#im thinking of picking up on writing again who knows

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an adult pt 4

Hi. So this is pt 4 of the I am an adult. I really liked writing it and hope you enjoy it too. I definitely want to do a 5th part but I'm not sure about how many more after that I will do (if you get what I mean). Also, all of the German and Spanish is from google/google translate so if it's wrong, I apologise

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Description: Lena gets the talk

Word Count: 4.1k

TW: Slight smut (undescribed/suggestive rather than outright)

You weren’t used to waiting at airports for people. Usually, you were the one who was walking off the plane to visit friends and family. But you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up – just thinking about who would be walking through the door made you smile. You didn’t quite know the protocol for meeting your long-distance girlfriend off a flight. You were nervous about it – wanting to do it right. You may have gotten into a bit of a TikTok wormhole over couples reuniting; most people went with flowers and a sign, but you were staying in an unfamiliar city for both of you, and you did have a match to play. It was something you agonised over for days before the arrival. Having consulted an unhelpful Ona, a laughing Patri and an amused Jana, you settled on asking Alexia. That was an adult thing to talk about, right?

“Um … Ale, can I … can I ask you something?” You said as you curled up on her sofa.

“Of course, pequeña. Esta todo bien?”

“Yeh, um … it’s about Lena, actually” That might have been a bad way to phrase it. Alexia’s face dropped, her gaze becoming a little icy.

“Que hizo ella?” Her voice was just as cold.

“Nothing, nothing, prometo.” You reassured her. “I wanted to ask you what to get her for the airport,” you explained quietly, a little apprehensive over her response.

“Oh, cariño.” Alexia cooed, pulling her legs up to tuck underneath her as she twisted to face you, her hand reaching along the back of the sofa to pick at the corner of the cushion. “Honestly, I don’t think she’d be expecting anything. I certainly wouldn’t if Olga and I met somewhere in the middle.” Her look softened even more as you nodded furiously, eyes locked on her patterned carpet. She could see you sag ever so slightly – clearly, you wanted to get Lena something. “I think, if you really want to get her something,” she continued, smiling as you perked up at her response. “You could do something small – like a … ugh, what’s the word …” She was so fluent in English you often forgot that it was technically her third language. “It’s small and fluffy; you give it to niñas,” she clicked frantically, clearly trying hard to remember. “Un oso de peluche,” she sighed, wracking her brain to remember the English word.

“A teddy bear?” You asked, helping her out slightly.

“Sí, sí, a teddy bear. You could get her one of those? It would be small enough for her to pack away when she travels, and it is something she can keep with her when she’s back in Germany.” You smiled at her suggestion – nodding happily at her words.

The day was finally here. You were finally seeing Lena again. Madrid airport was a little struggle to navigate but you stood, buzzing with excitement, as you waited at arrivals. You looked down at the goodies you had with you – a little bag filled with a very cute and very fluffy teddy bear, some Spanish sweets, and an iced coffee in your hand. You had also packed a few extra jumpers to sneak into Lena’s bag before she left.

L💚: Just got through passport control and stuff

L💚: I’ll be maybe 5/10 more mins

[Initial] ❤️💙: eeeeeeeeeeeeee

[Initial] ❤️💙: ok – I’m like right by the exit

[Initial] ❤️💙: turn left when u walk through it and im by the pillar post thingy

5 to 10 more minutes … you could do that. With every passing minute, your excitement and anticipation grew. It had been a long few months without Lena by your side. Yes, you texted every day; Yes, you Facetimed 5 times a week minimum; but seeing her in person, being able to hug her and hold her and kiss her and smell her and touch her and … you couldn’t be more excited.

“Hola, mi amor.” Very poorly pronounced Spanish whispered to you as strong, familiar arms wrapped around your waist.

“Lena,” you squealed, clearly having missed her walk up – far too much in your own head.

“mmmm, ich habe dich vermisst,” she sighed happily as you twisted in her grip to hug her tightly. She was warm and soft and smelt of cinnamon.

“I’ve mis- no, wait,” you cut yourself off. She tilted her head to the side, drawing back to look at you. “Ich habe dich auch so sehr vermisst,” you stumbled slightly but the big, wide grin on Lena’s face told you, you had said it right.

“Can I kiss you, Schatz?” she asked gently. You blinked slightly, not expecting her to ask you that in such a public space. “I, we, don’t have to. It’s just it’s been so long, and,” she rushed to get out, hating the fact that she had made you even the smallest bit uncomfortable.

“Liebe,” you cut her off, waiting until she looked at you before you continued. When her warm chocolate eyes met yours, you struggled not to float away in them. “Please, kiss me.” You smiled as she let out a breath of relief. You met halfway, and it was just as perfect as all the other kisses you two had shared, if not more so after such a long time apart.

“As …” she cleared her throat as she pulled away slightly. “As much as I want to continue. We should get going … but later, ich verspreche.” She vowed and picked her bag up off the floor. And extending her hand for you to take.

“No, wait, gimme that.” You gestured for her bag, forcing it from her when she hesitated to hand it over. “Also, these are for you,” you said with a proud smile, giving her the now slightly watery coffee and bag of goodies.

“Schatz, you shouldn’t have.” She began, but you shook your head, denying her the chance to complain. You stuck your tongue out at her, intertwined your fingers and pulled her towards the exit.

Taking the metro back to your hotel reminded you a lot of your first date. Lena looking slightly puzzled over the Spanish being spoken all around you. On your first date, you had shyly stood next to her, closer than two friends would be not enough to make her feel uncomfortable, and quietly translated a bit of the conversation between two girls nearby; you added the voices to differentiate between the two girls and jokingly copied any actions they did. This time, you let her lean against you, one arm sneaking around her waist to fiddle with the belt loops on her jeans and the other holding tightly onto the handrail. Her head dropped into your neck, muttering something in German.

“What was that, Liebe?” You asked softly, mindful that your mouth was quite close to her ear despite the busy train.

“Müde,” she said again into your neck. It took you a minute to sift through the German in your head. You pouted when you finally understood what she was saying. She was tired. That you could understand, travelling was difficult when you understood the language, let alone one where you landed in a country where the language was entirely different and almost no familiarity to yours. You pressed a chaste kiss to her hairline, hoping to comfort her a little.

“Naw,” you cooed. "It’s okay. We’re almost back to the hotel. We can have a nap if you want,” you pressed another kiss to her head. "But Alexia says she has to see you at some point tonight,” you reminded her.

“Forgot ‘bout Alexia,” she whined tiredly, her grip tightening on you.

“I’m sorry, Liebe. I promise she won’t be too harsh or scary. I know she can come off a bit..." you struggled for the right word. “Intense? But I promise she’s really sweet.”

You finally made it to your stop, and you filtered off the train, fingers laced together so neither of you got lost (mainly Lena, as she didn’t know a lick of Spanish). Just as you were walking up the steps outside, a flustered woman appeared next to you.

“Lamento mucho molestarte. Pero estoy intentando llegar al aeropuerto y tienes una maleta. Sabes cómo conseguirlos?” The flurry of Spanish through you off for a second as you had been conversing in English almost all day.

“No, no te preocupes en absoluto. Um, sólo necesitas …” As you explained the directions to the woman, Lena couldn’t help but watch in awe. She knew you could speak Spanish – you lived in Spain, you played for Barcelona, and she’d seen you talking in Spanish on the football pitch. Hell, the first time she had met you, you were finishing a conversation in Spanish with the film and media crews. It had done something to her then, and it was doing something to her now, too. She couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying, but the accent, the rapid words, the hand gestures, your kind smile … she suddenly wasn’t as tired as she felt on the train.

“Sorry, Liebe,” you said as you finished, waving to the woman as she sped down the steps towards the platform. She was asking about getting to the airport—she had seen your bag and guessed we had just come from there.” You explained, taking her (now slightly clammy) hand and leading her towards your hotel.

The hotel room was big and welcoming, a large bed in the centre with your things thrown haphazardly across it called to Lena as she walked through the door. She left her stuff by the wall and flopped heavily down, sighing at the softness that surrounded her. You looked at her from your vantage point by the door. Her top had ridden up, exposing her abs slightly, her biceps were on full display, and the veins in her arms rippled slightly as she twisted her fingers in the bedding underneath her. She was doing things to you – maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex a good few months (it was currently the longest you had ever gone without since you started having sex); maybe it was because she looked so at home amongst your things; perhaps it was the fact that your girlfriend was finally within touching distance. You also realised you didn’t quite care enough to figure it out.

“Incoming,” you yelled as you launched yourself at her.

“Oof,” she huffed, her breath leaving her body as your weight settled on top of her, both of you laughing quietly at your behaviour.

“Hi,” you smiled at her, arms either side of her head, legs straddling her hips.

“Hi,” she smiled back, lift her hands to stroke her thumbs across your exposed skin.

“I…” should you say it? “I’ve missed you,” you chicken out from what you really wanted to say. You knew you told her at the airport that you missed her, but you needed her to know just how much her absence affected you.

“I’m sorry.” She knew the distance was difficult for both of you. You shook your head, refusing to let her think that this was her fault.

“No, there’s nothing that can be done at the moment. I’m at Barca; you’re at Wolfsburg. It is what it is.” You shrugged, hoping it would ease her sadness a little. “But … you’re here now, we have this weekend. And that is all that matters.” You smiled, the wide, soft smile full of love and tenderness that only Lena got to see often. You felt rather than saw Lena crane her neck up to try to kiss you; your smile shifted into a cheeky grin as you pulled back just out of her reach. She stopped looking at you offendedly.

“Nuh, uh, uh,” you teased, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I...” You kiss her forehead. This was your chance. “Missed.” You kissed her cheek, backing out again. “You.” You kissed her other cheek.

“And I’ve missed you, Schatz.” Her hands left your waist, coming up to cradle your face, holding to exactly where she wanted. She waited a few moments, letting her eyes scan your face, trying to commit everything to memory (even though she had already done that well before you left Germany at New Year’s). “So much,” she whispered as she finally tugged you down to meet her lips.

