#the best way that i can explain it is like
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sukuna who's over heels with y/n, but y/n is stupidly in love with yuuji who is falling in love with megumi?!
Omggg I love this!!!! Thank you for sending me this 💗
Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female)
Fluff. Hurt & Comfort. Friends to lovers. 2k words.
Unrequited love/pining in the beginning. Sukuna and Reader get their happy end (Yuuji gets his happy end with Megumi). Mentions of cigarettes + alcohol. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear
Sukuna can only shake his head at the irony. He is in love. He is fucking in love for the first time in his life, and of course, it has to be someone he cannot have! Out of everyone at this stupid college, it has to be the girl who likes his brother!
If it were any other guy, Sukuna wouldn't give a fuck and just flirt like hell with the girl he wants and give his best to steal her away from that other guy. But the problem is that Itadori Sukuna might be an asshole, but he isn't the type of asshole that would steal his brother's girl.
So Sukuna swallows down his heartbreak and forces himself to hold back, refusing to stand in the way of his baby brother's happiness. Sukuna might only be three minutes older, but he is still the big bro, still the one who sees it as his responsibility to look after his "little" brother. And Yuuji deserves it. He deserves a girl like you. He deserves your love. Sukuna will stay strong. He can do it.
But what Sukuna didn't take into account is how completely oblivious his brother is to your feelings.
You follow Yuuji around like a lost puppy, giving him hearteyes, practically swooning anytime he smiles his sunshine smile, hanging on his lips when he talks about his movie-directing classes and his new favorite TV show. But Yuuji doesn't seem to notice. And it makes Sukuna so mad! It drives him crazy! He almost spits his drink out when his brother gives you a high five and calls you "bro".
Sukuna feels sick to his stomach when he watches you wring your hands and shyly ask Yuuji if he maybe wants to go to the cinema with you to see the newest Human Earthworm movie. That super trashy horror series that Yuuji is always gushing about, which Sukuna is 99% sure you don't really like but only want to endure for the boy you have a big crush on.
But Sukuna's oblivious idiot of a brother just laughs and nods, happy that someone shares his taste, and totally misses the point,
"Yes, that's perfect! Let's also ask Megumi and Nobara to join us! Let's all go together! It will be so much fun!"
Sukuna thinks he can not only feel his own heart ache but also yours as he sees your face fall even while you force yourself to nod bravely and smile a sad smile at Yuuji.
It takes everything in Sukuna not to say something. But his restraint only lasts until he is alone with his brother. The moment the others have left, he shoves Yuuji into the wall, grabs his collar, and growls at him,
"You are so fucking dumb, brat! I would give anything to be in your shoes, but you don't even see that she wants you!"
And Yuuji blinks at him, all big eyes and completely confused,
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Sukuna lets go of Yuuji, slumping against the wall next to him, sighing and explaining the situation to him. How Sukuna likes you, and how you like Yuuji, and how everything is such a mess, and how much he hates it, especially when his little brother is too blind to see what he could have!
"Now you know, brat. Go, get her. Just don't rub it in my face, ok? I'll stay away as much as possible."
Sukuna pushes himself off the wall, about to run away and hide in some dark corner or maybe find someone to fuck and distract him from all this shit. But to his utter surprise, Yuuji's hand darts out and grabs Sukuna's sleeve.
"Wait, Kuna! I don't even have those kinds of feelings for her! There is... um... well, there is actually someone else I like."
He stands there, scratching his neck, looking sheepishly at Sukuna and blushing a bit as Sukuna stares at him with question marks in his eyes.
"Who??"
"Um, he has black hair and likes dogs and... ah shit."
And Sukuna can't help it. He bursts out laughing, doubling over because this is just so fucking dumb and messy and getting more complicated every second, and he probably should have known!
"Damn, brat, that really sounds like you! Falling for your best friend!"
In the end, Sukuna plays matchmaker for Yuuji and Megumi. It's easy, considering the way Fushiguro has been looking at Yuuji since the first day he met him. And yeah, Sukuna is not only doing it because he loves his baby brother but also because of selfish reasons. Because it means you will have to let go of your crush on Yuuji. Not that Sukuna thinks you will turn to him, but at least he won't have to watch you date his brother and pretend he doesn't care!
It feels like someone is stabbing Sukuna's heart when he watches your face twist in pain at the next party when you see Yuuji walking into the room with Megumi's hand in his.
But it will be fine! After all, Sukuna is here to catch you and mend your broken heart again. As a friend, at least.
He quickly follows you when you leave the room and run towards the backyard. You sit down on the slightly damp grass, and Sukuna joins you, sitting silently next to you while tears run down your cheeks. Sukuna offers you his half-smoked cigarette, and when your eyes meet, he can't help but think that surely you must see the pain in his eyes, too.
He quickly takes a sip from the bottle he is holding to hide the emotions threatening to swallow him while silently cursing himself for following you out here. He misjudged how fucking hard it is to look at you when you are crying. If only Sukuna could just close the distance between you and claim you as his, just kiss all your pain and his pain away.
But of course, he knows it would be too soon. For once in his life, Sukuna doesn't just want to be a one-night stand or a rebound or a revenge fuck or whatever. For once in his life, he wants more. He wants everything.
And so Sukuna is patient. Just offers you his silent company, his cigarette, his bottle of vodka, and his leather jacket when it gets chilly, and you start to shiver. He offers you his friendship, his protection, and the kind of comfort he can give without fucking you. He drives you home, makes sure you have something to eat and get some sleep.
He bangs on your door three days later when you still haven't come back to campus, calling you a brat and an idiot because it's the only way he knows how to show his worry. But he hopes he's making it better by shoving a vanilla latte and a bag with muffins from your favorite coffee shop into your hands.
Your eyes look puffy from crying, and you seem confused about what he is doing here, but you take the food and coffee from him. And Sukuna smirks at you and refuses to leave when you tell him you look like hell and don't want him to see you like that.
"I don't care, princess. Eat those damn muffins and drink your latte before it gets cold. I didn't stand in line for half an hour for you to just ignore my treats. And by the way, you always look pretty to me."
He stays until you had breakfast and took a shower, coming back to the living area with a soft,
"Thank you, Sukuna. It was nice of you to bring me muffins and coffee."
Sukuna finally leaves, lifting one tattooed hand to casually wave at you as if his heart isn't about to burst because he wants to pull you against his chest and hold you and tell you he can make you happy again.
He skips some of his classes and instead goes to the gym, working out like a madman and beating up a punching bag until he is too exhausted to think about how sad you looked and how fucking much he wants to kiss it better.
He comes back the next day to pick you up and take you to the coffee shop with him, making sure you leave the house and join the living again! It cannot be that you are crying your eyes out in your room all day!
"Stop complaining and get your bratty ass off the couch! It will be good for you to get some fresh air and shit. I am warning you if you don't put on shoes in the next 30 seconds, I will make you walk to the coffee shop in socks!"
Oh yes, Sukuna is good at this. Acting grumpy and playing the asshole while taking care of you and making sure you are ok. And somehow, you are the only one, apart from his brother, who can see right through him because you roll your eyes and laugh softly and tell him that he is the nicest asshole you have ever met.
The two of you fall into a routine where Sukuna picks you up every morning and has breakfast with you before he walks you to your first class. You constantly grow closer, and Sukuna feels his mask slipping more often around you. His typical arrogant smirk softens into a genuine smile. His snide comments turn into compliments. He isn't sure if he is doing it by accident or intentionally. Maybe he is only reacting to the way you act around him.
Because your gaze doesn't follow his brother anymore. Your face doesn't fall when you see Yuuji with Megumi. Your smile doesn't falter when you spot pink hair and realize it's the bad boy twin with the tattoos and not the good boy twin with the sunshine smile. Sukuna even feels like your smile is growing brighter when you look at him.
Could it be?
And he notices more things. Notices how you always sit so close to him now when he is at your dorm and you play video games against each other. How you always laugh at his jokes, no matter how sarcastic they are. Or how you look at him sometimes when you think he doesn't realize it. How your eyes get that dreamy little sparkle when Sukuna is sleepy, and his voice gets low and a bit raspy. How you get goosebumps on your arms when Sukuna puts his hands on your hips to steer you through a crowded room.
A few weeks later, Sukuna finds himself back at the same spot where all those weeks ago, it all began. Sitting next to you in the grass in the small backyard of your friend's dorm, where you cried when Yuuji broke your heart.
But tonight, you aren't crying. Tonight, you are smiling and throwing your head back, laughing at some dry joke Sukuna makes, looking so carefree and happy. Your shoulder is brushing against Sukuna's biceps, and your hand lands on his thigh, giving it a playful smack and staying just a little too long. And Sukuna can't help but say in that low voice, you seem to like so much,
"You are so beautiful."
For a split second, he feels his chest tense up, scared that he fucked everything up. Scared that he got it wrong and you still want his brother. Or maybe some other guy. Scared that you only see Sukuna as a good friend. Or that you only see him the way the whole campus sees him: as that sexy, asshole guy who is only good for casual sex and nothing more.
But then you turn your head to look at him, and Sukuna sees that soft expression in your eyes, the one he used to see on your face when you looked at his brother. But now it is for him, for Sukuna. And he simply knows without you having to spell it out. He knows that things have truly changed.
So, Sukuna decides to do what he wanted to do for a long time.
"I am sorry that you cried the last time we were in this backyard. But I am not sorry for why it happened. My brother is an idiot for not wanting you like that. But I am glad he is an idiot because otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do this..."
And Sukuna puts a hand under your chin, cupping it with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed while looking deeply into your eyes, checking one last time if he really got it right. You look at him with wide eyes, but you smile and nod softly as your gaze travels down to his lips.
And Sukuna sighs and presses his lips gently against yours, kissing you like he never kissed someone before, slow and gentle, as if he is scared you will break or slip through his fingers. A kiss with his eyes closed and his chest filling with a warmth he didn't know until now. A kiss into which Sukuna pours all the secret longing he felt for you for months, all the feelings he tried to hold back for his brother's sake and then for the sake of not fucking things up.
But finally, he doesn't have to hold back anymore. Because you chose him. You chose Sukuna. You are sitting here with him, with your hand in his hair and your lips moving slowly against his, a happy sigh and a soft murmur of his name falling from your lips.
The two of you only stop kissing when Sukuna's head is already spinning from the lack of oxygen. He pulls away only enough to grin at you and stroke your cheek with his thumb. And you smile back at him and whisper,
"I am glad, too, that Yuuji turned me down. Because otherwise I wouldn't have found out that it's his brother who is my perfect match. I wouldn't have found out that you, Itadori Sukuna, are the one I like the most out of everyone."
AAAHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭😭 Thank you so much for sending me this ask. I see Sukuna + unrequited love/pining and I lose my mind!! It's my weakness and makes me so so soft for him (even more than usual).
I hope you liked this little hurt/comfort story!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna#sukuna fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#ryomen sukuna
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That Time You Got Yeeted Into Another World, Mistaken as a God-Sent Gift, and Used as a Prize in an Arena
Yandere Bear-Man Dilf x Gender Neutral Reader
CW: Noncon, framed for a crime, language barrier, eaten out like it's groceries, biting, scent marking, musk, combat, general yandere behavior
Word Count: 765
(Speed written out of nowhere because I had the idea suddenly, not beta read so please forgive any mistakes. I hope you guys like this ficlet. Also forgive the title, in a game I was playing there was a crossover with "That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime" and I liked the vibe of the title.)
You were framed for a crime you didn't commit and in your village the punishment for that crime was immediate exile via being shoved down a steep crater in the center of which is a one-way portal to what is thought to be Hell.
What no one on your side of the portal knew was that on the other side was just another world. A world that celebrated with a great holiday anytime a human came through the portal. It was also a world populated entirely, with the exception of humans who crossed over, by human-like beast hybrids.
Driders, lion hybrids, nagas, aqrabuamelu (scorpion-men), harpies, dog people, centaurs, minotaurs, gnolls, and many other races that seemed to be part human.
They have a connecting portal in their universe, but any who try to go into it are spat back out. The current went only in one direction.
Every few years, a human would be flung forth from the portal, a gift from the gods! But only the worthy can keep such a gift. So whenever a human comes to the realm from the watcher of the portal will ring the bells and all the warriors assemble and a grand tournament is held at the arena. Whoever wins gets to keep the human and gains enough wealth to care for them properly.
Things are no different when you arrive, you are immediately ushered away, examined, and pampered like a prize doll with no agency. Despite your objections. It seems like only the keeper of the portal has any rudimentary undestanding of your language, not that it helped you. He didn't explain much and his speech wasn't that great. Something about... a big game?
You were naturally frightened beyond all reason, seeing all these beast-men, but it didn't seem like you were being harmed. It really wasn't what you thought hell was going to be like.
On the day of the big tournament, you were dressed in the finest silks, given a tiny crown of silver, and taken to the best seat in the arena. One where everyone could see you. A cushioned throne was provided for you to sit upon. You figured that this must be a ceremony to welcome people from the portal.
You watched as all the combatants sparred. At first you were horrified, but it became evident that people could yield and death was, almost always, avoided. There were combatants of every variety.
Even from the start the best seemed to be a naga woman named Eeris and a bear-man named Brakwen. As they advanced through the fights they both finally made it to the finals where they'd clash. Eeris favored twin daggers and fangs while Brakwen used claws and brute strength. He had a sword but had not resorted to using it.
It was a mighty battle but Brakwen the bear-man managed to win. You still did not yet realize you were the prize. Not until you were escorted down to him and were carried bridal style out of the arena with the crowd cheering. Brakwen had won the god's favor!
From close up he looked even more imposing. He seemed to be in his late 30s to early 40s. He mostly looked like a hairy man from far away though up close his massive size, sharp teeth, claws, thick fur covering his arms and quite frankly adorable bear ears, gave him away. He was rugged but admittedly rather handsome. You knew there was nothing you could do so you let him carry you away.
Despite the language barrier, Brakwen did his best to please his god-given prize. He could tell you feared him. Especially since you tried to run off a few times. But Brakwen didn't get angry. You never even managed to get past the door. Even if you did there were two gates outside the house. You were far too valuable to let wander off.
Eventually when you had stopped running off, and when his rut demanded he wait no longer, he began acting a bot more aggressove and sexual towards you.
Though you tried to stop him it ended with him stretching out your hole with his powerful tongue, lubing you up with his copious amounts of drool, and sliding into you with his massive musky cock.
That's what your life was now. Being treated like a fragile precious gem most of the time and then for one week out of every month you were fucked full of hot bear cum in every possible position, bitten possessively, and scent marked by being forced to wear his oversized clothing.
#yandere teratophilia#yandere terato#yandere x reader#monster boyfriend#gender neutral reader#yandere monster#yandere boyfriend#male yandere x gn reader#my ocs#My OC Brakwen#yandere exo#yandere exophilia
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brother's prejudice — max fewtrell
pairings. max fewtrell x norris!fem!reader, lando norris x twin!fem!reader
summary. you have always been happy to support lando in any way you can but when he can't give that same support back when your relationship with his best friend is revealed, you're left wondering if your relationship with your twin brother will ever be the same. 4.2k, 18+
playlist. "idfc" by blackbear, "the heart wants what it wants" by selena gomez, "our song" by taylor swift, "it will come back" by hozier, "make me like you" by gwen stefani
warnings. lando's a bit of a dick but he makes up for it, censored oral (male receiving)
. . .
"Do you want me to suck your dick or do you want to watch Markiplier?"
"Do you want an honest answer?"
You huffed, and started to get out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower."
"No, baby, I'm just kidding."
Max grabbed hold of your hand before you even fully got to your feet. He tugged you back onto the mattress, pushed you down and hovered over you.
"You're too late. The moment is gone," you said.
"I'm sorry."
He tried to kiss you but only got your cheek when you turned your head to the side.
"Baby, don't be like that. C'mon."
He kissed your neck and your breath caught in your throat because you were just a girl. You were just a weak girl when it came to Max.
"I love you," he said into the skin of your neck.
"Hm," you pretended to consider it, "Apology accepted. Lay down, drama queen."
You pushed at Max's shoulder and he let you get on top of him. You grabbed a hair tie from the nightstand to pull your hair back with.
Max let his hands slide under your shirt—which was actually his shirt, which was why he was only in his sleep shorts at the moment. He freely let himself feel you up as you tied your hair up, squeezing your thighs and hips, your ass and up to your boobs.
"You've got to stop groping me if you want me to give you a blowjob."
"But you know how much I love groping you."
