#it's always been there but being put into that world again...
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yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.
last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice.
casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.
this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.
you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak.
“did we really–”
“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”
when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”
“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.”
“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him.
“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.”
you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan.
people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt.
“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.”
he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”
“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again.
“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.”
it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.
“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.”
but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”
he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.
“i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”
you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer.
he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you.
so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.
after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world.
(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)
a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips.
then, shoko knocks on your door.
“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.”
“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.”
“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”
“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet.
he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”
you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.
“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.
“did you bring someone home last night?”
“no.”
she looks at you. really looks at you, you think.
“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”
“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”
shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…
…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.”
wait–
“gojo?”
you hear a sharp inhale through the door.
“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”
gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.”
“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”
she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you.
you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.
dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.
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you were my best friend first ꨄ charles leclerc
charles leclerc x reader
warnings: fluff, charles is the sappiest drunk, monaco 2024, mentions of drinking/being drunk [1k words]
request: 🫶🏻 Charles Leclerc + prompt 8!! Thank youuuu 🤍 ["you were my bestfriend, before you were anything else, love."]
The Monaco sun shined down on him, his head was tilted back, embracing the warmth that radiated against his skin. Soft sighs of triumph leaving his lips as beads of sweat began to gather against his forehead.
You couldn’t help the way your eyes followed his every move. He was exquisite in every way, and it was like he just knew it. The love that emitted from your heart for the Monegasque man was never-ending, all-consuming, and exactly the type of love you had always dreamt of, had always daydreamed about when you thought of the person that would once be that person for you.
Your eyes still shined bright with unshed tears, the sounds of the Monegasque anthem being sung from around you prompting one small bead of liquid to drip down your face. The pride racing through your body was indescribable. You could practically feel Charles’ happiness, his sheer relief, coursing through your own body.
Arthur’s arm was tossed over your shoulder, pulling your body against his side as he screeched the lyrics of the anthem into the open air, his own cheeks riddled with tears of pride for his big brother. Really, everyone around you had red cheeks, and a copious amount of shed tears.
This was the moment.
The moment everyone in Monaco had been yearning for since he qualified on pole, since they realized that this may finally be his chance. His family, his friends, his country-folk, his Monarchy, it was the moment every single person had been rooting for him for, for years.
It felt like forever while you waited for him to make his way down from the podium, being stopped by every person he passed kept him occupied, a toothy-smile so prominent on his features as his arms wrapped around almost every person who put their arm out to stop him in his path.
Once your eyes finally made contact with his, he rushed over, throwing his arms around your body and pulling you tight against him. You couldn’t decipher the words he was yelling into your ear, but the tone, the happiness, it was so obvious.
“You did it, you did it!” He eagerly nodded his head down at you, pressing his lips messily against yours, the smile as he did so prompting the corners of your lips to tug up alongside his.
Charles pulled back to look down at you, his glassy eyes conveying words you knew he couldn’t say right now.
“Thank you for being here, mon coeur. I’m so… just thank you,” he said.
You smiled up at him, your words caught in your throat as you tried to keep the looming tears at bay.
“I’ll always be here, Cha,” you said, a soft smile gracing your face as you continued to look up at him, feeling like the two of you were stuck in your own little world.
It didn’t take long for the festivities to begin. People graced the streets, singing songs of celebration, the clubs began opening their doors, the champagne had already been popped.
The gala dinner passed by quickly, the starstruck feeling of being so close to the Prince and Princess of Monaco was diminished by the drinks that continuously felt like they were being magically refilled in your hand. Charles’ arm hadn’t left your lower back, his body having begun to mould itself to you the longer the night progressed.
“Are you still okay to go to the club, mon coeur?”
Quirking an eyebrow up at him in confusion, you nodded your head with a slight laugh.
“Cha… tonight’s about you. I will go anywhere you want me to, my love. Just take my hand and drag me along,” you said.
A grin replaced the soft look on his face, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as he pulled your body tight against his again.
The music in the club was thunderous. There was no other way to describe the energy of the environment as anything other than triumphant. Everyone felt like this was a triumph for them, watching the person who had felt for years that Monaco could never love him back… to finally feel the love that he had always given so freely.
Neither of you had realized how much you had drank until you were holding each other up, the Monaco flag held over your heads as someone; still unsure as to who, dragged the two of you along and out to an Uber.
Charles giggled in your ear every time his feet flew out from underneath him, almost dragging the two of you down with every third step he took.
“Can’t believe you were really here to see me do it, baby,” he whispered in your ear, once the two of you were settled in the Uber and back on the road.
“M’good luck charm, mon coeur,” he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, prompting a shiver to shoot through your body.
“Oh Cha, wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You’re my best friend, my love,” you responded, a soft smile on your heated cheeks.
“You were my best friend, before you were anything else, mon coeur. Gonna talk about how I couldn’t have won Monaco without you during my wedding speech, mon coeur. Make everyone jealous, cause you’re so great and you’re all mine,” he rambled on, slurring his way through his multiple declarations of love for you.
Drunk or sober, the feelings that swam through your body had you nuzzling closer to the Monegasque as your apartment building came into view. You had loved him for years, had been the backbone of so many unfortunate weekend endings; had been there for every high and low in his Formula 1 career.
Every unhappy Sunday had led to this moment, Charles whispering declarations of love into your shoulder, as the banners and chants continued amongst the country. The raw, unfiltered love for the man beside you prompting drunken tears to fill your eyes.
He was Monaco’s hero, but he was your best friend first.
im so sorry it's taking me so long to get these out lol... i havent been in the biggest writing mood lately, but i finished a book tonight in two hours and decided i needed to finish this one. this one NEEDED to get written. love you all 💗
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1 blurb#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc fluff#f1 fluff#f1 fic#formula 1 x reader#charles leclerc x you#f1 x you#formula 1 x you#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 blurb#charles leclerc blurb#blurb#writing#my writing#charles leclerc writing#cl16
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a thought:
reader is literally so grouchy and bratty and tired and is accidentally snapping at (whoever u want) and thennn they take initiative to casual dominance her to take a nap after some tea and it’s just so crazy fluffy!!!
Thanks for requesting!
cw: d/s dynamics
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 708 words
You’d claimed to want to read with Remus on the couch, but you keep huffing like your book is your least favorite thing in the world. Remus wraps a hand around your thigh, rubbing a slow back and forth with his thumb in an attempt to pacify you. He knows precisely what this mood is about.
“Ugh, this construction noise is the worst!” You glare out the window as if hoping the men across the street will see.
“Why don’t you use my headphones and try to have a nap, dove,” Remus suggests mildly. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, sounds like it’s catching up to you.”
You bristle at the implication. “I’m not tired, I’m just sick of this. Nobody asked for the road to be redone. It was perfectly fine before.”
Remus shoots you a sideways look. The road outside your house was riddled with potholes, and you both know it. If you were in a better mood, you’d be baking cookies for the construction workers to thank them.
You ignore it, huffing again. “I’m gonna get some dinner,” you say, setting your book down roughly as you stand.
“Last night’s leftovers are in the fridge.”
“Don’t feel like those.”
Remus gives your bum a light swat through your sweatpants as you go by. “Eat something real,” he warns.
You make a vexed harrumphing sound. He chooses not to hear it.
What he does hear, less than a minute later, is popcorn popping in the microwave. Remus sighs through his nose, tenting his book on the coffee table and pursuing you into the kitchen. You don’t turn around as his footsteps approach.
“Dove.” Remus takes your hips, turning you manually. “That’s not a real dinner.”
You shrug, obstinate. Your stare looks like you’re itching for a fight. “It’s what I feel like.”
“You haven’t had anything with a vegetable in it all day. You need to pick something else.”
You roll your eyes, turning back around. Ignoring him. Remus hits the button to shut off the microwave.
You spin back around, eyes flashing. “You can’t—”
“That’s enough.” He takes your jaw in his hand, your chin resting at the apex of his thumb and forefinger. “You’re being a brat,” he says in a low, steady voice, “because you’re sleepy and probably because you haven’t eaten a real meal since yesterday. That stops now. You’re going to eat the dinner you made yesterday, which you liked, and then go have a nap. Understand?”
Remus isn’t really irritated with you. You’re being unruly, sure, but these moods always end once you get what you’re looking for from him. Now he’s given you it, you’ll calm down.
It’s fucking precious, the way your temper melts away under his hard gaze. Your eyes round out and your head sits heavier in his hand, remorse finding its way into your expression.
“Sorry,” you say, tone about ten degrees milder than it had just been.
Remus rolls his eyes at you, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “I know, darling. You can still make it up to me. Heat up those leftovers, okay?”
You hum, and he lets you go, kissing the hill of your cheek.
A minute later, you join him in the living room, curling up next to him on the couch while you eat and he reads. Your posture is already less rigid, the both of you enveloped in companionable silence and the smell of warm food. Your fork clinks as you set your plate down on the coffee table, and when you don’t get up to go to bed, Remus looks over at you. Your eyes are already on him, a question in them.
He fights to repress the smile that curves his lips. “What?”
“Can I sleep here?” you ask hopefully. “Would it distract you if I put my head on your lap?”
Remus coos. “No, sweetheart, of course you can.”
“Are you sure?” you ask, though you’re already lying down, him uncrossing his legs to make his lap more comfortable for you. “You’re not still mad at me?”
He tsks, petting your hair while you get comfortable. “I’m not. Wanna know a secret?”
You hum, eyes already closing.
“I’m never really mad at you, dove.”
#remus lupin#dom!remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fluff#dom remus lupin#remus lupin casual dominance#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader
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Dress
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Synopsis: inspired off the song Dress by Taylor Swift (normally not a big TS fan but this song gives off such gay/secret relationship vibes)
Warnings: suggestive, language
WC: 2.3k
A/N: pretend Jessie is still at Chelsea for the sake of this 🙃 also ignore Niamh in the photo, there’s like only 2 photos of Jessie in that button up outfit and I’ve used the other one already, despite the fact that yall want a Niamh x Jessie x Reader fic, this is not it.
Your eyes scanned the room filled with your teammates in search of the brown hair and brown eyed Canadian you were trying to find and yet trying to avoid coming into direct contact with.
In your second scan of the crowded room, you find her across the way, speaking with some of your other teammates.
You watch as Jessie’s eyes catch yours, before they widen and trail downward, taking in your whole body. As her eyes admire you, you watch her suck in a large breath, her eyebrows raised, cheeks puffed out as she slowly releases the air in her lungs. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. She gives you a small and slow nod when her eyes meet yours again.
You had succeeded.
You knew she wanted you to rush over to her, to say hello, give her a hug, whisper something for just the two of you in her ear, so you did the opposite.
You found Millie first, giving her a hug, she gushed over your dress. You chatted with her for a bit, glancing around the room occasionally, noticing Jessie’s eyes always meeting yours. She was watching you intensely, just what you had hoped.
You were quickly interrupted by Guro, Erin, and Sam all making their way over, drinks in their hands. The three greeted you, all making comments that they were shocked by your dress, in a good way of course. It felt weird having your teammates gush over your appearance, you had been dressed up around them before but usually opted for a blazer, pantsuit, never before a dress.
Wanting to tease Jessie more, you continue making your rounds, avoiding the area of the room where she and Niamh stood. You took the occasional glance in their direction, Jessie’s eyes always looking over Niamh's shoulder and at you. You felt like prey being hunted by her intense gaze. You talk with Aggie and Maika, a couple of the assistant coaches, dragging out the conversations, keeping Jessie waiting for you. When you had finally said hello to everyone that had already arrived except Jessie, you decided it was time to put the poor girl out of her misery.
You finally make your way over to Jessie. She’s staring you down as you approach her, her eyes locked on your body.
“Hi Jess.” You lean in giving her a hug and she gives you a peck on the cheek. It’s casual, quick, and boring to the outside world. But the way you slid your hand down to the small of her back and the way she let her lips linger on your cheek for an extra second, was not casual.
When you pulled away from her you kept your hand on the small of her back, turning so the two of you were shoulder to shoulder as if you were standing before a game for the anthems.
“You look,” she lets out a sigh that tells you everything you needed to know, “you look fantastic.”
“Thanks. Actually funny enough, I was told if I always dressed like this, maybe I wouldn’t be single.” You say it as a joke, Jessie doesn’t take it as one.
“You’re not single.” The Canadian leans in to grumble into your ear, clearly not a fan of the thought of you being available.
“Oh I’m not? I don’t recall anyone asking me to be in a relationship.” You pat her back softly, letting your fingers just barely dance into the waistband of her pants.
You and Jessie had been seeing each other as more than friends for a couple weeks now. It had started as innocent coffee trips, those trips quickly became more formal coffee dates, those dates turned into spending the afternoons and evenings at each others places, which led to just three weeks ago, you straddling the Canadian on her couch, your fingers in her hair and her hands around your waist as the two of you kissed for the first time. You hadn’t yet put any form of label on it, but you continued seeing each other, the romantic and sexual tension very much still alive between the two of you.
“I don’t like how they’re staring.” You can feel the jealousy radiating off of Jessie. She’s looking out across the room to all your teammates. It was weird, the new attention you were getting. You knew none of your teammates meant it in a way of making you uncomfortable and you knew that, it was just different seeing them surprised by your outfit.
“No need to be jealous, Fleming.” You say to her before leaning in close again to whisper in her ear as she takes a sip of the beer in her hand. “Just remember I bought this dress thinking about only you taking it off my body tonight.” That gets Jessie’s attention, her eyes widen and she’s sent into a coughing fit choking on her drink. Your comment is said half as an invitation, half as a statement. The two of you had made out plenty in your three week escapades, but not getting any further than you did only four days ago in her apartment after training.
You had been making out against the hallway of her apartment when Jessie had picked you up, your legs around her waist as she carried you into her bedroom. She had quickly discarded your training top, kissing down your neck before removing your bra and starting to harshly suck dark red marks across your chest. You had removed her shirt and just as she leaned down to trail kisses down your stomach her phone rang. A FaceTime call from her sister. She had apologized profusely as she threw your shirt back to you as she donned her own. You weren’t upset, you had been the one who insisted she answer the call. However the interaction left you incredibly sexually frustrated for the next few days, giving you the brilliant idea of the dress.
