#can't believe it's been three years. still feel like yesterday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanguineterrain · 8 months

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Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #batman fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #coffee shop au #bakery au #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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roosterforme · 10 months

Text

Batting Practice Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love how excited Bradley and Everett are for the Tiny Eagles' final game, and you can't wait to show Bradley the surprise you have planned for him. With an undefeated season and the title of Coaches of the Year on the line, you and Molly cheer for the boys with everything you have.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

On Saturday morning, before the sun was even up, Bradley was kissing your forehead and whispering, "I'll see you at the game, Kitten." He had been spending more nights at your house than his own apartment, and every time he had to go back to his place to get fresh clothes or do laundry, he kind of hated it.

As he climbed out of your bed and put on yesterday's clothing, you reached for him, and he gave you a proper kiss. "See you in a few hours," you mumbled before rolling over and going back to sleep. Ten weeks. He had only known you and Everett for ten weeks, but he was so in love with you and your son and your little house and everything about you.

With a sigh, he grabbed his hat and his wallet and headed outside, locking up behind himself as he went. He had been doing the sneaking in late and sneaking back out early routine on occasion, not wanting Everett to feel like Bradley was taking over his house. But every time he was there, he felt like he belonged with the two of you.

The school year was wrapping up for Everett, but Bradley had enjoyed working on math and reading homework at the kitchen island. He enjoyed tossing a baseball around your front yard. Every time he left, he wanted to go back.

He ran a load of his laundry while he ate breakfast in his sparse kitchen. Today was the last tee ball game, and he couldn't believe it was less than three months ago that Bob had been practically begging Bradley to help him with the Tiny Eagles in the first place. What if he had said no? He didn't even want to think about that. And as of right now, his team was undefeated, thanks in large part to you and Everett and how much fun Bradley had been having.

As he pulled on his coach's jersey and grabbed his blue hat and whistle, he silently hoped his team would win their last game, because he knew how happy that would make Everett. And if he and Bob won coaches of the year, he'd give his trophy to Everett to add to the collection of baseball items in his bedroom.

When Bradley parked at the field a little bit early, nobody else was there yet, not even Bob. He had noticed that Bob had been cutting it a little close the past few games and practices, showing up barely on time, looking a little disheveled with a smiling Molly in tow. It took all of Bradley's willpower not to rib Bob too hard about it, because his fellow aviator turned crimson every time. But Molly could take the trash talk like a pro, which Bradley already appreciated about your sister.

And ever since Bradley had gotten a glimpse of the diamond rings that the jeweler had on display, he couldn't help but think that things with you were moving too fast and still too slow at the same time. So he fought the urge to max out his credit card, but he was still thinking about what kind of ring you would like.

"Coach Bradley!"

He looked up to see Sandra and Henry rushing toward him with two gigantic gift baskets. She was wearing practically no clothing, and he was agitated that she had been able to corner him. "Hey, Henry! Sandra." He patted Henry on his shoulder, and then Sandra was in his personal space, handing him one of the baskets that was filled with so much random shit. "Thanks," he mumbled, trying to sidestep her hand as it found his arm.

"You're so welcome. This season has been fantastic, all thanks to you and Bob," she purred. "I'm just hoping I can get Henry on your team for the fall league. And I'm hoping you'll choose me to be Team Mom next time."

Bradley rubbed his mustache. He'd been thinking about coaching again, even going so far as to considering becoming a head coach. He and Bob could have teams that went against each other, and Bradley thought that might be a lot of fun. "Thanks, Sandra. And you know what, that's a great idea. Since I'm dating our Team Mom now, it would probably be a conflict of interest if I chose her again in the fall."

The sour look on her face as Bradley noticed Bob's truck pull into the parking lot followed by your car had him smiling a little bit as he waved back to Everett who was waving wildly through the open window. "Excuse me," he mumbled as he headed for your car. Hadn't he just seen you a few hours ago? Been in your bed with your arms around his neck, felt your soft breaths on his cheek?

"Fuck," he gasped, jogging up the hill with his gift basket, antsy to get to you. When you climbed out of your car, he set the basket on your roof and kissed you hard.

"Ew!" Molly gasped as she climbed out of Bob's truck.

But you just smiled and said, "I like it when you wear your hat backwards."

"Why do you think I keep doing it?" he asked softly, and you bit your lip as you glanced back at the gift basket.

"Something to remember Sandra by?" you asked with an eye roll. "I'll give you a better thank you gift later, Coach."

"Oh, I can't wait," he mumbled, kissing your forehead as Ev climbed out of your backseat. "Hey, Kiddo! Last game. Are you excited?"

"Yes!" he said, jumping up to high five Bradley before running over to Bob as well. "If we win today, then that means our team is the best one!" Bradley watched Everett bounce around between Bob and Molly as you chucked the gift from Sandra onto your passenger seat.

"Hey, careful, Kitten. There might be something good in there."

You rolled your eyes and closed your door, and Bradley laced his fingers through yours. "Yeah, I saw a Starbucks gift card. It's mine now."

"Whatever you want," he whispered, running his thumb along your ring finger. The kids were starting to warm up with Bob, and Molly had secured a good spot on the bleachers. "I'll see you after the Tiny Eagles go undefeated for a perfect season."

You kissed him hard and then, when Bradley turned toward the other coaches, he felt you slap his ass. "You can do it, Coach Bradley! You're the best!" Then you turned innocently toward the bleachers and brightly said, "Hello, Sandra!" before continuing toward your sister.

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"It's the tight, white pants that made me do it," you whispered to Molly as she shook with laughter. "I was helpless to control myself."

"God, you're right," Molly sighed. "It's like... I never knew how badly I needed a man in a uniform. And I'm talking the flight suit, the khakis, and the tee ball getup."

You looked at Bob for a beat. "It's the glasses, Mo."

"The fucking glasses," she whined softly. She was going to move in with Bob next weekend after Everett's birthday baseball game.

You wanted to warn your sister that she was moving really quickly, especially for her, but you just couldn't. You thought she and Bob made a lot of sense, and you were happy for her. Bob was the perfect departure from the bad boys she usually went for. He kept turning to look at Molly as the game started, just like Bradley did with you.

"How did this happen?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know," you replied.

"I'm fully addicted to the pizza nights now, I hope you know that," she told you with a grin. "We can win any argument when Natasha is with us. It's literally perfect."

You loved the pizza nights, too. You loved the way Everett was always welcome on someone's lap. You loved how Bradley cut the pizza slices smaller for him. You loved how comfortable you felt. "It is perfect."

Molly cleared her throat just as Everett went up to bat. "Not to dampen the mood, but what did your lawyer say?"

You took a deep breath, but you found that it actually wasn't so hard to talk about. "I'm going to meet with them in person, but getting Danny's name off of Everett's birth certificate is going to be challenging. Would be easier if I were remarried and looking to have my spouse adopt him. But they are going to do some research about child support based on Danny's shitty income which I'm sure will make him rage at me again."

Molly hugged you tight. "I'm sorry this is happening."

You nodded, but you found that you didn't want to cry about it anymore. "Me too. But we'll continue to be better off without him, even if they can't make him pay."

Then you both jumped to your feet. "Go Ev!" Molly cheered as he hit the ball ridiculously far. He ran the bases as Bradley and Bob cheered him on. And the look of pure elation on Bradley's face as Everett crossed home plate and ran into his arms was going to stay with you forever.

"We're leading by one run now!" Molly was bouncing up and down.

Then it really hit you. "They're going to be undefeated, aren't they?" You felt kind of silly. It was just tee ball. But it had actually become really important to you and everyone around you.

"I think so!" Molly gushed as you both sat down and held hands through the final inning. And when the Tiny Condors were not able to tie the game, you felt tears in your eyes for a different reason as you smiled and ran down the bleachers toward Everett.

You scooped him up into your arms and squeezed him tight. "You're so good, Ev! I'm so proud of you!"

"Mommy! Aunt Molly! We won every game!"

"You sure did!" Molly told him, kissing his cheek before heading toward Bob. She made no secret of them being together as a moment later, you saw her hand slide up the front of his jersey as she kissed him.

Bradley was left to converse with the umpires, but his smile was huge when he finally turned your way. He high fived and hugged all of the Tiny Eagles, but he knelt in front of Everett and hugged him for a long time. And when they started to have a quiet conversation, you gave them a little space.

You hoped this meant that Bradley and Bob would both win awards at the league picnic tomorrow afternoon. You already had a treat planned for your boyfriend just in case, but you thought you could use it either way.

After Bradley kissed Everett's forehead, he stood and kissed yours as well. "Thanks for not pulling Ev from the team after I fucked up, Kitten."

You smiled up at him. "I didn't have the heart to do it. I'm glad I didn't."

"I love you. Let me buy you both some ice cream."

-----------------------------

After Bradley offered to buy you and Everett a treat from the snack bar, you told him to take Everett to the bench and wait. You insisted you wanted to buy it. So Bradley gave him a piggyback ride over to the same bench where you and he had flirted relentlessly on your 'first date'. Bradley smiled just thinking about how he had answered your phone when Frank kept calling you nonstop.

Everett jumped down onto the bench, and Bradley sat next to him while you waved from the line. "Hey, kiddo?" he asked Everett after you blew him a kiss.

"Yeah, Coach?"

Bradley chuckled and looked at his excited face. "You can call me Bradley now. All the time. Tee ball is over."

"Okay," he replied, still all smiles from winning the final game.

Bradley cleared his throat and made sure you weren't on your way over yet. "Can you keep a secret from your mom? It's nothing bad or scary, I promise."

"Okay," he said again, nodding this time.

"What kind of ring did your mom used to wear? When she was married to your dad?"

Everett's little brow scrunched up as he gave Bradley a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Her wedding ring," Bradley told him quietly. "What did it look like?"

"Oh," he said, plopping down next to Bradley now. "She didn't have one."

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "She never wore one?"

"Nope."

"Huh." Surely you must have had a wedding ring? Did Danny really not buy you a ring? "Ev, she never wore any rings? Not even a plain one?"

"Nope."

Bradley settled back against the bench, and stared off into space. He'd been thinking about it a bit, and he really wanted to make sure he didn't get you a ring that was similar to something you had worn from Danny. But if you never had one at all...

"Take it before it melts!" you said, laughing as you jolted Bradley from his thoughts. He grabbed one of the ice creams from your hands and quickly licked the sides before he helped Everett with his.

"Thanks, Kitten," Bradley told you as you went to sit on the other side of your son. "Are you excited for the picnic tomorrow?" he asked Everett.

"Yep! I'm going to get a trophy!"

"I think Bradley might be getting a trophy, too!" you added, licking your ice cream and winking at Bradley. He watched you eat with narrowed eyes as his own snack melted.

Bradley grunted. "Well, the most important thing is that I'm going to get you ready for real baseball in the fall. And the fact that San Diego has nice weather year round means that you'll probably get so good from practicing all the time that you'll be able to get a scholarship someday."

"What's a scholarship?" Everett asked as his ice cream dripped on Bradley's shoe.

"Ev," you mumbled and went to clean it up. But Bradley took your hand and guided you back to the bench with a shake of his head.

"It's fine, Kitten. It's just my shoe," he told you. And then he turned Everett's ice cream so it wouldn't keep dripping everywhere. "A scholarship is money that colleges sometimes give to athletes so they will come play sports for the school. Your mom would probably be delighted if you got one."

You laughed as you bit into your cone. "Would be nice. Lawyers are expensive," you muttered, leaning in to kiss Everett's cheek.

"You need to keep me in the loop when you do things like that," he told you, shooting you a no nonsense look.

"Okay," you whispered.

Once Everett had finished his ice cream and washed his hands, Bradley walked both of you back to your car. "Want me to pick you both up for the picnic tomorrow?"

"Yes!" Everett cheered. "Your car is fun!"

But once he was buckled in his booster seat, you pulled Bradley close and whispered, "I have something special for you, Coach." And Bradley audibly groaned as your hand came to rest on his cock, stroking him through his snug baseball pants. "Stay over tomorrow night?"

"Of course," he grunted next to your ear as you squeezed him gently. "Fuck."

You just giggled and said, "I think you'll love your surprise."

Then you backed out of the parking spot while Bradley stood next to his Bronco with a semi and waved like an idiot. He wasn't sure what kind of surprise you had in store for him, but he loved everything you did. And then he drove off in the opposite direction, back to the jewelry shop to pick up your necklace which the jeweler had needed to keep longer than anticipated. And he could also look at the rings some more.

-------------------------

"Where's Aunt Molly?" Everett whined as you sat with him on your lap on the crowded bleachers. All of the tee ball teams had been invited today, and there were so many people at the picnic.

"She's on her way from work, Ev. She should be here soon."

"What if she misses my trophy?"

"Then we'll have to show it to her when she gets here."

"What if she misses Coach Bob's trophy?"

You kissed his cheek and held him tighter. He was beyond excited that his coaches had been nominated for awards. "Then she can see Coach Bob's trophy later."

You laughed at the inadvertent dirty joke you just told, and then you saw your sister walking down from her car right as the ceremony started. She found a spot to stand off the side and waved at you. "Look, Aunt Molly's here. You feel better now?"

"Yep!" Everett told you as he waved to her as well.

You watched the third and second place teams get their medals, and when they called the Tiny Eagles up to collect their trophies, Everett ran up alongside Bradley and Bob. You took some pictures while you cheered. You were struck with a pang of sadness over the fact that Danny didn't want to be part of this. But then you saw Bradley pull Everett into a big hug as soon as he had his trophy in his hand.

Your son was happy all the time when he was around Bradley. He always seemed to provide Everett with love, attention, and comfort. And that was in addition to all of the fun they seemed to have together. You took another picture of them hugging, and then it was Bradley's turn for his award.

Bob looked so shy and hesitant as he thanked everyone for a great season, but when it was Bradley's turn, you couldn't stop smiling.

He gave all of the kids on the team a special shout out, and then he thanked the league for trusting that he and Bob could handle a team like this on their first try. And then you had to suppress your giggles as Bradley found where you were sitting on the bleachers and said, "And a big thank you to our Team Mom. None of this would have happened without her."

You waved down to them, and Everett, Bradley and Bob all waved back. Then Bradley was awarded his trophy and promptly handed it to Everett. "Seriously," Molly called out to you. "He's so much better than Danny."

"I know," you agreed, taking in the enormous smile on Everett's face as he ran to Molly. And then you were heading down the bleachers and into Bradley's arms.

"Hey, Kitten," he whispered, kissing your cheek as you laughed.

"Remember that day when you silently bullied me into agreeing to be the Team Mom?" you asked, looking up at him.

His grin and his backward hat looked exactly like they had that day as he said, "I sure do. God, I was so into you. I thought you must have been married though."

You buried your face against his chest and laughed. "The hot coach wanted me to be Team Mom? No way I wasn't raising my hand."

He kissed the top of your head and led you over to the picnic area where Everett was sitting with Molly, his grip on both trophies unrelenting. "Thanks for letting him hold that," you told Bradley.

But he just shrugged. "He can have it. I think he was more excited about me winning it than I was," he said with a laugh. "And I think I'm going to coach another tee ball team in the fall. I loved this."

Your heart swelled with love for him. "You should. You're good at it."

"Deployments will be hard to get around though," he whispered, kissing you on the head again. "Gonna be hard for us, too."

"Ev and I aren't going anywhere."

-------------------------------

After the picnic, Bradley drove you both back to your house and helped a very sleepy Everett get a quick shower and get ready for bed. "Go relax, Kitten. I got this," he promised as Everett changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth.

You bit your lip and kissed Everett goodnight. Then you whispered, "Come find me when you're done," before you walked into your bedroom and closed the door, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He grunted, wondering if he was going to get the surprise you promised him. His mind was filled with dirty blowjobs and kitten costumes, and he had to take a deep breath as Everett crossed the hallway back to his bedroom in his baseball pajamas and climbed up into his bed.

