#Antonio x Laura

[wwprice1]

A trio ofof NYX variants by Artgerm, Roge Antonio, Todd Nauck, and Rachelle Rosenberg!

[smashpages]

NYX #1 (Marvel, July 2024) variant cover by Rogê Antônio

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader

TW: main theme of eating disorders, reader has a panic attack

Requested by: @sorry-i-spaced

You walked into the bullpen, settling down at your desk for the day. You'd gotten there fairly early, early enough to be the only one there, aside from Adam. Seeing as he'd been having issues at home, he seemed to spend more and more time at work. You nodded to him. "Hey Adam, good morning."

"Morning, (Y/N)," he responded, humming as he looked up from the computer. "You're in early."

You shrugged. "I could say the same thing about you." You shook your head, getting logged on to the computer and working on some reports you had in your desk tray.

A few moments later, Adam scoffed at something on his computer, making your eyes jump up to him. He looked to you. "You see these new dieting trends?"

You took in a short breath, but shook your head, trying to play it off as you looked back down. "No, I don't follow that stuff."

Anymore.

Sometimes you missed it, in a way. You didn't miss the suffering, the growl of your empty belly, or the feeling of eating only lettuce for lunch. But you missed feeling skinny. You missed being able to fit in a size 2 pant and an XS tshirt. You missed getting compliments, people asking if you'd lost weight, and bonding with people over it. It was so unhealthy, and yet, you'd made multiple 'friends' that way.

"It says here a juice clense and intermittent fasting can help you lose twenty pounds within a month. That's insane!" Adam laughed.

"Yeah," you mumbled, trying to seem as disinterested as possible. You remembered all of your therapy techniquies, trying to calm yourself down and tune Adam out. He dropped it for a while, just scoffing at his computer every now and then as he seemed to deep-dive on some articles. Obviously, he had too much time on his hands. You wished Voight was there to assign the man some work.

An hour or so later, the others started to pile in. Hailey arrived and so did Antonio, the two of them chatting about boxing or something of the like. You hadn't really been paying attention, until Adam spoke up again. "Hey, guys, look what we found earlier."

We? No, not we. You.

You huffed, trying not to let Adam get to you. It was just a touchy subject. It wasn't his fault, he didn't know, but it hurt you nevertheless. You just wanted the conversation to be over.

"Juice clense and fasting?" Antonio shook his head. "Nah, they got it all wrong. If you're going to diet, you have to go Keto."

"Antonio, that's so 2009," Adam mocked, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Laura was on it for a while," he shrugged. "I think she lost a few pounds, but she gave it up after a while. It's hard to just cut out certain things."

"How about we cut out this conversation?" You growled from your desk, not looking up. "Bad for your health."

"Yo, (Y/N), what's your problem?" Adam asked, all three of them looking to you. "Not like we're actually doing it. Just talking."

"Yeah, well, some people do it. It's not funny, either." You looked up with the hardest glare you could muster, hoping your eyes weren't glossed over with tears.

Hailey, who hadn't truly joined the conversation until now, looked to Adam. "She's right, you shouldn't even be looking at that stuff at work. They're all gossip articles." She shrugged and moved to her own desk to get busy. Anotnio went to his own desk too, leaving Adam alone with your glare.

Jay walked in just a moment after, looking around at the silence in the bullpen, then sitting at his own desk. Kim and Kevin soon followed suit, walking in and chatting about some new trend on TikTok. You ignored everyone, just keeping your head down and finishing your case reports. Then, you went to the bathroom. When you came back, you could hear Adam talking to Hailey about you, wondering what was the issue.

Since you'd been dating Jay, Hailey had become like a sister to you. Hailey was practically ignoring Adam's asks. "Come on, Hailey, what's her problem today? She's been grumpy since she came in. Jay? Did you not satify her last night or something?"

"That's enough, Adam," Hailey huffed, shaking her head. "I don't know what's going on, but it's obviously none of our business if she didn't tell us. Drop it."

"Adam, dude, shut up for once in your life," Jay chimed in, shaking his head. "Just let it be. If you pissed her off, she'll come talk to you later."

"Dude, what did I do? All I wanted was to make conversation," Adam huffed. "Why did she come in so early anyways, huh? Did you piss her off first and she's taking it out on me?"

Jay stood from his desk. "Alright, shut up right now, Ruzek, or I'll lay you out in the middle of the bullpen."

Adam stood from his desk, huffing. "Yeah, I'd like to see you try, Halstead."

"Alright, that's enough," Antonio said, standing himself. "I'll lay the both of you out on your asses if you don't both sit down and shut up." He shook his head. "Ruzek, why don't you go check on this?" Finally, someone had found Ruzek something to do. You thanked your lucky stars Antonio was there. He had always stood up for you, even if you weren't close friends. Antonio handed Adam a paper with about twenty names. "Take Kevin with you."

Kevin looked up. "Hey, what did I do to deserve that?"

"Nothing," Anotnio said with a shrug. "It's not a punishment for you. Just go, now."

The two men looked at one another, then left together down the stairs. You sighed in soft relief, still standing against the doorway back into the bullpen. You looked at the four people left, nodding as Hailey met your gaze. You sat back down at your desk as if nothing had happened. You were relieved not only to have some peace and quiet, but to have the instigator removed. Adam wasn't a bad guy, but he was definitely still immature, being practically the youngest on the team. He didn't know how to pick up on social cues the way Hailey or Antonio did. It was his biggest downfall.

Some time later, Voight came into the office, having been at a ComStat meeting all morning. He looked around, seeing the silence, then hummed as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, I'm two officers down and the rest of you are silent? What's going on?"

Antonio looked up. "I sent them out to drop anchor on some streets we suspect trafficking patterns run through. Do we have a case?"

"No," Voight said, humming and looking to you, Jay, Hailey, and Kim. "What about the rest of you?"

"Finishing some reports, Sarge," Jay said, motioning to the stack on his desk.

"I'm helping with that," Hailey confirmed.

"Filing," Kim said from the filing cabinets near Antonio.

"I just finished my reports a few mintures ago," you said with a shrug. "If there's anything I can help with, let me know."

Voight hummed, then nodded and walked through to his office, motioning Antonio with him. The two shut the office door and talked, but they couldn't be heard behind the wood and glass encasing Voight's desk. You hummed and moved over to Jay's desk. "Need another hand?"

Jay hummed. "No, I think we've got it." Kim moved past the two of you to hit the restroom, leaving you and Jay and Hailey in the bullpen alone. "You okay?" Jay asked softly. "Listen, I know with this morning and everything, and I don't know what Ruzek did but-"

"It's fine," you cut him off with a soft sigh. You hadn't wanted conversation, you'd wanted work.

"It doesn't seem fine," Jay protested, putting a gentle hand on yours. "And about this morning-"

"You wouldn't understand," you mumbled, pulling your hand away. You didn't want to talk about the morning or about Adam. You just wanted to distract yourself.

Jay thought for a moment, ready to protest before realization washed over his face. "Oh... Did Adam say something about your body?"

"No, no, he..." You sighed. "It's fine. It's all fine, Jay."

"He was talking about some new diet fads or something," Hailey chimed in softly, meeting Jay's eyes and giving him a look.

Jay nodded to Hailey, then looked back to you. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

You shook your head and went back to your desk, trying to work on your therapy techniques again, then left your desk to go to the locker room without a word.

-

"(Y/N)," Jay said softly, a soft hand placed on your cheek. He ran his thumb over your cheekbone, which was fairly prominent. You pulled away slightly.

"S-Stop, you'll ruin my makeup."

"You don't need the makeup or the diet. You are beautiful."

"You'll never understand, Jay. Society just doesn't treat men the same way." You sighed wiping the tears from your eyes as you pulled on the pants. You'd been trying to get into the size 0 pants for as long as you could remember, and it was frustrating you that you couldn't get them completely on or buttoned.

"This isn't healthy for you, (Y/N). You don't need to be a size 0 to earn my love."

You let out a scream of frustration when you couldn't pull the pants up all the way. "Fuck! I'm just not losing enough weight!"

"(Y/N), please, please listen to me," Jay begged, walking over and prying your hands off the jeans. "This isn't healthy. You're not healthy. Please, stop trying to be like this. I love you, and I always will no matter what. You could be a size 100 and I would still love you."

You clung to the jeans like they were your life force, but when Jay finally got your hands off them, you hit his chest, then clung to him, sinking into his arms and to the ground. He knelt with you, holding you tightly to his chest, stroking your hair and rocking you slowly.

"I hate myself..." you mumbled. "I hate my body... I'm not skinny enough..."

"That's not true," Jay whispered in reply. "Your body doesn't define who you are... Running ten miles a day and starving yourself isn't healthy. If you don't stop, you won't have a body to hate, and I won't have anyone to give my love to."

You sobbed into his shoulder, still clenching fistfulls of his shirt. Finally, he coaxed you out of the state you were in, took the pants off you, and helped you into some sweatpants that were a size 4, which were big on you at that point. He picked you up with concerning ease and took you to the living room, settling you down and kissing your face. A bit later, he brought in some food he'd made, some chicken and gravy and biscuts with vegetables mixed in. Then, he sat beside you and handed you a small plateful. As much as he wanted to give you a normal or even large portion, he knew it wouldn't be right. He knew you had to start small. "Here," he said softly. 
"You don't have to eat all of it, but can you please at least eat a few bites?"

You sighed, but nodded. Jay had been so gentle with you and never really frustrated. He hadn't seen how bad it was until you'd started dating a few weeks back. It hurt him to see you like this, you could see it in his eyes, but you didn't know any different. High school had ruined you, and you'd been spiraling out of control since then. You took a bite of the delicious food Jay had made. You had to force yourself to do it, but the smile that came to his face when you did was more than enough to get you to take another. You loved him, truly, and wanted to get better, for him.

-

You sighed as you sat in the locker room, trying to keep yourself from crying too loudly. It had gotten to you. You now wore a size 8, and were in a generally healthy state. Sometimes you'd forget to eat or skip meals because you were working, but Jay always made sure to catch you if that happened.

You were terrified now, because the fight that morning had really hurt you and then you'd taken it out on Adam. It wasn't his fault, but he had triggered a fight or flight within you. You swallowed hard and tried to breathe, feeling a panic attack coming on. You moved to the wall shakily and sat down, just in case you passed out. You tried to control your breathing, breaking out into sobs.

-

"(Y/N), it's been forever since we had a night out. Come on, let me take you out to a fancy restaurant or something."

"Jay, I hate fancy restaurants." You rolled your eyes with a small huff. "What's wrong with having a night in?"

"We just go to work and come home. We never go out together."

"We go to Molly's all the time. More than I'd like to. I'm practically an alcoholic because of you, and it makes me gain more weight." You huffed and turned from the counter to look at him. "I never drank before I met you. Now we're there like every other night. Sometimes more."

"Well, yeah, because we never go anywhere or do anything. I can't be cooped up all the time."

You shrugged. "Then go out and do things. I don't see the problem."

"The problem is I'm not doing them with you. I want to do things with you, (Y/N)."

“And you know I hate going out. People look at me funny.”

“No they don’t!” Jay raised his voice at you. “And even if they were, you know I’m here for you! I’d never let anyone get away with hurting you!”

“Jay!” You yelled, huffing again. “I’m too fat to ever look good going out! I don’t want to go to some fancy restaurant and wear a dress! My makeup never looks right and I look dumb!” You slammed down the plate with your toast on it, shaking your head. “Forget this! I can't eat breakfast in peace even if I wanted to!” You grabbed your jacket, badge and keys, leaving from Jay’s apartment, despite his protests and apologies. You ignored him, then left for the district, the only other place you felt safe outside of your own apartment.

-

You tried to breathe deeply, but it was so hard. Between your fight with Jay and the ordeal with Adam, you just wanted to shrink into a ball and disappear. You sobbed, trying to keep yourself quiet as you spiraled into your own mind and thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a hand gripping your arm. "Breathe, breathe, (Y/N)," came a familiar woman's voice. You looked up, seeing Hailey through your tears. "Breathe in, as deep as you can. Come on, I've got you."

You breathed in as deeply as possible, but it wasn't deep enough. You breathed out, but back in fairly quickly, trying to catch that deep breath you desparately needed.

"Good, good," Hailey cooed. "Good, (Y/N), breathe."

With Hailey's help, you calmed down within a few minutes. You were able to breathe again, although your head was spinning. You looked up at Hailey, who simply held you by the shoulders now. You sniffled and nodded to her. "Thanks..." you mumbled.

"(Y/N), I've never seen you like this. What's going on? What happened this morning?"

You swallowed hard, getting up with her help and steadying yourself. You sighed, shaking your head. "Jay and I... We're just different. I don't like to be around people, you know? Not in public or at fancy places. I just want to be with him or my friends, like you. People I know won't judge me..." You shrugged.

"Judge you for what?"

Tears came back to your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself. "For... For my body..." you mumbled.

"What do you mean, (Y/N)? None of us would judge you based on how you look."

"I-I was really bad for a while... Before I met Jay, and before he helped me get into intelligence... Before I met you..." You sighed shakily, looking to Hailey. "I just... I had a really bad disorder..."

Hailey seemed to understand a bit, nodding. "We would never think of you as anything less than what you are: smart, confident, beautiful. I know Jay feels that way, and so does everyone else in the unit."