The kiss started out slow, sweet and tender, as your love was poured into it. As you parted, her darkened eyes roamed your body, one hand cementing itself in your hair, tugging lightly as the other moved to trace along the waistband of your shorts. Your kisses weren’t a battle for dominance, but you were falling into a pattern of give and take that was uniquely yours. Your top was the first to come off, hers following not too long afterwards. Buttons were undone, drawstrings loosened and more clothing adding to the mess on the floor. Her hands grasped at any available flesh as your fingers slipped inside. Dark spots were bitten into supple skin, moans were melodies as you rediscovered each other.

“Don’t stop,” You panted into her skin as she guided you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Never,” came her reply, equally as breathless.

“What happened to being tired?” You laughed as she snuggled into your side, her once-eager fingers tracing light shapes into your skin. She groaned at your teasing, pressing more weight onto you. You fiddled with her hair as you waited for an explanation.

“Dein Spanisch. Mit dieser Dame am Bahnhof … Es hat etwas mit mir gemacht” You didn’t understand it fully. Spanish … train station? You were a little confused.

“Sorry, I got something about my Spanish and the lady at the train station. What was the last bit?” You were trying to learn German, but you had started with the most practical things – the greetings, stuff that happened in daily life, cheesy lines you could say to Lena to make her blush.

“Um … it’s a bit embarrassing, really … you were speaking Spanish to that lady at the station,” she blushed profusely. You just smiled, letting your fingers comb through the mess her hair had become. “Es war wirklich sexy.” Your grin doubled in size. So, you speaking Spanish turned her on? That was useful to know.

“Well,” you said after a moment of silence. “If me giving directions to the airport is sexy, you should hear me when I say something truly seductive,” you teased, squeezing her gently as she buried her head in your neck again.

“Mmmm, déjame pensar. Cuando llegue a casa, debo acordarme de llamar al administrador del edificio.” You laughed as you felt her blush, the new heat obvious against your skin. You also couldn’t help but notice the slight shift of Lena’s hips against your thigh. “Liebe, I just said I needed to call my building manager – that is not sexy.” She pulled away from your skin.

“Uh, everything you do is sexy,” she countered. “Say something else? Something that’s actually hot,” she begged, ignoring your teasing smile, and raised eyebrow.

“Hm, vale, vale,” you wracked your brains, trying to think of something that you actually considered sexual. “Quiero que me tengas en todas las formas que quieras. Quiero destrozarte una y otra y otra vez.” You usually weren’t that explicit about your wants, but you were reliant on Lena not really knowing what you were saying.  Lena was gobsmacked. She had not a clue what you had just said but the way you had said it – the slight rasp in your voice, the rosy hue to your skin, the sticky sheen of sweat, the hickeys she had sucked into your skin. She rolled you over, balancing above you as her legs slotted between yours.

“Redonda Dos?” You asked. She knew enough Spanish for that.

Just as things were getting interesting again, your door swung up.

“Y/N? ¿Estás aquí? Ale te ha estado enviando mensajes de texto toda la tar -” Ona cut herself off with a shrill scream.

“Me arden los ojos.” She gagged dramatically. “Ew, mis ojos.”

“Oni, qué carajo en realidad?” You shouted back, dragging the duvet up to cover the both of you.

“Do you want to introduce me?” She grinned evilly.

“No, get out!” You glowered at her. When she made no effort to move, you threw a pillow at her.

“Ale says to come to her room.” You flicked your finger at her, letting her know your displeasure. Turning uour attention was fixed back on Lena, you heard her cackling outside.

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße. Alexia wird mich töten. Ich bin tot. Ich werde sterben. Ich hatte praktisch Sex mit ihrer kleinen Schwester. Oh, mein Gott. Ich werde sterben. Fuck.” Lena was panicking – real, genuine anxiety spread throughout her chest as she sat up against the pillows.

“Liebe, it’s ok,” you soothed, grabbing one hand in yours and swinging your other arm across her shoulders. “Liebe?” you tried again.

“Alexia is going to kill me.” Lena said, looking into your eyes for what she genuinely thought might be the final time.

“No, she won’t.” You smiled softly, not wanting to laugh at Lena’s ridiculousness. “I won’t let her,” you vowed, squeezing her hand tight in promise. “Now, we should probably get some clothes on and head to Ale’s room.”

As you reached for your hoodie, your world darkened suddenly as fabric landed on your head. You lifted it up to reveal a very familiar Adidas hoodie, turning back to see a sheepish Lena.

“How did that get there?” She asked innocently.

“I don’t know, Liebe. How did it get there?” You played along. “There’s only one Adidas athlete in this room, and it’s not me.” She shrugged, snatching your Barca hoodie out of your reach.

“I don’t know, Schatz. But it looks like it’s your only hoodie, and I want you to stay warm.” She was a terrible actor.

“If you wanted me to wear your clothes, you could have just asked,” you laughed as you slipped on the material, getting slightly lost as you tried to find the head hole. You heard a sigh and footsteps before the fabric was rearranged on you as your head burst through the top.

“Guten Tag,” you beamed at her.

“Hallo, Schatz,” she smiled at you before stealing a kiss. You hummed gently, allowing yourself to melt into her just slightly.

“Vamos, vamos.” You spun her around to face the door. “Let’s not keep Ale waiting,” you laughed and tapped her on the bum to get her moving.

Alexia’s room was exactly the same as yours – a wide, comforting bed with a mountain of pillows dominating the space. You tapped on the door, knowing that she would probably have at least 3 of the other girls in her room with her.

“Schatz, I know I said I would endure this for you … for us,” Lena said when it was clear Alexia was making you wait a little. Was she second guessing this? Was she regretting you? “And I will, I will.” She added when your head snapped back to look at her. “But I’m really freaking out here.” You softened.

“Oh, Liebe. It’s ok,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “I understand, really, I do. This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to meet Ale, but I promise you,” you squeezed her to emphasise your point. “She’s a giant softy with a tendency for affectionate bullying. If she starts speaking in Catalan, just ignore her; that’s what I do,” you joked, trying to lighten her mood a little. “She’s just like Alex and Svenja are to you. She’s just looking out for me – even though I don’t need her to and certainly not in this case,” you were rambling now, unknowingly easing Lena’s anxieties in an instant.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, cutting your talking off. Lucy. You smiled at her, pushing past as you guided Lena to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in both of yours when you sat next to her – providing quiet but noticeable support. There were more people in the room than you were expecting. You knew Alexia would call on Lucy, Irene and probably Paños and Marta to give the talk, but Ingrid’s presence surprised you, as did Ona’s and Patri’s.

“Entonces, quieres presentarnos a Lena?” Alexia asked, leaning against the desk in front of you, Paños on her left, Lucy on her right. Irene and Marta stood blocking the path to the door – all of them with what they thought were tough expressions on their faces. Ingrid looked annoyed to be there, Ona was trying to look hard, and Patri had an amused smile dancing on her lips.

“In English, Alexia. It’s not fair on Lena to speak in a language she doesn’t know.” You said calmly, breathing deeply to keep your emotions in check. They had promised not to treat you like a child.

“Do you want to introduce us to Lena?” She asked again, voice artificially calm.

“Not if you’re going to treat us like children.” You raised an eyebrow, reminding all of them of their promises to treat you more adult-like.

“That was before we found out you were having sex,” Lucy started. She stood up from where she was leaning, you matching her behaviour by squaring your shoulders.

“Suficiente, vosotros dos.” Alexia ordered before you had the chance to comment. As much as she wanted to give a protective big sister talk, she realised that maybe this was what you meant when you said that you wanted to be treated more like an adult. It was silent as she studied you and Lena – sitting so close you were practically on top of each other, your thumb never wavering in its soothing motion against the back of Lena’s hand, the way Lena’s eyes kept flitting back to your face in search of any discomfort. She didn’t need to do the grandiose speech she was planning to give – she didn’t need to let every one of the older girls chime in with their threats. If Lena harmed you, Lena wouldn’t harm you – of that, Alexia was sure. “Everyone out. Not you or Lena,” she said as you shifted to leave. “Ona, quédate también por favor.” Alexia ignored the other’s protests; Lucy’s whining was heard even with the door closed. She had allowed Ona to stay in her role as your best friend – she wasn’t about to deny her this opportunity (especially since she knew you had promised Lucy you would exact a painful revenge if Ona ever came to you crying over something about their relationship).

“Lena. I am going to say this one time,” Alexia began, watching as Lena’s eyes grew wide and gulped noticeably. You just rolled your eyes at her antics. “If you hurt her,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I will hunt you down … and end you.” Alexia was quite pleased with herself – she considered that to be restrained enough to appease you whilst instilling enough fear in Lena to make her slightly nervous. Lena nodded, taking a breath to start making promises of never ever hurting you.

Ona cleared her throat from her perch on the windowsill, drawing all of your attention to her. She took a deep breath before letting out the sentence she had been practising since you first mentioned a German footballer had caught your eye, “Ich werde dir die Beine brechen.” The pronunciation was horrendous, but Lena knew what she meant. It was the worst threat Ona could think of with Lena being a footballer.

“Oni,” you whined, although you had no leg to stand on – your threat to Lucy had been so much worse.

“There, we have said what was needed to be said. Let’s go to dinner, sí?” Alexia smiled at the three of you, the polar opposite of the menacing Captain that stood in her place moments before. Ona laughed, looping her arm through Alexia’s and heading to the door.

“That wasn’t so bad,” You joked, nudging Lena. The tension was still very much in her body, however.

“I need them to know, and you need to know it too. I won’t hurt you, ever, Schatz. I promise, ich verspreche, prometo.” She looked deep into your eyes, willing you to understand how deep her vow went. She made the promise to herself in the shower after your first date; her mind kept replaying your almost-kiss, your bubbly laugh and the feel of your soft hand in hers. She had vowed that day to never let your smile fade, and she wanted … no, needed … you to know that.

