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meangirls-imagines · 3 months

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'ELLO! I wanted to request something simple and angsty but turns into fluff. So basically R was getting bullied in highschool. At the time Regina and R were dating. R and her family got into a car crash. R faked her death after finding out her father passed after waking up in the hospital. Regina visits R grave and states how she's upset that R left her all alone. But when Cady arrives at Northshore. R popped back into town and waltzed into the cafeteria unannounced to Regina. Obviously R gets a slap to the face and a whole bunch of kisses from Regina. R says how she just had to get away from the bullies and Regina can't even be made at her.

Come Back To Me

Description: Reader loves Regina but hates North Shore. People bully her, even knowing who her girlfriend is. To make matters a lot worse, her and her dad are hit by a drunk driver, killing her dad. Reader wakes up in the hospital, heartbroken by the news. She decides to leave, leaving behind Regina, who believes her girl is dead. After a year supposedly "dead", Reader returns to North Shore, shocking everyone, including Regina.

WARNINGS: this is going to be a RIDE, angst with a happy ending, car crash, mention of death, sad regina, mentions of injury, regina slaps reader, fluffy towards the end i promise.

Life sucked for Y/N Y/L/N.

She was a freshman at North Shore High School and ever since middle school, she was mercilessly bullied by her classmates.

She was shoved into lockers on the daily, berated by football players, called slurs and derogatory names. The whole nine yards.

Y/N didn't have a reason to live, or at least that's what she thought. A ray of light entered her life towards the end of seventh grade.

That ray of light was Regina George.

Regina had defended her from a bunch of football boys when they had cornered Y/N after school. They had planned on jumping her but the blonde had stopped it, threatening to tell the principal and make their lives hell.

Since then, Regina hadn't let Y/N out of her sight. Even though the whole school knew not to mess with Y/N, that never stopped them. They just messed with her behind Regina's back. Y/N never told Regina, she didn't want to worry her.

When they got to high school, the bullying got worse. It got more physical. The jocks would always get Y/N when Regina or the plastics weren't around. They always made sure to not bruise somewhere that was visible.

The only one who knew about the bullying was her dad. He had gone to the principal and the school board but since he had no proof, they couldn't do anything. He had been the one to help Y/N with her bruises and injuries. He had been the one she ranted to.

He was her rock.

Nothing could prepare Y/N for what would happen to him.

It all happened so fast. They had gone out to dinner, her dad hoping to lift her mood. He had taken Y/N to her favorite Italian restaurant and taken her to ice cream after. They were waiting at a stoplight, singing loudly to her dad's favorite 80s rock. The light turned green, Y/N felt immense pain, and everything went black.

The next day, Regina walked into school looking at her phone worriedly. She hadst heard from Y/N since yesterday. The last text Y/N had sent her was that her dad was taking her out to dinner. She spotted Karen and Gretchen in the hall and approached them.

"Have you guys heard from Y/N?" The girls shook their heads but before they could speak, Principal Duvall came on the intercom.

"Can I have Regina George, Gretchen Wieners, and Karen Shetty to my office, please. Immediately."

The trio looked at each other confused and headed to his office.

Their parents were waiting for them.

All three girls felt numb listening to the words leaving Duvall's mouth.

Regina screamed as she felt her world collapse around her.

Y/N woke up a few days later, confused to her surroundings. She spotted her grandparents sitting next to her bed. The two burst into tears at the sight of their granddaughter awake. Her grandpa went to get the doctor as her grandmother gently kissed her head.

Y/N felt pain radiating through her body. Her head was wrapped in a thick layer of gauze, her arm was in a cast, as was her left leg. She felt bandages wrapped around her torso and her shoulder. Her mind was foggy so she asked her grandmother what happened.

Her grandmother's breath hitched as her grandpa returned with the doctor. The doctor had gone over the extent of her injuries, explaining that she was hit by a drunk driver.

Then, Y/N asked the question everyone was dreading.

"Where's my dad?"

Y/N's heart dropped and she became numb.

Regina walked up the familiar path, holding a bouquet of pink roses and carnations, her girl's favorite flower.

It had been almost two years since she lost the love of her life. She had felt numb ever since that day in Principal Duvall's office. She had become a shell of her former self. How could she go on? Her other half was dead.

The numbness was constant. She just went through the motions of each day. Get up, go to school, come home, cry, sleep, repeat. Her mom had put her in therapy to help her cope, but it wasn't working. Regina just went to get her mom off her back.

She finally made it to where she was going, gently putting the flowers on the grave.

"Hi baby. It's me again. I miss you more and more everyday. I wish you were still here with me. I never thought I would have to start a school year without you. We've always been together on the first day of school."

Regina sniffled, tears running down her face. "Karen and Gretchen miss you a lot. They miss their gossip buddy. They have so much to tell you. I miss your laugh. I miss your hugs. I miss your kisses. I miss everything about you baby."

She wiped her tears again. "They finally caught that guy that hit you and your dad. The bastard got life in jail. He can rot in hell for all i care." She sobbed quietly.

"It's so hard doing life without you Y/N. I don't think I can do it much longer. I just wanna be with you again. I just wish I could go back in time and change everything. You and your dad would be here." Her phone pinged. She looked down, seeing a text from her mom, informing her that Karen and Gretchen were at their house, ready for their annual first day sleepover.

She smiled and wiped her tears again. "That's my cue baby. I wish I could stay longer. I'll be back tomorrow to tell you all about it." She kissed her fingers and gently touched the stone. "I love you baby."

She walked away from the tombstone, heading to her jeep and heading home. Her, Karen, and Gretchen all cried together that night. They were not prepared for what was going to happen tomorrow.

Y/N woke up the next morning, feeling nervous. She was going back to North Shore. She had convinced her mom and stepdad to move back to the district. Her mom had called the school and explained everything to them, from the car crash to now.

The school was very understanding and got Y/N re-enrolled quite quickly. Her mom came into her room after she got dressed. "You ready, baby?" Y/N nodded and took a deep breath. "Mom? What if she's moved on?"

Her mom came and hugged her. "If she's moved on, she's moved on. Baby, she's been under the impression that you died, remember? She can't be faulted for moving on. But just know, that girl loved you so much. I don't think she's moved on, sweetie."

Y/N nodded and took another deep breath.

"Okay. Let's do this."

Regina walked into North Shore, Karen and Gretchen flanked behind her. They all walked to Regina's locker. Gretchen felt her phone buzz, indicating a text. "Ooh! We have a couple new students!" Her thumbs began typing back a reply as Regina smirked.

"New students? Interesting." The bell interrupted them as they all went their separate ways. Cady Heron was waiting in the office for her schedule when a girl came walking into the office. She shyly waved at the girl who smiled brightly back.

"Hi, I'm Cady Heron!"

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you, Cady."

The two chatted as the school secretary came with their schedules, the woman welcoming Y/N back to the school. Cady looked at her confused. "I thought you were new?" Y/N shrugged. "It's a long story. Let me show you where your homeroom is."

After showing Cady to her homeroom, she waltzed into her homeroom, the teacher barely sparing a glance at the girl. The students however, began talking, jaws dropped at the girl who apparently rose from the dead.

News spread like wildfire and by lunch, everyone was talking about it. When Regina sat down, Gretchen told her that everyone was saying a girl that looked just like Y/N was one of the new students. Regina scoffed. "Yeah, I'll be the judge of that. Y/N was one of one Gretchen."

The blonde stopped Gretchen from talking as she saw Cady walk into the cafeteria. Curiosity got the better of her as she called the girl over. She began to make small talk with the short girl, liking her already.

The conversation was cut short by Gretchen screaming. "OH MY GOD!" She got up and took off running to the newest student to walk into the cafeteria. Regina couldn't see who she was hugging but Karen could and also screamed before running in the same direction Gretchen did.

The blonde excused herself from the shorter girl to see what the ruckus was about. As she got closer, she froze in her tracks.

No. It couldn't be.

Regina's heart began to race as Gretchen and Karen pulled away from the stranger. Then, Regina made eye contact with familiar Y/E/C eyes.

Y/N.

The girl smiled at the blonde, her heart racing at seeing her girlfriend for the first time in a long time.

"Hi Gina." Regina shook herself out of her stupor, walking up to Y/N and slapping her. Hard. The cafeteria went silent and Y/N went to speak but was cut off by Regina's lips.

Regina felt her world become complete again as her and Y/N kissed for the first time in almost a year. Y/N could taste the saltiness of Regina's tears but she didn't care. She missed Regina.

The two kissed for a couple more minutes before Regina pulled away and placed kisses all over Y/N's face and burying her face in Y/N's neck.

"I thought I lost you. Don't EVER fucking do that again." Y/N smiled and kissed Regina's temple. "Never again baby. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." The plastics lead Y/N to their table to explain everything.

By the time Y/N was done explaining, the three girls were sobbing. Regina was clinging to Y/N's side. "I'm so sorry you went through that baby. But I'll never let it happen again. I'll protect you. I'm sorry I didn't do more baby." Y/N shook her head. "It's not your fault baby. The past is in the past. I'm here. Let's focus on the now."

The girls nodded, Regina gently kissing a scar on Y/N's cheek.

The bell rang and the girls reluctantly parted from Y/N, with the promise of seeing the couple after school. Regina didn't wanna let go, she didn't want it to be a dream. She offered to skip, which Y/N reluctantly went with, making sure to shoot her mom a text as to what was happening.

Regina led Y/N to her jeep, and drove to her house.

After a tearful reunion with Regina's mom, and a couple of rounds of "I missed you" sex, the two laid in bed in comfy clothes. Regina traced shapes on Y/N's stomach, her head laying on the girl's chest.

"I thought I lost you forever, baby. I never want go through that again." Y/N kissed Regina's head, pulling her closer. "I know baby. And I'm so sorry. But I'm not going anywhere ever again. You're stuck with me."

Regina giggled and kissed Y/N gently.

"I can live with that."

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024

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sayruq · 1 month

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On Monday, April 15, the Palestinian Football Association announced that three children from the Al-Wahda Sports Academy had been killed during Israeli raids in Deir al-Balah, located in the heart of the Gaza Strip. “We announce the martyrdom of players Sami Bilal Abu Issa and Muhammad Bilal Abu Issa,” Al Wahda Academy announced on its Facebook account, which followed up by announcing the death of Adam Ramez Nabhan in another Israeli bombing. “Our hearts break for their loss.” The three children—the youngest of whom was was four years old, with the other two aged six—are among the hundreds of Palestinian athletes who have been killed since the war broke out between Israel and Hamas on October 7, 2023. Later that same day, the PFA revealed that at least 182 athletes and sports officials had been killed amid Israel’s destruction of Gaza, including no less than 28 children. An overwhelming number of the athletes killed were members of Gaza’s once vibrant football ecosystem. Among the notable names is Hani Al-Masdar, a former player and manager of the Olympic team, and Mohammed Barakat, Gaza’s first centurion of goals and a former national team player known as the “Legend of Khan Younis.” Israel has also destroyed or partially dozens of football facilities in Palestine since the start of the war. These include all of Gaza’s professional football stadiums, as well as the PFA headquarters, which was also targeted by Israeli airstrikes. Meanwhile, smaller facilities and dirt pitches have been transformed into makeshift refugee camps, field hospitals, and mass graves.

You can find the entire list of athletes murdered or injured by Israel in link above

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes Nine✦

(Sexual Implication) Ghost, trying to be sexy by whispering: Gaggin’ for it, aren’t ya, love? Soap: Nope. Ghost: No? Soap: I don’t gag on anything. Ghost: *404 Error* Soap: …Ghost? Si? Simon, are you alright?

-- Y/N: Let’s play a word association game! Ghost: Why? Y/N: Because I saved your ass last mission and I’m bored, so you owe me. Ghost: *sigh* Fine. Y/N: P e r f e c t . Gaz: ?? Y/N: Cold. Ghost: Winter. Y/N: Spring. Ghost: Mattress. Y/N: Soft. Ghost: Comfortable. Y/N: Pleasant. Ghost: Sunset. Y/N, With a shit eating grin: Beautiful. Ghost, unconsciously: Johnny- Y/N: YES Gaz: OHHHHHH Ghost: Soap: *gasp* Simon!~ Ghost: I’m going to go crash in a heli. Y/N: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT-

-- Alex: Bitch do you want me to jump across this table? Because I don’t have all day for this. Norris: You feeling froggy? Leap. Alex: Okay, well here I come- Farah: Alex no, no- hOLD OFF

-- (NSFW Joke) Y/N: Oh sorry. I almost drank out of your cup. Soap: Wh-Just go ahead, it won’t matter! Y/N: Well I- Yeah no, you’re right. I’ve drank out of your cups dozens of times. Soap: We’ve sucked the same dick- Y/N: That’s a good point! Ghost: ….*sigh*

-- Gaz: What kind of girl do you like? Soap: My wife. Gaz: And you? Ghost: Johnny’s wife. Gaz: OH- Price, knowing they recently started a poly situation: Pfft-

-- (Use of the word pussy because haha) Gaz, filming: Pffft- Soap: Shhshh- Y/N in the hallway: FORTY THREE FUCKING CENTS! AHHHHH Soap: *wheeze* Y/N: I NEED A SUGAR DADDY!! Gaz: PFFFT- Soap: I can’t breathe- Y/N: At this rate I’m ready to plaster my fuckin’ pussy on the sidewalk for some sPARE CHANGE! Gaz & Soap: *doing that silent cackle thing and smack each other in the arm* Ghost, leaning into the room: What the f- Y/N: SPAARE CHANGE, SPARE CHANGE! ANYONE GOT ANY SPARE CHAAANGE?! Gaz: *coughing* Soap: Steamin’ Jesus I’m fucking crying- Y/N, passing by the room: 🎵Walkin’ in a winter wonderlaaaand🎶

-- Y/N: Would you love me? Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Would I love you if…? Y/N: nO ThAt wAs tHE QuesTiOn-

-- Y/N: Pretty boy! With me I said! Rudy: Rudy: Rudy: Oh I’m pretty boy! Y/N: Yes! Oo that came out a bit quick- (Also works with Soap & Gaz, honestly)

-- (THIS IS A CONCEPT IM TOO WHIMPY TO WRITE, SO HAVE IT HERE! THIS COULD WORK WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS Also, NSFW warning) Ghost: I don’t miss. Y/N, on his ear piece: Never? Even with distractions? Ghost: *turns his scope* Not ever. *just about to take a shot* Y/N: Hmm…what if I went… Mm Simon~ Ghost: *misses* Y/N: Ya missed. Ghost: Cheeky bitch…

-- Gaz: Alright, so, since we’re now in America and we have some time to kill, I went and I got you something. Y/N: Aww Gaz, you really didn’t have to- Gaz: *puts down their Whataburger order* Y/N: OH MY GOD Price: Really? Gaz: *shrug* Soap: *snickering as Y/N Fucking demolishes some fries* Y/N, having the time of their life: Garrick you ever need your dick sucked, a dead body buried, a beer or whatever, you call me. I got’chu Gaz: BAHA- Soap: *wheeze* Ghost: Are you fucking crying? Y/N with their mouth full: I missed it so much.

