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russellsppttemplates · 3 days

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No more of this (Lando Norris)

Lando is trying to stop the hurt of loosing you by getting ahead of it and (trying to) leave you first

Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty but has a good ending! ✨️ I took a bit of a gamble with this one, and I'm hoping it is still a good enough piece to read! This was from a request for which I had another idea whilst I was writing this one, so I might work on it if this truly is a bad take on it!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: relationship troubles, miscommunication, anxiety symptoms, alludes to the passing of a family member and consequent inheritances

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

Lando wasn't sure how long he had been in the room on his own, but he knew he didn't have it in him to leave soon.

He thought he wasn't enough, he was too much trouble for anyone around him, that's why no one is there for him right now.

He grabbed his phone and swiped the screen to check if the texts he sent you had gone through, but the lack of an answer from your part was simply that.

Not even Y/N cares about him or what he needs. Maybe he didn't word it in the right away? Surely, Y/N would have replied by now if he had written it down properly and not appeared like a clingy, needy child. Maybe he could send another one, just to make sure it is all alright.

To lovie ✨️

I'm sorry if that was a lot, but I just wanted to know how your day had been! I love you, sweet girl 🧡

There, all better.

The McLaren driver waited for your answer, hoping to make ammends from his previous tries.

Maybe she's busy, she has so much on her plate as well. She can't take care of Lando too. Lando wonders what his girlfriend would do if she knew you felt like this. If she found him lying in a bed, unable to move and startled by the idea of facing the outside? She would leave him right then and there. Y/N can only take so much and she's not going to take this.

The tears that fell went unoticed until they pooled on the pillow cover fabric, wetting it and dampening Lando's cheek and jaw.

The weight on his chest lightened when his phone vibrated.

From lovie ✨️

I'm so sorry, Lan - my phone was on silent because of the meeting with the notary and I forgot to turn it back up 🤦‍♀️

It has been a busy couple of days with the signings and handovers, but I can already see the end of it!

And how was your day, bubs?

I miss you loads and can't wait to kiss your handsome face 🧡 I love you 💖

There it goes, that wasn't so bad, right? She replied - she's safe, she has a reason why and she wrote I love you. Maybe all of that fuss was for nothing.

Lando quickly typed back a reply, hitting the button to send after reading it a couple of times to ensure it was good.

To lovie ✨️

It's okay, sweet girl, you don't have to worry! It's been same old, had a training session with Jon and then worked on the sim.

Can't wait for you to be home soon, I love you so much ❤️

You replied, that was all he needed. Everything is back to normal, the heartbeat has slowed down, the weight on the chest had been lifted, and breathing wasn't so hard anymore.

For now, anyway.

The last two days had been fine, good even - Lando spent the afternoon playing padel with Max Verstappen, streaming with Quadrant and even played golf on his own, relief washing over him when, despite being on his own, his thoughts didn't take him to the dark side like he expected them to.

You had FaceTimed every night and exchanged texts in the morning so there hadn't been any reason to worry - until now anyway.

When Max and Pietra told you they were flying to Monaco to spend the week there, you decided to postpone leaving for two days and take the flight with them instead.

You'd have to have reached the realisation that Lando is not the best you can do. You couldn't possibly be that blind.

Y/N knows you're he's not good enough, she knows she deserves so much more and now that she has property back home and a safe ground, she'll leave him before he knows it.

It builds up again, his breathing short and laboured while his heart speeds up, his hands unconsciously retreating into themselves and making fists as his nails graze his palm.

You are going to leave him.

Not if Lando leaves you first.

"This isn't even the worst flight we've had", Max reasoned once you landed in Nice, "you're really feeling it, aren't you?", he nudged your shoulder.

"It's just been a busy couple of weeks", you sighed, looking for your luggage on the carrousel, "I'm so glad it's all dealt with now and I can finally be home again", you smil3d tiredly.

"You mean you can finally be with Lando again", Pietra teased you.

"Can you blame me, though? I miss him so much I'm not sure I can keep away from him for long once I hug him", you admitted, spotting the bright blue luggage on the conveyor belt.

"Lando just texted me saying he is by the informative screens", Max offered, grabbing his and Pietra's luggage and leaving the way out of the busy airport.

Once you spotted your boyfriend, you hastened your pace to approach him, leaving the luggage on the side so you could jump into his embrace.

"Hey, my love, I missed you so much", Lando held you impossibly tight to him, nipping on the skin of your neck and inhaling your scent.

Y/N is back, she's here.

"Me too, baby", you said, kissing his neck multiple times, "I'm so glad to be home", you mumbled, pulling a smile out of him before you kissed his lips.

"One could argue we are here too, but we're clearly not that important", Max joked, patting Lando's back where he could given that you were clinging to him like a koala.

"The car is in the -2 Parking zone", Lando offered, grabbing your luggage and walking behind his bestfriend and his girlfriend while keeping you close to him.

For now, this would have to suffice before things changed forever.

The whole drive back to Lando's apartment involved light chatter and catching up on the past few weeks.

"I think we should go out, enjoy some of the night life while you still can", Max slapped Lando's shoulder once you had settled in and unpacked.

"I can get us entrances", the Formula One driver agreed, grabbing his phone before he went through his contacts.

Once the entrances and the dinner reservations were secured, the four of you took turns in showering and getting ready, Lando never letting you leave his sight for long.

"You look beautiful, lovie", Lando complimented, watching your shake out the curls you had done on your hair.

"Thank you, bubs - you look really handsome too, I love it when you wear all black", you mused, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles gently.

It was all good. You didn't seem mad or upset with him, in the contrary actually - like he felt, you too were a bit needy for his touch and to have him close to you, offering him reassuring words and sweet nothings every time you could. Maybe his thoughts were a lie. Some of them have been, maybe those were too.

The dinner was lovely and you were able to walk to the club you'd be spending the night in, getting drinks first before finding the area you were staying in. Lando was quickly pulled by the DJ on the booth, recognising him from previous nights out, while you, Max and Pietra stayed where you were.

He was enjoying himself before he noticed you were chatting with someone else, remembering him from your friend's birthday.

He has a girlfriend who is Y/N's friend, Lando has nothing to worry about.

Until he does.

He doesn't miss the way you hug him or the way you engage in light chat with him, all smiles and cheers.

You deserve someone who is always there for you, who can be present and make you smile like that all the time, and he knows he's not the person for the job.

"I'm going back down to my group - thanks for the invite", Lando shook his hand before pulling the DJ for a quick hug, making his way to you and your friends.

"Hey, love, you're back!", you smiled with a big wave to beckon him over, lacing your hand in his as soon as you were close enough, "you remember Marvin, right?".

"Yes, hi, how are you?", he mused, shaking his hand before protectively placing his arm around your waist.

Marvin had to leave to go be with his friend group as since then, you noticed Lando seemed weird. He was usually the life of the party and he always enjoyed himself in these environments, so to see him just stand there and sway his head to the music was a foreign sight.

"Dance with me, baby", you put your back to his chest, letting his hand hold you by your waist still while you swayed your bodies.

"I love you, Y/N, never forget that", he mumbled spontaneously after a while, kissing your cheek multiple times before hiding your face in your neck.

"I love you too, Lan, so much", you replied back as that was the last clue that something was going on.

A couple hours later, and after you had been sat at the booth for quite a bit, you told Lando that you felt a little tired, Max and Pietra agreeing with you that all the travelling had caught up with you, so you made your way out and back to his apartment.

"Have a goodnight, guys", you waved as Max helped his girlfriend into the room, the blonde woman having already fallen asleep on the way.

"Are you feeling better, Y/N?", Lando wondered as he watched you put your heels back in their spot once you stepped inside your bedroom and closed the door behind you.

You debated telling him the truth, but your relationship has been built in honesty and trust about everything, so the course to take was obvious, "Actually", you began, "I am totally fine, but I noticed you weren't great, you didn't seem that happy and I thought we could talk about it , if you'd like", you suggested, "or we could sleep, I'm fine with either, but I hope you choose the one that makes you feel better", you smiled.

The smile quickly vanished when Lando got up from the bed, his body language tight and tense, "now you care about me? Now you want to know if I'm okay or if I'm doing what makes me happy? All after I felt like shit and had to deal with things on my own?", Lando mused, taking you aback with such words.

"Lando, baby, what do you mean with that?", you asked.

"You were here and I was there, and then I have been here while you've been back home and you haven't been there for me", Lando spat, "I just wanted you by my side, I needed you and you weren’t there for me", he concluded. The anger previously in his tone was replaced by sadness and a hint of shame even.

"Lando, it's not like I have been on vacation purposefully away from you - there have been matters that my family needed me to take care of as there wasn't anyone else to take that responsibility! I don't understand where this is coming from - if I wasn't with you it's because I really couldn't be there!", you argued.

"It's... I can't do this right now", Lando looked up as tears started brimming his eyes.

"It seems not", you defended yourself, feeling the hints of accusation and the lack of flexibility and empathy from your boyfriend, "excuse me", you offered, grabbing your pyjamas and leaving your shared bedroom.

The accusations you threw to one another were heard by your guests as Max looked for you while you adjusted the living room sofa so that it could turn into a single bed, not needing the full sized mattress since you'd be clearly sleeping alone.

"What are you doing here?", Max wondered.

"You don't need to pretend you didn't hear that", you shrugged your shoulders before wiping your cheeks with your thumb, pulling on the sheet so the corner wouldn't fly off during the night.

"I can't take the guest room when you are sleeping here, Y/N", Max offered, pulling your hand so you would get up.

"I'm fine, it's not like I'm counting on getting that much sleep", you mumbled, sitting down against the cushions.

"You two are going to sort it out", Max gulped, "you always do, Y/N", sitting down next to you.

"Do you think we will?", you muttered, the weight of the words leaving your mouth settling in the possibility, "did he tell you anything? I'm at a loss at where all of this has come from", you offered your perspective.

"You're Lando and Y/N - there is no way in this world that you don't make it work. You are meant to be, no matter whatever turn you took in your life or whatever decisions you could've taken differently, you and Lando were supposed to meet in every single one of them", Max comforted as he rubbed your back, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Things are so messed up between us", you tutted at your boyfriend's earlier words and the disbelief that this was happening.

"Lando has been under a lot of pressure lately", Max offered, "I know his words hurt you and I'm certainly not justifying them, but he's... He just wants to be his best self for you, and between his family issues and this season's prospects, not having you with him there has shaken the foundation he thought was his steady self".

"I didn't notice it - yay for the bad girlfriend points!", you jokingly cheered before groaning, "I need out of this day".

"That's why you should go to the spare bedroom to sleep it off, Y/N", Max sternly said, "and you're not a bad girlfriend for this, not at all".

"I'm staying here, I told you", you stated, "you go and take that spare room, P is probably asleep on the bed already", you giggled, "I'll be fine".

"Tomorrow is a new day and a new opportunity for a fresh outlook of this whole situation", Max tapped his thighs before getting up, "Good night, Y/N".

"Good night, Max", you waved as he turned off the ceiling lights and closed the French doors that separated the living room from the dining room and the rest of the apartment.

Lando tossed and turned around for what felt like the hundredth time since he laid down on the mattress.

His words didn't come out the way he wanted them to.

But maybe it was for the best.

He didn't want to hurt you, and that is both a burden and a guilt that he will carry for the rest of his life.

She'll never forgive him. Not now that he's really shown how messed up and broken he is. How the playful, giggly boyfriend she was with is now a shell of a poor excuse of a man. He had been spending the nights alone since you were gone, but now that he knew you were - hopefully - still somewhere in the apartment and not next to him, the weight on his chest couldn't be heavier. It gets harder to breathe, and the thoughts don't stop.

He's lost the best person in his life because these insecurities got the best of him. Once again, he's letting them win and take charge of his life.

Lando sits up and holds the pillow you usually sleep with, trying to catch a small whiff of your scent that still lingers there and usually calms him down.

He's done something really bad. Maybe this was him. This was who he was nowadays and he was truly doing you the favour of letting you out before it got too bad.

When Lando wakes up after sleeping for what feels like a long nap, only Max is up as he steps into the kitchen.

"Morning", Lando muttered, not sure where to pick up from what he knows his bestfriend heard only a couple of hours ago.

"Morning, mate! P is feeling the hangover, so she'll be out for a while! Let's go on a run, it will do us both good", he put his hands on Lando's shoulders and patting them.

Lando groans and looks longingly at the living room, noticing the closed doors, wondering if you were still asleep.

Such an ass he is, letting his girlfriend sleep on the sofa.

Lando and Max run the usual distance, stopping to stretch at the little park area near his apartment, and because it's still early, there is no one else around but them and an older man walking his dog.

"Will you tell me what's going on with you and Y/N? Because by the looks of it, you really should talk to someone about it", Max stated. There wasn't a chance that Lando could run away from this, figuratively or literally, so he explained to his bestfriend what had been going on his mind.

"Do you think I am someone worthy of her? Y/N deserves so much better than me, so it's best if she leaves me first", Lando concluded.

"If she leaves you first, what?! Do you think it won't hurt you? Or her? Is that what this is all about?", Max argued, "you're seriously telling me that the only way you see a solution for this is to break up with her because you're so sure she wants to break up with you?! This is ridiculous, Lando!!".

"Of course it will hurt, Max! I love that girl with everything I have and I can't bear the thought of disappointing her, of her having less than she deserves, and I also can't even think about her leaving me! The anticipation that any moment she could say those words has been killing me!", he admitted outloud for the first time.

"Lando, that girl loves you with every bone of her body, do you really think she is going to break up with you?", Max sighed, "your mind is lying to you and it pains me to see the way it's doing it to you and the people around you".

"I'm not where I should be, these thoughts are consuming me left and right and I can't tell apart what is real and what my mind is catastrophising ", Lando agreed.

"Lando, people can't help you if you don't tell them you're feeling like that", Max stated, both sternly and empathetically, "and there are so many people that care about you".

They sit in silence in the bench as Lando ponders his words and Max replays them on his head.

"Is that what is going on in your head, though? That Y/N is going to leave you, and so you're getting ahead of it by breaking up with her?", Max mused.

"When you say it like that, it sounds so stupid and the opposite of what I want to do", Lando scoffed at himself, "but everything is aligned to it - she can do so much better for herself, and it's stupid I know, but my mind goes on and on about this and it almost never quietens down", he gulped.

"Y/N doesn't want to leave you, Lando, that's another lie you're telling yourself", Max offered, "she loves you and you deserve eachother because you're it, you're the endgame and you can work through this, but she needs to know".

"I know - sometimes I do anyway, I think", Lando chuckled lightly at his own joke, "we need to go home, I need to speak with Y/N".

"Indeed you do", Max agreed, getting up and following him to the apartment.

Pietra was already up and in the kitchen when the boys arrived, pecking her boyfriend's lips and looking at Lando, "Y/N's up, we have had breakfast and she went back to the living room while I was in the shower", she informed as Lando nodded.

"Can I come in?", Lando asked after knocking on the door.

"Yes, it's your apartment after all", you mused as he stepped inside

"No, Y/N", Lando groaned, "this is our place, my love, and there's something I need to tell you, many things in fact", he added.

"You should start then", you patted the spot next to the mattress where you had spent the night.

"I love you, Y/N, so much, that was never a question, and it was because I love you so much that every now and again, I have these thoughts that I'm not good enough for you, that I can't give you what you deserve and that you'd be better off with someone else, or without me", he took a big breath in, "I just wanted to be my best self for you, and it all comes crashing and building up and up and I can't shut the noise down".

"Lando, you could've told me, I would've helped, try to do my best in helping you so you weren't carrying this on your own", you offered, your hand crawling to his so you could hold it in yours.

"I hated that I needed you that much because you also have your own life and you don't want to be next to me every waking second. In my head, you shouldn't have to deal with me being needy of feeling like this", he admitted.

"And I'll be, I don't care what you need or say, Lando, I'm going to be here for you, I don't have to go back for a while now, so I'll be where you need me", you offered, "and, Lando, you could never be too much for me, you could never make me feel like I can do better because every day I thank my lucky stars that we're together and that you feel the same love I feel for you", you cupped his face, "you deserve so much, Lando Norris, and I'll work everyday to prove you that you're worthy of love and care and that things going on here are sometimes a lie", you kissed his forehead.

"I don't deserve having you, I yelled at you for no reason", Lando mumbled.

"There was a reason, and it would take me a lot more than you yelling at me when you're stressed and worried, but I'd also like to know whatever is happening when it is happening so I can help, or we can seek out professional help too", you rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.

No one had ever fought for him like this. He's used to be the one to prove to people that they belong in his life and that's he's all in, not the other way around since, once every time his partners start to feel like it's too much once the honeymoon phase fades out and regular, day-to-day troubles show up notice it getting serious, they flee.

"We'll do this together, lovie", Lando muttered against your lips as he looked into your eyes, "I'm sorry I doubted you when in reality you are the one who's always stuck with me", he smiled, kissing your lips.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norri fic #lando norris x you #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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mangowafflesss · 2 days

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Warning: Angst

Thinking about John's ex-wife staying over in the guest room. You tried to be nice and respectful towards her but she pushed every single one of your buttons. You were annoyed at John for even allowing her to stay in the first place.

"I want her gone John"

"I know but it's just for one more night. I promise" he reassures you with a kiss to your head.

It wasn't just for one more night, in fact it was three. Three nights of her lurking around, flirting with your husband and he just sits there. Not saying a damn thing about it.

One night you had left the dining table in a huff when she said something about how your accomplishments aren’t as amazing as hers and it made a switch flip inside of you. You stood abruptly and looked over at John just to see he was eating his food without a care of what just happened.

If John wanted her then it's fine. You really didn't give a shit anymore.

When John followed you ten minutes later, you had calmed down a little but when he wrapped his arms around you, the emotions of the entire week burst out.

"Go away John"

"Come on sweetheart, tell me whats wrong"

"What's wrong?" you laugh and turn around to face him "what's wrong is that your ex wife is still living under our roof, flirting with you and acting as if I’m scum of the earth" your eyes were full of fire and hatred to the woman who was probably listening on the other side of the door, with a wicked smile on her face - ready to comfort John with open legs arms.

"I've had enough and you clearly don't care! not once have you stuck up for me or kicked her out"

He was silent and you could feel yourself shake with the anger inside of you, that's when you blurted out something else.

"Do you still love her?"

"What? how can you even say something like that?"