"Have you thought about moving into the extra bedroom?" he asked with a yawn, and Bradley smiled as he pulled the covers up over him.

"Honestly, Kiddo? I think about it all the time."

"We should talk to my mom about it," Everett muttered as he rolled onto his side, already half asleep.

"Yeah," Bradley whispered, "we should." Then he straightened both trophies on Everett's dresser and turned off the lamp before leaving the room. But he thought that another level of commitment was definitely going to be necessary before he could move in here. He'd been thinking about it though.

But all thoughts simply vanished from his brain as he opened your bedroom door and saw you standing there next to your bed. A strangled sound escaped from the back of his throat as his jaw dropped open.

"You okay, Coach?" you asked teasingly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, hands planted on your hips.

"Kitten," he gasped, eyes going wider. "Baby."

You were wearing a tiny, skimpy red and white cheerleading uniform and holding red pom poms at your hips. The little pleated skirt barely hid anything from his view, and he could see your peaked nipples poking against the top.

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I heard you won Coach of the year. I'm so proud of you." You took a step closer to him, and he wasn't sure if his cock could actually get any harder than it was. You'd put on some red lipstick and some extra eye makeup, and you looked fucking hot. He was having a hard time speaking as he reached for you.

"This is for me?" he managed to ask as he pulled you against him and ran his hands along the little skirt. But you spun in his arms, and he felt all of the blood in his body rush to his groin as you rubbed your ass against him.

"For you." You looked back at him over your shoulder as he ran his hands down along your bare thighs.

"You look like one of the Phillies cheerleaders," he whispered in your ear.

"That's what I was going for," you gasped with a smile.

"My first crush was on the entire 1995 Phillies cheerleading roster."

"Why am I not surprised?" Your soft laughter had him bucking against your backside. He was completely ready to go.

"You like dressing up for me," he muttered as you spun to face him again.

You nodded and shook your pom poms as you shimmied for him. "Yeah, I do. I think you like it, too."

"That would be an understatement," he growled as your tits nearly bounced out of that tiny top. When he pulled you closer by your hips, you dropped the pom poms to the floor and reached for the fly of his pants, and Bradley leaned down to kiss you softly. "I love this."

You kissed him all over his lips and mustache and cheeks, and he was sure he had your lipstick everywhere, and he was so fucking turned on. And then you were in front of him on your knees, and his baseball pants and underwear were around his thighs. He quickly pulled his jersey and undershirt off as you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock and looked up at him as you took him inch by inch until he met the back of your throat.

"Yeah," he groaned. "Just like this. I'd jerk off thinking about those cheerleaders sucking my cock."

You moaned so loudly with him against the back of your throat that he had to bite his tongue against the urge to blow his load already.

"But you're so much better. My god." He was already panting as you withdrew him from your mouth. Your lipstick was on his cock now, but he barely had time to process anything before you were sucking on him again. He watched you, his actual fantasy come to life, as you gave him excellent head. When he ran his thumb along your cheek, he could feel his cock inside your mouth. He needed to stop you, because he desperately wanted to fuck you, but this felt too perfect.

But when you started running your fingernails along his balls, he pulled you up to your feet. You let out a startled laugh before he pressed his lips to yours. "I wanna fuck you," he managed between sloppy kisses as he grabbed at your bare backside with both hands.

You were moaning against his lips as his dick was poking into your belly. "Anything you want," you gasped, running your hands along his shoulders and pecs.

"Don't tell me that," he growled, picking you up as you squealed and getting you on your knees at the edge of the bed. "God damn. I want everything." You looked too good on your hands and knees, glancing back at him while your glistening pussy and ass were bare for him. He ran his fingers through your slick until you were moaning his name, and then he knelt and put his mouth on you as he used his hand to coat himself with your wetness.

"Coach!" you cried out as Bradley licked your pussy and kissed the backs of your thigh.

"You gotta be quiet, Kitten," he grunted, pushing your knees a little further apart as he lapped at you until you were bouncing back to meet his tongue. But you just got louder and louder, and when Bradley stood behind you and slid his cock inside, you nearly screamed.

"Bradley!"

"Shh." He tried his best to coax you to be quiet, but it didn't work until he clamped his left hand over your lips. "Baby, you can be as loud as you want when we're actually alone," he rasped, fucking you a little harder now. That little pleated red and white skirt brushed along your ass with each thrust, and Bradley wrapped his right hand around your waist, fucking you with deeper strokes.

Your muffled cries had him close now as he moved his hand to palm your ass. He'd have to consider buying you a gag of some sort, and that had him actually cumming inside your tight pussy.

"Fuck!" he grunted, letting go of your mouth and squeezing both of your ass cheeks as he fucked you until he was seeing stars. You just whimpered pathetically as you clenched around his softening cock. When Bradley pulled you up so your back was pressed against his chest, he ran his hands up under your skirt and teased your clit, really making sure you felt good.

"Coach!" you gasped, still fluttering around his cock as he pressed his lips to your neck. When you moved his fingers from your pussy up to your lips, he nibbled along your bare shoulder. You sucked on each of his fingers before you asked, "Did you like this as much as the kitten costume?"

He groaned so loudly, you giggled. "Yes, this was just as good as the kitten. Don't make me choose one."

"You can have both," you promised, turning to kiss him as he withdrew his cock from your pussy and helped you to your feet.

He watched his cum drip down and coat your thighs as he whimpered for you. And then he remembered what was tucked inside his pants pocket. Carefully he pulled out your repaired necklace and held it out to you.

"Oh!" you gasped, reaching for it right away. "You fixed it!"

"Yeah," he whispered, kissing your parted lips. "Of course I did."

Once you had further examined it, you stared up at him with a look of awe. "It's better now," you told him, turning it over in your hand to inspect the engraving. One side of the paw print said Bradley and the other said Everett. He carefully clasped it around your neck before you wrapped your arms around his waist, and he just couldn't stop thinking about being here with you forever.

---------------------------

On Thursday, you were desperately trying to finish up for the day when another project got dumped on your desk. It was Everett's birthday, and you were hoping you'd be able to sneak out early and stop home to change before the Padres game. You started working on the new project before you decided to just say fuck it.

You turned your computer off an hour early and locked up your desk. You'd have time to change and meet everyone else at the ballpark since Everett was spending the day at the zoo with Molly. So you strolled to the elevator and then out to your car without a care in the world.

And that's when your phone rang. It was your lawyer. You stumbled to a stop in the parking lot as you accepted the call.

"A judge is not going to allow Daniel to sign away his rights. Not unless adoption becomes an option for your son. However, even when you acquire sole custody, which is basically a done deal, he'd still be required to pay you the child support he owes you, plus continue to pay in the future. Your ex husband would have one hundred and twenty days to try to dispute it. Would you like us to serve him with papers?"

Your heart was pounding as you played with the charm on your chain. You were beginning to feel like you had on your bathroom floor, short of breath and nauseous. "Can I think about it?" you asked softly. You didn't want to have to chase Danny for money. He would just make this as difficult for you as he could, and you didn't want to have to deal with him anymore at all.

"Of course. Take your time."

You ended the call and climbed in your car. Bradley had implored you to keep him updated with the information your lawyer was giving you. But there was just no way you'd be able to tell him all of this. It would be mortifying, admitting to your boyfriend that more than anything, you wanted to know if he'd ever marry you and adopt your child.

A pathetic sounding laugh bubbled out of you. No. You would just keep that information to yourself and decide if it was worth going after Danny at all. Because all you really wanted at the moment was your own name solely attached to Everett as his legal guardian. But that wasn't something you could have yet if at all.

---------------------------

Undefeated! Everett's birthday party is up next! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

Time to check out The Curveball for more of Molly and Bob!

PART 23

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space-mango-company · 16 days

Text

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

325 notes · View notes

dandelionfairyyy · 8 months

Text

30 hours J. H.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x female!reader

Warnings: mention of injuries and violence, swearing, slight mention of blood, kidnapping, possible bad writing and mistakes

Wordcount: 4,076

A/N: please be kind, this is the first oneshot I wrote in a year or two and I am still super unhappy with this, but keep working on it would just make it worse I think. And my friends said I should just post it, so … Also, English is not my first language, please keep that in mind while reading. I hope you’ll like it anyway

Now without further ado… I present to you:

30 hours

You rub your face sleepily as you slowly wake up.

As you feel the weight of an arm around your waist, you can't help but smile.

You turn to Jay, whose arm is pressing you against him.

What started as a friendship has become so much more. And yesterday he finally asked you to marry him.

Gently you trace the contours of his face with your finger. Memories of last night come flooding back and you bite your lower lip as you think of Jay treating you to a little corner cafe before you took a walk along the Chicago River and him finally getting down on one knee in front of you.

Your eyes fall on the beautiful silver ring with the little stone set in it, on your finger.

"Morning," you say as you see Jay waking up.

"Morning," he replies in a raspy voice, giving you a smile that takes your breath away. "Sleep well?"

You nod before reaching a little further towards him and placing your lips on his.

God, you still can't believe that this wonderful man is now your fiancé.

Happily, you smile into the kiss and slightly part your lips for him. You feel his tongue gently nudging against yours and you feel yourself catapulted right back to last night. What his tongue had done to you...

You can't hold back a soft moan at the memory and you feel his knowing smile in your kiss.

As it becomes more intimate, Jay rolls over you and....

Your kiss is abruptly interrupted when a cell phone rings somewhere in the room.

Last night, on the way from the door to the bedroom, you had spread your clothes anywhere in the flat. His trousers had apparently made it into the bedroom.

"Don't answer it," you plead, wrapping your arms around his neck, knowing it's Jay's phone because Intelligence most likely has a new lead in the current case and he needs to get to the precinct. "Let's just stay in bed for a week," you suggest, with little hope of agreement, though.

Jay leans down a little towards you and kisses you intimately again for a few seconds before pulling away and going in search of his jeans. "As tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid I can't do that."

You sit up with a sigh as he gets out of bed and fishes the phone out of his pocket.

As expected, there's a new lead that needs to be followed up.

So you get up to make breakfast to go for him as he heads into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Wearing only one of Jay's t-shirts, you are standing at the kitchen counter pouring coffee into a to-go mug when you feel your fiancé standing behind you.

His hands are on your hips as he plants a kiss on your cheek.

"My angel," he murmurs and you turn your head so that your lips meet. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice..." you reply with a smirk.

"So not often enough."

You press the sandwich and the to-go mug of coffee into his hand and push him towards the door.

"I love you, too. And now you have to go. Work needs to be done."

It's Saturday, so you don't have to work and can devote yourself to other things, like grocery shopping or housekeeping.

Jay steals one last kiss before disappearing out the door with a "love you".

Heavens, even though you've known each other for five years and been a couple for three, you're still as much in love with this man as you were at the beginning of your relationship.

At first it was hard for you to come to terms with the fact that Jay often has to work late and sometimes he has to leave just because of work. But by now you've come to terms with it and Jay always makes it up to you in one way or another. Either with a romantic date, or little presents he gives you, and of course with the love he gives you every single day.

Lost in thought, you finally make your way to the supermarket. But soon you wish you had just stayed in bed with Jay.

"Y/N?", you hear an unknown voice behind you and turn around in confusion.

You don't know the man standing in front of you. But he seemed to know your name. He held out a wallet to you. "You just lost this," he says.

Unsure, you take it from him and look inside. Indeed, it contains your driver's license, your bank card, cash... and yet it is not your wallet. You've never seen this thing before in your life.

What the fuck?

You are about to reply that it is not your wallet when everything happens really fast. A black van pulls up next to you and the man who handed you the wallet before now pushes you backwards so that you lose your balance. Someone behind you catches you and you are finally thrown into the van. Your head hits the wall and an unpleasant hammering makes its way to the back of your head.

Doors slam and two seconds later the van speeds on.

It takes you a few seconds to realize what has just happened.

You have just been kidnapped.

That afternoon, Jay comes home in excitement at the sight of his fiancée in his arms again.

The current case, which has kept them on the go for a fortnight and got Jay out of bed this morning, has now been solved and he just wants to be with you, eat something and sleep.

But when he enters the flat, you are not there.

He checks all the rooms in the flat, but you are not to be found.

Are you with friends and forgot to tell him? Normally you always let him know if you're meeting someone, because you know that otherwise his detective brain will spin banal theories about what might have happened to you.

With a frown, he pulls out his mobile phone and tries to call you. But he is sent straight to voicemail. After the third attempt, he gives up and calls your best friend instead, deeply hoping that you are with her, or at least that she knows where you are.

But with her, too, nothing.

Now Jay is really worried.

Worried, he calls Ruzek, who is a good friend of yours and through whom you and Jay met in the first place, hoping that he is still in the bullpen for paperwork.

Jay was lucky.

"Hey man, what is it?" asked Adam exuberantly.

"Can you ping Y/N's phone? She's not there, I can't reach her, and I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Just a minute," Adam replies, recognising the concern and urgency in Jay's voice.

Shortly afterwards, Adam gives an address of where your cell phone was the last time before it was turned off.

With a quick thank you and a promise to let him know when he has found you, the two colleagues and friends on the phone say goodbye and Jay gets back into his truck to drive to the address.

It wasn't far and as he got out his heart stopped for a moment.

A wallet with your drivers licence is lying on the small footpath of the side street and a few metres away is your phone, the screen shattered. There are black tyre marks on the road from a sharp braking.

Jay pulls out his phone again and calls Adam for a second time.

"Found her?" he asks hopefully, but Jay doesn't even let him speak. "Y/N's been kidnapped."

Jay knows his colleague has just sat up straighter.

"Jay, are you sure?"

"Yes." Jay describes what he sees in front of him and then asks Adam to call the team together.

Less than fifteen minutes later they were all standing on the scene.

"Okay, you know what to do, check PODs, residents' CCTV and ask residents if they saw anything. Jay's girlfriend, one of ours, has been kidnapped. And we're going to get that asshole!" the sergeant ordered his team before putting a comforting hand on Jay's shoulder and saying, "We're going to find Y/N and she's going to get through this. She's tough. You'll see your girlfriend again."

"Fiancée, to be exact," Jay replies, but Voight hadn't heard him anymore.

Back in the bullpen, with all the evidence and statements from the residents, they create a board with all the facts so far. Photos of the skid marks, the wallet and the mobile phone. In the middle hangs a photo of the victim. He has seen this board so many times before, with disturbing and nightmare-inducing images. But now it is different.

Worse. Creepier. Because this time there's a photo of you hanging there.

Jay is standing in front of it, looking at it.

The photo doesn't do you justice, he thinks. The sparkle in your eyes is not there and the smile on your lips is nowhere near as beautiful as he knows it. Everything seems so dull and lifeless ...

An elderly lady watched the abduction from her kitchen window, but thought nothing more of it. However, she was already somewhat demented. Therefore, her statement is less reliable, but her description, apart from a few exceptions, matches those of the other residents of the street.

According to her, a man spoke to you, then a black van appeared, then flew away and you were gone.

Jay ran an agitated hand through his hair. He had to concentrate now. Intelligence had already solved a case with less clues, so they could solve this one too.

At the stroke of midnight, his phone buzzes, showing that he has received a video message.

He plays it while the others look over his shoulder.

There you sit tied to a chair with your cheek visibly reddened and a small gash on your cheekbone.

"Jay. The three wankers in front of me ..." you get kicked in the shin as you insult your captors as wankers and you curse a soft "ouch" before continuing. "Anyway, they want you to turn yourself in, Jay. A trade. I get released and they take you in exchange. In 30 hours, you'll ... what? I can't read the scribbling ...” your look shifts to one of your captors. “If you're going to make me read rubbish like that, at least write it neatly enough so I can read it dramatically ..." you grumble, and Adam has to suppress a snort. It would be funny if it wasn't so serious.

