#hey tomorrow someone shoot me a message if you want me to use a read more
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A Slice Of Life (Waitress AU) Part 3
Doctor!Steve Harrington x Waitress!Reader
<- Previous part. Next part ->
Warnings:Cheating and infidelity, but otherwise nothing that I can think of (unless of course you want something tagged, so don't hesitate to shoot me a message)
also if you've read my other fic, A Cut Above The Rest, then there's a little hidden easter egg in here!
Word Count:2,301
*dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist // Steve Harrington Masterlist
“Can you serve table 15 for me please!” Robin pleads desperately, fluttering her eyelashes like that’s somehow going to get her what she wants.
“Why? Who’s on table 15?” you ask, looking over her shoulder to the table in the far corner. “Ohhh I see. That’s Chrissy Cunnigham’s table. The preppy cheerleader you had a crush on in high-school.” you shake your head at your friend. You knew that Chrissy came in here quite regularly and everytime she asked you if Robin was working. Chrissy was as much into Robin, as Robin was into her, although for whatever reason Robin refuted that idea, thinking that someone like Chrissy would never be into some as “dorky”, her words, as her.
“Please, I can’t talk to her, I get so tongue tied and stupid.” she whined.
“Look, Robs, you’ve just to go over there and put your big girl panties on and go talk to her, she likes you trust me.” you tell her earnestly, with a gentle touch to her arm. “Besides, I’ve got to go throw up.” you say quickly before leaving your friend to rush off to the bathroom at the back of the diner.
After the baby had you making yet another trip to the bathroom to spew your guts up, you take a moment to use the phone hanging on the wall at the back of the diner’s kitchen.
“You’re always hanging on that damn phone, Y/N.” Jim’s voice calls from over your shoulder.
“Can you just give me a moment, Hop, please, this is a personal call.”
His eyebrow raises at you suspiciously before tuning on his heels to leave you alone.
You dial the number you had stashed away in the pocket of your uniform, and the line rings once, twice, before a cheery voice on the other end picks up.
“Hello, Hawkins' Doctor’s practice, how can I help?”
“Uh, hi, is Doctor Harrington there? This is Y/N Hargrove, I’m his patient.
“I’ll just patch you through to his office.” comes the voice on the other end.
The phone’s dial tone rings down the line for a few seconds before you hear someone pick up on the other end.
“Hi, Doctor Harrington, This is Y/n Hargrove.”
“Oh hello, Y/n, how is everything going?” his friendly voice sounds down the phone line.
“You said I could call you if I had any concerns, and this morning, um, well I’m bleeding a little, it’s only very light, but I just want to be sure that it’s nothing I should be afraid of.”
“You were absolutely right to call me Y/n, come in to see me, and I’ll be able to check you over.” he reassures you with that calming voice of his. “I can squeeze you in for an appointment tomorrow morning, if you like? Say, 7.00?”
“7.00? That would be great, thank you very much. It’s nice that you’re open early enough that I’m not going to be late for work.” you chuckle lightly. “Well, I won’t keep you, and I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor.”
“See you tomorrow Mrs. Hargrove.” he finishes, and you hang up the phone back on it’s receiver before getting back to work.
Munson’s Motor Repairs
The heady mix of motor oil, leather and dirt hung heavy in the air as Steve stepped through the garage door. Metallica’s Ride The Lightning filters from the battered tape player stacked on top of the work benches.
After a long day’s work this was not a place that Steve wanted to be, but Eddie had phoned him up earlier to let him know his car was fixed and ready to be picked up.
Walking over to the stereo Steve takes it upon himself to pause the music, the loud guitar music suddenly being cut off in favour of deafening silence.
“Hey, who the fuck turned off my music…” Eddie grumbles loudly, sliding out from underneath the body of the car he was working on. His dark curls tied back in a dishevelled bun at the back of his neck, and a few smeared grease stains decorate his skin. “Oh, Harrington it’s you.”
“Got a call from a friend who said my car was ready to be picked up? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Eddie?”
“C’mon man, she’s out the back, come with me.”
Eddie walks out to the back yard, with Steve’s footsteps trailing behind him.
“Alright here she is, all fixed up and ready to go.” Eddie says, gesturing towards Steve’s old Beemer, sighing with a disapproving sigh as he side-eyed Steve.
“What? Steve shrugged, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
“Seriously man,” Eddie said, wiping his grease stained hands on the cloth rag hanging from his coverall’s pocket. “When was the last time you got your oil changed? Thought a smart doctor like you would have some brains knocking about in that ol’ skull of yours.”
Steve blushed an embarrassing shade of crimson, having been caught out by the simplest of fixes with his car.
“Alright Munson, enough of your jokes, how much do I owe you?”
“That’ll be $70 today Steve-o.”
Fishing out the notes from his wallet, Steve hands Eddie the money with a resigned huff.
“Thanks man.” Steve says, bringing Eddie into a quick one-armed hug, before getting in his car.
“You’re welcome, just make sure you’re on top of this next time.”
“Will do.” Steve nods at Eddie out of the driver’s side window. “Say, uh, Ed, you don’t happen to know of a little diner along I70 do you?”
“You talking about Byer’s Pie Diner? Man, that place serves the best pies in the whole of Indiana, I swear. I always get a slice of the Cherry Dream Pie every time I go. That’s the best thing on that whole damn menu.” Eddie rambles, thinking to himself about how he’s gonna drive down there when he’s finished up here to treat himself to a slice. “Why are you asking about that all of a sudden, huh?”
“Oh it’s nothing.” Steve brushes off. “Had a patient come in who works there, and she brought me a pie.”
Eddie fixes Steve with a knowing glare and a small smile. There was a girl, that fact Eddie was sure of. There was always a girl when it came to Steve Harrington
“Alright, Harrington, it's nothing. I believe you.” Eddie smirks, tapping his hand against the hood of Steve's car. “See you around, man.”
“Hello, Y/n.” Steve says as he moves to sit down behind his desk.
“Hi,” you smile, sitting down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “It was quiet out there in that waiting room, it was only Maddelyn at the reception.”
“I-uh-I came in a little earlier than usual to see you, nobody else is here yet.” he says, a slight pinkish flush dusting across his cheeks, before coughing and changing the subject. “So you said that the bleeding was very mild?” he asks, eyes flicking over the notes on his computer.
“Yeah, I only saw it the one time.”
“..And then it stopped?”
“Yeah it stopped pretty soon after.” you nod.
“Sometimes this happens in the early stages of a pregnancy, it’s very common, and it’s usually around about the time that your period would have started.”
“So you don’t need to examine me or anything?”
“No, not at all, it’s a perfectly normal thing, and I wouldn’t worry about it that much.”
“Well that’s a relief.” you huff. “So is that all then?”
“Unless you had any other concerns you’d like to share, or any other questions?” Steve prompts, looking at you from under his shaggy fringe of hair.
“No, no, I think I’m good to go now.” you nod with a smile as you grab your purse and begin to make your way out his doctor’s office, before turning on your heels to face him once more.
“Actually, no, I did have one more question I wanted to ask you, Doctor Harrington.”
“Oh, okay, sure, shoot.”
“Why did you have me come all this way out to see you if spotting a perfectly common symptom in early pregnancy? I mean I had to get up early, catch a bus and then walk another four blocks just to get here, and you’re telling me that spotting is a perfectly normal symptom?” you bubble, the confused and slightly disgruntled tone in your voice coming through.
He hangs his head down, unable to meet your harsh gaze.
“And what time does this office usually open, Doctor? 8:30?” you question him, tilting your head at him as he flushes that familiar shade of pink once more.
“Um, we’re usually open by 9.00.” he mumbles.
“9.00? So, you came to work a whole two hours earlier just to tell me that my symptoms are perfectly normal?”
“Well, yes, it would seem that way,” he says quietly.
“Goodbye Doctor Harrington.” you say, giving him a curt nod as you make your way out of his office.
“Goodbye Y/n.”
“You know, you’re quite strange, and you make me uncomfortable. I’m not sure I want you to be my doctor anymore.”
“I really am truly sorry Y/n, it is never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable, and whatever it is I do I will stop doing it-” he starts to ramble, but you cut him off before he can finish.
“-You’re doing it again.” you snap at him. “It’s that nice-guy-talky-thing that you do. You just..Oh forget it.” you huff before finally stomping out of the doctor’s practice
You only make it the few steps out of the door before you’re cursing at yourself at having left your purse in his office.
Stomping back towards the door, Steve is there with your purse in his hands.
“You forgot your pur-” he gets cut off by you again, although this time it is for a completely different reason.
Your lips crash against his in a bruising kiss, which he leans into, wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, holding you close to his body.
You’re quick to pull away from him, suddenly thinking about what you were doing, before trying to make your escape.
“Y/n wait!” he calls after you. “Don’t walk away from me, please.”
Your hurried footsteps stop enough for Steve to catch up to you.
“What do you want?” you huff.
“I want to see you again. I want to talk to you somewhere away from here, maybe we could go somewhere, have coffee or something?”
“I can’t have coffee, it’s on the bad food list you gave me, remember?”
“You could have a glass of water, maybe a fruit juice? I just want to see you again.” he says, his hazel brown eyes soft on you as he talks.
Your mind is working a mile a minute, thinking about how wrong this is.
“No, no, I can’t do this. I wouldn’t be right, I’m mean; I’m married, you’re my doctor, I’m pregnant.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked, it’s crazy and unethical and-” his rambling gets cut off once again as he feels the press of your soft lips against his. Urgent and desperate and so fucking sweet. He slips his tongue between your parted lips, smiling slightly when he hears you moan into the kiss.
You wind your fingers into his hair, tugging against the shaggy strands as you try to somehow get closer to him. His large hands hold you close, holding their space on your hips as he kisses you with a deep-rooted need.
You pull away from his lips, with a panting breath before looking into his lust-hazy hazel eyes.
“We can’t be kissing each other in the street like this. I have a very jealous husband. He’d very likely kill you if he ever found out. He doesn’t even like it when other men so much as look in my direction.”
“Well, I did wrestling in high-school, I think I can still remember a few of the moves..” Steve says all too confidently.
“So did he.” you say flatly. “And he drives past here every morning on his way to work, so it’s probably best we don’t stand out here together for much longer.”
“Well why don’t you come back in and we can talk about things a little bit more in detail..” Steve says suggestively, raising his eyebrows up at you.
“No, I’ve got to get to work, Jim hates it when I’m late, and I’ve got to walk the four blocks to my bus stop..” you worry, before Steve stops you in your tracks.
“Let me drive you to work, please. At least it’ll give us a little time together.“
I really mean it, I’d like to see you again, and not just as my patient this time.” he says, kissing your lips once more, and buttoning the top three buttons of his shirt, from where they had been pried loose from you getting a bit too handsy whilst making out in his car.
“So, what do we.. I mean, should I…” Steve trails off.
“Thank you for driving me to work, Steve. I’ll call you if I have any questions or concerns.” you flush before moving to make your way out of his car.
“Y/n.” he calls out to you before you can go, gesturing towards your lips where your lipstick is smeared in a dusky pink swipe.
“Oh, uh, thanks for letting me know, that could have been an embarrassing one to have to explain to Robin.” you laugh quickly fixing your lipstick in his rear-view mirror with a tissue from your purse, and leaving his car with a new-found pep in your step.
@penguinsandpotterheads @paybacksawitch @mrsjellymunson @seatnights @ali-r3n @potatobeanpies
#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve Harrington x female reader#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington x female reader fluff#steve harrington x reader series#steve harrington stranger things
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no thorns, no roses.
reader (f) x jsh.
summary: a modeling gig turns into a test of your patience (and your self-control)
— 11.4K words
— is enemies with benefits a thing?, basically pwp, semi-public hooking-up??
— warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings
additional warnings: degradation (lite), unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), probably like a billion red flags lol
"Good news, y/n!" your boss yells over the phone, and you wince as you pull the speaker away from your ear. Mingyu was a nice guy but, Christ, he was fucking loud. You slowly put the phone to your ear again. "You booked the Dior gig!"
Your jaw drops. "No fucking way. You're lying!" Silently you kick your feet in the air, a giddy dizzy feeling buzzing through your whole body. If Mingyu could see you on the other side of the phone he'd be laughing at you, but from the safety of your own apartment, you could act as ridiculous as you wanted. Your boss is yelling something into the phone, but you're not listening as you jump around your couch, pumping your fists in the air like the protagonist of some corny rom-com movie.
"...really liked your stuff. Their girl backed out after getting food poisoning and they need someone else. I know it's extremely short notice, but it's tomorrow afternoon— can you make that work?"
You nod vigorously before remembering you're on the phone and Mingyu can't actually see your face. "Yes!" you reply breathlessly. You can't feel your legs anymore, so you slump on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest.
"Awesome! I'll get in touch with their creative coordinator right now and forward you the details ASAP. Thanks, y/n," Mingyu says with a short goodbye, and the line dies.
For a moment, all you can do is sit in shock. Dior wanted you. And not only that, but it was for a shoot in Vogue?! You flop onto your back, still speechless. You had to be dreaming. It had been years since your last major shoot, and it had been such a disaster that you had refused to do any luxury shoots since then. Except that when Mingyu had told you that Dior had sent out a notice to all the major modeling agencies looking for new blood for their latest campaign, you knew you had to try.
So you had spent the last few weeks filming and editing your best walks together into a video, compiled with countless headshots, past work, and endless pose references. Your favorite brand was looking for new talent, and there was no way in hell you could pass up the opportunity.
You throw your arm over your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. The sick thing was that it had actually worked. And now you were going to Vogue's studio tomorrow to work directly with some of the most renowned designers in the world. God, it made you want to pee yourself a little bit.
Somewhere across the room, there's a small ding! from your phone from where you had thrown it and you hastily push yourself off the couch to grab it. A small notification reads "Congrats!" and in your dazed state you clumsily click on it, opening the email from your boss.
Hey, y/n! Here's the information from Kelly, the creative coordinator at Vogue. Let me know if you have any questions.
Congrats again!
Kim Mingyu | Talent Coordinator
AGC Modeling Agency
—--- Forwarded message ------
From: Kelly G. <[email protected]>
Sent: Monday, July 29, 2021 8:56 AM
To: Kim Mingyu <[email protected]>
Subject: VOGUE x Dior 2021 Shoot Replacement
Hey Mingyu!
We've run into an issue with one of our girls and we need a replacement. We really liked the work of y/n and would love to work with them! Here are the details from Dior's creative director, and I've included a few images of the sample pieces they've asked us to shoot. Let me know what you think!
Thanks!
Kelly G. | Creative Coordinator
VOGUE Magazine
Your eyes skim the rest of the email, reading over the shoot info as fast as possible. Well, the clothing is more revealing than you were used to doing, and the colors were, honestly, underwhelming, but your excitement outweighed your trepidation.
If it was just another solo shoot, and it sounded like it was, you were ready to give them your best material. The creative director wouldn’t even know what hit them.
As you climb into bed that night, you can't fight the smile that threatens to take over your whole face, and you slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of camera flashes and a world painted with unimaginable color.
----
The next morning, however, as you stand outside the Vogue studio door and your stomach threatens to push itself out of your mouth, you wonder if you've truly chosen the right career path.
"Mingyu, I don't know if I can do this," you say, turning to look at your manager. His dark hair is effortlessly tousled, and in the bright morning light, he looks as if he's glowing. You often wonder why Mingyu had never become a model himself, but whenever you asked, he just brushed off the question in the infuriatingly cool way that he did everything. As you watch a few strands of his perfect hair wave in the cool New York morning breeze, dimly, you also wonder why you’ve never asked him out.
"Your stuff was great, y/n," he says, with a goofy little pat on your shoulder. "If anyone can 'serve face' it's you!"
You wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was horrendous how he tried to keep up with the youth, but there was no hope with Mingyu. So you simply nod and let him lead you through the door, trying your best not to vomit all over yourself.
The door shuts behind you with a horrible clunk, and as you follow your manager through the catacombs of Vogue's creative spaces, you try your very best to feel excited.
No! You tell yourself. You are excited! Except you're also impossibly worried about making a fool of yourself in front of the top fashion magazine in the world, and possibly affecting the rest of your career forever.
"Ok," you say nervously, "Snap out of it!" Miles of beige drywall seem to pass by you. Why the hell is this hallway so long? You swear you’ve been walking for eons now, and the longer the hallway stretches on, the smaller you shrink.
By the time you reach the end of the hallway, you can't be more than a few centimeters tall. Mingyu chooses an unassuming beige door and allows you to enter the room before him. Some of the photographers are already in the room, and they wave politely as you enter. The backdrops are set up and ready, with a few more options draped across support beams and tables. There's a chair centered under a few lights and you see your clothing rack, already adorned with a few of the flimsy, delicate pieces you'd be wearing. Being in the space has an immediate effect, and you can't help but feel a jolt of excitement in your stomach.
After setting your bag on a chair in the back, you catch sight of a bed tucked behind one of the backdrops. Had you read anything about a bed being used on set? You couldn't quite remember, and you were about to ask Mingyu about it, but he had already disappeared into the growing throng of designers, off doing his managerial thing. You take a quick look around. No one seems to be watching you, and besides, it’s your set so why not get used to it?
You approach the bed, curiosity and confusion battling in your brain. It didn’t seem to really fit with the strange and spunky summer theme, but maybe it was for some kind of boudoir moment the art directors had in mind? There had definitely been some gauzy things mixed in with Dior’s array of pieces.
Honestly, the longer you look at it, the more delightful the bed looks. The pillows are squishy and adorned in soft, shiny silk, and there are a few blankets strewn artfully across the comforters. Man, you really wanted to jump onto it like a little kid, but you also wanted to appear professional— so that meant no jumping. For now at least.
You turn to walk back to your seat, barely looking where you’re going when you crash headfirst into someone else. Papers go flying, coffee splatters everywhere, and in the sudden flurry of motion, there’s a cacophony of swearing.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, I totally wasn’t looking where I was going. I can pay for your dry cleaning, or run and grab you a new shirt. God, I am so, so sorry,” you babble, suddenly sweating profusely. In a panic, you kneel down to gather the papers as fast as possible, shoving them into a haphazard pile and offering them to the other person with as apologetic of a face as you could possibly make.
And then you make eye contact with them.
Fuck. Your heart drops into your stomach.
The man you just ran into wrinkles his nose. “Oh. It’s you.” His dark eyes are flat with disdain.
You fight the urge to throw a punch (and also throw up). It’s been years since you last saw him, and yet, you seem to be having some sort of Pavlovian response to his voice.
“Joshua Hong,” you say through gritted teeth. The other creatives are watching the two of you with poorly disguised interest, so you attempt to actively suppress the rage gurgling uncomfortably in your stomach by forcing a smile onto your lips. It doesn't work, but they don't need to know that.
Joshua takes the forgotten papers from your hands, offering you a dry smile before stalking away without another word.
Wow. He really has not changed at all. Still just as insufferable and impossible as the last time you worked with him.
Vague memories of getting drunk and hooking up with Joshua swim to the front of your mind. You hadn’t known you were going to be working with him the next day. He had just been some hot guy at a bar who you had chatted with briefly. All you can really recall is singing (extremely drunk) karaoke with him, making out with him in his car after a particularly raunchy song, and waking up in his bed the next morning. You wonder if he remembers how he held you like you were glass, whispered empty promises in your ear, and made you feel like a princess. He had made you feel like you were unforgettable. And then he hadn’t even acknowledged your damn presence at the shoot later the same day.
After all these years, even after all the effort it had taken you to forget the heartbreak you had felt, one glimpse of him was all it took to send you back to the very beginning of it all. With a particularly large jolt in your chest, you’re horrified that your body still craves him so badly.
“Y/N?” Mingyu’s voice calls out to you, breaking you out of your reverie. “Are you okay?”
You realize your nails had been biting into your palms and you release your fists, trying to relax the tension in your shoulders and your jaw. You plant the most reassuring smile you can on your face and nod.
"Perfect, actually," you say, doing your best to ignore your roiling stomach. The smile on your face feels more like a grimace the longer you hold it.
"Do you... do you need to go to the bathroom?" your manager asks, quirking an eyebrow and throwing a thumb over his shoulder. He looks a little afraid of you and you can only imagine how insane you look to Mingyu. You brush him off.
"No, I'll be fine." Yes, go now! Get out of here! Run! You smile again before shuffling quickly back to your bag amid the whispers that continue to follow you across the studio.
You hadn't seen Joshua Hong in years, and somehow you still couldn't look at him without feeling an explosion of confusing emotions. He had completely humiliated you, belittling you until you had run out of the room and cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes. He made you look like a fool. He had made you feel like shit. Mingyu knew your history with him, but Vogue must have not told him that Joshua was working on this shoot, because you know your sweet, but dense, manager surely would not have booked you for this if they had.
Professionalism be damned. You wanted to throw (another) cup of hot coffee in Joshua Hong's perfectly chiseled face.
You look up from your shaking hands for a moment to see that the bastard has already disappeared. You're not sure if that fills you with dread or relief. Ok, you can't ignore this.
"Mingyu!" you whisper loudly, pulling your manager aside. "You didn't tell me Joshua Hong was going to be here!"
Mingyu looks defensive. "They never told me he would be here!" He wrings his hands for a moment. "Y/n, I swear, I never knew he was working this shoot or I would've never booked this gig for you."
You take a deep breath, forcing your erratic heartbeat to slow until you think you're capable of speaking rationally. "I'm sorry, but I can’t do this."
Mingyu looks even more apologetic, and he runs a hand through his dark hair in frustration. "I'm sorry, but at this point, you have to. We don't have any backups nearly as good as you, and backing out would be a huge hit to your career."
You were expecting the bad news, but hearing it directly from Mingyu felt like a huge blow. Suddenly your stomach feels like it's going to eject from your body.
"I lied," you say, clapping a hand to your belly, "Where's the bathroom?"
"Turn to the left and it'll be at the end of the hall," Mingyu replies, concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yep! Perfect!" you mumble hastily before walking as quickly out of the room as you could without running. The nervous energy in your body was building until you felt you could climb walls. Clinging to the ceiling surely would be less strenuous than the rest of today.
In your state of mild hysteria, you shove the door to the bathroom open without knocking, only to see Joshua standing over the sink, holding his soiled shirt in his hands. He whips his head around in surprise. And you only just barely see the muscles of his shoulders rippling under his honeyed skin before your eyes are the size of dinner plates.
You might now hold the record for reddest face in two seconds.
"I'm so sorry!" you squeak, yanking the door shut. Your heart is racing a million miles a second. You had just seen Joshua Hong shirtless. (Sober.) And even though you had before, something about this felt worse. Fuck. Fuck! Your luck was unbelievable, and there's absolutely no way you could get through this shoot amiably with this man. Not after you ruined his shirt and certainly not after you invaded his privacy in the span of fifteen minutes.
You lean your back on the wall for a moment, holding your head in your hands, heart pounding so heavily you think you might faint. The darkness of the back of your eyelids is somewhat soothing and you stay like that for a while, wallowing in your despair. But then you hear what sounds like the doorknob turning, and walk back towards the studio as quickly as you possibly can.
"Two minutes!" you hear someone call, and the feeling in your stomach only gets worse. Somehow you were going to have to wear skimpy lingerie next to the man that had made you feel ridiculous and sell the illusion of sex! Luxury! Your stomach gives a particularly robust gurgle.
"Y/N!" one of the stylists calls as you enter the room again. "Let's do wardrobe!" She takes you over to the racks, pulling out a few pieces rapidly, scanning them and your body before settling on a silky black slip dress, which is far more sheer than you had hoped. In any other situation you would have fallen head over heels, but knowing the man closest to being your arch-enemy was going to see you in it suddenly made it extremely unappetizing. The stylist hands you the hanger, showing you to a row of make-shift dressing rooms.
Behind the curtain you slip into the dress, and the silk is smooth and cool against your burning skin. It really is quite pretty, and here by yourself you enjoy the way it clings to your body in all the right places. Unprompted, your brain floods with the image of Joshua's back— broad and tan and toned with muscle.
Imagine him seeing you in this dress...imagine his hands on your body—
"Ok! That's enough!" you interject, crushing the thoughts before they can fully form and liquefy your brain. You take a breath, staring at yourself in the tiny mirror taped to a support beam.
"You got this. It's just another job. Do it for the check." You flash yourself a quick thumbs up.
After opening the curtain, you're whisked away to makeup and hair, where you're accosted by a few more stylists who fuss over your appearance even more. They end up deciding on a bold smoky eye and some simple lip gloss and fluff your hair until it looks effortlessly tousled.
But all too soon you're done with prep, and the only thing left is to start the shoot. Awkwardly you stand off to the side of the studio, waiting for the director to give you instructions. You still haven't seen Joshua, which just sets you on edge even more.