You were already in need of an outfit for the banquet, leading you to be wandering around the store. You had texted Fran, Niamh, and a few other teammates to see what they were wearing. You walked in circles looking at jackets and pants, shirts, nothing seemed to pull your interest until you found yourself in the gown and dress section. The black dress you had bought was on display, it caught your eye. It was a tight, yet tasteful black dress, more than appropriate for the occasion and yet perfect to make Jessie have the opposite of appropriate thought.
Sneaking around with her had been fun, the quick glances in the locker room, the extra second you two spent looking at each other after Jessie had ended up with her body pressed on top of you after you tackled her a little too hard at training, the way she’d give your hand an extra squeeze when you’d high-five after games, all the subtle moments of your relationship happening right in front of everyone’s eyes, without anyone knowing at all.
Those red marks she had made on your skin the other day were now golden bruises across your chest, an arousing reminder of your evening when you got dressed this afternoon. You were thankful they weren’t visible in the lower cut neckline of the dress. You took one last look in the mirror before you left to come to the banquet. You couldn’t help but smirk at yourself, you wanted to drive Jessie crazy, make her stare, make her blush, make her squirm in her seat while she tried to keep your teammates oblivious to your situationship, this dress was going to be perfect for that job.
“We should go mingle.” You say, dropping your hand from Jessie’s back, a few more members of the staff had arrived, you wanted to say hello. Jessie just lets out a dissatisfied grumble. “I’ll see you in a bit.” You say to her as you walk away. You only get a few steps before you turn back, delighted by the sight. Jessie’s eyes had been fixated on your ass, she only looked away when she noticed you turned around catching her behavior. Her face flushed slightly and you gave her a quick wink before turning and moving to the other side of the room.
The seating at dinner was beyond your control but whoever was in charge of it did you a huge favor, sitting you right next to Jessie. You wander around looking for your name, finding it on the little place card, you take a lap looking at the rest of the names on the table before you come back reading the final name on the table for the seat to your left. You almost let out a laugh as you read Jessie’s name. This would be fun.
Dinner starts innocently enough. Plenty of conversation to keep both you and Jessie thinking about other things than the tension between you. It’s only once everyone starts eating, conversation slows and it becomes increasingly obvious how close you’re sat to her.
As you finish up your meal and speeches begin to start, you feel a weight on your lap. Jessie’s hand, under the tablecloth, resting on your upper thigh. She gently squeezes and you’re thankful that no one is seated directly behind your table, meaning no one sees how you move your leg outward to encourage her touch.
You let her touch your thigh, rubbing your skin through the dress for a couple minutes before you promptly stand up, excusing yourself to the table, saying you had to use the restroom and you’d be back. As you walk away you can’t help but turn back giving a look at Jessie, whose eyes were again watching you walk away.
You head to the bathroom, half because you had to use it and half because you wanted to see if Jessie would follow. You get your answer when you open the door from the stall to go wash your hands and Jessie is standing, arms crossed leaning against the wall. You take a moment to take in her stature, you had been so focused on her reaction to your own dress that you didn’t fully appreciate her appearance yet. She looked good, her dark dress pants tight in all the right places, her blazer hugging her shoulders, even if she didn’t intend it, her outfit was having an effect on you.
“You’re a tease.” She says, watching you again like prey as you walk over to the sink.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” You say, putting soap on your hands. “I’m not doing anything.” You give her an innocent smile through the mirror.
Sick of your behavior Jessie comes up behind you, her front flush to your back, pushing you slightly into the countertop. Her hands find your sides, just under your armpits. “You did this.” She lets her hands run down your sides and over the curve of your hips. “You chose this dress, you chose to tell me that you want me to take it off, you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“And it’s working?” You give her a cocky smile as you move away from her grasp to dry your hands and turn the water off.
“God, yes it’s working, you already get me worked up in regular clothes, but then this dress…” her voice trails off as she again takes the time to look over your body, head to toe, appreciating your dress. She bites her lip momentarily, walking up to you again. She leans into you, putting her lips quickly to your neck, giving you a soft kiss, then another just below your ear before she brings her lips to your ear and whispers. “You're driving me insane. I wish I had just ignored the call and fucked you instead the other day.”
You hum in agreement, you also wished she had just fucked you then and there. “But this is more fun.” You give her a raise of your eyebrows.
“You’re coming home with me.” She says as she leans back from you, still only inches from each other.
“I will, if you can be good the rest of the night.” You were going to give in and let her take you home no matter what, but you wanted to keep your evening of teasing and fun going for a little bit longer.
“I’ve been good!” She protests.
“I dunno Jessie, hand under the table isn’t what I would consider behaving.” You let your own hand drag on her thigh, mimicking her touch from earlier. You can feel her push her thigh into your hand desperately.
“I could’ve done worse.”
Returning her teasing from earlier you lean into her now, placing an open mouth kiss to her neck before whispering into her ear. “Behave for the rest of the night and I’ll let you do your worst to me later.”
You watch Jessie’s mouth fall open slightly as you pull back. Her stare intensifies on you, pupils wide. Knowing she was lost in her own dirty thoughts you take the opportunity to step away from her and open the bathroom door.
You turn back to look at Jessie, her mouth still agape, eyes locked on you. “Come on, only a few more hours of this banquet and then you can make those dirty thoughts you just had about me a reality.”
#jessie fleming#jflem#jessie fleming x reader#jessie fleming imagine#woso imagine#woso x reader#jessie fleming blurb
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i think that when annabeth and percy move to california for college, they start having dinner with annabeth’s family once every 1-2 weeks. it’s probably a little tense at first, and annabeth is likely anxious about it. percy could either be pissed off and angry with them about how they treated her, or he could be really nice and trying to diffuse the tension to make things easier for annabeth.
but either way, i think one thing would be abundantly clear: percy is her family. not them. at least, not in the ways that matter.
mr. and mrs. chase have probably only ever seen annabeth with her walls up. never letting her guard down. she’s always tough around them, and never lets herself become trusting of them. because she has to protect herself from letting them hurt her again. as a young child, she felt unloved and resented by them enough that she preferred the cold dangerous streets to being with them. so even if their relationship begins to grow better - and i really do think it gets good eventually - she’s careful around them. she protects herself, and therefore isn’t super warm and fuzzy around them. since she’s grown up, there’s a good chance they’ve never seen her show true emotion. they’ve probably never seen a true smile from her. they’ve probably never seen her lean on someone.
but then she brings percy. they would see that the 14 year old little boy who they once met grew up into a tall, striking, intimidating young man. he has the same look in his unique sea green eyes that makes you know he’s been through horrible trauma. he’s carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. (literally). the rest of him may appear 18, but his eyes look 100 years old. he’s the first person they’ve really known who is like annabeth in that way.
and here’s the thing: percy and annabeth are a team. there’s an unbreakable bond between them. they move and fight as one. they are best friends in the whole world, and it’s clear to anyone who sees them. but they are also hopelessly in love, and that’s also clear to anyone who sees them. so imagine annabeth’s family, who’ve only ever known her to be distinctly independent and closed off, seeing her and percy holding hands. seeing them sit so close together that they’re nearly on top of each other. seeing her put her hand on his arm and kiss his cheek, or seeing him wrap his arms around her and gently kiss her forehead. and nevermind the touches, imagine them seeing her just look at him. a look full of vulnerability and adoration and complete trust. full of love and warmth and emotion. because that’s who annabeth really is. she’s emotional and sensitive and warm. but she’s always had to be someone else around her family, because in her mind, the true her wasn’t good enough for them.
but now they see her, all grown up, and with this young man by her side who is clearly her everything. and i think it would be a punch to the gut seeing them together. because it would be the first time they realize that she doesn’t think of them as her family. percy is her family, and percy alone. annabeth does not regard them - her own dad and step-mom and brothers - as her real family. percy fills that role all by himself. and it’s entirely their own fault.
#i hope they know that he is her present and her future#they are her past#and they’re gonna have to put in the work to be her anything else#percy is her family#they can see he loves her more than anything#percabeth#percy jackson#annabeth chase#pjo#heroes of olympus#percy jackson and the olympians#rick riordan#riordanverse#analysis#pjo headcanons
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it's going to be a long, long time - matty healy
[title is rocketman lyrics, has nothing to do with the fic but i was listening to elton john trying to figure out what to call this thing so i just went with this, i really want to make this a series ngl but i'm shit at world building so we will see how that goes. once again thank you @abouttofillhisshoes for the beta reading, it is honestly an honour. oh and no, this is not the kidnapping fic.]
wc: ~8k
cw: fluff, reader has anxiety and body image issues, just really insecure over all, they are friends, matty is kinda horny, smut, he just gets her off with his fingers nothing crazy, dirty talk, matty cums in his pants <3
So Matty paid for the pizza and you hope he chokes on it. He can be so infuriating. You know what else is infuriating? Realising that you are enjoying his fucking company more than you should.
When the pizza arrived, he answered the door before you could, shoving the money at the teenager and telling him to keep the change before turning with an innocent smile to look at you where you were glaring at him from the couch. He then said if you were really upset about it, you could just pay for the food next time.
Next time.
You sat with a petulant glare at the TV, while Matty picked a movie, looking happy with himself when you didn’t argue about there being a next time where you would buy him dinner. He picked the movie Gremlins, which surprised you but also made you give him a suspicious squint. When you asked him why he picked it, he simply pointed at Loki, your dog, and then looked at you with a ‘well duh’ expression saying “Wasn’t that hard to put two and two together and realise you like that movie.”
…Okay so maybe it is your favourite movie of all time, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that.
Loki sat on the ground watching you, as you started to eat your pizza, staring at Matty like he was Romeo and Loki was a tubby slobbering love sick whore of a Juliet. You rolled your eyes when Matty tried to inconspicuously pick bits of meat off his pizza and drop them on the floor for him. Loki isn’t a quiet eater, he’s like a vacuum that makes wheezing pig noises every time he inhales but you decided not to say anything, smiling to yourself when Matty was basically eating a vegetarian pizza by the time Loki was done harassing him.
You were picking at your own pizza, following the same ritual you always do with eating all the topping first before you eat the base - it’s an old habit that you haven’t been able to kick, sometimes old rituals just stick, you know?
“OKay _ No, stop, stop. I can’t watch this any more - what are you doing?” Matty asks from his spot next to you, where he has sat far closer than he needs to. He’s glancing from your naked pizza slice, then to your face with an incredulous expression. You look at your pizza slice and then back to him. “Cleaning my butthole, what does it look like I’m doing?”
He rolls his eyes, wiping some sauce from the corner of his mouth away with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth and releasing it. “Idiot. Look, I was able to look past the pineapple on pizza thing - you psycho, but I can’t sit here and watch you eat the topping and then base like some lunatic.” You give him a blank stare so he continues his rant. “It’s like watching someone take a bite out of the middle of a burrito, or taking a bite out of a whole kitkat instead of breaking it apart. Were you raised by savages?”
You watch his face as you turn your empty pizza slice around, bringing it to your mouth and then take a bite out of the crust first and watch him look like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. “Some people just wanna watch the world burn, Matty.” You shrug, fighting the urge to cackle at his mouth hung open with wide mortified eyes.
“You’re gonna eat the rest of your pizza like that now, aren’t you?” He looks disgusted by the thought and you love it.
“Absolutely.” You agree without missing a beat and turn your face away to watch the TV again, ignoring Matty just staring at you while you continue to bastardize the simple act of eating a pizza. You continue to watch the movie, literally able to feel Matty’s disapproving stare on you. You can feel him cringe every time you bite into your pizza and can’t hide the amused look on your face.
“You know, you kinda remind me of a Mogwai.” Matty says all of the sudden sounding thoughtful, and you look sideways at him pausing your chewing.
“Why? Think if you feed me after midnight I’ll turn into a gremlin?”
You see that usual sly smirk on his lips. “No, I think if I got you wet, you’d surprise me.”
You drop your pizza into the box and whip your shocked face at him.
“Matty!”
He blows out a laugh that he was trying to hold in, and gives you a doe eyed coy look. “”What? I was gonna say you look like you’ve got strong legs, think you’d be a great swimmer.”
“Bullshit. That’s not what you meant and you know it.” You narrow your eyes at him, smacking his shoulder. Scrunching your lips up to not give him the satisfaction of a smile and it only makes him throw his head back giggling to himself.
As you continue to sit and watch the movie, you much preferred it when you were eating, having something to distract yourself and also do with your hands because now they’re just fidgeting in your lap which isn’t helped by Matty’s periodic stares at you. “You’ve got an interesting way of watching movies.” You dig at him with a dry tone, when his eyes are focused on the side of your face instead of the TV.
“You’ve got an interesting way of eating pizza, guess we all got our quirks.” He throws back, refusing to look away and you want to squirm on the spot with how anxious it is making you.
“Watch the movie, idiot.” You huff, barely being able to pay attention to what you’re seeing on the screen. Wanting to bite your tongue off when you accidentally glance at him and your eyes go to his mouth before snapping away. “Far more interested in what I’m watching right now, actually.” He says with a tilt of his head, and you close your eyes with a drawn out frustrated sigh.
He leans closer, barely keeping an inch between the side of your face and his nose, feeling his breath fan across your neck. You just keep your eyes planted firmly on the screen and dig your nails into the palms of your hands to soothe the way your heart nearly jumped out of your fucking body.
“You okay darling? Something you want?” He asks with a suggestive amused drawl that makes you clamp your teeth down on the inside of your cheek.
Don’t kiss his stupid face. Don’t kiss his stupid face. Don’t kiss his stupid face.
“I want you to watch the movie” You blurt with your voice hitching in your throat, which only makes him smile and look even more pleased with himself. He hums a disbelieving “Mm-Hmm.” But leans back, facing the TV again and you fight nearly throwing yourself off the couch when he shifts to lay down all of a sudden. He throws his feet up over the arm of the couch, laying on his back to pillow his head on your lap, lacing his fingers together on his chest and watches the TV with a casual expression.
“What are you doing?” You ask, hovering your hands above him with no idea where to put them, while he tries to hide his lips twitching up at the corners.