-- (Team bonding exercises) Soap: You’re a football player, it’s in ya blood! Gaz: That’s racist. Soap: Your soul? Gaz: That’s racist! Soap: …your eyes? Gaz: That’s gay- Soap: That’s homophobic. Gaz: That’s black. Soap: That’s racist!! Gaz: Damn- (this one is extra funny since Gaz is now confirmed LGBT)

-- Gaz: You overrated little twink! Soap: Hey I am a TWUNK, alright?! That is a combination, twink, and HUNK, get it?? Hunk-

-- Soap: Hey~ Fem!Y/N: You’re Gay. Soap: …oh yeah. Soap: *looks at Ghost* Soap: Hey.~ Ghost: *sigh*

-- Soap: I’m gonna have to meet men lying down. Y/N: …I thought’cha did?? Soap: OI!

-- Soap: Everyone says what a giving person I am! Y/N: He’s talking about when you’re in an upright position.

-- Graves: What if there’s a connection? Y/N: I think there’s a connection between your brain and wallpaper paste.

-- Shepard: Now you’re always ornery, rude, unpleasant, and sometimes downright mean. That’s part of your charm. Y/N: Thank you, you colluding-county-hopping-idiotic-relic. Price: *pride*

-- Alex: Oh my god, how are you such a good driver? Soap: Because there’s illegal shit in here. Alex: Soap: Because if I don’t use my turn signal, we’re both gonna do fifteen. Because I am going to lie and say yours. Alex: ….. Soap: Put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. Alex: *clicks it in places* Soap: You are not safe!

-- (Sucking dick joke) Kidnapper: You’re gonna do as I say or I will make you regret ever being born. Y/N: Oh please, I’ve sucked dicks more intimidating than you. Soap: Oh this is why Simon was the way he was after we rescued you both last time.

-- Soap, shoving marshmallows in his mouth: This isn’t very ha-*chokes* MILF!Y/N, across the fucking base: ….*mom instinct* Price: ??? Ghost: Uh- Y/N: Something just happened. Kyle: PFFT-

-- MILF!Y/N: *letting Soap & Gaz lean on her while Price and Ghost stand close behind* Untrue. I’m a mother now. It’s really changed my perspective. Graves: And do you find it hard juggling life and a career? Y/N: You can juggle these nuts.

-- Soap: *rambling* Soap: Agh, sorry, I’m just goin’ on and on- Ghost: Oi, keep talking before I kick your ass. Soap: ….. Gaz: See? This is exactly what I m-where the fuck are these flower petals coming from?? ARE THOSE SPARKLES??

#call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #cod headcanons #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #phillip graves #rodolfo rudy parra #incorrect cod quotes

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pers1st · 6 days

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people help the people

pairing: lucy bronze (platonic) x reader

notes: mentions of suicide, not really ahappy ending, whole lotta angst, don't read if you're not in a good place.

i lost my best friend to suicide about a year ago and it's genuinely been the hardest thing of my life to go through, and even though i feel incredibly selfish for comparing my pain to hers, i just hope that everyone who's in a bad place will feel better soon. your death will hurt people, even if you don't believe it. my messages are always open !!

“Heartbreaking news have hit the football community earlier this morning as Arsenal have confirmed the death of young defender, Y/N Y/L/N. The club has stated that Y/L/N, who also played for the Lionesses, was found dead in her apartment late last night. Her death has been ruled as suicide. Other than that, both the club and the FA have asked for privacy as they deal with this tragic loss. The matches of this week will take place as usual, though the teams have agreed collectively to wear black armbands, along with having a minute of silence ahead of the match’s begin.”

The internet was a cruel place, Lucy realized a week after your death. There were countless articles, invasive messages, offensive comments about how and why your presence had been tragically ripped away from this world. She didn’t understand - how could she? Lucy liked to believe that the two of you had a real bond, with you only being nineteen years old and looking up to Lucy as if she was a Goddess, following her every step, studying her every move, clinging onto her every word as if she spoke a prayer. The admiration wasn’t one-sided, either. Lucy looked up to you. How could she not? You were so young, and faced with so much adversity - the fact that you were as professional as you were at such a young age, you impressed Lucy. You had. Until Keira had filled her in on the news ahead of a training session at Barcelona, shattering Lucy’s heart in the process. You had reached out to Lucy a lot, but never about anything this serious. You had told Lucy a lot of things, but nothing grave enough a reason to take your own life.

Admittedly, she knew the odd joke you had made - when you had slipped on the ball in front of the whole team, crashing down onto your stomach and banging your head enough to leave a glaringly obvious bump on your forehead, only to realize that the media staff had caught the moment and posted it to TikTok mere moments later. You had said, then, that you might as well have offed yourself. Lucy had laughed. Leah, who had been standing closeby, had laughed. You had laughed as you said it, but the words didn’t leave Lucy’s head anymore. You had said it. Right in front of her. How could she not have noticed?

It took minutes for Lucy’s face to be drenched in tears, hours until she would leave the medical room, which Keira had cleared and led her into, knowing very well that Lucy would not want anyone to see her raw emotions, days until Lucy returned to training, and months for anyone in the football community to address the situation. Mental health. Mental illness. Lights and shadows that came with being exposed to such brutal schedules, invasive comments, being shown off for everyone to see while no one ever required to know anything substantial. People wanted funny comments, smiles, laughter. No one ever cared about the weight dragging any players down, until it was too late - Lucy realized, as everyone and their mother seemed opposed to even speaking your name, only that energy into searching, very openly, both in comment sections or live on broadcasted TV, for the reason you had left life behind. Lucy searched for it too, though more secludedly.

She re-read your messages for hours, in the little light the moon provided as it fell through the cracks of her bedroom window, deciphering each and every letter, pronouncing the words out loud in different tones, scrolling through your social media to search for any clue. You had had your fair share of problems- you had told Lucy about them. You hadn’t been a big fan of the fans seemingly taking property of you. You hadn’t been ready for the pressure that you would be put under after another one of your defenders was injured and you were re-called from your loan to step into the position immediately. You hadn’t dealt well with the lack of your parents’ presence. Though you had still lived with them, they had rarely attended your matches, always able to come up with an excuse, one that you believed. You had defended them, shielding your family from Lucy's criticism when you had let her know, in another disappointed text message, that they hadn’t been able to make it. You hadn’t wanted to accept the fact that they simply weren’t interested in your career, and Lucy had accepted that.

Now, though, she wondered whether you had silently accepted it, and been too ashamed to admit it. Lucy knew that it wasn’t your fault - you had been the biggest ray of sunshine, even through your difficulties. You had managed to put a smile on everyone’s face, even though you had always been a little shy. You had been sweet, and kind, and gentle. Had Lucy been your parent- she would’ve let everyone know, would’ve shown you off to the world with pride, would’ve been there for everyone of your big moments. She had managed to fly out for the Conti Cup final, together with Keira, to watch you win the second domestic trophy in your senior career, only this time it was as a key-player rather than a super-sub.

Lucy was never really able to figure out your exact reasoning - perhaps that was the deal with mental illness. It was an illness. Perhaps there was no reasoning, perhaps the whole point of being ill was the fact that a healthy person would never be able to grasp the darkness that clenched your soul and inevitably drove you to death. If Lucy had learned one thing, though, it was the fact that she was never going to let anyone feel like you must’ve, ever again.

She had seen your parents during the funeral, had witnessed what your death had done to the people, who, though she never really liked them, had raised an absolutely incredible girl. She had seen your room, per her parents request, had seen the blood stained tiles on your bathroom floor, had heard your mother’s mumbled apology for not being able to clean it all. She had seen where you had spent your very last minutes, and she had thought about what must’ve been going on through your head, and it had almost suffocated her. And that was how she found herself here - in a studio in London on her rare off day, with Sky Sports, in an interview room that felt uncomfortable, a seat that pressed into her back, and a microphone in her sweaty hands.

“I just think that mental health is so, so important. I don’t know what it’s like to feel like… to feel like there’s no way out anymore, but I do know what it feels like to lose a person to their illness. It’s brutal. It makes you think you’ve failed them, and it makes you want to wish you had done more. I don’t want anyone to experience that.”

Lucy swallowed thickly, glancing at the reporter next to her. The man was kind, he handled the interview with delicacy. Your death had shocked the world, and by now, people knew to be respectful. Enough time had passed. Everyone had gotten over the initial shock. Everyone was left behind with that same distaste in their mouth and a hole in their stomach. People were delicate, when they mentioned you. They were still wearing black armbands in the WSL, and Lucy still wore the bracelet she had been given by your parents, taping it up for every match, letting any of her lioness teammates kiss her wrist whenever they scored.

“Is that why it’s so important to talk about this, to you?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely part of it. But I think most of all, I think we need to speak about it for Y/N. I think if we’d had this kind of open conversation a few months ago, she would’ve maybe reached out, you know. If I had educated myself on the topic better, maybe I could’ve seen the signs. I think it’s more for the people who feel the way she felt. If we can make even a single person reach out for help when they initially wouldn’t, I think it’s paid off.”

The man nodded.

“It’s just… you know. There’s always another way. Even when you don’t feel like it. I don’t know what it’s like to go through suicidal tendencies, but I do know what it’s like to feel sort of, hopeless. And I know that whatever happens, the world is a better place with you in it. Suicide is such a cruel way to go. I’ve wondered a lot, you know, whether she’s happier now, but I don’t think she is. Y/N had so many ambitions, so many dreams. She had such a bright future and yeah, for a mental illness to rip that away from her, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Lucy sniffed, the tears dwelling in her eyes by now. She had never spoken about your death publically. No one had, not exactly. Sure, there had been underlying comments, minutes of silence and the odd mention of your name, but people had been cautious to actually speak about the situation. She couldn’t blame them, because fuck- this hurt. She saw your face whenever she closed her eyes. She heard your voice whenever she couldn’t sleep, your laughter was engraved into her brain. There would not be a day in her life that she didn’t miss you. It hurt. A lot. The realization that you weren’t just a few countries away, that you wouldn’t call her back later, that you wouldn’t call her after an important match or visit her in Barcelona like you had said you would.

“You’ve been kind of hesitant to agree to this interview. Why do you think that is? I mean, no one has really spoken about Y/N’s death as openly as you have.”

“Yeah, I think it’s difficult. To admit this kind of pain. I mean- it shouldn’t be, you know? I think it’s important to speak about this kind of loss and all the hurt that comes with it. Not out of a place to put blame, I’d never blame her. But just to, yeah, make people realize how bad this kind of loss hurts. How much people miss her, because we all miss her, even though some people are hesitant to say it out loud.”

“How do you feel about people being so hesitant?”

“I don’t think you can blame them, you know. Grief looks different for anyone. And I guess I’m a fixer kind of person. I want to fix things, and even though I’ll never be able to, you know, fix this, I do hope that by speaking up about this, I can potentially save someone from doing the same thing. Let people know that mental health should never be a taboo, encourage people to speak up before it’s too late. Because the world will miss you, even if you don’t think it will. The world is a different place without you in it”, she concluded, though she was mostly speaking to you.

It was true. The world was different, now that you were gone. Your friends- mostly the younger girls in the Arsenal squad, seemed to be less talkative. Arsenal was a different place- Leah had told Lucy during your funeral. Everyone was a little less talkative, the loss hanging heavy over the team. Kim worried a lot, about the younger ones, whereas the older, more experienced players, dealt with the same kind of guilt Lucy felt.

Barcelona was different too, though you had never played there. Alexia and Patri seemed to be checking on everyone a little more frequently, holding the team together, making sure everyone was okay. Lucy wasn’t, of course, though her team tried their best to help her move forward.

She did, eventually. England camps became less heavy, and when England won the Euros in 2025 again, during Lucy’s last match, she held up your shirt proudly, keeping the medal that had your name engraved in it, without shedding a single tear. When Arsenal won the Super League that year, they did the same thing. Lucy still felt a pinch in her chest everytime one of your teams reached another milestone, because she had wanted you to experience those kind of things. You deserved to experience your first league title, your second Euros, but more than anything-

She envisioned the life you could’ve lived, away from football. You deserved to fall in love, to visit Barcelona and every other place in the world you would’ve wanted to. You deserved to move out of your parents home into your first ever flat, you deserved to get a kitten and name it something ridiculous, the way you had always planned. You deserved to feel the rays of sun on your skin on the odd day it didn’t rain in London, you deserved to go on another trip to Ibiza and terrorize the rest of the girls in the club for another night. You deserved to be a bridesmaid at a wedding, the way you had always wanted to. You deserved a lot more than dying at nineteen. Everyone did. And Lucy would spend the rest of her career, potentially the rest of her life, making sure that people who felt the same way you had would feel a little less alone, a little more hopeful, would live a little longer. Anything in her power. She would do it all.

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc

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jae-sch-writes · 4 months

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Fruity Confessions

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,584

Genre: fluffy goodness

Summary: After a hunt, the Reader gets very drunk. What will Sam do?

Warnings: alcohol consumption (like, a lot of it), mention of murder (nothing out of SPN norm), mention of smut (in a book), hinted at smutty thoughts

A/N: What's up Tumblr? It's been a while. Writing is gonna be all over the place because I have a kid now! (crazy, right?) But as a SAHM, I have a lot of free time to write, so here's to (hopefully), getting back into it. Edited by Grammarly, but any and all mistakes are no one's fault but me, myself, and I.

Want to read more? SPN Masterlist Full Masterlist

You were a fruity drink kinda girl. While the boys had their variety of beers, you preferred Smirnoff Ices or a seltzer of some kind. When the situation called for something a little harder, like at the end of every hunt, the Winchesters drank whiskey, and you enjoyed a bottle of wine.

With each state you’ve gone to, you made sure to find a winery from that state, and if they had a fruity-flavored bottle, you were definitely getting at least one. This time- Wisconsin.

A hunt had brought you to Green Bay: at Lambeau Field to be specific. Home field Packers’ games were canceled after eight different fans of the Detroit Lions were found dead after their game. It didn’t take long to find out it was a ghost, however, finding out who the ghost was was a different story. After lots of research, Sam had determined it was Bart Starr, the Packers’ quarterback during their first Super Bowl win.

“The dude’s buried in Alabama, so how the hell did he make it here beyond the grave?” Dean asked.

“One of Starr’s jerseys is at the Field. That’s definitely what he’s being tethered to, but it’s gonna be difficult getting it out of its case. Lambeau has all of their memorabilia in cases with alarms,” you said, not looking up from your book. After some moments of silence, you looked up to see Sam and Dean looking at you like you had three heads. “What? I know things.”

“Yeah, but about football?” Dean was shocked. “Not even the game itself, but the fact you just happened to know one of these random player’s jerseys was in their museum? It’s weird.”

“Dean, leave her be, she literally just told us what we’ve gotta burn.” Sam was impressed. While he had never been interested in sports, he was pleasantly surprised by your knowledge, however niche of a topic it may be. “But, I gotta know,” Sam turned to you, “how did you know that?”

