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woso-dreamzzz · 7 months

Text

Study

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Doing schoolwork while the team is round is not a good idea

The sun patch you were lying in was delightful.

The noise around you, was not.

You opened your eyes blearily, narrowing them to slits in annoyance.

Lucy stared at you and then pointedly turned the tv up in volume, laughing at your disgruntled look.

"Turn it back down," You said.

"No."

"Lucy," You whined," Please turn it down."

"Sorry, kiddo," Keira said as she appeared," But the rest of the team are coming over soon and you've got an essay to write."

You groaned at the reminder but sat up. The whole reason you had taken a nap in the first place was to procrastinate about writing your essay.

"Keira..."

"No, y/n," She said," Part of the agreement we made with your parents was keeping your grades up. I won't make you sit at the kitchen table to write it while the team is round but you have to get it finished today."

You groaned again but relented, grabbing your laptop from where it was charging nearby and pulling up your plan.

Your teammates flooded in through the next hour.

Asisat tapped you on the head as she passed to get to the kitchen. "School work?"

You rolled your eyes. "What gave it away?"

She laughed. "The fact that you've been staring at the screen for nearly twenty minutes and haven't typed a thing."

You darted your eyes across the room to look at Keira, who clearly hadn't noticed. You sent an awkward smile Asisat's way. "Don't tell Keira?"

"Your secret's safe with me."

The more people that arrived, the less you wanted to write your essay. The whole apartment had filled up with noise and even if you wanted to start typing, you were much more interested in hearing Claudia talk about the date she went on with her girlfriend.

You start typing your introduction before deciding you really can't be bothered right now and switch to writing about how Mark Antony's relationship with Cleopatra was the worst thing he could have done from the perspective of other Romans.

You were mindlessly typing and deleting your work when Frido and Aitana joined you on the sofa.

"How is your studying?" Aitana's English was getting much better now that she came around routinely to learn from Keira while you were forced to sit at the table and do your science work.

You gave her a deadpan look. "Oh, just great."

Frido laughed at your sarcasm. "Anything we can help with?"

"Unless you understand the intricacies of Mark Antony and Octavian's war for power after Caesar's death, then no."

Frido pulled a face. "You're studying that?"

"In theory."

Marta and Caro joined a moment later with cans of lemonade and snacks. You snatched up a KitKat quickly, anything to distract you from your next paragraph about Octavian's slanderous propaganda against his rival.

"How is our little student faring?" Marta asked, peering at your screen where you had repeatedly typed out 'I hate this class so much, I wish I could drop out'.

"Not good by the looks of it," Caro said even though it was obvious," What even is this?"

"Ancient Roman politics," Frido replied," It looks very boring."

"It's interesting," You said," Until you have to start writing essays and decide which of these horrible men was better."

"Who is better?" Aitana asked.

"...Octavian, because he won," You replied," But not because he was a better person. This is Rome - if you're not a bad person then are you really an Ancient Roman politician?"

The little group around you burst into laughter and Marta ruffled your hair. "You'll get it finished," She said," You're a smart girl."

Team bonding happened around you for the evening as you mindlessly typed and typed and typed until you were finally finished with your essay.

You stretched out in delight and headed into the kitchen where a to-do list hung on the fridge.

Irene, Sandra and Mariona were already there, studying it curiously as you grabbed a pen from the top of the fridge (standing on your tiptoes to reach it) before you crossed off your Classical Civilisations essay.

"That's a lot of work," Mariona said," This is for the whole month?"

"This is for the week," You replied, taking in her shocked look at your words," But I'm nearly done." You crossed off the Physics homework you finished last night along with the Maths worksheet you got done before practice this morning.

"It gets this bad?" Irene asked," I worry about when Mateo starts school properly."

You frowned. "I'm pretty sure that Mateo getting homework will be doing a drawing rather than writing essays."

"Well, if it helps," Sandra cut in," At least you've finished your essay now! You're free!"

You shook your head and pointed to the only thing Lucy had contributed to your list.

FINISH YOUR FUCKING PSYCHOLOGY ESSAY

"It's about language development in infants," You said, opening the fridge and grabbing some more lemonade.

When you finally made your way back to the living room, your seat had been taken by some of the girls so you ended up sitting in front of the armchair that Ingrid and Mapi had taken refuge on.

Instantly, Ingrid's hands threaded through your hair, massaging your scalp before pulling strands out of your face and pulling them into an intricate braid.

Apart from ever so slightly making you move your head to different positions, you were left mostly alone as you typed away about more research studies using brain imaging.

Mapi shifted behind you and you could tell she was trying to read over your shoulder.

"Why do you need to learn this?" She asked.

"It's interesting," You replied," I thought about doing psychology at uni before Barca signed me. I just hate writing about it."

"It looks boring."

"It's not," You said. Ingrid tied off your new braid and you turned to look at Mapi with a wolfish smile. "Besides, is it boring for you because it hits too close to home? Since you're such a child?"

Mapi swatted at you jokingly, lightly kicking you in the back until you shifted away from her with your laptop.

You refuge came in the form of the pile on the floor in front of the tv. Bruna and Jana welcomed you into the group instantly and you found yourself sandwiched between Ona and Esmee, who were viciously going against each other in FIFA.

"Is your essay finished?" Esmee asked," Keira told me not to text you after practice because you were writing your essay."

"Nearly," You replied," I've just got one more paragraph and then the conclusion. Ona's about to score, by the way."

With your words, Esmee just managed to block the shot as Ona shoved you in annoyance.

Jana and Bruna broke into laughter and peered over your shoulder.

"You used the wrong word," Jana said, pointing to where you had been writing about Piaget.

"It's kind of embarrassing that you're correcting me on my own native language," You said to her even as you corrected yourself.

"Learn Spanish," Bruna said," She makes a lot of mistakes in that."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

"You so do," Ona said," And y/n, you've got your tenses wrong."

You hadn't even noticed that the match had ended and that Ona was studying your essay until she spoke. Esmee looked over it as well, pointing at another grammar mistake.

You slapped their hands away and pointed to each of you. "Stop it! It'll get spellchecked at the end! You're ruining my creative process!"

"What creative process?" Jana laughed," You're writing an essay!"

"I hate you!" You declared with a laugh," Each and every one of you!" You pointed at them each in turn.

"Don't lie!" Bruna said," You love us."

You bat your eyelashes at her. "Write my essay and you'll have my undying love!"

"No chance!"

You finished your essay soon after without any of their help (although you would be the first to admit that your conclusion wasn't exactly the best) and hurried to cross it off the list, snatching it off the fridge. You sought out Keira in a group of the older girls. You showed her the list.

"I'm done!"

She took it from you, looking it over sceptically.

"And your psychology essay?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Keira, promise!"

"She promises, Keira!" Patri mocked your tone with a smile as Claudia and Gemma laughed.

You were one second away from stamping your foot but you refrained because you would never live down the 'little kid' allegations from your teammates if you did so.

"Look at this face!" Gemma said, cupping your cheeks," How could you be mean to this one?"

Keira had a contemplative look on her face.

"Come on, Keira," Claudia said," It's the weekend. We have a match in two days. She's been doing her work since we arrived. Let her have this."

"She could have had it finished before you all arrived if she hadn't taken a nap after practice."

"She's a growing girl!" Patri declared," She needs her nap so she can be big and strong like me when she grows up!"

An arm was thrown over your shoulder and you bit back your retort that the world couldn't handle two versions of Patri.

"Oh...fine, then. y/n go let Narla out of your room and then you're free for the rest of the day."

"Yes!" You pumped your fist into the air and hurried off.

Narla had been shut into your room the moment you came home after Keira watched you play with the little dog instead of doing your homework so she seemed very happy to be free, leaping into your arms like a little princess and making you walk her into the living room.

Salma and Cata intercepted you on the way, cooing over Narla like they had never met her before even though they had.

"It's strange to see you without your laptop," Cata said to you as she tickled under Narla's chin," I thought that it was surgically attached to you or something."

You would have shoved her if you had access to your hands but you didn't so settled for an unimpressed eyeroll. "Ha, ha, very funny. Make fun of my massive workload. I don't see you studying while playing football!"

"You know," Salma said and you already knew she was going to say something to tease you," When I was your age, I didn't have to worry about deadlines because I just did my work the day it got set."

You scoffed. "You're only three years older than me!" You stuck your tongue out at her. "If you want to write my essays for me, Salma, you should have just asked."

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "That sounds like hell on earth."

You laughed all the way back to the living room, placing Narla on the floor and grabbing some snacks from the table when nobody was looking. You ended up on the floor for the most part, sat by Lucy's chair as the older woman sat above you, occasionally reaching down to feed you chocolate when she was sure Keira wasn't looking. But as it got later in the evening, you ended up migrating onto the sofa with Alexia.

"I heard you finished all your schoolwork for the week," She said as you lazed against her side, watching whatever Spanish soap opera Patri had forced onto the tv.

"Uh-huh." You were only half listening as you dozed off. Her nails scratched lightly at your scalp and the blanket that had been thrown over the pair of you made you feel all cosy and warm.

"Well done, y/n. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you," You slurred slightly, head dropping to her shoulder as your vision got blurrier and blurrier.

"Are you tired, bebita?"

"No..."

Her chuckle jolted her body slightly but it was a little like the vibrations from being in a car so your eyes just drooped lower. "I think you are."

"Not...Not tired."

"You are. I think all that studying took it out of you."

"No..." You whined slightly and Alexia pulled you in a bit tighter. She manipulated your body in some way you didn't realise because you blinked and suddenly you were lying stretched out with your head in her lap. "I'm...I'm not tired."

You had already missed out on team bonding because of your studying. You didn't want to miss out on any more.

"You are very tired." Alexia's tone was firm but still somehow soothing and her nails drew patterns on your arm comfortingly. "You just need a little nap."

You tried to protest but Alexia's voice just got a bit firmer and a bit more like her captain voice so you knew that you couldn't argue back.

"Come on, bebita. It's nap time for good students like you. I'll wake you up when the food gets here."

#woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 days

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need a part 2 for sleeping beauty already omg ur writing is too beautiful, need to read Spencer being shy n sweet

:((( ♡

thank you honey🥺 i want spencer to whisper in my ear😔 pt1

“are you okay with sharing a popcorn?” looking to your left at spencer while the two of you stood in the concessions line.

the old styled theater was heavily packed with different ages of people. from young children with parents, to couples holding onto each other, and elderly adults sitting down before heading into the show room. you could see why spencer would enjoy coming to this place, he could meet people of similar interest.

spencer held on tightly to the strap of his satchel, “i don’t really eat popcorn much. also did you know that popcorn has been around for about nine thousand years, evidence found by archaeologists in peru.” he looked away from you then squeezed his eyes shut, “uh, but i’ll be okay with- with sharing if i want a few pieces.”

your lips shaped into a smile, “we can ask for a water cup and pour some in for yourself before i start eating.” two steps forward in line, “what size drink? and beverage?” eyes squinting a bit to read over the options.

“your not paying, right?” a stern tone from spencer that it gives you whiplash for a moment. his brows are harshly pinched in the middle, a finger twitched at the urge to smooth out the wrinkle.

you shrugged, “you bought the tickets, thought i could buy the food. probably gonna be equal pricing in total.” used to splitting or paying in full for past dates.

spencer pushed his bag behind him, your wallet was tucked away in the brown leather. “no, this is a date,” insisting, “i’m paying for everything. i want to treat you.” softening his voice as he stared at you, his eyes rounding out into that doe shape.

you bit into your bottom lip, saving your cheeks from their future ache of how strong your smile widened. “okay,” embracing spencer’s gentlemanly deed. you looked back to the line, only three more people ahead.

you let your arms rest at your sides, fingers constantly moving, wanting to do something bold but unsure if it’s too soon. there was a ghost of knuckles that tingled your skin and then, one slender finger wrapped itself around your pointer finger. your heart skipped a beat at the contact, but you acted like this was an everyday occurrence, the intimacy felt normal.

“do you want any candy?” spencer resumed your food chat. you hummed for a moment, “if i get a kitkat and reeces pieces, will you share with me?” giving your joined digits a slight swing.

“the kitkat. not a big fan of the reeces texture.” once at the counter spencer recited your order easily, not bothering with a spare water cup. you carried your soda while spencer held the small popcorn, his water and the candy placed into his bag.

“are you okay with the back? don’t want to distract people with all my moving.” standing at the foot of the steps, only two third of the seats filled during the commercials.

you dragged spencer behind you as you guided the both of you to the last row, a pair of seats close to the middle. “are you okay with translating the whole thing? if it’s like the original then i’ll be fine.” hoping spencer still agrees, but the movie is an hour and a half long.

spencer was distracted with his bag when he replied, “i’ve already seen this movie. i don’t mind talking you through it.”

your face warmed instantly at the innuendo. “just- just take a break whenever. i can use context clues.” crossing a leg over a knee so you can lean closer into spencer’s side. “thank you, for this date,” whispered between the two of you.

spencer turned his head quickly that your noses brushed, his lip parting and you let your eyes drop to the plush pink calling to you. you let your head move in just an inch closer, waiting to see if spencer will lean away or go forward. just before there was a definite decision the lights dimmed and an usher walked in front of the screen.

you settled your back against the cushioned chair but stayed leaning, elbow resting on the arm rest. “enjoy the show,” the usher finished with before leaving and just a moment after the projector lights shined above your heads.

sleeping beauty appeared in swooping cursive titling then faded into the opening scene of a giant fairytale book. you barely moved your head when you felt spencer’s breath ghosting over your ear, needing to suppress a sudden shiver.