One of the kidnappers gave the address you couldn't read before. "Right there... That's where you'll be standing in thirty hours, unarmed. They will release me and take you with them. Should you not do it, they will kill me."

Your eyes shift from what you are supposed to be reading out and you look at one of your captors. "Oh, go bury yourselves, or throw yourselves in front of a train, I don't mind ..." You wrinkle your nose slightly at the last sentence.

Then one of the kidnappers speaks again, "Detective, follow our instructions or your little friend will die. Know that this is revenge for the death of my brother."

While the kidnapper is still speaking, you shout, "Jay, don't do it! Don't make the trade!"

You catch a slap, your head flies from the punch to the side, and then the video ends.

It's only when he exhales now that Jay realises he's been holding his breath. As did the rest of the team.

Adam made the comment that you're pretty brave to be so defiant to the kidnappers. Or you're tired of living. It's going to be one of those two.

Over the next few hours, Intelligence investigates whose brother it might be, who was capable of such a thing, and where those, as you called them, wankers, might be holding you.

But when nothing new comes of it, Voight sends everyone home for the time being to get some sleep and to be able to continue working in new freshness. After all, they still have 27 hours.

But Jay doesn't want to go home. He could never sleep there now.

In your bed, knowing that you're sitting somewhere kidnapped, tied to a chair....

Which is why Adam finally offers to take him with him, so that he can at least get a little sleep on the couch there.

20 hours until the exchange:

By now they've figured out who wants to see your fiancé suffer.

A few weeks ago Jay had shot someone, Paul Lancaster to be precise, on a case after he in turn had opened fire on him.

Jay had escaped with a bruise at the time due to the vest, but Paul had died on the way to hospital. He had hit well.

Now Paul's brother, Jeremy Lancaster, seemed to want revenge on him and this man had quite an interesting sheet. Jeremy had been charged several times for smaller felonies and had served two years in Stateville for aggravated assault. But even though Intelligence now knows who's holding you, they still have no clue where Jeremy and his two accomplices might be holding you.

Frustrated, Jay now throws a stack of papers against the wall and rubs his face in dissolution.

He's on the verge of giving up, of just turning himself in. He'd rather die than let them hurt you more than they already do.

They went through everything again, repeated all the residents' statements, looked at all the traffic camera recordings, but they got nowhere. The van had disappeared at some point at a corner without video surveillance.

"Play the video again," Jay finally asks Kim, who is currently at her computer trying to draw any clues from it as to where you might be.

"Jay ..." she started, but he interrupted her and took it upon himself to play the video from the beginning.

At the end, when you wrinkle your nose, he pauses the video.

"There! Y/N always wrinkles her nose when she bluffs while playing. I always tease her about it ... because she looks so cute at that moment and it annoys her when I say that, ... that was a hint ... She was giving us a hint."

Kim rewinds a few seconds and plays it again.

Burying themselves ... jumping in front of a train ...

They play the video again and again.

"Train ... bury ... buried train ... underground!", Jay finally combines and writes it immediately on the case board.

Seventeen hours until the exchange:

If they didn't find you soon, Jay knew, he'd turn himself in. No matter what you had said, no matter what Voight will say. He can't let you get hurt.

There are seventeen hours left to find you, and Jay can barely think straight when they find out Jeremy is in an on-off relationship with an Angelina Perry. Maybe she can help.

God, Jay hoped so much.

Adam and Kim bring the girlfriend to the station and Jay watches the questioning through the mirror, his partner, Hailey standing beside him, watching him with concern. She knows how much Jay loves you. Every time Ruzek brings up one of the stories from your childhood and your name comes up, his eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. But now there was nothing but worry and fear.

"What am I doing here? I don't know any Y/N," Angelina clarifies.

"But you know Jeremy Lancaster. Don't you?" asks Kim, unimpressed.

"Y-yes? Why? Did something happen to him?"

"No ...", Adam picks up, but Jay is no longer listening, because he has just received another video message.

Alarmed, he looks at Hailey, who nods once and finally gets Adam and Kim out of the interrogation room. Meanwhile, Jay gets Voight out of his office and has Kevin run the video from his phone onto the computer.

With held breath, the team watches the video.

You are still sitting in the chair with your head hanging, probably unconscious. Your hair hides the view at your face, but kindly Jeremy grabs your hair ungently and pulls it back so that he lifts your head and the team can see you properly. Your face is swollen and you have a laceration on your forehead, a bruise is starting to form on your left eye.

"Fuck!" curses Jay, even before Jeremy has begun to speak.

"Hello Detective. A real fighter you got yourself into, I'm looking forward to making you feel what I did to her before I shoot you in front of her like you shot my brother. Or would you prefer I shoot her in front of you?"

Jay's blood boils in his veins. He is so angry at this monster of a man called Jeremy Lancaster for laying a hand on you, an absolute innocent.

With his phone in hand, he storms into the interrogation room where Jeremy's girlfriend or ex-girlfriend or whatever is sitting.

With a slam, the door shuts behind Jay. Angelina flinches in fright and looks at the frustrated and distraught detective in front of her.

The rest of the team have followed him and are now watching through the one-sided mirror.

"You better tell me now where your boyfriend likes to hide. Because if he kills her, I'll hold you responsible too!" he threatens, knowing very well that he couldn't do that. But he just wants to have you back, to hold you in his arms again and hear from you that everything will be all right again.

With these words, he slams the mobile phone down on the table and lets the video play.

Angelina looks shocked and tears glisten in her eyes as she watches the video.

"That ... that's Jeremy? Wh-why?"

"His brother Paul messed up and got himself killed. Jeremy blames me and has been holding my fiancée for over 13 hours now. God knows what he's doing to her. And every minute that goes by, he could hurt her. So if you don't want to be responsible for murder, you'd better think really hard about where your boyfriend could be hiding with her!" he rages and Angelina flinches again, however Jay can see that she is starting to think.

The team, watching the whole thing through the mirrored glass, are quite flummoxed. Did Jay just say you were his fiancée?

They all caught your complicated love story, how Jay initially thought you and Adam were a couple and ended up with Erin. How you buried your crush on Jay deep inside when you found out. How you then held him when Erin left, dumped him, and how you both had to get your asses kicked by Kevin and Kim first before you confessed your love to each other.

They know how much Jay loves you and how much you love him. And they have taken you to their hearts as well. As Voight had said, you are one of them, even if you don't work for them. You are their friend. It takes all the more out of them now to know that Jay is not only about to lose his fiancée, but that they could lose their friend.

"Did he ever say anything about an underground or anything?" His voice was no longer loud and threatening now, but quiet and desperate.

One could see it in Angelina's face as she thought of something before she said, "The old underground warehouse...he...he told me once that when he was a kid he used to play in the factory hall with his brother. Maybe that's where they are ... he is ... was ... really close with his brother." With that said, she looks hopefully at the detective in front of her. He nods and finally leaves the interrogation room.

The team leaves the room at the same time as Jay, from where they have been watching everything.

They would all like to say something to him, but they all know that nothing they could say would make anything better.

Sixteen hours until the exchange:

The team storms the building from all three entrances.

Jay and Hailey, Kevin and Kim, and Adam and Voight.

Flash grenades are thrown, "Chicago PD! Drop your weapon! ... Hands in the air! ... on your knees!" are shouted from all sides and Jeremy and his two accomplices had to admit defeat.

Jay's gaze wanders searchingly down the hall and ....

There you lie. On the floor, hands and feet still tied to the fucking chair, not moving. From his position he cannot see if you are still breathing. Your hair covers your face, but you seem unconscious. At least Jay hopes you are only unconscious and nothing more.

God, he hopes so badly that you're still alive.

While the rest of the team arrest Jeremy and his accomplices, Jay gets down on his knees next to you, unties you and frees you from the goddamn chair. You don't move and anxiously he feels your pulse.

It is there, but very weak. But he can't feel relief yet, because as he brushes your hair out of your face, his examining gaze sees not only your wrists, chafed and blue from the ropes, but also your face. A nasty wound is emblazoned on your forehead. One half of your face is covered in blood, the other is red, swollen and a black eye is already forming. What had they done to you?

"Fuck ...", he curses softly and searches frantically for something to press carefully onto the wound.

By now Adam is standing next to him. In his face the same concern as in Jay's when he sees your bruised body and your hair, which is sticky with your blood but still shines moistly. "5021-Ida, shots fired by the offender and the police, offender in custody, one female victim down, multiple trauma to the head and body, roll an ambo to my current location asap," he quickly relays through his radio to the dispatcher.

You hadn't lost much blood yet, but head injuries were always treacherous.

Jay keeps mumbling that you should hang on. That an ambulance is on its way and that you should just hold on a little longer.

Seconds that feel like hours pass.

You hear Jay's voice as if from far away, begging you not to leave him, to open your eyes, to stay with him. You want to follow his plea so much that it seems to tear you apart, but your body no longer obeys you. Several times you try to speak, to say that you hear him, that you are there after all and that you are not planning to go anywhere else. But nothing. Not a single sound comes from your lips. You can't even move your fingers to show that you are still alive, that you can hear him....

Instead, you fight the complete blackness that threatens to overwhelm you. You cling to the love you feel for Jay where you know he returns it. You cling to his voice that seems to fade.

They always say that when you die, a warm white light appears to you, awaiting and welcoming you.

But it is the other way around. The light that holds you begins to shrink and is taken over further and further by the darkness, the blackness, the nothingness. Jay's voice is further and further away. You can barely hear him, barely understand what he is saying. And yet you know that he still commands you to hang on and tells you how much he loves you and can't lose you, that he needs you.

Then suddenly you hear female voices reciting foreign words. "V-fib" is the last thing you hear before there's nothing left. Just the empty, lonely, cold, blackness and you. You wonder if this is what death feels like.

At least you could die knowing what true love feels like. What it feels like to love someone more than yourself and to be loved just as much.

You had the chance to meet Jay and those few years with him were the best of your life.

Jay ...

Your last thought belongs to him, to him alone, and that yesterday morning you didn't say the last "I love you" back.

And then there was nothing. No light, no thought, no blackness. Just nothing.

back to masterlist

#jay halstead #chicago pd #jay halstead x reader #x reader #love #30 hours #short story #writing #fiction #imagine #writers on tumblr

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benedictscanvas · 2 months

Text

i'd love to love you, someday - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: it's just pining fluff with a couple pet names

a/n: hello sunflowers <3 this can be read as a part two to this, but it works on its own! i can't stop writing soft!fic right now, so if you have any requests along those lines, please do send them in. this was also technically requested by @onceuponaoneshot, I know you asked for young!Remus but i'm picturing early twenties in this!! i hope that's okay and i'm wishing you so well lovely <3

---

Remus has now kissed the top of your head three times. He’s told you that he likes you twice. He still does not think that you’re aware of the overwhelmingly massive/silly little crush he has on you.

Crush is the wrong word, but he also thinks telling someone you love them before you’re even with them is, at best, naive and, at worst, selfish. He’s not in love with you, but he knows he could be. He knows he would be if he could kiss you on the top of the head whenever he liked, if he could run the backs of his knuckles over your cheek and stare at you, really stare at you. He knows he’d be in love with you then.

He needs to get you the message about his feelings first, though, because you seem persistent in ignoring them. He’d told you he liked you more than the rest of your friends at the night market and all you’d done is start referring to him as your best friend. He’d kissed you on the crown of your head twice at that time, then kissed you on the temple during a brave parting hug a week later. Just yesterday, after he’d watched you arguing with Sirius in the pub about something that didn’t matter at all, he told you breathlessly.

“I like you so much,” he had said, watching your chest heave after all that talking you’d done, watching a drop of sweat travel down your neck because the heating in this place is always far too hot.

You had laughed as if he said something funny and then almost shoved him over in your haste to get away from him. If he didn’t know you as he does, or if he listened to his insecurities, he’d think you were trying to brush him off. But he knows you, really knows you. He knows you were as embarrassed by his words as you are in the face of almost any affection. It’s why you call him an idiot so often, with that look in your eyes that gives him so much bloody hope. It hurts his chest sometimes.

Today he’s going to tell you how he feels and you’re going to understand him. He’s decided it.

“Remus!” you greet him, with an excitement he’s never sure he’s earned. You catch him in a tight hug, arms wrapped around his shoulders, so he braves his fourth kiss to the top of your head. When you pull away, you’re beaming up at him, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You saw me yesterday, lovely,” he says, just a fact, not a complaint. You furrow your brow. It’s adorable.

“Exactly. It’s so good to see you today. Especially without people trying to ruin our bestie time.”

He’s been pretending to hate that new phrase, so he rolls his eyes at you, but you just can’t stop beaming. He’s finding it difficult not to join you.

“You mean Sirius?”

You huff at the mention of him.

“He took up so much of my time last night. About cows! Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” he says, smiling wryly at you. You and Sirius could argue about anything and despite any protests, you both enjoyed it immensely.

“Right,” you huff again, “But still. It meant not nearly enough time talking to you. And I want to hear about your week! You said there was a promotion you were thinking of going for?”

He had said that. In a group setting, where he didn’t expect anyone to ever ask about it again. He’d been threatening to go for a promotion for a few years, but never quite managing to go for it.

“I thought you’d assume I chickened out again.”

“You’ve never chickened out!” you protest, linking you arm through his as you start walking through the park you’ve met in. At some point you’ll try to remember stop for lunch, but Remus isn’t sure when, “You decided it wasn’t for you.”

“Because I was scared,” he argued but you slapped him gently on the hand instinctively.

“Stop being self-deprecating” you warn him, “I don’t enjoy it.”

And he never wants to do anything you don’t enjoy, so he stops immediately. It’s amazing the effect you can have on him. He’s going to tell you so, so soon. Very soon. Next few sentences, he thinks. But then sentences go by and you get into a rather brilliant conversation and he just can’t butt in with his own wants.

“Lily thinks he’s being stubborn but I think he just wants everything to be right for her.”

The two of you have been talking about Lily and James and their potential engagement for a few minutes now. It’s only a matter of time, but how much time is up for debate.

“He’s a romantic. It has to be perfect for her. You’d think he knows by now there’s no such thing.”

“You don’t believe in perfect?” you ask him, no longer clinging on to his arm but walking close enough that your arms brush every now and then.

“Not objective perfection, no,” he says, measuring his words carefully, “But I think something can be perfect to someone, you know? People can be perfect for each other.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he knows the teasing is coming. He feels the flush creeping up his neck already.

“Like soulmates?”

Your eyes are alight with mischief.

“I suppose. If they’re not predestined. If you can choose your soulmate.”

“You think we were destined to be besties or that we chose each other then?” you say, as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world and you’re not implying that you might be soulmates. He feels lightheaded.

“You think we’re soulmates?”

“Answer my question, Rem! It’s a hypothetical, you love a hypothetical.”

You still look mischievous, not hypothetical, but he’ll answer you anyway.

“I don’t know how you feel, but I think I chose you as one of my favourite people. I feel very lucky you chose me back.”

He’s definitely blushing. He can feel it, even without bringing his hands to his cheeks to give it away. You’re grinning at him, and it’s making him blush more, but he also feels better. Feels like you might finally understand his meaning.

“This is why I can’t argue with you like I do Sirius,” you say, which wasn’t what he was expecting, “We agree on far too much.”

He smiles down at the ground to stop himself from barking out an altogether unattractive laugh. But it’s his chance and he’s going to take it, because he wants to so desperately.

“If my soul has a mate, I think it’s you,” he says quietly.

He’s sure his heart stutters in his chest in the brief silence that follows. You both walk a few more slow paces forwards but then you finally speak up.