"If you didn't have feelings for her and truly hate her how you've said to me many times you would've kicked her out already" you state and watch as he takes a step away from you, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Do you really think I love her?"

You don't say anything and he takes that as his answer before turning on his heel and leaving you alone in the bedroom.

Might write a part 2 idk yet

#price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #call of duty

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januaryembrs · 2 days

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JUST A THEORY | Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: congratulations on 2k!!! you deserve that and so much more your writing is incredible! 🥳🥳🥳 if I could jump in with a request could I ask for a Spencer x reader fic where the reader is a journalist/reporter looking into a case as well and they cross paths? I think the tension and bickering would be so fun

Description: There's something about that agent Jennifer brought along with her that pushes every single one of your buttons

Length: 1.6k

warnings: general cm violence, probably not em's best work

“You know this could be considered obstructing a federal investigation,” Spencer huffed, trying to look over your shoulder where you skimmed the book in your hands with meticulous eyes. You ignored him, continuing to read the information despite feeling his burning glare in the back of your head, his breath on your neck as he shadowed your figure around the building.

“You know the best part about a public library, Doctor Reid? It’s public,” You drawled back, your eyes never ripping from the page except to make a few notes of some key information for your article, “Which means I have every right to be in here just as much as you do,”

You heard him run a hand over his face and tried not to smirk at how easy he was to agitate. You’d heard a lot about the BAU, almost every criminology based paper in Virginia had, and so it wasn’t too surprising to meet the brains behind the reputation when three women had been murdered in the FBI’s home town. Every press association that was worth their money was all over the story, ‘How could this have happened so close to the capital in a city crawling with agents?’, which made your job just that bit more competitive and taxing.

Yet luckily for you, you knew exactly where to go snooping for answers. It just so happened, the BAU’s resident genius did too.

“I guarantee it would be easier for both of us if you just give me the book first. I can read ten times faster than you,” He snipped, still a pup at your heels where you wandered through the aisles of non-fiction, the white lettering hanging above the shelves spelling PSYCHOLOGY. You rolled your eyes at his persistence, ignoring his attitude as you rounded the corner at the end of the row and looped back to where you’d picked up the book, the man still over your shoulder.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you you’re not supposed to talk in libraries?” You hissed back, flicking the page over and hearing his footsteps move in tandem with your own, “I guess you’re just going to have to wait and let the professionals work,”

You hid a grin, hearing him pause at that, remembering the first day you’d been assigned the story.

It started only a week ago. The newest victim had been found in the woods, stabbed seven times the same as the other two, her entire body washed in strong bleach, her hair and nails trimmed and ears even swabbed clean. You’d managed to get five minutes to sit with her parents, your pen and trusted notebook at the ready.

“Why don’t you tell me about what Clara was like as a kid?” You said softly, eyes comforting and calm as you spoke over coffee that was quickly going cold. But you didn’t care.

You didn’t do this part for ‘the story’. At least not the end of the story, the gory bits and pieces that the other news anchors focused on, how the women were brutalised and beaten, changed by a murderer until they looked unrecognisable. You didn’t like to focus on that, because that wasn’t who the victims were.

You wanted to tell their story. Who they were before something awful happened to them.

“She loved to dance,” Clara’s mother, Gwen, sniffled, her cheeks sodden with salted tears. Her voice quivered, croaked like it begged not to be used, but the saddest smile spread on her face when she said it, her husband’s hands clasped tightly in her own, “She used to ask to wear her leotard to bed; we couldn't get that thing off her,”

You smiled, eyes falling to the pictures the parents had spread across the table in their haste to find the best one for the missing posters. Gwen seemed to follow your eyeline and grabbed one in particular, handing it over to you, gently thumbing the edges like that too might disappear. A little girl, black hair as silken as fresh ink stared back at you, her hands poised delicately above her head like the professional ballerina’s you'd seen on TV, her feet laced into pink pumps. The way she should be remembered, not the images you’d seen of her at the crime scene.

You opened your mouth to speak again when two agents entered the room. Jennifer Jareau, who you’d worked with on multiple stories like this one to give the families the empathy they deserved, smiled at you civilly, somewhat guilty knowing she was stepping on your toes. Beside her stood a taller man in a matching FBI jacket, his hazelnut curls falling over his frown.

“Mr and Mrs Townsen,” He addressed the couple solemnly, who looked up at him through red rimmed eyes, their sockets sallow and empty, “We need to ask you a few questions about the last few days you saw Clara before she went missing,”

He flashed his credentials in his right hand, long enough for them to see it was real, and looked to you with a stern stare.

The couple glanced back to you, the picture still grasped tightly in your fingers, as you flicked a tight look between Jennifer and the new agent carefully.

“Just one moment,” You told the grieving parents softly, handing the picture back to Gwen, standing to move to one side with the analysts, immediately turning towards Jennifer with confusion, “I thought you said I had until twelve?”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important,” The liaison said cordially, the two of you somewhat acquaintances after emailing back and forth for so long. She liked that you didn’t see the bodies as dollar signs, and you liked that she wanted the same as you; to tell the victims stories the way they should be told.

Sighing, you wrapped up your notepad, delicately pushing the pen through the wire spine. “Can I get an interview with the second family at least? Daily Press was all over that story, and they made an absolute joke of it,”

“That’s a little hypocritical of you,” The other agent piped up, and your head snapped to him. Eyes roving over his figure, brows furrowing when you realised what he’d said. You looked back to his face in annoyance.

“Excuse me?” You snipped, crossing your arms over your chest, your notepad brushing against your ribs.

“I’m just saying, you all get paid for what you write, so it's just as exploitive to write about the victims than it is to write about the crimes,” He shrugged, eyes narrowing when you shifted your weight onto your other foot and raised a brow at him.

“Unlike you,” Your gaze fell to his badge he still had to hand, “Doctor Reid, I see those women as real people, not just little pictures on a white board. They’re not just dead girls to me, and they’re certainly not just money grabs,”

Spencer went to retaliate again before JJ put a hand on both your elbows, drawing the attention away from your little spat.

“We can talk about this later, right now we have an UnSub on the loose that is quickly devolving,” She chided the two of you like you were school children, and you sighed, biting your cheek to stop yourself from snapping back at the man.

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, well aware of the grieving parents sitting little more than a few yards from where you stood bickering.

“It means you’re going to have to wait and let the professionals work,” Spencer cleared, pushing past your shoulder as he went to sit with the Townsens, his eyes swirling into something new and kind and reassuring as he looked at them, a Jekyll and Hyde to the hostility he had towards you.

You could only suck your teeth in annoyance, before Jennifer pulled you further into the dining room to discuss rearrangements.

Spencer blanked as he watched you skim reading the textbook, his own words thrown back in his face in an infuriatingly clever move on your part. With little more to say, knowing wit and barking orders would get him nowhere because he couldn’t exactly arrest you for not giving him public property, he resorted to begging.

“Please, give me the book,” He said, the desperation buried in his sigh, and you swivelled on your heels, a devilish grin on your face that had him fighting back an eye roll.

“Oh, would you look at that? I’m finished,” You said, handing him the files you were reading, passing them over to him with a smirk and he found himself almost smiling at your sarcasm.

Taking the book out of your hand, he debated saying thank you, but instead bit his lip because he'd found you were somewhat incorrigible when you were getting deeper in a story.

Turning on his heels to check out the book so he could take it back to headquarters, he stopped when you spoke, just a few decibels louder than the ‘Talk Quietly’ sign demanded.

“Agalmatophilia,” You murmured, and he whipped a look over his shoulders where you were skimming the shelves for a second textbook, seeing as your first one had been commandeered, “The sexual attraction to dolls and mannequins. I know you guys speculated he has some form of OCD but I think it's Agalmatophilia,” You said, drawing a book off the shelf without really looking up to where his brow furrowed in familiarity with the word. He glanced at you then, and you flicked open the page of contents, feeling his eyes boring into the side of your head, muttering under your breath absent-mindedly, “Just a theory,”

You’d shut him up the entire way back to headquarters.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #matthew grey gubler x reader

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dumbass-sappho-stan · 1 day

Text

hit first and hit hard || challengers

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ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅꜱᴏɴ, ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴢᴡᴇɪɢ, ᴛᴀꜱʜɪ ᴅᴜɴᴄᴀɴ

— fem! reader

summary: the tennis girl weaves her way through simple lover's quarrels and one manipulative blonde boy.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦(?), 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴/𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 sleepy 𝘛𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘋𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘯

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜɪ! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ, ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ, ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ, ꜱᴏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ! ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏ'ᴀʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.

🇼🇴🇷🇩 🇨🇴🇺🇳🇹: 7.7k

Read Part One here!

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙬𝙤: 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧

𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘿, 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼, 2007

𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺

The days following your fight with Art were rife with silence and solitude. Sequestered alone in your dorm, you lay there either working on your piling homework or listening to 'emo'-esque music to help funnel your emotions, but that still didn't help.

As much as you hate to admit it the one thing that did was tennis. Wanting to avoid Art and even Tashi, you went as early as possible. Every morning since the fight for at least a solid week, you got up at 4:30 AM, dressed, jumped the court fence to practice for about 5 hours, and exited just as the other 'early' players showed up.

It invigorated you to be energized early in the day and you sometimes smashed the ball or even your racquet if you felt like it. Being alone wasn't a new circumstance for you but it was certainly novel as of late. You were so used to Art's presence on the court and in your life.

Dinners were spent together, and silly chats you two had were the norm for at least a year. Not to mention the bizarre push and pull with the romantic tension between you two. Even before Stanford, you'd labored to get his phone number, after begging Tashi for a few days and speaking to him on the phone constantly.

Though, the blonde seemed just as ardent as you in your aversion to one another. He had tried calling you multiple times and texting but it was fruitless. You'd picked up the phone once to only put it back down.

⋆★⋆

"I'm so sorry," Art sobbed, he sounded as if someone had stabbed him, "I'm so, so sorry." You said nothing and stayed neutral. You, unfortunately, picked up the phone after Donaldson had called it 23 times in the past 2 days, and decided the 24th would be the last. It was time to be the bigger person and end the fight between you two.

"Me too, Art." Muttering drily you heard his hiccups stop, and a loud sigh of relief. You could almost feel the weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

He whispered your name softly, "I never meant to hurt you. I just... I wanted to say what I thought you wanted."

A sharp pain shot through your chest as those lethal words left his lips and pure white-hot vexation replaced whatever emotion had been there previously. It was silent between the two of you, which confused the boy.

Art called your name but was interrupted, "You know what I want Art Donaldson?" You roared, "For your fucking castration to be slow and painful!"

⋆★⋆

The poor cutesy, pink Motorola Razr was no longer a phone after the conversation and lay shattered on your floor for days before you finally felt bad and threw it out. Your new one, a hue of bright cherry red, felt much more fitting for this new lifestyle.

Tashi you didn't actually avoid, more like you didn't tell her what was wrong. If beating around the bush was a professional sport you would've left tennis ages ago. Every time you and Tashi would be talking, in your small instants outside of your room or the court that week, Art would approach and you'd immediately give these automated lines;

"Oh shit, Tashi, sorry I got an essay to write!"

"Oops! I forgot I had a thing I have to get to so.."

"It's what time? I gotta go walk my fish!"

Ausispously, these went unnoticed by Tashi because in every single one of the instances you slipped away back to your dorm and to your desolation, without as much as a blink from your friend. If you weren't so content in your loneliness you probably would have been much more uncertain or at least unhappy about her sudden disconnect from you, but chalked it up to Patrick being in town for a longer period.

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𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞

The loud pounds landed dully against your door and woke you up immediately. Your body sat up and the sun's harsh blare into your tiny room flashed in your face, nearly blinding you upon waking up. You frantically glanced around your dorm room, seeing if it was something inside rather than external.

But no, all in your room were your postered walls full of music artists, art pieces themselves, silly photos of you and your friends from home (though most of those photos were overshadowed by Tashi's), and other miscellaneous items that sat around. In the small moment of silence between pounds, you began to slightly enjoy the pleasing sight of how pretty your room looked in the California dawning sun.

However, you were quickly slapped back into reality because the pounding had not ceased; seemingly getting louder if it was imaginable. What the fuck... That specific thought rattled through your foggy brain and your face contorted to deep confusion—even fear. Yet, you finally got the motivation to gradually inch toward the door, not even knowing who the fuck could be on the other side. The door rattled and shook explosively the closer you got until a hand to the handle.

The metal felt cool and smooth under your grasp. Soon flinching at the pounding and slightly wondered how your neighbors didn't get pissed off yet. But, you focused and opened the door.

Then there he was, Patrick Zweig, in all his glory posed in a mid-pound gesture at your dorm room door, staring straight at you.

"Hi,"

"Hey..."

Patrick soon pushed his way past you, walking into your dorm unphased. "Okay, just come right in.." You muttered, shutting the door behind you before turning to him. He stood in the middle of your room, inspecting it like he's the fucking DA. Nevertheless, he looked quite pretty as he was dressed in a simple white t-shirt with some dorky slogan and jorts—fit for California weather.

The silence was palpable between you two, Patrick seemed unbothered, almost jovial, and the signature devilish glint in his eyes. You, in contrast, glared at him like he was the spawn of Satan.

"Don't you look joyful?" Patrick chuckled, a playful smile soon following. Your scowl didn't budge but despite that, he came toward you with arms open wide, and enclosed you in a hug, "I'm certainly happy to see you." His words were muffled in the tangled mess that was your hair at this early of an hour. You hugged back briefly, then pressed him off.

"Pounding at my door at..." You glanced at the digital clock, "Jesus Christ, 7:15 in the morning?!" A small chuckle left Patrick again at his ability to get a rise out of you. You crossed your arms angrily and pinched the bridge of your nose with a sigh.

"Well, I'm eager to see one of my two special girls," He quipped, leaning back on your window sill with a surprising suaveness. That had become his nickname for you and Tashi over the past months. His 'special' girls were his way of flirting with you and getting on your nerves all at the same time. Both he and your best friend found it hilarious.

"Zweig, you have a pretty fucking odd way of showing 'enthusiasm'," A scoff left your lips just as you sauntered to the bathroom that was tangent to your room. The brunette soon followed and leaned on the doorway as you started your routine.

"I adore you, pookie!" A shutter audibly left you when he drawled out the terribly cheesy nickname. That one was the worst.

"Bleugh," You gagged, "Jesus Christ, Patrick why can't you be normal?" Somehow you frowned even deeper if that was even possible.

The boy laughed in reply, "Because who would be around to force you to have some fun?" Patrick looked at you with those eyes, his pretty forestry eyes that have broken hearts all across the country, they were meant for you. It made you want to stare back with your own, basking in it like a summer's day. And that smile, god— his smile was the sun itself. If Art was the ice, Patrick was the fire, the sun. The sun's light could always melt the winter's snow, you assumed he was with Tash for that similar reason. Opposites attract.

You started to feel yourself blush, your mind overthinking and repeating thoughts that all were about him, Patrick.

Patrick, Patrick, Patrick.

Hastily, you rushed to turn on the faucet and started to forcefully wash your face. Hopefully, it would wash away the shame that overtook the sudden rush of emotions for your best friend's boyfriend. Damnit, this is what happens when you don't get laid for a week... Scolding yourself internally, you washed your face and sighed to look back at him. As you expected, his eyes were still on you. But something had changed, the playfulness just wasn't there. It was something else, but you didn't have the time to place it before he looked away.

"So," Patrick spoke your name, "I haven't seen you for my entire time here, and..." He paused for effect, "I missed you."

You gasped dramatically and put a hand to your chest, "Me? Patrick Zweig misses me?" Teasing him with a smile, "What an honor! What's next, I get taken to the Dollar Tree?"

Laughter bounced off the small walls as the two of you were terribly unfunny and it was mutually known. It didn't stop you two from laughing at the stupidity of it. The laughter endured for a moment or two before it died down.

"But really," Patrick started to pull himself together, "I did miss you. Y'know how Art is these days, and Tashi only wants to talk about fucking tennis..." He stepped closer to you, close enough for his hand to slightly caress your free arm. "You're honestly my only friend right now..."

You laugh awkwardly, eyes darting everywhere from his own. Patrick was looking at you, you knew it, but if you looked now you wouldn't be responsible for what you would do after. Self-control was one of the better traits you'd taken from Tashi—you stepped away from his touch and smiled thinly.

"Oh come on Patrick," The shitty tile of your bathroom floor seemed more and more interesting as the seconds passed, "Tashi's just trying to help you." You knew what he was referring to as Tashi complained of Patrick's inability to listen to criticism.

Patrick scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, regardless didn't reply. He dropped the subject, realizing ages ago you'd always choose to defend Tashi over anyone else. He shifted back to his original plan.

"Okay, that's whatever, would you like to go out tonight then?" He asked, his original jovial tone returning, and suddenly like that, everything was okay. The bizarre tension was gone and you could meet his gaze with a knowing face.

"I'll think about it." That answer seemed good enough for Patrick, you witnessed a cheesy exclamation and a terrible fist pump to follow. You sighed at his absurdity but it finally got him out of your doorway as he sauntered back out to your room.

"Great! I'll see you at 8 tonight," He announced, walking toward the door and out the door before he could hear your faint, "Patrick I don't-"

It was suddenly silent in your dorm again. Which, you were grateful for as it meant now you had time to concentrate; you could possibly continue your new 15-step life plan of isolation and become the second-best tennis-female player of all time, Tashi would be the first. Or get black-out drunk tonight and forget all about everything. Each option was very crucial.

A few hours of homework later, you had determined two things like you had done a week ago. One, yes you did need to get black-out drunk, Two, you had to make more male friends that weren't your best friend's boyfriend or said boyfriend's best friend.

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The club was hot and sweaty, it felt as if it'd swallow you whole with the number of people who crowded around you. Dancing, grinding, touching. You hadn't drunk enough alcohol for you to start to enjoy this feeling so off to the bar you went. Patrick followed in tandem, keeping a good trail on you as he was the "designated driver", though you were sure that both of you were going home in a taxi that night.

Patrick ordered a round of 10 shots of assorted types of strong-smelling alcohol and smiled at you, though the smile made you queasy. It exactly mirrored Tashi's smile when she forced you to do shit.

"My favorite girl, pick your poison," The brunette snickered, taking in the blank features that had taken over. "Unless you're a pussy."

