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It’s all happening in the world of Louis Tomlinson. The British singer is in the final stages of his first ever global tour. Seven legs, five continents, and over 80 concerts later, he will wrap things up in Milan, Italy, in just a matter of days. Fear not. As one chapter is about to close, another one has just opened.
Tomlinson’s new song in over two years, “Bigger Than Me,” arrives today as the lead single from his upcoming sophomore album, Faith In The Future, which is slated for a November 11 release. The album aims to not only push the boundaries of Tomlinson’s sound but also to provide a collection of material that has been crafted for more live shows to come.
To discuss the whirlwind of the last two years, I meet Tomlinson on a sunny yet gray day in London on a balcony at his management office. Welcomed by a warm handshake, he is all geared up for a full day of promotion. “Do you mind if I smoke?” he asks. “Go for it!” I reply. Tomlinson picks up his red lighter, which matches the design of his Stone Island t-shirt, and is all business.
Let’s go back to 2020—a memorable time for everyone in many ways. For Tomlinson, he put out Walls, his long-awaited debut album that had been two years in the making. Released on January 31, 2020, he began touring six weeks later in Europe before the inconvenience of the pandemic put everything on pause for longer than expected. While Tomlinson was only initially able to perform the first two shows, it was a short-lived experience he remains grateful to have had. “I’m thankful for having those two shows; otherwise, lockdown would have been a lot of wondering, a lot of light thinking of what might be,” he tells EUPHORIA. “And those two shows, although there were smaller venues, they were incredible. So, at least I was going into lockdown really excited about what was to come as opposed to wondering and crossing my fingers for what I hoped they would be.”
Lockdown allowed Tomlinson to take time out of his busy schedule and enjoy life. Having been used to being on the go constantly, he admits it was a time when he didn’t have to persistently worry about the next thing. “It was the first time in my career, One Direction included, where I didn’t really feel the pressure to be working as quickly as I possibly could,” Tomlinson explains. “I wasn’t creative, especially in the first half of lockdown, but it meant that when I was ready to be creative, there wasn’t as much of a clusterfuck going on in my head. I felt like I just had the time to breathe and actually think about things properly as opposed to finishing this and starting the next thing and just rolling off.”
It didn’t take long until Tomlinson did start to get creative, though. Six months before continuing his tour, the writing process began for the second album. “I didn’t do any Zoom sessions. I know some people had some success through that,” he says. “I think some songwriters, they’re very clinical. I think it does suit a certain kind of writer.” Like many artists, Tomlinson missed being in the room with other creatives and bouncing off others’ energy. For this reason, he resisted for as long as possible so everyone could experience the magic together under one roof.
Tomlinson made most of Faith In The Future in London while completing the rest in LA. Even though the album’s name gives off major pandemic vibes, it has been stuck with him for some time, way before the Coronavirus and another record was even in the picture. “I’ve always had it in the back of my mind that it’s a title that, for some reason, spoke to me. COVID and the lockdown happened, and I thought it was kind of weird and that it felt appropriate to have this hopeful sentiment to go out there,” he says. Having the title before writing any songs helped Tomlinson create an optimistic narrative which he believes his debut album lacked. “The thing that frustrates me a little bit with Walls, even though I’m incredibly proud of it, there is a weight to it emotionally, especially with songs like ‘Two Of Us,’ etc. And that’s not really what I’m about; you know what I mean? So this was a moment with the second record to kind of break away from that and try and create these hopeful, happy, positive stories,” he continues.
The album’s lead single, “Bigger Than Me,” not only kicks off an exciting new era but also plays a big part in shaping this album. He shared that the track became his first moment of excitement in the studio. Described as a coming-of-age song, it helped boost Tomlinson’s confidence and gave him the freedom to explore further. “It’s definitely the biggest sounding song I’ve got on the record, definitely the song that stands out as being one that should be a single,” he says. “I wasn’t certain I was going to have one of these songs on this record that has a big chorus. It shows off my vocals, so I’m really proud of what we got out of it.”
After having several conversations with different songwriters, Tomlinson mentions he wants to be “more careful” and doesn’t want to be “too specific” about what the songs are about this time around. “I think part of music is people making their own opinions,” he insists. What he does share, however, is that the concept for “Bigger Than Me” came about after overanalyzing during the lockdown. “There have been a lot of times in my career where I’ve gone on stage, and 50% of the show, I’m in my own head. I’m thinking about ABC and questioning, ‘Is this right?’ And from doing even those two shows, and I do this festival called Away From Home, you get a sense of what the shows mean for people who come watch it. It’s so much more about what’s going on in my head and if I think I’ve done great or shit or whatever it is,” Tomlinson explains.
He continues, “Everything I do musically, the shows, etc., is a joint effort. I suppose it’s just trying to capture that idea, which is also why I don’t want to shed too much light on the concepts because it’s bigger than what I thought. It’s whatever everyone else wants it to be.”
Faith In The Future showcases Tomlinson’s range like never before. Opening with the pounding drums of “The Greatest,” the song was penned with the intention of being the opener for his next tour. “That was specifically written as a tour opener, not necessarily an album opener at the time,” he says. “Musically, it’s interesting. There’s probably not another song like that on the record. It starts the album with a statement of intent, which I think is important. There’s a certain ambitious level to that.”
The album immediately switches it up and dives straight into “Written All Over Your Face,” an infectious indie floor-filler that we both agree is reminiscent of the first two Arctic Monkeys albums. “I’m a big fan of that sound, big fan of that energy,” Tomlinson says. “I went into the room with these people I’ve done a few sessions with, and I said, let’s try and take this as punk as I can get away with. I suppose that’s where the Arctic Monkeys reference comes from; there are obviously punk elements within what they do.” At just two and a half minutes long, Tomlinson confesses it wasn’t a song he was trying too hard with. The aim was to create a “punchy energy,” declaring this was another song he could imagine performing live.
Still keeping future tours and live performances in mind, Tomlinson continues to compare his previous album to Faith In The Future. If there’s anything Tomlinson believes Walls fell short of sonically, it’s the number of bangers that featured on it, which is why this new record will be jam-packed with even more of them. “There’s ‘Kill My Mind,’ which I close the set with currently. That’s probably the closest I had, but I didn’t have another one like that,” Tomlinson explains. “My band did a great job on this first tour by beefing everything out and making things feel more lively. While on the record, a lot of them sound like mid-tempo. I’d say this new album maybe makes up a third or even half of that energy. That, for me, makes me proud.”
With that, one particular track that Tomlinson is most pleased with is “Silver Tongues,” a joyful and wholesome moment that honors the little intricacies of his relationship. Once completed, he boldly stated it was the first time Tomlinson had written a song that he could imagine being sung by an artist that he is really fond of. “That song was a great part of the writing process,” he says. “On this record, I tried to write with less professional songwriters and more artists, and ‘Silver Tongues’ is a good example of that. What you get with that is a different level of care and love for what you’re doing, instead of making it about money and trying to get the single.” Another reason Tomlinson credits “Silver Tongues” for being so special is its authenticity. “It’s not trying to be anything that it’s not. We were not trying to write a single, and there’s just a certain level of energy to it,” Tomlinson adds.
Faith In The Future is bursting with exciting moments. However, what might surprise fans the most is the fact that Tomlinson is delving back into the dance genre sooner than expected on “All This Time” and “She Is Beauty We Are World Class.” His first-ever single in 2016 without One Direction, “Just Hold On,” saw him team up with hit producer Steve Aoki. A global smash in its own right, Tomlinson had chosen not to revisit that sound until now. “On my first record, I was very particular about the sounds I wanted to use, and I wasn’t necessarily worried about perception, but I wanted everything to be as authentic, bandy, and guitar-driven as possible,” Tomlinson says. “I’ve still done that on this record, but I tried not to shy away from some of the more interesting modern sounds. And it was actually the DMA’s record, their last album they did with Stuart Price, which has quite a lot of dance elements to it, but they did it in a really authentic way, and it doesn’t feel like a play for radio or anything like that. It just gave me real food for thought for the album. There were lots of sounds that I would have alienated on the first record. I took a bit of that inspiration into those two songs.”
After taking on a journey through various sonics, Tomlinson closes Faith In The Future with the melodic and most tender song, “That’s The Way Love Goes.” After playing around with the tracklisting, Tomlinson claims that he “couldn’t get away from that idea,” adding that “you’ve got two options to end the album: you either end with a slap round the face or a little ballad moment.” Detailing a non-sexual love between two best friends, Tomlinson is confident that this is a song fans are going to adore. “I think it’s an interesting story, an interesting visual going through the song. With the way the album is structured, it kind of fits nicely to finish on that message. I wouldn’t have been able to do that on the first album because there weren’t enough peak moments of energy,” he says.
At age 30, Tomlinson has lived the dream and continues to do so. As a member of one of the biggest boy bands of all time, he has won countless awards, performed on the world’s most prestigious stages, sold millions of records, and achieved No. 1 hits left, right, and center. With that being said, how does Tomlinson measure his success today as a solo artist? “It’s a difficult question,” he replies. “It’s very easy to be over-analytical in my job about a million different things. If I leave the stage after a show and I feel like 90% of the people in there have had a good night, then I’ve done a fucking good job,” he continues.
When Tomlinson first came onto the scene, musicians didn’t have to think about trying to secure their songs on Spotify playlists or coming up with TikTok challenges. With those two factors now at the forefront of the music industry, Tomlinson has maintained an ongoing triumph without depending on them, which is extremely commendable and rare. Instead, he credits his loyal fanbase for all his recent victories over the past few years. “That’s where I feel incredibly blessed for the fanbase that I’ve got because in terms of that side of my job and how much support I’ve had, there’s not been a ton of it, to be fair. The reason I’ve sold my tour, it’s not thanks to Spotify, Apple Music, radio stations, or a record label. It’s just down to my fans. It’s as simple as that,” Tomlinson says.
While others may immediately think of Coldplay, Dua Lipa, and Harry Styles as this year’s top touring artists, it must be said that Tomlinson has been considered an underdog and deserves all the mentions. His “Louis Tomlinson World Tour” allowed the Doncaster-born star to perform to over 500,000 fans in eight months. When he could not do in-person performances due to the pandemic, he arranged Live From London, a live-streamed concert, and broke a Guinness World Record for the biggest selling live stream from a male solo artist, shifting over 160,000 tickets. As far as Walls is concerned, it also racked up accolades, reaching the spot in four countries from two different continents, gathering over 500 million streams, and becoming the first artist in nine years on his label to reach the Top 10 in the US.
“This tour has done so much for me, man. So much for my confidence, so much for my understanding of what it is I need to do with my job,” he says. “I’ve waited for this moment for a long time, and I didn’t know what to expect. You know, when I’m comparing my touring experience, I’m comparing it to the pinnacle in pop, the One Direction days. After 90,000 capacity stadium shows, it was a really hard thing to work out what the shows were going to look like.”
Tomlinson continues, “I know every artist says this, but there’s such a powerful connection between me and my fans. That’s what I felt collectively throughout these shows. There is this kind of co-dependency, and I really thrive off them. When I’m having a good show, I can feel their energy, and their levels go up as well. It’s taught me a lot this tour, and it’s probably been the best year of my life, professionally.”
Now Tomlinson’s career is back in full swing, and he’s ready to keep things moving. Fans will be more than happy to know that another tour is fairly imminent. After a crazy year back on the road, he is eager to get back out there and perform all the new material that he has been imagining will go down a treat with audiences. “I want to keep the momentum going. My solo career since the band has been a bit stop-start, some for personal reasons, some for professional reasons. Now, I’m finally feeling comfortable where I am. I just want to keep it rolling,” he says. That’s not all, however. Tomlinson also wants to start working on album No. 3 sooner than expected. “Ideally, I’d like to try and write the next record before I go on tour next year. I want to do something similar to what I’ve done this past year,” he adds.
With Faith In The Future, Tomlinson has already made it clear that he wants listeners to take the album into their own hands and come up with their own thoughts. But, if there was to be one thing he wants them to take away from the songs, it’s that they get a sense of hope. “As long as they get a feeling for that, and maybe if there are times when they need to hear those messages, I hope it makes them feel good,” he says. “I think one thing that makes me proud and that I hope will also make them proud is that I’ve just followed my heart loads more on this record. Through my experience with my fans, when I’m doing what I love, that’s when I really grab their attention, and that shit’s infectious, man. We feed off each other like that.”
Tomlinson concludes, “I hope that they listen to the record and think, ‘This is what Louis should be doing.’”
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sometimes i forget how distinctly american my mother is, and how we are generally a product of our surroundings
#personal#just found out she’s pro-military!!! and she was accusing me of being anti-military because of watching x files. like girl i am 10 episodes#into this show. i have had these views for a Long time (VERY specifically about the us military). and im just like. damn. like yeah of COURS#it’s not plastered everywhere. ‘give me some peer reviewed articles’ i would but i just cant bring myself to get the energy to get stuck in#this exhausting npd abuse loop again (sounds exaggerated but im basically falling for exacerbating the situation. which is why it’s always#hit me the hardest i guess. because she Will just straight up either not mention it ever again or just simply deny it. and i’m not exactly#educated enough on the subject to remember specific points. my memory has been destroyed BECAUSE of this kinda shit and i cant recall decent#argument points anymore. not that i even particularly want to!!! read up on all this shit!!!! oh and even realizing that she was Definitely#seeing me as an Extreme. like girl what. i forgot that npd does that#reminds me of how. she’s very liberal. she was the one who got me out of the closet in the first place (bc i wouldnt do so myself)#and yet the other day. i swear she said something that was almost terf rhetoric#FUCK i HATE that my memory has already scrambled it. fuuuuuck and here i thought my memory was coming back#but it was something along the lines of implying that men Would try to get into women’s shelters etc in a skirt or smth and i#i just stopped talking i was so shocked#god. sorry didnt mean to vent lmao but im. hhh im just Tired yknow?#mandont
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Put It In, Coach
Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI
Pairing: Joel Miller x f! Reader
Word count: 3.4k
Summary: you are an 18 year old high school senior on the cheerleading team, and Joel is the beloved and successful football coach. He helps you with some stretching after practice.
Warnings: SMUT!! The girthiest age gap (18 & 56), consensual but extremely unethical sexual relationship, pervert Joel, power imbalance, dubcon (due to said power imbalance) but I assure you reader is of legal age and enthusiastically consents. piv, oral (m receiving) fingering, dirty talk, semi-innocent reader, blackmail, creampie, twist ending, possibly dark Joel.
A word from the author: This is a repost! Listen, I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. That is fine. Please don’t feel obligated to interact with this fic even if we are friends. It will be fine. I am posting this without making eye contact with anyone.
What is more important in a small Texas town than the high school football team?
Nothing, if you asked most anyone, including of course, head Lions football coach, Joel Miller- Coach Miller, that is. He had lead the team to numerous state titles, securing donations to the football program and filled display cases with trophies and framed team photos. Several former players had even gone on to play in the NFL.
Yeah, Coach Miller is a big deal.
You feel lucky when during your senior year the cheerleading team has to share practice space with the football team. Honored when Coach Miller helps your squad with conditioning. While the football team runs drills, he’s monitoring your time on the treadmill, checking your form during lunges, and helping you really lean into your stretches. He’s so helpful and encouraging. “That’s it, girls, get those knees up! Hustle!” He yelled as he watched you run by in your little shorts and sports bra. The one you took to wearing when you knew he might see.
Coach Miller knew a thing or two about cheerleading too, and he helped your coach to develop a cheer routine. You always blushed when his rough, steadying hands gripped your bare legs or circled your waist to help direct you. You saw how the other girls exchanged looks, but
Coach Miller had experience, he obviously knew enough about cheer. He knew what got crowds excited and lifted team morale. You beamed when he clapped and tucked his clipboard under his arm as you balanced on your teammates shoulders, one knee lifted high, both arms aloft, Pom-poms rustling in the hot Texas breeze. You felt butterflies that fluttered from your stomach down to your throbbing pussy. “Atta girl. You got it!” He praised.
The fawning newspaper articles never mentioned how handsome Coach Miller is. He’s probably in his fifties but you didn’t care. The other girls rolled their eyes, called him an old man. You liked the gray in his hair and beard. You liked the way his body was still so broad and strong, even if his belly was a little softer than it used to be. You liked the way his forearm flexed as he lifted the whistle to blow and get everyone’s attention. “Alright, boys go hit the showers, girls you stay and finish stretching.” Your cheer coach was busy with Megan and Lindsay and Tiffany, so you did your best to go through the regimen on your own.
You stood and twisted at your waist, first to one side, then the other. You spread your legs wide and bent deep to touch your toes, keeping your spine loose. You wanted him to see. “Ugh. He’s watching us.” You heard behind you. “He’s such a creep. He’s like a hundred years old.” “Yeah and you remember what happened with Monica. Nobody’s going to say shit to him.” You listened to the other girls talking, and tried to ignore them. Of course there were rumors about Coach that passed though the girls at school. They were probably just mad that he wasn’t giving them the time of day.
It was easy to forget the other girls and their hateful gossip when you saw that handsome man across the field. You stood and dabbed your shoulder. You winced and rubbed it, drawing the attention of Coach Miller. He jogged over, the muscles of his thighs rippling under his khaki shorts, belly rounding slightly under his royal blue polo shirt, and whistle bouncing as he made his way to you. “What’s ’a matter, sweetheart?” Care and concern painted his dark features, furrowing his brow. “It’s just my shoulder, Coach. I don’t know, it just is pretty sore.” You pouted up at him, giving him your best helpless face. He hummed and nodded. “You girls go on and get cleaned up, we’re done for today. I’ll let your coach know. I gotta deal with this.” He gestured to you, and you bowed your head sheepishly. The rest of the girls scoffed and muttered as they gathered their bags, shooting you looks of disdain and perhaps pity. Good riddance to them.
“Thank you Coach.” You said softly, bashfully. “C’mon, I got an ice pack in my office. Can’t let our rising star get hurt, can we?” You relished his attention. The hallways leading to his office were dark and empty, at 5:30 on a Friday, everyone had gone home. Once inside his office you sat on his desk, cluttered with papers and Gatorade bottles. You swung your legs and leaned back on your palms, letting the hem of your top ride up to expose a sliver of your belly. You hoped he would notice the way it was snug against your breasts. His office smelled like sweat and Lysol, but photos and framed newspaper clippings covered the walls. You used your phone to cover the framed photo on his desk of him and his wife and kid.
When Coach Miller returned with the ice pack, he found you innocently playing with the hem of your short cheer skirt. He hesitated, taking in your long, bare legs, smooth and pretty. He followed the line of them up to where they disappeared under that damn skirt, he wondered what he might find if he flipped it up. Wondered if you had on those little white panties he had seen once when you were practicing cartwheels with the other girls. He wasn’t stupid man. He knew that some of you young girls had little crushes on him. He'd be a liar if he said it didn’t stroke his ego or that he hadn’t jerked off more than a few times behind his locked office door. He would never, ever admit to a few consensual dalliances with a few girls. Always over 18, but always so young and beautiful and eager to please. Was it wrong? When they wanted him? Joel preferred to think of it as a perk of the job.
“Where’s it hurtin’, honey?” Coach Miller asked, his voice much more tender than he ever used with the boys on his football team.
“My shoulder, coach. It’s sore.” He made a sympathetic sound and slowly, carefully began to run his big hands over your arms. “Can you hold ‘em up for me? Good girl.” You held your arms out to the side and he palpated your shoulders, stepped back to look you over, checking for you didn’t know what. It didn’t matter. Your shoulder didn’t really hurt.
Joel frowned. “What is it coach? Is it bad? Your voice was small and wavering.
“No, darlin’ it’s just that I can’t get a good feel for your rotator cuff cause your shirt’s in the way.”
“Oh..”
“Well, here’s the thing, you know we got that big game comin’ up and your coach won’t let ya cheer if you’re hurt. Really would be best if I could just check it out. If nothin’s wrong we ain’t gotta worry your coach over it.” He winked at you conspiratorially.
“What if I just…I could just take this off.” You tried to sound casual. Like it was the most normal thing for an eighteen year old to be topless in a room alone with a 56 year old woodshop teacher/football coach.
“That’s what the boys all do, sugar. Ain’t a big deal, but I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable. I can just go get your coach and she can check ya out.”
There was no way you wanted your coach thinking you were injured. Not when you were gunning for a cheerleading scholarship. Missing any games now was out of the question.
“We don’t need to bother her, Coach Miller. I trust you.”
Joel nodded. “Alright, I’ll tell ya what- I’ll give ya a towel to cover up with. How’s that?”
“Sounds good, Coach. Just, could you help me unzip?” You gave him a little smile over your shoulder and held your hair out of the way for him to drag the zipper down.
Joel stifled a groan when he realized you didn't have a bra on under your little top. His cock was already beginning to swell in his shorts. You shrugged off the blue and yellow top of your uniform and clutched the tiny towel he handed you to your chest. “Is this good, Coach Miller?”
“Yeah that’s good. Real good. Arms straight up, now. Gotta check your rotator cuff.”
You did as he asked, and the towel slipped to your lap and he rubbed and squeezed at your shoulders, peeking over to catch a glimpse of your bare tits. They were so pretty, your hard little nipples making his mouth water.
“Good news. I don’t think it’s anything serious. A little massage and rest is probably all ya need. Couple ibuprofen.”
You thanked him, half heartedly bringing the towel to cover your chest again.
“Just one thing though, I noticed there’s not a current physical on file for you. You know, they take that stuff real serious. I know you’ve been workin’ real hard all year, I think you’ve got real potential and I’d hate for you to throw that away over a little form. If you want, I can give ya a quick check and it’ll be our little secret.”
“Gosh, Coach. You’d really do that for me?”
You knew damn well your physical was on file. You had taken it to the office yourself. It was something you’d been doing every year since you started playing sports in junior high.
“Yeah, won’t take but a minute. Don’t want ya getting in any trouble.”
You sighed gratefully. “Thanks Coach Miller. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Go on and hop up on my desk and I’ll make this quick and easy.”
He moved your arms one at a time, feeling for proper movement. He had you step on a scale and measured your height and weight, commenting that you were “full grown.” He had you bend forward and touch your toes, sliding his fingertips up the length of your spine to check for scoliosis, but taking the opportunity to admire the way your skirt rode up to expose just a bit of your panties, just barely brushing his hard cock over your ass. “Oops!” You dropped the towel, dramatically covering your tits with your hands, squeezing them together.