“I’ve been to a game or two at Lambeau Field. My dad was a Packers fan.”

You happened to be the one to go to the jersey to burn it while the boys were your backup. The faded green jersey with the number 15 on it was lit up in its display case. You all knew it had to be in and out. Break the case, burn the jersey, and get the hell out.

The sound of shattering glass came with the sound of an alarm, alerting the guard at the entrance to the museum portion of the stadium. Bart Starr was throwing around Sam and Dean like they were footballs.

You had just barely been able to get a match onto the jersey before security was able to see you. Luckily, the small flame was enough to distract him and made him run in the opposite direction to get a fire extinguisher.

The next morning, as Sam and Dean were packing up, you drove to a state business called Festival Foods. There, you found their selection of state-made wines. You opted for a couple of labels all made of cranberries. If you were grabbing wines made in Wisconsin, you might as well grab ones made with one of the state’s bigger industries.

You spent the twelve hours from Green Bay back to Lebanon in almost complete silence. You and Sam reading your books, and Dean humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

The minute you got home, you grabbed the cooler and went to the kitchen. Your only thoughts were on the wine you had got and how you needed to try it.

“Y/N, you didn’t even grab your-” Sam’s sentence was interrupted by seeing you grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard. “I’ll go put your bag in your room.” Sam knew better than to get between you and your wine. The last time he tried that, he ended up on the floor from trying to cut you off for the night. Your love for wine and need for a drink after a hunt had given you the drunken power to somehow take him down, despite the size difference between you and him.

Sam retreated from the kitchen to his bedroom. You took your bottle, glass, and book to the library and settled yourself into the loveseat you had picked for nights like these.

About 3/4ths of the bottle in, you had abandoned the thought of a wine glass and just started drinking straight from the bottle. Your mind was wandering from the fantasy-romance you were reading and to thoughts of Sam. When you reached a smutty part of the story, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Sam in that way.

You were now a bottle down, and made your way back to the kitchen to open up another one. It really didn't take long for you to finish the second bottle. You were stumbling to the kitchen, with the intent to grab your third bottle, when you were stopped by the table in the library, not at it, by it. You had walked right into it, almost like you forgot the large oak table was there.

Getting to the kitchen truly was difficult for you, your drunken version of a marathon. Sam heard all of the commotion going on and took a guess on where you were heading. Usually he would leave you be, but being able to hear you walk into things, he decided to risk you being mad at him.

He stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance to the kitchen, and let you walk right into him. It took him everything to keep him from laughing at your face when you were met with the wall of muscle.

“Sammy, whaddya doin’ here?” Your words were slurred, but not incoherent.

“Preventing alcohol poisoning,” Sam grabbed your hand and guided you down the hall. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

“Can I sleep in yours?” Your drunken state left you with no filter. The words just came out of your mouth.

“Ya know, given you walked right into me like I was invisible, that might actually be a good idea.”

Sam’s response invoked a giggle from you, and he couldn't help but smile. Even though you were stumbling down the halls of the Bunker, bumping into Sam every couple of steps, he thought you were adorable. You were usually pretty reserved and in control, but like this, you’re care-free, not calculating your every move.

It took almost twice as long to get to Sam’s room as usual with how many times you bumped into him or tripped over your own feet resulting in him having to catch you. Sam told himself after the fourth time if you fell one more time, he was just going to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way. Much to his dismay, that did not happen. He would have loved to know your reaction in the morning if you remembered him doing that.

When you finally reached Sam’s room, the first thing you did was flop on the bed, or attempt to anyway. Thankfully, you fell just short of landing all the way on so your head never hit the floor. Sam chuckled and helped you up. Before laying back down, you took off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and sweatpants.

This wasn't the first time Sam had seen you without a shirt, or the first time the two of you shared a bed, but this time was different. This time you were drunk and didn't really know what you were doing. In your drunken state, you were just getting ready for bed, for Sam, he couldn't help but think that you thought of him as someone safe. Why else would you have asked if you could stay with him tonight?

Sam got you comfy on the bed, all the while you were giggling up a storm. Sam looked at you and smiled. “What? What's so funny, Y/N/N?”

“Nothin’. I just think you're cute. And tall,” you looked at Sam with big eyes and a goofy grin. “Oh my gosh you're so tall.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam chuckled. “Let's just get you to sleep, alright?”

You nodded as he helped you make sure you didn't smack your head against his bed frame. Sam grabbed the small trash can sitting at his desk and brought it to your side of the bed. You usually held your liquor really well, but given your state, he didn't want to take any chances.

“Sammy?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” your voice got serious. Sam knew you'd be falling asleep soon, you always stopped being goofy towards the end of the night.

“I mean it. I really do,” Sam knew you weren't just saying that because you were drunk. If you were talking, your filter may be going, but you mean every word that comes out of your mouth.

“I know you do,” Sam smiled softly before crawling into his bed behind you and pulling his blanket over the two of you. He let his arm fall over your side and rubbed his thumb in small circles over your stomach. He hated not knowing if you were going to remember this in the morning.

He waited to hear your breathing become slow and steady before whispering, “I love you, too, Y/N/N.”

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#fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #imagine #oneshot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester oneshot #sam x reader #sam winchester #spn #supernatural fluff #spn fluff

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topguncortez · 8 months

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Don't Try to Be the Hero || Whumptober Day 5 - B. Floyd

whumptober masterlist || whumptober taglist form

synopsis: Bob always dreamed that one day he'd be superman, and one day that dream came true. . . almost

word count: 4.1k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: held at gun point

warnings: domestic violence, teen pregnancy, being held a gun point, gun shots, character death.

When Bob Floyd was six years old, his kindergarten teacher Mrs. Adams asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up and he responded with:

“Clark Kent! Superman!”

And the whole class burst out laughing. Even sweet, elderly Mrs. Adams couldn’t help but crack a smile at little Bobby Floyd’s answer. Bob was by far the smallest kindergartner in his class, by size and height. He had big, round glasses that would fall down his nose at the simplest things he would do. They had duct tape on one side of them due to Johnny Smith throwing a dodgeball at him. His parents didn’t have enough money to get him a new pair of glasses, so Bob had to deal with the broken pair until his yearly eye exam.

The ridicule didn’t just end in kindergarten, it followed Bob throughout grade school, into middle school, and high school. Bob was a late bloomer and didn’t hit his growth spurt until his senior year of high school. At 6’2, Bob was scrawny, his ribs poking out. His dad encouraged him to join the football team, but the only position the coach would give him was waterboy. The boys on the team, most of them who had remembered Bob’s answer from kindergarten would tease him relentlessly.

“Let’s see if you can get out of this, Clark Kent!” Johnny Smith snickered as he slammed the locker door shut with Bob on the inside. Bob was stuck inside that cold, dark locker for hours, crying and screaming, hoping that someone would come by and get him. And two hours later, someone did. Someone who Bob swore was an angel.

“Holy shit!” She cursed as she opened the locker, “Are you alright?”

Bob was mesmerized in that moment. The bright gym lights created what he swore was a halo over her head, as she looked with concerned eyes over his body for any injuries. His throat was dry as he reached his hand out.

“I’m Bobby,” He muttered. She smiled at him. A genuine smile. Not one of those mocking smiles he usually got from girls. He noticed her cheerleading uniform and the bow in her hair.

“I’m Y/N,” She shook his hand.

That night, Bob had ridden his bike home as fast as he possibly could. He didn’t even let the tires stop spinning when he jumped off of it and ran up to his room. He pulled out the sketchbook that he hid under the loose floorboard from his father, opened to the first blank page, and began to draw. Bob had been drawing comics for as long as he could. Drawing himself like he was Clark Kent, with muscles and a ripped abdomen. Every time he tried to draw his Lois Lane, it never looked right, until now. Bob stuck his tongue out of his mouth, concentrating as he remembered the look on her face when she opened the locker.

“Lois Lane. . . Y/N,” Bob muttered.

And just like the real SuperWoman, Y/N seemed to always be by Bob’s side when he needed help saving the day. Bob had learned that Y/N was Johnny Smith’s girlfriend, watching them at their lunch table full of jocks. She always sat on his lap, even if she tried to sit in her own chair, Johnny always pulled her into his lap. The smile on her face was not as bright as it was the day she shook Bob’s hand. Bob had noticed, that even though it was lunchtime, she never did eat. She just sipped on her water and talked to her friends.

However, Bob did notice her real smile whenever she looked at him. Usually, the cheerleaders practice at the same time as the football players. Bob would occasionally look over towards them just in time to catch Y/N’s eye on him. She would send him a small smile and a wave, and all Bob could do was blush and look away.

“Stare at my girl again, Floyd, and I’ll put you in a grave,” Johnny threatened as he stepped off the field to grab one of the cups of Gatorade Bob had filled. Johnny crumbled up the paper cup and threw it at Bob as he jogged back out to the field. Bob looked over his shoulder and noticed Y/N’s frown at the interaction.

Bob heeded Johnny’s warning and didn’t look or interact with Y/N. Until one night, when Bob was leaving the locker room after spending hours washing the practice jerseys and getting ready for the game on Friday, he found Y/N, tears running down her face, shakily trying to type on her phone. She had a red mark across her cheek that looked like it was going to start to bruise.

“Y/N?” Bob asked softly.

The girl jumped and turned to see him standing there, looking at her with concern, “C-Can you dr-drive me home? Johnny was supposed to take me home but he forgot.”

Bob looked down at his watch, “Practice was over three hours ago. Have you been here the whole time?” Y/N bit her lip, deciding what to respond with. But Bob didn’t need her to answer, it was clear by the way she was shivering in the October air, “C’mon. I’ll take you home.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate and followed Bob to his beat-up old truck in the parking lot. The second they were in the cab, Bob turned the truck on and cracked the heat up. Y/N let out a sigh as she felt the warmth seep into her bones. She gave him her address and Bob began the drive.

Every so often he’d look over at her, noticing the bruise on her cheek. He couldn’t stop his mind from jumping to a sickening conclusion. He swallowed and sat up a bit in his seat, before looking back over at Y/N.

“How’d you get that bruise?” Bob blurted out. His eyes went slightly wide at the sudden burst of confidence.

Y/N swallowed thickly and looked at Bob. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking, it was clear in his blue eyes, “It was an accident. He didn’t mean to. H-He was just upset about practice and I wasn’t helping and I-”

“It doesn’t mean he gets to hit you,” Bob said, sincerely.

Y/N wasn’t sure what set her off, maybe it was the tone of Bob’s voice. Maybe it was the way that he looked at her like she was the most important thing in his life. Maybe it was the simple act of kindness by turning the vent towards her. But the dam broke, and tears started running down her cheeks. Bob had pulled into her driveway as she covered her face with her hands, her sobs echoing in the quiet cab. He parked the truck and wordlessly unbuckled his seatbelt. He didn’t say anything, just giving her a safe space to cry. Bob had sisters, and knew sometimes, all they needed was a good cry and someone to be there.

Y/N let out a gasp as she raised her head and looked at Bob, “He’s a good guy, Bobby,” She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, “He’s got offers from Clemson and Alabama, a-and he’s going to be able to provide for us and I-”

“Wait,” Bob’s eyebrows furrowed, “Are you. . . Are you-” Y/N just nodded, knowing exactly what he was accluding to. Bob scooted over in the cab, so his thigh was touching her’s. He unbuckled her seatbelt, and Y/N all but collapsed into his side. He held her tightly in his arms, placing her head on his shoulder. Y/N cried until her tears had all run out. She lifted her head and looked at Bob, his blue eyes looked like they had tears in them as well.

Neither one was sure who leaned in first, but it didn’t matter. Bob gently cupped Y/N’s face, his thumb wiping a stray tear from her pink cheeks. Slowly, gravity pulled them together. Y/N’s eyes fluttered from his down to his lips. She closed her eyes, as she felt his lips ghost hers, before closing the gap between the two of them.

It was like a spark between the two of them, as Y/N sighed into the kiss. One of Bob’s hands moved to tangle in her hair, pulling just slightly. Y/N gasped as Bob slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her lips tasted like watermelon chapstick with a hint of mint. Bob’s other hand trailed down her body, feeling the soft curves under his hand. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but when Y/N tugged just right on his hair, he growled and shifted her body into his lap.

Y/N moaned as she settled her legs on either side of his body. She rocked her hips against his, feeling him swell in his jeans. Bob’s hands moved to her thighs, gliding up the smooth skin and landing on her hips. He moved her back and forth, creating a delicious friction for the two of them. Bob’s lips moved from her’s to her jaw and down her neck.

“Bobby,” Y/N sighed. She gently pulled him back, looking at him. His blue eyes were blown wide with lust, which made a guilty feeling settle in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. She shook her head and moved off his lap, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Bob shook his head, “I am. I shouldn’t have taken ad-”

“No,” Y/N cut him off, “I wanted it too. You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want,” Bob nodded and Y/N gave him a soft smile. She ran a hand through his hair and kissed his cheek, “You’re a good man, Bobby Floyd. . . superman.”

Bob’s jaw fell open as Y/N turned and climbed out of the truck. Bob watched her walk up the sidewalk towards her house.

And that was one of the last times Bob Floyd saw Y/N.

— — —

It had been 10 years since Bob had stepped into his hometown. Bob had joined the Navy his senior year of high school, shocking pretty much everyone. What was even more shocking was when his parents announced in front of the whole congregation at church that Bob had become a Naval aviator. A weapons system officer to be more precise.

No one could believe it, but little Bobby Floyd was actually flying like he was Superman.

He wasn’t the same scrawny boy that everyone remembers him being. He was still tall, but his once lanky body had turned into hard muscle. His cheeks had lost that baby fat that he used to have. His stomach, which once showed his ribs, now had a six-pack. His soft hands had now become calloused from hours spent in the gym and flying. But, even though Bob’s body had changed, his heart did not.

It had been 10 years, and Bob was still madly in love with the girl who had walked away from him, Y/N.

After that night in his truck, Bob hadn’t seen Y/N again. Her parents had found out about the pregnancy and sent her to live with an aunt for the remainder of their senior year. She had come back after a couple of years, with a little girl who looked just like her, and a ring on her finger. Y/N and Johnny Smith had gotten married about a year after their daughter was born. Johnny’s dreams of going to play for the University of Alabama had come crashing down after he tore his ACL during a game his senior year. Instead, Johnny worked at the steel mill like most of the guys who Bob went to high school with.

It was late, and Bob found himself driving the dark streets of his hometown. There wasn’t much to do at 8:30 at night. The old farmers and their wives had gone to bed. There was only one bar in town, which was usually overrun with ranch hands and old drunks. Bob was going to keep driving around the old town square when he noticed the familiar beat-up Honda parked in front of the bar. His heart leaped in his chest as he pulled his truck into an available spot.

Bob wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he pushed the door open, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the girl he had fallen in love with to be standing behind the bar. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a white tank top on her body, and a pair of jeans that fit her just right. Her hands were on her hips as she was sassing back to some drunk patron. Her smile was bright, one that Bob had seen before.