“I’ve never had a person like you, all my life,” you say seriously, staring up into his face for a moment before you have to look where you’re going again and the moment he thinks is coming fades, “We must be as close as it gets, buddy.”

Buddy. His heart sinks. You are the prettiest human being in the world and the most oblivious and Remus really, really wants to fall in love with you. If only you’d let him. If only you could hear him basically declare you his potential soulmate and realise he might have some intentions towards you that weren’t very platonic.

He’s not sure if he’s chickened out or if you have, but he decides whatever moment he wanted isn’t going to arrive today. He spots a nearby cafe after a few minutes talking about his potential promotion, which he pinky promises to go for, so he’ll have to follow through.

A three hour lunch later, and another half hour walking back to your cars, and he hasn’t said another word to you about his feelings. But he’s had a lovely few hours and he thinks you have too.

"Bye, Rem. See you Wednesday?"

There's four of you going to play mini golf on Wednesday night. He hates mini golf.

"Can't wait. Bye, sweetheart."

Whatever rush he thinks he’s in fades when you kiss him on the cheek as you say goodbye. Once you’ve driven off in your car, waving to him all the way down the road, he decides that you might be working up the courage for something too, and he might need to wait until you’re both feeling brave to do something about it.

He can wait. He carries that kiss on the cheek with him the rest of the weekend and into the next week, where he puts his name down for that promotion first thing Monday.

And if it’s solely so he has something to text you about, so be it.

---

if you've gotten this far, please know i'm very grateful. really hope you enjoyed, sunflowers <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #marauders x reader

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redclercs · 11 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

vi. do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

— the one where he ain't reading what they call you lately.

warnings: anxiety tics and symptoms, i–unironically–listened to the lakes a lot while writing this. 3k words.

masterlist ✢ next

By Marie Nichols

The first news we got about actress y/n y/ln's new romance came at the start of this month, when she was seen at the Miami Grand Prix with Ferrari's sponsor Elix. What appeared to be only rumors, since y/n and Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc were single at the same time, have been confirmed little by little.

Although it is not like y/n to soft-launch a relationship, she's been hinting at it for several weeks now. From staring lovingly at her new boyfriend as he receives the winner's trophy in Monaco's Grand Prix to instagram posts saying she 'feels like a princess', the last confirmation we needed came yesterday when Twitter went crazy over user @/formulacharles' picture of the new couple, on a romantic date around Monaco.

Opinions are divided on this couple as both #y/nIsOverParty and #YNCHARLES trended at the same time. Most of the negative views on this flourishing romance come from Aidan Kim's fans, who claim it has been happening since before Kim and y/ln broke up around March after dating for three years.

We have gathered some of the best tweets from both sides, to help us make up our minds about the whole situation.

❝@/aidankimluv: I can't believe y/n is rubbing her new relationship in everyone's faces like this! she can't be single and it shows❞

❝@/gr4ndekim: the timing still rubs me off the wrong way, this has been happening for way longer than she wants us to know❞

❝@/ynselixcan I need y'all to touch grass for a second and realize men and women can be friends, and if they are dating it's none of your business anyway❞

❝@/leclercsdiary: they are cute together but tbh without knowing much about y/n... i don't want her to mess with charles' head❞

We are still hoping for an official confirmation, although pictures speak for themselves. Will y/n ever be brave enough to admit she dumped Aidan Kim for a Formula 1 pilot? We'll keep you updated!

FROM F1GOSSIPXO ON TIKTOK: "FANS CAUGHT Y/N AND CHARLES ON A DATE IN MONACO"

[text to speech assistant voice]: ❝(...) someone on twitter took this picture of them at a famous rose garden in Monaco and the second clip is charles dropping y/n off back at her hotel. i guess all the rumors are true and we have a new grid couple... a frankly problematic couple at that.❞

May 30th, Montecarlo, Monaco.

It was, in all honesty, a little dumb to believe that you could keep it lowkey if you were going to hang out with Charles.

First, Victoria who normally remembers close to nothing about the nights she gets drunk, remembered perfectly the 'moment' you shared with Charles when he offered to show you around. The whole rebound conversation happened again, much to your dismay.

Then, there was the car. Charles' custom Pista Spider is quite literally, the opposite of lowkey and apparently the only option he was willing to offer for you two to move around Monaco.

Which makes perfect sense, no matter how much you hate it.

There was also the timing. Which was really, really bad, and you blame your ignoring this on the fact that you had a lot to drink the night you said yes to his offer. On a normal basis Charles is the most sought after person in Monaco, him being the Grand Prix winner from two days before, multiplied the attention by a million.

Yet when he called you on Monday night to make sure you were still up for the next day, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no. He was being nice and friendly, and you had no reason to deny him other than the anxiety you felt in the back of your neck every time you thought about what people would say if they found out.

And people would find out, sooner or later.

But you are not committing a crime, you tell yourself in front of the mirror. Charles is becoming your friend, which is something you really, really need at this point in your life. Granted, befriending the guy that you’re tangled up in rumors with isn’t the best idea, it’s neither your fault nor his.

So you take a deep breath and fix your hair for the last time before leaving your hotel room. Charles called you a few minutes before to let you know he is waiting in the lobby, and you can feel your palms sweating already.

Charles is nodding attentively to a child with a Ferrari cap who is telling him all about his Monaco GP experience when you step out of the lift.

He waves at you, and his eyes register your appearance in seconds before they return to the child.

“This is my friend y/n,” he tells the little boy as you approach. “She’s a huge Ferrari fan, too.”

The boy smiles brightly and his focus shifts to you, asking what your favorite part of the Grand Prix was and whether you think they can win in Spain. You give him the best answer you can come up with, that the best part was seeing Charles win (to which both Charles and the boy smile) and that yes, you believe it’s Carlos’ turn to win his home race.

Once Charles finishes signing his merch and he makes sure the kid has returned to his parents safely, his whole attention is devoted to you.

“You are really pretty,” he smiles, his accent coming out in the way he pronounces “pretty”.

Lowkey is the word of the day, and that’s also what you had in mind when picking your outfit. A sage green sundress with matching short-heeled shoes. Nothing too garish, but that still makes you feel confident.

“Thank you, you look good yourself.”

It’s a half-assed compliment that comes out of your mouth out of sheer anxiety. He looks incredibly handsome in a light blue shirt that brings out the blue in his eyes and a decent pair of jeans instead of the horrible ones he wore on Sunday.

Charles smiles wider, "Thank you, y/n."

You bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment, and Charles' eyes go small in amusement.

"Are you ready?" he asks, ending your torment as you feel heat creep up your neck. Charles hesitates in offering his arm to you, and instead puts his palm out for you to walk in front of him.

You nod, starting the walk towards the exit. His car is right outside the door to the hotel, and there are people surrounding it, taking pictures and craning their necks to look inside. It's your turn to hesitate as you stop in your tracks, Charles' chest millimeters away from your body as he comes to an abrupt stop and avoids crashing into you.

"Let me," he says, his semblance more serious as he moves you aside gently. The doorman nods at him and opens the door.

Your anxiety rises as Charles leads you out of the hotel, apologizing in both French and Italian about not taking pictures as he opens the car door for you.

He continues smiling and saying 'thank you' and 'i'm sorry' as he walks around the car, to the driver's seat and climbs inside. The car offers little protection from the outside, but you're grateful for whatever refuge. It's not like you to act like this, but wherever your name appears on the internet lately is full of vile stuff. The mere thought of it makes your hands shake, you're afraid of what they're going to say this time.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, watching you put your hands on your lap, palms down so the skirt of the dress wipes your sweat.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reassure, more to yourself than to him. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Charles smiles again, shoulders relaxing as he steers the car away from the crowd.

You look at him, feigning insecurity and he frowns for a moment before you chuckle. "Don't worry, I love surprises."

"What do you think of Monaco so far?" he asks, squeezing the wheel a couple times. If you didn't know better, you'd think he is nervous too.

"Are you kidding? It's beautiful. The Grand Prix was something else, and everywhere I look there's luxury." You gesture around, but the prime example is the car you're riding right now, and the driver who's wearing a $2 million watch.

Charles laughs and nods, "It never stops being beautiful, no matter how much time you spend here. I miss it every time I'm away."

You understand. Because you miss New York so much, it doesn't matter how overrated people say it is. It's become your home and you hate being away from it, especially considering the circumstances that exiled you.

The very good thing about Monaco is that car rides are short. So when you get to your destination, you've barely had time to make things awkward with small talk.

You wait patiently for him to walk to your door and open it once you’ve parked. Charles has put on a pair of sunglasses and you think it’s a shame you can’t see his blue eyes anymore. You discard this thought immediately though, you’re not going to think like this about someone you’re befriending.

“So?” You ask taking his hand as he helps you out of the car. “What place were you so keen on showing me?”

Charles holds on to your hand for a moment too long, and you stare down at them. He lets go, repeating the gesture from earlier to let you walk in front.

“It’s a rose garden,” he begins explaining, leaning a bit forward so he doesn’t raise his voice. “The Princess’ Rose Garden, I saw your picture saying you felt like a princess. I thought you would like it.”

You turn around to face him and this time he isn’t quick enough to avoid crashing in to you. So much for an F1 Pilot’s reflexes.

“You’re not allergic to flowers are you?” He questions, the panicked undertone makes you smile. “y/n?”

“No!” You throw your head back laughing, “I just think it’s adorable how you related the ideas.”

There is a newly installed shade of pink in Charles’ cheeks and he runs a hand through his hair, sheepish. “Well, I’m glad I got it right.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and you are genuinely so excited so clap your hands a little. “The Princess’ Rose Garden! Let’s go!”

Charles still lets you lead, following wherever you go and translating whatever signs aren’t in English already. He too, is genuinely happy to see you so bubbly and excited as you marvel at the colors of the flowers and the arches, and the statues. He’s proud of himself for picking the right place.

“Let me take a picture of you,” he says, as you walk through a white arch speaking excitedly about how this reminds you of Alice in Wonderland. “y/n?”

You look at him over your shoulder with a smile and he snaps the picture before you can react properly or pose.

“Oh no Charles, delete that!” You whine, walking back to him to look at his phone.

“No, you look perfect,” he replies, showing you his screen. “See?” He does not regret a word that has come out of his mouth and it makes you pause, face warming up at the statement.

“Let me take a picture of you, then,” you say, pointing him towards the arch. He’s quick to comply, walking towards the arch and smiling at you, without looking at the camera.

You show him the screen of your phone and he seems satisfied with the picture, as he doesn’t ask you to retake it.

“Should we go down to the lake?” He asks signaling down the path.

You nod, putting your phone back in your purse and resisting the temptation to look at the notifications that crowd your lock screen.

Charles takes your hand once again as you arrive at the lake.

"You might slip in the grass," he explains, clearing his throat.

"Right," you chuckle, but he's right, the little hill you have to pass to get to the edge of the lake looks like a worthy rival to your heels. You know who'd be losing. "Thanks."

You sit down so close your shoulders are touching, but neither moves or speaks for a few minutes. Taking in the way the golden hour falls in the garden, the sun reflects off the surface of the lake and colors your face amber.

You're glad Charles has removed his sunglasses, because you can see his eyes again. The green is more visible now thanks to the golden in the environment.

"Thanks for bringing me here," you finally break the silence, "I really like it."

"I'm glad, y/n," he says, both dimples showing as he smiles. "I'm sorry I couldn't show you more places, though."

All Monday and a big part of today he was busy with interviews and photoshoots, all to celebrate his breaking the Monaco curse. You don't mind, he deserves to be celebrated.

"Maybe another time," you add.

"Whenever you want," his smile widens, and you have to look away from him. Your brain is swarmed in thoughts of how pretty he is, and you wish you could just leave it blank for a minute or two. "Thank you for agreeing to come."

The impulse of saying something that will ruin the mood is greater than your self-control, and curiosity keeps eating you from the inside since last Thursday.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Charles nods calmly, resting his chin on his hand as he faces you. "Anything."

"Do you really not care about... well, what everyone is saying?"

Charles tilts his head slowly, and frowns. "About what?"

"Me. You. Us." you whisper the last word, embarrassed. It feels a lot like 'Us' means something completely different than just being thrown together in a hurriance of wild rumors and lies.

"I don't," Charles doesn't even hesitate, "I don't read all of that. Carlos keeps me up to date, which is ridiculous."

You pinch your thigh lightly, ashamed that even his teammate knows everything that's been said about you.

It's the first time all evening that Charles wishes he could take his words back. "What I mean," he continues quickly, "Is that I don't let people on the internet form my opinion on someone, you, especially."

You return your gaze to him, "I'm sorry people have dragged you into this."

"You don't have to apologize for things that aren't your fault, y/n."

"Well, it does feel like it's my fault." You admit, and you hate the way your eyes sting, you don't want to cry in front of Charles. You really are ruining the whole mood.

"Is there anything you'd like me to do?" Charles is more serious now, trying to catch your avoidant eyes as you blink the tears away. "Something you want me to say? Because I will."

You shake your head no. You don't want him to actively participate in this mess, it's a PR nightmare and Ferrari and him have enough on their plates already.

"Unless you want to say something, Charles."

"There is a lot I want to say," he mutters through gritted teeth, and you're not quite sure what he means.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he repeats, more lighthearted this time. "And stop whatever it is that you're reading about yourself, too."

"I'm not—"

Charles shuts you down with a look, there is no point in lying to him when, like Mati, he's weirdly capable of seeing right through you.

"You're sweet and talented, and hard-working, and many other positive things I'm hoping to continue witnessing first-hand." He speaks so fast his accent slips in several words.

"Thank you." you say sincerely, and you reach for his hand for the first time ever, giving it a squeeze before letting it go, something he accepts albeit reluctantly.

You sit together for a while longer, the awkwardness from your previous moments together alone is a distant idea, as you don't need to fill the silence anymore. Charles doesn't make your hands sweat in the way that feels wrong, your fingers don't prickle or go numb, your heartbeat—although fast—doesn't make your chest feel tight.

It's okay, you remind yourself, Charles likes you enough.

"Hello?" you're taking your shoes off, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder.

"y/n!" Vic yells, making you wince, your phone clatters to the floor and you're glad the rug breaks the fall. "Are you back from your date?"

"It was not a date, Vic," you opt to put her on speakerphone, "And yes, I'm back."

"How was it? I saw on Twitter that you were in a garden? Was it cute?"

You sigh, of course this is on Twitter already. "Vic, I'm so serious right now, stop with the Twitter stuff."

"Sorry y/n," she sighs, her tone like a regretful child apologizing to their mom. "But my timeline is just full of them, honestly, I wish I could just reply to people and tell them to back off."

"Just ignore them, please, Vic,"

"I promise. But how was it, your not date?"

"It was great," you immediately regret the sigh that escapes your lips. "Charles is very nice, and the place was super pretty. We went to dinner after which was pretty cool too."

"That is a date, y/n," Vic giggles, "That's amazing! I'm glad you had a good time."

"Thank you," you let yourself fall back on the bed. It was not a date. The anxiety that Charles had helped soothe is back now, it feels like cold water running down your back. "What about you, what did you do today?"

It's 10 pm in Monaco, which means it's around 1 pm in Los Angeles.

Vic starts going off about her day, how she hates the smell of the new face cream she was supposed to release to the public two weeks ago, her trip to the gym with Holly and that other girl whose name you finally learn again—Deanna.

"When are you coming back to LA?" she asks.

You're picking up your stuff from around the room, you have to take a flight tomorrow and you'd rather sleep in, than wake up early to finish your packing.

"Soon I hope," you yawn. It makes no difference to you, spending time in hotel rooms and Vic's house, neither are home. So you're not rushing to go back to her.

"y/n, you promised you'd be here for the opening of the store," Vic is serious now. "You promised."