Joel looked at the form he was half-assing and scribbled on it, before sitting it aside and clearing his throat. “You uh, you do your regular self exams?”
“Self exams?” you blinked at him innocently, hiding the smirk that threatened to break through.
“Breast exams, sweetheart. Gotta make sure everything is like it’s supposed to be. Real important to check. Maybe I better show you how. Why don’t you lay down there and put your arms over your head for me?”
You did as he asked, lying back on his desk and didn’t bother hiding your lustful stare and he slid both hands up your rib cage to cup the underside of your breasts. He squeezed gently, kneading the supple flesh. “You’re doing great, baby.” You whined as he worked his way around your nipples, watching intently as they hardened. “Almost done.” He pinched at your nipples, making you squirm, he pulled gently, and rubbed them under his thumbs before squeezing your tits once more. “I think that’ll do.”
But he didn’t take his hands from you. He ran them over your chest, down your sternum, over your belly to the band of your skirt. He gripped your hips through the rough fabric, forgetting himself, or dropping the act. Either way, he found himself staring at the wet spot on your exposed panties. You bent your knees and rested your heels on the edge of Coach Miller’s desk. “Let’s see if he can resist this!” You’d thought, delighted with the way your plan was working.
Joel had his fair share of girls throwing themselves at him over the years, but you certainly took the cake. In half an hour you’d gone from a shy school girl to a sex starved slut right on his desk. It had been so easy, maybe too easy. Give you a little attention, some praise you weren’t getting at home, some touches like he knew the dumbass boys on his team weren’t going to learn about for another eight to ten years. Joel loved it when his plans worked.
“Something you need, baby?”
“Mhm. My backs kinda stiff. Maybe you could help stretch me. Get me loosened up.”
“This help?” Joel placed his hands on your knees and pushed them up, gently rolling your lower spine as he stood between your legs.he lowered them, letting your covered pussy brush against his rock hard cock, then repeated the motion, pushing your knees a little further each time.
“Feels so good, Coach.” You breathed, hands gripping the sides of his desk.
“Gonna open your hips up, you’re bein’ such a good girl.” He pushed again, letting your knees fall to the side, spreading you wide open. You could feel the way your panties clung wetly to your aching pussy, rendered nearly transparent by the slick that started seeping from you the minute you entered Coach Miller’s office.
Joel couldn’t play this dumb game with you anymore. He squeezed your plush thighs and pushed them down, dragging his thumb over the soaked gusset of your underwear. “I think ya got a bigger problem than a stiff back. Looks like you’re really hurtin’ right here. How long has this pussy been needin taking care of?”
Finally! “All day, Coach. I really need help to make it feel better.”
Joel’s finger slipped under the fabric to slide over your puffy lips.
“I got some other massages and stretches that’ll make this all better. Do you want that?”
“Yes, please! Please Coach.” You nearly shouted at him. If he didn’t do something soon you’d have to try to climb on top of him and just take what you needed. It’s not like you couldn’t see how hard his cock had been since the minute you got your tits out. He was a creep and everybody knew it, but he was too handsome to resist and if his bulging erection was any indication, well…
“Gotta get these panties off.” You lifted your hips for him to slide them off, then stretched your legs and demonstrated your flexibility by pulling your ankles down and holding your legs wide open for him. “Goddamn. Look at this. You do want this, don’t ya? Got so damn wet on my desk from just gettin your tits touched. Are all the girls on your team so slutty?” He marveled at how wet you were, slipping his fingers from your entrance up and around your clit, tapping your pussy firmly with the flat of his hand and groaning at the sticky slapping sounds.
His index finger teased at your opening while his thumb rubbed over your clit. Flames licked at your belly. “Just slutty for you, Coach. Need a real man.”
“Yeah? You need a real man?” He emphasized his words by sinking two thick fingers into you, “I’ll show ya what a real man can do for you, but you ain’t ever gonna be happy with a boy again.” He pumped his fingers into you and to your shock, dripped spit directly from his mouth to your clit. The slip made the sensation even more intense, and you squeezed his fingers as your orgasm crested. “Good, huh? Well, we ain’t done. I got a little more stretching for this tight little cunt.” You’d never heard anyone talk so crudely. You loved it. “Fuck yes, Coach, please. Please!”
Joel’s eyes snapped up from where he was watching his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Watch your language.” You whined and bucked your hips, eager for what you hoped was coming next. Joel worked a third finger into your pussy, the stretch stung and radiated, but faded into a pleasant feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. Not with your inexperienced conquests.
Satisfied that he’d prepared you well enough, Joel hastily unbuckled his belt and let his shorts fall to the floor, weighed down by his wallet and keys. You watched as he tugged his turgid member, the biggest you’d ever seen. “C’mere. Get on your knees a minute. I know you know how to do that.”
“You want me to suck your cock, Coach Miller?”
He huffed at you, amused at your innocent act.
“Open your mouth.” You opened wide and took him deep, gasping and bobbing your head over his tip, hollowing your cheeks. You looked up at him and took him as deep as possible, relishing in the look of devastation that washed over him as you gagged and drooled.
Joel muttered something you didn’t hear before he pulled you off his cock by your hair. “Bend over the desk. Come on.” You did as he asked, and he slicked his cock with your abundant arousal, slapping the head on your ass a couple times, then held the base of his cock in one hand, and gripped your hip with the other. Slow and steady he pushed into you, taking his time until he was fully sheathed, hips flush against your ass. He waited there, leaning his forehead against your back and reaching under you to grab your tit.
“So fucking tight. Tightest pussy I think I ever felt. You’re not a virgin are you?” You shook your head. You weren’t a virgin. He was your third. He was your biggest and best. It would be hard to top him, you mused until he dragged his length out of you and slammed back in with more force. He did that a few times- pull out slow, slammin hard. Slow, hard, slow, hard. Then he switched it up, pushing your knee up into the desk he favored slow, deep strokes so he could watch how your pussy gripped him and sucked him back in, wetting his cock with your slick, so wet it dripped down to his balls.
He smacked your ass, leaving handprints on the unblemished flesh. “Fuck yeah, baby. Just like that. Taking this cock so good. Feel ya squeezing me so tight. Cock hungry little slut making me fuck her. Fuckin beggin for this dick.” He gritted filth through clenched teeth. You reached down to rub your clit, and let your hand wander further, feeling where your bodies joined, stretching your fingers to catch his balls as he pounded mercilessly into you. He smacked your ass hard, then reached up to hold your shoulders and his movements became uneven. “Coach, please! Please, come in my little pussy!” You’d heard that in porn and thought it sounded good.
Joel’s eyes squeezed shut tight as he let go, filling you with rope after rope of cum. You moaned, feeling him pulsing deep inside.
There was no kiss afterward. No hugging, no cuddling. Joel handed you the little towel to clean up with, Carter he watched his spend drip out of your wrecked pussy and onto the fabric of your skirt. He wished he had a picture of it. You wiped away what you could and put your shirt back on, your panties had disappeared and at 6:15 there was no time to look for them now. Coach Miller promised he would find them for you. You gathered your phone and backpack. He squeezed your shoulder as he walked you out to the main hallway and cleared his throat. “You know, if anyone found out about this, it could ruin your shot at any kind of scholarship. You might not even get into college at all. Now, I know you young girls make mistakes and I’m not going to tell anyone as long as you keep up your grades and your practice. If I hear about ya being a slut, though, I’ll have to inform the principal for your own good. Don’t make me do something we would both regret, sweetheart. Ya understand?”
“Yes, Coach. I understand.”
Joel breathed a sigh of relief. He had seven years until he could retire. He wasn’t sure how many more pretty little seniors would come sniffing around, but he thought maybe he should try to stop giving in to every doe eyed little slut that came along. Oughta try other ways of keeping his dick wet.
On Monday Joel was at his desk, drinking coffee, making out a supply request form for his woodshop lesson plan when his phone chimed. A message from an unknown number had sent an attachment. He squinted at the screen, and froze in horror when he saw his own face looking back at him, he was perfectly framed in the shot, a still from a video, and there you were, smiling at the camera underneath him. The message that followed was short. “See you after practice, Coach.”
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#Joel miller fix#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller tlou#smut#pedro pascal character smut#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#bat writes
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Clownfall: Endgame
I am calling it that in the full knowledge that batshit things may yet happen, but listen. Listen. We have a year left before the general election. I am hedging my bets and assuming all that comes in that year will be Tory manoeuvring ahead of that. Let's all hope for a nice quiet year in which everything can fall neatly under that banner, that won't ruin this naming convention.
Previous Reading
Important Terminology - Required Reading
What is a Whip?
How do Whips work?
Shadow Cabinet
Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet
What do we need to call an early General Election?
The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Elanor’s Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading
Character-based prequel
The Premiership of Liz Truss
The Next Steps - Suggested Reading
The post-Truss contenders
Bye Matt
BoJo Resigns as MP
Alright, that's probably everything. Just nice to have it all in one place, innit? If you would like a nice soothing soundtrack to your reading, here's my recommendation. On with the show!
Clownfall: Endgame
Wednesday
So, let's start with charismatic and charming Home Secretary Suella Braverman! You may remember her from such hits as "Quitting before she could be fired after breaking the law only to be rehired by Sunak almost immediately and without consequence to appease the right wing nutjobs in the party", and "Claiming Pakistani men have a culture that makes them work in abuse rings to target vulnerable white English girls" (I should add that, if you are unfamiliar with Suella Braverman, regardless of what that quote implies, she is not, in fact, white); recently she made the news because she announced that being homeless is a "lifestyle choice". So true, Suella! They could give it up any time they wanted. They could, for example, get together and break in and steal your fucking house.
But in particular, here we're focussing on her recent stance towards the multiple huge pro-Palestine marches that have been taking place in London. So far she has indicated that she wants people who wave Palestinian flags to be arrested, so that's very measured and rational of her; but, last Wednesday (Nov 8th), she decided to write a lil opinion piece in the Times all about how mean and biased and liberal the police are. This is an absolutely fascinating assertion to I suspect literally anyone who has ever been involved with the police. But no! Quoth Suella, aggressive right-wing protesters are "rightly met with a stern response", while "pro-Palestinian mobs" are "largely ignored".
And, she claims, the march on Saturday isn’t simply a cry for help for Gaza, but an "assertion of primacy by certain groups - particularly Islamists - of the kind we are more used to seeing in Northern Ireland".
Imagine how well all that went down.
Thursday
You are underestimating how that went down, because it emerges that Suella deVille did not, in fact, get any form of validated sign-off or permission from Number 10 before squirting her ill-informed liquid horseshit all over the front desk of the Times news room, and that, Tumblrs, you'll be surprised to learn, is actually quite an important and compulsory part of criticising the police when you are the Home Secretary. Like, there is a Ministerial Code about this. It is very clear. It is in Article 8.2, Tumblrs. Thou Shalt Have Permission From Number 10 Before Making Media Interventions.
“The content was not agreed with Number 10,” a spokesperson for Prime Minister Rishi Sunak told reporters, referring to the prime minister’s Downing Street office. The ministerial code is clear that any ministerial media interventions need approval from No 10.
-AlJazeera
And the Tories are furious! The bloodbath forms quickly and loudly and the hounds start baying! Clown noses are flying everywhere! The factions are drawn! Because even now, there are Tories too stupid to understand that whether you agree with someone or not they still have to follow the rules! Also the other parties realise they can offer some actual opposition here, given that Suella has essentially dragged a barrel into the middle of the House of Commons dressed in a fish costume, handed around a set of loaded rifles, and then crawled inside to wait. The result is that the calls for her resignation are both deafening and pleasingly cross-party.
"(This is a) dangerous attempt to undermine respect for police", says Labour's shadow home secretary Yvette Cooper. "(It's) irresponsible," says London mayor Sadiq Khan. "The PM's weakness when it comes to standing up to Suella is the most shocking thing in all this," claims a senior Labour source.
They're wrong, of course. The most shocking thing is Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey realising he can actually appear in the paper if he plays this right and so surfaces to attempt some politics. "(Sunak) must finally act with integrity by sacking his out-of-control home secretary!" he declares, frightening many MPs who had forgotten he was even in the room with them.
Meanwhile, several Tories approach the BBC anonymously.
"The home secretary's awfulness is now a reflection on the prime minister. Keeping her in post is damaging him," says one. Another straight-up describes her as "unhinged". Another claims the comparison with Northern Ireland is "wholly offensive and ignorant", and really, all of this is permanently triggering that "Heartbreaking: the worst person you know just made a great point" reaction image.
Saturday
Hey, speaking of reaction images, look, Labour has a go:
Well. They tried.
BUT! Do you want to know the INTERESTING bit??!
Enter: Nadine Dorries! Mad shrieking pink harpy who spends her days maintaining a BoJo shrine in her bedroom! Always the most hinged of politicians, let's see what she has to say.
Former cabinet minister Nadine Dorries claimed Ms Braverman was trying to get sacked to give her a platform of martyrdom in service of the right-wing.
"The competition is on now for who is going to be the leader of the opposition," Ms Dorries told the BBC.
???!??!?
PERTINENT POLITICAL OBSERVATION FROM DORRIES?!?!?? The most shocking part of this whole affair. Remember that time she yelled at a journalist during an interview about Boris Johnson's latest scandal when he asked her how Johnson was feeling about the whole thing and inadvertently implied they were having an affair when No One Asked? God, wonders never cease. She's even acknowledging the Tories can't win the next GE, look. I'd say this is growth, except I am 100% positive she's just being catty about BlowJo being fired again.
Anyway, the real Saturday issue: it's Armistice Day, and there's a pro-Palestine march planned.
Now, to give context, Armistice Day has a creepy level of patriotic state-worship attached to it in the UK. Some time in October everyone on telly suddenly starts wearing a poppy, and if you don't you get hanged, drawn and quartered by (a) the British press, and then (b) a baying mob outside your living room. You most be performatively sad. You must perform reverence and hero worship and say things like "Never again" all while whole-heartedly supporting current wars. You must talk about "our brave boys", and share the works of dead poets from the trenches, and then completely fail to absorb any of their lessons. If anyone tries to wear the white poppy to distance themselves from the current political appropriation while still commemorating the millions of conscripted casualties, you accuse them of being "woke" and pissing on the worthy dead of WW1. It's a whole thing, and politicians love using it as an excuse to point fingers and mock each other for being insufficiently patriotic if they wear the wrong tie to the ceremonies, or choose to walk with actual veterans rather than a head of the current army, or any number of other things. And then on November the 12th they'll order a drone strike or something.
So, off the bat, you can see how a pro-Palestine rally on the same day was likely to be seen as provocative to some.
"Some" included Sunak! He didn’t (publicly at least) ask the police to ban the protest, but did call on organisers to call it off, claiming the choice of date was “provocative and disrespectful”, because as I say, a march calling for the ceasefire of a genocide is super disrespectful to every sad dead poet in a trench who dreamed of a ceasefire so they could live, or something.
But the inevitable therefore happens, which is that far-right activists agree that it's disrespectful, and so decide to violently target the march to show their respect for the idea of peace on Armistice Day, or something.
Here's the planned route by the organisers:
Note, though, that the Armistice ceremony happens at the Cenotaph - visibly nowhere near the march. These two events actually wouldn't have overlapped, if it weren't for far-right protestors deliberately linking them to stop them being disrespectfully linked, or something.
And that's exactly what happened. From the Guardian:
Perhaps the most striking incident, though, was when far-right protesters charged past police who sought to hold them back from the Cenotaph. In this video, a man shouts “this is fucking our country” in celebration. Whereas the pro-Palestine march had been excluded from the area as a precaution, the far right was not; by overwhelming the police, they supposedly sought to defend the site from an enemy that simply wasn’t there.
(that's quite a good article of the whole thing, actually, I recommend giving it a read.)
Crucially to the clown show, though, several politicians and others accused Suella deVille of emboldening the far-right, which... well, several of the far-right protestors straight up said was the case on the day, so hard to disagree, really.
Rumours of a reshuffle in Whitehall circumnavigate the land so fast the truth gets sucked into a tornado and is declared MIA. Here's the thing! I've covered a few Cabinet reshuffles by now, Tumblrs, you know the drill. Reshuffles are always deniable until they actually happen – so if, say, a reshuffle was going to happen on Monday 13 November 2023, there’d be no need to publicise it in advance. That way, if things change and politics happen, you don't need to retract anything :)
Because, remember: reshuffles are always controversial. Yes, some people get demoted, and those people will often kick off, and some people who don't deserve it get promoted, and lots of people kick off. But the big thing is that a lot more people get overlooked for promotion.
His most ardent supporters would say that Rishi Sunak is a cautious man (if you'll allow me a moment to express my own view on the matter, Tumblrs, if you'll forgive this crumb of personal opinion amongst my otherwise impeccable journalling of greatest integrity, I once did a teambuilding task with my students where they had to build the best possible bridge out of uncooked spaghetti and pieces of marshmallow, and I personally would liken the structural integrity of his spine to the losing team's entry), and reshuffles will spread a lot of disappointment to Tory MPs who lose – or fail to gain – a cabinet position.
So, all in all... regardless of Suella's idiocy...
There's no guarantee of a reshuffle. Rumours are just that - whether they prove to be true or not remains to be seen.
Week Commencing Monday 13th November, 2023
New week, new challenges! And it's going to be a big week this week. On Wednesday (tomorrow, at time of writing), three big things are going to be announced, and these announcements will colour everything else this week:
One. The Supreme Court decide whether the government will be allowed to enact their plan to send some migrants claiming asylum in the UK to Rwanda, a signature Braverman plan that human rights campaigners (including many in Rwanda) have been trying to block for ages.
It’s a massive deal anyway – a flagship government idea that’s been bogged down in the court, and we’ll finally have an answer one way or another. For what it’s worth, the Tories aren’t confident about winning it, either. The optimists among them reckon it’s a 50/50 chance, the pessimists reckon it’s 70/30 against, so it's iffy at best.
But here's the thing!
Plenty of Tories have always disliked Suella. Others could handle the odd outburst she has, but can’t stomach the sheer number of them lately - the Lib Dem non-entity man was absolutely right that she is rapidly growing out of control and just does not know when to shut the entire fuck up.
Which means! If the Supreme Court allows the Rwanda plan, Braverman could become emboldened, like a far-right protest injuring police officers to defend the cenotaph from people who are nowhere near it and have no interest in it. Do we want an emboldened Braverman?? Well; no, obviously. I also don't want dysentery, or rotten meat, or a serial killer in my neighbourhood. But it's a question even Tories are asking themselves, which is notable.
Plus, even if the court allows it, there will still be months of planning, and lawyers might still prevent the plans in the long run... But psychologically, the issue is this: the government wants this win, but probably doesn’t benefit from Braverman feeling victorious.
Two. We’ll get inflation figures. The government promised to halve inflation, and it seems likely they’ve managed this. Expect them to massively celebrate this, to distract from the promises they haven’t kept e.g. waiting lists in England, competent governance, etc.
Three. Voting on a ceasefire in Israel seems likely for Wednesday. It’s the SNP’s idea, and it won’t affect government policy (they won’t support a ceasefire – they claim it’ll empower Hamas).
But it’s a big deal for Labour, even more so than the Tories. A Shadow minister has already resigned over the war. A bunch of frontbenchers want a ceasefire, but that isn’t Keir Starmer’s policy, a man who is calling for the colours of the Israel flag to be shown at sports matches to show that "we stand in solidarity with Israel", because you can really count on Starmer to fuck up everything he touches. So what do they do? Abstain? Claim they had a prior commitment?? We might see more resignations, basically. Big day for Starmer.
So! With all that in mind...
Monday
8.43am
Oh look. Timestamps are back. I wonder if that suggests anything?
Suella Braverman is sacked as Home Secretary.
But! Sunak is accused of waiting too long! Which he demonstrably did!
He should have made the decision after the illegal article that she shouldn't have written and triggered a far-right rally on fucking Armistice Day. Instead, remember that 'cautious' descriptor I talked about?? He waited until the tide had turned against her completely, and now looks like he (a) was too much of a useless wimp to fire her until he was sure people would still like him and pat his dick and tell him he's a Good PM, and (b) only fired her because he caved in to that appalling lefty liberal cabal that somehow these days includes the Metropolitan Police of all fucking people, and she'd have been able to stay otherwise.
Shout out to the best comment from Reddit:
u/nowonmai666: Doesn't she normally get sacked on a Friday so she can have the weekend off before being reappointed?
Anyway, that's the big risk now: Braverman’s supporters can claim she was only fired because Sunak caved in to the left.
8.56am
Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns claims Sunak only sacked Braverman because he caved in to the left.
9.00am
Neil O'Brian, Pharmacy Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being a back-bencher with less power.
*sus*
9.09am
Nick Gibb, Schools Minister, quits to live out his stated dream of being more diplomatic, or something.
*sus*
9.42am
The Lib Dems decide to build on the success of their leader getting to be on telly for his one comment on Thursday and call for a general election. Says Ed Davey: “It was the Prime Minister’s sheer cowardice that kept her in the job even for this long. We are witnessing a broken party and a broken government, both of which are breaking this country.”
Good job! They're having such a good few days.
Anyway remember the Tories don’t have to have a general election until December 2024, though, thanks to the Fixed-term Parliaments Act (2011), which was passed by the coalition government of Tories and, um, Lib Dems. In which Ed Davey served for three years.
Hmm.
9.43am
James Cleverly (remember him?) returns to the Cabinet and is appointed Home Secretary. The party attempts to appear trendy by experimenting with emojis:
This appointment is probably because Tory strategists wanted him in a domestic role to help the party’s chances in the next election; as Surprising Political Pundit Nadine Dorries told us, of all fucking people, the race is now on to lead the opposition.
But hey, this is not likely to lead to any more changes -
10.03am
FORMER PRIME MINISTER, BREXIT-TRIGGERER AND PIG-FUCKER DAVID CAMERON BECOMES FOREIGN SECRETARY
!!!!!!!!!!!!
And look! Another emoji! They're so hip!
(Side note... the balls on this one are astounding, actually. The UK political system has been in chaos ever since Cameron, and he was the first domino. This is not a well-loved former hero that will be greeted warmly by the unwashed masses.)
Awkward though, since just last month Sunak claimed that we’d lived through “30 years of a political system that incentivizes the easy decision, not the right one.” It would be a terrible shame if a journalist was to ask David Cameron whether he agreed with the Prime Minister on that, given that Cameron’s job is to support the Prime Minister now.