"It's all fake," you mumbled.

"Fake it until you make it," Hailey replied with a hike of her shoulders. "Maybe you can compromise with Jay on this. He wants to go out, you want to stay in, maybe there's some kind of middle ground."

"Like what?"

She hummed, thinking for a moment before nodding. "I'll tell Jay what I'm thinking, and you give it a chance, okay?"

You looked to Hailey, skeptical of whatever it was, but nodded. "Alright..."

"And about Adam?"

You sighed. "I was... I was stressed from this morning with Jay and on top of that, he was talking about diet culture and... Those were the types of articles I read about in tabloids in high school... You know, the fads? I didn't... I couldn't listen to that. After this morning, I-I just wanted to leave and be safe, and then I felt attacked again, like temptation to go back to that place... I don't know... It just hit somewhere too close to my soul." You sighed. "I'll apologize when I see him next, I-I just couldn't take his constant talking this morning."

"Hey, we all have a hard time tolerating him on a regular basis, let alone with you going through something like this. You don't have to apologize; you were only defending yourself."

You shrugged again. "I was still mean. I'll apologize and just tell him it bothers me."

"Okay," Hailey said with a small nod. "Alright. Do you need another minute?"

"No, I'm good." You stood, wiping your face and then taking a deep breath.

.

Adam and Kevin came back in after lunchtime. You hadn't moved from your desk for lunch but, like most days, Jay had left with Hailey to get lunch and come back with a to-go container with a small meal in it. Jay walked in and set it on your desk, then leaned down and gave you a small kiss to your temple before returning to his desk without a word. You nodded a small thanks as you looked up at him, then your eyes returned to your paperwork. You typically did this, either ate in the office or not at all. You used to leave the office to eat in your car, but as you gained relationship with the team, you became more comfortable eating lunch around them.

After Jay came in and everything was settled, everyone went back to their respective "busy work," seeing as there just wasn't a case to handle that day. Even Sergeant Voight looked bored, eyes glazed over as he stared at the computer in his office.

You looked up to Adam, waiting for the right time. He looked up and caught your eyes, you silently nodding to him and getting up, moving toward the interrogation rooms. As you moved into the viewing room, Adam was on your heels. "Hey, look, (Y/N), what happened this morning-"

You shushed him, shaking your head with a soft sigh. "I wanted to apologize. I was very rude toward you. It's just that... Things... Things like that bother me. Stuff about eating and diet culture and that kind of stuff... I just don't like it, okay?"

Adam's eyes softened a little as he looked at you. "(Y/N), I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"I was taking my anger out on you this morning, and it wasn't right, and I am very sorry, Adam. Look, you're a good guy and I shouldn't have been so rude to you, no matter what I felt."

Adam nodded and put a soft hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry too, I didn't realize it was making you upset. I need to do better with that stuff. I shouldn't have been talking about it, and I won't again. I understand now that it's a touchy subject for you. I didn't mean to upset you. Again, I'm sorry."

You nodded and offered a small smile. "I'm glad it's all okay now."

"Me too." He pulled you into a short embrace, squeezing you softly. "And hey, for what it's worth, you look nice today."

You laughed, snorting a little at his remark. "Is that all, Ruzek?" You punched his shoulder. "Get out of here."

He chuckled and put his hands up, walking backwards and out the door, back toward the bullpen. You took the chance to use the bathroom before going back as well, sitting at your desk and finishing up your tasks while eating your lunch.

-

When the day came to a close, you stood and grabbed your jacket, looking to Jay as he approached your desk. "Hey," he said softly, low enough that the others wouldn't be able to hear. "Let's get out of here. We'll make a stop at your place, then I want to take you somewhere."

You sighed a little at the thought, glancing to Hailey who smiled and nodded at you, then looking back to Jay. His puppy-dog eyes pleaded you to say yes. You finally nodded. "Alright. You can follow me home. I'll just park and change, then I'll be back out to meet you."

"Perfect, I'll stop at my place on the way to grab a few things and meet you there." Jay smiled softly, glad you'd agreed to it.

.

When you got into Jay's truck outside your house, you hummed. "So, what is Hailey's crazy plan this time?"

Jay smiled and shook his head. "It's a surprise. I can't tell you yet."

You looked to him. "You're not taking me anywhere fancy, are you? Cause I dressed in sweats for a reason."

He laughed, looking over at you and grabbing your hand. "I would take you anywhere in sweats. You're beautiful no matter what."

You couldn't help but smile, bringing his hand up to your mouth and kissing his knuckles. Despite your disagreements, you loved Jay with your whole heart. No argument, despite how much it affected you, would ever change the love you held for him. He pulled your hand toward him as he drove, reciprocating the kiss to your knuckles. You smiled again, moving across the center console to lean against him. You just wanted to be close to him, and you hoped wherever he was taking you would allow you to do that.

You rode beside Jay in gentle silence for a while as he finally turned into a fast food place. You furrowed your eyebrows, sitting up in your seat and looking up at him. "A fast food place?"

"This isn't our final stop, just stay here a second." He got out of the truck, leaving you inside. Truthfully, you were fine with being in the truck as opposed to inside the store, but you missed Jay's warmth sitting beside you. In his place, you turned on the heater and let the vents circulate hot air into the car. You hummed at the warmth, closing your eyes and leaning your head back. Jay came back about ten minutes later, a bag in hand. He set it in the back set before getting in and kissing your cheek. "Alright, ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, still soaking in the heat. Jay rolled down his window, allowing you to keep the heat on while he stayed a bit cooler. You didn't mind, as it also circulated in some fresh air. It was nearly fall, so the nights were getting cooler, but not cold yet.

Some time later, you noticed Jay had taken you to the outskirts of the city. He parked his truck at a local park, away from the hustle and bustle. You furrowed your brow as he turned off the truck, the heat leaving you. You looked to him for an explanation, but he didn't say anything. He simply smiled as he got out, moving to your side to help you out (which you didn't need, but it wasn't unwelcomed). He then helped you up onto the bed of the truck, following. He had a goofy grin on his face as he laid out several pillows and blankets, enough for the both of you to be comfortable and warm. Then, he grabbed the food from the cab and laid it out, helping you to sit down. "Ta-da," he said with a small grin.

You couldn't help but smile at his smile, shaking your head. "A truck bed dinner and cuddling?"

"This way, we're alone and can eat and lay here in peace, together, but we're also not at home."

You hummed. "Hailey is a genius."

He laughed and nodded. "Yeah, she's pretty great for coming up with this one. And best part is, we can go anywhere, so I'll never get tired of being in the same place, but you'll always be comfortable."

You smiled again, this time wider. "Yeah, this is perfect."

"I'm glad you think so." He motioned to dinner. "Now eat, and then we can lay back and watch the stars."

You scooched over to be closer to him, leaning into his side as you ate, humming. "It's perfect, Jay."

He rubbed your back, kissing the top of your head. "Anything for you, beautiful."

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.2

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 11.4k

Rating: 18+

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss. Swearing, Alcohol. Sexual content (switch!reader, switch!yoongi; unprotected sex (plz be smart, use condoms); masturbation, both male and female receiving; oral sex, male receiving; powerplay with sub!yoongi; plenty of emotional, intense moments).

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout: to my lovely readers first, and my moots too. Thank you for staying around. This is all for you 💜

Here's part one, in case you missed it

And here's my complete masterlist, in case you're new HEHE

Six days went by without you seeing Yoongi. First you had your day-off, and though Yoongi waited for you by your tower, you didn't come. 

Truth was, you spent your day off working at the Firefly Ball at The Orchard, the retirement home you had been volunteering at for years. It took you about two and a half hours to realise you truly didn't have Yoongi's number, which reminded you of your short conversation before your non-kiss debacle. You couldn't tell him about not being there for the day; after all, you'd always gone on a walk even on your day-off during the previous weeks. Mostly, you couldn’t tell him about Laura helping you with the german short rows you needed to shape the sweater that had become his. You couldn’t tell him about Marvin trying to set you up with his lovely nephew — who is already very taken, of course, except Marvin doesn’t really like the girl and you’re already like family. You couldn’t tell him about that song you hate coming on thirteen times on the radio, and you couldn’t tell him about the excellent songs the people at The Orchard recommended you. You couldn’t tell him that you told Orla about him and Beatrice and she said she has some pictures of her in high school, from the days she started dating her future husband. You couldn’t tell him that she told you about Beatrice and Antonio, how she would have loved to spend more time with them, and get to know them, weren’t her husband so opposed to her hanging out with such ‘uncivilised extravagants’. Orla also told you about the samba that used to come from that house, how she loved walking by it. And then she asked to hear the young man play just once, with the guitar, because he was so good at it since when he was just a child and he must have become even better now that he’s a man.

The day after that, you did go to the beach, but this time it was Yoongi that didn't come. 

You had broken him, you told yourself. You had broken the beautiful, timid bond between the two of you. You had slashed it away. And once again, the day after that, you were left by yourself, dashing away from the tower before you could sink in the magnitude of your loneliness. 

You were sad. 

You felt like an empty fishbowl, a broken diapason no longer giving the right frequency. It was like a crack had damaged the truest, most intimate part of you. 

It was excruciating to feel so lost after knowing Yoongi for so little. It was as if the sun had dulled. You felt underwater, suffocated, with the ocean above you weighing you down. 

Being in that kind of mood meant that it was hard to convince you to join your coworker Hoseok at his friend's party — you had given up exclusively because the man was incredibly persistent and he was very hard to turn down. So you had done your hair up pretty and you had worn your cute white dress, checking yourself in the mirror before heading out, forcing yourself to put a spring in your step and not throw yourself at some regrettable glass of exceedingly sweet liquor. 

Once you reached the beach, you recognised the party immediately, a large group of people gathered around the fire, the full moon lulled by the sea as it laid a couple inches above the horizon. You scanned the crowd for the only person you knew, spotting the two bickering employees of the ice cream parlour. And a man that looked like the surf instructor who worked in the school a mile away from your tower. And there was Hoseok, surrounded by cheering people. Of course he was the life of the party; still, though everyone looked at him when he cracked a joke, he always looked at the same girl, over and over again. 

There she was then. His crush. 

And there he was. Yours. 

Yoongi, sitting on a bench, hands tucked in between his knees, shoulders squished together as he tried to make himself less noticeable. Maybe he didn’t want you to see him. 

Still, his shy wave in your direction made you change your mind. 

Confused, you made your way closer to him. To hell with fear, you would get your answers tonight. 

“Hi,” you spoke, and your voice could barely be heard with the crowd and the noise, the music, the chatting and screaming. 

Yet, Yoongi heard you. And he smiled. It was like getting kicked at the back of your knees. “Hello, Sunny.”

Your insides fluttered. You didn’t have much history with boys or men, only a couple relationships behind you and maybe three or four sexual partners with varying degrees of success. And apparently, Yoongi had been engineered to be your kryptonite. He was just the right side of shy, and introverted, and quiet and soft spoken, despite the bite in his sense of humour. After those initial adjustments during that first awkward dinner, he’d become so incredibly suited to you. As you looked at him, you suddenly felt so very known, maybe because anyone else at the party was more or less a stranger. 

And in all that strangeness, there was Yoongi’s warm, steady gaze. Familiar and gentle. To you, he was irresistible. You’d hoped that the days spent apart would have cooled your spirits; instead, seeing him again after so long made you appreciate those details you’d almost grown accustomed to. The way his hair curls softly when dried by the ocean breeze. The way his pale, pale skin contrasts so beautifully with the black of his hair. The way his gums show when he smiles, and how damn perfect his teeth are. And then those hands. Good lord, those hands. 

A part of your brain screeched to a halt. He’s abandoned you, Sunny. He’s left you alone. You left him alone once, after almost kissing him, and he realised you’re weird and embarrassing and inappropriate. And your sense of humour sucks. And you can’t make friends because when people get to know you they find you a lot worse than they thought you’d be. You frowned and shook your head at your own limiting beliefs, but you forgot to adjust your facial expression and your greeting to him came out sour. “Hello, Yoongi. Glad to see you.” You managed to pull your face into a smile. “Finally.” Very smooth, Sunny. Very damn unsuspectable.  

He blushed and looked down. “I was in the city. I had to deliver my mixtape.” The fact that he was seated, lower than you, and he had to tip his head back to look at your face made you even weaker. His jawline was splendid, but that was not the point. 

His glance was so intense, with his obsidian irises glimmering with the fire and the night sky. He looked beautiful and you were so damn fond of him. He was the best thing you had seen in a while, and quite definitely the most attractive man you had ever laid your eyes on. Had he put on something special tonight? 

You checked his outfit, but it was a simple black button down in some flowy, glossy material, some white flowers printed on it — probably lilies? — and he was wearing some undyed cotton jeans underneath. Plain, usual Yoongi fashion. 

And you checked his hair — slightly longer, but still inky black, still curled in the softest little bouncy waves at the bottom. It looked extra silky tonight. Very soft. The kind of soft you can comb your fingers through as you’re making out. The kind of soft you can caress as he’s kissing down your—

“You didn’t come either. On Tuesday,” he reminded you.

You shook the steamy thoughts off your brain, terrified by the way you were dangerously getting increasingly affected by his presence. “I had a day off for the Firefly Ball. At the retirement home,” you explained. “I always came here for our walks so I never really mentioned I have Tuesdays off. And then I didn’t have your number to call you.” You asked to sit beside him through awkward body language, a whirlwind of arms and wrists and hands until he nodded with a little laugh. 