"Oh, I'm a pussy?" You raised your eyebrow in defiance, "Please, Patrick, watch and learn." Mirroring his confident smirk, you picked up one random shot and took it back. Then another, and another, and another... Soon there were only 3 shots left for your friend and your tongue started to go numb. The boy laughed at your efforts and followed your lead by taking the rest of the shots.

Shortly, you were on the dance floor, the colored lights seemed so much more welcoming and the touch of strangers felt like a blaze. You drunkenly danced with Patrick, spinning and moving against each other, hands above the waist for both of you as it felt anything but personal. Occasionally you two would make eye contact for too long and would just erupt in giggles and he'd take you for another spin. Patrick knew how to have fun and pulled you along for the ride.

During some Nelly Furtado song, you'd finally gotten fatigued of the club after who knows how long of dancing, drinking, and other illicit activities that involved a certain plant. You tugged at Patrick's collar of his shirt and he stopped his movement.

"Patrick," You slurred, "I wanna go home.." He looked down at your figure and nodded his head. Patrick led you off of the dance floor and finally outside of the club. You clutched onto his shirt on the walk to the car, which honestly felt like miles. Patrick filled the air with little comments about the people who had filled the club and it made you giggle. Though, as drunk as you were anything could've made you laugh.

"Yes! The car!" The grip on his shirt tightened as you through one of your hands in the air in celebration, "I'm so fuckinggg... tired.." You dragged out your constants as you both made your way to the car. Ultimately, it was more like Patrick was walking and you slanted onto him, trotting along.

"Mhm," Patrick hummed, he'd kept one hand on your waist but you hadn't really noticed it. There were many things you didn't notice in your inebriated state.

Patrick, luckily, hadn't drunk as much as you and was sober enough to drive you home. You laid your head comfortably on the window as you observed the blackened city and yellowed road soar past you. It was serene, you and Patrick. It was the first time in the past week you felt a smidge above the bare minimum. Your head was hazy and everything felt so miniature; boxed in.

The ride home was rather reserved, with no one speaking other than you drunkenly giving him directions to your dorm. Eventually, after he had to call Tashi, he stopped in front of the building.

"We're here, Sleeping Beauty," Patrick murmured quietly, slightly nudging you with his hand. When you responded with a groan, he sighed and got out of the car. You perked up a bit and lazily followed his figure until he opened the door. The lack of movement signaled to Patrick that he would be the one to get you out of this car.

Patrick heaved you out of your seat, to your disdain, and he held you close as he closed the passenger door behind you. Your face was squashed in the curve of his neck. He smelt like really lovely cologne and sweat.

Looking up at him, Patrick met your gaze with his own and smiled, "Hi." You smiled back, "Hey.." His hand stayed trained on your waist and you felt that warmth. The fervor you felt that night in the hotel room. It pooled deep inside of you, and it made the stupid smile on your face grow even wider.

"What are you smiling at?" Patrick grinned at your behavior and his hand that had been unlocking the door moved up to cup your cheek. Both of you stood there under the cloak of the night sky, staring foolishly at one another. He softly said your name, "What are you smiling at, pretty girl?"

The tone of his voice was something you'd never be able to interpret in your lifetime. Forgotten among memories and the intoxication, you thought about what led to the position you were in years later, and next to that night in the hotel room, this seemed to be another flick to the dominos collapsing.

Patrick didn't wait for your response, his lips were already on yours. He felt needy in this kiss, it was long and passionate. Your eyes were clenched shut, the euphoria you felt from being so out of it momentarily leaving your body to replace it with stone-cold regret. The kiss was split when you finally pushed one hand to his chest.

"Patrick?" You muttered, "What the fuck?" Patrick's air sobered at your words. He looked at you, the mere panic very visible on his face. Had he fucked up?

"What?" The brunette laughed humorously, "Did I, erm..." He was searching through his lexicon to say anything that could save whatever the hell just happened.

The shame began to quickly devour you, a sickish feeling overtaking your senses. Whatever just happened mortified you to no extent. You staggered back from Patrick, finally meeting his frenzied eyes.

Your eyes started to gloss over and you cried. Tears fell freely down your face as you felt the humiliation slap you in the face. All of it. The humiliation of Art not even liking you, Tashi's carelessness this week, and then this. The culmination of the efforts from the four of you, kissing your best friend's boyfriend. Or rather he kissed you, but what was the true distinction?

"What the fuck Patrick!?" You roughly wiped the tears that continued to fall, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Patrick said nothing, only stared, so similar to his best friend.

"Jesus... The both of you!" You barked, "The both of you two fucking astound me." Your words were sharp and cutting bore into Patrick, apparently, that's what got him.

"What," His voice trailed off as his demeanor only heightened in puzzlement, "What do you mean both?"

"You and your fuck-face friend, that's who!" Your words blended together, as unfortunately, you were still pretty shit-faced. "You and Art fucking around with my head..."

Patrick tensed, "Art's fucking with your head?"

"Yes!" You replied, throwing your hands out in anger, "He's still in love with your girlfriend, and decided to fuck me on the side!"

Patrick's eyebrows raised, he knew Art was trying to manipulate the situation by trying to break him and Tashi apart but he didn't know that you were weaved in here too.

"That's... fucked up." He attempted to comfort you, very awkwardly.

"Yes, it is fucked up Patrick, almost as fucked up as you kissing me." You shot back venomously, narrowing your eyes at him. Patrick went quiet for a beat. He looked at you, looked away, and back at you. He seemed to be deliberating something.

"There's nothing fucked up about it," He finally answered, "I wanted to."

An involuntary gasp slipped from your lips. Your face contorted. "What?"

"I want you."

It felt like a gallon of cold water splashed on you. You stumbled back even further from the boy, your expression no longer confused but mortified.

Thundering down the sidewalk, you callously ran to where you didn't know. You heard Patirck's calls after you but they didn't matter. It wasn't as if he ran after you. The haze from everything that had happened still lingered as you ran. The thoughts bombarded your mind aimlessly, wondering what Patrick meant or what he might say to Tashi.

Tashi...

You'd raced so far that you were there at her dorm, which was seated right next to the tennis courts. Vision hazy, you tumbled into the building. It felt dingy and humid and walking through the corridors you tripped about six times and fully fallen over 3; that didn't stop you though from your destination.

By the grace of god, you handled yourself well enough to place three ordered knocks on Tashi's door, then slump to the floor with a deep sigh. Honestly, you didn't expect her to open the door. You didn't know what time it was but it was late enough into the night (or the early hours of the morning), that the rest of the world was silent.

Everything went silent for a moment as you stared at that wooden door. You focused on a dent in the door itself, right near the handle. You were so immersed in the indentation that you didn't notice the door hinged open.

"Well, well, well... look who it is," Tashi stared down at you with a slight smile. There she was.

"Tashi!" Your mood was instantly lifted at her company and smiled right back. The nastiness, the dread, and the remorse were lifted instantly once you saw her. She let out a sigh once she saw your state— your outfit was skimpy, mascara and eyeliner were smeared all over your face, and you looked like you'd cried a river.

"Christ," She sighed out your name, "Can't you have a good night?"

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You and Tashi lay on her bed peacefully, and you exchanged no sentiments in those moments. She'd washed you up from your sordid state and now she was tracing designs in the curve of your hip. Tashi laid her chin on your head and you nestled on her collarbone. This was a frequent situation for either of you, as, during tournaments during your adolescent year, nights were spent braiding each other's hair, swapping secrets with smiles, and just being girls.

"So, are we going to talk about it?" Tashi hummed, staring out into her own cluttered room. Smiling like a fool you replied, "Talk about what?"

"Art, he told me about what happened." She continued, her hand moved from your hip to your hair. Tashi threaded her fingers through it gently and you let out a giggle.

"Pfft, Art.. that stupid, dumb blonde," Laughter filled the room, and you drew your head away from Tashi to meet her. "He's just stupid, that's all."

Tashi held back her own laughter at your intoxicated words, "I see.." You nodded in confirmation and laid back down cuddled back in. "Well, I just wanted you to know that this week I wasn't trying to avoid you," She resumed, "Art just told me about your emotional state, and knowing you, I know you like space."

You hoisted your head again and sneered, "You'd believe that twink?" Tashi giggled and rolled her eyes, "I don't think you can say that anymore," She spoke your name in a scold, "But, yes I did, he's pretty fucking convincing you know."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... Convincing my ASS," Your eyebrows drew together in irritation at the mention of the boy, "He's stupid, just like the other one.."

Dead air obscured the room again, the only sound being you and Tashi's breathing. The warmth you'd felt from the alcohol returned again, but it felt different. It didn't feel as murky or slowing, it felt good. Yet, the disgrace from earlier was still in the back of your mind. You knew the next day would hold so much bullshit for you and your friend depending on Patrick's efforts or if Art decided to tell Tashi whatever Patrick would recount to him. The involvement of the two boys had made everything so muddled.

"Tashi,"

"Hm?"

"Promise me you'll love me forever?" You asked quietly, finally breaking the tranquility. The voice you had dawned felt foreign to you, it was desperate, vulnerable. Tashi pulled herself away from you to meet your eyes. Her deep sharp eyes scrutinized you with an unreadable gaze.

"What do you mean?" She asked, trying to laugh it off with a dry chuckle.

"I said what I meant," You slurred in reply, a pout, "Will you love me forever?"

Tashi scoffed, "I'm not fucking Mother Theresa," She said your name with a mocking edge. "You're my best friend, I..." Tashi stopped to carefully phrase her words so you could understand in your blitzed condition. "I like you more than any other person on planet Earth."

Your pout formed into a frown, and you stayed silent. Tashi then exhaled wearily, knowing she'd hurt your feelings but didn't say anything. It was a staring contest that you wouldn't win. Tashi did like you a lot, more than she liked her family, friends, and her boyfriend. But she wasn't good at pretending—she couldn't pretend she loved more than one thing. She loved one thing, and one thing only; Tennis.

"Then I'll love you enough for the both of us." That response caught Tashi off guard and she blanked. "I'll love you seeds and all, Tashi Duncan." The announcement of your love for her wasn't on the list of things Tashi thought she would've heard tonight. A nervousness overtook her but you didn't notice, you just stared in determination.

"Seeds and all?" Tashi questioned, her demeanor shifted to something a bit fainter, similar to yours.

"Yes, Tashi, seeds and all," You said it as if it was the most common thing in the world and laid back down. A sudden wave of exhaustion had washed over you, it was so easy to fall asleep. Despite this, Tashi stayed awake and watched you. It wasn't uncommon for you to say sappy shit and for Tashi to combat it with banter, but this felt more amorous; for the first time in the girl's life, she felt confused.

Tashi glanced back down at your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful and pretty. An involuntary grin graced her features as she lay next to you. Her face was inches away from your own, bringing her hand to brush away some stray pieces of your hair to simply stare at you.

"I love you too," The girl muttered your name, kissing the apple of your cheek, turning around to her side of the bed, and falling into a slumber soon after. Tashi had assumed you were sleeping and wouldn't remember it even if you weren't. But, unfortunately for her, you had heard.

Tashi Duncan loved you.

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𝘾𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙄𝙉𝙉𝘼𝙏𝙄, 𝙊𝙃𝙄𝙊, 2011

𝘊𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪 𝘖𝘱𝘦𝘯

The hotel bar's music softly played through the speakers, setting a particular homely affection amid the room. A few people were there, tennis players and normal patrons alike, drinking or crying over their loss today. Cincinnati, Ohio was one of the last stops any of these players had of making it to the US Open but unfortunately, they didn't make the cut.

You on the other hand? The 15-step plan was in motion but this time you'd be first. Going pro three years ago was one of the best decisions you'd made, in your life. The dream was cradled in the palm of your hand. Young, beautiful, determined, the brands just ate you up.

Being sponsored by Nike, doing commercials for popular products, and selling out was pretty amicable. The celebrity that came with it was a sweet taste that you sunk your teeth in. People shouted your name on the street and begged for your signature, they wanted you. The only downside was that now and again you'd have to see him.

God, You thought, when was the last time I heard this song... Instead of nursing your drink, you glanced around the room, observing the players. You recognized some from previous competitions and some you'd played today. Suddenly, noticing how everyone had someone to talk to, it was exposing to be the lone person at the bar. At 23 and no man, for now, was a smidge uncomfortable.

So why were you holding her hand?

Is that the way we stand?

Were you lying all the time?

Was it just a game to you...

While scanning the room, you saw her, sitting there with her computer propped up and sporting a shorter hairstyle. A jolt surged through you, you'd seen enough of her today, and you swiveled your head back forward. Another bad move, there he was. The blonde shaggy curls bedazzled you when he strolled in. Art Donaldson walked through the room and the world stopped turning.

Art walked into the bar in search of something. He just didn't know what. For the past few weeks since the Atlanta Open, he'd been on edge; for what he didn't really know. The looming task of the US Open had been teasing him for years, but he was young. He had time to play and win it, this year might just be his year. Though that's what he told himself. The US Open was what he was worried about. Yes, nothing more, nothing less, and absolutely not about certain brunettes.

Art made eye contact with you for a split second. A look flashed across both of your faces, both with varying feelings. Art's face showed an emotion of enchantment, like seeing a rare jewel. You looked like you swallowed sour milk. You shifted your gaze away from him and back to your drink. The alcohol stung your nose.

But I'm in so deep

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger...

Do you have to let it linger?

A shiver strained through you, wondering if the universe was truly trying to get you to buy 30 mg of fentanyl and a bottle of vodka. Art you were used to, both of you were established and young tennis players, it was foretold the two of you would cross paths after that day. Every time it did happen there were formalities exchanged between you two, and then you'd take 4 shots of the choice of alcohol that night and cry.

Art peeked back at you once more before back on his path to Tashi. She was perfect, he had known that fact since the day he met her. Shoved on the pedestal, his fiance typed stormily at her computer, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

A smile grazed his face, "Hey," He sat down across from her. Tashi barely acknowledged him with a nod. Art sighed and tapped on the rim of her computer, "Hey Tashi..."

Tashi exhaled and lips thinned, "Hi, what's up?" She curtly replied, "I'm working right now on our deal with Nike," Art's confidence slightly buckled under her glare and apparent annoyance with him.

"Oh, well, nothing..." He trailed off with his smile being replaced with a slight pout, unfortunately for Art, this irritated the coach more. "Well, then get out of my face. You have a game tomorrow," She articulated concisely instructed him with a tone a mother would use, "A game you need to win."

Art straightened up a bit, winning was important, he knew that but he missed Tashi. His paranoia surely wasn't helping her curtness as of recently, but he was still relegating it to US Open nerves. He just needed to win and it'd be fine. "Okay," He agreed, "I'll see you upstairs?" The blonde was met with a quick nod, the sound of typing only emitted.

"I love you."

"I know."

Art left the table with a sullen expression on his features, but you didn't know that. Now you were focused on what type of wood the table was, to avoid thinking about when was the last time the three of you were in the same room. Maybe it's maple.... Your thoughts were soon cut off by a buzz from your phone. The iPhone 4 buzzed madly in your pocket and you pulled it out.

It was some random number you didn't have on your phone.

415-xxx-xxxx

𝘏𝘪, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬.

𝘔𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 3𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘖𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺.

A miniature smile begged to come onto your features, even texting you could hear the way he'd talk with his comforting, careful diction. But then the meaning of the message settled deep inside you. He wanted to meet you up? Why? Confusion replaced the thick nostalgia as the cogs in your head started to work. It confused you, but you were intrigued. Plus, what was the worst that could happen?

212-xxx-xxxx

𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯

¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸¸¸♬·

Idily standing in the dingy ice room, you'd start contemplating your life choices. Specifically, the ones that led you to this moment. Why did you approve of this? Why did you go to that fucking bar? You're not even supposed to drink the day before a game. Oh, that's right, you remembered, Patrick Zweig.

♬☆♬☆♬☆

Earlier that day...

The cooling feeling of the concrete against your back felt like pertinent compensation after a day of sprinting around in the sun. You'd finally made it to the semi-finals after dominating through the bracket, some you'd played against during earlier tournaments, others were just painless to beat and move on to the following one. Nonetheless, the girl you'd just played had given you a run for your money. Not because she was good, but because you were distracted.

Tashi Duncan, coach of the FAMOUS Art Donaldson, observed your match. You'd noticed her when perusing the stands after the first game when you were looking for your friend who had come to cheer you on. Seeing her was the biggest mistake of your game, serve after serve it'd either be out or barely touched the net. It was utterly embarrassing and you'd lost the second game by 15 love. When it was the break you'd skimmed only to find her gone.

It pissed you off. Who the fuck does she think she is? You clenched your water bottle angrily, your knuckles shy of a shade lighter than normal skin tone. The spite of Tashi leaving your game (or so you thought) had lit that flame that you doused years ago. The flame of insecurity produced by Tashi Duncan.

You were relentless against the girl, hitting the ball with your full strength each and every time. An intense volley had occurred in the middle of the game, so intense that your opponent fell face forward in an attempt to catch the shot (she did not). The stadium was silent other than the loud sounds of your grunts and anger. It was hotter than the concrete you played on but just as hard. It pissed you off so much that when you won, instead of your normal self-indulgent bow, you smashed your racquet to the floor and a roar. The crowd scarfed it down, hailing you as a passionate and beautiful player, tenacious against competition.

In all honesty, you just wanted to go home and cry, but you were hustled off the court to where you are now. Stranded in the hallway and lying in your muddled emotions. It was now the men's bracket, but you didn't plan on watching anyone. Particularly Donaldson. Yet, trying to make it out of the vacant hallway, a familiar face entered your vision.

"There's the golden girl!" No words in a dictionary could express the face you made at that moment.

"Oh my..." You muttered under your breath, turning around to see Patrick Zwieg, in all of his sleazy glory. "What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here Patrick?"

Patrick laughed with faux hurt, "Aw, aren't you just a ball of sunshine!" He tried to get closer to you but you edged back. He gauged your expression and sighed, "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me..."

You scoffed in disgust, "Christ Patrick, seeing you is like seeing a dog with cancer, it should be put down already." The brunette's lips pulled into a smirk, he crossed his arms and gave an irksome look.

"Well, I'm not a dog," He corrected, "I'm a cat and we got 9 lives." An exasperated sigh left your lips, your eyes meeting his with a tiredness. After the mind-fuck of seeing Tashi, you had no bandwidth for Patrick's bitchiness.