Noticing someone had walked into the bar, Y/N looked up from her conversation with Harvey, a regular who would come in and drink until he fell asleep at the bar. She looked like she had seen a ghost as her eyes locked with Bob Floyd’s. She felt like she could cry as she quickly rounded the bar and ran to him. Y/N threw her arms around Bob’s neck, hugging him tightly. Bob didn’t even hesitate to wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly.

Y/N pulled back and looked at Bob, “God, you’ve changed.”

“I’m still Bob,” He shrugged.

“No. . you’re Superman,” Y/N smiled. Bob blushed at her words and looked down at his boots, “C’mon, let me get you something.”

“Oh, I don’t-” Bob started to say but Y/N cut him off.

“Lemonade or Shirley Temple?”

“Shirley Temple,” Bob nodded, “And don’t be stingy with the grenadine.”

Y/N laughed as she walked back behind the bar. Bob settled up on a bar stool and watched as she mesmerizingly worked making his mocktail, while also getting drinks for the other patrons that walked up to the bar. She set his drink in front of him and winked.

“What brings you back?” Y/N asked, picking up a rag and cleaning down the sticky bar top.

Bob took a sip of his drink, “Lexi had her baby. Decided to come home and see the rascal.”

“Oh yeah,” Y/N smiled, “I gave her some of Vera’s old baby clothes and stuff. Have you seen her yet?”

“Do you want to see pictures?” Bob asked and Y/N nodded eagerly. Bob pulled his phone out and opened the photos application. Y/N cooed as she took the phone and swiped through the photos of the baby. Her heart swelled, her eyes filling with love.

“Oh my gosh, look at her cheeks,” Y/N glanced up from the phone and looked at Bob, “She’s got the Floyd cheeks. Just like yours.” Bob rolled his eyes, remembering how everyone used to pinch his cheeks when he was little, “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Floyd. They are adorable.”

“Yeah well, enough about me,” Bob said and took his phone back from Y/N, “How about you? How’s Vera? And J-Johnny?”

Y/N seemed to stiffen at the mention of her husband’s name. She glanced around the bar quickly, seeing who might be listening. It seemed like Johnny had spies everywhere she went, listening and watching her every move.

Y/N leaned closer to Bob, “Vera is good. She’s in third grade now. . . living with my Mom in Colorado. I see her when I can.” Now that was news to Bob, but he didn’t question it. He knew that she probably had her reasons, and whatever that reason was, was probably for the best.

However, Bob did notice how Y/N didn’t mention anything about Johnny. But the look of fear in her eye when he mentioned his name was not lost on him.

Bob sat on his barstool for the rest of the night, catching up with Y/N as she filled and refilled the drinks of the patrons in the bar. She made sure to keep Bob’s glass full, switching between water and a Shirley Temple. Bob noticed that her true smile had returned to her face, lighting up her eyes. It made Bob smile as she would laugh at something he would say, or how she hung on to every word he would say about different missions he went on. Y/N said little about her life, but she did say that she was going to school part-time during the day, and worked nights. Her parents had split about five years ago, her mother going to live near Denver and her father still living in town and working at the mill.

Bob stayed until the last call and stayed with Y/N as she locked up the bar. She pulled on the strap of her purse and looked at Bob, “Do you think you could give me a ride home? I usually walk but-”

“Of course,” Bob nodded. Y/N smiled at him and followed him to that same beat-up old truck that he had ten years ago. Y/N couldn’t help the blush that rose on her cheeks as she slid into the bench seat, remembering what had transpired the last time she was in the truck. She rattled off her address as Bob climbed into the driver’s seat. Bob nodded and reached forward to turn the heat on. It was like deja vu all over again, as Bob quietly drove through the streets.

“Johnny works at the mill,” Y/N said softly, “I didn’t answer your question earlier. . . but he uh, he works at the mill.”

Bob nodded, “Union man. Smart idea.”

“Yeah,” Y/N whispered.

Silence stretched back through the cab as Bob continued to drive. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he could tell something was off. He wasn’t sure if it was in Y/N’s body language or in the way she barely spoke about Johnny. He spared glances over at Y/N, as she looked out the window at the familiar streets.

“It’s the yellow one with the red door,” Y/N pointed out. The house was cute and quaint something that was very much Y/N. Bob noticed that Y/N stiffened as she noticed a truck in the driveway, “Shit. He was supposed to be at work.” Bob’s jaw clenched as Y/N started to shake as she reached for the door handle, “Thank you, Bobby. It was nice seeing you again.”

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you too,” Bob smiled at Y/N, “I’ll call-”

“No,” Y/N shook her head, “No, th-that’s not a good idea. I’m sorry, Bob.” Y/N gave him a small smile as she climbed out of the truck quickly. She shut the door and moved with haste up the sidewalk to the front door. Bob waited until she was inside the front door before he pulled away from the side of the street to head home.

Except, Bob didn’t go home.

He wasn’t sure why, but warning signs were going off in his head as he aimlessly drove around town. There was something in the way her voice trembled as she spoke to him, and the quick way she got inside the house. Bob couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Screw it,” Bob cursed, and quickly turned the truck around to head back to Y/N’s house. He didn’t even hesitate as he put the truck in park and made his way to the front door. He raised his fist to knock on the door when he heard the crashing sound of glass followed by a scream.

“I didn’t do anything!” A female voice cried out. And Bob knew exactly who the voice belonged to. Bob didn’t hesitate as he rammed the door down, causing the wood.

“What the fuck!?” Johnny roared as he looked at Bob, who was standing wide-eyed in the doorway of the broken door. Johnny laughed, shaking his head, “Bob fucking Floyd. Trying to place Superman now?”

“Bob, leave,” Y/N said, from behind Johnny. Her eyes were red and he noticed a red mark on her cheek and what looked like a handprint on her neck, “It’s okay. . .” Her eyes glanced down towards Johnny’s hand.

“No, no, no,” Johnny shook his head. And that’s when Bob noticed the gun in Johnny’s hand, “Bob Floyd wants to play Superman. Let’s see if he can survive this,” He raised the gun and pointed it at Bob’s head.

“No!” Y/N cried. Bob lifted his hands in surrender looking Johnny straight in the eye, “Just let him go! He won’t say anything!”

“Shut up, bitch,” Johnny spat over his shoulder, “Bob has always tried to get in on my girl. I told you I’d put you in the grave, Floyd.”

“Let’s just think about this,” Bob said, slowly, “This won’t end well for anyone. Not you and certainly not me. But she’s right, I won’t say anything.”

Johnny shook his head, “Bullshit, Floyd. You’ve always wanted to be the hero.”

Bob looked past Johnny and locked eyes with Y/N. Tears were streaming down her face as she watched the interaction.

“Let her go,” Bob spoke, “She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need to see you shoot me. Besides, if she’s not here, she can’t be a witness to testify against you.” Johnny looked over his shoulder, and then back at Bob. Even in his crazed mind, he knew that Bob was right. Y/N would be a witness to murder if she was here.

“You heard him,” Johnny said, “Leave.”

Y/N shook her head, standing her ground, “No. I am not leaving so you can kill him. He didn’t do anything.”

“You stupid bitch,” Johnny growled and turned around to face her, “Do as your told for- shit!”

Bob moved quickly, taking his chance to strike. He jumped on his back, wrapping his arm around Johnny’s neck, and pulling tightly, choking him. The two of them fought against each other, as Bob tried to get him to drop the gun. Johnny rammed his elbow into Bob’s stomach, making him groan in pain, but Bob never let his grip falter. Bob stumbled over to the wall, pushing Johnny’s face up against it. The man groaned as Bob grabbed him by the hair, slamming his face into the wall, hearing a sickening crunch. Bob grabbed his arm that held the gun and held it behind his back.

“You think you can just put your hands on her and get away with it?” Bob spat, as he pushed Johnny’s face against the wall. He rammed his knee in between Johnny’s legs, hitting him in the crotch.

“She’s a whore,” Johnny spat, “The kid isn’t even mine. She’s been lying.”

“That gives you no right,” Bob cursed.

Johnny smirked, “You love her, don’t you? So stupidly in love with a whore. She let you hit and you never thought twice.” Bob clenched his jaw as he twisted his arm again, making him groan, “But you know what they say. . . whore’s deserve to die.”

It happened so quickly.

One moment, Bob thought he had control of everything. The next, he’s elbowed in the nose and stumbles away, letting go of Johnny. And before Bob could even try and stop him, Johnny fired off a shot.

“Oh god,” Y/N’s voice floated towards Bob. He looked over to the doorway, where she stood with a growing red spot on her abdomen. Bob rushed towards her, as Johnny ran out the front door. He gently helped her to the ground, pressing his hands to the wound. He could hear the distant sound of sirens approaching.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Bob said, his hands staining with crimson.

Y/N shook her head, tears running down her cheeks, “I’m n-not.”

“Yes, you are,” Bob demanded, “You are going to be just fine. And you’ll get out of here and go see Vera in Colorado and forget about this mess. You’ll forget all about this shit.”

Y/N shakily lifted her hand and placed it on Bob’s cheek, “She has your eyes.” Bob’s jaw dropped as a shaky breath, and he looked down at her, “Take care of her, for me.”

Bob nodded, clenching his jaw and trying to hold back tears. Bob shifted her in his arms and held her close, feeling the beat of her heart beneath his hands. He knew by the time the ambulance arrived it would all be too late.

“You’ve always been my Superman,” Y/N whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.

“And you’ve always been my Lois Lane.”

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @oatmealisweird

#top gun imagine #top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun angst #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick angst #bob floyd #bob floyd fan fic #bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd angst #Robert bob floyd

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pashminalamb · 2 years

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𝕐𝕆𝕌ℝ 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝔻𝕊, 𝕄𝕐 ℍ𝕌ℝ𝕋

𝔼𝔻𝕀𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ 𝟙

Edition 2 : link

ଘ Synopsis : Their words hurt you

ଘ Starring : isagi yoichi, itoshi rin and kunigami rensuke. (They’re 23 and professional players)

ଘ A/N : This is a part of a multicharacter series that I'm currently writing for. Will there be more parts? yes. Will there be comfort? Yes

Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated <3

ଘ Currently : no taglists.

ଘ Limit : 3 characters

ଘ Wc : 2.6k

ଘ Warnings : foul language, mentions of injury for Kunigami's part.

ଘ Pairings : Isagi Yoichi x reader, Itoshi rin x reader, Kunigami Rensuke x reader

ଘ Do not copy, repost, translate or edit any of my works.

Link 2, Link 3

♤ Isagi Yoichi : Shut the fuck up. What do you even know about football?

It had been another quiet night in the apartment. Despite returning from Germany, you rarely got to see your lover; the only reminders being the left dumbbells that were left on the floor along with discarded clothes that gave away the silent message of him not returning home for the night, instead choosing to go out to the field to train until early hours of the morning.

Sighing, you bent on the floor picking up his discarded sweaty clothes and threw them into the washer, walking to the kitchen to prepare a meal for him and keep it in the microwave in case he was still hungry, leaving a note on top of the lid.

‘For Yo. Eat well :)”

Days had turned into a week and there were signs of Yoichi in the house but it felt as if there were a ghost of him, considering the pairs of studs that would be left at the doorstep, the empty dish of the previous night left to dry near the sink or the missing watch that told you he had a press conference or the billboards that were in the city with his face featured for a new product in the market.

It wasn’t until one night where you had grown frustrated that you had decided to leave at an ungodly hour in the night, driving to the stadium where you knew he would be, practicing.

Walking around the bleachers, on the field, you watched as Yoichi dribbled the ball past his feet and made it past his opponents, the last one before the goal giving him a critical shoulder push as he fell to the ground.

“Yo!” you gasped, running towards him as the referee held up a yellow card to the opposing team player. Leaning down you watched as he grit his teeth, a feral expression displaying his animosity taking over his face.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I’m fine. Just… leave. Go home, I’ll be there in two hours.” he said, shoving your hand from his bruised shoulder. “Just come home, Yoichi. You can play tomorrow. You need sleep.” you said, eyes settling on the bags under his gaze. “Tomorrow?” he asked in a grave voice, giving you a glare from the side of his face. “And then what? When I get a broken nose and bleed, you’ll tell me to play next month?” he contested, his voice gaining a higher tone with every passing word.

“I-”

“Shut. the. Fuck. up. What do you even know about football?” he asked, a humorless chuckle coming out of him. “I’ve earned my place in this field. I don’t need to hear what I need to and don’t need to do when I’m the best here. And if I had to, you would be the last person I would ever come to.”

You watched as he walked away from you, giving his injured shoulder a few turns before eventually going to the referee, saying that he was ready to play, while the rest of the players stood there awkwardly, looking at each other on what they should do. You could feel tears pooling in the corner of your eyes from the sheer humiliation you had felt before them, with the thing that hurt you the most being how small isagi had made you feel. Gritting your teeth, you clenched your fists onto the metal of the car keys, the smooth yet jagged edges digging into the skin of your palm. Taking a slow turn you walked out of the stadium into the car, settling into the driver’s seat with your face staring up at the hood of it, trying to stop the tears from falling down your face.

After driving around in circles of the city you had made it home, throwing your keys onto the table, and settling on the sofa haphazardly. Maybe you couldn’t give him what he needed…just gave him what you could and what you thought was best.

Not daring to step into your shared room, you decided to pack a bag and not be there for the night; it was a bad idea to stay in the same place that reminded you of the one you wanted to get away from, leaving a gel pack that you had picked up from the konbini in the freezer as one last gesture before you turned in for the night.

Dropping on the soft mattress of the hotel bed and too tired to think from all the tears you cried, you decided to do the best thing and sleep, unaware of the lit up screen of Yoichi and you with a silent ring.

♤ Itoshi Rin : You’re so insecure, it's actually pathetic. Makes me think why I’m even with you.

It had been a good six months when you and Rin had become a pair… unofficially. There had been speculated rumors of the football star seeing someone, with the paper printing his image with a random model that he might have met at an event or collaborated with.

You knew you shouldn’t be envious, as it was Rin who would come to your apartment at time of the night during weekdays or spend the night at your home during the weekend, yet you couldn’t rid off the green feeling that made your insides churn in sadness.

It was another night in your apartment when you heard the sound of a doorbell. Opening the door, you revealed the figure before you to be none other than the man you had been seeing. Handing you the package of food you had ordered prior, he moved into your apartment, stepping out of his shoes, going into the living room, removing his coat. Taking his spot on the couch, he placed his phone on the table, eyes staring into yours, asking you to join him. Placing the package on the table, you moved to sit close to him, a good space between the two of you. Lifting a finger he beckoned you to come close to him.

Sighing, you came close until your knee touched his, his hand reaching to yours, entwining your fingers with his. It wasn’t like Rin to talk, choosing his actions to speak louder for him.

“I saw you on the cover of the magazine today. Didn’t know you were the new model for Issey Miyake…” you said with a small playful smile, remembering the navy blue sweater that Rin wore on the said photoshoot.