Especially since Cameron took to Twitter last month to explicitly criticise Sunak for breaking the Tory promise to deliver High Speed 2.
(Cameron tweeted this criticism last month. Labour MP Angela Rayner however promptly retweets it now lol suck a dick Dave, but try a human one this time)
Also, fun fact, Cameron has just come out of a large-scale lobbying and corruption scandal. Given the state of Sunak, though, that's actually probably what got him the job.
BUT!!! Here's an even funner fact: the man is not an MP. He left politics after he accidentally triggered Brexit and then it came out he'd once face fucked a dead pig's head while it was held on the lap of another Tory; he's been living it up in the lucrative world of after-dinner speaking, as these people do.
So can you do that?? Can you hold a Cabinet position if no one at all has voted for you??
Yes, turns out.
Don't be alarmed by that, though:
But, convention holds that anyone who becomes a Cabinet member while not being an MP needs to be a Peer - that way, if they do bad and naughty things, they can't be held accountable by the House of Commons but they can be held accountable by the House of Lords. Only problem is, Hameron is not a lord...
10.13am
The reshuffle, bafflingly, continues. Jeremy Hunt will remain as chancellor.
For the first time since 2010, the top four positions in government – Prime Minister (Sunak), Chancellor of the Exchequer (Hunt), Home Secretary (Cleverly) and Foreign Secretary (Cameron) – are all held by men.
10.18am
Lots of people tweeting about the historic context of Cameron’s appointment. Here’s my favourite:
10.48am
David Cameron is given a life peerage, so his proper name now is Lord Piggledick.
10.52am
Health secretary Will Quince quits. He wasn’t planning to stand for re-election anyway though, so this one is probably not a shock. But it's important that no one else resi-
11.04am
Decarbonisation minister Jesse Norman resigns.
...
...
...
Time for a
✨Conspiracy Theory✨
Between Quince and Norman – as well as Neil O’Brien and Nick Gibb – we’re seeing several mid-ranking ministers resign, despite being generally regarded as fairly competent.
It’s possible they were fired in private, and they’re publicly resigning to save face. But here’s another theory.
MPs aren’t allowed to seek commercial employment for six months after resigning from the government.
So hypothetically, if you were going to lose your seat in a general election, you’d want to have resigned six months earlier so you can still get a job.
If that’s what these guys are doing, it suggests we’re on track for a May 2024 election...?
11.05am
11.12am
Remember Cameron's financial scandal? Quick background here: David Cameron was specifically vice-chair of a £1bn China-UK investment fund.
So let’s see what throwback former leader Iain Duncan Smith thinks of Cameron’s return:
“I am astonished at this appointment. It seems to send a signal to China that we are pursuing business with them at all costs and any costs. Those who have been sanctioned now feel more abandoned than at any time. Those facing genocide and persecution will feel more abandoned than at any time.”
I cannot believe I am about to say this.
But.
I agree with Iain Duncan Smith *spits on floor*
11.50am
Former Tory deputy prime minister Lord Heseltine is asked to sum up the return of Cameron, and says it’s the “clearest signal that the sort of right wing lurch that we’ve seen and the anti-European movement that we’ve seen has been put to bed, and that will get a message across to people”.
12.13pm
A Tory MP is worried that Cameron’s return will turn back the clock on Brexit and Johnson’s election.
“It is very alarming. I am predicting a softening on small boats, a softening on legal migration. I would not be surprised if the ban on conversion therapy returns.”
... Don’t threaten me with a good time.
Anyway, let’s see how the public actually sees Cameron compared with other PMs!
Yeah, not sure people will mind if Cameron’s not Boris Johnson.
12.43pm
ITV political editor Robert Peston walks past a minister of state. The minister’s on the phone, but takes a moment to heatedly shout at Peston, “The PM just sacked me!”
I guess some days are easier than others as a journalist
12.47pm
Therese Coffey resigns as environment secretary!!!!
*choirs of heavenly angels sing*
You'll remember her of course, Tumblrs - she was one of the thugs manhandling people into the 'right' voting lobbies to force their vote on the day of Liz Truss' fracking law. Rumour has it she still has the Whip handle in her ass.
A lot of people seem to be resigning today! But don't be fooled. In almost every case, it’ll be because they were told to resign. They’ve been sacked, but they resign to save face. A last mercy from their benevolent leader.
My guess: Tessie here is terrible at media skills, so – get rid of her before she hurts general election chances. This, too, is a pattern.
12.52pm
Rachel Maclean sacked as Housing Minister! Fun fact, numbers fans: it took Doctor Who 33 years to make it to eight Doctors, but since the 2019 election, the Tories managed eight Housing Ministers in just under 4 years
trololol
1.15pm
Jeremy Quin quits as Minister for the Cabinet Office.
1.37pm
Times Political Editor Steven Swinford reports that No 10 is struggling to find a new housing minister (owing to rumours the job is cursed). Several people have turned it down, including Jeremy Quin. It is incredible to me that they didn't line someone up before sacking the last guy.
Kemi Badenoch and Michael Gove are apparently unhappy that Rachel Maclean was removed from the role. I for one do not care about the opinions of Kemi Badenoch or Michael Gove.
2.04pm
Health Secretary Steve Barclay becomes Environment Secretary. This is effectively a demotion for him. It is our 5th Environment Secretary in four years. Chasing that Housing Minister record! It took 19 years for Doctor Who to have five Doctors
2.15pm
Richard Holden appointed new Conservative Party chairman.
A 2019-intake Tory MP, he led the charge against Sir Keir Starmer over Beergate, which did damage Starmer a bit (albeit not much, given that it turned out Starmer had complied with lockdown regs, and the accusation was nakedly to try and distract from Partygate). So this appointment looks like more strategy to win the next election - someone not known enough to be hated, with what passes in the modern Tory party for a proven track record.
This could be a sign that the Tories intend to at least try to shore up the Red Wall votes? As unlikely as the Tories are to keep those seats.
That said, Holden’s seat disappears in a boundary change next election, sooooo … we'll see what they do there.
2.24pm
Victoria Atkins appointed Health Secretary, replacing Steve Barclay who’s moved to Environment Secretary. She's a relative unknown but also considered actually competent. Massive middle finger to Steve Barclay
2.37pm
Laura Trott (formerly in pensions) promoted to Chief Secretary to the Treasury.
2.42pm
Science minister George Freeman resigns.
3.18pm
YouGov conducts a snap poll: is the appointment of David Cameron as Foreign Secretary a good decision or a bad decision?
Good decision: 24%
Bad decision: 38%
Don't know: 38%
So that's going well
3.24pm
Greg Hands is made a business minister after losing the Tory chairman role.
John Glen moves from chief secretary to the Treasury to become the Minister for the Cabinet Office and Paymaster General.
3.39pm
With Cameron being a Lord now, he’ll be based in the House of Lords rather than the Commons. The most recent Cabinet Minister to be based in the Lords was former Brexit minister Lord Frost, who did weigh in on the matter:
“[T]hough I was not running a whole Department too. I don’t think it works well to have a lead Cabinet Minister answering questions and defending their Department solely in the Lords. The Lords is not a fully party political environment - nor should it be - and voters are owed proper political scrutiny. In our system, that can only happen in the Commons.”
I cannot believe I am about to say this.
But.
I agree with Lord Frost *spits on floor*
The SNP had already called this out, with MP Stephen Flynn claiming, “The UK is not a serious country.”
4.21pm
Conservative MP Lee Rowley appointed the 16th housing minister in the past 13 years. Even counting David Tennant twice, that's more than all the Doctors Who we've ever had, and that took almost 60 years.
5.16pm
Sky News’s Tamara Cohen reports that Sunak sacked Braverman by phone this morning! Downing Street says there won’t be any exchange of letters between them - this is almost unheard of. Politics runs on paper trails! Everything happens through formal letters! By phone!
It means we’re denied insight into their differences. But Cohen reckons we’re likely to hear from Braverman on Wednesday, as the Supreme Court rules on the Rwanda scheme.
6.03pm
Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns, former Education Minister, submits no-confidence letter in Rishi Sunak.
It's almost like, in the absence of Dorries, she's decided that someone needs to step up and have a tantrum and that someone might as well be her. It is, actually, an extremely funny letter, as these letters go. Normally they're written with a sort of furious earnestness wrapped in formal language. I presume that Andrea Jenkyns MP, former Education Minister, was aiming for something similar, and the first paragraph manages it. But by the end you sort of start to wonder if this was supposed to be a letter she wrote with her therapist to get her feelings out:
My favourite line, when pulled in isolation, is "Yes Boris Johnson, the man who won the Conservative Party a massive majority, was unforgivable enough."
Yeah, Andrea babes. You're bang on there.
6.05pm
Esther McVey is appointed as Cabinet Office minister. Not a full cabinet member, but she will attend cabinet meetings.
This is notable: unlike a lot of today’s appointments, she’s on the right of the party. Her role will be to represent the government on TV and radio as much as possible, talking about gender/culture/British colonial history issues (i.e. she’s anti-woke and a screaming bigot).
In other words, with Braverman gone, McVey is an offering for the populist right of the party to try to appease them.
6.15pm
Sunak tweets about the new cabinet, claiming they’ll make “the right decisions for our great country, not the easy ones.” So it looks like that’s the new slogan, and we're pressing on with austerity
6.27pm
Tim Loughton, a Tory MP on the “One Nation” wing (i.e the David Cameron side) responds to Andrea Jenkyns’s letter of no-confidence by tweeting:
“Where can we submit a letter of no confidence in the Pantomime Dame?”
(It’s Andrea he’s publicly referring to as a pantomime dame there. A lil joke from the Tories for you)
6.31pm
Paul Scully sacked as minister for London. Didn't know that one was a position.
9.43pm
Sunak says that only a two-state solution will allow a new future for Israel/Palestine. This is, um, not what the Prime Minister of Israel wants. Who knows whether the Prime Minister of Israel will survive this crisis anyway – but these are big words from Sunak. Cameron’s influence? Maybe? Interesting either way
10.03pm
And then - PLOT TWIST!!!
According to ITV political editor Robert Peston, a senior government source reveals that Cameron was approached on TUESDAY.
Which means plans were underway to get rid of Braverman not only before the far-right violence on Saturday, but before her anti-police article on Wednesday. It seems she lost her job not because of what she said about police after all; but because she claimed homelessness was a lifestyle choice.
Well well.
11.05pm
And the day finishes with Andrea Leadsom back in government (as Under Secretary of State for Health and Social Care) which nobody saw coming! Pretty demeaning to the other 300 Tory MPs who could have been given this.
The final response from numerous Tories: they are feeling jilted and insulted because David Cameron being brought back when he's NOT EVEN AN MP, RISHI suggests that they themselves are not good enough to be in government.
No one tell them
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I tried to find more information about Albert here. There is an article in The Mirror, but some of the reporting seems dubious. Which I believe is standard operating procedure for that particular news outlet.
But according to the article, "Fat Albert" lives in the very specific area of "Alaska, USA" and is believed to be the fattest polar bear in the world. And they claim he got fat because the townspeople of "Alaska, USA" are following an ancient tradition that dates back "thousands of years."
"The locals throw out large amounts of whale blubber to the bears as a sign of 'respect'. They would cut a large portion of the whale and blubber, and drag it four miles out of town for the bears to find. This stops the bears from travelling into town to harvest and disrupting the process. In other words, it's a way to stop a group of hungry bears coming towards you in a hurry."
From supplemental research there is precedent for folks in Russia and Alaska to leave whale carcasses for polar bears, but I could not find any corroborating evidence about Albert specifically.
So, I rate this myth...
In any case, when I saw this picture of Albert, it seemed like a good opportunity to practice my Photoshop skills. He has clearly been rolling around in some mud and his beautiful white coat has been obscured.
It is very easy to change the color of something to red, blue, or green and every color in between. Just hit that hue/saturation and check colorize and you've got Pride Albert in a jiffy.
However, it is much more challenging to change things to white or black. This is the bane of graphic designers who have to take the same picture of a t-shirt and digitally alter it to be every available color including black and white.
So I challenged myself to give Fat Albert a bath.
And then I challenged myself again to make him a distant relative.
I wish I could tell you the exact process for how to do this, but this is one of those things you have to trial and error your way through and I honestly don't remember everything I did.
One thing I can tell you is that I definitely, absolutely, positively named all my layers properly—as that is best practice and I am a good Photoshop boy.
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°୨୧ NO CONTEST
+ kaiser x f!reader | wc 2.8k | content: fluff, friends to lovers, slight hints of jealousy, mentions of alcohol, they go clubbing
notes: help me i think i made myself fall for this guy even more after writing this shit for him > ⤙ <
summary: being just friends doesn’t mean much when neither of you really want to keep it that way. problem is, will either of you make the first move?
SPOTTED: KAISER-KAIA DUO HIT THE STREETS, NEW BUDDING ROMANCE?
“i like you though, y/n.”
it’s spring and the weather outside is the nicest it’s ever been in a while and you have every chance to enjoy it except for the fact that dear michael kaiser is lounging on your couch, rifling through the magazine he got in the mail.
“right, haha, very funny,” you mumble sarcastically, slumping down onto the other couch where kaiser isn’t sprawled all over.
sometimes, you think it’s funny how he’s portrayed as this hot, sexy, confident soccer player who can do no wrong when it comes to matters with his looks, but then in private he’s like… well, this. his bed head’s a mess, his room slippers are the fluffy-fuzzy kind, and much less high maintenance than everyone makes him out to be. (but you have to stop yourself from staring because kaiser doesn’t sleep in anything but his sweatpants during this season and well, where his abs are concerned, he’s definitely got no problems there.)
kaiser sighs in the overdramatic fashion that’s probably his trademark right about now. “y/n, y/n, what do i have to do to make you believe me?” he turns around, smirking at you as he raises a brow. maybe it’ll work on his countless fangirls, but after being friends with him for over six years, you’re probably immune to it.
“maybe you can just shut up and get ready for your event later.” you roll your eyes, sauntering to the kitchen to get yourself some breakfast, automatically making two of everything because kaiser loves to crash your apartment in the morning. (he really does need to learn about personal space.)
breakfast preparations go quietly. kaiser listens to you—he shuts up and starts getting ready for his event before coming back into your apartment, all fresh and ready to shamelessly eat the breakfast you made, staring at you from across the table whenever you’re not looking like he always does.
“kaiser-kaia duo hit the streets, new budding romance?”
“miko, don’t tell me you’re reading that gossip rag too,” you whine, looking for any excuse not to dive into your pile of work for the day.
your colleague swivels her chair over to your cubicle, looking around to make sure your bosses aren’t around to witness the both of you slacking off. “hey, isn’t he your friend? give me the tea! are they really dating?”
leave it to miko to get all excited about dating rumours. you really don’t know what’s so special about them—kaiser’s gotten so many of them ever since, well, forever. even before he became a soccer superstar.
you remember what kaiser said in the morning. “i like you though, y/n.” always ready with that smooth tongue of his. that aside, if he really was dating someone, you bet that they’d be staying over with him more often than not, and there’s really no harm in rejecting a rumor as opposed to confirming one.
“nope, they just happened to be waiting for a cab at the same spot.” and paparazzis love to snap a shot from misleading angles. now that you’re really looking at the article, they managed to make it look like kaiser’s kissing her cheek. you find yourself rolling your eyes at it and looking away.
miko sighs, leaning back against her chair. “man, that sucks, they look cute,” she comments, scrolling away from the online article before she gives you a suspicious side eye. “hey, you sure you’re not dating him?”
you still a little at the sudden line of questioning before turning your attention back to your laptop equally quickly. “if i was, i wouldn’t be so free all the time now, would i?” a response to which miko shrugs off and decides to let go of as she retreats back to her desk.
as much as you love miko as your colleague, you haven’t been as honest with her as you could. she knows you’re friends with kaiser, yeah, but she doesn’t know he’s basically your neighbour. she doesn’t know that he comes over all the time whenever it’s off season. she doesn’t know that the both of you have fallen asleep next to each other on the couch.
she doesn’t know a lot of things—like how your heart’s beating erratically now at the notion of being someone special to kaiser. it’s always been sweet nothings that you thought would stay that way, and you’ve always been short at realising your own feelings, so much so you were, once upon a time, positive you had zero romantic feelings for your friend.
now? you’re not so sure anymore.
seven days pass and kaiser’s been pestering you every single moment you’re free—like he always does—but today’s kind of a special day because it’s your birthday and it’s an hour away from your dinner party yet you’re not even close to ready.
your hair’s wet, you’re still in your loungewear, you have no idea what to wear and kaiser’s just flipping through the channels, half bored to death. for his part, at least, he’s already ready.
it’s not even fair how he takes just half an hour to get ready and yet he looks like he does. hair perfectly soft, and he’s wearing a nice black suit with a wine red dress shirt underneath, his tattoos peeking out here and there. if he wasn’t a soccer player, he’d definitely either be a model or a very charming businessman.
“too handsome for you?” kaiser smirks as he catches you looking, and you have to spin on your heels to avoid getting flustered (to his face).
“shut up, kaiser, i haven’t found anything to wear,” you groan, making a beeline for your bedroom. you really wished your friends hadn’t booked a high-end restaurant for little old you—then you could literally just throw on anything and be done with it.
kaiser, completely comfortable in your apartment, strolls into your bedroom with you and starts browsing through your closet, ignoring your protests. within seconds, he finds a dress and holds it out, a lopsided smile filling his face. “how about this?”
the wine red satin dress hovers in front of you, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat before you speak, feeling the line getting blurry. “trying to get me to coordinate outfits with you or something?”
you’re trying your best but your voice quivers just a little bit, and you bet that smug smile on his face that he can hear it. “why not? we look good together,” he shrugs, as though it’s no big deal but it’s hard to stop yourself from overthinking when lately the two of you have been flirting more often and serious than usual.
rolling your eyes and trying not to be too late, you grab the dress from him and change into it, spending some time to yourself to recollect, internally cursing him for being able to make you this flustered over nothing at all.
by the time you come back out into the living room, hair all done and accessories settled, this time, kaiser’s the one who’s caught staring, shameless in the way his eyes drag over you from head to toe. you’d tease him for it, but you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for his comeback so you refrain.
as you grab your go-to black heels and sit down to strap them on properly, kaiser’s quick to offer a hand, his lithe fingers taking your heel from you, slowly inserting your feet, his eyes lingering on your face and his thumb rubbing circles around your ankle. your eyes are glued to his own, and somehow it makes you even more nervous when he’s not joking around. when he looks at you like this—serious, like he’s trying to tell you something without saying anything at all.
the way he ties the straps are gentle and precise, tight but not too tight that it’ll hurt you. you’ve jokingly told him to help you tie your shoelaces before but he’s always refused. yet now he’s helping you put on your heels on both feet without saying a word and the way his hand lingers on your calf when he’s done is enough to make you melt.
on some other day, you’d joke with him and get him to let go. today, you’re silent.
kaiser chuckles, though, his hand casually brushing up your calf slightly before he pulls away, gently patting your head as he gets up.
“let’s go.”
dinner is agonising, enjoyable, agonising.
it’s nice; being seated around a table, enjoying small talk and nonsense with the same group of friends, catching up with people like kaiser and ness who’s been away a lot because of their profession.
yeah, that part’s nice. what’s agonising about it all is how close kaiser is to you, how his right hand casually drapes around your shoulder from time to time, shifting down to your thigh sometimes, making you go crazy.
it’s not like the both of you haven’t been close before, but you feel like maybe this time, it’s different. it’s not just the close proximity, it’s the intimacy of it all that has you inwardly keeling over. what’s worse is that you think you want it, him. in a way you didn’t think to think of before.
“you sure you’re not dating him?”
miko’s words ring repeatedly in your head. somehow, your answer’s changed from nope to you sort of wish you did. you bite your lower lip, absentmindedly laughing along even if you didn’t hear the joke at all.
“you okay?” the voice in your ear nearly makes you jump up from your seat.
on your right, ness is grinning as he looks at you, like he knows something’s going on in that little head of yours. you shake your head anyway, but ness shoots you a knowing smile as his eyes briefly shift to kaiser’s arm around you before winking at you.
fuck, is that really enough to make the heat rush to your cheeks?
“y/n?” one of your other friends calls out, snapping you back to the foreground.
“what?”
“next stop: new club downtown! orange, or grape, or whatever the fuck name it is,” he drawls, excited, “you up for it?”
before you even get the chance to agree, one of the other guys speaks up. “hey kaiser, speaking of clubs, didn’t that dating rumour come up recently? the one with, uh, kaia?”
readjusting himself, kaiser pulls away from you, taking a swig of his beer. “don’t remind me,” he groans, sighing.
“why not? she’s hot!”
there’s a knot in your stomach that you can’t explain.
beside you, ness snickers. “tell ‘em what really happened, stupid.”
that manages to pique your interest.
kaiser sighs, resigning because he knows they’ll just keep hounding him if he refuses. “she tried her luck, that’s all,” he settles for something vague, trying to escape.
ness, however, ever the kind soul, expands on his words, making sure you hear every single bit—you’re not sure if he’s trying to egg you on or just see your reaction.
“please, she was trying to get you to send her home, no?” ness’ explanation gets a reaction out of the group, and you’re glad you all have a private room here so no one outside can hear you, servers included.
“shut up.”
“kaia and kaiser—has a nice ring to it.”
and even though kaiser doesn’t entertain that, you feel a little envy brewing inside you—one that you fail to drown out.
orange is filled with people; combining the fact that it’s holiday season and it’s the club’s launch night, it’s safe to say that there’s barely any room to breathe. still, your friends are all drunk on the alcohol, pulling one another to the dance floor, leaving you and kaiser at the table.
he’s still close as ever, his bare hands brushing yours, one of his arms around your waist, keeping you close.
“dance with me,” he raises his voice over the music. the way he smiles so genuinely now managing to make your heart skip a beat.
suppressing your grin, you wordlessly agree, letting him lead you onto the dance floor. he meanders the crowd skilfully, as expected considering he and ness are frequent clubbers. it’s only now that you realise you’d never gone to such a place with him, which is surprising considering your many years of friendship.
as you join your friends on the floor, you can’t help but notice how kaiser sticks to you and you alone, his hands on your waist, trickling up and down your arm, dancing along behind you. even surrounded by people, he commands your attention alone.
unfair.
but to kaiser, it’s unfair too. it’s not fair how you’re so pretty, it’s not fair how you’ve always been. it’s not fair that he’d fallen slowly for you, and now so so deep. how is it fair that even when he tries to forget you, when he tries not to mess with the friendship, that he ends up falling even more?
his eyes stay glued on you, shamelessly making sure no other man gets their hands on you—it’s fucking insulting how they try to get you to dance with them even when he’s right there. lucky for him, you’re not budging. you’re there. with him. only him. even if your other friends are here.
it’s just him and you and he wonders what you’re thinking. are you as flustered as he is right now? kaiser hasn’t even let himself drink more than one mug of beer, all because he knows this is a night he’d rather remember than risk forgetting.