You laughed and pulled his hands out of your shirt. You intertwined your fingers with his, leaned down to kiss his nose.
"You're really making it seem like you don't want me to suck you off."
"I never said that."
You kissed the knuckles on each of Max's hands before shimmying further down the bed, pulling the blankets with you. Soon, the only sounds in the room were Max's sighs of pleasure and the lewd, wet noises coming from your mouth.
Then, someone with the spare keycard to Max's hotel room unlocked the door and entered without knocking.
"Max, mate, the plane's leaving at ten, not eleven, apparently. I tried texting you in the group chat but—what. The. Fuck."
Thank god Lando was a naturally loud individual, giving just enough time for you to sit up and wipe your mouth, for Max to pull his shorts back up. You both faced Lando with similar caught expressions, still tangled up in bed together but thankfully without your lips currently around Max’s dick.
"Are you actually kidding me? My sister? What the fuck, mate?"
You jumped in to try and defuse the situation before it escalated. "Lando, just wait a second. Let me explain—"
Lando cut you a harsh glare. "I'm not fucking talking to you. We can talk about you acting like a slag later."
You drew back, more than a little hurt at your twin's words and the tone in which he said them.
"Don't talk to her like that," Max stood up for you.
"That's really what you're worried about right now?"
"That you're calling your sister a slag? Yeah, it is."
"What the fuck is going on? You get busy with the one girl that has always been off limits and you think you're some sort of knight in shining armor?"
"Let's just all wait a second. Yeah? Let's just take a breath."
“Shut up, Y/N.”
“Lando, if you think—“
“Please don’t argue, Max—“
“He’s being a fucking dick to you, Y/N—“
“I’m being the dick? You’re shagging my sister—“
“That’s no excuse to talk to her like that—“
“It’s not like that—“
“How long has this been going on?”
“Lando, just listen—“
“Ten months.”
You close your eyes.
“TEN MONTHS!”
The flight back home was going to be a long one.
.
“You really don’t have to come.”
“Do you not want me to?”
“No, I do but… Lando is going to be there.”
“And you don’t trust him not to cause a scene?”
“I don’t know if I trust either of you not to get into a shouting match in front of our parents.”
You were already dressed and ready to go to your parents for dinner. You sat on the bathroom counter as Max finished getting ready. He was fixing his hair, the last step before he would be done, also.
You watched as the gentle, concentrated furrow in his brow deepened to one of anger. “He called you a slag, Y/N. I don’t care if he’s your brother; that’s not okay.”
“He said I was acting like a slag—“
“Same difference.”
“—and he didn’t mean it. He was just caught off guard. I did go behind his back…”
“Don’t paint him as the victim. Admittedly, we probably should have told him sooner but that doesn’t mean he gets it be a dick about it.”
Max momentarily abandoned his hair to squeeze your knee.
“You have to stop making excuses for him.”
“He’s my brother.”
“And he has always walked all over you. When was the last time he properly apologized to you for anything?"
“Max…”
This wasn’t the first time Max had brought this up and every time, you deflected or excused everything Max tried to shine a light on. Lando was Max’s best friend but he was your brother, your twin brother. You had never not known him.
Lando was integral in who you were as a person. You were made as a pair. You grew up as a pair. You had always had each other. He was your built in best friend. You always had his back, no matter what.
If you were a pushover, if you let Lando tease you and speak to you in ways you’d never let anyone else, if you tolerated things from him you that you shouldn’t, then that was your decision.
Max didn’t understand that. He didn’t seem capable of understanding the complex workings of your relationship with your twin. You would do anything for Lando, regardless of what it would mean for you, and you were fine with that.
That was how it had always been: Lando, the showman, and you, the supportive sister. Even back when you were karting together, Lando was out front and you were playing defense to protect his position.
You celebrated his victories more than you ever celebrated your own but that was fine. He was your brother and you loved him.
“Okay, fine. Whatever,” Max relented on that front. “But this is a step too far. He doesn’t get to act like a petulant little kid because I’m dating you. Calling you names and running away to Monaco when he’s meant to be filming with Quadrant. He’s being ridiculous.”
Some part of you knew the punishment of Lando ignoring you for the past month didn’t fit the crime of not telling him you were dating Max. The bigger, more conscious part of you felt like carving “traitor” into your forearm with a steak knife and hoping the pain would make your brother forgive you.
Your messages to Lando had become a wall of blue, full of apologies, begging to let you explain, attempts at striking up a conversation like normal, asking if he had meant to cancel your plane ticket to the Azerbaijan Grand Prix followed by even more apologies and then congratulations on a race well done.
You played with your fingers the whole car ride. Max reached over at one point after you had started picking at your cuticles to kiss the back of your hand and hold it the rest of the way, making idle talk that did nothing to distract you from what you were headed towards.
After Lando found you two in Max’s hotel room and the ensuing argument got heated on both of the boys’ sides, Max stayed with you for a few days. When he finally went back to his and Lando’s London flat hoping to talk things out before filming for Quadrant, Lando had cleared out.
He posted a rather passive aggressive Instagram story a few days later about “real friends” featuring some other F1 drivers all holding padel rackets. Max had not been happy when he found you torn up over it, shedding tears over the fear that you had lost your brother.
You had always been sensitive. Quick to cry, quick to care, quick to get attached, quick to get hurt. Lando poked fun at you for it your entire lives but he was also the first to jump in and defend you whenever anyone else said anything to you.
Lando’s distance over the last few weeks hurt. Like, physically hurt. You would see something that you thought he would find funny and go to text him about it just to remember he was giving you the silent treatment and your chest would hurt for the next several hours as you waited on a reply that never came.
Despite it all, when you saw Lando stood in the kitchen with your mom, the first time you had seen him in over three weeks, you couldn't help but smile.
He was halfway to returning it, as if on instinct alone. Then, he noticed Max at your back and his face fell devoid of any sort of pleased emotion. Your own smile fell, chest starting to ache again.
“Y/N darling, there you are.” Your mom came over to hug you and kiss your cheek, then did the same to Max. “And Max! Your best be treating my girl right.”
"Of course, Mrs Norris."
"Stop it with that; I've told you to call me Cisca."
"Mum knows?" Lando said. "You already told mum? Did she know before I did?"
You drew a sharp breath. It was difficult to talk to Lando when his tone was both wounded and accusatory.
"She called me not long after you boys had your spat," your mom explained, "Told me all about her and Max and I couldn't be more pleased. I always knew you fancied him, Y/N, even back in your karting days."
"Muuuum," you groaned, embarrassed even if Max already knew how long you had been crushing on him.
Max laughed and kissed your cheek. "The Shield fancied me."
"Shut up."
“The Shield” was the cringe-worthy nickname that karting media outlets had given you back in the day on account of how difficult it was to overtake you. So much of your karting career had been defense for Lando but you always felt a little victorious whenever you made a boy mad about getting beat by you simply because he couldn't get around you.
You could have gone far in racing if you hadn't quit after a single season of F4.
Lando gagged at Max's display of affection.
Max zeroed in on him, eyes sharp and mouth opening to call him out. You caught his shirt between your fingers, silently reminding him that he had promised not to start a fight. He looked mighty unhappy about it, but Max let his chest deflate and followed you into the dining room to help your other siblings set the table.
Ten minutes later, you all sat down to eat.
This was not the first time Max had dinner with your family. It had become such a common occurrence that it didn't cross any of your minds that your typical seating arrangement had your dad at one head of the table, your mom at the other, your older brother and sisters on one side, and you, Lando, and Max on the other, in that order, always with Lando between you.
Even dating Max, you didn’t think to sit next to him because that was Lando’s seat. It didn’t even cross your mind that it might not have been the best decision to sit your twin next to his best friend who had gone behind his back to date you for months without telling him but it was too late for that.
Lando was the last to sit down after going to retrieve the forgotten napkins. You considered swapping seats last minute as he hesitated over the dining room threshold, then thought better of making a scene and resigned yourself to a torturous dinner without being able to hold Max's hand through it all.
After getting caught by Lando, you had told your mom about you and Max. She had obviously clued your father in but you weren't sure which of your siblings knew the full extent of what went down when Lando found out.
Oliver and Cisca seemed oblivious enough, even if they were casting confused glances at you, Lando and, Max, trying to figure out why the three of you weren't speaking to each other. However, Flo was keeping an awfully watchful eye on your twin and boyfriend, as though waiting for the show to begin.
Table talk was casual and nearly pleasant. With Lando uncharacteristically silent beside you, and Max refusing to so much as look at his best friend, you couldn't fully enjoy spending time with your family while they were all together.
Max caught your eye behind Lando. He gave you a smile, one you couldn't quite return. Lando leaned back and got in the way of your eyeline to Max. You turned back to your food, continuing to pick at the delicious pork your mom had cooked but not able to enjoy it.
"Max, what of you?"
"Sorry?" Max was about as clueless to the conversation at hand as you were.
"Do you have plans to visit Monaco any more this year?"
They must have been talking about the trip your parents and youngest sister would be taking to Monaco during Cisca's summer break. You had planned on taking time off work to go with them, as well as with Max later in the year, closer to the end of the F1 season to attend a few races and help film some Quadrant content.
"Are you and Y/N going sometime together, possibly?"
It was a harmless enough suggestion from your mother. She probably only wanted to try and get Lando and Max to say a word to each other.
Then, despite having already agreed to house both of you later in the year, Lando said, "They haven't mentioned anything."
You really were not enjoying this dinner.
It was getting harder and harder to have all your siblings in the same place as you all got older. Only Cisca lived at home now and she was going off to uni in Manchester next year.
You missed when being with your family was easy, when you didn't even have to think about it. You missed your childhood bedroom that was now the second guest bedroom, your and Lando's bunk beds long gone.
You missed your brother terribly, even if it had only been about three and a half weeks since contact was cut. You didn't want to lose him to something like this but at the same time, you couldn't imagine letting Max go.
Max made you so happy. Couldn't Lando see that? Couldn't he see how in love you were? Couldn't he accept your and Max's relationship for the sake of not wanting to lose his twin sister and best friend?
You would do anything for Lando. You had given up so much for him. You supported him at every twist and turn of your lives. You just wanted things to be okay again.
"Y/N darling, what’s wrong?"
Your mom’s question was quiet, meant to not attract anyone’s attention. But Lando and Max were both quiet, too, in unsettling amounts from the two of them. They both looked at you just in time to see you wiping at your cheek.
"I'm fine."
Except you weren't fine. You were sad and nostalgic and sick of feeling that way and now you were all teary. You just wanted a nice dinner with your family where the two men you loved most in the world acted normal and you didn't start randomly crying at the dining table.
Lando put his hand on your arm. "Y/N/N, are you alright?"
Like his touch finally shook loose something inside you that you had been holding back since the hotel argument or maybe even longer, you rounded on your twin brother.
"No, I'm not alright! How could I be alright when you're acting like this?"
Lando immediately threw his walls back up, going on defense. "You and Max went behind my back."
"And that means you get to throw a month long hissy fit over it?"
"You've been dating for ten months!"
"It's actually eleven, now, mate."
Lando turned to shoot a glare at your boyfriend. "Shut up, Max."
"Stop being a dick, Lando! Just stop! Yes, we should have told you sooner. Yes, I'm sorry you found out like you did. But that doesn't mean you get to treat me, treat us like this."
"How am I supposed to react?"
"You're supposed to get over the initial shock and be happy that two of the people you care about are happy together."
(On the other side of the table, Cisca leaned closer to Oliver. "When did Y/N and Max start dating?"
"I think he said eleven months ago."
"That long and they haven't told us?"
Flo shushed them both. "Shut up; I'm trying to watch.")
"How am I meant to be happy about you two lying to me for the last year?" Lando demanded.
"I have been trying to apologize and talk to you about that for the last month and you haven't let me! You ran off to Monaco, ditched your Quadrant responsibilities, and left me thinking that I'd ruined things forever. That's such a dick move, Lando! Fuck—"
You were crying again. You wiped angrily at your cheeks, wanting to be taken seriously and get your point across but it was difficult when you had tears running down your face.
"You can't just ditch me like that when things get rough. It's not fair when I've been there with you through everything. I have never not supported you. I have always been there for you. I quit racing so that you wouldn't get passed over. But the second I do something you don't like, you can't give me even an ounce of support in return."
"What do you mean you quit racing so I wouldn't get passed over?"
Your chest went still, blood running cold. Shit. Shit shit shit, Lando was never meant to know about that. You had never planned on telling him. Never ever. Not even when you were old and saggy and there would be no consequences. You were meant to take that secret to the grave.
"That's not what's important. I don't understand—"
"What did you mean, Y/N?"
You gulped. "It's nothing. It was a long time ago, anyway. It doesn't matter."
"Y/N."
.
"Me? You want to sign me?"
The Josef Kaufmann Racing representative grinned at your bewilderment. "Yes, you."
"No way. Are you serious?"
"Completely. It obviously won't be set in stone today and we'll need to speak with your parent or guardian but Carlin would be lucky to have you on our roster next season."
"Oh my god. No way!"
You had been worried about next season as all the 2015 series were nearing their ends and you had yet to have been scouted by any teams. Your contract with Mücke Motorsport was coming to an end after this season but now you had been offered a seat in the next level of racing, at the same team your brother was in talks with, no less.
"Oh, this is great! Lando and I will still be on the same team. You know, my brother and I have always walked about being on the same F1 team. That would be crazy, obviously, but this is just like that but on a smaller scale."
"We'd not be giving your brother a seat."
Your excitement was gone in an instant. "Sorry?"
"Lando wouldn't have the seat in Formula Renault. It would be yours, instead."
"You're offering me... my brother's seat."
"That is correct."
Just like that, you let your career die. "I don't want it, then."
The rep blinked at you. "What?"
"Give the seat to Lando. He's who you want. He's the better driver. He has always finished before me."
"He would not have if you were not defending his position. Josef Kaufmann would rather have you driving for them next year."
"I don't want the seat. Give it to Lando. I was planning on quitting racing, anyway. Sign Lando for next year. He'll do well for you."
.
"Y/N, what the actual fuck?"
You ducked your head. "Don't blow it out of proportion."
"You gave away you entire racing career at the drop of a hat because you didn't want to take a seat that I hadn't even been signed for yet? You— Why would you do that?"
"Because you're my brother."
Behind Lando, Max was staring at you, wide-eyed. All around the table, your family openly stared at you in shock, not quite able to believe the real reason you had suddenly dropped out of racing.
The reason you had given was that you had gotten bored of it. That you had only ever gotten into it because of Lando. That you didn’t want to constantly be in competition with your brother. That when Lando got famous, you didn’t want to be his lesser racing counterpart.
There may have been some truth in those excuses but the whole truth was this: you had been offered the seat Lando was negotiating for and you would not take it from him. You loved racing; you did not love it more than you loved your brother.
“Y/N, I… I honestly don’t even know what to say.”
“You could start with an apology,” Max offered.
“To both of us,” you added.
Max leaned back in his chair. “I’m good back here. Worry about me later.”
“No, she’s right,” Lando said. “I’ve been a real dick to both of you over the last few weeks. You guys didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve always had Max as my chosen best friend and you, Y/N, as my built in best friend but then you guys started getting closer. Then, I found out you’re together and it’s like, what do you need me for if you have each other?”
Any anger you may have been holding onto melted into sympathy. “Aw, Lando—“
“You are so fucking thick, mate,” Max cut in. “You think I’m going to treat my girlfriend the same way I treat your dumbass? I need a platonic best friend just as much as I need a romantic one.”
You laughed at the face Lando pulled.
“If you start referring to us as your platonic and romantic best friends, I’m fleeing to Monaco again.”
“It’s too late. It’s already started, platonic best friend.”
“Eugh, this is terrible. Go back to being awkward acquaintances, please.”
“I love her, mate. There’s no going back from that.”
You loved Max. Wholly and truly you did. How well he got along with Lando was just the icing on the cake, another thing to add onto the list of reasons you were stupidly in love with him.
Your lovesick expression must have been quite obvious because suddenly Lando was shoving your head to the side with a hand over your face.
“Oh my god, don’t look at him like that—I’m gonna barf.”
(Oliver had gone back to his food.
Cisca was still watching, confused. “Wait, so Y/N and Max have been dating for eleven months and not even Lando knew? Why?”
“Apparently, it was an oversight.”
Flo speared an asparagus. “This is better than any TV show I’ve watched all year.”
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Oliver said.
“I’m the only one enjoying this the correct amount. I’ve been waiting for Lando to stop cockblocking Y/N and Max since 2014. I am allowed to be entertained by their drama.”)