He was impressed by the fact that you had come to meet him even when you could have slept in or done whatever it is that athletic, stunning, too-out-of-his-league girls do. “How was your time in the city?”

Boring. Sad. Lonely. Agonizingly slow. He had wanted to see you. He would have all summer with you; nevertheless, he would much prefer spending it in your arms, as your crush, rather than the sweet introvert who you pitied. He wanted to confess. He would do so at the end of the night, with the fireworks. He would sing you ballads all night and exchange shy or flirty looks and then he would confess. And if you liked him back, then good. 

If you didn’t… 

“It was sad… I don’t like the city. You can’t hear your thoughts.” He inched closer towards you. 

Sitting beside him had been an awful idea. He smelled like his usual self: a deeply set salty smell mixed with lemongrass and incense. Was it incense? Something spicy, but deep. It smelled like inspiration and artful meditation and invention. It also smelled like the kind of sex that resets your whole existence. What in the world do you mean? the rational side of your brain — not your strongest — objected, but it was quickly coerced into silence. “Excuse me, what?” You said, not even remembering what he’d told you mere seconds before. 

He tipped his head to the side and repeated. “I was saying the city is really loud. Lots of stuff happening and you can’t focus on your thoughts, because you know, the noise and stuff keep interrupting you and—”

You nodded eagerly in understanding, “Oh yes!” God, he must think you’re dumb or something. Of course he’s smart. Smarter than you, clearly. Living with all those academics must have helped with the braincells. His mom probably listened to Bach while pregnant. Or maybe he—

“How was the ball?” Yoongi asked, his face serene as he looked at you. And yet there was a certain gleam in his eyes, the kind of gleam you’d seen in the restless beast he’d become the last time you saw him, on his porch, drenched in rain, desperate, burning. 

You needed to slap your face and get your mind all in one place. Since you couldn’t quite slap yourself in public, you settled for a nice pinch to your leg and nodded, grounding yourself to the current conversation. “It went okay,” you replied. “The usual. Old people dancing, spiced punch, dreamy jazz and blues.”

And there it is, gummy grin all out. Perfectly symmetric pearly whites flashed to your face. “Seems like my kind of night.”

You snorted loudly, your laugh erupting without grace or composure. Yoongi was amused by it: he would make fun of himself forever if that meant making you happy like that. “You’re unbelievable” you murmured, half to him, half to yourself, for being this rowdy, antisocial mess.

Yoongi’s eyes fell to your lips. God, he loved them. So rosy, not too plump but always so happy. And he was pretty sure there were some freckles on them too. He was about to give in. There was nothing he wanted more than to touch your lips with his. Not even kiss you, just… Just touch you. 

“Come on, guitar boy, make your show!” a moderately tall, moderately tanned man hollered. He had impressive shoulders. “Who’s your friend?” he questioned, studying you. 

“____, this is Seokjin. You can call him Jin, but it’s better if you don’t call him at all.” Yoongi bared his teeth at the man as you introduced yourself, but it was only half disguised as a smile. Seokjin shrugged and cocked an eyebrow as he stared at Yoongi, daring him to make a move. 

It took half a second for Yoongi to realise how easily you and Seokjin would get along, how the adventurous, athletic, extremely sporty man could charm you with his stories and take you surfing at midnight to look at the stars from the sea, where no artificial lights could taint the immensity of the night. It bothered him. Bothered him and saddened him, and he just shook his head and let go. If that’s how it was supposed to go, then he would let it.

Seokjin passed a sticker-covered guitar to his friend, forcing the two of you up from your seats and away from the main location. It was just a few metres away, someplace more quiet, where the guitar could be heard over the blaring music. 

Only a couple people followed, and it felt like a true concert, a miniature one, mostly because of how skilled Yoongi was. After all, he is a professionist, and the fact that he has never mentioned playing live doesn’t make the experience any less exquisite. 

Soon more people were coming around, a few women sitting way too close for your eyes not to look at them with scorn. Were they thinking…?

No. You had no right to feel the tightening sensation around your stomach, not when Yoongi would look up and search for your eyes, to make sure you were watching — that you never stopped watching. You wouldn’t want him to find your eyes away from him to stare down at some dumb girl whose only fault was fawning over the same man you had a crush on. 

It was almost midnight when a loud beeping sound broke out from across the beach, blue lights in tow. The beach patrol. “This party is unauthorised!” An officer ordered from a megaphone. “You must leave the premises immediately.”

Your eyes met Yoongi’s, then Seokjin’s, whose face looked very white as he glared at a woman in shock, then in full-blazing hatred. No, not hatred: disappointment. The object of Seokjin’s pointed stare seemed equally shocked. 

Yoongi placed down the guitar, immediately reaching Seokjin and grabbing him by the shoulders — if it weren’t for the dramatic situation, the height difference would have been truly endearing, if slightly hilarious. “Didn’t you ask for a permit, you dumbhead?”

“I swear I did, Yoongi! Remember I made you check the papers? I did everything right!” Seokjin was panicking, staring at the other woman. “I did everything right, didn’t I?” At the woman’s silence, he asked again. “Didn’t I?”

“Officer! We have a permit!” Yoongi told the woman who arrived on the beach together with two colleagues. “We delivered it at the office and had it signed. This party is authorised.”

“We signed no permit,” her coworker stated coldly. “Leave the premises now.”

“Excuse me, officer, but my friend and I handed in the request personally,” Yoongi repeated, already losing his cool. The fact that he’d been sipping bourbon between a song and another didn’t help at all. He seemed ready to start a fight. 

The officer shook his head. “We have no permit for tonight.” 

“Listen, you—” Yoongi replied, visibly irritated, taking one more step forward.

You stopped Yoongi from pressing a finger against the fine shirt of the man’s uniform, doing the first thing that crossed your mind. You pulled him away and squatted down, pressing your shoulder to his stomach and picking him up effortlessly. 

With a kind smile, you tried to flatter the guard. “Officer, please excuse me. He has been really stressed over his job—”

“Sunny, what the hell are you—” Yoongi wiggled around a little, but you held him tighter. 

“Tonight he let loose a little, and drank a bit too much. Please excuse him.” You gave your most dazzling smile, looking sheepish, trying to project all your innocence and adorableness. 

“Don’t worry, ____. Do you need us to take you home?” the female officer intervened.

You shook your head. Apparently your good girl looks were giving you one more perk. “I’ll just walk him. Don’t worry. The people here are very cooperative, I’m sure you won’t have to deal with any issues.”

“Sunny! I swear to God—” Yoongi insisted, hitting his forearms against your back. 

“Easy, tiger,” you taunted him before waving at the beach patrol staff members before you turned and left. 

“Put me down!” Yoongi growled once you were a few feet away. 

“Shut the hell up,” you replied, calm and condescending. Yoongi felt a shiver roll down his spine, completely ignoring you as you went on chastising him. “Do you wanna end up in trouble?” you said, calmly, reasonably.

Heat started to warm his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the liquor. Sure, the alcohol made him more prone to a short temper, but he could still keep himself in check. This, however, this liquid warmth making him melt for you… This was all you. “We had the permit!” He complained, whiny, pliant, but still combative. 

“If you read the room a little, apparently Seokjin’s friend hadn’t handed it in, you dumbass.” Go figure, you were the one supposed to be the dull tool in the box. “You really thought it would be a good idea to lay a finger on an officer? After drinking? They could arrest you, Yoongi. And I won’t waste my pay on bailing you out of jail.”

“But I would have paid you back!” he protested while you opened the gate in his fence and dropped him down unceremoniously. He grunted a little and stormed off to the door as you followed him suit. 

“You would have slapped yourself at the thought of paying money to the fucking police!” you reminded him. “And it would be a big waste of money.” You stood behind him as he opened the door, then tried to slam it shut, almost causing it to hit you. The action made you startle, and maybe he didn’t want you to enter, but you also wanted to calm him down, and you deserved an apology about his lack of gratitude and basic decency. “Oh, come on, I just saved you at least a few hundred bucks, don’t be such a brat to me!”

He turned around with a cocky grin. “Or what? You’re gonna spank me?” He sealed his lips shut as soon as he realised what he’d just said.

Your face went dead serious, an eyebrow raised at him as your blood cooled significantly. A little cackle came out your throat as you said, your tone serious and dark. “Is that what you want?” It came out a bit more seductive than you intended.

“Don’t get all puffed-up now. Didn’t know you liked authority so much,” Yoongi’s body language got interesting: he conveyed challenge and curiosity as moved behind the kitchen island, putting an obstacle between the two of you.

“I don’t. I just think you're being a warmongering little shit.” You felt your body act on instinct, getting ready for the chase. You didn’t know exactly what was going on between the two of you. Actually you didn’t know anything at all. 

He licked his lips, looking at you from under his lashes. “That’s a difficult word for a lifeguard.”

That almost made you lose your cool, but you still managed to hold your horses since it was so obvious he was looking for a fight. “You think I’m dumb?” You asked, taking a slow step towards him. He took a step in the opposite direction. 

“No. But that’s a booksmart, not streetsmart kind of word.”

You took one more step towards him. “I might not be a little intellectual, like you fancy yourself, but I’ve read a few books, Yoongi.”

He bit his lip, put more distance towards the two of you. 

“What game are you playing, little mouse?” you taunted him. 

He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, blood rushing everywhere. He could tell his body was reacting in ways he was not proud of, grateful for the counter currently hiding his lap. “You might say you don’t like authority, but you sure like playing cops and robbers.”

You grinned at him and he grinned right back. With two large strides, you were on him, arms wrapped around his middle, and if it hadn’t been dangerous inside the kitchen, you would have tackled him with no effort whatsoever, his tipsy form completely incapable to stand a fight against your trained, honed and ready physique. “Gotcha,” you murmured in his ear and he just folded over himself, trying to hide from you the ridiculous state he was in. “What do you have to say about streetsmart nurses and puffed-up lifeguards? Still wanna start a fight?”

“Sunny…” he whispered, turning to stare at you. 

That day under the rain and that mad dash came back to you like a punch to the face. He was again dark eyed, pouty, beautiful. So easy; so, so easy to take. There, hanging from your very lips. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered back. “This is—”

He licked his lips, his eyes as if chasing shooting stars from your eyes to your mouth. “If you run this time, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it make sense.”

“How sober are you from one to ten?” Safety first, you told yourself. If he’s not sober there’s no chance you can kiss him, no chance to go further than this.

“Enough to tell you I’m not gonna regret this in the morning.” He was still caught in your arms, and it felt divine to feel the shape of you against him, warm and soft in the chill of an early summer night. His cheeks heated as he added, “Enough to tell you I’ve been thinking about this long before I had those drinks. Long before the party even started.”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek. “I’ve been thinking about this too.” 

He wanted to turn around, but he was not entirely proud of how affected he was by the current situation. However he did not fight it when you made him face you, your belly pressing against his, your breath catching in your throat. “I’m sorry— I—”

You shook your head and smiled as you looked down. “You thought about this, that day in the rain?”

“I’ve spent the last four days asking myself where I messed up,” he admitted, purring when you tentatively shifted against him. 

Your legs bracketed his, the puzzle of them causing him to hold his breath, then breathe out very slowly. He took a step back, but his arms were looped around you, so he managed to drag you with him until his back was pressed against the wall by the kitchen. 

“I thought I was… I thought you didn’t want this. I thought I was projecting my own desire, misreading the look on your face.” You shook your head and chuckled, your exhale caressing his chin. 

He licked his lip, then bit it a little and you stared at it, your eyes incapable of ungluing themselves from the glistening of moisture on his pouty mouth, so red, so plump, like ripe cherries. You tempted him, lowering yourself so close, your breath fanning over his lower face, close enough to kiss, yet not crossing the final inch yet. 

He whined, “Can’t you tell how much I want you, want this?” He shifted his hips and you both held your breath. “Like I wanted it then?”

Your hands moved to cradle his face, holding him as if he were delicate. “Then I can—?”

He nodded. “Yes.” Then more. “Fuck yes, please.”

You dove for him without hesitation. 

Kissing Yoongi must be what scientists feel when they discover some groundbreaking molecule that could cure some half-known disease. It’s revelating. 

You’ve been waiting your entire life for this. 

The kiss managed to stay innocent for two seconds more. Two seconds too many. 

Yoongi groaned against your mouth, then pulled you closer, pressing his hips against yours, then yielded again, maybe ashamed, maybe weakened by the sensation. 

You answered his need with your own, picking up where he left off. He gasped against your face, mouth sweetly parted, sloppy against your own, jaw slack as he got lost in sensation. 

“If you want to just make out, this is the right moment to tell me,” you advised him, but he shook his head, eyelids hanging half-open.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” you asked, a smile on your lips, so amused at the idea that this intellectual, eloquent, intelligent man had turned wordless in your arms, with his body writhing against your own.

“Some words here and there,” he replied, then tilted his head back in a way that summoned every inch of instinct within you, your face nuzzling against the column of his throat as you started sucking at the side of his neck. 

“Like what?”

“Like ‘make out’, and ‘right moment’, and ‘little brat’,” he hummed, then moaned, his hips rolling so softly, so perfectly that you wondered what he would do once undressed against your naked body. 