“hey, isn’t that kaia?” one of your friends excitedly points out and kaiser follows his line of sight.
it is her, and she’s heading this way—but that’s not really important because what’s important is how kaiser noticed you’ve stopped dancing, awkwardly trying to shuffle away. it’s kind of funny, he swears he can tell that you might feel the same way about him. maybe you’re just more stubborn than he is.
so he keeps his arms around you, pulling you close.
“stay with me,” he whispers into your ear, and he suppressed a grin from the goosebumps searing across your neck. he guesses it’s a good sign you’re listening to him.
“kaiser, what’s up?” kaia greets, evidently trying to move for a hug but kaiser’s not budging, squeezing you closer instead.
he nods at her in acknowledgement before letting the rest of his friends throng around her for a photo.
once she’s sufficiently busy, he hears you speak up. “were you dancing with her that time too?”
kaiser manages not to snicker at your obviously jealous tone, “yeah, we went with a few other people after our shoot was wrapped up.”
you nod, and all kaiser can think of somehow is that your shampoo smells so nice. “oh, sure you don’t wanna dance with her again tonight then?”
are you testing him? it’s cute.
he shakes his head. “nah, i danced with her a lot that time already,” he teases, though he’s not too sure whether you’d take it like a joke like it was meant to. when you don’t respond, he chuckles, gently turning you to face him. “there’s one thing i didn’t do with her though.”
kaiser’s face is just inches away from yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek and he’s aware that everyone in the close vicinity is looking at the two of you but he doesn’t care.
honestly, he has to admit, he’s dreamed of doing this a thousand times over, always hovering between the decision to ruin this friendship or not. the thoughts were there whenever he’d wake up next to you on the couch. or whenever all of you met up and one of the other guys would throw their arms around you. or in the mornings when you made breakfast. there’s not a time he’s been sure whether this is what you wanted too.
hell, he’s not even sure now. but fuck, if he wastes another minute not trying he thinks he’ll kill himself for it. and he’s hoping to god this isn’t a dream because you’re not pulling away and you’re not treating this like a joke and it can only be because you want this too.
without another thought, his lips press against yours and it’s like the loud music drowns out into the background, getting lost and fading away. suddenly it’s like you’re the only thing in front of him and fuck, you taste even better than he can ever imagine.
“fuck,” he exhales, cheeks pressed against yours. “be mine?”
still breathless from that kiss, you chuckle weakly and nod, both of you earning whoos all around the room. (you make a mental reminder to tell miko before she winds up seeing this online before you get a chance to explain.)
and just like that, kaiser’s finally gotten the girl of his dreams.
“want you, baby, just you.”
the next morning, the two of you make the headlines.
LIPS LOCKED: KAISER & RUMORED GIRLFRIEND SHOW OFF THEIR LOVE
#bllk x reader#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x reader#blue lock x reader#kaiser x you#kaiser x y/n#michael kaiser x you#michael kaiser x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n#michael kaiser fluff#kaiser fluff#kaiser x reader fluff#૪ aeri’s fics !
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There has been major developments in the region in the past few days that indicates regional war is imminent. Again the tweets and articles will be in chronological order.
American war ships are in the Mediterranean and Red Seas. Russia responded to that by sending planes to the Black Sea and China by sending warships to Kuwait.
We got our usual back and forth on the ground operation in Gaza
The American media is not really reporting these recent attacks on their military bases. In fact, the military is downplaying the strength of the responses by Yemeni and Syrian groups to the Gaza genocide. This is either because they want to avoid regional war or because they want to be better prepared for regional war.
This statement below seems to indicate that Iran is coming to the conclusion that open warfare is the only thing that will deter America and Israel
As for Yemen, they've declared Israeli ships will be targeted if the attack on Gaza continues (you'll see later that this is no empty threat)
By the way, Israel bombed an Egyptian military site along the border and claimed it was an accident. The Egyptian people have been calling for their government to intervene militarily and I don't think this will ease the pressure.
On the 22nd, Israel sent a small team to infiltrate Gaza. They didn't get very far
They're also struggling against Hezbollah
This meeting by the Russian foreign minister is a big deal as you'll see later
America responds to the escalating tension by deploying 'defensive systems' all over West Asia. It risks stretching itself too thin as multiple countries are already involved in the Palestian resistance with countries like Egypt and Jordan facing internal pressure to do something about the Gazan genocide
Republican Mitch McConnell has recently called Iran, Russia and China 'the new axis of evil'. It seems this is the new angle that the West has chosen because Rishi Sunak has also been comparing Hamas to Russia. This can only lead to Russia getting close to Iran which would ultimately help Hamas.
The situation in Iraq continues to deteriorate as America evacuates its embassy and warns its citizens not to use the Baghdad International Airport due to attacks by Iraqi military groups.
Here we have an Israeli commander admitting that Israel is largely on the defensive against Hezbollah and their soldiers are both traumatised and disheartened. Remember, Hezbollah has yet to officially enter the war
Blinken said that the US 'will be prepared' if Iran escalates its attacks which gives weight to that idea that the US is only trying to deescalate because its not ready yet.
A few hours ago, American bases in Syria were targeted. It's becoming clear that a major goal in the plan to defeat Israel is removing America from the picture in the region
The White House then blames Iran for the attack
More military bases targeted in Iraq
Meanwhile IDF is trying to infiltrate Gaza again. Reminder that a ground operation means that Hezbollah will officially enter the war and begun using its vast numbers of missiles and rockets. They're also attacking the West Bank, the resistance fighters have ambushed them
Yemen follows through on the threats it made by attacking a US warship with drones
Ansarullah claims there was a direct hit but the US Navy says that all drones were intercepted (using days old pictures).
So what now? First, do not expect a ceasefire. Tbh the Palestinian resistance hasn't even called for ceasefire, just an exchange of hostages.
Second of all, America itself does not believe that Israel can win this war so let's all stop acting like Palestine has already lost
Thirdly, regional war is looking more and more like reality
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[[and then i met you || ch.1]]
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary: A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s.
a/n: Reader is an extremely anxious person. That’s the note.
words: 5.6k
You hope Matthew Michael Murdock is a good man.
You tried to research him online, but you didn't find anything that could sway you one way or another.
The news articles say he's some sort of local hero - not only for being a lawyer who does a lot of pro-bono work but for saving a man from being hit by a truck when he was a kid. They all give his tragic backstory before praising him and his law partner for helping the underprivileged and going after some big shot corrupt businessman - twice. The comments are mostly from people he's helped, singing about how Nelson and Murdock saved them in their times of crisis.
You want to trust them, but you can't.
The news also claimed Hitler was Person of the Year and deserved praise, too, and you know how that turned out. Not that you think a blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen can be compared to a genocidal leader, but your mental point to yourself still stands.
You know nothing about Matthew Murdock except he's blind, he's a lawyer, and his dick changed your life.
You doubt he even remembers you - a one-night stand from years ago, before his name even started appearing in the news again, and to be fair, you didn't remember him at first, either. Not until four months later when you went in to get your anxiety medication adjusted and the doctor made you take a routine pregnancy test. Then you remembered the handsome blind lawyer who flirted with you at a friend's holiday party you had gone to. You could remember the silly conversation you had about white elephant, that he had the most charming smile, and he could do things with his tongue that made you moan just thinking about, but you could not remember his name.
You had tried to find him, you really did, but your energy and attention was quickly needed elsewhere and the search for your daughter's father lost steam.
Until you saw him on the television while at the local diner, giving an interview with his law partner.
That was yesterday and now you are standing outside the door of his firm, trying to work up the courage to go in.
There's too many scenarios in your head, all of them bad- he's not going to want anything to do with you and your daughter, which you can deal with, or maybe, just maybe, he'll try to take her away from you. He's a lawyer and you work in billing for a transportation company. There's no doubt who the courts would choose and it wouldn't be you.
The thought makes you want to turn and run but you know your daughter deserves the chance to know her father - and he deserves to know she exists. It's his choice, once he knows, if he wants to be in her life or not, not yours.
It scares you so much it's not your choice.
You scrub at your face, trying to work up the courage to actually open the door in front of you when it does just that.
A kind looking woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the doorway and you recognize her from the firm's website - Karen Page. She's the third partner in the firm and you didn't really look into her in your hunt for information.
She offers you a smile before speaking, "You look like you're debating coming in." You shrug, unsure what to say because that is exactly what you were doing but don't want to admit it. She looks you over without it feeling judgmental before focusing on the manila envelope in your hand. She steps back slightly and gestures for you to come into the office. "You made it this far. Whatever it is, we'll do our best to help you."
The sentiment is so kind and you know she means well, thinking you are a potential client, but it just causes your throat to get even tighter.
It has been you and your daughter for so long, is this really the right path to take?
You hug your file to your chest and take a hesitant step forward. Then another and another until you are in the office. It's not big or fancy and you didn't expect it to be. There's a little waiting area in front of the reception desk, with another desk shoved against a wall, and on either side of the room, doors leading to what you suspect are the private offices.
Karen goes around to the back of the reception desk and picks up a clipboard holding some paperwork and offers it out to you.
You take it and stare down at it, unsure if you would fill it out or not. When you look back up, Karen is still smiling at you and you don't want to come off as a problem, so you take a seat in the waiting area and start filling out the requested information. As you write out your address, it finally occurs to you that you have no idea how to have the conversation you need to have.
Do you ease into it or drop it on him like a bomb? You had only ever thought about finding him and never about what you would say when you did.
You should have taken more time to plan this out. You're such an idiot - you just jumped right into running towards him like you might lose track of him if you took so much as a second to think. You know his name now, who he is, you can take time to get things sorted out properly.
Would it be weird to leave in the middle of filling out paperwork you shouldn't even be bothering with?
Probably not, but you're already here. There is no point in running.
This is for your daughter, not you. You have to keep telling yourself that.
You don't fill out the information asking about your 'case'. It honestly makes you panic a bit if you start thinking about it all in a legal sense - you know nothing about law and the man you're meeting with graduated at the top of his class from a top law school. Your hand is shaking as you add your signature to the bottom of the page and date it. Reviewing everything takes just a moment, since there's barely anything written to begin with, and your eyes drift up to the logo at the top of the page.
Nelson, Murdock, and Page.
You trace it with your finger.
Matthew Murdock has to be a good man. This firm helps people and he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to help people. He graduated top of his class; he could work anywhere he wanted to. The papers said he is good, too - they win most of their cases.
Unless it's all a weird front to hide something like money laundering.
But if they were money launders wouldn't they have enough money to afford an air conditioner?
"All done?"
Karen is in front of you, smiling politely. You are surprised by her appearance, but you don't feel pressured. It's like she's checking in so that she can break you out of your thoughts and you appreciate that. You nod and hand her the clipboard. She takes it, giving it a once over.
"Foggy will be out in just a minute."
Your head jerks up at that.
"No, I need to see Mr. Murdock."
You can tell Karen is surprised by that and her eyes narrow just a fraction. She searches your face, then she looks towards the door on the left.
You turn your head to follow her gaze.
"Matt!" Karen calls out.
A few moments pass before the door opens and you feel like you're going to throw up.
The cameras don't do him justice.
Matthew Murdock is gorgeous. He was handsome before and somehow, he just got hotter. He's a little taller than you, still as lean as you remember, and looking crisp in a gray suit - like some model walked off the catwalk and into a sweltering office. His hair is shorter than you remember it being. You have the distinct memory of being able to grab onto it, but it's too cropped to do that now.
But the thing that catches your attention the most is that in person and in the light, you can see Matthew's hair has an auburn tint to it.
Just like Minnie's.
The realization shakes your entire world.
This man is the father of your child. He's real. He's no longer a concept of a person, who you knew nothing about, who just existed somewhere in the world.
You have to look away before you start to cry. You don't know where this surge of emotion is coming from - it feels like this wave of relief. This question you have always had finally has an answer.
You tell yourself to take a breath, you know getting overly emotional isn't going to help anything. It might actually make things worse and spiraling into a meltdown is not a good first impression.
You can see Karen in your peripheral vision, and you look up to her, trying to regain your focus.
It's Matthew who speaks first, "Yes, Karen?"
"We have a walk-in who is hoping she can speak with you."
You introduce yourself, standing up as you do. You know he is blind, so you don't offer your hand. Instead you clutch your folder to your chest.
He doesn't seem to remember your name. He turns towards you and gives a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Matthew Murdock, but you seem to know that. I have some time right now, please come in. Karen, can you grab us some water before you join us?"
"Yeah, sure," Karen says as she turns to do just that.
Your throat gets tight again.
You don't want to have this conversation with someone else there. It's already going to be hard enough. You'll definitely start crying if Karen is in the room. You cannot deal with two people's reactions. The mere thought of you having to do that is making you sweat.
Matthew's voice breaks you out of your panic. "If that is okay?"
You rush out your response, "I would prefer to speak alone, please." You're too panicked to feel embarrassment.
Karen doesn't seem phased by this. She is still grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and offering one out to you. You take it.
"Not a problem, let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks, Kare. Please, come this way," Matthew motions for you to follow him into the office.
This is it.
Once you go through that door, you aren't leaving that room without telling Matthew Murdock he is a father.
You surprise yourself by not hesitating and just charging forward into the office.
This isn't about you or your fears.
This is for Minnie.
You keep your gaze forward because you can't bring yourself to look at him. If you stop and look at him before you tell him why you are here, you will just start over analyzing everything once again. You silently beg to whatever gods will listen that everything will be okay, and this man won't destroy you.
He doesn't look like he is going to break your heart.
But you know that looks mean nothing when it comes to pain.
He closes the door behind you with an audible click and the weight of the moment starts to come down on your shoulders.
You take the seat in front of the desk quickly, worried your nerves might catch up with you, placing the water on the ground beside you with your purse when you sit. Matthew doesn't rush, he walks to his desk with an air of quiet confidence and if you were a client, it would be comforting, but you aren't and all it does is remind you why you fell into bed with him.
"What brings you in today, Miss..?" He trails off, prompting you to say your name again. As he reaches his desk you watch as he trails his fingers along the edge, using it as a guide, before moving his hand to brush over the back of his seat before sitting in it.
You chew your bottom lip, wishing you had taken a second to actually plan what you would say instead of jumping in. As far as you know, there isn't a step-by-step guide on how to tell a one-night stand that he's the father of your child - not that you actually looked into that in your desperate research the night before.
Matthew doesn't push as you gather your thoughts. He moves some paperwork away from the center of his desk, then folds his hands there, waiting. You keep your gaze on his hands, needing something to focus your eyes on while you force the truth out.
"I saw your interview last night," you say, deciding to start there, as it seems the most relatable.
Matthew's brows knit together and he tilts his head to the side and you are one again reminded of Minnie. It's a gesture she does often, tilting her little head left and right as she tries to understand something. It always reminded you of a dog and now you wonder if it's not a learned behavior, but genetic.
His lips turn down into a frown and his head stays cocked as he asks, "Do you have information about the Lynch case?"
Heat rushes to your cheeks - of course that would be the question to ask after bringing up the interview. The whole piece was about a specific case they were working on and how it would affect Hell's Kitchen and you hadn't paid any attention to what was said - not after you realized who was on the screen.
You shake your head, resisting the urge to look away and you curl your fingers tighter around the manila folder in your lap. "No, I'm sorry. I saw you and…recognized you."
He straightens up and his demeanor shifts to something less…friendly. It's minute but your messed-up brain screams at you about body language - his shoulders have squared up and you can see where he's clenching his back teeth. You quickly continue on, wanting to get through with your explanation before your anxiety makes you clam up.
"We met nearly five years ago," your voice is firm and factual and you're proud of yourself for that, "at a holiday party."
The words leave your mouth and you know he knows. Every part of him seems to go still - even his breathing seems to stop. The crease between his brow smoothes out, like he's gone from squinting to wide eyes behind his dark glasses. Your heart is pounding in your ears and your throat is getting stiff, but your voice remains steady as you push the words out.
"I think you are the father of my child."
All the color seems to leave Matthew's face and he looks nearly as gray as his suit. The reaction makes your stomach turn. He looks like he is going to throw up.
You bite into your lip, waiting for Matthew to do or say something. All you can do is mentally chant to yourself: he's a good man, he won't take her away.
You know it's probably just seconds, but it feels like hours pass before Matthew moves.
He leans slowly back in his chair, reaching up with one hand to rub at his mouth.
"Are you sure?"
He doesn't sound upset, at least to your ears. His words are cautious - tentative - and it makes your heart go tight in your chest. You don't know if it's fear or hope or everything crashing into you at once now that he knows.
You force out a nod before you remember that the man in front of you is blind. You find your voice and words creep out.
"I'm pretty sure," you start. Your eyes drop away from his hands back down to your lap and you have to lick at your lips to wet them before continuing, "I didn't go out much after that party, I got so busy with work. I didn't…find out until the first trimester was over. By then, I couldn't remember your name. My friends who I went to the party with didn't know you either. I tried to Google you with what information I had, but 'blind lawyer' just got me a lot of disability lawyers." You take a shaky breath, "I understand if you want a paternity test."
You know Matthew is probably taking everything in, but now that you've started talking, it's like you've lifted the dam on your anxiety. You squeeze the file in your lap - just because you hadn't known how you were going to tell Matthew the truth did not mean you hadn't extensively thought about the consequences. Words start to spill out of you.
"I also understand if you don't want anything to do with us, I get it's a big shock. I'm not looking for anything from you." Matthew drops his hand to the desk and if you didn't know better, it would look like he was staring at you. "I just wanted you to know and I thought it would be good for her to know you, but if you don't want that, I get it. All I ask is you fill out some paperwork, medical history mostly so I know if there's anything I need to look out for. I printed it out for you, it's all in braille."
You get up just enough so that you can place the manila envelope on the desk, then sit back down. Your throat is getting so tight and stiff you feel like you're struggling to breathe.
Matthew runs his hand over his desk until he can feel the envelope. His fingers move along the edge and you stare at them, like they are going to be the one to reveal what Matthew is thinking instead of his mouth. He finds the lip but doesn't open, instead flattening his palm against it.
"...her?"
His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. You lift your head to finally look at him and your heart skips a beat.
Matthew looks so soft. The corners of his lips twitch a few times before a smile slowly spreads across his face.
And you know.
You know without a doubt he is your daughter's father. They have the exact same smile. You can't help but to grin as well.
This is good, isn't it? He looks Happy.
"I have a daughter.."
"Winifred.. Winifred Love," you offer. Matthew lifts his head and tilts it towards you, brow wrinkling slightly.
"Love…?" He asks, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity.
You close your eyes in a bit of embarrassment, as you always do during the story, "I meant to put Grace, but I was out of it. I even put a big heart next to it on the paperwork." You aren't ashamed of the story and you love your daughter's name, but it's always a 'oops I was high' moment, even if it was done with the purest intention.
If possible, Matthew's smile gets even bigger.
"Winifred Love," he says, his voice dropping back down to the barely there whisper.
"She goes by Minnie. Like, um.. Like Minnie Mouse," you say. That gets an amused yet fond chuckle. You find yourself relaxing at the noise - like some of the pressure squeezing on your lungs has been lifted and you can finally breathe.
He repeats her nickname and you feel your lips start to turn up.
"How old..?" His voice cracks with emotion and Matthew has to clear his throat before continuing, "how old is she?"
"Three and a half," you answer quickly, "her birthday is a few months away." You bite your lip then hesitantly add, "She wants to go to the zoo. It's all she talks about."
"Yeah?" Matthew prompts. His smile is so so soft and it makes your stomach turn in this pleasant way. However, you were expecting him to act, this is not it. In your heart, you think the best you were going for was acceptance, but this seems much more than that. There is a stinging in the corner of your eyes and you have to take your own steadying breath continuing on.
"Yeah, um.. She…likes maps right now. I got her a map to the zoo and she's got the whole day planned." Which is very much true - your coffee table has been the home of a makeshift zoo diorama for a little over a week now and the itinerary has changed about twenty times.
Matthew ducks his head and nods a little, taking all the information in. You squeeze your fingers in your lap, needing a way to release the nerves still buzzing inside you.
A few moments pass before Matthew clears his throat again, "What else does she like..?"
The question makes you chuckle just a little bit, only because gushing about your daughter is something you're very good at. Since you work at home, it is just the two of you ninety percent of the time, you don't get to coo over her very often.
"She loves arts and crafts - anything she can get her little hands on. Right now she loves pipe cleaners and paper, things she can bend and fold, you know? I set her next to me while working and she'll just fold paper into little shapes. Not origami or anything, just abstract things, she doesn't plan it. She always wants to help, too, whatever I'm doing. Cooking and cleaning. She is the best helper for grocery shopping." You pause, looking over Matthew's smile for a moment before continuing on, tears starting to gather in your eyes.
"She looks just like you," you admit, fondness clear in your voice because it is so so true. Now that you are properly looking at him, Minnie looks just like Matthew, and telling him that makes him light up even more. "You've got the same smile. The same hair. Hers is a little more red, but it's definitely from you."
You watch Matthew lick at his lips and you want to know what is going on in his head. You think everything is going well, even if you are on the verge of crying. They are tears of relief - relief you weren't told to fuck off or to go get your own lawyer. You don't fully know if Matthew Murdock is a good man, but you're over the first hurdle and the prospects are looking good.
Matthew leans back into his chair, inhaling deeply, as if centering himself, then asks, "Why now? Why find me now?"
"Like I said, I couldn't find you, I didn't know anything about you, really, except what you looked like and you were a lawyer. I did try, I really did, but…" you trail off with a shrug, "I had a newborn."
Matthew seems to accept that answer - it is the truth after all - and continues on, "But you saw the interview... Last night?"
You nod, "I was picking up some dinner and they were playing the news at the diner. I saw it and looked you up and now…now you know."
"Now I know…" Matthew repeats slowly, his smile dropping a little and you wonder if is hitting him in different waves, like it did you - the realization he is a father. You know it is an intense roller coaster and you are not going to try to guide his ride, especially after just kind of dropping it on him.