“They’re hosting an event in two days.” Rin said, his thumb brushing over the expanse of your hand. “Social events disgust me.”

“Hm… but you do have to build your image as a footballer right? Might as well watch models on the runway and clap while you’re at it…” you teased, nudging him.

Grunting, he placed his head on your shoulder, the soft tresses of his hair brushing against your collarbone causing the corner of your lip to perk up.

This was nice.

You felt your hands shake as you held the phone closer to your face, eyes squinting at the image.

‘Football star Itoshi Rin and Kimimura Ayano at Shibuya : a blossoming love?’

Blinking sleepily at the bright light from the morning sleep, you let your gaze adjust until you got a better look at the picture of what seemed to be Rin and the Japanese girl group idol who had been on the steady rise ; his hand brushing the strands of hair away from her face. Your heart dropped.

If he wanted to bring a plus one, why wasn’t it me?

It was a pattern for a few days where you wouldn’t answer Rin’s texts, answering them with one or two words. Rin knew you had been acting strange, the screen of his phone blank rather than seeing the plethora of messages he usually got from you ranging from owl facts (that were very much welcomed) to what you had decided to buy or go or treat yourself with on that day. It was eerily silent.

Deciding it was better to see you in person, Rin decided to drive over to your apartment.

On the sound of the bell, you walked to the door, body too tired to lift itself. Opening the door with a heavy hand, you watched as Rin brushed past you walking to the couch with a quick pace. Walking slow footsteps, each weighing with the sleep you desperately needed, you sat a good foot away from him.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

“It's… nothing.” you said, hand resting under your chin while the other gripped your phone tightly.

“You know better than to challenge someone who knows you’re a terrible liar.” “You want to start off with lies, Rin?” you asked, irritation getting the better of you from the lack of sleep and stress. “Why don’t you tell me what this was then?” you asked, unlocking your phone and shoving it in his face.

Blinking at the picture before him, he grabbed your phone and zoomed in on the pixels. “Where did you find this?”

“Doesn’t matter.” you spat, snatching your phone away from him.

“A picture. That’s all it took? Thought your self control was better than that.” his voice touching a grim note, getting up from the couch to sneer down at you.

“An invite to a person that you’re not dating when you are actually seeing me? Thought your self preservation was better than that.” you retorted, getting up from the couch, until your torso was inches away from his.

Flaring his nostrils and clenching his jaw, you watched as the warmth in Rin’s eyes now dulled.

“You’re so insecure, it's actually pathetic. Makes me think why I’m even with you.”

“And I deserve someone who would not make me second guess my place in their life.” you said, walking towards the door, pressing down the handle to open it.

“If your conversation is done here, you can go. Don’t want to hold you any longer, Itoshi san.”

You watched as he clenched his jaw out of anger, fists clenched as he slipped into his shoes and left with heavy footsteps, not turning to bat an eye at you. Closing the door behind him you felt your knees buckle to the floor, as you wept.

Maybe this was for the best.

♤ Kunigami Rensuke : You’re an eyesore. So do me a favor and stay out of my way. Get the fuck out of my sight.

It had been another long evening at the gym, as Rensuke pushed himself on his routine.

Run…Run hard. Run fast. Run light. Breathe. Repeat.

Little did he know that the late nights spent at the gym was a way for his subconscious to escape from the nightmares that he faced in the wild card, even if it had been years since he had left the blue lock facility. Closing the door behind him to the apartment he made his way to the kitchen, the sight of a bento flooding into his vision.

“Out with friends. Eat this in case you get hungry!”

Deciding to turn in for the night, Rensuke left the box untouched, his muscles screaming for him to get into bed. Stepping out of his clothes until he was in nothing but clad boxers, he pulled the sheets over himself, falling into a deep slumber oblivious to the door opening at midnight.

Waking up from bed he was greeted with the sight of you setting pieces of toast on the table, the sizzling of food on the pan filling the air with a delicious smell.

“Good morning Rensuke! Did you sleep well?” you asked with a smile. Grunting as he scratched his bedhead, he walked towards the fridge, grabbing the cold carton of milk and chugging it down.

“Rensuke! That will just ruin your appetite! You need to eat!” you exclaimed, walking over to him to grab the now half empty milk carton. “If you wanted milk, I would’ve poured it out in a glass for you…”

“Leaving for practice.” he said simply, footsteps on the wooden floor moving in the opposite direction.

“When will you be back?” you asked.

“Dunno.” was all the said, throwing on a shirt and a pair of joggers with his duffel bag as he headed towards the door. You sigh upon hearing the click of the door with Rensuke gone.

It has been like this for a while now. Spending time together was a rare opportunity and even if you did it was different from how close you were to him. Conversations had merely turned into sounds of approval or discontent rather than talking.

Silence was all there was. Not to mention the fact that he was not taking care of himself, overworking himself at the gym and not having the appetite that a regular footballer should have. Getting up from the couch you decided to follow him to practice one day, watching him from the bleachers.

“Kunigami! Pass!” his teammate waved as Rensuke spun the ball on his left foot to tackle the opponent, only to be thrown on the ground in surprise as he felt an ache and a trickle of blood down his foot from the movement of the opponent. Lifting his head he was surprised to see a puncture on his skin, the red liquid flowing and a reddened area that would no doubt swell as time passed.

Medics rushed to the scene, bandaging his leg while the coach wore a grim expression but tried to maintain his calmness. “Give it time kiddo. You’ll be good in four days.” he said, giving him a pat on the back. “Hit the showers.”

Kunigami sat on the bench of the locker room, staring at the ground interrupted by the sound of the opening of the door, hands holding the large brown package.

“Rensuke…” you called out, watching his bare back while the towel covered him and another was draped over his shoulders. Turning around to face you with a clenched jaw, his eyes seemed feral and dangerous.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” words failed you as you held the large package in front of you.

“Did you… How long have you been there?” he asked, getting up from the bench and walking towards you with a limp. “Doesn’t matter… get dressed and I’ll drop you home.” you said with a nervous smile as his intimidating figure stood inches away from you. Peering into the bag he saw an assortment of tablets, protein pellets, a gel pack, other medical and vitamin supplements.

“You looking down on me?” he snarled.

“Huh…?”

“You think I’m pathetic?”

“What? Rensuke… What are you…?” you asked, as he grabbed the bag out of your hands.

“Protein supplements.” he said, throwing the box out of the package onto the floor. “Gauze.”

“Disinfectant.”

“Bandaids.”

“More pre workout.”

“Gel pack.” he said as he kept throwing out the items in the bag onto the floor.

“Do I seem that pathetic to you?” he asked, ripping the brown cover into shreds as they fell to the floor. Trying to hold in your tears, you swallowed with a deep breath.

“I am just trying to help you, Suke… You haven’t been taking care of yourself lately. The only thing you do is dash out of the house and I’m worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept in days and I’m concerned about you.” you answered, fingers reaching towards his face only to have it smacked away in anger.

“Are we playing fucking house?” he retorted, laughing a humorless laugh. “I don’t need someone to tell me that I'm not doing fine. You know what you are?” he asked, face coming close to yours. “You’re an eyesore. So… do me a favor and stay out of my way. Get the fuck out of my sight.” he said, walking away from you towards the lockers. Letting your tears fall to the ground you felt your legs shake as you bit your lip.

“If that’s what makes you happy.” you said, opening the doors to leave, not daring to look back.

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x3no9 · 4 months

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More fun with AI today--spent hours doing this, using prompts, customizing and even sketching within Adobe.

Makarov, Graves and MacTavish.

I gave MacTavish a custom sketched face then ran through Adobe.

This is for entertainment purposes, I know many people hate AI, sorry.

The images of Makarov and Graves pair with my fic featuring them as lovers, then husbands. I made a couple of "pretty" ones of Graves and one with Makarov donning painted fingernails. Football Phillip is a direct ref to my fic. Not gonna lie, I am loving the sexy badass bitch assassin Graves LOL.

Last two URLs lead to mature content ;)

#m/m #call of duty fanart #ai enhanced #cod mw #post mw 3 #sexy makarov #sexy phillip graves #pretty phillip graves #makarov x graves #enemies turned lovers #soap mactavish #custom soap mactavish #tattoos #sexy soldiers #pretty soldier #husbands #phillip and graves married #football player phillip graves

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gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

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Gavi's Untied Boot

NOT POSTING FOOTBALL OR OTHER CONTENT DUE TO THE SITUATION IN PALESTINE.

PLEASE DONATE TO HELP EVACUATE MY BEST FRIEND’S FAMILY!

Hi everyone! Welcome to my chaotic little blog. I write almost exclusively for Gavi, but may be open to other Barca players as well.

My ask box is always open so feel free to drop in requests, questions, or just messages for me if you'd like!

That being said, I don't tolerate hate or bullying of any kind. You will be blocked and potentially roasted on the public forum.

If there's something you love, please give me feedback in comments, asks, or messages, because that's the best way to make sure you see more of it!!

Masterlist

GUB Universe (aka my Pride and Joy)

*Just Pretend* - Gavi x Physiotherapist! Reader (completed)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Epilogue

*We Can't Be Friends* - Pedri x Stylist! Reader (Ongoing)

Part 1

Prompt List- using these prompts

Soft glow - taking your makeup off for you

Should I keep going? - Washing your hair for you

You are everything - saying "I love you"

Dim the lights - holding hands

Level 8000 - First meeting

Crowded - forehead kisses

Blue Raspberry - Late night McDonald's run

*Gavi One-Shots*

Gavi Fluff Alphabet

Forward - Gavi x Confident! reader

Going to bed with Gavi

No other - Gavi x curvy! reader

Grocery shopping with Gavi

Off Limits - Arab/ Desi! Reader

Asking you to be his girlfriend

Stitches - injured! reader

Pls hold my hand - touch-starved! reader

Drip too hard - Eid! fic

Author reader

Gavi on your birthday

*Boot on the Bus!* (short one-shots)

Long distance calls

Calling Gavi pretty

Last updated: May 13th, 2024

If you want to read my ramblings and other thoughts, check out the #gavisuntiedbootasks tag!!

** Please reach out to me through messages/ the ask box if any links are not working so I can repair them asap**

#gavisuntiedboot

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meantaylorsversion · 8 months

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I CAN SEE YOU BEING MY ADDICTION

Football Player!Peter Parker x Marching Band!Shy!Reader

summary; both you and peter were nominated for homecoming court, but not as each other's dates. In fact you two kept your relationship a secret from everyone, even your closest friends. He wished he could show you off to the whole school

warnings; none lol

notes; pookies i am not in band but i have a lot of band friends so forgive me if this isn't the most accurate

words; 1.3k?

You watched as the crowd roared when Peter ran into the end zone. Your instrument blaring, to the sound of a song you've played many times before. A sly smile appeared on your face, the corner of your lips holding a secret only two people knew. It was a stroke of luck that the cheerleaders were placed in front of the band. All anyone could see from the big screen was Peter looking towards the cheerleaders with a big grin on his face, or what they thought was a smile underneath the helmet. The game was a landslide, the team was up 35 while the other team only had one touchdown from the first quarter and hadn't scored since. You heard your best friend at your side, whispering, "Why are you watching Parker? I thought you hated him,"

You scoff, turning your face away from them, "When have I ever said that! He's in my physics class and he's.....nice!" You hated lying to your best friend but you liked having him all to yourself. You and Peter had been dating secretly for a few months but you knew what all your friends would say. They were wrong, they only saw the persona he put on in school, but beneath that was the sweet and nerdy boy who geeked out over Star Wars while you threw popcorn at him. They didn't know how he visited his parent's graves every Sunday, or how he adored his Aunt May.

They scoffed lightly, "Yeah and the sky is green!" You rolled your eyes ignoring their comment, gluing your sight to the field, holding your instrument tightly.

The timer had ticked down, the lights shining brightly on the players. It was almost half-time, which was when the nominations for Homecoming Court would be announced. There was no chance that Peter wouldn't be voted for King, and you knew that Gwen Stacy would be nominated as his 'date'. It didn't bother you at all. No, not at all.

What you didn't account for was your friend putting your name in for the ballot and all of the music department voting for you and the Drum Major Austin Lawrence. The whistle blew, signaling the game was at halftime. You let out a breath of relief as you got off the stands, following behind your friends slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Peter while the other marching band took the field.

You almost stumbled over your feet as you saw Peter take off his helmet as he exited the field. No matter how many times you saw your boyfriend, his beauty always took your breath away. The front strands of his hair stuck to his forehead, his face holding a grin as his teammates bumped their shoulders with him, as they left to the locker-room. You heard him laughing and joking with them, and you wish he would never stop laughing, the sound was so melodious to you that it felt brighter than the sun. You had spent so much staring at him that your friend had grabbed your arm and pulled you over to the concession stands, grabbing the food Austin was holding for them and shoving it into your hands, and you turned your head to the big screen. You could see the pictures of Peter and Gwen from the yearbook being projected as the announcer had started speaking.

You felt the envy spread throughout your body, it was stupid but you couldn't control it. Your jaw had clenched, so much so your friend put their hand on your shoulder, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Y/N? What's your problem?" Their eyebrows furrowed, as they tried to discreetly look at Austin. He knew about the nominations, your friend had convinced him to keep it a secret. They thought it'd be a nice suprise for your senior year, but you never liked the spotlight. It's why you haven't revealed that you and Peter are dating, meanwhile there was nothing more in the world that he wanted to do than show you off to the whole school. Your friend waited for your answer, but you were lost in thought, watching Peter from afar.

"Huh? Oh it's nothing, um just a headache I guess," You replied, before you practically jumped out of your skin when you heard your name and Austin's name was announced, heard all around the stadium. The picture of you two was you and Austin talking during a break at a football game, but what you didn't notice was the lovestruck look on his face. Peter noticed, he's been noticing since you guys started dating, and he hated it.

Peter had a class with him once, and he found him annoying. Was Peter biased? No, of course not, why would he be? It's not like the kid was in love with his girlfriend or anything. It had irked him so much how he couldn't go up and kiss you like the world was ending, all because you didn't want to deal with the backlash of dating the school's quarterback. He understood of course, but he loved you so much and all he wanted to do was show you off.

The camera had practically put the camera in front of you and Austin's face, the look of surprise evident on yours. You heard the whole band from behind cheering as Austin put his arm around you, and smiled down at you.

He practically shouted in your ear, “C’mon! Cheer up! This is supposed to be fun!" You laughed nervously, trying to keep your unease at bay, at least while the camera was pointed at you two. Luckily for you, the camera man walked away, intending to find the next homecoming couple. You moved yourself out from underneath Austin's arm and walked away from him and your friend.

It was lucky that the band didn't have to be back for another 15 minutes and that Peter saw you walking away from them. He followed after in a safe distance, so that there wouldn't be any suspicion, he knew he should be in the locker room, but he knew you were upset and he couldn't give a damn about anyone else in this moment. You found a little hiding spot in freshman year in the stadium and any time you needed a moment to yourself during a game, you’d escape there.