"Y/N!" the director says, appearing by your side. "We're going to start with your solo shots, just for some variety." You smile, allowing your shoulders to relax. Solo shots you could do. A stylist leads you over to the chair and instructs you to sit.
And it goes flawlessly. It's like once you're in front of a camera your body takes over and you know exactly what to do with your arms, what facial expressions to make. The space becomes your own. The director takes your photos, pausing every few minutes or so to instruct you on a new pose or to fix your hair, but the first half of your shoot goes by without a hitch. You feel alive, happy even, as you work, as Joshua fades to the background. When it's just you, you can focus.
"Fantastic work, Y/N!" the director says, as she flicks through a few shots on her camera. You do look great. "The editors have a bunch of really great material to work with." Ok, so maybe this wouldn't be completely terrible. As long as you focused on yourself and on giving your best material, everything would be fine.
As if on cue... he appears and all your resolve crumbles.
Except— he's still not wearing a shirt. Well, he's kind of wearing a shirt, except that it's completely unbuttoned and exposing his entire chest. He's also wearing a pair of simple black dress pants, but to be honest, you're a little distracted by his perfect abs to really notice. Ok, you didn't know this was part of the plan. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and wrench your gaze away, trying to discreetly fan your face as Joshua walks over. Desperately, you hope that he won't mention your little mishap.
Oh my god, he was still hot. Did this change anything? No... you still hated him. Except now you just felt even more conflicted internally. Your body was telling you one thing, but your head was telling you another and you hoped your awful shoot partner being hot didn't suddenly alter your entire perception of him, but you couldn't even—
"Y/N?" Joshua's voice cuts across your inner monologue like a knife, dry and without humor. "The director is speaking." You shoot a panicked glance at him, withering slightly when you see the same unfaltering gaze looking back. He looks so unamused, it's incredible. You wrench your head back towards the director, hoping you look apologetic enough.
She gives you a nonchalant smile and continues on without issue. "You know Dior. Everyone knows Dior. I want you to look sexy, suave, effortless. I know you're both seasoned professionals so I'm not worried, but try and make it as electric as possible."
Sexy. Suave. Electric. Yeah, no worries. You shove your heart back down your throat, trying your damn best not to let your trepidation show. Electricity between you and Joshua. Well, there'd certainly be something.
You try to catch Joshua's eye, to gauge his temperament, but he seems content with ignoring your presence like always. As he sits in the chair, one of the panels of his shirt falls open, flashing the slight curve of his waist again. Despite gritting your teeth in annoyance, your heart does a very confusing loop-de-loop in your chest that makes you feel mildly ill.
After Joshua has settled in the chair, the director motions for a camera. "Ok, for this first shot, Y/N, I want you to place your left foot on his knee so you're facing him. Joshua, let's have you put your hand on Y/N's calf— yeah, exactly like that."
You've forced yourself to look away from Joshua, acutely aware of how short your dress is and how much it's riding up your thigh. Seriously, this is your first shoot and you're already sweating. Joshua places his hand on your leg like it's nothing, but it's taking everything in you not to cringe away. He smells good, too. Fuck! You're trying to remember that you hate him and yet his presence has shaken you to the bone.
"Lean in a little more, Y/N," the photographer says, "You're a little stiff." You nod, and shift so you're even closer to Joshua that you'd like, your chest uncomfortably close to his face.
Jesus. And this was only the first set. You breathe deeply through your nose, trying to ignore your pulse racing heavily through your body. Joshua seems unfazed as always, perfect and unruffled.
Right, because you're supposed to be professionals. Heat flushes up your neck in shame. He hadn't said much and yet you were the one acting childish. You try to distance yourself from the man next to you, telling yourself he's just another model doing his job. And for a while it works. You take a few different shots from different positions— you in front of him, then behind the chair, then next to him, somehow managing to incorporate your leg every time. The director has Joshua inching his hand farther and farther up your thigh until his fingers are practically playing with the hem of your dress, and you are desperately trying to keep your cool. Joshua has a tendency to dig his fingers into your skin every time he moves his hand, and it is doing confusing things to your brain. Then—
"You want him to what?" you say incredulously, eyes wide. You know you shouldn't be reacting like this if you want to keep your job, but Joshua is throwing you off your game.
The director smiles. "I'm going to have you sitting in the chair this time, and I want Joshua on the floor."
You slowly sit in the chair, back stiff as Joshua crouches on the floor next to you.
He briefly looks at you and mutters, "Is it okay if I touch you?" but it's more of a formality than a courtesy. You stare at him, mouth agape and swallow thickly.
"Uh— yeah. No, yeah, that's fine."
He places his hand on your thigh again, fingers gripping the soft flesh ever so slightly, and you desperately hope he doesn't notice the slight shiver that runs through your body. If he does, at least he's civil enough not to mention it.
The photographer is frowning. Oh no. "The energy is still dead. Joshua can you sit in between Y/N's legs?"
You freeze. Even Joshua seems slightly put out. But the look in his eyes fades as quickly as it appeared and he dips his head in acknowledgement. Then he turns to you.
God, you've never wanted to fade out of existence more than you did right now. Having his head right next to your— you-know-where?! Your legs seem to be glued together with the effort it takes to pry them apart. Joshua awkwardly climbs in between your knees, trying to pose as nonchalantly as possible. It's as if your spine is glued to the backrest of the chair; you're completely immobilized. You don't want Joshua there. In fact, you don't want him anywhere near you.
The director frowns. "Lean back! Relax! Loop your arm under her leg, too. You could even lean your face against her thigh if you feel so inclined."
Your eyes have to be so wide right now. Joshua, even though he's clearly uncomfortable, wraps his hand around your thigh again, and leans his head towards your skin. His mouth ever-so-slightly brushes against the inside of your thigh, his breath warm against your burning skin. Goosebumps erupt across your body, and you feel the ghost of a smile on the corner of his lips.
You, however, cannot relax. You can't make this look natural no matter how hard you try, and Joshua being so close to your womanhood is certainly not helping. The camera clicks echo through the room as the photographers take a few shots of the two of you.
But after a few minutes, the director still looks unhappy, and you have a sinking feeling it's your fault.
"No... this still isn't right. I like the vision, but this still feels a little forced. Let's try something else."
Isn't it all forced? you think, disgruntled. Joshua shifts his grip on your thigh ever slightly.
The director turns the chair to the side, telling Joshua to sit on it again. She squints for a moment, walking around him a few times and muttering quietly to herself. After a few more minutes, she steps back. Then she looks at you.
"Sit in his lap."
Excuse me?
You don't move. Every bone in your body seems to be made of lead, every muscle completely froze. Joshua stares at you, an unreadable expression in his eyes. You swear he discreetly raises an eyebrow, as if in challenge, but you blink and it's gone. Even your throat feels like it's closing up. But who are you to challenge the director?
Awkwardly, you throw one leg over Joshua's lap, settling yourself as casually as you possibly can. Your heartbeat is screaming in your ears, and you're terrified he'll feel it against his chest. The silky fabric of your dress is offering absolutely no comfort as it shifts over your skin. Joshua's shirt is gaping, your own skin dangerously close to his.
Joshua places his large hands on your back, and the heat from his palms seeps through the delicate silk as if there was no dress at all. You can't even look him in the eyes. You know you're supposed to be acting like you're in lust, but right now you're simply immobile. His cologne wafts tantalizingly off of his skin, and you bite your lip, trying your best to ignore the way his breath washes over your collarbones, the way the heat in your core seems to be intensifying every second you spend flush against him.
"That's a little better," the director says, before whispering something to her colleague. They start to take pictures as they flit around you.
Unconsciously, you've been squirming around on Joshua's lap to get comfortable, and you start when you feel his fingers press into your skin, his breath hot against your throat.
"Stop doing that," he hisses under his breath, and then you realize... the thing underneath you that you thought was maybe his phone... is definitely something else. Heat rushes to your face and you freeze as best as you can. His chest is heaving just imperceptibly. There's definitely arousal slowly pooling in your barely-there underwear, and you are quite literally praying to God that Joshua won't say anything.
"Sorry," you squeak, turning your head so you don't have to look at him. He's probably embarrassed, so you'll do your best to be as professional as possible. It happens to everyone.
Except Joshua seems less mortified than you. He slides his hands down your spine until they're just barely resting on your ass. You swear he squeezes.
"Are you though?" he murmurs, pulling you centimeters forward on his lap, so for a hint of a second there is a moment of delicious friction and a rush of pleasure, and your eyes widen. But then you clear your throat, looking to the director for more instruction. There's an unreachable itch building under your skin, making you feel antsy.
She still looks unsatisfied, shaking her head.
"Ok, I don't know what the issue is here, so let's take a break." She frowns at the two of you as you hurriedly clamber off of Joshua's lap, pulling your dress down as far as it can possibly go. He looks unbothered, cooly crossing his legs and sitting back. The flush in your cheeks won't go away and you fan your face, knowing you look ridiculous in the frigid studio.
"I need you two to figure out what the deal is," the director says, fixing the two of you under a firm stare. "You're two of the best I've worked with, but you're not giving me what you promised. I don't know what happened between you two or if anything did at all, but don't bring this tension into the studio. Use lunch to figure it out." She looks disappointed and you feel your heart sink. They were never going to hire you again!
The director points at Joshua. "We'll take your solo shots after lunch." She turns away to make the same announcement to the crew, and they start to file out of the room, hardly sparing the two of you a second glance.
You're frozen in place, not trusting yourself to walk to your chair in the corner. The last of the crew leave the room, and the door closes with an air of finality.
The silence is suffocating, and you are, to put it in so many words, insanely turned on now. You turn to Joshua, looking everywhere but him. You wonder if he's equally as on edge.
You open your mouth to speak when his voice cuts through the tension.
"Ok, why don't we just deal with this like adults?"
You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.
"Well, I wasn't going to scream and cry, if that's what you thought," you retort, frowning. There he is again with his irritating know-it-all behavior.
The hint of a smirk flits across his face as he toys with one of the thick silver rings on his fingers. "Maybe not." Joshua looks amused by something, but if there is something humorous he gives no hint as to what it is. Frustration flares in your stomach.
Your frown only deepens. "Spit it out, then." Your patience is wearing thin.
Joshua suddenly fixes his dark eyes on you and you're taken aback by the shift in the room. "Do you want me to say it? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg?"
"I—I have no idea what you're talking about," you say helplessly, pulling on the hem of your dress. There is not enough fucking fabric in the world that would make you feel covered under his stare.
Joshua looks unconvinced. "Are you sure? There's nothing you... need help with?" He's taunting you.
Heat rushes to your face. "If I needed help with something, it certainly would not be from you." You wrench your eyes from his face, suddenly feeling rather small. You're thankful he's far enough away right now— if he came any closer, you certainly would not be able to hold up as well.
Joshua raises an eyebrow. God, you are so tired of this man and his mind games. A sudden burst of irritation replaces the timidity in your voice.
“What is your fucking deal?” you spit, hands balling into fists in frustration. Joshua's little comments have you riled up far more than you care to admit. How could he say that to you? In the middle of working?
To your surprise, Joshua doesn’t snap back like you thought he would. Instead, a cocky smile slides across his lips, and he pins you under his gaze, dark eyes shining with vicious gloating.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he says, sitting casually on the chair. His easy demeanor has you on edge.
"I—" You falter, put out. “Notice what?”
Joshua pauses for a moment to examine his nails. “The heat quite literally radiating from you.” His eyes slide back to you, lingering on the strap of your dress fallen off your shoulder (and suddenly said heat in your core increases tenfold). Fuck.
This is actually the worst possible thing that could be happening to you right now. Like, literally ever. You seem to be trying to make up for all the confessional you missed over the last couple decades because you shoot a couple more prayers God’s way, hoping for a miracle.
“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say again. You know exactly what he's talking about. All moisture in your mouth vanishes.
Joshua stands, slowly walking towards you. Instinctively, you back away, eyes glued to his face as he approaches. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely turned on right now, and you know Joshua can tell. As your back hits the wall, you let out a small gasp.
Joshua is impossibly close— somehow even closer than when you were posing, and you know you’re supposed to hate him, and you know there’s supposed to be some kind of thought process repelling him from you, but the same deep, woody scent of his cologne is clogging your senses and you're finding it extremely difficult to remember exactly what it was that you loathed about his stupidly handsome face.
“What are you doing?” you choke out.
“Don’t play stupid,” Joshua murmurs, eyes roaming unabashedly over your body. The silk dress is pointless as if he could simply see right through the flimsy fabric. "They put you in this. How was I supposed to concentrate?"
“You’re the one being stupid right now,” you shoot back, hoping and praying that you can control the tremor in your voice. Joshua is close enough that you can count the faint blemishes across his skin and see his eyes sizing you up. “Do ever think with anything other than your dick?”
Joshua cocks a perfectly manicured eyebrow. He looks bored. “Sometimes yes.” Suddenly he’s all up on you, boxing you in against the wall in between his arms. Hot breath fans across your face, but you’re frozen. You can’t look away as your heart hammers in your chest. Shit, you can’t stop looking at his chest.
He flashes that same infuriating shit-eating grin. “Other times... no.”
Joshua's sudden change in demeanor is making your head swim, but there's no point in pretending you don't want him anymore.
There's no going back now.
“Fuck, Joshua,” you breathe before crashing your mouth to his, pulling him into a heated embrace. As soon as he looked at you with those ridiculous eyes of his, any and all of your restraint flew out the window.
His hands are on your body, hot and heavy, as they roam your skin, giving away his poorly concealed restraint. By the way he holds you so fiercely, he had clearly been waiting to ravish you. Fingers catch on the hem of your dress but you can't even get yourself to stop him. The thin silky fabric is doing nothing to keep the heat from his body out. It's like you're already naked.
Joshua, ever the show-off, catches your bottom lip in his teeth, coaxing a soft moan from your mouth. He looks smug as he pulls away, delighted at finding one of your weaknesses. You don't have half the mind to play games with him. Your mind is in shambles, and your body might be, too, as he plants his mouth on your neck, nipping at the delicate skin with poorly disguised enjoyment. He clearly likes seeing you squirm. His fingers tangle in your hair. Your knees are weak. Air is already so sparse.
Joshua's fingers dig into your hips. "You're moving too much," he says lowly, the sound vibrating against your jaw. God, when was the last time someone kissed you like this? Your last hook-up had been (quite literally) so dry and so unimaginative that you had sworn off casual sex for a while.
But kissing Joshua... the way he moaned softly into your mouth, tightened his grip on your body, pulled you towards him. Even though you knew how he was romantically, he kissed you like he needed you.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. You fought to keep your eyes open, to see the dark hair brushing against your cheekbones, to map the spots dusting his skin hidden ever so slightly under his makeup, to see how the flush on his skin burned and deepened with every single second you two stayed locked together. But it's taking every ounce of self-control in you not to crumple to the ground that you let your eyes fall closed. You know when to pick and choose your battles.
Except that then he pushes a knee between your legs and there's already so little fabric between you and this man that you freeze. Your eyes fly back open. Joshua boldly presses his thigh up against your body, right against the ache building in your core. You bite down on your lip to stifle the pitiful little sounds trying to escape from your mouth, refusing to give in to Joshua that easily. He shifts his knee, the fabric of your panties catching on his pantleg. You swallow a quiet moan.
You are suddenly very aware of how... hot you actually are. Joshua breaks away from the kiss, a lewd string of spit connecting your mouths together. Your arousal has spread to your chest, and you think you might faint.
"Oh dear," Joshua murmurs, as one hand trails down your waist and over your thigh. His eyes seem to dismantle the last of your composure the longer they rake across your bare skin. You let out a shaky breath as he wraps a hand around your thigh, drawing it up near his hip with startling swiftness. Your heart is thumping so wildly that you're amazed you can even hear him over it at all.
"You doing okay?" He smiles wickedly.
It’s all you can do to gape stupidly at him, the words dying in your throat before they're even fully formed. It's infuriating how Joshua is able to so easily render you speechless. Every word that falls from his cruel mouth is just another reason not to sleep with him, but the taunts just sound so damn pretty that there's little stopping you from fucking him right here, right now.
Except that you're at work. On a lunch break. Hooking up with your enemy. His nails bite into your skin.
Joshua smirks with some sort of sick amusement. "You were so talkative... what happened?" He asks, leaning in until his lips are mere centimeters from yours. You want to kick yourself for how badly you want him. How badly your body needs him.
You open your mouth to retort when he catches your lips in another searing kiss, this time with more tongue than teeth. You spineless sucker! The last of your dignity is just barely hanging on by a thread. Joshua kisses you fiercely, even groaning slightly as he kneads your thigh with his fingers. You’re about to completely lose your head.
"Joshua," you moan quietly, hands clumsily tugging his shirt off his shoulders. (Thankfully half the work had already been done for you.) He hardly breaks the kiss before tossing the shirt somewhere in the room with impatience. "They're gonna come back s-soon." Oh, but you can't even get yourself to care.
Not with the way his hands grip your ass, not with the way his mouth keeps leaving dirty little surprises across your skin. God, you're going to hell.
“Let them find us,” he pants before lifting you into the air, arms holding you up by your thighs. You barely even register where he’s taking you until you roughly hit the mattress with a loud huff! of air. The pillows are just as soft as you had imagined.
Joshua stands over you, shamelessly drinking in your body. You feel a little silly, like a doll splayed across the bed.
Joshua licks his lips. “You are simply wearing too many layers, my dear.” You’re pleased to hear a rasp in his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“And what are you going to do about it?” you ask him, tipping your chin back in challenge. The heat is positively radiating through your body, pulsing so strongly you’re amazed he hasn’t made another comment. The tension is so palpable that it’s become a game of who’s going to snap first.
And lucky for you, Joshua takes the bait without a second thought.
He mashes his mouth back to yours, roughly pushing the straps of your silly little dress off your shoulders and down your hips, fully exposing your décolletage. Joshua plants his mouth on your throat, sucking less-than-delicate hickies along the line of your collarbones; barely waiting for the contusions to bloom before he’s nipping at them again. The carelessness of his teeth, the crude sensuality of his touches— it’s enough to strip you down into a writhing mess beneath him.
Barely a second passes after Joshua decides he’s done marking your neck that he suddenly licks a messy line up your chest, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and slurping with obscene moans. Oh my God, was he trying to kill you?! Your mouth falls open in surprise, fingers gripping the sheets as you writhe underneath him.
“Joshua—“ you start to say but he just laughs, cutting you off. It's not a sound of comfort, but derision.
“We’ve barely done anything, and already my name seems to be stuck on your tongue,” he remarks, sitting back to admire his handiwork. This man truly is shameless with the way he looks at your body with pride. Covering up the clusterfuck of bites across your chest is going to be no easy feat.
Your tongue seems to be stuck in your mouth. Truly you can’t even form words. And what’s even worse is that he’s right, because the most you’ve done is make out for a while. Oh God, he’s going to absolutely ruin you.
His tongue trails down your stomach, leaving a few kisses here and there, stopping right above the waistband of your underwear. Joshua smirks, as his fingers brush over your panties. They're completely soaked and the embarrassment has you hiding your face in your hands.
"All for me?" he asks, before pressing a few kisses along the inside of your thigh. His hair tickles your skin as his fingers playfully pull aside your panties.
"Don't flatter yourself," you say, breathlessly. Joshua simply hums in response, his fingers dangerously close to your crotch.
He draws himself up, leaning over you. A few dark strands of hair fall in his eyes.
"Can I?" he whispers, just above your mouth. You simply nod, afraid of the things that will come out of your mouth if you speak.
And then he's pressing two long fingers into you, watching with rapt attention as you toss your head back in pleasure, stuffing your hand in your mouth to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out. His fingers curl in that wicked "come here" motion that has you winded, clutching the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut. The longer you clench down on your jaw, the more difficult Joshua seems to be making it, scissoring and twisting his fingers until you think you might just scream. You're in a fucking studio for God's sake, but Joshua seems hellbent on breaking you as he pushes his fingers even deeper, to the knuckle, inside you. The icy cold metal of his rings presses against your skin, boiling hot.
Joshua smirks as he toys with you, even leaning over to recapture one of your nipples in his teeth.
"Joshua—mmph," you moan, and Joshua actually places a hand over your mouth, smiling condescendingly.
"If you're too loud I won't keep going," he says, as you roll your eyes. Didn't he know you were doing your best? It's not your fault his fingers are stuffed in your pussy and he expects you to stay silent. Plus there's something kind of thrilling about hooking up in such a public space. But when you don't respond, he stills his hand, leaving you clenching around his fingers desperately.
So you nod, eyes fluttering shut as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you again, each time a little bit faster. Joshua's hand explores all parts of you while his mouth explores your neck, never leaving you a moment to breathe. There's something about the way he moves his fingers that has you curving your back into him, fingers weaving into the hair on the nape of his neck as if to pull him into a desperate embrace. But Joshua turns his head before you can kiss him, instead paralyzing you under a disapproving glare.
"I told you to stop moving, didn't I?" he says with mock sympathy, pressing a large hand against your pelvis to pin you to the bed. The pressure on your stomach only further increases your arousal, and you hold back a groan as Joshua attaches his mouth to the pulse point in your neck.
It only takes a few more measly minutes before you're falling apart, fingers digging into Joshua's arms as he brings you over the edge. Warmth pulses through your body and you flop back onto the bed, completely speechless.
Joshua looks satisfied at your dazed expression as he slowly drags his fingers out of you. You watch as he places them on his tongue, messily licking your arousal from his hand, never once taking his eyes off of you. Fuck.
"Turn around and get on your knees," Joshua then orders, sitting back to watch you scramble to kneel, feeling a little stupid. You're not sure what he's going to do when you feel his large hand on the back of your head, shoving you facedown onto the mattress. You let out a choked whine as Joshua lands a firm smack against your ass, and then another, and then another. Each one leaves your skin red and stinging and a little tender, and by the time he's done your eyes are watering. You refuse to look at Joshua—you don't want him to see you crying.
But still, he says nothing, and for a stupid moment, you wonder if he’s done with you. You're a little disappointed until you hear the sound of a belt buckle clinking and clothing being tossed. You turn to look, but Joshua forces your head against the mattress again, yanking a little on your hair as he pulls away.
"Do you still wanna to do this?" is all Joshua asks.
Well, you're currently laying ass-up in the middle of a prop bed, waiting for him to shove his fat cock into you until you scream like a worthless slut.
Truly, there was no recovery from this.
So you breathe out a strangled "Yes," before Joshua is pushing his cock into you without hesitation, and the work of his fingers certainly helped a little bit, but you weren't expecting him to be so...well-endowed.
You shove your face into the pillow, smothering the loud moan that falls from your lips as Joshua slowly, slowly thrusts into you. His hold on your waist is bruising, and with your face hidden from view, you miss the way his head tips back in ecstasy.
Not that Joshua would ever let you know the effect you had on him— the sight of your needy body giving in to his every move, the cloying scent of your perfume just as intoxicating as your dripping cunt. You drive him absolutely wild.
Joshua’s voice is strained. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, bending forward to grab one of your shoulders as he thrusts his cock in a few more inches. Joshua has a way of melting you with every touch, like he knows your body better than you ever could. You let out another weak sob, your face buried into the silk of the sheets. He can not see how irrevocably aroused you are by him and his words and his vicious tongue.
“There’s no shame in crying,” Joshua chides the longer you hide your face, but you feel the smugness in every word suffocating you until you could cry from your pent-up sexual frustration.
"I'm not crying," you spit back, screwing up your face as he pushes even deeper into you. “I don’t— I don’t cry.”
You imagine he’s smiling with that same fake sympathy as he watches your body shake, and the image of Joshua taking you from behind is enough for you let out another particularly strangled cry. But before the mortification even has time to settle in your chest, Joshua sinks the rest of his cock into you, bottoming out in one smooth motion. He lets out a string of expletives under his breath, fingers digging into your hips like he’s holding onto his last thread of reality. Secretly you’re pleased you have such an effect on him.
“Jesus, would you relax?” Joshua mutters with exasperation, as your cunt clenches around him tightly. You try to tell him it’s not really your fault, but before you can answer, he deals a particularly harsh spank to your ass that knocks the air out of your lungs.
Thankfully he gives you a brief moment, even if it’s just a breadth of a second to adjust before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting forward with brutal efficiency. You smother your face into the covers, muffling your sounds of deep satisfaction with the comforter.
Clearly, Joshua has done this before, because he fishes for one of the pillows, lifting your hips to shove it under your pelvis before snapping his hips back again, slowly building speed until he’s just shy of pounding you into oblivion. Every so often Joshua’s cock brushes against that spot, leaving your cunt clenching involuntarily, and you have to bite down to keep your pitiful whines from escaping. Just to tease you even more, he leans forward to leave harsh bites across your shoulders, all the while murmuring how good you look from behind. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with the sound of Joshua’s shallow breath is erotic, and it makes your head positively swim.