“Can we circle back to the whole quit racing because of Lando thing?” Max asked, “Because what the fuck, babe?”
“You quit racing, too!”
“Because I was burnt out, not because I would rather throw my entire career away than make my brother momentarily unhappy while other teams jumped at the opportunity to sign him up.”
“It’s fine! I mean, look at where Lando is now. Season number five of Formula One! It all worked out in the end.”
.
“Are you really okay with us being together?”
You stood outside with Lando and Max after dinner had finished up. Your parents were loading the dishwasher, Oliver was driving off down the street, and Flo was finishing up doing something with Cisca inside. The three of you were finally able to talk privately.
Lando was quiet for a while after your question. He still seemed a little hesitant but it wasn’t anywhere near how he had reacted in the hotel. He glanced down at where you were holding Max’s hand, then looked away, still thinking.
“You’re not allowed to have sex while I’m in the flat,” is what Lando eventually decided on saying.
Max, unimpressed, said, “It’s a bit late for that, mate.”
“Oh my god,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands.
Lando yelled his displeasure quite loudly. Max just laughed at him, not at all apologetic.
Even if your face was burning, at least you knew things would be okay. You had your brother back. Max had his best friend back. And Lando had both of you back.
The three of you were messy and intertwined but you would be okay.
#half.writes#max fewtrell#max fewtrell x reader#max fewtrell fic#max fewtrell fanfic#max fewtrell fanfiction#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris fic#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fanfiction#formula one#formula 1#f1#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#quadrant#quadrant fic#quadrant fanfic#quadrant fanfiction
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You have to share
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Mom!wife!reader
Warnings: none
Summary: your son thinks that Max needs to share.
I was at home, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility after a long and victorious Formula 1 season. Sitting on the living room sofa, I watched Oliver playing with his toy cars on the rug. At that moment, I caught myself thinking about how big he had gotten and how quickly time had passed. It seemed like yesterday that Y/n told me she was pregnant, and we were at the hospital watching him being born. Now he was already four years old, and I was thinking about talking to her and seeing what she thought about trying for another one.
"Daddy, can you come play with me?" Oliver asked, his voice full of enthusiasm.
"Of course, champ." I replied, smiling as I got up to sit with him on the rug.
I sat next to Oliver, picking up one of the cars. We started an improvised race, Oliver's laughter filling the room and making me laugh along with him.
Of course, he made me be myself, and he was Uncle Lando.
After a few minutes, Oliver suddenly stopped and looked at me seriously.
"Daddy, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, what's up?" I asked, surprised by the sudden change in tone.
"Why do you win all the championships? Don't you think it's a bit selfish not to share with the other drivers?"
I admit I was extremely surprised by the question. I had never thought that Oliver could see it that way.
"Why do you think that?"
"Because Mommy always says we can't be selfish, that we have to share and we can’t have everything just because we want to. But you always have the victories, and that's not fair.” he said simply, and I understood his analogy about selfishness.
"Look, Oliver, I love what I do. I love racing, and I love winning. It's something I've worked for my whole life.” I began, trying to explain.
"But, Daddy," Oliver interrupted, "if you win everything, the other drivers never get a chance to feel what it's like to be a champion. They must be really sad."
I was silent for a moment, considering my son's words. I had never thought of my victories that way, obviously, because that's not how the sport works, but I also had never thought of explaining it to him so he wouldn't think I or any other driver was selfish for winning.
"I understand what you're saying," I told him. "But Formula 1 is a competitive sport. All the drivers train hard and want to win; there's no rule that says each driver has to win once. When I win, it's because I worked hard for it. And I know the other drivers also work really hard, and when their time comes, they will win too."
Oliver frowned, thinking.
"But wouldn't it be fairer if you let the others win sometimes? That way, everyone would be happy." I smiled at him, proud that he thought that way.
"You know, Oliver, the joy of winning comes from effort and dedication. If I just let the others win, it wouldn't be fair to them either. They want to win honestly, knowing they were the best that day and not because someone let them win."
Oliver nodded slowly, understanding.
"So you win because you're the best? And they also want to win because that shows they're the best?"
"Exactly," I replied, satisfied with his understanding. "And that's what makes victory so special. Each driver has their victories, their achievements. And we all respect each other for that."
Oliver smiled, now more relieved.
"So, when I grow up and race for real, I'll train really hard to beat you!" I laughed, hugging my son.
"That's right, champ. And when that day comes, I'll be very proud of you."
After that, we continued playing with the toy cars, and about half an hour later, my wife walked through the door with her bag and a pizza box.
"Hi, my loves," she said, closing the door, and I was immediately abandoned.
"Mommy!" Oliver shouted, running to her, and she hugged him, picking him up.
"What are my two favorite boys doing?"
"We're playing Formula 1," he said excitedly, and she gave me a peck on the lips.
"Hmmm, sounds fun."
"Do you want to play with us?" He gave her those big blue puppy eyes. Y/n knows how to resist, but he always wins me over with them.
"I would love to, but I'm starving and really craving that pizza."
"You brought pizza?" he asked, excited.
"Yes, I did."
"Then what are we waiting for?" he said, starting to squirm in her arms to be put down. "I'm going to wash my hands."
And with that, he ran to the bathroom, giving me a few minutes alone with her.
"How are you?" I asked, hugging her waist as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
"Tired but good, counting the days until vacation." She kissed me again.
"Oliver asked me today if I didn't think it was selfish of me to win all the championships and not let the other drivers win too." She started laughing at that.
"Where did he get that from?" she asked, going to set up the pizza for us to eat.
"He asked because he thought it was unfair for me to win everything and because he thought the other drivers would be sad."
"Ugh, he's so cute," she said, and I agreed. "I miss when he was a baby."
"About that," then she looked at me, "I was thinking about having another one."
"Do you want another kid?"
"Yes, don't you?"
"I do, actually, I just didn't know if you wanted to."
"I would love to have another four," she laughed.
"That's not going to happen. If it were you giving birth, I'd agree, but since it's not," just then Oliver came in and sat in his chair, and I served him a slice of pizza and a glass of juice.
“Hmm I love pizza.” He said with his mouth all covered with sauce making us laugh.
After we had dinner as a family we all went to bed to watch a movie together.
Bonus scene!
Y/nverstappen instagram stories
“Daddy and Oli time. And yes, he looks exactly like his father, I was just carrying him for 9 months.”
#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1#f1 instagram au#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen headcanons#max verstappen wallpaper#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen f1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen smut#max verstappen x you#max verstappen angst#max verstappen au#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen series#max verstappen drabble#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen masterlist#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen red bull#max verstappen instagram au#mv1 x reader#mv1#mv33#mv1 imagine#mv33 x reader
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Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that
okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed
this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.
DAY 3 EDIT:
now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.
day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new
day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).
the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.
#muse talk#bumble-punch#ask to tag#aaand scene#i think#this is very long i am sorry. a lot of shit has gone down.
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Yuurin: *is on the phone with Akihiko*
Akihiko: Bluebell, it's already late. You should go to bed now.
Yuurin: Yes. But before that, there's something I would like to ask you.
Akihiko: Hm? What is it, bluebell?
Yuurin: How do you initiate a kiss?
Akihiko: ...
Akihiko: *chuckles* You can ask Leona about that, bluebell.
Yuurin: Leona-senpai said he got an ear infection.
Akihiko: ...
Akihiko: Alright. Brother will explain it the best way he can.
Leona: Did you get your answer?
Yuurin: *nods*
Leona: Great.
Yuurin: How's your ear infection, Leona-senpai?
Leona: It's gone now.
Yuurin: ...
Leona: Anyway, what did Aki teach you?
Yuurin: He said that I only needed to learn how to use my tongue.
Leona: ...
Yuurin: What's wrong, Leona-senpai?
Leona: My ear infection came back.
Yuurin: ...
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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ PJO/HOO BOYS + TROPES
masterlist | rules
pairings percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang & travis stoll x reader
warnings none!
on the radio the cheesiest love song you could think of
an wanted to post something this is what i came up with
percy ⊹ she fell first, he fell harder
in camp half blood, having a crush on percy jackson is seen as both a blessing and a curse. a blessing because he’s the perfect guy - he’s cute, respectful, charming, funny, and so much more! however, he is also a gold rush. everyone likes percy, how could you possibly get a chance with him? it’d be better for you to move on and find someone less popular in the love department. despite all the warnings you receive, you can’t stop liking him and, well, it seems aphrodite commends your commitment towards the son of poseidon! for all of a sudden, all he can think about is the way your eyes shine in the sun and how your laugh rivals any song on the radio. it doesn’t hit percy how much he likes you until he’s replaying a brief interaction he had with you from three weeks ago instead of sleeping. as the realisation slowly sinks in, percy smiles. not only did he fall, but he fell hard
jason ⊹ everyone can see it but you two
everyone who knows you and jason knows that the two of you come as a package deal - wherever you go, jason follows and vice versa. you would go to tartarus and back to ensure jason’s happiness, and he would do the same for you! classic best friend behaviour, right? it’s totally normal to cuddle your best friends to sleep, right? you’re allowed to look at jason’s biceps as he trains in a friendly way, right? you just admire his strength, nothing more, nothing less! he stares at your parted lips as you suck air into your lungs after a particularly hard day of training, but that’s just because you’re his best friend and he thinks you’re gorgeous in a friendly way! your other friends are all just overthinking it, you and jason definitely have a typical best friend relationship with strictly platonic feelings… right?
leo ⊹ brother’s best friend
the one rule your brother drilled into you your whole life was that while you could date whoever you wanted, his friends were strictly off limits. you’d abided with no issues whatsoever, all of his friends weren’t your type anyway, and it’d be so awkward dating someone who already has a lot of history with your brother (especially if you break up later on)! if all of that is true, why’s your heart desperately yearning for a certain mechanic by the name of leo valdez? and why does it feel like he yearns for you, too? the universe seems to have laid out the perfect romance, so naturally, you seize the opportunity and express your gratitude. all you have to do is explain the situation to your brother, who would be furious… oh well, you might as well hide your relationship while you think about how to tell him - it’s not like he notices the sneaky touches leo gives you when he’s ‘not looking’
frank ⊹ childhood friends to strangers to lovers
when frank had disappeared all those years ago, you were devastated. how could your sweet frankie, the boy who lived right next door, the boy who’d play house with you and kiss the bruises on your knees in hopes they’d heal quicker, leave you without saying a word? no matter how much time passed, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. time did not heal the wound frank left right in the middle of your heart. it wasn’t until you discovered you’re a demigod and were taken to some place called camp half blood that you’d run into frank once more. now, he was known as praetor frank zhang: son of mars, legacy of poseidon. despite all the fancy titles and duties, your frankie didn’t change, and as the two of you grew closer and closer, you couldn’t help but feel something more than platonic love for the boy next door
travis ⊹ fake dating
you wanted to make your ex jealous, travis wanted to get his crush to finally realize she likes him. what better way to achieve both goals than by fake dating each other? the two of you already got along pretty well as friends, so pretending to date each other wouldn’t be questionable or hard! all you had to do was be a little more touchy than you already are for a month or two, then, once your ex wants you back and he gets the girl of his dreams, you ‘break up’ and move on. however, you can’t help but feel jealousy yourself whenever travis talks about this girl - what’s so special about her anyway? what does she have that you don’t? similarly, travis always gets annoyed whenever your ex is brought up, you should be with someone much better! (someone like him, maybe?) when the two of you finally get exactly what you wished for, you can’t help but feel a little reluctant to break up, even though your relationship was never real to begin with
#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x fem reader#jason grace x reader#jason grace x you#jason grace x y/n#jason grace x fem reader#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x you#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez x fem reader#frank zhang x reader#frank zhang x you#frank zhang x y/n#frank zhang x fem reader#travis stoll x reader#travis stoll x you#travis stoll x y/n#travis stoll x fem reader#pjo x reader#hoo x reader#cynwrites
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four - hockey player!ex!rafe cameron (pt. 2)
summary: with the stakes of your relationship on the line, can rafe pull off the impossible to win you back?
word count: 6k 🫣
a/n: i love you all for the love on this lil' series!! ♡ toxic hockey rafe has me in a chokehold, so i promise this will not be the last you see of him!! apologies in advance, you will basically be attending a full hockey game here, i tried my best to explain all the lingo!
(part one)
The arena was packed even though you were there early, arriving alone because the other girlfriends and wives were always late, which simply wasn't in your DNA.
Your dad was a coach growing up, so you spent countless hours in empty rinks, arenas and stands; his rule for games was that you were in your seat early enough to see the starting lineup and the national anthem, no exceptions. Truth be told you liked being there when the lights went down, when the music amped up, you loved the anticipation of a new game.
You didn't mind sitting in the cold seat, hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate that you got from the same concession stand every time. Hockey players were notoriously superstitious and by extension now you were too; just like they had their pregame rituals, so did you: same parking spot in the VIP lot, same hot chocolate from the same concession stand, same seat in section 106. You were in the lower bowl of the arena, a few rows back from the ice, facing the bench, nearly eye-level with the team.
You let your mind wander and tried not to think about Rafe but it was impossible, this place was Rafe to you; from the feeling of the cold air on your cheeks and fingers, to the damp and crisp smell of the ice and the sounds of the fans and ambient pregame music, all of it was a part of your love story, all of it was him. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt like you thought it would, rather it felt like coming home after a semester at college, foreign but familiar.
You swiped at your phone, a nervous tick, even though you knew there wouldn't be anything there, which was a good thing, Rafe needed to be focused on the game, so you slid your phone into the cupholder next to you and resorted to tapping your heeled foot nervously.
The seats around you filled quickly and sure enough the other girlfriends and wives arrived just as the lights were dimming, offering cheek kisses and sympathetic hugs, well aware of your situation. Your best friend Morgan slid in next to you, pulling you into her side.
"It's selfish, but I'm glad you're here" she said, loud enough to be heard over the music and the announcer as her brown eyes traced your face sympathetically.
"I'm fine" you lied with a forced smile. Totally fine you thought. Not the love of my life who broke my heart then skated over it trying to win me back in the middle of the semifinals.
You decided to keep all of that to yourself, because truthfully it was ridiculous. It was juvenile. And it was never going to happen. And you didn't want it to happen anyway, you reassured yourself. Right?
You shook your head as you turned your attention to the starting lineup as Rafe's name boomed over the loudspeaker, the cheering noticeably louder from the crowd. He was a fan favorite, beloved for his fast and aggressive style of play. He wasn't afraid to two-hand someone when the referee wasn't looking, to stand up for his team, to battle for the puck. He was chippy, gritty, and he's on the first line tonight you thought to yourself, a spot reserved for the very best players, putting them in the best scoring position. But surely that's not in any way related to our deal... you mused.
You stood on your tiptoes to see him over the crowd in front of you. He was standing at center ice under the spotlight, his helmet tucked under his arm as he shuffled side to side on his skates, face unsmiling, focused as he looked between his feet and the empty ice in front of him. Your heart leapt uncontrollably at the sight of him; God he's beautiful you thought as your body hummed in recognition and longing, completely betraying you.
The tension and animosity in the arena were thick. You had faced the opposing team a few times in the regular season and it did not end well.
As in, you'd lost every time.
As in, Rafe left the last game with a five-minute major penalty and a black eye after an all-out brawl.
Now the fans were itching for a rematch and you were simply hoping for everyone to leave in one piece. That was the difference between being a fan and being someone who cared deeply for the boys on the ice, it wasn't a spectacle to you anymore. You watched as Rafe's wingers Nick and Andrew stood beside him, followed by two defensemen and your goalie as the national anthem wrapped up.
Everyone took their seats as the lights came back on and the music came on again too, urging the fans around you to cheer, and for you to resume the incessant tapping of your foot as you leaned forward in your seat, laser focused on the guys lining up for the faceoff.
"Girl, you good?" Morgan asked, taking in your nervous energy.
"Hmm?" you responded distractedly, barely glancing at her. "Yeah, yeah m'fine" you said.
You were always more into the game than the other girls, but that didn't account for the clear tension and anxiety rolling off of you in waves, nor the way you were immaculately dressed, which didn't go unnoticed either.
Rafe skated to center ice, equally sized with the opponent at faceoff as the referee dropped the puck. It had barely clattered to the ice before Rafe had gained possession, shouldering his opponent out of the way and barreling towards the offensive zone with a burst of energy like a gunshot that had the crowd almost immediately back on their feet, pulling you along with them.
"OK, I'm sorry, what is happening here?" Morgan said as she watched him.