"I don't fucking care, Patrick," You hissed, finally starting back on your walk. Patrick started to slightly slip from his confidence, he hadn't expected this. He usually was able to keep you around for a good banter but you'd genuinely just stopped it this time. To keep you from going he snatched your forearm, keeping you from going any further.

Your glare deepened, "Let me go!" He didn't budge and kept you in place, although you started struggling to try and escape his strong grasp.

Patrick spoke your name calmly, "I just want to talk..." He sounded like he was talking to a feral cat. Grunting and now starting to whine, you struggled in an attempt to get away from him and this conversation. "About what? How you fucked over my best-" You stopped yourself, the word 'friend' died on the tip of your tongue. You two weren't friends, you hadn't been for years. Patrick caught this moment of vulnerability and used this.

"Friend? Please, she left you once you got better," He goaded with a sinister grin, "She couldn't stand that you could play and she couldn't."

The struggle became relentless as you started to shout for 'help' but it was useless. You were isolated. The best you'd gotten was dragging Patrick an inch or two across the floor, no escape was foreseen. A thin line formed on your lips as you glared.

"Shut up Patrick, don't fucking project your bullshit with Art on me,' You spat venomously, "He won, you're fucking losing, so what?"

Patrick chuckled drily, "Won what? The match? In case you forgot I won that-"

"NO!" You cut him off with a shout, "God no Patrick, he won at life. He's getting married to the girl you, and only you Patrick, lost because you're a dipshit." Face contorted into one of pure hatred for the man in front of you, and his hold finally slackened for you to draw your arm back.

Patrick rolled his eyes, "Newsflash, I slept with the girl I lost like.." He stopped speaking to count on his fingers, "Three weeks ago!" A triumphant and smug smirk graced his features.

"Great, so you can add home-wrecker to your tennis accolades?" You raised a brow and scoffed again, "You astonish me Zweig, you really do."

Patrick's grin didn't budge, "I aim to please," He did feel quite pleased with himself, and was even more pleased because he confidently believed you were jealous. Jealous that Tashi Duncan slept with him again and you didn't. He was sorely mistaken.

A heavy breath was taken in and you became focused. You knew exactly what you wanted to say to him, "Patrick, you may've fucking one that on match, let's say a battle." You began harshly, "But you didn't win the war, Art did."

Coming closer to Patrick to look him square in the eye, "Art is going to marry Tashi, he won. He will continue to win and be remembered." Patrick clenched his fists to try and calm himself, your words cutting in like serrated blades, "Who will you be Patrick?"

The question echoed throughout Patrick's mind, but you didn't waste time on his reply. Quickly, you stormed away after and resolved that the finest thing to do was to drink this moment away.

♬☆♬☆

A disgusted exclamation softly left your lips as you remembered that instant from today. Patrick always knew how to rile you up, to push your buttons until they'd break. At this point, you thought he enjoyed pissing you off. However, your internal monologuing was cut off by approaching footsteps. Darting up from the checkered carpeted floor, the blonde approached.

Art felt his palms begin to sweat when he saw your languid figure up against the vending machine. You looked so effortlessly beautiful to him, even when looking like you wanted to kill him. He sauntered into the small corridor and shut the door behind him.

Then, he pivoted around to face you. A hush swallowed both of you. It had been the first time you two were alone in around 3 years, at least. Art looked nervous meanwhile you looked disinterested.

"So?" You asked expectantly, "What did you need to talk about?" Art uncoiled and bit his lip. What did he want to talk about again..?

"Oh uhm.." He stuttered, "Hi, so..." Art desperately combed his mind for an answer, "I just saw you and I..." He coughed awkwardly and shifted his weight, "I just wanted to know how you were."

You took a deep breath and then let out a sigh, "Great, so you wanted to waste my time?" Art visibly flinched at your response and his lips twitched in apprehension.

"No, I just missed you," He asserted quickly, trying to meet your tone. Art's deep blue eyes met your own and something tugged at your heartstrings. "We both missed you."

"We?" A wiry laugh echoed in the room, "I don't think Tashi misses me, Arthur, but a cute way of guilt-tripping me." You cooed mockingly with a smirk. A sour expression fell across Art's countenance at the use of his full government name.

Sighing, he leaned against the wall and; after a beat spoke, "We watched your name today," Art stared at you intensely, "You were good, but what fucked you up during the second game?"

You clenched your fists, annoyed that he had been there too. "I don't know, it's called none-ya."

"What's none-ya?" He asked, confused by your retort.

"None of ya fucking business, Donaldson," You shot, "We aren't friends, we don't have tea parties and talk about fucking tennis."

"Well," Art started calmly, holding himself together, "Why don't we talk about anything but tennis?" You smiled fakly at his offer and stepped toward him, the height difference not really being too big, close enough to meet eye to eye.

"Then why the hell are we talking, Art, if we're not talking tennis?"

Art was silenced by your reply and stared down at the floor. He understood why you were acting the way you were, you were hurt. Aching. He would be too if he were in your shoes. The boy knew it wasn't him that should be talking to you. If anything would be solved between you and him, it'd first have to be solved between you and his fiance.

So, he looked back up at you, "I don't know why are we still talking?" The way Art said your name triggered some deep-buried emotions you had killed many years ago along with your insecurities. It was the seductive, whiny nature of Art Donaldson that kept you awake during the hard, lonely nights and right now it was your reality.

The space between you two was barely existent, lips almost touching... Your phone buzzed. The moment was ruined instantly and you quickly plucked out your phone. It was your coach, texting you verbatim to 'GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, NOW!' with five angry emojis.

Art's eyes searched your movements as you read the message. He was so intent on solving or fixing things with you tonight that he hadn't acknowledged that other outside forces could interfere. When he saw you play today and then back at the bar? It fell into place for him, he just had to have you again. He had to. He deserved it right?

You shoved Art aside and opened the door, focused on now going to sleep and preparing for your game tomorrow. Simply put, you didn't have time for stupid boys like Art Donaldson who wanted to play tennis with two balls. It was ineffective.

But, just as you were down the hallway he shouted, "Tashi misses you!" You ignored him, "She told me to tell you."

"Tell her," Turning around so he could directly hear you, "Tell her that she can go fuck herself, and," You had stopped speaking, storming off to right in front of the man, "Go fuck yourself too." It was easy to snatch the collar of his old grey hoodie and capture him in a kiss.

The clash of lips was a brutish one, Art being caught off guard and you kissing forcefully as if he was the last thing on earth. His hands traveled to your jaw and let you take control of the kiss.

It was a longer one, almost juvenile, letting yourself clash teeth or slightly push up against him. You finally pulled away, his bottom lip sliding through your teeth slowly, keeping eye contact while it bounced back in place.

The both of you were flushed a deep crimson, now both frustrated and sexually frustrated you let out an exclamation of anger and strode furiously down the hall, into the stairway.

There left was Art, his attempts hopeless and now he was alone. His hand shakily rose to his lips where you had just been. Fingers gently grazing his lip before letting out a shaky sigh. It'd been forever since he'd been caught so off-guard, it shook him inside. You always did, pushing his own buttons instead of yours. Art was always susceptible to your touch and words.

Yet, frowned when he thought of the way you had spoken to him tonight. You had become so jaded, so much more.. mean. It reminded him of how Tashi used to talk back at Stanford. Before the injury. How confident she was, somehow more than now, and how she had the world at the tips of her fingers. Art silently wished he'd handled that day differently than he did. But, deep down, he knew he didn't. Art got what he wanted at the end of the day, wasn't that beautiful?

ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2

Hi! I really hope you guys liked this chapter, I really wanted to explore the character dynamics more and just flesh out the relationships. It'll get spicy, trusttt!

Please like or comment!! I would love to hear what y'all think or want for the plot, you guys were literally so, so nice in the last part!

Thank you for reading <3

🇹🇦🇬🇱🇮🇸🇹:

@jackierose902109

@bloodyrevengedbullets

@ssababe

@skylerwhitwyo

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan #patrick zweig x reader #challengers 2024 #challengers x reader #art donaldson smut #tashi donaldson #x reader #fem reader #patrick zweig #challengers #love square #challengers fanfic

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seventiesweetheart · 3 days

Text

𓆩♱𓆪 party monster.

dark! ex bf! rafe x pogue! fem! reader

SUMMARY. in which y/n and the infamous rafe cameron once shared a secret relationship, one that she knew the pogues would be heavily against. and so eventually, after a series of events, y/n decided to break up with him and be done with his toxic behavior once and for all. but while sneaking into some kook’s house party with the pogues, she’s caught by the one person she was hoping not to find.

WARNING. smut, dubcon, a bit of violence, implied toxic relationship, oral (reader receiving), choking, manipulative behavior, jealousy, tons of swearing

A/N. this is the first ever fic i’m posting yaaaay >< just a note that this definitely ended up being way longer than i planned, so i might write a part two tomorrow since it also still feels kind of lacking :( but hope you enjoy!

it wasn’t easy sneaking in. but with sarah’s help, they managed to slip through unnoticed. and of course, jj wasted no time diving into the kitchen where bottles of booze were scattered like treasure, hence why y/n found herself struggling to maintain control of the situation, fearing that at any moment, someone would eventually realize who they were and the fact that they completely weren’t supposed to be here.

to be honest, y/n never wanted to come here. if anything, the last place she wanted to be after her recent breakup was anywhere near the kooks. yet, as soon as john b and jj heard about the party, they couldn't resist the temptation to crash it in true pogue fashion.

as usual, y/n and ki couldn’t bear the idea of those boys getting their asses kicked again, especially after the millions of times that that happened in the past.

“jj, seriously, that’s enough. this is absolutely no place to get wasted right now. please.” she begged her best friend who was now downing his third bottle and moving along to music.

“god relax y/n, no one’s gonna figure us out, alright? just drink, dance, and we’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

her eyes bored into him, clearly not believing a word he said, “uh huh, you say that now but—“

“c’mon! just dance with me.” before y/n could protest any more, jj had her by the hand, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the living room. the air was thick with the scent of flavored smoke and alcohol. loud trap music pounded from the speakers, the bass vibrating through the floors and walls, matching the rhythm of her racing heart.

“jesus christ…” the girl muttered, watching jj get lost in the music, his head swinging and hair flying as he danced amidst the throng of bodies.

y/n's eyes scanned around the room, her anxiety mounting with each passing second. sweat slicked her forehead as she continuously looked around the crowd for any familiar faces who might recognize them.

and then she saw him.

his pair of piercing grey-blue eyes locked onto hers, sending a jolt of fear through her body. those same eyes flicked between her and jj, and before she knew it, she felt a chill run down her spine.

rafe cameron lounged on a plush couch, arms draped over the backrest with the usual unreadable expression on his face. next to him was some girl who was bent forward towards the glass table, snorting a line of powder. she raised her head back and pinched her nose, waiting for the rush to hit.

but y/n’s focus was solely on rafe. whoever the girl was didn't matter. either way, rafe’s attention was fixed on her, and she couldn't tell if that excited or terrified her more.

snapping out of the daze, she turned to her best friend again, “jj, we gotta go. rafe’s here.” she desperately tried to tug on her friend’s arm.

“jj!” she yelled over the music and that finally caught his attention.

“what?!” he yelled back, irritation flashing across his face at the sight of her anxious expression.

“we have to go! now.”

rafe never liked jj. throughout their secret relationship, he always thought of him to be a little too loud, violent, and far too carefree. on top of that, he also thought jj was always too close to y/n for his liking.

and y/n knew this. she knew both of them well enough to understand that she needed to act quickly before things escalated and this night became another reminder of why sneaking into this party had been a terrible idea in the first place.

her hand wrapped tightly around her best friend’s wrist as she moved as quickly as she can through the crowd in order to find an exit.

but almost immediately, she felt jj's wrist slip from her grasp. her heart dropped as she pushed through a dense cluster of bodies, the press of people making it hard to move.

"fuck, jj—" she started, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

but it wasn’t jj behind her anymore. instead, she found herself face-to-face with the same pair of ominous blue eyes she saw earlier. she barely had time to think as she shoved past more bodies.

finally breaking free from the crowd, she found herself at the foot of the stairs. without hesitation, she dashed upwards. it didn’t matter, she was going to find a window and get the hell out of here. kiara would find jj, y/n was sure of it. and pope had to be somewhere downstairs as well.

reaching the second floor, her heart raced even faster. she frantically looked left and right, searching for a room to hide in. she pushed open the first door she came to, only to recoil at the sight of two strangers making out.

“fuck, sorry,” she mumbled, cringing as she backed out and moved to the next room.

she hurried down the hall to the last room, cautiously peeking inside. finding it empty, she slipped in quickly.

but the door couldn’t close behind her.

she attempted to push it again, but it wouldn’t budge. y/n stumbled backward as the door pushed back against her efforts, her breath hitching when she realized it wasn’t any problem with the door—it was rafe on the other side.

“closing the door on me again? i’m starting to think you love doing that.” a mischievous smirk played on his lips as he slowly stepped into the room, his presence making the space more suffocating as he closed the door behind him.

the silence in the room was deafening and the growing tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. y/n definitely did not miss the sound of the lock clicking into place.

she could still hear the music blaring from downstairs, the bass vibrating through the walls and floorboards. or maybe this time it was just her own heart, pounding in her chest as she kept her eyes locked on his. every fiber of her being braced for his next move.

rafe took a step closer, his gaze never wavering from hers. the dim light cast shadows across his face, making his expression even more unreadable.

she never expected for this situation to happen again, wherein they would be both locked in a room and none of her friends were even slightly aware of the fact that they were alone together. every instinct screamed at her to run, but she stayed rooted at her spot.

“not running this time?” he inched closer, his voice a low and threatening.

“i know you won’t hurt me.” it sounded like a whisper, as y/n back slowly to the desk behind her.

rafe scoffed, “you say that but i see you still trying to escape from me.”

y/n glared at him, defiance flickering in her eyes “well, what do you expect? for me to run to you?”

his glare intensified, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he moved closer. but then, in a flash, his expression softened.

“i missed you, you know?” his tone turned manipulative, a tactic she recognized all too well from their relationship. she had fallen for it many times before, but she wasn’t going to this time. “i really did, y/n… we were so perfect together and you-you just left without giving me the chance to explain myself.”

“well, i don’t think any more could have been said after you beat the fuck out of my best friend, don’t you think?” y/n's voice grew more aggressive, her anger flaring.

“yeah well he hit me too! and what’d you do? nothing!” he yelled, and she flinched at every word, her body tensing as she tried desperately to find an escape from the suffocating situation.

his breathing grew heavier as he looked at her with pain and frustration in his eyes, “you said you loved me but-but you didn’t even come to defend me.”

“rafe… you started that fight and i-i told you if you laid a hand on any of my friends then that would be the end for us.”

“god, fuck!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. rafe's hand shot out, knocking the floor lamp until it crashed to the floor with a loud shatter, fragments of glass scattering across the hardwood.

y/n flinched, raising her arms to shield herself as she inched closer to the corner where the bed was.

“it’s always you and those fucking friends of yours.” he spat, his face contorted with rage.

and before she could even process his movements, his hand was on her throat, pulling her forcefully towards him. she gasped, feeling the pressure against her windpipe, her fingers clawing desperately at his chest in an attempt to break free.

but even in her panic, she couldn't ignore the familiar sensation of his solid chest beneath her hand.

“and now, let me guess, you’re moving on to that fucking blonde you claim to be your best friend.”

“jj really is just my best friend! p-please, rafe. let go of me.” y/n pleaded as she fought the urge to look at how close his lips were from hers instead of holding the weight of his intense gaze.

“see, that’s where you’re wrong, y/n. i’ve never let you go, and i’m not fucking letting you go now or ever.”

his lips crashed down on hers, the kiss intense and demanding, leaving her gasping for air as she struggled to keep up with his pace. his other hand found her waist, pulling her closer against his body.

“r-rafe…” the moan she tried to hide escaped freely from her lips, coming out as a breathless whisper as his lips trailed down to her neck, no doubt leaving a trail of marks.

“god, l-let me go.” y/n weakly pushed him while he backed her up towards the bed.

“you say that, but your body tells me otherwise. you’ll have to tell me what you really want, sweetheart.”

he continued to suck on her skin, marking her with dark red and purple bruises as his hands trailed down to the hem of her floral sundress. slowly, he slipped his fingers underneath the fabric until he was hooking one side of her lacy underwear.

“still haven’t answered my question, y/n. or do you seriously want me to fuck it out of you?”

his eyes locked onto hers with growing frustration and need, “just fuck me, rafe.”

finally, the mischievous smirk returned to his face, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he leaned in closer.

despite her initial reluctance, y/n lifted her hips, allowing him to easily pull her underwear down until it hung around her ankles.

her hand grew clammy as she clutched the sheets beneath her, her breath catching in her throat as she lay staring at the ceiling.

meanwhile, rafe moved his hand back up her thighs, brushing her skirt up slowly to tease her until the fabric pooled at her waist. she could feel the air around them mixing with his breath against her skin, making her exposed wetness grow colder.

“d’you let anyone get near this after you left me?” his voice came low and deadly as his fingers played at her entrance, sliding against the slick liquid between her lips.

y/n whimpered at his touch, trying to hide her face with her hand while she shook her head in response.

“use your words, princess.”

“n-no, i didn’t.” she stammered out, her breath hitching as she felt his finger plunge through her hole.

satisfaction evident in his voice as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin, “good girl.”

her eyes shut tightly as soon as she felt his lips wrap around her soft bud, tongue lapping over and over it, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body.

“w-wait, rafe! slow down!” she groaned, her hands moving to tightly clutching his hair, her body trembling with the overwhelming sensation.

but rafe didn’t slow down, his hands holding her legs firmly in place before they tried to snap shut and he continued running his tongue over her clit, his warm saliva mixing with her wetness, making his actions even sloppier and faster.

“sh-shit, i’m close—rafe, please.” she begged, her voice thick with desperation. her hips moved involuntarily, seeking more friction and intensity, driving her to buck her hips against his face, urging him to keep going.

her fingers pulled his hair as she arched her back, and rafe buried his face deeper between her legs, his hands gently and possessively molding her thighs like they were lovers. like they never broke up and she had always belonged to him all this time.

“come for me, princess. c’mon.” he voiced breathlessly, the tip of his tongue tracing maddening circles around her bud, pushing her closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

it was all too overwhelming for y/n. she felt her orgasm building up, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to engulf her completely.

