horse, why they cheered when the coal miners caught on fire, why they ogled over Glimmer’s looks.
Nodding you let yourself fall into Dolly’s arms. The lady was kind enough to hold you in her arms until you calmed down.
When it was time for the evaluations to be announced, all of you gathered in the lounging area. Pradain in his usual spot, sprawled on a couch, Sashay and the other stylish sitting in the loveseats spread around the room. Dolly, Buckley, Ramsey and you were on the main couch facing the giant screen.
“Good evening folks! I’m Caesar Flickerman live from the Capitol as we announce the 74th hunger game’s tribute evaluations!” He cheered, his white teeth contrasting his nearly orange skin. Claudias Templesmith introduced himself as well but everyone knew that Caesar was the star host.
“It’s starting, everybody shut up.” Rasmey announced as he turned the volume up.
“Here.” You had gotten a small cupcake for Buckley and yourself from the dining table.
“Thanks.” He took it and immediately swallowed it whole- or at least it looked that way.
“From district 1 Marvel! With a score of 9.” Buckley noticed you shift uncomfortably.
“Glimmer with a score of 9!” Of course they’d score high. It was just another day for them.
“From District 2, Cato with a score of.. 10!” The host said, his eyes wide. “Also from 2 Clove with a score of 10.”
“God damn.” Buckley said surprised. “She’s so tiny!”
The scores kept going, the lowest so far being a 3. You prayed that you’d at least get a 4.
You had held onto Dolly’s hand, your other hand in Buckley’s as you waited for your scores. Time felt so slow. The anticipation makes you want to go up to Caesar and just tell him to say it already.
“From district 10, Buckley Wheaton…” His grip tightened on your hand. “With a score of 9!” Everyone cheered. He shook your shoulders, happy with his score. You laughed with joy, however the room fell quiet again when your name was called.
“(Y/n) Cuernos…” You felt like throwing up, “with a score of 6!” Immediately you could feel the room’s mood change.
Dolly’s voice faltered, “Hey! That’s better than a 4! And above a 5! That’s good.” She tried to lift you up, but you sat there on the brink of another breakdown.
“Let’s hear it for our tributes!” Pradain smiled, lifting up a plate with shot glasses. He passed them around, offering one to you and Buckley as well.
“To (Y/n) and Buckley!” He announced, and everybody drank.
Your face scrunched up from the foreign taste, yet Buckley looked unphased.
The screen was still playing, and you could hear them announce the rest of the tributes. “From district 11 Thresh, with a 10!” He said happy to see another high score after an hour of low scores. “Rue with a score of 7.” You wondered what she had done to get a score so high. Your ego definitely was down after that, crushed even more by the fact a small 12 year old girl could score higher than you.
“From district 12 Peeta, with a score of 8.”
Everyone commented on how they didn’t expect him to be high up. However the most shocking score was yet to come.
“Katniss. With a score of… oh my- 11!” The collective gasp around the room was hilarious to you.
“Damn-” Buckley commented, “an 11? How is that even possible..”
“Heard from Effie that she stuck an arrow through an apple in a pig’s mouth, right at the game maker’s balcony.” Pradain giggled as he continued to sip on some champagne he had poured himself.
The girl who had asked you about your clothes, the one who you knew had something about her, had scored an 11. A sense of happiness washed over you as you knew that Cato was having a bitch fit right now.
After the evaluations were through, everyone returned to their own. Except for you and Buckley who were having a late night snack of cheese and fruit.
“What’s your strategy?” Buckley asked, the two of you alone in the lounging room.
“Hmm? What do you mean?” It didn’t strike you as something he’d bring up. Maybe he was trying to figure out if he had to protect you or not.
“Like other than survive.” He broke off a grape, sticking it into his mouth.
“I’m not sure. I was thinking of just trying to avoid the tributes, hopefully make an alliance with the girl from 5.” You shrugged. It was the truth. After today you knew that everyone would be out for Katniss, moreover, your low score either meant you were going to be killed first, or kept off the radar. “Dolly says I gotta keep up the cowgirl act in the arena.”
“Why the girl from 5? And what do you mean keep up the act? What act is there to keep up? Shouldn’t you be focused on surviving rather than keeping the president happy?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
“She seems smart. She knows how to keep a low profile anyways.” You shrugged. “I think keeping the president happy is what’ll keep me alive longer. What about you Buck, any strategies you’d like to share?”
“We can stick together.” He offered.
“Not happening.” He looked almost offended.
“Well why not?”
“Because, respectfully, I don’t want to be dead weight. You actually have a chance.” You’ve had this conversation before. It was always the same thing. He had a big heart, but there was no room for heart in the games.
