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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days

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Hi! Can i request for reader x batboys where they’re dating but reader doesn’t know they’re vigilantes. One day they ( as vigilantes) flirt with her then reader tells them that she’s happily taken. Thank you!

I’m only doing dick and Jason cuz my brain doesn’t know what to put for Tim or Damian. And this is probably a boat load of words that make no fucking sense when reading it, so I apologise.

Jason

‘You look lost sweetheart.’ You heard from above you only to see the silhouette of the vigilante red hood.

‘I can assure you I’m not.’ You replied straightforward, wanting nothing more to get home and cuddle up to Jason in your shared bed, after all it had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood to be chatted up by anyone, you were loyal to Jason no matter what.

‘I’m only trying to help.’ Red Hood tells you as he dropped down from the roof and landed safely in front of you before standing up to his full height.

‘I understand that but when you added sweetheart I’m naturally going to assume you’re attempting to hit on me.’ You said with your arms crossed over your chest. ‘I’m more than happily taken by the sweetheart man I’ve ever known.’ You added as a boast because it was more than the truth, and you could spend the entire week talking about how much better Jason was then any other man in existence.

Jason could feel his heart melt when you said that and was half tempted to rip his helmet off to kiss you senselessly, but he decided to be cheeky and milk this for all it’s worth if it meant hearing you speak about him in high praise. ‘Oh yeah? Does he treat you right?’ He asked as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, reading himself to hear whatever you had to say.

‘He treats me as though I made the stars in the sky and looks at me like I did too,’ you began smiling as you remembered the fondness in Jason’s eyes whenever you did something mundane, ‘I could just be standing there in a plain shirt and a pair of his boxers, looking like absolute shit but he would still tell me I looked stunning.’ You added as you felt the smile stretch further across your lips.

God you loved that teddy bear of a man so much you didn’t know where to put it most of the time.

You noticed that Red Hood didn’t say anything but that was because beneath the helmet Jason was fighting through urge to hold you in arms and never let you go, smother your face in kisses because of how fucking cute you were being without trying, however he knew that he better get back home before you did if he ever wants to do any of that and so he clears his throat and says. ‘It’s good that he does treat you like that, you deserve it more than you know, I bet he’d be devastated if something were to happen to you, go to war even.’

You furrowed your brows as Red Hoods words before shrugging. ‘I mean…yeah I guess, he’d do anything to get me back. I hear him whispering it when he thinks I’m asleep.’ You add as you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante but decided to brush it off when you checked the time on your phone and winced. ‘I should get going and I’m sure you-‘ you went to look over to where you saw the vigilante last, only to be greeted with the sight of nothing. ‘-do too…’ you trailed off before shrugging your shoulders and continuing on your way home.

Unaware of the fact that Jason was still watching you from the rooftops above, knowing damn well that he would indeed go to war for you, his beloved little chipmunk.

Dick

‘What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this? It’s dangerous you know.’ Nightwing practically purred.

‘I’ve walked through here multiple times before and I can tell you it’s safer than most in Gotham.’ You told him, crossing your arms, unamused.

Nightwing raised his hands in defence. ‘Just trying to look out for a cutie like you is all, no need to bite my head off.’ Dick had a feeling that something might happen on your walk home tonight and decided to keep constant tabs on you the entire night as Nightwing. He could tell you were tired and just outright done with everything but he’d rather you be safe on your journey home than not, regardless of how safe your route home was.

‘I’m pretty sure there’s other people you could be saving instead of flirting with me. I’m taken for your information, and happily so by the most prettiest and albeit goofiest man alive.’ You told him with a smile as your mind drifted to imagining Dick sitting in your shared bed with Hayley in his sleepwear, snoring loudly despite trying to stay up for your return.

‘Pretty? How so?’ Nightwing asked as he eagerly leant in forward to hear you. Dick just wanted an excuse to hear you gush about him without knowing that he was right in front of you.

You sighed at the aspect of having to spend even more time with a vigilante that seemingly didn’t take the hint. ‘He’s got a smile that could light up an entire city for future generations, a laugh so pretty and addicting that you’d be more then willing to make yourself look like an idiot just to hear it again, and he’s got a beautiful set of eyes that you could get lost in no matter what because they’re just so…enriched in colour.’ You finished, the image of Dick’s gorgeous eyes embedded into your mind that left you feeling seen and loved.

Dick couldn’t help but smile at your words, not knowing what to expect when he asked you about how pretty he was, now that he had he could feel a burst of warmth within his chest that now encased his entire body. You were too sweet and kind for your own good and Dick just wanted to keep you safe from everything that Gotham represented, whether it was out of his innate selfishness to keep you for himself, to keep a bright light of his own in a twin as dark and depressing as Gotham he wasn’t sure but all he knew was that he wanted to keep you in his life as long as he possibly could.

‘Sounds like you love him very much.’ He says after a brief period of silence.

‘I’m more than anything.’ You replied without hesitation. Your hand reaching into your coat pocket, thumb caressing the cute charm Dick had bought you to add onto your keys, it helped you calm down in certain situations because it meant that no matter how far apart you may seem you still had a piece of Dick close by. ‘Which is why I really want to get home, so I can see him and our darling dog Hayley.’ You add with a smile when the blue staffy came to mind.

Dick remember where Hayley was before he left to watch over you, fast asleep on your side of the bed, which meant that when you came home you’d have to cuddle up to him as it was proven difficult to wake Hayley up when she had made herself comfortable. However if this meant that Dick got the chance to hold you close to his chest, he’d gladly let Hayley sleep on your side of the bed more often, and he did on multiple occasions.

‘Then I best let you go, don’t wanna keep either of them waiting.’ Nightwing said and you couldn’t help but feel ecstatic at the thought of finally getting to go home to your little makeshift family. You didn’t know how much longer you were willing to stand there when you knew Hayley was waiting for you impatiently with a boat load of face licks with your name on it.

‘That’s probably for the best because both of them can tend to get a little whiny when I’m even a second late.’ You laughed to yourself as dick couldn’t help but internally pout at this, he didn’t get whiny when you were late did he? He pushed this thought aside and smiled as he watched you walk away, keeping his eyes on your for a couple seconds longer to make sure you were okay, before realising that he should better beat you home before you find him not there in bed and quickly rushed up to the rooftops and ran like his life depended on it.

He wanted to keep his secret safe for a little while longer before admitting everything to you just yet.

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ktgoodmorning · 1 day

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Tough conversations

Pina x Putellas!Reader

Pt.2 to Keeping Secrets

R and Alexia both have lots of feelings to figure out, Pina just has to try her best to keep things calm

Masterlist

After your fight with Alexia over your tongue piercing, you had been somewhat on edge every time you were around her. If she was that upset over something so small, something that didn’t even impact her, you didn’t want to imagine her reaction when she learned you’d been lying to her about your love life for months. It didn’t help that she saw your girlfriend as a younger sister as well, and even though Claudia continuously told you not to worry about it, you were absolutely terrified that your secret would ruin their relationship too. You knew the longer it went on, it would only get worse, but the mere thought of telling Alexia made you want to throw up.

“You’ve been tossing and turning for the last forty minutes, what’s up?” Claudia’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You let out a heavy sigh before rolling to face her. Your girlfriend had her head propped up on her hand to look at you.

“Lo siento, mi amor,” you leaned over to leave a soft kiss on her cheek, “I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m just thinking. Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, I was already up.” She pushed some hair off your forehead while you just looked up at her, admiring her soft smile and the way it made her dimples appear. “Talk to me, mi Vida. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, it’s not a big deal.” Your voice trailed off, not wanting to burden her with your worries. Both of you had made the decision together to keep your relationship quiet but even so, you didn’t want her to feel like it was her fault you were stressed about it. “Let’s just go to sleep, come on.” You rolled onto your side and grabbed her hand in an attempt to pull her with you but you were met with resistance.

“No, hey, come on. Talk to me.” Your girlfriend pulled her hand away and brought you back to look at her.

“Clau, I’m just nervous about Alexia. The longer we keep this from her, the more it’s gonna upset her.” You buried your face in your hands in frustration. It killed you just thinking about it. “She’s gonna hate me.”

Her hand ran over your arm softly, drawing shapes across your skin to get your attention. “She won’t hate you, amor. Will she be upset? Yeah, probably. But she’s also your sister, and there’s no way she could ever hate you. Alexia loves you so much more than you even realize.”

“I don’t know…”

“And that’s okay. You don’t have to know. But I do. She loves you, and so do I. Neither of those will change when she finds out. Whenever and however we decide to tell her, she will get over it and she will still love you.” Maybe it was just your lack of sleep, but your girlfriend spoke with so much conviction that it was hard not to believe her. She could read from your silence that her words had started to sink in. “Come on, you need some sleep, we have to be up early. I’ll hold you.”

Claudia, rolled onto her back and opened her arms to you, which you happily fell into, immediately settling into her side. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you, mi Vida and it will all work out, I promise.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed against her skin tiredly, “I love you, Claudia.” The mix between her words and your exhaustion helped you finally drift off to sleep.

Claudia was right, you would figure it out, it just would be at a later time. That was a future-you problem. For now you’d just stay here, snuggled up with the love of your life for as long as you could.

…..

You didn’t realize it, but your attempt to put off talking to your sister had resulted in you inadvertently avoiding her. It wasn’t intentional, not at all. It just made it easier to avoid the entire situation. The less you saw Alexia, the easier it was to keep your secret from her. However it was less easy when you constantly saw her at training, and in your family group chat, and in literally every other aspect of your life.

“I assume you’re coming over for dinner, Hermana?” She had all but cornered you in the locker room after training, but the question couldn’t have been more casual. It wasn’t unusual for you to join Alexia and Olga for dinner, especially after long days of training. Your sister knew you had no interest in cooking so it was her way of keeping you from filling up on fast food and frozen pizza. But fortunately for you, she wasn’t the only one trying to take care of you lately. And even though you were notorious for your horrible cooking, you were happy to have your girlfriend come help you with it.

“Actually, Ale… I have plans already.” you knew it was likely to raise some questions but you couldn’t think of an excuse quickly enough.

You watched as her smile turned to a slight smirk, and gave you an understanding nod. “Doing something with that secret friend of yours, hmm?” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t get why you can’t just mind your own business, Alexia.”

“Well I don’t get why you just avoided my question.” She was obviously right, you were hiding things from her, but you weren’t about to crack now, especially with half the team still in the room.

You did your best to hide the blush you knew was growing on your face. “If you want to know the truth, I’m cooking dinner myself tonight. I’ve been planning it all week, and I just really want to try it out.” It was half true. You just would have company while you did it, but your sister didn’t need to know that.

The statement earned you a scoff from everyone who had heard it, everyone except your girlfriend who was now trying to hide a blush of her own. “Okay we all know that’s a lie. You would’ve been better off just telling us about this secret girlfriend of yours.” Patri gave you a playful look from across the room while you and Claudia shared a quick look of panic that you hoped nobody would notice.

“There’s no secret girlfriend! Do you see what you started, Ale?! Why can’t you all just drop it?”

If you weren’t pissed off before, you certainly were now, angrily grabbing your bag and leaving the room to head home. At this point you were just glad Alexia had waited until you were done for the day and ready to leave before starting this.

“Hey,” You were stopped by Alexia’s hand on your shoulder, turning you around, “calm down, we were just joking, it’s not a big deal.” Her voice had returned to the soft, calming one you were used to, that had comforted you since you were kids.

Despite her effort to make amends with you, all you could do was cross your arms over your chest defensively. “Clearly it’s a big deal to you considering you constantly bring it up in front of everyone.”