“Watching the movie like you told me to.”
You don’t know what to say, or what to do with your hands so you just stay rigid, swallowing down the dry feeling in your mouth and opt to rest your arms along the back of the couch to avoid touching him which only makes him grin.
There was a moment where Matty (you swear it was on purpose) moved one hand down to pull up the hem of his shirt over his stomach, acting like he had an itch he needed to scratch but then just left his hand on his exposed soft stomach and carved hips that his trousers had shifted dangerously low on. He rested his other arm hung above his head, the top of his arm rested against your thigh while his hand rested against the couch and his fingers made a habit of grazing against the side of your bare thigh occasionally.
By the time the movie was over your stomach was in that many knots you’d swear it was practising to be a sailor and your muscles ached in your body from how tense you had been the whole time. Matty acted completely oblivious to your distress, moving up off the couch and asked how he went about putting some music on and when you explained how to, you gave him a suspicious look when he put Elton John on from his phone to play through the Bluetooth speaker on the stereo. He came back to sit next to you, raising a brow. “Don’t act like you’re the only one with a good music taste, darling.”
You roll your eyes, but Matty just looks over your figure. “You seem tense. I want to try something, loosen you up a bit.” You look at him with panic flashing across your face, which makes him clarify what he means straight away. “I just meant to give you a head massage, I’m really good at them. Perks of all the years of shampooing hair with hairdressing, comes with the job.” You shake your head, leaning back. “Oh no, I’m good. I don’t like massages, let alone people touching me. It’s torture, not relaxing for me.”
You’d literally pay someone to not touch you if you could.
He pulls his lips to the side with a disbelieving look and tugs your hand again. “If you really don’t want me to touch you I won’t, but I’d like if you gave me a chance, I might surprise you.” You press your lips together in a flat line when he gives you the most pathetic begging puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. For fuck’s sake. “Fine. But I’m telling you right now, I’m going to hate it.” Matty’s solemn expression turns into a bright smile, and he gestures between his legs spread apart where he is sitting. “Just say the word and I will stop whenever you want. Come on, sit on the floor between my legs.”
You roll your eyes again. “Bet you’re gonna love that, getting me on the floor between your legs.” You sigh, pulling yourself forward up off the couch and moving to sit on the ground between his legs with your shoulders against the back of the couch and his knees either side of your head. “Doesn’t do much for me unless you’re on your knees darling.” He jabs back, and for some reason it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s like you’re just becoming accustomed to his crass sense of humour. At least you think he was joking. Right?
“It’d be a cold day in hell before that happened.” You quip and hear him laugh under his breath as he starts to run his fingers through the tops of your hair to pull it back away from your face. You feel your muscles constrict when his long fingers slide into your hair up from the base of your neck. You’re fighting your natural instinct to recoil away, and panic over someone being this close. You don’t know how this anxiety is ever meant to feel good.
You still don’t rightfully know why you’re even letting him do this. You know the answer is deep buried down, you’re not stupid but you’re refusing to acknowledge it because it will tumble you off a cliff you’re not ready to go down. Far better keeping those doors closed. You’re just humouring him.
Matty stays silent, as his fingers begin to work against your scalp, massaging his fingers in slow motions as he moves up your head.
…Oh.
You’re shocked by the feeling, it’s like you had strings pulled taught on every limb in your body that have just been cut and your body slumps, and the more his long fingers work it starts sending waves of tingles sending down your spine. Goosebumps prickle over your skin, and your head lulls back while your eyes close. “Just relax.” He coos, keeping his voice soothing.
Well this doesn’t feel…terrible.
You feel like a lump doll, like all the tension in your body is melting away. You’re always tensing some part of your body every second, whether it’s subconsciously clenching your jaw, tensing your shoulders or clenching your fists, always on the edge. You can’t even say you truly know what the meaning of relaxation felt like, you just assumed you weren’t capable of it. But right now you feel like you could melt into the floor.
“Don’t you miss someone making you feel this good?” Matty doesn’t even sound like he is concentrating on what he’s saying.
“Can’t miss what you’ve never had, I guess.” You reply under your breath without thought, feeling your breathing shallow and you could literally moan at how incredible this feels.
It’s the truth though, it’s a large part about why you’re so complacent about sex. Sure it has felt okay but if you’re being totally honest, you really don’t think you’ve ever loved a single hand that’s touched you. It has never been about you enjoying it, it was about you being enjoyable for the other person.
Never about you or how you felt, it was always about them. Your pleasure only mattered if it benefited them but for the most part they wanted you to inflate their ego, not actually make you feel good. Could’ve won an oscar with some of your performances. And those were the times you actually wanted to have sex…the other times, hell, you may as well have not even been a person. How you felt certainly didn’t matter then, and what you wanted didn’t matter either. Matty’s fingers pause in your hair and it makes you slowly blink your eyes open, jumping when you see his face way closer to yours than you expected.
His pupils are blown out, with his lids hooding his eyes and his brows are pinched together as he darts his gaze over your face. There’s several emotions mixing together over his face that are confusing you, there is sadness, irritation and to be honest you don’t know if hungry is an emotion, but he looks like that too.
Matty’s fingers slip from your hair as he slides his hands to hold either side of your face, and he leans in closer, flicking his eyes between yours. It’s getting harder to breathe, it feels like everything else in the room has evaporated - you can’t even hear the music.
His tongue darts out to dampen his lower lip, and his voice is soft but low as he speaks.
“I could show you, you know…I could make you feel good, if you let me.”
Your chest tightens at the same time as your stomach jolts when he dips his head down to lean close enough that his nose nudges your chin. “Can’t stop thinking about it, to be honest.” He murmurs, hovering his mouth over yours but not going further. His long fingers are on the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin up more until there is barely a hairs width between your mouths and you can almost feel his lips touch yours as he speaks. Your heart doesn’t know whether to give up or beat a hundred miles an hour, it feels like it’s trying to do both and your breathing is so shallow you can barely feel it.
Matty takes the fact that you haven’t smacked him or yanked yourself away from him as a positive sign, because he nudges your lower lip with his own before murmuring “Dying to kiss you - but that’s up to you. Do you want to kiss me?”
Both sides of your brain are screaming at each other while your skin heats over your whole body.
Don’t do it, idiot.
Matty sighs, slipping his tongue out to ghost against your lower lip and every organ you have clenches while you ball your hands into fists. “Go on darling, do whatever you want..” He dares in a low whisper.
Don’t do it.
It’s a split second before you’re sucking in a breath and closing the fraction of a distance between you, pressing your lips against his, feeling completely out of your mind.
God dammit, you idiot.
As soon as the pressure of your lips touching his happens, Matty takes a firmer hold of your jaw, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose before he starts to mould his mouth against your own. His slow careful movements are quickly replaced with hard and needy ones that have you feeling like you’re spinning while you’re sat still.
The kiss only lasts a few seconds, then his mouth is being torn from yours while he grabs under your arms to pull you up to your knees, turning and tugging you until you’re crawling up onto him. But the second you were facing him again his lips were connecting with yours as you struggled to keep up. You’re not even thinking, your body is just doing whatever the fuck it feels like apparently. It’s almost like you’ve blacked out, mind going blank and all you can do is just feel.
He keeps pulling you towards him until your knees end up either side of his hips, panting out low moans into the kiss that just becomes more intense the second he taunts your lips with his tongue and you welcome it with your own. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, boiling your insides along with it while his hands roam around your body like he can’t decide where to put them. You’re still not sure what to do with your hands, so they just move up to hold his face. Gripping around his sharp jaw that tense and flexes with the movements of his mouth.
His large palms slide down your back, grope at your hips before they move lower and pause for a second, like he’s hesitating until he finally moves them to take large handfuls of the flesh there through your shorts. You gasp into the kiss when he pulls you down against him at the same time that he groans low in his throat, digging his fingers into your behind. All of these situations are firing through you, making you feel high and drunk at once as Matty deepens the kiss, becoming frantic with his lips and tongue while his breathing starts to heave in his chest.
The moment that changes this from just kissing though, is when he tugs you against him at the same time that he rolls his hips up into your centre, grunting out a sharp moan the second your centres press against each other. He repeats the action again, using his grip on your behind to rock me against him as he snaps his hips up, making your breath hitch in your throat. You felt the very distinct excitement that swelled hard and strained against the denim of his trousers.
Shit.
A jolt of electricity zaps up your spine and floods your nerves, like it wakes a part of you that’s been dead for years when you feel him but it’s also the moment that hits you like a freight train and your body becomes stiff. Matty notices as soon as your demeanour changes, and your body freezes up. He lets go of your behind to grab your hips and hold them still, lifting them up while he pulls his lips from yours, gasping in deep breaths but keeps his mouth close to yours.
“I’m sorry.” He pants, pinching his eyes shut like he’s in pain and swallows. “Sorry - I got carried away, are you okay?
You catch your breath and just watch his face for a moment. He actually stopped? And he’s asking if you’re okay. Okay? Why?
Well that’s never happened before.
You lick your lips that feel raw, and try to sort your thoughts out but you keep getting distracted by his fucking mouth so you decide to look down between you two.
Terrible idea.
Christ, you’re surprised the zipper to his jeans hasn’t exploded open, that looks like it hurts trapped in those tight trousers.
You whip your eyes back up, and Matty notices where you looked so he chews on the corner of his lip. “Sorry about that too - but I really can’t help that at the moment. Need you to talk to me though, you okay? Did I make you uncomfortable? I didn’t mean to.”
You clear your throat and decide it’s easier to just look at his mouth than his eyes at the moment. You feel so fucking insecure right now.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable…that is kinda the problem.” You mumble, swallowing down your nerves. You don’t do honesty about your feelings well and you’re unsure how he has the ability to drag it out of you.
Matty ducks his face down trying to get you to look at him, keeping his voice soft but it’s hoarse in his throat. “Gonna need you to elaborate a bit, darling.”
You bite down on the inside of your cheek, and rest your hands against his chest. You feel his muscles there twitch and jump from the small contact and your insides do that weird flipping thing like they’re bloody gymnasts.
You take a deep breath, cursing yourself in your head at how stupid you think you sound. “It’s just - It’s been a long time for me with you know…sex, or anything like that in general and I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, and most of that time I wanted to strangle you and now I’m kissing you. This is just really confusing for me, I enjoyed what was happening and I feel like I shouldn’t, sorry.”
A couple of weeks might be a long time to some people, and hardly any time for others.
Matty pauses to choose his words before he speaks, and brings his hand up to nudge his knuckle under your chin to force you to look at him. His face is earnest, but you don’t miss that giddy flicker in his eye but you’re not entirely sure why it’s there. “Look, I had no intention of trying to have sex with you tonight. I mean I really fucking want to right now, I’m just going to be honest about that. But I’m not a moron, I know that sort of thing is like…a sensitive topic for you and I’d never push you into that. I was just testing my luck with some kissing, I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand so fast.”
Your brows crease, unsure if you really buy that. “You really expect me to believe you weren’t going to pounce at the opportunity to have sex with me as soon as you had the chance?” Matty’s face falls, his lips pressing together as he leans back and sounds genuinely upset by your question. “Okay, first of all, you’re not an opportunity. And no, I wouldn't have. I don’t even have condoms on me - and I literally always have them on me. So even if you were the one that wanted to, I still would’ve said no.”
You look at your hands on his chest.
“You barely know me.”
“Time doesn’t equal value.” He states, trying to catch your eyes but you keep staring at your hands. “And you’re more valuable than you think.” He adds. He leans forward with his face washing over with that drunk look again and he darts his eyes to your lips. “Kiss me again?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…I enjoy it too much. I don’t know if I could just kiss you, and then stop there? But I’m not ready to sleep with anyone yet.”
That almost feels like a bold face lie, because with how you felt a few minutes ago you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t want to sleep with him.
You feel Matty’s chest jump with a sharp breath while your heart is hammering again, you feel all your blood rush to your face and Matty pulls your hips down to rest against his thighs and he smooths his hands down to rub against your own thighs. There is a drawn out silence again, until he leans forward, ducking his head to your neck and presses a kiss there. “That is fine with me, but…”
He starts to drag his lips up to your neck and your head tilts involuntarily to give him more access to it, feeling your tummy knot each time his warm lips touch your skin as he murmurs against it.
“If you wanted to…There are a lot of other things we could do to make you feel good. Would you want that?” Regardless of how strongly you feel that this is a bad idea, and that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you dare anyone that’s been starved for years to have a mouth watering meal put in front of them, and not want to at least have a taste. Your subconscious is screaming at you over how stupid you’re being but you just can’t help it.
Matty sighs out a deep breath as his palms smooth up your thighs, his fingers grazing the insides of them while he kisses up to your jaw. “I’d be careful with you, we can stop whenever you want. Can I make you feel good?”
You swallow, breathing out a quiet “yes” while your eyes roll shut and Matty lets out an approving hum that sounds like a flustered mix of relief and excitement. He digs his fingers into your thighs to pull you forward again, dragging kisses from your jaw back to your mouth and nips at your lower lip which triggers you to connect your mouth with his again, savouring the feeling.
He breaks his lips away, only to nip and kiss at your lower lip between his words. “Tell me what you like.” He takes your lip between his teeth, to give it a gentle tug before releasing it and teases his tongue over it. “I’ll do whatever you like, just tell me.”
Matty waits for your answer but insecurity cripples you because you don’t know what to say because…well you Don’t know the answer.
You’ve had plenty of sexual experiences but it has never been about what you liked, you have never thought about it.
Matty pulls back at your hesitation and his brows crease. “Don’t be shy, you can tell me.”
“I-” You clear your throat, feeling flustered. “I can’t tell you because, well I don’t exactly know.” His brows scrunch even further in confusion and you shrug your shoulders. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
His expression falls with a sigh as he presses his lips into an annoyed flat line. “We need to have a serious talk about the kind of assholes you have been with, but we can do that later.” He taps his fingers on your thighs as an indicator for you to get up. “C’mon, hop up.”
You give him a confused look with your stomach dropping as you stand, thinking that the fact you told him that made him change his mind and not want to touch you. But he stands when you do, grasping your hand and starts to walk over to your bedroom, looking over his shoulders and notices the insecurity on your face which he matches with a soft and determined look. “You don’t know what you like, and we are going to do something about it. I’m gonna help you figure it out.”