“(y/n)-”
“What’s your strategy?” You hoped he would change the subject. He sighed, his big eyes falling to the ground.
“I guess just try to survive, not kill. I don’t know if I’d be able to kill anyone really.” There was sadness in his face. “I’m pretty big, so I guess I’ll have to try to not get killed by the Careers. I mean I’d want to have an alliance with Thresh but- I’m pretty sure he’s got a lone wolf thing going on.” He rambled on.
You smiled at him, “It’s gonna be hard to hide huh?”
He let out a breathy laugh, “Pretty much.”
____________________________________
Tags: @randomgurl2326
#fanfic#xreader#reader insert#x cato#cato hadley#the hunger games fanfiction#74th hunger games#the hunger games#katniss everdeen#marvel#romance#tribute#district 10#xtribute reader#peeta mellark#coriolanus snow#jack quaid#x reader
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Understimulated
WC: 2.4k
Fandom: Criminal Minds
A/N: So, I needed a distraction from the absolute rage I feel at SCOTUS' decision. Here's an autistic!reader fic. Every autistic person, including myself, is different, so if this doesn't capture your experience I'm sorry. This is just something I churned out so that I could combat the feelings of helplessness/hopelessness that I think a lot of Americans are experiencing today. Please take care of yourselves the best way you know how. Love you all.
The best way I could think to describe what it felt like to be understimulated was like there were thousands of bees buzzing just underneath my skin. Intensely uncomfortable. Making it next to impossible to sit still. Stimming - singing, moving, dancing, flapping, tapping, etc. - usually helped immensely when I was like this. Stimming was one of the only things that could get the “bees” to leave me the hell alone. The problem was, often I needed a specific type of stim, and my brain often had no desire to clue me in on the type of stimulation I needed to self-regulate. So I was left to cycle through every possible option until I found the one that felt right.
To complicate things further, we were on a case when this particular bout of under stimulation hit. The BAU had been called out to the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, Nebraska, where a serial kidnapper was abducting kids from the only public school within a 50 mile radius. You’d think that the limited pool of potential victims would make our jobs easier, but the locals and the police were being assholes. It took seven times as long to pry the relevant information out of the witnesses, and the whole team was feeling run down.
“It’s like pulling teeth,” Morgan complained as he made his way back into our dinky “conference room” the police had given us for a home base. Hotch looked up from where he was pouring over the cold cases that we believed were connected, a crease between his brows that only made itself known when he was frustrated but trying not to bring down morale. Morgan threw himself down into a chair next to Reid, who was diligently working out a geographic profile, absently rubbing at his temple like he had a headache.
“I would rather pull out my own teeth than go back inside that interview room,” Emily whined.
My eyes widened, but Reid muttered, “That’s sarcasm,” to me without stopping his scribbling.
Oh. That made a lot more sense. Still, now I had the lovely image of Emily pulling out her teeth in my brain. I drew my shoulders up to my ears and rubbed at my eyes, trying to bleach my imagination of the visual.
“I’ll swap jobs with you,” I offered, humming after I finished to keep the sensation of sound in my throat. A few of the bees flew away.
“You will not,” Hotch said tonelessly. “Not upset,” he added more quietly, when he realized I was trying to parse out his level of irritability.
Sometimes it was nice to be known so completely by my team. Other times it was a fucking drag. I decided this time was nice, the straightforwardness of his communication outweighing the fact that it kind of made me feel like a baby. I knew that was my own ableism that I had internalized throughout a lifetime of being autistic.
“Sorry, Em,” I muttered, mustering an expression that I hoped conveyed a sufficient degree of apologetic-ness, glancing back down at the files in front of me. My heart seemed like it was beating faster than it really should have been given that I was sitting down. My legs bounced, a vain attempt to try and gain control over this feeling that I knew too well. I could power through. I could make it through this afternoon and then find a place to reorient myself. Somewhere private. Not surrounded by the people I respected probably more than anyone else on the planet.
I started tapping the pads of my fingers on my thighs, reaching toward some invisible piano keys for the beginning of “Green Green Dress,” my latest hyperfixation song. Focus, focus, focus, I chanted in my head, enjoying the repetition. Until I realized I was focused on the word focus, and not on the files in front of me. I hissed out a frustrated breath between my teeth, giving my head a quick shake.
“Ok?” Spencer asked, glancing sidelong at me.
“Mhm,” I hummed, humming again immediately after, chasing the comforting sensation.
“You’re humming,” Morgan pointed out, drawing the rest of the team’s attention towards me and my vocal stim.
I gritted my teeth. “I know that,” I snapped, before closing my eyes. I could still feel everyone’s eyes on me, which wasn’t helping with the bee situation. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to snap.”