“once upon a time…”

#erin writes spencer #erin’s blurb requests #a 1k special #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x liaison!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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f0point5 · 1 month

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Jealous Emilia after they get together plss I am beggingggg cook this for us plssssss 🙏🙏🙏

Not me rewriting this no less than four times and still hating it 😂 but it’s not going to get any better haha. This was hard to write because I actually don’t see Emilia as the jealous type. I kind of drew off a lot of her known insecurities and alluded to her kind of struggling with the “wag” role a bit so it’s not just her reacting poorly to Max being fawned over by a girl because I don’t think that would be true to her character. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

✨Set in Jeddah 2024✨

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

If there’s one thing to be said for the Jeddah paddock, it’s pretty at sunset. You watch people moving through the paddock bathed in golden light. The ground looks like the yellow brick road. Even though it’s getting cooler now as it gets closer to qualifying, you still choose to sit inside Red Bull hospitality. You’re also sitting inside because Max said he wanted to hang out before quail. Even though he’s spent the last forty-five minutes talking to one of the hospitality guests.

Amy, something or other. She races GT cars in some series you’ve never heard of. You’re not sure what connections got her the invite to the garage but Max had been herded away by one of the media reps to take pictures with her so she must be someone’s daughter. They seem to have hit it off, you note. He’s in full maxplaining mode, bending down to the line of his own hand as he illustrates what looks like an apex. Amy isn’t even watching his hands, she’s watching Max. Hazel eyes just sparkling as she memorises every inch of him. Yeah, you know that look well enough.

And it’s not that you mind. He likes to talk racing, he likes racers. It’s not like you know what it feels like to driver a car at top speed, and more importantly you don’t want to know. The hot laps with Max were more than enough. You can’t be everything to him and you don’t need to be. You tell yourself you don’t want to be. It’s good he has other people to talk to, because it’s not like you can ever really understand his competitive streak. The man who knows nothing except how to win will not always be able to relate to the girl who has always been too afraid to lose.

No, it’s not bothering you that Max is talking to her. It’s bothering you that she has the most obvious crush on him since…no, actually, this is the most obvious crush ever. She’s played with her hair so many times you just know karma is going to make her bald someday. You hope you’re there somehow.

“Hey,”

You jump at the sound of Checo’s voice. He sits down at the end of the table, brandishing Kitkat, which he slides over to you.

“Max has made a new friend,” he says, nodding in Max’s direction.

You tear open the wrapper with far too much aggression. “So I see,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“She races, right?”

You nod, biting into the chocolate. “GT, apparently,”

“Lots in common,” Checo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You have to watch your back,”

You know he’s joking. You know that in no universe are you in competition with her. And yet, his words sink under your skin under your blood is curdling at the sight of Max laughing at something Amy says.

“I don’t have to watch anything,” you say with shrug, turning towards Checo. “If she can take him she can have him.” You push your hair over one shoulder and run your tongue over your teeth.

“Whoa,” Checo chuckles, throwing his hands up like he’s being faced with a hungry lion. You suppose since he has a wife, he knows the look well enough. “I was joking.” When you don’t react, he shakes his head. “It’s Max,”

You know what he means. It’s Max, not Chuck Leclerc. It’s Max, not Danny Ric. It’s Max, not Checo. But it’s Max. You don’t have to worry he’s going to lose his mind over the actresses or supermodels, but he sure seems to be respectfully admiring his female alter ego.

It’s like he can sense you thinking about him, it’s uncanny, really. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him walking towards your table with Amy in tow.

Fake smile, it’s fine, she’s just a fan.

Max introduces you, and you smile and shake her hand and ask her if she having a nice day, because you’re Max’s girlfriend, so you owe it to him to be polite. She has no such obligation, although you might be imagining her flinch when Max says the word girlfriend.

“I think it’s the best day of my life,” she says in answer to your question. The telltale flicker of her eyes in Max’s direction as they sit down almost making you roll yours.

Max doesn’t notice, he’s more interested in taking your Kitkat out of your hand and taking a bite. He bites it so that all four sticks have the end missing and you wear you’ve never been so disgusted by this man. For a second, you think Amy can have him.

“Amy races GT cars, like the ones we tested in Portugal,” he says to you now, his hand disappearing under the table to rest on your thigh and trace circles with his thumb like it’s a habit. “We are just talking about setting up a test for her with Verstappen com,”

Oh, great. So not only is she utterly bewitched by the ocean eyes, you’re making her dreams come true. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Ah,” is all you say, sharing a look with a smirking Checo.

“That would really be such a dream come true,” Amy says, and you almost laugh. “I’m a big fan of yours, I think it’s so cool that you’re involved with things outside formula one. You should come to a race sometime. I owe you paddock passes,”

You met him three hours ago, and he isn’t even the one who invited you. Do you owe him a blowjob as well, Amy?

“Yeah. Our schedule is a bit hectic but yeah, it would be good to fit that in soon,” Max says, turning to you. “Right?”

What am I? The secretary? Because in case you didn’t notice, she didn’t fucking invite me.

You just shrug.

“GT racing doesn’t exactly draw the influencer crowd,” you are definitely not imagining the way her eyes slide over to you before she looks back at Max to say, “it’s really good racing,”

You zone out right then and there. It’s like your brain short circuits from the energy it’s taking not to reach over, grab this girl by her stringy extensions, and rip. If she and Max keep talking, you don’t hear it. You don’t want to hear it. You notice Checo noticing your discomfort, even as he engages the other two in conversation. For all his quirks, Checo reads human behaviour much better than Max. Though you don’t need to be a body language expert to see how much this girl likes him.

She looking at him like she wants to eat him, hanging on unspoken words, fingers twitching on the table like she’s desperate to touch him. And he’s nodding along, because they’re so aligned that whatever she says he agrees with, and the maxplaining is one-handed now but no less enthusiastic, and you’re about to dig your nails into his skin because he is not going to have one hand almost up your skirt while another woman is flirting with him.

All these thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of one of the Red Bull media managers.

“Amy, we were hoping to get some pictures of you with the car, if you’re free?”

“Yeah, sure, one second,” she says, turning to Max. “Which way is the garage again?” Like she doesn’t have someone who clearly just came from the garage standing right next to her.

“Just through there, keep going straight,” Max says, pointing to the corridor with engineers walking in and out. You give the girl the benefit of the doubt that she’s not that stupid, just desperate.

Reluctantly, she gets to her feet. “So, I’ll give you a call to set up the test?”

“Yeah, sure,” Max says. “Or you can call Raymond. He’ll put your team in touch with the right people,”

“Okay, awesome,” she says, leaning down enough that you can see right down her shirt. “It was really great to meet you. And I meant it about the GT race,” and then, as if remembering she can’t be rude, she glances at Checo. “You guys, too,”

You wave her off, and your smile doesn’t even fall. Because it’s funny. It’s funny that a grown woman would behave like that in front of a man’s girlfriend. It’s funny that a woman gunning for sponsorship would behave like you does regular shifts in something called the “Champagne Room”.

And it’s absolutely hilarious that Max turns to you, without a care in the world, and says, “I’ve got such a headache. I stood up into the cupboard in the garage, it hurt so bad,”

You give him tight smile and pull out your phone to text Lily to see if she’s still with Alex or if she’s free for a catch up.

“What?” You hear Max say above you. You ignore him. “What? She the-“ You look up just in time to see that Checo is mouthing something to Max. “Jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” you snap, leaning back in the your chair to glare at both of them. They give each a mocking grin. “Yeah, very funny,” this sets them off snickering like school kids. “Fuck both of you.”

You get up and stalk through the room and back towards the garage. You don’t even know what you’ll do when you get there since being Max’s girlfriend had put an end to you just wandering down the pitlane and allowed in any garage. Maybe you’ll just try and find GP. If Max doesn’t catch up to you first. You can hear him calling you.

“Leibling, wait,” he’s right behind you now, and you hear him almost stumbling as he leans forward to catch you by the wrist.

You shrug him off, but stop at the door to his driver room and push it open, jerking your head to order him inside. He may be a dick, but he still deserve for the whole team to know his business. He steps into the room, reaching for your waist but you move out of his way and leave him to close the door while you lean against the physio table on the other side of the room.

He sighs when he sees how you’re looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I mean, I did. Not at you. I didn’t think Checo was being serious,” he defends, and by the end of his sentence he’s fighting an incredulous smile and you squeeze the edge of the physio bench to stop yourself pulling your hair. Or his.

How can this guy understand complex tyre strategy but not basic human interaction?

“You didn’t think he was serious that I was annoyed by someone flirting with you in front of me?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. “And that I wouldn’t be annoyed at you making fun of me for it?”

Max scoffs. “She wasn’t flirting with me,”

“Oh, please.” You let out a scoff of your own. “You didn’t notice me flirting with you for three years, do not pretend you’re an expert,”

“I noticed,” Max argues, “I just didn’t take it seriously,”

“Which is why you have no leg to stand on,”

“Right, because I was just supposed to believe that you suddenly-“

“It wasn’t exactly sudden-“

“For God’s sake,” Max groans, an expression of abject confusion twisting his face. “What are we even fighting about?”

“You enjoying Lella Lombardi over there slobber all over you, and enjoying it,” the exasperation gets worse when Max’s eyes widen like this is the first he’s hearing of this entire discussion.

“I’m- she- what?” He splutters, his head shaking in disbelief. “Is this one of those Tiktok pranks?”

“I get that she’s a pilot and that makes her automatically interesting, but until I hear otherwise, you’re still in a relationship,”

Max looks at you like you’ve grown a second head; shock, concern, and a good amount of unadulterated disgust. “You can’t think I was looking at her…like that,”

The way he says it, like he’s afraid to catch cooties, like it’s it’s inconceivable, like you didn’t still have bruises of your hips in the shape of his fingertips, takes all the fight out of you. Checo was right; it’s Max. It’s feels like someone’s let all the air out of a balloon. Your shoulders slump and you sigh.

“Because that would be crazy?” You lift yourself onto the physio bench as you speak. You’re not even really sure what you’re asking. “Max Verstappen, who likes only one thing on earth, that one thing being racing, attracted to another driver rather than his influencer accessory girlfriend?”

“Actually, I like two things,” he says with that boyish smirk that has been making your stomach do backflips for longer than you care to admit.

“Stop laughing at me,” you whine, fighting the urge to smile.

“I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that she upset you. I’m sorry that I upset you,” he says, taking a careful step closer to you, but he stops there. “Even if I don’t know what I did,”

He really has no idea. He is painfully, adorably clueless.

“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know either. Sometimes it’s just inexplicably overwhelming being Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. “Just you being you, I guess,”

Max frowns at that. “I didn’t know being myself was so offensive,” he mumbles, and you instantly feel guilty. You of all people shouldn’t make him feel bad for how much space he takes up. You of all people know how much that bothers him.

“No, it’s not that. It’s not-“ you struggle for a way to explain it. Max takes the opportunity to cross the rest of the room and stand in front of you, his expression telling you he’s waiting for you to finish. “It’s not about who you are, but sometimes the way people act around you is just…and you’re so used to it, you don’t even…you just forget who you are sometimes, Max,”

He nods soberly. “Yeah. I do, and I’m sorry,” he says. He hooks his hands under your knees and pulls your legs apart and slots between them as he drags you to the edge of the bench so that you’re pressed against him, leaning back to look up at him. “But I never forget who you are, which is the most important bit,”

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so simple. And not because he’s unintelligent, but because he’s guileless, because who he is has never scared him. He smiles back, and it’s unguarded and unbridled and you almost forgive that girl because you’ll be damned if you don’t have a crush on him, too.

“Was she really flirting with me?” He asks curiously, looking down as his hands find your and entwine your fingers.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, and he frowns, the wheels working in head as he tries to figure out how he didn’t notice. “Like me at your mum’s on Christmas Eve in 2020 level of obvious,”

“Well,” he says with a huff. “She just blew her chance at a test,”

“You don’t have to-“

“Wait, you were flirting with me at Christmas at my mum’s?”

#max verstappen x reader

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kitsunekat9 · 11 months

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You're probably not gonna answer this, but I'll try anyway: Why do you hate Adrien?

Hi anon! Believe it or not, I actually used to like Adrien. When the show first started, I thought he was sweet, funny, and tried his best. But as the show progressed, he just became worse. He started acting entitled to Ladybug, becoming demanding and whiny whenever he didn’t get what he wanted. (EX: throwing tantrums when Ladybug turned him down. I’d go into detail but plenty of other people have already made great posts about his numerous misbehaviors and failures as a hero, so I’ll leave it to you to read those posts for the specifics.)