He was a man possessed, head down, focused, ignoring his teammates as they called for the puck to set up a play, like he was trying to do it all himself. Like he was trying to score. He flipped the puck towards the goalie, who blocked it and possession shifted as he skated backwards on defense, your heart settling in your chest.
Rafe always played with intensity, but with the way he was playing now, he wouldn't make it through the first period. You thought there would be a reprieve on defense, but he was diving for the puck, playing to steal rather than defending his zone. He looked like a maniac.
Until it worked.
The crowd was back on their feet as he and Nick had a breakaway two-on-one, both of them racing towards the net together with only one defender standing between them and the goalie, the rest of their teammates striding to catch up with them. Nick called for the puck, slapping his stick on the ice, but Rafe deked the defender, faking him out before approaching the goalie and tipping the puck into the small pocket over his shoulder, swishing it effortlessly into the net.
The arena erupted as the goal horn blared and you found yourself jumping up and down, overcome with excitement and emotion. You could physically feel your heart beating. This is totally normal you thought. It's totally fine to score a goal in the first two minutes of the game, on his first shift, against the toughest team in the league.
You watched players pile on him in celebration before they all skated back to the bench, bumping fists with their team before taking a seat on the bench. Your eyes were glued to him, and his were on the jumbotron above center ice, watching his own replay before the coach approached him, grasping his shoulder angrily, and you could imagine why. He had been reckless, he had been lucky. Rafe nodded, but ultimately shook him off and refocused on the resumed play. Players zoomed in front of you and your eyes zipped to follow them before you glanced ever so briefly back at Rafe, who was unmistakably looking at you and smiling.
You swallowed to hide the emotions on your face, not giving him a single inch as you focused on the play.
You loved watching hockey, but it felt different when Rafe was on the ice, like he was a magnet, the only thing you could focus on, and his next shift was no different. He was playing like a madman and within seconds you could hear the coach shouting. Rafe turned up emptyhanded this time and the coach was visibly angry as Rafe skated to the bench, going so far as to yell back at him, which had you holding your breath; you had never seen him do that before.
Nick reached for Rafe's shoulder to calm him down and then they started bickering back and forth. Your attention was now split between the two of them and the action on the ice when you saw Nick physically rear back at something Rafe had said, the motion grabbing your full focus. Nick covered his face with his gloved hands, looking back at Rafe and then repeating the motion before he glanced up at the stands, at you, and shook his head, resigned. Were they talking about you!?! you thought. Had Rafe just told him what's going on?
You were so caught up that you missed the play as the other team scored. The game was tied 1-1. The arena echoed with boos as their bench erupted in cheers. You looked up at the clock: 2 minutes left in the first period.
Rafe and Nick got onto the ice for their last shift and the second the puck dropped, they were off as a duo, Nick's intensity now matching Rafe's own; they were bodying guys, tag-teaming as they raced into the offensive zone. Nick had the puck and passed to Rafe, and almost immediately Rafe was cornered by two extremely large defensemen who pinned him to the boards as they tried to steal the puck. But he wouldn't relent, throwing his elbows and trying to wiggle free, desperate and angry as the buzzer sounded for the end of the period.
And yet they didn't let him go. The crowd started shouting and everyone was on their feet as Rafe dropped his stick, turned and grabbed them both by the front of their jerseys, shoving them as the benches emptied and other players joined in, piling on top of one another until you lost sight of Rafe in a mess of limbs, equipment and jerseys. You were craning to see over the ecstatic fans, egging on the fight as the referees raced to break it up, pulling bodies off of one another until they reached Rafe.
His helmet had come off and as the referees skated him towards the locker room, he was shouting at the opposing team who skated after him, riling each other up before he yanked himself out of the ref's grasp and marched off the ice through the tunnel.
Period 1: Game Tied. 1-1.
You let out a deep sigh before collapsing back in your seat. You took a shaky inhale before exhaling and you felt a set of eyes on you.
You turned to see Morgan looking at you with an eyebrow arched.
"You're really going to sit here and act like you don't know what's going on? I know that boy texts you his every thought."
You opened your mouth, an excuse, a lie ready before she interrupted you.
"-- And I KNOW you didn't block him like you said you were going to, so don't try me. What the hell is going on?"
You bit your lip at that, glancing between her and the ice where the zamboni was running clean lines across the cold surface.
You gave a halfhearted shrug, "You know how much he wants to win, how much this means to him."
She doubled down her glare.
You sighed, avoiding her gaze before looking back to her.
"I made a deal with him" you nearly whispered.
A few of the other girls snuck by you both, causing you to shift in your seats as she leaned in and whisper-shouted at you:
"I'm sorry what!"
"If he scores four goals tonight, I said I'd get back together with him."
"You're joking" she said flatly. "Please tell me you're joking."
You pursed your lips with a small shake of your head.
"The two of you" she said as she let out an exasperated laugh. "Unbelievable. You can't stay away from each other and yet you’re willing to bet the stakes of your relationship on a game. I can't" she said, throwing her hands up in defeat.
She paused, getting serious for a moment.
"Are you sure you even want to get back with him, is that really such a good idea hun?"
"Morgan, he's never going to score four goals, it's like, impossible."
"Are you watching the same game I am?" she said emphatically. "Cause your mans sure is gonna try and you better ask yourself what you're going to do if he does."
There was a whisper of truth to what she was saying. It was probably impossible, but not completely out of reach. And what would you do? Your heart trilled. You would be ecstatic the devil on your shoulder said. You would be screwed said the angel.
Your phone buzzed in the cupholder next to you and swiped it open.
You grasped at your phone. Rafe never had his phone between periods, none of the players did, it was basically sacrilegious. They had just enough time to get treatment, catch their breath, hydrate and listen to their coach and he was on his phone!? You put yours down and tried to rearrange the smile creeping onto your face as you saw the teams rejoining the ice for the second period.
Just like before, Rafe was off like a rocket, but the other team was on to him this time, doubling his defensive coverage, making it nearly impossible for him to skate, let alone make a play. He had put a target on his back with the fight at the end of the first period, so even when he didn't have the puck, you could see the other players go after him, a stick in his skates, a slash at his side, heads turning to chirp at him as they lined up for faceoffs. But he didn't slow down for a moment, battling twice as hard now, coming back to the bench after each shift uncharacteristically exhausted, heaving with his elbows on his knees.
You watched him and felt overcome with emotions as the realization hit you: Rafe wasn't good at expressing himself, he wasn't a 'feelings' person, he didn't always know what to say, which is why sometimes words came better to him over texts when he had more time to think about it. But hockey? Hockey was his language. He couldn't tell you how sorry he was, how much he wanted to fight for this, but he could show you. He could play for you, he was playing for you, putting his body on the line, trying his all-out hardest, not a single person in the arena could deny that as they watched him tonight. He wanted this. Badly. Which meant he wanted you, badly. You felt a flush of warmth in your cheeks that had nothing to do with your lukewarm hot chocolate as you watched him slide up the bench for his next shift.
You looked up at the jumbotron. There were only 12 minutes left in the second period, and the game was still tied at 1-1.
What were you going to do if he scored four goals?
What were you going to do if he didn't? felt like the more pressing question. He was running out of time. If something didn't happen now, he would have one period left to score 3 goals, and that was simply not going to happen. I shouldn't have made the number so high you thought guiltily.
Your eyes glanced back to the ice as he clambered over the boards in the midst of a shift change. He was skating methodically, not slower, but maybe more strategically and you were sure his energy was waning even if it didn't look like it.
Suddenly, Nick picked the puck off an opponent and Rafe raced to skate with him, crossing into the offensive zone with several of their teammates. Nick had a wide open shot, and he brought his stick back for a slapshot before turning at the very last moment and passing to Rafe who had positioned himself near the goalie. The puck banked off his stick and ricocheted into the goal.
You were on your feet again, jumping up and down in Morgan's arms as the boys piled onto each other. The crowd was alive again as the team took a 2-1 lead, 5 minutes left now in the second period.
Morgan looked at you, shaking her head before shouting something you couldn't hear over the crowd. You shook your head back before she leaned in closer.
"Is Nick in on this shit?" she yelled.
You looked at her, confused.
"Why else wouldn't he take that shot? It was wide open."
The idea of Rafe recruiting his best friend and linemate into this made you lightheaded and giddy. As you looked back at the bench, the two of them were shoulder to shoulder, looking right at you and Nick waved, a goofy little smile on his face for the briefest of seconds before his attention returned to the game.
Period 2: Eagles winning. 2-1.
The period ended and you spent the last intermission glued to your seat as everyone around you got up to get food and drinks, your mind spinning.
One period. Twenty minutes left for Rafe to score 2 goals. It was still nearly impossible, but didn't feel as insurmountable as before and you still weren't sure what you wanted the outcome to be. You were staring into middle space, questioning your entire relationship when your phone buzzed again in your cupholder. You swiped it open.
Two hearts.
Two goals.
You smiled widely, rolling your eyes before giggling like a little girl. You wanted to respond, and your fingers lingered over your screen, but he still had no business being on his phone, and what could you possibly say anyway?? "Nevermind!! Let's get back together despite all the shit you put me through!"
Ugh.
The third period was simultaneously the slowest and quickest 20 minutes of your life.
Rafe was battling, and the other team battled back, getting chippier and chippier as the teams exchanged penalties and breakaways, but the score stayed the same. You could feel the crowd's excitement at the prospect of scraping through this game with a one-goal lead; a good enough result to make them happy, but you couldn't deny the disappointment you felt as you were playing an entirely different game.
As time whittled down you felt yourself getting emotional as the odds were stacked against Rafe, stacked against both of you. Ten minutes. Eight. Five. Three. You could feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes as your foot continued to tap, eyes glancing anxiously between Rafe, the bench, the players and the jumbotron that counted down the time unceasingly.
Morgan reached for you, winding her arm around yours and grabbing your hand, a sad smile on her lips. You both knew this wasn't going to happen. There was just no way. You could sense that Rafe could feel it too, he was getting more and more desperate, scrambling after the puck, making sloppy mistakes that made you feel guilty, the most so when the other team scored… tying the game.
And then what felt like the final twist of the knife: with less than 1 minute left, they scored again, capitalizing on the dashed morale of the Eagles to take the lead 3-2. It was like someone sucked the air out of the arena. Rafe was on the ice, on his knees and all of the players looked so defeated.
Fuck fuck fuck was all you could think as they regrouped with their coach to come up with their last play, their last chance to tie the game. You leaned forward, desperately trying to read lips as if you could somehow decipher the plan. The ref blew the whistle and the coach sent guys on the ice, leaving Rafe behind, and your stomach dropped: he wasn't even going to get a chance.
Rafe argued and you could see him yelling and gesturing wildly as the coach yelled back. The ref blew the whistle again and you knew they were dangerously close to getting a delay of game penalty. A ripple of confusion went through the crowd as they watched the argument unfold and you wished you could sink into your seat and disappear.
The coach shouted something that seemed final before Rafe took one look at him, ignored him and skated onto the ice, swapping with Nick who slid onto the bench, head bowed, ashamed, as the coach berated him.
At this point, Rafe had been on the ice way longer than he should have, he was making mistakes, and now he was putting his career, his contract on the line as he stepped up to take the faceoff.
The puck dropped and the battle ensued as the teams fought back and forth. Their team took a shot on goal that had you holding your breath as the time ticked down.
There were less than 20 seconds left as the puck rebounded towards Rafe and he guided it with his stick, taking off down the ice faster than you'd ever seen him skate; in just three strides he had nearly covered the length of the rink, leaving all of the other players trailing behind him as he squared off with the goalie.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!" the crowd shouted.
You were on your feet, grasping Morgan's arm for dear life, certain you were leaving a mark as you continued to hold your breath.
Rafe shot the puck and it hit the goalie's leg pad, but bounded right back to him.
"Three! Two!"
He shot again and the goalie fell forward, but the crowd behind the goalie erupted and the official lit the lamp behind the goal - he had scored.
The puck had slid between the goalie's legs and Rafe exploded with energy, ripping down the ice and jumping into the glass in front of you as his team piled on top of him and the crowd went ballistic as fans threw their hats onto the ice to celebrate his hat trick - three goals scored.
You were jumping and screaming with the other girls, a few tears escaping your eyes in relief and excitement, overwhelmed at the entire situation.
Three goals.
He'd scored three damn goals, a new career record for him. And now they were in overtime.
Period 3: Game tied 3-3. End of regulation play.
"Wait! Wait! What the hell happens now!?" Morgan asked breathless, looking to you as the only girl that knew a thing about the rules.
"Overtime" you huffed, trying to calm yourself. "Another 20 minutes, first team to score wins."
"Was that part of the deal?" she asked.
"It wasn't not part of the deal?" you said. "We didn't really get into specifics" you laughed, rolling your eyes.
You glanced at the bench as both teams hydrated and listened to the coaches. Rafe's teammates were still all over him, smacking his helmet, arms slung around him. The coach said something to him and he put his hands up in surrender as he sat on the bench and his teammates took the ice.
Your eyes were glued to Rafe but unlike before his didn't meet yours and for a second, you didn't know how to take that. You craved that acknowledgement from him, but you also recognized the look on his face; he was totally 100% focused, eyes fixed on the action on the ice. He wants to win you thought. Or maybe his focus was for something else.
Within a few minutes, his line was up and they jumped on the ice. He was playing smart now, conservative, concentrated and gathered, a stark difference from before. He was strong on defense, backing his team up as they played perfectly off of each other, which paid off when Nick stole the puck and shouted as he passed the puck up the boards to Rafe who sprinted after it, just a stride in front of a defender.
"Oh my god" you heard Morgan mutter as everyone stood to their feet and even though the roar of the crowd was deafening, you swore you could hear every scrape of Rafe's skate against the ice, the clatter of the puck as the play moved in slow motion to the beat of your heart.
Another stride and Rafe was alone in the offensive zone, the defender just a hair behind him.
Was this really happening? Was he about to end the game, to score a fourth goal?
Another stride and he was eyeing the goalie, lining up his shot.
He maneuvered his stick and just as he was about to shoot, the defender dove, thrusting his stick in Rafe's path, causing them both to tumble onto the ice and into the goalie, the puck sliding away, abandoned as the refs blew their whistles. No goal.
Rafe was down for only a second before he stood up, grabbed his stick and swung it with full force, snapping it in half over the boards in front of him in rage and frustration, causing the fans behind the glass to jump and spill their beer on each other.
Two of the refs were frantically skating towards him, waving their arms and blowing their whistles, but your eyes drifted to the head referee who was standing next to the officials box, watching a small computer screen, a replay. Almost immediately he nodded, handed back the screen and raised his fisted hands over his head and crossed them and you let out an uncontrollable shout of excitement as you grabbed for Morgan.
"What! Oh my god! What is going on!!?" she shouted back, and all you could do was laugh and shout as you jumped up and down and pointed to the referee.
"You are the ONLY ONE HERE who knows what that means!" she shouted. "What does it mean!!!?"
"A PENALTY SHOT!" you shouted back.
Your eyes shot back to Rafe who had clocked the same thing and was skating back to the bench. The equipment manager handed him a new stick and now the arena was abuzz with the same information as the announcer explained that Rafe would have the chance to score one on one against the goalie, with all of the other players off the ice. A golden opportunity.
The fans were ballistic. You could barely hear yourself think, could barely process your emotions as you struggled onto your tiptoes again to see over the raised hands and jumping fans as Rafe skated methodically to center ice, alone.
He skated back and forth, side to side with crisp turns like a predatory shark before he stopped at center ice, hands on his stick on his knees, eyeing the goalie before his head turned slowly and he looked right at you. Even amidst the chaos, you could see his signature smirk before he refocused and gathered the puck in his stick.
He was going to score.
You just knew it. You knew by the look on his face, by the stride of his skates, by the confidence in his gait.
"He's going to score" you said out loud, quietly, to yourself, a revelation before you turned to Morgan who was solely focused on the scene unfolding on the ice. You tugged on her sleeve, desperate for her to understand the weight of what you had just said.
"He's going to score, Morgan" you said, louder, matter-of-factly.
"Well SHIT I hope so!!!!" she shouted back without looking at you, now completely wrapped up in the game.
She didn't understand.
He was going to score.
And that meant he was going to be yours again.
Your eyes found the ice and you watched as he approached the goalie, goading him out of the goal, faking him out before wrapping the puck around his leg and tipping it upward.
The goalie dove backwards at the last minute and 15,000 fans held their breath as his gloved hand extended, brushing the edge of the puck, causing it to wobble, but without enough force to change the course of fate as the puck swooshed into the net.