Closing your eyes, you battle that uncomfortable feeling on your hands. You're sure that you won't get any proper sleep if it doesn't go away.

The opening of Vic's first Presley Beauty store is on Friday, the same Friday you're going to be in Spain.

"I know Vic, I'm sorry. But I have to be with Elix, violating a contract at this point is not a good idea."

"Babe, you said you'd be the ambassador for the first store. People will come if you're there!"

You're not too sure of that right now. Maybe people would show up to throw tomatoes at you, if anything.

"I really am sorry, Vic."

She falls silent on the other side for a few minutes, and you continue packing, waiting for her to gather her feelings. You know you're in the wrong here, breaking a promise to your best friend, but you'd rather not mess up the only job you have right now. Plus, you are certain the publicity her very first store would get from you wouldn't be a good one right now.

"Okay, apology accepted," Vic exhales so hard it makes the microphone crackle. "But you do have to come to the store later, PROMISE ME."

"I promise. I'll be back in LA next Monday and I'll go straight to your store and steal everything."

Vic laughs and you're glad her anger has vanished.

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay? After I land in Spain."

"Sure babes," Vic is her cheerful self again, "Have fun and also, say hello to Charles for me."

You roll you eyes. "Bye Vic, love you."

"I love you too, babe."

For the first time in days, you turn your phone off before getting ready for bed. You are not going to scroll endlessly through hashtags with your name. You're not going to read what they're calling you lately, because your friends—at least some of them— aren't.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello hello, thank you for reading! i hope you've enjoyed this chapter. The slow burn is slow burning friends. I would love to know your thoughts.♡❞

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 15 days

Note

AITA for asking my partner to tell his family we're dating?

I've (23nb) been dating my partner (22m) for some three years now. Initially, he didn't tell his family we were dating when I'd visit bcs that would force him to come out as trans to refute them believing him to be lesbian. All his family is trans supportive

He came out last summer, but I realised last time I saw him in February that we're still pretending to be just friends as one of his aunts was talking about how she thought we were dating before he came out. It hasn't set well with me, especially as I'm also dead named by his family bcs he hasn't told them that either, and I asked him about it.

He first explained it as "my family are weird about how they view me" but I didn't really find this as an answer and asked again yesterday. He eventually explained about how he's "not strong enough or willing to put myself in a position where I will be ridiculed and bullied by my own family". He's never told his family about any of the other people he's dated in his teen years so I guess it fits, but this is a serious relationship where marriage is on the table

I feel bad about digging into it but I really hate having to act like we're just friends whenever I visit as it feels like I can't be myself, especially as by late summer I'm meant to be moving in with him and being around his family much more. We're long distance so whenever I visit it doesn't as good as it should

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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anonymityisfunwriter · 1 month

Text

Timeless - Part 5: "We Really Were Timeless"

"I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray. We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made, and you'll say, 'Oh my, we really were timeless'..."

Summary: It's the kind of love you find once in a lifetime, the kind of love you don't put down, and somehow, you know you would've found each other in every life.

'Timeless' Chapter List | The Grumpy Sunshine Series

You smile down at the cardboard box that sits in your lap. You hold up a yellowing photograph, "Oh, I remember this! This was one of our very first assignments with the three of us. It was a complete disaster."

"Why? What happened?"

"Oh, what didn't happen!" you giggle. "We were after some bad guy - an arms dealer, I think. They almost got away. We had an entire building evacuated because we accidentally started a fire, which they still blame me for. We bickered the whole time." You look down at the photograph, at you, Bucky, and Sam, at the whole box filled with photos of the life you made. "And it was the most fun I ever had."

"I can't believe it," Sam awes from the other side of your porch.

"It feels like yesterday," you agree.

"No, I still can't believe that after all this time, you still won't admit that you started that fire."

"I didn't!" you insist. "We've been through this time and time again, Sam. I didn't start that fire."

"What about-"

The question is cut off by the slam of the screen door and a begrudging sigh, "You're supposed to be helping them with their project, not doing it for them, Mom."

You dismissively wave off your oldest child, Thomas, "I'm just telling stories."

Your oldest grandchild holds up a picture from decades ago. One of you and Nick Fury. Side by side, you wear a beaming grin that looks even more bright compared to his stoic frown and crossed arms. It was taken on the day you celebrated his birthday against his will. "Who's that?"

"He is the man that saved my life. We named your Uncle Nick after him."

"So how did you and grandpa meet?"

"Your Uncle Sam introduced us."

"That's right, you're all here because of me!" Sam boasts from the porch swing across the deck.

You chuckle and roll your eyes, "We all worked together. We would've met either way."

"That doesn't mean he would've talked to you if it weren't for me."

"Don't listen to him, kids. He's full of sh- He's full of it. I said it!" Bucky announces, refusing to put another dollar in the family swear jar.

"Nice save." You pat Bucky's leg with a soft chuckle. "It's true, though. He didn't like me very much when we first met."

He settles beside you with a gruff muttering, "That's not true."

"What?" Your oldest grandchild pouts, "Why didn't Grandpa like you?"

"I don't know." You shrug, turning to Bucky with a teasing grin. "James? Why didn't you like me when we first met?"

"Trick question, I always liked you."

"What'd you like about him?"

"It was those eyes," you reply. "The same beautiful blue eyes you have."

"What about these? Is that you?"

You smile, remembering that antique shop from a lifetime ago, "It was us in another life."

"Can I see that?" Bucky asks, jutting his chin toward the box in your lap. You slide the box over to him.

The years came and went. You knew that. But as you look around your porch, at the proof of a love that would last much, much longer than a lifetime, you're left wonderstruck.

The family you found. The family you built. The life you that never ceased to amaze you.

You look at Sam, the smile lines now permanently etched into his face. You look at Bucky, his dark hair now grayed with time. But those blue eyes, the same eyes you fell in love with on that very first day, those were still the same.

Time broke down your bodies, but it never touched your soul. It was an age old classic. It was your age old classic. The story started long ago, at that very first hello.

"Oh my..." It's not very often Bucky gets struck by overwhelming waves of emotion. He flips through the box to find much more than a lifetime's worth of memories. "We really were timeless."

The clanging of the grandfather clock startles you, tearing your eyes away from the photo. "Sorry, I think I got lost in thought there."

The shopkeeper chuckles at you, waving her hand at you, "It's no problem, dear."

You chuckle, "That's the second time that grandfather clock scares me."

The shopkeeper quirks her head at you, "What grandfather clock?"

"The -" You point in the direction of the clanging. Your brows furrow when you turn to see nothing but more stacks of books there. "Uh, never mind....Thank you for showing me around. You have a lovely store. I should be getting back now."

"It was my pleasure, I'm sure you and Bucky will have lifetimes worth of happiness."

"Thank you." You offer a smile in return. It takes you a moment to realize that you never told her Bucky's name. "Wait, how did you-"

But as you turn back around, she's gone. The store is as empty and silent as it was when you first walked in.

Though there's a strangeness you can't ignore, there's a something else more important that you need to do. You walk out of the storefront, and immediately dial the only person on your mind. You know he probably won't answer, not with how chaotic his mission turned out, but still, you just need to hear his voice.

"Doll? Is everything okay?"

You sigh in relief, a lightness filling your chest and lungs. Tears unexpectedly spring to your eyes, overwhelmed by the stories of love and triumph. It felt so real. It felt like it was you and him. A love as timeless as they come. You shake your head, clearing the knot building in your throat, "Yeah, yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice."

He groans dramatically. You swear you can almost see the grimace he wears. "God, I miss you."

"I miss you, too," you softly exhale, wiping away the stray tear that slips down your cheek. "So, so much."

"I have something to tell you, by the way."

You finally perk up. "Yeah?"

"Turn around."

You softly gasp, whirling around to see him. His smile is brilliant. The faint orange of the setting sun only makes his eyes shine even brighter. He's here. Standing before you. You bound into him, throwing your arms around his neck.

"I missed you so much," you mutter into his shoulder.

"Me too."

You're not sure how long you stand there holding onto each other in the middle of the cobblestone streets, but you do know you're going to be fine. You were going to be more than fine.

As long as you were his and he was yours, it would all be fine.

You were going to be timeless.

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kelcemenow · 8 months

Text

As The Snow Falls - Chapter 6.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1781

Warnings Mentions of emotional abuse, strong language, the fluffiest Travis and a wee bit of smut.

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

You squinted your eyes, attempting to shut out the bright light reflecting through the bedroom window. After your second night of sleeping with Travis by your side, you awoke rested and content, his arm still curled around your back. You moved slightly to stretch your legs, causing Travis to stir.

"What time is it?" He groaned, his gruff morning voice cutting through the silence.

You craned your neck, glancing at the small digital clock on the nightstand, "Just after 5am." You whispered.

Travis tightened his grip on you, "You gotta be fucking kidding me? More sleep...more sleep." He yawned.

You giggled as you lifted your chin, pressing a small kiss onto his stubbled jawline, "I'm skiing this morning, and I thought you were too?"

Travis opened one eye, looking down at you, "Just me and you?"

"I think so." You grinned.

Quick as a flash, he clambered out of the bed like an excited child at Christmas, rummaging through his suitcase for suitable clothing. Your eyes scanned his body, your gaze drinking in his toned muscles and athletic physique.

"Hey, my eyes are up here." Travis joked.

"Sorry." You said with a breathy laugh, "I just, can't believe how good you look." You looked down, your cheeks darkening, "God, I feel 20 again."

Travis took a few steps closer to you, "I know what you mean. It's weird how quickly feelings can come flooding back, right?"

You raised your head, "Especially when those feeling never really went away."

A wide smile slowly crept up on Travis' face, his eyes twinkling with happiness, "You and me both, babe." He bent forward and gently kissed your lips, "You know I'm not gonna rush you into anything, right?"

You lowered your brows at him.

"I mean, anything that you're not comfortable with...last night-"

You reached up and rested his hands on his forearms, "Travis, I like you. I really do, and I'm so happy that you're here but I don't know what's going to happen when this trip ends and you go back to Missouri and I go to...wherever I'm going back to."

"Y/N-"

"Please, let me say what I need to say." You pulled him back down onto the bed next to you, "You've been so kind and sweet and holy shit, you're hot."

Travis breathed a laugh, a faint blush appearing onto his cheeks.

"So, I want to be completely honest with you."

You stared deeply into his eyes, feeling a sense of warmth radiating from him, further clarification of the trust and safety that you were looking for. Travis waited in silence, his hands gently holding yours.

You took a deep breath, "About three years ago, I dated a guy, Aaron." You closed your eyes and shook your head, "He was perfect in the beginning, I fell completely head over heels in love with him and he treated me so well. My friends loved him, my family loved him. But after about a year, things started the change." You dropped your head into your hands, "Jesus fucking Christ, I sound so cliché right now."

Travis lifted your hands away from your face, dipping his head to catch your eyes, "Hey, hey. No you don't."

"It started off with little things. The odd comment, a sentence here, a sentence there...something to upset me or make me doubt myself. Then it got bigger, arguments would come from nowhere, nothing I ever did was right." A lump was rising from your chest into your throat but you swallowed it down, determined to hold your nerve, "Slowly, I felt like I'd lost myself. I wasn't the person I was before and he would continue to say that to me. And I never had the confidence to tell him that it was his fault that I had changed. It was because of him that I was frightened, scared, nervous, shy...I wasn't the person that he'd fallen in love with. I didn't love me so why would he?"

Looking up, you noticed Travis was clenching his jaw, his eyebrows lowered.

"Yesterday marked a year since I left him. And for the last year, he has been harassing me."

Travis' face changed immediately.

"At first it was calls, texts, messages online but then he started showing up to my house, work...anywhere he could find me really. So I moved, and everything was good for a while but then he found me. I couldn't leave my house in case he was following me, I didn't dare go anywhere on my own, I didn't answer the phone unless it was call that I was expecting. So I moved again, and he found me again."

"Son of a bitch-"

"Travis, it's fine-"

You watched as he stood up from the bed, his fists balled up by his side, "No, it's not. It's not okay that you can't live your life because of some asshole. Fuck, if I ever see him-"

"Travis, you're not going to do anything because you're not going to see him."

He paced the wooden floor, his chest puffed out, "Have you called the police?"

"Travis, please, calm down. It's fine. I haven't seen him in a while, I think he's finally got the picture." You reached out for him, trying to keep him still. "But I'm worried that he finds out that I'm dating someone, someone like you, he'll come back."

He stopped to look at you, his expression softened and his shoulders relaxed. He kneeled down in front of you and his hands cupped the sides of your face. "I will never ever let anything happen to you, you got me?"

You smiled and nodded silently, tears rushing to your eyes.

"I mean it. Ever." He took a breath, "You are so incredible and don't let anyone make you feel any different, okay? You deserve to be treated like a Goddess and if I get the chance to, I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

You let out a small whimper as Travis' thumb wiped away the tears that were quickly rolling down your cheeks, "I always knew you were a sap."

"Keep that shit quiet, I gotta keep up my tough guy image." He winked with a smirk and pulled you closer to him, "Come on. I hate to see you upset."

"I'm fine, I'm fine...really. It's just tough talking about it sometimes." You cleared your throat.

Travis nodded, "Break ups are hard, but I can't imagine how you were feeling during all of that. You're brave, you know that?"

You snorted a laugh, "I don't think so."

"Well, I do. You're so strong and resilient...and you're so smart...and beautiful-"

"Travis, stop-" You said, waving him away.

He took your arms and turned you to face him more, a serious expression on his face, "I'll never stop telling you how awesome you are, okay? So, get used to it."

He leaned towards you as one of his hands snaked around your lower back, the other carefully holding the back of your head. Your eyes fluttered closed before you felt his lips on yours. Travis moved slowly at first but as you sunk into the kiss, the pressure deepened, pushing you down onto the bed. His arms were still holding onto you as you writhed underneath him, mouths colliding as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You could feel your body pulsating and Travis' hands got to work, exploring your body. The cropped shirt you were wearing was quickly lifted, his fingers massaging your breasts, your nipples hardening.

Travis' mouth moved from your lips and onto the soft and supple skin of your chest. You grinned as his beard hairs tickled your sensitive areas and when you arched your back upwards, Travis took this as a sign of permission to go harder. His tongue rolled along your nipple, occasionally using his teeth to increase the pleasure. You hissed through your teeth at the gentle pain, your nails dragging along his solid and toned back. Your hips instinctively bucked forwards and as you closed your eyes and threw your head backwards, Travis lunged down onto your neck, his lips pink and swollen.

"Fuck, baby." He groaned breathlessly in your ear between kisses.

He quickly pulled down the waistband of your pyjama pants, and as you wriggled underneath to help in pulling them down, his fingers were already making contact with your underwear. Travis rubbed in circles over the top of the thin fabric, his touch causing your clit to throb and a surge of goose bumps to appear on your skin.

You pulled your legs apart slightly, bending them at the knee, allowing Travis undivided access to you. A trail of wet, tender kisses made their way up from your neck and onto your mouth, his eyes hazy and focused solely on you. You relaxed into the moment, pleasure shooting through your body as he continued to expertly work your clit. A small wet patch had begun to form, and Travis noticed that the fabric of your panties had darkened.

"Do that feel good, babygirl?" He said deeply, his eyes flashing with lust.

You nodded, "Yeah, so good."

Travis leaned close to your ear, his chest pressing onto yours, "Tell me what you want." His warm breath brushed against your neck.

You let a loud exhale escape your plumped lips, "I want you. I want to feel you."

His fingers had settled into a slow but steady rhythm and your clit was becoming increasingly more sensitive with his firm touch. Breathy gasps filled the air as you felt yourself become undone, the warm tightening in your stomach slowly letting go. You let out a quiet squeal and grasped onto the sheets underneath you, balling them up in your fists and clenching your muscles as Travis' movements slowed.