He taps the manila folder in front of him, the crease returning to his brow, "What is this?"
Your cheeks get hot again and you turn your gaze away from him and back to your lap, "Requests for family medical history and information about how to establish paternity, if that's what you want."
"It is," Matthew rushes out. Your head jerks up and his expression looks serious, "I want that. I want to be in her life."
He sounds so sure of himself that it makes your head spin a little. You built up in your mind he either wouldn't want anything to do with you and Minnie or he was going to try to take her away - you hadn't really considered the obvious option that Matthew would just want to be involved. At least, that is what you are hoping he is implying.
"I won't abandon my daughter," the conviction in his voice startles you, but it also makes your heart twist but in a good way because in that moment, you believe him. "And I won't abandon you. I used to question if I had the right to bring a child into my life, but this isn't a hypothetical anymore…. And I can't.." he trails off and leans back into his chair, rubbing at his mouth again. You don't press, you have no right to when you've come out of the blue and changed his entire world. He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I can't step away now that I know she is out there."
You quickly shake your head at his words, "You don't need to rush into anything, I mean it, I don't want anything from you but for you to have the chance to know her. We can go slow, she's still little, you know? She can't handle a big change. Start small?"
You're more worried about how he is feeling versus what you are. You have at least prepared yourself to have a reaction - he thought he would be having a normal work day and you've given him a lot to process in the last five minutes.
"We can go at your pace, Matthew."
He drops his hand from his face, a smile coming back to his face, "You can call me Matt."
You repeat your preferred name, then apologize, "I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere. I didn't want to lose track of you again, but I could have scheduled an appointment."
Matt shakes his head a little, "No, I get it." His hand goes back to the envelope, like touching it is grounding him like squeezing your fingers is grounding you. "I'm glad you came…I'm glad…thank you. Thank you for telling me."
Part of you wants to reach across the desk and squeeze his hand, to give him comfort and let him know everything will be okay, but you don't dare. He's still a stranger, despite everything. You decide pushing past the emotional to the practical might be the best approach for now. You need to get your anxiety to settle now that you know your world isn't going to end and the best thing for that, in your mind, is getting an action plan.
"I don't know what the steps are for doing this," you start, trying to think up ideas as you talk, "but I think maybe we could…get together again and plan things out? Give you time to adjust to the idea and let you think about how you want to move forward?"
Matt nods along with your words, "That sounds like a good idea."
You bend down to grab your phone out of your purse, "I put my contact information in the packet, but could I get yours?"
He waits until you are ready, then gives you his personal number then the office number. You do the quick song and dance of calling his phone, so that he has your number and you wait patiently as he adds you as a contact. Hearing the voice commands to navigate a phone is new to you and once he is done putting in your information, you let your curiosity get the better of you.
"Do you prefer texting or phone calls?"
"Phone calls would be preferable," Matt says as he sets his phone on his desk, having held it up to speak clearly into it, "I have text to speech but it's not always the easiest for texting."
You nod in understanding, "Got it." You squirm in your seat, unsure of what comes next, so you say the very first thing that comes to mind. "You can call anytime. I work from home so you don't have to worry about interrupting anything…like I'm doing with you."
He hums, then asks, "What does Minnie do during the day?"
"She stays with me, mostly. There's a daycare down the block she goes to if I need someone to watch her. That's where she is now."
That makes Matt frown just slightly and part of you panics that he disapproves. "Is it just the two of you…?"
"Yes."
You say it with confidence. You've worked hard to get where you are alone and despite all you've been through, you are proud of that. "My parents passed when I was in college and I don't have any siblings. We've managed to do pretty well on our own. It's not the biggest, but we have a little place in Chelsea."
The little frown stays and you don't know what it means - you hope it's over you not having a big support system and not something else. Matt looks like he is going to respond but a knock at the door cuts him off. You jump at the noise, having totally forgotten there were other people in the office.
Matt looks slightly annoyed when he calls out, "Yes?"
The door opens and the final partner for the law firm is there. "Pardon the intrusion," he says to you with a nod before addressing Matt, "They've got that guy from last week at the 15th. He's asking for us specifically."
Matt openly scowls before running a hand over his face, "Okay. Give me a few minutes."
Foggy nods before stepping back out and closing the door.
"I'm sorry," Matt says sheepishly.
You cut him off before he can say more, standing as you do, "Please don't be, I really did just barge in on you at work. I can call you later? Or you can call me?"
Matt gets up as well, starting to come around the desk, "I can call you." He hesitates just a second, then ducks his chin, that little smile reappearing and your heart does that funny flip again. "Maybe we can get lunch?"
You smile back, "I would like that. We can start planning." You bite your bottom lip, then add, "I can bring Minnie…?"
Matt's entire face lights up and the awkwardness of trying to end your talk evaporates. "I would like that. A lot." He motions to his desk, "I'll work on getting that back to you. I want to…I want to do this right."
"I do, too."
It feels like a promise. You want to believe Matt - that he wants this and won't disappear at the first minor inconvenience. You've read so many horror stories about bad parents and you don't want any of that for Minnie.
You grab your purse and the water Karen gave you, then finally give Matt a proper look over.
You enjoyed your night together with him. Not only had he been a phenomenal lover, but he had made you smile and laugh. You weren't nearly as anxious then as you are now, but you had been rather nervous being flirted with by a handsome lawyer and he had made you feel at ease. Bringing him home with you had been an easy choice.
He must sense you smiling somehow, maybe you giggled or something, but his smile, which had started to fall, brightens back up.
"Can I ask you something before you go?"
You nod to his question, catch yourself and reply, "Of course."
"Can you tell me what she looks like?"
Guilt courses through you and biting your lip turns painful, "I'm so sorry, of course. Um, I included pictures in the packet with descriptions but, of course." His face drops into something a little nervous so you launch into the description of your daughter, emphasizing how they have the same smile because you can’t get over that. You can't help yourself and start describing some of the pictures you included.
"She has this big noise canceling headband so she can sleep comfortably - she doesn't like loud noises - but because she is three, she refuses to wear it unless it's cute. So we crochet little sleeves for it. One of the pictures is her asleep on our couch, face down, because that's how she sleeps, wearing her favorite sleeve. It's Spider-Man the-"
There's a quick series of taps on the door before it opens again.
"Buddy, we gotta go."
You start to apologize, but Matt speaks over you, his voice a little firm as his expression drops, "I'll be right there, Foggy."
A silent conversation seems to go through them, as Foggy raises his eyebrows at Matt and Matt does the same right back. Foggy steps out of the office, closing the door behind him.
"Let me walk you out?" Matt asks, motioning to the door.
"Thank you."
You let him open the door and you follow him into the reception office. Foggy is looking at his phone while waiting by Karen's desk as she finishes packing her laptop. You cross the room in silence as Matt leads you from the office. Once you are in the hallway, he speaks to you in a soft voice.
"Can I call you tonight?"
"Yes, please."
"Does eight work?"
"That's perfect."
"I'll talk to you then."
You force yourself to be the one to turn away and start walking towards the stairs. As you get to them, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth to try to suppress your smile.
Maybe the papers are right and Matthew Murdock is a good man.
You really hope he's a good father too.
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stepbro!sammy who manipulates you into sleeping with him to “help your cramps”!!! except he’s way too rough and it doesn’t help
thirza blessing us with a filthy ask today…
18+ MDNI
just a reminder that you are responsible for the media you consume! if you don’t like it, DON’T FUCKING READ IT! anyways bear🐻 presents..
cw: PERIOD SEX! STEPCEST! fem!reader, dom!sam, coercion kinda so slight dub-con, creampie, oral (fem receiving), cum-eating.
“cmon, lemme help! i read it in an article once.”
you roll your eyes as your step-brother continues to pester you about trying to help with your period cramps. sam sits next to you on your bed while you lie on your back, clearly struggling with your ailments.
“sam i’m not going to fuck you just because you think it’ll help with my cramps.”
you huff out in frustration at his naïve horniness, knowing he’s just trying to get inside you. despite this, he persists.
“i know it’ll help! you’ll enjoy it too..”
“will not! it’ll be all wet and messy- not to mention gross! we’d have to lay a towel down.”
sam groans out and throws his head back, obviously annoyed with your refusal to his lust-filled proposal.
“oh please, it’s not like the sex we usually have isn’t messy already.”
your jaw drops at his disgusting (but true) statement, trying to deny that the two of you have had sex before. he’s your step-brother after all!
“n-no! i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
sam chuckles at your half-witted attempt of a lie while you try and avert your gaze from the growing bulge in his jeans.
“i think you do, sweetie. i know you haven’t forgotten about the other night..”
his dirty whispers fill your head up with images of your mouth around sam’s cock, his hands in your hair as he face fucks you rough. the night ended with your mascara smeared and your swollen lips covered in your step-brother’s milky seed.
while you were lost in thought, sam slipped next to you, his warm breath hitting your ear and leaving you flushed.
“now you remember, don’t you? cmon baby, let your big brother make you feel better.”
only a few minutes later were you bent over on all fours, sam’s thick cock ramming into you from behind. the blood spilling from your entrance served as lube for him, making each thrust let out a wet squelching noise.
he pounded into you hard and rough, leaving no room for the ‘relief’ he promised. the tip of sam’s cock kissed your cervix and forced its way into you, causing you to let out squeals of pain and pleasure.
sam’s hand was placed where your ass met your lower back, pushing you back and forth on his cock to help him thrust inside you. his other hand was tangled in your hair, using it as a handle for him.
“sweet jesus. look at you taking your brother’s cock so well. my cock looks so good covered in your blood, baby.”
you let out whimpers of protest in response, seemingly begging him to slow down or be a little more gentle, but you’re only met with maniacal chuckles in response.
sam’s hand weaves out of your hair to hold the back of your head, pushing it down into the mattress and effectively silencing you so his groans and smacking skin are the sounds left in the bedroom.
with every thrust into you, your step-brother’s heavy balls smack your sensitive clit, sending shivers through your fucked-out body. looking down at the bloody mess only turned sam on more, leaving him staring down at his cock slamming in and out of your tight cunt. the sight makes his balls tighten and his cock throb, bringing him closer and closer to his peak.
“holy fuck i’m gonna cum in this tight pussy.”
sam moans out loud and slaps your ass, marking his territory. he gives you three or four hard thrusts and spills his load into you in thick ropes of cum, leaving you spent beneath him without an orgasm yet.
before your disappointment can fulling fester, sam is pulling out of your cunt and bending down to face your pussy. he places both hands on your ass cheeks and dives face first into your cunt, slurping and sucking out his own cum.
you’re left speechless, only able to let out wanton moans and squeals of absolute bliss as your step-brother eats you out like a man starved. with each flick and touch of his blood-covered tongue you’re pulled closer to the edge of your orgasm.
“sammy i’m gonna cum! oh my god-”
sam’s hands grip your ass harder and your toes curl as your orgasm comes over you in a large wave, leaving you shaking and spasming against his tongue. sam continues to slurp and lick his way through your climax till you’re completely slumped against the mattress below you.
while you’re trying to catch your breath, huffing and puffing on all fours, sam stands up and wipes his blood and cum covered mouth with the back of his hand.
“so are those cramps gone yet?”
ty for the ask <3
taglist <inbox me if you wanna be added!> : @zapernz @mortalheartache @geekforhorror @bunnylovesani
#bear rambles#sam monroe smut#sam monroe x reader#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker smut#anakin smut#ty for the ask <3#this is really nasty
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method acting ☆ cl16
genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates
word count: 5.1k
cherry here!... first req that turns into a mini series and I'M SO EXCITED. the idea was perfect and i really hope you all enjoy this little story based off one of the best films :) common changes and adjustments are made for the plot but HAPPY READING
*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?
ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six
Chapter 1
Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.
Parents know best - at least that’s what we’re all told growing up. How about bioengineering? Cardiothoracic surgeon? Architecture? With braces and a messy fishtail, you shake your head profusely as you clutch onto your notebook.
"No. Journalism."
“Why didn’t I listen to my mom?” Groaning, you rub your tired hands all over your face as your roommate stares back, bewildered by your sudden frustration.
“You’re telling me doing open heart surgery would have been better than writing an article?”
Aiming a pencil at her, you gasp as you cover your mouth and she squints her brown eyes at you. “I am so sorry!” Running up, you hug her desperately. “I’m just stressed, I’m stressed, I’m stressed!” You pull away. “I’m stressed.”
Amelia chuckles as she sits down on a stool, pointing for you to do the same. “You, my serial killer friend, need a break.” You frown at her choice of words. If I take a break then I’m going to get fired. She smiles brightly. “You won’t though.”
You can distinctively pinpoint the moment a ripped up journal turned into a laptop. It was senior year of highschool and you finally had the courage to confront your parents and tell them that you, if fact, were not joking about your bachelors in journalism.
"Darling, how will you make a living out of something like that?"
For a moment, her words had you second guessing your choices. Could she be onto something? Know something perhaps you don’t? The older, the wiser, no?
But you had already applied - it was done. So you tipped your head firmly, clicked your tongue against your straight teeth, and smiled.
"I’ll find a way."
You moan softly as you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. “What I would give to just be an elementary school teacher…Grading papers, cute kids-”
“Shit everywhere, tantrums, headaches, signs of early aging - oh God - receding hairline!” Amelia pales as she scrunches her nose in disgust. “Nightmare.” The blonde reaches for your hands, intertwining her fingers into yours. “But this is your dream, it’s what you're good at. Don’t let a little writer's block scare you away.”
-
“Goodness gracious! Are you alright?” Lucy’s southern accent surprises you as you fix your crutches. The older lady had been working at the famous magazine company since you can remember, always a cheerful receptionist. Loud, too.
You wince. “Oh, you know…clumsy me?”
"Eleanor is never going to let me take a vacation. I would have to die first."
Amelia’s eyes twinkle deviously.
"Then that’s what we’ll do."
"Die?"
“It’s okay, I could open it myself,” you yelp as Lucy swings the door to your boss’ office. Let me, she insists as she pushes you in. Tumbling, you hurry to fix your posture as you nervously giggle, beady eyes staring back at your rude interruption. “I had no idea you were in the middle of a meeting.”
Eleanor and a crowded room all look you up and down before she sighs. “You’re already here, what is it that you need?” You shudder at her cold tone.
“I- uh- I mean, if it’s possible, I was t-thinking I could maybe get a m-m-month off?”
Oh no, someone whispers as they catch the editor-in-cheifs face change. Your stomach drops. Or not, I’m fine! The gray haired lady stands up as she tauntingly makes her way over, circling you like a hungry lion. “And why do you need a month off?”
“Doctor’s orders?”
She hums, analyzing your casted leg and left arm. “I’m sure you can type with your right hand. Off you go.” You blink. Once she takes a seat, she narrows her eyes again. “I said you can go.”
“Of course. Have a nice day.”
"She’s going to see right through me," you repeat for the millionth time as Amelia's boyfriend, Roman, works on the fake casts.
She groans. "With that attitude she will! Get it together. You have to stand your ground and don't dare walk out of that office without a month off."
Terrified of your best friend, you nod. "Thank you again for this future doc, hope you don’t get fired."
He pales. "The things we do for the people we love, am I right?" Amelia blushes.
Letting out a shaky breath, you brace yourself before tripping and falling straight onto your back. The whole room gasps in shock as Eleanor stares back with a bored expression. Shit, are you okay? Peeking with one eye, you catch Grayson - Eleanor’s son - staring back with a helpful hand.
He had always been nice to you, bringing you coffee whenever he was around. Sometimes he even helped you brainstorm new ideas. Your heart rate accelerates as you struggle to get up. Mother, she can’t be working in this condition. She huffs as she waves her hand in dismissal, Dior bracelets clicking against one another.
A month. That’s it.
“Thank you,” you whisper as he helps you into your overly priced Uber. He tilts his head, slowly tracing your features.
“You're lying, aren’t you?” He signals at your poorly done cast.
“I c-can explain-”
He laughs. “Your secret's safe with me.” Reaching over, he buckles you. Your breath hitches. “Enjoy your time off. I’ll be waiting for you.”
-
“I’ll be waiting for you!” You swoon as you retell your embarrassing story to the cozy couple who cuddle on the couch like proud parents.
Amelia claps. “He’s the one! I feel it!” Roman scoffs. Settle down, daydreamers. Your friend slaps his hand. “Debbie Downer.” You giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows. “So…what are you going to do now that you're free?”
You tap your chin. “Um, probably write.”
Her smile falls. “This is the whole reason we even did any of this! For you to not think and just enjoy yourself!”
Her boyfriend nods, floppy hair bouncing up and down. “Yeah, I didn’t go through all that,” he signals to the casts that lay by the doorway, “Just for you to lay around doing what you always do.” He stands up to grab an apple. “Travel, I’m serious.”
-
Amalfi Coast. It called you poor in seven different languages as you tug your suitcase into your AirBnB. Amelia and Roman had sat through 8 hours of planning everything, detail and safety included.
"Oh, click that one!" Roman tsks his tongue as his fingers slide against the keypad. The blonde beams. "That’s perfect!"
"Perfectly out of my range," you sigh as you slap it shut. "I’ll die homeless if I stay there." The couple share a silent look before returning their attention.
"Well, we were thinking… " the brunette starts before your friend cuts him off, jumping up and down on his lap. He groans.
"Sorry, honey, but anyways, we’ll pay for it!" Your jaw drops as you wave your finger, shutting down the idea.
"There’s no way I’m going to let you guys do that-"
"Okay, maybe not all, but at least a good chunk of it," she butts in as Roman stays with a soft smile. "Isn’t that right? " He nods.
"Take it as an early birthday present," he adds. Your chest tightens at their kind gesture.
"That’s still a lot of money." You grow light headed.
"Then no birthday presents for two years," Amelia squeaks as she grabs your hands over the coffee table. "Just don’t say no, you need this." You debate inside your head for a few minutes before letting out a shaky breath.
"No birthday presents for the rest of my life and we have ourselves a deal."
Which is how you landed in one the most beautiful homes you think you will ever see in your entire life. You can’t even pretend to try and fit in because everything seems to make your eyes pop out of their sockets.
After a bit of unpacking, your sweet tooth gets the best out of you as you grab your purse and head out the door. You can’t help but take pictures at almost everything you see, but everyone was doing the same so there couldn’t be too much judgment. Paying for your lemon sorbet, you hum constantly as you stare into the ocean. The breeze was warm, but not obnoxiously so. The rocks underneath you tickle slightly as you get comfortable.
Then you hear it, light snores. Startled, you turn over as you catch a man sleeping, arm laying over his stomach. You think about maybe moving location but when he releases soft whimpers, you find yourself growing sympathetic. What if he was in trouble? You couldn’t let a person die if they were three feet away from you. Hesitantly, you crawl your way over as you tap his leg.
“Ciao,” you say, but you can only catch his nose scrunching up since he had a hat laying over him, covering his mysterious features. Biting down on your lip, you dig your finger harder. “Ciaooo.” Sitting up abruptly, he groans, shoulder bumping against your cone. You yelp before pouting at your treat melting all over the surface.
“Oh merda, colpa mia,” he apologizes as soon as he notices your gloomy mood. “Posso comprartene un altro se vuoi, ti prometto che non sono un serial killer-” Like a cat being bathed, you jump up high as you create a large distance.
“Serial killer?” you squeal. He catches onto your accent swiftly as he waved his hands in defense.
“I’m not! I’m not!” You eyed him suspiciously, chest heaving heavily. “I was offering to buy you another cone and saying that I’m not a sick serial killer, that’s all…” He signals to your desert. “I feel bad.”
Releasing a soft breath of relief, you smile politely. “Don’t worry about it. I was just trying to see if you were okay, you were kind of…” You theatrically twitch as he chuckles. Your cheeks burn up at the sound.
“I’m fine, thank you.” A beat. “Sort of.” Softly narrowed eyes stare back at him. Do you need anything? He winces at the bright sun. “I feel a bit sick, if I’m being honest.” He zigzags a bit before falling straight into the rocks, painful grunts following. You shriek as you run over, flipping him onto his back.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck.” Other than a cut up lip, he’s fine, but he groans like there’s no tomorrow. Rightfully so, you start panicking as you dab his bottom lip with the hem of your shirt, then you remove his hat.
“Don’t!” But you’re already tossing it over your shoulder as you analyze his bruised up cheek.
Green eyes look into yours as you stop breathing. His eyes are sensitive, like some sort of past soulmate, if you believe in that type of bullshit. His hair is rusty brown, long strands hitting up to his lashes. His nose is slightly pointy and it’s worse that they’ve always been your favorite kind. Lip swollen from his clumsiness, but a natural pink. Freckles and moles sprinkle along his face.
Scooting away, he raises finger over his lips, cryptically telling you to hush. Confused, you lay your palm against his cheekbone. “You need to see a doctor.” Now he becomes visibly bewildered as he cocks his head to the side. You don’t know who I am? Flushed, you extend your hand, introducing yourself. “And you are?”
The brunette lets out an unhinged laugh as his large hand swallows yours. “Charles, I- I m-my name is Charles.” Dimples pop up from how wide he’s smiling, and that almost leaves you gasping for air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Then he grabs his head in discomfort. “Seriously though, you need to see a doctor.” No, he starts. You roll your eyes. “Fine, a medico or whatever you want to call it.” Helping him up, he leans against you as you wheeze.
“I’m perfectly fine, I just need to sleep.” He pants against your head, catching a whiff of your shampoo scent. “Pretty,” he mumbles. You blush harder. “Do you think you can take me to the nearest hotel?”
“I don’t know if that's such a good idea,” you mutter. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t know you at all.” He shyly nods before removing his arm away from your figure, and all of a sudden it’s cold.
“I get it, don’t worry.” The green eyed boy waves goodbye before stumbling away.
You have always been a bit of a people pleaser, one of your many flaws. Amelia and Roman had always called you out on it, stopping you from making stupid decisions.
But Amelia and Roman weren't here.
“Wait.” Charles turns around, loopy eyes squinting at your blurry physique. Making your way over, you take his arm and place it over you. “You can stay with me, I’m just up that hill.”
-
“You can’t be helping out boujee vagrants,” your friends scold you over the phone as you grimace. “Why would you do that?”
You nibble on your painted nail. “I felt bad…”
Roman snickers before coming into frame. “What if he’s some kind of maniac?” Like a child, you shake your head.