The goal lamp lit up.
The goal horn sounded.
And if you thought the arena was loud before, it reached a new level as fans screamed, shouted, jumped up and down and embraced each other.
You felt realization ripple over you, your gaze stuck on the ice. Stuck on the image of the goalie flat on his back, defeated. Stuck to Rafe who had ripped his helmet off, discarded as he let out a roar of victory before getting bombarded by his teammates who piled on him in celebration.
End of OT. Eagles win 4-3.
Morgan yanked you into her by your shoulders, hugging you and jumping up and down, but an unexplainable calm had settled over you, gluing your feet to the ground.
You should be excited, you were, but instead you felt like you were having an out-of-body experience. What the hell had just happened? Rafe had scored four goals, had led his team to the finals. Had he done it for himself? Of course. But wasn't a part of it for you too?
You turned and looked back at the ice, desperate to catch his eye, to talk to him, to figure this out as chaos rained around you. The players skated to center ice with their sticks raised to salute the fans before skating away, Rafe leading them quickly into the tunnel without so much as a look at you. Not even a cheeky smile or a blown kiss, which you used to get after every game. What the fuck.
Morgan shook your shoulder.
"Babes, now what?!" she asked, excited, curious, anxious.
You looked at her, lost. You had no idea. Did you text him? Were you just back together again? How did this work?
The lights dimmed as the announcer drew the crowd back in to introduce the three stars of the game - recognizing the three standout players of the night. The third star was your goalie, who stopped an unimaginable number of shots and you cheered for him as he skated solo onto the ice in a spotlight, taking a spin around the ice before tossing a t-shirt into the crowd to an excited fan.
Your heart was hammering in your chest, your mind incapable of thinking of anything but Rafe. You grabbed your phone. No new texts. The players were all in the locker room by now. Sure, they were partying and celebrating, but if he had time to text you in the middle of the game, couldn't he text you now??
Nick was the second star of the game and you glanced up from your phone to see him doing the familiar skate around the ice, waving to Morgan who blew him a kiss back, but you glanced back at your phone, willing a text to appear, opening and closing your texts, refreshing the app, messing with your wifi. Surely it was the internet connection you thought, now desperate to hear from him.
"Come on Cameron" you murmured to yourself.
"Okay, what is he doing?" you heard Morgan laugh and you looked down to the ice to see Nick still circling around, backwards, forwards, pumping up the crowd who roared around him as he gathered a t-shirt to throw. You were thrilled for him, really, but you resumed your focus on your phone. Should I turn it off and turn it back on again? you thought.
The lights dimmed further and the deep voice of the announcer reverberated, "Ladies and gentlemen, your first star of the game, with an unprecedented four goals, including your game winner--"
"Uhhh YN" you heard Morgan say.
But you were too distracted, too afraid to look away from your phone in case you missed a text coming through.
"--Rafe Cameron!!!" the announcer said, the spotlight shining on the tunnel, and your eyes shot up at the sound of his name, only to find the ice empty.
You felt Morgan tug harshly on your sleeve and when you finally looked back to her your stomach barrel-rolled and your heart shot into your throat.
Standing unmistakably next to her in the aisle was Rafe, still fully suited in his gear and pads, towering over everyone like a giant, his skates traded for his training shoes. Pieces of his hair were clinging to his forehead and his face was rosy with exertion, sweat dripping down his temple in rivulets.
He was smiling confidently at you, and unlike the last time you had seen him in your car, his eyes were unwavering and transfixed on yours, even when the fans around you turned around and noticed he was there, even when phones were whipped out and shouts and cheers went up, he ignored them; he only had eyes for you.
"How--" you started to say, your phone completely forgotten as he started to nudge his way past the people at the end of your row to walk fully into the seats next to you.
"Ohmygod, ohymgod" Morgan was saying as she clambered out of the way of his bulky frame and suddenly he was towering in front of you.
He was breathing heavily; with how quickly he made it up here it was no wonder he had been sprinting off the ice and into the tunnel. His face searched yours, eyes twinkling, flitting over your lips, searching for a sign, a signal, a hint of how you were feeling. And you weren't sure you could have expressed it even if you could form words.
He leaned down next to your ear and you could feel the sweat and the heat radiating off of him.
"That was four" he said, breathless and husky before pulling back, but not as far as before, his nose brushing yours.
The spotlight was sweeping the empty ice, looking for him as the announcer tried awkwardly to fill the air time, wondering where he was.
All you could do was meet his gaze, staring into his crystal blue eyes.
And all you could see was your Rafe.
Sure, he had his issues, but you knew he was sincere, you knew he was trying and you acknowledged that despite everything he was probably the love of your life.
"We didn't agree on overtime goals" you said loudly back at him to be heard over the crowd.
For a moment you could see fear, panic and a hint of hurt cross his face; if you didn't know him as well as you did you wouldn't have seen it, it was nearly indetectable. But he took one look at your sly smile, your blushing cheeks, your eyes rimmed with tears.
"C'mere" he said roughly, ignoring you as his warm and sweaty hands that smelled unmistakably like his gloves grabbed your face and pulled you towards him as his lips enveloped yours, engulfing you, bold, brazen and completely unabashed as he full on made out with you, chaotically, his tongue slipping into your mouth, even when you tried to wiggle away, more out of a sense of decorum than anything as a feeling seeped through every inch of you like he was mending every wound in your body.
He was sweating all over you at this point, but you didn't care. You could feel it dripping on you. You could taste it in his kiss, mixed with the tang of yellow gatorade and your fingers grasped for purchase on his jersey as you tried to balance yourself against the force of him pressing into you.
The crowd around you erupted, as the flash of pictures being taken lit the two of you. He was unrelenting and you could feel yourself flushing as much from his attention as from the heat radiating off of him. It definitely went on longer than it should have, longer than any right-minded couple would have made out in front of thousands of fans before he paused just long enough, his lips still hovering on yours and said through a growl, "You're mine, baby."
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CELLLLLEBRATION TIME COME ON 💃🏽✨💃🏽✨
Alsoooo…🌪️cuz we need some angst up in here.
Can we get prompt "If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?" for Kate plz?
-🐹
evangeline's 2.5k celebration !! [closed!]
wheww, this is a lot. i forgot how much i enjoyed writing gut wrenching angst LMAO, enjoy🤗🤗🤗 (don't kill me pls)
─ warnings | lots of word vomit (sorry, i was listening to taylor swift and got a bit carried away), ANGST!!!!!! WITH NO HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!! unrequited love (?) best friends to lovers, break up (?) all depends on how you view it
YOU PULLED OUT OF KATE'S GRIP, feeling all the emotions of the last couple months weigh on your shoulders as your throat began to tighten.
you stepped back, trying to gather your thoughts, but they swirled like a tempest within you. the weight of the past months seemed to press down on your chest, suffocating you with each breath. memories flooded your mind, each one a sharp pang of regret, anger, or hurt.
"y/n, hey!" kate's shouts echoed throughout the hallway as she chased you down.
you held back your tears ─ you couldn't ─ no, you wouldn't ─ cry in front of her teammates, and especially kate. you walked as fast as your legs could carry you, each step a deliberate effort to put distance between yourself and kate's pursuing voice.
your chest felt tight, your heart pounding in sync with your hurried footsteps. you couldn't afford to break down now, not when every fiber of your being screamed for release, for solace from the emotional maelstrom that threatened to consume you whole.
kate caught up (she always did), she gripped your arm and pulled you back to face her. her grip was tight and bruising, but you knew she never meant to hurt you.
"what? what's wrong?"
how could she be so oblivious? you felt a sob bubble up in your throat but you swallowed it. you stared into her pretty blue eyes, the same ones who'd at one point, given you so much comfort ─ now, they felt almost like a strangers to you. the familiarity of her gaze, once a source of solace, now felt foreign and distant, like staring into the depths of an abyss you no longer recognized.
her grip tightened on your arm, a silent plea for you to open up, to share the turmoil that threatened to consume you. but how could you begin to articulate the storm raging within your heart when even the simplest of words felt like shards of glass on your tongue?
you swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump in your throat, but the words remained trapped within you, suffocating you with their weight. how could you explain to kate what you could barely comprehend yourself?
"do you want me? like, really want me? all of me?" you began, your words quiet as kate's expression turned from confusion to stern.
"what?" she choked out, her grip loosening from your arm. "y/n, you wanna do this now?"
"do you?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. "do you really want me? all of me?"
kate's expression softened, her features clouded with a mix of emotions ─ surprise, uncertainty, and something else you couldn't quite name.
"what do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
you hesitated, the words catching in your throat like a jagged edge. how could you begin to explain the tangled mess of emotions swirling within you, the doubts and fears that had plagued you for so long?
"i mean..." you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i mean, do you want me in the way that... that i need you? in the way that i've always needed you?"
you've been there for her, the entire journey and she was still "oblivious". you sat back and watched her fall in love with other girls, with other people while you remained on the sidelines, silently yearning for a love that seemed forever out of reach. you watched as she poured her heart into relationships that never quite measured up to what you knew you could offer.
and the worst part of it is, she always knew. she wasn't dumb or oblivious ─ she strung you along like a puppet on a string, weaving a tangled web of false hope and empty promises. she knew the depth of your feelings, the extent of your devotion, and yet she chose to keep you at arm's length, content to bask in the warmth of your affection while giving nothing in return.
you were nothing more than a convenient placeholder, a shoulder to lean on when her latest romance crumbled, a temporary fix for the loneliness that plagued her restless heart.
and as you watched her flit from one relationship to the next, each one leaving a trail of broken hearts in its wake, you couldn't help but feel a simmering resentment building within you ─ a resentment born from years of unrequited love and silent suffering.
but even as the bitterness threatened to consume you, you couldn't bring yourself to turn away, couldn't bring yourself to let go of the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, she would finally see you for who you truly were ─ a loyal friend and a love worth fighting for.
"i thought..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. "i thought we were okay. i thought... i thought we were good."
you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "we're not okay, kate. we haven't been okay for a long time. and i don't know if we ever will be."
"i didn't realize..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
"but you should have, you were my best friend." you interrupted, your tone tinged with frustration. "you should have seen it, kate. you should have seen how much i needed you, how much i still need you."
kate's gaze softened, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "i'm sorry," she whispered, reaching out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "i'm so sorry, y/n-"
you moved away from her touch, the hurt in her expression deepening. "if i asked you to kiss me, in front of all those people, would you?"
kate hesitated, her expression turning from one of confusion to one of uncertainty. she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out, her gaze flickering with uncertainty as she struggled to find the right response.
"yeah, that's what i thought," you scoffed and pulled your arm from her grip. "i'm done,"
"baby-"
you scoffed again, the unshed tears burning in your eyes as you shook your head. "don't you call me that, don't you dare call me that. not after everything,"
you couldn't help it, the tears began falling before you could even comprehend it. each drop felt like a release, a cathartic release of all the pain and frustration that had been building within you for so long.
you turned away from kate, unable to bear the sight of her in that moment, unable to bear the weight of her empty promises and half-hearted apologies.
"i'm sorry," she pleaded, her voice thick with regret. "i... i didn't mean to hurt you."
but her words felt hollow, empty promises that rang hollow in the echoing emptiness of your heart.
"i know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "but that doesn't change anything."
and with that, you turned away, leaving kate standing alone in the hallway, the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance.
↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
#kate martin x reader#kate martin smut#kate martin fanfic#kate martin fluff#kate martin headcannons#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#lv aces#las vegas aces#wnba x reader#wnba basketball#wbb x reader#wcbb x reader#iowa women’s basketball#kate martin#evangeline's 2.5k celly ☆
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wait wait wait, regarding that Minthe post, you're telling me that Rachel literally wrote the character as having BPD.....and portrayed her as an abusive mean piece of shit??? WOW. fucking WOW. sorry for being so angry, but even if she "retconned" that - it's still so god damn disrespective. as someone who has BPD it hurts so much to see my mental illness villanised :(
ugh I'm so sorry pal. and I don't blame you for being angry about it, like I don't even have BPD and I'M fucking pissed LOL like I can understand why Rachel might have wanted to backtrack from that knowing fully well that Minthe's story wasn't gonna have a happy ending, but writing her with BPD in the first place and then BACKTRACKING from it as soon as she likely got heat for it (or just realized it wasn't a good look) isn't much better because it means now all she's done is written the stigmatized negative effects of BPD into her character without showing the more positive outlooks of healing and managing. Maybe that was doomed to happen considering Minthe is someone who doesn't get a happy ending in the myths, but it begs the question of why she'd write her with BPD to begin with because in hindsight it really does seem like she just wanted to use it as a way to make her "evil".
But like, when you read the actual episode, you can SEE the potential there for character growth, you can SEE that she's aware of her actions - but doesn't understand why she's "like that" which is a VERY common feeling among people with undiagnosed mental illnesses - but it was never meant to be.
Like jfc not only is it HEAVILY IMPLIED, but again, the episode is literally called "Splitting". And we see exactly that with Minthe, who can't seem to rationalize with herself that she messed up.
But... that leads me to another point that I failed to mention in that first ask response: she DIDN'T mess up. Like, yes, she messed up by escalating it to the point of slapping Hades, but it wasn't her fault that she didn't make it to her date with Hades. Whose fault was it?
Continuously throughout the first season we see Thetis being an awful influence who manipulates and gaslights Minthe. They're "friends", but it's clear Thetis does not have Minthe's best interests in mind. In this very scene we see Thetis manipulate Minthe and even attempt to get her so drunk that she won't be able to show up to her date. And then of course when that plan works and Minthe freaks out, Thetis spins it around on Minthe in a very passive-aggressive way.
But of course, the narrative has to find a way to turn this whole thing on Minthe being the bad guy. Hence we get the slap which shifts the focus entirely away from what led up to it back onto Hades who has, in a lot of ways, put her in a situation that she can't control. And of course, being in those kinds of situations does not help with mental health.
Like, sorry, I'm really going off here now, but... the slap happens in Episode 76.
When is it finally addressed again? Episode 103.
It took Rachel nearly THIRTY EPISODES to finally bring it back to Minthe, and in that time the reader has spent SEVERAL EPISODES reading about how sad and lonely Hades is, and about how cute and lovey he is with Persephone. The reader has not had ANY time to reflect on Minthe's circumstances, because it completely pivots away from her to focus on H x P as a sort of distraction from the fact that Minthe is a victim in her own right.
And when it DOES return to Minthe in 103, we get this harrowing reminder that her entire life is dependent on Hades-
And once again, here comes Thetis to the "rescue", reinforcing the negative feedback loop that Minthe is trapped in where she's put in unhealthy situations. She drags her to a bar and the whole time Minthe is not having fun because she's understandably still reeling from what happened.
Now we DO get some character development here, where Minthe realizes exactly what I've just finished explaining, that Thetis isn't her friend, that she'd rather not have Thetis as a friend than continue being talked down to and manipulated.
But then, as we know, because Rachel still needs Minthe to be the "bad guy", the breakup between Hades and Minthe winds up being all about Persephone from a POV that attempts to villainize Minthe for being "jealous" (rather than focusing on how shitty Hades actually is for having an emotional affair with Persephone to begin with) and then Minthe goes right back to hanging out with Thetis anyways for the sake of having the "evil other girl" who wants to "ruin" H x P's relationship.
It's not until Season 3 that we finally see Minthe tell Thetis to fuck off for good, but by then it's too little too late, and Minthe has lost an entire character arc. Rachel tries to go "see! Minthe's life is so much better now that she's taking care of children!" but that's an entirely different solution to a problem Minthe never had. She never got treatment for her BPD. She just got away from H x P which, while is a good thing, isn't actually analyzed as such. It's treated more as a "good thing" for H x P and the readers, because now they don't have to be subjected to Minthe's evil scheming anymore, something something "the evil is defeated". And don't even get me started on this comic's problem with constantly resolving female characters' story arcs through motherhood.
It bums me out so fucking much. Minthe deserved so much better. She's one of the many characters in LO who make it so painfully ironic when they're done dirty, because despite Rachel's attempts to write a "feminist retelling" that focuses on "moving on from trauma", she's inadvertently done more damage to feminism and the stigmas around mental health and trauma through her assassination of grounded and realistic and relatable characters like Minthe and Demeter who are shown ZERO empathy or understanding for their actions (unless it can be done so by making Persephone and Hades into the heroes). It happens so often throughout the comic it almost feels like how the comic markets itself as a "progressive feminist retelling" is some sick joke that I'm just not getting.