Your eyes widen at how matter of fact he sounds, but he stops just as you were about to reach your door and you hear wheezing and trotting footsteps behind you. Matty looks behind you to see Loki following, then looks to your face, cocking his eyebrow. “I know you love that dog, but he can’t watch. Doubt he’s gonna wanna see what I’m doing to his girlfriend either. I think he has seen enough already.”
You give him a flat look and that makes him bite on his lip with a cheeky grin ,a look that makes you want to kiss him again instead of slapping him like it used to. You look at Loki and point to the couch. “Sorry baby, couch tonight - I’ll make it up to you, I promise - go on, off you go.” Loki huffs and whines, before turning and hanging his head, walking away with slow steps and you immediately feel terrible. Matty notices the guilty look on your face, and pulls on your hand, tugging you into the room and shutting the door behind you before you can protest.
As soon as the door clicks shut his hands are grabbing your face, crashing his lips into yours to kiss you that hard you would have fallen over if his hands didn’t immediately let go of your face and grab your hips instead, hoisting you up until your legs wrap around him and you speak in shock at the action. He walks towards the bed, stumbling while he tries to blindly find his way and you’re surprised you both made it without him tripping and eating shit hitting the ground while he turns and falls back onto the bed.
His mouth continues to attack yours while he moves your legs either side of his hips and grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and only breaking the kiss to tear it up over his arms and head before he tosses it and latches his mouth to yours again. Both of your chests are heaving while the air in the room feels like it shoots to a thousand degrees, and Matty grabs your hands to place them on his bare warm chest before his own hands explore over your torso in greedy frantic touches.
His hips roll up underneath you, grinding his centre against yours with a whine in the back of his throat and you’d snap your legs together at the sound if you could. Holy shit.
His fingers grab at the hem of your shirt as he starts to tug it up but then pauses. “Is this okay? Can I take this off?” He checks, his words muffled against your lips. You’re nodding before you can stop yourself, mumbling an agreeing ‘mhm’ against his lips. Next thing you know the material is being pulled up and torn off you, thrown aimlessly and his hands go back exploring all of the new exposed skin that they can.
His lips kiss down your throat where he latches onto it, sucking at the spot above your collarbone with his ragged breathing hitting your skin. You whimper as he sucks and laps at the spot while his palms smooth up your back and his fingers stop at the back clasp of your bra. “Can I undo this?” He rasps, snapping the band of the back of your bra against your skin.
“Yes.”
He swallows as he continues to pant, dragging his warm tongue up your neck to your jaw as his fingers undo the clasp of your bra with impressive ease.
The material of your bra starts to slip from your body, and you gasp in surprise when his hands go to your shoulders, grabbing you and flipping you quicker than the crack of a whip and he’s hovering above you. He pauses looking down at you with his face flushed and unruly hair draped around his face, glancing to your bra laying loose over your chest and he takes hold of it, not taking his eyes away while he slips it down your arms and tucks his bottom lip under his teeth.
As soon as he drops your bra next to you on the bed your instinct is to cover your chest, looking away from him and you curse yourself for feeling so ashamed. Matty scolds out of breath, grasping your arms to pull them away. “Don’t hide yourself.”
You close your eyes when he removes your arms from in front of you, wishing it made you invisible. Matty curses under his breath and you don’t know if that’s good or bad. “Look at me, darling.” You keep your eyes closed and his voice becomes more stern. “Look. At. Me.”
You force your eyes open, sucking all the air you can into your lungs the second you see the look on his face, it’s enough to make you want to shrink back into the bed as he stares at you under his brows.
“I don’t know what the hell you think is wrong with your body…Because I can’t for the fucking life of me figure out a single problem with what I am looking at right now.” He says, slipping his palms higher. “Wanting to hide this” his fingers grope and knead at your skin as they go higher, and he gestures his face down referring to your bare torso “hiding this is just unacceptable.” He leans down, keeping his eyes on your face, kissing in between your sternum and then drags his lips up over your left breast with his breath heating your skin. “If I had it my way you’d never wear clothes again - I’m hooked now.”
You don’t know how something that was meant to be a compliment also sounded like a warning, but all you can do is watch helplessly while his mouth tastes and teases over your chest. You think you’re going to hyperventilate, you’ve never had something or someone be so damn intense.
To be fair, usually the sex would be over by now from your past experience. Very in and out, and over and done with. But he seems like he is in absolutely no rush at all.
He pulls away just after he kitten licks at your nipple making your back arch up, and crawls off of you to stand at the edge of the bed, keeping his starving eyes on you as they dart all over your body like they can’t decide where to stay and he starts to undo his jeans, tugging them down once they’re open.
He lets out a relieved groan, once they’re down past his hips which you’re assuming is from the lack of restriction he has now and you try not to look while he shuffles them down his legs to kick them off but the hard bulge, begging to get out of his boxers is hard to miss.
He brings his fingers up to push his hair away from his face and sighs, looking like he is in pain. “You’re making it very hard to have self control right now, darling.”
You just stare at him with your brows twitching together. You chew on your lip, not sure what you should say while your chest rises and falls in slow but harsh breaths.
Matty rubs his hands over his face, groaning a strained ‘fuck’ into his hands, before dropping them and stepping forward to hook his fingers under the material of your shorts, flicking his intense eyes up to yours. “Can I take these off? I want you to get under the covers after I do, if that’s okay.” You give him a shy nod and he gives you a warning look in return. “You’ve got a voice darling, use it.”
“It’s okay.” You blurt under your breath, your ovaries feeling like they strangle themselves over the stern demanding tone of his voice. His mood flips again as he smiles, holding his tongue between his teeth. Which looks far too adorable of an expression to have while he’s getting you naked and starts to pull your shorts down along with your underwear, but keeps his eyes on your face. You hold your breath when he slips them off your legs and then drops them on the floor next to the bed, gesturing his chin towards the pillows. “Under the covers.”
You will your body to move, shuffling up the bed as he watches your face and once you tug the covers back and climb under he moves to follow you. “You’re leaving those on?” You question, glancing to his boxers and have no idea where you got the guts to even ask that. Intimate moments are when you’re most insecure and not even your wit can save you. He slides into the bed next to you, nudging you to lay on your back and then urges you to roll on your side with your back facing him. “Trust me darling, much better for my self control if I leave these on this time.”
This time.
You scrunch your face up in confusion, but then jolt when he scoots up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist and slotting your shoulders flush against his chest that radiates heat through your body. He rests his mouth near your ear and starts to trace patterns over your abdomen with his fingers “I know it was a lot letting me see you, so I thought we could try something else. I want you to be comfortable. I’m going to ask you some questions, you can answer however you want - there’s no wrong answer, however I need you to use your voice okay? Nodding isn’t going to work for me.” He says in a gentle tone, flattening his hand against your stomach. There is a strange tug in your chest, over how observant and thoughtful of that he was and how foreign it is that someone is being to attentive towards you.
“Okay.” You breathe, biting down on your lip so hard you nearly taste blood when he leans up and his mouth goes to your neck again. “Don’t be offended - but you’ve had an orgasm before right?” He asks in between slow kisses down your neck, making his way to your shoulder.
“Yes.”
You think one word answers are the best you’re going to be able to drag out, because you’re even struggling with just those. He lets out a thoughtful hum, nipping at your shoulder as his hand moves higher to massage over your breast. “Has anyone else ever made you come? Or just yourself? Be honest.”
“Just myself.”
“Thought as much.” He sighs in a mutter, sounding annoyed but not towards you, your answer just seemed to frustrate him but he doesn’t sound surprised. “So you’ve never came during sex? Or from someone else touching you? Ever?”
“No.” You clear your throat, deciding to add “Just assumed I was defective or something, because I couldn’t.”
Matty pauses and leans over to look at the side of your face, but you just stare at your wall in embarrassment. “There is nothing wrong with you? Understand me? If you can make yourself come, so can someone else. Whoever you’ve been with either didn’t know what the fuck they were doing, or didn’t deserve to touch you in the first place - the idiots never even stopped to ask what you like or find out - they are the fucking problem.”
His words are firm and direct, and you’re so used to his cheeky light nature that hearing him sound so harsh and serious makes your muscles tense. You don’t know why all of this has struck such a nerve with him, but he obviously feels very strongly about it. Could’ve done with the lecture when you weren’t butt ass naked though.
“Point taken. I don’t have a broken vagina, good pep talk.” You quip with your voice tight, and the tension from Matty’s speech breaks when a bright chuckle vibrates in his chest.
“Definitely don’t think it’s broken…Maybe a little neglected but not broken.” He teases, and you’re just about to fire back at him but he slides his hand down to grab your thigh to lift it, running his fingers up the area where your leg meets your groin. “Only one way to find out though.”
Your belly coils that tight you’re just about to choke, your muscles twitching when he tickles his fingers over your pubic bone. “Can I touch you?” You bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard. Your hips have the urge to shift forward of their own accord to encourage him, and you’re trying to adjust to constantly getting asked permission. The normal side of your brain would have been sarcastic, but the hormonal one is the part that murmurs a shy “yes”
That three letter word has Matty’s fingers ghosting down, making you grit your teeth when his careful fingertips drag a slow stroke between your folds, a deep long exhale leaving his mouth as he does. His fingers move back and forth, exploring every slick bit of skin he can and you feel him shift on the spot behind you like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Feels pretty perfect to me, darling.” He murmurs, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to your jaw. “Just relax, I want you to do something for me.”
He removes his hand from in between your legs, taking your hand that you hadn’t even noticed was clamping onto the sheets and moves it down with his own. “I want you to take my hand and show me what you like, when you touch yourself. What feels best for you. Just place your hand on top of mine and move my fingers however you want.”
“Matty I can’t do that.” You stutter while you try to comprehend what he just said. You’re definitely not comfortable enough for that but he just tutts you. “Yes you can.” He dismisses, placing your hands between your legs and moves his fingers to rest against the sensitive spot that’s started to throb. “Just close your eyes, and breathe. You can do it, and I’m not moving my fingers until you do. It’s up to you.” He applies more pressure but keeps his fingers still and you cuss under your breath, squeezing your eyes closed.
How the fuck are you meant to cope with this?
“While you’re deciding…” Matty starts with a coy tone to his voice, still not moving his fingers that feel torturing at this point. “I’m pretty wrapped about the fact that I turn you on, feeling how soaked you are. Enjoy kissing me that much, do you?” You can’t answer, too distracted by the ache that’s getting worse between your legs. Matty just sounds amused now, and keeps talking with the smug expression evident in his voice. “What else turns you on, darling?”
You’re huffing out breaths through your nose fighting to keep your hips still, and Maty moves his lips to your ear. “What about dirty talk? That get you off? Let’s see if it does.” He drawls in a low voice that feels like it shivers down your spine at the drop of it. “Wanna know how much you turn me on, darling?” He breathes against your ear, his words slow and sound filthy enough from his tone, his hips press forward, his hard length clothed underneath his boxers circling against your behind and he moans. It has to be on fucking purpose with how drawn out it is, before he continues to speak. “You feel that. Rock fucking hard for you, and this is not the first time either.”
Does air exist? Because you can’t seem to find it.
“Know what I did last night?” He drags out, continuing to rock his hips against you while that ache between your legs makes you want to scream. While you try to shift your hips he is pinning you back against him to hold you still. “Just move my fingers love, you know what to do.” He taunts and you growl in frustration at the back of your throat which only makes him smile. “Now where was I? Oh yeah, last night..I had a shower, you know what I did while I was in there?” You try and stop the strangled moan that echoes in your throat when he circles his erection against your behind in slow hard movements but your body betrays you.
“Was thinking about you, thinking about how badly I wanted to kiss you.” He murmurs, moving his head to press a kiss to your shoulder. “And I got to fucking hard, I couldn’t even concentrate. So I wrapped my fingers around myself…leant my other hand against the wall and started to fuck my fist, started slow and got faster and faster the more I thought about you, what it would be like to touch you, have you in the shower with me, all the things we could do. And then you know what happened?”
You swear on your unborn children that you’re going to suffocate to death. You can’t even explain what is happening to your body at the moment, it feels like every ending nerve you have is screaming. Matty’s breathing gets heavier as he continues to grind himself against you, while his voice becomes thicker and he damn near moans his words out. “I came…really, really fucking hard. Could barely hold myself up, making filthy sounds I couldn’t control, felt so good darling, so fucking good.”
The image that is now burnt into your brain is going to fucking kill you, along with the sound of his voice. Your throat feels like it’s closing on itself and you can’t take this anymore so you suck in a sharp gasp and use every ounce of non-existent self confidence you have.
You grab his hand, placing yours over his and press his fingers against your aching nerves, whining at the relief when you start to move his fingertips in slow circles.
Matty’s lips pull into a grin against your shoulder, and he hums to himself. “Guess we can add dirty talk to the things that turn you on, then.”
You circle your hips back against his fingers whimpering at the feeling. This is mind numbing.
“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you? Matty coos, sounding breathless as his hips grind harder against you. “Didn’t know it was possible for you to get even wetter, making a mess of my fingers lovely girl.”
You’re going to have to get a priest to bless your showerhead, so you can cleanse yourself under the water for a week straight after listening to that filthy mouth of his.
You decide you’re not going to be the only one that’s a mess and push your behind back against his length as you start to work his fingers faster at the pressure and speed you know will unravel this painful knot in your gut the way you need it to. Matty grunts a low, guttural sound with a strained “Oh fuck” following it, and thrusts his centre hard against you, dropping his humid forehead against your shoulder. His fingers keep up the rhythm you have going, pushing me closer to that devastating feeling that’s making your stomach muscles start to tremble and you drop your hand away, unable to keep it there anymore and dig your nails into the mattress.
You haven’t even had a thought about what you should be doing, the sounds you should be making or how you should be reacting because that is all you used to do - making sure you were reacting the way the other person wanted but right now you can’t think of a god damn thing, all you’re doing is relishing how incredible this feels. His fingers continue to mimic the exact motions you showed him, playing your body like an instrument he mastered in minutes and you start to writhe against him while he grinds his centre against you like he’s consumed by his own movements.