“fuck, rafe!” she moaned, her entire body tensing as her release crashed over her in waves, leaving her breathless and shaking.

rafe wasted no time in savoring all her juices, his lips and tongue eagerly lapping up every drop as they poured onto the sheets of some stranger's bed.

with gentle kisses kisses trailing along her inner thighs, he moved up to face her, delicately wiping the sweat off her forehead and gently brushing her hair out of her face.

still recovering from the intensity of her climax, y/n struggled to catch her breath as she locked eyes with him. the full weight of her actions had yet to sink in but she pushed the thought aside for later as his lips came down again to meet hers, softly grazing the bottom with a gentle nip.

“finally remember who you belong to, sweetheart?”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks fic #toxic rafe cameron #tw dubcon #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagines #yandere rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron obx #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #dark rafe cameron x reader #smut fic #obx #obx fic #outer banks x reader

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theboombutton · 3 days

Text

Ok so Alex was the main writer for this casement, and obviously he knew we would latch on to incidental characters that seem a lot like Jon and Martin.

The questions I have are: first, whether it was a prank on TMA fans; and second, if it's not a prank, what he intended to convey by including them. Alex doesn't seem like the kind of guy to leave jmart fan service for its own sake; if those are truly alternate Jon and Martin, I suspect they're there for a story or setting reason.

Was it a prank?

I'm inclined to answer no. Darrien didn't just describe them, he wondered aloud while recounting his story if what happened to him also happened to them. That's not out of the question for prank red-string-bait, but the more you harp on incidental characters that seem like Jon and Martin, the more plausible it becomes that they are. People red-stringing over things that the author draws a circle around and writes "look at this!" next to isn't funny - it's just analysis.

Prank is still on the table, but it's not my preferred explanation.

If they are alternate Jon & Martin, what does their presence here imply?

One thing it probably implies is that we're dealing with more than one alternate universe here.

So far we've only had evidence of two: the Protocolverse, and Celia's home universe. We're reasonably sure that Celia's home universe is the Archiverse, because the character voiced by Lowri in TMA only took the name Celia after she lost her memories in the Eyepocalypse. And if Darrien comes from a universe where Martin worked reception at a therapist's office and Jon was a client, then he didn't come from the Archiverse. He came through from another, until-now-unknown-to-us universe.

Wild speculation ahead

Turn back now if you only want thoughts that are well-evidenced

There's also another possibility we could stack on top of the implication of a third universe. This is primarily supported by Doylist reasoning, rather than in-universe evidence.

Alex wrote ?Jon and ?Martin in close proximity to Darrien's universe shift. He brought attention to the fact that Darrien didn't recognize either of them - ?Martin being a new hire, and ?Jon being a new-enough face to be worth pondering. This would imply it was fairly likely ?Jon and ?Martin's first meeting - likely even their first time being in a room together. And Alex, through Darrien, further invited us to wonder if ?Jon and ?Martin had been pulled across universes as well.

Is it possible that the universe shift happened because of Therapyverse's Jon and Martin being in close proximity at the time?

Jon and Martin are apparently cosmically important in at least the Protocolverse, given that they manifested as two of FR3-D1's voices. What if something in the Protocolverse is pulling in Jons and Martins from other universes? It might be easier or more efficient to find or to pull them when they cross paths, and Darrien just got schlurped up with them this time.

Who would be interested in collecting alternate Jons and Martins? I can think of a few possibilities:

The Fears. They've got Jon and Martin reading case files, maybe they need more Jon & Martin to make FR3-D1 go.

The OIAR. Lena said some entities are benevolent, most aren't, and they're trying to maintain a balance. If Jon and Martin are their "benevolent entities," then maybe they think pulling additional copies into their universe's fear-space strengthens them. Maybe they're even right.

The Magnus Institute itself. It was still around at the time of Darrien's shift, given that the case is from the Institute's files. Jonah Magnus may have figured out (or found out) that Jon and Martin had something to do with his ascension in another universe, and started abducting alternate versions of them as part of his research.

Maybe Chester and Norris started talking a year ago because someone or something finally pulled enough Jons and Martins (and J2s?) into an extradimensional JMalgamation to give them the necessary power.

Maybe Darrien got spat out practically starved to death because he couldn't feed on fear, nor were there versions of himself that could that he could amalgamate with.

And who the fuck is the second J?

#tmagp spoilers #tmagp 17 #tma spoilers #tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp speculation #tmagp theory #tmagp theories

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amourane · 3 days

Note

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST *CHEF’S KISS*

You deserve all the notes ⭐️ would it be ok to request a post hogwarts with theo? Angst to fluff if that’s alright?

TIA if you decide to do it!!

—🍄

calm after the storm

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

genre: angst to fluff, post hogwarts au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: theo has a hard time dealing with his emotions and you were always there for him but what if one day it becomes all too much.

warnings: it's going to hurt <3

a/n: 🍄 thank you so so much for this request because i read it when u sent it and i remembered it in my exam and i managed to write this banger (i dont know if its word for word but i tried to write as much as i could remember) i just added the fluff at the end. BUT THIS IS FOR YOU <33333

Rain.

It was the first thing that hit Theo’s face when he stormed out of the door. Thick and heavy droplets that fell from the sky, marking his perfect face. They streaked down his cheeks parting into different directions like rivers. The cold sensation enveloped him as he listened to the pitter patter that flooded his ears.

He was angry. He was frustrated. He was livid. The ugly emotion bubbled within him, threatening to burst. It twisted and toiled, shrieked and screamed. It was like a monster, feeding on his anger, waiting to pounce at any second.

The fight wasn’t meant to escalate this badly. Insults were thrown and meaningless threats were made as the both of you shouted at each other.

The argument could have been solved. The solution simply lay right in front of Theo but he had refused to see it. He had refused to accept he was wrong. You hadn’t asked for much, hadn’t asked anything unreasonable yet he had lashed out. He chose to ignore what lay in front of him and blame you instead.

“I should have never accepted your pathetic excuse for a confession.”

The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could’ve stopped them. Harsh cutting words that dug into you and twisted with malice. He saw the way his words clawed at the seams of your heart, ripping it to shreds. He watched as your face fell and broke. The once bright smile he always saw was replaced with a heart wrenching stare.

It was all too much. So he ran.

Bitterness swallowed him whole as he thought back to the moment. Festering anger turned into anguish. You had always been so full of joy. Ever since he had met you all those years ago when he watched as you got sorted and skipped to your table with glee. You were so beautiful, so kind, so pure. Your eyes would always look at him with so much adoration and love. Theo loved you more than he could imagine.

Then the fight would resurface. It overtook his honeyed memories of you like an infectious plague, tainting the sweet thoughts. They replaced your beautiful smile with a heartbroken expression. Your eyes, that he was so used to seeing filled with love, looked at him with incredulous horror. The sight haunted him.

Rain brought Theo back to the present. The thunderous clap resounded through his ears. At first, he had wanted to run far away but he only found himself able to walk so far before his feet refused to move. He stayed stuck to the ground as he felt the rain wash over him. Theo didn’t care what others thought, didn’t care if the passersby looked at him oddly.

All he cared about was you.

Theo didn’t know how long he stayed outside letting the water rush over his body. He simply stood. Time seemed to pass slowly as he tried to remind himself of your laughter and smiles. He forced himself to forget about what had happened but he couldn’t. The memories were constant, a never ending cycle that would taunt him.

The rain slowed and eventually stopped. The dull grey clouds cleared to reveal the peaceful sky as if nothing had happened.

Even though the sun beamed down on Theo he still felt the endless rivers that ran down his cheeks. He still felt the streaks of water as they rolled down his face. The tears didn’t stop as he stood there.

The streets were still damp, the scent of rain hanging in the air. Theo felt a gentle touch on his arm and he flinched, spinning around to meet your worried gaze. Your voice, soft and full of concern, broke through the haze.

“Theo, you’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. The moment his gaze met yours, the dam broke. Sobs racked his body, and he fell into your arms, clutching you as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so angry, and I took it out on you. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You held him tighter, your touch soothing him. He continued to cry, unable to stop the tears as they continued to fall. The guilt ate him up inside, gnawed at his conscience, continuously banging on the iron bars that he kept his heart behind.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whispered, stroking his wet hair. “It’s okay, Theo. We’ll get through this.”

Your words broke him even more. You were so kind. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your kindness. You had always been the understanding one, the one to resolve fights, the one who would reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. Theo knew he had a problem with his emotions, he knew that he had a hard time expressing how he felt. You knew it too. He would always be grateful for the way that you still stuck by him despite everything.

“I hurt you. I said such horrible things. How can you even look at me?” He whispered against you, his voice cracking. His throat was dry and hoarse from the crying and he pulled away to look at you. His vision was blurry but he could still make out your beautiful features.

You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. “Because I love you, Theo. We’ve had our fights, but this…this is something we can fix. We just need to talk and understand each other.”

Theo could only watch as you smiled despite the fact tears were spilling from your eyes too. He felt the emotions whirl in his mind.

“I love you so much Y/n. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m such a bad boyfriend. I’m so sorry. I never meant any of it. I love you so much, so so much.” He hugged your body tight, trying to grasp onto the warmth you always provided him with. “Can we - can we start over?”

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yes, Theo. We can start over. But first, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and somewhere warm.”

The two of you walked back to your apartment, your hand holding his as you led him inside. No words were said as you helped him dry off, grabbing new clothes so he didn’t fall sick from the rain. Each touch that you left filled his cold body with warmth. He pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your hair. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You held him tighter, making sure that he knew that you would always be there for him, making sure that he felt all of your love and comfort.

“I would never give up on you.” You breathed out a sigh as your hands massaged his back. “We’ll get through this, just like how we got through everything else.”

The two of you stayed in silence, letting the day pass by. No words needed to be exchanged as the both of you enjoyed the comfort of each other's love. Theo knew he had issues. He knew he had problems. Yet as long as you stayed by him he knew that life wouldn’t be so bad.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #theo nott imagine #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott angst #theodore x reader #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theo nott x y/n #fluff #angst #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott

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roosterforme · 2 days

Text

Aim for the Sky Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you and Bradley make a mess and clean it up, your first wedding anniversary is in the books. There are so many changes going on, it's hard to keep track of everything. But some things seem like they will always stay the same, like the love you feel for him.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, cum play, food play, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

The sound of the ocean and the twinkling of the stars in the night sky were the only things Bradley recognized in the dark besides your body. You were on his lap, rolling your hips slowly against him, teasing him with your warmth and your voice as your lips met his ear.

"You're the best husband, and soon you'll be the best daddy. The Nugget and I decided we're going to keep you around."

Bradley groaned softly as he rubbed his palm along your belly. "Yeah, you ruined that for yourself as soon as you fed me. I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

You laughed softly before pulling your lips away from the side of his neck. "I forgot to ask. What's in the bakery box?"

"Huh?" he grunted in response as you pressed your soft thigh against his erection through his jeans. He thought he was supposed to know what you were talking about. It sounded familiar. A bakery box. But your hand was unzipping his pants now, and he was a lost cause.

"The bakery box, Roo," you whispered, voice laced with amusement. "On the backseat?"

"Oh," he sighed as you stroked him. He couldn't read your expression in the darkness, but he knew you must be smiling. "I got you a cake. A confetti cake for our anniversary."

"You did?" You sounded delighted as you added, "I want to see it."

Bradley let his head tip back against the side of the interior of the Bronco. You already pulled your hand back out of his pants and started crawling away from him. "Sweetheart," he whined. "I thought I was just about to get lucky."

He felt cold where your warmth had just been, and he let himself be annoyed for a few seconds until you softly squealed, "Ouch!"

"Shit, what happened?" he asked, realizing he wasn't sure exactly where you had crawled off to. He put one leg up to block the open tailgate while he dug around in his pocket next to his hard cock for his phone.

As soon as he turned on the flashlight, he realized you were already looking over the back of the seat, digging around under the blanket to find the cake. "I pinched my finger. I'm fine," you muttered. "Let me have your phone."

He handed it to you before he flopped down onto his back. You used the flashlight to locate the dome light as well, and soon that was shining directly into Bradley's eyes as he palmed himself for some relief. "Can't the cake wait until we get home?"

You turned and looked down at him over your shoulder with a little pout on your lips. "But I'm hungry again."

He would never deny you anything you wanted. As he got to his knees and scooted over next to you, he kissed your cheek. "Did you look at it yet?" Bradley reached down onto the seat and carefully opened the box to reveal the pretty, round cake with white icing and rainbow sprinkles. Then you started laughing. Apparently, in his horny state, he'd also forgotten what he had the baker write on it.

Happy First Anniversary. Thanks for marrying me and having awesome tits. I love you.

"Bradley!" you wheezed. "You made someone write that on a cake!"

He grabbed you up without putting too much pressure on your belly and said, "It's all true." He kissed down the side of your neck and back up to your ear as your laughter turned to a soft moan. "Now, can we turn off the lights and get back to where we left off?"

Your stomach growled so loudly as you met his eyes, it was almost comical. "I'm sorry, but I'm just really hungry, and I think Rose the Nugget is, too."

Bradley was absolute putty in your hands as soon as you used her name. He kissed you sweetly and whispered, "Then let me make sure my girls are well fed."

He guided you over the pavement in the darkness and got you buckled into the passenger seat. Then he opened the back door and said, "You know, I never ever let anyone else eat in the Bronco before you. I still don't even eat in here." He cut into the cake and put a slice on one of the paper plates he brought along. "But apparently I have no boundaries when it comes to my wife and my daughter."

When you turned around, he handed the piece of cake and a fork up to you, and you beamed back at him. "Thanks, Daddy."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get his body under control so he could drive home. He closed the back door and walked around the front of the Bronco. You were smiling and licking the frosting from the fork when he climbed in with his pants still unzipped. He was still almost painfully hard, and he was desperately praying there was still hope for some relief on the horizon.

Bradley drove carefully around the orange cones and out onto the road that ran along the main strip of Coronado. The indecent little sounds you were making had him jealous of the cake, and then you held out your fork to him. "This is so good. You need to try it."

"I told you I don't eat in the Bronco," he muttered before opening his mouth wide for you to feed it to him. "Holy hell. Gimme some more."

"Right?!" You fed him another bite and another one. By the time he was parking in the driveway, there was icing in his mustache, and he was still unbearably horny.

Bradley handed you the keys, kissed your lips so hard you gasped, and said, "Go unlock the front door." He watched you scamper up the walkway as he grabbed the bakery box from the backseat before following you inside. "Now get undressed," he said, giving you a firm smack on your ass that left you biting your lip as you looked at him. "I'm serious, Baby Girl. Take it all off and wait for me in the kitchen."

"He's so demanding," you said, either to yourself or to the baby, and regardless he laughed as he pretended to throw a treat out the back door so Tramp would go outside. Then he was right on you with the cake in his hands as you pulled your dress over your head and let it drop to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your little Mrs. Bradshaw panties.

"Those are some awesome tits," he whispered, setting the cake down and running his hands up the soft swell of your belly and all the way up to stroke your nipples.

"You're obsessed right now," you told him. You weren't wrong. He was about to bring his lips down to play with you, but he narrowed his eyes and reached for the cake instead. "What are you doing?" you gasped as he dunked his fingers into the icing before spreading it all over your breasts.

"I'm still a little hungry, too," he murmured, tracing your nipples slowly with his messy fingertips until you were trying to grind yourself against him. He slipped his thigh between yours, and you moaned his name as he brought his lips down to taste the exquisite icing on your perfect skin. Everything was sweet and warm as he buried his face in there, licking and sucking on you until you were as far gone as he was.

With your arms around his neck and your pussy rubbing against him, you begged for it. "I need you to fuck me. Please!"

He couldn't say no to you on a regular day, but especially not on your anniversary. He spun you around, pulled your satin panties to the side and bent you over a little bit over the counter. He got his cock free, and with a snap of his hips, he thrust himself inside you, and he was rewarded with his name echoing off the kitchen walls.

"Feel good?" he grunted as he slipped one hand in the front of your panties and squeezed your gorgeous breasts with the other.

"So good," you whispered as he rocked himself into you a little harder.

He pressed his nose to the back of your neck and inhaled the smell of your skin and the icing which he got everywhere. "I thought we'd have slow and sexy anniversary sex. I didn't know I'd end up fucking you hard over the kitchen counter."

"Blame it on the cake," you whined, reaching for his hand which was on your tits and guiding his sticky fingers up to your lips. Bradley had no idea how he was still going. You'd had him wound up all night. And the way you were circling each digit with your tongue was so fucking hot.

When he pinched your clit, you bucked back against him. When he did it again, he soothed you with some slow circles, and he knew you were getting close. He could feel you starting to clench him a little tighter as your moaning got louder. You sucked on his fingers while your pussy treated his cock to your orgasm.

"God, you feel good," he gasped, fucking you through your highest peak. But he still had some left in the tank. You seemed to be a little surprised as you looked at him over your shoulder, and he was sure his eyes were wild and his face was red.

You spun to look at him as he stared down at his hard cock, bobbing excitedly and glistening from your wetness. You took his chin in your hand and kissed him on the lips. "Is it my turn to have a little fun?"

Bradley nodded, because he didn't even care what you did right now, he knew he was going to love it. This time you were the one coating up your fingers with icing, and you jerked your hand up and down his length while he gripped the edge of the counter. Just the idea of the confection mixed with the flavor of your pussy had him bucking into your hand. "Let me taste it," he whimpered, and your bright eyes grew a little wider, but you brought your hand up to your own mouth first. "Please," he begged, watching you lick your palm.

"Oh my god," you gasped, eyes drifting closed as you dipped your index finger between your lips.

"Please," he asked one more time, afraid he might just cum all over your body and the floor. You looked up at him and reached out to part his lips with your thumb, and then you carefully placed your index and middle fingers on his tongue. He sucked at the flavor and swiped his tongue between your fingers. He swallowed it down, convinced that this combination was one of the best things he had ever enjoyed in his life.

He cleaned off your whole hand as you watched in awe, and when you realized he was still hard, you used his help to get yourself kneeling on the floor in front of him. Bradley lasted exactly eight seconds with your tongue circling his cock while you licked at the icing and sucked on him. "Fuck!" he barked, tapping the back of your throat as he came. "Holy shit." Then you had the audacity to show him the mess he made on your tongue before you swallowed him down.

"You taste very good mixed with icing too, Roo."

Bradley was so fucking in love with you and everything you did. He would marry you a hundred times over just to get all of the sweet and filthy moments with you. "Why don't you get back up here and let me try it for myself?"