The thing about Miraculous is that it’s marketed as a girl power superhero show. Given what it’s set itself up as, since he’s the male lead, Adrien is supposed to be supportive of the female lead. (Think Sailor Moon, and how Tuxedo Mask, even if he didn’t like her civilian side at first, was always encouraging of her heroine side and reminded her of her own strength when she felt discouraged.)

Part of my hatred for him is aimed at the writers, especially Astruc, because they’re pushing this narrative of Adrien being absolutely perfect and the pinnacle of romance for a male lead. Astruc has even said that Adrien is perfect and that Marinette is always in the wrong even when the problems in the show are clearly not caused by her nor are her fault. And for a show that’s supposed to be about girl power? Propping up the male lead while constantly putting down the female heroine is completely anti feminist.

Miraculous was inspired by Asian culture and the super heroine magical girl genre. The way Astruc and his team are allowing Adrien to get away with absolutely atrocious behavior while simultaneously making Marinette look (and feel) pathetic is disrespectful to the source they claim to be paying homage to.

Of course Marinette has her flaws. But it’s harder for me to judge her harshly for that because she’s written by a team of male writers who don’t understand teenage girls and have no empathy for teenage girls either. Marinette is a bit of a spaz with her anxiety and she can be more than a little creepy with her crush. But a lot of her misbehavior is egged on by the people around her. Her extreme actions like stealing Adrien’s phone and breaking into his room to give him that hat gift are encouraged by her friends like Alya and the girl squad. She’s basically stuck between a rock and a hard place; if she doesn’t take her friends’ “advice” on what to do about her crush, then they’ll be angry at her and she’ll potentially lose her friendships. Everyone likes to pity Adrien because he was isolated before going to school but people forget that Marinette didn’t have any friends before either and was severely bullied.

Marinette’s circumstances make her far more sympathetic to me than Adrien. She’s a working class, mixed-race girl trying her best to balance her duties with her relationships and no matter what the situation is, she’s wholly dedicated to her duties as a hero. Meanwhile, Adrien is a rich white boy who’s more concerned about possessing the girl he likes rather than being responsible for protecting Paris. Someone else on tumblr has said it before: “as a hero, even if you feel your situation is unfair or you’re being mistreated, if you have the power to save someone, then you have the responsibility to act upon that power and step up to be a hero.”

When Marinette wanted to give up being Ladybug after Stoneheart, it was because she thought she wasn’t good enough to be a hero. Adrien, on the other hand, thought he was too good as a hero and deserved to know all of Ladybug’s secrets, even though they were Master Fu’s orders and not hers to tell. Marinette is fundamentally selfless, while Adrien has shown time and again that he is selfish.

Admittedly, I can sometimes be harsh on Adrien. But his fans, the fandom, and the creators’ worship of him are only making my stance on him stronger. I can’t tolerate a male lead who acts the way he acts. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and you’re welcome to disagree with me, but I won’t be changing my mind. Thank you for being respectful when you sent me the ask, and if you’ve managed to read this far, thank you for your time. I wish you all the best and hope that no matter what your opinions are, your fandom experience is still at least enjoyable. Fandom is for each fan individually to curate and I hope that even if you block me or anyone else, you can keep enjoying yourself and having fun online.

P.S. I hate him is actually just my salt tag. I’ve used it to hate on Bakugou from BNHA too. I’m just particular about my tag system and didn’t want to write salt because I already have too many tags starting with ‘sa-’ so it’s easier for me to come up with a different tag.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #text post #kitkat talks back #adrien agreste #i hate him

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nctsplug02 · 1 year

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just the filthiest filthiest mark smut

PUNCH! MARKLEE

GENRE: fluff | smut | best friends to lovers!

WARNINGS: protected sex, kissing, dirty talk, praising, fingering, spanking, oral sex (both F and M receiving), nipple play, doggy, hair pulling, squirting, missionary and spitting kink.

A/N: i genuinely do not know how to write a SUPER FILTHILY smut. so, you’ve been warned if it isn’t as filthily as you wanted.

you sigh and do the walk of shame to mark lee’s car when he pulls up and quickly sets his car in park.

“don’t start.” you say as soon as you sit in the passenger side. “oh, cmon!” marks voice cracks. “i deserve to know— i’m your best friend— and, i picked you up!” mark presses on the gas.

you groan and lean your head against the window. “fine, but do you have some snacks that i can munch on?” mark reaches over and pulls open in glove department.

a small light shines and piles of candy wrappers are glistening under the light.

“just for you, brat.” mark leans back in his seat.

brat— the nickname he’d given you when you acted up that one day back in grade five.

“thanks, asshole.” you grab a kitkat and tear the wrapper open. “so,” you sigh and take a bite out of the two sticks. “long story short— my date didn’t show and.. i sat at my booth for about an hour.. looking like an idiot.”

mark laughs and you shove him. “hey! i’m driving here!” you roll your eyes. “don’t laugh then, idiot!” you grab another kitkat.

“wait, so who was the jerk that didn’t show?” mark glances at you. “lee donghyuck.” mark swerves and you panic. “mark lee, what the hell?!” your chest heaves and mark shakes his head.

“you were planning to go on a date with one of my best friends?!” you eye him. “so, what if i was?“ a small smirk grows on your lips. “is mark lee.. jealous?” mark sputters. “wh—what? n—no, no!”

his ears said other wise.. plus that grinned that he couldn’t hide.

mark pulls up to your apartment and you sigh, climbing out and ducking your head slightly in. “thanks for ride, markie.” you tap the top of his car and turn to leave.

“y/n, h—hold on.” you turn and mark is jogging up to you. “look, im sorry for scaring you earlier in the car. i just.. wasn’t expecting you to be going on a date with one of my friends.”

you shake your head. “it’s fine.”

PING!

you look down at your phone and a snarl grows on your lips. “who is it? haechan?” you look up and shut your phone off. “yeah— jealous?” you tilt your head with a snarky grin.

mark stays silent. “well, i’m going inside. it’s late. goodnight—?” you stumble back when mark grabs your waist with one hand and uses the other to cup your jaw— his lips crashed onto yours.

marks lips had landed on your lips so harsh that you swore you could taste blood.

his lips tasted good.. weirdly good.

but, he’s been your best friend since the first grade.

holy shit, this is wrong!

“m—mark!” you push him and he stumbles back. “oh, my god. this.. that.. we can never do that. never.” you touch your bottom lip while guilt washes over marks face.

“i’m sorry, mark. i’m sorry.” you whisper and stumble towards your door where you pulled your keycard out and scanned it before walking in without looking back.

“but, ma. it was weird. he’s my best friend!” it’d been a whole week since the mistaken kiss between you and mark.

“sweetheart,” your mother sighs and massages the aloe vera mask into your face. “you can’t keep hiding your feelings.” you crack an eye open. “what are you talking about, ma?” she sighs and sets the face roller down.

you sit up and face her. “my love..” she frowns. “i can see how madly in love you are with him.” you stutter. “ma, i—i don’t—?”

“sweetheart, you do. since the sixth grade when he asked you to the middle school winter formal dance. i could see the excitement in your eyes when you ran home and told me. you were jumping around.. and.. and squealing like a piglet.” you and her laugh.

“but, sweetheart, the spark in your eyes grew everyday even till today. and— before you ask how i know, mama knows best, my love.” you chew the inside of your cheek.

you softly laugh. “is it really that obvious?” she laughs and nods. “very.” you groan and grab a grape, tossing it in your mouth and chomping on the crunchiness.

you groan and fall flat on the bed. “you know how i went on a date yesterday?” your mother nods blowing on her fresh painted toe nails. “well.. it was.. his friend that i was supposed to go on that date with.”

“supposed to?” you groan, again. the memory of sitting in the booth for an hour, ordering water and tea until finally deciding to leave before having mark pick you up in his gray BMW M4.

“he stood me up, ma.” your voice whines and your mother laughs. “don’t laugh, ma!” she sighs and calms down. “how could anyone stand my gorgeous girl up?” you sit up and pout.

your mother coos. “it was so embarrassing when i had to call mark to come pick me up— i did the walk of shame.” your mother laughs, again. “then.. he kissed me after he dropped me off in front of my apartment complex.”

“oh, sweetheart. that boy.. that sweet boy..” she jolts up. “i’m talking about mark, by the way!” she confirms and you laugh. “not your shitty little date.” you whine, remembering the embarrassing moment of being stood up.

“you better get him before he moves on and finds someone else.”

it’d been two days since the at home spa day with your mother.

and.. she’d soooommeeehoow convinced you to show up in front of his doorstep.. with nothing.

so, here you are standing in front of his house, waiting for him to come open the door.

you kick around, waiting for the door to open until it does. your body stiffens and jolts up straight. a gorgeous mark lee opens the door.

he was wearing black jeans and a fitted white button up. and his hair.. it was slicked up and to the side.

“hi.” you sigh and mark was speechless. his jaw was hung open and his eyes blinked repeatedly. “uh, i.. uh— i’ll just get to the point.”

“i came here to apologize. specifically for freaking out over our kiss which i think was very stupid of me. i usually don’t panic or freak out over anything.” you hyperventilate.

mark bites his lip. “y/n, now isn’t really a good time—?” you push past mark and walk down his hall.

“a few days ago i talked with my mom and she somehow convinced me to come here which, i am so sorry for barging in but, i really have to talk to you— or apologize.” your hands shake as you enter the kitchen.

“y—y/n—?” mark tries to run in front of you.

you stop and turn. “mark, im in love with you.” mark stops in front of you with his lips slightly parted.

someone clears their throat. “am i.. interrupting something?” your body stills.

holy fuck.

your head slowly turns toward the voice. “hi.” you squeak and wave. “hey, i’m celina. marks date— and, you?” you gulp and turn your head back to marks.

“woah, im sorry. i didn’t realize my.. my neighbor! i didn’t realize my neighbor had a date. wow, this was so rude of me to just barge in— i apologize!” you laugh and look behind you— thank god mark had two entry for his kitchen.

“i—i should go! nice meeting you celina! again, sorry!” you awkwardly laugh and leave through the second entry.

what the actual hell were you thinking??

that was definitely a sign that it isn’t meant to be.

“maaaaa, it was so embarrassing!” you cry a whine into her chest. “he was on a date and i just, barged in like the kool aid guy telling him that i love him!”

your mother gasps. “you told him you love him? my love, i know you want to tell about how you feel for him but.. don’t be so upfront!” you whine and fall back on her bed.

“you always tell me to be upfront and straight forward.” you sigh and run your hands over your face. “sometimes you shouldn’t listen to me!” you and her laugh as you sit up.

“i messed up, ma.” your mother cups your face. “yeah, you did.” you softly laugh and sigh.

PING!

“should i get that?” your mother frowns and nods. “fine.” you huff and grab your phone.

you gasp. “ma, he texted me!” you jump up on your knees. “who? who?!” she jumps on her knees. “who other than mark, ma?!” you and her squeal for a good minute before calming down.

“he said, come over and let’s talk— please.” you bite your lip and your mother shows a shocked face. “go, now. i’m so serious right now, y/n. get out of my house and come back the next day to tell me what happened!”

you laugh and climb out of her bed. “ma, im nervous!” you say slipping on your shoes. “just go! take my car and go, sweetheart! you’ll be fine, i promise.” she gives you a kiss on the forehead and watches you walk out to her car.

you bite your nail while walking back and forth in front of marks door. debating if you should knock or just turn and leave.

“well, i’m already here.” you sigh and pull your hand away from your mouth.

you clear your throat and straighten up before bringing your hand up and knocking on marks door. mid knock, the door swings open and your arm hangs in the air.

“hi.” mark sighs with a lopsided smile.

“hi.” you bite your lip and gulp.

“i was wondering when you’d knock.” what? “uh, i could see you pacing back and forth through my camera.” you look to the side to side before stopping when seeing his ring camera.

you look back at him. “oh.” you nervously laugh and mark finally invites you inside with an apology.

“so,” you swoop your skirt and sit on his couch. “why did you ask me to come here? i thought you had a date.. with celina?” mark sits across from you and rests his elbows on his knees.

“i cut our date short.” he answers plainly. “wh—what? why?” mark rubs his stubble. “i had to see you, y/n. i needed to talk to you a—after what you said.”

mark raises his eyes to yours and you bring your eyes to his fireplace.

“look, mark— what i said..” you sigh and push your hair back.

“did you mean it?” you bring your eyes back to his. your eye twitches and so does your jaw as you contemplate on what to say.

mark gets up and your eyes follow him. he walks around the coffee table and stops in front of you before sitting down on the table.

you felt like time had stopped with him.. being so close in front of you.

“tell me, y/n. did you mean what you said?” you wet your lips. “i—i did.” mark rests his elbows on his knees like before. “say it without stuttering.”

“i did and i do, mark. i.. love you.” mark softly smiles. “i didn’t ask before but, can i kiss you?” you follow along with the smile and nod.

mark cups your face and softly connects his lips with yours. no roughness and no blood this time.

the kiss was getting rougher and sloppier by the second and in the heat of the moment, you took marks hand and you brought it under your skirt.