“Oh god.” You gasp, your breath hitching in your throat. “Faster, please? I need - please go faster.” You beg sounding incoherent, you just need that last little push to unravel everything. Matty moves his face to hover over yours, and you barely recognise his voice with how low and hoarse it is. “You gonna come for me, lovely girl?”
You bite down hard on your lip, scrunching your eyes shut tighter with a sharp desperate nod and Matty nudges his nose against your cheek. “Kiss me- and I’ll go faster. I’ll make you feel so good I promise, darling just kiss me.”
Honestly he could’ve asked you to eat a shit sandwich at this point and you would have.
You turn your face, with his lips capturing yours as soon as they’re in reach and immediately the kiss is desperate. It’s wet tongues and careless lips while his fingers quicken against your sensitivity and he captures every single one of the choked moans that leave your throat. Every muscle in your body tenses as that coil in your abdomen unravels and pulses out from your lower half through your body in shock waves, spasming your nerves and constricting your stomach as it does while your hips thrust and roll to ride the feeling as it washes over you.
Matty’s fingers continue to drag the feeling out, pulling high pitched whimpers and strangled moans out of your chest while your kissing becomes uncoordinated until he stills his open mouth against yours as his hips jolt forward. He chokes out a whimpered “oh my fucking god” against your mouth, his own body jolting and trembling while his centre rolls against your arse until you feel a liquid warmth against your skin soaked into the fabric of his boxers.
You jolt your hips away when you become too sensitive from his fingers. Both of you are panting, with Matty’s forehead against your own and his long hair that’s become damp in places is tickling against your cheeks. He presses lazy kisses to your lips, sighing to himself and finally slips his hands from between your legs when your hips still, hugging his arm around your waist like he can’t get close enough to you.
“You feeling okay, darling?” He asks with a tired voice.
“Really good, good, I’m great.” You sigh, sounding groggy and you can’t string a sentence together. Orgasms are great. You’re so sleepy. Matty laughs under his breath at how spent you are, sounding pleased with himself.
“You know I haven’t came in my boxers since I was about 12, so thanks for the nostalgia.” He muses with a giggle. “You’re welcome.” You hum, half asleep and barely paying attention to what he is saying.
“I need to clean myself up before I fall asleep, but I kind of ruined my boxers…So you wouldn’t have any shorts I could sleep in, would you?” You hear the slightest hint of bashfulness in his voice. You smile to yourself.
“Yeah I do.”
#i hate this#the 1975#matty healy#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy fanfic#matty healy x reader#matty healy x you#matty healy smut#every time i post i want to delete tumblr right after
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BnHA Chapter 424: Detroit Tears
Previously on BnHA: You know what, fandom is way too heated about this still so we’re just going to leave that be that for now and not get involved. I have some conflicted feelings about it, but this is not the place or time. This is a happy post.
Today on BnHA: Oh right, Horikoshi still owns the rights to my soul. And I’ve just been reminded of why I willingly signed them over to him so freely.
Quick heads up that this isn’t going to be my usual style of chapter reaction post, in that it’s really just going to be a ton of rambling about That One Scene. Partly because I’m only halfway caught up with stuff, but mostly because tbh, this is the only thing that matters to me right at this moment.
Also this is your friendly neighborhood spoiler warning that I’m posting about a chapter which hasn’t officially been released yet! So proceed at your own discretion. This reaction is based on @pikahlua’s excellent spoiler translation writeup here. I’ve officially lost all of my fucks about spoilers and it’s extremely liberating.
I’m glad that Kacchan’s arm isn’t just magically better and that he’s never going to be 100% again. and also that the doctor mentions him needing to rest his heart as well. because I did feel like there needed to be at least a few lasting consequences from him LITERALLY DYING AND UNDERGOING OPEN-HEART SURGERY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BATTLEFIELD. but I’m also glad they established that it wasn’t career-ending or anything. he’ll probably have some chronic pain and occasionally aggravate his old injuries while fighting, all of which is great for angst purposes. but it was good to see him being calmly accepting of that while also being determined to put the work in to rehab it as much as possible.
also enjoyed the doctor summing up Kacchan’s highly improbable main character resurrection and subsequent antics as basically being some wild bullshit that nobody can explain. lampshaded the shit out of it. “I don’t really understand” lol. nobody understands. in truth it’s that his secondary quirk is bending reality to his will in order to kick ass.
moving on to the main event now! so Kacchan and Izuku’s reunion was obviously the highlight of this chapter and of my life, probably. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it wasn’t. y’all know how it is.
what really made this scene for me was Kacchan being more upset at Izuku’s loss than Izuku himself. all those callbacks and all that guilt. that careful selection of flashback panels. the fact that Kacchan’s past bullying of the quirkless Izuku wasn’t glossed over or forgotten, and in fact is the emotional core that fuels Kacchan’s reaction here. Horikoshi didn't have to cut that deep, but he knows what he's about.
and then the crying. I need to write a lot of words about this right the fuck now. first off, having Kacchan just flat out sob while Izuku for once is the calm one (at least until All Might goes in for the emotional kill later on), is such a beautiful reversal and really shows how far they’ve come. even better is that none of it was even remotely out of character. I’m always appreciative when an author can produce top tier emotional hurt/comfort like this and have it feel earned and authentic rather than forced. well done.
also, “Na--cchan!!” fuck yeah Izuku. we’ll never let him live this down. (but also, him later trying to reconcile his forever-tough image of Kacchan with the crying, hiccupping version standing in front of him, by blaming it on Kacchan’s weakened physical state... oh, Izuku.)
also the fact that Kacchan so easily reverts to this smol crying boy even after defeating the world’s greatest evil pretty much activated every protective instinct that I have. he’s seventeen. he’s practically a man now. he’s objectively one of the strongest and toughest people in the entire world. and yet his eyes still go so wide and his face is still so young and Horikoshi still draws him so tiny and vulnerable whenever he’s like this. goddamn gets me EVERY single time. let’s be real, it’s been this way ever since the “you looked like you needed saving” scene back in the literal first chapter. just, omg. he’s still just a kid and he’s too small to contain all these feelings SOMEONE HELP HIM.
anyway so NEEDLESS TO SAY, Kacchan full on mourning in between sobs because he wanted to keep being rivals with Izuku cut me to my core. I cried too, goddammit. because in Katsuki’s mind it’s like. he wasted a dozen years of potential friendship by being a giant asshole. and they were only able to start getting things back on track less than a year ago. and that was probably the best year of both of their lives. and that rivalry meant so much to both of them. pursuing their dreams together as equals. and he wanted it to continue!! he missed out on so much, and it was his own damn fault, and now it’s all being taken away again maybe!!
and I think it’s especially devastating to Katsuki because he was trying so hard to make up for how he treated Izuku, and then this comes along and now he’s worried it was all for nothing. he’s scared that Izuku will maybe have to quit being a hero. (we know that won’t happen, obviously, but Katsuki is living this and not just reading it. he’s never met narrator!Deku and doesn’t have the benefit of all that foreshadowing and stuff.) but even more than that, I think he’s scared that it will undo all of their progress toward mending their relationship. not because Katsuki thinks any less of Izuku now, quirk or no quirk; but because of how Izuku might feel about being quirkless again, and because of the memories it might bring flooding back to the surface. I don’t think Katsuki fully believes that Izuku has forgiven him. so that’s a major fear potentially rearing its ugly head once more now.
and of course, he’s also just sad and upset on Izuku’s behalf, because he knows Izuku is sad about it too, even if he’ll never show it and will just downplay it because of his selfless nature. it’s a major loss, and one deserving of tears being shed, even if Izuku won’t shed any of his.
so yeah. it’s a lot. in Katsuki’s mind it’s the potential loss of a partner (if Izuku quits heroics), and a friend (if Izuku does cool toward Katsuki as a result of being quirkless again), and a dream (of them reaching the highest heights together), and his friend’s dream. so it makes perfect sense that all of that would overwhelm him. all of this is stuff that’s broken him down on past occasions as well.
so anyway it’s going be very cathartic when all those fears prove to be unfounded (because they better be unfounded lol). but in the meantime it’s a very moving reminder of how much he really does care and how far the both of them have come.
also Horikoshi really couldn’t resist giving Nobu one last chance to destroy everyone when this scene rolls up in the anime. that’s so reckless of him. there will be no survivors.
All Might telling both of them they’d become the greatest heroes was also the perfect chef’s kiss moment on top of everything else. we already knew it, of course. but it was good to hear him say it. and they needed him to say it. they needed and deserved to hear it.
and I really love that the qualities he specifically praised them for were the same things that each of them had struggled with the most in their respective journeys. he tells Izuku, who had such a difficult time learning how to tell the world “I am here!!”, that he inspires everyone and has become everyone’s hero. and he reminds Katsuki, who struggled with learning how to save people, and has especially struggled with his guilt over what happened to All Might at Kamino, that he saved All Might’s life and is the reason he’s able to still be there with them. both of them just really needed to hear that acknowledgement and encouragement, and it was such a powerful passing of the torch moment. All Might gets so much shit from the fandom, but he really is a phenomenal mentor when he’s in the zone, and I’ll die on that hill.
also a nice touch keeping the focus of those panels on the two boys and their reactions. even though I would have liked to see All Might’s face when he thanked them at the end, it definitely felt deliberate. this is their moment. their soft little tearful smiles afterwards punted my heart off a cliff and then picked it up and held it gently.
lastly, let it be known that I’m still convinced Katsuki has OFA (All Might vestige explanation when??), and it’s not lost on me that that would be a mighty convenient way for Izuku to potentially still go on a-quirkin’ in the end, if that’s how Horikoshi wants to play it. I'm just saying.
also before I forget, just a quick shoutout to Horikoshi for FINALLY showing all three members of the Bakufam in a scene together in which they finally managed to not be completely dysfunctional lol. my deepest darkest BnHA secret is that Mitsuki is secretly super high up on my list of favorite characters. and she was great in this chapter, and I love how she was just “WHAT THE FUCK” aghast at Katsuki using his main character powers to continuously ignore his injuries. and then she and Masaru kind of silently agreeing to step outside the room and let the boys and All Might have their moment. while still secretly listening in. because you know they were. good for them.
lastly for reals, I just want you all to remember that as great as this chapter was, the one thing that it was STILL missing which we have STILL not gotten is a HUG. we demand HUGS. I’m not leaving this manga till I get a bkdk hug goddammit. I will stay here all night if I have to.
#bnha 424#bakugou katsuki#midoriya izuku#bnha meta#bakugou meta#bakudeku meta#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha#horikoshi I am putting my faith in you to write the rest of the characters' epilogues with as much care as this one#that 'this is not the type of manga that can immediately end after the fighting is done' statement is one I'm gonna hold you to sir#I told myself I'd be happy with whatever we got but the truth is I still have Expectations#our fates are in your hands
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It has been six excruciating days since I was plunged into the Bridgerton fandom against my will.
I was minding my own business, watching YouTube compilations of the best kisses in TV history, when I unwittingly clicked on a video about Colin and Penelope, and I was immediately down so bad for them.
Let me be clear: Bridgerton was not part of my life before I clicked on that video. I wanted nothing to do with it; I had no intention of ever watching or reading that smut. And then, without warning, it swept in and took me in the night, much like Colin Bridgerton in the back of a carriage.
To say I have been lost in the sauce these past six days would be a gross understatement. The carriage scene is literally ruining my life. I haven’t gone to sleep before 1 a.m. since Sunday, and I have been over an hour late to work every day. Why? Because I cannot stop consuming that godforsaken scene — watching gifs of it over and over, reading y’all’s hilarious takes and memes about it, watching it with the audio descriptions turned on (🥵), watching it with the music removed (🥵🥵), watching Luke and Nicola on their press tour, watching, watching, watching.
Have I started actually watching season 1 of the show? Of course. Did I check out the large-print version of the first book from the library since it was the only copy available? You bet. But I do not care about these other characters and storylines. I want it to be Colin and Penelope on the screen and the page in every sentence and every scene.
And either fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t even have to be looking at a screen to be distracted by them — my daydreaming has never been as maladaptive in my life as it has been this week. I can hardly think of one ten-minute stretch in the past six days in which some imaginary scenario has not been taking over my brain. I want to be part of their world so bad — not just Bridgerton, but Shondaland. As is the case for 90% of all of my daydreams, I want these actors to know I exist. I want them to look at me with just as much awe and love as I look at them. So I might be staring at my computer screen in my cubicle, but in my mind, I’m on a press tour of my own that intersects with theirs. (I’m never the desperate fan with no life in my dreams; my idols always see me as their equal). I might be driving my commute in my car, but in my mind, they’re congratulating me about my own novel being optioned by Netflix. I might be brushing my teeth in my bathroom, but in my mind, we’re laughing together on Graham Norton’s couch.
But Lord, here comes that freaking carriage scene once again, inserting itself into my mind (pun unavoidable). I cannot get over it. I’m so stuck there that I’ve found myself wearing shoes I don’t remember putting on, carrying coffee mugs I don’t remember putting in my bag, driving a speed limit I don’t remember agreeing to as acceptable. There is laundry that needs to be folded. Bills need to be paid. Emails need to be deleted en masse without reading. But I can’t find the door that will let me out of this damn carriage.
I had a conversation with myself two days ago about how we might be able to adapt to this new living situation. After a few temper tantrums, I finally said, “Girl, if you’re going to watch this scene 1,000 times, you have got to find a way to make it a constructive part of your life.” So I did what any rational adult would do: I started writing a scholarly paper about why it’s so powerful — not just for me but, according to the internet, for a lot of women. And I have every intention of writing an entire paper about this … if I can find the time. I’m just so busy right now with consuming this damn scene.
Was starting to write that article enough to satiate my obsession with this scene, with this show and these actors? Of course not. So this morning, I started writing a spicy scene of my own, featuring not Colin and Penelope but two other vaguely outlined characters who I’m sure I’ll give names and personalities to later. I was literally sitting in my cubicle, hunched over my planner, writing down snippets of sexiness in as small a print as possible in case someone walked up on me and looked over my shoulder without me noticing. And I’m not gonna lie: this shit’s good. I’ve never written smut before, because I’ve never had enough spice in my own life to feel like I’d be able to do it justice on paper. But that imagination of mine — she’s a freak. And my mind? My mind has moved way past the gutter. It is now in the outhouse. It’s in the slop with the pigs.