You were all too happy for him to help you to your feet so he could slip his tongue between your lips. You were absolutely right.

----------------------------

When you woke up on Sunday, you were a little sore. Bradley was still sound asleep, and he looked exhausted himself. The Nugget was rolling around on your bladder, and you had to quickly shimmy walk to the bathroom. Your husband did a bit of a number on you in the kitchen with the rough sex.

You reached for the toilet paper and mumbled to yourself, "Maybe he was right. Maybe anniversary sex is supposed to be a little calmer?"

"Blame it on the cake, Sweetheart." You looked up as Bradley strolled into the bathroom completely naked. His cock even looked impressive when he was soft, and his hair was wild from the way you'd been running your fingers through it before you fell asleep last night. He grunted as he yawned. He was perfect to you.

"I can't believe we've been married for a year," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead as you sat on the toilet. This was probably peak domesticity right here, and it made you smile.

"How's my Nugget?" Bradley asked before kissing your forehead once more.

"Almost made me wet the bed," you told him as you stood up. "I slept very soundly last night, but she woke me up by thumping on my bladder."

His brown eyes lit up as he put his hands underneath your shirt. "Is she still thumping?" You knew immediately that he was able to feel her as a smile bloomed on his lips. "Hey, Rose. It's Daddy."

"So that's really her name? We're definitely going with that?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, eyes closed as his palm circled your belly button.

You kissed his cheek and then his temple. "Your excitement always makes me even more excited."

When he patted your belly again, he asked, "Are you going to brunch with Cam and Maria?"

"Yeah, but I don't need to be there for another hour. Do you want me to make you breakfast first?"

Relief filled his features as he turned on the sink and looked in the mirror. "Please. Then I'm going to try to finish up the playset. And don't forget Bradley Ross is coming over after work tomorrow." Bradley Ross. Bradley Ross. The name was familiar, but you couldn't place it. "The contractor? For the attic?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Bradley Ross," you told him, having completely forgotten that your house was about to become a construction zone. "I hope he can finish it before my parents come out for Christmas."

"That's the goal," Bradley muttered as he looked at his hair. "We can throw them upstairs so I can do whatever I want to you in our room all night long. The separation will be key." You snorted as you started to get your toothbrush ready, and then he turned to you and said, "Nat commented on my gray hairs the other day."

He looked perhaps a little bit concerned. "Did she?" One thing you really appreciated about your husband's best friend was the way she picked on him. It was good for him to have a friend who gave him shit. It probably helped build character in him, similar to the way Cam usually gave you a hard time. But you wanted to make sure his feelings weren't hurt, especially not about his. "What did she say?"

He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "That it's getting a little noticeable. At my temples."

"It's so fucking sexy," you told him, reaching up with your fingers and running them through his hair. "God, Roo. Women eat this shit up."

"They do?" he asked, perplexed.

"Oh, definitely," you promised. "A handsome man with some gray hairs? Jesus, I'm going to have to start keeping a closer eye on you when we go out to the bar."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "You'll have to do nothing of the sort."

"That's right," you whispered with a smile. "Your sexy hair belongs to me, Bradley."

He stood behind you while you brushed your teeth, and he kissed your neck. "I'm afraid you're stuck with all of this."

----------------------------

You were sitting in the kitchen after work on Monday, eating a sliced up apple that you were dipping into hot sauce while you talked to your parents over FaceTime.

"We could come out the Tuesday before Christmas," your mom said for the fourth time.

"I already told you, just let me know when you're coming, and we'll pick you up from the airport," you said, also for the fourth time.

Your dad was already in his pajamas since it was three hours later on the east coast, and you could tell your mom was annoying him as much as she was annoying you. "I sincerely hope you eat a real meal besides that," she said, looking at your snack in disgust.

You wanted to roll your eyes. You were about to call Bradley in from the backyard where he was throwing a tennis ball for Tramp so you could make him deal with her for a little bit. "I'll eat a real meal later, mom." Just then, there was a knock at the door and you hopped up. "Oops, that's probably the contractor. I'll talk to you later! Bye, love you!"

Saved by the distraction, you shouted out the back door for your husband to come in. And that's when you met Bradley Ross. He kind of reminded you of your own Bradley, just a little bit older. When the three of you ended up in the attic space, he looked around at it like it was the most beautiful diamond in the rough he'd ever seen, when in reality it looked like a disaster that your husband demolished.

"Wow," he told you, measuring along each wall. "This is going to come together perfectly. What a beautiful space. I'm sure you'll cherish it."

"Right," your husband told the other Bradley while you tried not to laugh. "Look, having a cherished attic is great and all, but we just really need a space for my wife's parents when they come out to stay, especially after the baby is born."

"You'll have both," he promised.

Your husband rubbed lazy circles on your back as you wrote out a check for the deposit on the kitchen island and listened to Bradley Ross go over the detailed plans. Two more bedrooms and a full bathroom? Part of you couldn't believe there was enough room up there to accommodate all of that, but you would just have to trust this man's life changing vision.

You handed him the check and took his business card. "I'll be back on Wednesday to start the project," he said as you entered his number into your phone.

Once he was gone, you looked up at Bradley and said, "We should probably get a Christmas tree soon. And maybe some lights? I'm used to us going to my parents' house. We never decorated before."

He chuckled. "I haven't decorated for Christmas since my mom died, but if you want to, then I guess I'll get into the holiday spirit."

"You better get used to it," you informed him as he tugged you toward the bedroom across the hallway from yours which would become the nursery. "After Rose is born, you're going to need to go overboard with it."

"I love going overboard," he told you, as if you didn't already know that about him. "Speaking of which... all of the stuff we ordered on Friday got delivered today. Wanna take a look?"

You squealed with excitement as you saw that he had opened up the boxes and set everything on the floor in the empty room. "Roo! The crib bedding is adorable!" When you went to kneel on the floor, he insisted on helping you get down comfortably. That's when you opened the bedding and ran your hand over the pastel airplanes. The fabric was soft, and your eyes got a little misty as you imagined your baby snuggled up on them.

Bradley knelt down next to you and kissed your cheek. "I was thinking your dad and I could put the crib together when they come out in a few weeks? I know how much he likes working on little projects like that."

You threw yourself into his arms so quickly, he grunted in response. "He would love that, Bradley. He would absolutely love that." And now it was too late to try to get your hormones under control again as you started sobbing in his arms.

He kissed your ear and whispered, "That will give me time to paint in here while you're out of the house. Maybe you and Nat can go see a movie and go shopping or something. I don't want the paint fumes to bother you since this room is so close to our bedroom."

"You're so fucking considerate." You hugged him tighter and straddled his legs, and soon he was on the floor underneath you as you both laughed. "Can we start calling it the nursery? Rosie's nursery?"

"That's music to my ears, Baby Girl. And you know what? I also kind of feel like picking out a Christmas tree now."

"Yeah?" you asked in excitement.

He nodded up at you and let his hand slip down to your belly. "Yeah. How about we go look at paint colors and trees? I want an enormous one that looks like it's covered in snow." He gave you a little shrug and said, "You know, since we're hardy east coast people."

"And we're having a hardy east coast baby."

The two of you ended up at Home Depot until they were closing. Bradley picked out an eight foot tall tree and string lights, and you decided to ask your parents to bring out some of their ornaments with them. You also had approximately fifty little paint samples in your hand while you watched Bradley awkwardly shove the tree into the back of your red Bronco.

"I'm leaning toward this lavender? Or maybe a light gray? Blue could be nice though, so it looks like the sky."

"Let's hang them up in Rosie the Nugget's nursery for a few days before we decide," he crooned as he buckled you in.

You already thought you might melt onto the floor as you ate a little snack while he drove home, and then you realized he would soon have someone else to buckle in. "Bradley," you mumbled around your granola bar. "I can't tell if I'm horny, emotional or just starving again, but the way I need you to install car seats in both Broncos while shirtless is absolutely essential to my wellbeing."

He chuckled and said, "I'm certain I can do that for you."

You crunched through the rest of your granola bar in contentment.

------------------------------

The month of December brought about a routine of sorts that Bradley was kind of in love with. You were just about to start your third trimester, and it seemed as though your belly was growing noticeably every day now. You came home from work so horny most days, the two of you ended up sneaking off to your locked bedroom for a quickie while Bradley Ross worked his magic upstairs. Then inevitably there was a more leisurely round of sex before bed where more time could be spent admiring your perfectly round belly and delicious tits.

"Which day are your parents flying out again?" he asked you as he peeled your underwear slowly down your legs leaving your soaking wet pussy bare for him.

"The twenty-first," you whimpered as he stroked you and kissed along your tattoo. "Can we talk about something besides my parents while you're down there?"

"Sure," he replied smoothly. "How about you tell me what you want for Christmas?"

"Roo," you whined as he licked your clit to your exact personal preference. "I want a million orgasms."

He smirked with your clit between his lips and said, "Already wrapped and under the tree for you. What else?"

Your hands tangled in his hair as he worked you up. You were babbling incoherently so he intentionally slowed his tongue, and you started to panic. "Everything I want is for the baby or the nursery! But maybe we can go on a little babymoon trip?"

Your eyes were wild as you were looking at him over your belly, begging him to keep going. But honestly, your idea sounded pretty great, and he was going to look into it. "Anything you want, Sweetheart. You get to have it all." He proved it to you by letting you have one of the million orgasms early.

-----------------------------

Oof, these two are really enjoying her pregnancy hormones and her cravings. Up next we have a California Christmas with Roo's in-laws, and honestly so much more. Thanks for reading! As always, if there's something you'd like to see in this series, shoot me a message! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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ovaryacted · 19 hours

Text

HOMECOMING

PAIRING: Jackson! Joel Miller x afab! reader

SYNOPSIS: After a long day of patrol, Joel comes home later than he said he would be back. You are just happy to welcome him back into your arms.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: FLUFF. Suggestive content - 18+. Established relationship. Soft & affectionate Joel Miller. Ambiguous age gap (Joel is in his late 50s, reader is 25+). Mentions of early pregnancy. Cute stuff. Banter and teasing. No use of y/n.

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Hey there, been a while. In case y'all forgot, yes I do still write LMAO. This is a little something that I wrote miraculously on my free time, and it is my first Joel Miller piece. I'm also slowly getting back into writing so pls be nice! I did originally write this with the new Pedro Pascal picture as Joel in mind, but I'm a gamer Joel type of girl at heart so that's what I went with. Hopefully, it is enjoyable for those who choose to read it. Any likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

➣ TLOU was created by a zionist and is based off of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Please refer to this link to learn how you can help the Palestinian people.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Night fell over Jackson, soothing and quiet as it usually was. You’d think after some time, you’d get used to the stillness that often consoled others in a world full of unsettling clicks and gunfire, but you found yourself troubled with the calmness that followed once the sun went down. The change of the seasons propelled a temperature shift outside; bitter winter exchanged for the rebirth of spring, which hopefully meant the sun would stay in the sky just a little bit longer.

Your face nuzzled into the pillow beneath you, the material not yours to claim, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. Digging your nose further into the bedding, you subconsciously chased the faint scent of pinewood and gunpowder, one of the few things that eased your anxiety. It was a smell you got used to recognizing over the past few years, not that you’ve been keeping count.

Despite the warmth the sheets provided you as you rested on the left side of the bed, your body felt cold, missing a familiar set of strong arms and a welcoming chest pressing up against you. He had told you before he left for patrol that he’d be back before sundown, that was the plan anyway. But you knew better than anyone that stepping outside the protective gates of Jackson always left room for the unpredictable.

In the haze of your dreams, you faintly heard the click of the front door opening and closing, the floorboards of the stairs creaking with the ghost of muted footsteps. You stirred in bed, ears trained to pinpoint the noise, yet too stubborn to wake up entirely. A breeze entered the bedroom before you sensed something else sharing the space.

That’s when you felt the phantom touch of plush lips skimming along your hairline. If you weren’t awake then, you certainly were now.

“Joel?” A call of his name equivalent to a whimper at the sudden contact you craved. You caught the slight intake of breath and the exhale that followed.

“It’s me darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Joel spoke quietly, the peaceful baritone of his voice awakening you fully. As you sighed, you met his tired gaze with your own, bruised knuckles raising to brush your cheekbone affectionately.

“Things went okay on the patrol?” You questioned him, pleased that he was here with you in one piece rather than focusing on the fact that he came later than you’d like.

“Yeah, had to check something out with Tommy to be sure before coming back. I’m sorry honey, didn't want to make you stay up for me.”

Even if it was unintended, Joel felt guilty whenever he didn’t stick to his word. He was not much of a virtuous man, lived a large part of the past two-plus decades giving less of a shit about honesty and ethics. But when it came to you, it killed him when he couldn’t follow through on his promises, even if things weren’t within his control. The last thing Joel wanted was to upset you or make you worry, but no matter how many times he reassured you of his return, you still tried your hardest to wait for him to come back home, back to you.

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you’re here,” you blinked slowly as his voice filtered through the lagged mess of your head. Leaning your face towards his hand, you kissed the inside of his palm. “Go freshen up and come to bed; I’m cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled with a smile at your forgiveness, parting from you for a second and heading to the bathroom, not planning to make you wait any longer.

You watched his silhouette from where you lay on the bed, fluttering your eyes closed at the sound of running water. When the door opened again, Joel’s broad figure returned wearing a worn-down flannel and some fleece pants he had snagged long ago.

“Scoot,” he jutted his chin to gesture to the right side of the mattress, your side, suggesting to reclaim his on the left. Shifting to the right, you let him slip into the bed feet first, hauling the sheets to cover the both of you. A bulky arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you close to him, your body molding to his like a missing puzzle piece.

“Not too far now,” Joel grinned as you nestled right into his warm chest, seeking his attention and attempting to siphon more of his warmth. It takes you off guard how your nerves instantly settled once you had Joel near you again. In his arms, that was where you belonged—protected, loved, safe.

“I missed you,” you mumbled, eyes shutting to breathe in his typical musk. One of his hands cradled your lower back, thumb running circles into your skin.

“I missed you too, darlin’. Too damn much.” Joel kissed your forehead, drawing lines up and down your back with his fingertips.

His hand moved again from behind you to the front of your body, palming your stomach protectively. A smile crept up on his face as he felt your tummy under the material of the flannel you stole from him, the only thing you preferred for pajamas. The gentle curve of your belly was not yet prominent enough to be overly detectable, but he knew what you carried. Precious cargo. That’s what he called it after you both adjusted to the shock of adding to Jackson’s current population count.

“Still feelin’ sick?” Joel asked you in the room’s darkness, his eyes shifting to watch over your facial features. The moonlight illuminated the edge of your jaw and the roundness of your cheeks, and his chest ached at the thought of witnessing other growing changes over the next couple of months.

“Sometimes. It bothers me, but nothing I can’t handle.” You reassured him the best way you knew how, having to rely on Maria’s advice for all things related to childcare and Ellie being your new overly protective guard and nurse when Joel wasn’t around.

If someone had told you that you’d find yourself alive after the apocalypse in a safe community and pregnant at that, you’d consider them crazy. Yet here you were, carrying a man’s child when you least expected it, a man years older than you with memories of a reality you couldn’t experience or remember. But you didn’t mind; the end of the world didn’t leave much room for strict morals anyway.

Make the most of it. You don’t know when you’ll miss something once it’s gone.

Joel had told you that after the first few patrols you had with him once you adjusted to Jackson, growing comfortable with the stoic and quiet man who grabbed your attention everywhere he went. He shared stories of a time before the world fell apart, discussing things like watching the sunset, listening to music from artists you’ve never heard of, and sweet treats he missed tasting. Things changed after the seventh patrol together, where you saw him smile for the first time after successfully hunting some game for the town.

That night, one thing led to another. It started after some drinks, a hungry and messy kiss on your doorstep that led to clothes on the bedroom floor, and hands pawing at one another. You woke up the next morning with an arm wrapped around your waist and his nose rubbing the back of your neck.

Simply put, you haven’t left since.

“Oh, I know. Can handle a whole lot, strong woman you are.” Joel taunted you a bit, his memory fleeting momentarily and recalling the spitfire you always were with him in particular. He could never seem to tame your spunk and attitude, but he grew to love it like the rest of you.

“Mhmm, real strong, if you ask me.” You held his gaze with a gleam of mischief, bringing your body closer to his wide chest and tilting your chin upwards, silently asking for more than a cuddle.

“You tryin’ to tell me something I don’t already know?”

“I don’t know. Am I?” You were a tease, always have been, jerking Joel’s chain more than he cared to admit.

“Those hormones are messing with your head, darlin’. Got you acting feisty,” he smirked, shifting nearer to your face.

Curious hands reached up to curl through his thick, graying curls. The contrasting streaks along his temple became more noticeable as time passed, matching the graying beard you’ve come to love and adore. He hesitated to let his hair grow out initially, thinking he’d look too much like his younger brother. Much convincing later, paired with hiding the shears, you got the desired result, and now you were lucky enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor.

The kiss was velvety as it was intimate, your tongue lining his bottom lip before he groaned, granting you entrance into his mouth. You swallowed the rumble he released, drawing a path of your touch from his neck down to his lower abdomen. Antsy fingers itched to skim the waistband of the fleece that concealed him, reaching close to the hardness you felt before he seized your hand away.

“Aht aht, no. As much as I want you there, it’s bedtime.” Joel didn’t necessarily want you to stop. Hell, if it were up to him, he’d let you go to town on him however you wanted. But his energy levels were dwindling, and all he wanted to do after a long day was get some proper rest with you in his arms.

“But-”

“Sweetheart, if you let this old man sleep, I’ll wake you up to a real nice surprise in the mornin’.” It was an effortless proposition, easy to keep you at bay until the next day and enough to curb your insatiable appetite.

“Promise?” You beat your lashes at him, knowing the last thing Joel would do was deliberately not provide for your needs, even if that meant having to keep up with you physically.

“Pinkie swear.” Joel gave you another peck before letting you get comfy against his chest once more, cuddling into him as much as your growing belly would allow without being squished. You started to drift off as sleep called to you, listening to the gentle rhythm of soft beating in your ear.

“Breakfast too, Miller.” You murmured to him, peeping how he laughed in the dark with his eyes closed. The pleasant and lively sound made you smile and your heart pound.