“Fuck!” you whimper as Joshua continues to rail you without mercy, the brutal steady pace of each stroke bringing you closer and closer to your release. The pleasure is reaching white-hot status, pulsing in your stomach and slowly spilling into the rest of your body. It takes everything in you not to cry out in frustration as Joshua suddenly slows, just shy of stopping completely. He wraps an arm around your waist, hand flush against your stomach as he leans his weight against your back.
“Now, you know that’s not my name,” Joshua simpers, breath hot against your ear. He shallowly rocks his hips, coaxing a few more weak babbles from your lips. “Try again.” He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, and the motion would be tender if he wasn’t oozing sordid satisfaction at seeing you all hot and bothered by him.
“J-Joshua,” you beg, clawing at the sheets. And then humiliation blooms in your chest at how quickly you act to please him, but there’s something so sadistically fulfilling about being abused by this man that you can’t even get yourself to care. You’re fucking your enemy in broad daylight in a studio of Vogue. Really, there's little left for you at this point.
"That's right," he whispers.
You let out a particularly drawn-out groan of pleasure as he snaps his hips quickly, bringing the pace back to the same mind-blowing rhythm as before, arching your spine until you feel like you might snap. Joshua’s fingers in your hair tug your head back as he whispers vile sweet nothings into your ear. The messy symphony of sounds echoing throughout the room is just shy of pornographic. You clutch the sheets tightly in your fingers as your head tips forward in pleasure. Every muscle in your body is taut as your orgasm builds every second.
As your eyes flutter shut in anticipation, you start to say, “I’m gonna—!”
Except, of course, Joshua won't let you off that easy.
Just as you think you're about to reach your climax, he stills his hips for an agonizing second, rocking them slowly, slowly, slowly into you. Your release fades just as quickly as it appeared, and now your whole body is uncomfortably sensitive. This time you do groan in frustration, stuffing your face in one of the pillows again.
"Fuck you," you curse, but it's weak and hardly venomous. Your head is cloudy and full of fluff and in your pitiful state, it's the best you can manage. Joshua merely seems amused by your distress, fingers petting your head again as if to comfort you. You take a moment, breathing through the burn of arousal through your entire body.
Then Joshua snakes an arm around your throat, yanking you against his chest in one smooth motion. Your moans come out as choked whines, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his forearm in deep ecstasy. You feel Joshua smile against your ear, before his free hand creeps down to finally touch your aching clit, his fingers just barely grazing your skin. This bastard.
"Aren't you?" he mutters in your ear, landing a firm smack on your cunt and you gasp, jerking forward as much as you can while being restrained. The ache in your body is unbearable; you don't know how much more you can take.
Joshua presses a few digits against your lips, coaxing your mouth open, and unceremoniously forces his fingers in without a second thought. He presses down roughly on your tongue, massaging a few circles with the pads of his fingers. You whimper again, but the words won’t come out.
“Use your words,” he murmurs, and you can practically feel the arrogance dripping from his voice. “I can’t do anything unless you tell me.”
Evil, evil, evil man. You can’t even form syllables with his fingers shoved so far down your throat, and you’re half tempted to bite them off. But then Joshua ruts into you again, drawing a low groan from your throat as you fight to keep your composure. His chest is scalding hot against your back, electricity zipping up and down your spine every time you feel your bodies move and shift against each other.
God, you feel as if you could unravel right here. You’re half-tempted to plead to Joshua (once he finally takes his fingers out of your mouth) that he could do what he wanted with you, but the half-cognizant portion of your brain quietly reminds you that you need to be able to walk later.
Plus, you have a sneaking suspicion he'll do just that anyway.
Joshua withdraws his fingers from your mouth and you choke for air, drool dribbling from your lips. He hardly lets you catch your breath before brazenly spitting on his already-soaked fingers, lowering his hand to rub cruel circles against your painfully tender clit. He’s barely touched you before you feel your climax re-building. Your body acts before you do, succumbing to Joshua like a wretched woman starved.
“So touchy…,” he muses, as he continues to play with your clit, even tweaking occasionally to watch you writhe under him. Your stomach spasms as you gasp, digging your nails into Joshua’s thighs. You snake a hand up his neck, twisting your fingers in his thick, dark locks.
The words never even make it out of your mouth before Joshua draws his fingers away, jerking you roughly up by your hair.
“Flip over,” Joshua says tersely, watching with amusement as you ungracefully slide off of his cock to lay on your back. You’re embarrassed by how needy and clumsy you’ve become. Joshua is criminally good as what he does, and your body is craving that final release; if he so much as looked at you a certain way you swear you might come untouched.
Joshua spits on his hand again and pumps his cock a few times, eyes roaming over your body again, mapping the contusions blooming across your skin. His ego truly is through the roof, and if you weren't such a pathetic, wanton beast right now, you might even make fun of him for it. Dimly, you hope he’s going to shove his cock back in you and pound you into the mattress until you both come and that’d be the end of it. Problem solved! We can all go home now.
Well… you were half right.
You weren't prepared for Joshua to press on the backs of your thighs until your knees were by your ears, crudely spreading your legs wider for him. He smiles up at you, smacking his cock against your cunt a few times and you choke, each lewd slap driving you nearer to the edge of madness. Joshua leans up against you until his face is inches away and presses a languid kiss to your lips. If you weren’t fearing for your sanity, it might’ve been a tender moment.
“I’m gonna fuck you until you scream,” Joshua says, without decorum, calmly watching as your face falls. "And you're going to take it."
And he’s nothing if not a man of his word.
Joshua fucks you into the mattress until you’re a snotty, disgusting mess, moaning his name like some kind of fucked-up mantra. You know you’re supposed to hate his guts, but when he’s so deep in your guts, you can’t seem to think about anything except the way his cock slams into you, brutal and unrelenting, bringing you the closest you think you’ve ever come to seeing Heaven.
In the time after you leave, you’ll faintly remember being fucked in one way, coming, being contorted into another degrading position, and promptly being fucked again. For more times than you can count, Joshua has you pleading, crying, begging like some insatiable harlot to let you come, and you don’t even have enough dignity left intact to care.
“Please,” you practically sob, “Joshua, please.” You’re a complete trainwreck under him, uttering his name over and over like some kind of filthy disciple. True to his word, he has you close to tears, practically pleading for his cock to ruin you— and it has.
Joshua braces himself on your thighs until his fingers leave marks, each stroke of his cock feeling even deeper than the last. After what feels like the umpteenth time, you don’t know if you can take any more denial, and he must sense it in the way you're scrabbling for his hand because Joshua finally relents.
You let out the loudest, most unbridled cry yet as pleasure rushes through your body, tingling in your toes, your fingers, your stomach. It scrubs your brain of all thought, wiping the last of your hatred from your consciousness. The intensity of your release leaves you heaving, clenching around his cock until you can't breathe. Caught in the throes of pleasure, you don't see the way Joshua's brow knits together the more you whimper his name, the tighter you grip his forearm. As the very last of your orgasm ebbs, you collapse in relief, feeling woozy and deeply satisfied.
Joshua continues to languidly pump his cock in and out of you while you ride out your high, a few residual whimpers falling from your lips. But with a simple touch from your fingers, he stills, the beginning pangs of overstimulation setting in. Your head feels like it's filled with cotton.
Then you realize Joshua is still painfully hard, struggling to stay present. His hips stutter as he gives a half-hearted thrust, his mouth falling open lazily. Now it’s your turn to smile— little does he know, he’s put himself completely at your mercy. You clench around him a few times, watching with poorly disguised glee as his eyes flutter closed, his breath coming in short, shallow pants.
“Should we deal with this like adults?” you ask as innocently as possible, smiling as Joshua nods desperately, the words lodged in his throat. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows thickly. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.
You pull yourself off of his cock slowly, hissing at the tenderness of your cunt. Instead of kneeling, however, you push Joshua onto his back, scarcely giving him a moment before taking him in your mouth.
His cock is still rock hard, and Joshua tilts his head back with a throaty sigh as you moan around his length. His fingers curl into your hair and he pushes on your head, pressing your mouth down until you’re gagging around the base of his cock. Now he’s the one letting out breathy moans as you swirl your tongue around the head, cheeks hollowed, hand twisting up and down in tandem with your tongue. After everything the two of you had done, you know it won’t take long to tip him over the edge.
“Fuck, y/n,” he groans, and as his abdomen tightens in anticipation, you know he’s close. With one last vulgar slurp, Joshua comes hot in your mouth, cursing under his breath as his fingers tense in your hair. You freeze, letting Joshua come down from his high, and as he raises his head to look at you, you smile coyly.
With a soft “pop!” you pull your mouth off his cock, swallowing as you do, letting the self-satisfied smirk spread on your lips. You can't even imagine how indecent you look, with your eyeshadow and mascara smeared ungracefully around your eyes, lips shiny with spit and cum, but there's something in the way Joshua looks at you that has you reeling with delight.
“Christ,” is all Joshua manages to say before pulling you by the back of the head into a searing kiss. It’s a strangely intimate embrace considering all of the filthy words and insults he had hurled at you a few brief moments before, but considering he had also given you the best orgasm of your life, you choose not to dwell too much on it.
When you break away, you feel a little light-headed. Joshua gives your ass a light smack, but it lacks the same aggression as before. He notices a stray dribble of cum on your chin, and collects it on his pointer finger, pushing it between your lips. You swirl your tongue around it, watching as his eyes burn. He pulls his finger from your mouth, resting his hand on your thigh instead.
"You look… crazy," Joshua says, fighting a smile. You catch sight of yourself in a mirror on the make-up table and let out a bark of laughter.
“Crazy” is the understatement of the year. You look fucked out of your mind. Your hair is knotted beyond belief, there's a jumble of bruises all across your chest, and there's no convincing excuse as to why your makeup would be completely streaked across your face. You hide your face in one of the pillows again, letting out a feeble groan.
"I'm gonna get fired, and it's all your fault," you moan, hiccuping into the soft silk of the pillowcase. Joshua presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, surprisingly kind, and chuckles.
"Well, lucky for you, I happen to know a thing or two about make-up.” He slides easily off the bed, pulling his pants back on before padding softly over to the make-up table. Joshua grabs a few brushes and bottles, joining you again on the bed, tugging you gently into a sitting position.
As he covers your ruined eye shadow, you wince a little, a dull twinge reminding you of the ache in your ass cheeks. To be honest, most of your body was a little sore, all thanks to Joshua. You laugh softly.
"Sorry," he mumbles, "I got a little carried away."
“Was that ‘dealing with it like adults?’” you ask mockingly, shutting your eye as Joshua lifts the eyeshadow brush. The soft hairs dance across your eyelid as he works. Joshua's skin still smells like it did all those years ago. Warm and citrusy.
You can’t see him, but you hear the smirk in his voice. “I guess so.”
“Well, for the record, you definitely were the one being childish.” You make a sound of surprise as you feel a pair of lips against your own, fierce and hot. His teeth drag at your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you are unsuccessful at stifling the soft hiccup that escapes your throat.
“Who was the one crying just a little bit ago?” Joshua challenges you, and when you open your eyes, he’s sitting in front of you, nose just inches from your own. “Didn’t you say you don’t usually cry?”
You open your mouth, ready to shoot back a bitchy little return when you see the smirk playing on Joshua’s lips. He’s goading you on.
“That’s not fair and you know it,” you respond instead, hoping you seem nonchalant enough. (Or, at least, as much as you can be while you’re still butt-ass naked.)
Joshua laughs, and the sound is surprisingly stunning. “Since when have I ever been fair?” He hands you your little silk dress and your thong from the floor, and it almost feels silly to be putting it back on, the delicate fabric still hardly covering anything at all.
But he pouts, toying with one of the straps in between his fingers. “I’m almost sad to see you put this back on. You look so pretty all fucked up underneath me.” He gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, eyes sparkling mischievously, and you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t jump into your throat.
You scoff, eyebrows rising on your forehead. “You’ll be lucky if you see me like that again after last time.”
He frowns, his smile sinking. “Yeah…,” Joshua scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I— I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what I was thinking—"
“It was horrible,” you interrupt. "And this," you say, gesturing to the bed, "doesn't erase that."
But Joshua does look apologetic and it was long enough ago that you’re not that mad anymore. At least, in your post-coital bliss you certainly aren’t.
Joshua sits on the bed again, grabbing your hand in his. “Come home with me. I’ll make it up to you.” He presses a tentative kiss to your cheek for extra measure.
You fight a smile, forcing yourself to frown instead. “Only if I don’t lose my job, and only if you help me cover these fucking hickies you gave me.”
Joshua smiles, and he looks so different from the Joshua you met a couple hours ago that you can’t help but smile, too.
When the crew comes back in the room, you try desperately to act as if nothing had happened, but every time Joshua looks at you, you have to suppress the girlish smile playing on your lips. The marks across your chest had been haphazardly covered with foundation, and the hair team looks bewildered as they assess the birds' nest on your head.
"What the hell did you do on your lunch break?" the stylist asks as she attacks the knots with a comb.
It takes everything in you to avoid Joshua's eye. You clap a hand to your mouth a second too late as an ugly snort bursts past your lips, and you freeze, eyes wide. Joshua grins broadly, and you turn your head, fanning your bright red face.
Later that night, as you watch Joshua’s sleeping figure in the soft moonlight, you wonder how you managed to find yourself in his bed again, and when he kisses you good morning the next day, you’re sure it won’t be the last time.
----
a/n: i have never publically shared any smut before so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!! :,) thank u for reading bae can't wait to share my next one <333
check out my other stuff! :)
#kpop#kpop imagines#seventeen#svt#seventeen smut#svt smut#svt x reader#svt imagines#joshua hong#joshua smut#hong jisoo
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the venom scene with Harry Peter and MJ at the table but with reader replacing Harry with the symbiote😶
Peter Parker x Venom Reader
OOOH I love a good role reversal, This will be interesting. Thank you for this anon. Word count:943
It was a race against time for Peter to save you, He just managed to get the symbiote off of him, he went back to you and tried to warn you about the dangers of it rebonding with you. But you didn't want to hear any of it, you were more concerned about yourself and fought peter to get the symbiote back.
But when you did, he was horrified by what you became, you became this hulking monster. A more sinister version of what he endured with the symbiote suit. You raided times square and even killed Kraven soon after. What have you become y/n...
Back in Queens, MJ was reading the comments about her latest story from when Peter was under the influence of the symbiote, Considering to delete it now knowing the truth, she was interrupted by a video call from jameson.
"I hate this.." She sighed as she answered the call.
"I love this !!" Jameson greeted her.
"You do ??"
He chuckled "You've hit the nail on the head, FINALLY. Top story, Everybody's talking about it. This is EDITOR material."
"Editor" MJ was a little shocked.
"Congratulations, Your first assignment: write more juicy stuff by tomorrow morning !! Drama, controversy! Just like this"
"Like this..??"
"Get writing !!" And with that Jameson hung up, Crap this was not was she wanted, to continue to spread lies about Peter. She then picked up her phone and began to face time Peter.
"MJ.." Peter greeted.
"I, uh... didn't get fired from the Bugle, In fact, I think I got a promotion."
"Hey! That's what you wanted, right ??"
"Yeah, I... I thought it was"
Then that's... Great... Hey listen, something's gone... wrong with y/n"
"Wha... What happened ??"
"Well..."
But before Peter could answer fully, she got a knock on the door. "Hang on, someone's at the door."
"It's kinda hard to explain, just... Promise me you'll stay away from them, okay ??"
But when she answered the door, you were there, standing in front of her with a threatening look on your face.
"MJ ??"
You then raised your arm and tendrils emerged, slithering to her as you hung up the call. Shoot, you were there, Peter then swung as fast as he could to the house, he needed to stop you before you hurt MJ.
"Y/n, What the hell ??"
He tried to ring MJ again "Come on MJ, pick up !!"
But it went straight to voicemail. "Hey, it's MJ! You can leave a message, but why would you?? If it's important, just, you know... text"
"Dammit !! Please be ok"
He swung as fast as he could, finally making it to his house and rushing to the door.
Barging inside, he frantically looked for her. "MJ ??!! Where's..."
He then saw her... and you at the dining table... what were you planning.
"Y/n..."
"Pete, You look tense" You were disturbingly calm, the nerves striking Peter.
"Coffee ??" The tendrils wreathed from your back, reaching the coffee mug and pouring it into the mug, MJ gave Peter a Do what they say look.
"We need to talk" Peter tried to maintain his composure.
"You must get tired of making the world a better place. Every. Single. Day" You interrupted as you stood up. Going over to the counter and picking up a photo of Peter and Aunt May. "But I can help, All you have to do is let me" You turned to him.
"This isn't you..." MJ shook her head.
"Wrong" You turned to her. "This is the real me" You froze for a bit before going back to the conversation at hand. "I finally have the power to realise our vision... Are you... Giving up on me ??"
"Y/n... We need to get that thing off you."
Tendrils emerged from your arm, smashing the dining table, frightening MJ as she moved away.
"Do not... Call us... A thing..."
"Y/n...
"We are not y/n"
The symbiote gradually began to consume you, Spreading all over your body, making you taller and muscular. Bringing back the hulking monster that Peter faced earlier... seeing you lose yourself.
"We..." Your voice began to change "Are..." Then... the transformation was complete. "Venom"
They were mortified by what you had become, But they didn't have time to think as you tried to attack Peter, MJ then protected him as they were both pushed into the kitchen, with the fridge falling on Peter as Venom began to drag MJ away. The tendril were consuming her as Venom planted a Symbiote in her.
Peter frantically got the fridge off of him, Rushing over to find MJ now consumed by the symbiote. Peter grew angry seeing this, what you turned her into. "Let her go !!"
But then MJ's symbiote gripped him and tossed him outside, causing everyone to flee in panic about what was happening. Venom soon went outside and saw the two about to fight "Show him what he's missing" Venom then leaped from the house, Beginning his plan.
Peter soon managed to help MJ fight off her symbiote "Am I... I'm OK!!" "You did it !!" The two shared an embrace before MJ realised she had one final task to do, Picking up the phone, she rang a certain someone. "WATSON !!! Where are you with my apple fritters !!! I'm starving and.."
"Jonah... Kiss my ass, I quit !!!"
"WATSO.." She hung up as soon as he could go into a rant.
The two shared a tender moment together before then having to begin to stop you from enacting your plan to 'heal the world' Peter didn't want to lose you too...
Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board
#platonic#reader insert#insomniac games#peter parker#peter parker x reader#insomniac peter parker#insomniac spider man#Spider-Man x reader#venom#venom symbiote#venom spiderman 2
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Chris Loves Love part 7
Chris's pov.
I'm back home in Boston when Em sends me a message.
Emily:hey Chrissy did you get back safe?
Chris:HI Em, Yes i got home safe 🙂 are you ok?
Emily:yea I'm back In new york, what about you?
Chris:I'm good worried about you 🥺
Emily:Aw Chrissy I'm ok don't worry i have my mom coming over soon so i have to clean up my place, talk later?
Chris:For sure Em, have a good day.
Emily:You too.
I turn my phone off and sigh. "oh thanksgiving!"
Chris:Hey Em i wanted to ask if you wanted to come to my family for thanksgiving
Seen
Hmm no answer. I turn my phone off but then my family group chat goes off.
Scott:hey hey what are the plans for thanksgiving? Steve and i were going to be with his family but i was thinking i can come to Boston without him.
Carly: Yes! Scott we miss you! I'm down for going to Mom's, the kids would love to see her.
Shanna: Oh that would be great! Chris what are you up too?
Chris:hey everyone i just wrapped up a movie shoot so i'm free for thanksgiving at Mom's I was going to ask Emily to join me if that's ok.
Mom:Oh that would be great to see Emily again
Calry: Who's Emily? did i miss something? is chrs dating someone new!?!?
Scott:
Chris:Oh boy um..not exactly. she and i were in a PR deal last year...
Mom: As long as she's not like Alba or Jenny i'm ok with her, i have met her she's very sweet.
Carly:yes no other jenny's or Alba's they were the worst!
Scott:
Chris:Scott!! What is with you texting with Gifs!? LOL.
Mom:He's just trying to fit in. 😆
Scott:I love GIFS!!! OMG THEY ARE FUN!
Shanna: um ok anyway, Emily? What's she like? does she loves dogs? Does she act like you?
Chris:Sis come on you'll see when you meet her, she's amazing she's funny, cute, such a an angel too.
Carly: Sounds like Chris is head over heel in love with her!
Scott:
Chris:okay now scott is bored i think! 🤣
Mom: Scott Andrew Evans please stop with the gifs.
Scott: yes Ma.
Carly: So chris have you asked her to come over?
Chris:yes i did but she hasn't said anything back but i'm not rushing it. we did that last year and i think it put a lot on her i don't want to do that ever again.
Mom:I agree but take it slow as long as she's nice to you and you are nice to her that's ok with me.
Scott:sooo...is she coming over or no? 🤔
Chris:i'll ask her when she calls me tonight.
Carly: Can't wait to meet Emily she sounds like a great girl.
Chris:She's the best girl i have ever met :)
Mom: ok love you Chris talk soon.
Shanna: I would love to meet her too!
Chris:got it sis bye guys i have to walk dodger.
Mom:Aw ok.
Scott:
Chris:SCOTT! Omg kay bye!!
Scott: What i love gifs come on!!
i laugh at my phone and sigh. "Ah scott you are always the clown of our family" I chuckle and see Emily is calling me.
I pick up.
"Hey Em was just about to call you"
"hey chrissy wait! you look different from when we last saw each other" She smiles. "No way, did you shave part of your beard off!?' I laugh. "It was for Pain Hustlers so yes i did, whatca think?"
She nods. "Chrissy i love the whole beard"
"I'll grow it back just for you" I smile and we end up talking for two hours and i then say. "oh by the way my family was asking if you wanted to join us for Thanksgiving, i also sent you a text asking"
"oh yea sorry i saw it but i wasn't sure..um sure i'd love to join ya what time?" "Oh 'll pick you up at your place if you want that way your not driving so far."
She smiles. "Sure i'd love that, thanks chrissy uh hey i have to go um talk tomorrow?" I nod. "sounds good Em, Have a good night I Lo- uh..i hope you get some rest"
She nods. 'you too good night' We hang up and i sigh. "Shit what was that i was about to say to her!? man" i get ready for bed and dodger jumps into bed and i lay down and message my family.
Chris:Em will be coming with me, see you guys in a few days.
Part 7 is done! What was it chris was going to say to Emily? Will jack be back? Thanks for reading.
taglist: @patzammit @cutedisneygrl @armystay89 @k-slla
#chris evans au#chris evans fan fiction#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fic#chris evans fluff#chris evans gifs#chris evans imagines#chris evans pov#chris evans pr#chris evans series#chris evans story#chris evans x ofc#Emily Maxwell#alycia debnam carey
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That Night
Steo | Stiles x Theo
Getting over the past and some differences, Stiles and Theo decided "to hell with it". Threw caution to the wind. Ignored the judgement of others...
And finally got together.
But Stiles' traits started rubbing off on Theo.
And it drove Theo to not wanna see Stiles for the night.
Stiles jogged down the stairs, loosening his black tie with one hand and fishing out his jeep's keys with his other hand.
He's excited.
To see Theo.
Stiles let out a little laugh.
Him. Excited. To see Theo.
He never thought that day would come. Given Theo's history with the pack. But truth be told, Stiles is attracted to Theo. That was part of him suspecting Theo thing. Suspecting and being attracted to the same person is what Stiles was going through all those months with their chimera problem.
And more things happened, ghost riders, and Theo redemption arc. Scott was very forgiving and took Theo into the pack. The other pack members aren't 100% okay with it.
But Stiles, Stiles threw all inhibitions out and away and because he had lost Theo once. Getting dragged underground. Stiles was miserable.
An now that Theo is back, and still wants him, Stiles just grabbed it. Took what he wanted. For himself. For once. After everything he went through with the supernatural shenanigans.
So, it's been a few months since they got together. Every weekends he'd drive back to Beacon Hills to stay over at Theo's the whole weekend.
Spend the whole weekend with Theo doing... everything he fantasized about.
And he is excited for the thing they're gonna try for tonight.
Stiles sent Theo a message. Telling him how excited he is. The curly fries he missed so much. And the thing they're gonna do before sleeping.
Theo replies a few minutes after. Shooting Stiles down.
-I'm sorry, Stiles, I have something to do tonight. I'm staying out late.-
Stiles stopped the jeep at the side of the road. He read the chat over and over.
"Oh god. Did I-Did Theo finally..." -Stiles was saddened. Stiles was scared.
He was scared that Theo might want him and then when he got him, he'd see how annoying he is and get tired of him.
And this might be it. Stiles admits he was a little too clingy to Theo. But who wouldn't? Have you seen Theo? Especially when he's naked? Who wouldn't get all clingy?
Stiles messaged Theo again.