It should have come as no surprise, but as usual, the act of actually writing down the jumble of mess in my brain has had the effect of breaking some of the spell. I was also forced to focus on work because of looming deadlines, and I currently feel calmer than I have since Sunday. But I am truly living in fear of June 13. I cannot go through this again, and I know that I’m bound to, because I know that what’s been shown so far won’t hold a candle to what’s coming. And if I get down bad any further, I will be deep enough in the ground for this to become my final resting place. I’m not ready to be buried, but it feels inevitable.
But somehow, despite my own wants and fears, and despite the fact that we haven’t even been introduced yet to the bedroom where Colin and Penelope are sure to end up, I am somehow already lurking from behind the window curtains in the corner, peeking out at them doing the deed. I know what I hope I’ll see: based on the excerpt I’ve seen from the book, they will be in front of a mirror — expressly because Colin wants Penelope to see herself in full for the glorious goddess she is, and she will look at her sexy, bare self with just as much pride and love as we viewers behind the screen will (but probably with slightly less lust than Colin, who I pray will be very loud about how hot she is).
I am dreaming about this scene, but I dread it. Because if it’s as good as the carriage scene, I will immediately be re-enscripted and sent right back to the trenches where I spent the last six days. I’m excited, but I’m scared. And I’m afraid of getting lost in the woods again, because I know that if I do, I won’t want to be found.
#bridgerton#polin#penelope featherington#colin bridgerton#colin x penelope#bridgerton season 3#maladaptive daydreaming#creative writing#send help#nicola coughlan#luke newton
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unexpected bloom {joel miller x reader}
Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: A single flower and a chance encounter brings color to your life.
Word Count: 965
Warnings: none really, fleeting sexual content, allusions to adult content, kissing, fluff, pre-outbreak / no outbreak au
A/N: this was done to try and shake some writer's block, as a part of the 'flora and fauna' writing challenge by @morallyinept
ao3 link || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi
A single flower.
That’s how it all started.
And you thanked every lucky star in the universe as you felt the heat of the body you now curled around as you slowly woke from your slumber. The broad back your front was pressed to was bare, skin on skin in the most intimate of ways that turned from barely conscious and sensual to wide awake and desperate.
Grunts fall from the man’s full lips as he presses his hands to the backs of your thighs, his hips moving against yours in a steady rhythm. Your own fingers tangled almost painfully with his as they hold you in the position he’s found you like the best. The one that punches the most wonton and guttural sounds from deep in your chest as he brings you to the shattering crest of pleasure over and over again. His curls may be graying, his hands weathered and callous, his back aching and sore. But he always seemed to find his youth when you smiled at him over the rim of your mug or trailed a hand over his broad shoulders.
He had certainly found his youth when you had approached him in front of your workplace to compliment the flowers he had been contracted to plant all along the buildings entrance. Enough so that he hadn’t even thought of how completely sappy and unfounded his plucking of a single one to deliver to your desk with a handwritten note had been until well after he had done it. The nervous panic setting in once he was back in the safety of his home and the deed had been mentioned by a tittering Sarah as she recounted her first day as an intern in the very same building.
Of how she had giggled and fawned over the move he had made without much thought beyond how you had to be prettier than all the flowers he had been dealing with. He felt embarrassment flood him, his fork suddenly clinking between his teeth and his ears tipped pink as he watched his daughter rave about how romantic and sweet it had been for someone to do that. How no one seems to care about stuff like that anymore and all she gets are text messages she doesn’t even know how to respond to their so dry and unoriginal. He puts aside his embarrassment to tell her that if she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to engage. That she deserves only the best because she is the best. His whole world in the most perfect package right across the table from him.
She pauses, her own ears tinging as she smiles brightly before teasing him for being such a dad.
But he takes it in stride, because that seems to be his whole purpose in life. To be her dad, to be the one person she could rely on for anything and everything. But that since she had graduated from her university program and moved from their home into a dorm to get the full experience and now an apartment with her friend Ellie while they worked internships, he didn’t get much of a chance to be that.
His newfound purpose was to be your boyfriend.
Something he took just as much pride in because you were perfect too.
He had taken you another single flower the following day after Sarah’s gushing of how lucky you were and how excited you had been to find the first on your desk. How your eyes kept falling on the gift he had left throughout the day. One each day until your schedules had aligned and he could take you out on a proper date. The once single flowers had turned into bouquets, his once written words became spoken affections. You had smiled so gorgeously and laughed so genuinely that he had fallen even deeper in his feelings for you. The ones you returned with bashful and then teasing words. Wit sharp and endearing as time ticked by.
Something you reminisced on as he laid beside you now, both panting for air. Skin sticky with sweat and hands idly wandering over each other.
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” He rumbles, seeing the way your gaze is both focused and faint. Not wanting him to worry, you press a kiss to his damp temple, rolling over to lay half over him. His arms come to rest on your lower back, anchoring you to him.
“Thinkin’ about flowers,” You grin, teeth catching the sunlight peeking through the thick curtains. Resting your chin atop folded hands over his chest.
“We need to plant some for the season, before it’s too hot.” He touches the tip of his nose to yours, causing your face to wrinkle as you scrunch against the tickle of his moustache across your lips.
“Let’s get peonies.”
“Anythin’ for you, you know that.”
“I think…I think I want those for my bouquet too.” Your eyes trail from his handsome face to the ring that sits on your finger. Warm from your skin, from his.
“Yeah?” His eyes soften as he watches you admire the jewelry. He had been so nervous when he begun to plan his proposal, the whole thing thrown out the window one morning when you had peered at him through the open window of his truck as he dropped you off at work. The words had burst from his chest in one solid breath, shocking you both. Another step with you that felt so natural he had done it without thinking. But it paid off, because here you were with him still.
And to think, he had almost turned down the job for worry of embarrassing his daughter at her first job.
“Yeah.” You pressed the single word to his lips.
#dev writes#fic: unexpected bloom#tlou#tlou fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller one shot#fluff#sweet and short
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Celebration Baby, Literally! (CL16) [Blind Items AU]
(Part 6 in the Blind Items AU [can be read separately])
Summary: 8 months after Charles Monaco win, the fans get to see just how hard he celebrated
“Ohhhhhhh mate, you have been outed!” Pierre laughes as he shoves his phone into Charles’ face.
“Pierre, I cannot read when you put the screen in my eyes like that, back up” Charles responds as he shoves his longtime friend. Like many of the other victims of the ‘F1 Blind Items’ account, Charles’ face drains of color as he sees what they are saying. While there is some truth to the rumor, it still is far from correct. “Ah! Merde, they got so much wrong, mate!”
“What's wrong, honey?” Charles’ girlfriend calls from the other room where she is sitting with Pierre’s girlfriend. The couple decided to join the Gasly house for a nice dinner, although reading the post surely made Charles lose his appetite.
Charles and Pierre look at each other as they realize she heard them. The one thing the post got right was that his girlfriend was very pregnant with what is most likely a post-win conceived baby. There was no reason to stress her out when she was so offline it would take a while for her to learn about the rumor, giving Charles enough time to convince her to go public and try to make this into the smallest problem possible.
“Nothing, baby. I love you” He responded as he made a ‘stay silent’ motion at Pierre.
“Um okay, love you too?” was all she replied, not believing in the slightest that this was nothing.
It didn’t help that for the rest of the night, Charles was off in his own world, thinking of how he was going to execute his terribly thought out plan. But she wasn’t going to interrogate him on it, at least not again, she had already asked him multiple times if he was okay and if he wanted to talk but he would always answer with a “I am fine, beautiful. How can I not be when the woman I love most is pregnant with our child.” While it was charming, she still wasn’t convinced he was okay after all.
After hours of deliberation, as he sat outside the bathtub while his girlfriend relaxed in it, he finally spoke his mind.
“We should tell people” is the best he came up with after hours of thinking.
“Tell people what?”
“About the baby”
“We told people about the baby”
“I mean like everyone, we should go public.”
She turned her neck to fully face him at that.
“Where is this coming from? Why now?” She asked.
“No reason”
“You are a shit liar, Leclerc, tell me why.”
“People know”
“What people know?” She asked. God, he was awful at explaining things.
“Everyone.”
“Then why would we need to tell them?”
Right when he was about to reply, he closed his mouth. Why would he need to tell people? While the Blind Items account had become a reliable source as they had yet to be wrong, there wasn’t any reason to actually address the issue, at least not till the baby was born, which would happen during winter break.
“...I guess we don’t need to. It's just- there is this account that posts rumors about the drivers that so far have always been true, but one came out about us and it isn’t really that correct, I just thought we should squash it.”
“What did they say that wasn’t correct?” She questioned.
“They implied we only got together because of the baby, and that we weren’t dating before I uh, knocked you up.” The ‘very public breakup’ the post referred to, was an actual breakup that happened a year prior to the world knowing. It was another very private relationship, as Charles became more famous and ‘sought after’ he liked to keep relationships from the limelight till they got serious in order to protect his girlfriends. But when his ex had found out just how serious things were with his current girlfriend, she wanted to bring it to light in order to get her 15 minutes of fame, which ended up being more like 2 minutes. As terrible as it was, once the public knew she had no connection to Charles anymore, they lost interest in her.
After requesting he pull up the post, Charles handed his phone to his girlfriend so she could read.
“Is this what you are worried about? The part about me getting a ring for a ‘push present’? Don’t want me getting any ideas?” She joked. They had been together long enough and were about to have a baby, so the idea of getting engaged took up about 65% of the monégasque’s thoughts, the rest being about her and the baby, maybe 5% in total was devoted to F1.
“Ah no, my love, you know that is not it. Although an engagement ring would already happen even without our baby, so I will get you something else as well as a present” He said as he kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then her cheek, finally landing on her lips.
“We don’t need to say anything, let us enjoy the privacy for a while longer. Wouldn’t it be better to go into the upcoming season with a baby and a financée?” She asked.
She was right, why not make an even bigger entrance by saying nothing and letting the rumor die down, in order to enjoy the bliss of privacy for a little while longer.
“That sounds wonderful, mon amour. Absolutely perfect.”
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regrets- s.reid
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summary: spencer comes back from prison and your grief and his cause the collapse of your world.
pairing: spencer reid x fem reader
warnings: suicide mentions, death, fighting, break-up, breif spencer in prison mentions (nothing about the storyline though dw)
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Spencer had always been skinny. He’d always been last picked for sports, and at the beginning of your relationship, he was nervous to be naked in front of you.
Were you two still even in a relationship?
He’d been in prison, then he was out and saving his mom. Now he’s home.
And you’re not.
The first thing to do in his mind is to shower. He wanted to wash the last few days off of him. He hadn’t been in a comfortable place in a long time, so the shower seemed different, the products you used to use were gone, replaced by others. Did you even live here anymore?
Getting naked was too difficult, every time he saw what he’d become, he felt the uncontrollable urge to vomit and not stop until he passed out. He sat in the bathroom for a long time, he wasn’t even sure how long.
The front door opened. Your voice to someone over the phone, a rustling of bags and a sigh once the call was over.
He had so many questions. Why hadn’t you been there? Where were you? You sent him letter after letter (ones he couldn’t bring himself to respond to) about not being able to wait to see him, about missing him, chewing him out for not letting you come see him.
So where had you been?
“Fuck this fucking funeral,” you mumbled to yourself as you walked through your kitchen. “Fuck my life.”
You grabbed a cup of water as you felt the familiar sting of tears in the back of your throat. Spencer listened close to the bathroom door as you slowly broke down. It started as just a single sob. Then it progressed until you were fully crying on your kitchen floor and dialling someone’s number.
“Y/n?” Penelope’s voice said from the other side of the line.
“Hey,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry that you couldn’t reach me for the past few days, I was back in Vermont and I had no cell service. Anyways, any news on Spencer? I know that Diana got moved to a facility, any news from him? Did Luke or Jj visit?”
Spencer’s heart broke as he listened to you put everything aside just to ask about him.
“Babe… Spencer got out three days ago,” she admitted.
Another stab to your already bleeding heart. Spencer watched as your face broke from the crack in the bathroom door.
“Oh,” your voice broke. “Good.”
There was a long silence.
“Do you know where he is?” You asked, ashamed that you had to ask someone else for the whereabouts of your fiancé.
“I’m not sure, I’m so sorry girl-” Penelope’s comforting voice was cut off by you hanging up. The sobbing started again and Spencer just couldn’t take it anymore. He opened the bathroom door and revealed himself, tears in his own eyes. You scrambled up to your feet and approached him cautiously.
“Hi,” he said, just above a whisper.
“Hey,” you said, lip quivering.
“What happened in Vermont?” He asked.
Your eyes dropped to the floor and he saw some tears fall. “My little sister killed herself.”
Spencer wanted nothing more than to grab you and hold you, but a voice in the back of his head told him that you’d reject him and call him disgusting. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” you shook your head. “I should’ve been here.”
“You didn’t-”
“I missed you so much Spencer,” you sighed, a watery smile on your lips. “Why didn’t you respond to my letters?”
Spencer felt a weight on his chest tighten. “I-I couldn’t.”
“You responded to everyone else's.”
“You’re different-”
“I’m expendable. I’m just here, all the fucking time, aren’t I? Do you even want to get married?” You demanded.
Spencer brought a hand up to your cheek and wiped away a single tear. “I would marry you right now.”
You closed your eyes, pushing his hand away. “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
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Spencer was quiet and allowed you your space, but still stayed close enough to be around. The following weeks were full of ups and downs, one of which ended with you sleeping on the couch.
He’d said something stupid about you not trying hard enough with taking care of yourself, like he had any weight in that conversation. He couldn’t even look at himself.
He didn't take kindly to that comment.
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“You think it’s easy for me?” He asked. “I was in prison for-”
“You think that was easy for me? I was alone-”
“I never asked to be put in prison!” He shouted.
“I never asked for my sister to kill herself!” You screamed.