“Hermana, I’m sorry, okay? I think it’s great that you found somebody! It’s just weird that you’re being so secretive with me.”

“Alexia, how do you still not get this? You aren’t my mother, and even if you were, I’m still an adult and I have no obligation to tell you every detail of my life.”

You sister hoped you hadn’t noticed the look of hurt that flashed across her face. “I know you aren’t obligated to but there’s a pep in your step these days, don’t you think? I think it’s great! You look so much happier lately and I just want to be able to meet the person who’s responsible for that.”

You dragged your hands over your face in frustration. How could she still not let it go? “Alexia! I already told you, I have nothing to tell you, yet you keep insisting! Why can’t you get it through your thick fucking skull, that I don’t want to talk about it?” The harshness of your words left her speechless in a way you rarely saw. You knew you shouldn’t have said it, but you just didn’t understand why she continued to push you on the topic.

Her voice was suddenly much louder, deciding to match your outburst, “because I fucking care about you!”

“Well I didn’t ask you to!”

“Hermana, seriously!? I don’t even know what to say to you right now. If you’re asking me to stop caring about you, it’s not going to happen.” She started to take a few steps back to head towards her car, still holding eye contact with you. “If you want dinner tonight, you’re always welcome, you know where to find us and if you ever want to bring someone with you, we’d love to have them too.”

You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh, feet frozen to the ground, as you tried not to picture how hurt your sister looked.

Your thoughts were interrupted by voices bursting through the locker room doors, unaware of what had just happened between you and Alexia. Somehow the words you heard from them might have been worse than your own conversation you had just had.

“We know you’re together, Pina! It was pretty clear based on the way you went whiter than a sheet the second I made a joke about her dating someone. I just don't get why she wants to hide you so bad.”

You could’ve thrown up when you heard it. How was this all unraveling right before your eyes? All three of them froze when they looked up and realized you were standing there, paralyzed in fear.

“(Y/n), I didn’t realize you were still here, I didn’t mean it like that,” you were met with Patri and Cata trying desperately to do some damage control with your girlfriend standing next to them looking about the same as you did in that moment.

“You can’t tell Alexia.” Your voice was somewhat distant, still zoned out thinking about the ramifications of what all was going on right now. “I don’t care that you know, you can feel however you want about it, but you’ve gotta keep it quiet, Alexia will seriously kill both of us and I can’t deal with that right now, so you cannot say a word, do you understand that?”

Patri held her hands up as if to surrender, “I won’t say anything, don’t worry. I just think you’ve gotta be careful. I’ve known your sister a long time and the longer you put it off, the worse she's gonna react.”

You deflated slightly at her words, you already knew this and you were tired of everyone telling you what to do. “Patri, I think I’ve known my sister longer than you have. I already know that. We’re fucked no matter when I tell her, I know. I don’t need the reminder.”

You were surprised when Patri engulfed you in a big hug and whispered some words of comfort in your ear. “Hey, it’s gonna be alright. I really like the idea of the two of you together. It’s obvious you’re really happy and I support you one hundred percent. I just want you to be careful.” She stepped back to address both you and Claudia who seemed to have snapped out of the daze she had been stuck in. “And if either of you hurt each other, I will literally kill you. You are both far too good of people and I will personally lose it if you do something to hurt each other.”

There seemed to be a weight lifted off both you and your girlfriend’s shoulders upon hearing her approval. As much as you didn’t love more people knowing about the two of you, it felt good to have someone say they approved of your relationship. It was also nice to have more friends that you didn’t have to be quite so careful around.

“Gracias, Patri, we appreciate it. More than you know.” The rarely serious moment between the two friends was quickly interrupted by Cata, speaking up.

“You two dating is gonna be crazyyy. Pina, you are already a handful. Together, you guys are insufferable. You know everyone’s gonna lose their minds if you ever tell them, right?”

The entire group broke out into laughter while you gave her a playful shove and started making your way out of the building. The tension had seemed to disappear as you were all back to your usual laughing and joking around with each other as you got to your cars. You had of course earned yourself some extra teasing from Cata when Claudia opened the door to your passenger seat to join you on your way home for dinner together. “Don’t forget to use protection!” She shot you a wink as you all got into your cars, responding only with a middle finger in her direction.

…..

The drive home was slightly quieter than normal, but you didn’t notice, you were too busy thinking about everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes. You just didn’t know what you were supposed to do. Up until Alexia started her prodding at you, you and Claudia had been perfectly happy doing things on your own, with nobody’s opinions involved. You remained in a bit of a daze even as you arrived home and started taking out the ingredients you needed for dinner, only stopping when Claudia placed a hand on your shoulder and gently turned you to face her.

“Mi Vida, what’s wrong? You’re being too quiet.” her hands were slung around the back of your neck, playing with the baby hairs that didn’t make it in your ponytail while looking deeply into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Clau,” your eyes dropped to the floor. “I just- is it bad that we’re doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Keeping this from everyone. My family’s all going to be pissed when they find out we’ve been hiding this, Alexia especially. But even you! I know that it’s gotta be killing you to keep this from your sister. And I keep thinking about what Patri said. I’m not trying to hide you and I don’t want you to think that I am. I just wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t hid all this.”

If the defeat you were feeling wasn’t clear in your voice, the direct eye contact with your shoes definitely was, but your girlfriend couldn’t watch you continue to beat yourself up over it.

“Hey,” she brought her finger under your chin to make you meet her gaze. “I told you this yesterday and it’s still true, it’s gonna be okay. If you feel like you want to tell her, or anybody else for that matter, you absolutely can, I won’t stop you. But remember, this is something we decided together. I know you’re not trying to hide me. Are there times I wish I could show everyone how happy you make me? Sure. But I also kind of like that no one knows about us. But we don't have to do this if you don’t want to, whenever you’re ready, I will back you up one hundred percent.” She punctuated her words with a short peck before trying to figure out if her words had sunk in at all.

“Did you know you’re the best, Clau?”

“Hmm yeah, I think I’ve heard that before.” She gave you a playful shrug while she pulled you in for a tight hug. “But I’m serious, amor, it’ll be okay. You don’t have to know anything right now, but maybe just think on it.”

You gave her a smile as she pulled away to look at you again. “Now let’s get your mind off everything, and make some dinner, yes?”

Your agreement was clear as you turned to start on the food, allowing her to put on some music. “I made us a new playlist, it’s all songs that reminded me of you or of our relationship.”

You leaned over to kiss the side of her head while you waited for the stove to heat up. “Once again, you’re perfect, Clau.”

“I don’t know about that, but I do love you and I don’t trust your cooking skills so please move over.” She flashed you one of her cocky smiles as you stepped aside to pour each of you a drink.

As time went on, you quickly forgot about your inner turmoil, too engulfed in the quality time you finally got to share with your girlfriend. The evening quickly turned into you dancing and singing along with her, keeping her entertained and hydrated while she made your dinner. Even though everyone knew you couldn’t cook, you could still bake, so you got busy making a batch of cookies to have as dessert. The season was coming to an end, so you figured a sweet treat couldn’t hurt too much.

While you both waited for the food to finish, you made your way back together to dance along to the music. Your hands found her waist as you gently swayed, her head lying on your shoulder for you to hold her close. The other problems in your lives ceased to exist when you had each other like this. "I could do this forever, Clau."

"What, cook?"

"No, you idiot,” you lightly smacked her shoulder, “I meant dancing with you." you both broke into a fit of giggles that ended with her peppering short kisses all over your face and anywhere else she could reach. You took her jaw in your hand to hold her still for a moment, much more serious than you had been a second before. “You know, I think it’s been long enough for my tongue piercing to heal, if you know what I mean?”

The classic smirk that you knew so well grew on her face, “Hmm I know exactly what you mean.” Claudia wasted no time finding your hips and pulling you in for the exact kiss you’d been missing so much over the last couple weeks.

The kiss instantly became heated. You’d both been so starved for each other while you waited for your piercing to heal that you couldn’t hold back anymore. You pushed your tongue into her mouth, her immediate groan reminding you of the new jewelry in it. Claudia’s hold on your waist tightened and pulled you as close as physically possible. Just when she moved her mouth to trace along your jawline, you were interrupted by the timer that signaled the completion of your dinner.

Your girlfriend threw her head back in agony at the sound. “HOW!? How does this always happen?” She moved to get the food from the stove while you both tried to calm yourselves down, laughing slightly at her reaction.

“Will you come taste this and see what you think?” You placed your hand on the small of her back as she held the spoon up to you.

As soon as you tried it, you were amazed that you were lucky enough to have a girlfriend that could make food that good. “Clau, it’s literally perfect.” Her face quite literally lit up at your words and she practically jumped up and down at your approval.

.....

As perfect as your dinner together was, you had a hard time ignoring the thoughts that were nagging in the back of your mind. You just couldn’t get the picture of your sister’s face out of your head. When she left training, she looked so disappointed in you, so hurt. The more you tried to ignore it, the less you could enjoy your time with your girlfriend. You were becoming more and more distracted the longer you avoided it.

“Hey,” you were broken from your thoughts by Claudia reaching for your hand across the table. “You’re still thinking about your sister. If you need to go talk to her, do it. Whatever you want to tell her, I support you completely.”

Her words made you melt, just as they always did. “Thank you, Clau. I still don’t want to tell her, I think I just need to make sure we’re okay. Maybe bring her some of those cookies or something. I just need to make sure she’s not still mad at me.”

“You go, I’ll clean up here.”

“Are you sure? I know it probably ruins the mood and everything- me leaving to go fight with my sister- but I won’t be long, I promise.”

“Amor, you need to go talk to her. It’s not like I’m suddenly not gonna be into you just cause you leave for a bit.” Her smirk grew once again which only served to make you smile.

“How could I forget, you’re literally always horny aren’t you?”

“It's not that I'm horny all the time, it’s that you’re sexy all the time.”

You left a kiss on the top of her head before arranging some of your cookies on a plate to bring with you. “I won’t be long, I promise, wish me luck!”

“Hey! Before you go, want the last bite?” She held her spoon up to you, something she often did, letting you finish the food. “You’ll be fine, amor, she loves you and so do I!”

And with that, you were off to face your Alexia.

…..

You were lucky the drive to Alexia’s was short as you were hardly paying attention at all. Even though you weren’t planning on telling her about your relationship, you were still worried about your conversation from earlier. If the look on her face earlier told you anything, this wasn’t gonna be easy. You were just hoping that the cookies and last couple hours of space would help her settle down.

When you reached up to ring the doorbell on Alexia’s apartment, your hand was slightly shaking, fingernails destroyed from your incessant biting at them throughout the day. Olga opened the door almost immediately and greeted you with a sympathetic smile. “Hola, hermana. Alexia’s out on the balcony.” The older woman knew exactly why you were there, your sister had surely filled her in on the events from the day, or at least her version of the events. She quickly stepped aside to allow you to make your way to the balcony, hesitantly sliding open the glass door.

“Hola.” The blonde’s head snapped up from her book as soon as you spoke, surprised by how shaky your voice was.

“Hola.” There was an uncomfortable silence between you which you chose to fill by holding the plate towards her. She softened as soon as she saw what was in your hands. Sweets had always been the way to your heart and even though it never worked quite as well on her, it meant a lot that you made the attempt. “Come sit,” she tapped the seat next to her for you to join her.

You sat down next to her with a sigh, “Ale, I just wanted to make sure we’re okay. I still don’t want to talk about my love life at the moment, but I didn’t like how we left things after training.”

“Of course we’re okay, you’re still my sister.”