-Okay. What's happening?-
Theo replied right after.
-I'll meet you tomorrow. I need to do something tonight.-
Stiles hand shook. Do something? Tonight? With who?!? Is Theo seeing someone else?
-Okay. Well, I'm driving straight home then.-
Stiles cursed and thought maybe he shouldn't have been too clingy and pathetic and annoying. Well, at least Theo would tell him in person. So he started driving again.
Stiles didn't even look how fast he was going, he just gotta see Theo and know what the fuck is happening.
He stopped just right in front Theo's house. Jumped off the jeep and ran to the front door.
"Hey, Stiles-" -Theo got tackled back into the house. Holding Stiles just enough to not get them falling to the floor.
"I'm sorry, Theo. Tell me, what is it? Too annoying? Too clingy? Too much Star Wars talk? Who are you seeing tonight?"
"W-What?"
"You're breaking up with me."
"What?!? No! Stiles, why do you think that?"
"You don't want to see me tonight. Don't want me to stay over."
"Yeah, I said that. But not because I'm breaking up with you- which I'm never gonna do. You're stuck with me. Forever."
"Then what are you gonna do tonight?"
Theo smirked and looked away. "You're rubbing off on me. Being dramatic and sentimental."
"What?" -Stiles couldn't understand.
"Tonight... is senior scribe, Stiles."
Theo was still finishing his senior year, being held back and all.
"...Oh." -Stiles remembered.
Remembered how important it was to him. And his friends.
"But Theo, you don't have friends." -Stiles said matter-of-factly.
"Ouch!" -Theo feigned heartache. "I do. Sort of. Some useful, some not. Anyways. I want to attend."
"Because?" -Stiles still wasn't getting it.
"Because I want to write my initials next to yours."
"...Oh." -Stiles started getting teary eyed.
Theo noticed and pulled Stiles into a hug. "This is why I didn't wanna tell you, my melodramatic snow white."
"Theo... are you gonna put a heart on it?"
Theo let out a chuckle. "Do you want me to?"
"Yes." -Stiles said instantly and nodding furiously.
"Okay."
"Take a photo of it." -Stiles broke off from the hug and took Theo's hand. "Come on! I'll drive you to the school!"
Theo kept laughing on their way to Stiles' jeep. And to the school. Stiles looks around started to reminisce his highschool days.
Theo went in and lined up with the others. He looked for the shelf where Stiles wrote on that night.
And when he found it, he started to write his initials with it.
With a heart. Of course. As requested.
Stiles waited for Theo right outside the doors. He was holding his hand out. Waiting for Theo to hand him something over.
Theo smirked and handed him his phone. Stiles got to it and in a few minutes, cleaned it up and gave it back to Theo - now with a new lock screen. He did the same to his own phone.
Stiles smiled widely at Theo. Giddy and bubbly.
"So, you had to put yours on top, huh?" -Stiles looked at it lovingly.
Theo walked closer to him, too close, that his body warmth radiated towards Stiles.
And then he whispered, in a low, sultry voice: "I'm always top, Stiles. And you love it."
-+-+-+ ( complete ) +-+-+-
a/n: Just realized Theo never had the senior scribe, so I gave him one. 😁
thank you. more on my master list here
I also have an AO3 account
my art/design shop here (for fanart and other things I do)
Like the gifs used here? See source under them. Reblog, do not repost. Thank you all gif creators here ♥️
#steo#theo raeken#imagine#stiles#teen wolf#theo#theo x stiles#stiles x theo#theo raeken x stiles stilinski
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If you're still doing the prompt game, would you consider Toko for "Please come get me" prompt? 🥺
For this prompt game! (Or also this one!)
“Hey, watch it,” the girl snaps as Cha Ming unceremoniously tosses her into the cell. “This is a new jacket!”
Kuzo gives the dirty, stained, ripped garment a skeptical look—new to her, maybe, but you certainly can’t tell from looking at it. And not that she looks particularly put out, either—as Cha Ming slams the cell door shut with a distinctly satisfied air.
“Should have thought of that before you tried to scam hard working people—” the prisoner lets out an inelegant snort. “—out of their hard-earned money, missy.”
“Missy,” she repeats, rounding toward Cha Ming with startling accuracy given her cloudy, unfixed stare. “Missy? And it wasn’t a scam,” she adds after a moment, suddenly dropping to the floor, indignation gone. “It was insurance fraud.” She props one bare, dirty foot against her upraised knee. “Get it right.”
“I’ll be sure to note that in the records for your trial,” Kuzo says, shaking his head and earning himself a snort and a—a thumbs down?
“You’re mighty insolent for someone in a lot of trouble,” Cha Ming growls, crossing his arms in a display of muscle that Kuzo doesn’t have the heart to point out is utterly lost on her. It’s more about the vibe of the whole thing, he supposes.
“I am, aren’t I,” she grins, slow and wide and unsettling toothy. “You know what though, I think I want my messenger.”
Kuzo frowns. “You’re—?” Was she working with an accomplice?
“My one call?” the girl says, kicking her foot in the air. “The new Fire Lord proclamation? That every prisoner upon arrest gets one messenger to a person of their choosing? Set off and landslides in there?”
Cha Ming shoots Kuzo a sideways look. “There isn’t a…?” he trails off as Kuzo shakes his head, silently pointing a startled Cha Ming to the very official scroll waiting on his desk.
“That proclamation came in this morning,” Kuzo says, incredulous. He hasn’t even had time to read it all the way through yet!
“I know,” she grins, sharp.
“You weren’t even arrested five degrees afterward!”
“I know,” she repeats, grinning wider. “And now I want my message.”
“Does it even apply to non Fire Nation citizens?” Cha Ming frowns, scratching the base of his topknot as he quickly scans the proclamation, squinting to try to parse through the fancy High Caldera calligraphy.
The girl cocks her head, pale green eyes bright against her dirt-smudged face. “Do you think I’m not Fire Nation?”
Kuzo hesitates. She looks very…Earth. “…Are you?”
She holds out her hand as if admiring her nails, waggling her fingers. “No.”
“Says here all prisoners,” Cha Ming calls over, still reading over the edict. “Not seeing any residency or citizenship requirements.”
“Alright then,” Kuzo sighs, looking around for his ink brush. Agni’s toes, they haven’t even had a chance to get training on it yet, the magistrate is supposed to come by tomorrow… “What do you want to say, then?”
“Hmm.” The girl taps a finger against her chin a moment, considering, then, “I want to write it.”
Cha Ming coughs a little, surprised, and the girl raises her eyebrows.
“Is there a problem with that?”
“But you’re, uh.”
She tils her head in Cha Ming’s direction. “Yes?”
Kuzo clears his throat. “Aren’t you…”
“Am I?” she asks, tilting in his direction now and somehow managing to catch his gaze in one of the more unsettling stare-offs of his life. Which is saying something considering how his little sister used to stare at candleflames growing up to get better at eye gaze contests.
“Well, um,” Kuzo finally says, coughing a little and breaking away under the guise of grabbing up an ink brush. “How exactly do you propose to write it? Given that you can’t, uh. See?”
“I can’t?”
“…Can you?”
Another grin. “No.”
The sigh Kuzo lets out only makes her grin wider.
“They make special inks these days, you know,” she offers, propping her head up on her crossed arms, foot kicking in the air again.
Cha Ming stares. “That blind people can see?”
“That earthbenders can see,” she says simply, expression going smug and wolfish as she adds, “If they’re good enough.”
Kuzo stares a moment, mouth working silently as he takes in the hardpacked earthen floor and stone-lined walls, the whole place designed to stymie firebenders.
“…Ah,” Cha Ming says behind him, faint.
“What, ah. What ink would that be, then?” Kuzo finally says, deciding to just…accept her docileness at face value for now. Well, now exactly docile, but. “We have the usual standard issue.” Shelves and shelves of it, and one or two pots the magistrate leaves behind whenever they lose track of their things…
“Flying Boar brand,” she says, prim, and Cha Ming chokes.
“Flying—that stuff’s worth its weight in gold!”
“Makes sense,” the girl allows. “It’s made with it.”
“Why would—we’re the fire and the guard station!” Kuzo says, feeling strangely desperate considering he isn’t the one behind bars. “We don’t have that!”
“Hm,” the girl says, wiggling like she’s getting comfortable against the dirt. “That sounds like a problem for you, doesn’t it. Seeing as how every prisoner is entitled to write or dictate a message to a person of their choosing, and per the Fire Lord’s order, any denial of such right will result in the immediate negation of the arrest regardless of circumstances.”
Kuzo opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. Is she—is she quoting?
“That would be too bad for you guys,” she adds, smirking. “Wouldn’t it.”
“You can’t…”
“I can,” she says, gleeful.
“I’ll just write it for you,” Kuzo huffs, grabbing up a piece of scrap paper and casting around for that open ink well. “The code permits for a message to be dictated, so let’s just do away with all this ridicule—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” she interrupts, suddenly rolling fluidly up to sit cross-legged. “The code permits. The code does not require.” Cha Ming looks down at the code in question, eyes wide. “I want to write it myself.”
“That’s absurd,” Kuzo protests, feeling something sputter and die in his chest as Cha Ming’s expression slowly goes to horror. “You can’t expect us to spend that kind of money on one letter.” Agni’s nails, that’s over half their annual budget!
“But how can I trust you’ll transcribe it correctly?” she asks, all faux innocent and someone must have taught her that look. “I can’t exactly read it to be sure, can I? I’m blind after all.” And sounds nearly gleeful about it.
“We’d have to send away for it,” Kuzo says faintly as he tries to calculate who in the town could even—they might have to find a coastal trader, Agni, the markup—
She snorts, waving a hand around her cell. “Does that look like my problem?”
“It could take weeks!”
“It could, couldn’t it?” she says serenely, grinning. “Good thing you have such a lovely comfortable floor here,” she adds, the earth suddenly rippling underneath her, Kuzo tensing and Cha Ming shouting in alarm as…an earthen chaise lounge rises up out of the floor, with the girl on it.
Kuzo stares a long moment, then turns to Cha Ming, lowering his voice. “This feels like another scam,” he mutters, rubbing at his temples and already feeling a headache forming.
“I’m not sure how we get out of it, though,” Cha Ming frowns, waving the new edict helplessly. “The Fire Lord…”
“Maybe we can add the cost as part of her fines to be assessed after the trial…” Kuzo says, dubious.
“Not going to do us much good if she doesn’t have any money,” Cha Ming huffs, echoing his thoughts, both of them wincing as they realize they’re in for another year of not being able to upgrade their fire mitigation protocols from sand to water.
“So?” the girl asks, pointed, like she somehow knows they’ve just come to their conclusion. “My ink?”
“We’ll get it,” Kuzo sighs.
“Wonderful,” she grins, making a show of settling in to wait and oh, Kuzo’s headache is definitely settling in, too. And probably won’t be leaving soon, either…
“Agni’s flapping—who are we sending this thing to?” Cha Ming grumbles, nearly dragging his topknot out as he shoves a hand through his hair. “Are you wanting us to get you a special bird for that too? Send it by phoenix, maybe?”
“Oh, nothing as fancy as that” she says breezily, as if she doesn’t notice his grouchiness. “A regular hawk should do.” Her lips curl in that grin that definitely makes Kuzo’s head throb harder. “It’s just going to Caldera, after all.”
Which…is normal enough. A bit of a surprise, given they’re in the outlying islands, but certainly common. “Which relay?” he asks, trying to remember if Mai Tin’s letter had come back yet and brought its hawk back with them, or whether he should go asking—
“The palace,” she says, serene.
Kuzo coughs, stuttering a bit. That—that is less usual, certainly, but not—not entirely unheard of. It’s just that he doesn’t trust that serenity one bit. “To the care of?”
“The Fire Lord,” she says, even serener.
“The Fire Lord,” Cha Ming repeats, numb, then again, “The Fire Lord. The Fire Lord,” he finally guffaws, cackling—or cracking, maybe—holding himself over with the force of his wheezing laughter, Kuzo sighing and patting him firmly on the back.
“Mi—girl, the Fire Lord isn’t going to read your letter,” he says, grasping for patience and so, so ready for this shift to be over. It isn’t even noon. “I’m sure it works like that in the Earth Kingdom, but that’s not how it’s done here.”
“Maybe he’ll make an exception for me,” she shrugs, unbothered and picking a piece of food out of her teeth.
“…Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Cha Ming huffs, still wheezing. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll grow wings and fly, too!”
She lolls her head to look at him, eyes narrowing. “I can help with the flying part,” she says, grin suddenly sharp-edged. “Temporarily.”
“Look,” Kuzo sighs, trying to breathe his headache away and realizing that she seems quite young, just at her majority, probably. “If you don’t have anyone to write to, we can recommend some lawyers, or the magistrate. We can even send to someone in the Earth Kingdom.” They’ll send wherever they need to, for someone to take her away. “You must have been staying with someone, right?” Please let this girl barely older than his daughter not have been sleeping on the streets. “Had some reason to visit?”
“I was making my way to a friend,” she offers after a moment’s considering.
“Well then,” Kuzo says, trying to restrain his audible excitement, “Let’s write them.”
“Good idea,” she nods along. “The Fire Lord.”
Kuzo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hates the ones determined to be difficult.
“Kid, just tell us who to really send it to,” Cha Ming says, still sounding a little hysterical around the edges but hauling himself back up to deliver Kuzo a bracing wallop on the back. “We’re not going to send it to the Fire Lord, I don’t care what joke you’re trying to play.”
She gives a flat, unimpressed look to their general direction. “So we’re breaking the new edict before the sun even sets, are we.”
“We—I’m—you’re the lawbreaker here!”
“It was just a little light fraud,” she sniffs, biting off a nail. “Not like violating a direct order from the Fire Lord, oh no, that’s all you.”
“I’m not…” Cha Ming trails off, looking undeniable queasy.
“I’m not the one who was told in the Fire Lord’s very own hand—”
Kuzo blinks. How would she—?
“—that every prisoner gets to communicate to the individual of their choice, and then chose to ignore it. No, that’s all you. But hey, you want to violate the will of a Child of Agni that way?” she gives a low, impressed whistle. “Your pyre.”
“Fine,” Cha Ming says, pulling his topknot out completely to grab onto his hair. “Fine. We’ll post it ot the palace, and see what good it does you. You’ll be waiting here for a reply for the rest of your life,” he snaps, and Kuzo pulls up, horrified, as he registers the words.
“Hm,” she grins, slow and smirking. “And wouldn’t that be awful,” she muses, making of show of examining her nails again as Kuzo watches Cha Ming freeze and look down to the scroll again, to the part where its dictated that a message and a reply or proof of failed delivery need to be received before a trial can commence.
He doesn’t think either of them make a sound in their horror, but her grin is still sharp and toothy like she heard it anyway.
--
Sheyeng can barely walk from trembling as they’re escorted—escorted—by a brisk, efficient looking aide—an aide to the Fire Lord—down the bright hallways of the palace—the Fire Lord’s palace. The message worth more than their life, probably—because its written in gold—is clutched so tight in their grip they don’t know if they can actually unclench their fingers from it anymore, even as they’re ushered past a pair of stern guards—oh Agni, oh Agni, oh Agni—and into a room lined with braziers pressing an unnatural heat against their skin, a reminder of the blessing given to the Children of Agni oh Agni blessed Agni that’s—that’s—
The Fire Lord glances up in a flash of sunlight off his headpiece and earrings, single eyebrow raised. “Can I help you?”
Sheyeng squeaks to suddenly find themselves pinned by that unmistakable gaze without any further ceremony, nearly falling on their face in their rush to bow and pass over the letter at the same time, hand jerking so quick and uncoordinated that they nearly throw it on the Fire Lord’s desk, right on top of his papers and nearly onto his lunch oh fuck oh Agni oh—“Please don’t kill me.”
The Fire Lord pauses, eyebrow ticking higher, and Sheyeng cringes as the guards shift threateningly behind them until the Fire Lord waves them back and cracks open the scroll, face impassive as he reads, nothing at all in his expression giving a single thing away and oh Agni’s cock, Sheyeng should be looking at the floor not right at—
“I think,” the Fire Lord suddenly says, voice mild and raspy, “That we might need to amend a recent edict.”
“Of course, my lord,” the very efficient aide immediately says, whipping an ink brush out of nowhere. “How, my lord?”
“I’m not quite sure yet,” the Fire Lord says, considering. “I’ll think about it on the way, though.”
The aide blinks. “On the way?”
“Yeah,” the Fire Lord says, pushing back from his desk to stride out of the room, aide and guards scurrying behind him and leaving Sheyeng shaking and wondering if they hallucinated the Fire Lord’s casual thanks for this on the way out. Thanks. Thanks. The Fire Lord wouldn’t—he didn’t—but if did—
Eventually Sheyeng hauls themself back to their feet, cringing a little at the boldness but using the leg of the Fire Lord’s desk to help since there’s no one around to see it, and unable to entirely resist glancing at this insane, expensive ink that they spent four weeks shipping in and nearly keeling over all over again to see, ‘I’m in your stupid jail, idiot. Food is good but it’s too fucking hot. If you please come get me. I have some suggestions on your law.’
#asks and answers#ask game#fic writing#my writing#Toph#Zuko#Toko#Anon it was very hard to get the 'please' in there once I decided it was Toph saying it lol#Wrote this as a total stream of consciousness so no idea how the dialogue turned out lol
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September Sky Chapter Four, Part 2
After what seemed like ages, I was able to get myself back to normal. Let the panic fade into the night, like it wasn't really there. That's the funny thing about panic. It always surprises you when it hits, and surprises you even more when it just vanishes. I flipped open my laptop. Four fifteen in the morning. I yawned, not really sure if it was worth it to try and fall back to sleep. I didn't want to deal with the nightmares tonight. It didn't matter though if I wasn't sure, my body would do whatever it wanted.
I got up out of my bed, stretching in the darkness of my room. I couldn't hear any gunshots from Dennis's room and Tom's was silent. It was late. Or early. I grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, not caring if it was clean or not. It didn't matter. Not at this time in the morning. At this time in the morning, nothing matters.
I lit my cigarette as I sat down onto the porch couch. It was silent out, or at least silent for the city. There was no loud music pumping from somewhere. No voices in the air. Just the steady drone of traffic on the interstates. That was always there. The undercurrent and subliminal messaging through engines moving late in the night. Somewhere far away, a siren rang out. Someone off to either help or shoot someone. It depends on who was behind the wheel.
The houses on the street were all dark and quiet. Most normal people were in bed. Partiers were just getting to their beds. The world was quiet. Asleep.
It got cold, sitting outside in a dirty t-shirt and lounge pants. Spring may have been close to its end, but it still gave us some very cold nights. Or mornings. Whatever. I didn't finish my cigarette, ripping the ember off and tossing it into the can. It made brief screaming sizzle as its life was put out. I put the half back in my pack.
I wasn't ready to fall back asleep yet, the dream still lingering in my head. Bits and pieces of it. So I grabbed my laptop and logged in to Facebook. It was mindless scrolling. Looking at stupid memes, people bragging, people lying. Facebook is the most long running social experiment this world has ever seen. It's a catalogue of individuals, who all ride high on their soapbox. Everyone knows everything when everyone knows nothing.
I was slightly surprised to see a message, that I knew wasn't there when I passed out. I was sure it was just going to be spam but was happily surprised to see it was Addison.
I had actually called her this time. Only a day later. And we had talked for almost a half-hour. That casual conversation. Jokes and laughing. And today, we were having dinner. Behing how I was always at work, I only get some many chances. Sunday was always the best to do anything. It happened to work great for her. I would say I was feeling nervous, but that's a huge understatement.
Addison: Hey, I'm just about to go to bed and I figured I'd let you know, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow. So there. That's what I did. Goodnight, Chris.
I smiled at the message. It had done nothing to calm my nerves, but it still made me smile. It's like she knew I would be anxious and nervous. I'd be worried she didn't like me, that I was a sideshow. She could read my thoughts and shut them down. In a matter of 28 words.
* * * *
I stared at the number on my phone. All I had do was hit the call button. She told me to, so what was I so afraid of? I mean, I knew I shouldn't be. I had the invitation, but I couldn't get myself to go to the party. My cigarette was half gone, meaning my smoke break was reaching its end too. It's now or never. And I couldn't let this be never.
#fiction#artists on tumblr#writing#my writing#spilled words#writers on tumblr#poets and writers#writeblr#creative writing#writerscommunity#writerscorner#writer#lierature#cynical#cynic#free verse#free form#Stories#autobiographical fiction#art#literure#howispentmysummervacation#september sky
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Details, a shortfic with Charles Leclerc! part 3
(3/?)
That night Soraia and Elena had to leave early so they could get her flight back to London.
Elena had a new shoot early in the morning and they still had to go through the schedule of the next weeks.
About two hours and a half they arrived at the Heathrow Airport, going straight to Elena’s apartment.
“Go take a shower. I’ll get everything ready for tomorrow and then we can rest for a bit more.” Soraia said, putting her laptop on the table.
“That’s why I love you!” Elena said, kissing the blonde’s cheek and running to the bathroom.
“Yeah whatever, I know you’re only using me.” Soraia laughed when Elena scoffed. “Love you too, silly.”
(...)
“What are we going to watch?” Elena asked Soraia, it was Tuesday night.
“Probably something from Marvel.” Soraia shrugged. “You know we are not really going to watch anything.” She said while laughing. “We always start talking and it becomes just background noise.” Soraia rolled her eyes, chuckling. It was true, they had always done that, putting on a movie and as soon as it starts, they drift away from the story and start talking about whatever happened through their day.
Not even fifteen minutes into the movie, Elena fully turned her body to look at Soraia.
“You know, Charles got way more fit than last time we saw him.” Soraia burst out a laugh.
“Really, that’s what you were thinking?” Soraia asked in disbelief.
“Well, a whole snack as his fans would say.” She had a smirk on her face.
“Oh my fucking God, what would your brother say about this.” Soraia was laughing so much her whole face was getting red.
“He wouldn’t know.” She shrugged again. Laughing along with Soraia. “Is not like we’re going to date or anything just because I said he looks good. Also, I remember him saying he likes someone.”
“And who you think it is?” Soraia curiously asked.
“I have no idea.” Elena responded, crossing her legs comfortably on the sofa, looking back at the TV and pulling on a weird face.
“Why that face?” Soraia threw a pillow at her.
“I don’t know, I feel weird talking about this.” It was Soraia’s turn to smirk.
“Is that some kind of jealousy?” Elena threw the cushion back at her friend.
“Shut up, no?” She stuck her tongue out. “I think I’m going to bed.” She said, feeling her phone vibrate and unlocking her phone to read the new message she got.
Night Elena, Charles here.
Just wanted to thank you for the talk we had the other day.
I thought a lot about what you said.
It’s stupid to keep myself from what I’m feeling, I think I’m gonna tell her..
Have a nice week!
“Alright. I’ll go too.” Soraia said, turning the TV off. “Good night, te amo!”
“Buenas noches, yo también te amo.” Elena sighed, still not sure about what to respond to Charles or even what she was feeling at the moment.
Hey Charles!
It was nothing really, I meant what I said, she’s lucky to have you.
Have a nice week you too.
Good night!
Next thing Elena knew, she was waking up with her alarm blasting off some Justin Bieber song.
“Oh God, never hated this song so much like right now.” Truth is, Elena didn’t sleep that much she planned. She spent hours and hours rolling around the bed and thinking about what Soraia said to her. Why did she felt weird talking about Charles crushing on someone? They were never close friends, never talked much more than the last time, and in fact barely knew each other. All she knew from him was what Carlos said about his new teammate and current best friend. And yet, she felt kinda jealous about the thougth of Charles liking someone, kissing someone, loving someone.
“Fuck.” She murmured, getting up of the bed, she still had a lot of time to get ready for work so she opted for a long shower and then going to get something to eat until Soraia got back from her morning run.
“Awww.” Elena cooed, arriving at the kitchen and seeing a tray filled with fruits and every type of healthy food she could eat. Even though is was not usual, from time to time Soraia would get Elena’s breakfast ready before she even woke up.
Today was not the case.
She opened the little card inside the tray, sitting next to an little arrangement of orange roses.
"If I could be with anyone,
I’d still choose to be with you.
Hope you have a beautiful day, just like you."
Was printed in a pretty light yellow card.
“What the fuck?” She asked herself. “Who is doing this?” She asked Soraia, seeing as the woman entered the kitchen wearing her running attire.
“Don’t look at me like that. I just received it at the door. The deliveryman said it was directed to your name and I just arranged it at the table. Also, I stole a little bit of the strawberries.” She answered, mumbling the last part.
“Okay, let’s just eat and get going.” Elena sighed, she knew Soraia knew who was the person sending those things. “At least tell me if those are from the same person from Italy?”