“He said he wasn’t!”
The couple groan at your naiveness. “Boy, let’s just trust everyone we meet then!” The blonde pushes her face directly onto the screen. “You need to slap him awake and kick him out.”
But there was something so peaceful and homey about the way Charles was sleeping, covered like a butterfly in a cocoon. His chest rises up and down as he occasionally reaches for the other pillow, bringing towards his chest. With one last glaze, you leave the bedroom.
“I can’t do that to him. He was in really bad shape, you should have seen him.”
God can’t even help her, Roman grunts before strolling away. Amelia sighs. “Listen, I know you’re just being a good person, but you don’t even know this guy. We just want you to be safe.” I know, you mumble, chewing on your hoodie’s string. She tips her head. “Let him stay the night if you want, but tomorrow, he leaves. I’m not playing around.”
“Tomorrow,” you reassure her before hanging up.
-
He had slept for a day and a half and you were starting to get worried but after contemplating throwing his body over the balcony, he was stretching like a newborn baby. “That was the best nap I’ve had in years.” You chuckle awkwardly at the stranger.
“That was most definitely not a nap.”
He smiles. “Did you sleep well?”
“So good,” you respond quickly and he would have settled with that if it weren’t for your dark under eyes.
“Shit, you haven’t slept?”
“I did, I promise!” Green eyes reflect intently as you crumble. “Okay, I didn’t, but it was only for two days.” Two? You cringe. “There was just one bed and I didn’t know whether you were-” You trail off.
“Wasn’t what?”
Maroon paints your cheekbones. “A psycho killer…” You can tell he’s offended by the way he rubs the tip of his nose, as if he’s trying to ease the tension.
“I’m not the Monster of Florence or anything like that,” he mutters as you begin to apologize, watching as he sits far enough away just in case you feel the need to bolt out the door. “But I understand why you don’t trust me. We don’t know each other…So, why don’t we work on that?”
It takes about an hour for him to tell you what he considers the basics about his entire persona, and you rant about your upbringing. He frowns.
“That must have sucked. Not having parents who believe in you.” You flinch at his truthful words.
“I think they’re starting to get it,” you pathetically try but even he can see right through your weak excuse. Focusing your attention onto your twiddling thumbs, you exhale. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a mechanic?”
The Monegasque seems stunned for a nanosecond before munching on a blueberry and crossing his arms. “Their only priority was for me to be happy and doing what I love.” You smile sadly.
“Are you happy? Do you love it?”
“It’s my favorite thing in the world.”
You feel a giggle bubbling inside your throat with the way he speaks about his job, but then you’d be doing the exact same thing that others do to you. He coughs. “So tell me, you really faked an injury?”
Your stomach hurts from how much Charles was making you laugh and before either of you knew it, the sun had set. “Did we really just waste an entire day?”
“I don’t see it as wasting my day. I really like talking to you.”
Forcing yourself to look away, you untuck your legs from underneath your butt. “Wanna grab something to eat?”
There’s a comfortable silence that lingers between you both as you walk the busy streets of Amalfi. “Do you really need to wear a beanie? It’s burning hot.” Looking around, he shrugs and continues walking.
You settled on sharing a plate of pasta since it was almost bedtime and neither of you weren't that hungry. “Good, right?” he questions the moment you shut your eyes about the delicious taste. You hum.
“Free orgasm right here.”
Choking on his food, he quickly takes a sip of water as you smack his back. “I think I’m good now,” he squeaks as you smile timidly. You can feel the way he judges you as you devour your fair share, but you can’t help it. Connecting your gaze to his, he looks away as he drops his fork against the fancy plate. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“Oh. Yeah, no problem.”
The brunette chews on his bottom lip. “It was nice getting to know you, really.” You blink back dazed as he continues. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”
“You’re leaving?” Even your inquiry shocks you as he smiles back warmly. I don’t want to interrupt. You’re looking for peace, remember? Trying to think of a quick enough excuse, you say, “Having someone to keep me company doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I-I mean if you’re not busy.”
Under the table, you were crossing your fingers as he took in your offer. The brunette nods. “I guess it could be fun.”
-
“You did the right thing,” Amelia congratulates you the next time you call her. “Rather be safe than sorry.”
Just then, Charles walks in with a bag of peaches, grinning proudly as he makes his way over. “Agreed. Listen Amelia, I have to go. Adventure awaits! Tell Roman that I miss him! Talk to you later!” Hanging up, you greet your roommate. Awkwardly, he passes you the juicy fruit.
“Friend back home?” You hum, biting down. Taking a bite of his own, he bows his head. “You miss your boyfriend?” You stop chewing.
“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Roman?” He clenches his jaw, then relaxes. You cackle loudly. “He’s my best friend's boyfriend,” you clarify. “We’re close - all of us.”
“Oh.” Tossing the seed away, he rises up to his full height. “Wanna see something cool?”
-
“You got insurance?” you joke as he covers your eyes, leading you mysteriously. You’re not going to get hurt or die if that’s what you’re worried about. You giggle. Okay, we’re here. Removing his hands, you take a minute to adjust your eyesight. “What the fu-”
“Cool, right?”
You scoff. “Cool? This is beautiful.” Running over to the cherry red Ferrari, you reach out before turning back to the 26 year old. He nods. Delicately, you brush your hand against the leather seats. “Where did you get this?”
“I know a guy.”
“Mafia leader?”
“Ha-ha,” he mocks as he unlocks it, going in to open the door. “Hop in.”
Humid wind sends your hair flying as you let out loud shrieks from the speed. You don’t know how he found such an isolated spot, but you don’t ask questions with how much you enjoy the thrill. “Again, again!” you cheer as he does professional donuts. The car comes to a halt as you fling forward and he stays as straight as can be.
“How about I teach you?”
“Okay, put the car in gear.” Following instructions, you listen attentively. “Turn the wheel and floor it, but make sure to be alert and keep your foot on the brake just in case.” Swinging harshly, you let out a scream. “It’s okay, try again.”
After a while, you still couldn’t get it down and your frustration was starting to show. But he was patient, spilling out different versions of advice. Twist sharply. Biting on your bottom lip, you huff before trying again. His words circle your mind as you drive the Ferrari straight ahead before turning the wheel and pressing down on the gas. Your adrenaline picks up when you realize what you had just done.
“That was perfect!” Raising his hand out for a high five, you squeal as you smack it hard. He hisses, but you’re on a roll.
“Hold on, Charles, you're in for a ride.”
Though his car is moving fast, the Monegasque feels as if he’s stuck in slow motion as he admires the way you control the Ferrari. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t find any of this attractive. It took you a while, sure, but your determination got to him as he kept his eyes trained on you, peeking over at you where you sat mumbling the steps over and over. Arms maneuvering the wheel flawlessly, knotted hair fanning your face. Stepping on the break, he barely has a moment to react before he slams right onto the dashboard. You wince.
“I should have warned you, crap! But you were doing so good! Your head would not move an inch.” Admiration paints your voice. Embarrassed, he rubs his temple.
“I got a bit distracted, but I’m fine.”
“Okay,” you mumble skeptically. Honking the prancing horse, you turn to him with a Cheshire Cat grin. “How about a drink, professor? My treat.”
-
“What’s the occasion?” the bartender asks as he fills two glasses of whiskey. I can do donuts now, you brag. His brows raise up in shock. “That’s impressive. It takes a good person to teach you.”
“It does, but lucky for me, I got it.” Discreetly you point over at Charles who sits with yet another baseball hat. “He’s pretty great.” The man's face drops as he leans against the table, getting closer to you.
“I’d say so! That’s Charles Leclerc.” Flabbergasted as to how he knows his name, you take the two drinks and raise them up as a silent thank you. “Free drinks on me if you need anymore, amore!”
On the way back to the small table, you ponder on the weird encounter. Had they met before? Perhaps Charles had fixed his car or something along the lines. Grazie, the Monegasque smiles as he takes a sip of the cool drink. You do the same, wide eyes shining at the taste. “Holy crap, this is good.” Swallowing the rest of the golden liquid, you signal at the bartender for the rest of the bottle. Nodding, he brings it over as Charles lowers his head, green eyes trained on his lap.
“It’s somehow sweet,” you narrate as you serve yourself another. “More?” He shakes his head, wavy hair following his movement. It’s the Italian charm. You hum against your cup. “Must be. Tastes like paradise.”
It’s safe to say that you were obsessed the minute you started growing tipsy. Squinting at the squawking girl who was pouring her heart out on the stage, microphone in hand, you snap your fingers loudly, jumping up. That. I want to do that! Your travel buddy chuckles. “You do?”
“Of course I do. Plus, my voice is all warmed up.” Massaging your throat, you march over at the little old lady who plays the tarnished piano. “Potrei cantare dopo?” She nods kindly before wrapping up the song. I have another one in me, the girl yelps as her friends pull her off stage.
“Oh great, a drunk removed for another drunk,” someone shouts out when you stumble on stage.
“Hey. Blame the delicious drinks!” Flipping through the book, you narrow your eyes. “This one,” you cheer excitedly as you whisper into her ear. She beams. No one ever asks for that one! Practicing against the keys, she nods as you twirl your way back on stage.
All eyes are on you as you play with the hem of your mini dress. Normally, you’d be a nervous wreck, and maybe the liquor helped, but you weren’t afraid of making a fool out of yourself.
“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere.” Soft keys echo through the small bar - for sure a guitar would have been better, but something about the familiar instrument makes Charles feel cozy as he listens to your voice. It isn’t perfect - you were drunk after all - but it was enough to make everyone listen closely like you were some divine object.
Swaying, with you smiling sheepishly as you move your eyes through the crowd of strangers, and you’re glad the green eyed boy isn’t one of them. Is it fast enough so we can fly away? The brunette grins at you as you spin in your dress, ponytail fluttering like grass in the gentle breeze.
“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car. Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk. City lights lay out before us, and your arm felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder.”
There is some sort of unexplainable shift inside of you as you feel yourself sober up with his intense stare. His brows are drawn softly, listening to your sweet voice, as if you would disintegrate and never be seen or heard of again. A click - you just clicked.
“And I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone.”
-
Kicking the door wide open, Charles carries you in as he settles you on the bed. You flop around like a fish out their tank for good measure, then pout, bare feet pressing up against his clothed abs. He halts. “I need to change…take off all my makeup...” All of it, you mouth, droopy eyes struggling to stay open.
“I can get you what you need.” Last time he dug through a girl's suitcase, on a mission to find all her essentials, he had a girlfriend. Pushing away his thoughts, he jogs back over to your limp body. “Okay, here you-”
Curled up like a rolly polly, you breath gently as you sleep. The 26 year old isn’t too surprised, but rather confused. Does he just leave you now? Pacing the room, he nibbled down on his nails as he weighed his options. He could let you sleep peacefully and possibly get a beating in the morning for leaving you to rot with all the nastiness or he could get it done quick - not look twice - and maybe still get a beating.
“I’ll be fast,” he mutters to himself as he grabs your makeup wipes. He tries to be as ginger about it, a cool towel erasing your light makeup. As soon as you scrunch your face up like a baby rabbit, he stops and rushes away. Good enough.
Now comes the complicated part. Slip the dress off, change her into her jammies. Easy peasy. But the more he thinks about it, the more he’s unsure. One night with your outside clothes won’t kill you.
“Take it off, Charles, please,” you grumble as you tug on your dress. His Adam's Apple bobs up and down with panic as he nods to himself. Green eyes flicker the room before they land on his t-shirt. Oversized - would cover you whole - fast.
As if he’s being chased down by the police, he runs over and in a quick motion, slides your dress off before tugging his shirt over your head, dropping your passed out body onto the bed and throwing the duvets over you. Grazie, you murmur from underneath as he sighs.
“Don’t mention it.”
-
“Fucking hell,” you groan, clearly feeling the awful hangover. After promising to never drink again, you rub your eyes as you yawn, focus becoming drawn to the black shirt. Your stomach drops. No, no, no. Hurrying to look for your phone, you quickly unlock it before freezing.
Who is Charlz Leclerk? You can’t even recall when you must've searched this up, but Google definitely understood your investigation.
"Tell me, Nico," you pout as you take a sip of your whiskey as you wait for Charles to come out of the bathroom. "How do you know my friend's name?"
He beams excitedly. “Amore! He’s…” Blinking harshly, you try your best to listen and read his lips as he makes funny hand gestures. For a second, you swore he was swerving an invisible car. Waving his hand, he laughs. "Look him up."
Monegasque racing driver; Formula One; Currently racing for Scuderia Ferrari.
“What?” you whisper as you throw your phone away, eyeing it like the plague. No. Charles was a mechanic - a mechanic, for god sakes.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” He tosses you a paper bag. “It’s a sandwich. Eat.”
How can he even look at you and act like everything is okay? Did he do anything wrong? No, not really, but why would he keep this from you? You’re surprised to find yourself feeling hurt by his secretive actions as he stares back innocently.
“Is it not good?” he questions when you chomp down sadly. It is, you reassure with a mouthful. “Hey, I was thinking we could go for a swim. The weather is nice out.”
“Mhmm,” you respond meekly. “Is it okay if I meet you there? I-I was thinking I could rinse my body first.”
The brunette nods. “I can wait for you.”
“No!” You blush at your eager tone. “We’ll just meet up.” Okay? Grabbing his things and yours, he strolls out the door, but not before gifting you a small wink. Call me if you get lost. “Asshole!” you cry out as he chuckles, slamming the door behind him.
In a matter of seconds, you’re already dialing work. “Lucy! Is Eleanor there?” Sweetheart, how are you? How’s the leg? The arm? Do you need me to- “I’m fine. Can you connect me to Eleanor, it’s urgent.” The older lady giggles as she switches you over.
“This better be good.”
Clearing your throat, you fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I have an exclusive.”
Eleanor’s rich and elegant voice scoffs. “What about your arm?”
“Like you said,” you hum. “I still got my right one."
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Louis Tomlinson has faith in a future where he gets to dream big, call his own shots and, perhaps most importantly, welcome all of the ways he might change along the way. Shortly after announcing that his sophomore album Faith In the Future is set to arrive Nov. 11, the 30-year-old singer-songwriter has released a new music video for his latest single “Bigger Than Me,” and opened up in a new interview about all of the post-One Direction creative freedom he’s enjoyed while making his upcoming record.
In the music video, which arrived Friday (Sept. 2), a pensive Tomlinson walks through stunning, lush outdoor landscapes lit by the setting sun and collects stray pieces of wood along his way. When he eventually reaches a bonfire — the sun fully down — he tosses the wood into the flames and watches them burn.
“When somеbody told me I would change, I was afraid, I don’t know why,” he sings on the track, first released the day after he announced Faith In the Future on Aug. 31. “‘Cause so does the world outside, I realized, and it’s bigger than me.”
In a new interview with Official Charts, Tomlinson opened up about the making of his new album, which he calls his most “sonically ambitious” project yet. He also reveals that the free time he experienced while in lockdown during the global pandemic gave him the initial freedom he needed to start making Faith In the Future, the title of which he said he’d thought of “before anything else.”
“I actually tweeted it for the first time, without any context, last year,” he shared. “I felt this magnetism to the phrase. With that statement, I’m not saying we can predict the future or that it’ll necessarily look any brighter, but it inspires hope. Have faith in that idea and you won’t be any worse off.”
“With the first record, there was an element of me finding my feet and working out what it is I could do,” he said of Walls, his 2020 debut solo album. “Deep down I always knew what I wanted to do, but there was definitely a time when I asked myself the question, ‘Can I pull this off?’”
Tomlinson, who first rose to fame as one of five members in One Direction (alongside Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne), explained throughout the interview that the lessons he learned from making Walls, working with his Faith in the Future collaborators and finally taking full advantage of the creative control he didn’t have while part of a boy band all helped him come into his own as an artist. There’s one word in particular he repeats throughout the interview: free.
“All my experience from being in a band like One Direction, the experience was incredible but doesn’t feel that relevant to what I’m doing now,” the “Back to You” singer said. “The restraints, and they weren’t put in place by anyone specifically, I’m sure all the lads in the band will have felt their own version of this, you leave the band with this idea of who you are. Ironically, who I was was a member of a band.”
“I wasn’t an individual artist,” he continued. “It took a bit of working out of exactly who I was. I had to work out if I was willing to be brave and say ‘it’s on my head, so be it.’ On this record, that’s what I did.”
Watch Louis Tomlinson’s new music video for “Bigger Than Me” below:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ece21themfE
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Written All Over Your Face dick grayson x reader
→ summary: “Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”
→ warnings: SMUT. p in v, unprotected sex (don't be dumb and wrap it), enemies to lovers, heroe!reader, breeding kink, bulge kink ¿?, not proof-read, possessive behavior, begging...
words: 2k
TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.
Being a heroe wasn't easy. Neither being considered a competition for Nightwing. The Ex-Robin. The Dick Grayson.
Both being ¨super-heroes¨ with no powers brought many controversial articles between you two, not only at the Gotham-Batman times, but also now at the new Titans times.
You never thought seeing him again and his boyish smile and attitude. No wonder why he has many girls falling for him, not only as Nightwing, but also as his real identity. But this rough times between the heroes, made the destiny bringing you together again.
Both of you had mutual friends, and when Dawn invited you to meet the new Titans, and asked you for help to train them, you never thought of seeing him again, neither of both of you training teenage kids how to become high quality-trained super heroes.
¨Sorry.¨ Were the last words you heard from Dawn, when she left you with bird boy at the training room, giving you an apologetic smile.
God bless her natural charm and being the trusting friend she is because you couldn't hit her face right now with the rage you're feeling.
¨Hi!¨ A green-haired boy said to you, he had the same, maybe not as pretty, boyish smile like Grayson. ¨Hello...?¨
¨Gar.¨ He told you, not putting down the smile.
With just a nod and a not so happy smile, your eyes moved into a purple-haired girl, who just smiled at you and said her name. ¨Rachel.¨ She hit the boy next to her with her elbow, murmuring his name.
¨Jason.¨ He said, ¨Is this your girlfriend Dick? Because she's pretty good looking for a guy like you. But yeah, what she's doing here anyways?¨
Oh. Yeah. Bird boy. He's here.
¨Yeah Grayson, what’s going on?¨ Completely ignoring the fact Dick was about to answer Jason’s question with furrowed brows and you obviously knowing why you're here since Dawn explained you. ¨And no, i'm not his girlfriend.¨ You looked at Jason with a smile which changed into a fake smile when your eyes returned to Dick. ¨He wishes.¨ You said, your head turning to the side, obviously trying to make him angry. At which he only scoffed, knowing you well enough to know what you were trying. ¨Yeah number two, maybe we can just pass at me explaining you why you´re here.¨
Number two? He WISHES.
¨I know why am I here. I don´t know if your little brain remembers you made Dawn bring me here to help you train this kids.¨ You got closer to him, not breaking eye contact. ¨And number two? pfft, If you were number one, maybe you wouldn't have been replaced by new Robin here.¨
That got him exactly where you wanted him. He might seem like a strong and rough guy, but behind all that image of big boy, there’s nothing else but trauma.
You couldn’t help but notice how his jaw clenched at the small giggle Jason let when you mentioned Dick being replaced. Side-eyeing him, Jason stopped. Dick sighed trying to calm himself down.
“First. I didn’t know Dawn brought you here, she just told me about bringing the perfect person to help me train them, I was not expecting you.” You could tell he was still angry at the remark, so he wanted to correct you. “Second. I didn’t got replaced. I left Wayne by choice of mine.”
“And third. I’m not longer Robin.”
It got into a really tense vibe between you and Dick trying to kill each-other with just your eyes, everyone in silence, clearly uncomfortable at this new encounter.
“Can both of you stop eye-fucking eachother and can we finally start the training?” Jason said, trying to bring both of you back to earth.
That clearly caught both of your attention to what Jason said, clearly annoyed at the wrong remark of how both of you were looking at each-other. “We’re not “eye-fucking” each-other Jason, stop getting into other’s people conversations.” With that, Dick started grabbing everything for the training of today, moving on. Jason just raised his arms at the air, (like when they’re showing they’re not armed), with a small smirk on his face.
“Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”
That brought a hard, and big laugh to your face, how could Jason say that? This kids don’t even respect their “leader” This was going to be a funny training.
After what seemed like 1 hour of training, and getting to know the kids, you could get which were the flaws and weaknesses. Maybe you couldn’t understand quite well Rachel’s powers, but some time will do it.
You asked Gar where you could sleep the night, since it was already getting late and your most likely staying some days here, you'll also need some extra clothes at least for today.
Gar told you to stay in the spare room next's to Dick's, great, what a nice neighbor you have. He also gave you some clothes you could use tonight, tomorrow you could go back to your place and get some clothes, your skincare.... and I guess your super-hero suit.
When going out of the bathroom after a long shower (which you deserved), Dick was standing there, shirtless, all sweaty, and just with some grey sweatpants on... he looks.... nice, yeah. Obviously annoyed but when he saw you, his face turned into... panic?
He doesn't know what's happening to him right now, might be stress he needs to get relieved, yeah, sure, that's the reason he feels his pants getting tighter every-second he keeps looking at you right now.
¨Are you okay bird-boy why´re you just static over here, I know you have problems, but this a new one.¨ You looked up and down at Dick's figure, obviously checking him out, not like he needs to find out, noticing he´s quite handsome, not like you would tell him also, he's hot, and he knows it.
¨That´s... That´s my shirt¨ Was all that Dick could say, well, shit.
You knew the t-shirt had a distinct laundry soap scent which remind you of someone, and maybe a pint of perfume, but who could blame you?! Might be Gar's or Jason's!
¨And those... are my boxers.¨ double shit.
You could see he was obviously blushed and you're sure you are too, but what a coincide. It's like you could hear Rachel, Gar and Jason's laughing at the both of you.
¨Well... do want me to give them back at you?¨ You broke the tense silence, trying to take your, his, shirt-off, completely forgetting you're in front of him, you needed to find a way out of here.
¨No, no, no, stop! Leave it there, then you give it back to me.¨ He assured you, grabbing your hands and pulling them down with your, his? t-shirt. ¨And it looks better on you anyways.¨ That's all he said before speed entering to the bath-room.
¨Hey Dick!, Wait.¨ To say you couldn't feel the wetness of your pussy going out and asking for some relief, would be considered a crime. ¨What do you ne-¨ You cut him off by entering the bath-room closing the door in the process, both of your lips connecting in a perfect symphony like they were made for each-other. He left a sudden whine at the loss of the soft touch of your lips.