“I didn’t say ‘little brat’,” you pointed out in between a bruise and a kiss. 

“Too bad. I must have been dreaming it all.” He hissed as his zipper pressed against him just a tad too hard. 

“I could still—” You smirked. “You want me to…” Your hand moved from his waist to his side to his thigh, then went back to his ass, cupping one cheek and pressing him against your hip. You bent to his ear. “You like being talked dirty to?”

He nodded, thankful that you were making sense of him. 

“Being told that you’ve been bad?”

He nodded again, feeling heat flush his cheeks further. 

You frowned, trying to find the right way to go about this. “That you’ve been driving me crazy? You flirty little demon…”

He smirked and threw his head back, puffing out a desperate little cackle, his brow furrowed. “Please, Sunny, God I’m hating these jeans, love.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and you kissed him slowly this time, taking your time. Did you want to undress him? Here? In the kitchen?

You shrugged at yourself. “You want to go upstairs or?”

“Don’t care, please, just…”

You considered it for two seconds, then you stopped him, grabbing him by the face. “Okay, let’s be clear. You want me to… be a little harsh?”

He let his eyes roll close, head tipping back as if he couldn’t hold it anymore, resting it against the wall. “Yes. Please, yes.”

“You want me to manhandle you? Get rough?”

“Yes!” he confirmed, his tone definitive. 

“Okay, good.” You moved your hands to his wrists, currently at your sides, his hands frozen at your tapered waist, as if not sure where he was allowed to touch. You pinned his hands to the wall, then skillfully twisted your body so that he ended up with his back pressed to your front, his cheek against the wall. “Like this?”

“Yes. Sunny, love, this— Yes.” He was struggling to form sentences. God. He was one lucky mess. 

“Is this what you like?” Adrenaline rushed down your spine. God, he was wicked, and perfect, and so, so needy. “Answer me, my cute devil.” You pressed your lips to his ear. “Or do you want me to call you a dirty little freak?” You didn’t feel like cursing out insults at him, but this, all these pretty pet names? This you could do.

And Yoongi seemed to like them as he shivered again, whining, his hips shifting against the wall. 

You chuckled, curious, delighted. “Who would have thought pretty, dainty Yoongi wanted this… Because you want this, don’t you?” Apparently, just as much as he wanted this, as much as he was turned on by your rough treatment, your brain was turned on by the fact that he wanted you to administer it. You always thought your shape and build meant that you would always somehow be a challenge to your potential partners, usually aiming at the fit, buff type so that they could handle you. You’d never thought you’d be turned on at the idea of overpowering a smart, lithe, uncharacteristically agile little mouse such as Yoongi. And yet, here you were, soaked against his writhing body as it ricocheted between you and the wall. 

“I like this. I like this a— a lot,” he said, panting faintly as you breathed against his ear. “I like you a lot, ____. Please—”

You chuckled. “Oh, you like me? A lot?” Tentatively, you skimmed the shell of his ear with your lips, making him whimper. At the first sign of him breaking, you added the tip of your tongue, causing him to moan outright, his glutes flexing against your pelvis as he tried to find a sliver of pleasure. You wanted to touch him, and he seemed okay with the idea of doing this here and, on top of that it was vaguely turning you on too. “Would you still like me if I put my hand into your jeans and stroked you?”

“I think I’d go insane for you,” he confessed. 

“Is that your consent to me giving you a handjob, Yoongi?” You checked, your hands still on neutral ground, one pinning his wrists gently, the other helping you prop yourself up against the wall.

He nodded before speaking, “Yes, I do.”

In a second, your hand left the wall, undoing the buckle of his belt. 

“Where the hell did you learn how to undo a belt one-handed,” he mused. He hoped you would shut him up with your lips against his. Unfortunately you didn’t. 

“I’m a lowly nurse, right? A nurse needs to know how to work with buckles one-handed. Now will you… finally… stay put?” You asked, finding his cock and squeezing it in a way that made Yoongi’s knees grow weak. 

“You’d have half the fun,” he opposed, right as you started stroking him, his tip so wet it was ridiculous. He felt ridiculous.

You blushed as you put on your shameless, steel-spined persona and asked, “What got you so hard, Yoongi?” You took a break, trying to find the words, then let your curiosity out: there was no harshness in your tone, no command, no bitterness, just simple curiosity, soft amusement. “Does it make you hard for a woman to toss you around like her doll? Or do you like being fucked against the wall?” You made your way slow and gentle further down his jeans, finding his balls and squeezing them. 

“You’re not fucking me,” he objected with a weak smile. Yet, he was glad that was on the table. “Yet.” 

You shook your head, smiling softly, “Yet”. Precious, delicate, charming Yoongi truly loved being treated like an object. How surprising. “What do I need to do to shut your pretty bratty mouth? Maybe keeping it busy between my legs?”

He purred at the prospect.

“Maybe shutting it with my hand?” You felt shame creep to your cheeks, then let the thought out. “Maybe stuffing it with my panties?” You’d seen it once in a picture on an adult website and the image had never left your mind.

He threw his head back. This had to be a dream. A fantasy. You couldn’t be what he’d been dreaming of for years, and at the same time be the gentle, nurturing presence he had known in the last five weeks. “Please,” he begged again, his eyes rolling shut, his hair falling all over the place as his lips disclosed shyly. 

This time, of course, you weren’t afraid. You pressed your mouth to his, not without licking his lips first, coaxing his tongue to peak out and lick up against yours. 

His sex was hot, hard, and not too big, but definitely big enough to work with. He was pulsating in your hand already, smooth and needy as he thrusted into your fist. You dreamed about him moving inside you, with that fantastic bubble butt you’d eyed more than you’d like or care to admit. He kept moaning and groaning as you carefully stroked him, trying to accompany his movements with your own. You imagined what this could become if you were stroking him with a bit more lubrication, trying to invent a way to make your hand wet without having to part yourself from him. 

You pushed his jeans and underwear to his knees, then moved the hand you’d been using to pin his wrists, letting it climb beneath his shirt to massage his chest, his shoulders caving in beautifully as he pressed harder against the fingers currently pinching one of his nipples. You wished you could see the hollow you knew was now carved in between his shoulder blades, but you simply bent your head forward and kissed it from over his shirt, nuzzling your face against it. 

“I’m gonna use lube next time, so I can make it even wetter for you,” you mused. “I bet you’re a picky, fussy thing in bed.” You delivered a trail of kisses up his nape. “I’d love learning everything you like.”

He chuckled and admitted, “I’m afraid I won’t be as picky with you.”

“Then I’ll get very specific about new ways to make you come.” 

He turned his head to the side so he could see you in the corner of his eye. “I could… spit in your hand?”

You blinked once, twice. “Sure.”

He grabbed the hand in between his legs, brought it to his mouth and pressed the flat of his tongue against the centre of your palm, delivering a wide, sloppy lick. Your hand was salty with his sweat and arousal, but he was too needy to analyse the taste further as he brought your hand back on his erection. 

You stroked and his knees buckled, the both of you smirking and exhaling in unison. He held on for ten, maybe twelve commendable seconds, then crumbled adorably with a weak, soft moan.

He ended up spilling into your hand, your palm stroking even when he started shaking. You let him go only when he sobbed for you to stop; yet he turned his face to the side and kissed your chin, then your mouth, sloppily, and whispered, “Actually, keep—” you understood what he meant and resumed the—

“Sunny, love, fuck! Please, fuck!” His knees wobbled and his cock quivered just once, another shy dribble coming out. 

You supported him with an arm around his waist, his lithe physique crumbling over you, his head on your shoulder. 

“Yes,” he whispered, completely fucked out, so spent and adorably pliable. 

You turned him around and held him, letting him rest his cheek on your shoulder. “You okay, Yoongi?”

“Never been better,” he admitted, voice saccharine and exhausted, before he started to stir. “Fuck, I made a mess.”

You shrugged. “All chill, babe.” You stroked the small of his back. “What do you need, Yoongi?”

He shook his head. “Just hold me please, I’m not sure I can stand on my legs,” he admitted before cackling. “I wasn’t expecting this.” Once more he chuckled. “This is kinda embarrassing to me.”

You pressed your cheek to his hair. “I’ve never done something quite like this either.” You drew small circles on his back. “I don’t know what to do. Or what to say.” You nodded to yourself, waiting for something, some sort of signal that you hadn’t just ruined your friendship with him because you caved in to some preternatural instinct to ruin him. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked, hesitating for a second before looking into your eyes. “I want to make you feel good too.” And next, he looked to the floor, his lips flushed in red, his cheeks a deep crimson. 

How dare he act shy after challenging you and letting you torture him like that? “You’re fucking impossible.” You grabbed his chin and made him look at you. “Ask it again. Look into my eyes and ask.”

“Fuck me, please.”

As a reward, you pressed your mouth to his, his hand grabbing your wrist and trying to bring it back to his length; however, you tutted and grinned. “Go upstairs, get ready. I’ll fix the mess you made on me and the floor.”

He puckered his lips and chased your mouth, holding you by your elbow. “Are we okay?”

You kissed him again, reassuring him. “We’re okay. I just need to see you come maybe three times more. Or maybe nine.”

He snickered. “So we’re cool with the idea of this being not platonic, like… at all?”

You stopped mid-breath. “I think this stopped being platonic the day I realised I ran because I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

“I thought you ran because you didn’t like me.” He didn’t care about his softening dick being out and covered in his release. He had more pressing matters at the moment, like your confession. 

“I ran because I wanted to press you up against the wall and make out with you and cover your neck in hickeys—”

“Seems like a great idea to me. I’m into that,” he admitted, acting pragmatic. 

You smiled mischievously. “Go upstairs and we can make that happen.”

“I need convincing,” he purred, haughty. 

The hand that had taken care of him so proficiently was still covered in his slick, and how convenient that was now. Lowering his trousers efficiently, you hit his left ass cheek, a wet squelching sound echoing in the kitchen. As he moaned, you shook your head, grinning just in time as he did. “I’ll give you more if you go upstairs and get all ready for me.”

He pouted and covered himself while you went to rinse your hands and grab a cloth. You marvelled at how, after maybe three or four visits at his house, you could move around so easily. Five minutes and the kitchen was clean, you heading up the stairs, following the mellow music coming from a room barely lit. 

There were a couple candles around the room, the smell of vanilla and bourbon drifting around freely, the mild orange halos of the flames contrasting with the full moon just out of the window. 

Yoongi was laying on the sheets, as lazy as a white Persian cat, stretched like a hedonist king. His hair melted into the darkness, and his eyes glimmered, dark and luscious, like black magnets, his skin pale, diaphanous and opaque like almond milk. 

He wasn’t naked yet, his white underwear the only hint that his skin tone is not the palest. 

You stopped by the threshold of his room, and stared at him like you’d never seen him before, never seen a man before, and from the reaction of your body ou do wonder if any of your previous partners really made sense, if you really should have slept with them considering how you are now burning for Yoongi. 

You kissed him tonight for the first time, you didn’t have the time to adjust from a platonic to a romantic or outright erotic disposition, and yet this feels the most natural, to the point that you question whether it’s always been desire right from the start. 

“Why are you standing there,” he asked, a gentle smile on his face. 

“You’re pretty to look at,” you admitted, with a little shake of your head and a helpless smile. 

He laughed shyly. “As much as I like being looked at, I have more pressing necessities at the moment.” He rose to his knees, moving closer to the edge of the bed. “Come, it’s your turn.”

You took a couple steps towards him, studying him some more. His chest was fairer than fair, the pink of his nipples perfectly matching the shade of his lips. It felt poetic to say the least. The shape of his torso made you think of Greek statues, balanced, lithe, mythological. 

“You know, you seem very tempting,” you told him, suddenly deprived of thoughts, words, just pure instinct left. 

“Why are you resisting, then.” 

He lured you in, like a mermaid, like an exotic, mesmerising bird of paradise. 

He cupped his palms around your waist and pulled you closer, making you kneel on the bed in front of him. “I’m going to dream of you in this dress.” 

“I’m going to dream of you up against that wall,” you countered. 

“Lovely to feel reciprocated.” His hand grazed your thigh, lifting the hem of your breezy sundress. “This colour makes you look unreal.” He skimmed the outside of your leg, his lashes lowered, his lips agape as he breathed in through his mouth. “LIke you just came out of seafoam.” HIs index finger continued its path upwards, stopping at the frilly hem of your panties. 

You exhaled slowly, your breath trembling. Despite being trained to act even during utmost emergencies, actual life-or-death situations, you can’t operate through Yoongi’s touch flooding your system with adrenaline and arousal. 

“Are you going to taste like seafoam too?” he said, tracing the hem of your underwear, inquisitive, shifting towards the inside of your thigh, venturing where your heat grew feverish, your core melting and dripping into the fabric. “Like saltwater, here?” 

The noise rumbling out of your throat was not entirely human and absolutely, not even remotely, coherent. 

He brushed his knuckle against the apex of your labia, which made you respond with a full body shiver, your torso tipping forward before you stabilised yourself with a hand pressed to his shoulder, your palm clammy, your grip urgent at first, then more controlled. 

“You’re so immensely beautiful, Sunny,” he whispered with awe, and that is the last thing you see before you let your eyes roll shut, overwhelmed by sensation, by pleasure. 