“Does it help that I made some cookies as a peace offering?” you pushed the plate towards her again but not before taking one for yourself first. You were surprised to see her take one without any extra convincing as she was normally much stricter on her diet than you ever were.

“Oh my god, did you actually make these?” your sister looked shocked.

“Yeah, why? I thought they turned out okay, do you not like them?”

No, no!” she shook her head rapidly. “They’re amazing! I just can’t believe you made these. Usually we all have to make treats for you, since when do you make your own?”

You shook your head at her with a light chuckle, “I grew up, remember Ale?”

There was a quiet pause for a moment while she took in your words, suddenly much more serious than it was moments before when she grabbed a cookie. The blonde let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I guess you did. I think maybe I need to be better at remembering that sometimes.” she refused to meet your eyes and was clearly pretty torn up about it.

“Ale, I’m still your little sister, I just need you to remember that I’m also an adult now and I have my own life.” You reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Alexia scooted over to be closer to you, laying her head on your shoulder. It was her way of surrendering, telling you she’d try. You both knew she didn’t have the words to figure out what to say, but that small action was all you needed.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she finally spoke up again. “I know you’re with someone, Hermana, and I know you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t have to, just let me talk for a minute.” You gave her hand another squeeze as a sign that she could continue. “You don’t have to tell me about it, I just want to know that you can always tell me anything. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll always be here. I won’t laugh at you, or judge you, or be mad at you, or anything else. I will always listen, and that’s a promise.”

The two of you talked for a little while longer, mostly just football and family gossip, nothing of much importance. It seemed you had returned back to your usual relationship. Obviously there was still quite a secret you were keeping from her, but neither of you were actively angry with each other like you had been before. It was a step in the right direction.

Although once you got back to your car to drive home, you returned to your previous state of worries. You couldn’t decide if her words made you feel better, or just more guilty, but at the very least, you were glad to know she wasn’t mad at you. Even though she said otherwise, you weren’t convinced that she wouldn’t be pissed when you told her the truth. You returned to your previous thoughts of how and when you would break the news to her but every possible scenario seemed worse than the next. As far as you could think, there was no good thing that could come from your situation, and you just prayed that somehow you would make it out with both your family and relationship intact, because the idea of losing either, was simply unimaginable at this point.

Masterlist

I feel like I kinda hate this? idk? I kinda hate everything I write lately, so any feedback is sooooo appreciated. Let me know what you think! Planning on 1-2 more parts of this one, any ideas are very much welcome.

Sorry I've taken FOREVER to get any content out lately, something about this universe also just feels like it takes more brain power. I always love any feedback and requests :)

#barcelona femeni #woso imagines #barca femeni #woso x reader #fcb femini #woso imagine #espwnt #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #claudia pina #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingclaudia #sefutbol fem

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junovrsmp4 · 2 days

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one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

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The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

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Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

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Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

#junovrs writes #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader

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sunshineandspencer · 9 hours

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Friendly face (Part 3)

A/N: I know I said I always succumb to peer pressure, but that did not need to be tested. Also if I did a Hotch(or Spencer) taglist, would anyone be interested, also.. how do you do a taglist?? I may be 20 and from the UK, but I have only been using tumblr for about two months, I’m learning (slowly).

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Receptionist!Reader.

Summary: Little does the team know, their little receptionist and their Unit Chief had been closer for a lot longer than any of them knew. And while he’s brilliant at hiding it, she is now.

Word Count: 825

Warnings: please, stop requesting the fluff it hurts my little heart

part 1! and 2!!

Honestly, she could come to work with a massive neon sign floating above her head saying ‘stupidly in love with Aaron Hotchner’ and it would have probably the same effect as she normally does to him.

While he goes through the rules, needing to check about whether their relationship - yes, relationship - was actually legal, they needed to keep it secret.

A serious conversation they’d had over dinner well over six months ago, one that she’d seem to conveniently forget whenever they were actually in the office together. Thankfully that isn’t very often, unless he’s personally asked for files she stays by her desk.

Sometimes, he will admit, he requests reports just to get her into the office, but not very often.

However, it seemed to have been just often enough for his coworkers - Emily, mostly - to realise. From there, and after getting everyone else to join her, they were trying to find exactly how much the pair actually cared for each other.

Crowding together at the round table, quickly giving everything they’d noticed before Hotch arrived.

Emily starts, grinning at both Morgan and Spencer, nothing better than a bit of office gossip.

“So, she doesn’t hide anything. But, we’re all well aware that he sometimes uses excuses to get her into his office. But I noticed that she always leaves post-it notes on the files that she does give him, and they do look sickeningly sweet. It’s hard to believe Hotch actually likes that.”

Spencer chimes in, wringing his fingers lightly. He loves gossip as much as the next person, but the receptionist is a sweetheart and treats him so kindly, plus he doesn’t really believe in talking about other people’s business.

However, he’s invested in her happiness, and knows that there’s more to the pair than meets the eye.

“Well.. he smiles at her, more than I’ve ever really seen. And he does things for her that he wouldn’t do for anyone else. He helped her set up her desk and made sure she settled properly with the team.. plus Penelope found the paperwork and he requested her to be moved up.”

“What?! She didn’t tell me that!” Morgan looked pretty dejected, and Emily could only pat his back apologetically. But as much as they want to say that Morgan is her favourite, Spencer is everyone’s favourite.

He just shrugged, and Morgan kept talking, needing to add in what he’d seen - and profiled - about the two of them.

“Whatever. We’ve all seen how smitten Jack is with her, kid practically has hearts coming from his eyes. And I heard them talking about her having stayed over on the weekend. And we all see the way Hotch is with the two of them, it’s like the past decade of the job lifts off him.”

They all eventually came to the agreement that they believed that Hotch and their receptionist were together, and they needed to know more. The achilles heel of most profilers, the desire for gossip whenever they can get it.

Hearing footsteps approaching, they quickly nominated Spencer to ask Hotch, panicking the younger agent as he spluttered over his words.

As Hotch stepped through, with her following close behind, files in her hands as she waited for Hotch to take them. Waving to the rest of the team happily, very grateful the images weren’t on screen yet. Emily booted Spencer under the table and he jolted, getting Hotch’s attention.

“Hotch!” His voice cracked, how cute. “I uh- we, we wondered if you and uhm.. if you two--”

Christ, she wanted to take pity on the poor boy, looking up at Aaron. Thankfully he seemed amused rather than irritated that they’d worked it out. Looks like they got their answers on whether or not the relationship was allowed.

He nodded at her softly and she grinned, leaning up to peck his lips quickly, stuffing the files into his hands.

“Let me know if you take the case?”

“I’ll text you.”

Grinning, she winked at Spencer, which earned her a warning “sweetheart”, which only fed into her giddiness now that they didn’t have to hide it. Loving the surprised looks on their faces, even though Morgan was definitely acting as if he knew the whole time. Exactly as Aaron said he would, god she loves that he knows them so well.

“Stay safe you lot. Bring my boyfriend home safe or I’ll hunt you down!”

As she walked out of the briefing room, she smacked Aaron’s ass and scampered off giggling, being followed with his scolding voice.

“Dove.”

Eventually, he had to turn back around to his grinning teammates - bar a very embarrassed Spencer who now avoided his boss’ gaze - he sunk into his chair. Waiting for whichever one was going to say something first.

Emily, of course, was the one to speak up first, looking at him all innocently as if she didn’t know damn well what she was doing.

“Dove~?”

“Don’t push it.”

Want more?! Good!

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner

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acourtoflight · 3 days

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big rant incoming <3

being on acotar tiktok comes with dealing with delusional people who are also trying to gaslight you.

the fact that people still believe gwyn is gonna have a book is crazy to me, especially before elain. the fact that people believe sjm is gonna have a man choose is crazy.

let’s address all their arguments one by one, shall we?

1. “elriel is too obvious/cliché”. this makes me laugh because do you even know what you’re reading? romantasy is always cliché. and also, everyone finding their mate and living happily ever after wouldn’t be too obvious or cliché? what stakes would they have? they have no obstacles, that book would be finished in 100 pages unless she made the romance a subplot, which we know won’t happen.

2. “lulu deserves happiness”. okay i’m gonna be real biased here. i don’t care about lucien’s happiness. i don’t care. the only thing i want is for elain to get the man she actually likes, which happens to be azriel. also, if lucien has been through so much so has azriel yet i don’t see all that coddling for him. lucien fans sound like boy obsessed moms and i’m tired of it. you 36! i would loveeee to know what lucien has done to have so many fans.

also, if i entertain the possibility of elucien happening, i will not forgive sjm for making elain “come around” after she repeated non-stop how uncomfortable she is around lucien. she’s not a consolation prize for him, sorry.

another thing. every plot point i have read for an elucien book revolves around lucien, not elain. but then they will turn around and tell you we are the ones who don’t care about elain. that we only want azriel smut. lol first of all, if we only wanted azriel smut we would have no reason to ship him with elain, we could have shipped gwynriel. but we don’t because the smut is not the only thing we want. the only thing we have had for years were the cute/sweet moments, and it’s all we talk about still. so point invalid, once again. next.

3. “azriel only feels lust for elain!”. stop lying. i know you can’t be that stupid. i know you have read the whole series just like me. what kind of man stares at ibuprofen every night for over a year if he’s only looking to get laid? what kind of man questions fate if he only wants to get laid? what kind of man risks dying alone just to rescue her if he’s only looking to get laid? what kind of man goes out of his way to pick a necklace that represents her if he’s only looking to get laid? cry all you want but we all know azriel is a good male and you would rather destroy his character in your head than accept it.

also, if azriel is so bad, why would you ship him with gwyn? she won’t fix him. and the poor girl hasn’t even shown interest in him yet here we are.

4. “elain gave truthteller and the necklace back”. she gave back truthteller because it wasn’t hers, and azriel would need it again because he actually makes use of it. she gave the necklace back because she thought azriel didn’t like her, she thought she had read everything wrong, not because she was the one rejecting him. she gave the necklace back just like nesta didn’t even accept cassian’s gift.

5. “azriel’s shadows don’t like elain”. that’s another big fat lie. i know we all have eyes and have read the same words on paper, let’s not act stupid, okay? shadows swarming him means he’s either mad, uncomfortable, or something is troubling him. so if we know that why would the shadows disappearing be a bad thing? he certainly doesn’t seem worried about it. not to mention those same shadows were like snakes preparing to strike when nesta insulted elain.

6. “feysand and nessian didn’t like each other at first either”. LIE. feyre literally called rhys the most beautiful man she had ever seen and nesta and cassian were attracted to each other from the first moment they met, and we know that because it’s in the actual book! elain and lucien are nothing like that, they have no chemistry for the pov to change all of a sudden, they are uncomfortable around each other because the mate bond basically feels like a curse.

that’s it for now.

#elriel #pro elriel #pro elain #elriel endgame #pro azriel #i thought it was obvious #anti el*cien #anti g*ynriel

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ilovelovewithallmyheart · 2 days

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PR STUNT - Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: After crashing the Met Gala, publicist Y/n set her celebrity client Gojo Satoru on a charming PR stunt with the daughter of the CEO of a fashion brand to patch things up. Uncooperative, Y/n has to step in and pretend to be her in a romantic photoshoot.

Word count: 1.1k of pure comedy and fluff.

-------

“Okay now hold hands.”

His hands met the clammy palms of Ms Beaumont’s and Satoru positively wanted to die.

I’m too rich to be forced to do this, Satoru mentally groaned.

He was a poor tortured soul, forced to enter into a publicity stunt after he accidentally crashed the met gala.