“fuck,” mark pulls away and looks down before looking back up. “you’re drenched, baby.” you tipped your head back and sighed when he pressed his fingers more on your clit.

mark pushes your skirt up and looks down. “god, you’re adorable.” mark softly giggles at your panties— they were cotton with flowers printed all over it and a tiny little flower was sewed in the middle of the stretch-band.

“it was on sale at victoria secret!” you whine.

mark softly laughs. “may i?” mark tugs on the band and you nod, biting your lip.

mark pulls your panties down and holds them up. embarrassment washed over you when seeing the a wet splotch on the cotton material.

“mark, give it to me—?” you reach up to snatch it but mark reclines back. “ah ah, what do you think you’re doing?” he smirks and looks at the panties in his hand. “taking back what’s mine— give it—?” you try and reach for it, again but mark does the same thing.

“nice try, princess. this is mine now.” he bunches it up and tucks it in his back pocket. “what’re you gonna do with it, huh? wear it?” mark laughs. “shut up.” you yelp when he lands a soft smack on your clit.

mark lifts his hand to his mouth and sticks out his tongue, wetting his two fingers before slowly sliding them into your cunt.

you moan and slowly let your legs fall together. “no no no,” mark parts your legs with his free hand. “i want these open, you hear me?” you bite your lip and nod. “good.”

a tortured groan rumbled in your throat as mark slowly slipped his fingers within your walls. your walls tightened around his fingers every time the tip of his fingers brushed against your g-spot.

“m—mark!” you hum and softly gasp. your clit throbbed and throbbed. “do you like this, baby?” mark says, slowly thrusting his fingers.

you shake your head. “you don’t?” mark pauses and you whine. “mark, i want it faster.” marks lip curl into a grin. “you’re a needy one, aren’t you?”

mark intensifies his movements and rests his thumb on your clit. “ooohh, my god.” you shudder a moan and let your eyes roll back.

“mark!” his lips rest on your swollen clit and it catches you off guard. “oh, god— mark!” you cry out and tug on his locks.

his fingers scissoring inside you as his tongue swirls around your clit. he hums a chuckle when feeling your fingers tug tighter.

“oh, ffffuck!” you gasp, feeling him nibble on your clit.

the sounds of mark lapping up your juice fills your ears, along with the sounds of his fingers scissoring you rapidly.

you push mark away, his lips a bit swollen and red as he’s shoved away from you. “w—wait, m—mark!” the pleasure is too much.

“what’s wrong, baby? tell me how it feels, baby.” mark whispers and you struggle with speak. the air tightening around you as your orgasm sneaked closer. “cmon, baby.” mark slows down his moments and you whine.

“i—it feels.. amazing, mark.” you grasp the material of his couch and clench your jaw with a grunted, high pitched moan. “there you go, baby.” mark whispers, his fingers throbbing from how tight you clenched.

“oh, fuck.” mark pulls his fingers out and lifts them. “so perfect.” mark sighs and plops them on his tongue. mark slides his tongue between the two cum covered fingers and moans around them.

“m—mark, i just— i just squirted!” you stare in horror as he sucks on his fingers.

“princess, you taste so sweet.” he looks down at you and grins widely.

the image of you laid in front of him with your legs wide open and your pussy glistening, your chest heaving and your eyes fighting to stay open.

“god, this is embarrassing.” you groan. “hey,” mark grabs your jaw and shakes your head side to side, waking you back up. “we aren’t done yet, princess.”

mark lifts you up and fixes your skirt. “we’re taking this to the room, okay, princess?” you nod and wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

once upstairs, mark lays you gently on his bed. “are you on birth control?” he asks and you nod. “but, could you please use a condom?” mark reaches above you and opens up his nightstand.

you hear rustling until a wrapper is heard. “i will always use a condom. never have i once slept with a women without wearing a condom.” you take the condom from mark and you rip it open.

“can i put it on?” mark softly laughs and nods. you sit up and wait until mark undresses himself. with excitement, you slide the condom on with a bit of marks help.

you lay back down and mark looks down at you— he admires you before nodding. “ready, princess?” you’re caught off guard by his question— too busy staring down at his cock.

it was both long and thick. maybe a good eight inch.

“ready.” you nod.

mark holds one of your thigh and slowly pushes himself in. your mouth parts and and your body tenses up. you let out a cry when mark made it half way.

now, it wasn’t like you were a virgin— you aren’t. but, his size was different compared to the other three guys you’ve slept with. they were thinner and below 6 inches.

“mark,” you exhale and rest your palm on his faint abs. “i’ll go slow, baby. don’t worry.” you shake your head. “n—no, i want it fast. j—just not now.” you exhale, again.

you look to the side when feeling mark interlace his fingers with yours. “i’ll go as slow as you want, baby. we can be here all night at this pace.” you softly laugh and so does mark.

after about several minutes, you had gotten over the slight burning sensation and had begged mark to pick up his pace.

“just like that, baby.” mark groaned and watched as your pussy swallowed his cock. “absolutely gorgeous.” he whispers and tightens his hand around yours.

you give a squeeze back and mark softly laughs.

“you’re so fucking perfect.” he whispers and presses his lips against yours. mark doesn’t let your lips go instead, he pounds his hips down on yours.

your moans being swallowed by mark as his cock hit your g-spot, over and over, again. mark pulls your leg onto his hip and roughly rocks his hips into yours. you bring your other leg up to marks hip and you lock your ankles together, pulling him closer.

“mark,” you moan, pulling away. “i’m— mark, im gonna—?” mark kisses you. “cum.” he finishes for you. “do it. i love how tight you get when you cum.”

and, so you do. your pussy tightens around mark when your second orgasm washes over you. “what a good slut.” mark coos and presses his lips on yours.

slut?

mark pulls away when your legs go weak. his cock stands hard as he grabs your hips and turns you on your knees.

“m—mark, my legs!” you giggle. your legs shook and quivered— and, if it were for marks arm around your waist holding you up, you would’ve collapsed.

mark uses his free hand and lands a spank on your ass. “look at this pretty flushed ass.” mark lands another spank on your ass and you whine. “mark, stop!” you swat his hand.

“sh, sh.” mark pushes down the upper half of your body and plants a kiss on your ass cheek. “stay still and let me hear those pretty noises while i fuck you, slut.”

mark pushes into you and your eyes fall shut but your mouth falls open with moans spilling out.

“that’s it, slut. let me hear your pretty sounds.” mark gathers your hair and yanks it back. “ah— mark.” you wince, your back aching from how much it arched.

mark hisses and squeezes your hips. “moan for me, baby. i love hearing how pretty you sound.” your mouth falls open and more moans spill out.

“fuck, im gonna cum.” mark exhales and tilts his head back. “y/n, wha—?” his head snaps back when feeling you slip off his cock.

you turn around and push mark back by shoving his shoulders. he falls on his ass with his legs laid out in front of him.

“baby, what are you doing—?” you sit on your knees and crawl forward, pulling the condom off and flinging on to the side. “baby—?” mark sighs when feeling your lips wrap around his cock.

“fuck, baby.” mark softly chuckles and you gasp when feeling a hand drop on your head.

his fingers tangle with your hair. mark lets out a string of curses as he pushes your head down and back up. you push away marks hand and he tsks.

“i’m a big girl, mark.” you say pulling off his cock.

he lets out a drowsy smile and gathers your hair, even the ones that stuck to your face with sweat.

you settled with a rhythm and flattened your tongue along his cock. mark moans and you smile at the sounds of pleasure he let spill from his throat.

“oh, fuck. oh, fuck, baby—?!” mark holds your head down and dumps his load down your throat before letting you up.

you gasp heavily and slap your hands down on marks thighs— which, he winces at. your eyes fall shut when feeling something land on your cheek then nose and then chin.

“you’re a piece of shit.” you laugh, opening your eyes to see mark still recovering from his orgasm. “you love it.” you roll your eyes.

mark reaches forward and wraps his hand around your nape, yanking you forward and connecting your lips with his.

he pulls away and pulls your jaw apart. you wait until a ball of saliva falls into your mouth, landing on your tongue. you swallow and open your mouth, again.

“good girl, baby.” mark softly laughs and rubs your cheek.

mark frees your jaw and lowers his eyes to your breasts. your eyes follow and mark cups your breasts from below.

“god, could you get any more gorgeous than this?” you bite your lip as mark moves closer, his mouth practically drooling over your breasts.

a soft moan is heard from you when mark wraps his lips around your nipple. he looked adorable from your view. just sucking on your tit and pinching the other nipple.

“oh, god.” you sigh and bring your hand up to his lock, tangling your finger in his locks and yanking them.

“you taste so sweet.. every part of you is so sweet.” he whispers and moves to the other breast. “oh, god, mark.” you gasp, pushing his head closer.

mark pulls away and his lips were slightly plumped with redness. “you look so cute.” you giggle, wiping his extra drool with your thumb.

mark grabs your hand and leans into your touch. “what do you say,” he brings his lips onto yours. “wash up,” he pulls off and then returns. “and i’ll order something for us?” you laugh against his lips and nod.

“alright, cmon. i wanna see how sexy you’ll look in my clothes.” you roll your eyes and laugh.

“you know, hearing you say that you were supposed to go on a date with one of my best friends.. i was.. i was honestly furious.” mark says grabbing a chicken drumstick.

“i felt like someone had punched a hole in my heart.” you laugh and mark stammers confusingly. “wha— im serious! honestly, i’m actually serious. i went to his place and punched him right in the jaw.”

wow, mark lee? really?

“did you actually?” you ask, sipping on the cola in your cup. “i did and i.. would do it again but i wouldn’t. kind of hurt my knuckles.” he laughs.

“i’m glad we talked things out.” you say with a sigh. “i’m glad we did, too.” mark grabs another chicken.

you sigh, again, swallowing the skin of the crispy chicken. “my mom is gonna freak when i tell her about the amazing sex we just had.” you laugh and then mark follows.

“wa—wait—? wh—what?” his voice squeaks.

you giggle. “wait, do you tell your mom everything?” his half eaten chicken lays between his fingers. “i do. she’s my best friend.” mark takes a bite out of his chicken.

“mm..” he sets down his chicken on his plate. “so, that means you’ll also tell her that we’re dating, now?” you quirk an eyebrow. “since when, hm?”

mark clears his throat. “y/n, will you be my one and only girlfriend?” you smirk, hiding the fact that you were melting inside. “yes, mark lee. i will be your one and only girlfriend.” you giggle.

“good, because i wasn’t gonna let you go anyway.” he winks and you hide your smile with the drumstick.

A/N: i genuinely was gonna write something that was like.. related to the title “punch” but i didn’t save it and it deleted! so, i’d already had the picture and divider so i just decided to write something else.

so if you’re reading it and thinking “what rje hell does this have to do with “punch” — nothing. it has nothing to do with this post.

#nctsplug02 #ash talks #nct imagines #nct scenarios #anon #kpop imagines #nct smut #nct 127 #kpop smut #kpop fluff #nerdy mark #mark fluff #superm mark #nct mark #mark #mark smut #mark lee smut #mark lee

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crimeronan · 1 year

Text

opening my very old (well, like 1.5-year-old) original fiction novel draft to scan it n see what the characters are doing. discovering i wrote Very Long Swaths of dialogue in one scene entirely in irish. & being like. ok. past kitkat. this was admirable practice and probably isn't half-bad grammatically although who am i to judge. however. your future self has NOT been studying enough to know what the Fuck is happening here,

#I GOTTA GET BACK INTO IMMERSION #read a page aloud a day. compose at least one message in the immersion server a day. listen to at least 15 minutes of gaeltacht radio a day #actually progress in my duolingo course instead of just doing a quick review each day to maintain the streak. translate more poetry.#play amogus in irish. participate in the beginner voice chat and study groups in the immersion server again. et cetera et cetera et cetera #i remember the OG thought process was that the fictional language the characters were speaking parallels irish #and i'd decide if i wanted to do a whole tolkien-esque ground-up linguistics thing later. and in the meantime just practice my writing #but oh god does this make it clear how much syntax has leaked out of my brain. devin ruby what the fuck are you talking about my beloveds..#original fiction #kitkat learns gaeilge

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cameronspecial · 2 months

Text

The People We Used To Be

Pairing: Musician! Rafe Cameron x Musician! Reader

Warnings: Rafe being an asshole

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 8.5K

Summary: Music brought together Y/N and Rafe, but he pulled them apart. After seven years, a competition to win a recording deal brings them back together and they are forced to confront their past.

A/N: Inspired by @ghostofwriting's Kildare Spilt series which is absolutely amazing and you have to check it out if you haven't already. The songs in the fic are "Traitor" by Olivia Rodrigo (Altered to fit the fic) and "Right My Wrongs" by Bryson Tiller. I didn't write them.