“Can I?” he asked, waiting at your threshold, lingering where the fabric of your panties wears thin and humid. 

You nodded, almost mindlessly, your eyes still closed. 

“Look me in the eye, Sunny. Show me you want this. Tell me,” he urged you. 

When your gaze does meet his, you’re caught in it, like black holes calling you to him, any chance of escape now useless, vain. “Please.”

“Please what,” he murmurs, teasing. 

“Touch me, please,” you reply, almost immediately. 

“Where?” 

“There,” you whine, your voice thin. “Be— between my legs.” The words stammer out of you, and Yoongi rewards you with a flirty smile, tongue peaking out. 

“You mean here,” he says, saccharine and yet dark, like molasses. 

“Under,” you whisper, tortured by the fact that the barrier of your panties is still there, between his fingers and your feverish skin. 

All patience thrown out of the window, you grab his hand, place it right where you want it, beneath the fabric, and sigh once you finally get exactly what you needed. 

Yoongi smiles, licking his lips before noting, “just as wet as I’d hoped.”

But the words don’t register: you are already out of this galaxy, eyes unseeing, ears unhearing, your mouth agape in a perfectly round shape, of which Yoongi takes ample advantage. 

He traces the rim of your lips with his free hand, then debates whether to slip his fingers inside your mouth. A few shallow gasps tell him enough of what he wanted the most. 

“I want to hear you, my little star.” The pet name coerces a whine from your throat. “Won’t you moan for me?”

You do. Of course you do, and Yoongi nods, pleased with himself. “Good girl,” he rewards you, his tone calm and deep, soothing. “The moment I saw you, I thought I was having visions.”

You gasp as he becomes more liberal with his touch: you’d manoeuvred him into touching you, but now he’s doing that unprompted, all on his own will.

“And now you’re here, like dripping sunlight on my bed,” he says, reverently, rapt. 

You moan his name and nod, engorged in the shallow gasps of your throat and the silky wet warmth of your core, where his fingers slide in and out, slow, accurate, thorough. 

Your hand cups the side of his neck, your eyes desperate as you hold his gaze, imploring him to subside the fire burning down your spine, melting your core and climbing back up with electric shivers across your entire back. 

“Kiss me,” you ask, your voice fragile and hoarse. 

He stares at your lips, licks his own and observes the wet pink of your tongue as your mirror neurons respond, mimicking him wetting his lips. 

This time, he does slip the flat of his thumb in your mouth, watching and craving the way your mouth closes around him, your eyes rolling shut, then your jaw going slack as a clever twist of his other hand catches you by surprise and coerces a broken plea from you. Pleasure burst from you like a pinched balloon, startling you with the unexpectedness. 

And Yoongi watches. 

He studies you, the way your hips buckle wild over his hand, the way you grip his forearm and push him deeper, until you can feel him pushing against the rim of your cervix, hard and deep where all your nerve endings seem to meet. 

It feels like drifting on the surface of the ocean, deprived of all thought, the overwhelming completeness of the universe surrounding you, transforming you into nothing but a recipient of all the sensation the world can offer. A sentient being: the most simple definition of life. 

And right now, with Yoongi coaxing every drop of pleasure from you, you are made of pure life. You are radiant and wide-open and all-encompassing. He stares at you, at the look in your eyes, the heaving of your chest. 

He nods to himself, so many things making sense all at once. Of course, we reproduce through sex. How can you be so full of life without it eventually spilling out of you? 

He gawks your reddened lips, cheeks and chest, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We should get you out of this dress,” he said, dragging his face down the side of your neck, reaching the base of it, nibbling at your collarbone as he starts undoing the buttons. “You’re made of fucking sunshine, Sunny. Sunshine and seawater,” he says reverently. 

You’re not sure this is actually happening. You must be hallucinating, because Yoongi pushes aside the front of your dress with his teeth and mouth, then repeats the motion to the strap of your bra, nudging it with his nose, sending electric zings through your shoulder, all the way down your arm, until the thrill reaches your fingertips. And just as you’ve come to terms with him kissing your neck, your chest, your collarbones and your shoulders, his mouth reaches your now bare breast, the precious petals of his lips pillowing your nipple. 

He makes quick, wicked eye contact with you before he turns wickeder still, and starts sucking. 

You groan a very unfeminine sound, but you’re both too far gone to mock your reaction. 

He’s undone the rest of your buttons, and you shrug off your dress, his hands urgently sliding to your back, then pressing to your ribs, pulling you closer to him, to his mouth. He hums in pleasure, his hair caressing your skin like dark silk. You reposition yourself so that your thighs bracket his, and the way your hips and his immediately start a game of tug-of-war drives you insane. It’s like you’ve been training your entire life to make this work, like you’ve always known this, you just needed him to unlock this part of yourself. 

You begin to grind against his leg, the friction of his thigh against your clothed core just perfect. 

“Perfect,” he says, as if reading your mind, hissing as his sex too finds just the right stimulation against your soft navel. His movements, the slow strokes, pull you even closer to the edge of your entire world. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this before with any other man, be he fictional or real. “You feel divine, Sunny. You feel like Sunday morning.” He grabs the back of your head, nudges into your hair, inhales you, and he seems so lost in you it’s almost poetic. “You feel like sunshine, and breeze and…”

You grip his hair, pull him from the crook of your neck and stare at him, breathless and unfocused. And you just kiss him. 

He’s harmless in your arms. Entirely incapable of anything but kissing you. His arms fall at his sides, his hips halt, his mouth is the only moving part of him. He’s like a leaf drifting in your currents, and little does he know the tide has just turned. 

You unhook your own bra, take his hands in yours and place them against your breasts, that are now tender with pent-up pressure. You both gasp in the kiss as his palms, soft and silky, make contact with your skin. The way he fondles you feels like second nature. He’s made of nothing but instinct and will, he feels like an arrow, tracing the fastest, most effective way to go from where he is to where you need him to be. 

And no matter how much you’re loving your current predicament, you know you need more. You need him inside. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pull him down with you, drag him on top of you, the kiss undisturbed, uninterrupted. “Naked, please, inside,” you whisper, the urgency in your voice leaving him stunned. 

He’s just so pliant. You’re pretty sure that if you asked him to throw himself off a cliff he would, as long as you’d kiss him at the bottom of it. 

Yoongi rocks his hips against you, and you both moan, a little lost. That’s when you realise his underwear feels a little bit damp where his tip rests, and that renews your motivation. You roll him over, rising above him, and he’s stunned, staring at your hair. 

“Lift it up for me, love,” you tell him, and you’re not sure where all this agency is coming from, but you know you have a list of things you’re going to regret not doing to him — another surprising aspect of what you feel for him. 

He arches his hips off the bed, obeying your request, and you slip his boxers off him. And he’s so perfect. Crouching down and tasting him is the first thing that comes to your mind and you don’t even question it. You bend down and you do. 

He moans, and you regret not getting the sound recorded. 

“Come up here… You’re gonna make a sorry mess of me, Sunny,” he says, and it comes out so embarrassed, and so entertained too. “Let me please you, ____. I’m begging, sweetheart.”

You keep working him lightly, with little touches and small licks, and gentle nudges, your lips drawing his length, your teeth brushing against his flesh as softly as a lover’s whisper. But as you do all that, you slip your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and drag the fabric off your hips, down your thighs, till it reaches your knees, then you readjust yourself so that you can remove the garment entirely. 

“Is this the right moment to tell you I’ve done this just once?” He asks. 

You freeze. “What?” 

“I know, I was very poorly adapted to society. I’m not… I’m not entirely sure I know how this works.”

You frown, but nod anyway. “Okay. This is definitely not going to last, but I’ll make it good. I promise.”

Yoongi bites his lip, again, an embarrassed and amused expression on his fine face. “I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you will,” you reassure him, taking his hand in yours and kissing his palm. And then you place yourself astride him. “But I’m staying on top just to keep you rooted.” 

“Thanks,” he says with a chuckle. He looks entirely adorable. You want to eat him, just for a quick second, like a cotton candy bunny. 

You’re also sure you don’t want to stretch. You just want to grind and take him inch by inch, using him to ready yourself, feeling your body adapt to him. 

When you grip him, he hisses, but refuses to stop watching. The first three inches feel like the most brilliant decision you’ve ever taken, and you move on them for a bunch of seconds, then nod to yourself. 

All the way. That’s what you want, and the realisation dawns on you like the first day of summer. 

You let yourself slide on him until your butt rests on his hips. 

You both exhale with the wonder of those who finally discover the world was built in Technicolor after a life in black-and-white. 

“Fuck. Condom. Forgot,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“If you’re clean then—” 

“Used it that one time,” he reassures you.

“Fuck, good,” you swear, and it is uncharacteristic of you, but he’s making you see stars. He’s thick and blunt inside you, so hot and smooth and his flesh has the perfect give. When you squish him, your inner muscles responding to the divine feel of him inside you, the poor boy hums a long, restrained sound that culminates in a tender gasp. His mouth is wide, his eyes squeezed shut instead. “This… this is what it must feel like,” he whispers. 

“Yes, when you’re lucky,” you confess before rolling your hips, making him drag along the most sensitive spot of your inner walls. 

“I know I’m lucky. I feel very fucking lucky, Sunny.” His hips jolt and you squeak at the sudden bump, the thrust making you tighten around him. “Dammit, that’s what you do when I push inside you?”

You nod, a roguish smirk on your lips. 

He cradles your hips and then holds you still, pushing once again inside you. This time it’s deliberate and thorough, as if he’s searching the right angle, friction, direction. And when he sees your jaw fall, your lips agape, he nods to himself, and repeats the movement, intentful. 

You squeeze him, not entirely coherent, and this time the both of you lose reason a little. 

It becomes mechanic, natural, a push and pull that requires no thinking and all moving. 

“I think I’m close,” he says. “Are you?”

You frown, because you are actually close, but quite surely not as close as he is. “Close, but it’s okay if—

He slips all the way out this time and moves his hand so that his thumb can dip between your folds, tracing the cleft that runs from your entrance to the turgid bud of nerves at the top of your sex. 

You moan his name in warning. “This you’ve done more than once, though.” The devil’s in the details and there are only so many details you can know before you’re entirely damned: from the way he’s touching you, you’re probably both destined for a very hot circle in hell. There’s no way you can do this just once, no way you’re going to do this in the quiet. You just let yourself moan, and he chuckles, but the sound is filled with awe. 

“If I could bottle the sound, I’d get drunk on it,” he murmurs, and that seems to justify the way he looks barely sober now — nothing to do with the drinks he had at the beach earlier. This one is entirely your own doing. 

You lower your hips so that you can grind against his shaft, while his fingers keep working you leisurely. 

“I thought I’d done enough of it, but that was before you,” he says. “You feel like warm butter, Sunny. Like damn velvet.” 

“I need—” 

“Inside. Yes, I know,” he whispers. His tone is knowing, and it clashes with his admitted inexperience. 

“How do you know?”

“Because I fucking need inside you too,” is his only explanation. “Or you can make me come this way,” he suggests, “Watch me ruin myself. Bet you’d get high from my utter humiliation.”

You shake your head a little, and bite your lip. The picture he’s painted in your head has nothing to do with humiliation. “It wouldn’t be that. It would be the hottest, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Then bring it home, love,” he tells you with the flirtiest smile on his face.

So you pick up your pace, focus a little bit more on his tip and reach behind you to cup the rest of him. You slide the head of his dick inside you, work it with shallow, slow strokes, which makes him hiss. 

He doesn’t know how he finds the strength, but he manages to pull out just half a second before he reaches his orgasm. Just half a second of rationality before he loses himself entirely. 

And you know he’s let go: you can tell by the way his head tips back and he grunts in a way that doesn’t sound like him at all. It makes you shed your skin a little, and you allow yourself out of your shell. You ride him, hips swivelling like never before. You feel like water, and it seems absurd that no matter how much swimming, how much surfing, or how much sailing you’ve done in your life: you’ve never felt this fluid, this liquid before. You’re pure movement, and Yoongi can’t help but stare as you dance on top of him, like rain, like waves, like waterfalls. 

You grab at your chest, squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples as you ride him, your hair like a halo, dancing with your movements. His own hands join yours and you bend forward, pressing yourself against his palm. 

He’s still spilling himself under you, his orgasm reaching his stomach and his chest. It’s messy, and yet you’re entirely fascinated by it. You can feel his sex twitch and release itself against your folds, and you marvel at how sensitive your bodies can grow. 

It’s with his final thrusts that you finally reach the apex of your pleasure, and you part from him just quick enough to slide him inside you, his hiss going unnoticed as you finally, finally squeeze around him and there you go, tumbling down into pleasure, your downfall glorious and ruinous at the same time. 

You want him as close as you can and you just throw your body onto his, taking him to the hilt, gasping at how marvellous it is to be so full, to be this close, this uniquely twined with someone. It is not a tidy or poetic moment, your perspiration and his release mixing together on your and his chest as you embrace. You stare at each other, stupefied by the animalistic nature of your joining, both wide-eyed and desperate. And then you kiss him, like it’s the most obvious answer to this all.

“Are you alright,” you ask him once the kiss fades out, and he nods, his hands caressing the sides of your face, cradling it. 

“I’m sure that thing you did when you pulled me back in killed me once or twice,” he confesses. “But overall, I’ve never been better.”