“I didn’t mean to show up drunk and half naked!” He wailed.

Y/n, his publicist of five years, was giving him hell.

You were absolutely done with his shenanigans. You and his pr team decided to force him through an eight month long publicity stunt with the daughter of a major fashion brand.

“It’s to make people think that you appreciate and respect the fashion industry.” You explained, giving him a seething glare. He pouted. “I do appreciate the fashion industry! Whatever I wear, I still look hot!”

You stared at him, unblinking, wondering how in the world you ended up with such a client.

Leaving the room with laptop in hand and much needed coffee in the other, he called out in a hurry. “Everyone thought that showing up shirtless was a stylistic choice!”

So there you guys were. You were overseeing a very fake looking photoshoot in which Satoru and Ms Beaumont were strolling through central park, looking very much in love.

Well, Satoru kept refusing to even touch Ms Beaumont, and Ms Beaumont was glued to her phone screen.

“Okay, this isn’t working.” The photographer was pissed. You all were - you were only keeping it together because Ms Beaumont and Satoru had enough money combined to buy a country. The photographer sat Ms Beaumont down on a bench and cornered her, while a makeup artist was touching up Satoru.

“I need you to look at Satoru like he is the best thing you’ve ever seen.” The photographer said. He was basically talking to a brick wall - she was scrolling through instagram. “He isn’t though.” She monotoned, bored out of her mind. “Well I need you to pretend that he is!”

She stopped scrolling and looked up at the photographer like he was the dumbest person alive.

He paused, stepped away for a second, and breathed deep and hard to calm himself down. When he returned, his mouth was pinched and he was borderline crying. “Look, just picture something you love the most, or something that makes you extremely happy. Then picture it pasted onto Satoru’s face. Can you do that?”

He was speaking to her like she was a child. She nodded, yawned, then commented several fire emojis under a shirtless man’s post.

“Don’t do that.” The photographer had tears streaming down his cheeks now. He shook his head. “You’re in love with Satoru. You can’t be-“ He snatched the phone off of Ms Beaumont aggresively - “commenting on other men’s posts.”

Take two was going well. The photographer’s advice was working wonders - Ms Beaumont was actually smiling and looking at Satoru happily (miracle!) and Satoru was holding her hand! (he looked a little frightened, nothing photoshop can’t fix).

The photographer was taking fake paparazzi photos of the two of them. They were taking a casual stroll, and the photographer was taking shots in rapid procession to make it look candid and organic.

Big mistake - he captured the progression of the most funniest thing you had ever seen in your life.

All of a sudden, Ms Beaumont reached up, grasped a clump of Satoru’s white hair, and yanked it as hard as possible towards her.

“OOW!” He yelped.

“GET HER AWAY FROM ME!” He RAN behind the production crew and hid behind his manager, actual TEARS in his eyes. “SHE’S A PSYCHO!”

“Why would you do that?” The photographer screeched.

She shrugged and grabbed her phone out of her bag. “You told me to imagine he was something I loved. When I see a birkin bag, I want to grab it.”

Legal action.

Satoru was threatening legal action.

As his publicist, a law suit is just about the worst thing that he could do.

Drunkenly crashing the met gala shirtless and then filing a lawsuit against his alleged girlfriend all in one month is enough to send you into cardiac arrest.

The sun was setting fast. Golden hour was rapidly approaching. Ms Beaumont won’t be in New York City for the next two months - you needed to get those photos.

You took out your phone to check your emails. Dazedly scrolling through sponsorship opportunities, hate mail and fashion companies wanting to sue Satoru, the photographer suddenly placed his palm on your shoulder.

“You know, when you’re bent over your screen like that you remind me a lot of Ms Beaumont.”

You paused. “..Thank you.”

He earnestly nodded. “You have the same hair colour and height. Good camera angles and a little bit of touching up is all you need to look like her.”

“What?”

He sighed, exasperated. “Look at her.”

Ms Beaumont was taking selfies of her outfit.

“This isn’t working. They have no chemistry and they’re scattered across the globe half the time. Why don’t you just pretend to be her? You resemble her a lot now that I think about it.”

oh no.

Your feet were shoved into heels. You hair was quickly straightened. Your entire outfit was worth more than everything you earned in the past two years.

And Satoru’s arm was firmly fastened around your waist.

He got over the whole hair grabbing ordeal suspiciously quickly, cheering up exponentially when he was told that you were replacing Ms Beaumont. He practically skipped back into position.

You were positioned away from the camera so that it wasn’t obvious that you weren’t Ms Beaumont. Your face was, essentially, stuffed into Satoru’s chest.

Against the hollow click - click of the camera’s shutter, Satoru warmly chuckled. He inclined his head downward, his forehead touching yours rather intimately.

“YES!” The photographer squealed.

“You feel stiff.” He whispered, voice low in the limited space between your lips.

He wrapped his other arm around your waist and gently guided you into a more relaxed position. “That’s better.” He smiled, thickly lashed eyelids slightly lowering. His blue eyes hungrily scanned your eyes, then your cheeks, then your lips.

You were getting madly sweaty.

“Am I making you nervous?” He teased.

Yes, yes you are.

“No.”

You looked away.

“You only make me nervous when you do stupid stuff in public.” You scolded.

He chuckled again and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him only. “I should do stupid stuff more often.”

“What?” You hissed.

He laughed harder, more…affectionately?

“I get to spend more time with you when I do.”

You flashbacked to the long, long night of scoldings you gave him at the office the night after the met gala incident.

The sound of the camera stopped, and the photographer looked faint with relief.

“That’s a wrap!” He cried.

Reluctantly, Satoru let go of your face, the memory of your eyes and lips still engrained in his mind.

He watched you scurry off red faced with a smile and a wild, erratic beating in his heart that he hoped you couldn’t feel.

The next eight months didn’t seem so terrible after all.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk oneshot

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mykoreanlove · 1 day

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Minho 😥

„Where is y/n?“, Minho asked impatiently.

„Oh, I just texted her. She was on a date but now is on her way.“

The bar was crowded with young, good looking people but none of them captured Minho‘s attention like you did. Ever since you showed up in Seoul he was a mess, an utterly self-sabotaging mess.

„Hey guys“, you cheered in happily, taking the empty seat next to Minho.

„Whoa, you look amazing. That was an important date, huh?“

You tilted your head to the side and smirked at your friend.

„Wouldn’t you like to know?“

You took a sip of his beer and spilled the tea, happily letting them know of your whereabouts these past hours.

„So yeah, I went on a date.“

You didn’t notice Minho‘s sharp inhale or the death stares he pointed at his blue drink.

„So? What is he like? Is he Korean?“

„Yeah, he is. He’s amazing really. Funny, smart, super sweet to me. He is very handsome and has such a sexy body..“, you teased.

„Where did you meet?“

„Oh, at the dance school. Remember how I started taking classes there? Yeah, we met there. And you know me, I’m a slut for men who can dance.“

„Why don’t you date Minho then? He’s an ace in dance.“, your friend suggested.

You felt the tight knot in your stomach again, the one you always felt after the one time you shared with Minho.

„Guys, come on. Minho doesn’t like me like that, ha!“, you tried to play it off coolly.

„As if! I’ve seen him pouting for the past hour ever since I mentioned that you went on a date.“

Minho‘s head jerked up suddenly, the death stares were now aimed at his friend.

You felt the confusion again, you never really knew where you stood with him. You arrived in Seoul weeks ago and met him on the first night and still, you had no idea if he liked you at all.

This had to stop.

You turned around to face him.

„Can we talk outside?“

Minho got off his chair, reluctantly, and followed you outside.

„Min, what are they talking about?“

Finally, he looked at you with a pained expression on his face.

„I don’t know, they’re probably just fucking around.“

„So, you don’t have a problem with me dating other guys?“

„Why would I have a problem with the foreigner dating others?“

His tone was cold, utterly indifferent.

„Yeah, okay.“, you turned around annoyed and walked back in.

It took him a couple of seconds to realize that he messed up again, but as soon as reality hit him, Minho raced after you.

„Y/N, wait.“, he huffed out.

„I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.“

„I just don’t get you!“, you said agitated. „For real, Minho, I don’t expect anything from you but honesty. Can you be real for a second?“

He looked down, not saying a word.

„I didn’t plan liking you and I didn’t plan hooking up with you the first night here but it kind of happened. I did plan the second time however because I wanted to get to know you. And somehow I thought you liked me, too. Remember how you wanted to take me out on a date to actually talk in daylight without ripping our clothes off? Remember how you brought that up twice but it never happened? I guess I was just another foreigner hook up to you.“

Getting that off your chest felt good. Even though it was painful, you felt proud of voicing yourself.

„You are anything but y/n.“

He suddenly looked up at you, tears in his eyes.

„I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I just.. I kind of planned the first time because I knew that I liked you the second I saw you. You are so amazing, really. And I meant every word I said about wanting to get to know you, it’s just.. I told you how I got cheated on three times and I told you how badly I suffered the last time. I can’t risk that again.“

You took a stop closer to him but he stopped you.

„No wait, let me talk first. Every time I see you I get all giddy and happy and want to be with you in every way possible. I picture us walking along the Han river, going on coffee dates and you wearing my stüssy shirts. I really fucking want that. But when I’m alone again I get so overwhelmed, so crippled with the fear that everything is going to end badly again.“

„Min, I’m not like your ex girlfriends.“

„I know but even if you don’t cheat on me this will have an expiration date. What about when you have to go back? What then?“

You took a deep breath, feeling so much compassion for this little idiot.

„Min, I left my real life, I put it on hold for six months to come to Korea, a country that I have visited once before and whose language I barely speak. Do you really think I wouldn’t take a risk for love?“

Minho‘s eyes were glistening with expectation.

„Have you ever wondered if I would come back? Or you’d get sick of Korea and would come to Europe? Or we’d leave everything behind and go to California?“

He shook his head silently.

Now you walked up to him and grabbed his hands.

„I can’t promise you that this will work out. Maybe you’ll get sick of me or I’ll get sick of you or something else comes up. And I understand you’re afraid, I am, too. But I promise I will do my best to keep your heart safe with me. You just have to open up to me, Min. Can you open up to us?“

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wheezingstar · 2 days

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I had another take for this story of hiding König’s daughter from him!

König and you were happily engaged when you found you were pregnant you didn’t tell König and you left him from feeling like if he knew it’d be over anyway.

It’s a few years later, your daughter is three and you’ve been hiding her from him. You’re on a stroll holding her hand as you walk, carrying her whenever she gets tired when you run into this brick wall… König.

He looks down at you and his eyes widen, he isn’t wearing his mask. His long brown slightly wavy/curly hair on his shoulders, his slight stubble and scars and crooked nose from it being broken and never healing correctly staring at you. “Where have you been?”

It sounded more like a command to know than a question. “I…. Uhm” you don’t get an answer before he notices your daughter Esther. “Whose kid is that?” Is his next question and you gulp before muttering the word “yours”

He takes a moment to process it, he’s rigid and clearly a bit pissed. “Is that why you left? Because you were pregnant with my baby.” You nod, sheepish and nervous from his angry tone

“I was scared if I told you… you’d leave anyway. You said you never wanted kids-“ he cuts you off and cups your face gently but also a bit tightly, “why in the hell would I leave you because you’re pregnant with my child? How stupid do you have to be to think that?” You’re a bit taken aback by his harsh words, tears coming to your eyes, a small apology escaping your lips.