There was silence for a moment.
“I’m done with you,” Spencer snapped. “We’re done.”
And your heart broke for a second time.
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“What happened?” Penelope asked, opening her door to you.
“We broke up,” you shrugged. “I need somewhere to stay until I can get an apartment.”
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Penelope watched in horror as you went about your days as normal for the next three weeks. Acting as if nothing had even happened.
Something had happened. Your life had changed in two major ways. You weren’t a fiancé anymore. You weren’t a sister anymore. You were nothing. At least, that’s what it felt like.
And nothings aren’t FBI agents.
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You sat in Emily’s office with a sullen look on your face. Her’s had drained of all colour when you handed in your gun and resigned.
“You’re serious?” she asked.
“Deadly.”
“You’re happy?” she asked again, meeting your eyes.
“No.”
She nodded, understanding your issues and pulled you in for a motherly hug. “We’ll miss you a lot.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” you sighed, lying to both of you. The phone would not be working both ways. She’d call and leave voice notes, and you’d listen to them but never reply. But it would be enough for the both of you.
“You’d never be a stranger to me,” she smiled sadly. Emily had been like a sister since the beginning. She’d always looked out for you. She’d always been there for you. “I’d suggest cleaning out your desk before Reid comes in next week,” she nodded, wiping her tears.
“It’s done.”
Emily nodded, then smiled at you. “You’re going to do something so special.”
“Thank you,’ you whispered, your emotions getting the better of you.
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“Where’s Y/n?” Spencer asked, sitting at the roundtable. “Her desk is empty.”
“She left last week, Spence,” Jj admitted. “We thought she’d told you?”
“What? No, she didn’t tell me?”
“She’s your fiancé Spencer, she obviously had to tell you.”
Penelope and Emily made brief eye-contact. Spencer looked down.
“We broke up.”
Jj’s jaw dropped, Luke’s jaw dropped.
“She’s gone,” Emily sighed. “Sorry Spencer.”
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Spencer’s world was in black and white. You were gone. You’d left. His love was gone.
How would he survive?
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criminal minds masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)
#criminal minds imagine#bau team#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid
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Okay, so I’m weirdly into the idea of being someone’s estranged wife???
Imagine being Patrick’s estranged wife?? Like maybe he married you bc he couldn’t have Tashi and then just…never signed the divorce papers? And now he’s knocking on your door bc there’s a challenger he’s gonna play in buttttt his bank account’s a little low so could he pretty please crash with you? He’ll sleep on his couch and be on his best behavior, he swears
Queue him crawling into bed with you at 2 am bc it’s cold in the living room and you’re soft and pretty and whoops, he’s hard
Ooo love this
Warnings: Fingering, Patrick Being Patrick, bitter and estranged ex-wife Reader
"You have any chicken nuggets?"
"What are you, five?"
"Adults can enjoy chicken nuggets."
They certainly could, but you didn't grace that reply with a response, just watched with tepid interest as he rifled through the contents of your fridge.
A single phrase kept resounding in your mind:
I should've left him on the doorstep.
And maybe you should have. It wouldn't be the first time that you'd given Patrick the cold shoulder, and it wouldn't be the first time that he just parked in your driveway and slept in his car. But you just couldn't stand the sight of him out in the cold, pouting and gnawing on his lower lip in the fish-eye lens of your peephole.
"Why don't we order a pizza?" He tacked on.
We. It was always 'we' with him, but never in the action, or the cost—that was a 'you' action, not a 'we' more often than not.
"Who's paying for it?" You asked. Patrick turned to you with a dopey, guilty little smile affixed to his lips as he cocked his hip.
"Well until I sign the papers, the two shall be as one, right?"
"Yeah—Why haven't you signed, by the way?"
"Your guy's never been able to serve 'em." He turned back to the fridge, ducking his head as he looked around. "You got any beer?"
You rolled your eyes. "Third shelf, at the back."
"Bingo. Want one?"
"Not right now. But thanks for offering me something that I bought and paid for. Really appreciate it."
Patrick huffed a soft laugh as he turned toward you again, opening the beer against the edge of the counter.
"Mine mine mine," He teased. "What is it with you and what's yours, huh?"
"Just stating facts, Zweig."
"So self-righteous, Mrs. Zweig." He used your married name with a vinegary smile before taking a deep swig from his bottle, pointedly ignoring the way that you bristled. "So. Pizza?"
--
Just the couch.
Patrick had pleaded it between bites of pizza, scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the crumbs and oil left behind. He'd framed it as a reasonable enough request, like it was the easiest thing in the world to let your estranged husband back into your home.
You won't even know I'm there.
As if you hadn't been fighting to find a harmony within yourself for the last year, trying to serve him papers for the last six months, to get your divorce to take, to rid yourself of his last name.
Watching him sort through the garbage bags of clothing that you'd packed up for him to come and take between tours had been a little pitiful, but he'd unearthed what he'd needed to sleep in.
"Still have a toothbrush for me?" He asked.
"No."
"Face wash?"
"Don't you just use soap?"
"Yeah, but you put me on that, uh—That regimen, that routine."
"You never followed it."
"So you threw the stuff out?"
"I wasn't using it, so. Yeah."
"Huh." Patrick straightened, PJs in hand. You couldn't help but watch him strip off as he passed you, eyeing the ripple of his back muscles as he tossed his shirt in the direction of his bag.
"I'm showering," He called over his shoulder, "If you'd like to join me."
"I'd rather chew glass, but thanks."
--
He was sleeping. He had to be, right? It didn't matter if he was or wasn't. It didn't matter that Patrick Zweig was asleep on your couch, just a floor away. It didn't matter that you were worked up, at the midpoint between pissed off and turned on.
How did he always manage to do that to you?
You should've been able to clock early on that it was trouble. None of your friends or family thought it would work out, and you'd been chagrined when they'd been right. For as much as you had once loved him, for as certain as you and Patrick had been sure you would fit, that you would fix whatever needed fixing, no matter what fate had in store for you, you just...Couldn't.
It didn't help that he had been chasing glory on the court, or that you had spent your relationship trying to fill the shoes of a woman that you could never be. It didn't help that the two of you were just fundamentally different, in ways that you either of you were unwilling to compromise. When he'd left, it hadn't been a surprise, but it had been so goddamn hard to serve him papers. But you'd had such trouble trying to pin him down during your relationship, why should the way you broke be any different?
But when you'd been in bed together—Hell, you'd been even more certain that it could work. You and Patrick just fit. Things had been so right with so little conversation or hesitation. Your needs had fueled one another's, and you'd been able to lose yourself in him. It should have been enough.
But it wasn't then, and it wasn't now.
He was asleep. He had a match the next morning, and he needed his rest. You could do the same—You should do the same. You needed to be staring at the ceiling right now like you need a goddamn hole in the head. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes and doing your best to focus on your breathing. In for five... Hold...Out...For...Five...In for...One...Two...Three...Four...
Your eyes opened, your breath catching as you heard the door open. You held completely still as you heard the door close again, chased by the soft pad of feet along your floor before the mattress dipped beside you. The covers shifted, lifting and falling as he laid down.
"Are you asleep?" He murmured. It was another moment before his palm skimmed across your belly, his rough cheek nuzzling against the curve of your shoulder. Your breath left you in a soft sigh, your muscles untensing bit by bit.
"I know you haven't been here in a while," You muttered, "But this is not the couch."
He huffed a soft laugh. "I know," He snuggled closer, and it was just a moment before you felt the press of his cock against your hip. You drew in a shaky breath, hands lowering to his arm.
"Patrick," You mumbled. "You should be asleep."
"I can't sleep." His teeth scraped along your jaw as his fingers snaked under the hem of your nightshirt.
"Indigestion?" You squeaked. "Shouldn't've had that third slice of pizza. I told you not to."
Your eyes squeezed shut as he rolled his hips against you.
"This feel like pizza to you?"
"Well—"
"Baby," He pleaded. "You gonna tell me you didn't miss me?"
It took you a moment, and you couldn't help your slight squirming.
"Not even a little."
He laughed again, and you knew that you hadn't been able to sneak a thing by him.
"S'okay," He cooed. "I saw you watching me." He tipped his chin up, sucking a tender kiss to your neck. And you had, but—
"I wasn't."
Patrick tutted disapprovingly. You shuddered, arching up into his touch as his thumb skimmed across your hardening nipple.
"You're a shitty liar, you know that?"
"You're an asshole," You hissed as Patrick lifted his head.
"You like it."
You couldn't get a word out to argue as Patrick's tongue swept between your lips. You whimpered in spite of yourself, sinking back against your pillows and raising your hand to fist in his hair. He was over you in a moment, body shoving your thighs wide as his hands rucked up the bottom of your sleep shirt. You drew in a sharp breath as his head dipped to catch one of your nipples between his lips. You tightened your grip on his, shivering as he teased it with his tongue.
Patrick's hips ground against yours, rolling against where you're growing slick in your sleep shorts.
"How long's it been?" He murmured, "Huh? Since me?"
And it was too embarrassing to say—too embarrassing to admit that you hadn't slept with anyone since Patrick left.
"Shut up," You hissed, "Just—Please, shut up."
His hand snuck beneath the hem of your shorts, swiping gently across your tender clit, and he grinned as your hips hitched up into his deft touch.
"S'okay," He cooed as he eased a couple of fingers into your tight, aching cunt. "I missed you, too."
--
"You gonna come watch me play?"
As with the rest of the last day or so, your answer should be no. You didn't turn to look at Patrick as you rummaged through your dresser for something to wear.
"I've seen you play, Patrick."
"Not lately." He tried again: "It's a challenger."
You hummed, giving a noncommittal shrug as you pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.
"...Well can I stay here tonight?"
"If you win, sure."
"How will you know I win if you don't come see me?"
You rolled your eyes, hip-checking your drawer shut before pulling up your pants and tugging in your top.
"Fine," You conceded. "Just tonight. You'll have to find somewhere tomorrow night."
"I'll have the prize money by then, I'll crash at a motel."
"Oh, a motel. Hey big spender," You drawled, heading for your door.
"Hey."
"What?"
"You have the papers here?"
It stopped you dead in your tracks, your stomach churning with unease as you looked at him again.
"...What?"
"The divorce papers," He clarified. "I can sign 'em while I'm here."
It would be so easy. It would be so easy to go down to your office and draw the file out of your desk drawer, to plop it down in front of Patrick with your favorite black ballpoint pen, to flip between arrow tabs and instruct, "Sign here, here, here, here, here, and here."
But you found yourself shaking your head.
"I don't have a copy," You fibbed. It took Patrick a moment before he nodded a little.
"Can you get them?"
Hell, were you that out of practice? One night back in bed with you and he was ready to call it? But you were certain that wasn't it—That Patrick was, for once in his goddamn life, trying to make it easy on you after so much hell.
"...Maybe, I don't know," You shrugged. "It's the weekend."
"Okay."
"Coffee?"
"Yeah—Hey."
"What?"
You watched as Patrick pulled the covers away, unashamed of his nakedness as he strode toward you. He grasped your chin, tipping your head for a soft kiss. It took everything in you not to melt into him as he skimmed his hand over your hip, drawing back just enough to give you a sleepy, hazy smile.
"Good morning."
You couldn't help your own, indignant smile.
"Sure, Patrick." You turned away, determined to push on with your day, your life like he wasn't there—like he wouldn't be hanging over you as you made breakfast, or dominating the court as he played, or in your bed again in just a few hours. "Good morning."
#Patrick Zweig x Reader#Patrick Zweig x You#Patrick Zweig/Reader#Patrick Zweig/You#Patrick Zweig fic#Patrick Zweig imagine
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I'm a Grandpa! | Dad Alastor Headcannons
Familial! Alastor is Reader's Adopted Dad from life
Description: When you, Alastor's adopted child, end up in hell, he's surprised to find that you took in a kid of your own sometime after his death, making him a (not so enthusiastic) grandpa.
(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of murder, death, violence) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's adopted child) (Reader is an adult) (Reader has an adopted son in this)
Words: 1,249
♡ Alastor died before you did. You had been a young adult at the time, but you were still left pretty much on your own in the world after that
♡ Being the adopted kid of a now-known serial killer tended to be very isolating, so you moved to a new place and took on a new name and identity in order to avoid the negative effects of what your dad had done
♡ Being his child, Alastor had always loved you very much and you really looked up to him. While you'd never been a killer or committed any serious crimes, you liked to believe he'd had good reason for what he'd done, and so you'd continued looking up to him despite it all after his murders came to light
♡ Which is why, when one of the kids you were in charge of looking after at the daycare you worked at turned out to be in a bad home situation, you stepped up
♡ Alastor had adopted you at a very young age from a similar situation and you cared deeply about this child so you ended up taking them in yourself and becoming a parent that day
♡ Your kid was an absolute terror. Alastor had always said you reminded him so much of his mom with your sweet and calm nature, so you supposed it was only natural for your own son to remind you so much of his grandpa with his dramatic antics and slightly violent tendencies
♡ Luckily, you were very good at having the kid's behavior under control and he always listened to you. It was everyone else that needed to worry when he was around
♡ You always hoped that, wherever your dad had ended up after his death, he would have been proud of you for following in his footsteps like this and that he would have loved his grandson if he could have met him
♡ So when you and your son both died in a horrific accident and ended up in hell, one of the first things you did was go looking for your dad so the whole family could be together
♡ Alastor found you long before you would have found him and he happily reunited with you, his child, after so long
♡ Appeared out of nowhere, hugged you, began talking about how much he'd missed you and how good it was to see you again, only to then notice the little boy standing behind you and growling like a feral cat
♡ Assuming the kid had been planning to attack you, Alastor started using his powers to get rid of your son, who immediately fought back like the little animal he was, but you put a stop to it all before anyone could get hurt, shouting for both of them to cut it out
♡ They both froze and you took a deep breath before picking up your son and turning back to your dad, explaining that you'd adopted a child while alive and introducing them as grandfather and grandson
♡ Neither of them were happy about that reveal but since you seemed so excited about the family reunion, they both hid their disdain behind fake smiles
♡ "I see..." Alastor said as he wiped his hand on his suit after shaking your son's hand, "then I suppose it is a pleasure to meet you...Child."