Masterlist

Music has a way of making the world make sense for Y/N and Rafe. The Pogue and the Kook met at a Mommy and Me music class their mothers took them to as toddlers. Their mothers and each other helped foster a love for the art and it became even more of a necessity when they lost their mothers. Rafe was the first one to lose his mother. Margaret Cameron had been battling cancer for two years before her passing and it completely destroyed her eight-year-old son. Every Kook he knew tried to help him with his grief, except the one person who could actually get through to him didn’t live on Figure Eight. Instead of crying in his room in Tannyhill, he found himself riding his bike to a small bungalow on the Cut. It was in that small house where a little girl sat on the front porch with a guitar that was too big for her, trying to play “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper. Her mom’s favourite song. The sound of the chain of his bike caused her to freeze and look up from the strings. “You are getting better,” he praised, getting off his bike to walk it up the small driveway. She gave him a smile that showed him she wasn’t afraid to be happy during his time of mourning. She didn’t walk on eggshells around him and he loved it. It made him feel normal, like before his mom got sick. She beckoned him to the porch swing with her hand, “Come sing with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Nuh-uh, that’s a girl song,” he argued.

The front door opened and out came Melody Y/L/N. Her smile matched her daughter. “Now, Rafe. Have I not taught you anything about music? There is no such thing as a boy song or a girl song. Or a Pogue song or a Kook song. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. Now, why don’t we all sing together?” Those words touched him and it would continue to do so well into adulthood. And it was that afternoon when Rafe started to heal from the pain of a dead mother. Playing music with the Y/L/N women and being happy made him feel closer to his mom than any condolences from other people.

———

Y/N lost her mother at twelve years old. The real kicker was that the universe decided that the day the girl would turn into a young lady was the day of her mother’s funeral. Her mother was a lively person and requested in her will that people wear their favourite colour to her funeral. So Y/N wore light blue to the burial. When she went to the bathroom after returning home, she was greeted with a massive red stain in her underwear. It felt as though the world had ended. Melody may have talked to her daughter about the logistics of dealing with a period, but Y/N couldn’t remember a word of what her mother had said and she began to panic. She locked herself in the bathroom after her dad gave her a new pair of underwear and some of her mom’s leftover pads. Other than that, he had no idea what else to do to get his daughter out. His wife was gone and his daughter was dealing with a problem he had never experienced before. He felt hopeless until he thought of the one person who could help.

Ward dropped off his son in front of the one-story yellow house, telling his son he could sleep over if Y/N needed someone. Rafe walked into the house as if he lived there and went straight to the bathroom door. “Hey, Rock Star. I heard you were feeling bad. I brought you some KitKats, dulce de leche ice cream and some Tylenol,” he announces, looking through the bag. “My mo- My mom used to say eating sweets made her feel better.” She didn’t respond; instead, she remained seated on the floor against the bathtub. Her head was on her knees to catch the tears coming from her eyes, wishing her mom could be here to help her through it. Rafe sighed, worried his friend would never leave that room again. Since food didn’t work, he only knew one other thing that might be able to get her out. If it didn’t work, then he didn’t know what would. He ran to the living room and flipped through the CD holder, looking for a specific one. He finally found it and took it out. He set it in the CD player and dragged it into the hallway. He plugged it in, skipping to the perfect song. The notes began to play and he shook his hips in synch with it. “I come home, in the morning light,” he started to sing with Cyndi. She could hear his exaggerated shrieks from inside her confides. He was definitely doing it to goad her out. “I think I’m a great singer. What do you think, Rock Star?” he screamed from the other side of the door. She sat there for a little longer, listening to his horrible singing.

Eventually, she had to save her poor ears from the torture. His singing dimmed in volume at the click of the lock. He saw her feet tapping and he knew it was only a matter of time before she joined in with him. Once she started singing with him, he switched to his real singing voice. The slant of her lips was still in a frown, but it was still an improvement from not wanting to see anyone. And once again, music helped the children grieve the loss of an important woman in their lives.

———

Her foot taps against the floor as she bites her nails. The earplugs she is wearing help dampen the sound from the stage. She can’t believe he is here. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. This competition would launch the winner’s career. Y/N hasn’t seen him in seven years and hasn’t played with him for just as long. Kiara comes from behind her and rests a palm on her shoulder. Kie has been touring with Y/N’s band for three years now. As soon as she graduated high school, she hit the road and became the Melodies’ personal assistant. They both turn to look at the lead singer of Just Wanna Have Fun as he sings while strumming his electric guitar. He turns so she can see the back of his guitar and she spots the beam note with their initial in each of the ovals of the notes. R and Y/I/N. She is surprised he hasn’t painted over it already. Each band gets to play three songs and when she hears the next song he decides to play, she can’t stand on the sideline and watch them perform anymore. She turns around and heads into the lounge area for the musicians. How dare he play that song?

He could feel her gaze on her throughout his first set. He should’ve figured she would be here. If he thought she was, he wouldn’t have played the next set. He finishes his part of the duet and he looks to the side of the stage to see her while Frank sings the verse that used to belong to Y/N. Disappointment flashes across his eyes at the empty spot where she was. This is the first time he gets to see her in seven years and of course, he has to screw it up. He gets so caught up in the past that he almost misses his verse.

———

The cool air tickled their skin as her head rested on his stomach. The new electric guitar his dad bought him for his fourteenth birthday lay beside them. “Do you ever worry about us not being friends anymore?” she thought out loud, staring up at a cloud that looked a little like a bunny. He frowns at her and lifts his head up to look at her, “No, why in the world would I think about that?”

“We are total opposites, Rafe. You are a Kook. I’m a Pogue. You are destined for a life of greatness while I’m meant to be stuck on my side of the island.”

He laughs, “That’s absolutely ridiculous because we are both meant to be in a band together and become so famous that the members of Pink Floyd will be jealous.”

He could see the seriousness of her question and sat up, taking her with him. She now sat across from him and he took her hand into his. “But seriously though, all that stuff doesn’t matter. Not when we have music. It’s like your mom used to say. Music isn’t meant for one type of person. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. And that logic is the same for us. We speak to each other, so we are meant for each other,” he promised. He scooted to his backpack and got out a Sharpie. He sat back down beside her, flipping his guitar onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she questioned. She slid in closer to him. He uncapped the marker and began to draw a beam note. He looked up at her with a smile, “Proving to you that we will never stop being friends.” He put his initial in the first note and handed the marker over to her. She got the message, writing her initial in the other note. He took the marker back to cap it. “There. Now, as long as this is here, we will be friends forever.” She giggled at his remark, thinking it would eventually fade; however, what she didn’t know was that he forced his dad to get something to seal the writing that very night.

———

Y/N will never get over the feeling of being on stage. Whether she is playing for a crowd of one or a hundred, all she needs is to share what she loves with people willing to listen. She smiles at the camera Kiara flashes in her face and takes the towel Kie hands to her. The fabric removes the sweat from her forehead, staining with makeup in the process. She makes her way to the lounge to put her stuff away so she can wait out the other bands until they announce who is going to make it to the next round. Her usual routine after a gig is to take a breather outside by herself. She needs the outside air to cool her down and let her think, so her bandmates give her the space she needs as she heads out the backdoor. She breathes in the cool air, slamming against the rough brick wall. So far, she has been able to contain her emotions about seeing him again. Yet, finally being able to focus on her feelings, makes her realize that she is still hurt by what he did all those years ago. She trusted him with all of her heart and he broke that trust. How could someone she loved so much betray her so badly?

“It’s been seven years and you still haven’t changed, Rock Star.” The voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Her head swivels in his direction, rolling her eyes at him. “Neither have you because I’m guessing you are here to smoke. You know those things will kill you, right?” she retorts, looking in the opposite direction. He chuckles, “Yeah, this girl I used to know a while back told me that all the time.” She doesn’t join in his playfulness. “You know what, I’m just going to go back inside,” she decides, pushing off of the wall to head to the door. He reaches for her wrist to stop her. She stops at the contact and he flicks the cigarette bud on the floor. He stomps it out. His gaze finds her again and at the disapproving look on her face, he picks it up and throws it in the garbage. He points toward the door, “I’ll go. I recognize how much you need these moments alone. I’ll see you back inside.” He steps toward the doorway, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “It was nice to see you in person again.” She scoffs, “I wish I could say the same.” This digs another shallow hole in his heart and he lets the door slam shut behind him. Once he is gone, she slides down the wall, resting her head on her knees with her eyes closed. Is a record deal with one of the best recording labels really worth the regauging of old wounds?

Rafe heads to the bathroom, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth. The decision to use the individual bathroom is easy; he doesn’t want anyone to walk in on his mental breakdown. His hand twists the cold facet and splashes the water onto his face. The shock of the temperature aids him in rearranging his thoughts. At the sight of her broken heart, it killed him that he wasn’t able to drag her into his hold and whisper how sorry he was for letting them get to this point. After all their time apart, every single detail that he remembers about her is the same. Her lavender perfume remains his favourite smell in the world. The dark fuschia lipstick is the one he picked out for her when she started wearing makeup. And she relies on the tiny taps of her feet in rhythm with the song playing in her head.

———

Rafe watches her from his spot in front of the stage. The area designated for the bands to stand in during the elimination announcement isn’t as crowded as the general admission behind him. Two bands are going to be eliminated. It isn’t a lot, yet it doesn’t guarantee Just Wanna Have Fun is going to continue in the competition. He hopes the Melodies advance, certainly because the longer they both stay, the more chances he has at making things right between them. All he wants is to get back what they had and maybe what they didn’t get the opportunity. That wish is quickly submerged by a wave from a passing jet ski.

The jet ski is probably two inches shorter than Rafe. His light brown curly hair goes passed the bottom of his ear and looks like a flat mane. The green eyes stare at Y/N with adoration that only Rafe should be allowed to direct toward her. What really destroys Rafe is when that five o’clock shadow brushes against Y/N’s skin to give her a kiss on the cheek. Garrett notices Rafe’s gaze and shoves the glarer with his shoulder. “Stop staring. You look creepy,” Garrett orders, turning back to the stage. As Rafe is about to obey the suggestion, he catches the way Y/N leans against the chest of the mystery man, causing a bubble of nausea to form in his stomach. The screech of a microphone calls the attention of everyone in the crowd. A short woman with blue hair and black lips angles the bulb toward her, “Everyone played beautifully tonight, but unfortunately, you all can’t join us next week. Just as a reminder every week, two bands will be eliminated. Now, for the moment you have all been waiting for.” She takes a pause to unfold the paper with the names of the unlucky musicians and her cheerful demeanour shifts to one of sorrow. “I’m sorry to announce that Dex the Sex and Heartaches will not be playing on this stage again next week.” The bands closest to the exiled ones express their condolences, while the ones further away can be seen celebrating the small victory. Rafe turns to hug his bandmates and can’t help but risk a glance at her. Her arms are around her supposed boyfriend’s neck and their chest are pressed against each other.

The green-eyed monster tickles his heart. His legs move in advance of his brain processing his emotions. The tips of his navy blue converses touch her black leather boots. He notices the way the man’s arm around her waist slightly tightens so that the veins in his arms are prominent and the sharp jaw clenches. Rafe eventually has the confidence to look in her eyes and her distaste for him marinates in them. His fingers go to scratch the back of his ear, “Congrats on making it to the next round. You… you played great. Was the last song new?” She leans forward in the man’s hold and some of her hatred cools down. “Thanks, it is. Something I came up with last week. We’ve been working late nights to perfect it for tonight. You sounded great tonight too,” she says barely above a whisper. The man behind her looks between the ex-bandmates and extends his hand out, “I’m Knox, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you, Rafe.”

Rafe grips Knox’s hand a little too tight with a straight smile. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he placates, wondering how much trouble he would get into for punching the idiot. It would be unwarranted for sure, yet it doesn’t stop his urge to want to do it. Feeling the start of a cock fight brewing, Y/N steps in. “We didn’t eat dinner before the show, so we are going to go… do that.” She breaks away from her boyfriend’s hold and takes his hand, following her friends toward the exit. Her cold demeanour might have made someone else lose spirit. Someone who didn’t know Y/N. Rafe knows otherwise though. He was able to crack the glaze of her harshness. He isn’t letting that victory go.

———

His feet ache after a late-night practice. They had gotten the last timeslot for practice at the venue today, not that Rafe minds. He works better at night because it is when he needs a distraction the most. She was there earlier, so he didn’t get to see her. The smell of her perfume followed him wherever he went while he was there. They haven’t had any encounters since that night. It doesn’t surprise him; she is obviously avoiding him. It hurts him more than hell and he knows he deserves it because he did something a hundred times worse to her. The echo of his footsteps is the sole sound in his vast apartment. This has been his house for five years, except it doesn’t feel like home. Not when it doesn’t have that touch of her like his room at Tannyhill does.

———

“God, could your room look any more like a stereotypical teenage boy’s jerk off-centre?” she criticized, looking around the room with disgust in her eyes at the cluster of cups on his bedside table. Some of them had ring stains around the glass. He looked at her over his shoulder, “What are you talking about? All the guys I know have a room like this.” She points at the walls littered merely with car posters or bikini models. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. How can you call this place home if there is nothing that shows you are the one living here?” she argued. He gestured to the poster, “What do you think that is?”

“That shows me that any guy in my class lives here.”

“Like a Pogue could afford half of the stuff in this room.”

“Really, Rafe?”