¨Oh.¨ Was all he could say, you don't understand what happened to you, it wasn't definitely a normal behavior between you two. ¨Oh my god. I'm so sorry Dick, I don't know what happened to me, i'm-¨ You couldn't finish the last sentence when you felt his lips in yous again. A little hesitant this time, he stops, unsure of his actions, but he lose it all. ¨Do it again.¨
That's all he needed to continue kissing you, hands caressing you neck, positioning them as a chocking posture, later going to trace your jaw as he continues kissing you.
He started giving you kisses trailing down your chin, making you moan at the specific spot that made your legs shake, he started leaving love bites between your chest, later going down on you, pulling your t-shirt upwards, getting between your breasts and marking them as his.
¨Please Dick... Please make me feel good.¨ It´s like something got into him when his hands started roaming your body like crazy, pulling your shirt off, your hand reaching his sweatpants, and later his cock, noticing he has no underwear under neat it. ¨It's like you were ready for this bird-boy, ah!-¨ Even when you try to tease him, he finds a way to tease you back even in a better way, his fingers playing with your nipple had you giddy and trembling. ¨Be a good girl if you want me to fuck you.¨
All you could do is nod and start stroking his hard cock, already leaking pre-cum which made the stroking easier, playing with the head had him as a moaning mess.
“Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” He left a whiny moan at the lose of your touch.
“Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” He man-handled you, turning you around, making you see yourself at the mirror.
“…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.” He ripped apart the boxers you were wearing. ¨Don't worry, I have plenty more.¨ Fuck him and his fucking pretty smile.
With no more waiting, he positioned himself, and started thrusting into you. He fits just right, and could touch all the places you couldn't reach.
“Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” Even when he's fucking your brains out, he finds a way to be that kind and nice guy he is.
“O-Okay.” Was all you could tell him, before & after some moans and whines from both of you, one specific thrust had you seeing stars.
His hand lingered down your tummy and he moaned at the bump he could feel, when he was going in and out with his thrusts. ¨Oh baby, I'm going to make you mine, fill you up.¨
He started playing with your clit, it had you crazy all the feelings of his body, his thrusts, him.
¨´You´re so good for me, all for me... 'm gonna' fill you up with my babies, 'm gonna make you a mommy, full of my cum every-day just to make sure.¨
That was all you needed to cum, with just some last thrusts he came inside you too, fulfilling his promise of keeping you full of his cum. He waited for you to calm down, before he inserted two of his fingers, recollecting the cum that was falling out your hole, inserting it inside you again, making you moan at the sudden intrusion.
He got the tub ready, and got you inside it, in front of him while he cleaned your sore body while kissing it.
¨I can't believe it took me all this years to realize how I feel about you.¨ Your heart was anxious at how your confession would be received.
¨Doesn't take an idiot to figure out. You couldn't tell I was and I am in love with you because you were too busy trying to beat all that rivalry. I was in love the moment you kicked my ass for the first time.¨
You chuckled at the confession, and laid your head on his shoulder where you could see his dumb smirk. ¨You have that stupid smirk on your face again, can't you have a serious conversation with me?, can we fight again?¨
He laughed at your comment ¨Not a possible thing for me when you look this cute all marked by me and confessing your feelings for me.¨ The small pecks he started leaving on your neck and back had you giggling.
¨I love you.¨
¨I love you too, bird-boy.¨
#dick grayson x reader smut#dick grayson smut#dick grayson#nightwing smut#nightwing x reader smut#dick grayson x reader#nightwing#nightwing x reader#titans x reader#titans smut#jason todd smut
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a meet cute of sort.
note: something that should have been a 5+1 fic for nagi, but i hit a road block somewhere and ended up with only this. warning: none. gn!reader, post canon, meet cute. nagi here is if "flirting" and "not flirting" have a son. @doobea thanks for checking this as usual bby and rosie @adoregojo look. a nagi.
“You look like the moon.”
It is a spring day and the sun is up. You are someone from some magazine who just finished interviewing him for an article. Also, you are the first person to describe Seishiro like that—at least to his face.
“Huh?” Seishiro blinks. He doesn’t expect that sentence to be said. Usually, people like you will go for the standard ‘thank you for your hard work’ even though all Seishiro did was give them the answers Reo and the staff told him to.
“Uh. Kind of,” you quickly added, suddenly sheepish and apologetic, kind of jumpy. “Sorry. It just comes out—I mean it as a praise! I mean, you look good—yeah, that’s it! As good as the moon, I mean!”
You are panicking and refuse to meet Seishiro’s eyes. It’s kind of funny—cute? something in his mind unhelpfully supplies—in a way. Suddenly, the confident interviewer who enthusiastically digs through his answers and makes him think is gone, even if your jumpy-something energy seemingly remains.
“…I see. Thanks,” he says, eventually, after spending a few moments watching you fumble through your belongings. He wants to point out that you say ‘I mean’ a lot just now—it will probably make you act even funnier, but some people might cry if they get teased, so he didn’t. You might be one and he will get scolded if he makes you cry.
You nod at his answer, still nervously trying to gather your stuff back. This shouldn’t be surprising in any manner, considering your business is finished here—but, for some reason, it does bugs him a bit.
Probably, because you are kind of funny in some ways—he notes. Also probably because you chat with him during the interview and never feel annoying to him. There are other things that feels like they are barely under the surface of his mind—a bit messier and couldn’t be put to words yet. However, they feel nice enough that Seishiro knows that even the worst parts of them fall under ‘interesting’.
It makes Seishiro feel like he should do something before you go. What he doesn’t quite know, but he should probably do it.
“Hey,” Seishiro calls out, not knowing what to say or do yet despite already gaining your attention.
Then, he remembers what Shidou always does whenever someone piques the blonde’s interest.
So, he does it.
Casually, curiously, lightly, Seishiro asks, “Can I have your number?
#bllk scenarios#bllk x reader#bllk imagines#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro fluff#nagi x you#nagi seishiro x reader#bllk nagi#bllk nagi x reader#bllk fluff#blue lock fluff#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock imagines#nagi seishirou x reader#blue lock scenarios#nagi seishiro#“it's a pity i gotta throw this away” sort of thing. one day 5+1. one day.#my writing brain is warming up..... during a deadline race. bad timing. but hey writing nagi (and bllk in overal) is fun#now back to work (into scheduled u go)
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The article regarding about annoying queer people sparked a by now long forgotten memory.
When I went to my first pride I snuck out secretly and thus was there after the parade. Most people were already some form of drunk or high(didn't know that at the time, I was 15 and naive beyond hope)
That was also the first time I saw puppies ever. In retrospect I must have stared and seemed like one of those annoying "no kink at pride" puriteens. They probably just wanted to allow themselves a small joke but what happened in praxis was, that a grown, white man in only puppy mask and boxers crawled up to me, stood up, started sniffing my breasts and when I started panicking and running away he run after me and everyone else watched and laughed. I think I screamed for help or cryed to please leave me be and was ignored but I can't remember much past the fear.
To them it was probably a small joke but to me it set me back for years. I didn't go to pride in that city ever again and took years to move past "no kink at pride" opinions, an opinion I didn't even have before that.
I felt incredibly isolated and wearing a small rainbow bracelet and cutting my hair took so much bravery. And it earned a lot of backlash too?
So often I see coloured hair and pins as this cutesy cringe thing of no consequence, but for me it resulted in hours upon of arguments and insults. It was worth it, because it helped me built my own identity apart from my families bigotry, but it sure wasn't fun or cutesy. Ultimately it led me to becoming brave enough to actually discover who I am and start making connections with the wider queer community.
Thankfully I had no social media accounts or I would have had some truly stupid arguments.
What I'm saying is, yes young queers can be annoying and it can be tiring to deal with them but being an asshole and vilifying them isn't the solution.
Making fun of teenagers doesn't make yourself more valid and doesn't give you the status of being an old experienced queer.
I'm saying teenagers here but the fun thing about queer people is that we can discover ourselves at any point in time. So it's less teenagers and more people newly discovering themselves as queer.
I get how annoying they can be very well now, doing voluntary work at pride does that.
Do many of those we consider annoying queers hold some harmful opinions? Yeah sure. (The amount of white queers, teens or adults, not dealing with systemic oppression beyond their own is staggering and they more than deserve to be called out. Just to be very clear, when I talk about annoying behaviour I do NOT mean microagressions or discrimination in any way)
But annoying behaviour is not synonymous to that and maybe we should all just start being less mean in public spaces? I get how satisfying it can be to get a hit tweet via a bitchy twitter reply now, but quite honestly I am more ashamed of that now than when I was running around in hoodies and short hair being painfully naive.
Because then I wasn't being mean to anyone. I had some stupid takes sure but no outlet. On twitter I was making fun of people to validate my own queer-ness. (Personally I think I was covering up for the fact that I was afraid the queer people I worked so hard to be part of wouldn't consider me one of their own. So I worked hard to show how I'm not one of "those queers".)
Either way, thanks for reading all this and thank you for sharing the article because it is something I strongly agree with. Just let people be annoying without making fun of them for it. It doesn't need to be a big deal.
Thank you for this wonderful, vulnerable, honest message about your slow path to self-acceptance in the face of a lot of barriers, anon. I'm glad that despite everything you've found your way.
Yeah, I think queer people have many reasons to feel terrified at the rising "no kink at pride" discourse, but sometimes when we lash out at puriteens we sound a bit like the childfree people who say that they hate kids?? Like, we're blaming literal children for an ideology of protecting "The Family" that has been foisted upon us.
I'm guilty of it. I was HAUNTED by the social pressure to get married and pregnant and raise a bunch of kids. It caused me massive dysphoria and didn't jibe with my queer identity. But I rebelled against it for far too long by saying that I hated kids.
It was not the kids' fault! It was the ideological specter of The Family as an institution that isolates and attacks all nonconformity and 'deviant' sexuality! Me being an asshole to children was not gonna set me free, kids were even more disinfranchised than I was!! I don't think I was ever overtly cruel to children, just kind of aloof and freaked out by them, but I definitely *did* say some numbskulled shit to my friends with kids a few times. Completely missing how disempowered mothers (and it was usually mothers) are in society BECAUSE of these same forces .
And I think something similar is going on here. Queer people are tired of having "Family Friendliness" shoved down our throats by corporations and conservatives, and so then we lash out... at young queer people. it's fine to have 18+ areas and events; It's very, very important to me that spaces like Furfest have them. But that's not the same thing as claiming young people have no space in our community as a whole. And I do think we need to erode the barriers between the adult and child worlds in a whole lot of ways, and reorient our attitudes toward nudity, sexuality, roleplaying, etc in public life. but that also doesn't mean a pup should run you out of a pride parade actually fucking sexually harassing you.
It feels great to be able to talk about this stuff! Thanks for your message.
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❤️🔥Red Wine Supernova❤️🔥
pairing: dealer!ellie williams x introverterd(f)reader
c.w. smoking, drinking
summary: modern college au, dealer!ellie x introverted!(f)reader, slow burn with some sad elements, inspired by Red Wine Supernova by Chapel Roan
Parts:
1. I Just Want To Get To Know You
2. Mini Skirt and My Go-Go Boots
3. I Don't Care That You're a Stoner + Epilogue: Falling Into Me
a/n: this ones long buckle up
Part Two
Mini Skirt and My Go-Go Boots
Music filled House 03 in each room as the girls got ready for that night's party. Olivia and Ivy share a room, blasting 2000’s pop throwbacks and club hits as they adorned themselves with low rise jeans and sparkles. Phoebe was playing 70s hits from the living room. Her and Daniel in matching bellbottoms, lounging on the couch pregaming already. Sage was in your room, as you struggled to form an outfit. Sitting pretty in her 90’s basement grunge attire, she questioned you about the night before.
Sage: “So she actually came over?! And you smoked with her! Look at you!”
“No, don't look at me! I don't know what to wear!” You say, holding up articles of clothing. “But yeah, she texted me while I was in the bath!”
“Oh, sensual,” Sage said with a wink. Seeing your distressed look she dropped the teasing and turned her attention to your wardrobe which was strewn across your room.
“What about those white boots! You could go as a go-go dancer!” Sage pointed at a pair of knee high white platform boots. You had only worn them out once but they were practically perfect for a 60’s themed look.
You picked them up, “okay yeah, but what do I wear them with?”
“I dunno, a mini skirt?” Sage said laughing, she left the room to start pregaming and give you space to get ready.
You end up putting on a pink and orange plaid mini dress that fits your curves so perfectly. You opt to have your hair down and natural, pinning back one side behind your ear. A simple eye look to complete the look with a signature 60s line above your eye, in pink of course.
You stand in front of your full-body mirror inspecting yourself. You are usually confident in your looks but tonight you feel an extra form of confidence. Something about the spontaneity of last night after a grueling finals week.
“Hey y/n, you're almost ready?!” You hear Ivy shout from down the hall.
“Yeah! Coming!” You grab a cute white shoulder bag and put your go-go boots on. Grabbing your phone, extra lip gloss and taking one more look in the mirror before heading downstairs.
Your roommates are pregaming in the kitchen when you come down too hoots and hollers about how great you look. You return the girls compliments taking in everyone's looks. Phoebe hands you a shot and a lime and you all take one for the road. The walk to House 09 takes less than 10 minutes. You and Sage take up the rear of the group adventure.
“So are you going to see Ellie tonight?” Sage nudges you in the side playfully
“I don't know, probably, she said she would be here?” You are looking down to hide your obvious blushing. You had confided in Sage the most about your sexuality. Having come out as bisexual last year you've only had two girlfriends, which didn't end the best. You had a tendency to shut yourself away and you guess that didn't sit right with partners. But you also felt like they never respected your space. You decided to focus on yourself but sometimes, stoned, late at night Sage would get you to confess how lonely you were. You yearned for someone to love you, and for you to love them back.
“Wait, Sage, did you set this up or something like some blind date?” You remembered how Sage introduced Phoebe to Daniel and their relationship was solid.
“No dude!” Sage chuckled. “I promise, Ellie asked for your number, practically begged for it! And plus she's been dropping off to the house for months now, don't you think I would have set you up sooner if i thought about it?”
Ellie begged for it? Intrusive thoughts of Ellie on her knees looking up at you with those emerald eyes flash through your mind, making your heart skip a beat. You sigh, pushing the perverted thought away. “okay yeah i guess not, I don't know she seems cool, i hardly know her though.”
“Well get to know her!” Sage jumps ahead of you and turns down the path to H09, music already blaring into the street . You take a breath of air before following your roommates into the loud college party.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next few hours are a blur of colored lights, dance music, and drinking. You don’t drink alot but you are also more familiar with the taste of liquor than smoke. So in the company of your roommates you take another shot and accept a mixed drink from Daniel, the designated bartender for the house.
“Do you guys want to go dance?” Ivy shouts over the music
You all exchange nods, leaving Phoebe with her boyfriend at the makeshift bar and head to the living room to dance.
Whatever was in your cup tonight let you let loose a little more than usual. You worked up a sweat dancing to hits from the 50s to the 2000’s. Before you know it the room was getting a little too hot and you were a little too out of breath. You gestured to Sage to get her attention,
“I'm going to step out back for some air!” you say fanning yourself, still stepping to the beat
“Okay girl! Do you want company?” Sage responds over the music
“No no keep dancing! I'll find you guys!”
“Dont Irish Goodbye on us again y/n!” Ivy points and dances in your direction. “I'll come find you if you're not back in twenty minutes!” she blows you a kiss.
You laugh, “I won't leave! Promise!” Dancing your way out of the mass of moving bodies you head through the house and out into the back yard. The cool air instantly gives you a sense of relief as the commotion from inside gets muffled by the closing door. You choose to sit on the porch steps, staring up at the sky and you start to look for stars.
Due to the light pollution you are only able to see a handful of stars at the moment. While you are looking you hear the back door open and close. Glancing over your shoulder you see none other than Ellie step outside, face flushed and hair slightly damp clinging to her neck. She wore a white tank top, blue flannel and blue jeans, the same dirty converse from last night.
“Oh hey whats up cutie! You made it!” Ellie says when she catches your eye. She fumbles over to you and sits down next to you, letting out a sigh. “Oh my god it's hot in there, yeah?”
“Hey, yeah it is” you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. She called you that name again. You both avert your gaze from each other, a beat of awkward silence before Ellie says, “you want to smoke with me?” and pulls out another immaculately rolled joint.
“Only if you tell me what decade you're supposed to be dressed up as?” you joke, looking her over. Most of the guests had gone all out with their fits.
Ellie chuckles “Whichever decade that supplies this party with weed.”
“Sooo 90s?” You say as you watch her face light up as she sparks the joint.
“Sure let's go with that” she exhales, turning her body towards you, with one leg bent on the deck and the other stretched out down the steps. She leans towards you slightly as she hands you the joint.
“And you are…. No don't tell me…. 70’s?” Ellie guesses as you take a drag from the joint.
You let the smoke out as you giggle, “no! 60’s! I'm wearing go-go boots” You stick a leg up and gesture to your boots
Before you could think Ellie reaches out and touches your boot, sliding her long fingertips, from the ankle up to the top. “Oh wow, yeah now i see them” flicking her eyes from your leg to make eye contact with you.
Your ears become hot at the sudden contact and you put your leg back down, take another puff before handing it back. There are those flutterings, they are much lower tonight.
“Wow and you're smoking more tonight! You're like a totally different person than who I met yesterday.” Ellie jokes as she takes the joint and leans back on her other hand. “Miss never goes to parties”, she teases.
Still feeling her gaze on you, you can't bring yourself to look at her so you look back at the night sky, leaning back on your hands. “Don’t get used to it, this is my one outing of the semester.”
“Yeah me too, honestly.” Ellies tone turns a little serious as she too looks up at the night sky, taking another drag of the joint and using it to point.
“The Big Dipper should be right there, you can see the start of it, but there's too much light to see the rest.”
“Mhmm” you hum, “I wish i could see them all, I could in my hometown.”
“Yeah me too” Ellie says, “Do you want another hit off this?”
You look back down and the simple motion of your head moving in space brings your awareness to just how fucked up you are. You know alcohol takes a bit to have an effect but you have also never drank and smoked together.
“No, thanks, ugh I'm feeling a bit light headed.” you say.
“Oh shit” Ellie puts out the joint and flicks it away, “Do you need some water?”
“Yeah that would be cool, I just need to catch my breath” You say as cooly as possible.
“Okay stay right here!” Ellie gets up and is gone in a flash,
Your head is spinning and you grab onto the railing for some stability, willing yourself not to throw up in this back yard. Deep breaths in and out help you regain a bit of your strength and feeling. You hear the backdoor open and shut as a few pairs of feet hit the deck.
“Hey, hey girl you okay?” Sage is next to you with a glass of water, you take and sip it slowly.
“Hey dude yeah, i'm good, I don't know if i'll go back inside though.”
“Yeah that's understandable, did you smoke too?”
You nod, and take another sip of water. Sage gives you a sympathetic look through her own blood shot eyes.
“I'll walk her home” you hear Ellie say, who you realize had been standing behind you the whole time.
Sage looks up, “oh yeah, I mean if you don't mind? You cool with that y/n?
You finish the water and hand your cup back to Sage, “Yeah, you stay Sage, tell Ivy I'm sorry for leaving again”
“Sure babes, and hey it's not an irish goodbye if you say goodbye!” She helps you up and says bye to Ellie and you before going inside.
“Are you sure you're feeling okay?” Ellie turns to you, a look of worry on her face.
“Yeah I'm feeling better now, I just have never smoked and drank together before.”
Ellie laughs, “damn what are you a virgin too?”
Such a direct joke caught you off guard, “uh no, i'm not.” you say defensively, turning away feeling your cheeks flush.
“I'm kidding, I promise! Sorry, come on let's get you home hun”
You curse yourself for being so quick to defend yourself, you were actually quite experienced, at least with your own body. You just didn't know exactly how to express that to your partners.
Ellie led you out the back garden gate holding it open for you, you felt her hand cup the small of your back as she guided you to the sidewalk. You let her hand rest on your waist as her warmth warms you up in the cool night air.
“Are you going to go back to the party?” You ask, breaking the silence.
“Nah probably not, i dont really hang out with a lot of people. I just go to sell.” Ellie responds matter of factly.
“What about your roommate?”
“Oh Dina? She’s with Jessie, I love hanging out with them but I have the dorm all to myself tonight!” She gives you that stupid sideways grin again
You smile back at her before looking forward, feeling a bit nervous realizing how close you two were walking. Her hand still on the small of your back, and her index finger tracing small circles, like she was nervous too.
You walk the rest of the block in silence and she walks up to your front door, stepping away from you before saying, “You sure you're okay to be left alone? I feel like I need to see you drink another glass of water.”
Maybe it was the joint, maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the feeling deep inside of you wishing for someone to be close to you again. You missed her warmth. Either way you find yourself answering before thinking
“You could just come in? I'll drink a glass of water to prove I'm good!” You hold a hand to your chest like making a royal promise.
Ellie chuckles, scratching the back of her neck and looking down, “Oh shit, yeah sure, I’ll come in” Did you just make her nervous?
“Cool” You say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You enter the house, flipping on a few lights and tossing your bag on the table.
“I have to get out of my shoes first!” you exclaim, taking a seat, suddenly out of breath again.
“Here allow me!” Ellie says, skipping to your side and kneeling down, before you could protest she has your right leg in her hands, inspecting for a zipper. “It's on the inside” you laugh at her willingness for chivalry, pointing at the zipper on the inside of your ankle.
“Inside huh?” Ellie said in a tone that made your stomach flip. She finds the zipper, pulls down and slides the boot off your leg. Revealing fuzzy pink socks adorned with a Kirby embroidered at the top. Holy shit you forgot you had those socks on?!
“Oh my god Kirby!” Ellie laughs, “I didn't know what socks to expect but i dont think these were it.”
“What's wrong with kirby?” You counter teasingly, the alcohol giving you some courage post sock reveal.
“Nothing! I just feel like i'm finding out little crumbs of information about you”, Ellie laughs again, “You're like a puzzle, or a riddle? I just want to get to know you.” she looks you in the eyes when she says that.
That last sentence felt so personal. You sat back in silence as Ellie removed your other shoe, revealing a second, pink kirby sock. She looks up at you and you realize she's on her knees, in front of you. Did you dream this into reality? How did such a pretty girl just fall into your life like this? You almost lose yourself in her eyes before she speaks again.