“Liebe, I know that. They know that.” You reached up to cradle her face in your hands. You took a deep breath and said the words that had been playing on your mind for weeks now: “I love you.”

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

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[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn���t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #this was a fun one! #whump #h/c #but mostly hurt lol #i know it's a lot of dialogue. my apologies i just love to write dialogue and HATE to write exposition lol #which is Not Good Writing but whatever #this is my horn snz blog not my doctoral thesis lmao

[fanaticsnail]

Ohh, Snail, now I can't stop thinking about you writing that Corazon x AussiReader idea from the fanart you rebloged. Poor sweet baby 🥺 dealing with giant spiders and cute feral angry koalas, nooo, Cora, don't try to hug them, they may look cute, but they will eat your face 😱

Rosinante's Trip Down Under

Masterlist Here

Oh my goodness, Miss Vita! How gorgeous is it, though? Art by @rainnartt (CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER ART, IT'S AMAZING!!)

Synopsis: Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

I did go a little crazy in the tags, definitely ran away with me a little here.

Could you imagine, though? As an Australian, I can confirm: if it looks like it can kill you, it can kill you. If it looks like it can’t kill you, it absolutely can kill you. Our poor, clumsy man never stood much of a chance, did he?

In this picture, he looks like could be in Bondi, the Gold Coast or Surfers Paradise by the looks of it. I am going to put him in the Queensland region for the sake of the plot. This is how I see it going. 

Drabble Fic Word Count: 1,800+

Themes: rosinante x gn!reader, platonic fic, crack fic, modern au, reader is Australian, Rosinante is Spanish, Au he lives.

Tag list: @since-im-already-here @i-am-vita @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @remisloves @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Taking your new friend Donquixote Rosinante to your favorite sights in Surfers Paradise. His eyes widen in wonder, staring at sights that come so naturally to you, but are so out of the norm for him. You are happy to play tourist in your hometown, marveling at the sights as he experiences them for the first time. 

Outside of your local McDonalds and picking up a common comfort breakfast food for his adult adoptive son, who elected to remain back at home in the hotel as he adjusts to the time difference, Rosinante’s shriek prompted you to turn to meet him.

“What the hell is that?” he remarks, extending his pointer finger towards the large waste bin adjacent to the doorway.

“Oh, that’s a skip, Corazon. The red is for rubbish,” you continue, pointing at the other bin, “The yellow lid is for recyclables, and the green is for food and biodegradable-.”

“No! The thing with the massive beak!” he shrieks, watching as the dark-head bird pokes its head above the bin. The large hooked beak elevates a half-consumed cheeseburger before it gulps down the burger in a single motion.

“Oh!” you laugh at your blonde friend, clapping a hand over his shoulder, “That’s an ibis. We call them ‘bin chickens’ or ‘tip chooks’ depending on your region. They’re scavengers, they won’t hurt you.”

“A bin chicken, skip bin,” he hums, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he commits the name to memory, “And you call McDonalds ‘Macca’s’, right?”

“That’s right,” you hum your confirmation with a curt nod. He hums in response before ushering you along the pathway towards the hotel. 

As you continue walking along the sandy coastline, you notice he’s halted outside a petrol station. A large truck is parked beside the building: checkered blue and white painted on it’s side and large font titled “POLICE” and “0.05: DRUGS”. 

“Is this your local law enforcement?” he asks you, tilting his head to the side. 

“Yeah, that’s our local booze bus parked next to a divvy van,” you nod in affirmation, “They do regular drug and alcohol testing for drivers to ensure their safety on the road. Weird that they’re outside of a servo, though. Usually they’re on the main roads.” He nods his head and hums.

“Booze bus. Divvy Van,” he looks over to the petrol station, arching his brow high, “Servo?” 

“I know, it’s a lot,” you confirm with an apologetic smile, “I promise it gets easier to adapt to the slang the longer you practice.” He nods again. 

Passing a local park with a children’s play area, you manage to see your friend David from work, his two children playing together on the looped climbing frames and plastic slide. 

“Davo!” you call out to him, waving your unoccupied hand in front of you - considering the other contains a paper bag filled with the fruits of your labor. 

“How the bloody hell are’ ya goin’, Darl’?!” his nasally voice cracked to you, “Who’s the fella ya got there with ya?” You smile at him, walking to embrace him.

“This is Rosinante Corazon, the friend I mentioned was visiting from Spain,” you informed him, “How’s the missus back at home? How’s the kids?”

“Mate! Howzit goin’?” he extended his hand out to Rosinante, who placed his hand within and gave it a gentle shake who mumbled a soft ‘pleased to meet you’ in response.

“Ah, and the ankle biters are doin’ great. Givin’ the missus a bit of a reprieve here at the park, tough gig bein’ an ambo driver.” He glanced over his shoulder at his children, ensuring they were safe now they’ve climbed to an elevated height. 

“Oh I’m glad she’s managing to take a break. She’s a tough lady,” you nod to him, smiling over at the two children who wave at you while playing with a make-shift telescope. 

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you,” he confesses, gesturing down to the brown bag clutched in your hands, “Don’t want that brekky gettin’ cold now, do we?” You laugh at him, waving him off before waving at his children. 

Rosinante remained silent, only muttering a few words that stood out to him: “Darl’, fella, mate, missus, ankle biters, ambo driver, brekky,” on a perpetual loop.  

“You okay there, Rosi?” you quirk up at him, a soft smile pulling at your cheeks. 

“I’m alright, Darl,” he attempted, his voice falling to his nose and emulating the accent he heard moments prior, “Is that a common term of endearment here? ‘Darl’ and ‘mate’? How do you go with gender neutral titles?”

“Both of those titles can be used interchangeably, regardless of gender,” you inform him, “It all depends on context and the way you say it.” he hums again, nodding along and muttering several phrases he learnt. He reaches into the circular cup cardboard and pulls out his coffee and takes a small sip. 

Your feet finally carry your way over to the lobby of the hotel where he was staying with Law, his body immediately halting in front of the surf, dive and ski shop. His head cocked to the side, staring at the large, rectangular basket outside the shop. You follow his line of sight, which remained locked on to a large, canvas sign attached to the basket. 

“Ah,” you click your tongue, noticing they’re focussed on a common shoe worn in this area, “Do you and Law need a new pair of thongs? I know the bottoms melt a little when the bitumen gets a bit hot.” 

“You want me and Law to wear what?” he turned towards you with his eyes wide and jaw dropped. It took a moment for you to understand the miscommunication, your eyes growing wide and your nervous laughter propelling your anxiety further. 

“No, no, no, no, no!,” you managed to choke out, “No, we call ‘flip-flops’ ‘thongs’ here. Is that what had you a little confused? A basket full of shoes where you thought lingerie should be?” Rosinante laughed alongside you, shaking his head from side to side.

“You got me,” he chuckled, raising his coffee to his lips once more, “Our differences are quite vast, aren’t they?” 

“I suppose they are,” you acknowledge with a shrug and a broad, tight-lipped smile. He hums once again, muttering several phrases as you step into the elevator. 

Clicking the button to the appropriate floor, the doors open wide to reveal the carpeted corridor of the hotel room. You offer to hold the coffee tray in your unoccupied hand as Rosinante clumsily attempts to fish out his key-card from his pocket. He thanks you, his hand getting stuck in his pocket as he shimmies his shoulders to break it out. 

Finally clutching the key card, he places it in the door and swings it wide to reveal Law sitting on the plush bench beside the large window. His left knee was bent, his right leg extended as he reclined against the window. His gray orbs draw away from watching the gentle crash of waves towards you both as you enter the suite. 

Before you had a moment to greet the younger man, Rosinante’s broad grin and best nasally voice interrupted your train of thought. Rosinante gently took the brown paper bag from your hands and offered it to his son.

“Howzit goin’, Darl’! Brought you some Brekky from Maccas!” he walked forwards, thrusting the bag into Law’s hands, “Saw a bin chicken eating some scraps from the red skip, and passed a booze bus outside the servo on the way back.”

Law chose to remain silent, wordlessly taking the brown bag from Rosinante and maintaining unbreaking eye contact. Rosinante took that as his queue to continue relaying his adventure. 

“Saw Davo being a good fella at the park with his ankle biters, his missus has been working hard as an ambo driver,” he continued, biting his lip as he attempted to relay the trip back to his absolutely unamused son, “Then we passed a shop on the way up. Was gonna get us a pair of matching thongs for the trip, but thought you would get embarrassed to be matching with your Dad.” 

Law’s fingers stuttered their descent into the bag, choosing to take a lengthy breath instead. 

“Dad?” Rosinante quirked his head up, turning to look at you over his shoulder. You were doing your best to stifle your laughter by clutching your lip in your palm, “Do you still call parents ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ here? Is there an Aussie term of endearment he could use for me instead?” 

“‘Cunt’ comes to mind,” Law murmured, prompting Rosinante to snap his head back over to his son. His heart shattered as Law drew up a hashbrown and began nibbling at its golden exterior. 

“L-Law-?” Rosi’s heartbreak was depicted in the quiver in his tone. You walk over to your friend’s side and offer him his forgotten coffee with a smile.

“-Rosinante,” you broke him away from his sorrow with a soft giggle, “‘Cunt’ is also a term of endearment here. Law and I had a little conversation about cultural clashes last night when we were playing cards. You fell asleep early, remember?” 

“It is my favorite Australian term of endearment,” Law admitted with a soft hum, reaching up his outstretched hand to wordlessly ask for a coffee, “But your insults are far better. Quite original.” 

“Okay, Champ,” you mock Law, passing him his cup of coffee, “Big words coming from a guy with a face like a smashed crab.” 

“Coming from a Drongo with the personality of a dropped meat pie,” Law smirked in return, taking the cup from your hands. Your joint laughter ricocheted from the hotel walls, prompting Rosinante’s prior sour mood to pick back up. 