“Right, sorry. Can you just get to the point? What do you think I should add then? What will make this place my home?”

“You need more personality in here. Pictures of people you love. Little trinkets. Plants. Music stuff. Love letters from a sweetheart.”

He chuckled, “Like you display your love letters. And why can’t my personality be cars and bikini posters.” “Because that’s every other straight cis-gendered boy's personality. You know, if you added more things, it would make a girl feel more comfortable in your room,” she attempted a different tactic. His brow arched, “Hmm, never thought about it that way. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in my room though. Why bring it up now?” “I’m tired of looking at this nasty-ass messy room. That’s why,” she admitted. He nodded, taking into consideration her opinion. He grabbed a piece of tape from his desk drawer and took out his wallet. She observes as he slides out a picture from the window slot. He tacked on the photo right above his desk. She couldn’t see what it was in, so she stepped forward. Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight. It was a picture of them. The memory of when the photo was taken comes to the forefront of her mind. They were twelve years old and he had just learnt a new chord on the guitar, so of course, he had to teach her it as well. His hands were placed over hers on the neck of the guitar, while he guided her fingers. “What’s this?” she stupidly questioned.

He grinned at her, “You told me to put up a picture of someone I loved and I did.” “And you just had that picture in your wallet this whole time?” she clarified. He shrugged, “Yep since I got it.” “That is very unexpected, Rafe,” she thought out loud. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “What do you expect, Rock Star? You’re my best friend. Of course, I love you.” The words stung her. It shouldn’t surprise her that was who he saw her as. She was a Pogue; she could never be more to him.

———

He should’ve brought that picture to New York with him. He did bring one thing over that reminded him of home. The music room in his apartment has everything he needs to write a song. It is the one place in his apartment that he doesn’t mind spending time in. There are so many ways for him to clear his mind here and it is where his bandmates like to hang out too. No matter how many times Frank (keyboardist), Garrett (bassist), Topper (drummer), and Barry (band manager) enter this room and know every inch of the room, they will never find his most precious possession. He kneels beside the drawer tower filled with various accessories for the instruments and pulls the bottom one open. He pushes down on the false bottom to reveal a stack of lined papers. They are rumpled from how many times he has read them over; he just couldn’t bring himself to send them or get rid of them. At first, he wrote them to apologize to her, but then he started to use it as a cathartic method. He allowed himself to express everything he had ever wanted to say to her in the letters and every time he needed a reminder of who they used to each other, he read them. His hope was that one day they would be the personalization their house needed to feel like home. It’s been a while since he wrote a new one; however, with her reappearance in his life, it feels time to write another.

Dear Rock Star,

Even after all this time, you still manage to find a way to have a hold on my heart. Maybe, it’s because I never sent the first letter, so we never got the closure we needed. But seeing you again made my heart feel like it was beating to the tune of its old song. Everything I felt for you came back like a tidal wave and all I wanted to do was hug the ever-loving shit out of you. And then he went to you. That wave I thought I could overcome became my undoing. It made me regret never reaching out to say I was sorry. I realized that your rejection of my apology would be a lot less painful than your moving on from me. It was bound to happen. How could it not when you are the most amazing person to have ever existed? I just dreamt that I could’ve found my way back into your life before it happened. But I didn’t and now, I have to stew in my consequences.

I sometimes wonder if you miss me as much as I miss you. I get that it is different for you. You were the one who got hurt instead of the one doing the hurting. I think you do. You may not admit it, but you responded to me. Maybe you wanted to seem professional and I can see that being your reason. Yet, your eyes told me something else. I’m not talking about when we talked. I’m talking about when I was on stage. You saw the beam note and I could see the yarning behind the hatred. You want to go back to that time just as much as I want to. I’m going to get us back to that place, I promise. We might not be able to be exactly the people we used to be; nevertheless, we can try. Because you still speak to me, Rock Star, and that means we are meant to be.

Loving you always,

Rafe

He sighs at the final stroke of the pen and caps it. He reads it over and over until it is all he can think about. The words have never felt more true to him and he makes a vow to himself to make it come true. If he can’t have back what they once had, then he will make damn sure he’ll earn the next best thing. He hears the jiggle of the front door handle and rapidly shoves everything back into the drawer. “Dude, why is it always so damn dark in here? Don’t you know how to turn on lights?” Topper teases from downstairs. “Where are you? Come out of the studio for once, will ya? We brought you food from that Turkish place.”

———

“I think maybe we should try you coming in later with the backup vocals, Debs. Why don’t we try again?” Y/N advises. At the nod from the other girls, Y/N faces the stage outward and grips the microphone with both hands. Viola counts them down, beginning the rhythm for everyone to join in. Y/N waits for her cue to sing; she has been the lead singer for the Melodies for seven years and she has yet to figure out what to do with her hands. When they started the band, they figured having two guitarists didn’t mesh well with their sound. So, she offered to drop the instrument for the band because Laila hates singing. She didn’t mind not being able to play on stage, except there were sometimes when she missed it. She’d even dare to say she missed playing with Just Wanna Hav Fun because she wanted the ability to shred some strings in a room bigger than her shoebox of an apartment. The note that signifies she comes in plays and she opens her mouth to sing. Her mind turns off, focusing entirely on hitting every note perfectly. Every time she gets to be on stage, she finds herself falling in love with music again. Especially since it helps her feel closer to her mother.

The girls get lost in the music and forget the time. The clearing of a throat causes Y/N to whip in the direction of it. Topper gives her a small smile and a wave, “I hate to stop the creative flow, but it’s eleven.” Y/N’s head bobs and helps the others get all of their stuff together. She can feel the eyes of the people she used to call friends on her. She tries not to succumb to the pressure of their gaze. As they leave the stage, both groups awkwardly look at each other. She hasn’t kept secrets from her girls, so they know everything that went down between her and the boys.

Laila, Viola, and Debra can see the emotionless expression on her face at the encounter with her past and decide not to bring it up. “Are you working a shift today?” Laila inquires whilst placing her guitar in its case. Y/N slings her bag across her chest, “Yeah, I’m doing a closing shift. If you guys want to come over to rehearse some more, come over after ten. I need a break between now and work.” “Got it, I’ll bring the pizza,” Laila informs before leaving with Debra and Viola. Kiara returns from the bathroom and approaches Y/N, looking nervously between the stage and her friend. “I don’t want to talk about it, Kie,” she laments. Kiara notices the way the singer avoids eye contact. The PA shakes her head, “You’ve been burying this within you for almost a decade. That isn’t healthy.” “I have no idea what you are talking about. It is perfectly fine to not talk about it. And for your information, I interacted with him on the first competition night. I would say that counts as acknowledging it,” she contends. Kiara’s head tilts to give Y/N a pointed look.

“I overheard that conversation. You were just being nice because the audience could see you.”

“You can’t deny that I was being nice. So I say it counts.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean, Y/N/N. You aren’t only hurting him by leaving things unsolved, but yourself. The more you avoid getting closure, the more you come up with your own explanation for his actions. Those are always going to be worse than the truth. Think about it, not for him. For you.”

Kie doesn’t wait for an answer and it leaves Y/N to think about the impact of her friend's words. She chances a glance to where the music is coming from before heading home. The world is drowned out by the music playing in her headphones, filling in the space where her thoughts should populate. Everyone believes she has to speak to him; they lecture her on the importance of learning the full story. It is rich of them to say all those things when they aren’t the ones who Rafe pained. He didn’t even have the decency to say he was sorry after she confronted him. All he had to present to her were countless excuses. So they don’t get to have an input on how she deals with her shit because she is dealing with it. Through her writing. Out of Rafe and Y/N, she has always been the one more attuned to writing. Rafe can write good songs, he just isn’t as in love with the process as she is. Once her headphones come off at home, she rushes to her bedside drawer, pulling out a beaten-up notebook. She flips through countless songs about him. Every single one was written when she couldn’t contain how she felt. She finally gets to the picture of them she uses as a bookmark. It is the same one he taped onto his wall when they were fifteen. She couldn’t bring herself to take anything else of him during her move. As soon as the pen hits the paper, everything she has been bundling up inside falls onto the page.

———

He had asked her out. Rafe asked her out and she said yes. It had been a game of cat and mouse, them going back and forth on whether or not they should risk their friendship for something more. Spoiler alter, it wasn’t going to be. She didn’t know that though. At the moment, she was focused on getting to band practice. The cold evening breeze caused her to wrap her zip-up hoodie around her body by holding it against her waist. She drops her phone right as she gets to the opening of Topper’s garage. Something she overhears while picking up her phone makes her delay her entry to the room. “I heard you are going on a date with Y/N.” It was a high-pitched voice that could only belong to Samantha. Y/N wasn’t the biggest fan of Samantha. The Kook had a permanent judgmental face in her presence and she could hear the repugnance lacing the question.

Y/N expected her best friend to hear the same tone and defend her. It never happened. “Listen, I didn’t want to do it. I got tired of her doing that pathetic mopey-eyed shit. She was begging for me to ask her out, so I did to stop her pestering. Trust me, I could never willingly date a Pogue.” Suddenly, her heart popped under the weight of the tire and he continued to smear her most vital organ across the road with every laugh he let out. What added to her decimation was that her other bandmates joined in her mocking. During their friendship, they had never made her feel different because of what side of the island she was born on. She thought they didn’t care about the number in her bank account; apparently, they did. She wondered how many lies they told her. Was everything they ever paid for for her because they pitied her? Were they truly her friend? She stepped back to leave, not having the courage to face the most important people in her life until Rafe said something that turned her agony to rage. “What about that stupid saying her mom always said that she lives by. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. It is so ridiculous. One. Not everything talks. Two. Does she believe that a life outside of the cut is meant for her? Y/N is so delusional.” Samantha let out a cackle. This was the ultimate betrayal.

She stormed into the room, letting the boys’ height tower over her. The faint smell of weed permeated the air. With the number of times they smoked in here, she was surprised the fabric of the light brown couch didn’t permanently smell like the drug. Topper’s garage wasn’t what most people would imagine for a place to park a car. It made sense though because his family didn’t keep their cars in this garage. They had another small building to house their vehicles in true Kook fashion. This room was a modern finished room, perfectly equipped for whatever Topper’s new hobby was and it happened that his hobby for the past year was being in a band. Rafe could see the fury in her eyes and knew she heard everything they said. He felt horrible. In an ignorant teenage boy fashion, he said anything he could to get laughter out of his friends, creating the biggest mistake of his life. Time needed to rewind, so he could say what he should’ve. The way she looked at him buried him in regret. His desire to take her into his arms for her comfort was trumped by the knowledge that she would chew his head off. “How can you say those things about my mother? The fact that you would ridicule her after she treated you like her own son is sickening. You didn’t deserve her love and she would be disappointed in who you turned out to be. So would your own mom because the Margaret Cameron I know would be ashamed at how you just talked about her dead friend and your presumed best friend,” she fired. He could make glass out of sand with the way she scorched him. His mind zipped around with ways to apologize and make things better, yet his dumb hormonal self advised him to keep digging. She was outnumbered after all.

“Playing the mom card, how depressing. No, I think my mom would be proud of me. She never liked you anyway. How could she? All you are is a sad little poor Pogue.”

Lies. Margaret adored Y/N, loving getting to sing with the little girl. The laughs from the Kooks fueled his outer confidence, while his heart was being grated into millions of pieces. She froze; her face contorting into a pout. He spotted the wobble of her lip and the hitching of her breath. His feet shuffled forward a micro-inch, wanting to wipe away her despair. She took a deep breath. Silence seeped into the air. The tension thickened like trying to swim in a pool of peanut butter. She held her head high as she spun to leave, refusing to let them see her misery.

———

Another competition night passes with the survival of Just Wanna Have Fun and the Melodies. The venue hall is practically empty, except for a few stray people. While the rest of the girls go home, Y/N stays behind to get some downtime alone in the rehearsal room. Being in the Battle of The Bands with Rafe is proving to be harder than she thought. They haven’t had another conversation, but their proximity puts her on edge. Her footsteps echo in the hallway as she leaves the bathroom. Headphones cover her ears, distracting her from the presence behind her. A tap on her shoulder causes her to twirl around. A skinny man with a sad excuse for a beard leers at her. He is wearing The Melodies’ merch and gives her a gut-twisting smile. Suddenly, she feels uneasy because of the lack of people in the building. Time droops as his thin fingers encase her wrist. She tries to yank her arm out; his baby-like grip impedes her attempt. “You have such a beautiful voice,” he mumbles. The usual compliment doesn’t have the same effect coming from a man who looks at her in such an objectified manner.

“You need to let go,” she orders, having no obligation to acknowledge the content of his words. His hand further coils around her skin, “I said something nice about you. The least you can do is say thank you.” Fear sets in when his other hand reaches for his belt and he begins to drag her toward the bathroom. An arm hooks around the delusional man’s neck, causing him to stop and jerk her backwards. She quickly recognizes the thick bicep. “Let go of her,” Rafe growls in the assaulter’s ear. Relief flushes her at the release of weight from her wrist. “Rock Star, go get security and go back to the practice room.” Her mind goes on autopilot and follows his instructions, overlooking the manner in which he knows why she is here late.