His humour steals a chuckle from you. “I’m sorry about the mess,” you say, apologetic. 

He shakes his head with a mischievous smile on his face. “Sit up, Sunny. I have plans.”

You frown, not sure about his intentions. Does he mean ‘plans’ as in the sense that he needs you to leave?

You try to roll off him, a little upset, but he holds you still as soon as he realises you weren’t moving in the right direction. “No. Stay on top, just sit up, love.”

Your frown is still all out, but you do as he asks you. And right then you notice his eyes drifting down your torso, from your sticky, messy chest to your sticky, messy sex. 

He brings his hands to the side of your breasts, pushing them together, looks deep into your eyes as he sits up himself, the shift in the angle of him inside you making you gasp. He holds your gaze until he can’t anymore, then dives with his face for your chest, the mess transferring from your boobs to his cheeks. And once he starts licking and sucking, once you feel him twitch inside you, you know the night has just begun. 

“Guess this means you’re ready for your third time?” you say, teasing and gleeful. 

“After all, they do say ‘third time’s the charm’,” he quips. 

And boy, oh boy, aren’t they just right. 

September is no longer terrifying. Not as you and Yoongi glide across the linoleum floor of Juniper Hall, his friends — maybe yours too, at this point — stare at you from the refreshment table. The Winery Ball is splendid, as usual, the true event of the end of the season, the closing of another cycle. The Orchard organises it each year, giving a chance for the members of the retirement home to celebrate one evening with their families, but also a way to keep them occupied through the final days of summer, and a kind initiative to include them in the social life of their community. Socially, but also creatively, is one of the best examples of Honeycomb Cove. 

Somewhere around the room, Hoseok was also dancing with his now-girlfriend, and you could hear Seokjin’s shrill laughter as he listened to his partner’s winded and absurd stories, her sarcastic — though wildly entertaining — rants. 

In another corner of the room, the brightest one, with an arm lamp, Laura was working at a new cardigan in Yoongi’s favourite shade of lavender. She’d become entirely smitten with the guy, and he often visited to keep her company; however, you also suspected he came around to hang out with you, and just maybe to hear some of your childhood stories. Marvin had yet to come to terms with the fact that you were now very happily taken, but his nephew was very glad the matchmaking shenanigans had to come to a much-needed halt. After all, Marvin liked Yoongi very much, and he liked live music even more than that. He was secretly glad you’d found such a perfect match for yourself, though he would never admit that publicly.

Still, the person who enjoyed the music the most was Orla: she and Yoongi had bonded almost immediately, and he did love spending time with her the most. They spoke a little Portuguese together every now and then, and she was becoming rather committed to the idea of reaching a little more fluency before ‘laying to rest for good’, as she said. Yoongi’s eyes would always glow glossy at the way Orla would talk about her declining health and what was left of her lifespan, but the cloud of melancholy would always drift by quickly, and his eyes would light up in determination as he fought to keep her entertained for just one more day. 

Like so, your life had changed forever, and in the span of one summer, you had entered a new season in your life, one that would one day lead probably to marriage, and a family. A dog. Kids too, if you were so blessed. Or maybe you would just adopt — both you and Yoongi were rather open to the idea of that. 

But first, marriage: you had both been on the same page about that, and he hadn’t made it a secret he had every intention of keeping the engagement rather short. 

You stared at your hand, resting on his shoulder as you swayed to the music, his gentle samba playing from the speakers, the sound so familiar as the first time he’d played it for you in his home studio, the melody reminding you of every walk by the rising sun, of every wave crashing at your feet on the shore, of music by the fireplace, of stars making his hair glitter like the ocean at midnight, of making love in the deep quiet of the night, when you knew each other not by sight, but by touch and taste alone. 

He’d given you Beatrice’s ring earlier tonight: a bright yellow crystal surrounded by exquisite smaller stones, forming a star. He’d put it on your middle finger, then kissed your palm before he said, “We’ll move it on the right finger when you’re ready.” He’d been confident, and calm and trusting, and you’d felt like the time was right, then and there, but you decided to be considerate, and see how winter would play out. You would return to the Orchard full time in just ten days, but you felt excited, with your truck in Yoongi’s driveway and your scrubs and your knitting supplies waiting for you at his place, in a wardrobe he’d fixed for you. 

He’d made you move in with him a month after that first night, with the excuse of making you save on rent, and the promise of letting you split the bills, since you would have felt too much of a freeloader otherwise. 

Truth is, he paid the bills in full, and kept your money on the side, just in case you would need it someday — but that’s not something you needed to know yet, and he kept his little secret with a little smugness. 

“Have I touched on the subject of how much I love you in this dress tonight?” Yoongi said as his fingers lowered into the low scoop of the back of your dress, chastely caressing the naked skin at the small of your back. 

“I know for sure you have elaborated on how much you love me with no clothes on, but the part with my dress on no, you actually haven’t mentioned,” you replied, fond, but also quippish.

You’re rather fond of all the ways your inside jokes have lined up, with the way you’ve found a common sense of humour, and with how sensitive, how aligned you’ve become with each other. 

“I guess I have some shortcomings to make up for,” he conceded. 

“You can start by saying how much you love him.”

“Oh, an easy one, thank you,” he said before caressing your face, his palm cupping your chin before his lips landed on yours, light and loving. “I love you as wide as the sky, and as deep as the ocean,” he declared, with that little lull in his voice. He’d told you Antonio would always tell Beatrice so before resting his lips on her forehead, holding her. And a few weeks later, he’d barged in the kitchen as you were cooking, excited like a little kid on Christmas morning. 

“Found it! I found it!” he’d cheered. He’d dragged you to the living room, where a pile of VHS towered dangerously on top of the coffee table. He grabbed the remote, and rewinded the tape just a little. “Here,” he’d said, his voice elated. He’d held you tight, like you were his teddy bear, his comfort blanket, his lifeline. And with his chin resting over your shoulder, his arms wrapped snugly around you, you’d both faced the screen and he’d pressed play. 

The voice that came on was soft, like the sound of wind gushing through the branches of osmanthus trees in the garden. And there was the lull of that declaration, by now so familiar to your ears. With the same pattern of stresses, the same intonation, Antonio proclaimed his love to Beatrice on the occasion of their tenth anniversary, both dressed in white, both crowned in flowers, both barefoot in the garden. Right there, the declaration, like an oath and like a children's rhyme. 

“And I will love you true, always. As wide as the sky. As deep as the ocean.” 

Your and Yoongi’s eyes had sparkled with unshed tears that night, as you stood there, years after that video had been shot on a cheap camera. It felt powerful, being testimony to a love like that, long gone from the world, but still alive in the memory, and in Yoongi’s very existence. 

And now swaying in an improvised ballroom, not barefoot yet — but sometimes soon, with a priest and matching rings and emotional friends — you looked at Yoongi and replied, just as Beatrice had, “As bright as the sun, as soft as the moon.”

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! If you want to know more about this collab, you can head over here!!!

[girlwithletters]

Another one is coming

Párosítás: Jude Bellingham x olvasó / te vagy aki akarod

It was cool in the living room, except for some embers flickering in the fireplace. Jude Bellingham still couldn't bring himself to put wood on the fire, even though the woodcutter was only an arm's length away. Even if he was locked in the hottest pot of hell, it wouldn't have warmed his soaked, ice-cold body. His head was heavy with wine and his body was empty without the heart and soul left in his home.

- Jude - Vinicius Jr. couldn't even get his friend's full attention with his voice.

- What? - muttered Jude in displeasure, looking at the empty bottle in the left hand of the ever-smiling Brazilian.

- When this cursed storm subsides somewhat, I will accompany you back to your wife. But until then, all we can do is wait.

- I don `t want to wait! - Even when he was drenched in water, in clothes that clung to his muscular, lean body, he radiated uncontrollable wildness. Pressing his lips together, he raised his head, a tension flared up in his brown eyes. - To hell with you! - He threw the towel in his hand to the other end of the room.

Even the monotonous hum of the television was drowned out by the sound of the approaching storm, lightning strikes shook the windows of the house.

The teammates also felt the same restlessness as Vini's dog. His body, covered with brown-black fur, trembled with nervousness, his breathing wavered along with his owner's heartbeat. Joy flashed in his yellow eyes as he heard the increasingly loud click of shoes approaching him and smelled the familiar scent of human flesh covered by wet clothes.

But Jude had other plans.

As he ran out into the yard, his foot slipped on the wet stones, but he managed to reach his impatient friend who was stumbling next to the car without injury. How embarrassing it would have been if one or two wet pebbles caused the loss of the fearless soccer player, the adored prince of Real Madrid.

Tchouaméni was the lucky one who managed to get the lock key , to take the driver's seat and start the car. When all four of them took their seats, the wheels of the car sped up and pebbles flew. Trent buckled his seat belt at the last minute.

The wind picked up, and the rain falling from the gloomy black clouds became as opaque as the densely woven curtains on the door of their bedroom balcony.

Jude's mouth twitched nervously, his chin tensed, his stomach clenched, his heart clenched by some unknown foreboding.

- Let's hurry! - His voice was only a faint whisper, like the gliding of a butterfly's wings in the colors of the rainbow, but the person to whom spoke to him, still understood.

If they had been walking in the rain around this time, if a ship steered by brave sailors had come up against the waves crashing on high, he would have seen a vision dressed in the light of yellow-red lightnings on the road shrouded in darkness, he would have thought only: Those are the gods!

- It's almost over - I would have liked to wrap my fingers around the balding doctor's thick neck and squeeze him until the last breath, until the last thought left him. How the hell can you say that! It's easy for him!

Laura, Antonio Rüdiger's wife, took my hand. I squeezed hers.

"I know you'd rather kill him," he grinned at me. I admit, as much as I hated Laura in the past, I have grown to like her in the last six months. In her worried eyes, I saw my shattered reflection, my face distorted from the pain of childbirth, my hair stuck to my pale skin wet from sweat.

- I'm ugly!

- You're beautiful! - he pressed a soothing kiss on my forehead. I was very tired. I would have preferred to close my eyes and sleep a little. A few minutes or a few hours.

- Does it always take this long?

- Not always. Every woman is different - said the nurse from the side, holding a wet cloth.

- I hate him! I hate Jude! - I squeezed out the words between my teeth. A sharp pain ripped through my body, spasming my muscles. - When he returns home, I will cut off his tail and feed it to the dog!

The two women laughed and said almost simultaneously:

- Believe us, you would later curse yourself for your earlier words.

Another contraction almost snapped my spine in half. I felt like my bones were falling apart.

- Please do something! I can not stand! - Laura gently, with slow movements, ran her hand several times along my enlarged, tense belly. She gathered her brown hair, which had previously covered her shoulders, pinned it up and looked at me with an encouraging smile.

- Get ready! They will arrive soon.

- I'll kill you anyway! - The pains were getting stronger, I cringed from the pain. I turned here and there, twisted, and buried my head in the pillow that had become a fighter. It was somehow easier with my eyes closed.

- Press it! - Laura said. - Press it! As before...

- To hell with you, Jude Bellingham! I hate you! - As if I had been hit with whiplash, the pains came more and more frequently and densely. - I will never spread my legs to you again!

- My beauty, don't make irresponsible statements - I heard the familiar chuckle next to my head. I got it towards his hand.

- You are here, in time - My palm slid into his ice-cold palm.

- Yes my love. As I promised. Now push, doe! It's time for the little dragons to arrive!

I barely had any strength, but somehow I managed to push.

It was like a lock on a door. However, when the lock was opened, my body felt so light.

- You did it, my love! - My beloved soccer player bowed his head to my forehead with eyes glistening with tears, then with a bright smile on his face, he took over from the doctor his son, William, who has black hair. The blonde girl, Denise, who arrived a few minutes after her brother, was wrapped in a warm, soft piece of fabric by Laura.

- They are so perfect! - I stretched out my hand towards them, when a strong pain ripped through my lower abdomen like a whiplash, then galloped along my back and thighs. I felt nauseous. - I need to throw up - I moaned.

- What's happening? - Fear ran down Jude's spine.

- My goodness! - the doctor wearing foggy glasses leaned over to me. - Another one is coming!

( english isn't my first language ) - just the usual

sorry for the mistakes

[bullet-prooflove]

Grumpy/Standoffish Dialogue Prompts

“Well sorry that I’m not full of sunshine and rainbows”

Antonio Dawson x fem reader

“Someone’s grumpy this morning.” You commented, taking a sip from your coffee cup as you sat in the passenger seat of Antonio’s car.

“Well sorry that I’m not full of sunshine and rainbows.” He snapped, adjusting the heat setting so it was blowing hot air in your direction. “Laura forgot to pick up the kids this morning and now I’m running around with my head up ass.”

“Good thing, I also bought you a coffee then.” You told said, putting your additional travel mug inside the cupholder. “I put an extra shot of caramel in to sweeten you up.”

Antonio’s shoulders sagged, his hands gripping the steering wheel for a second before he turned in his seat to face you.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he told you, his expression softening. “I mean it, you somehow make my days so much better.”