As you all ate your brekky in comfortable silence, you gazed out onto the beach below. Law followed your eyes, looping at the large swell of the waves. The choppy waves crashed against the golden waves, the vendors beginning to set up their canopies to sell their wares along the boardwalk. 

“You did well, Rosinante,” you complimented the tall, blonde man, “Using our words in the appropriate context, I mean.” Rosinante smiled at you, placing his paper rubbish in the brown paper bag.

“Thank you, Mate,” he said with a soft wink, “I appreciate the praise for my efforts.”

“No wakkas, makka,” you smile at him with a shrug. Both men quip their head up, their ears pricking and confusion written on their face. 

“We’ll get into that later, I guess,” you chuckle at the two of them as their confusion deepens.

The large Australian crowd began to take out their surf and boogie boards, set up nets for volleyball, and their wickets for beach cricket. The variety of populus below in various designs bathers, placing sunscreen on their bodies to protect from the deadly UV rays. 

“Beach day?” you ask them, smile drawing up over your features once more.

“Beach day,” Rosinante nods in confirmation, excited to learn more slang and cultural differences as the day broadens its rays over the oceanic backdrop. 

#one piece #x reader #modern au #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #trafalgar law #op law #op rosinante #op corazon #rosinante x reader #platonic fic #australian slang #law x reader #op x reader #one piece fluff #ask snail #snail answers

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

School au! It's valentine's day, and the reader has prepared a letter with a plushie that was a limited edition plush merchandise from lyneys favorite content creator magician. They wanted to cowardly confess through a letter, as they were worried of that destroying their best-friend relationship, even writing at the end of the letter "if this makes you uncomfortable or you'd wish to never speak of it again please just ignore this letter.".

Yet... When the time to give it came, they saw lyney had received quite a few gifts, but what broke the reader was when someone tried to suddenly kiss lyney. They got angry, furious even, the frustration taking each thought from their mind. They left the classroom and went outside, not wanting to look at this any further. Even if the girl was just being pushy - the sight itself hurt em. They decided it was a stupid idea to confess at all - knowing how many people liked lyney... He most likely wasn't going to pick the reader - at least that's what they thought. They sat outside near the school court, forgetting in their frustration that the place they were sitting it was see-able from their classroom. They crumbled the letter and sat there, head hanging low, as they skipped the class.

I should be over all the butterflies- Lyney x Gn!reader

Im still into you t/w- kissing summary- as shown above

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The sun shone brightly as you walked to school, bag in hand filled with things for Lyney. It was Valentine's Day, the day you were going to confess to your best friend. You may not have looked nervous but you felt it, your stomach was filled with butterflies and your palms were getting clammy. Maybe this is a bad idea?

As you stepped onto the school grounds you could see many people confessing their love, some being requited while others not. You hadn’t seen Lyney yet but hopefully, he didn’t have a crowd of people like others did.

Lyney was quite a popular boy, you were merely a shadow. Or that's what people called you. You followed him around like a lost puppy, wondering when he would get bored. He never did. Well, at least he said he never did. You started to worry about what would happen if this went wrong… Would he ever see you the same way? Or would he just see you as rubbish?

Inside the classroom, people were gathered around one spot. And you knew that spot as Lyney’s. Many girls, boys and other people were surrounding him trying to get his attention by giving him the most extravagant gifts. There were chocolates, and love poems and cards. All crappy valentines Day stuff. You were the only one who knew him well enough.

You didn’t bother trying to push into the crowd, you would only get tread on. You stood from afar watching him try and turn down the people politely. He was never one to make people upset or angry. Once he’d accidentally made you cry because he scared you by jumping out of a corner. The amount of times he apologised, and he still apologises today.

A girl in the sea of people leaned closer towards Lyney begging to be kissed. When he didn’t respond she kissed him herself. You didn’t stick around long after that, the tears in your eyes blocked your vision anyway. God, you knew it was stupid… Lyney would definelty pick one of the many people laid out for him. It hurt to think about. you’d loved him for so long. You scrunched up the note on the gift and threw it on the ground.

Not even 5 minutes later someone grabbed that bit of paper off the ground.

“Mon amour, what are you doing out here?” You knew that voice anywhere. “And what is this bit of paper with my name on it?”

Before you would react he opened the letter reading your love confession. You could see a tinge of red forming on his cheeks.

“You love me?” His face was almost bright red now

“I thought it was kinda obvious?”

“You kept it well hidden y/n.”

You felt him get closer, the heat of his body warming you. His hand softly grazed you cheek sending a slight shiver through your body. “May I kiss you?”

The butterflies were back and were not staying still anytime soon. Your words couldn’t quite form properly all you could do was nod. His lips softly pressed against yours, while he placed his hand on your right cheek pulling you in closer not letting you go. Lyney’s hands were soft making you feel more at comfort. The way he kissed was nothing like you saw in romance movies. He was so gentle with you, you didn’t mind that at all.

His hands moved to your waist pulling you in. The kiss felt like an eternity but was over just like that.

“Woah…” You couldn’t form the right words to tell him you loved it.

Taglist

@pandragonsoul @atsukawolfcat @keeyisbored

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #fluff #gn reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst #angst #lyney #lyney genshin #genshin impact lyney #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x gnreader #lyney oneshot #lyney fluff

[b4kuch1n]

I actually for real feel like my phone's scanning quality has dropped monumentally while I was away on thing so that's a fun thing to figure out now. anyways

#sk8 the infinity #kyan reki #hasegawa langa #renga #answering of ''sure'' whenever they ask ''are you gay'' strikes again #gods. genuinely at least on the export the quality of these dropped like to half. whats up with that #sorry if these are impossible to parse #anyways. scribbled these during ''holiday'' ''vacation'' ''getaway''' #sometimes it really is the simple things. hallucinating vividly about the casual life of a pair of teens to survive being in a car for 6hrs #WITH da family #so glad I picked up scribbling on paper again. I actually got stuff to do digitally today and!! literally it feels so much cleaner #like I feel like I relearned a bunch stuff doing traditional ink again for a sec #but yeah. u guys should know by now how much I think about food as a concept #took 3m off last year to write about it in fact. but now Im just microdosing by drawing langa #I'm also actually so insane about reki being a scaredy cat it's so. something. it means so much to me #this of course means koyomi is a jumpscare champion. among siblings that are close in age there must be #the one who sleeps in the lower bunk. and the one who ties a doll to a string by its neck and lower it down to be next to the others face #'why is that so specific' no further question. thank you #gods okay. I need to lay the fuck down it is now my time. to be in bed #Im onto some real exciting stuff rn! and when this piece is done I'll return to ink for a sec #so uh. ink comm maybe not this week. but the next #happy late labor day! seek and destroy. have a good night

[hella1975]

anyway in regards to my last post this is all to say that if i moved to a foreign country and shared a nice apartment with my mutuals where we did boring errands together and listened to nice music and danced barefeet then everything would be okay i think

#only recently discovering how much shame i internalised in regards to my writing #like genuinely think i have more internalised shame around my writing than i do being gay LMAO #there's a reason for it too shit went down when i was twelve and i connected it to my writing even though it kinda didnt have anything to #do with that it was just me using it as a coping mechanism again but ofc at that age i didnt know that's what it was #so for a good few years it was just 'WRITING BAD' like i fully didnt even have a laptop for those years i did not write a single word #idk why i thought i could just pick it up again without any residual issues towards writing #like even when boom and hannah were here or when im talking to my one irl that songwrites about writing #i just feel so genuinely uncomfortable like someone's about to do a 'gotcha!' moment on me #it's just something that feels like it needs to be a big dirty secret and that combined with my hometown vibes is just sooo stinky #but yh i realised how nice it was just having people i could just authentically get excited about writing with #like telling people about plot points or twists and having them be like !!!! omg !!!! like i want to surround myself with those people!! #i want to be brave enough and comfortable enough that i try and publish my shit regardless of what my hometown is saying!!! #and i will be one day i have faith in my own stubbornness and spite if nothing else #that my hatred of this town will overrule my fear of it #but for now it's just a very shit time lol #one day grown up hella will be buying apples with hannah and boom and we'll be talking about our wips in the shop #where anyone can hear us and on that day i'll stop and give a moment to baby hella who was so scared and ashamed #and i'll smile a little. and then i'll ram the trolley into hannah's ankles just for a laugh and i'll forget all about it

[mejomonster]

There are So many bisexuals in the world I can't take a Step without running into a bisexual, I can't believe when I was a teen people lied to me and said what I was didn't exist and there was no one like me, babes if you're bisexual I promise youre not alone and you're awesome

#rant #i just. now that im an adult #at least 90% of my friends are queer #maybe more. i dont talk to every friend about dating so maybe a few might be straight #i make new friends? also almost always queer #theres a lot of us and if you feel alone please know you dont have to be forever. there are more ppl in rhe world and more community #and where u go there will be somr ppl like you somewhere to find #(on a lighter note like. even on language study apps! or niche dumb reddit forms about idk some soecific video game) #i remember authority fogures telling me to 'pick' and that i was a sex obsessed freak etc every biphobic thing u can think #as a teen. and feeling alone and broken. at like 17 i found bi sites and lgbt help sites online and the queer community on tumblr #and felt much more backed up with facts i am real my feelings are feelings many other ppl have felt #and i could find ppl who get me. who would accept me and believe me and my existence #and like. now as an adult lol? i meet a person and mention an ex or my bi af writing lmao and they ask if im bi #and i am! and sometimes they say hey me too lol! and then wowza more friends! thats all #no more fear im yelled at or told biphobic shit. and now if i was for some reason #i can just go okay then i wont be yr friend and wont be chatting with u again thanks bye