Once security is sent to aid Rafe, she returns to the instrument-filled room. Her attention is on the blue acoustic guitar resting in its case close to the metal stool. She picks up the guitar and takes a seat. Her fingers press against the string on the neck and her other hand strumms to create the chord. The lyrics she wrote so long ago flow out of her.

“You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You said I was priceless but you really meant worthless. It took you a second To pretend I was nothing Guess I should’ve known That you were always a liar.”

Rafe's back rests against the stone, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye and down his face. He was going to go in to check in on her but hesitates to fall through. She needs to say something to the universe and for once, Rafe isn’t going to take that away from her. He saw the way the bounce of her foot disappeared with the song. Instead, he plans to give her exactly what she needs. The guys are going to hate him for this.

———

The crowd is electric as Rafe takes a second to breathe. He looks around the venue, searching to see if she is in the section for the musicians to watch the show. His eyes connect with Y/N’s. He can carry on with his plan. He rests a hand on the microphone and adjusts the earpiece in his ear. The mic stand tilts while he brings the mic closer to his mouth, “This next one is new. It’s not on any of our albums, but it is something that is long overdue.” He flicks his head toward Topper to start playing the song they worked all week to perfect in time. Rafe’s head bobs to the beat of the drum, waiting for his queue to jump in. He starts singing at the same time he strums the first chord.

“I've gotta right my wrongs With you is where I belong You've been down from the go Recognition is what you want And it's something that I should know Something that I should know All the things that you went through I never meant to put you through it twice, no Tell me how can I right my wrongs That's something that I should know All the things that we been through I never meant to put you through it twice, oh no”

His eyes flicker to her and his heart drops at the tears running down her round cheeks. Every part inside of him wants to stop playing when he sees her go backstage. He gets through the set and the rest of the guys say goodbye to their fans. He is too distracted to give it his full attention. Once backstage, he removes his guitar and weaves through the crew and other musicians in a jog to get to the musicians’ lounge. Disappointment crosses him when he can’t find her. He spots Kie and runs over to his sister’s friend. “Where did she go?” he interrogates, eyes frantically scanning the room for her. Kiara’s eyes roll, “You seriously expect me to tell you after the stunt you just pulled.” His hands clasp together in a shake. “Please, Kie. I needed to do it. She had to know how sorry I was and music has always been our way to connect. It felt right,” he explains, trying to resist the urge to drop to his knees in front of everyone.

“It’s seven years too late, Rafe.”

“It’s only too late unless one of us is dead. I need to make sure she is okay. That she knows I mean what I wrote.”

“I don’t think you are begging enough.”

His head goes crooked and he follows her gaze to the floor. He swallows his pride and gets onto his knees, “Please, Kiara Carrera. Tell me where Y/N is.” Kie smiles in satisfaction. “I won’t tell you where she lives, but I will tell you where she works and you can keep going there until you happen to be there when she works,” Kiara grants, typing the location into his phone.

———

The clouds outside make the afternoon dark, adding to Rafe’s loss of hope of not seeing Y/N. The news said it was supposed to rain tonight, but it said that about every day this week and it was wrong. There is a small skip in his step as he reaches for the handle of the coffee shop. An elderly lady stands in the doorway he opened, so he steps back and allows her to pass him. She gives him a small smile as she does. Freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of steam coming from the machine strike his senses. Lydia at the counter recognizes him and begins making his usual before he gets to the register. TJ already has his order punched into the system when he gets there. All Rafe has to do is pay. Once that is done, he sits at a booth sitting along the right wall to wait for his drink. This allows him to see the counter and the front door at the same time. He has been to the cafe every day this week. He only leaves when they close or when he has to practice at the venue. A week isn’t long, yet it still allows him to get to know the people working there. They couldn’t disclose when Y/N is working for privacy issues and he understood why. He would be more concerned if they did tell him no matter who he claimed to be. His name is called and goes up to get it. He reseats himself, opening his laptop to keep himself occupied.

Lavender. It overpowers him in a good way. He glances toward the front door and she is there, walking further into the store with the most dazzling smile directed toward Lydia. “Look who finally showed up to work,” the barista calls out. Y/N laughs, “I haven’t been scheduled to work. You know that, Silly.” “I know. Work just goes a little slower without my work wife here to keep me company,” Lydia complains with a grin. Y/N hasn’t noticed him and a part of him wishes she never will so she never loses the joy he hasn’t gotten to see since he was sixteen. He considers ducking out before she can see him, except Lydia has other plans. “Oh, by the way, this guy has been coming in every day to see you. He’s sitting over there.” Y/N’s eyes follow Lydia’s finger to where Rafe sits.

She sighs, “My shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes. Is it okay if I…” TJ answers for the barista. “Yeah, take your time.” Y/N’s head bobs and she pulls the hood off from her head. The KCHS written across her chest causes his heart to ache. He gave her some of the money so that she could buy the hoodie. She must not have remembered that fact if she kept it. Her path turns to his table and she settles herself in the seat across from him. “The nerve you have to sing that apology like it can solve all of our problems and then stalk me at my place of work,” she grits through her teeth. He bites the corner of his lip, “Music was always how we connected. And I wanted to make sure you were okay. You ran off during my set.”

“You don’t get to pretend like we still have music after what you said about our mothers. You gave that right up a long time ago. You also aren’t allowed to pretend you care for me.”

He reaches out for her hand and she yanks it away. “The things that I said… They were my greatest mistake. I have never forgiven myself for not apologizing on the spot and I don’t expect you to do so either. I do hope that you know that I regret every single word I uttered that day, Rock Star,” he pleads. He tries to meet her eye, but she averts her gaze. “The world has been a much darker place since you left. I am so sorry that I caused you the pain that I did. I would do anything in this universe to tell my younger self to tell you the truth that day.” She can’t help herself, “And what was the truth, Rafe?” “That even though we hadn’t been on our date yet, I was madly in love with you. I love you with every fibre in my being and it scared me because I knew how much it would hurt if I lost you. Not only that, I was just a teen and stupid enough to think getting a laugh out of my friends was better than facing something new. I had never been so wrong in my entire life.” Her eyes gloss over and checks the time on her phone. She stands up without another word, breaking Rafe’s heart as she walks to the back room.

The air comes out of his nose in high pressure. He understands her message and leaves Y/N’s place of work. It is hard to process the words he said. Her younger self would’ve loved to hear his declaration of love. She would’ve been so excited. A small part of her heart flutters at the reveal, no matter how angry she is at him. The worst is she genuinely believes he is remorseful of his actions.

Their issues couldn’t be fixed with one small apology; however, she would never forgive herself if she never saw where this could go. “I’m sorry. I’m going to take my break right now,” she informs her co-workers, not waiting for answers. She takes off her apron and throws it onto the ground. She runs out the door in hopes she can still catch him. The crowd makes her question her belief until she spots the blue flannel he is wearing. She threads herself through the people and is met with resistance. “RAFE,” she yells out. He freezes, spinning around to see her. He pushes his way to her and they stand before each other as wet spatters begin to hit their heads. He chances resting his hands on her elbow, delighting when she doesn’t flinch away from him. “I think I forgive you,” she says. The patter from the rain drowns out her words, so he places his forehead against hers to hear her better. His smirk reveals he does have an inkling of what she confessed, “What did you say?” She knows the game he is playing and rolls her eyes. “Forget it, I’m just going to go back to work,” she snarks, turning away to head back to the cafe. Rafe catches her wrist and tugs her against his chest.

Their lips finally connect in the way they have been waiting for for twenty-three years. Her soft petals press hard against him like a rock. He reciprocates the pressure, running his tongue along her lips to ask for entrance. The rainwater mixes in with their saliva as she allows him in. He remembers the jet ski that once drowned him and pulled away. “What about Knox?” he questions. She stares at him with big eyes, “We were never really dating. He is Viola’s brother. He knows our history and thought it would be fun to play around with you to keep you away.”

“I see. That didn’t work out as you guys had planned, did it? I don’t think anything can keep me away from you once I realize how stupid I was.”

“No it did not… You need to know that just because I forgave you doesn’t mean everything is back to normal. We can’t go back to pretending that we are still the people we used to be. I’m not the girl I was seven years ago and you’ll have to regain my trust.”

“And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to gain back what I broke. As long as I can be by your side.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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morallyinept · 9 months

Text

Pedro Boys & Kinks 🥴

Today we're getting kinky with the Pedro Boys...

NSFW due to the nature of the smutty talk.

Check out more of my Pedro Boys Rambles here.

I make no apologies for this. Well, maybe some...

Enjoy! 🖤

Joel Miller - Nylons.

This rugged old man with the bad knees loves to tear through your pantyhose like a rabid madman in the throes of a Cordyceps freak out! Le freak, c'est chic. He's drooling, darlin'. He loves to lick your pussy through them, watching the wet patch bloom into the silky mesh of your oozy camel toe. Feel the smooth slide of them against his morose face as he runs his scruff up your legs and into your parted thighs. Those thick, calloused fingers are soon tearing them open as he literally dives face first into your sopping cunt. I mean, he's been starving for a while now. Chef Boyardee ain't cutting it. Joel's a hungry man and it's not long after that, that he's planting his crimson capped mushroom deep inside you; fisting at the shredded hosiery around your thighs. In the days before the outbreak, Joel was an absolute sucker for a pair of black hold ups with a lacy top. And if they had little satin bows on? Well, that's a sure fire way to finish him off. And Joel Miller is fucking indestructible, right?

Well, mostly. Abby Anderson might have something to do with that… Sssh! 🤫

Francisco Morales - Gagging.

The best way to hook this Catfish line and sinker, is to take him right back deep into your throat and watch as he loses all his shit. Frankie's gonna start killing people! Lots of spit, sucking, drooling and if you cry those mascara tears from the strain down your cheeks? Even better, hermosa. You can bet that Frankie will bust more than just his nuts as you chow down at the all-you-can-eat dick buffet and swallowing all of that Fish yoghurt. (Urm, eww?) You'll have this handsome pilot flying high, and without the use of nose powder. Standard Heating Oil cap stays on. The whole damn time.

Ezra - Urophilia & Squirting.

Ezra is a kinky scoundrel deep down. We all know it. Don't be fooled by that doe-eyed, self-redemption of our ramblin' man. Even with one arm he can still get his freak on with vigour. And don't let the fact he has one arm hold him back either. Oh no, little bird. He'll fingerbang you so hard until you're gushing all over his arm and he's licking it all up greedily. S'better than mining for Aurelac. Ezra's biggest kink is railing you when you really need to pee. And you can bet he'll press down on your bladder so you let it out all over him as you cum wildly. Time for a golden shower for our sweaty prospector. Panties down, Birdie.

Dieter Bravo - Abrasion (Touch Sensations)

This trashy floof-panda loves to touch things, always feeling things up when he's high off his tits. Rubbing his face against the wall, fingering through the shag, even licking it on occasion. And don't give him bubble wrap when he's fucked up twelve ways to Sunday n' tripping balls. You'll never get it back. The same applies when you're fucking; your body is a touch soaked candyland for him to explore, mount and peak. And dribble over. He'll take his sweet time doing it all too with awed bloodshot-eyes and then indulge in a post-coital KitKat for a munchies treat. Dieter won't share it though; he's never giving this up.

Agent Whiskey - Impact Play

Ol' handsome Jack has an adept arsenal of kinky whips and lassos. Of course he's gonna use them on ya, sugar. We all know how good Jack is with a whip. He loves it when the skin breaks and you bleed a little too. Those thick, red welts criss-crossing over your pert booty that he'll slap whilst he fucks you like a bucking bronco get him staying hard for the duration, ma'am. But he likes spending time soothing you afterwards by rubbing cool and nourishing salves and lotions into your cheeks and kissing all over them like succulent peaches. Cowboy Jack is all about the aftercare, doll. A true Southern dandy indeedy.

Javier Peña - Quirofilia (Hands/Nails)

Javier always notices when you've had your nails done. Complimenting you on the colour, the shape; the glitzy gems on your pointer finger that twinkle at him as he fucks your fist in the file room tucked away amongst boxes of Escobar's reciepts and spurts down your skirt. Yeah, thanks, Javi. He loves it even more when they're raking down his back leaving pink claw marks in his tan skin that make him growl and bear his teeth, as he ploughs you deeper into the mattress, cariño.

Oberyn Martell - Wax Play

Oberyn loves making patterns on your skin as he drips the hot wax onto it and watches you sizzle. Peeling it off when it dries is the best part to reveal succulent pink nipples he sucks on and soothes from the heated burn they've endured. Fucking by candlelight will almost guarantee that the Red Viper will sink his fangs into your flesh to poison you all over again after he sets you aflame. Is it getting hot in here?

Marcus Pike - Cuckolding

Well cuck-a-doodle-do-me. Marcus loves watching you get taken by another, far more superior, person, and your pleasure at that suggestion only fuels his own further. He loves hearing how weak and pathetic he is and how he's never made you cum (even if it's a playful lie, I mean it's Marcus-fucking-Pike, come on. The man spends hours pulling them big O's out of you.) And if you poke fun at the size of his cock, (even if it is a whopper) he'll ruin himself right there fuelling your laughter as he watches you get railed without being able to touch. Guarantee it.