Travis smiled against your neck, "Fuck. If that's what happens when I'm barely touching you, I can't wait for more." He removed his hand before looking down to see the sticky wet mess he had caused.

You allowed your breathing to slowly return to normal and reached down to pull your crumpled pyjama pants back up your trembling legs. Craning your neck, you checked the time that was showing on Travis' cell phone that he had dropped onto the bed next to you. "Come on, let's hit the slopes."

Travis watched as you rose from the bed, smoothing your hair and wiping underneath your eyes, "What?"

You leaned down, placing your hands onto his thighs, your face only inches away from his, "I wanted to go skiing this morning, you knew this. And maybe when we get back, we can warm ourselves up in the hot tub?"

His eyes sparkled, "Alright nah!"

______________________________________________________________

I have to apologise, but I got a bit distracted with some stuff and I couldn't get my head around writing anything. I tried...I promise! But my brain couldn't think of anything decent! So, I hope this is okay! If you want to keep up to date with this series and anything else that I'm writing, just let me know and I'll add you to my Taglist!

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theschizotypalsolilquy · 2 months

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I just know that that anon is the same person who was camping under two Jikook blogs yesterday and I don't know why y'all even waste your time on them because it's clear as day that they're just a Jungkook solo who's extremely homophobic.

It's okay to think that he's not with Jimin and that he's someone who fools around and has a high body count. Anything is possible. But to double down on the fact that "JK fucks girls" is all I need to know about that person and what their agenda really is. If the point they're trying to make is that it's unlikely for a young, handsome, successful and famous man like him to be in a committed monogamous relationship, then why is their emphasis only on the fact that he's sleeping with women? He can still be sleeping with men as well, no?

I love how they use "scandals" and that recent smoking clip of him *nonchalantly* staring at a girl for three seconds as proof that he likes pussy, but conveniently ignore all the times he's shown blatant attraction towards men over the years.

I wouldn't be surprised if anon is just a JK solo imagines herself as his future Y/N and doesn't like the fact that there are so many people who believe he possibly doesn't like women, likes men and even more so, that he's been in love with one for so many years. It shatters the illusion.

Anon should give up on coming here with some mission to make Jikookers "see the light". It's futile. There have been many like them years before, they're not the first. But what's always interesting about these people is that I've never see them camping under Taekook, Yoonmin and Vmin (when it still had people who genuinely believed they were in a romantic relationship) blogs with their theories.

I've always lurked on every side of ARMY Tumblr and I never see the other shippers getting such asks; it's always Jikookers. Which is strange considering that Jikookers aren't even nearly as loud as Taekookers or Yoonminers for them to always attract people like that.

Simple answer?

Cuz they feel threatened by a 5'9 androgynous beauty who gets heart eyes 24/7 from their solo stan.

But what they forget is that before Jimin's "glow up" (cuz dude was always hot he just matured into an ethereal being and honestly good for him) JK was still obsessed. Constantly touching and squeezing his arm muscles, the almost exorcist neck turn when Jimin would flash his abs during the choreo for "No More Dream", how when the members were asked what part of Jimin they liked the best, JK doubled down and said "all of that".

He LOVES that man. And whether they think it's platonic or romantic, some people have a problem with it. And that's horrible for them because their bond is so rare. It should be celebrated. The gods decided those two should meet, they should bond, and we are better for it. Because something like that comes along so rarely, and we are privileged to witness it.

But homophobic bitches and delusional yns ruin it. They can't accept it. I guarantee you that if those two weren't half as hot and as popular as they are, they wouldn't give a fuck. It's the audacity to them. How dare a gorgeous man love another gorgeous man? He should be getting all that pussy, spreading his seed far and wide, not settling for a man. How dare he gatekeep his own hotness??

That's how they think. And it's revolting.

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #kookmin #park jimin #jeon jungkook

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maple-the-awesome · 2 years

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She's Taken, Bud ||

Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 4,615

Overview: Your flirtatious neighbor thinks you're just playing hard to get by 'claiming' you have a boyfriend, so Peter decides it's time to prove you're definitely taken with a lesson that'll be hard to ignore.

Warnings: Smut, +18, oral (fem./male receiving), rough vaginal sex, praise kink, pet names, soft!Peter, semi-public sex? (walls are thin, but that's kinda the point 😏)

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Peter sways on his heels with his hands hidden behind his back. He's poorly trying to hide the euphoric smile pulling at his lips which is a bubbling impatience and joy that only appears on his way to your apartment, threatening to spill over by the time he finally makes it to your front door.

The ten seconds that it takes you to open the door feel like an eternity. Despite seeing each other just yesterday and having spoken on the phone a mere hour ago, Peter feels as if he's returning to your arms after years at war. You barely even have time to smile at him before his lips are to yours, one arm remaining behind his back and the other set upon your hip as he gently guides you backwards into the apartment, only moving to shut the door behind himself. Of course, the feeling is mutual with a hum of satisfaction echoing off of you, your arms wrapping themselves over his shoulders for balance.

If able to have things his way, Peter would've extended that kiss to last all night, maybe even the rest of his life, but alas, you pull away. Even then, he doesn't allow you too far, keeping his forehead and nose to yours with your lips still close enough for him to feel your smile,"...long day, hon?"

"Every day is long without you."

"You're such a sap."

"But I'm your sap."

"I repeat: you're such a sap," you chuckle nevertheless, pecking his lips once more before pulling yourself out of his grasp completely. He plans to complain, however, the pout is replaced by a smile just as quickly as your hand replaces your hip in his grasp, dragging him along after you into the kitchen.

"I got everything set up in the living room; blankets, pillows, and I even had the movie paused at the start so we don't have to watch all those dumb previews first. I just need to make popcorn and we'll be all set-" you begin to explain quickly, loosening your grip on him which signals your plans of letting go, however, Peter's having none of that.

"Hold on there, bug," giving your hand a yank, he twirls you around to face him and the bundle of fresh roses held between the two of you,"...are you not going to give me time to say 'Happy Anniversary' first?"

You beam at him, loving the way he still manages to make your cheeks heat up even after three years of dating. Stretching on your toes, you capture his lips with hands softly holding his over the roses," happy Anniversary to you, too, Peter Parker. I can't imagine spending these years with anyone else."

Eventually, you manage to part from him, sending him off to start the popcorn while you try to find a vase, knowing you have one somewhere since he'd given you countless bouquets throughout the years. Maneuvering around the kitchen, your search is interrupted by a knock at the front door which perks both you and your boyfriend's attention.

"Are you expecting someone else?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, not really believing it should be a question since, well, you'll both likely agree that it's a little awkward to invite a third wheel to a movie night on your anniversary.

As he predicts, you quickly shake your head, rising from where you had been looking under the kitchen sink to begin walking to the front door," no, but it could just be Mr. Reynolds. You know how he likes to bake stuff for neighbors."

"Hopefully it's cookies. I love his cookies!"

You playfully roll your eyes at his childish giddiness, peeking through the peephole with the expectation of seeing your kind elderly neighbor standing on the other side with a friendly smile and a platter of treats. Instead, you grumble at who's really there.

"Yeah?"

"Hey now, is that anyway to greet someone? You look so grumpy," you fight back the urge to scowl at the man who looks a little too smugly at you like a ten year old ripping off classmates on the school's blacktop.

Steven Rodriguez had moved into the apartment next door a month ago. At first he seemed like a good neighbor. He liked to strike up friendly conversations woven with innocent compliments, however, his comments towards your pretty name and beautiful eyes soon turned into what any sane person would consider sexual harassment with eyes that linger to your breasts and even a comment once about how your voice must sound amazing in bed...Definitely not things anyone outside of a lover should be saying especially to a neighbor they just met less than four weeks ago...

When it became clear that Steven's mind was beginning to wander with indecent motives, you made a point of being frank with him and mention your boyfriend, naively hoping he'd turn out to be an unexpected gentleman or at least a halfway decent human respectful enough to back off of an uninterested gal, but alas, he decided to be a stereotype.

"Peter Parker?" He had scoffed before giving a hoot of laughter," come on, babe. If you're going to make up a fake boyfriend to play hard to get, at least put some effort into the story. That's the fakest name I've ever heard!"

Unfortunately in Steven's own mind, you're totally into him and the best way to win your heart is by following you around like a cute puppy except he isn't a cute puppy, but rather an annoying wolf who makes you uncomfortable in your own apartment building. While his behavior always irks you, you find it extra upsetting to see him here at your door tonight when you just want to spend it in peace with the man who makes you feel like a princess within a fairytale.

"Sorry, I'm busy right now-"

"-Busy? With what? It's seven on a Friday night," he leans against the doorframe, his heavy cologne burning your nose.

Taking a small step back to maintain distance, you decide to once again be direct with him," it's my anniversary and I want to spend it with my boyfriend, so if you could just-"

"-Boyfriend? God, are you using that excuse? I thought that would just be a one time thing. Let me guess, he got you those roses? Oh, babe...You're really trying to make me work for this, huh?" He leans closer, flashing his teeth with a husky whisper that makes you want to gag.

"It's not an excuse, but you're going to need a good one for management if you don't get out of my doorway," you threaten, hurrying to slam the door directly into his face before he can even begin opening his mouth again. He knocks, his voice calling from behind the barrier yet unlike his twisted grasp of reality tells him, there's no way in Hell you're giving him anymore time out of your night. Not tonight of all nights.

Stepping backwards, your sigh is cut off by a fearful gasp when you meet a solid chest. For a moment, the irritation and disgust you felt made you forget Peter's in the apartment until his arms wrapped around your waist to steady your tense body. His eyes flash with concern when you glance up at him," what's wrong, sweetheart? Who was that?"

"...Oh, just that dickhead who lives next door."

"He's still bothering you? I thought you told him we're dating?"

"I did. He just thinks I'm bluffing because I'm 'playing hard to get'," you mock Steven's voice with a roll of your eyes, but Peter's always been good at reading you. He knows just by that pout on your lips and deflated tone of your voice that you're uncomfortable with the unwanted attention which is enough to make his worry melt into protective anger.

"I'm going to talk to him-" Stepping around you, his hand makes it to the doorknob, however, you're quick to prevent him from getting any further.

"No, Peter, please don't!" When he tries to protest, you rub smoothing circles against his chest," it's fine. It's...Look, you can talk to him later if you want, but tonight's our anniversary. It's the first night in two weeks that we have together and you even took it off from being Spiderman just so that we can have it in peace. What's the point if I'm going to be holding an ice pack to your cheek regardless?"

You sigh, directing your eyes away from him,"...I just want tonight to be about us. Not Spiderman, not stupid Steven...just me and you."

Peter sighs himself after a long moment of internal debate before pressing a kiss to your lips which you take as a stamp of agreement. Happily accepting, you deepen the kiss by placing your free hand on the back of his neck while the roses dangle lowly in the other.

You're taken by slight surprise when Peter's own hands snake lower, eventually reaching your bottom and pulling you up into his arms, but you don't protest, assuming he's going to carry you to the couch where the two of you can finally begin your planned movie night. You're confused, however, when he walks right past the living room towards your bedroom instead.

"What are you doing?" You part from the kiss with an inhale, although you can conclude the answer on your own when he lightly kicks open the door and carries you right over to the bed.

Dropping you onto the fluffy covers, Peter crawls over top of you with a mischievous smirk mere inches away from your face," you said that Steven guy doesn't believe you have a boyfriend, right? So I guess we just have to prove it to him."

"Peter-" Your whisper is cut off by another kiss.

He takes the roses from your hands, not that you even have much of a grip on them anymore. You can hear them be tossed to the side somewhere before Peter reaches down to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift tug. It's as if he knows you can't resist one look at his toned abs, but let's be honest, he definitely knows.

In no time at all, your shirt follows his on the floor, allowing him full access to your bare neck which he attacks with soft butterfly kisses," come on, bug. Don't you wanna stick it to that asshole? 'get him to finally leave you alone after realizing you have a boyfriend who pleases you better than he ever could? I mean let's be honest with ourselves here. We weren't really going to just be watching movies all night long, were we? I would've still had you under me like this even if he never showed his face at that door, so he won't be ruining anything for us this way, only making it more...interesting."

You hum, your hand reaching up to tangle within his soft hair,"...I expected it to be on the couch, though...I even had wine set out and everything."

Despite his previously cocky words and the amount of times you've both had sex in the past, it never ceases to make Peter's chest tingle with the idea that you actually look forward to him touching you so intimately. It's an honor he's always sure to treat as such.

His chuckle sends vibrations through your neck making you bite your lip," the wine doesn't have to go to waste. We have all night after all. I only figured we'd start where your apartment shares a wall with his.

"But we can always go to the couch if you want. You know the rules by now: whatever or wherever you're comfortable with, bug...You just have to use your words," the butterfly kisses he showers you in soon turn into suckles nestled against the nook of your neck, drawing a quiet mewl from your lips.

"...I want him to know."

"Know what?"

"That you're my boyfriend...That you're definitely real..." You can feel Peter's smirk against your skin before he sucks a bit harder then begins nipping your neck in more than a few places. Each decorative bite is followed by a loving kiss, leading up as high as your ear and as low as your collarbone.

"I'll make sure to cover you all up, bug. That way even if he misses the show, he won't be able to deny you belong to someone- not that I think he'll be able to ignore us tonight; we'll make sure of that, won't we sweetheart?"

Once again you hum, content as Peter transitions back to placing butterfly kisses which lead down to his next location of choice: your breasts.

"No bra tonight?" He pretends to just notice, but you saw the way his eyes flickered to them the second your shirt got discarded before.

"We weren't really going to be watching movies all night long, were we?" You decide to quote him smugly, feeling the wetness pool between your legs thanks to his proud smirk (not that you weren't already getting wet just by his kisses earlier).

Moving his legs up, he places his knees on each side of you as a means of keeping himself upright while his hands are busying being used to massage your round breasts. His thumbs rub circles over your perked nipples, maintaining a consistent rate of gentle to rough that has basically become professional with his experience.

Meanwhile he kisses you again, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip which is always enough to part your lips fully, allowing his tongue full access to your mouth. You moan into this kiss, pulling him closer to yourself as if he's too far away despite being able to feel the heat radiating off of his body.

You might've been disappointed when he pulls away if not for him shifting to his feet at the end of the bed, roughly pulling your pants off while simultaneously tugging you closer to the edge yourself; right where he wants you.

Kissing along your stomach, he lowers himself to a level that forces you to sit up on the backs of your arms in order to still see him as he kneels down in between your thighs. He spreads them apart with a familiar smile; a hungry one, you eagerly recognize.

"This is my favorite way to spend our anniversary," he comments, kissing the inner part of your thigh while making eye contact with you.

"What? Eating me out loud enough for the neighbor to hear?"

"I was gonna say eating you out in general, but the second part adds some fun," he finally pulls down your panties," and by the looks of it, I think you're enjoying this just as much."

"I'm about to enjoy it a lot more..." you sigh delightfully before leaning back with your arms crossed behind your head, after all, they'll soon be useless in supporting your weight once Peter begins. He's always been good at turning your body to jelly with his tongue.

You moan with slightly lifted hips when he uses his fingers to part your folds, hovering there long enough to rememorize the sight of your beautiful cunt, soaking in juices all for him; just the way he likes it. He knows by the unholy sound that comes from your mouth that it's the way you like it too once he licks along the line.

When he begins massaging your inner thigh instead of doing anything else, you kick your leg over his shoulder with an annoyed groan of his name," Peter, no teasing."

"But you're so cute when desperate," he pouts, chuckling upon hearing you groan again. Remembering that you two have a long night ahead of yourselves, he stops with the games and dives right in, his tongue swirling around your sensitive clint with much vigor.