“Oh, I’ll feed you. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

The peace in your bedroom matched the serenity that fell over Jackson. Now that you had Joel wrapped around you, you didn’t mind how quiet it was. So long as you have him, you can handle anything that comes your way.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

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thegnomelord · 1 day

Note

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

336 notes · View notes

astralis-ortus · 2 days

Text

against the world

✱ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader

— for as long as i love you.

w.count → 2k genre → angst, fluff, a dash of comedy warnings → reader mocked by a character, self deprecating thought a.n → based on this request! took me a while to figure how to write because brain did not want to work together with the pictures i had in mind but we're here! it's a fun one to work on (despite the angst)(i actually love the angst) and i hope it's up to your expectation!<3

the bus ride felt like forever.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you ended up arguing with chan in the first place. hell, you couldn’t even remember what even really irked you about his response. all you remembered was about feeling upset and ended up lashing out at chan to the point where he decided to head back to his studio despite just coming back the hour prior, just so he doesn’t say anything he might regret.

when he still hadn’t returned hours later, however, guilt started to dig its sharp nails into your sore heart.

you knew you had to let him cool his head—you understand that, but you can’t sit still knowing he’d likely lock himself in and drown himself in work. you can’t, especially when you knew for a fact he hadn’t got anything to eat since you two were planning to go on a date had the argument never happened. he hasn’t been on top of his condition as is, and you won’t be able to forgive yourself if this whole absolute ridicule of a situation you caused made him fall sick.

hence, after your nth call went straight to his voicemail, you know there’s only one thing left you could do—go to his studio and apologize.

“thank you,” you offered a smile at the familiar security guard, bowing your head enough as you entered through the trainee and artist entrance of the building. usually, either you or chan would offer him a snack or coffee whenever you got there together, but with all the chaos happening inside your head, all you could remember to grab was the light meal you had hurriedly prepared for chan as an apology.

“bang chan is still in his studio,” the security guard quietly informed with a knowing smile, abruptly stopping you in your track with your eyes wide at him, “most of the staff, trainee, and artist have left for the day, but you could let me know if you need access to the rooftop. the weather is good enough for you to talk there.”

you blinked at his offer, a little stunned at the conclusion he took just by looking at you. is it that obvious…?

“it’s going to be okay; fights are bound to happen between couples,” he continued lightly with a tender smile, as if reading the thoughts passing your mind, “as long as you love and care about each other, there’s nothing you two can’t handle. don’t worry.”

choking up a breath, you hurriedly thanked the security guard and walked past the familiar hallways leading to your boyfriend’s studio. tears were pooling dangerously in your eyes, threatening its way out as you replayed the passing advice in your head. he’s right—as long as you love and care about each, there’s—

“hey! you! stop right there!”

the loud echoing voice snapped you out of your thoughts, again halting your steps before you reached your destination. despite your racing heartbeat at the sudden loudness, you try your best to seek for the other soul around—leading your eyes to land at a female figure at the end of the hallway.

“oh,” you immediately bowed your head as soon as you noticed the identity of the staff rushed towards you—one you recognize as a part of division 2, according to an exchange she had with chan a few months prior during one of your visits. “hello, i just—”

“who are you? how do you get in here?” the sharpness in her voice made you wince; startled and confused. you’re certain she’s aware of your presence before—distinctly remembering how chan awkwardly introduced you as to her own request, understandably wary of an unfamiliar face lurking around a private section of the company.

“right,” you shook your head, ridding your mind off of the uneasiness you picked up, “sorry, you probably don’t remember. i’m chan’s girlfriend. we met a couple months ago? i remember chan introdu—”

“girlfriend?” she scoffed, not even letting you finish your sentence. the way she shut you off left a sharp sting in your heart, but even that wouldn’t compare to the way her icy gaze pierced right through you—pricking and prodding every inch of your appearance, finalized with a condescending snicker.

“another crazy fan, huh?”

you felt your heart sink at the accusation. dating chan, you knew it would come with the bad alongside the good. you understood that, and you knew better than anyone to focus on the flowers and butterflies chan made your everyday look like while paying zero attention to the odd snarky remarks here and there. though it sure has been quite some time since the last time someone accused you of being delusional, but to be completely honest with yourself, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

fingers tighten around the strap of chan’s meal bag on your hand, you try hard not to let yourself crumble as you attempted to defend yourself, “no, i’m not—”

“besides,” cutting you short, she took a step closer and shoved her fingers on your shoulder, “you need to wake up. why would chan even date someone like you?”

you know you’re not perfect. you know that despite the amount of love you have for chan, there’s no promise of a perfect future between the two of you. you know that there’s a possibility of a life where you have to live without chan, and the blame will most likely be on you—because you’re not pretty enough. you’re not talented enough. you’re not someone of a similar background. you’re not even anywhere close to being on chan’s level, and it’s all because you’re you.

“seriously, get a grip,” she hissed, digging her fingers onto the bone of your shoulder while you desperately bit your lip, trying to contain the tears threatening to fall. “you’re just some lowly, delusional fan. don’t even—”

“don’t even what, noona?”

both you and the staff immediately snapped your eyes towards the figure behind her; heavy, firm steps towards you with his jaw tense and a silent rage burning in his eyes. she immediately scrambled away from you, hiding her hands—ones nearly pushing you to an endless canyon of despair.

you’ve never seen chan that angry.

“i-i just—”

“she’s my girlfriend,” chan emphasized through gritted teeth, taking your freezing hand in his trembling one, “and you do not talk to my woman like that.”

“i was just looking out for you!” she attempted to defend herself, fear present in her eyes as she attempted to look straight into chan’s eyes. “you know how crazy these sasaengs have been these days! i just—”

“stop!”

your body involuntarily jumped at the sudden raise in his voice, eyes wide as you looked at him in surprise. his face was red—but even from your point of view, you could see he was hurt.

“no one gave you the right to talk to my people like that,” chan towered against her as he makes himself clear, "especially towards my woman. you don’t—”

“channie,”

your voice was soft, but it was enough to quiet down the anger burning inside chan. yes—his priority is to keep you safe.

shifting his attention entirely towards you, chan felt his heart drop—your eyes were red, trails of tears apparent down your cheeks. your fingers were ice cold against his burning skin, and the way he felt your body tremble broke his heart.

“baby,” chan cracked a weak smile, trying to ease the tension on you as he ran his palms against your arm, “are you okay? need me to carry you?”

you quickly shook your head, sniffles escaping past your lips as your nerves slowly calmed down. you’re just so, so tired—and all you need is chan.

“let’s head to my studio, okay?” his voice was soft, arms wrapped around your frail figure as he leads you down the empty hallway, leaving the still stunned staff behind. he’ll deal with that tomorrow; because now, your well-being mattered most to him.

as soon as you got to chan’s studio, he immediately locked the familiar green room and covered you up with a blanket—ones he kept especially for you, keeping you warm as he quietly cuddled you on the small couch. your faint sniffles turned into sobs, and as the sense of safety finally settled in your bones, you finally let yourself cry into chan’s arms.

chan simply stayed silent; warmth of his arms surrounds you whilst he lets you pour your feelings out.

he heard almost everything the staff had said to you, and he’s mad at himself for not being able to protect you from those words. he should’ve been there with you, keeping you safe from the unnecessary hate just because you’re his girlfriend. he should’ve stayed with you instead of running away. he should’ve—

“i’m sorry for lashing out on you,” you clutched onto his hoodie, voice coming out weak as you try to regulate your breathing. “i didn’t know why i was so upset. i shouldn’t have done that to you. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too, baby,” he pulled you closer into his arms, letting you nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “i shouldn’t have left you home alone, let alone for hours. i just—i could’ve handled it better. i’m sorry.”

a hum escaped your lips along with a soft shake of your head, showing your disapproval to his apology. “no, channie. i understand why you feel like you need to leave to clear your head. just… i’m worried because you didn’t answer my calls, and i know you hadn’t eaten anything today, so—”

“wait,” chan gently pulled away and looked at your flushed face, light trace of his fingers fixing the stray strands off your features, “you called? i didn’t hear my phone ring—or buzz, as a matter of fact. when did you call?”

“last was an hour ago, i think?” you leaned onto chan’s warm touch. “i don’t know. i was hurrying—ah,” eyes suddenly wide, you prodded your finger at the bag chan had set aside on his desk earlier, “i brought you some sandwich to eat. it’s not much, but you need to eat, channie.”

chan was stunned—he felt warm.

he’s used to being left alone to sort his feelings. he’s used to being treated as if his emotions were worth nothing, and he only mattered if he did something for others. chan is used to feeling invisible—but with you, he felt seen. not because of what he’s trying to prove, but because of the simple fact that he’s… him.

clearing his throat, chan immediately flashes a smile at you. “let’s eat first, yeah?” he hummed, voice noticeably lighter as he gently moved you off his lap and grabbed the little bag. “you should eat too. you spent a lot of energy crying.”

“but—”

“no buts,” he playfully glared at you, lips pursed in protest, “you came all the way here for me, it’s only fair i share my food with you.”

“after this,” finally unpacking the sandwich and handing you his other half, “we’ll order something else and some ice cream while i play you some of the songs i was working on. sounds good?”

the way your face lit up was enough of an answer for chan—your excited nods were merely a confirmation.

“alright, alright,” he chuckled, fighting off the urge to pull you back into his arms. instead, chan fished for the phone in his pocket and handed it to you. “your pick, baby.”

“yes! i’m—wait,” pressing on the power button, you blinked upon realizing how the screen remained unchanged despite your attempts. “did you forgot to charge your phone, channie?”

Chan grimaced. You could see how he’s slowly tracing his steps throughout the day—until a split second of realization flashed past his eyes. His lips turned into a little grin; one he always wears when he realizes he did something wrong.

“…did i?”

You’re out of words.

“channie!”

“hahah—i’m sorry!”

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withleeknow · 2 days

Note

Helloooo! I’ve never done a request before so I hope this comes off okay :)

I love the song “flower line” by om shankar, it makes me smile every time. So, I was wondering if you could do a drabble based that.

If not, maybe the prompt: “real smooth, tripping over air”

If you take this request, thank you so much but if not I completely understand 🫶

call it what you want.

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader genre/warnings: strangers to lovers, college au, fluff; some light cursing, very unedited i am half asleep rn lol, italics indicate flashbacks word count: 1.4k note: hi anon! thank you for the request hehehhee. i decided to go with the prompt and also you didn't specify a member so i went with hyunjin, i hope that's okay :) happy reading <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

"real smooth, tripping over air."

hyunjin came back to the table and set down two coffees, the content of seungmin's plastic cup spilling over the rim just a little bit when hyunjin pushed the beverage toward him rather aggressively.

"shut up," hyunjin grumbled, covering his face with his hands as he wallowed in his misery. "literally shut the fuck up."

it was burnt into hyunjin's subconscious, the feeling of utter embarrassment when he had quite literally scrambled to stand up after you called out his order number and stumbled as he made his way over to the counter.

this was the fifth time that seungmin had been dragged to the campus cafe where you worked part-time as a barista, just to provide emotional support while hyunjin tried not to chicken out of chatting you up. every time, hyunjin swore today's the day, and every time, he went home with his tail between his legs and a brain that was wiped clean the very second you smiled at him.

seungmin only laughed despite losing a few drops of his coffee to hyunjin's dramatic ass. it was entertaining to see his friend like this, panties all twisted in a bunch over a crush on a cute girl whose number he couldn't even muster up the courage to ask for.

"you're such a pussy," seungmin tutted, shaking his head in disapproving amusement and taking a sip of americano as he looked at hyunjin who seemed like he could have a mental breakdown if even a gust of wind were to breeze past him right now. "it's not like you've never asked for a girl's number before. just do it."

"do you want to broadcast my shame to everyone here? keep your loud ass voice down." hyunjin removed his hands from his face and hunched forward to scold his friend in a half-whisper, even though the cafe was busy that day and it was almost impossible for you to hear him from all the way in the corner and over the lively chatter of the other students filtering in and out of the place. "you don't know what it's like. she might be the prettiest girl i've seen in my entire life. i go stupid every time i look at her."

"to be fair, you go stupid pretty often," seungmin said, which only earned him another murderous glare from across the table. "for real, why am i wasting my time here with you if you're just not gonna do anything? you're not even paying for my coffee. i could be in my room sleeping and saving money right now."

a pathetic whine slipped from hyunjin's lips before he sneaks a glance in your direction, where you were focused on writing down some guy's order by the register. "i don't know what to say!" he groaned, "it's so hard. ughhh."

he remembered the first time he saw you, and it wasn't in this cafe. it was at some lame party that he was forced to attend, where the drinks were shitty and the music was even shittier. he was sipping on cheap beer when he spotted you talking to another girl in the corner of the room, both of whom he'd never seen on campus before. what caught his attention was your easygoing smile and how your mere presence just seemed to pull him in despite the roomful of people separating you. he couldn't look away, and as if you could sense his stare on you, you'd turned your head and met his eyes. you'd sent that same charming smile his way, and hyunjin was enamored for the rest of that evening.

he lost sight of you soon after though, and none of his friends knew who you were. that was that; you were a pretty girl that he saw at a party once, whose name he didn't even know but whose smile he had memorized.

then three weeks later, as though the universe had given him a second chance, he saw you again when he came to the cafe for a quick bite before class. you'd smiled at him the same way you did at the party, and he was tongue tied.

fast forward another month and here he was, with his head in his hands as he agonized for the nth time over what to say to you other than "hi," "one iced americano please," and "thanks."

"just tell her you think she's cute and you'd like her number," seungmin said. "it literally doesn't get more straightforward than that. the worst thing she can say is no."

this was how their last four visits to the cafe went, the conversation always ending with hyunjin neglecting his friend's advice in favor of sneaky glances and a mouth shut tight when he failed to hype himself up enough to utter a few words to you.

"if you don't do it today, you're on your own," seungmin told him when he was only met with silence from hyunjin's end. "i'm not coming back with you again. the coffee isn't even good."

"wait, come on, dude. just... wait. i need to think."

"stop thinking. nothing in that brain of yours is going to help."

"hey!"

"are you gonna do it or not?"

"hold on, i need a plan."

seungmin rolled his eyes before he downed the remaining few sips of his coffee. "you know what? if you don't ask for her number, maybe i'll just do it myself." then he was already coolly standing up and heading in your direction without even looking to see if hyunjin heard him correctly.

"seungmin!" hyunjin called, hurriedly gathering his phone and wallet and scrambling to catch up with his friend in a panic. they both stopped in front of the register, where it was thankfully empty now and no one nearby had to watch hyunjin burn himself to a crisp with embarrassment.

"how can i help you?" you asked, looking at them curiously when hyunjin's eyes flit between you and seungmin in a panic.

"uhm... i.... uh..."

"this is hyunjin." seungmin was the coherent one between the two of them as he clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder with a sly grin. "he thinks you're cute and wants to get your number."

"the end," hyunjin says flatly. "the rest was history. you were there, you know what happened."

"come on, please?" you pout, tugging on his arm as you lean closer to nudge your nose against his cheek. "i've only ever heard it from seungmin and he doesn't tell it like you do."

he glances at you from the side. "what do you want me to tell you? that in that moment i considered running out the door and not stopping until i found the nearest ditch to fall into?"

you laugh, all light and airy and it still makes hyunjin as smitten as he was that afternoon in the cafe. "no, the other part."

"the part where i actually did kinda try to run away and bumped into someone and spilled coffee all over myself? and you had to take me to the backroom to let me borrow someone's shirt?"

this draws another giggle out of you as you recall the moment, when you had been so endeared by him that it was hard to let him go home afterward without your number saved in his phone. "yeah," you say, utter fondness dripping from your voice. "that part."

"that was the most embarrassing day of my life. i made a complete fool of myself."

"you were adorable. it's my core memory of you."

"i'm glad you found my humiliation entertaining."

you roll your eyes half-heartedly before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek to appease his faux sulk. "we wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for your dramatic overthinking ass that day, would we? unless... you'd rather take it all back."

hyunjin softens in an instance, huffing out a breath as he mumbles bashfully, "i didn't say that..."

"you big baby," you tell him with your lips still ghosting the side of his face. you're so close like this, so tightly pressed up against each other on your couch that you can feel the warmth of his body and the thumps of his heart when you slide your hand over his chest. you give him another peck on the cheek, then you smile against his skin. "happy six-month anniversary."

there's a light blush that rises from his neck until it covers his face in the most beautiful rosy shade. a shy grin, his eyes turning into little crescent moons from the happiness that spreads from his head down to his toes, then hyunjin is smoothly turning over so he could pin you underneath him, where he presses his lips against yours so your smiles could meet.

"happy six months, baby."

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you #stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin

203 notes · View notes

leclerc-s · 2 days

Text

prologue - is it a wonder i broke?

series masterlist

liked by arthur_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial, maxverstappen33 and others

ines_sainz i am what i am cause you trained me. the after and before.

view all comments

user01 girl a soft launch? while we're still processing you leaving racing?

user02 the before being spain and racing and the after being monaco and no racing makes me sad.

maxverstappen33 pick up the phone! i just want to talk!

ines_sainz you know where i live. just come over? maxverstappen33 that's too far! ines_sainz get the fuck up and walk?

fernandoalo_oficial todo bien?

ines_sainz eh más o menos fernandoalo_oficial ay nena que voy a hacer contigo? user03 their father daughter bond makes me coo. it's so special to me.

user04 is the caption shade?

user05 but to who? her family? user04 i will go to war if her family forced her out of racing. user06 same, we ride at fucking dawn bitches

charles_leclerc fancy a game of goat simulator?

alex_albon OH COUNT ME IN! georgerussell63 if it's as bad as last time, count me out. ines_sainz only if i can invite my super secret friends. charles_leclerc oscar and logan are not super secret. they were around last time. arthur_leclerc and why was i not invited? ines_sainz charles said you weren't cool enough.

user07 the way she looks so sad in the after. i wanna cry for her.

user08 no cause i remember her saying, 'without racing i don't know who i am' and now i'm crying. user07 WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT BRITNEY??

user09 now where the heck is carlos? he usually drags her by now.

user10 me thinks that rumor from a few months ago was about the sainz siblings and not the leclerc brothers like everyone thought. user11 makes sense carlos would be jealous of his little sister for being better than he is. imagine helmut marko publicly saying that 'she would've been miles better than her older brother.' user09 sometimes a man's hell is a teenage girl.

*translation is included in the second set of texts

¡taglist!