He becomes a bit more gentle from seeing the tears and the fear. It wasn’t that König ever hurt you, but after so long you know he might’ve changed. Instead, he holds you against him tightly before kneeling down and looking at the toddler; she lights up and smiles and says a small ‘hi’

Since then you guys started seeing each other more often, getting closer again and starting over. So close in fact you get engaged to him again and didn’t plan on running this time. Esther had a father, You have a loving fiancé, soon to be husband and he has a loving fiancé soon to be wife.

#call of duty #call of duty headcanons #wheezing star brainrot #konig cod #konig fluff #konig x reader #afab gender neutral reader #afab reader #call of duty konig #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig headcanons

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thedelicatearcher · 2 days

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couldn't stop thinking about braiding finnick's hair after this ask, so i wrote this!

finnick odair lets you braid his hair

after the rebellion, finnick let his hair grow out. his once short and always-stylized hair was replaced by a beautiful long golden mane that cascaded over his shoulders. at first, he didn’t think much about his hair, neglecting it and just letting it grow. but after noticing it getting damaged and constantly tangled in knots, you decided to intervene.

after preparing some homemade remedies to help restore his hair’s health, you headed to his home and sat him down to work with him. “don’t fall asleep on me, odair,” you scolded him with a playful tone as you massaged his scalp and hair with warm coconut oil. “mm,” he grumbled, almost succumbing into the arms of morpheus, “just keep doing your magic.”

as you waited for an hour for the oil to work before you had to rinse it out, you talked to him about some grooming habits he needed to adopt. “i’m going to forget them, sweetheart,” he told you sincerely, “you know i’ve never been good at routines.” looking at him, even in this state, was entrancing. his hair was up and covered in the white liquid, he was only wearing his cotton deep blue shorts, and he was looking at you with a sweet, shy smile. ever since the rebellion ended, the look in his eyes had gotten softer, more relaxed. “i can help you with that,” you blurted out, too bewitched by his green eyes to care if it was extra work for you. anything related to finnick would never be a burden for you.

rinsing his hair was relaxing for both finnick and you. the warm water traveling through his scalp made him let out a quiet sigh, and the gentle touch of your fingers in his hair was making him drowsy.

you loved brushing finnick’s hair, cherishing that you were one of the few people finnick trusted so dearly to let you do it. it was always challenging to avoid pulling his hair during the nights he invited you over, as several knots and tangles had formed from spending most of his day helping rebuild the district and fishing to sell at the market. however, you were always gentle, careful to not inflict any pain on him.

at times, he would let you braid his hair or put it in pigtails, sitting on your bed as you managed his golden locks with experienced hands. when he went out, he happily showed off his hairstyle to everyone he encountered, proudly telling them you had styled it. when you braid it, he loves to joke around, grabbing branches that resembled a bow and an arrow. “watch me, i’m the girl on fire,” he would say as he shoots an arrow into the sky. he loves having the same hairstyle as you, playfully warning you that someone might confuse you with him. he absolutely hates ponytails, he feels his face is being pulled back and he gets in a bad mood.

#i need to braid his hair i need to have matching hair ties with him #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #thg #the hunger games #i think here is very obvious that english it's not my first language i didn't know what other word to use instead of hairstyle and style

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pizzapottah · 15 hours

Text

homecoming

summary: it's been almost three years. can james make up for the lost time?

pairing: james potter x slytherin!slughorn!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 5.4k

warnings: language, injuries, the marauders' usual stupidity....

author's note: oof. this was a whole lot of work. i know this was supposed to be much longer, but there's a specific part (the one about james and reader getting together) that i just could not manage to finish. this can count as last chapter, but if i manage i will finish the other about them being in love and blah blah blah. unfortunately i am in a terrible writer's block so i don't know when or if i'll be able to finish it.

as always, my requests are open, so please feel free to request anything. bridgerton, hotd, got, hp, pjo.... ANYTHING. please help me get out of this writer's block lol. enjoy the reading even if i'm not really satisfied with it and, as always, english is not my first language, so constructive criticism is pleasantly accepted.

runaway | homecoming

James is utterly, unmistakably and without any doubt going to fail Potions.

It’s not his fault - not really. He doesn’t actually like Potions. He took the class, even after fifth year, for two reasons: his father and Lily Evans. The latter is the same reason why, right now, he’s failing it.

Fleamont, his father and a renowed potionist, looked so happy when James passed with the grades needed to take the class for the last two years. He didn’t actually think of taking it, but he looked at him like he expected him to do it and- it’s not like his parents ever forced him to do something he didn’t want to, but he was just so happy. James told himself that he could take Potions for just two more years if it meant them being so proud about it.

Besides, there was Lily Evans in the class. How could he deny himself of even more hours spent in her presence?

Well, guess what? Slughorn doesn’t grade based on who stares the longest time at Lily, apparently.

James stares at the burning red T on the parchment of his assignment. Troll. Until now, he thought that this achievement wasn’t within his reach, both because the grade Troll always sounds like an urban legend when other people talk about it and because he never had anything under Acceptable in his assignments. When Sirius hears about this, I’ll never hear the end of it. He didn’t even think Slughorn was able to put less than A, always too kind to his students.

“Man, what did you do to get Troll?” Marlene whispers beside him, frowning at his paper. James peeks at her test; a green O stands in the same place where his T is. “I suck at Potions, Potter, suck. And my dad surely didn’t invent the Sleekeazy’s Hair potion, so, tell me, did you do it on purpose? There’s no other reasonable explanation.”

The bell rings; the students immediately get up, happily chatting about the good grades that apparently everyone but him got, and James finds himself putting away his things without the usual vigor, already dreading the time when his friends will inevitably find out. Slughorn approaches him, taking pity for a boy which he saw grow up.

“Potter, it’s not the end of the world, don’t worry.” he tries to reassure, but his eyes say something else. They say ‘How the hell did you manage to take a T in my class?’ “I’m, erm, I’m sure you’ll be able to get better.” he looks at Lily, on the other side of the class, like he’s trying desperately to help him. “Evans, maybe you could give him some lessons?”

Lily sends an apologetic look at the professor, then a glare at James. “Sorry, professor. I would, but not for him.” She bids him goodbye and exits the class, Snape right after her. As Slughorn turns again to look at his students, he’s clearly concerned. “Merlin, Potter. What did you do to get Evans to hate you?”

He dramatically sighs. “I don’t know, professor. If you happen to find out, please let me know.”

The man sighs, taking out a napkin from his pocket and gently patting his forehead. “You have to get better, Potter. If you fail as a student, that means I fail as a teacher, too. Godric… this is the first Troll of my career. What will your dad think of me if you fail my class?”

James isn’t sure he wants to know. He’s never disappointed his parents before. “We have to find you a tutor, Potter, and a good one. I can’t give you extra lessons, I’m already busy enough as I am…” Yes, with the Slug Club, James almost replies; but then Slughorn looks like he just had the idea of the century.

“But of course!” he exclaims, happy to have found a solution. “My granddaughter!” he says your name, and James suddenly feels like a soldier being sent back to war. “She’s a year younger, but she knows everything, you see, I made sure of it… she’s more understanding of this subject than some licensed potionists out there, she could help you a lot, yes, yes… and you were friends, am I wrong? Good, good, she already knows you, I’m sure she won’t refuse…”

James is actually sure you will refuse.

Why? Because the last time you ever talked to each other, it ended up with a broken arm, a broken nose and two bruised egos. And even if technically, it wasn’t his fault, it doesn’t mean that your friendship magically mended itself over the years.

You two never interacted at school after what Remus calls The Accident, not really - the only form of contact you’d had was from Quidditch, where you were both playing as Chasers in your respective Houses, and more often than not during games happened to hit each other in a not-so-fair way. More than often professor McGonagall herself had to reprove him - and not only him, but Sirius too - for playing an unfair game. And when they tried to protest, saying that you surely weren’t innocent either, she just huffed.

“Miss Slughorn is not my responsibility; she’s professor Slughorn’s, and I’m sure he will make her understand her mistakes and she will not try again. But it is my duty to punish you for your deplorable behavior and lack of sporting spirit!”

It seems like McGonagall’s reprimanding did little, because Quidditch games become carnages.

It feels like Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry is at its peak, and suddenly the violence reaches the school, too, and hallways are no longer safe from the squabbles of the students. Students who hang each other upside down and constantly cause fights to break out, ruining the usual peace of Hogwarts.

It looks like the teachers aren't really sure how to handle it. Dumbledore gives a long, heartbreaking speech about friendship, loyalty and helping each other, but it doesn't help much; a search for whoever told Dumbledore about the fights is started between the Houses, with the intention of… well, not making them say anything about it next time.

It honestly feels like war. Even Hufflepuffs start to attack to avoid being attacked - that's what happens when you constantly get picked on because you don't defend yourself, you guess.

Nobody is safe, but it's like between Gryffindor and Slytherin there's a feud. It was always there, ever since Godric and Salazar created their Houses, but it's getting out of hand.

The straw that breaks the camel's back is the last game of the year, fought between those two Houses.

In the first ten minutes, already three players were on the ground and wailing in pain. After a threat to disqualify anyone who dared to cheat from Madame Hooch, the game went on without much problems for a while; that was until James saw the golden snitch. Because apparently, you saw it too.

You both launch at the snitch, who keeps flying, unbothered, and even if you want to make James fall off the broom in the most violent way possible, you're able to hold yourself back. You follow the snitch, almost shoulder to shoulder, hands stretched out to catch the little flying bead.

A quaffle almost cuts your heads off. Thrown off balance, James falters for a moment, slowing down, and gives you some advantage; you clearly see the snitch going under the stands of Ravenclaw, creating a hole in the big banners of the House. You don’t really have time to think - you just go for it.

You speed towards the banner and tear an ever bigger rip on the poor Ravenclaw flag. James is fast to get back on your tail, though, barely dodging the wood beams that are holding together the structure. And suddenly you’re shoulder to shoulder again - for real, this time - pushing each other. Hooch can’t see what you’re doing, anyways.

It takes a moment to adjust to the lack of good lighting, but then you see it: the golden snitch, speeding right in front of you, blinking in the little light, almost mocking you. You hold your hand in front of you, and already can imagine the victory - oh, suck it, Gryffindors-

The snitch takes an abrupt turn, hitting James right on the nose, knocking him out and making him fall from the broom. Except, before he actually falls off, he manages to take a hold of the cloak of your uniform, taking you down with him.

Meanwhile, Madame Hooch notices that not only one, but both Chasers just disappeared in thin air. “Black!” she yells, not really thinking about the fact that there’s two Black in the pitch right now, “Go and tell them to get out from under the stands, dear Merlin…”

Regulus and Sirius speed at the same time towards the rip on the banner, which now is basically a full-on opening to under the stands, clanking shoulders in the process.

You don't think you've ever felt pain like this before. Your left arm is throbbing, feeling like it’s going to fall off any minute now, and your head has never hurt so much since you can remember. A sob falls out of your lips before you can hold it in, and suddenly you’re crying out in pain, not really knowing what to do. James is hovering over you the second you start sobbing, worried as you’ve never seen him, taking a hold of your face as gently as he can. Blood is gushing out of his nose, going over his chin and staining both your uniforms. His glasses lay somewhere near, surely broken.

“What hurts? Is it- oh dear Merlin, your arm, it’s-” well, if not even James, who suffered countless Quidditch injuries over the years, can describe the condition of your arm, then it’s probably not something you’d ever wish upon your worst enemy.

You try to regain your self-control, even if your sight is blurry from the tears and your voice feels like it’s gone. Then, before you can try to say anything, yells come from the direction in which you both just came.