Dave York - Knife Play

Murder Daddy Dave loves to watch you squirm as he runs the whisper of a cool, sharp blade against your milky skin. A gentle nick or a subtle graze into the skin where the blood bubbles up, makes his cock harder than the thought of Carol's Sunday casserole. Holding it to your throat as he dicks you down is even better. Play victim for Daddy, Princess. And when you beg him to use the handle in place of his cock, well Daddy Dave is only too obliging for his good little cum slut. Good girl.

Pero Tovar - Sploshing.

I mean it's food, d'uh. Sit on a cake and let this hungry Spainard feast off of you like his enjoying his last meal. Fruit, honey, cream… okra. You name it, he'll eat from the serving platter of your tasty flesh, and will then eat you out afterwards. Either way Pero will be getting his fill one way or another. Better have some Pepto handy.

Din Djarin - Shibari

The Mandalorian can either bring you in warm or bring you in roped up. Taking his sweet, agonising time in tying the silk fibres of the Shibari rope around your limbs, Din prolongs both of your anticipation through adept fingers akin to wizardry. But it's worth it to see the pretty and intricate knots and weaves that leave their patterns indented into your flesh long after he's untied you. And it'll be hours and hours before he does, Mesh'la. With your back to him, he'll subtly push up his helmet to kiss his artistic handiwork and leave deeper marks etched on you still. This is the kinky way.

Marcus Moreno - Suspension.

Marcus loves nothing more than twisting your body into shapes whilst you're suspended in the air, manipulating you into all sorts of heroic poses. Pulling you back onto him as he pummels deep and hard, and you've no way to escape him. You can only float there, suspended in mid air and take what this sweet hero gives when he lets out his dark villainous side to play.

Max Phillips - Humiliation & Degradation.

Max loves the power of claiming his victims; a Vampire's hard-on. But this bloodsucker also loves it when a human gets one up on him and shows him who's the real boss by reducing him to nothing but a naked, quivering pale mess on the floor at your feet to walk all over, spit on or do anything else that you feel he's deserving of. Threaten him with an open window. Sharpen a 2B pencil. Well, he did bite you, babe. Time to get your revenge. Make him crawl naked to the staff room to fetch your lunch then use him as a footstool whilst you eat it. Just don't be surprised later when the dynamic shifts again and Max makes you his lunch. Nom.

Silva - Feet

This handsome Wrangler has travelled a long way to lay at your feet worshipping them. Stroking, nuzzling, kissing; sucking on that big toe you loathe, licking up the arch and groping the ball of your foot. He'll suck on your pinky toes whilst you suck on his cock. He'll be jerking his own gently and lost in the sensations of your intimacy as he fawns over your feet. Silva's in pedi heaven. Lord knows he'll need one himself after wearing them boots all that way, mind.

Comandante Veracruz - Voyeurism.

Veracruz has no qualms in fucking you infront of his men, claiming you and reminding you all that you're his plaything that he's kept hostage. Or instructing and watching his men take turns to fuck you when you misbehave whilst he lays back on the cot, dick in hand and blowing up. Both are equally pleasing scenarios to the eye for the Comandante. And the Comandante always gets what he wants.

Maxwell Lord - Electrostimulation

Attach the clamps on his nipples, on his balls and then charge up the juice and watch this man squeal and grunt like a Red Wattle hog. He also likes a shock wand when he's been a very bad man. And Maxwell is in dire need of a whole lotta punishment, considering he tried to take over the world. Charge him up like a battery and watch the sparks shoot out of the end of his cock. Better than fireworks.

Javi Gutierrez - Furries

I mean, sweet Javi G dressed up in an oversized, fuzzy teddy bear suit and pawing at you? I'll just leave you with that image to do with as you wish…

338 notes · View notes

fadingdaggerr · 1 year

Text

from miles away

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa’s ex husband pays you a visit after you move in

warnings: joe, protective r, a couple gross innuendos, author is a proud man hater and it shows

translation: sfigato means loser

note: haven’t written for melissa before but i had the idea for the argument for something else and thought i’d try something new. let me know how y’all feel about this and if you’d like more melissa stuff or not :)

three years ago, she would cover your eyes when you came over for dinner, now you’re here. for the last five months, you’d woken up every morning morning with melissa laying across your back as she lightly snored in your ear. her light breath passing over the shell of your ear, mixed with the smell of her honey shampoo, it was almost enough to lull you back to sleep every time.

getting dressed was more about watching melissa while you tried not to drool. getting ready was more staring at her while she applied her lipstick, her taunting you with winks in the mirror when she caught you. leaving always consisted of you running ahead of her to open the car door, kissing her knuckles as she sat down. mornings were precious with melissa schemmenti.

smack… smack… smacksmacksmack. thunk.

you heard melissa snicker behind you as she watched you fight the vending machine for a kitkat stuck on the edge of a bag of doritos. you playfully glared back as you dropped more quarters in to get her raspberry iced tea. she’s lucky she’s cute.

you offer the iced tea to her with a sweet smile, but pull it out of her reach at the last second, “making fun of me, schemmenti?”

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” she answers with fluttering lashes and a pitched voice, loving the laugh it drew out from you. she extends her hand, speaking normally, “now hand it over, hot stuff.”

lunch was the best period of the day. no students for half an hour, and then for another half hour when fourth graders went to gym. pure peace for the whole hour. granted, half of that got to spent admiring melissa from across the table instead of listening to anything anyone says.

your eyes drink in the site of her with a ponytail, bangs pushed back by her glasses, and wearing your sweater, the very one she had given back to you two weeks ago because it ‘didn’t smell like you anymore.’ barbara side-eyed you with a chuckle, simply amused by the adoration for her best friend that was practically seeping from your pores. the heart-eyes directed melissa’s way were rudely interrupted by the phone behind the coffee maker ringing.

teacher lee reaches for it first before stretching an arm out to you, “front desk for you.”

never once has someone shown up in the middle of the day for you. you grab the phone from lee, “hello?”

“it’s ahmed. i got a guy up here saying he wants to talk to you about his wife,” he speaks quietly and unsure into the phone.

you’re silent for a second, scanning the room before saying quickly, “conference room two, i’ll be there in a minute.”

hanging up the phone, you gather yourself together. melissa and barbara stare at you for a second, then look at each other. you think quickly to avoid a certain someone from following you.

“got a parent up front, i guess. i’ll see you in a bit,” you don’t spare a glance to melissa before nearly running out the door. please be anyone else, please be literally anyone else.

you pass ahmed, only asking him, “he got a green cap on?”

“yeah, why?” he asks without looking up from his phone.

“mental preparation.”

—

melissa stared at the door for a moment before looking at barbara with nothing but confusion on her face, “what kind of parent stops by in the middle of the day?”

barbara shrugs, “maybe one of the parents works at the hospital, they have got schedules going each and every direction.”

melissa hummed in agreement, but still was weary about your departure. she leaves the lounge early to ‘touch up her makeup,’ and heads towards conference room two. three equally curious ducklings, janine, jacob, and barbara, follow behind her.

two familiar voices argue on the other side of the door, and melissa is frozen in place listening for a moment. she opens the door quietly, seeing you shove her ex-husband back before getting in his face.

—

the conference room door felt as if it weighed ten thousand pounds, your muscles tensing as you stepped in. closing the door behind you, you crossed your arms and spoke.

“what do you want, joe?”

“annette mentioned something about you moving into my house,” he stated with a disgruntled tone.

you sharply exhale through your nose, “it’s not your house. and that doesn’t answer my question. why are you here?”

“you’re living in my house,” he says again.

you exhale with annoyance, “your name isn’t on the deed anymore and you don’t pay for it. you haven’t since before you two got divorced. it’s melissa’s house, not yours.”

he stepped forward in attempts to intimidate you, “i want you out of my house and away from my wife.”

“what wife?” you retort quickly, “surely you don’t mean melissa? she divorced you, if you remember correctly.”

he stepped even closer, only about a foot of room between you, “god you two deserve each other. you’re just as arrogant, and she’s just as stupid,” his finger poked into your shoulder, “let me give you a little advice on handling that cu-”

red.

your palm goes to his own shoulder and shoved him back, “speak about her like that again and i promise they’ll never find you,” deep breath in, deep breath out, “and don’t touch me, ever. or give me your advice or anything else, as a matter of fact.” getting into joe’s face, you continue, “i don’t need to ‘handle’ melissa,” you exaggerate the quotations marks around his wording, “you and i both know, very fucking well, that she can handle herself perfectly fine.”

joe doesn’t back down, so you continue, “and why would i advice from you? she. left. you. why would i want advice from the man who fumbled that hard,” you’re nearly laughing in his face at this point, “but if i want advice on how to become greatly acquainted with my own hand, i’ll give you a shout.”

“you’re a disgusting bitch,” he seethes.

“all that and more,” you say walking towards the door, “you can walk down this hall and walk out the front doors,” you gesture with your thumb, “i’m sure there’s a bathroom stall wall with a nice, comfy hole in it just calling your name.”

joe’s front crumples with the last of your words, anger and defeat written across his face in permanent marker. you obnoxiously wave at him as he leaves, muttering under his breath as he stares at his feet. you hear ahmed laughing to himself, before looking at him, “not a word ahmed. not. one. word.”

“dude…” he laughs, “should i put him on the no-entry list?”

you shrug, “if he comes back, call me, no matter who he asks for. only call me.”

“aye-aye captain. i’m not messing with you, not even a little bit,” ahmed jokes as you walk back to the lounge.

—

melissa was standing wide-eyed in the hall. she was taken back by every part of the conversation she’d heard. she’d never seen you that angry, and come to think of it. she’d seen you upset, annoyed, even pissed. she still recalls the violent yell of ‘WHAT?!’ when you watched the game of thrones finale together, she swears it echoes in the living room still. but she had never seen you speak with such pure anger and hatred.

“melissa…” barbara cautiously starts.

“later. very later,” melissa replies, still collecting her thoughts.

when they heard your voice in the hallway, the group quickly made their way back to the lounge. melissa and barbara pretend to look interested in their phones, not looking at you as you came in. janine and jacob were sitting looking at each other, both nearly in shock over what they had heard you say. you’d never said anything that grotesque in the three years they’d been at abbott, but damn.

taking your spot across from melissa, and instead of resuming your not-so-subtle staring, you stare at the table. a few minutes go by before you feel someone’s foot tap against yours. you look up from the table to see melissa staring at you, nodding towards to door, a silent request to talk.

with a short nod, you get up and start to walk towards your classroom, melissa follows after she packs up her things.

you hear her heels click against the tile floors of the classroom and just say, “eavesdropping isn’t very polite, mel.”

“so is not telling me joe was here,” she replies. she’s right, and you know she is. you knew it was him, or at least you were pretty sure.

“he asked to speak to me,” you lean against your desk and grab her hand, “and it was just some sad uber-masculine way to try and intimidate me.” you play with her rings as your explanation quickly turns into a rant, “but he insulted you, melissa. to my face! he can say whatever he wants about me, i don’t care. but you? you? no way in h- why are you smiling?”

she yanks your arm and pulls you into a hug before speaking, “you threatened to kill that sfigato all because he called me a bitch?”

you shake your head the best you can with her vice grip around your neck, “not a bitch, worse. and he kept saying it’s his house and you’re his wife, like he doesn’t live above that gyro spot, lonely and alone.”

you feel melissa’s laughter more than you hear it, and it makes your arms tighten around her waist once more before letting her go. she’s so lovely, simply lovely. how anyone could let her go was beyond your comprehension. you’re just thankful that she trusts you, enough to let you befriend her, and then enough to love her completely.

“you don’t need to protect me. i’ve got four bats hidden around the house and two in the car. and one under my desk,” you watch her count again in her head, “and the one in your car.”

“i know you don’t need me to,” you fix the chains of her necklaces as you continue, “but i love you, and that means i’m sticking up for you, no matter what, no matter who.”

melissa is nearly certain that if you two weren’t at school, she’d be a puddle of tears. the gentle fixing of her necklaces, your soft voice and oh-so-sweet words, she just wanted to kiss your face all over. workplace rules have her settle for a lingering kiss to your cheek, i love you too mumbled into your skin.

you cupped her cheek, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. in the most loving tone you say to her, “if he shows up again i’m gonna use the damn car bat on him.”

melissa laughs heartily, “maybe he’ll just find the hole in stall wall and get too busy to come back.”

a mix of a groan and laugh leaves you, you’d entirely forgotten your earlier words. melissa stays in the classroom until the end of lunch bell rings, before she quickly kisses you goodbye.

you watch her walk away, then watch her run back in, “how did he find out you moved in?”

“i don’t know how, all i know is annette had something to do with it,” you answer with a little shrug.

you see her face immediately go into planning mode for what to say to annette when she inevitably chews her out. she spins to leave your classroom for real this time, but just as she’s about to head out the door, you pull her back in and press another kiss to her lips, for good measure.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title is from passionfruit by drake

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary

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