“You’re allowed to stim here, L/N,” Hotch said, flipping to a new file.
“Yes sir,” I said, my face warming. It was still strange to me when people talked directly about my autism, instead of the elaborate “dancing around what we’re actually talking about” thing that most neurotypicals did. I turned back to my files, hoping that the rest of the team would take that as a signal that the conversation was over.
No such luck.
“When was the last time you took a break?” Spencer spun towards me in his swivel chair.
I bit my tongue. Then stopped, grabbing a piece of gum and shoving it into my mouth to redirect the harmful stim. The gum felt Wrong. I wished it was my tongue. “When was the last time any of us took a break?” I evaded the question, running a hand through my hair. Then I had to shake out my hand, since that felt even more Wrong than the gum in my mouth.
“You’ve cycled through six different stims since the start of this conversation,” Spencer pointed out.
“And I’m sure I’ll cycle through even more once this conversation is over,” I said, barely keeping the irritation out of my voice. “Which I would prefer to be right now.”
That wasn’t fair. The bees weren’t Spencer’s fault. I hummed, louder than before.
“Well, I feel like I’m just about at my limit,” Morgan said, getting up from the table. “Reid, Y/N, want to take a lap with me?”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Spencer said, shooting a pointed look in my direction before jumping out of his chair.
Like I said. I can’t decide whether being known so well was something I loved or hated. Still, I looked toward Hotch, waiting to make sure I had permission.
“Go ahead,” Hotch said, standing up himself. I’m pretty sure he was only making a show of taking a break so that I would take one, but honestly I was too preoccupied by the bees to really care.
I stood up on legs that felt more like a Barbie doll’s than actual human flesh. I tried to hit the feeling back into them but stopped at Spencer’s pointed look. Instead I stumbled to where Morgan held open the door, spit my gum into the trash can, and walked out into the main office.
Which was worse. Like, a lot worse. I froze, glancing at the boys, praying they knew what I was trying to say before I had to try and form the words. Luckily, they’re profilers, so Spencer stepped in front of me and walked forward, clearing a path in the crowded precinct as Morgan firmly grabbed my shoulders and steered me out of the building behind Reid.
Outside was better. I took a deep inhale of the cool fall air and tried to concentrate on the feeling of warm sun on my face.
Still wasn’t enough. I stiffened, my body needed to stim but my brain was too overwhelmed to know which one to try next. The bees reached a horrible, bone-rattling crescendo.
“Ok, what do you need?” Morgan asked calmly as the doors shut behind us, removing his hands from my shoulders. A distressed hum flew out from the back of my throat at the loss of pressure, and I started bouncing on my toes.
“Is this a meltdown?” Spencer asked, knowing I liked yes or no questions during a meltdown.
I hummed, shaking my head. Then I clicked my tongue three times. “Understimulated,” I answered.
Morgan tilted his head at Reid, asking a silent question.
“Understimulation happens in an autistic person when there isn’t enough sensory input to satisfy their needs,” Reid explained.
“Bees,” I nodded, knowing that it wouldn’t make sense to them but enjoying the long “e” sound anyway. I whispered the word twice more, still bouncing, clenching my fists, but it wasn’t Right.
“Y/N, what do you need?” Morgan asked again.
“Don’t know,” I half-sobbed, “Everything feels wrong.”
“Okay, okay,” Reid said soothingly. “We’re going to help, Y/N. Were Morgan’s hands on your shoulders better or worse?”
“Better,” I gasped.
Immediately, Morgan’s hands were back on my shoulders, squeezing. I stopped bouncing and hissed out a sigh.
“More? Please, more pressure?” I asked, my head a little clearer with Morgan’s grounding hands on my shoulders. “I’m not going to break,” I added.
“Whatever you need,” Morgan promised, wrapping his arms around me from behind, placing his chin on my left shoulder, and squeezing harder. Reid grabbed both of my hands in his and squeezed too. Immediately, it felt a thousand times easier to breathe. More of the bees dispersed. Still though, I needed something else. If only I could fucking figure out what that was.
Then Morgan rubbed his arms up and down my sides, and I jumped, a ticklish smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“Sorry,” Morgan apologized, interpreting my jump as displeasure. He stopped his hands.
“No,” I said immediately. The brief zap of ticklish electricity through my body felt good. I wanted to chase the feeling.
Derek went to let go, thinking I was saying no to the pressure, so I let go of Spencer’s hands to grab Derek’s arms, keeping them around me.
Too underwhelmed to feel embarrassed, I guided his hands back to my sides. Spencer tilted his head to the left, processing. I said nothing, relying on the resident genius to figure out what I needed.
“Y/N, do you want us to tickle you?” He asked, a half smile creeping onto his features.