"P-Peter..."

"'might want to try saving your voice right now, bug. You'll need it for when I have you screaming out later," his words are muffled as he refuses to move himself far from his work, poking his tongue inside of you along with a finger that pumps in and out. Then two. Then three.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back moans as Peter eats your pussy like a starved man, enjoying this way too much while only pausing long enough to praise," you taste so good, sweetheart...So wet and juicy...It's a shame no one else will ever taste you. Only me."

"On-Only you..."

"That's right. Only ever me," he chuckles, returning his mouth to your clint while his fingers stretch your hole. It’s a wonder how you ever survive the size of his cock when just his lean fingers already have you reaching the sky.

"F-Fuck," you can't keep your voice down forever, bucking his fingers deeper inside of you with a whimper,"...I'm g-gonna cum, Pete."

All too suddenly, he pulls away much to your annoyance, but you can only be somewhat mad at the man who crawls above you with a face dripping in your own wetness, wearing an adorable smile far too innocent for what he had just been doing down there.

"Peter-"

"-Not yet, sweetheart," he whispers in your ear before stepping out of his pants and boxers which only makes your core ache in anticipation. How can you not get excited? Peter so much as pecks your lips and it's still a rush, but to have him pounding deep inside of you while showering you in loving affection? Now that's the strongest drug.

His arms carefully wrap under your body to pick you up. You don't receive much time to be confused before you feel a cold surface meet your back, a contrast to the warm bed covers. Of course, Peter has no difficulty holding you against the bedroom wall, maneuvering your limbs around until your arms are over his shoulders and legs wrapped securely around his waist.

"You're gonna be careful, right?"

"I'd never hurt you, bug," he promises softly with a kiss to your cheek, missing the way you roll your eyes.

"I don't mean me, I mean the wall. This apartment's cheap- cheaply made anyways. The walls are probably super thin."

"Perfect," when you raise an eyebrow at him, clearly unamused, he chuckles and rests his forehead against yours,"...I'll be careful, but I still have to make you scream, don't I?"

"You act as if this'll be the first time you have me screaming your name."

He smirks," then scream it. Scream it loud enough for the whole building to hear and know exactly who's fucking the life out of you."

Growing a bit impatient of his teasing at this point and still highly unsatisfied from being edged seconds ago, you smash your lips to his, tightening your legs around his waist which brings him close enough for his erected dick to rub against your inner thigh," keep stalling and I'll decide to have you screaming my name instead."

"Atta girl," unlike before, you show no restraint in moaning loudly after Peter quickly lines himself up with your entrance then thrusts inside of you.

The image of your head leaning back against the wall and the way your lips part in pure bliss only fuels his need to push deeper and deeper, already learning long ago that your pussy can take his size like a matching puzzle piece. Nevertheless, your walls are tight and squeezing, making him groan with hands that grip onto your hips hard enough to slightly sting yet never enough to actually harm you.

"F-Fuck...Always so soaking for me, bug."

"Always for you, Peter!" There's no need to whisper it, in fact you don't even bother with a normal 'inside voice'. Screw stupid Steven and his annoying flirting. He only wishes he could fill you even half as good as Peter does. While you normally don't like to be petty or spiteful, a part of you hopes he won't be able to think about sex for at least a few months without feeling insecure about his own skill.

You moan as loudly as possible which is a task that doesn't even need to be faked by how hard Peter's pounding inside your soaking center. It's a force that repeatedly sends your back into the wall, the sound surely making other building residents wonder who the hell is hammering so late at night. Your next door neighbor will be the one to know it's not a last minute workshop project; unless you consider breaking your girlfriend's pussy in for the millionth time as such.

Peter hardly needs to hold you to the wall anyway, the force of his thrusts already doing that for him. This allows him to reach one hand down, using his thumb to begin circling your clint once again. It's this action that soon sends you over the edge at last, leaving you crying out," Peter! Ah!"

You barely hear his praises through your own panting or the banging and wet slapping sounds. Even the stars in your eyes make it hard to focus as he shows no sign of slowing down even for your climax. Instead, he continues to show endless endurance, his thumb continuing to harshly rub as a finger or two slip in with his cock, making sure he's truly stretching you to your limit.

"That's it, sweetheart...You're doing so good for me. Keep it up," maybe if you were in a clearer state of mind, you'd notice the way Peter bites down on his lip to suppress his own loud groans or the way his cock twitches deep inside of you, growing more aroused by the second at the sight of your pleasure. Yeah, you taste fucking amazing and the way your pussy hugs around his cock so perfectly puts him on cloud nine, but at the end of the day, nothing gets him off as much as seeing how much he can please you.

"Wanna remind him who's fucking you, sweetheart?"

"You! A-Ah! Peter!"

"And who the only one able to fuck you this good?"

"Peter!"

"Let me hear you scream it, sweetheart. Scream my name. One last time."

"P-PETER!" You cry out with a whimper as you reach another orgasm that makes your entire body shake.

The sight of your sweaty, heaving chest and the feeling of your aching pussy sends Peter off the edge himself. His hot seed spills inside of you, filling you with even more warmth that ends up leaking through the cracks of your pussy as Peter's head falls against your shoulder with a heavy moan. He helps you both ride out your highs by rolling his hips much slower and mixing his load into your juices all while kissing your neck with mumbles of sweet praises.

You're thankful for his endurance because if left unsupported, you would've surely sunk down the wall and laid there limply for as long as it takes to catch your breath. Instead, Peter's able to effortlessly carry you back to the bed, carefully lying you there to relax while he disappears into the bathroom, returning only moments later with a towel to get you cleaned up like the selfless boyfriend he never fails to be.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" You can't help but smile as he pulls the hair away from your face, laying down next to you with that same innocent smile from earlier. You swear he could get away with murder with it.

"Amazing as always..." you finish your sentence by sitting up then leaning down to kiss him, your hands traveling across his toned bare chest as his fall behind your head and the small of your back to pull you closer,"...I love you."

"I-" He cuts himself off with a hitch of his own breath, a shiver running down his spine as he feels your hand rub against is cock," what-"

"-Shh," you hush, rubbing the side of his hip while looking down at him through fluttering eyelashes," I was loud enough, but shouldn't we make sure it's known there's actually another guy in here and that I'm not just really good at pleasuring myself?"

"W-Well, when you put it that way," Peter's smile falters into a pleasant hum as you begin massaging his balls.

While you take your time lowering your sore body down, you eventually make it level to his manhood, using your hand to give him a few good pumps before kissing his sensitive tip," you're always so good to me, Pete...Never asking for anything more even though you should know by now I'm happy to return the favor."

"I f-forget."

"You forget?" You raise an eyebrow in mock offense," I was hoping I suck you well enough to make you remember how good it feels."

Peter groans, being the one to grow impatient this time as you continue to only work with your hands," you suck me a little too well, bug...'can't...'can't even think straight when you're touching me."

You smirk at this," oh? When I touch you like this?...Or like this?"

Finally your mouth sinks down his cock, drawing a loud moan from your boyfriend who grips the bedcovers with a smile. While you're a little too preoccupied to focus on what he's saying exactly, you think you hear him say 'yeah, just like that'.

You begin bobbing your head, sucking as much as his cock that you can fit into your mouth while pumping the rest with one hand and using the other to continue massaging his balls. Whenever moving upwards, you run your tongue along the vein, releasing him with a 'pop' just to take the time to look at his cute, scrunched up face before getting back to work.

While the two of you are normally equally considerate of neighbors, tonight is an expectation and even Peter shows no restraint compared to his typically quiet volume. You manage to have the same effect on him as he had on you, leaving him moaning your name as loud as possible. He doesn't care tonight. He'll let all of New York know how good his girlfriend treats him, but most importantly, he wants Steven and any other guy who looks at you longingly to know: this is exactly what they're missing out on.

It takes all of his willpower not to start bucking into your mouth, figuring there's plenty of time for that later. Right now he settles for gently lifting his hips, letting you work your magic until the coil inside his body begins to pull back to its limit leading him to grip onto the covers so roughly he's afraid he might use too much strength and rip them.

"F-Fuck...I'm gonna cum, sweetheart."

"Then cum, hon. Let everyone know how I take care of you," the words are rushed as you selfishly refuse to spare more time away from his cock, enjoying the salty taste and his whimpers a little too much.

Peter groans your name at a volume that echoes through the room, coming loose inside your mouth just as planned. You give him one last long suck all the way up to his tip before releasing him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you smile shyly before shallowing what you can, your face heating up in slight embarrassment that's smoothed away by Peter's thumb as he sits up himself shakily and clears the bits of cum away from the corners of your mouth.

"Such a good girl..." he smiles proudly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

"Do you think he heard everything?"

Peter smirks, pulling you to his chest with a kiss to your forehead. While he only hums at your question, he's all too satisfied with secretly knowing Steven's currently next door taking a breath of relief during the moment of silence since his earbuds did nothing to block out the sound of his two neighbor's fucking. Of course, he's going to want to either get used to it or find another apartment to live in, because your anniversary present to Peter is the invite to move in, and you'll happily let him fuck you against the wall any day.

#peter parker #peter+parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #x reader #reader insert #the amazing spider man #tasm #peter parker x y/n #marvel #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman #peter parker x reader smut #smut #tasm peter x reader smut

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blehrbie-blog · 1 year

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Neteyam x Reader story Part 2?

So, I'm really happy that so many people liked the first story (I don't wanna call it chapter bc it feels like I'm committing to there being multiple chapters) but I may have written a little something else. Now I don't want to say that this will happen again bc I only wrote this because the inspiration struck me, if there is no inspiration I'm not going to drag this story to its death, we will leave it where it is.

That being said (I know, I talk a lot) writing this addition felt nice. it is set quite some time after the first one and I want to specifify that at this point the Reader and Neteyam are well into their adult life so I feel like they're allowed to be a little suggestive. To do the maths. If you didn't know in the movie Neteyam and Lo'ak are 14-15. Then in the last bit of this story he was 24-25, at this point he is in his early 30s. Which is quite a jump but that's how it felt right to me and that's how it came out. So now, enjoy! :D

________________

The scene I see is of a quiet morning of the two sleeping in bed wrapped around each other. The sweet voice of their daughter being the only thing pulling them from sleep. She runs over, her little feet pattering on the uneven grass.

-Mama! Papa! - she jumps onto their legs bouncing and nudging.

- My sweetness – Neteyam rouses, picking his head up from where it laid tucked between your neck and shoulder. - it is too early to wake your mother. - His eyes are still blurry with sleep.

His gruff voice brings a smile to your face. It's like a sweet tickle to your ears, to get to hear it every day is a blessing. He shifts from behind you and you crack open an eye to watch as he picks up your daughter and lifts her above his head to make her giggle.

-Papa, let me down! - she whines, but she's not really bothered, her eyes are lit up with laughter. She has his eyes and his smile. She has your hands tho, three fingers, and they're so small. He brings her down in a tight hug and kisses the top of her head.

-My precious girl. - he sets her down and leads her outside the tent with a hand on her head. - let's go see Grandma, hmm?

You lay there with your eyes closed for a couple more minutes. Until you turn over in the sheets, staring up at the top of your tent. You have work to do. There is medicine to hand out and ceremonies to prepare. There is also a child to raise and teach and a husband to keep happy. And it is all so perfect. You almost can't believe that this is your life, that it has been since that sweet moment in the woods all those years ago. You're lost to memories of your early life for a while, it's a precious time. Your thoughts lead to your daughter. She is almost as old as you were when you and Neteyam became friends. And now she somehow exists as perfect proof of your connection. It feels all too recent, like it was yesterday and still like a hundred-year-old memory that has existed in thousands of lives.

-My dear – Neteyam's voice brings you back from your daydreams. He's at the edge of the tent's opening, sunlight shining through the loose braids over his shoulders - Would you like to join your daughter and me for a morning flight?

You blink a few times taking the time to process and give him a skeptical look – My daughter?

-She is being fussy with her food - he looks down smugly as he says – so she is your daughter this morning.

-And when is she your daughter then? - you prop yourself on your elbows to look at him properly since he's decided to be cheeky this morning.

He hums, pretending to be deep in thought as he stalks over inside to sit down at your feet – When she is being kind and good and listens to her parents. That is when. - his eyes are warm as he smiles at you.

You roll your eyes – Does she take that from you then? Being obedient?

-Of course! - he says in mock offense

-Hmm, interesting. - You press your forehead to his as your eyes close gently, still fighting sleep – I seem to remember a boy who would take me out to fly on his Ikran late at night, when his parents definitely thought he was sleeping safe and sound in their tent.

He presses a kiss to your lips and hums softly – You must be thinking of someone else, dear.

You keep quiet for a bit - Is that so? - your words fall onto his lips as you say them and you pull away, suddenly full of energy – Then I must go find this 'someone else' as he is suuurely my one true love and father of my child. - you say getting up with your back to him. Only to turn around quickly with a mischievous smile and tease in a sing-song tone – As you said, I must be thinking of someone else!

He is still sitting splayed on your sheets with his mouth now open in surprise. You see a quick glint pass his eyes. Dare you say jealousy?

So, you quickly raise your hand, pointing a finger at him – You started this.

He clenches his jaw a couple of times, thinking, and gets up aiming for the door. - Alright then.

The sudden change makes you think you've upset him. You were just poking a bit of fun. But he stops by you and gives you a serious look.

I must say I didn't like that game. - he says, his lips in a pout, and your shoulders ease up. He's not upset.

You grab a small braid hanging by his ear and tug on it lightly. - Is that because I beat you at it? - you say as you look up at him through your lashes.

He hums low in his throat, and brings his face closer, nosing at your jawline – Oh, but I love it when you win these games. - And he presses a warm kiss to the side of your throat. Bringing your chin down with his hand, so he can kiss you deeply. Breaking apart only to whisper - But now, we must go entertain our daughter, as she seems to have your lack of patience, my love.

As you process his words, you hear a whiny call from far away – Papa! Hurry Up!

His amber eyes look into yours as if to prove a point – See?

You caress his face gently - Run along then, papa. I'll be right behind you.

With a quick peck on the lips, he runs out calling to your child. When you've grabbed a pack and stuffed it with the medicines you need for your tasks today you set off right after them ready for a flight into the sky.

__________________

And there we go! Another one! hope you enjoyed this one as much if not more than the first one. But genuinely thank you for enjoying the first one as much as you guys did. Hopefully my attempts at linking it at the top have not failed and if you haven't read it you can have a quick look!