#ask me anything#ama#anon ama#anon ask me anything#lore olympus critical#anti lore olympus#lo critical
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DON'T STICK YOUR HAND UP THE VENDING MACHINE .ᐟ
starring. toji fushiguro x fem! reader
heads up. cursing
note. I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS CAME UP TO ME SO SUDDENLY? BUT IT DID AND IT WOULD BE SO SAD IF I DIDN'T WRITE IT SKJDKJSK
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who received a call from the mall he works in because apparently someone's arm got stuck inside a vending machine right in the basement parking before he was going to go home from a long day.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who saw you sitting down on the floor in front of the vending machine, your head leaning on it — he could hear a string of curses escaping from your mouth as you moved your arm a bit. frankly, he finds it pretty funny that you were owning up to the consequences of your own actions.
"has nobody told you that y'r not supposed to put your hand up the vending machine?" toji mutters, almost satisfied.
you rolled your eyes, "just get me out of this."
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who had to endure at least the next fifteen minutes of you complaining about the same vending machine that you got stuck in, from the start of the alphabet till' the end.
"this thing ate my money, there's no way 'm leaving without my drink. stupid vending machine," you muttered out — toji trying his best to get your arm out without trying to possibly hurt you. honestly, he could care less about you getting hurt; he just didn't want his paycheck to be cut for your medication bills.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who finally got your arm out after half an hour, and got your drink out for you to shut you up from more complaints. it was a can of cold black coffee, which was what you needed after a twelve hours shift.
"thanks," you tell him — shoving the can of coffee inside your bag, "uh . . . do i need to pay for getting my arm out or should i just like . . . leave?"
he scoffs, "leave."
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who only got back to his apartment two hours later than usual because you decided it was the best time to get your arm stuck in the vending machine over ¥120 (approximately $0.77).
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who got a glass of boba from your workplace the next day because you felt bad he had to waste his time helping you after you got stuck. in your defense, you didn't want to waste your money.
"uh, i don't know if you like boba — i made it less sugar since you don't seem like the type to eat a lot of sugar, you know?" you pointed at his build, "but thanks for helping me last night."
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who begrudgingly accepted your drink and scoffed when he tasted it, 'less sugar' he thought taking another sip, biting onto the chewy boba coated with brown sugar liquid.
you were right about one thing, how he doesn't really like consuming too much sugar. despite the drink being 'less sugar' he still thought there was too much sugar — and despite that, he still managed to finish a whole glass of it, even chewing the last bit of ice.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually saw you in your workplace when he was called to fix a vending machine inside the mall. taking in a customer's order, looking really stressed when more customers decided to pop in. huffing, he decided to stop by just to mess with you.
"so . . . what's the best thing y'got in here?" he mutters.
you look at him, eyes narrowed. but this was him, the vending machine maintenance as your customer, "brown sugar boba, fresh milk red bean matcha boba, red bean mochi fresh milk," you explained, pointing to every picture on the menu you just mentioned.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who decided it was best to mess with you even more, bringing back his complaint about the drink you made him this morning.
"red bean mochi fresh milk, less sugar." toji underlines, taking out his wallet — even if he didn't want to buy a glass of sugar after drinking one earlier this morning.
"that will be ¥320 (approximately $2.07), please."
he huffs, "people pay that much for a glass of sugar?" and then he slid a couple of bills towards you.
"you're paying that much for sugar, you're one to say," you retort back, opening the cash register to return back his change and a small paper of his bill.
"one star for bad service," he muttered, grabbing back his change.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who for some reason, gets the most random call from inside the mall asking for the vending machine to be fixed. maybe because he doesn't fix them whole-heartedly just so he could mess with you by ordering the most outrageous drinks — at first it started out as little mocking smiles, and gestures.
but he felt as if that wasn't enough, so he decided to take a step further by messing with you on your job, urging you to make the smallest mistakes.
"brown sugar boba, with ten percent of brown sugar liquid. and five percent of sugar. if it's too sweet, i want my money back," he grunted. he meant to tease you — but the way he said it made him sound so serious that you were nervous about messing up his order.
even if he did say that he would return it every single time, he never really does.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who saw a customer complaint over something you didn't make — and he couldn't really do anything except watch. it wasn't like he was about to risk his own job by creating a scene in a boba shop. he sipped away on his order, which in his opinion was still too sweet, but he said nothing.
"i asked for no sugar, why is this still so sweet?" a man complains, raising up his royal milk tea with boba; which toji could see is half-empty. hell, the man's still chewing on his boba as he speaks.
"i apologize sir, but even our base milk tea powders are still a bit sweet, that's where the sweetness is coming from," you explained, looking at him apologetically, "would you like me to do anything for you, sir?"
the man grunted, "no, it's just disappointing," he muttered out, shooting you a dirty look before turning to leave the shop — toji eyed the male but said nothing. he was glad his work didn't require him to communicate with people besides getting a call to fix a machine.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually stopped messing with you and just drops by to order his drinks because he noticed how stressed you look at that man's complaint. he just didn't want to be the reason why you get fired.
"brown sugar boba, make it less sweet," he muttered — shoving his hand down into his pocket to grab the exact change he needed to pay.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually took a two weeks break from buying your boba because he was actually afraid he'd get diabetes from the huge amount of sugar he was consuming in such a short amount of time.
and you seek for his appearance — which never happened, until he decided to come back while you were sitting down on the floor, shoving your face into the instant ramen you bought from the convenience store this morning before your shift.
"oh! it's you, you came back!" you put the cup on top of the counter and wiped your hands, walking towards the cashier.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who spent most of his time in the boba shop until he's called somewhere else. he'd usually spend his hours inside the maintenance staff room on the secluded part of the mall, but now? he wastes his time inside a small boba shop in the middle of the mall; even if he said nothing or you were too busy to talk to him.
he still stayed because he likes it there, even without you both talking. he didn't feel as lonely as the hours spent inside the staff room alone.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually enjoyed it when you strike conversations with him during the peaceful flow of the boba shop, asking the most random questions from his zodiac sign to his favorite soda flavor, or his favorite way to eat eggs.
"i like sunny side ups, they're good," you tell him, wiping the sweat that was forming on your forehead — the both of you ended up talking about your schedules and shifts of work, which you both find out how the both of you mostly have 12 hours shifts.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually found you stranded after a shift because you missed the last bus, and he ended up giving you a ride on his old motorcycle. he's never really had a human backpack behind him on his motorcycle, so he didn't really care about speeding — at least until you told him to slow down a bit because it was a bit scary.
"thanks for the ride, toji. i owe you another one, how about a drink tomorrow? just make sure to drop by, 'ts on the house!" you gave him a thumbs up, giving back the only helmet that he made you use.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually came back to your shop the very next day to get that free drink of his from you — and this time, you managed to make it just right. not too sweet, he could get used to that.
"i like this one, 'ts not too sweet," he comments, raising up the glass of boba drink, "why couldn't ya' make me one like this since the beginning when i asked for less sugar?" he asked you.
"because that's my own recipe. 'ts not on the menu, but i'm still paying for it, y'know?" you raised your brows, eyeing him from inside the bar, "i wanna open my own boba shop in the future, it's fun."
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually became your personal driver because he was the one who asked you to. even if you declined at first since you didn't want to burden him — but he actually insisted, surprising.
"don't care, we're goin' the same direction anyways," he handed you a helmet (that he actually rummaged through the garage through for, washed it, and dried it just for you), "the bus' full of weirdos at night."
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who managed to get close to you in the next few months; he never did expect it, him getting close to a girl, but he was actually kind of glad he did get close to you.
"hey toji, eat lunch with me. i'm on break right now!" you peeked inside the maintenance staff room where he sat, a water bottle in his grasp. he'd usually decline, hell, he even declined his co-workers— but you? he could only sigh and gave out a curt nod, "look what i got."
toji hated everyone. but when you came into his world, he could make exceptions.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who hated it when he feels his heart flutter, he doesn't like the way his stomach churns every time he sees you do anything or see you in general. the way he craves for more of your smile, your laugh, everything about you. it made him feel uneasy— especially when he's never felt all that before.
it was a strange feeling to him, and he didn't like it. toji's never one for relationships, love, and all that. he doesn't know how to do it, he was afraid he'd end up hurting you instead. maybe, maybe that's why he decided to put some distance between the both of you.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who always fixes vending machines inside the mall the right way, making sure he doesn't have to go back in and see your face. as much as he wanted to, he didn't want to see you and feel the fluttering all over again when he's tried so hard to stop it (which wasn't working, by the way).
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who tries not to spend time inside the maintenance staff room because he knew you'd always try to come see him there during times when he wasn't idling by your work place. he felt bad every time his co-worker told him that you came by looking for him.
"hey fushiguro, i forgot to tell you, the boba girl was looking for you again this afternoon," his co-worker informed, putting on his jacket, ready to leave.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who kept this on for at least the next three months. everywhere you were, he turns away and walk the other way making sure the both of you won't bump into each other. don't think you didn't notice his act though, noticing how he stopped replying to your messages, how he doesn't come up to meet you in your work place anymore, or how he walks by your shop like he doesn't know you every time he was asked to fix a machine inside the shop.
you wondered if you did something that might made him mad at you — but no matter what, you just couldn't figure out what. and if he wasn't willing to talk to you, hell, even spare a glance at you, how were you going to find out.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who grumbled under his breath when he got a call right as he was about to clock out of work. begrudgingly walking down towards the basement where the vending machine was; god, people just had to ruin his day.
opening the basement door, there he saw you— sitting on the ground with an arm stuck inside the vending machine. a case of deja vu, this was exactly like how you both met.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who was silent while he was working out on your arm, wondering why in the hell would you try to reach up for a drink even after the first time you got yourself stuck. but he said nothing anyways. you did.
"are you gonna talk to me now?" you ask him while he was trying to free your arm, "i wasted my money to get my arm stuck and you're still not willing to talk to me?"
he almost scoffed, you did this on purpose, "so you did this on purpose?"
"no, i had a purpose. why're you ignoring me like we don't know each other? tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it," you mutter out angrily, crossing an arm across your chest, "you just ghosted me, why?"
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who didn't think it mattered a lot to you — but seeing to this extent you'd go, he could only shut his mouth. letting his hand do the freeing.
"so, you're just gonna act like we're strangers? 'kay, fine by me then," you reply, deciding to shut up for the rest of the procedure, waiting for him to free your arm.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who decided it was the best timing to confess to you, who had one arm up stuck inside a vending machine. all because he just wanted to get rid of the burden on his mind about you.
"listen, i get this feelin' every time i'm near you. and i don't fuckin' like it, makes me feel all warm and soft. i fuckin' hate it. i don't hate you, jus' don't get the wrong idea or shit." he muttered, pulling your arm out from the machine — packing his stuff up to leave.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who got stopped by you when he was about to leave for the night.
"'s that a confession or what? if you're going to confess, the least you could do is do it right. that was lame," you tell him, holding onto the hem of his shirt, "do it all over, with nicer words, and a nicer tone."
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who shook his head, not wanting to repeat his moment of vulnerability to the first person he was most vulnerable most. toji hated being so weak in front of people, especially you.
"no, who said 't was a confession anyways?" he questions, obviously a lie, looking at you with a raised brow.
you let go of his shirt and waved your hand, "fine then, let's not speak anymore since you want it to be that way," he stares at your back in confusion as you try to walk away out of the basement, "goodbye," you mutter out, a bit of hope that he'd stop you.
which he did, and you breathe out in relief, "'ts late, the last bus left already. i'll drop you at home," he murmurs out, scratching his nape.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who handed you the same helmet you usually wore, never getting rid of it in the first place. bringing you home for the first time after three months — nobody spoke a word to each other, and it was definitely awkward. hopping off his bike, you returned back the helmet to him and began walking back towards your house.
"hey," he calls out to you.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who sucked up his ego and confessed to you in a "nicer" way and tone like you told him to. and he of course, managed to butcher it up again.
"i don't fuckin' hate you. i just tolerate you more than i tolerate other people," he retorts. seeing the unimpressed look on your face made him think twice, "okay. i like you, just— bye," and then he left just like that without trying to hear your reply.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who didn't expect a glass of boba on his staff room with a small note, and he knew it was from you.
'i like you too, why did you leave last night?'
because he was scared you'd reject him, that's why. but now that you made it clear that you weren't going to reject him, he was more relaxed. but the thought of meeting you face to face after last night made him nervous all over.
VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who was actually surprised when you weren't as awkward as he is upon meeting him after last night. peeking your head inside the staff room like the usual — he turned to look and there you were already jumping onto him.
"hey! why did you leave so fast last night? i didn't even get to answer you yet," he grumbled under his breath when you brought it up yet again.
"because i was afraid y're gonna reject me, happy?" he asks, "but you didn't so 'm not afraid anymore, i guess."
"what does this make us?" you replied back playfully, nudging his bicep with your elbow, "hm? hm?"
"friends," he teased, his face flat.
"hey!"
© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#toji#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro fluff#toji fluff#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#jjk toji#toji x female reader#toji fushiguro x female reader
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hello! how’s your day?i hope it’s great
can i request something like childhood friend!reader x spencer reid to lover? i love that trope and i always imagine spencer reid in it
perhaps they’ve met again on the case and reader was the victim?
it’s totally fine if you can’t wrote that, have a great day!<3
Hiii lovely🥰, ty so much for this request! I loooved writing this trope. Warnings: like one swear word, little angsty, fluff, pet names, use of y/n, mentions of food, mentions of crime (1.5k)
Spencer and you met by accident after so many years. Spencer couldn't believe his eyes as he saw you walk out of the interrogation room at the Bau.
He didn't understand what his childhood best friend was doing at his workplace office.
Seeing your sorrow expression he didn't need anything else to know that you were one of the many witnesses of the latest series of violent bank robberies.
And it made his heart stop for a second. Wanting to meet you...-wanting to see you again after so many years was always somewhere deep at the back of his mind, but he didn't exactly want to see you walk out out of the interrogation room.
He freezed for a moment. He wasn't expecting to see you there, and it definitely caught him off guard.
You, on the other hand, hoped you'd run into Spencer that day. You knew he worked for the FBI. You maybe even secretly hoped that he'd be the one you'd have to explain what exactly had happened at the bank.
He didn't. So finally seeing him managed to bring a smile to your upset face.
You ignored his lovely colleague Emily as she instructed you on something, and headed straight towards Spencer.
"Spencer, hi, I can't believe it's you," you said breathlessly as you neared him, his eyes scanning you intensively.
Spencer swallowed hard. You two were just some kids the last time you saw each other, but right now....Right now, Spencer couldn't believe his eyes. You might have just been the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.
His shock was even bigger when you threw your arms around his neck, and hugged him sincerely. Spencer, for once, managed to handle the shock, and hugged you back.
It was an effort for you not to end up on the floor from the way your legs almost turned into a jello. When the fuck did Spencer get so hot? That was the only thing on your mind, even the horrors of the roberry gone.
"Hi, it's been so long, too long," Spencer beamed at you, giving you one-over one more time.
"I know," you gave him a small smile," I wanted to reach out to you since I'd moved here a few months ago, but I didn't want to intrude into your life."
"Intrude? You could never," Spencer immediately reassured you, and you didn't look too convinced," seriously, I mean it."
You just nodded, and Spencer asked you, "How have you been? Were-were you a part of some roberry?"
"Y-yeah, it...it wasn't very pretty, I-" you tried to find the right words, but you realised that there were multiple sets of eyes on you and Spencer. He realised it, too.
With his quick thinking, he said, "I'm sorry, my friends can be really nosy," he glared at somebody (Derek) as he said it," would you..- are you hungry?"
"There's a cafeteria a few floors down.....We could talk there? Catch up on everything?" Spencer proposed with a little hope.
"Yeah, I think, I'd like that," you told him, and you let him guide you towards the elevator with his hand on your lower back.
It definitely did not send butterflies down to your belly with every step you took. The old, forgotten feelings flickering inside you both.
-
That happened a few months ago now, and you couldn't help but to smile as you remembered the meeting while waiting in a small caffè for Spencer to come.
He is running late. You don't mind the wait because you know it's not his fault. His job isn't easy. So waiting the few minutes is worth it.
You and Spencer have been going on these coffee......runs since you've reunited the few months ago. But you keep hoping, wishing that they will turn into coffee dates rather just some friendly coffee runs.
It's save to say that seeing Spencer after so many years made some new feelings surface. Feelings that weren't there before, and you don't know what to do with them.
Well, you do, but you're terrified of the idea of Spencer's rejection. You don't think you'd be able to live in the same city as him if he indeed did reject you.