I took a minute to think. Did I want them to tickle me? Slowly, I nodded.
“Really? You sure?” Spencer prodded.
“I’ll try anything,” I reassured them both.
“Tell us to stop and we will,” Morgan promised after a pause, hesitantly flexing his fingers against my sides.
I hummed out a giggle. Relaxing the slightest bit.
Spencer observed the two of us for a second, making sure I really was ok with the objectively strange turn of events. Apparently he saw what he needed on my face, because a second later he was pinching up my ribs, his fingers surprisingly dexterous and very tickly.
“Ohohoho gohohohod,” I snickered.
“Still ok?” Morgan asked. Such a gentleman.
“Yehehehes,” I answered, closing my eyes against Spencer’s grin before opening them back up and ducking my head. “You cahahan dohoho mohohore.”
“This might be easier if you told us where you were most ticklish, Y/N,” Spencer said, the teasy implications not masked even a little by his matter-of-fact tone.
“Dohohon’t reheheMEMBER,” I squealed out as Spencer moved down to my hips. It was true. I couldn’t remember the last time someone tickled me.
“That’s ok,” Morgan said mischievously. “Makes it more fun for us, at least.”
“Fuhuhuhuhck OHOHOHOHFF MORGAN,” I descended into laughter as he spidered one hand over my belly.
“That’s not very nice,” he teased. “We’re doing you a favor.”
“Really, though, this makes a lot of sense,” Reid said. “Tickling is a quick and easy way to stimulate the nervous system. It’s quite logical that it would combat understimulation,” He spoke casually, as if he wasn’t absolutely wrecking my shit. He suddenly stopped, and I looked up in confusion.
I was met with the most wicked grin I’d ever seen him wear. “I wonder if there’s been any research done on the subject.” He dug into my hips with a gusto that was, quite frankly, very rude.
I yelped, my face burning. Apparently I was now able to feel all of the embarrassment I should have felt earlier.
Sensing the change in my demeanor, Morgan spoke up. “Really, Y/N, this is too cute. You’re much too serious anyway. None of us laugh enough on this job.”
“Yohohhohou voluntehehering to be thehehe next vihihihictim?” I sassed back, warmth blooming in my chest at his jesting reassurance. Feeling brave, I reached behind me and blindly prodded at Morgan’s torso.
I was rewarded with a yelp that he tried to disguise as a cough. “Hell no. I have two sisters, I’ve been tickle tortured enough in my life.”
“Benefits of being an only child,” Reid grinned.
There was a brief lapse in conversation, my laughter keeping us from complete silence. Reid kept traveling his fingers up and down my ribs. The higher he went, the more I involuntarily pressed my arms to my sides.
Reid looked thoughtful for a moment. “Morgan, I have a theory. Keep her still. I’m 89% sure she’s going to drop if you don’t hold her up.” And with no more fanfare, he wormed his fingers into my underarms.
Listen, I’m a realist. I know that the sound I made would best be described as a shriek. But that didn’t mean I had to like it (I did).
“REHEHEHEHEID,” I cackled as my legs annoyingly buckled under me, proving him right. “PLEHEHEHEASE.”
“That’s not a ‘stop’,” Morgan noted. I could hear the smile in his voice. He had stopped tickling me, probably for the best. Reid alone was awful.
Absolutely insufferable, these two. I loved them.
“How’re you doing, Y/N? Still understimulated?” Reid asked, not teasing this time, letting up a bit so that I could answer.
I paused and took stock of my body. The bees were almost entirely gone. “Ohohone more minute,” I said. “Thehehehen I’ll be goohohohod.”
“You wish is my command,” Spencer said dramatically before vibrating his hands in that devastating space at the tops of my ribs.
“SHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT,” I screamed. It was overwhelming in the best way. I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe. It was exactly what I needed.
Reid could see when I’d had enough. He stopped and rubbed his hands over my sides, firm enough not to tickle. He and Morgan both waited patiently while I came down from my giggle-high.
Like I said. Absolutely insufferable.
“Yohohou’re my favorite people,” I mumbled, turning in Morgan’s arms to hide my face against his chest.
He ruffled my hair, and I barely even cared. “You’re our favorite too, kid,” Morgan said, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of my head. Spencer hummed in agreement, rubbing his hand up and down my back.
I took a deep breath and stepped back from the embrace. The bees were gone. I smiled, finally finally I could attack this case with a clear head. I flapped my hands happily.
“Ready to go back?” Reid asked.
“Hell yeah,” I said. “Let’s go solve this fucking case.”
#tickle fic#criminal minds fic#derek morgan#spencer reid#autistic!reader#writing this was theraputic#made me feel a little bit less like society is crumbling around me#tickling#tfb community
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