“I told you, she was looking at me!”

“Yeah, dumbass, like we weren’t side to side when she yelled our surname!”

“Aren’t you tired of always following me? It’s a miracle you didn’t convince the Hat to put you in Gryffindor, you little rat-”

“Oh, so I’m a rat? What about your friend that literally turns into one?” “I see Snivellus has filled you in with the details-”

“You know, it’s pretty given since one of your friends could possibly hurt us just because the moon is big-”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt a fly, you little shi-”

They both come to a stop once they see you two, looking like a living crime scene, but even then they don’t really stop arguing - they never will, probably. Regulus is by your side in a moment, pushing away James, all the while screaming at his brother. “Why do you always have to be like this? Can’t you just shut up for once, you son of a-” “We’ve got the same parents, dipshit!”

“No we don’t! According to your words, you found me in a dumpster, remember?”

Sirius winces. For what is maybe the first time in years, he looks sorry. “Aw, c’mon now. You know I was kidding.”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but you didn’t tell that to the Gryffindors that started teasing me about it, nor did you try to correct them.” Regulus stares at your arm, who is in an unnatural position, and starts asserting the damage. “Merlin. Can you get up on your own? C’mon, I’ll help you,”

He helps you get up and wipes away your tears, while your sobs reduce to muffled sniffs, and takes your broom from where it fell so that you can return to the pitch. “We’ve gotta take you to the infirmary, it’s not looking good…” he spares a look at James, “And maybe you should visit Madam Pomfrey too, Potter, but if you die from blood loss I’m sure we’ll manage just fine without you.”

As Reg helps you stabilize yourself on the broom and to get back out there, James feels completely numb.

He once was the one that managed to make you stop crying, that helped you back up on your feet when you fell and scraped your knee. The one you’d look for when you searched for help, comfort or someone to talk to. Now, as he watches you fly away with Regulus, who holds a hand on your back to keep you stable, he barely hears the screams of the students in the stands and the words of Sirius, who’s trying to snap him out of his daze.

“James? Hey, mate, you okay? You’re covered in blood.”

He barely even sees him - his vision is clouded with tears, tears that he desperately tries to hold back. Taking a deep breath, he collects the remnants of his glasses and takes his broom, knowing that if he talks, he’ll start sobbing. But Sirius doesn’t get the memo.

“Did she throw you off? I bet she did, but karma has your back. She deserved it, believe me, she had to learn her lesson in a way or another.” James hopes that he stops there, because the guilt’s already eating him alive and he just wants to lie down and let the floor swallow him whole. Hearing Sirius insult you for something you had no fault in doesn’t help the already disastrous situation. But his friend apparently still has many things to say left in his repertory. “She has to be terrible to befriend by brother. Saw how she was crying, like she’s the victim? I swear-”

“Could you please fucking shut that trap, man?” James bursts. “I made her fall, okay? It’s my fault she was hurt. Stop insulting her.”

Sirius glares at him. “What is your problem, man?”

“What is my problem? My problem?” James laughs in disbelief, tears streaming down his face. “My problem is that you always think you know what’s going on, don’t you?”

His friend is about to reply, but he doesn’t let him. “No you don’t! You have no idea what we went through together, nor what happened between us, nor what person she is! So you have no right to criticize her for everything she does, even when she has no fault in the matter!”

James ends up in the infirmary with a fractured nose, barely two beds away from you, who actually have no intention of talking to him at all, and made sure he knew that. You stayed there a lot more days than him, but your friends visited every time they were able to, bringing sweets and flowers. They also skillfully ignored James, who instead laid there sulking while you got pampered by Lily.

He did try to talk to you after you were dismissed from the medical ward, at least to say sorry for having broken your arm, but you ignored him with all your might. Regulus became your mediator, always telling him off, never leaving your side when he saw James near.

Him and Sirius didn’t talk for a while, but it didn’t last long. Soon they got back to talking like normal, never addressing the things that were said during that game. Sirius stopped talking about you, going as far as avoiding his brother too to not cause any more damage than he already did.

He made a last, desperate attempt at your forgiveness by writing you a letter - I know you don’t want to talk to me, but if you ever happen to need a friend, i’ll always be there for you - and sending it to you with his owl.

You never replied.

That was a year ago, and that’s also why James is sure you’ll say no.

Except you say yes.

James is at Sprout’s class when Slughorn knocks and pokes his head in. “I’m sorry, Pomona, could I borrow Potter for a moment?”

Professor Sprout stares disappointed but not surprised at James, motioning for him to go. “You better not have set the Slytherin dormitories on fire again, Potter,” she hisses. Slughorn happily shakes his head, “Ah, don’t worry, Pomona, he still hasn’t done it again, I’m here just to discuss a little something with him.”

Once he’s out of the class, Slughorn happily takes out a letter from his pocket and gives it to him. “My granddaughter agreed to give you lessons, and gave me some days and times that go with her schedule. She’s often busy studying for the O.W.L.s, as you surely know, so it’s a tight fit, but I’m certain you’ll manage.”

James is honestly dumbfounded. All this time ignoring him, acting like he didn’t exist, and suddenly you’re aware of him and his struggles? He must be dreaming. He opens the letter and reads the schedule:

Monday — 18:00 - 19:00

Wednesday — 15:00 - 16:30

Friday — 11:00 - 12:30

Sunday — 13:00 - 15:30

You must have read his weekly schedule, too, because it all strangely fits well with his lessons. Under the voice Sunday, there’s a little note: All lessons will take place in the library, except for Sunday, when we’ll go to professor Slughorn’s class to practice the actual making of the potions.

The idea of spending so much of his free time making potions is almost revolting, but the thought of making it up to you makes it all worth it. He’ll spend time with you - almost eight hours a week - until his grades are decent enough or you get tired of him. I won’t let it happen, he promises to himself. You won’t get tired of him, and if he has to seal Sirius’ mouth shut to keep you around, then he gladly will.

He comes back to the class with a triumphant smile plastered on his face, making his friends frown - even if no one is more confused than professor Sprout. “Potter, are you alright?” she asks, worriedly. Usually when he got called out of class it was because of some prank gone wrong, so it wasn’t strange for the teachers to just take their time to yell at him. He nods, shining with anticipation. “Never been better, professor.”

“You didn’t set the Slytherin dormitories on fire, did you?”

“Absolutely not, professor.”

“A- alright.”

But it’s only when he notices that James stopped looking at Lily Evans that Sirius actually gets worried. He bumps his shoulder, whispering, “What did Slughorn tell you?” he waves him off, “Nothing important, I’ve got extra lessons in Potions.” He still hasn’t told any of the Marauders about the Troll, and he’s surprised himself on how well he managed to keep the secret. Even more surprised at Marlene for not telling anyone - he’ll probably have to buy her something as a thank you, as she rarely does something for him for free.

James spends the rest of the week waiting for Monday, often thinking about it with a dreamy look on his face, always making his friends frown and then check if Lily was around. Strangely, more often than not she wasn’t even in the same room.

Monday eventually rolls around, and James has never been happier to enter the library. He may have entered it like, two times since first year, but as of now he’s ready to live in it if it means seeing you more.

He waits at one of the tables feeling like an idiot, and maybe he is, but also a lucky one. You’re late by almost ten minutes, and he thinks that this may be the first time a girl stands him up.

But, surprisingly enough, you show up.

You're with Regulus - and that makes him seethe, but he's ready to make a point of bearing his presence if that's the price to pay to get you back.

Talking about you; your hands are full of books that stand in a shaky pile leaning on your chest. You're chatting with your friend, your brows furrowed, the strap of your bag almost falling off of your shoulder. You notice James, then, and as he grins, your brows furrow even deeper. You look tired - he’s not really surprised, he remembers the struggle of the O.W.L.s; he’s surprised that you’re able to stand up, as he vividly recalls not being able to do that last year in this same period of time.

“Potter,” you and Regulus greet at the same time. You let the books fall on the table, huffing, and he interjects, “For you it’s James,” he replies smiling cheerfully. Then he turns to Regulus, frowning, “To you, it is Potter.”

The boy rolls his eyes, “Yeah, that’s what I called you. Even if to me, you’re Dickhead.”

You blink, not amused, at James. “Keep insulting my friends and I’ll do my best to make you fail Potions.”

James lets out a squeal. “Please don’t.”

The first lesson is strange. There’s tension in the air - maybe it’s just the glares that Regulus and James are sending each other the whole time - but it feels refreshing to have your presence near again. You don’t even seem to hate him anymore; you just act… indifferent. You don’t laugh at his jokes, not even when he bashes Sirius - even if he sees Regulus holding himself back from laughing - and just explain everything he did wrong in his assignments to him, explaining some concepts and basics.

Once the clock ticks to 19 o’clock, you’re already putting your things away, chatting with Regulus about dinner; you barely spare James a glance as you exit the library, He’s feeling lost - suddenly he would like to ask his little self how he would feel about you not being friends with him anymore. He’s sure that eight-years-old James would cry for a week straight and then beg on his knees for forgiveness, and is also sure that you probably wouldn’t have forgiven him nonetheless.

But that’s okay. He never liked easy challenges.

If it wasn’t for your grades in Transfiguration, you would have happily let James rot in the depths of Hell.

When your grandfather asked you to please help the Potter boy, you had been against it. Refusing profusely, like your life depended on it; you promised to yourself you’d never let him back in your life, not after he pulled that stunt on the Quidditch pitch, a stunt of which your grandad is still blissfully unaware of. But then again, Horace Slughorn is still Horace Slughorn, and he pulled one of his many favors like you were one of his prizes on the nightstand.

One of his many friends is, apparently, the inspector for the Transfiguration trial of the O.W.L.s. He promises that he can make him give you an O on the only subject you’re barely Acceptable in.

It’s wrong. Maybe. But it would be stupid to pass down an opportunity like this just because of a personal grudge. You’re not ready to ruin your whole grade sheet just by refusing. Because of what? Of a boy? Not happening.

So you have to agree, and your grandfather is eager to shower you in kisses and hugs, gushing about how you saved his career. You’re pretty sure the Troll hurts James more than him, but choose not to say anything about it. You go through your schedule and his - just so that he can’t complain about the time and start arguing with you again - and manage to find some hours where the both of you are free, even if it was pretty hard considering all the study groups you took part of in preparation for the O.W.L.s.

The first lesson is unbearable. He tried so hard to be funny and he didn’t even understand that to you, he is not. You don’t think he will ever be to you again. Everytime he opened his mouth you just thought about every time that he called you stupid just because you were making friends on your own, friends that he didn’t like.

You know that sometimes kids say stupid things, wrong things, just because they are kids and don’t really know the real weight of words. Maybe he regretted it, as Remus often tells you; in-fact, despite the bad experience with his friends, Lupin actually became somewhat of a friend to you, sometimes updating you on James’ life.

(“He broke his ankle going down the stairs,” he told you once. You had snorted, “Really? I wish it was his face.”

He actually laughed.

Sometimes you think Remus is too smart for the Marauders; too sensitive to be with friends like them. But you don’t dare to say anything, because if you did, you’d be no better than James.)

Thankfully on Tuesday there’s no lesson, but you do have a study session with some Ravenclaws to put together Sprout’s notes to try to understand whatever the fuck she taught last lesson. On your way to the garden, it’s actually Remus that stops you.

He looks terrible. His eyes are red, his hair mussled, and his uniform looks more wrinkled than usual. “Please, just get this over with,” he pleads, and for a moment, you think he’s about to fall to his knees and beg you. You blink. “Get over with what?”

His left eye twitches. “Do you have any idea of what I went through last night, woman?”