But you can't keep going out with him, and have him smiling at you like like you're the only person on this earth for him. You just can't keep up with it anymore.
You've decided that today is the day you tell him how you feel. No matter what. Even if it's most likely going to leave you heartbroken.
Spencer pulls you out of your thoughts when he rounds the table you sit at, and leans down to give you a quick hug and a kiss......a kiss on a cheek.
It leaves you breathless, and it's exactly why you need to tell him about your feelings because this is just cruel, sweet torture you can't endure any longer.
"Hi, I'm so sorry I'm late. Hotch had us hand in all of the reports, so I needed to finish a few things," he tells you as he settles in the seat opposite of you.
His coffee is already waiting on the table in front of him, and he gives you a thankful nod.
"It's okay, Spence. I don't mind," you give him a tight smile, the nerves rushing through your body.
Spencer, damn his profiling skills, immediately senses that something is off. "What's wrong?" He reaches across the table for your hand, but you pull it away quickly. You could swear that there was a hurt in his eyes just as you did.
"I-....I need to tell you something," you quickly blurt out.
"You can tell me anything, yeah?" He assures you. This time without trying to touch your hand. You don't look into his eyes while he tries to catch your gaze.
"I can't keep going for a coffee with you anymore."
Spencer now definitely looks hurt after your first sentence, and you cringe. You didn't mean to start like that.
"Shit," you curse quietly," what I mean to tell you is that.......is that-." You can't find the right words.
"I like you, Spencer," you blurt out," mo-more than just a friend." Spencer just looks at you. Completely baffled, and he doesn't utter a single word.
You think he's just a little shocked, but as the minutes go by, and he still doesn't say anything, you understand. He doesn't feel the same, and then there's horror in your eyes.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, Spencer," you scramble quickly to take all your stuff," I'm really sorry." And with that, you are out of there faster than a lightning.
You swiftly run out of the caffè as the tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You don't even know where you are going, but you don't care you just want to get as far away from Spencer as possible.
Of course, you don't even take 30 steps before a hand gently catches you by your elbow. You, even just by the touch of his hand, know that it's Spencer.
"Wait," he pleads," please, y/n." You stop, and slowly you turn around. Spencer scans your upset face, the tears on your cheeks, and his own heart breaks.
He didn't mean to stay quiet like that. It just...-It caught him off guard. He wasn't, even in his wildest dreams, thinking of you actually liking him back. Like there wasn't a single reality where he saw that happening. And yet.... And yet, you like him, and he can't believe it.
"It's okay, Spence," you start.
"But it's not, I'm sorry-"
You interrupt him, "I understand that you don't feel the same."
"No, no, sweetheart. I do. I feel exactly the same way you do," he confesses softly, hoping you believe his words after the initial mess up of his.
"Spencer, you don't have to lie....-"
Spencer almost looses it when you say that, because he could never be that cruel to you. Never. And he doesn't get why you don't believe him, so he does something that hopefully will finally let you see the truth.
Spencer kisses you.
Spencer kisses you?
What?
You don't really realise it, until he's pulling away, sorry eyed, his soft, warm lips immediately something you miss. You don't let him get far away from your lips as you crash them again against his. Your one hand goes into his hair, and his hair is just as soft to the touch as it looks like.
Spencer's kiss is intense and gentle at the same time, and it makes your knees buckle, maybe just from the sheer joy of your feelings being reciprocated. You tighten your grip on his shoulder.
Spencer notices it, smiling into the kiss, before he pulls away. There's a happy glint in his eyes, and you are sure yours look the same.
Spencer beams at you. "I'd never lie to you. Ever."
"I know."
You smile sheepishly at him, "I just got too into my head to listen to you. I'm sorry."
"I'm not," Spencer looks at you amused. Right. Of course, he's not sorry about the kiss. And neither are you, you could never be.
Spencer offers you his hand," how about I'll tell you all about how crazy I feel about you while we go for a walk?"
"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot, Spencer." The bright smile doesn't leave your or even Spencer's face as you begin to walk.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid
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changeling danny has his wretched little claws in me so here's some AU fey lore
Okay so, i've got a lot of ideas for the Fey Lore in this au. But to start out what may become a sling of posts: a simplified set up of the Infinite Realms. I think I mentioned it before in a reblog of the original changeling danny post, but the fey wilds exist in the IR. In most fanon I see the same scale as the rest of the realms, however i have a different idea for it.
In simplified terms, the fey wilds and the ghost zone are two different things. They both exist in the Infinite Realms, however, they exist on different planes of existence. In simplified terms, there are three separate planes in the Infinite Realms.
The Long Far:
Highest realm in the infinite realms. Home to most, if not all, the Ancients. Beings that reside in The Long Far are eldritch abominations, gods, personifications of concepts, and other celestial-type beings. The only way to access the Long Far is through the Starflare Currents in the Feywilds. Which are a nebula of stars that work similar to the ocean currents in Finding Nemo. They are a rapid vortex full of stars that pass over the feywilds that can be seen at night. In order to reach the Long Far, one must fly up to the Current and latch onto one of the stars rapidly flying past. And then they must stay on the star until the currents begin to ascend rapidly upwards. This is harder than it sounds. Ever been indoor surfing? Where you lie on your stomach on a small board and try not to get flung off? Exact same concept.
The Fey Wilds:
The Fey Wilds isn't exactly strictly home to the Fey, however for convenience sake I'm calling it the Fey Wilds. This is the home to fey and other folklore and mythological creatures that may not want to reside in the Ghost Zone. There are no Fey in the GZ. It's not that they hate being down there, but. well.. they hate being down there. They think the place is ugly. The Fey Wilds has ever shifting, expanding amount of biomes. These biomes range from massive redwood forests, to swamps, to essentially Pandora from Avatar. The place can look almost entirely human one moment, and then like a different planet the next. Fey and other inhabitants know how to navigate this easily -- but ghosts? Not so much. There are currently two known ways to reach the Fey Wilds from the Ghost Zone and vice versa: Lake Portals, and Cave Tunnels. Which I will expand upon in a moment.
Ghost Zone:
Exactly how it sounds! The Ghost Zone is, well, the ghost zone! It's essentially the same as canon. Same looks, same everything. This is the home of mortal souls and the occasional mythological creature or two, as well as weaker concept spirits. By that I mean like, ecto-octopi. Concept spirits can manifest in both the GZ and Feywilds. Ghosts tend to stick inside the Ghost Zone and avoid venturing into the Fey Wilds because, well, they're still mortal souls. They're gonna get jumped by a fey looking for a new decoration or a new pet/servant/whatever. Best to honestly avoid the fey wilds as a whole.
Now, I just mentioned that there were two known ways to reach the Fey Wilds from the Ghost Zone: lake portals and cave tunnels. I made goofy little visual aides which I will attach below, and then I will explain how they work.
I'll start with the Lake Portals. They are, well, as the name suggests lake portals. Not every lake in the fey wild is a portal to the ghost zone, and vice versa. They're rather uncommon to find in both planes, but it's not like they're hard to recognize.
In the Fey Wilds, lake portals will have a sheen over the water like an oil spill. But instead of the regular rainbow-y colors, it will instead have the ghost zone's colors swirling in it; green and purple. The water will have that sickly green tint to it, and have a slight glow. The plant life surrounding the water are not typically what you'd find in the Fey Wilds, but might in the Ghost Zone. They look different from the regular noxious swamp bogs in the wilds, so its easy to tell that they're lake portals.
In the Ghost Zone, the lake portals will instead be shimmery and blue like a tropical ocean. And just like how there are GZ plants in the fey wilds surrounding the water, there's fey wild plants on the island where the lake is.
How these portals work is rather simple. You dive in and begin swimming down. It's a long swim down, but that's all you gotta do. It will get dark, as there are no plant life in these portals, and no aquatic life either.
It starts getting complicated when you reach what I like to call the border. The border is as the name implies; its a border between the planes. In the lakes it's not physical, however you will feel when you've reached the border and crossed it. Intense vertigo washes over you as your sense of gravity begins to shift and flip; up is becoming down, down is becoming up.
Your goal at this point is to try and push through that vertigo and discomfort and make it to the other side of the border, without getting flipped upside down and swimming back to the surface you came from. This is harder than it sounds as you become dizzy underwater, and since there's no light anywhere, you will try and instinctively seek it out and follow it. You're down too deep to know where that light is.
Once you've reached the other end of the border successfully, your gravity will have flipped without you needing to do anything. You are now swimming up to the surface, and once you do, boom! You're in the ghost zone! Lake Portals are faster to use than tunnels, but very disorientating.
Now cave tunnels are longer, but simpler. Essentially some caves have tunnels that lead into the ghost zone, similar to how in greek mythology there are random entrances to the underworld in the mortal world. I haven't exactly figured out what the tell is for when you're in a tunnel leading to the Ghost Zone, but I know that when it's the other way around it's rather easy -- as you start to climb up.
It's a less complicated explanation: essentially you are descending into the ghost zone through this tunnel. You are on your way down like Orpheus in search of his wife, or like Heracles doing his twelve labors. It can get claustrophobic and of course there is the border.
Unlike experiencing a shift in gravity, you're instead hit with the intense vertigo and an intrinsic fear to turn around. It's an instinctual response to your surroundings changing on a molecular level, and your body in response is telling you to Flee. Basically, you've taken a rip of the Cave Gasses and you feel like you're losing your mind. Once you exit the border its smooth sailing.
Sometimes you get unlucky and there's a Pit Drop and you're suddenly Alice in Wonderlanding your way down to the Ghost Zone. But hey! At least you're not swimming.
those are currently the only two ways i've come up with for traveling between the GZ and Fey Wilds. But all in all, it's meant to be very disorientating stuff; vertigo and nausea-inducing, with just a dash of Existentially Terrifying. Traveling between planes usually is.
#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#changeling danny#changeling danny au#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom au#danny phantom#but yeah thats basically how the infinite realms are set up in this au#next post about changeling danny fey lore will include Name Marbles and the Debt Thread Gloss.#as well as a brief review on fey wearing masks around humans.#the fey wilds sky is in permanent sunset/sunrise. so instead of being a swirling green endless sky like in the GZ.#it looks like an actual sky just permanently dyed gold. red. pink. purple. and every color of the sunrise/sunset#permanent golden hour everyone#tagged DPxDC because this was birthed from a DPxDC au however it can be read standalone DP too#hence the DP tags
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I’ve been struggling lately with the feeling that my job is pointless. Intellectually I know it is not—nursing is one of those professions where you get to be real smug about knowing the value of your work. But it’s still felt very pointless. Like I’ll start a shift thinking, “what am I even doing here,” and end it thinking, “what have I actually even done.” It’s been a ROUGH couple months.
But I had a really good shift last time I worked, which was good for the soul and also a very useful data point. I got to do pain management advocacy and symptom management, met a bunch of cool patients, did education for new nurses, and had several long heart to hearts, which the kind of midnight heart to hearts that I think are the most important part of night shift, all of that while being well staffed with very pleasant and appreciative patients and coworkers, and I was still like. Pretty depressed. I had a sense of satisfaction and moments of joy and meaning, but it turns out that one good shift did not cure the depression that has been latched on to me for the last few months like some kind of fucked up mental health leech. As I realized I was still depressed and that it was still interfering with my life even when everything was going well, the sense of peace washed over me was the best I’d felt in a while. Because I was like, okay! None of my usual stuff as worked! I have no excuse not to try something new to get my brain out of the shit ditch it’s slipped into.
So I’m applying for short-term disability. I’m worried I won’t get it, and I’m not sure what the next step is if I get rejected, but I feel so much better having decided to pursue it. It’s so much fuckin paperwork for sure, to a degree that’s overwhelming except that that the form could be a checkbox that says, “you want money?” and I’d be like “THIS IS TOO MUCH.” I’m totally not writing this post instead of finishing an email to my manager. I’m definitely not writing this post to avoid dealing with coordinating all my various care providers. I’m certainly not at every moment worried that I’m secretly faking all this so I can get three to nine weeks of a cool summer vacation.
I was thinking about how I almost flunked nursing school in my final semester because I turned in assignments late for a class with a “no late homework” policy. The professor said that this was reflective of real life, where if you miss deadlines you’re just fucked. I ended up appealing my grade and passing, because frankly it was a weak reason for making me repeat a final semester when there was no issues with my actual work or knowledge. During my appeal, I was like “I also think this policy is ableist. Harsh penalties for late work hurt students with health problems, especially chronic health problems when you aren’t asking for one week off due to the flu but instead for a general and never ending flexibility. I’m not trying to make an excuse but explain why this policy is a bad one. Disabled healthcare workers are an asset to healthcare.” I’m trying to remember my own argument as I pursue help. My depression and ADHD and eating disorder do help me be a better nurse, not because like depression gives you superpowers, but because I manage my chronic illnesses every day, in ways that range from hardly noticeable to life or death. Being kind to patients means being kind to myself, and vice versa.
I’m rambling. I really do not want to do this paperwork or send these emails. And I’m not sure if I deserve the leave I’m trying to take. But I miss being love with my job. I miss enjoying it. I wouldn’t judge someone else for going on medical leave, and my job doesn’t want me to burn out or quit. It almost feels like I have to be skeptical of applying for leave because no one else is. Everyone I’ve spoken to has been very supportive, including my manager. And considering how many unpaid days off I’ve had to take lately, disability leave would be an improvement over some of my recent paychecks. All in all, short-term disability makes sense and seems like a reasonable response to circumstances. But FUCK. I wish it required like 90 percent less documentation.
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school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)
warnings: smart!reader (doesn't take shit) x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace (a smart one tho); mentions of sex but no actual p in v okay; written in lower cap bc i enjoy exploring the way i write and put sentences together lmao; this shit is football and y'all can argue with a wall <3 IT PAINS ME TO WRITE SOCCER Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT !!!
ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)
you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.
what’s the point? okay, your school as incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?
the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.
up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him. the veridic? total pain in your fucking ass.
ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him. outrageous, never done before. for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.
wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.
not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.
“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“
“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”
“just soccer?”
you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”
"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"
you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.
“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."
you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”
pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.
“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.
“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."
you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.
your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.
“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"
“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“
you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”
“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”
you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”
your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."
you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"
pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”
your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”
rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.
“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”
“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”
you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.
pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”
you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”
pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”
your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.
"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"
he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”
“seriously?”
pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”
your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.
“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”
he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”
you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”
he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."
you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."
he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."
you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."
it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?
“the ball’s in your court.”
yeah it is.
truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.
at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.
so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.
but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.
you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.
you had pope for that.
which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.
a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.
taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.
the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.
you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.
there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.
“hey?”
“you look like shit, cameron.”
rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”
you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”
rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”
you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.
there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.
"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”
rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."
he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.
you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”
"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."
“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”
rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"
"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”
you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.
and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.
“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”
rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.
“why are you mad at me?”
you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.
"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"
he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.
"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”
rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
that’s it.
you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.
“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”
for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.
“and you want to fuck me?”
you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.
“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.
you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”
he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”
"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”
rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”
“yes or no.”
rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”
“okay. so win your next match and you will.”
he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”
“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”
"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”
you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."
rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."
“i figured.”
he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”
you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”
rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.
"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."
you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.
rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.
you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.
“just win the fucking match, cameron."
rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.
"consider it done."
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron au#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fic#rafe imagine#bimbo!rafe#smart!reader#soccer!rafe#frat!rafe#rafe blurb
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hiiii Kenny! here to request re6 Leon taking you out to dinner while controlling the vibrator you’re wearing. him just calling you princess and good girl because you’re trying so hard to keep a straight face while he makes you come repeatedly. then maybe he fucks you in the bathroom because neither of you can wait until you get home? 🤭🤭🤭
pairing: sugar daddy!leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: leon figures your dinner date is a good a time as any to test out the new toy he bought you.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, vibrating panties, public sex, slight exhibitionism, daddy kink, age gap (20s, 36), mirror sex
word count: 3.8k
a/n: yippie thank you so much for the request! it was right up my alley. i changed it to be sugar daddy leon cause that's what i was feeling. i hope you and everyone else enjoy <33
The points of your heels click against the hard ground as you traverse across the restaurant and find the seat waiting for you. It was in the back corner of the dining room. The same table as always. You pull out the chair and sit down, slinging your small handbag over the right corner.
"Hi, daddy. Sorry I'm late," you say with a grin.