[selfsabotaqe]

hi everyone! it's been a while & finally i'm making my comeback. work has finally left me some room to breathe so i'll be reappearing on your dash and hopefully getting back into the swing of replies. down below there's a full list of everything currently in my drafts. please let me know whether you'd like to continue or drop these threads. whichever scenario is completely fine and understandable (it's been a hot sec after all), just let me know. if you'd prefer to start something new, we can also do that. feel free to message me or reply to this post anytime. there's no rush at all to make up your mind, but just to start off i'll start with replies for threads people do actively express interest in. so if anything from this list is something you're still excited about, let me know and i'll prioritize. we can always waitlist the other stuff while we feel it out. anyway, let me know, come chat, let me love u down and can't wait to continue writing together. love u all! 💗🥹

with @persephonyed. carlos x lorenzo marley x camille

with @silvrmoon. nadiye x milo axel x kadri zehra x sierra

with @lilacwiine. drew x felice amara x maya

with @invcntions. alec x lucas mateo x saxon devrim x leo beau x koa emre x noah luca x jaiden (smth new?) jesse x finn peyton x vance soren x lincoln

with @horrorphase. dominic x percy milan x kendall

with @slumpcd. max x theo kendall x nolan jinny x gwen

with @gcldcnhour. eden x mathias rhys x bodie isabel x tate alina x priya zoe x knox ethan x violet marisol x miriam

with @temptedfates. emmett x aydin noor x solana

with @spectraled. maddie x rory tbd x dallas (thought abt replying if u would like replies <3)

with @vacationeyes. marco x conrad julian x callum emre x frankie xavier x tyson jude x forest

with @lovecharged. jonas x antonio aleksei x drake bridie x quilo tbd x amie jonas x antonio (part two) julian x zayn felix x robin nadiye x rasim tatum x uziah carlos x gabriel

with @fruitpoem. ambar x joel

with @inkiidreams. aera x selin davika x esra carlos x mallory merve x yaritza robin x aurelia lais x nova casper x knox lachlan x olivia

with @wutheringdevotion. lachlan x oliver rowan x ginny connor x evan meera x monique carlos x gabriel gwen x jonah margot x adrian

with @gardenwalls. meera x paloma alec x mack naiyana x nadine daniel x minako laura x andrea fabien x mei li nazli x rhys

with @felteverywhere. alina x rowan

with @sunstvne. santiago x constantin

with @gvngsigns. gabriela x lucas kai x mateo florence x liam tobias x zuri andrea x cruz ricardo x vincent

with @scbrvght. all of our formula one threads (don't think i owe u the replies but let me know if you'd like to continue them <3) lale x finley soren x everly

mAYBE im missing things. if there's anything i owe you that isn't on this list, feel free to point it out to me! and also vice versa, if you owe me something & you want to discuss continuing or dropping it, just come message me and we can chat about it!

[aimlovesmusic]

All named Zoophobia NGs

All the names will have links to the characters bio once it has been written

D= designed

RD= needs an update

N= no design

F= complete

Main series

Ronnie / Josh/ Hailey / Vinnie / Lilith ( Tom x Taylor x Bozzwick ) F

Keslie(Kez)/ Callie ( Penelope x Daphne ) F

Jay / Lannie / Lake / Susie ( Damian x Elijah ) F

Varian ( Kayla x Jolene ) Kayla? F

Aj ( Summer + Bambi ) queer platonic F

Jamie ( Autumn x Rusty ) F

Oasis / Thyme / Quil / ( Winter x Pepper x Ink ) F

Chelsea ( Ronaldo x Tentadora ) F

Monica / Delaian ( Tentadora + Styx ) F

Raspberry / Jace ( Zechariah x Fabian ) F

Lacey ( Zechariah + Queen ) RD

Jessie ( Mia x Roxanne ) F

Cinnamon / Song ( Ava x Vincent ) F

Julian ( Wynne x Hart ) F

June ( Venus’s offspring ) N

Lexa / Jubilie ( Cierra x Quiver ) RD/D

Antonio / Jordan ( Jubilie x Kimberly x Camilla ) F

Daniel ( Maple x Baltimore ) F

Jasmine ( Jojo x Kate ) F

Ivory ( Adina + Sabrina ) F

Tim ( Krisstina x Destiny ) F

Zenna ( Sahara x Zamir ) F

Diana ( Addison + Gustav ) F

Chives ( Jack x Addison ) F

Carter ( Orion x Utina ) F

Mist ( Jamille’s daughter ) F

Eliza ( Hilda x Evalyn ) F

Maple ( Kaycee + Vanganza ) Raised by Lauretta D

Pierce ( Vanganza x Simon ) F

Maria / Jerico / Eliza ( Alanzo x Jackie ) F

Moira ( Mirage x Phinese ) F

Zinnia / Zephirine / Periwinkle ( Jill x Nique ) F

Danny ( Zill x Priscilla ) F

Nadia ( Max x Alexis ) F

Trix ( Nathan x Shane ) RD

Koi ( Celestine’s daughter ) F

Shawn ( Olivia’s son) F

Cyan / Sophie ( Christina x Tam x Mackenzie ) F

Colt ( Spam x Kiki ) F

Ressie / Kim / Leo (spam + vanexa ) F

Lana / crow / thrush / Kira ( Vanexa x Spring ) N

Parrot ( Raven x Jayjay ) F

Apricot ( Perci x Malcom ) N

Pearl ( Francesca x Xinith ) F

Laura ( Lenny x Rosemary ) F

Cola pop ( Max x Nightingale ) F

Sage / Lime / Fennel ( Mint’s son) F

Neo ( Whitney’s kid ) F

Joana/Roxanna/jolene/johnny/Jerome/Tessa( Salems brotherJeremy x selk ) F

Yew / Nightshade ( Ribbon + Greta.OC ) F

Artemis ( Athena + Castello ) F

Tyson (Snake x Opal) F

Perry (Calvin x Quinton) F

75/86

11 to do

Alt

Unnamed NG ( Xavior x Loreai ) no design yet

Ginger ( Ribbon x Fantasia ) D

Devin (Kayla x Zill ) D

Paige (Jack x Jill)

Unnamed NG (Summer x Pepper)

[01sentencereviews]

Nov 2022

Heck (2020, Kyle Edward Ball)

The Fabelmans (2022, Steven Spielberg)

Senritsu Kaiki File Kowasugi! File 01 - Operation Capture the Slit-Mouthed Woman (2012, Koji Shiraishi)

Aftersun (2022, Charlotte Wells)

Resurrection (2022, Andrew Semans)

Disney Channel’s Theme: A History Mystery (2022, Kevin Perjurer)

Starfuckers (2022, Antonio Marziale)

The Banshees of Inisherin (2022, Martin McDonagh)

Project X (2016, Henrik Moltke & Laura Poitras)

The African Desperate (2022, Martine Syms)

Thumbsucker (2005, Mike Mills)

Fire of Love (2022, Sara Dosa)

Casino (1995, Martin Scorsese)

The Vampire Doll (1970, Michio Yamamoto)

The Murmuring (2022, Jennifer Kent)

[agendaculturaldelima]

  #AmigosInolvidables

📣  «X CONGRESO INTERNACIONAL DE NARRATIVA FANTÁSTICA (XVI COLOQUIO)

Surrealismo y mundos distópicos en la nueva literatura latinoamericana»📖✍️🌎😍💯

🗯 Evento que continúa con la exhumación de la obra de autores latinoamericanos, hispanos y globales, con vínculos con lo fantástico; que desde el año 2008 bajo la iniciativa de Elton Honores y Gonzalo Portals, se mantiene de forma ininterrumpida a lo largo del tiempo, y que busca promover los estudios académicos sobre el discurso fantástico en todas sus manifestaciones, y que aún carecen de la debida atención y análisis.📕🙌

© Producción: Centro de Estudios Literarios Antonio Cornejo Polar.

📜 PROGRAMA:

📆 Martes 29 de Octubre

🕒 3:00pm. «Acto de Inauguración» a cargo de Gonzalo Cornejo (Centro de Estudios Literarios Antonio Cornejo Polar) y Elton Honores (Presidente del Comité Organizador).

🕒 3:10pm. Mesa 1. Otredades: «Éxodo X: una aproximación fantástica a los conceptos del Yo, el Otro y el Yo/Otro como monstruo ideológico» a cargo de Mario Morera (Stephen F. Austin State University, Estados Unidos), «Monstruos-Aves en la cuentística de Elpidia García y Liliana Blum» a cargo de Iram Isaí Evangelista Ávila (Universidad Autónoma de Chihuahua - México), «Mundos distópicos y Seres monstruosos en El estado larvario del peligro de Alma Mancilla» a cargo de Marisol Nava Hernández y Jaqueline Bernal Arana (Universidad Autónoma de Tlaxcala - México).

🕟 4:20pm. Mesa 2. De lo Fantástico a lo Insólito: «Beatriz Espejo hilandera de la literatura fantástica» a cargo de Cynthia García Bañuelos (Universidad Autónoma de Zacatecas - México), «Los cuentos de Inés Arredondo, una aproximación al género fantástico» a cargo de Claudia Liliana González Núñez (Universidad Autónoma de Zacatecas - México), «Explicarse lo inexplicable: las tradiciones literarias y el ejercicio interpretativo» a cargo de Jesús Erbey Mendoza Negrete (Universidad Autónoma de Chihuahua - México), «Ubicación genérica de la novela Yo visité Ganímedes en representación de un corpus de novelas sobre extraterrestres escritas en la Lima de los setentas» a cargo de Miguel Alfredo Rivera Manrique (Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos).

🕔 5:50pm. Mesa 3. Distopías Narrativas y Visuales: «Con el Reprimero todo, sin el Reprimero nada: El asalto de Reinaldo Arenas como crítica a la dictadura castrista» a cargo de Augusto Montero Razo (Universidad Nacional Autónoma - México), «Todas las caras la cara. Un análisis sobre lo raro en Los parecidos (2015) de Isaac Ezban» a cargo de Samuel Lagunas Cerda, Miranda Hazel León Rangel y Raymundo André Rodríguez Nieto (Universidad Autónoma de Querétaro - México), «Efecto enigmático en clave gótica en los filmes Los colonos (2023) y El Conde (2023)» a cargo de Libia Alejandra Castañeda López (Universidad Federal de Pernambuco - Brasil).

🎙️Moderador: Kevin Vásquez.

📆 Miércoles 30 de Octubre

🕘 9:00am. Mesa 4. Surrealismos: «Hacia una estética de la desposesión: otra mirada sobre los cuentos de Julio Cortázar» a cargo de Margherita Cannavacciuolo (Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia - Italia), «O insólito na burocracia e no esgotamento: um olhar para o fantástico de Murilo Rubião» a cargo de Raphaela da Silva e Souza (Universidade Estadual de Londrina - Brasil), «María Luisa Bombal: ¿escritora surrealista o fantástica? Análisis de algunas imágenes singulares de su obra» a cargo de Michelle Trujillo Cruz (Centro de Investigaciones sobre América Latina y el Caribe, CIALC / UNAM).

🕙 10:10am. Mesa 5. Monstruoso, Grotesco, Apocalíptico: «Las múltiples caras del monstruo en El regalo de las estrellas, de Daniel Salvo» a cargo de Juan Luis Roldán Romero (Universidad de Estrasburgo, Francia- Universidad de Sevilla - España), «Apocalipsis y después en novelas de Ana Paula Maia» a cargo de

Paula Daniela Bianchi (Universidad de Buenos Aires y Universidad de Luján - Argentina), «Lo grotesco en El obsceno pájaro de la noche de José Donoso, la otra cara de la utopía» a cargo de Laura Judith Becerril Nava (Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana. Unidad Xochimilco - Universidad Autónoma del Estado - México).

🕚 11:20am. Mesa 6. Horror y Otredad: «El motivo del doble ¿cómo supervivencia o venganza? en la cuentística de María Elena Llana y Rosario Ferré» a cargo de Mariana Télles Salas (Universidad Nacional Autónoma - México), «La representación de la mujer y la maternidad monstruosa en la cuentística fantástica de Silvina Ocampo (1949-1961)» a cargo de Leila Jimena Ovando (Universidad Nacional de Salta-FMRT), «La otra cara del surrealismo. Un artista local de Mariana Enríquez, un cuento grotesco de horror» a cargo de Shanik Sánchez (Instituto de Investigaciones Lingüístico Literarias, Universidad Veracruzana - México).

🕒 3:00pm. a 7:00pm. Exhibición y Feria de Libros: Grafos & Maquinaciones, Librería Goetia, El Gato Descalzo, Speedwagon Media Works, Zafiro, Amotape y Vida Múltiple.

🕒 3:40pm. Mesa 7. Construcciones del Futuro: «Fundamentalismo futurista en tres novelas andinas» a cargo de Iván Rodrigo Mendizábal (Universidad Andina Simón Bolívar - Ecuador), «As linhas de fuga da ficção científica brasileira: o grotesco, o

marginal e a poética da incerteza» a cargo de Ricardo Celestino (Pontifícia Universidade Católica de São Paulo -PUC-SP-), «Una polifonía wichí. Diálogos interespecie en Eisejuaz de Sara Gallardo» a cargo de Alan Alejandro Suárez Ortiz (Universidad Nacional Autónoma - México).

🎙️Moderadora: Marylin Malásquez Gonzáles.

🕔 5:10pm. Presentación de Libro: «Nación Fantasma. Ciencia ficción en la Novela Peruana (1917-1984)» de Elton Honores (UNMSM - 2024), comentarios: Daniel Salvo.