“Yes. Wanna know the meaning behind the colour of the roses?” Soraia asked letting out an excited squeal, soon throwing her hands up in surrender, explaining herself. “I researched it before going out. Its normally used when the person admire you from afar, it is mixed with more intense feelings of care, affection, loyalty, and the beginning of a new romantic relationship.”
Elena nodded, taking in all the information Soraia threw her way. It was crazy how that made her heart fill with joy. All the caring that the person had to choose even the color of the flowers.
(...)
“Hola mamá! Estás muy hermosa hoy!” Elena said, answering the videocall from her mother. She was at another shoot location while Eddie, Vogue’s hairstylist, worked on her hair and Elliot applied makeup at her face. Soraia was sat on the other side of the rooom, doing something on her laptop. Hello mommy, you look beautiful today!*
“Gracias mi amor!” Her mother thanked, throwing a kiss at her. “Te llamé para preguntarte si te parece bien que cocinemos la cena para los amigos de tu hermano. Isa también estará aquí. Puedes traer a Soraia si quieres. Sé que le diste unas pequeñas vacaciones, si ella no tiene ningún plan, puedes traerla aquí”. I called to ask if it's okay if we cook dinner for your brother's friends. Isa will also be here. You can bring Soraia if you want. I know you gave her a little vacation, if she don’t have any plans yet you can bring her here.*
“Espera, eso es demasiada información mamá!” Elena laughed. “Está bien para mi. La invitaré. Es genial que Isa esté con nosotras esta vez, ¿la has visto?” It's great that Isa will be with us this time,have you seen her?*
Coincidentally the Spanish GP would happen at the same time as Elena would take a few weeks off to rest from the rush that had been her life for the last few months. She was excited that she could relax for a bit and have her family reunited at their homerace.
They spent another ten minutes catching up until someone knocked at the door. She ended the call promising her mother she would call soon.
“Flowers and a decaf for you.” The intern said, handing Elena the cup of decaf coffee she had asked and an arrangement of pretty sunflowers.
“Your boyfriend has been spoiling you a lot lately.” Eddie commented. Both girls had spend a lot of time accompanied by Eddie and Elliot in the past two weeks due to their project with Vogue. And they noticed that every two or three days she would receive flowers and cards.
“I told you I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t even know who is sending me these. All I know is Soraia has probably been updating this person on my schedule. He sends this wherever I am.”
“Yeah, anyways, let’s read what this one says.” By now Soraia was standing besides her, curious about what was written on the card.
She was used to the “Been missing your smile since you left.” “Can’t wait to see you again.” and all that lovey dovey things he said in the other cards.
But there were some of them that usually took her breath away.
Like the note she received along with the beautiful necklace she was wearing. The one with a little red ruby pendant.
“Truth is, I’m crazy for you and everyone can see that, but you.”
That was when she found out that she knew her secret admirer. Not who he was, in fact. But now at least she knew that he was someone recorrent in her life.
Or the note where she found out that he was someone who worked with her brother. He could be a mechanic, someone from the Ferrari crew or even a worker from another team. All she knew was that he knew her brother.
"Not long until we see each other again, love.
Your brother is really excited that you’ll be with him at the Spanish GP."
And with that card, a box full of Spanish candies that reminded her childhood along her brother.
“Come on, let me see that.” Eddie said, snatching the card from her hands and waking her up from her daydreams. The man cleared his throat, straining his voice a little as he read that out loud, making everyone in the room laugh.
“According to popular wisdom, the sunflower means happiness. It faces wherever the sun is, even if it is hidden behind a cloud. He is always in search of light, vitality, strength, beauty. And somehow I see myself like this. Unconsciously I always searched for this. You. See you in four days.”
“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Soraia said, after everyone kept silent. “Even when I thought he couldn’t be more cute. There he goes.” She sighs. “Seriously, you have no idea who he is?” Elena shakes her head no.
“I have a faint idea of who it could be. But I’m not sure.” That was her time to sigh.
A/N: A chapter to fill you guys on the story a little bit. Next one they are seeing each other again. What do you guys think? Does Elena knows that Charles is her secret admirer?
#carlos sainz fluff#charlesleclerc#charles leclerc imagines#carlos sainz imagine#f1 fandom#sochi gp f1#f1#pierre gasly#lando norris#pierre gasly imagines#f1 x reader#charles leclerc#formula 1#daniel ricciardo#ferrari
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The Journalist’s Footballer- Chapters Five and Six (Rúben Dias)
Word count: 2162
Chapter 5:
Rúben
She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Then who the fuck is that Matty guy? I went to his profile (sue me) and it’s like a Christina fan page. Maybe they are friends with benefits but he is just very intense about it? Or wants to be more than that?
Whatever it is, I just hope he isn’t the friend that she brings to the match.
I tell her the offer still stands and that I just assumed she would have a boyfriend. Now she’ll think I just mentioned that to find out if she had a boyfriend without asking directly. Great.
When I go back to my homepage, I see that she has posted a new story. It’s just a photo of her covering the lower half of her face with the book she’s reading. Cute.
I stop my Christina obsession for today and turn off all devices so I can go to bed. Big match tomorrow.
**
When we make it to the Emirates, I can’t help but look around at the fans, waiting to find Christina. Even though I know she’s too far away for me to see her.
Joao overheard me asking to leave some tickets under her name and interrogated me about who she was. Surprisingly, the “just a friend” line didn’t work. Even though she is just that. Well, not even a friend. At least not yet.
“Looking for your friend?”, he says, laughing at me.
I shake my head.
The match couldn’t go better. We are already 3-0 up by halftime, completely dominating the game. And then in the second half, I somehow find myself in the opposition’s box with the ball on my feet. Normally, I’d find an attacking player to pass the ball to, but since we have such a big advantage already, I take my chance and shoot…and I score!
It always feels good to score as a defender, but today it somehow feels more special. Could it be because there is someone in the stands I want to impress?
The team isn’t done, however, and Kevin scores a fifth goal. I can see the Arsenal fans leaving early while our fans keep on celebrating.
Once the match is over, I finish shaking hands with the opposition players and head to where our away fans are to thank them for their support. I can’t lie. I’m squinting to look at the higher seats, where I know Christina must be. But I can’t see her. So I just make my way back to the dressing room, annoyed that I won't be able to get a glimpse of her today.
I guess the IG stories will have to do.
Christina
My friend Jess and I get to the Emirates with plenty of time to take some pre-match photos. I post one on my feed. Just the two of us outside the stadium with the caption “C’mon City!”.
We get some food and go find our seats. We have all the away fans with us. Good. Don’t want any Gunners near me.
Jess keeps posting stories of us being silly, and I just repost them all on my IG.
Matty texts me asking how I got tickets for the match and I lie to him saying that Jess got them and invited me. I hate doing this but I don’t want to tell him Rúben invited me. I’m not stupid, I know Matty likes me and having to friendzone him all the time is painful enough. I always avoid telling him about any guys I hook up with because what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.
Not that I think Rúben and I will hook up but he’s a man, and a footballer. I just don’t want Matty to be jealous of something stupid like this.
City completely annihilate Arsenal in the first half. And then in the second half, Rúben scores.
Jess leans down to whisper in my ear. “Is that the one that got us the tickets?”
“Yes”, I say, with a big smile on my face.
“You have two reasons to thank him now, then”, she says with a wink.
I shake my head amused by her comment.
After the final whistle, Jess and I make our way out to the toilets before leaving to go home. While I wait for her, I decide to send a quick message to Rúben.
“Hey, great win today. And a great goal. Thanks for the tickets. It’s always nice to see Arsenal losing like that. Have a safe trip home. Xx”
I answer a couple more messages and when I’m going to put my phone away, it buzzes with another notification.
“Glad you had a good time. Maybe you can come to the Etihad next? Xx”
I reread the message a couple of times without knowing what to answer. I don’t want to just leave him on read, so I like his message and lock my phone.
Jess is finally ready and we head home.
I’m tired after a long day but all I can think about is Rúben’s message. I think he’s totally misread the situation.
Chapter 6:
Rúben
It’s been three days since the Arsenal game and I haven’t heard from Christina. I shouldn’t have mentioned her coming to Manchester. I’m an idiot.
“What has you sulking like that?”, asks Phil when he sees me staring at my phone.
“Nothing”.
“So, lady trouble?”
“Sort of. I guess”, I sigh. I explain the situation to him leaving some details out of the story.
“Why don’t you come to dinner with me tonight? Becca can bring one of her friends, maybe? And that way you can forget about this girl that’s ignoring you”.
“I don’t know, Phil”, I say, thinking about the idea. I mean, it’d be good to try to forget about Christina, at least for a couple of hours, but I don’t want to involve myself with friends of my teammates. “It can get messy, you know?”
“It’ll be fine. I know the one you’ll like”.
I go back to my DMs to see my last message there, unanswered. And then I go to see the new story Christina has posted. Yet another one with her “non-boyfriend” Matty.
“Ok. Why not?”
**
Phil was actually right. Katie, Rebecca’s friend, is great. She’s really pretty and from the little we’ve talked, she seems really nice as well. A bit shy sometimes, but there’s nothing wrong with that.
The four of us have a great time at dinner. When Phil and Rebecca leave, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to scare Katie too by asking her to come to my place, but I also don’t want her to think I’m not interested in her by just getting her a cab to go home.
Thankfully, she seems to read my mind and answers my doubts.
“So, maybe we could go to your place and have a drink or something?”, she says quietly.
“I would like that”, I tell her and get a taxi for the both of us.
We continue our conversation while sitting on my sofa. Now without any interruptions from Phil or Rebecca.
I can notice her shifting closer to me and I lift my hand to put a piece of her hair behind her ear. Her pupils dilate at my touch, and I take that as a sign to kiss her. She immediately kisses me back and I move her slowly so she’s now laying on the sofa with me hovering over her.
I move from her lips to kiss her jaw and neck and can hear her softly moaning my name.
She starts to slowly unbutton my shirt and then touches my chest and abdomen, moving slowly towards my belt. But then she stops abruptly.
“What?”, she says, sounding offended.
“What?”, I say as well, confused as to why she stopped.
“You called me Christina”, she says, frowning and making me widen my eyes.
“No I didn’t. I called you Katie”.
She pushes me away from her and stands up.
“Rúben, I can hear properly. The name you moaned was Christina, not Katie. Becca told me you wanted to get over a girl and it’s clear you haven’t already. So I better leave”.
“No”, I say and get up to stop her from leaving. “Please, I swear there’s no Christina. You must have misheard or something”.
“Rúben, stop it. I was having a great time with you but I’m not going to stay here so you fuck me while thinking I’m someone else. I have more dignity than that”.
Was I going to do that? I mean, I can’t stop thinking about Christina so maybe she’s right.
“Katie”, I say when she’s already reached my door. “I’m sorry, really. You’re right”.
“Yeah, I’m sorry this ended like this too. Good luck with Christina, I guess”.
“Thanks”, I mumble when she closes the door behind her and leaves me alone. Not knowing what to think and not knowing what to do.
Christina
I’m half asleep by the time I make it to the office. Only I can stay up until 2 am reading a book having to go to work early the next day. It was a great book, though.
Thankfully, Matty brings some elixir of the gods, also known as coffee, for me.
“I could kiss you”, I say, hugging the cup.
Seeing his face, I regret my words immediately. Those who haven’t been in this situation just don’t get how hard it is to know one of your best friends fancies you when you don’t reciprocate the feelings. I want to treat him like just another friend, but even a joke as simple as that one can turn into something hurtful.
“So”, I say trying to change the subject quickly. “Where am I being sent next?”
“Wait until Dom gets here. He has the list”.
I pout and sip at my coffee while I get my laptop set up for work.
“The interview with your boyfriend Dias is being posted in half an hour, Chris. Tell him to post about it so we get more views”, says Lewis, sitting next to me.
“How old are you again?”
“What? He’s been liking your photos. And you went to the Emirates to see him play. Just putting two and two together”.
I can see him looking at Matty trying to see his reaction. He really is an arsehole.
“You like my photos too. Are you going to ask me out? Because the answer is no. Save yourself the trouble”, I tell him and can hear Matty’s soft chuckle.
“I’m not a famous and rich footballer”.
Well, that does it. I was trying to control myself with all the Rúben digs but I can’t take that one.
“And what is that supposed to mean? Say it with your chest if you are so brave, Lewis!”
“I’m just saying. Girls like going out with those rich and famous footballers. You could benefit a lot from dating him. We all know your money problems and he could probably get you a better job than this crap one”.
“You are disgusting”, I spit at him.
“Just stating facts. Stop being so fucking sensitive. I’ve been in those seats you were at for Arsenal matches. That’s for family and friends or people with a lot of fucking money. So you tell me which one of those things got your ass sitting in them”.
“Her friend got those tickets, Lewis”, says Matty, getting angry at Lewis’ insinuations too.
“And you believe that?”, he laughs.
“Just shut up, ok?”, I tell him rubbing my temples, he’ll give me a headache before 11.
“You didn’t deny it”, he says before leaving us to go get himself a cup of tea.
I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin. He knew he could hurt both me and Matty if I took the bait and that’s exactly what he did.
We work in silence until Dom gets to the office and tells me to go to his office to check the list of players I need to interview in the next couple of weeks.
“And because of all the great work you do, I managed to get you an interview with a Spurs player”, he says smiling at me.
“Really?”, I say matching his big smile. “Who? I mean, anyone is fine. That’s incredible. Thanks!”
“I don’t know yet, but they’ll confirm the name in a couple of days”.
“You’re the best boss”, I tell him, giving him a hug.
“I do my best”.
When I get back to my place, I notice Matty doesn’t ask me about what I talked about with Dom like he normally would. My heart sinks imagining what’s going through his head.
And I confirm how bad it is when Lewis tells us Rúben has posted about the interview on his stories without any digs or jokes. Even he knows the damage is already done.
#ruben dias#footballer x reader#ruben dias fluff#ruben dias imagine#ruben dias x reader#footballer imagine
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OMG!! I DON'T HATE MOASH EITHER!!!! Like I saw Elhokar dying from a mile away and I wasn't that invested in him. Also, Szeth is annoying? Why do people like Szeth (who literally killed SO MANY PEOPLE! And the rock didn't compel him? It was a normal rock?) and hate Moash?
Oooooookay. There’s. A lot to unpack here. I know you were trying to be relatable, but I reeeeeally disagree with a lot of this. (Let’s see how comprehensible I can be this late at night.)
Like first off and most importantly, how dare you call Szeth annoying, he’s my favorite character. He is a massive murderous disaster with the most edgy and Extra™ POV narration I have ever seen and I love him. (You must be new here; this is basically a Szeth fan blog.)
As for Elhokar, I wouldn’t at all say I wasn’t invested-I quite liked him in Oathbringer and I certainly was not happy that he died. I found his arc to be quite compelling, and even though he was late to the game, I appreciate that he was doing his best to assume responsibility in whatever ways he could. Like I dunno, he admitted his mistakes and worked to improve. Maybe it was too little and too late, I don’t think there’s an objective answer to that kind of thing. I do tend to hold characters who are members of the aristocracy to a higher standard than other characters, and I wouldn’t necessarily say he was a good king yet, but he was certainly trying, and that I would have liked to see. (I wasn’t quite as interested in him becoming a radiant, but that plotline didn’t happen anyway in the end so w/e.) I’m not going to be talking about him much, but please know you don’t need to defend him as a person to me, I already appreciate him.
However I don’t see the need to pick Moash or Elhokar over one another. I can understand why if you liked a character then you would hate whoever killed them, but I’m not really like that. Actually I’m glad you brought up Szeth because he’s a great example of that. I have been in love with him since chapter one. In Words of Radiance he tried-and very nearly succeeded-to murder Dalinar, Adolin, and Kaladin. Of course I hoped he wouldn’t succeed. Of course I wanted them to survive. But even if he had killed one-or hell all-of them, I genuinely believe I would still like him as a character. Part of that is Szeth’s circumstances-I know that he never (welllllll) actually had ill will towards these people and I know he’s already going to suffer for any actions he takes. He knew what the right thing was, and he would have done the wrong thing, knowing it was the wrong thing to do. That’s honestly a lot of what attracts me to his character, he has this web of contradictions that he both hates and depends on and it can be fascinating to watch. I both want him to accept responsibility for his actions and find it hard to blame him for them. Moash on the other hand is in a totally different situation, but I feel like I can apply similar principles to him. If I can still appreciate Szeth’s character in spite of all he’s done, then I feel I can do the same for Moash. I happen to not think Moash’s actions were as objectively bad as a lot of people did, but I’ll get to that later.
One thing I do agree with you on is that Szeth is a worse person than Moash. No seriously, if you want to tell me that Moash is bad because of his actions in Oathbringer, you’ll have to convince me that his actions are so bad that they’re worse than all the killing and destabilizing of entire nations that Szeth has done. Again, I don’t entirely blame Szeth, but it is his fault. And if we’re going by actions alone, then he’s done a hell of a lot worse than quite a lot of characters. That’s fine though, because I don’t judge characters by their actions alone. There’s a reason these are told as nuanced stories with the points of view and feelings of different characters taken into account and not as history textbooks just stating the events that happened.
(Hopefully this all ties together. It’s after 2 am and I have no idea where I’m going with this. Be prepared for tangents.)
So! Let’s talk about Moash.
I’m sure I’m not fully representing all the richness of the anti-Moash arguments here because it seems people have spent a lot of time finding reasons to hate him. I’d guess there are a few main reasons? From what I can tell, they are (in no particular order) betraying Kaladin/Bridge Four, Killing Elhokar, Killing Jez, and the whole denying personal responsibility thing. There’s a also just a lot of general hate and calling him an asshole (which I really don’t get? I don’t think he’s ever just been needlessly cruel or anything, I mean he hates lighteyes but that’s about it) but that’s kind of hard to argue about so whatever. Anyway if those are absolute sticking points for you, and you cannot possibly like a character who did those things, then I guess that’s fine, you do you. I’m mostly just going to set out my interpretation of the character and talk a little bit about my beliefs. It’s not really a defense per se, but it’s how I understand him.
I want to talk about the Alethi. Moash’s character is clearly focused heavily on themes of revenge. We’re already not off to a great start here because I personally do not believe in revenge. I do believe in justice, and I think that for Moash the two are one and the same. I also think that for literally the entirety of Alethi culture the ideas of justice and revenge are one and the same. See, that’s something I am willing to blame on circumstance. It’s not just the Alethi, all across Roshar violent crimes (which I would consider the deaths of Moash’s grandparents to be) can be punished by execution, and while, again, I disagree, it’s indisputably the cultural norm. (The act of forgiveness that characters like Kaladin were showing is a radical thing.) In terms of Moash’s vengeance, I find it really hard to condemn that when he’s trying to kill just one guy, if we’re not also going to massively get on Dalinar’s case and Elhokar’s case and fucking everyone else’s case for waging a six year genocide war on the Parshendi for the sake of revenge. Violence is an Alethi cultural value-it has repulsed me since day one but it’s very much undenyable.
That’s just something to mull on, it’s honestly not even one of the more major factors in terms of how I view Moash. His revenge aspect in Oathbringer was less interesting to me than other aspects of him, but as that is a part of his character, I wanted to first set aside why I can…well, set it aside.
In Words of Radiance, Kaladin very much sympathized with Moash. Not only that, he legitimately felt Moash was in the right for a considerable amount of time. The turning point for Kaladin was coming to the realization that Elhokar was an important person to Dalinar, which is all well and good, but it doesn’t actually address these underlying contradictions. I actually found that very frustrating at the time when I read it, so I might not be the most objective judge when it comes to Moash’s betrayal. I do know that before Elhokar’s assassination attempt, Moash had not gone forward with anything until Kaladin was on board. And he didn’t know that Kaladin was “off board” until he was already in the middle of the act. Kaladin, to his credit, did offer him an out, but for someone like Moash who had been working tirelessly in anticipation of this moment…I can understand why he wasn’t that receptive then and there. Moash certainly threw the first punch, but he also felt betrayed in that moment. In Oathbringer, at the core of his anger, there was the thought “Kaladin was protecting a murderer” which was how the whole scene had seemed framed to him. Perspective is crucial for understanding Moash. I guess think if Kaladin’s best friend, after learning the truth about Amaram and all he’d done and acknowledging that it was horrible, had at the last moment put their life on the line to protect him. In the end, Moash still felt terrible about having hurt Kaladin and Kaladin had felt terrible about letting Moash get to that point. Both of them regretted everything having to do with the assassination attempt when they went their separate ways.
I don’t know if it seems like I’m taking Moash’s side here, because I’m honestly not trying to do that, I honestly don’t view it as “sides” I view it as two different characters deserving of understanding.
But again! I actually tend not to think about Elhokar’s death in terms of revenge as much as one might expect!
Next I would like to talk about the circumstances under which Elhokar was killed. Because…it was a battle, you know? People on both sides were killing people on both sides. Moash killed Elhokar, but someone else could have been the hand to hold the spear just as easily. I don’t think there was coincidence, I do think that Moash was intentionally seeking to kill Elhokar once he realized he was there. But here’s my super controversial take? In that kind of situation, revenge or not, I don’t even think he was wrong to do so. Moash’s goal was to help and serve the soldiers on his (the singers’) side. If Elhokar had lived, they would have had a shardbearer and another radiant to have to deal with. Lots of named characters in that scene (god that scene was so sad to read) killed lots of named characters on both sides. If Elhokar’s side had gained the upper hand, Khen and Moash probably would have died. In a situation like that, I’m not really sure I can be mad at him for doing a tactically correct move like that, even if his intentions were more personal.
That’s actually…kind of a big distinction between how I view Moash and how a lot of people do. I know there were a lot of people who were holding out for a potential redemption until Moash killed Jez, but I didn’t…exactly…see it as a thing that needed redeeming. I didn’t want Elhokar to die, of course I didn’t, but Moash was a soldier in combat, who just so happened to be faced off against someone he saw (and not necessarily incorrectly at that) as representative of all the discrimination and suffering he’d endured. What do you expect him to do?
Yes, it sucks that he killed Elhokar while he was in the middle of changing, but you can’t honestly expect Moash to know about that.
I mentioned Jez, so let’s start on him next. I will admit, when I was reading Oathbringer, the point at which Moash killed Jez was a very “what the fuck” moment for me. But…honestly the more I think back on it and try to understand him, the more it seems that that was the obvious course of action for him. After all, at that point in the story, I already knew and had accepted that he had defected to the singers’ side. (God his defection is another really fascinating thing actually! And it’s honestly such a huge part in why I care about him even now. I would love to talk a bit about Moash’s relationships with the singers vs the humans in more detail at some point, but this post is probably already way too long. Someone remind me later, I promise the post will be shorter than this one.) He was also literally a slave, but not just that, he was a slave who genuinely wanted the side he was working for to succeed. And also a soldier who had killed before. Honestly, if the fused had asked him to kill someone for them, it would surprise me more if he didn’t do it for them.
I think after he killed Elhokar, Moash was at his lowest point. He was already depressed and really fucked up, but the idealized idea of vengeance deep inside him still had somehow kept him going. Then when he finally got what he had been dreaming of he didn’t feel happy or satisfied or any of that. Not only that, but in having completed his goal he no longer felt he had any purpose. So why not do whatever the fused ask of him? He has no ambition of his own, but he truly believes that once they’re in power, they’ll make a better, fairer society for people in the future. Honestly the more I think about it, the fact that Jez was a herald is all the more reason for Moash to agree to kill him. It provided a very real tactical advantage in a war. I’m not going to touch on whether this act was right or not, but I know that I personally can understand why Moash felt that helping the side of the singers was the right thing to do. And I guess if I can accept that then everything else follows.
As for the personal responsibility thing, I…don’t judge him very much for that. He was a slave, he was dysfunctional and depressed, and his mind kept returning to how he had hurt Kaladin which I’m pretty sure also sort of makes him hate himself. If he needed coping mechanisms to stay alive in that situation, then I’m willing to accept that. Even if he hadn’t had that mindset, he would still be a slave in the exact same situation. And…honestly he’s really not the first character to be in heavy denial over personal responsibility and past actions. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you about the other examples.
When I was reading Oathbringer my sister and I talked a lot about this worldview, “Alethi society is bad so anything I did when I was a part of it can be written away, because being in that bad society is really what’s to blame.” I will admit I was sort of doing that earlier in this very post, although my intention was more to highlight hypocrisy than anything else. Moash’s denial of personal responsibility probably would have rubbed me the wrong way a lot more if he…didn’t actually take responsibility…all over the place… He stood up for Sah, Khen, etc. when they were being hurt and took it upon himself personally to risk his life to go talk to management and angrily give them constructive criticism on how to make their society fair. He definitely blames his past on the society he lived in, but in the present he was adamant that that had been bad and so the next thing has to be better. Flawed as it may have been, I think it was his way of putting his past behind him and accepting his new life.
Again, not saying that this mentality is good or even justifiable, that’s up to you. I feel that it’s at the very least compelling.