[sludgeguzzler]

god i love lotr especially the online fandom bc i might not be a part of it but knowing that one of my dads most formative pieces of media something that he told me stories about in great detail (he knows the lore by heart) making me grow up hearing about it, is also some 17 year olds source of gay fanfiction is simply the best thing

#im not kidding btw lotr was a huge part in the bond me and my dad have its the reason why my dad likes medieval fantasy #which he passed down to me so ots the reason i lile medieval europe fantasy and history #but my favorite book was never lotr its another one by some italian lady #but i always considered it a like???? dude bro heavy metal liker thing. like its so nerdy. the stereotypical kind kf nerdy #to me and stuff thats what lotr meant. heavy metal guys in their 30s dad time and big book. #so finding a whole community of younger queer people who like it online in a COMPLETELY different way is SO NICE #inspires me to actually finish reading the book #(it was kind of boring for me granted i was 12 and had just rea what i perceived as the coolest books ever) #(like the starting section is genuinely very boring but i picked it up again one of these days and actually likes it) #(even if its a bit of an infodump that could be conveied inside the story) #(but you could argue it *is* inside the story seeing that the author writing it is a character #(not a character in the book like. he isnt tolkien tolkien wrote his books introduction woth full imersion in my mind i think) #(but even if it seems a little bit unnecessary it actually provides a lot of insight to the hobbits history that is pretty cool to the stor #it gives ot that extra layer of understanding of the whole universe and middle earth which really increases imersion) #(((ive never read kt but i did watch the movies which YES i know isny The Real Authentic Thing give me a break))) #sg.txt

[mysicklove]

summary: Sukuna tries to teach Yuuji self-defense, but of course, he happens to forget how helpless the toddler is.

cw: mentions of death/kidnapping, reader gets called helpless

wc: 1.4k

a/n: i love them so much. its so fun to write this au!!

big brother au masterlist

When you walk into the living room, you can’t help but smile. Truly, was it a rarity to see Sukuna and Yuuji getting along nicely. Of course, Yuuji was always sweet, but Sukuna was a brat and found that hanging out with a four-year-old was not really his cup of tea. Or at least, that’s what he proclaims to you.

Yuuji throws a punch at his brother’s hand, brows furrowing in concentration. Sukuna sits on the floor, cross-legged, and in front of Yuuji, who was standing at his full height. The older sighs, “Well, that was pathetic. Harder.”

The boy nods, obviously trying to hold back a smile. He wanted to seem just as serious as Sukuna did, but it was hard for the toddler due to how smiley he always seemed to be. But he lets out a tiny huff and brings his fists up to his face. Then, he makes a little “Hii-ya!” noise and slams his fist into Sukuna’s open palm.

“Okay, this ain’t working. Fuck, how are we of the same bloodline? I was not this weak,” Sukuna complains to himself, pulling his hands down. 

You roll your eyes and step into the room. “Maybe because he is a four-year-old. Don’t think it’s his job to be strong,” You say, and Sukuna’s eyes flicker to you. A smile pulls at his lips, and the man begins to stand up from the floor to greet you. Yuuji beats him to it though, letting a high-pitched squeal in excitement before running over to you.

You grin at the noise, watching the boy waddle over to you with bright eyes. You crouch down to his level and greet him, ruffling his hair. Then you pinch at his cheeks, ignoring the whine of complaint from Yuuji. “You are way too cute to fight! Huh, no fighting for you. You just gotta stay this small forever!” You coo, peppering kisses to the boy’s cheeks and forehead. 

The boy lets out a fit of giggles and a “Noooo! Wanna be big like Kuna!”

You shake your head, a fake pout on your face. “But Sukuna isn’t cute at all,” You half-heartedly complain, sparing a glance at your lover.

He walks up to the two of you and picks up Yuuji by the back of his hood, causing the kid to squirm in the air. Sukuna pays no mind to it, instead looking toward you, who is standing back up. “Don’t lie,” He scolds, and you raise your eyebrows, “I am adorable.”

You chuckle at him, rolling your eyes, and he in return presses a quick kiss to your lips. His brother begins to whine in complaint, causing the older to roll his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, quit whining. I’ll put you down in a second, little pest, but you need actually to put in some effort to fight me.”

“Okay!” Yuuji exclaims, and Sukuna sighs. Yuuji was so agreeable. When Sukuna was that age, he was supposedly a brat who argued with everyone, or at least that is what he had heard. Yuuji was strangely different than him. He didn’t know if he minded it or not.

Sukuna puts the boy down and sits again on the floor. He glances at you, who is taking a seat on the couch. Your eyes seem to read, play nice. It makes Sukuna want to roll his eyes, but the kid distracts him again, his tiny hands placed on the knees of Sukuna’s sweatpants while he grins up at his brother. The little beast had no concept of personal space, and the older of the two swears he can feel his brother practically breathing on him.

Sukuna pushes the boy off, sending him falling on his backside. “Sukuna,” You warn, but he ignores you. Yuuji only frowns and gets back up again, climbing back over to the other.

“Pretend im a kidnapper,” Sukuna demands, straightening his back and moving closer, taunting the small boy. “I am a very bad man who is going to take you home with me and lock you in my–”

“Sukuna!” You interrupt before Yuuji could hear his brother’s unneeded explanation. Yuuji seemed to stare owlishly at his brother, a little nervous but mostly confused about what he was talking about.

The man grins at you and shrugs his shoulders. But he abides to your wish with a scoff. “...Do bad things to you,” He weakly finishes. “Now, defend yourself!” 

Yuuji’s hands go up into his mouth, tiny fingers playing with his lips, and he shakes his head with a giggle. “But big brother will protect me!”

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, and you let out a small laugh. “I’m dead.” Yuuji’s face visibly falls. “The kidnapper killed me because you were too weak to defend yourself and save me. Now look, Y/N is all alone and helpless because of you.”

Your mouth opens in shock at the bluntness of it all. Yuujis eyes are wide, and he goes silent for a second. Then, his mouthline begins to wobble, and his eyes begin to water. “Kuna gone?”

Sukuna begins to backtrack, not wanting to deal with his brother’s tears. He stumbles toward the child, eyes wide. “It’s a hypothet–”

Yuuji’s scream sends you scrambling to your feet and over to the pair immediately. You grab Yuuji by the waste and swing him around, a huge, forced smile on your face. “And boom!” The force of it all startles the small boy, and he pauses his cries for a moment with owlish eyes while you continue to swing him around. “Y/N comes in and saves the day! And guess what, Sukuna was just sleeping!”

You place Yuuji on your side and help wipe his tears away. Only about two or three fell before you grabbed him, but still, his eyes seemed to be slightly puffy. The boy continues to sniffle, hands rubbing at his eyes. “Just sleeping?”

Before you could answer, Sukuna tears the boy from your arms. He holds him up in front of him by both of Yuuji’s underarms, causing the boy to dangle in the air. “I’m offended that you would think I would die so easily, brat.”

A smile begins to crawl up Yuuji’s face, but he shakes his head, and his voice holds a whine to it.  “Don’t. Don’t like it.”

Sukuna sighs before placing the boy on his hip. Yuuji seems to find comfort there, burying his head into his brother’s shirt. It was rare to be held by Sukuna, and Yuuji obviously wanted to soak up all the time he has up there. “Yeah, I don’t think I would like being dead either. Luckily, your brother is the strongest, so you won’t have to worry bout that, yeah?”

Yuuji nods into his brother’s side, grinning and possibly wiping snot onto Sukuna. You take this time also to add your say in the matter. “And I’m not helpless.” You glance at the man who was just remembering what he said in the moment.

“C’mon, maybe just a little?” He teases, and you step closer to the pair, fighting back a smile. But before you could retort another teasing bite, the boy interjects his opinion.

“Nuh-uh! Y/N saved us. You sleeping, Kuna!”

You fake gasp in realization of his words, and Yuuji’s eyes light up. “Oh my, you are so right, Yuuji! Don’t you think he is the helpless one?” You coax, and Yuuji seems to lean toward you at your excited tone.

He nods his head rapidly, not really knowing what he is agreeing to but just trying to mimic your actions. “Kuna helpless!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at the two of you and pinches the boy’s cheek, looking down at his brother. “Says the one who had a whole breakdown over the word–”

“Sukuna.”

Sukuna takes a deep breath and glances at you and Yuuji’s big dark eyes. He shakes his head in defeat, “Yeah, guess I am, ain’t I?”

You crack a smile, and Yuuji squeals in delight, digging his tiny hands into his brother’s shirt. Sukuna ruffles the boy’s hair.

#mello.writes #big brother au #sukuna x reader #kid yuuji #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #yuuji fluff #yuuji tadori fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #gn! reader

[a-ysia]

.

#omg i feel like a teen again writing to myself in my tags hehehe #anyways #i went on a date yesterday #it was fun we went to a museum #im glad he doesnt live in the same town as me bc theres like no pressure to like meet up all the time #i feel weird ab it tho bc i wasn’t like immediately super attracted to him when we met #he’s not ugly he’s just white dhhfjdhdj #he’s really cool tho #i do like him i just dont know how i feel ab the whole interracial dating thing FOR ME #sometimes i feel like my only options are date outside of my race or die alone #maybe thts dramatic but thts how i feel #also the black people who r my type only want yt people so there’s that #i just overthink everything too much to be like the divest girlies #i try to not think ab it but like i know if i married a yt person i wouldn’t have kids #i actually hate dating so much #i dont even fucking know if tht was date i kinda think it was bc he paid for everything and picked me up but also we never said it was #everything is confusing #im too neurodivergent to date #when im alone i complain ab being single #but when im dating i complain bc its all so confusing #i would like for the love of my life to simply enter my life #no dramatics or confusion they just appear and we live happily ever after THE END

[chrisevansonly]

𝐉𝐞 𝐓’𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: girls night is always fun for you, and now charles knows you only ever have and will have eyes for him

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: slight swearing, very fluffy

𝐚/𝐧: this was a request from a while ago so I just decided to write it now, this fic has no french i have 0 brain power for it, and im so so sorry for takin such a long time to update, things have just been so busy and not amazing lately. anyway, enjoy 🫶🏻

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

Charles couldn’t hold back the smile on his face as he held your hip gently, your eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, clearly too many strawberry cocktails had been consumed tonight.