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #neteyam x reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #x reader #female reader #neteyam

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whitemancumslut · 1 year

Text

~Pregnancy Announcement Extended~

yourinstagram

liked by annetwist, harrystyles and 24,378,920 others

yourinstagram glowing and growing💞

view all 20,848 comments

harryfan1 WHAT THE FUCK YOURE PREGNANT????????!!?! WHAT

harryfan6 IM SO NOT WELL

ynfan1 WHAT THE FUCK

ynfan2 CONGRAT OH SHIT SHIT

zendaya CONGRATULATIONS!

florencepugh MAMA!!!

annetwist 😭❤️ !!!!

yourinstagram ❤️

harryfan5 IM CRYING

harrystyles So fucking gorgeous .

harryfan9 IM IM WHAT IM WHAT

harryfan11 IM CRYING SO HARD RIGHT NOW BRO

ynfan8 CONGRATS!!!😭😭

harryfan39 CONGRATULATIONS OMG????!!!!!

harrystyles

liked by annetwist, yourinstagram, and 23,660,002 others

harrystyles And just like that, life got a whole lot sweeter🤍

view all 23,838 comments

yourinstagram Made sweetly💕

harryfan1 😭😭😭😭😭

ynfan11 MY BABIESS CONGRATULATIONS

harryfan2 YALL ARE SO CUTE

ynfan14 y’all are the reason i believe in love and soulmates fr

harryfan7 OH MY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK FUCK IM CRYING SOBBING THROWING UP

harryfan19 A FUCKING BABY???

harryfan2 CONGRATULATIONS OH MY FUCK WHAT????!!

annetwist ❤️❤️❤️

yourinstagram

liked by zendaya, florencepugh, and 14,001,900 others

yourinstagram these past couple of months have been a dream💞

view all 12, 555 comments

yourbestfriend youre fucking ethereal

cardib 😍.

dovecameron you're so babe

yourinstagram babe

ynfan01 THIS FRIENDSHIP MAKES MY TOES CURLL

ynfan8 OMGGGG

ynfan10 MY FAVORITE GIRLS STOP

harryfan2 i still can't believe you're pregnant ynfan1 ikr??? it does not feel real

harryfan3 dilfrry dadrry really coming true

harryfan4 RIGHT IT MAKES SENSE WHY THEY DISAPPEARED FOR SO LONG

yourinstagram’s instagram story

harrystyles' instagram story

yourinstagram

liked by annetwist, dovecameron, and 19,999,120 others

yourinstagram Welcome Home, Baby Aläia🤍

view all 16,333 comments

harrystyles ❤️

dovecameron So happy for you guys!!🥹🥹

yourinstagram ❤️❤️

arianagrande 💕💕💕Congratulations babygirl!

yourinstagram Thank you angel❤️

harryfan1 I CANT BELIEVE YOURE PARENTS

harryfan2 ALÄIA!!!😭😭😭💕💕💕💕

ynfan1 THE NAME !!!

ynfan2 HER NAME IS SO PRETTY

harryfan3 IM CRYING HER NAME IS BEAUTIFUL CONGRATULATIONS

zendaya CONGRATULATIONS ❤️❤️

harrysupdates

liked by harryfan7 and 49,220 others

harrysupdates HARRY SEEN OUT WITH ALAIA YESTERDAY MORNING???????????!!!!!

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harryfan1 HES SUCH A DAD FUCK

harryfan2 HES A DAD HES A DAD BREATHE

ynfan1 this is so 😭

harryfan3 gosh this such dadrry

harryfan4 DADRRY WORLD DOMINATION

yourinstagram

liked by zendaya, billieeilish, and 10,272,777 others

yourinstagram Grateful🤍

view all 14,000 comments

arianagrande Perfect🥲!

florencepugh Y’all are so precious ARGH

harryfan1 crying.

harryfan2 FIRST AND THIRD OMGGGGG???!??😭😭😭😭

-three years later-

yourinstagram

liked by annetwist, arianagrande, and 7,000,829 others

yourinstagram baby girl 💞

view all 10,008 comments

harrystyles So precious!🤍

harryfan1 DADRRY

harryfan2 my heart is melting

harryfan3 ALAIA!!

ynfan1 HER HAIR??? IM JEALOUS BYE

ynfan2 her hair is literally beautiful.

harryfan4 LITERALLY 😭😭

annetwist Beautiful !❤️❤️😊😊

harrysupdates

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1, and 31,112 others

harrysupdates Harry smiling and waving to Y/n and Alaia during LOML last night 😭😭

harryfan2 GOSH THIS WAS SO ADORABLE

harryfan3 this is too cute

ynfan1 STOP BECAUSE WHAT

harryfan6 this is going to be the death of me

ynfan22 my seats had a perfect view of y/n. i couldn’t take my eyes off of her. she’s so beautiful it’s insane.😭😭

ynfan3 LITERALLY

harryfan7 she kinda stole the show😭

fan

liked by harrysupdates and 525 others

fan last night was just simply the best night ever. dream come true. seen two of the lomls yesterday. i met one of them and i truly can’t express how grateful i am for this experience. yourinstagram was the sweetest person ever and gives the best hugs, i love you yn. thank you so much for being such an angel. and harry i love you more than life it’self thank you for tonight, for everything. ❤️

view all 133 comments

harryfan1 YOU MET Y/N??? HOW WAS SHE ?? OMG DID YOU SEE HAVE ALAIA??

fan YES. CRAZY TO SAY YOU CAN GET STARSTRUCK BY A 3 YEAR OLD😭 but yn was perfect. she’s a fucking angel. she also smells really good

ynfan2 WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER?? WHAT DID SHE SAY????

fan I DIDNT WANT TO BOTHER HER. ESPECIALLY NOT WITH HER CHILD I JUST SAID HI AND I WAS REALLY NERVOUS. I DIDNT EVEN GET A PHOTO CUZ I WAS NERVOUS TO ASK?!?!!! BUT SHE JUST SAID SHE APPRECIATES THE SUPPORT AND HOW MUCH RESPECT I GAVE HER AND SHE TOLD ME THAT HARRY IS INCREDIBLY GRATEFUL I CAME ALL THE WAY FROM CANADA TO SEE HIM. SHE EVEN ASKED FOR MY NAME I WAS SO SHAKING😭😭

ynfan3 oh my gosh she is an angel

harryfan3 it’s the way she probably told harry about you!!😭

fan NO BECAUSE THAT KEPT ME UP ALL NIGHT

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harry_lambert, and 8,109,282 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. New York City I. August, 2022.

view all 12,612 comments

yourinstagram baby

ynfan1 stop i’m 😭😭

harryfan1 ‘BABY'😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

harryfan2 i’m so unwell. y’all are too cute 😭

ynfan2 they’re so in love

harryfan3 SO PROUD OF YOUUUU

lizzo BESTFRIEND !💕

harryfan6 😭😭THIS FRIENDSHIP KEEPS ME ALIVE

harryfan7 LIZZO!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fake instagram #harry blurb #harry fake instagram #harry styles concepts #harry styles instagram blurbs #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff imagines #harry styles x poc #harry styles x black!reader #dad!harry x reader #dadrry

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satancopilotsmytardis · 2 months

Note

If either Dabi or Shigaraki got sick, how would the other care for him?

Shigaraki taking care of Dabi (pre-relationship):

Dabi hasn't been sick in years. It's taken a considerable effort, but given how fucked up his body already is, the terror of getting any kind of infection usually kept him meticulously checking and trying to maintain his health. He did not want his skin to fall off again.

So getting a cold a week and a half after taking over the PLF is not an option.

"Dabi, you are literally sneezing sparks, please go lay down." Shigaraki sounds less annoyed than he expected, but he doesn't have any room to fucking talk given that he literally had three fingers amputated yesterday and his other arm is still completely bandaged, and he's got a broken foot, but he's still at this meeting.

"Fuck you, I'm fi--" he interrupts himself having to pull down his mask to sneeze into a tissue, his quirk flaring higher like it's going to somehow turn the sickness into ash in some fresh way his low fever can't.

Duster sighs, "Compress,"

"Don't you--!"

"Sorry, friend, but this is for your own good." And he's gone before he can get his flames ignited.

He's not sure how long passes before he's let out, but he does find himself on his bed, in his room. There's a box of cold medicine on his nightstand, a large water bottle, and two thermoses. He ignores those and goes over to the door to give his cohorts a piece of his mind and finds it locked from the outside. As soon as the handle rattles, Shigaraki's voice comes from the other side.

"Go lay down and rest. I need you at your best. If you can't do that here, then I'll send you to stay with Ujiko."

"I'm fine, let me out!"

"Dabi, you have a 42° fever."

"I have a fire quirk. I run hot."

"Not above 38°, normally. The doctor said if you go up to 44° you have to go see him. Compress made you tea, Spinner made you soup, Toga left you some shower and bath melts that are supposed to help with congestion, and the rest of us and the organization can handle anything else. If you try to leave through the window Gigantomachia has been instructed to eat you. If you set the villa on fire Geten has been instructed to freeze you solid. Rest. If you get bored I left you an e-reader."

Dabi gapes at the door. He cannot believe he is being put on--on house arrest because of a stupid cold!

"I'll come check on you in a few hours, and if you need anything-- other than being let out-- before then, just text me." There's a very slight pause, and then Shigaraki's voice comes again, a little softer than before. "You've done more than enough in helping prep for the merge. Take as much time as you need to rest and feel better. We don't want you to burn yourself out, Dabi."

Can't find his words at all around how tight his throat has gone.

"I'll see you in a little while, Firefly."

And he does move away from the door, he can hear him moving back down the hall. Dabi could probably melt the lock and get out, but after another second he goes over to his closet instead and puts his pajamas back on. He takes some medicine, has a drink, and curls up on his bed with a huff. The e-reader is plugged in on the other side of his bed and he reaches for that. Fine. A day of rest to get his fever down, and then he can get back to work.

He picks a book at random and is about twenty pages in before he has to start over as he realizes he has no idea what's going on, his soupy over-heated brain just constantly getting tripped up on how Shigaraki's voice had sounded calling him 'Firefly'.

#tanco speaks #ask #asks #shigadabi #my writing

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earlgreytea68 · 10 months

Text

EGT's FAQ About A Fall Out Boy Cover of the Billy Joel Song "We Didn't Start the Fire" Covering Newsworthy Items from 1989-2023

Why isn’t it in chronological order?!

Was the original in chronological order? Yes, roughly speaking (it wasn’t in exact chronological order, either, for instance, the Brooklyn Dodgers won their first World Series after Disneyland opened but the Dodgers are mentioned before Disneyland, but I get it, it is roughly chronological and definitely more so than the Fall Out Boy cover).

The original, however, was also about a different time period in history: It happened to cover the Cold War. It makes sense that it would go in chronological order because there was a very definitive narrative arc to that portion of history: The Cold War started, all these things happened during it, the Cold War ended.

The era since the Cold War ended arguably lacks this narrative arc. So it makes sense that if you were doing a “We Didn’t Start the Fire” for the modern era, you wouldn’t go in chronological order. That would imply a “beginning” and an “end” that our era doesn’t deserve. Arguably, what mostly characterizes the post-Cold War era (and especially the twenty-first-century portion of it) is the jumbled chaos of time-meaninglessness. We say it all the time on the internet: What is time anymore? It means nothing? We have no sense of it. Things that happened yesterday turned out to be from 2003. There are a ton of other memes about this. You can’t believe the pandemic was over three years ago now. You can’t believe it’s been seven years since the 2016 election cycle. You can't believe that Friends is as far away from us as The Andy Griffith Show was from Billy Joel. Our histories, both personal and on a grander scale, feel like a jumble we can’t untangle, and so does this cover of the song.

In the 90s, people used to talk about being at “the end of history,” and they meant this in a good way. Like, there was this belief that “western democracies” had won and now all we had to do was keeping going up. Obviously that fell apart quickly, but I am Pete Wentz’s age, and I remember very much being given that message when I was in high school and college. In the way that the country boomed after winning World War II, it was assumed we would also boom for a long, even more extended period of time because our victory was even more complete. And then September 11 happened and it felt like it accelerated everything falling apart much more quickly. But that fever dream quality of growing up “post-history,” so to speak, is I think captured really well in the non-chronological lyrics, in a way that I think following a chronology would have done a disservice to. Our lives are this weird mish-mash of constant horrors mixed with the numbing agents of pop culture, and so is this song.

The song ends on September 11, and there have been 22 years of history since September 11, and I get why it’s upsetting to people for the song to end on an event from 2001, and at the same time I think it’s the most effective part of the song, because it does not feel like that was 22 years ago, it definitely feels like it was yesterday, and it also feels like sometimes it’s the only thing that happened in the past thirty-plus years, because of how much it dwarfed everything that came before and how much it colored everything that came afterward.

Also, Fall Out Boy did make a deliberate choice to change the way the chorus goes. Billy Joel sings, "We tried to fight it," and Fall Out Boy sings, "We're trying to fight it." That, to me, adds to the impression that this isn't a narrative with a beginning and an end, it is all over the place and we're still in the middle of it all. So the song ends in the middle, basically.

I am speaking, of course, from the bias of a privileged American born in 1980 who graduated high school in 1997. But, speaking from that bias, I personally get why it’s not chronological, and I don’t think it’s a fatal flaw of the cover. To me, after a moment of being surprised the first time I listened, I felt like I got it and it captured the era better, and it was a feature not a bug. Obviously not everyone will agree, but anyway, I just wanted to say it.

There’s no way they did that on purpose, though.

I’ve got news for you about literary analysis, which I can confidently state as a writer myself: I’m sure there are some writers deliberately doing stuff on purpose but I bet a lot of it is the stuff you don’t even notice. The stuff you do notice and make much of, I’m always like, “…well. Gotta pretend I knew I was doing that all along…” I used to feel guilty about that, but I don’t anymore, because I’ve decided that the things I do instinctively, because they feel right to me, count just as much. When it turns out later that I was doing something because of x, y, z, only I couldn’t articulate it, I think that’s okay. And I also think it’s better than okay when people read what I write with their own experiences making it mean something to them that I would never have thought about.

Which is to say, I’m not particularly bothered by whether Pete Wentz said to Patrick, Joe, and Andy, “Let’s not do it chronologically in order to capture the chaos of this era.” He probably didn’t. But he did make a choice not to do it chronologically, and that’s good enough for me. (He actually starts with a very early reference, so it’s like he’s faking all of us out, like, You thought this would be a nice chronology, but it’s not, it’s an absolute mess.)

Didn’t Pete Wentz basically say it was just too hard to do it chronologically?

Never believe what Pete Wentz says about his own lyrics. He says Thnks fr th Mmrs is about Coachella.

Okay, but you’re surely giving him too much credit.

I’ve been analyzing the man’s lyrics for a long time now. He’s so much smarter than anyone gives him credit for, tbh. Believe me, I also used to think it was just coincidence that he kept tripping over these really elegant, multi-layered, evocative phrases. After twenty years, I don’t think it’s coincidence anymore. I think he just knows how to write.

But also, We Didn't Start the Fire gets held up as a Cold War epic, and it wasn't actually about the Cold War either, Billy Joel just lucked out that the Cold War ended the year it came out.

Fine, but anyone can just rhyme a bunch of proper nouns together.

Yes! You are correct! Anyone can do that! Go for it!

Yeah, but why is everyone paying so much attention to Fall Out Boy’s?

Honestly, I don’t know. They put out a really stellar album that most major media outlets and casual social media managed to ignore, and they’re in the middle of a super-ambitious tour where on any given night Patrick Stump might cover Queen or they’ll just pull out something old or maybe something brand new and I haven’t seen anyone talking about any of that, either. So I’m not entirely sure why suddenly everyone’s so fixated on what Fall Out Boy is doing, but Idk, if you’re curious, the new album is excellent and doesn’t have a single cover song on it, it's all original and it's got ton more Pete Wentz lyrics to pore over.

The lyrics are very sports-heavy, though. Was that necessary?

The lyrics are extremely Pete Wentz. I know everyone else in the band helped him, too, but these are the things Pete Wentz cares about: Chicago sports, Marvel stuff, Tiger King, other emo bands. Lots of other stuff, too, but the fact that he includes the Cubs and not the Red Sox is entirely a function of Who Pete Wentz Is. It’s actually an extremely personal listing of the last thirty years, and I kind of like that about it, too. Everyone’s version of this song is different, and that’s cool!

But it doesn’t even mention COVID!

I, too, was surprised by that, but it mentions Tiger King, and I think that’s better, it made me laugh and also very vividly evoked that particular time to me better than just saying, like, "COVID-19 quarantine" would have.

There are other huge events it leaves out!

Yes. There are.

I can’t help it, I just really hate the song.

That’s cool. There are songs I really hate, too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(the funniest thing to me is that many people make fun of Patrick's lack of enunciation making lyrics unintelligible, but he's worked so hard on his singing that people can understand these lyrics, oops)

#long post #fall out boy #fob #bandom

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