…WHICH! To tie it all together, here’s why I like Moash. In Oathbringer he is a mess of a person, but I still find a lot of nuance and this broken sort of humanity in his actions. I can tell that he still cares about right and wrong, he just feels it’s impossible to find justice in the preexisting human society. (I wanna talk more about his opinions on the singers later.) He definitely did bad things, but he’s not so far gone that I don’t think he’s worth understanding. I don’t necessarily like characters just because they’re good or nice people, they can even be irredeemable people, and maybe Moash is just that. I don’t know. I understand why people would feel that way about him, I really do. But I still find his story compelling, I’m still interested to see what he does next, and against all reason, I’m still hoping he somehow makes it out okay somehow.
It’s like after 3:30, jesus, I need to sleep. Um. Reeeeal quick end notes. This post was mostly me rambling about the bad shit he did in Oathbringer, but I think he did good stuff too! He is a morally grey character and I would go into that more if I weren’t so tired. Uh. I’m sorry for writing so much, I know this probably isn’t what you expect from this kind of blog. If you actually read all this then 1) wow and 2) lmk how comprehensible it was. Also if there’s anything I’m wrong about lmk I do not mind criticism.
Yeah. G’night.
#stormlight archive#oathbringer#oathbringer spoilers#The Discourse#long post#analysis#Anonymous#moash#FUCK i have no concept of legnth#i'm just#hey tomorrow someone shoot me a message if you want me to use a read more#aaaaaa yup i'm sure this is the kind of content you all expect from me#follow for more fucking 12-page essays#god i'm sure if i went back and read this i'd be able to just see it make less and less sense ghjkghjk
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Shut Me Up
A/N: Here’s another smutty one-shot. I felt like something a little cliche so here it is. This was so fun to write! I’m still finding my footing in this fandom as a writer but I think I wanna start taking requests, the next fic I have coming out will be a request and I’m having fun with it so shoot me a message if there’s something you wanna see. I’ve just put together my Masterlist so you can check out my other fics there :)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: Spencer and Y/N don’t exactly get on well. Will they be able to work out some of their frustration when they’re forced to share a room for the night?
Category: Pure smut baby
Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sex, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, name calling, light choking, hair pulling, scratching, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!
Word count: 3850 words
The hotel is somehow worse than usual. It’s got so few rooms that they just narrowly grab enough for the whole team. But few enough that they have to bunk. Y/N didn't love sharing a room but it was better than having nowhere to sleep at all.
Prentiss tosses her a key, “That’s you and Reid” she says it so nonchalant that Y/N almost doesn’t notice it. Once in clicks in her head though she races down the hall.
“Hey, hey wait!” She calls out, a little too desperate, “Emily you can’t put me with Reid. We’ll kill each other.”
She laughs at that, it was on open secret amongst the team that Y/N and Spencer had something of a rivalry going. Bitter sworn enemies apparently. No one really bought it though. People who really truly hated each other would be a lot better at avoiding one another. But Y/N and Spencer could never seem to keep apart for very long.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to put your differences aside for a night.” she waves Y/N off as she heads into her own room, leaving her stranded in the hallway. Contemplating if the reception area might let her crash on the couch, she could even spend the night in one of the SUVs, the seats reclined far enough.
But that was stupid, why should she be the one who had to be uncomfortable, why not Spencer.
When she arrived at the door of her own room Spencer was slumped up against it, he stood up straight once he saw her coming.
“Took you long enough” he spat, reaching to take the key from her but she pulled it back before he had the chance.
“I was on the hunt for alternative sleeping arrangements” she huffs, unlocking the door.
“To no avail I presume?” he jokes but he’s just met with an eye roll.
“I’m taking the bed by the window” she stakes her claim before they even get through the door. Once they’re inside he lets out a chuckle.
“You’re welcome to the side of the bed by the window?” he jokes.
This was infinitely worse than she thought it was going to be. Where there were usually two generally uncomfortable twin beds in these standard small-town motels, instead there was a queen sized bed, staring at them as they stood at the foot of it.
“I get the bed” she says like she’s calling shotgun.
“Bullshit you get the bed, there’s nowhere else to sleep!” he complains.
She takes a second to scan the room, no sofa, no arm chair, the floor is a scratchy carpet. There’s no real option here. “You can sleep on the desk?” she suggests, and she’s not serious about it, but she wouldn’t say no if he agreed.
“Are you kidding me?” he almost shouts.
“Soft mattresses are bad for your back! Maybe it’ll sort out your posture?” she adds.
“There’s nothing wrong with my posture” he groans, massaging his temple.
“Okay sure, you tell yourself that”
They don’t say anything more about it as they unpack. Showering and changing for bed in silence. When Y/N comes out from he bathroom, Spencer is sitting up on one side of the bed, reading through case files by the light of the bedside lamp.
“Are you serious?” she whines.
“Look, we both need rest, just shut up and get over yourself” he says it without looking up from the file in his hand, his finger running over the lines at speed.
She doesn’t respond, she just climbs in on the other side, keeping herself as close to the edge of the mattress as possible to keep the distance in between them.
She lies like that for about 45 minutes but sleep’s just not coming.
“Are you ever gonna turn off that fucking light, I thought we ‘needed rest’” she mocks, turning over to look at him, still combing through the files, mumbling to himself every once in a while.
“We’ll both be useless tomorrow if we don’t get any sleep” she tries to convince him with a slightly more sincere tone.
This case wasn’t easy, the unsub had been abducting victims he’d met in online BDSM chatrooms. Bodies had been turning up murdered in ways that the victims had previously expressed were turn-ons. Suffocated, whipped, tied up in peculiar ways. There wasn’t much information to go on now, they just had to wait for the next body to turn up but that didn’t keep Spencer from pouring over everything a hundred times.
When he wasn’t being purposefully irritating Y/N honestly admired his work ethic. Just not when it was interfering with her much needed sleep.
“The bare minimum of sleep most humans need to live is just 4 hours in a 24 hour period” he blurts out, still not looking up.
“Well I’m not most humans, so knock it off”
He finally concedes, chucking his files onto the bedside table and shutting off the lamp. It’s now eerily quiet, and all she can hear is the steady breathing coming from the other side of the bed.
Enough time passes that she really should be asleep but it’s still not happening. So she’s already beyond irritated when she feels a slight shove against her shoulder.
“Hey, you still awake?” he sounds mischievous, she knows that tone of his voice and she doesn't like it.
“God! I am now! What do you want?” she mumbles into her pillow.
“I’ve just got a question” he says defensively.
She hums and rolls over to face him, he’s wide awake, “Well? Out with it” she encourages, the sooner this is over with the better.
His mouth twists into a smirk as he takes a minute to study her face, “What turns you on?” he asks it sincere, and she has no idea what to do with that.
Rolling her eyes on instinct she groans, “Ugh, are you serious? I was so close to getting to sleep, goodnight asshole.” she turns back around to end the conversation but he can’t leave it there.
“I’m serious actually, just all the talk about it earlier, I wanna know”
She doesn’t move as she speaks, remaining with her back to him in a bid not to engage, “You couldn’t handle that information.” She deadpans.
“Try me” he antagonizes, and that’s enough to set her off. He just didn’t know when to quit.
This could be a fun new way to tease him, is her first thought. Turn him on, leave him wanting, yet another game to add to their repertoire of spite.
“Fine I’ll give.” she turns back to him, staring intently this time, “Here’s one, I really get off on having my hair pulled” she scoots closer so she can lean in and whisper the next part, “like when I’m getting fucked from behind, or I’ve got someone’s cock down my throat. I love having my hair pulled, just the short sharp pain of it.” she sort of moans the last little bit right by his ear before settling back on her own pillow.
“That good enough?” she asks, and she can practically see his breath catch in his chest.
He takes a steady gulp, “Yeah, that was, informative” he breathes.
“And what about you?” she poses, he’s not getting out of this one so easy. He looks shocked, like he didn’t see this coming a mile off.
“Me? Uh—” he stutters, “My back, I get really— I get turned on when someone digs their nails into my back, like scratching and marking” something about seeing him flustered like this is almost endearing.
“I guess we’re both suckers for pain” she winks as she says it, making a move to turn around again in a bid to let the conversation die but he doesn’t give her the chance.
“Tell me another” he pleads, and she’s not sure what his expression means but she might just draw this out, see how far she can can tease this.
“Hmm, nosy aren't we?” she smirks, he doesn't respond, just waits for an answer. She thinks for a moment, “Have you ever choked anyone Dr. Reid?”
His breath hitches, and he shakes his head. She likes this new Spencer, the one that doesn’t seem to have some quip for her every two seconds.
“Well I think you might like it, you’ve got nice strong hands, long fingers too. I feel like they might make it the whole way round my neck if you tried?” her voice is soft like velvet as she speaks. He lets out a short pant, and she can see his eyes flicker down to her exposed throat before quickly coming back to her eyes.
“Does the idea of that turn you on Doc?” she teases.
“I— um—” he’s at a loss for words yet again.
“That’s not an answer now is it?” She taunts him, and moves to turn around once again. Feeling accomplished in her goal, finally about to get some sleep. But she’s barely closed her eyes when she can feel him move. He’s so close behind her that she can feel the heat radiating from him. His hand slowly reaches around and grasps her throat gently, she moves herself further into his grip on instinct and he runs with it. Using the leverage to pull himself right up behind her, and she can feel it. He’s hard, and she can feel him pushing himself right up against her ass.
“Is this a satisfactory answer?” he moves in close and whispers against her ear. She’s changed her mind, maybe this is her favorite Spencer.
“Mmhmm” she hums in response, and his fingers tighten around her neck. She pushes her ass further back, moving it up and down slightly to create some friction and she can feel him twitching through the thin layer of her nightdress. He starts to move with her, grinding against her, his other hand resting on her hip, fingertips digging in so that he can pull her closer.
She tries to moan when she feels his nails dig into her but it gets stifled in her throat.
“You sound pathetic” he whispers, “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re whining like a little slut” her hips buck involuntarily at that. “You like it when I call you names?” he teases.
The hand on her hip starts to pull at her nightdress, inching it up higher and higher until his fingers are on her bare skin. He digs his nails in just slightly and drags them around her thigh, letting them settle right at the hem of her panties.
“I bet if I put my fingers in here I’d find you soaking wet for me already?” When she doesn’t answer he tightens the hand around her throat so that it’s almost cutting off the air supply, then loosens immediately. “Answer me” he demands.
“Yes! Yes!” she moans, anything to get his hands to move where she wanted them.
“That’s what I thought” he laughs and lets go of her completely. Her dress hiked up, breathing ragged. She snaps back around to look at him and he’s already curled up on his side of the bed as though nothing’s happened. Left in shock she sits upright, crossing her arms across her chest.
“What the fuck was that?” she has to stop herself from outright shouting at him.
He turns back to look at her, taking in her sullen expression, “Disappointed are we?” he teases with a smirk. And that look makes her want to kill him.
“You’re such a dick” she huffs, and he sits upright next to her.
“You say that like I didn’t just beat you at your own game?” he tries to fight back.
“You didn’t beat me!” she protests
“Oh really, and how’s that?”
“I could feel you, you were rock hard before you even touched me” she spits it out, because if she turned him on first then somehow this didn’t feel as embarrassing.
“Yeah! Because you were teasing me!” he looks frustrated now,
“Exactly! Because I was teasing you, and you fucking liked it” he just rolls his eyes at that, pretending like it’s somehow not true.
“Shut the fuck up” he groans, running his hands through his hair and letting his head fall back against the headboard.
She quirks an eyebrow and looks straight into his sleepy eyes, “Make me.”
In less than a second his hands are on her again, grabbing and pulling her into his lap. One hand is firmly on her back, holding her tight against his chest, the other is tangled in her hair already. Grabbing fistfuls as their lips work against each other.
It’s heated, and ferocious, full of pent up aggression, or tension, or both.
As his tongue works against hers, she lets her own hands wander over him, finally coming to rest at the back of his head, tangling in his curls. When she grinds down into his lap she can feel his cock still hard beneath her, straining against the fabric of his boxers. She thought it was impossible but it felt harder than it had been earlier.
He breaks apart the kiss and they both take in wrecked breaths, chests heaving. He pulls at the hem of her nightdress, pushing it further up her thighs, grabbing a rough handful of her ass as his hands find the exposed skin there.
“We gotta get this off” he whispers, and she nods, pulling it off over her head so that she’s exposed now. Perched in his lap in nothing but her panties. “Fuck” he moans at the sight. His hands come straight up to grab her tits, rough and exited for a moment before easing up, kneading them, getting used to the weight of them in his hands. He brings his mouth down, leaning in so that he can place sloppy open mouthed kisses along her neck and collar bones, trailing down to the valley between her breasts. He takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it gently then teasing the bud with his teeth. When he releases it and looks up at her his eyes almost look glazed over, dreamy.
“I’ve always had a thing for your tits” he confesses, his lips coming down to repeat the action on the other nipple.
“Your turn to take your shirt off” she whines as he removes his lips, the cold air hardening her nipples now that he’d teased them. He drags his eyes away from her for a second so that he can peel his shirt off over his head.
On pure instinct she rakes her nails across his now bare chest, leaning in close to place kisses into the crook of his neck, moving up painfully slow, kissing along the column of his throat, landing on the soft skin beneath his ear. She can feel the moans rippling in his throat against her lips. While he’s stilled beneath her she takes the opportunity to tuck her hands in behind him, digging her nails into his back and dragging them across the skin with force. Certainly leaving harsh red lines in their wake. The noises that escape him might be the best thing she’s ever heard.
“You like it when I mark you up?” she moans into his ear, “When I make you mine?” she can feel wetness pooling between her own legs as she says the words. The very thought of it turning her on more than she ever thought it could.
Clearly he feels the same, something erupts in him and the hands that had been resting on her hips were now lifting her up and laying her down on the bed. He was on top of her now, his hair framing his face as he looked down at her, and she was biting her fucking lip in anticipation.
He almost can’t even look directly at her so he snakes down her body, littering her torso with kisses and licks. Once he lands at her hips he takes the elastic of her panties between his teeth, pulling it up and letting it go so that it snaps against her stomach. She lets out a low moan.
“Let’s see if I was right earlier, how wet are you for me?” his voice is low as he places small kisses over the cotton, making his way right in between her legs. He pulls back for a second to inspect the fabric, there’s a damp patch covering the majority of the area, as if he didn't know already. “You’re fucking soaked Y/N” he groans and presses his fingers right up against it, forcing the fabric between her folds so that it soaks up even more, “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?”
She can only let out a small whine in response, her teeth biting into her lip so hard she was afraid she might start bleeding.
“Better get rid of these, don’t you think?” he hooks his fingers into either side of her panties, sliding them down her legs. He takes them and places them on his pillow before returning to his position between her legs.
He’s slow and deliberate in his actions, teasing painfully as he places sloppy kisses on the delicate skin inside of her thighs. Stopping right at the top to nip and suck enough to leave a bruise. Taking the time to stop and leave a matching bruise on the other thigh.
She was starting to grow restless, she felt like she was literally aching for any stimulation at all.
“Spencer” she whines, “Please, I’m so fucking turned on already”. She can feel him chuckle, his exhale sends a burst of cold air right against her pussy.
“So impatient” he chastises, but gives in anyway. Laying his tongue flat against her, taking a moment to taste her before he starts to move. Licking deft strokes along her folds, alternating with sucking softly on her clit.
“Spencer, fuck, oh my god” is all she can muster as her back arches up off the bed, her hips squirming as he pins them down. “You feel so fucking good”
He takes the encouragement and brings a finger to her entrance, pushing it in at an agonizing pace, curling it upwards against her once it’s fully inside. “You’re so fucking tight Y/N, do you think you could even handle another finger?” he has to take his mouth off of her to speak but it’s worth it for the downright filthy sounds she makes in response. He takes that as a yes and slowly pushes two fingers in this time. Bringing his lips back down to wrap around her clit and suck.
Her hands fly down to his curls as he works his fingers in and out of her at a relentless pace. She grabs handfuls of his hair and pulls them harshly, not knowing where else to put the energy. “Fuck Spencer, feels so good, don’t stop” she mutters between gasps.
He continues his ministrations and he would be lying if he said the feeling of her hands pulling at his hair weren’t doing something for him.
A moment later and she’s barely able to control her movements, thrashing in the bed as he continues to work his fingers in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her walls tightening around him. Once she’s relaxed again he takes his fingers out, bringing them up to her lips, without telling her to she opens her mouth, taking the two fingers in, letting her tongue move around them to taste herself.
It’s one of the many memories from tonight he knows he wont forget anytime soon. Or ever.
“I can see why you like it” he says, leaning over her, talking into the crook of her neck, “having your hair pulled, feels fucking amazing” she lets out a weak laugh, regaining her strength.
“Told you you liked pain” she reaches down between them, grabbing his cock through his boxers, “You must’ve really liked it” she teases, squeezing as his eyes flutter shut and he nods.
He maneuvers a little so that he can take off his boxers, and finally she gets to see it. It’s perfect, bigger than she expected, it looks painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. He moves back to hover over her, lingering for a minute to take her in. She thinks there might be something almost sweet behind his expression.
“Just fuck me already” she smirks up at him and he rolls his eyes without even meaning to.
“Will you ever stop antagonizing me?”
“If you fuck me maybe?”
With that he leans down to capture her lips in a heated kiss, she can taste herself on his tongue as it tangles with hers. She can feel him push up against her, the head of his cock just teasing at her entrance before sinking in so slowly she was almost angry.
“Fuck Y/N, you feel so good, so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me” he’s whispering right into her hear and she can barely string together a sentence.
“Spencer, you’re so big, fill me up so good with your fingers, with your cock, fuck” as he starts to move they both start to lose it, her hands digging into his back, her nails sinking into his shoulders leaving small half-moons in his skin. He finally starts to build a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of her, filling the room with the pornographic sounds of skin on skin, coupled with their moans.
Once she can feel the familiar feeling building within her again she starts to lose control completely, her nails scratching marks into the expanse of Spencer’s back, hearing the little breathy gasps he lets out each time she does might be enough to make her cum all on their own.
“I’m close” she mewls, letting her head fall back against the pillow, exposing her neck, eyes screwing shut.
“Fuck, me too” he takes the opportunity presented to him, and wraps one of his hands around her neck, squeezing ever so slightly.
“Ahh, fuck” she breathes out with the little air that she has, “gonna cum” and she does, he can feel her tighten around his cock, her body writhing beneath his and arching up off he bed as he continues to fuck into her.
He’s following behind just a second later, spilling into her as he collapses back down, releasing his grip on her throat completely and settling on her chest.
They both take a moment. Melting into one another, steading out their breathing.
It’s Y/N who breaks the silence, “So you’ve always had a thing for my tits then?”
He cranes his neck up to look at her, “Shut up” he breathes, laying his head back down on her chest. She cards her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back down.
“Now you know how to make me.”
Masterlist
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#criminal minds smut#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#Matthew Gray Gubler#matthew gray gubler smut#matthew gray gubler x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x y/n#dr spencer reid#dr spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid imagine#dr spencer reid angst#criminal minds imagine#mgg#mgg imagine#mgg smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#dr reid#fem reader#fem!reader
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A Sheep in your Palm
Pairing: Marius von Hagen (Lu Jinghe) x Reader
Genre: SOULMATE AU TIME!!! fluff-angst-fluff sandwich.
Word Count: 6.342
Warnings: When Marius and Reader find out they're soulmates, Marius is 18, Reader is 21. They're 21 and 24 respectively when they meet. Please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable. - Reader swears a lot, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual themes, a moment in which Reader uses their palm connection to leave crescent marks
A/N: SOULMATE AU SOULMATE AU SOULMATE AU. Honestly I've wanted to write one for Marius for a while. I also wanted to write a Reader character that is a little more bratty/swear-y than my other Readers, because I think Marius could take it. Regarding their ages - I've started this with a different Reader character in mind, one that could also be read as Rosa if you wanted to, but the Reader had their own mind. I've kept the ages as I originally wrote them.
The whole “once you and your soulmate turn 18, you can write messages to each other on your palm!” thing sounded incredibly cute in theory. You’ve seen your friends share sweet doodles with their soulmates, or share romantic song lyrics. Some even bought a special pen that could be erased so that they could have entire WhatsApp-like conversations on their palms. You’ve anticipated your 18th birthday for so long. Once the clock strikes midnight, you start writing little notes, simple things like “Hello! I’m excited to meet you.”
When there’s no reply, you don’t dwell on it too much. Maybe your soulmate has already gone to bed. Your 18th birthday just had to fall on a weekday, after all. Maybe they have to get up early tomorrow, or just enjoy sleep. No problem at all.
The next morning, you write, “Good morning!” and draw a little sun next to it. Again, there is no reply. Either your soulmate lives in a different time zone (which would suck) or they are one of those people who think soulmates are stupid (which would suck even more).
After days without contact, you try one last time. “Hey, just let me know if you’re there, okay? I’ll stop pestering you.”
No reply. Apparently, you are doomed to remain on mute with your fucking soulmate.
--- 3 years later ---
It’s one of the hottest days of the year, which you and your friends have decided to spend at a small lake close to the city. They’ve brought the drinks, you’ve brought the music (as much as you love them, they can’t be trusted with playlist-powers), and you are having a blast when suddenly, one of your friends asks, “Yo, where’d that come from? Did you just hit your hand or something?”
You furrow your brows in confusion and look down at your hand. Huh. Weird. That dark-blue splotch hadn’t been there before. “I dunno. I didn’t feel anything at least.” Vera grins. “Not like that’s anything new.”
You’re about to protest her comment when another colour appears on your hand, red this time. “Okay, I definitely didn’t do anything. What the fuck is this?”
Harry’s eyes grow larger for a moment, then he starts to chuckle. “What? What’s so funny?” you shoot at him. Harry grins. “Seems like someone’s soulmate is a few years younger than them.”
Your mouth forms a perfect “o” as you stare at your hand again. It all starts to make sense now. Your soulmate isn’t an asshole who refuses to talk. Apparently, he was simply born on the afternoon of June 21st… and is roughly three years younger than you.
Vera starts rummaging through her bag and, with a triumphant “haha!”, fishes out a pen. “Quick, write back! This is so exciting!” You absent-mindedly grab the pen with your other hand, still staring at the colourful display on your palm. “What the fuck are they doing though?”
Harry and Vera both study your hand intently, and eventually, Harry speaks up. “Maybe they’re a painter? A messy one?” Vera nods in silent support of this theory. You answer, “I know just what to write then.” Your tongue peaks out of your mouth as you concentrate on writing with your non-dominant hand—of course your “communicative palm” would be the one you need for writing. Hi, can you maybe not colour my palm in a rainbow, thanks! You look at your handiwork and are satisfied with the result.
“Don’t you want your first words to your soulmate be… I don’t know, a little nicer?” Vera asks. “Nah, this is fine,” you reply matter-of-factly. “Honestly, I’ve grown so used to the thought of my soulmate being an asshole. I’m not sure I still want one.”
“What if they turn out to be cool, though? I mean, a painter. That’s so special,” Harry swoons, envy obvious in his face. Harry’s soulmate had turned out to be the school bully, and he’s given him a wide berth ever since his 18thbirthday. Even the idea of a redemption ark with happy ending hasn’t made him warm up to his soulmate.
You just shrug your shoulders. “I mean, right now, what it means is that they’re making a right mess of my palm. Imagine if this happened during a job interview or something.” Just as you utter those words, you feel a light tingle on your palm, and a line of neat writing appears above all the colour splotches. Sorry about that! Wasn’t aware the colour would show too! I’ll be more careful! A few moments later, both the writing and the colour disappear from your palm, leaving only the message you wrote on it.
“Hey, at least the kid seems nice,” Vera says.
“Do not call my soulmate ‘the kid’, I dare you.”
“Or what?”
“We are close to a lake, and I can carry and throw you.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t dare! And your soulmate is a kid.”
All thoughts of your new-found soulmate are momentarily forgotten as you chase your friend around the lake. You have a point to make that is more important than communicating with a complete stranger.
---
Marius sighs heavily as he stares at his palm. “This is not how I expected my first soulmate meeting to go,” he mumbles to himself. Honestly? Of course he’d known the paint would show. He’d seen it with plenty of his course mates. He’d simply speculated that his soulmate would be impressed when they found out he’s a painter. At least a little.
He tries to ignore the sting in his heart when he remembers how dismissive the first message he ever received from his soulmate sounded. With his station as a von Hagen, he knows he has little chance of meeting someone who isn’t just interested in the money, the business, the connections, or the fame. Even though it’s only his 18thbirthday today, he’s experienced enough hurt and betrayal to last him a lifetime. It’s one of the reasons why he’s wanted to go abroad for his studies, to a country where he could just be Marius. He’s had a couple of flings in his short time here, and has tried to enjoy student life as much as he could, but he knows he has to return to Stellis and face the reality soon enough. He has placed a lot of hope—maybe all of his hope—into this soulmate-thing.