You raise an eyebrow at his antics. “No. Should I?”

He lets out a scream that holds all the stress of sixth year in it, and that makes many students in the hallway turn to glare at him. “Your bloody student! He talked my ear off all night! All night! I didn’t get a blink of sleep, he made sure to usurp my bunk and knew how to keep me there! I have an important test today, and I swear, if I fail it, I’m gonna say to McGonagall that it’s your fault!”

You gasp. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, tell that to James, because he probably hasn’t understood that your lack of response to his jokes isn’t because you’re reminiscing about your friendship, but because you simply don't find them funny!”

You notice something and try to stop him. “Remus-”

“He spent hours talking about how he’s so happy to finally be able to be friends with you again! Hours! I haven’t slept in three days because of my exams and now this! Could you just tell him that you didn’t agree to the lessons because you want to be friends with him again, please?”

“Uh…” the voice comes from behind him and Remus freezes, recognizing James’ voice. Your face is contorted into a frown, knowing that you tried your best to warn him. You don’t care about the fact that he heard that you have no intention of becoming friends with him again; you care about the fact that he has heard one of his friends talking about him like this.

How ironic is it that he warned me so much about my friends, but the first one to dismiss his feelings like that is one of his closest friends?

Remus pales. James’s usual tan complexion is a bit paler than usual, too; it probably isn’t nice hearing all your thoughts and hopes being screamed in the hallway, for anyone to hear. “James, I…”

But he’s already going the opposite direction, and you’re pretty sure that you saw tears in his eyes. Remus runs after him, spluttering a spring of apologies, and then they both disappear behind the walls of the Castle.

Pandora, who was near there when Remus started shouting, approaches you. “What happened?”

You sigh. For the first time in years, you feel bad for James - maybe you even pity him. And that is not a good thing. “Dunno, Dora,” you mutter, deep in thought. “Men are strange creatures.”

Xenophilius Lovegood passes by, and Pandora sighs dramatically. “Oh, don’t tell me.”

You almost expect James not to show up to the lesson the day after, but he does. He does and this time he’s silent, not joking around, only opening his mouth to ask you questions. Now, you do pity him; you know he has really bonded with the Marauders. James is one of those people who manage to be friends with everybody, but not actually friends; he doesn’t bond that easily. He has a lot of acquaintances and knows nearly every student, yes, but he can count on the fingers of his hands the people he actually considers to be his friends.

It’s strange how you know so many things about him, even after all this time. You fear you may never be able to forget them; that James will remain etched on your brain, a stain in your younger years that never managed to go away.

“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.” you mutter, not even knowing where the words came from. He looks surprised, not expecting them either from you, not after all that Remus said.

“Yeah,” he blurts out. “I… should’ve expected it, actually. S’not like you have ever actually shown interest in me after… y’know.”

Your thoughts go back to the letter he wrote you: I know you don’t want to talk to me, but if you ever happen to need a friend, i’ll always be there for you. You know it’s not much, but you think that maybe, just maybe, you can put your grudge away for a moment, just because he really looks like he needs a friend right now, and since Remus at the moment is out of the picture, Peter isn’t really good with these types of things and Sirius is… well, Sirius, maybe you need to step in.

You hastily get up, going around the table and sitting right beside him. “Remus said things he didn’t think in a moment of stress,” you try to console him. He’s flushed from when you sat down next to him, probably not expecting this move from you, but pleasantly surprised.

He blinks at you for a moment, and you almost want to take everything back. But then he smiles, a smile so tender that it could melt ice. “You always tried to make me feel better when we were younger, too,” he sniffs. You put a tentative hand on his shoulder, “We can try being friends again, James, and I mean it. But this time the Marauders have to stay out of it. You, of course, can stay friends with them, but you have to understand that I've got friends out of us just as much as you have friends out of us.”

He nods, but then his lower lip trembles and his eyes shine with tears. “You know,” he starts, stammering, “I don’t think anyone gets me like you understood me.”

Of course they don't, you want to say. Something like our friendship happens one time in a lifetime, James. You don’t get to grow up with your best friend every day. James sniffs, “Sirius maybe comes close to it. But I can’t talk to him about you because that’s when he starts to not understand me. Remus… well, I found out yesterday that he actually can’t stand my constant yapping. Peter always looks at me like I’m crazy.” he suddenly looks up, an alarmed look on his face. “Am I? Crazy, I mean.”

You wince. “I mean, you look sane enough to me.” no he doesn't, his eyes are blood-shot and he looks like he hasn't had a moment to relax since yesterday. But you can't just say that to him. “James, I think you rely too much on your friends. Usually it's a good thing - it means you trust them and all - but sometimes you just have to make decisions by yourself. Remus can listen to you all you want, but he can't solve your problems for you.”

You know that him and Remus will probably resolve and then get back to their friendship like nothing happened, but James looks at you with eyes full of unshed tears. He looks like a baby deer. “Are we solved?”

You melt. “We can be.”

#harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #james potter fanfic #james potter #james potter fanfiction #pizzapottah's writing #james potter x reader #james potter x slytherin!readeer #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era fanfic #marauders era #james potter imagine

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why-are-you-still-awake · 2 days

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Naruto boys with a partner with anxiety

A/n: two posts in less than 24 hours!?

characters: Naruto, Sasuke, Gaara

Warning/content: mentions of panic attacks, mentions of contamination OCD.

Naruto Uzumaki

☆ Naruto would definitely be more cautious with his partner because he wouldn’t want to upset them or cause them to overthink things he’s done or said, most things he does have no rhyme or reason. However if you start overthinking something he said he’ll happily explain it and give you all the reassurance you need. ☆

☆ He doesn’t want to put you in a situation that would make your anxiety worse, for example if you don’t like public or crowded places, he’d go out of his way to make sure no one touches you or gets too close and if you need some space to calm down he’d take you to a less busy area. ☆

☆ The first time he saw you have a panic attack, he kinda panicked himself and was unsure of what to do. He’s had panic attacks himself but you’re not him, so he just awkwardly kneeled down to your level and gently rubbed your back, helping you take deep breaths. He always wants you to be comfortable and feel safe with him. ☆

Sasuke Uchiha

☆ You never liked germs, the thought of getting sick made your skin crawl, you’d always been told it really wasn’t that serious but to you it was. You had to always wash your hands before touching anything and wash them after, there have been times when you scrubbed your hands red. It was more than just the hand washing though, it was having to immediately change if someone touched your clothes. ☆

☆ Sasuke never really noticed your obsessive behavior until you moved in together, he noticed how you religiously washed your hands and cleaned everything single thing you touched, at first he thought you were just a clean freak until he saw how red your hands would be after every time you washed them. He didn’t want to bring it up but he finally decided enough was enough when your hands bled from the extreme washing. ☆

☆ There have definitely been times when you weren’t able to wash your hands and it made you panic, you were rubbing your hands together to try and get the same feeling you get from washing your hands but it wasn’t enough. You practically curled in on yourself trying to stay calm but it was no use, Sasuke noticed your behavior and carefully placed his hand on your back, not wanting to trigger you further. He opened his backpack and had hand sanitizer and gave you some, he’d started carrying it just in case something like this ever happened. Not that he’d ever admit it. ☆

Gaara

☆ He truly tries his best to avoid putting you in situations that’ll cause you to be anxious or cause a panic attack but sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way, as the kazekage he has to attend a lot of meetings that have lots of people in attendance as well so it’s often overcrowded and overstimulating. You know these type of events make you anxious but you decide to grin and bear it for your boyfriends sake. ☆

☆ When you inevitably get overwhelmed at these type of things he keeps you close to him because come hell or high water he won’t leave you alone if you start feeling like that. He’d do the small things like keeping a firm grip on your hand to make you feel safer and more secure or placing his hand on the small of your back so you don’t get separated. ☆

☆ He’s seen you have panic attacks before and it makes his heart ache every time, he doesn’t want you to feel alone during times like this but sometimes he understands that’s just what you need, time to decompress and calm down yourself. Even if it hurts to step away for a few moments he’ll do whatever he needs to help even if he’s not directly involved.☆

A/n: i hate these sm, I might just delete it later but I hope you enjoyed them. I have OCD myself but not contamination OCD specifically, so tell me if it’s not portrayed correctly. Thank you for reading, love u <33

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radical-revolution · 2 days

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"If Life is a Game, These are the Rules" - a relationship focused adaption of Cherie Carter-Scott’s 10 Rules for Life:

1. You will receive a body.

And you have the incredible privilege of exploring play, sensuality and pleasure with other bodies.

2. You will learn lessons.

Every relationship is going to teach you things about yourself, about life and about love. Some lessons will hurt. Other lessons will be wonderful.

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons.

This can be really hard to see when it feels like everything is falling apart. In retrospect though, nothing is wrong. Every relationship, even if it didn’t go the way you wanted, is bring you one step closer to the divinity of love.

4. A lesson is repeated until it is learned.

We are here to grow, and we will be given indefinite opportunities to do so. But you only get to the next level when you pass this one. If you keep dating the same kind of people, or having the same kind of relationship troubles, it means you haven’t learnt the lesson yet… but you will.

5. Learning lessons does not end.

As is often said “it’s a journey, not a destination”. The lessons will keep coming, there is no ‘happily-ever-after’ Disney fairytale fantasy ending. Even when you find a relationship you are committed to, there will be new challenges to discover, and deeper layers to reveal. Only forever.

6. "There" is no better than "here."

The greener grass is an illusion. While the new shiny object might seem interesting at first, eventually it will become familiar. You can chase superficial shiny objects and new relationship energy forever, or you can go deep by paying attention to the fact that every moment is a new moment. The potential to love is limitless.

7. Others are merely mirrors of you.

Your partner (or future partner), as frustrating as they can be sometimes… are the most perfect mirror for you. Who you choose to date and form relationship with, is reflecting to you how you feel about yourself on the inside. This is why relationship is the most incredible crucible for evolution and transformation. Your partner is your ultimate teacher.

8. What you make of your life is up to you.

You get to choose. Nobody is coming to save you from yourself. Relationships are complex things and the difference between those people who have happy, beautiful and thriving ones, and those who suffer - is the willingness to take responsibility for putting in the effort to grow, mature and learn. You are the only one who can do this.

9. Your answers lie inside you.

Everything you need to understand love and intimacy is already inside you as a divine blueprint. All you need to do is learn to trust yourself more deeply. Sometimes guides are helpful, but the best guides only ever guide you back to realising what you already know.

10. You will forget all this at birth.

This experience of life can seem so serious. But it’s just a transitory event, and when you remember then you get to open up to the joy of exploring the incredible and divine gift of being alive, and being able to share intimacy with others.

***

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eepwriting · 1 day

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Hi. Can you write something about how IV skillfully seduces one of his colleagues on stage (by touching himself)? He is interested in seeing the reaction, he loves to tease. How do you like my thought?

Watch Yourself ✶ III x IV

Warnings: some nsfw thoughts

I like your thought very much anon!! Thank you for this ask 🤍 I commonly tag iii and iv as the lovers because…they’re in love duh

!! mdi !!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

✶ It was no secret that iv craved attention from his fellow vessels.

✶ Always jumping at the opportunity to kiss and snuggle up to them.

✶ But iii…iii was his treasured.

✶ The taller man always happily reciprocated iv’s advances.

✶ IV often found himself wanting things to escalate further but he couldn’t bring himself to make it know to III.

✶ Until today.

✶ He couldn’t get III out of his mind. It didn’t help that they lived in such close quarters either.