“Y/N, babe? What’s wrong?” He frowned, as he looked down at you, reaching for you. You melted into his arms, allowing yourself one moment in public with him.

"I didn't know I was nominated for it," You mumbled into his chest, scrunching your nose slightly as his jersey was sweaty. He hugged you a little tighter before Peter let go and looked into your e/c eyes.

"Babe, it won't be that bad ok? You are an amazing person and I love you." He reassured, kissing your cheek before running back to the locker room. He could care less if his coach was mad, all he cared about was you.

You smiled sweetly as he walked away, taking a deep breath before walking back to the band bleachers. Your friends breathed a sigh of relief as they saw you walk up.

"Where were you? We turned around for one second and you were gone! And you didn't come back for five minutes!" Your friend whisper shouted as you walked up the bleachers. You ignored them, walking back to your spot ignoring them. You were pissed, you didn't even know about it and now you had to do all this extra stuff for homecoming that you didn't want to! All you wanted to do was go with your friends and watch Peter from a distance.

They didn't understand, it was the whole reason your relationship with Peter was a secret, you hated attention! And now you had to do all this extra stuff for Homecoming now, though you would be able to spend more time with Peter or at least be in his presence.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #football player!peter parker x marching band! reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm!peter x you #peter parker #alex's writing<3

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axlerica · 10 months

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SECOND CHANCES~

-The One Where Trust Was Broken-

Pedri's fame and flirtations lead to the end of his relationship with Y/N. When they meet again, he begged for a second chance. Can they overcome the past and find a second chance at love? A journey of healing and rediscovery.

Once upon a time, in a bustling city of Barcelona. Y/N and Pedri were two young hearts who fell deeply in love. They met by chance at a local coffee shop, bonding over their shared love for art and poetry. Their connection was instant, and soon, they became inseparable.

As Pedri's football career began to take off, the demands of his new life as a professional player started to take a toll on their relationship. The long training hours, constant media attention, and traveling with the team made it increasingly difficult for him to spend time with Y/N.

One evening, after a particularly challenging match, Y/N decided to surprise Pedri at his apartment. As she opened the door, her heart sank at the sight before her. Pedri was surrounded by a group of girls, laughing and enjoying themselves.

Her voice shook as she confronted him, "Pedri, what's going on here?"

Pedri turned towards her, his face pale with guilt. "Y/N, it's not what it looks like," he stammered, trying to explain.

But Y/N couldn't bear to hear any more. Tears welled up in her eyes as she choked back the words, "I trusted you, Pedri. How could you do this to me?"

Pedri reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away, feeling betrayed and hurt. "I didn't think it would hurt you this much, We were just having a party. That’s all.” he admitted.

"How could you not think it would hurt me?" Y/N's voice trembled with anger and sadness. "We were supposed to be in this together, but you've become so distant, so careless."

Pedri tried to explain, "I've been under so much pressure, and I made a mistake. These girls, they don't mean anything to me, I swear."

But Y/N couldn't bear to hear any more excuses. "I can't do this, Pedri. I can't be with someone who doesn't value our love," she said, her voice trembling with pain.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, she turned and walked away, leaving Pedri standing there, filled with regret and remorse. He knew he had made a grave mistake, and the consequences of his actions were too painful to bear.

In the following days, Pedri tried to reach out to Y/N, desperate to apologize and make amends. But the damage was done, and Y/N couldn't bring herself to forgive him. The heartbreak was too deep, and she knew she had to prioritize her own happiness and well-being.

And so, their once beautiful love story ended in heartbreak and sorrow. Pedri's fame and the pressures of his football life led him astray, and Y/N had to find the strength to heal and move forward without him.

In the years that followed, Pedri became one of the greatest footballers in the world, achieving incredible success on the field. But deep down, he always carried the regret of losing the one person who had loved him unconditionally.

As for Y/N, she focused on her art and her travels, finding solace in the beauty of the world around her. Though scarred by the past, she learned to cherish the memories of their time together and embraced the journey of healing and self-discovery.

Two years after the breakup , Pedri's attempts to reach out to Y/N remained unanswered. Each unanswered call and unopened message deepened the chasm between them. As the weight of his fame grew heavier, Pedri's personality started to change.

The adoration and praise from fans, coupled with his on-field success, fueled his ego. Pedri became more distant from his teammates, spending his time surrounded by a new group of people who were enamored by his stardom. The once humble and grounded player began to develop an air of arrogance, losing sight of the values that had endeared him to others in the first place.

His teammates noticed the change, and some tried to offer guidance, reminding him of the person he used to be. But Pedri brushed them off, convinced that he knew better. He no longer felt the need to work hard or prove himself, believing that his talent alone was enough to maintain his status.

Meanwhile, Y/N focused on rebuilding her life and finding happiness outside of the football world. Though the pain of their breakup still lingered, she was determined to move forward. She immersed herself in her art, traveling to different places and finding inspiration in every corner of the world.

One day, as Pedri was scrolling through his social media feed, he came across a post from Y/N. Her artwork was showcased in an art gallery, and the comments were filled with admiration for her talent and creativity.

For a moment, Pedri's heart tugged at the sight of her success, but he quickly dismissed the feeling. His ego had grown too large, and he couldn't bear to see her thriving without him.

Time passed, and Pedri's arrogance only intensified. He relished the attention and privileges that came with his fame, often disregarding the feelings and needs of those around him. His former humility seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a haughty demeanor that rubbed others the wrong way.

As the years went by, Pedri's career continued to flourish, but his personal life remained empty. He had attained fame and wealth, but the void left by his broken relationship with Y/N lingered, and no amount of success could fill it.

On a rainy evening, as Pedri sat alone in his luxurious penthouse, he found himself reminiscing about the love he had lost. He realized that he had become a shell of the person he once was and that his fame had brought him more loneliness than joy.

In a moment of clarity, he decided to look up Y/N's number once again, hoping to reconnect after all this time. But as he dialed her number, his heart sank when he heard the familiar automated message stating that the number was no longer in service.

Pedri's eyes filled with tears, realizing that he had let go of the one person who truly loved him for who he was. He had become too blinded by fame and his own self-importance to see the value of their love.

And so, in the bustling city where fame and success reigned, Pedri's journey had come full circle. The once humble and kind-hearted young man had become a shadow of his former self, while the woman who had loved him unconditionally had found her own path to happiness and fulfillment.

As the rain poured outside, Pedri sat alone, reflecting on the choices he had made and the person he had become. The road to fame had come at a high cost, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was worth losing the love that had once meant everything to him.

—————————

One gloomy afternoon, as raindrops fell gently on the city's streets, Pedri found himself seeking solace in their favorite coffee shop – the very place where their love story had begun. He ordered his usual, a cortado, and settled into a corner booth, lost in a sea of memories that flooded his mind.

Little did he know that fate had other plans for him that day. As he sipped his coffee, he looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. There, standing just a few feet away, was Y/N. She looked as radiant as ever, her eyes twinkling like stars in the night sky.

For a moment, time stood still. Pedri's heart raced, unsure of what to do next. The memories of their past love and the pain of their breakup weighed heavily on him. His ego and arrogance seemed to vanish, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

Y/N noticed Pedri's gaze, and her eyes met his. The air was charged with unspoken emotions. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should approach him after all these years.

Pedri swallowed hard, gathering his courage. He stood up and took a step towards Y/N, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Y/N's eyes softened as she looked at him. "Pedri," she replied, her voice equally tender. "It's been a long time."

He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "I know, and I've missed you," he admitted, his vulnerability shining through.

She gave him a sad smile, "I missed you too, but things have changed, Pedri. We've both moved on."

He took a deep breath, "I know I made a lot of mistakes back then. My ego got the best of me, and I lost sight of what truly mattered."

Y/N looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity. "Pedri, it's okay. We were both young, and life took us in different directions."

He reached out to touch her hand gently, "But I never stopped loving you, Y/N. I was a fool to let you go."

She looked down, her heart torn between the past and the present. "Pedri, we can't change the past. We can only learn from it and move forward," she said, her voice trembling.

Pedri nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "I understand, but I just had to tell you how much you meant to me. I'll always cherish the memories we shared."

Y/N's gaze softened, and she gave him a bittersweet smile. "I'll cherish them too, Pedri. But we both need to find our own happiness now."

They stood there, facing each other, the weight of their history heavy in the air. As the rain continued to fall outside, they knew it was time to say their goodbyes once again.

Pedri's heart ached as he watched Y/N walk away, knowing that he had let go of the person who had loved him unconditionally. He had lost her once, and now, he had to come to terms with the consequences of his choices.

As Y/N walked away, Pedri's heart couldn't bear the thought of losing her again. With a rush of adrenaline, he made a split-second decision and ran after her through the pouring rain.

"Y/N, please wait!" he called out, his voice filled with desperation.

She turned around, surprised to see him running towards her. The rain continued to fall heavily, but neither of them seemed to care about getting soaked.

Pedri stopped in front of her, his breathing heavy from both the run and the emotional turmoil inside him. "I can't let you go like this," he said, trying to steady his voice.

Y/N looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and regret in them. "Pedri, what are you doing?" she asked, her heart torn between wanting to give him another chance and protecting herself from potential hurt.

"I made a mistake, a big one, and I regret it every day," he confessed, his voice cracking. "I know I became arrogant and let my fame get to my head. But none of it mattered without you. You were the light of my life, and I lost sight of that."

Tears mixed with raindrops on Y/N's cheeks as she listened to his words. "Pedri, I loved you so much, but I couldn't bear the pain of watching you change. It broke my heart," she whispered.

"I know, and I'm so sorry for hurting you," he said, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. "But I've learned from my mistakes, and I promise you, Y/N, I'll do whatever it takes to be a better person and be worthy of your love again."

Y/N took a step back, trying to compose herself. "Pedri, I can't just forget what happened. It hurt too much."

"I understand, and I don't expect you to forgive me right away," he said, his eyes pleading. "But please, give us another chance. Let me show you that I've changed."

As the rain poured down around them, Y/N hesitated, torn between the love she once had for Pedri and the pain of their past. She knew that forgiving him wouldn't be easy, but she also knew that deep down, her heart still longed for him.

"I need time, Pedri," she finally said, her voice barely audible over the rain.

"I'll wait for you, for as long as it takes," he vowed, reaching for her hand. "I'll prove to you that you're the most important thing in my life."

Y/N looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity. "If you truly mean that, then show me through your actions, not just your words," she said, holding back the tears.

Pedri nodded, determination in his gaze. "I promise, Y/N. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust and love back."

And so, with their hearts heavy with the weight of their past and the hope of a future, Pedri and Y/N stood in the rain, at the crossroads of love and forgiveness. Only time would tell if their love story would find its way back to the happiness they once shared.

Should I do a part 2 for this?

#pedri gonzalez #pedrito #pedri x reader #pedri x y/n #pedri imagine #pedri x you #imagine footballer #footballer #pedri angst #pedri fanfic #pedri #fc barcelona #barcalona

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

A lift and two screws (one shot)

Words: 4.5k | Pairing: Corey Cunningham x f!Reader Summary: You go to Prevo Auto to get your car fixed after hours, and the handsome mechanic rails you twice. Notes: Reader has breasts and a vagina and can be lifted by Corey. Um, please excuse the lack of mechanic knowledge.

WARNINGS: I8+ P in V, mildly dubcon, choking, finger sucking. I'll be honest, rereading this >1 yr later, the size kink, hand kink, and voice kink all go pretty hard lmao be nice this was like my third week writing.

Your car’s persistent rattle has gotten to the point that you’re finally bringing it into Prevo on your way home from work. You turn into the property and dust kicks up under your tires as you make your way to the mechanic shop. The sun is just starting to set.

One garage door is open and another is closed. You pull up to the open door and park outside. You get out of your car and don’t see anyone in the garage. In the office, there are shadows moving. You look at the glass door trying to find their hours but it’s blank.

Out of view, you hear someone working on a truck in the garage. You call, “Hello?” And hear something clatter. “Just a sec!” a deep, gruff voice answers.

The glass door to the office opens and the blinds rattle. Ronald steps out holding a clipboard. He’s wearing a pen behind his ear. “You dropping off?”

“Actually, I’d like to wait if possible.”

“Sorry kid, we’re about to close. You’re welcome to drop it off though.”

You should have known it was too late. “It’s okay, it’s just a rattle, it’s not urgent. I’ll try to get here earlier tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” Ronald says. Before he heads back in the office, he says “Corey! Time to close up.”

Corey Cunningham emerges from behind the truck. He’s wiping oil off his forehead. He was always sturdy, but damn, he’s looking good. Whenever you’ve seen him in the past, he was dressed in layers, so you couldn’t really see his body. And it was almost like he was cowering. You can’t blame him - Haddonfield has treated him horribly. Something’s changed now. It’s not just the uniform. He carries himself differently, and for the first time you’re noticing he’s built like a football player. He never struck you as athletic before.

He takes a pair of goggles off and fluffs his curls with a huge, dirty hand. As his hand flexes, a vein bulges between his wrist and one of his thick knuckles. Now, those are the hands of a man, you think. “Hey,” he says. His voice is deep and husky. “What’s up?” He crosses his large arms and shifts his weight to one leg. You can’t take your eyes off his body. His uniform hugs his hefty frame.

“Hey, it’s just a rattle. I’ll bring it back tomorrow, no worries,” you say.

You start to get back in your car, then Corey says, “Hey, uh,” looking over his shoulder to make sure the door closes behind Ronald. He lowers his voice. “Come back in an hour. I got you.” His low, gravely voice just melts you, and you savor the closeness created by his near-whisper.

“Really? I don’t think it’s urgent.”

“Nah, I’ll be here. Better just to get it done,” he says. “If you want, of course.” He takes his eye glasses and a pinky ring out of his chest pocket and puts them on.

“Yeah, okay. Sure, sounds good.”

You go home and take off your work clothes. You put on jeans, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie. When you get back, it’s dark. Corey lets you into the gate. His uniform is unzipped to the waist, revealing a white tshirt under the blue fabric. You park outside the closed garage and roll down your window.

His ass fills the seat of his jumpsuit as he crouches down to grab the handle of the garage. He is built. At least a dozen muscles in his back flex as he lifts the door. The size of his hand makes the handle look small. His other hand assists from the bottom of the door as it goes up. You can’t take your eyes off his hands. “I’ve just gotta move this truck to free up the lift. It’ll take a minute..”

“Okay,” you say. You get out of your car and lean against it. “Mind if I watch?” The garage is dimly lit, but you can see enough.

“Uh, sure,” he says, as he grabs a huge tool box by a handle that doesn’t fit all his fingers. He sets the tool box down and grabs a tire off the ground. His big thighs and arms flex as he carries it to the truck. His glutes press against his jumpsuit with each step. He gets back to the truck and squats down with the tire, his thighs and hamstrings straining the fabric. You try not to drool.

He catches you staring. He pulls his arms out of his jumpsuit and lets it hang at the waist. His arms are tan and look even bigger with the sleeves of his tshirt hugging his biceps. You’re getting wet. His torso is like a tree trunk, and his back and side muscles move as he uses a wrench to put the tire on. Even the wrench looks small in his sculpted hand. His knuckles are so distinct, they keep catching your eye. You know he must be good with those hands.