“Oh what’s that look for baby?”

“Don’t call me that. I have a boyfriend” you retaliated, words slurring as he nodded

“Baby, I am your boyfriend cmon, I have to get you home”

Shaking your head you reared back from him, your brain in its drunken state clearly not happy hearing that

“Absolutely not, I’m not going home with anyone, I’m going home with Charles”

Your friends were laughing at this point too, teasing you and poking fun at you, which you didn’t fully understand but Charles was ever the patient boyfriend, part of him slightly proud with your denial to leave the bar with anyone but him.

He had no insecurities in your relationship and he had the utmost trust in you, he just was happy to see you could handle yourself if you needed.

“How about I take you to find Charles then hmm?”

“Find Charles?”

He nodded, taking your hand in his as you reluctantly began to follow him, his arm moving to wrap around your waist as he directed the two of you out of the busy club, and over to his ferrari which was parked across the street.

“I know this car…” you said, letting out a yawn

“You do baby, come on…let’s go”

His voice was soft as he helped you into the car, doing up your seatbelt, holding back yet another laugh at the slight skeptical look in your eyes.

“Ready amour?”

At the sound of this a lazy smile pulls at your lips, thinking of Charles and the special little pet name he calls you

“Hmm Charlie calls me that…”

“He does, he knows it’s your favourite”

“How do you know?”

Smiling he leans down to kiss your forehead, happy to see your eyes slowly starting to close, hoping you’ll get some sleep on the way home.

“I just know amour…”

Just like he had suspected, you’d fallen asleep on the way home, your head resting against the window as he checked on you from time to time. Charles knew you’d either be a little more sober when you got home and recognized him, or he’d sleep in the guest room as he had before, he never wanted to make you uncomfortable if your brain wasn’t sober and you didn’t recognize him, which for the record rarely happened.

When he pulled up the driveway he opted to carry you upstairs, holding you to his chest as you slept soundly, only stirring when your back hit the mattress. Charles watching as your eyes opened and you blinked sleepily.

“Hi…”

“Hi baby…how are you feeling?”

Nodding you rubbed your eyes

“Hmm sleepy…thank you for picking me up”

“You’re welcome, you gave me quite the hard time…”

Groaning you looped your hands around his neck as he leaned over you, a teasing smile on his face

“I’m sorry baby…I swear I don’t mean it..”

“I know amour, if it makes you feel better I find it quite cute when it happens”

You rolled your eyes laughing softly, knowing he just enjoyed seeing you try and fight him off thinking he was just a random guy, it boosted his ego, but in the best way possible.

“How about I get you some comfy clothes and take your makeup off?”

He waited for you to nod before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips

“I love you, even if you forget who I am sometimes”

Hitting his chest gently you smiled

“I love you too…and i’m never drinking again”

Charles laughed shaking his head, knowing you’d very much do this all over again at another girls night in the future, but he didn’t mind at all. Especially when he got to cuddle up next to you every night, knowing he was the one that got to hold your heart in his care.

Even if you did forget who he was from time to time…

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #rueschats💗 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 drabble #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

[moonstruckme]

hey mae! it’s been awhile since i’ve sent an ask but im always reading your work girl! i love how you write tbh. if you’re up to it do you think you could write something with poly marauders, where the reader has trouble eating and making themself eat due to poor appetite. my appetite really does come and go and ever since covid (maybe before) it’s like eating makes me feel revolted. sometimes i just don’t feel like eating bc of other things like depression, adhd, anxiety. i was just wondering if you could write something with the boys helping out the reader with finding out what sounds good, cooking, and eating if possible. sometimes having someone around to talk to and hang out with makes it so much easier to deal -🌶️

Hey Pepper, thank you sm! And thanks for being patient with me <3

cw: lack of appetite, mention of skipping meals

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words

The sun’s going down, the last dregs of its light spilling brilliant and golden over the book in your lap, and you can feel your boyfriends starting to get restless. Well, two of them. 

“If we’re missing half the ingredients,” Sirius says, trailing James into the kitchen, “it’s not going to be any good.” 

James only tsks. “Ye of little faith. That’s what improvisation is for.” He starts pulling things down from the cabinet. 

“You’re not even going to glance at the recipe?” 

“I don’t need to. I know the general vibe.” 

“Help!” Sirius calls towards the living room. “He’s gone off the rails. Remus, come fix it.” 

Remus turns around to look over the back of the sofa, his shoulder brushing yours as he does. He’s sitting right up against you despite the couch being empty, not that you mind. Remus is sort of like a cat that wants to be near you but not always to be pet. His touches are often like this, passive gestures like a hand on your head or his thigh pressed against yours. It works for you just fine; you can feel the affection bleeding into you from any point of contact. 

“Don’t you think we should just eat out?” Sirius asks, tilting his head and doing that thing with his eyes that you all pretend doesn’t work on you. 

Impressively, Remus keeps his face impassive. “I’m having leftover brussels sprouts,” he replies, “so it’s not really my concern. Anyway, James has a good history with not following recipes.” 

“Exactly,” James says, grinning at Sirius, who scowls. But then he fixes his gaze on Remus. “So why are you having that, Rem? Have what I’m making.” 

“Because they’re going to go bad, and I’m not hungry enough for a big meal.” The last part is said somewhat quieter, directed towards the living room as he turns back around and picks up his own book. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James frown, but he glances at Sirius and they seem to collectively decide not to push it. Remus’ appetite isn’t much better than yours. He has his better days, but it’s not uncommon for him not to feel up to what your other boyfriends would consider a whole meal or to eat only chocolate until Sirius hounds him into something more substantial. 

James looks to you hopefully. “You’ll have some, won’t you sweetheart?” 

You wince, hating to let him down, and from the look on James’ face he clocks the guilt in your expression before even you get a chance to say, “I don’t think I’m really up to it tonight, either.” 

James deflates, but he’s clearly trying to put on a brave face. “That’s alright. I think I’ll just save it for another night, then.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, setting your book facedown on the armrest and turning around to face him more fully. “You could still make it and just put leftovers in the freezer. Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow.” You wince again as soon as you say it. No promises, though.

The smile James gives you is comforting if not totally satisfied. “It’s okay. I’ll just make it another time, it’s not a problem.” 

You return his smile, close-lipped. Sirius is looking at you with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like he’s sizing you up. 

“What are you going to eat?” he asks. 

“Hm?” 

“What are you going to have instead?” You hesitate, and he tilts his head knowingly, a piece of hair slipping from behind his ear to drape over his shoulder. “You need to have something, especially since you didn’t have lunch.” 

From the kitchen, James looks at you. “You didn’t?” 

“I just…don’t feel like it.” It’s a feeble argument even to your own ears, and the look Sirius gives you says that he thinks so, too. 

“You can’t miss two meals,” he says obstinately. “Even Remus is having some brussels sprouts.”

You look to Remus to be offended at the even Remus comment, but he only shrugs. You’re on your own. 

“What sounds good?” he asks you. 

You try not to pout. “Nothing. Everything sounds gross.” 

“C’mon, baby.” Sirius leans against the countertop. “It doesn’t have to be strictly dinner food, yeah? Just anything that sounds like you’d be willing to eat it.” 

You think for a minute. Remus touches the back of his hand to your leg, knuckles soothing over the skin beside your knee. 

“I guess…ice cream sounds okay,” you say hesitantly. “But I know that’s not exactly nutritious…” 

“Would a milkshake be close enough?” James pipes up. 

You shrug. “I guess.” 

He grins. “I can do that for you, love. Just gimme a sec.” 

James is a loud cook. You go back to your book while cabinet doors slam and the blender whirs and you hear a muffled “oh, shit” as something is undoubtedly dropped on the floor, but a minute later he’s bringing you a glass of something thick and chocolate-y looking. You smile at the added garnish of mint and a straw, reaching for it. 

“Thanks, Jamie.” 

He winks. “Anytime.” 

Remus is the only one courteous enough not to obviously watch while you take a sip, and you feel your eyebrows raise as you look up at James. 

“This is really good,” you say. He practically glows at the praise. “I didn’t even know we had chocolate ice cream.” 

Sirius barks a laugh, and James’ smile widens. 

“What?” you ask. 

“We don’t,” he admits. “Will it ruin your appetite if I tell you it’s not actually ice cream?” 

You shake your head, sucking at the straw. “I’m already drinking it, so.” 

James beams. He really is looking very proud of himself. “It’s a protein shake. A pretty balanced meal, actually.” 

“Nice!” You grin at him, taking another hearty slurp mostly because you know it’ll please him. “It’s perfect, thank you.” 

“Gotta keep our sweetheart fed,” he says, bending down for a kiss. Sirius and Remus’ hums of approval nearly harmonize, and you and James share an elated look while they both do their best to pretend like it didn’t happen. 

“Can I try?” Remus asks, and you tilt the cup towards him in invitation. 

He wraps his lips around your straw, sipping hesitantly. He looks mildly impressed. 

“Could you make me one of those too?” 

From the look on James’ face, he’d be delighted to. “Course, love.” He plants a smacker on Remus’ cheek and nearly knocks Sirius over as he beelines for the kitchen. 

“This is just excellent,” Sirius gripes, but you see the satisfaction in his expression. “Now that you two have blown up his ego, I’ll have to eat something he makes too.” 

“Correct,” James says brightly. “And you should be so lucky.” 

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x gn!reader #gn!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #marauders era #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[world-of-aus]

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI (Porn with a substantial amount of plot fingering, P in V, pet names, bucky barnes.)

Author's Note: Installment 4 here we go! So sorry for the delay but writing should be coming more close as I enjoy my spring break! Hope you all enjoy and happy readings Buns!