@minmira95 @lesliiieeeee @vroomvroommuppett @prongsvault @justtprachisblog @scuderiadevils @cataf1 @chezmardybum @formulaal @lilsiz @norstappenvibes @ironspdy @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica @niniluvsainz @matchaverse @fakeikeastore @theseus-jpg @six-call @81folklore

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 @books-thingys-andstuff @nothanqks @yeanoskrrt @ale-522

¡leclerc-s speaks!

for now, it's a pre-established relationship, but i'll write a part later explaining how they got together (the bonus tracks). i just find it easier to do it this way for myself. the point of this fic is mostly to have them torment carlos. sometimes i forget that i like carlos. this is like the fourth fic where i make him seem like a dick. i'm sure he's a nice person but for the sake of this fic he is not. there are time when i don't like (miami 2024) him, but my problem isn't with him, it's mostly with his fans. anyways, hope you enjoy this new fic. the first bonus part should be out like sometime tomorrow or in the next two days, i want to post it before the first part.

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #guilty as sin series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc #oscar piastri x female oc

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pretty-circa006 · 3 days

Text

Sex Ed

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader summary You have some follow up questions after Coach Negan's sex ed class tags student teacher relationship, age gap (reader is 18 negan is like pushing 40?), blowjob, pet names

wc: 1.9k

note i tried a little something new when writing this, can you tell what it is?

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Negan glowers at the students of his gym class sitting in the bleachers before him. They're all laughing like fools and making crude jokes that only displayed their immaturity. Seniors, they were supposed to be, but a majority of them acted like foolish middle schoolers.

"Listen up you dumb little sacks of shit!" he shouts. The students all quiet down, some getting startled by the loudness of his voice before doing so.

"I know a majority of you kids, well, technically young adults, are too immature to handle this shit, but the displeasure of teaching it to you has unfortunately been bestowed upon me." He slams his large hand on the whiteboard on wheels, bringing his students' focus to the topic of today's lesson; sex ed. His hazel-green scan his audience with distain, daring them to say anything stupid- nobody did, which is a relief. But that relief instantaneously turned into dread when his eyes landed on her. From her seat in the center of the bleachers, she stares at Negan while seductively biting her finger and giving him sultry bedroom eyes.

He sighs to himself, quickly averting his gaze. She was always, always looking at him like that. Like she's an apex predator and he's the prey she'd been stalking, waiting to pounce and feast on his flesh. At first, it freaked him out, constantly feeling her eyes boring into his skin. But it quickly became flattering to know he had a little admirer. She's always the first to his class, the first to pay attention to him, the last to leave, and the only student to frequent his office. If that's all she did, she would have been just been a girl with an innocent little crush. But her crush was anything but little or innocent. He should have been able to realize that when she'd show up to every gym class in the world's tiniest shorts. If not then, he should at least have noticed when she'd spend excessive amounts of time in his office. He brushed all that off, though, assuming the shorts weren't for him and that she just liked his office for the air conditioning and bowl of candy on his desk.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

The lesson went by fairly smooth. Not many stupid joked were cracked, which was a win for Negan.

"Grab a complementary condom on your way out," he says as students get up from the bleachers, "and if you have any extra questions, you can come see me." He internally cringes at that last part. The internet was a thing and if students wanted to know something, they should look it up themselves instead of prolonging this awkward moment for him. But he had to do at least the bare minimum of what his job required him to do.

Thankfully, the students were just filing past him, some stopping to grab handfuls of condoms, and none of them stop to talk to him. The gymnasium is finally empty without a student in sight. Negan's honestly surprised she didn't stick around after class like she usually did, but he couldn't complain. He pushes his whiteboard back into his office and shuts the door behind him, ready to wind down and catch up on some work.

"Hey Coach."

"Jesus H. fuckin' Christ, kid!" A startled Negan shouts, hand clutching his heart. He finally notices the girl sitting at his desk in his chair with her feet propped up comfortably on the desk. He can't keep his eyes from scanning her legs, the smooth skin fully exposed from upper thigh to ankle.

She lets out a little giggle before her face returns to that usual seductive look.

"I had a question 'bout today's lesson," she tells him. Negan sighs and rubs a hand down his face, anticipating something wildly inappropriate to come from her mouth.

"Goddammit, kid, what is it?" he asks hesitantly.

"First off, stop calling me kid. I am eighteen," she explains, holding up a finger. "Second," she puts up another finger, "I want you to teach me something."

"That's not a question." She rolls her eyes at him and takes her feet off the desk.

"Will you teach me to give a blowjob?" Negan's eyebrows shoot up at the same time his eyes widen. She's dead serious too, looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Those same eyes drift from his down to the growing bulge in his gym shorts. She squeezes her thighs together and bites her lip.

"Darlin', you do know that what you're askin of me is wildly fuckin' inappropriate, right?" He's supposed to be serious, but the dimpled smirk on his face sends another message.

"You're supposed to be teaching sed ed, ain't ya?" she argues. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, only riling up the oversexed girl even more.

"Inappropriateness aside, you couldn't handle all this," he says, motioning to his growing boner.

A smug smile makes its way across her face. She gets out of his chair, kneels in front of it, and pats the cushion, silently demanding him to take a seat. He takes a peak at her cute little ass that her tiny gym shorts were barely doing anything to cover. He figures that if he gives in to her demands, she'll realize that she, in fact, cannot handle what he's packing and will back off. He didn't particularly want her to shy away from him, but her forward behavior would pose a threat to his job sooner or later and he's not eager to get fired.

Fuck it. He locks the door to his office and sits in his chair. She's looking up at him through her long lashes, excitement radiating off of her.

"Well, ya can't suck my fuckin' dick through my fuckin' shorts."

"Oh. Right!" Her shaky hands reach toward the waistband of his gym shorts and he lifts his hips so she can pull them down just enough to free his cock. She lets out a little gasp when the large member springs up and slaps his abdomen. For the first time, her seductive, siren-like facade starts to slip, revealing a nervous, inexperienced girl. With a smug smirk on his face, he looks down at her. She talked so much game, but when it came time to play, she didn't even know how.

"I...I asked you to teach me, didn't I?!" she squeaks. She's embarrassed at how dumb she's sure she looks and even more so at the fact Negan's getting a kick out of this.

"Spit in your hand, doll. Then stroke it a few times," he instructs. She apprehensively spits a glob of saliva into her palm before gently wrapping her hand around him. She's mesmerized by his size, so thick her fingers couldn't touch. As she shyly moves her hand up and down his shaft, she occasionally glances up at him in search for his approval. There is none. He's unamused as he watches her. His wraps his larger hand around her smaller one and squeezes it tighter around his dick.

"Gotta put more presser than that, sweetheart, 'cause I can't feel a damn thing."

She nods her head and he removes his hand, letting her try again on her own. With her hand wrapped more tightly around his cock, she can feel every ridge of his veins rubbing against her fingers. Negan lets out a seemingly satisfied sigh which encouraged her to go faster. Her mouth makes an 'o' shape when she sees precum leaking from his reddening tip. She impulsively brings her head down to him and experimentally kitten licks the precum, before taking the entire tip into her mouth. She looks up at him again, but he's already looking down at her with lust darkened eyes.

"Go on, baby, you can fit more of me in that sweet little mouth of yours," he taunts. She lowers her head until his tip makes contact with the back of her throat, but even then he's not all the way in. His thick, throbbing member fills her mouth, resting heavily on her tongue. With more confidence, she begins bobbing her head up and down. Negan's hand grips a handful of her hair and stops her.

"Don't use your teeth," he corrects her. She chokes a 'sorry,' out from around his cock, the vibration from it feeling good. In her effort to not use any teeth, she hollows her cheeks, the spongy flesh of their insides caressing Negan as she bobs her head. With the hand that's still gripping her hair, Negan forces her to go a little faster, but doesn't push her all the way down on his cock. She picks up the pace on her own, causing Negan's grip to relax.

"That's it, darlin', you're takin' my cock so fuckin' good right now." Her nails dig into his thighs as she continues despite the pain in her tired jaw. His praise sends a wave of heat directly to her core causing her neglected cunt to clench over nothing. But his praise wasn't enough. She wants to hear his pleasure, to hear him moan and come undone in her mouth. She forces the remaining inches of him down her throat, but she immediately regrets it when she gags around him. But she's already in too deep and wouldn't dare dream of quitting now.

"Holy fuckin' shit, doll!" he pleasurably groans, "you are a goddamn dick suckin' natural!" She can feel him twitch inside her mouth, a telltale sign that he's close. Her own cunt throbs, despite receiving no attention. Both of his hands grip her hair as his restraints come undone and begins fucking her face. Exasperated profanities and moans fall from his mouth as she takes him so well.

"Want me to cum inside your throat, doll?" He gets out between pants. She hums an 'mmm hmm' as she tries to move in time with his thrusts. His head falls back against the chair and eyes slightly roll back as his hips rut into her mouth, burying her nose in his dark curls. As he shoots his hot load into her mouth, a guttural moan claws its way out of his throat.

He pulls his softening dick from her mouth and tucks it back into his shorts. He leans down and grabs her jaw so he can admire her pretty, cock drunk face. The trails of dark mascara tears dried on her cheeks and her lips are slightly swollen and her hair is a mess. She looks perfect.

"Open," Negan commands. She opens her mouth, showcasing to Negan his cum resting on her tongue.

"Now swallow." She does and maintains eye contact with him the whole time.

"That's my good fuckin' girl," he praises, causing heat to spread on her cheeks and down to her pussy. She stands up, using the desk behind her as support. Her knees are slightly bruised, a delicious sight to Negan.

"Thanks for teaching me, Coach," she says, her tone slightly teasing.

"Yeah, alright. I gave you want you fuckin' wanted, so get outta my goddamn office." He means what he said, despite how playful he sounded.

"But wait," she says stepping closer to him. He raises an eyebrow in response as she grabs his hand and brings it close. She puts his large hand in between her legs, forcing him to feel how wet he made her. He looked up at her a, his face morphing into a dark smirk.

"Don't you wanna return the favor, Coach?"

note and the answer is....present tense! i wrote this in present tense instead of my usual preferred past tense. thoughts?

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cloudedgalaxies · 3 days

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Hiii I don't know if requests are open or not...? (If not then you can just ignore this and I apologize in advance!!)

,, but I was wondering if you could write a little drabble? You know how when you pick up your cat or your puppy and you give it a kiss, you just. Can't stop giving it more and more kisses. Like almost as if it was beyond your control, you just keep kissing their cute little faces over and over?? That but Savanaclaw!! The idea has been rotating in my mind for so long, it's just so cute and tender and fluffy and ojausvbsnsns;;;🥹🥹

Hello! I'm realizing I never really said anything either way about requests, but they're open! That's such an adorable idea too omfg 🥺🥺🥺 I personally have two cats, so I know exactly what you mean <33

Also I am so so sorry if any of them are OOC, this is my first time writing Jack and Ruggie so I'm like,,, really scared they are.

A Flurry of Love, Soft and Sweet

Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Leona Kingscholar x G/N Yuu

Word count: ~520-50 per part (1.6k in total)

Jack, even now, tried to pretend that he didn’t care about the prefect nearly as much as he did. It was obvious to anyone that wasn’t him that he was clearly failing, however, when his tail would wag without any hope of stopping it the second he caught even a glimpse of them.

He still tried to keep up that futile facade now, much to their amusement, when they had cornered him in his room after practice one day to give him a kiss. It had devolved after that, turning into the mess for his heart Jack found himself in now when Yuu couldn’t stop after the first they’d pressed to his cheek. But Yuu couldn’t help themselves. He was always so kind, even when he was pretending, and they wanted to be kind to him for once in return.

“C’mon, Yuu,” Jack grumbled, his eyes darting anywhere but the prefect. It was hard to do that when they seemed to be everywhere at once, caressing his face with their lips while their hands held his cheeks. “You said just one.”

They hummed just as they pressed another kiss to the bridge of his nose. “Whoops.” The corners of Yuu’s lips quirked up as their victim huffed at the unapologetic tone of their voice. It was a ploy to try to hide the way his tanned cheeks had darkened with the beginnings of a blush, Yuu knew. “I can stop if you really want me to,” they offered, pulling away just a little.

Yuu almost couldn’t stop the giggle bubbling in their throat when Jack’s hand came up as quickly as it could, gently holding one of their wrists to halt their retreat. “I didn’t say that,” he muttered, ears flattening a little as he finally looked at them. Yuu remembered all over again why they had fallen for the beastman as his eyes softened, changing from the normally harshened gaze to become the honeyed, golden color they had grown so fond of. It was when his eyes looked like that when Yuu could see just how much he really did care for them, try as he might to hide it.

They had no idea how they had gotten so lucky, to be the person that could make a fearsome wolf like him melt. It was still something they wondered now, when Yuu remembered that they were one of the rare people to see his eyes like this. Maybe they were the only person.

Jack was thinking the same thing about them, Yuu knew, as he watched their own smile melt and warm. “You’re adorable,” they couldn’t help but say, unable to stop the little giggle this time when Jack huffed.

“I am not.” Any lingering growl in his voice was rendered useless as Yuu resumed their relentless attack. They squealed with laughter as Jack started to fight back, his hair tickling their jaw as he kissed the side of their neck. “You’re the cute one.” His tail just thumped against his mattress even harder as Yuu kept on kissing him, between fits of laughter and his own retorts stopping them for just a moment.

Lunch was always a little volatile for Yuu and Ruggie. It was rare when they would have it to themselves, when Yuu was constantly pulled in to help solve disputes on campus and Leona would perpetually call on Ruggie to fix his problems. Rare was it when the two of them would get to have five minutes to eat together, let alone the entire period.

Today was one of those rare days, thankfully. The two of them ate together in a peaceful, sunny little corner of the courtyard that only the two of them knew about. Yuu had leaned over to kiss him, a little disappointed that this had been the first time they’d been able to in so long. The little grin that had appeared on Ruggie’s face as a result was addicting, Yuu found, because they pressed their lips to his cheek again, seeing if they could get another one of his smiles from that, too.

“What’s this for?” Ruggie asked, the hints of his hissing laugh in his voice as he frantically tried to keep his cool. It was getting harder and harder for him to do just that, Yuu knew, as they kept kissing him again and again.

Another brush of their lips to his forehead before they answered. “Nothing.” Ruggie hummed at that, knowing full well that nothing usually meant something. “Can’t I just kiss you because I wanted to?” Yuu countered.

“‘Course you can. Doesn’t mean you do.” Yuu stopped their onslaught to give him a look, making him give them one in return. They rolled their eyes, going right back to their attack after a moment. “You want something,” he chimed, in a sing-song voice that made them huff. Yuu enjoyed the way they made him choke when they kissed the corner of his mouth, close enough to the real thing to make him sputter and stall for a moment. “That’s why I like ‘ya. We’re both twisted little opportunists.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yuu huffed, enjoying the way Ruggie frowned ever-so-slightly when they didn’t indulge him with another kiss to his lips. “I’m appreciating my favorite dandelion.”

Their pet name sent Ruggie laughing again, whispering like grains of sand for every time Yuu kissed him. They had grown to love that laugh, trying to make it echo in their ears at every opportunity possible. When the prefect kissed the corner of his jaw, they smiled as they caught the faint rumble of a purr. That was even better to hear.

One of Ruggie’s hands grabbed Yuu’s, making them stop in surprise. “You call this nothing?” he asked, amusement filling his voice and making his eyes sparkle as he looked from their hand to their face with a raised brow. It had been slowly reaching towards his half-eaten sandwich, and was only a few centimeters away when he had noticed.

Yuu shrugged. “I forgot I was doing that.” Maybe their original goal had been to get just a bite from his food, but that had been thrown away the moment they’d seen him smile.

Ruggie rolled his eyes, ears flicking. “Scavenger.” But that was why he liked them, Yuu finished quietly, as they indulged him with a peck to the lips in a form of an apology. He accepted it, if the louder purr was any indication

After knowing Leona for so long, it was decently easy to find where he was. He seemed to enjoy rotating between a few different places to nap, from Savanaclaw to Ramshackle and a sunny spot in the botanical gardens. They got pretty good at figuring out which place he chose to take up that day, depending on if a hand suddenly reached up to pull them down to him when he tried to drag Yuu into napping with him more often than not.

He’d chosen the botanical gardens today, Yuu found, as they came across him lying under his favorite tree, back resting against the trunk with closed eyes. Leona was already asleep, they realized with a small sigh, but they sat down next to him regardless.

It was always at the strangest times when Yuu was struck with how beautiful Leona was. Now was one of those times, they found, as the late-afternoon sun hit his face just right to make it look like he nearly had a halo. They had no idea how it was fair, that someone like him could exist, and someone like him was theirs.

Softly, Yuu pressed their lips to his temple, too captivated by him not to. His skin was warm from the sun, they found, making them lean ever-so-slightly further into him. Leona did not wake, so they kissed him again, on his cheek this time. When that did nothing either, they kept going, deciding they would until he finally woke up.

They had kissed practically everywhere on his face except for his lips when Yuu finally paused, trying to determine if Leona really was still asleep. They watched him for a long moment, making sure they didn’t blink in case even that split second made them miss something. After getting so good at falling asleep that he could do so in three seconds, he had gotten equally as good at imitating sleep even when he was awake.

It was the flick of his tail in the corner of Yuu’s eye that gave him away. They glanced down to look at it, and found that it had found its way to snake around them. It had been on his other side when Yuu first found him.

Yuu shot him a look they knew he could feel, even if he couldn’t see it. He finally stirred when they leaned closer to him once more, brushing their lips against the scar now fully revealed thanks to his closed eyes. “Good morning,” they called, catching the way his ears twitched, too. “You could have stopped me, you know.”

“Didn’t feel like it. It wasn’t a bad way to be woken up,” Leona hummed, cracking open an emerald eye as they pulled back. “Might just forgive you for that, herbivore.”

“You’re forgiving me?” they asked, giving him a look as he yawned without restraint, revealing gleaming fangs. “You’re the one who fell asleep before I got here.”

Leona blinked slowly, regarding them with half-lidded eyes. “You’re right,” he sighed, making a small huff of triumph escape the prefect. It caught in their throat when they felt Leona’s hand come up, cupping their chin. The beginnings of a smirk appeared on his lips as he rose up, coming ever-closer to them. “Let me pay you back.”

Thank you so much for reading! <3

Divider made by @/cafekitsune

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