When he stands back up, he ties the jumpsuit sleeves around his waist. Then he gets in the truck and moves it outside the garage, parking it in the lot. He comes jogging back and a flood light hits him, his hair and hard pecs bouncing slightly. You can’t remember being turned on by a guy’s pecs before, but they’re so hard. His whole torso is like a sturdy rack of muscle. “Alright, let’s bring it in,” he says, as he walks into the garage. Everything sounds sexy in his voice.

He directs you as you park your car, then jogs back to the garage door. He pulls the door down before you’re even out of your car. Your stomach starts to flutter. You’re essentially captive in here now, and no one knows you’re here. Not that he would do anything, but you wonder if you should have at least told your roommate where you were going.

You open your car door and he catches it with one massive hand. He stands there with his imposing figure between the door and the frame of your car, and squats down so your faces are just a foot or so apart. “So, I hear the rattle.” His voice is low and thick. “Is that all?” He asks. There are a few faint, purple bruises on his broad neck, you wonder what from

“Yeah, that’s all,” you confirm. With his arm holding the door, you can smell his masculine musk and your nipples pucker. His arm. . . He looks like he could carry you with one arm, honestly.

He's kind of blocking you from getting out of your car. You wonder if you’re supposed to stay inside it. You also start to wonder if this is really a bad situation. Your body definitely wants to be here, but your survival instincts are making some calculations. He’s only a couple of inches taller than you, but he’s so solid and hefty you wouldn’t stand a chance in a struggle. Your best bet would be to run. But run from what?

He moves only slightly - enough to signal that you can get out of the car now, but not enough to give you enough space to do so. The meaty thigh of his jumpsuit grazes your jeans as you maneuver your way out. The contact sends a shockwave through your body. “Sorry,” you say.” He looks you in the eye. You scold yourself for how turned on you are in this super sketch situation.

“Don’t be sorry.” His eyes darken. He lets the air thicken with tension before getting more casual again. “Alright, let me just hit the lift and grab two screws.“

You hover near the front of your car while he grabs what he needs. He takes off his glasses and puts them on a workbench. He hits a button on the wall and your car is lifted up slightly off the ground. He rides an under-car roller like a skateboard on his way back.

He expertly stops the roller right in front of you and eases it between you and your car. “You still wanna watch?” He asks in a sultry but masculine way. He holds eye contact with you then glances down at the under-car roller.

You can’t find words, but you nod and start to move so you can give him space to work.

“Don’t move.” He stops you,, giving your palm a quick squeeze with the large, calloused pads of his fingers. Butterflies swarm from your core to your chest. Every light touch, every word he says stirs more warmth and need in your core. He kicks the inside of one of your sneakers. “Just a little.” Is he telling you to spread your legs? You do it.

His thick fingers lightly brush against both your hips as he lowers himself onto the under-car roller. It’s as if he’s bracing himself, but he’s barely touching you. His hands on your sides make you feel tiny. He leaves his hands lightly touching your calves as he sits there for a moment. Driven crazy by the light touch, your body wants something more. He eases his ass onto the roller and extends his legs so they’re between yours. You’re standing upright aside from your legs being spread. They’re not bent, you’re not crouching. You’re looking down at him. Your heart is a mile a minute.

His curly head is right at your crotch, inches away. The air is electric with potential energy. His back is against the grill of your car, and his legs are extended under the A-frame made by yours. He looks at your pants. His eyes move back and forth between your zipper and button. “K. I’ll be right back,” he says softly to your jeans without looking up. It’s like he’s talking to your cunt. His irises are so dark they’re practically black.

His thick paws go from your calves to your ankles. He scoots forward a little as he lowers his back to the roller. You don’t move. His curly hair grazes your crotch. He’s briefly staring up at your crotch before he grabs under the car with both hands and pulls himself under. His feet are barely visible. He’s under there for less than a minute before he’s done. “That should do it,” he says from under your car. Your legs are still spread.

His feet begin to slide out from under the car, then his shins and sculpted knees. His boots reach your sneakers. He turns his feet outward and hooks his boots on your ankles to pull himself back out, his knees bending as his torso emerges from under the car. His legs are butterflied and his meaty thighs frame his crotch. This position stretches his uniform and you can just barely see a bulbous area where his legs meet his ass.

He brings his huge hands to his knees and uses them to sit up. His thick fingers spread beyond each of his knees even though his knees are large, too. He swivels around then leans his back against the grill of your car and puts his hands back on his knees and looks up at you.

“That was quick,” you say. “Can I move now?”

“Do you want to?” He asks without missing a beat. You bring your feet back to a normal position. He scoots himself closer to you, then runs his large, rough hands up your jeans as he stands up. He doesn’t step back. He uses one foot to discard the under-car roller without taking his eyes off you. It reaches the far wall with a small crash. His black irises dart back and forth between your eyes. He has a hulking presence.

He hooks his meaty fingers into your front pockets and slowly starts to step backwards towards the drivers side of your car, bringing you with him. When he gets to your car door, he pulls the handle and it clicks the door ever so slightly open. He pivots around you so you’re between him and the door, but he’s practically right up against you. “Do you wanna go?” he asks. “I’ll go hit the lift.”

Your whole body is humming with desire. Your breath is shallow. Your face is hot. He unties the sleeves from around his waist and lets them hang. There is a clear bulge in his jumpsuit. He backs up a little and puts a hand on your car and leans there, instead of into you, allowing you space if you want to get in your car.

You can’t speak, but you bite your lip and shake your head no.

"Good,” he says. "I don't want you to go." One large hand effortlessly pushes the door flush again with a click. His hands are smeared in oil. It’s probably all over your jeans, but you don’t care. You lean your back against your car. He moves closer, closing the gap between you. His large hands come to your waist. He presses himself against you, pelvis first. His solid girth is apparent through your soft-washed jeans. The rest of his thick torso presses against you, and your faces are inches apart.

His black eyes gaze into yours hungrily. His full lips form half a smile, then it fades. His arousal grinds into you Your lips part and you gasp. His lips lay into yours hard, and he’s inhaling through his nose as he presses his mouth into yours hungrily, like he needs your lips locked with his in order to breathe. He parts your lips with his tongue for a taste. He kisses you aggressively, like he’s taking something from you. He pulls back and his eyes have darkened even more.

His hard member grinds into you slowly, rhythmically. Your clit is pulsing and your cunt is aching to be filled. His massive hand slips between you and the car and grabs your ass. The hand easily spans an entire cheek. You take his other hand in yours and marvel at the size of his fingers. You run your small thumb over a scab in the middle of his palm. You hold his heavy fingers in your hand, looking over them one by one, and he brings the hand to your face. His pinky ring is cold against your cheek.

His thumb gently parts your mouth and it's larger than both your lips together. You open your jaw to accept its girth and greet it with your tongue. You close your lips and suck his thumb lightly, then harder. All the while, he grinds his hardness into you and you roll your hips back. He feels even bigger and harder now. You clean his massive digits with your mouth, one by one.

Even his pinky feels large in your mouth. You taste the metal of his ring and gently close your teeth against his skin. He lets you take off the ring and you use your mouth to deposit it on your thumb. He watches you curiously with those dark eyes. The pinky ring is too loose even on your thumb. You use your hands to put it back on him, and he moves his hand to your jeans.

His hand engulfs your entire front as he palms you outside your jeans. He can't fit his whole hand between your legs without you spreading them. He uses his central three fingers to rub you just how you like. You both breathe heavily. His lips come to your neck and suck. You feel the pain of a hickey forming and reflexively pull away. He uses his massive hand to pull your neck back to his mouth, then unzip your hoodie as he devours your neck. He grabs a breast powerfully, like he’s consuming your whole body at once. He sucks your neck harder this time. "You're mine," he growls. You want it to be true. You don't want him to ever let go.

His enormous hand goes to your jeans and undoes the button. He lowers the zipper as he continues to suck your neck, and you squirm, desperate for his cock. He slides the same three fingers into your jeans and feels how wet you are. "Fuck," he breathes. "You want it, don't you." He thrusts his clothed arousal into your thigh and you reach down to receive it. You feel his thick, juicy cock through his clothes, and god, it's SO hard. You reach your hand into his jumpsuit and boxers. The girth dwarfs your hand. You've never seen a cockhead this fat.

You palm the tip where pre-cum is pearling and reach your fingers around it. You never thought you'd have a fist full of cock-head. He continues to rub you and you pump his cock to the same rhythm. His other hand comes to your fist on his cock. His hand dwarfs yours as you stroke him together. You use your other hand to wriggle your jeans down.

Your sensitive pearl throbs. Your empty cunt contracts and aches in need. Your body is begging to be filled with his. You frantically kick off your shoes. He reaches down to your foot and hooks two large fingers into your pant leg, grazing the sensitive arch of your foot. He yanks the pant off your leg with one jerk and leaves them lying pathetically around the other ankle; there's no time to bother with it. He hooks his girthy thumbs into the sides of his jumpsuit, helping it down over his muscular ass and hefty thighs, then letting the fabric fall around his ankles. Each of his thighs is the size of your torso.

He presses himself against you so his naked thighs are against yours and he rubs his fat cock against your folds. You feel like you could come any second. He brings a massive hand under each of your thighs and effortlessly lifts your weight, readying his cock to enter you. His cock is so wide you aren’t sure it’ll fit, but you’re wet enough that anything might.

Your inner thigh muscles feel a pleasant stretch as your legs are wrapped around his thick, sturdy torso, your jeans dangling from one foot. He’s holding all of your weight. You nestle the head of his cock into position and he thrusts immediately. His cock head plunges inside, parting your folds. It feels so good as it fills you up. He thrusts again and pulls your body down on his cock.

Now he’s all the way inside. “Oh god, Corey,” It’s like you’re physically complete for the first time in your life. His hands hold your back and ass and you roll your hips and hang on tight around his thick neck as you ride him. You can feel the bulk of his abs against your clit as you go up and down on his cock. You start to come and your jeans finally fall to the ground as you grind your hips into him and ride several strong pulsing waves. As you clench around him, he moans your name, and his meaty fingers dig into your skin. He moves you harder up and down his cock, and then you feel him erupt. He wraps his bear arms around you tight as his fat cock empties itself into you.

As you both finish pulsating, you kiss his thick neck. You look down over his shoulder and watch the muscles of his burly back rise and fall with his breaths. He lowers you to the ground so you’re both standing. He leans back against your car and you fold into him. You feel small. He’s still wearing his work boots and you’re barefoot. And he’s just so broad. You catch your breath for a few minutes and he strokes your hair.

“Uh oh,” he says, and you look down and see your jeans in a puddle of oil. You step away to survey the damage. He pulls his jumpsuit back up over his ass but doesn’t zip it. He goes to the wall to lower your car back down. You grab a pair of shorts from the gym bag you keep in your car and slip them on. You ask if you can freshen up and he brings you into the office. You go through a waiting area that has a couch, a TV, and a few chairs, and there’s a restroom.

In the mirror, you survey the damage - Your hair is a wreck. Expected. One side of your neck is red and purple. You had forgotten about that. At least it’s cold enough to wear turtlenecks.

His deep voice booms from the break room, “YOU WANT A CHOCOLATE MILK?” His voice is so sexy - the depth, the edge, the northern accent.

“YES PLEASE,” you answer. Chocolate milk sounds amazing right now. Corey walks into the waiting room wearing the t-shirt, boxers, and socks. The jumpsuit and work boots are gone. Even without the boots, every step he takes is so heavy. He has a bottle of chocolate milk and two glasses. He pours you a glass as you admire his burly body. His strong arms, his broad chest, his bulging thighs. His beautiful back. You want to memorize it.

He turns on the TV. You curl up against him. You feel like a little cat, dwarfed by his body. You watch an episode together. At a commercial break, he goes and gets another chocolate milk to share.

The next episode starts, and you bring the cool glass to your neck to ease the soreness. It hurts. As you begin to feel some relief, Corey’s eyes darken and he puts down his chocolate milk. “You better not cover that up,” he says gruffly.

You’re startled. “I, um-”

“Let everyone see you’re mine.” Are you? Your heart sings.

He takes the glass out of your hand and puts it down on the table next to his. He starts to prowl toward you on the couch. His thighs are so muscular. He lunges toward you, over you, slowly but forcefully. You uncurl and back up. Your back is flat against the couch and he’s over you. You don’t move. His physical presence shadows and engulfs you. He’s caging you to the couch with both arms and both legs as his torso hovers above you. You pull your legs together, shrinking. He puts his knees down on either side and straddles you.

Corey sits back on his bulging haunches and looks at you. Then he snarls and brings his broad torso closer to your chest. He brings his expansive hand to your little neck. His massive fingers trace the bruises delicately until suddenly his hand clamps down. You can’t breathe. You cough and feel your face turning red. He’s doing it with one hand, that’s all it takes.

“God, you look hot with my hand around your neck,” he says as he loosens his grip a little. You’re sure it’s true - his hand looks hot around anything. The contrast with your delicate neck would be a devastating sight. He brings his pelvis to yours and you feel him getting hard. You cough again.

He lets go of your neck, then slips his expansive hand into your tank top and bra and brings his lips to your neck sweetly. Your breast is dwarfed by his palm. He caresses you lightly and your nipple hardens, then he cups your whole soft breast in the palm of his hand. He brushes it lightly with his palm again as he moves to the other breast. His hand is so massive that he could touch both nipples at the same time if he wanted to - one with his thumb and one with his pinky.

You feel his arousal strengthen as he fondles your breasts. He lowers his body weight onto you. You can barely breathe, but it’s so hot being crushed by his hulking form. You’re getting wet, and you feel him getting harder and harder. He nudges the crotch of your loose gym shorts aside and presses several expansive digits against your wet folds. Your cunt is already aching for his girth again. He strokes your sensitive pearl and your breath quickens.

He uses his thumb to continue while he plunges his middle finger into your entrance. It floods your body with warmth. He follows it with another finger and thrusts them in and out of you together. Your back arches in delight. His hand is so large, he practically holds you like a bowling ball. You imagine he could pick you up like this. He’s working his thumb and huge fingers in all the right places. The cold metal of his pinky ring sends a shiver up your spine when it hits your ass cheek. You find yourself approaching climax faster this time.

He frees his cock from his boxers and drives it all the way into you. The force pushes your head gently upward against the arm of the couch. He thrusts again, harder and deeper, but slow. He continues slowly, and you slowly roll your hips into him, but the pace is about to drive you crazy. You were so close to coming and now he’s edging you.

Corey brings his lips to your neck and kisses your bruises softly, then meets your lips hungrily. You kiss hard and sloppily, breathing hotly against each other’s mouths as he keeps fucking you, but gradually quickens the pace. You look into each other’s eyes, and his darkness is so hot to you. You love the feeling of his fat cock pounding into you, and you wish he’d never take it out.