Tony Stark was always looking for the next best thing to boosts his websites rating. 

“Any of the scenes catching your eye?” 

Bucky looked up from the script titles, eyes meeting his boss, a shake to his head. 

‘Step-sister helps me relax’ 

‘Horny sitter cums clean’ 

‘Caught stepbrother smelling my underwear’ 

Bucky grimaces at that one, “Jesus stark, who the hell wrote these titles?” he says as he slides the page back at his boss. 

Tony laughs as he picks up the paper he laid out for Bucky minutes prior to scan them again himself. His grimace mirrored his stars, he's tossing the page back down on the desk, “they were sent to me by the scripting company,” he answers with a heavy breath, “apparently this is what the people want, this is the sex that’s selling.” 

Bucky’s looking down at the page again, reading through the titles, “stark hubs dabbled in these categories before, but shouldn’t we be bringing something new, something we haven’t filmed before instead of just slapping on a raunchy title to one of our viewers favorites?” 

Tony tilts his head, “that would be ideal, yes – but this is what is selling right now, this is what the viewers want.”  

The brunette shakes his head rubbing at his stubble, “Do you have the list of costars for me this week?” 

Tony goes to answer his question but a knock stops him, both their eyes going to the door. Pepper pops her head in with a warm smile a paper in her hand, “got the list of girls that are available for this week.” She says letting herself in, you following in right after her a warm smile and greeting on your lips, Bucky returns the sentiment. 

“Wonderful,” Tony grins grabbing the page from his wife, looking it over before sliding it to him, “got that list for you right here Barnes.” Bucky gives his boss an unamused look, grabbing the page to scan the names, his eyes finding your name right away looking over your open days. 

“Y/n sit,” Tony offers the seat next to Bucky, “maybe you and Pepper can help us here.” Bucky continues to scan the list of names and days available while Tony explains what they had gone over before you and Pepper had come in. 

Bucky’s placing the list down just as you’re picking up the list of titles, Tony laughs at the grimace that kisses your features, “this came from the scripting company? You question passing the page to Pepper, “are they running out of titles?”  

Peppers reaction is similar to yours, “this is what’s  selling?” Tony nods leaning back in his chair, “unfortunately it is, it’s all the hype right now.” 

“Getting caught smelling your stepsisters underwear though? I mean Im not kink shaming but that cant be that hot.” 

Bucky chuckles next to you, “My thoughts exactly, the only way that title is selling is if the sex that comes after.” 

You nod turning to Pepper, “I guess I’ll do solos and Cams this week, work on my views.” Your boss nods jotting it down already, Bucky turns to your brows furrowed, but Tony asks the question burning his tongue, “not feeling up to working with the guys this week kid, the soldier not do his job last week?” 

You laugh, “the soldier did his job and then some -” 

“So what’s the problem then?” stark jumps in. 

“Aside from the bad titles,” you say pointing to the paper, “m’not really comfortable with the list of costars left to choose from, I’d rather get myself off.” 

“I think I get you off just fine y/n.” it’s out of Buckys mouth before he can stop it. You turn to catch his gaze, “I could take any of those titles and have you coming within the first thirty minutes.” 

Your tongue runs along your cheek, “I know you can, but I’m not trying to step on any toes.” 

The brunettes brows furrow, head tilted in question, “step on toes?” Tony questions drawing your attention away from Bucky. You nod, you hadn’t wanted to bring this up, but from the look on the broad-shouldered brunette sitting next to you, he deserved to know. “Carter approached me in the lockers this morning, said she had Bucky the whole week.” You leave out the part where she said Bucky only filmed with you for the views and now that your ratings were high enough his job of filming with you was done. “She had overheard me and Wanda talking about our plans for this week, I mentioned wanting to work with Bucky, that’s when she approached me to tell me she had you for the week.” 

He licks over his lip, jaw ticking, “So its not that I don’t want to work with you, and have you fuck me silly to one of those raunchy titles,” you say drawing a low whistle from Tony,  but you wanted to make your intentions of working with him still known. “But I assumed you were booked for the week with the way Carter approached me this morning – I’m not trying to make enemies of the girls.” 

“Listen kid,” Tony speaks up drawing your attention, “schedules have to go through me for final approval, Carter can say she has Bucky booked for the week but if it’s not approved by me it ain’t happening, so if you wanna work with him add it to your schedule and I’ll give the final approval, and given the ratings the two of you have been getting it’ll be the first approved.” 

“Give me Friday,” you say gaze finding Bucky’s, “I’d like to start my weekend off with a bang, won’t be a problem – right soldier.” 

Bucky runs his devious tongue over his lower lip, “not a problem at all, I’ll give you something to hold you over till next week.” 

Tony claps his hand, grin on his features, “you sure you just want Friday kid?” Bucky watches you nod your head, “yeah, I really wanna do some solos with some new pieces I purchased last week.” The man raises a brow, “pieces we might get a peek of Friday?” 

“I have the perfect piece.” 

Tony grins, “well its settled you’ll do solos Monday through Thursday film with the soldier Friday.” 

“Thank you Tony.” 

“No problem kid,” he replies watching you and his wife stand the two of you making your exit. He watches you wave at Bucky promising to see him Friday it’s only after the doors closed behind the two of them that Tony turns to his star. “Something tells me you’ll see her before Friday.” 

Bucky shakes his head with a chuckle, “unless she accepts an invitation to join us at the bar when we go during the week I won’t see her till Friday.” 

“Speaking of Friday,” Tony turns the discussion, “how would you feel filming something new.” 

Bucky looks at his boss in question, “you mean something not on the list?” Tony nods, “mobile recorded videos have been a hit lately on other sites, I’m thinking we could dip our toes, try a new category here at stark hub.” 

“What did you have in mind?” the brunette questions. 

“So where do you want me?” 

The kitchen. 

The living room. 

Shower. 

Bucky wanted to take you apart on every inch of his apartment, and the longer he stood here watching you in that set the longer he had time to think maybe going along with starks idea hadn’t been his best. Yes, it had been Starks bright idea to have Bucky film an ‘amateur’ scene with y/n where he had her in his bed to see what the viewers might think about it, but it had been Bucky who offered his actual bed, that probably wasn’t the smartest thought he’s had, amongst all the filthiest. 

“B,’ you laugh softly, “if you want, we can get a set instead, maybe just haul your sheets with us so its mor natural - this is your space I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, I’m sure Tony will understand and can set us up.” Your words seem to bring him out of his reverie, his gaze finding yours, “sweetheart,” he chuckles licking over his lower lip, “I am anything but uncomfortable right now, if anything I’m holding myself back from taking you on every surface of my space I want you everywhere.” 

A grin pulls at your lips, “well no one's here to tell us what to do, so why don’t you?” 

The growl ripping from his chest is your only warning as he closes the distance between the two of you, hands going around you as he grips at your under thighs hoisting you in his arms. 

You let out a surprised laugh, your arms hooking around his neck though it’s short-lived as he drops you on his bed, his body covering yours, lips a breath away. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me soldier?” 

Bucky consumes your laugh with a press of his lips to yours, and a roll.of his hips that has you moaning into his mouth. 

“You feel how happy you’ve made me?” 

You arch up into the press of his hips as you chase his lips, “put it in – please.” 

He groans into your parted lips; stark was really testing his patience with this scene he offered him. “I plan on it, but right now I need you to be a good girl and get yourself real comfortable in my sheets, ass out for me to play with, you think you can do that for me?” 

You’re nodding your head in answer but it’s the soldiers’ time to play. He grips your jaw, “words Eden, you can’t be that cock drunk yet.” 

“Yes sir.” 

He grins planting a kiss on your waiting lips, “good girl, get up there.” You do as he says sliding up the bed, you don’t get far before he stops you with a hand on your hip. “Oh, and Eden keep being a good girl for me and you’ll really be staying the night tonight.” 

His words have your heart racing in your chest, teeth biting back the grin that threatens to break your lips. You're thankful for the pillow and sheets that hide the warmth filling your cheeks, though it does little to quell the butterflies erupting in your stomach. Everything smells like him; you want to drown in it. 

You situate yourself in his sheets curled onto your side, leg hiked high in the sheets leaving your bottom pushed out for him. You burrow yourself into his pillow eyes shutting as if you were really asleep, as if he had really let Eden Ivy stay the night.  

The room is quiet, darker now as he shuts off the light, you can feel him shuffle around his room, but don’t know where he is till you feel the dip of his bed behind you. Behind your closed lids you can see the faint light of the flash from his phone's camera. A true ‘amateur’ film touch. 

His touch comes shortly after and you can’t help the quiet ‘sleepy’ moan that builds in your chest, he shushes you softly, as his hand dancing over the skin of your exposed thigh. His hands feel you up groping you through the flimsy red fabric of your set. It doesn’t conceal the skin beneath it, the set so sheer he can see your the slick gathering between your thighs. 

He cups your pussy drawing another murmured moan from your lips, you shift in your ‘sleep’ and he stills. When you settle again he pulls the ‘wet’ fabric to the side giving the camera a picturesque view of your “petty wet pussy”. A shiver rolls itself down your spine when he slips a digit into your wet awaiting heat, it takes all of you not to ‘wake-up’, you moan instead. He fucks you with the lone digit, pulling it out just enough to stick another alongside the first.  

“So wet Eden, you dirty girl, wonder what you’re dreaming of.” 

You push back into his hand letting your moans build as he fucks his fingers into you, he doesn't let up in the build of your pleasure, sliding a third finger in to stretch you out for his cock. “Gotta get you stretched out for me Eden, gonna fuck this pretty little pussy – make it better than your dreams.” 

The ‘please’ is out of your lips before you can stop yourself, he chuckles body finally finding yours as he presses up against you, his phone still angled at your pussy where he fucks his fingers into you with vigor. “My pretty girl waking up for more, didn’t feed you enough earlier?” he questions. 