The federal agent sitting across from you doesn't share your look of amusement. He puts the menu down and his hard eyes cast upon your face before drifting down your body. You knew he had a hard time being irritated with you when you got all dolled up for him. Your hair was styled just the way he liked it, your makeup applied with a precise hand, and your dress was the best part of all. It was his favorite color to see on you, shimmering in the dim lighting. It hinted at your figure while still leaving his mouth watering with the desire to rip it off.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that in public?" he mutters.
"Keeping it a secret won't make you feel less icky about liking it," you tease.
Leon chooses to ignore your remark and instead takes your hand. His thumb rubs up and down your fingers, feeling the soft skin. His gaze traces over every little line on your unblemished knuckles. Your hands were always clean, never littered with callouses, cuts, or bruises. Your nails were pretty too, pointy and painted. His money well-spent.
"Why were you late?" he asks and returns his eyes to you.
"Traffic," you offer and shrug, sipping the drink he'd ordered for you before you arrived.
"That's not what Devon told me," he says, "He said you took an extra fifteen minutes to get ready."
Your eyes reach the ceiling with how hard you roll them. Devon is the driver Leon has take you almost everywhere.
"He's such a snitch," you mumble. You go to retract your hand from his grasp, but he doesn't let you.
"You're not in trouble, baby," he chuckles, "I just wanna know what you were doing."
You stare at him for a moment before sighing. "If you must know, I was putting on the present you sent me," you answer, "It just was a little confusing at first so it took me a minute."
"Confusing?" he asks, the confession bringing out that smile he hid most of the time.
"Yes, confusing. It didn't come with any directions," you say like it's obvious. You quiet down further to explain the next part. "I didn't know if the vibrator was already inside or not, but then it fell out and it took me a minute to slide it back in."
"Alright," he chuckles, "That makes sense. And that's all you had to say. No need to be so defensive."
You smile, and you're starting to relax into the rhythm of how your outings with him typically go. Putting your drink down, you scan over the menu to try and decide what you want. He lets go of your hand and gives you a minute to look over the options.
"What do you think you're gonna get?" you ask.
Upon receiving no response, you look up at him. You find his attention focused elsewhere as he's looking down, fidgeting with his phone.
"It's no fair that I can't go on my phone when I'm with you, but you can go on yours when you're with me," you huff.
He still doesn't say anything which irritates you further. Sure, he was older than you, but he wasn't at the age where texting takes up one's entire mental capacity and renders them silent.
"If you're texting some other girl, I can just give you some privacy because-" you start to tease. You're cut off when the device between your legs whirs to life. You bring your hand up to cover your mouth, trying to conceal your initial reaction.
Leon simply smirks at you. His thumb moves in slow circles on the screen of his phone, similar to how he'd move the digit if it was on your clit.
"So cagey tonight," he teases lowly as he watches you squirm and adjust to the thrumming sensation. "And you know, if I say it's fair, it's fair. All I ask for is your time and your affection. If I let you go on your phone, you couldn't give me your affection, and my time would be wasted."
Even from behind your hand, he can hear the little pants you're letting out. His thumb slows down further, dropping the vibrations to a lower level. He taps the screen quickly and slides it under the table to rest on his thigh. The stimulation was constant on that teasing setting, no longer requiring him to manually operate it.
"I know," you breathe, finally able to remove your hand from your mouth. You grip the edge of the table though. The toy may not have had you screaming, but the consistent buzzing against your most sensitive spot definitely had you a little off balance.
"Good girl," he says with a look that felt almost as good to you as the vibrator did.
There's a brief silence between the two of you. You're simply trying to hold in your soft whimpers while he watches on in amusement. Taking your lip between your teeth, you decide that a distraction would be the best way to avoid humiliating yourself.
"So... how was your last mission? Seems like you weren't gone as long as usual," you say.
"It was fine, honey. Don't worry your pretty little head about that stuff," he says.
His hand slides under the table, and his fingers flick a few more controls. The vibrations evolve to a stronger rumble, killing any further questions before they could even make the leap from thoughts to words. Your eyes screw shut for a moment. Your head's natural inclination is to tilt backwards, but you force it the other way, stretching your hand across your eyes.
"There you go, princess. That's my girl," he coos, "All you need to worry about is keeping yourself under control. You don't have to think about anything else."
He can hear your breaths getting sharper. To anyone else, you probably looked like you had a headache. Or maybe like you'd just heard some bad news. That would've been the case if he didn't have this little toy handy. Instead he gets to adore you from across the table, admire the beauty that seeps from every pore and orifice on your body.
To Leon, that was the beauty of your relationship. He cared for you deeply. He'd take a bullet for you without a second thought, stop his own pulse if that's what it took for yours to continue. But he still didn't call you his girlfriend. You were his baby, his darling, his princess, the only one he longed to be with, yet he didn't officially claim you.
It didn't bother you so much since he spoiled you rotten and treated you as if you were his in every way that mattered, but the state of limbo he held you in weighed on him. He craved more with you; letting you move in, buying you a ring instead of another set of lingerie, cumming deep inside of you rather than on your stomach.
But with a girlfriend came obligation. He'd have to tell his girlfriend he'd been having nightmares since he came home from this last assignment. He'd have to let his girlfriend know he had an ache in his shoulder that wouldn't go away. He'd have to watch your face fill with worry while his heart sank with the guilt of roping you into his bullshit.
For now, this was better. Watching you ascend to paradise in the middle of this restaurant while everyone around you remained ignorant would suffice for the time being.
He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he'd missed the signs that you were fast approaching the edge. Your chest was puffing more frequently while it looked like the table might snap under the pressure of your iron grip. Reaching over to you, he takes your hand back into his. Your fingers clasp around his own just as tightly as they had held the table. He swears he can feel the vibrations from between your thighs emanating through your blood and pulsing against your skin.
"Look at you, baby. Such a pretty girl," he whispers, "Think you can cum before the waiter gets here? Or are you gonna try to be stubborn and hold it?"
You're honestly unsure whether you can speak without it turning into a moan, but you force yourself to spit the words out.
"Gonna cum."
Shudders overtake you, and he can see the way you fight to maintain your posture. Your body wants to convulse and explode, to let everyone in this place know just how good you're feeling. Your hand is locked on his now. He doesn't think a crow bar could pry you off in this state.
"That's it, sweetheart. Just cum for daddy," he croons quietly, "Let it all out. Such a good girl staying so quiet. I'm so proud of you."
The words make your eyes roll back behind the lids. Your thighs squeeze against one another, only intensifying the power of the vibe. He's shifting in his seat too at this point. He'd been able to stave off his boner so far, but seeing you come undone in front of him was too far. There was no way to prevent his blood from flowing South and stiffening up his length.
"My baby, so precious," he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, "I know that felt so good for you, princess."
You lazily nod as you float back down to reality. Your breathing becomes deeper as the high of the orgasm fades into the blissful haze of the afterglow. He even gives you a tiny break and puts the vibrator back on the lower setting.
"Thank you, daddy," you whimper. It was a reflex at this point. Thanking Leon for letting you cum was like day turning to night. One naturally followed the other.
"Don't worry about it, sweet girl. This is what I bought those panties for," he says.
As your body begins to calm down, your hand covers your mouth and your eyes stay locked on the table. The waiter comes by only a minute or two later. You still don't look up because you know Leon will handle this for you.
And he does. He orders for himself and then for you too. As soon as the waiter's pen scrapes across his notepad for the final time and he heads away, you peer up at Leon through your lashes.
"You ok, baby?" he chuckles.
You nod which only amplifies the smug look on his face.
"Good. I think you're ready for some more then," he says.
"Don't-" you start to protest. But before the rest of your statement can come out, he's already boosted the buzz to the higher setting it was at minutes ago. The only difference is that this time the rhythm is pulsating. It's more random. It won't make you cum as fast, but it will get you squirming all the same.
"What was that?" he mocks.
"Shut up," you whimper.
Each wave of pulsating pleasure made you tighten up and press your thighs together which in turn pushed the device harder against your cunt. It was a vicious cycle that had your mind spinning, unable to break out.
"Shut up? That's not very nice, princess," he taunts, "I'm just making you feel good. Think you should be saying thank you instead."
"I can't stay quiet again," you whine. It comes out strained. He can hear the will you have to exert to not give in to the heavenly thrumming on your center.
"Yes you can," he reassures. He takes your jaw in his hand, pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb before rubbing your chin. "I know you can. You're my good girl. You always make daddy so proud."
Your eyes flutter and a shaky breath expels from your lungs.
"I- I wanna make you proud, but... it feels so good," you say, your voice trailing off into a quiet whine.
"Oh I know it does, baby," he coos, speaking as if you were made of glass, "But you can handle it. You can handle getting your cute little pussy played with in front of all these people."
"Stop... you're making it harder," you pout.
"You're making me harder, angel," he jokes before kissing your lips gently. He then lets your chin go, but his eyes stay locked with yours. "You're doing great. This is what a little doll like you is made for, hm? To be played with."
You grit your teeth, but you still can barely restrain the mewl rising in your throat. Your head hangs forward. You use everything you have to stop yourself from melting into a puddle in your seat. You're close to cumming for the second time, and both you and him know it.
His hand goes for his phone yet again, and with a few more taps, the vibe is no longer pulsing. It's strong and constant. You didn't know how it wasn't rattling the chair beneath you. Your hands claw at the wood of the table.
"Fuck Leon," you whisper. Your legs quiver violently, and you're just grateful at this point that you were sitting down.
"Who?" he teases, grinning as you cling to your last sliver of composure.
"Daddy, sorry, mmph-" you squeak as your hips roll against the toy.
"Good girl," he purrs, "C'mon, baby. You can do it. Let yourself cum again. Just stay quiet and cum again."
It's easy to give into release again. The difficult part is staying quiet. Your face contorts in all kinds of ways to try and rein in the lewd noises that wanted to erupt from your mouth. Turning your head, you look at the wall to conceal your expressions from everyone else in the room.
"Hiding that pretty face from me, sweetheart?" he teases, "That's ok. You're being such a good girl by keeping it down. No one's even looking over here, princess. You're doing perfect for me."
The praise is enough to carry you through the high and bring you down without a sound. A light sweat is breaking out on your forehead, and you're breathing a little harder. Other than that though, nothing seems amiss. As you feel the vibrations fading away, you look up at him with half-lidded eyes.
"Still with me, dollface?" he asks mockingly.
Your head bobs up and down in a nod, but it's clear your head is still up in the clouds for the time being.
You're so precious all blissed out like this. It drives him absolutely wild. The strain of his cock against his zipper is becoming noticeably uncomfortable now, and he's eager to get rid of the tension in his pants.
His eyes flit around the room, strategizing routes for the plan that was forming in his head. Quick as a viper, he grabs your arm and pulls you to your feet. He drags you around the corner to the restroom and ducks inside. You stumble behind him, blinking in surprise at his sudden movements.
Your lips are on his as soon as the door is shut and secured. He holds you close in a deep kiss, one arm around your waist, the other cradling your head. He doesn't waste time with niceties and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip for entrance. The two of you engage in a full make out as he walks you over to the sink and flips you around.
His lips attack your neck next. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat to your exposed shoulder. You watch in the mirror the entire time, your eyes still hazy from your previous releases.
"Couldn't wait, pretty baby," he murmurs, "Need my dessert before dinner."
You sigh pleasurably and let your head fall back against his shoulder. His hands sweep up and down your sides, squeezing your waist and groping your hips. As much as he wants to savor you and experience every inch of your body, he knows he can do that later tonight. Right now, he had to be quick.
He shimmies up the fabric of your dress to bunch around your waist and pushes your upper half forward. You brace yourself on the smooth countertop as he crouches down to be level with your throbbing cunt.
Before indulging in the luxury that was your pussy, he teases the lacy outline of the panties and gently kisses up your inner thighs.
"Sweet, sweet baby. Gonna have to buy you a pair of these for every day of the week. Don't think I'll want you wearing anything else ever again," he mumbles.
Finally, he pulls them down and stands up again. His fingers slide through the slick that had gathered between your thighs. You were practically dripping from all the time you had with the vibrator pressed to your sex.
More kisses land on your shoulder and neck while he fumbles with the buttons on his pants and frees himself. Your hand returns to cover your mouth in preparation of him entering you. He lines up and nudges the tip against your entrance.
"You ready, baby?" he coos and rubs your back, "Think you got one more in you?"
"Mhm," you hum from beneath your palm. The sound quickly escalates into a needy whine as the thickness of his cock penetrates you.
It slides in with ease, going all the way to the hilt in a matter of seconds. Your eyes roll back at first but drop back into place to stare at yourself and him in the mirror. His hands migrate to your hips and hold you steady as he begins to pump himself in and out of you.
You're a little more relaxed about your noises now given that you're in the privacy of an isolated room, but you still make an effort to muffle them. He watches you, finding all your little reactions endearing. Leaning down, he nuzzles the side of your head while thrusting.
"It's so cute that you're trying to be quiet," he coos, "You think what we're doing is a secret, baby? You think people don't know what I'm doing to you in here? They saw how wobbly your legs were, they saw the look in your eyes."
You whine at the tease, knowing the two of you hadn't made the most discreet exit. Still, you shake your head defiantly. He laughs at the gesture.
"You're lucky all I have to do to get us out of it is flash my badge or some cash. Small price to pay to take care of my slutty little girl," he taunts.
Your body rocks back and forth with his momentum. You arch your back on top of the sleek marble, gripping the clean edge harder with your free hand. The sight before you in the mirror pulls you closer to the edge with every ragged breath or hushed grunt from him. You just press your own hand harder against your lips in a weak effort to contain yourself.
"You could be completely silent, darling. That's not gonna stop anyone from seeing you dripping down your legs when we go back to the table," he says, "And you know, by the time we head out to the car, I'm sure you'll have soaked through your dress too."
His fingers dig deeper into the plump of your hips. He's squeezing so hard that his knuckles have gone white. All he's focused on is holding you in place so he can keep rutting into your warm cunt without incident. His head tilts back, and he lets out a deep groan.
"You're being louder than me," you whimper.
He chuckles at your comment and responds with a smack to your ass. It echoes throughout the bathroom and makes your face boil at the idea that someone passing by could've heard. To make matters worse, the tantalizing sting draws an audible moan from you. You have to renew your hand's strength on your mouth to keep any others in.
"That's not for you to worry about, sweetheart," he chides, "You worry about yourself. Daddy'll handle everything else."
His hips continue smacking into your ass as he fucks into you. He kneads the flesh, letting his eyes flutter shut to lose himself in the feeling of you for a few moments. You're tight and soft. Warm and wet. Taking each inch of him like it's all you ever wanted to do. He could feel the beginning of the end simmering in his belly, and it only makes him thrust harder.
Your head drops forward, the allure of the mirror no longer enough to keep you upright. Your hand falls from your face with the movement and comes down to further support your weight against the counter. Drool drips from your lips along with the soft noises spilling out unrestrained now.
"Daddy..." you mumble, "Think I'm gonna cum again."
Leon grins at the words and ups his efforts to get you there faster.
"Think? If you don't know then maybe I'm not going hard enough," he teases breathily.
"I- no.... I know it. I just... I just wanna cum," you pout. Defense or reason was too difficult to conjure in this state of mind. You wanted what you wanted and that was the priority right now.
"Go ahead then, babydoll. Daddy's right behind you," he says with a quick pinch to your ass.
For the third time tonight, your eyes close, your body goes taut, and your cunt gushes with ecstasy. You squeeze around his cock and let out a long, euphoric whine. He truly is right behind you, and his pleasure heightens with each second of that high pitched noise. It's no time till the pulsing down below intensifies and he's pushing himself all the way into your wanting pussy. He lets himself cum inside you this time. The both of you deserve it.
Rope after rope spurts into you. It satisfies him deeper than expected, sating him in a way shooting onto your skin never did. He pants behind your ear. Nothing else matters but the feeling of you connected with him in this moment.
After he's had his fill, he slowly pulls out. He takes his time not to make too much of a mess. You stand up straight and stretch out your limbs. He watches you to make sure you don't lose your footing. Then he tucks himself back into his pants. You pull your panties up and fix your dress. The both of you turn to the other, doing a quick once over to make sure nothing was too obvious.
Before heading back out, he pulls you against him again and kisses your nose.
"My perfect girl. Let's go back out there and finish dinner. I'll even let you eat in peace since you were so good for me," he teases.
"Lucky me," you reply with a lazy smile.
He brushes his nose against yours before giving you a quick swat on the ass and following you back out there. Despite the both of you feeling satisfied, he knew the night was only just beginning.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy smut#resident evil x reader#resident evil imagines#resident evil smut#resident evil x you
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