You love his whole burly body. You pull him closer, desperate to have all his skin against yours. You curl your fingers under his shirt and he lets you remove it, revealing the most solid torso you could have imagined. You remove your own shirt then bra and press your breasts into his chest. His skin is smooth, only lightly covered by fine hair. He fucks you harder and faster and you feel beads of his sweat run between your breasts. You run your hands over his back and feel the intricacies of his strong muscles moving as he fucks you.

His breathing changes. “Fuck,” he says, and starts to come. His voice and pulsations send you, and you come even harder than the first time. As your cunt clenches on his cock, you wish it would never let go. You hug him into you as you both finish coming. He lies there with all his weight on you, like a magnificent weighted blanket, with his cock still inside you, until you really need to breathe and reluctantly shift your pelvis to nudge him out and partly off you. You’ll doze off nestled into the couch with half his weight on you.

You bring your fingertips to your bruises as you drift off to sleep. You’re not going to wear a turtleneck.

THANK YOU FOR READING

if you like Corey, there's more where this came from: my Tumblr index

#corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham smut #corey cunningham #halloween ends #halloween ends movie #slasher smut #slasher fucker #corey cunningham x you #toxicanonymity ☠️

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resident-idiot-simp · 4 months

Text

Haya everyone Resi here

You can find me here on TikTok, Instagram, Twitter , and AO3.

My pronouns are She/Her and I am somehow not any form of fruity ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ (well I might be a bit Aro/Ace but I don't really care)

I apologize beforehand because I cannot type dysgraphia is a bitch and I'm also your local Southerner and Christian (tasteful kind) here in the U.S. of A.

I am riddled with the ADHD and I am here to commit arson and have fun.

I love answering asks and questions (especially about my fics) so please shoot me any you have 🩷🩷🩷

Most current hyper fixation:

🧼Mw💀

My fics :

COD

(Not a fic but the Captain MacTavish essay)

The Family Reunion- What if Soap's cousin saw him again after years of no contact?

An Outsiders Thoughts- What do others see when observing Soap and Ghost

The Uncle- What if Joseph didn't die and Ghost gets to be an uncle

Comfort- Soap gets overstimulated and Ghost helps comfort him

The Loaned Sergeant- Since Soap is so used to Ghost as his LT how would he work with another Lieutenant?

The Old Team- What happens when Soap meets his old team?

Soap and MacTavish- What if Soap meets Captain MacTavish?

Time Kept Ticking- Soap's Family thinks he's dead, but he comes knocking on their door how will they react?

Your a CAPTAIN?!- What if the original 141 were canon in the same universe as their reboot counterparts and Soap with Ghost were using the task force as a cover for their own team?

Don't Dish Out What You Can't Take- Soap and Ghost have a badass kid

Hunger- Ghost is a wendigo because it fits so well!!

The BAU Meet SoapGhost- The BAU deal with John 'Soap' MacTavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley

The Prince & his Knight- Soap is a prince Ghost is a knight what will happen when Soap I told to court someone?

I haven't Talked to You Since last Year- Simon keeps making jokes and Soap is NOT having it

The Mistake- What if after Roba Tommy kicks Simon out?

Favored by the Crows- Ghost gains an army of crows

Task Force Try Playing Games With Civilians- The 141 play laser tag and paintball with some civilians

What People Around and On Base See- MORE POVS ON YOUR FAVORITE IDIOTS

Alone Time Interrupted by Your Team- Captain MacTavish is rudely interrupted by his team during his not so alone alone time

Cowboy Dan- Cowboy Dan is so Ghost-coded I needed to write a fic so decided to make it sad and about Soap becoming Ghost after Ghost died.

A Little Help- Ghost helps preen Soap's wings

A Little Pick-Me-Up With Company- Soap offers fresh blood to Ghost so they can escape a sticky situation while Price is an unwitting watcher

Jailbirds- Soap and Ghost get arrested on a mission gone wrong

A Preventable Fate- 09 Angst regarding Price not being a good person

What is With Those Two?- Model Ghost and Football player Soap are following each other on social media and the fans just realized

Feeding Your God- 09 Ghost as a lore accurate wendigo (Azilver wrote a story based off of this go read it! Also it has fanart that also works for my fic)

Accidental Mate Acquisition- Seal Mer Soap sees Ghost as his mate what will they do?

The Captain Blowing Off Steam- The Captain has his way with Riley who is just happy to be there

Mama Bear- Mama bear Beth

What do you need?- The Captain has visitors while having his way with Riley

Matching Smiles- Soap has a Glasgow smile

How Did This Snowball so Bad?! - Soap and Ghost experience their first heat/rut together

Relief- Soap with swollen balls needing relief and Ghost offering to help.

Wisper From the Woods - Wendigo Roach activities including but not limited to eating Graves

FNAF

Empire of dirt- Ever wanted to know what others in Hurricane thought of the Aftons well wonder no longer!

The Ghost & The Bear- Freddy's POV on a ghost Michael

Final Encore- What would happen if Michael met the crew in Security Breach

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arxxq · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can i request prompt 12. “I'm not that jealous type but what's mine is mine.” with Nagi Seishiro for the collaboration you posted? Thank you and take care always (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

12. “I'm not that jealous type but what's mine is mine.”| nagi seishiro

Thank you for the request anon! Mwah♡

I'm not really doing good and i’m sick rn, my nose are stuffed, my head is spinning, my throat is dying and unfortunately i still have to go to school. that also explains my inactivity besides school rn. i’m doing my best to manage my time to write and do some of my school works as well.

list of prompts are in my blog, i recently updated my navigation (my pinned post) so just check that and you will find the link to the prompts listed.

mistakes will be fixed once i reread, lowercase intended

mentions of y/n / reader being reo’s step sibling. gender not specified. please forgive me if i mention she/her pronounces here.

you and nagi have been together for a while.

you must admit when you first started dating it did felt weird dating a lazy football player.

just as you manage to got used to it in a few months, it got even weirder realizing that nagi seishiro, your beloved boyfriend was your brother’s best friend.

it seems like reo himself didn’t know you were dating his best friend. it was clear to you that nagi had never told anyone of his relationship with you and that made you feel some sort of wave called relieve. so instead of telling reo, you decided to keep it hidden first.

if you are wondering, no one in the school or anywhere infact knew about you and reo being step siblings because you didn’t really want the fame and your parents have always prioritize reo’s needs more than you, and with that you and reo agreed and manage to as well convince your parents to take in your biological mother’s surname instead.

yes you have always questioned why the mikage family decided to adopt you, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t grateful about it at all. it felt like you were in a dream. even if your step parents didn’t give you much attention, you step brother did. he would always manage to convince his parents to spoil you. you have to admit, reo is probably the best brother you could ever have.

he was always the person who cared, so its not really a surprise that reo would probably be the one who would stay longer then anyone when you are in your grave. and you would also do the same.

now lets go back to our original subject....

not only did reo did not know about your relationship with nagi, but nagi himself also did not know that you were the younger sibling of his friend, mikage reo. the decision seems foolish because honesty usually is the best policy and you agree it is. its just that you can’t seem to bring yourself to tell them about this.

so keeping it a secret was suppose to bring you time so you can feel prepared on when to tell them.

but to your luck, life wasn’t liking your decision so of course it had to ruin it in some way possible. when you were already ready to tell reo, that was when fate decided to struck.

so it was at school. you came up to reo all of a sudden to ask if he’d like to walk with you for a while. yes it did weirded out others in the school because they themselves knew that you were already dating someone.

everyone knew you were dating someone including your brother, but they just didn’t know who. yes reo did know about you having a relationship, but he didn’t ask you because he didn’t want to sound like and overprotective brother to you and he obviously did not want to pry into your personal business. he chose to be patient and waited you to tell him about it.

that shows he’s a caring brother figure doesn’t it.

meanwhile with nagi, he saw you walking up to reo his closest friend. it did bother him but he didn’t want to show it. he also felt a weird feeling and he absolutely disliked the whole feeling. something in his head had told him to follow you guys so he did...

so when you and reo arrived to a less crowded space you were about to tell him but you were cut off by your snow white boyfriend.

“so what did you want to talk about?”

“well it’s about--” just as you were about to tell him, you felt your body being pulled by to hands and your back was faced with someones chest, that person proceeded to put his head on you shoulder and say something you wouldn’t expect.

“I'm not that jealous type but what's mine is mine.”

your jaw dropped. you knew who it was. his words had struck you and you went speechless. your face was also burning up. those words was something so unexpected to hear from nagi. he sounded so jealous right now.

meanwhile reo had witnessed the whole thing and was processing what he just saw. now i guess he finally realized who you were with. he did felt disappointed you didn’t tell him but he understands that you have a hard time telling people something so big to you. he just smirked at nagi.

“so you are jealous huh nagi?” he chuckled and decided to teased nagi even more. “of course i am. you can have anyone else just not my dove...” reo looks at you and he couldn’t hold in his laughter since your face right now was priceless.

you were so flustered. your face was fully flushed with the colors of red and pink.

“hey chill, i wont steel them from you cause that would be just weird!” that made nagi confused. “nagi..they’re my step sibling, and i have to say i am disappointed they didn’t tell me about you two but i’m happy its you honestly,”

nagi was confused but shock at this info. “dove why you didn’t tell me that you were siblings with reo,” he sounded so sad and he looked quite betrayed. “i couldn’t bring the courage to tell you..”

“mm i guess that’s understandable..”

i had no idea on how to end this so i ended it there.

reblogs are highly appreciated

do not claim as your own and do not post my works on other platforms unless you have my permit

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳aryssa;hasinah #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #seishiro nagi #blue lock nagi #nagi seishiro fluff #nagi seishiro x you

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blue2black · 5 months

Text

I’m obsessed ngl.

Here’s some more COD incorrect quotes based on the game of Class Of 09. Both of them:

(Also, Cheshire is my COD OC, she only appears once.)

——————————

Gaz: You’re a whore.

Graves: Excuse me? I have a girlfriend and a purity ring!

Gaz: For real? How do I get one?

Graves: Little late for you.

Gaz: No, it’s never too late to have your girlfriend fuck every person but you.

Graves: Ugh, I don’t need to take this! I’m on the honor roll, something you’ll never do.

Gaz: Bitch, why don’t you shut the fuck up before I slit your throat and watch the honor roll out?

Graves: Are you threatening me?? 😡

Gaz: No, I’m hitting on you, flash me a titty bitch. 🙄

——————————

Soap: Fuck that shit! Do you even know how I got involved with this bitch?!

Shepherd: Language.

Soap: Do you even know how I got involved with this hoe?!

Shepherd: Slightly better.

——————————

Laswell: Actually, I may or may not have been covered in baby oil…

Gaz: Ugh…well, I guess racism wins.

*silence*

Ghost: Can we see the pictures?

Laswell: Get out.

——————————

Graves: I’m getting real tired of you picking on me! It won’t be so fun when the shoes on the other foot!

Rudy: Are you threatening me? Are you threatening me in SKETCHERS?

——————————

Shepherd: Is there something between the two of you that you may not realize?

Farah: What does any of that even mean?

Valaria: He’s asking if we’re lesbians.

——————————

Shepherd: You’re excused, cap’n. But work on that foul language.

Price, under his breath while walking away: Work on getting a fucking therapist, holy shit.

——————————

How Ghost’s father could’ve died:

Ghost: And get this!

Ghost: His suicide note was stuck to the fridge with a Cookie Monster magnet.

Ghost: All he wrote on it: SIMON’S FAULT.

Ghost: I’m Simon by the way, hi!—WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO HIM?!

——————————

Graves, walking away: I hate talking, talking’s for gay people…

Gaz: What a theory.

——————————

Laswell, furiously knocking on Price’s door: Come on, come oon…trying not to get blamed for a hate crime…!

Price, opens the door: I’m watching football, this better be really fucking good.

Laswell: It’s actually really bad!

Price: Oh, well see you later.

——————————

Gaz: Dude, we'll look the other way on your minor fetish and get you a pizza, okay?

Cheshire: Does he have a major fetish?

Gaz, looking at Cheshire: No, his major fetish is a minor fetish.

Cheshire: So, what's the fetish?

Gaz: I told you, a minor fetish.

Cheshire: I know it's a minor fetish, what's the fetish for?

Gaz: Minors.

Cheshire: Like, guys that dig coal?

Gaz: Not those minors.

Cheshire: So, shitty baseball players?

Gaz: What? No!

Cheshire: Then what's the fetish??

Gaz: ...

——————————

Soap's mom: Excuses, excuses!

Soap: Weren't you supposed to be happy or something?

Soap's mom: Ugh...I'm gonna go up to my room and read up how to fold the pastrami.

Soap's mom, walking away: You better find a way OUT of those remedial classes!

Soap: You better find a real fuckin' job, bitch.

——————————

Shepherd: What's your T-cell count?

Gaz: Uh.

Alex: I-I don't get it; we don't take shop.

Shepherd: You don't take shop...?

Alex: Yeah, they use T-cells in shop class, what's that have to do with AIDS?

Gaz: That's a T-square, Alex--FUCK!

Alex: What? No--if you knew why'd you look at me??

Gaz: I didn't know how much we were supposed to say!

Alex: How the fuck would I know?!

Gaz: YOU SAID WE HAD AIDS!

——————————

Soap's mom, walking in: Ugh, today was hard but still rewarding.

Soap: What was?

Soap's mom: My day working at the Deli?

Soap: Oh...I wasn't asking, but alright.

Soap's mom: You don't wanna hear what happened?

Soap: I think I'm good.

——————————

Valeria: There's something I've been wanting to say lately.

Alejandro: Oh, what's that?

Valeria: The n-word.

——————————

Valeria: For a week it’d be kinda fun. You wanna be sexed up abusive lesbians?

Farah: Fuck no.

Valeria: Why not?

Farah: ‘Cause you’d be doing all the abusing.

Valeria: Oh like what? 😒

Farah: Just weird shit. You’d like…put a cigarette out on my neck and lick the burn mark.

Valeria: …so, you wanna try it?

Farah: No!

——————————

Norris, walking away: Let’s see how the General deals with your abundance of comebacks.

Ghost: Soap, we’re not even a week in and you’re getting sent to the General’s office.

Soap: New record, don’t be jealous.

——————————

Gaz: For real, I don’t like how he talks to you, Simon. You’re actually like, really cool and smart and you should be treated as such.

Ghost, flushing: Wow, that’s uh…

Gaz: What’s wrong?

Ghost: People tell me that all the time and I just say “I know”. But now that you are saying it, I forgot how to take an actual compliment.

Gaz: We’re friends, don’t worry about it.

…

Ghost: Are you trying to have sex with me?

Gaz: Not really.

Ghost: Yeah, I have no idea how to process this.

Gaz: Does the General ever compliment you?

Ghost: No. 🙄

Gaz: ‘Cause he can’t appreciate what he has..and seriously, like, seriously, Ghost…

Gaz: If I ever see him talk to you like that again I will rip his beating heart out and hand it to you on a silver platter.

Ghost: 😳…a-and you don’t wanna have sex with me?

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