His words have you whimpering, he presses a wet kiss to your neck, licking your skin, “don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you, don’t even have to open your eyes, gonna take real good care of you.” You find you want to open your eyes; you want to see him. You want to look into those cerulean blue eyes gone dark, those all to pink pouty lips parted in pleasure, you wanted to kiss him.  

And you do, your head turning, seeking out his lips, he goes to you easily, lips finding yours tasting you with his tongue.  

“Fuck I gotta get my cock in there, put you right back to sleep sweet girl.” 

His fingers slip from your pussy hand hooking around your thigh as he gets you into position. He slips his grey joggers down just enough to get his hardened cock out. He gets annoyed with his phone trying to find the perfect angle to slide against you, he finds it groan building in his chest as he presses forward, the head of his cock pressing past your drenched folds, his hips roll forward the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. 

The noises you make are music to his ears, he wants more. 

Grabbing hold of his leaking cock he drags it through your slick folds pressing into your warm heat, a moan falling from your lips as he bottoms out, your body pushes back, ass flush against his hips. 

His head meets your shoulder, ragged breaths fanning across your skin, “fuck this pussy is addicting,” he groans feeling you flutter and clench around the length of him. 

He pulls his hips back, cock sliding out from within you till only the tip is left, he slides back in again making sure to get every inch of it. The buildup is slow, as he fucks up into you, he wants to capture every part of the way your pussy takes him, and he lets you know just how well she is. “She takes me so well, always so fucking hungry for it.” 

If you had trouble keeping quiet then, it's almost impossible to quiet your moans now as he fucks into you with vigor, a steady speed which has the sweetest groans of pleasure falling from your lips and his. “Fuck you’re close aren’t you, can feel her clenching for me baby, you wanna cum for me?” He quickens his thrusts, pressing himself deep, your walls fluttering around him as pleasure builds.    

“Soldat,” you whine low in your throat as if you’re being roused from the depths of your sleep. “There she is,” he chuckles picking up speed needing to bring you to that release. It doesn’t take you long to fall apart around him, his cock taking you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure. Moan's part your lips, fingers curling around the sheets as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your stage name falls from his lips in a silent prayer, “come for me,” you breathe, “fill me up again.” 

Your words have him falling over the edge with you, his jaw clenching as his orgasm washes over him, his stomach muscles tense, as he spills into you, warm spurts filling your core. “Fuck take it, take my cum Eden.” 

You’d take it all and then some if he let you. 

You groan when he slips his cock from you, the flash on his phone bright as he shines it between your legs capturing the moment his cum slides from your pussy. You moan when he pushes it right back in with his fingers. He stops the video, the light going with it as he tosses his phone somewhere on his bed the hand that wasn’t buried between your thighs cradling your head, bringing you closer to him his lips finding yours in the dark. 

“Does this mean Eden Ivy gets to stay the night?” 

“No, but you do.” 

#pornstar!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut

[oreoluvskento]

CEO! nanami kento

summary: you came to give your husband his lunch at work but it lead to other things.

a/n: felt like writing and his this is the scenario that came to mind, not edited bc i'm lazy

cw: none really its just smut, some fluff, gojo satoru makes an appearance at the end so uh if you have a personal vendetta against him, i wouldn't read this

wc: 662

~~~

"fuck angel, you're so wet," nanami moans as he fucks you at his desk.

you were supposed to be bringing him lunch. supposed to. as you placed the bag in front of him, a few papers fell behind you.

you bent over to pick them up, not really thinking about your ass being in his face. one thing led to another and now here you are, bent over, titties spilling out your shirt, shorts at your knees, and your cheek pressed into the cold table.

"'nami, we're loud," you whimper, the hard thrusts he's giving you forcing the table to loudly scoot on the floor.

"what are they going to do? fire me? i sign their paychecks. plus, everyone who works on this floor is usually in the cafeteria at this time, anyway. now come here," he grabs you by the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss and you cant help the moan that escapes your lips.

he releases you and continues to drill into you from behind, his hips slapping against your soft ass.

"gripping. me. so. fucking. tight." he groans behind clenched teeth, accentuating each word with a hard thrust.

you feel your orgasm quickly approaching you reach your hand back to hold on to his wrist.

"fuck- 'nami, im close," you choke out, the pleasure beginning to override your critical thinking skills.

"wait for me, angel. you can do it," he moans as he begins thrusting faster. your eyes roll to the back of your head as you hear your pussy getting wetter.

eventually, nanami begins to pull your hips back to meet his, strokes getting sloppier, and you know he's close too.

"so-so good for me- fuuuckk- so so good. cum with me angel, i need to feel- shit- need to feel you," as the words leave his lips, you let yourself go.

your orgasm hits you hard, your arms going out to search for something to ground yourself. you eventually settle on the edge of the table across you.

nanami cums as soon as you do, hot ropes of cum filling your insides quickly, adding to the wonderful sensation you were feeling. you tried to stay quiet, but you couldn't stop the loud moans that pushed their way out of your throat.

finally, the two of you still and catch your breath, nanami pulling out of you and sitting down, pulling you down with him. you rest your head on his shoulder as your chest falls up and down, and once he can breathe again, he pulls your mouth to his.

you pull away first, leaving a kiss on his cheek as you stand back up. you pull up your pants and he watches you as he tucks his dick away.

"i'll see you at home, okay? have a good day, babe." you tell him and give him a final kiss on his lips after you pick up your purse. nanami grips your ass as he kisses you and smacks it when you turn around to walk away.

you smile to yourself as you leave and when you open the door, you let out a sigh of relief. everyone was truly in the cafeteria.

"well, hello again." a voice to the left of you calls out and you whip your head over, eyes wide. nanami's best friend and business partner, gojo satoru sat in one of the chairs against the wall of nanami's office, legs crossed, a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. he gives you a knowing smile as he stands up.

"hi, gojo," you whisper, your voice suddenly gone.

"all that screaming must have taken your voice, huh? get better soon," he teases as he shoots you wink and enters nanami's office. you hear nanami groan as gojo enters and you walk to the elevators quickly, feeling embarrassed.

the next time nanami forgets his food at home, he'll just have to order something.

#jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x black reader #nanami x black!reader #i am so in love #with nanami #ceo nanami #need him so bad

[livingemkayde]

waterfront

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual). 

a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always. 

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i part ii

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.  “That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?” 

“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room. 

It’s honestly unbelievable. 

Packing. 

You’re packing. 

For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.

Joel’s client. 

Joel Miller.

Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you. 

Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you. 

He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town. 

Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend. 

You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours. 

You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first. 

You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop. 

Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe. 

You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come. 

You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother. 

That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you. 

You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought. 

A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either. 

“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story. 

She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look. 

“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue. 

“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.

“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it. 

You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—

“Tell me ‘bout it.” 

You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. 

You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—

“Are we almost there yet?” 

Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks. 

“You alright?” 

It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising. 

“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.

“Do you wanna talk?” 

Another surprise. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do. 

He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things. 

He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame. 

“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.

“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.

“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s’okay?”

“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.” 

You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.

“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated. 

“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck. 

“He make you laugh?” 

You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms. 

“He doesn’t make me cry.” 

He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated. 

“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you. 

You roll your eyes. 

“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.

“I have no fucking idea what you want.” 

“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up. 

“Insane,” he grunts.

“Sorry?” 

“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.” 

You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel. 

“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret. 

You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle. 

“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself. 

But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button. 

He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin. 

You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. 

He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs. 

You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest. 

He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head. 

“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine. 

You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours. 

“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words. 

“Everythin’.” 

Your eyes urge him to continue. 

“Thought I could stay away f’m you.” 

He gets closer. 

“Thought it was the right thing.” 

You shake your head. 

“But I don’t think I can stay away.” 

“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked. 

“'M here.” 

You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone. 

“Look at me.” In a blink, you do. 

He’s closer, if possible. 

And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.

This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth. 

He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again. 

It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good. 

His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him. 

His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.

You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.

“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” 

You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge. 

You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe. 

You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation. 

This is nice.  

Joel is being way too…nice. 

You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing. 

“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door. 

“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend. 

Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t. 

You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water. 

You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day. 

When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes. 

“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair. 

“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body. 

“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him. 

“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”

You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door. 

Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach. 

When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom. 

You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream. 

You huff. This is not what you need right now. 

“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel. 

You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door. 

“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads. 

You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.

“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take. 

“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own. 

“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom. 

“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes. 

Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower. 

“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone. 

You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already. 

“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated. 

“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care. 

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”  

“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.” 

“‘S’okay.” 

He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem. 

The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t. 

Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth. 

Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.

“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.

He only hums at that sentiment. 

“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him. 

“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold. 

“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton. 

“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you. 

You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”

You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment. 

“Nicer.” 

You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.

“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath. 

He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone. 

“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy. 

“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance. 

He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat. 

Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home. 

“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. 

He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible. 

“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.” 

You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,” 

He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars. 

“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.” 

“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything. 

He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck. 

“Feel so good baby,” he groans. 

“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse. 

You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge. 

He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb. 

“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him. 

“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth. 

“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.” 

He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down. 

“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder. 

“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm. 

“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck. 

“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes. 

He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever. 

But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry. 

When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered. 

“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes. 

You kiss him instead of responding.

You know Joel's right—this is dangerous. 

But it feels way too good to stop. 

_

part iv

taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:

@nostalxgic @iluvurfather

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller self insert #the last of us #joel fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dom!joel #dom!joel miller

[sacharinee]

pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything. 

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for. 

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open. 

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?” 

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.” 

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine. 

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you. 

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively 

 you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.” 

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths. 

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?” 

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not. 

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal. 

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount. 

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.” 

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you. 

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.” 

#m's clubhouse! 🎧 #m writes ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ #gif creds: @watson-emma #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spider-man #peter parker smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker writing #homecoming #marvel