He sighs again and spends some time pitying himself before picking up the paint brush once more. “Sorry soulmate, but I have an assignment to finish,” he says to no-one in particular, “and I can’t ruin my painting by focusing on keeping my hands clean.”
The longer he paints, the more his thoughts ruminate and the more spiteful he grows. Eventually, he coats his palm in neon-pink paint just because he can. And maybe because he wants attention, but mostly because he wants to annoy his so-called soulmate. “That’s for being mean.”
It doesn’t take long until Marius is rewarded with a tingling in his palm and the appearance of squiggly, almost unreadable lines. You okay? Did something just explode?
He grins and the message. Is that worry for him? A von Hagen always gets what he wants, after all. He picks up a pen and replies, Just wanted to make sure you’re still there.
Oh great you’re a brat
And you’re rude. I guess that makes us even.
Marius stares at his palm for a while, but no new messages appear, and he’s afraid he has scared you off again. (It’s definitely attention he wants, but no one has to know that, and he’d never acknowledge it, even to himself.) He’s about to turn back to his painting assignment when a name appears on his palm. I figured I should introduce myself
He says your name out loud a couple of times, feels the way it rolls of his tongue. He tries saying it as if he’s in love, you being his soulmate and all, but then his ears turn bright red and his face is on fire and he promises himself never to do that again.
I’m Marius. Nice to meet you properly.
A slightly distorted smiley face appears on his palm, followed by a Shit sorry hard to draw with this hand. Marius laughs and takes a picture with his phone. The angle is weird since he has to hold out the canvas-palm, but he thinks the messages and drawing on neon-pink background might make for a nice memory someday. He then picks up his pen again and adds to the smiley face, trying to fix it and make it look slightly more… respectable. There you go. We make a good team.
When the reply appears on his hand, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through his belly and leaves him slightly light-headed. I guess we do. I have to go to bed now (btw where u at), talk to you later
I’m an art student in Florence atm. Sleep well.
Ha caught you speaking non-formally for a sec!!! also Florence as in Italy? Guess it will be some time before we can mee
Marius waits for the t to appear, but instead, the last e trails off until it reaches his wrist, where the message cuts off. His soulmate must have fallen asleep in the middle of the sentence. He places his wrist on his chest, not caring about the splatter of neon-pink paint that ruins his white shirt. (He would, one day, learn not to paint in a white shirt. Maybe.) He wonders if he can will the warmth of his body to reach your hand if he focuses hard enough. He wonders what you look like, where you live, what your hobbies are, what your favourite food is. There’s so much he wants to ask, and he doesn’t know how he could ever fit all of that onto his palm.
Instead of asking all those questions that are lingering on his mind right now, he draws a small, sleeping sheep on his palm, and because he’s feeling brave, the tiniest of hearts next to it. When Marius looks at the picture, he panics for a moment—is that too much? That is definitely too much. Should I erase the heart? No, I want them to know I enjoyed our conversation.
Suddenly, Marius remembers a conversation he’s had with his father about soulmates. “But dad, I want them to like me for myself, not just because I’m a von Hagen,” tiny Marius (okay, 15-years-old Marius) had said earnestly. His father had smiled then, with the warmth that was reserved for the private moments between them, away from the prying eyes of Marius’s stepmother. “Marius, you’re a wonderful human being. You’re intelligent, and kind, and talented. Whoever your soulmate is, they will be lucky to have you in their life.”
Marius decides to keep the heart on his palm, after all.
--- 3 years later ---
Vera bursts into your room without knocking, a crumpled magazine held high in her right hand. “You will not believe this.”
“I do indeed not believe you just barged into my room like that! I could’ve been naked,” you complain, pretending to cover your (very much clothed) body with your blanket.
“Oh shut up, I know you’re re-watching your idol anime again.” Vera rolls your eyes at you and plops down on your bed next to you. You grin at her and sit up straight. “You got me. What’s up?”
She opens the magazine at a dog-eared page and practically shoves it into your face. “Look at that.” You do as you’re told, but all you see is another spread of Pax’s young CEO, Marius von Hagen, posing like the part of the 1% that he is.
Vera and you had joked about this before – what if the Marius von Hagen is your soulmate? His birthday is June 21st, he’s three years younger than you, his name is Marius… and he is easily wealthy enough to afford education in fucking Italy. You had almost convinced yourself that this weird idea of yours must be true, and had quickly convo-palmed (as you took to calling it) “your” Marius about it.
Dude you’re crazy. Do you really think I wouldn’t have told you by now??? was the reply you got. It was rare to see “your” Marius use three question marks in a row. After a long analysis session with Vera (and a couple of bottles of red wine which definitely hadn’t clouded your judgement), you came to the conclusion that Marius von Hagen would have bragged about… well, being Marius von Hagen. The playboy-extraordinaire-most-wanted-Bachelor-slash-crazy-rich-person would definitely have told you of his status, that much became apparent when you devoured all the interviews you could find online. It was an unlikely coincidence, but not an impossible one. With billions of people on the planet, more than one Marius could be born on June 21st.
Which is precisely why you don’t understand how another magazine spread of him could warrant the introduction ‘You will not believe this.’ You take another look at the magazine in front of you, silently noting that you certainly wouldn’t mind “your” Marius looking something like this, before you turn to Vera. “We’ve been over this.”
Vera points to a particular line in the interview which she has underlined in thick, black marker. “I know, but look at this.” You sigh, wondering what your best friend is up to now, and read the line. “Marius von Hagen graduated with a cum laude, or First Honour’s degree, in Art History from the University of Florence… What the fuck am I reading here?” For some reason, your heart begins pumping at an incredible speed. This is new information, as far as you can tell. You’re certain you would have found this particular piece of information in your research before. “Vera, you didn’t fake this, did you?”
Vera shakes her head, sending her long hair flying everywhere. “I didn’t! I’d never do that to you! But honestly, if this is true… and why wouldn’t it be! Surely, Marius von Hagen didn’t research ‘random person’s soulmate I could impersonate in interviews’?” You blink, once, twice, and you can feel your soul leaving your body as you reply, “Yeah, that doesn’t seem plausible. Fuck. I think…”
You look at your palm. Earlier that day, Marius had asked you for a good luck charm because he had an important meeting coming up, and you have drawn a small, sleeping sheep with a tiny heart next to it. The sheep has become somewhat of a mascot in your relationship, and with tedious practice, you have managed to make it look cute even with your non-dominant hand.
“You have to ask him again,” Vera insists, and you nod your head. Your best friend gives you an encouraging hug and turns to leave the room. Before she closes the door behind her, she speaks up one more time. “…if it does turn out Marius von Hagen is your fucking soulmate, I want a villa for enduring your messiness and cleaning up after your baking sessions for all these years.”
Her laughter rings in the apartment even as a pillow comes flying after her.
---
Marius groans as he reads the interview. He throws the magazine onto his desk and leans back in his chair, covering his head with both of his arms. “I’m sorry, Sir,” Vincent quietly says, as if this whole debacle is somehow his fault.
“No need. I don’t really know how I managed to keep it up for so long, anyway.”
Marius has tried hard to keep his full identity from you. He’s always been honest… except when it came to this particular topic. Your relationship has been so easy-going and wonderful, and he has allowed himself to cling to the illusion that once Giann was back, and he could finally lay down his duties as Pax’s CEO, he could marry his soulmate and the von Hagen name wouldn’t make a difference. Which is a stupid fantasy, he knows, but it’s what has given him strength through all the trouble he’s faced since coming home.
He waits for his hand to tingle and the accusations to start flooding in. Liar. You deceived me. He feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he can’t let himself cry now. Not here, not in front of Vincent. “Could you leave me for a moment? I need to… collect my thoughts.”
Vincent, ever the faithful assistant and friend, bows and says, “Of course, Sir.” Marius wants nothing more than to switch positions with him right now.
Somehow, you had agreed to his request of keeping the relationship strictly text-conversational. You’ve exchanged phone numbers because the canvas-palm space got a little tight, but you have never called each other, never sent pictures or exchanged addresses. He had made up a story about the sentimental value of texting and canvas-palm-conversations, all the while thinking, “I don’t know how you’ll react to finding out who I am and I’m scared.” He’s built this entire public persona as a playboy who loves flaunting his wealth, hoping that even if you connected the dots—things like his age, his birthday—you’d think that Marius von Hagen would’ve told you of his status right away.
His plan had worked, for the most part. Until the editor of Stellis Finance somehow found out about his studies in Florence and built that information into an interview with Marius.
Marius feels his hand tingle, the tell-tale sign of a message coming in, and he wonders if he can just… never look at his hand again and pretend none of this happened. He sighs—he knows he won’t be able to leave his soulmate “on read”. Or go a single day without talking to you. He opens his palm and looks at your message. The lines are all squiggly again, similar to the first messages you’ve sent him. He knows how much better you’ve gotten at writing with your non-dominant hand, knows this is a sign of how upset you are.
We need to talk. On the phone. I want to hear your voice.
Proper grammar and punctuation marks. He’s really in for it now. He chokes out a laugh, and now the tears do stream from his eyes. All he wanted, wants, is a relationship that isn’t influenced by his last name, and now he’s gone and messed that up.
He wipes his tears with his suit sleeve even though the rough material irritates his skin. Marius takes a deep breath and picks up his phone. Whatever comes next, he owes it to you to be honest this time.
---
It’s a little embarrassing how quickly you pick up the phone when you see Marius’s contact information on the screen, but there’s no way you can wait even a second longer to hear his voice. “Hey,” you breathe into the speaker, and the anticipation makes you fidget and change the way you sit on your bed at least three times in the span of five seconds.
“Hey,” comes the reply, and even that single word is enough. You immediately recognise the youthful voice from the countless videos you’ve watched online in your “research sessions” with Vera.
“…do you have time to talk right now?” you ask, unsure of how to start this conversation. Marius chuckles and says, “Sure. I’ve relayed my phone to my assistant.”
“…It must be nice to be your own boss, huh?” Your voice is laced with more bitterness than you intended to, and you wish you could take back what you just said. You hear a long exhale on the other end of the call. “…it is, sometimes. Most of the time, it creates… expectations.”
“What kind of expectations are we talking about here? I mean, I wouldn’t have said ‘go buy me a mansion and a crown’ or whatever.”
Marius laughs, but there’s no happiness in the sound. If anything, it’s almost void of emotion, and it scares you. This is not the Marius you’ve come to know during the past three years. “I’m sorry, but I’ve heard that before.”
“From whom, all the conquests you’ve had over the years we’ve been talking? And here I thought you were just shy.” You press your fingertips into your palm and hope the pain reaches him. A sharp hiss on the other end of the line confirms your line of thought. “Huh, I didn’t think that would work, to be honest.”
“It does, and it hurts like a bitch,” Marius says through what you imagine are gritted teeth. “Stop that.”
You press a little harder, just because you can.
“Oww—fuck—okay, okay, I get it! You’re angry I lied, and I’m sorry, okay?”
“So you think you apologise and we go back to drawing snoozing sheep? Honestly, the hiding your identity I can somehow understand. The sleeping around? Definitely not. I’ve been waiting to meet you all this time, Marius. I thought… I thought you felt the same.”
---
A sob escapes his throat before he can stop it. This is too much. This is all too much. I’ve been waiting to meet you all this time, Marius. The sentence echoes in his head, amplifies with each second, until his ears ring and he wishes he could just make it all stop for a second.
“I never slept with anyone. Not after… not after we started talking.” Even he can tell how weak this sounds, how unbelievable, after he’s spent so much time and money on fabricating rumours. He never really thought this far ahead. In his fantasies, you’d just… believed him when he told you none of the things the papers wrote are true.
“There were pictures, Marius. A lot of pictures.”
“Never of anything more than a hug or a lingering hand though, I made sure… I told them to make it look real enough…” He trails off and pays closer attention to the half-moon-like red marks on his palm. ‘Whoever your soulmate is, they will be lucky to have you in their life.’ Huh. Look at the mess I’ve made of this, Dad.
“What do you mean, ‘you told them’?” Your voice is calmer now, and Marius can’t tell if you’re opening up to his side of the story—or if you are simply done with him. He chooses to believe it’s the former.
“I paid actors and actresses to pretend to be my date because… I wanted to make sure you’d never believe Marius von Hagen and your Marius could be the same person,” he whispers into the phone, and suddenly, when he says it out loud, he feels very, very young and very, very stupid. He hears you sigh on the other end of the phone, and the sound of you shuffling around in your seat. “Marius, I kinda feel like we should be having this talk in person. I know creative people have weird minds and all, but this is a little too van Gogh for me.”
For the first time since you’ve started talking, Marius relaxes a little. He recognises this way of speaking and your weird humour, and he lets himself hope that he might not have lost you just yet. “I have some business proposals to go over, but would you be willing to meet up for dinner tonight? My treat. I know a place that would guarantee our privacy…”
--- 3 hours later ---
The little café isn’t exactly what you’ve expected Marius – von Hagen, you remind yourself for the nth time today – to choose. It’s cosy, with chairs and tables made out of old wood, pastel-coloured table runners and white porcelain cups. An old lady greets you and asks for your name, and upon hearing your reply, her face immediately lights up in recognition. “Ah. Follow me, please.”
She leads you up a narrow, winding staircase, and you’re surprised to find yourself in a small room with only a single table in it, lit by dimmed lanterns on the wall. “This room is reserved for our more… prominent guests,” she answers your unspoken question. You sit down on the offered chair and stroke the table cloth. It’s not as soft as it looks. “Does Mar—Mr. von Hagen come here often?” The lady chuckles and shakes her head, her features graced by a fond smile. “Every once in a while. He sometimes brings a group of friends here. I like the silver-haired one. He knows his teas.”
You’re about to reply that you don’t actually know any of his friends when a voice speaks up downstairs. “Grandma?” The lady smiles at you again and says, “Be kind to him. He has a gentler heart than most people suspect.” She shuffles down the stairs and you can hear her talking to Marius – you can’t make out the words, but the fondness in her voice remains. While all of this is very in line with how you’ve come to know your soulmate, it absolutely doesn’t fit with the image you have of Marius von Hagen.
In short, it’s extremely fucking weird.
Footsteps echo up the stairs, and you try your very best to calm down your anxiety. It’s just Marius. The guy I’ve been having palm-convos with for three years. My soulmate who draws weird sheep as a good luck-charm. These thoughts, however, help little when Marius shows up still dressed in parts of his business attire – black slacks and a white dress-shirt. At least he’s dropped the jacket and the tie, and his sleeves are rolled up, his collar a little crumpled. His forearms seem way too toned for someone who sits at a desk all day, and his ear piercings reflect the lantern light when he turns towards you. His posture is straight, confident even, but the look on his face… his eyebrows almost form a double u-shape with how tightly they are drawn together, and when his eyes meet yours, he rubs his neck with one hand. “Hey. We, uh, we finally meet, huh?” he says, and it’s so awkward and adorable and he has a gentler heart than most people suspect and your palm is tingling and suddenly you know, deep in your heart, that this is your Marius, after all. Titles and money and public persona be damned.
“All this time, I thought you were maybe conscious about your looks or something. But look at you. You’re radiant, and my shirt is three years old.”
Marius’s mouth opens slightly, and somehow, he goes from super attractive to super adorkable in milliseconds. You try to hide your smile behind your hand – you don’t want to make him even more nervous. But you also really want to laugh at his expression. It’s a tough battle of wants.
“I mean. It doesn’t look three years old,” Marius says, and with that, the weird tension between you two seems to resolve. You look down at your shirt and back up at him, sticking your tongue out before saying, “It does, though.”
There’s a beat of silence – and then Marius starts to laugh and pulls the other chair back. “Yeah, it does, but I didn’t want to offend you.” You hold up a hand, and Marius stops in his movement. “Wait. Before you sit down. Can I hug you?” His grin grows even wider, and that mischievous look reminds you so much of neon-pink paint and late-night debates over your favourite Ninja Turtles that your heart dances in your chest. Marius holds out his arms and says, “I insist on it.”
You jump up, almost toppling over your chair in the process, and leap into his embrace. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as his arms wrap around you. “I thought you’d hate me,” he mumbles against your hair, and you pull back to look at him with a light frown. “Convo-palm out!”, you command, and he does as you ask, breathing out a quiet but insistent “Canvas-palm.” You hold your convo-palm to his, feeling a tingle that is much stronger than when you received a message (or paint splotches).
You’ve watched movies about soulmates meeting, but for some reason, not a single one of them has managed to capture this… warmth that is spreading out from your touching palms. It’s as if you’re holding a tiny sun between your hands. Or maybe a mug of hot cocoa, something warm and pleasant that wouldn’t actually burn your skin off. You marvel at the sensation and look from your palms to Marius’s face, and the softness in his eyes tells you he feels it, too. “Dummy. I’m your soulmate. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Marius curls his fingers into yours, and for a long moment, the both of you just stand there in silence. “Why have we waited three years to do this?” he eventually asks. You poke his chest with the index finger of your other hand. “That is a very good question, Mr. von Hagen. One I would like to pass on to you. What’s with the whole identity-hiding-thing?”
You almost regret asking because Marius’s eyebrows drop again. He’s still holding on to your convo-palm, actively preventing you from smoothing the offending lines of hair into their normal shape. Marius looks down at the ground, then sighs and nods his head towards the table. “Let’s sit down and order before I start to explain.”
---
Marius thinks he could fill an entire sketchbook with the expressions you’re making as you listen to his explanation. He talks about his childhood, from climbing trees and being smothered by both attention and worry to finding out his ‘friends’ only visited him for the rare toys he owned. He talks about the strained relationship with his step-mother and the years of trying to please a woman who had given up on her own soulmate to marry into the von Hagen family, never quite managing to fill the void left behind by the passing of his mother. He talks about his passion for art and travelling as far away as Florence to pursue it – only to have a course mate find out he comes from money and all of his passion and talent suddenly being weighed against his family name.
“Being a von Hagen,” he closes his monologue, “has been a gift – but in relationships? It’s nothing but a burden. It’s as if I’m von Hagen first, Marius second. I just… wanted my soulmate to see the real me. But then I got so carried away with my scheming that I couldn’t find a way to tell you the truth anymore.”
You look up at the ceiling and click the teaspoon against your top lip, and Marius desperately wants to know what you’re thinking, but he also knows that he just unloaded a lot of information. He feels as if the weight of two cars has been lifted of his shoulders; he hopes you’re not the one carrying it now.
You finally look into his eyes again, and there’s a glint of something he can’t quite place. Without saying a word, you start rummaging around your bag and pull out a pen. You make a show of holding out your canvas-palm in front of your face so that he can’t see what you’re writing, but he recognises the shape by the tingle alone. He looks down at his own palm, and sure enough, there’s a sheep staring up at him. Instead of a tiny heart, however, you’ve drawn a big heart around it this time, and the grin spreading on his face is so wide he thinks his cheek muscles might be sore tomorrow.
He holds out his hand, and you’re the one intertwining your fingers this time. Again, the warmth spreads through his entire body. I could get used to this feeling, he thinks. He wonders if the two of you could light a sparkler with only your palms. He’d certainly like to try that, some day.
“I’m not going to say ‘I get it’, because I don’t think I really do,” you say, and his happiness almost falters. “I mean. The first thing someone like me sees is that a rich person can afford anything they want. It seems like the dream.” You draw tiny circles into his palm with your thumb, and he wonders if there’s a sort of feedback on your own palm. He wonders if, no, hopes that you can feel how serious he is about this, about you. “But the things you said… Not being seen for who you really are would make anyone sad, money or not. I get why you wanted to be cautious, at least.”
“However,” you continue, raising one finger in the air, and he is suddenly reminded of the one time Luke tried to imitate Vyn and almost starts to laugh. He presses his lips together, and you raise one eyebrow at him and say, “Focus, Mr. von Hagen, I’m being serious here!”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m focusing. Wait.” He tries to think of his first bungee jump and how nerve-wrecking that was and manages to control his features. “Okay, continue.”
“However,” you start once more, raising your finger again, and it almost breaks his façade but he somehow prevails. “If you want us to have a chance, soulmates or not, you have to be honest with me from now on, okay? You have to give me the chance to actually understand and see you. Not just the happy Marius, but the sad and scared and nervous Marius, too.”
He makes a grimace and shakes his head. “But I don’t like that Marius. He makes stupid decisions.” You squeeze his hand in response. “Dude, that’s okay. Everyone makes stupid decisions sometimes. I make stupid decisions all the time, like eating fish for dinner and not doing the dishes immediately afterwards.”
Marius snorts and immediately freezes. That was such an undignified sound, and he’s trying very hard to impress you right now because he has a lot to make up for. There’s a devilish grin on your face as you say, “See? That’s the real Marius I want to see, too. Give me a warning next time though, because that would have made for great blackmail material.”
He kicks you under the table and tries to pull his canvas-palm away from you, but you’re stronger than he expected (and to be completely honest, he’s not really trying hard at all). “I’m warning you. I will draw dicks on your hand when you’re in the middle of an important interview.”
“You say that as if you haven’t done that before.”
Marius stops his pretend-struggle and studies your face – and is horrified to find you completely honest. “Wait, what? I did? You never told me—”
“It’s fine,” you interrupt him, “I knew you’d get all flustered but try to cover it up and become super clingy and attention-seeking instead and I didn’t want the job anyway.”
Marius pouts and does his best impression of a golden retriever puppy. “I am not clingy and attention-seeking.” For some reason, the magic of his puppy eyes doesn’t seem to work on you. He’ll have to find out your favourite dog breed and take some pointers. He files that particular “to do” away in his mind for another day. You laugh at him, and he has the urge to tickle you until you can’t breathe, but you’re still in public and even though it doesn’t feel like it, this is your first meeting and he doesn’t want to make it weird but he really wants to be close to you and—
“Oh God. I totally am, aren’t I?”
You start laughing even harder. He notices that your canvas-palms are still intertwined, and he can’t help but join in your laughter, even if it is at his expense. He’s so used to having to pretend to be perfect that letting down his barriers feels wrong, but he knows it’s necessary. After all, how can he ever hope to truly connect with you with all of his masks still up?
Once your laughter subsides, a content silence settles over the two of you. Marius is happy enough with just studying your face and taking in your features… for a while. He can’t help but tease you back, though – truly, he’s earned it, he thinks. “How do you feel about bungee jumping?”
All the colour leaves your face for a second as you stop all motion, your cup of tea raised to your mouth. “You mean like… VR bungee jumping, right?”
He grins. “Nope.”
“So what you’re saying is, the ‘Marius von Hagen likes extreme sports’ bit is not made up?”
He grins even wider. “Yupp.”
“And your idea of an ideal date is… bungee jumping?”
He cups his face with two of his fingers, grin still in place – though he realises this pose probably doesn’t look as cool with his other hand still firmly in your grasp. “You know, clinging to your partner in terror during your first jump is something that can actually be so romantic—”
You groan, and in a blur of limbs somehow manage to drop your tea cup, flail about trying to save what you can, and almost fall of your chair. Marius looks at the mess – at the large stain in the pastel-coloured table runner, and the tea spots on his dress shirt, and your disgruntled look, and in that moment, he’s so proud of himself he can barely contain it. “Marius von Hagen,” you say, (and the sensation in his groin at hearing you say his full name in that tone is something else he files away for another day,) “I cannot believe this.”
He winks at you and delights at the way you bury your head in your hands either in embarrassment or infatuation or, if he’s lucky, a bit of both.
“Personally, I believe this is the perfect start to a brilliant soulmate-ship.”
#tears of themis#tears of themis fanfiction#tears of themis imagine#marius von hagen#marius von hagen x reader#lu jinghe x reader#my writing
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Drunk Dials
Summary: Y/N and Penelope are having a fun night off drinking until Penelope has the idea to drunk text the entire team some promiscuous messages and one of them takes up the offer.
(A/N: inspired by this post, written with permission)
Type: lead up to smut (if you guys enjoy this, I might write a smutty part two)
Warnings: alcohol consumption
Word Count: 1.5K
I quickly sprayed on a little perfume and hurried to the door when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door to find Penelope with her typical bright colours, tonight’s were a bright green and purple.
“Hii,” I giggled while hugging her and let her inside, “I see you’ve come prepared.”
And indeed she had: under her arms were two bottles of red wine and her bag made clinking noises from glass as she set it down on my kitchen counter to reveal two more bottles.
“Who else did you invite? We can’t drink all that by ourselves,” I grinned at her. While we did the occasional drinking with the team, my tolerance was in no way capable of the amount of alcohol she had brought.
“Well, the night is young. Watch and learn, my little butterfly,” she responded and carried the first bottle over to the couch. I followed after her, two glasses in my hands and the wine opener tucked under my arm.