“You still gotta drink water for me, pretty girl.”
You nod, as she rises from the floor and looks around for the kitchen. Rising too and guiding her in the dim lit kitchen you grab a glass of water and return to stand in front of her to drink it. Finishing strong with a sigh and a smile, you set the glass down on the counter and turn to her.
“All done” you say
“Good girl” Ellie says with a smirk, staring into your eyes. Your stomach does a flip again, she is way too comfortable calling you pet names.
Like magnets the two of you slide closer until you are inches away from each other in the dim kitchen light. Both of your breaths hitch as you watch Ellie's eyes dart from your eyes, to your lips, and back up. You swear you could stare at her like this for hours, but you wanted nothing more than to closet the space between you two.
*DING DING*
The ring of Ellies phone sounds off in her pockets, startling both of you away from the tension boiling between you.
“Ah fuck what now” Ellie says under her breath. She quickly checks her phone and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fuckers need more weed at the party. I should probably let you get your beauty sleep huh?” She says, shoving her phone back in her pocket.
You involuntarily let out a yawn as she makes the suggestion and you hide your face from her gaze. Partially from the yawn, mostly to hide your disappointment “yeah, I should probably sleep this buzz off, I'll walk you out?”
“Sure thing” she says.
You both head for the door, Ellie lingers a bit, swaying side to side before saying bye and dipping fast down the steps. You say bye and close the door behind her. Stealing yourself upstairs to take off your makeup and outfit. A quick self care routine later and you are passed out in bed.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ellie lights a joint in frustration as she walks out of H09. She really didn't want to go back there but ended up staying another hour because Jessie and Dina guilted her into drinking more. Thoughts of you swirl in the girl's head as she makes the walk to her dorm. Your eyes, your legs, your lips, your kirby socks. Ellie laughs to herself, and pulls out her phone.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You wake up the next morning with a headache. Checking the time on your phone you're shocked to see you slept in until 11!
You have a few unread messages:
Ellie: want to meet for coffee?
Ivy: I made pancakes!
Sage: how can you have so much energy all the time? Be right ther
Olivia: shhh sleeping
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Meet for coffee??” Sage said, mouth full of pancake. You and your roommates are sitting around the kitchen eating room-temperature pancakes and discussing the night before.
“That's what she said?!” you say, pouring some syrup over your breakfast.
“Well are you gonna go?” Ivy asks from the pantry
“I mean, yeah? I should, right?”
“Only if you want to girl” Olivia say beside you
“Oh she wants to” Sage says with wink in your direction
“I do!” You say blushing, “I'm just nervous! The last times we interacted were so spontaneous. And this is like, she's asking me out!”
“It's just coffee babes you'll be okay! Its casual” Olivia says with a reassuring rub on your back
You smile at your roomates as you pick your phone up, responding to Ellie
y/n: “Okay :) when?”
30 seconds later you receive a text;
Ellie: “Sweet :), 1pm at the cafe?”
y/n: “I'll see you there!”
You smile at your phone for sec before your roomates all join in on a group “oooooooooo”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1pm comes fast. After breakfast you help clean then retire to your room to shower and get ready. It's a little chilly out this morning so you opt for a chunky sweater, comfortable wide leg pants, and sneakers. After checking yourself in your mirror and in Sage’s mirror, with her approval and luck, you head out the door.
The walk to the cafe felt like it took forever. You become hyper aware of yourself, your outfit, anxieties bubbling up in your mind as you try to stay calm. You round a corner and can see the cafe now, and something in you stops you in your tracks.
Memories of your past relationships flash in your mind. How hurt you were, how misunderstood you felt. Being lonely was familiar but it always stung when someone left your life. You will yourself to take a chance, your roommate’s comment in your mind for comfort. You’re just meeting for coffee, it's casual. With a deep breath, trying to gain some confidence you continue forward. You open the door to the cafe stepping in, warm cinnamon and coffee bean scents fill the air while a lofi beats track plays over the speakers. You look around and it takes you just a moment to find Ellie sitting at a table in the corner. She has a baseball cap on, looking down so she didn't see you come in.
You take in her appearance while walking over. She's manspreading comfortably in dark green cargos, a gray t-shirt, a black zip up hoodie and black converse. You knock lightly on the table to get her attention, startling Ellie who shoots up, almost knocking her chair over behind her.
“Hi there” you say sweetly
“Oh y/n! Morning! Er afternoon, hey” She composes her surprise and smiles at you to sit down. “I got you a coffee!”
You realize there are two coffee cups in front of you on the table. Ellie slides one over and you see your order written on the side in black ink. Medium mocha, with half chocolate. She remembered?
“Oh wow thank you! Do I owe you anything?” you ask, accepting the drink.
“Of course not,” Ellie says leaning back, “I just made it before I finished my shift.”
You take a sip of your coffee, and set it down, taking in the girl sitting before you. You realize that Ellie looks exceptionally tired, she has bags under her eyes and her lips are slightly crusty. She seemed to have energy, although that must be from the caffeine she's been having throughout her shift.
“Did you have a good night?” Ellie asks, breaking your fantasy
“Oh! Yeah, i just passed out after you left and slept so long” You laugh, trying to hold eye contact.
“Good you got your sleep, I wish I did, i forgot I worked this morning and got woken up by my boss calling me” Ellie sighs and sips her coffee
“Oh shit, we don't have to hang out if you're tired?” You say, secretly wanting to invite her back to yours to cuddle up and watch movies. But your body does not allow the thought to come out.
“No! I want to hang out! I actually wanted to show you something, if you're down?” Ellie asks
So many thoughts fill your mind with what this thing could be. Your curiosity is endless and quickly leads to images of Ellie pulling toys out of her backpack.
“Yeah sure, I'm not doing anything today” You say, leaning forward on your hand with your elbow on the table. Searching Ellies expression for any sign of what her intentions were.
Ellie just gives you a big grin and leans forward too, flashing her eyes from yours, to your lips, and back up. Instantly you're reminded of last night, you hadn't even thought about your almost kiss in the shadows of your kitchen. You feel your ears going hot and instinctually pull back to drink your coffee, hoping your eyes didn't display any of your shock from the memory.
“Sounds good, if you're ready we can head out” Ellie suggests, keeping her eyes on you.
You nod and swallow, “sure, ya” you say, your voice a little quieter.
Ellie rises from her seat, grabbing her coffee, waits for you to rise and follows you out of the cafe. “Here follow me!” she says when you two are outside, pointing behind her. You skip up to her side and follow her through campus. Making small talk, asking each other about your coffees & the weather. You realize that Ellie is leading you into the College neighborhood, the street that you live on.
“You want to show me the street I live on?” You ask, laughing because as far as you know, this street is a Dead End. And you have been to that dead end. Maybe she was bringing you to a house?
“I mean yes? And no, we are going to the end, there's a spot over there.” Ellie says, taking another sip of her coffee
You were pretty sure the dead end was fenced off with a thick forest behind it. Not being very adventurous you had never thought to explore past it. You and Ellie walk the length of the block, passing other college students. You approach the end of the street, the sidewalk seemingly ends and you wait to see what Ellie will do.
She turns around to face you, “Do you trust me?”
“I have no reason not to you” you giggle, “you're not going to murder me are you?”
“No! Oh my god, come on, this way” Ellie smirks and nods her head to the side of the street.
House 10 was the last house on the street, and there was a thick hedge that ran the length of the house and the fence. Ellie walks you over and the perspective change reveals about two feet between the hedge and the fence. Ellie slips into the gap and takes a few steps before making sure you are following. You're right behind her, and comment “there are no spiders right?”
Ellie laughs, “dont worry ill scare them off. It's not too far.”
You walk maybe 10 feet between the hedge and fence before Ellie stops and crouches down. Ducking through a large hole in the chainlink fence and popping up on the other side to face you. “Here hand me your coffee!” she says, sticking a hand through the hole.
You hand her your coffee and crouch down to do the same, almost slipping on a few leaves on the ground.
“You good? Here you go” Ellie hands your coffee back and says “i promise its not far now, just through there.'' She walks into the forest. There's a makeshift trail probably formed by other students exploring back here, and you follow her for a few minutes. Listening to the sounds of birds and wind through the trees, you start to hear the sound of running water. The trail winds around, sunlight flashing through the leaves onto Ellies auburn hair. You can't help but get lost in her figure. Your mind trailing off to things too embarrassing to say, you have no idea how long you've been walking. Ellie turns around flashing you a smile, breaking you away from your bedroom thoughts.
“Its just up here! Come on!” She picks up a bit of pace, excitement getting the best of her.
You follow her around another corner and see a pretty amazing sight. Large concrete structures from half of a building, overgrown with vines and graffiti painting the crumbling walls. There are steps leading up to a large concrete platform with two walls in the back. You take a sec to take it all in, Ellie bounds up the steps, turns to you and puts her arms out framing the scene.
“Ta-daaaaa! What do you think?”
“This place is so cool!” You say, following her up the steps and looking more closely at the graffiti. You read “smoke em if you got em”, & “JC’11” probably from a Jackson College graduate. One catches your eye, it's smaller and closer to the ground. A black heart with red lettering that says “girls kissing girls”.
“Ya, right.” Ellie looks around with you at “her” spot -atleast she likes to think she's claimed it. “I found it a few months ago, I come here pretty often but don't really bring anyone. I don't want everyone to know about it.”
“Yea i can understand, its peaceful out here” you respond, focusing your attention back on her
“And you haven't seen the best part!” Ellie walks across the platform to the other side, where the other wall is missing. You follow her and realize that the water you heard had gotten a bit louder since you tuned into it. As you approach the opening in the wall you are perplexed with the beauty you see. A small waterfall cascades over moss covered rocks, flowing into a stream only a few feet wide and away into the forest. All the stars aligned for the sun to shine the most on this spot in the forest. The foliage was lush, moss covered all surfaces, and tiny flowers and mushrooms dotted the scene.
“Yeah, it's pretty great, my own secret hiding spot.” Ellie beams, stretching her arms behind her head, trying to be as casual as possible.
You looked in awe at the scene and Ellie looks in awe at you. Taking in your features, your soft lips, your beautiful skin. She wished she could capture this image of you forever in her mind. Never had she taken someone here before, but as soon as she met you, she wanted you here, with her. And there wasn't anything she wanted to do more than to kiss you.
“This is so beautiful” you say, “want to sit down?” You say turning to her, blushing at the strong eye contact youre met with.
Instinctually Ellie takes off her hoodie, stepping back and setting it down on the ground for you and her to sit on. You are able to see a large tattoo on her forearm, looks like a fern? You both position yourselves on the makeshift blanket, with your legs hanging over the side of the ledge.
“Do you want to smoke? I haven't since before my shift.” Ellie says after a moment of silence.
“Oh yeah, sure! But if you keep smoking me out and buying me coffee i'm going to have to make it up to you!” You say with a smirk, playfully nudging her with your elbow.
“I'll take whatever you give me,” Ellie says as she takes out a joint box from her pocket. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the possibilities of what your ‘repayment’ could be.
You take the lit joint from Ellie and you two make small talk about the graffiti and nature surrounding you. Conversations turn more personal when you ask Ellie about her family. You learn of Joel, and the farm back home where Ellie spent most of her time shying away with her journal and guitar. Ellie spoke about coming out to Joel in highschool and how he was one of the only people who supported her through it. Her hometown wasn't the most accepting so she did not have many friends let alone relationships. You share your life too, realizing that you and Ellie have more things in common than you thought. Your family came around after a year or so of coming out but you only ‘came out’ to friends and the public when you moved to college. You had a boyfriend in highschool that ended badly and 1.5 relationships with girls since coming out. You say 1.5 because the first one was really a situationship that ended with the girl deciding she was straight.
At this point the joint was dead and tossed in the brush. The sun was drifting behind the trees, casting a cool hue across the forest.
Ellie and you listen to the stream in comfortable silence for a second. The joint is settling in nicely and bringing all your hidden thoughts to the surface. You wanted to kiss her, touch her. Your fingers are a mere centimeters from each other and you could feel the electricity through your whole body.
Suddenly Ellie takes a breath, like she had been holding hers for a second. “CanIaskyousomething?” she says, in almost all one word.
You turn your body to her, leaning forward slightly on your arm. “Anything” you say.
“I know… i know we just met, but, you’re really pretty and I was just wondering… canikissyou?
She rushes the last part but you hear clearly and your heart skips a beat. Ellie turns to look at you, searching your face for anything you're feeling.
You're lost in her eyes again, your mind screaming yes but all you can do is nod at her, doe eyed and longing to feel her warmth.
Ellie breathes in looking at your lips before she leans forward, cradling your face in her hands and setting her lips on yours. The kiss is hot, passionate, slow but needy as your combined lust mixes together right there in the forest. You feel like hours have gone by before you separate, looking into eachothers eyes, a line of spit connecting both your lips. Ellie looks like she's even higher than the joint made her and you can't help but giggle a little before going in for a second kiss. This time your hands go for her, brushing through her hair and grabbing at the nape of her neck.
Separating for the second time ellie breathes, “wow, that was… wow”
You hum in approval, untangling your hand from her hair and resting it on your leg. You're both breathing a little heavy, lips tingling and palms sweaty.
Ellie feels a buzz on her thigh and pulls out her phone to a string of texts, all from buyers hoping to make their Saturdays better.
“Ah fuck, im sorry, i wish we could stay here longer but, work calls…” She says with a sigh. She wishes she could stay here all day with you but Ellie was a business woman, plus she had been saving up for a few things and was so close to meeting her goal.
You laugh, wanting to stay with her too, but you are getting hungry, probably from the joint. “That's okay, will you walk me back to the house?”
“Of course doll” Ellie says with a smile, making your already hot face burn with desire. You both stand and after grabbing her hoodie and coffee, without asking Ellie grabs your hand and begins to lead you back out of the forest.
You walk hand in hand down the street in comfortable silence. The touch shared between you said more than you two could manage at the moment. You are submerged in your feelings and barely notice you getting to the walkway in front of your house.
Ellie stops and turns to face you. Giving you a kiss on the back of the hand she says, “have a great day beautiful, i'll be thinking of you.”
You linger your hand in hers for a moment, blushing, mind blank but you know you need to respond. “Thanks for today Ellie, i'll talk to you soon.”
You start backing up the walkway, both of you not wanting to separate from each other's gaze. You both give one last little wave and you turn to walk into the house.
Sage greets you from the couch, seeing the look on your face she jumps up and runs to hug you in excitement. Bringing you over to sit with her as you tell her about your time with Ellie. You feel this could be the beginning of something beautiful. Although hesitant to get close to someone again, you feel right with Ellie. You can’t help but imagine what life would be like with her.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
a/n: AHHHHHHHHH thank u sm for the love :3 I'm actually so excited for part 3... might even open submissions for other fandoms? idk I'm just having fun!
Tag List: @vqxen @bready101 @sourgummywormsss @a-little-bit-of-everybody
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#the last of us
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you write art and patrick so well im literally foaming at the mouth for more
yes yes everyone pls ask me about my boyfriends that are also boyfriends to each other 🩷 (i have two extra drafts for them already)
----
breath in. the pad of your thumb presses into the side of the ball. you give yourself a beat to feel the weight of it, to embrace the familiar feeling of felt against your palm. breath out.
you bounce the ball once. breath in. you squeeze the ball, knuckles briefly straining beneath your skin before letting it hit the concrete again. breath out.
finally, you raise the arm holding your racket. every joint in your body is locked into place. there's a science to a sharp serve. the ball will land where you will it to.
you release the ball, arm stretching forward. a total follow through. the ball hits the center of your racket. the force of your hit propels the ball through the air until it hits the center of the other side of the court.
ugh. the night before your qualifying match and suddenly the precise serve you spent years perfecting loses its edge. what happened to the serve that media outlets have been calling 'the ultimate point guaranteer'? why is today the day that you can only manage a perfectly average serve?
you groan, letting the disappointment's weight settle against your chest. you suck. with a sigh, you start walking towards the extra tennis balls you left near the net. your dad is so never going to get over you not qualifying for the us open.
"there she is." the voice surprises you enough to force you to still. patrick...and a few steps behind him, his doubles partner, art. "the princess of modern tennis."
you turn your head enough to glare in patrick's direction. he's referencing a title some journalist used in one article that your dad decided would be perfect for marketing materials. "don't."
normally, you like seeing patrick and art more than you can justify. you don't know if you can consider yourself their friend, it's not like you guys see each other outside of coincidental run ins at tennis events. the three of you have been to more and more of the same tournaments these days. they're familiar in a way that settles you, like the feel of tennis ball in your hand.
you try to tap into that usual warmth, but you can't quite get there. it's not their fault you're frustrated.
art gives you a look that feels like an apology. he walks forward, opening the gate to the fence and stepping onto the court. "i told him not to."
you bend down to pick up a spare ball. "i appreciate the effort."
"what?" patrick follows art onto the court. "it's on billboards."
he's seen your billboard? you don't know why you feel the need to dwell on that. you weren't the biggest fan of having a picture of yourself blown up and pasted everywhere, especially with a caption that makes potential losses extra embarrassing, but you've never been truly self conscious about it. now, you're trying to picture it in your mind, trying to remember the details of your expression, the way your hair was styled, what you were wearing.
you let go of the ball in your hand, bouncing it against the ground so that you have something to look at. "it was a charity thing."
"i know." you let yourself glance up at patrick. he's closer than you thought he'd be. you catch the ball before releasing it again. "for the youth outreach program thing, right?" before you can answer, he extends an arm, catching the ball before you can reach it. "you looked cute in it."
art looks at you again, something a little more distinct than apology behind his eyes. he reaches for the tennis ball still in patrick's hand. "patrick."
he twists his arm away before his friend can steal the ball from him. art follows him, leaning forward and grabbing his arm. "what?" their play fight grows in physicality, with each of them pushing and pulling at the other. you'd worry about the game losing its lightheartedness if both of them weren't smiling. "you stared at it for more than five minutes before getting out of the car."
"really?"
art freezes, his hand squeezing the only part of the ball patrick's left exposed. "it was a good billboard, you look pretty--looked pretty." the implication of his correction hits him a second too late. "not that you don't look pretty now, you always look pretty, but you looked really--" he cuts himself off with a sharp breath, "but that wasn't the point, you also looked like a strong role model for underprivileged young women."
the compliments paired with his uncertainty make it difficult not to melt. you beam at him. "thank you, art." you adjust your hold on your racket, both hands resting on the grip. "i think you're pretty, too."
he smiles, head briefly angling itself downwards. art manages to steal the tennis ball from his friend. you can't tell if he pulled it out of patrick's grasp or if patrick chose to let go.
"you know what the best thing to do is the night before a big match?" patrick's question feel rhetorical until you look at him. he's watching you like he's waiting for something.
despite knowing what you should be doing, you also know that you're incapable of not playing along. "what?"
"doing anything that keeps you from getting in your head." you stand a little straighter, chin angling itself a fraction of an inch upwards. as nice as the local doubles duo is, advice offered from other tennis players comes with its own sort of tension. saying that you know best implies that you see yourself as the best. "that's what's wrong with your serve."
your eyebrows briefly pinch together. "you think i'm in my head?"
he takes a slight step forward, body angling itself to make the distance between you feel even smaller than it truly is. "i think your serve is technically perfect." patrick takes a moment to press his lips together. "but you're tense."
patrick's going about this the nice way. he's focusing on what you're doing right. you technique is objectively precise, your dad made sure of that. he's coached you since you were old enough to securely hold a racket for a reason. but tennis isn't just routine and muscle memory.
there's an art to the sport, and you know the difference it makes when you're playing. you can feel when your heart is in it, and right now, all you can think about is that your retired tennis champion dad watching you in the stands.
the feeling of something warm on your shoulder pulls you out of your train of thought. you blink. patrick's hand is on your shoulder. "you need to relax."
"i'm..." it's instinct to argue, to insist that you're fine and that you'll push through, but something tells you that that'd be pointless. he'd know. "i'll work it out."
his fingers briefly press into your shoulder, the squeeze assuring and gentle. "that's your problem--work." you look at him skeptically. "you're overworking yourself, and it's putting you in your head."
art angles himself a little closer. he extends an arm, placing his fingers on the edge of your racket. "that's why you're supposed to rest the night before a match."
the thought of not being in motion isn't appealing. if anything, you feel like you have too much energy in your system. but objectively, you know they're generally right.
art gently tugs on your racket. "you should come hang out with us."
"yeah," patrick agrees with a slight hum, "you're in the hotel down the street, right?"
okay--you know the right answer. your dad would be mad if he found out you snuck out the night before a match to practice, but if he found out you ended up in a hotel room with some guys--he'd die and then come back to life just to kill you.
"um..." your eyes briefly fall to your racket. "yeah, i am." okay, you need to think of an excuse that doesn't make you sound like a little kid with a curfew. you twist your wrist slightly, a halfhearted attempt to free your racket. "but it's kind of late...and i have to be up early tomorrow."
art pulls on your tennis racket again. there's nothing overly forceful about it, but it's enough to make you look at him. "yeah, but you were going to stay out here for a awhile, right?"
"and it's good to take your mind off of things." patrick tacks on his point. "i mean--we always do something fun before our matches."
patrick stretches out an arm, the back of his hand softly hitting art's shoulder. "yeah, yeah, we do."
you press the nail of your thumb against the side of your racket's handle. "really?" you're mumbling to yourself more than anything else, "something fun."
it's risky. if anything goes wrong, you'll never hear the end of it. and if you mess up tomorrow because you're tired or distracted, you're not sure you'll be able to forgive yourself. you've already taken some risks tonight. you should quit while you're ahead.
then again, you like being around them, and they're in the same hotel as you. it can't be that bad of an idea.
you let out a reluctant sigh before finally looking up. you glance between them, too aware that it's too late for you. "okay," you breathe out, "i guess going up for a little bit can't hurt."
patrick grins. "can't hurt at all."
art lets go of your racket before taking a few steps forward. he stops once he's at your side before throwing an arm around your shoulder. "you know us." art's hand settles over patrick's. "we'd never do anything to hurt you."
warmth crawls up your chest. you're comfortable with them--maybe too comfortable. "yeah," you hum in an attempt to dismiss the feelings bubbling in your chest, "let's just go."
——
im thinking of writing a part 2 to this so if you’d be interested in that and/or would want to be tagged pls lmk :)
#challengers x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig x reader#mike faist x reader#josh oconnor x reader#art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig#challengers fic#x reader
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