♡ Your son barred his teeth at your dad and that became the start of a deep dislike between them
♡ After that, the three of you all moved into a home together within hell. Alastor had insisted on you living with him again, especially now that you 'had a charge of your own to support' and claimed he simply wanted the chance to spend more time with his child and new grandchild
♡ Yeah, right
♡ Alastor and your son are both very good at acting like they get along while in your presence, but the second your back is turned, they're at one another's throats
♡ He would never actually harm your kid because he knows you would kill him if he did. However, that doesn't mean he won't 'defend himself' if your son attacks him so he takes it upon himself to provoke the child as much as possible and is quite good at it
♡ Several times, you've left Alastor in charge of watching your son while you went out, only to come home to the house nearly on fire. When you find them, they act like they just got carried away baking some treats but it's not hard to tell that that's a lie
♡ You routinely remind them both of how much you want them to get along and they both always claim that they do but it's a complete lie
♡ For how much Alastor loves and adores you, his own kid, he finds that he probably hates your son just as much
♡ You mentioned it to Rosie once when the three of you came to visit her in Cannibal Town and she said it's probably because the two of them are just too similar. Your son, in many ways, is like a younger version of Alastor and that's probably what gets on his nerves so much. That, and the fact that he feels his grandchild takes up way too much of your time and attention
♡ It's not until the two of them gain a common enemy that they finally find a way to be civil
♡ You had never dated much in life, either because of your slightly overbearing father or, later, your slightly overbearing son. Maybe you were never interested in it anyway
♡ But now that you're in hell, you end up finding someone you like enough to make your partner (whether romantic, queerplatonic, or anything else) and then that person starts taking your time away from both of them
♡ Common Enemy: Unlocked
♡ Now Alastor and your son find that they both hate your partner and want them gone so they reluctantly begin working together to subtly get rid of/scare them off
♡ Whenever your partner is over, they'll split up so that one of them makes an excuse to spend time with you while the other goes to your partner. One makes sure to keep you distracted while the other promptly terrorizes your partner in ways no one will believe them if they tell
♡ This goes on for a while, and eventually, between their shared chaotic natures, it works and your partner breaks things off with you
♡ And guess who's there to support you as you mourn the loss of the relationship? Your two favorite men who definitely didn’t plan this at all
♡ Cue them both in a group hug with you but behind your back they exchange glances with one another and Alastor nods approvingly
♡ Even though he still doesn’t really like your kid and feels like he has to compete with him for your time, the kid’s earned his approval today
♡ And who knows? Maybe if your son cares almost as much (he could never beat your dad as far as how much he loves you) as him, maybe there will be more times in the future in which the two of them work together to ‘protect’ you
♡ Either way, your son is safe from the anger of his grandpa, at least for now, and vice versa
#dadastor#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbinhotel#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel headcanon#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel platonic#platonic reader insert#platonic x reader#platonic relationships#platonic alastor x reader#alastor x daughter reader#alastor#alastor x child reader#alastor x son reader#parent reader#father!alastor#grandpa alastor
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Do you ever think Lance gets insecure about being "too much"?
Too loud, too excited, too passionate, too - everything? People are constantly telling him to quiet down and relax, that he's being too much and just needs to stop. Eventually, he starts to quiet down and reel it in a bit but constantly feels sad he has to cover it up.
Then there's Keith who's haunted by the quiet. After his Dad died it was just always quiet. People didn't talk much around him, left him alone, kids didn't play with him. There was always just an uncomfortable quietness around him.
Now they're in space, trapped together in the castle of lions, which really isn't that big once you've been pacing for weeks, months.
Lance wanders off on his own after Pidge kicks him out of the lab and Hunk kicks him out of the kitchen. He walks for hours just talking to himself and being loud since there's no one around to see. No one to tell him he's too much.
Keith also wanders off on his own. Everyone on the castle-ship thinks he just likes to be quiet, so they usually leave him alone. Shiro is a bit of an exception, but there's only so much time he can spend with Keith before he needs to do something important for the war effort or whatever. So Keith wanders. He ends up stealing a pair of headphones from Pidge and listening to music while he walks, it's one of the only times he let's his guard down because it's the castle-ship. It's so big there's no one around to see him or judge him, he can just exist.
One day, Lance walks along, laughing to himself about some alien pun he made (that really isn't that funny). He decides to take a different turn today. Why not? After a while he hears something, a slight twang of an old country guitar and a deep voice. He goes to investigate because who would be out here and who would listen to that?
He rounds the corner, and there's Keith, headphones blaring, eyes closed, walking in time with the twang of the guitar. Lance hides back behind the wall, scared that Keith would see him.
Keith's completely in his own world, the voices of Jane Carter and Johnny Cash ringing in his ears. Jackson is a great song, he hums along every time it plays. One of Keith's favorites from his Dad's old records, it's a miracle that he could get it digitized and out here in space. He lets his eyes drift open as he rounds the corner, and suddenly, he's face to face with Lance.
"AHH- Lance, what the hell?!" He shouts, why was Lance out here? He's walked this hall a hundred times before and never heard the other boy.
"I didn't do anything! Don't yell at me mullet-" Lance leans into Keith's face with a scowl, "I have every right to be here is that a problem?"
Keith frowns for a second and pauses his music, his mood spoiled anyways. "No that's not a problem. You can be anywhere I don't care, just why here? No one ever walks here."
"I just decided to go for a stroll. What do you OWN this hallway?" Lance leans back but his face is still in a fixed frown. It seems that's the only face he ever gives Keith.
"No Lance I-" He sighs, "you were hiding around the corner. Why were you hiding?"
Lance stutters over his words for a second before answering, "I just heard something and thought the castle could be haunted again-"
Keith scowls, "Lance that-" he sighs again "nevermind." He puts the headphones around his neck, the phone in his pocket and turns to leave.
"WAIT!" Keith turns around, "what uh- what were you listening to? I didn't know you listened to anything other than the sounds of- of- ... emo-ness" he looks so proud of himself while Keith just rolls his eyes.
"Johnny Cash."
"Johnny who?"
Keith pauses for a second. Lance could make fun of him, laugh and leave him on his own again but Keith knew deep down the other boy wouldn't do that. Out of everyone, Lance was the only one who actively sought him out to talk. It may be mostly teasing and half-assed insults but it took away that heavy quiet.
So Keith hands over the headphones for Lance to listen. That's how it all starts. The next day they happen to bump into eachother again, Keith shows Lance a new song and Lance talks about the music he grew up with. Every day they have a routine, they bump into eachother and walk together.
Lance hops around from topic to topic, and Keith opens up about things a little bit at a time. Lance was never too much for Keith, and Lance took away that quiet.
They take walks every day together on the far end of the castle-ship while they're in space. Just to pass the time. No matter what the team sees or thinks, Lance and Keith are a lot closer than they know.
They're never too much for eachother, it's never too quiet or too loud. It's just right.
.
Note: this ended up being SO MUCH longer than I thought it'd be 😅 please let me know if you like this and want more cause I actually enjoyed writing this 👍
#vld#voltron#voltron legendary defender#vld lance#vld keith#lance mcclain#keith kogane#keith and lance#klance headcanon#vld klance
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Season 3 part 2 will be Ass. Let me Tell You Why.
Cause in the end, Penelope, Lady Whistledown, the one who has left devastation in people’s lives will get all what she wants. The man that she wants, the attention that she wants, the family she always wanted to be(so envious of them she talked shit about them ), will get her best friend back, might have the heir for that dumbass Featherington plot line, might get the Queen’s pardon and above all else, will most likely not give up LW cause they made LW such an integral part of the show.(so in that case, she’ll be even more filthy rich)
And if we go by leaked spoilers, it is said that Colin will be mad at Penelope for like 1 episode until Kanthony talks some “sense” into him. So that just tells me Kanthony will be OOC because there’s no damn way Anthony would let that beast comment about his wife slide.
There are no stakes when it comes to this season cause we all know how it’s finna go down. If Penelope gets any type of consequences, then her very undeserved HEA is doomed so everything is going to have to go her way for the already idiotic plot to make some form of sense. It’s like the love triangle in part 1, what the hell was the point of Lord Debling when everyone and their ancestors knew Colin and Penelope were end game? So we can see Colin’s cringe angst? If we already know the answer to the love triangle, there’s no point. The “find you a husband” plot line was stupid as shit anyway, but it’s whatever now.
Ugh, then we have to sit through more awkward love scenes between asshat 1 and 2
Eloise threatening Penelope with her LW identity is going to amount to nothing cause we know Penelope isn’t gonna receive any comeuppance. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they made Eloise apologize to Penelope for…🤷🏾♂️🤷(let’s apologize to the toxic friend for not dealing with their toxicity)
For Penelope to have a happy ending, she has to get away scot free and that’s what boils my blood. I hate in media and literature when a character goes around, creates chaos and receives nothing for it or just a slap on a wrist. I’ve noticed an increase in it lately too. Also, I’m tired of writers not severing their bias from their writing. I’ve been encountering many series lately where the writer(s) have favoritism towards a specific character and gives them the easy route, bends the world for them and pull punches just because they like them so much. It’s really aggravating cause you see everyone else getting put through the wringer and then you see the favored character walking through Candyland. It hurts the story, the character, and frankly makes you hate the character.
Everyone around Penelope is gonna act brain dead in order for Penelope to get what she wants and I’m not here for it. Even the general audience ain’t for it. The only people cheering this madness are the asylum patients called Polin fans with delusions that Penelope deserves the world.
I’m not even looking forward to Francesca and John’s story cause of the Poolin fecal matter I’ll have to swim through to get there. At this point, I’m might just watch spoilers of part 2 cause it’s not worth it.
P.S. Watch Cressida get the short end of the stick cause she’s the “bully” of the show and Penelope is the “victim”. Watch them break Creloise because of the “I don’t want you hanging around Eloise” subplot which will ultimately fuel Eloise and Penelope becoming friends again. Also, Penelope and Cressida competed for Lord Debling just for Penelope to go “sike” and marry Colin so she wasted Debling’s time and made Cressida feel like shit because she wasn’t chosen.
P.S.S- Polins are huge ass hypocrites cause they ragged on Eloise being privileged and having “everything” but are silent about Penelope being privileged. By the end of this season, Penelope will basically have everything, even more so than Eloise, but sure, Penelope is definitely not privileged 😑. Penelope is privileged inside the world and outside by production, why are we denying this?
#anti penelope featherington#anti polin stans#anti polin#bridgerton season 3 is already a 4/10#Penelope irks my soul#Get ready for everyone to be OOC for Penelope#Colin is an idiot#Cressida > Penelope forever and always#No stakes at all in this season#Eloise please stay friends with Cressida#bridgerton
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The Nights (Drabble)
Pairing: Hook x Reader
Word Counter: 780
Description: He's just trying to get over the thought of you.
Loosely based off the song Stick Season
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Tag list:
@omg-im-such-a-masochist @melissahausen @new-zealand-chic @writtingrose @hotgirlgraps @madhatterbri @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal @thatnerdwriter @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456 @mcreignsera @auburnwrites @aews-four-pillars
If you wanna be added to the list lemme know.
Hook Tag list: @wickedval
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Another night, another cloud of smoke encircled his head as he sat on his fire escape watching the city buzzing by. His phone lit up illuminating his face as he read it hoping but knowing it wouldn’t be a text from you.
‘We’re really worried about you man nobody’s heard from you in a week least let someone know you’re okay.’
Setting the phone back on his lap Tyler took another inhale of the joint holding the smoke until his lungs burned then blew it into the dark night sky. Of course, he was okay well at least physically he was but emotionally he probably wouldn’t be the same ever again. Not after losing the most important person in his world..
“This is going to be amazing mamas I can’t wait for you to come back to New York I have so much for us planned.”
Tyler smiled as he put away the last of the laundry making sure his apartment was clean and suitable enough for you. The line remained quiet with the only sound being the tires on the road before you let a breath out.
“Actually, I’ve um changed my mind.”
He didn’t know this but at the time you spoke these words you passed his exit and continued driving.
“I’m sorry what?”
“I know it’s a shitty thing to do on the phone but I’m going up to Canada to visit a friend for a few weeks. I didn’t know how to tell you and honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to.”
“Why didn’t you just say anything?’
“Because breaking up over the phone isn’t something I planned to do but I think it’s for the best. We’ve been growing apart with your traveling and my work schedule. I’m tired of not seeing you and of not having a boyfriend close by. I’m sorry this is the last thing I wanted to have happen, but I think it’s for the best.”
Thinking back over that night all these weeks later and if he was honest with himself, he knew something wasn’t right. You had been acting weird ever since the two of you started making plans for a visit, you’d trail off or switch the subject to something else.
He was still dealing with all the feelings that came from having a relationship suddenly end, he felt pain that he never experienced before not even in ring. His chest was heavy and often felt tight, he was angry that you wouldn’t even give him a chance to try and make things better or reassure you it would work out.
But he knew it wasn’t just all on you, he’d been a bit too busy with work and didn’t call you as often as he should have. He never imagined he would be at this end, sure other relationships failed but he always had faith that yours would last. And now just like that you were gone, you who was supposed to be Tyler’s future. The love of his life the person he hoped to marry someday not that he ever got the chance to ask you.
Despite the breakup being over two months ago he still felt like he did the night it happened; felt like a whole opened in his chest. It got worse because he saw your mother recently. She stopped by to pick up some of your things and told him that you were taking it hard despite everything she knew that you loved him. It helped a little but not enough to make him want to rejoin society.
He'd called a couple of times and even sent a few texts to try and see if he could change your mind but you never returned them. Tyler knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to get back to real life. Tony was trying to be understanding and give him time, they wrote him off with an injury, but he knew he needed to get back.
Most days he spent smoking trying to numb the longing and loneliness he felt for you, but no matter how much he smoked he still thought about you. At night was the worst when the rest of the world was silent his mind and dreams were plagued with different versions of you. No matter what he tried he just couldn’t escape it all.
Tyler knew in time he would get over you, knew that one day in the future you’ll be nothing more than just a thought in his mind. As for now? He would just have to take it a day at a time trying to get over loving you.
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