And so the night ensued with a lot of laughter and drinks, some dancing and so much gossiping. Halfway into the second bottle I was navigating the fine line between tipsy and drunk while Penelope appeared to be slightly tipsy. How could her tiny body carry so much alcohol?
“Let’s play truth or dare!” she exclaimed, “but if you don’t want to do it, you drink.”
“Oh god, my body will hate me tomorrow,” I complained, but added, “but right now it seems like a great idea.”
“Your body will forgive you because of the fun we’re having tonight. I’ll start. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” I responded, pouring more wine into our glasses.
“Who was the last person you slept with?” she grinned and clinked her glass to mine before taking a sip.
“Starting off strong,” I chuckled and then thought about my answer for a moment, “I think it was that police officer a couple of months ago from that case in Denver. I haven’t had sex in way too long.”
“A couple of months is a pretty long time. Was it that one with the cute little butt? He was the embodiment of ‘sweet cheeks’,” she swooned a little.
“Yes, exactly him. It wasn’t that satisfying though. Although he was good-looking, he was pretty egocentric in bed,” I commented and took another drink from my glass.
“Well, it’s time for your luck to change. You are lucky to have me, your personal oracle and booty call finder. We will find you someone to give you as many orgasms as your little heart desires – or can handle if you’re into that,” Penelope says and raises her glass dramatically.
A couple of truths, dares and a lot of drinks later, we were both shit-faced drunk and laughing on my couch. In front of us was the third bottle, which was now almost empty as we tried to catch our breath.
“Alright, your turn again, darling dearest. Truth or dare, choose wisely,” Penelope says still chuckling and readjusting her seating position.
“Dare. Bring it on,” I said, my words slightly slurred already. Leave it to Penelope to get me as drunk as I last was on my 21st birthday.
“I’ve got a good one, get your phone, baby,” she said setting down her glass. When she saw my quizzical look she continued, “you are going to text everyone on the team-“
Before she could continue I interrupted, “no no no, that sounds like a horrible idea. I am in no position to make any choices right now,” I laughed and swayed slightly.
“I am making the choice for you. You are going to get some action in the sheets and I am going to bring it to you. Your phone will be the arrow that my cupid’s bow will use to shoot you into your next naked bliss.”
“Oh my god, what is your plan?” I fake-groaned, actually being completely entertained by the idea.
“You my dear, are going to text everyone from our team, the simple words, ‘hey you wanna fuck?’ and we’ll see who responds,” she said excitedly.
“Even Rossi and Hotch?”
“Even them. Everyone.”
“Alright, just because it’s you, Pen,” I said and grabbed my phone.
She leaned over my shoulder and watched me as I began texting. I copy-pasted the message to Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi and Hotch. I could hear Penelope giggling the entire time. When I was done, I remembered I could’ve just taken a drink to get out of the dare, but it was too late now.
After a couple of minutes I was still dying of embarrassment of what I had just done, but still laughing with Penelope as my phone lit up for the first time.
We both instantly looked over and I grabbed my phone. My heart was racing. I had never done anything like this before.
JJ: I’m married???
When we read the message we both burst out in laughter. JJ knew that Penelope and I were hanging out today and obviously caught on to what we were doing.
“Let me respond!” she said and I handed my phone to her.
Me: Will doesn’t have to know ;)
“Penelope!” I exclaimed in between laughter.
A while later almost everyone else on the team had responded:
Rossi: Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but you’re not in my age range for wife number four. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to complete the job.
Derek: I thought you’d never ask.
Emily: I’m down anytime.
Hotch: I’m sure this was meant for someone else. If not: I’m your boss??
Penelope and I continued the night with laughter over the texts and other stupid drunk dares until it was about 4am. Spencer still hadn’t responded. I was slightly disappointed as I had taken a liking towards the doctor since my time at the BAU.
“I can’t believe Spencer didn’t respond. I thought for sure that he’s got a crush on you,” Penelope said while trying to put on her heels at the door.
“I don’t know about that, but drunk me wants him to respond to my booty call.”
“Honey, I’m sure that’s not just drunk you,” she said with a grin.
We hugged each other goodbye and she began swaying down the hallway to her cab waiting outside.
I got ready for bed and drank a glass of water. All the while still no response. Assuming that he’d read the message but just ignored it and went to bed, I did the same. From the beginning of my time at the BAU I had that crush on Spencer, but I guess it wasn’t mutual.
The next morning I woke up with a huge headache as expected. I sighed and checked my phone. Still no response. I made myself a coffee and got dressed to go into work as slowly as possible. After those drunk texts I did not want to see anyone today.
I was the last to arrive at the bullpen that day. My headache had lifted and I was fit enough to survive a typical paperwork day. But the embarrassment had stayed. What was I thinking, texting everyone to hook up with me? I wasn’t thinking, that’s it.
To my surprise, no one commented on it. They probably all understood that it was just a drunken game because Penelope and I had been talking about our meet up yesterday. To say I was relieved was an understatement. But Spencer was different from his usual behaviour around me. His head was stuck in a book the entire day – he didn’t look at me once.
That changed however, when I was making myself a coffee at lunch. Pouring some into a cup I almost jumped at the sound of Spencer’s voice.
“Hey, Y/N,” he said casually and walked up to me, mug in hand.
“Hi, Spence,” I responded quietly and added some milk. I looked up at him briefly to find his eyes focused intently on pouring the liquid.
Just as I was about to leave for my desk, he spoke up again.
“About your text from last night,” he began to say. I felt my cheeks heat up and turned back around to him.
“Yes?” I forced myself to look at him, just to see him even more blushed than I was.
“Was that for me? I mean, I would very well understand if it was an accident and it was meant for someone else. It surprised me to say the least.”
Deciding to take my chance, I said, “no, it was meant for you.”
“And are you serious about it?” he looked back down at his mug.
I took a step closer to him, “am I serious about fucking you?”
Upon hearing those words, his eyes shot up towards mine and he gulped. He looked almost as though he feared my response as he nodded.
“Yes.”
I saw his mouth open and close, obviously trying to formulate a response but not finding one.
“Um, I don’t really know how to say this, but um- I’d like that.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds oneshot#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid reader insert#dr spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#mgg#matthew gray gubler#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid request#mgg smut#criminal minds fanfiction
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Part 2 of that short WinterSpider fic I wrote at like 10 pm - there will be a 3rd part ofc
Peter had the jitters all day, he itched to call the man or at least send him a message but he tried to not lose himself in his reveries to make the most of his time with his friends enjoyable.
That night, when Peter was in his bed, unable to sleep as usually at this time he was making his patrol around the Queens. Peter took out the paper he had put on his nightstand and decided it would be a good time to send a message to James.
"Hey!"
"It's Peter :) "
"The guy who knocked into you at the market today."
"I mean- I'm the guy who knocked into you today. Peter's just my name!"
In his panic or excitement, Peter had sent 4 messages and as he read them again, felt ashamed. He wanted to sent another message telling the man to ignore all of his previous messages and Peter was turning into am anxious mess until
"Aah the pretty boy ;)"
"I was wondering when you'd send me a message~"
Upon reading this Peter could feel his face burning and he was quite sure he had turned a bright shade of red. Peter quickly wrote back, not wanting to pass on the occasion.
"Sorry i was occupied visiting the town with my friends."
"How do you like it so far?"
"I really like it, it's different from New York and the old buildings are really cool to watch! Though i have yet to visit some museums."
"Glad you like it. If you want I can show you some places I really like. What do you say?"
That made Peter's brain stutter. Was he proposing him to go on a kind of date? He read the text again and again, not knowing whether or not it was an actual date or if he'd just received some addresses to visit. He hesitated for a few seconds more before shooting back a text that clearly wasn't one he'd usually sent to someone he's interested in.
"Is that a date? ;) "
"Yes."
"I have to admit you surprised me there. Didn't thought you'd have it in you to be daring haha."
Peter grinned, and he could feel his cheek hurts from how wide the smile etched on his face and he quickly texted back.
"I have my moments haha :3 When would you like to meet up?"
"Idk do you have a time limit you have to be back with you pals?"
"Erm... I'd say 6pm."
"Well that leaves us quite the time. What do you say about meeting up at 2pm at the market entrance? I think 4 hours is plenty to visit some places.", Peter beamed as he read the text. He was going to spend some time with the man. He could almost felt himself shake due to the excitement it was generating in him.
"That works for me. I'm excited to see you tomorrow :)"
"Same doll."
Peter found himself at a loss of words. Should he send him a good night message? He suddenly felt quite tired so maybe he should before he falks asleep on the spot.
"I'm tired. Have a good night! I'll se you tomorrow then! ^^"
"Thanks pretty! Sweet dreams :)"
Peter was close from squealing. James was quite the charmer it seemed and it was nearly a given he'd dream about this tall, dark and handsome man tonight. As he fell asleep he thought he'd had to tell MJ and Ned about his plans for the afternoon to avoid giving them a heart attack.
Peter couldn't help it and his last conscious thought was about James and the hand that was on his lower back going further down south.
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Next part will be quite sinful hehe~
I hope you're all having good holidays and if not you can vent to me whenever you see it fit <3 Take care y'all!
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I Like You - SMAU*
Part 10
CorpseHusband x FemReader - Y/N
warnings: cussing
notes: uhhh,, idk where to take this series, but ima just go w the flow igs 😭 also,, i completely give up on adding the small details like the likes, comments, replies, and the times on tweets so i’m super sorry if it bothers you lmao
it’s also pretty long,, mostly writing rather than the smau, butttt i really like this one 🥺
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“When’s Rae gonna be home?” Corpse asks, playing with his hands.
“She’ll be home tonight, I just don’t know at what time. Why?”
“Uh... I- I just... I don’t know? I’m kind of nervous?”
“Corpse, Rae is your friend. But if you don’t feel comfortable, I can get a hotel room for you not too far away from here?” You suggest, 100% willing to pay for a hotel room for him if he wouldn’t feel comfortable being here with Rae here.
“I wanna stay here- with you... If that’s okay with you, of course.” There’s a slight blush on his face, it makes you smile a bit.
“Yes, I want you to stay here, too. You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” You grab his plate, stacking his on top of yours, taking them to the sink.
“No, no. I can be on the couch tonight, I don’t sleep anyway.”
“Corpse, I’m not gonna have you sleep on that uncomfortable ass couch. Come on, we’ll figure something out. Wanna watch a movie?” He nods his head. You grab his hand, or more so his fingers, leading him to your room.
You turn the lights off, turning your fairy lights on instead. You tell Corpse to get comfortable, fluffing pillows for him, letting him lay back.
You know Corpse would be a bit anxious and nervous, not something you’d ever blame him for. You’re surprised you’re not being awkward or nervous. You’ve been trying your best to keep Corpse comfortable here, making sure he isn’t getting too nervous.
“Can we watch High School Musical? I have the stupid ass songs stuck in my head, childish me is coming...” You ask, not wanting to torture him with such a movie. Well, it’s not a bad movie, but you’d understand if anyone’d want to shoot themselves in the head while watching.
“Of course, baby.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach from the nickname. You sit closer to the TV, wanting Corpse to be comfortable rather than you.
Suddenly, you feel a hand around your waist. Corpse pulls you to him, letting you lay next to him. He looks at you, smiling. You smile back.
“Corpse, can I ask you a question?” He hums, indicating for you to go on. “That one time, you didn’t answer me for two days... You told me it had been because I was too ‘pretty.’ I didn’t believe you, and I still don’t. Why didn’t you answer me, like for real?” You don’t ask this in a bad way either, you’re just genuinely curious.
“I- uh... I’m going to be 100% honest, Y/N, but I don’t wanna scare you away.” He says cautiously, hesitating to go on.
“Corpse, you could never. I’m too attached already.” He chuckles, letting out a sigh.
“I like you. Like, like like you... I liked you before even seeing your face, but after, wow.” Silence. Deafening silence. But honestly, you can hear your fucking smile. You don’t think you’ve ever smiled so hard in your life. “Y/N, baby, say something, please.”
“Corpse,” You look up at him, probably scaring him with your smile. “I like you, too. Like, like like you.” He chuckles, but it’s more of a chuckle of relief. If that’s a thing?
He pulls you close to him, letting your head rest on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, his breathing, trying to match yours with his. You slowly drift off, your eyelids getting too heavy to keep open.
———
You wake up in Corpse’s arms. He’s gently stroking your side, looking down at you with a small smile.
“Good morning,” His voice is raspier and deeper than it already is. You didn’t know that was possible.
“Good morning,” You say, yawning softly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, snuggling closer to him.
“So fucking cute.” He mumbles, softly chuckling.
After a while of just laying there in Corpse’s arms, you decide to check social media and your messages. Already, Twitter is going crazy, assuming quickly that you and Corpse are dating. It’s not anything you didn’t expect, but it’d be nice if people didn’t jump to conclusions.
You decide to tweet a good morning, feeling good about today. And sadly, very unfortunately, you decide to text back the group chat - something you’ve been dreading to do.
Corpse is there, reading the messages, but you don’t mind.
You kind of, accidentally, and very stupidly put yourself out, but it’s all good, nobody said anything besides Brooke. You all have a drunk Among Us lobby to get to.
After getting ready, Corpse getting his laptop and mic ready in another room, you join the Discord call. Corpse joins quickly after. Surprisingly, nobody says anything about you two being in the same apartment while greeting each other. You don’t doubt that someone will say something soon.
“Let’s all take a drink - to Corpse and Y/N holding hands!” Alex exclaims, clinking his glass on his mic. The rest cheer, pretending to clink their glasses as well. You sigh and laugh a bit, but nonetheless, you’re gulping down a glass of champagne.
“Alex,” You say, catching his attention.
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you!”
“Hey, hey, hey. No fucking.” Karl says, and you can hear him slap his hand to his mouth after realizing what he just said. The lobby bursts into fits of laughter, but the one you’re trying to listen for, Corpse’s. It’s silent on his end.
“Karl, how much have you had to drink?” Dream asks, slurring his words. Didn’t this game just start?
“I had like 3 beers?”
“You fucking lightweight.” You tease. “Dream, you’ve been drinking too...”
“Yeah, we might’ve pregamed an Among Us game.” He admits shamefully.
“Didn’t expect less from you two,” Rae says, adding a disappointing tone to her voice for effect. She starts the game, despite the sad protests from Karl and Dream.
Crewmate.
You pout, wanting so badly to be Imposter. You’re a good liar to say the least, and people easily fall for your sweet, innocent voice. It’s funny, pathetic even, which is why you want at least one good Imposter round.
“Whaddup, baby,” Corpse greets you in Nav. Dream follows behind him, Karl coming in shortly after.
“Hey, my beautiful alcoholics!” You greet cheerfully, earning groans from them both. Oh, how fun it’s going to be teasing them.
“At least she called us beautiful.” Karl says, walking out of Nav with Dream, leaving you and Corpse alone again. You get back to doing your task, connecting the ship with the dotted lines and whatnot.
“Am I beautiful?” You can hear the pout in his voice, it’s cute.
“Gorgeous, stunning even.” You say before walking out of Nav, smiling to yourself.
This round is pretty uneventful, along with the next few. But after about five rounds, you’re all incredibly drunk after playing some drinking games.
“No balls,” Rae dares. You’re Imposter this round, and Rae’s made you her personal hitman. She’s telling you to kill Karl, but he’s innocently doing his tasks.
“I have three actually.” You defend yourself, not making any sense at all.
“Three what?” Sykkuno comes in.
“Three balls,” Rae answers.
“Okayyy then...” Sykkuno drawls, leaving you two alone. Corpse comes along, the second Imposter. Oh, how convenient.
“Hey, Corpseee,” You greet, making it so fucking obvious.
“Oh my God!” Rae exclaims. You sigh, facepalming yourself. “Corpse kill Karl, Y/N kill Sykkuno.”
“Woah, since when did we become your hitmen?” Corpse backs his astronaut up.
“I’m not killing Syk!” You whisper-yell.
“Okay, then you kill Karl and Corpse can kill Sykkuno.” You can hear her shrugging as if it’s no big deal, but literally, Karl and Sykkuno are the sweetest people to you.
“No, I’m not doing it, Rae...” Corpse still hasn’t said anything. He’s watching you and Rae go back and forth, whisper-yelling even though anyone would be able to hear you.
“I’ll call you two out.”
“You’d never,”
“The emergency meeting button is looking real sexy right now.” Ugh, fuck the stupid smirk you can just hear in her voice.
“Fine, we’ll do it.” Corpse says. He goes and kills Sykkuno. You hesitate killing Karl, but he already watched Corpse kill Sykkuno so, unfortunately, you have to.
You and Corpse run away, leaving Rae to report the bodies.
After you and Corpse vouching for each other the whole round, nobody putting sus on you two because well, you sound so innocent and sweet even while being shitface drunk, you two win, earning groans from everyone in the lobby except from Rae.
“To be fucking fair, Rae had me and Corpse be her hitmen sooo, you can blame her if you died.” The lobby starts yelling playfully at Rae.
———
After finally finishing streaming, Corpse comes into your room, plopping down onto your bed.
“Gosh, I’m gonna have the worst fucking hangover tomorrow.” He murmurs into your pillow, hugging it close to him. You jump onto the bed, sitting next to him, playing with his hair. He doesn’t mind, or you don’t think he does.
“It was fun,” You say, smiling to yourself. You love spending time with your friends. You can’t imagine how much fun it’d be if all of you got together in real life.
“It was,” Corpse yawns, looking up at you, smiling as you keep playing with his hair. He gets up, settling himself into your bed again, pulling you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around him, snuggling yourself closer to him.
“We should probably eat something... And get ourselves some water.” You say, knowing that tomorrow’s hangover is going to be a bitch.
“I don’t wanna let go of you.” Corpse whines. You try getting up, but he almost throws a fucking tantrum. Quickly, you get out of his arms, running out of your room, giggling like a fucking maniac.
“Y/N! Please!” He shouts softly, trying not to wake Rae. He runs after you, following you into the kitchen. You run to the other side of the counter. He goes left, you go right - vice versa.
“Corpse, we need food and water.” You say, trying to grab pans out of the cupboards while he’s trying to get you. You can’t help yourself from giggling. Rae will kill you if you two wake her up.
“I wanna hold you,” Corpse pouts. Gosh, he’s going to be the death of you.
“In a sec, I can make us something real quick.” Drunk Corpse obviously equals Clingy Corpse.
“Fine,” He sighs dramatically, sitting on a stool. You grab pans from underneath the cupboards, pulling out some bread and cheese. Grilled cheese is easiest and it’ll take the least amount of time.
As you’re plopping bread into the toaster, Corpse snakes his arms around your waist, snuggling his face into your neck. There’s the slightest stubble, making you giggle.
“Corpse, I can’t cook with you on me.”
“Yes you can, I’ll help.” So stubborn...
You take the bread out of the toaster before it gets too toasted, putting it on the buttered pan.
It was a mission to finish the food to say the least. Corpse demands you eat in your room that way he can hold you. You put on The Promised Neverland, watching the TV as Corpse watches you. But honestly, you don’t mind.
You two fall asleep in each other’s arms again. And you don’t think you’d ever be able to fall asleep without being in his arms again.
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Taglist - comment or message me to be added.
Sorry for not updating, I have to go through a bunch of posts. I’ll update in the next post.
* if you’re name is in bold, i couldn’t tag you. *
@letsloveimagines @liljennyx3 @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @blackheartemojivibes @lo-manburg @walkingonchairs @strawberrydonkey @tayloryorkscurls @bluepancakemix @prettylittlealiengirl @yeetmymood @victoria-a567 @loraleiix @moonlightsimp @jades-bullshit @teenloves @greenie-of-shield @fanworrior @thefvckvp @bigdaddysatan @mirahg @rosy-feels @arossebyanyothername @kitsamii @lollipop0605 @happyyyandcrazyyy @maraudingmarauder @stickystrawberrysyrup @majasophieanna @ilovejjmaybank @starstruckllamapuppy @owl-llie @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @in-fucking-deed @a-dot-dev @rjsmochii @boiled-onionrings @neenieweenie @vvenusblue @bellomi-clarke @smiithys @londonskies @16marie @leah-0207 @officiallyunofficialperson @wineandionysus @fanficlover99
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Tags - ignore::
#corpse#corpse fic#corpse husband#corpse husband fic#corpse x reader#corpse x y/n#corpse husband smau#corpse husband social media au#corpse husband imagine#corpse husband scenarios#smau#social media au#imagine#among us#cute
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Everybody's Free (Part 2)
Wardlow x f/Reader
Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.
Warnings: Some swearing.
Gifs & photos do not belong to me.
Story idea & request by @lghockey
Main Masterlist ♡ AEW Masterlist ♡ Wardlow Masterlist ♡ Everybody's Free Masterlist
Summary: F/Reader is friends with Sammy & everyone in the Inner Circle. She is also a member of his vlog squad. They found out she has a secret boyfriend & they try to figure out who it is.
Sammy Guevara's POV:
So over the course of the next few weeks, Fuego and I were watching Y/N, but really nothing seems out of the ordinary for her.
She goes home or the hotel room, spends time with us or goes to work and then back home or whatever hotel we are staying at.
"Come on Sammy. We have been doing this for weeks. Maybe it was just a one night stand." Charlie said. He has been on it as well.
"No no, I know Y/N and I know when she is lying. There has to be a secret boyfriend or even a fuck buddy. Something is going on with her."
"Don't you think she will tell you when she wants too?" I slowly blinked at Fuego and Charlie.
"Look, if the two of you are done bitchin' and moanin', can we get back to what we are supposed to be doing?"
"Fine." The both of them sighed. Both of them fed up with me and my antics.
There has to be a time when she is sneaking out to see someone. Probably when we are all asleep but I can't just invite her over for a sleepover, she will know something is up.
Y/N met up with us as we were shooting for the vlog today and I hate that I did this, but I grabbed her phone that she left behind and I searched through it.
I saw a message thread from someone in her phone known as MW. I quickly took a photo of the screen with my phone and put her phone back.
We just were about done when Y/N noticed the time.
"I gotta go guys. Good job today." And she was off. I waited a few minutes and then pulled out my phone.
"See this you guys. I knew it. I knew I wasn't going crazy." The few guys that were there grabbed my phone and read the message.
"I hate when you're right Sammy." Charlie said to me.
"So who do you think it is?" Was the question that was asked.
"No clue. I have no idea who this MW could be." The idea of her being with someone and not telling us has me stumped.
I wonder why she hasn't told us? Why is this all such a big secret?
The whole night I was wondering who Y/N was with to the point Pam got upset with me.
"Just leave her alone Sammy. This has gone on long enough. Stop stalking her."
"Do you know who she is seeing?" Pam and Y/N are extremely close.
"No I am not. I did ask her after I saw the marks on her neck but she didn't tell me. Y/N is old enough to do what she wants to do."
"I know that but we have been friends for so long. The moment you and I got together I told her."
"Just leave her be and she will come to you."
I needed both Y/N and Pam in a good mood for tomorrow night so I changed the subject.
Y/N'S POV:
I had to race back to my room to get changed after spending all night with Michael and actually waking up next to him.
"Don't go baby." He said to me, his voice heavy with sleep.
"I have too and you have to get up and go meet the guys. I will be seeing you tonight though."
"Yeah but I can't hold you, I can't kiss you." He almost pouted at me.
I kissed him once more and to pry myself away from him and all his naked glory.
"I know. Hopefully this feud won't go much longer between the you guys."
He actually laughed at me. "Hey a girl can be hopeful Michael."
"I know Y/N."
"I'll make sure to come and see you later." We said our final goodbyes and I was gone.
I had a nice long shower and got ready. Sammy needed me to pick up a few items for him.
I swung by his parents place and made sure to get the engagement ring from his Mom. She kept hugging me and crying that her baby boy was finally going to become a man.
I had to keep my mouth shut when she said that because I wanted to say that her baby boy became a man a long time ago.
I made sure to get Pam there on time since she was always running late for things but it was all worth it to see my two best friends become engaged.
My eyes drifted to Michael as almost all of the AEW crew came out to watch. The two of us were focused one another.
I was wondering when we could show the world how happy we are with each other but with their to factions always fighting and at each others throats, that may never happen.
Michael winked at me and smiled softly at me. I gave him a small smile back as well.
My focus was taken away from him when Pam came running back over to me, pulling me into a hug and the two us just squealing in excitement.
One day The Inner Circle and The Pinnacle will get along, but I am afraid that day can not come soon enough.
Part 3
Tag List: if you would like to be added, please let me know. @lghockey @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @ecarroll1978 @wardlow
#aew#all elite wrestling#reader imagine#female reader#reader insert#aew wrestling#wardlow imagine#wardlow x reader#wardlow#mike wardlow#michael wardlow#wardlow fanfic#wardlow x female reader#wardlow x you#aew x reader#aew imagine
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