✶ He was surprised III wasn’t annoyed with his constant teasing and sly remarks. He’d practically been all over the man for most of the day.

✶ When it came time for the show, IV felt a surge of excitement. He could really tease and prod at III and the crowd would love it. Eat it up even.

✶ If III had anything to say about it, IV could simply excuse his actions.

✶ “I’m appeasing the crowd, III.”

✶ So now here he was, using every opportunity between actually doing his job to get III riled up.

✶ The two had spent practically the whole first half of the show next to each other.

✶ IV could tell III was surprised, maybe even a bit confused with how many kisses IV demanded from him. He could only laugh under his mask each time he looked at IV, watching him tap a finger over his lips before beckoning him over.

✶ IV wanted more than just some friendly kisses though.

✶ He gets III’s attention once again and wraps his fingers around his own throat, pointing at the taller man. His hand slowly leaves his neck to train down his chest.

✶ III shakes his head playfully, striding over. He grabs up IV’s hand, dragging it back up to his neck, wrapping IV’s hand and his own around his throat. He thinks he sees IV’s eyes unfocus when he squeezes but it’s hard to tell.

✶ “Watch yourself, Ivy boy.”

✶ IV winks back at his warning, wishing he could see the potential smirk on the face of the man in front of him.

✶ They’re forced to pull away when it’s time to get back to work but follow each other on the stage, never standing far from each other.

✶ IVs’ back on him the second he has a moment, pushing III around with a hand on his chest, trailing it up to rest on his throat. IV’s own hand dancing on his stomach, slipping down to his thigh, dangerously close to the half bulge between his legs.

✶ He’s lucky his back is to the crowd, hidden in the dark, the only spotlight shining on Vessel.

✶ He takes note of III’s eyes following the movement of his hands. Lingering glances on his thighs and cock.

✶ III reaches out to touch him, a hand on his side pulling him closer, a hard thunk of a kiss landed. He really wished they didn’t have these stupid masks on.

✶ IV’s eyes are mischievous as he pulls away quickly, making his way back to his corner of the stage like nothing ever happened.

✶ It’s hard for III to think for the rest of the show. He’s lucky it’s second nature for him at this point. He’s not sure how he’s able to finish the show without pouncing on IV.

✶ Both men are quick to exit the stage after the last song, III moving with quick strides to reach IV.

✶ “What the hell was that about?”

✶ “I was just teasing III, you know how it is. You better watch yourself. I can make this so much worse for you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

GUYS WHAT IS THIS

I feel like this sucks but whatever 😔 your ask was chefs kiss anon thank you, I hope it’s somewhat okay.

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token fic #sleep token iii #iii sleep token #sleep token iv #iv sleep token

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pastelwitchling · 2 days

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Hello, I love your stories so much! Would you be willing to do one where Michael realizes that when Alex called the incident of 2x06 hell he actually meant it and that he really didn't enjoy it? Thank you!

Disclaimer: very anti-M*ria DeL*ca

tw: mentions of r*pe

***

Michael started to notice it about two weeks after coming back from their honeymoon.

Alex had come to meet him at the junkyard, and Michael had made a teasing remark about sneaking into the airstream for some of their old fun. He’d meant it as a joke, but Alex had flinched and taken a step back, as though afraid Michael would drag him inside. Michael had been about to ask if he was okay, but just then Dallas had come back and asked if they wanted to step inside for a cup of tea and some lunch. Michael had waited to see that same reaction, but Alex only smiled, relieved, and happily accepted.

Michael had thought he’d just imagined that scared look on his face, but then it came again the next night when he’d suggested getting a drink at the Wild Pony. Alex had nodded and agreed to go, everything seemed fine, until Michael had mentioned that Maria had these cocktail shrimps she wanted them to try.

Alex froze. “Er, Maria’s going to be there tonight?”

“Yeah?” Michael said while adjusting his collar, “So, do you want to grab dinner first, or –”

“Actually,” he cut him off, “I’ve been having a lot of stomach pain lately, so I – I think I should pass on the drinks tonight.”

Michael frowned, coming up to him and putting a hand on his belly, his other hand on his brow. “What, you’re sick?”

“No no,” he shook his head, covering Michael’s hand on his stomach with his own, “nothing like that, it must just be an acid thing. Y-You should go, have fun.”

Michael’s shoulders fell. “Well, I don’t want to go if you’re not going. Hey, why don’t we just stay in and I can make us some dinner instead? Something good for your stomach.”

He didn’t realize how nervous Alex’s smile looked until it softened. He’d been worried that Alex was uneasy about Michael being near Maria, but they’d talked about that, hadn’t they? Michael knew how much Alex hated it when he and Maria were alone or too close, and after everything that had happened, he wanted to ease his fears. But Alex had even told Michael to go by himself, so what else was going on?

Finally, that Sunday morning, Michael knew he had to say something. He and Alex liked to have breakfast together on Sundays since it was the one day they were both free from work, and they usually talked about anything and everything during that time. Even though it was their laziest morning, meant to establish some peace after a busy week, nothing was ever off-limits. Mostly because each of them knew they had the other to lean against and take comfort from if anything got too heavy.

That was why, when Michael asked, “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?” he did it with a bite of pancake in his mouth.

Alex smiled, amused, and wiped a dollop of maple syrup from the corner of his lips before bringing it up to his mouth to suck clean. “You already know,” he said vaguely. “What about you?”

Michael took a second to focus after that display, and cleared his throat. “Caulfield,” he said without hesitation. Then, to keep himself from thinking about it too much, he pointed his fork at Alex, eyes narrowed. “And that’s not fair, you have to actually tell me yours.”

“I did tell you mine,” he chuckled, though it sounded quieter to Michael’s ears. “I told you when it happened.”

Michael’s brows furrowed, thinking hard, even as Alex was clearly trying to move past the conversation.

“More whipped cream?” he offered.

“When was this?” Michael asked, undeterred. “You told me when it happened, was I there?”

“Yeah, you were there,” Alex said with a hint of his old smile, but the way his voice turned quieter and quieter was starting to get alarming. Michael sat up straighter, waiting expectantly. Alex sighed. “That night in the trailer? With . . . Maria? I told you it was a circle of hell.”

“Yeah, but,” Michael rolled his eyes, “seriously though.”

Alex raised a brow, the amusement in his eyes dimmed. “Seriously though.”

“No,” he smiled, even as his brows furrowed, “no, that . . . you were joking. You were . . . you were joking then, right? I mean, you wanted to be there –”

“Well, maybe I didn’t feel like I was allowed to not be there,” he said with an edge that Michael had not expected, but which had his heart plummeting into his stomach anyway.

“You . . . what?”

“Nothing,” he said, already grabbing plates and turning away. “Nothing, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Michael grabbed him around his waist, hauling him back in. “Don’t apologize to me. There’s nothing off-limits, remember? I just . . .” his mind was racing and dread was coiling in his stomach and he felt sick. “Alex . . . did you stay that night . . . because you thought you had to?”

Alex looked away, exhaustion etched into his features. This had clearly been weighing on him for years. Years, Michael thought with horror.

“I’d just been stabbed,” he said. “She was my only ride there. You were already looking for any excuse to avoid me. I . . . I trusted her. I thought she would take me back, and then I thought you would just . . .” he shook his head, blushing, “I don’t know, protect me from it or something, but none of that happened and I was just stuck there. And I thought that if I said no anyway, that if I left and tried to walk back, you would never look at me again.” His smile was small, but there was nothing humorous or amused about it. “Hell was every time she touched me. Every time she touched you. Hell was waking up the next morning and trying to convince myself that my best friend hadn’t raped me.”

His smile falling, he stepped out of Michael’s hold and returned to the sink. Michael sat there, in shock, staring at Alex’s back as he continued to wash dishes like he hadn’t just told Michael that he’d felt sexually assaulted, that Michael had been part of it, that Michael had allowed it.

He remembered that night well, thought of it often, of all the things he would’ve done differently. But he always imagined taking Alex in his arms, confessing that he was all he wanted, that Maria should leave because the only person he wanted to see touching Alex was him. He remembered his jealousy, his desire to possess Alex, his need to make him feel as good as possible so that his eyes never wandered to anyone else, even after he left. He’d wanted to make him feel good enough that Alex wouldn’t mind waiting for him.

He hadn’t given a second to think how Alex had felt having no other option. Now that he thought through that night, half of it filled with regret that there had been anyone else with them, he couldn’t remember one instance when he’d offered to drive Alex home, to take him to the hospital, even to loan him his phone to call anyone else.

Alex had been trapped there, and Michael had helped attack him.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and when Alex turned back around to grab the empty cups, he stilled. Quickly setting the glass down, he came back to Michael and cupped his jaw. “Why are you crying?” he breathed. “Michael, it’s okay, it was years ago, I – I’ve forgiven her –”

“Did she know?” he demanded. “Did she know what I meant to you? How it felt when a woman touched you?”

Alex swallowed. “Guerin –”

“Did she know?”

His husband glanced down, and Michael got his answer. “We’d talked about it earlier that day. She said she used to have a crush on me –”

“So she forced herself on you, and used me to keep you there,” Michael breathed, his hands vibrating. Then he realized that it was the entire house that was vibrating.

“Michael,” Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders to steady himself, looking around, “you’re making the ground shake, stop it, you’ll bring the whole house down!”

“I’m gonna bring her damn bar down,” Michael growled. “I’m gonna make her sorry she ever put a finger on you, and then I’m gonna spend the rest of my life begging for your forgiveness –”

“Stop stop stop,” Alex hugged him tight, slipping a hand into his hair and tugging hard enough on the roots to yank Michael out of his angry haze. “Please calm down. For me, Michael, for me.”

It was Alex’s plea, his voice, his hands on Michael, his heart hammering against Michael’s chest. Distantly, he felt the earth still beneath him, but he couldn’t keep himself from shaking. He hugged Alex’s waist slowly, staring through the window over his shoulder, unseeing.

“You’re never going to talk to her again,” he said in a hollow, low voice.

Alex hesitated. “Michael –”

“She talked about that night afterwards like it was funny,” he whispered. “She doesn’t even think she did anything wrong. You’re never talking to that bitch again.”

Alex said nothing a moment, but he seemed to sense that Michael wasn’t going to allow any other response because he just nodded.

“She’s never going to touch you,” he went on. “She’s never going to say your name, and if she even looks in your direction, I’ll destroy the Wild Pony and set it on fire.”

“Michael,” he gasped.

“She raped you, Alex, and she knew she was doing it!” he snapped, squeezing Alex to him. “You’re never going near her again. Tell me you’re never going near her again.”

Alex sighed against his shoulder. “Okay, my pretty cowboy. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please calm down.”

Michael didn’t calm down. He couldn’t, not until he was holding Alex in a bruising grip, undoubtedly making it impossible for him to breathe, but he couldn’t get himself to let go. The way Alex had looked at him that night, it came back to him now. Not just with longing and yearning, mirroring his own feelings, but something else that he was now recognizing as fear. He’d been waiting for Michael to save him.

Michael swore then he would never fail Alex again.

“I’m so sorry, Alex.”

Alex melted against him. He’d had years to get over this, but Michael could feel the way the last of his resentment about it dissipated the longer he held him. He wished more than anything that he’d really listened to Alex then, when he’d told Michael how he felt and expected the man he loved to care. So much could’ve been different.

“Thanks, Michael,” Alex murmured against his neck, “but you’re all mine now. I don’t care about anything else.”

***

This was very cathartic for me. Villains are villains, folks, whether they're played by women or not :)

Happy Malex Monday ❤️

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis #anti maria deluca

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