🕔 5:50pm. Mesa 8: ¿Una distopía profética? Cuarenta años de Mañana, las ratas (1984) de José B. Adolph» a cargo de María Elena Gushiken Ibañez, Alexis Iparraguirre y Daniel Salvo

🎙️Moderador: Elton Honores.

📆 Jueves 31 de Octubre

🕘 9:00am. Mesa 9. Fantástico y Fantasía: «2218, Subjetividades futuras en Villautopía de la novela Eugenia (1919)» a cargo de Romy Cerón Canché (Texas State University - Estados Unidos), «Francisco Hinojosa entre la ficción y la fantasía. «La Peor Señora del Mundo» a cargo de Martha Elia Arizmendi Domínguez (Universidad Autónoma del Estado de México, Toluca), «Ressonâncias e tensões do surrealismo em Alejo Carpentier» a cargo de Amanda Brandão Araújo Moreno (Universidade Federal Rural de Pernambuco (UFRPE, Recife-PE - Brasil), «El relato fantástico en los divertimentos de Eliseo Diego» a cargo de José Miguel Sardiñas Fernández (Universidad Autónoma de San Luis Potosí - México),

🕙 10:30am. Mesa 10. Futurismos: «Legibilidad e ilegibilidad del horror distópico: Cadáver exquisito de Agustina Bazterrica» a cargo de Davy Desmas Loubaresse (Instituto Nacional Universitario Champollion - Francia), «Cuando la tierra habla: hermenéutica de la construcción de mundo en la fantasía Inmersiva» a cargo de Ismael Antonio Borunda Magallanes (Centro Interdisciplinario de Investigación de Humanidades, Universidad Autónoma del Estado de Morelos - México), Las visiones de las futuras tecnologías Andinas en Andean Sky y Ángelus Hostis

Cristián Londoño Proaño (Universidad Indoamérica - Ecuador).

🎙️Moderadora: Marylin Malásquez Gonzáles.

🕒 3:00pm. Mesa 11. Surrealismo, Locura y Terror: «Alienados y alienistas: la locura presurrealista en cuatro cuentos de Le coin de fous (1921) de Jean Richepin» a cargo de Abraham Eduardo Rojas Vargas (Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos), «El (extra)ordinario mundo de Julio Cortázar: vertientes del género

fantástico en Bestiario» a cargo de João Pereira Loureiro Junior (Universidade do Estado do Amapá - UEAP), «El terror inmersivo en Desaparecer por completo» a cargo de Jorge Olvera Vázquez (UNAM-FES Acatlán), Moderadora: Aura Estefany Pariente Verde.

🕒 3:00pm. a 7:00pm. Exhibición y Feria de Libros: Grafos & Maquinaciones, Librería Goetia, El Gato Descalzo, Speedwagon Media Works, Zafiro, Amotape y Vida Múltiple.

🕟 4:15pm. Presentación de Libro: «Hojas de mi Álbum (Vida Múltiple [1903])» de José Antonio Román (2024), comentarios: Ricardo Sumalavia y Elton Honores.

🕟 4:50pm. Mesa 12. Narrativa Fantástica escrita por Mujeres: «La transferencia intercultural de la narración fantástica: Pajarito de Claudia Ulloa» a cargo de Erwin Snauwaert (KU Leuven, Campus Brussel - Bélgica), «Fantástico, diáspora y heterotopía en las narradoras hispanoamericanas» a cargo de Xaquín Núñez Sabarís (Universidade do Minho - Portugal), «Neogótico Latinoamericano. Lo siniestro y lo raro en Sacrificios Humanos de María Fernanda Ampuero (Guayaquil, 1974) y en Avidez de Lina Meruane (Santiago, 1970)» a cargo de José Martín Parra Olave (Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile), Moderador: Elton Honores.

🕕 6:05pm. Conferencia Magistral: «Tensiones modernistas y la génesis epistolar de Cuentos malévolos de Clemente Palma» a cargo de Ricardo Sumalavia (PUCP).

🕕 6:50pm. Clausura.

📌 COLOQUIO:

📆 Del 29 al 31 de octubre

🏫 Auditorio de la Casa de la Literatura (jr. Áncash 207, Estación Desamparados - Centro de Lima)

🚶‍♀️🚶‍♂️ Ingreso libre.

[equestrianempire]

Sunshine Tour: Victory for Ellen Whitaker and ‘Korlenski’ in the Ashford Farm Trophy

Derin Demirsoy with ‘O-Kannarock’ and Marie Demonte with ‘Epona Du Quesnoy’ complete the podium in this competitive 150 class.

Vejer, 9th March, 2024.  Top British rider, Ellen Whitaker had an impressive win with her lovely 9yr old mare, who is by the legendary stallion ‘Cornet Obolensky’, ‘Korlenski’ in the 1.50 m of the Andalucia Sunshine Tour,  Ashford Farm Trophy, Longines Ranking, speed class held in the Milton arena.  There were 69 horses in the class and she stopped the clock in 67.62s, over a second faster than her nearest challenger, Turkish, Derin Demirsoy with ‘O-Kannarock’ (‘Rock’n Roll Semilly’ x ‘Kannan’).  In third was the French rider who has had a plethora of good results here with various horses, Marie Demonte.  Today she was riding  ‘Epona du Quesnoy’.  In fourth was Egyptian, Abdelrahman Ikram with ‘Graduate HBC’ and fifth was Belgian,  Yves Vanderhasselt with ‘Nikita Van de Koekelberg’.

Ellen Whitaker in sella a Korlenski all’Andalucia Sunshine Tour by Mackenzie Clark

The Big Tour 1.45, was won by Czech, Ales Opatrny with ‘Holland TN’;  second was Chloe Winchester with ‘Equine América Billy Take That’;  third, Italian, Luca Moneta with ‘Jolie Coeur D’Avril’; fourth, Nicole Lockhead Anderson with ‘Chinoubet PS’ and in fifth, French rider, Guy Jonqueres D’Oriola with ‘Aloma De Grandcamp’.

There was also a Czech winner in the Big Tour 1.35, Albert Pisarik with ‘Chapo 2’.  Second was Spanish rider, Lucía Fernández Hidalgo with ‘London’s Bella’; third British, William Whitaker with ‘Lancaster’;  fourth was Japanese, Eiken Sato with ‘Chacco’s Grand Daughter PS’ and in fifth was Irish, Jack Ryan with ‘Carramba L Z’.

Spanish rider, Ismael García Roque with ‘Brazilia DK Z’ was the winner of the Medium Tour 1.45,  followed by:  Swiss, Peter Burri with ‘Dubai 64’;  Spanish Kevin González de Zárate with ‘Cantuccini 17’;  American, Michael Hughes with ‘Lazy’ and finally in fifth Luca  Moneta with ‘Folie de Chalusse’.

The Medium Tour 1.40 was won by Swedish Ebba Danielsson with ‘T-Gavoli Z’.  Second was Irish, Emily Turkington with ‘Diwali de Runya’;  third, Spanish  Álvaro Castro Román with ‘Brigitte’;  followed by Mexican, Claudia Michel with ‘Angela de Kreisker’ and Swiss rider, Yannick Jorand  with ‘Chaclago PS’.

There was a Spanish win from, Francisco de Asís Arango in the Medium Tour 1.30 with ‘City Meel’ moving well up from their fifth place yesterday in this class.  Second was British, Joe Fernyhough with ‘Calcourt Countdown’;  Yannick Jorand took third with ‘Daylight VH Maressahof Z’, and fourth was German rider,  Leonie Böckmann with ‘Four Roses 13’.  In fifth was British, Joe Fernyhough with ‘Calcourt Supersonic’.

Albert Pisarik had a second win today this time in the Medium Tour 1.20 with ‘Conada 2’.  Second was British, Joshua Hutchins with ‘Billy Serafina’;  third Spanish, Antonio Mariñas Soto with ‘Qute Hero TC’;  fourth, British, Grace Shudall Hughes with ‘For Free Z’ and in fifth, Swedish rider, Olivia Munkberg with ‘Invicta del Maset’.

British, Emma Stoker was the fastest in the Small Tour 1.40 with,  ‘Q Seven’ and finished with almost three seconds in hand over Spanish, Rubén Gómez Crespo who was second with ‘Allblack de Gressoux’.  Third was the Polish rider,  Lukasz Piksa with ‘Lucky Horse��;  fourth Spanish, Xabier Zabaleta Susperregui with ‘Arloy de Beausejour’ and fifth, Portuguese,  Nuno Tiago Gomes with ‘Chaccora’s Stakko PS’.

The winner of the Small Tour 1.30 was Mar Pérez Fernández with ‘Diane du Val’.   Second was French rider, Laura Monier with ‘Cathinka B’.  Third and fourth places went to Spanish riders, Marta Garat Macías with ‘Julieta del Amor’ and Rafa Iribarren Baptista with ‘Etincelle de la Rosa’.  Fifth was British, James Pinkney with ‘Billy Bon Soir’.

The winners of the classes in the CSI1* were: Spanish Fernando de los Santos with ‘Isba Caps’, in the 1.30;  British, Jessica Williams with ‘Miss Bubbles’, in the 1.20;  Belgian,  Juliette Berghmans with ‘D Day de Lison Z’ in the 1.10.

Tomorrow we continue with eight classes in the CSI4* including the Longines Ranking Small Tour Grand Prix: there are three CSI1* classes and the National Pony Championships continue here at the Andalucía Sunshine Tour:  which is sponsored by the Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Sports of the Government of Andalucía, through Tourism and Sports of Andalucía.

These are today’s main results, full results may be found both on our Sunshine Tour App and the official website www.sunshinetour.net where you may also follow live streaming of all the arenas or alternatively, you can watch online at Clip My Horse.  Entrance to the show is free, there are parking areas, a commercial zone and a wide choice of restaurants. 

Press release Sunshine Tour | Ellen Whitaker in sella a Korlenski all’Andalucia Sunshine Tour by Mackenzie Clark

© Rights Reserved.

[m2024a]

https://notizieoggi2023.blogspot.com/2024/01/sanremo-2024-tutto-sui-cantanti-in-gara.html

Sanremo 2024, tutto sui cantanti in gara al Festival: dai big storici ai talenti rampanti In questa edizione, la kermesse musicale ospita sul palco ben 30 cantanti: 27 big e 3 artisti provenienti dai Giovani. Ecco qualche informazione su di loro. Anche la 74esima edizione del Festival di Sanremo, come ogni anno, porta con sé un groviglio di emozioni indescrivibili, sia per chi ne è protagonista che per i tantissimi spettatori. Amadeus, nel suo quarto anno consecutivo come conduttore e direttore artistico della kermesse musicale, ha deciso di far salire sul palco dell'Ariston ben 30 cantanti di grandissimo talento, pronti ad esibirsi e ad emozionare il pubblico. Ecco quindi tutti i cantanti in gara di questo Festival di Sanremo.

Fiorella Mannoia Grande ritorno per Fiorella Mannoia, 69 anni, sul palco dell'Ariston per la sesta volta. La cantante romana ha partecipato alla kermesse per la prima volta nel 1981 con il brano Caffè nero bollente. La sua ultima partecipazione al Festival risale al 2017 con la canzone Che sia benedetta, con il quale si è classificata al secondo posto. In questa nuova edizione porta il brano Mariposa.

Geolier Tra i cantanti in gara anche Geolier, pseudonimo di Emanuele Palumbo. Il rapper napoletano ha 23 anni e ha iniziato ad avvicinarsi alla musica grazie alle gare di freestyle. Il singolo di debutto P Secondigliano gli ha permesso di farsi conoscere, e ora ha all'attivo numerosi brani di successo e collaborazioni con altri volti noti della musica come Anna Tatangelo, Lazza, Emis Killa, Gigi D'Alessio, Sfera Ebbasta e molti altri. A Sanremo 2024 porta il brano I p' me, tu p' te.

Dargen D'Amico Dargen D'Amico, il cui vero nome è Jacopo Matteo Luca D'Amico, è un produttore, cantante e rapper milanese di 43 anni. Dargen ha una sua etichetta discografica indipendente e il vero boom per la sua carriera è arrivato nel 2022 quando il cantante ha partecipato al Festival di Sanremo per la prima volta come concorrente con il brano Dove si balla. Ora, Dargen torna a Sanremo con il brano Onda Alta.

Emma Marrone Emma Marrone, invece, il Festival di Sanremo lo ha proprio vinto nel 2012 con il brano Non è l'inferno. La cantante pugliese festeggerà proprio quest'anno 40 anni, quale occasione migliore allora per tornare sul palco dell'Ariston per la quarta volta con il brano Apnea.

Fred De Palma Tra i big anche Fred De Palma, pseudonimo di Federico Palana, cantante di 34 anni per la prima volta al Festival di Sanremo con il brano Il cielo non ci vuole. Partendo dal freestyle, Fred De Palma è divento famoso grazie ai brani che mescolano hip hop, rap, reggaeton e molto di più. Tra questi i successi dal sapore latino D'estate non vale, Una volta ancora, Paloma, Un altro ballo e Ti raggiungerò.

Angelina Mango Angelina Mango, classe 2001, è tra le scoperte più talentuose degli ultimi tempi. Figlia del cantautore Mango e della cantante Laura Valente, Angelina si è fatta conoscere grazie al talent Amici di Maria De Filippi nel 2022, vincendo la categoria canto. Tra i suoi singoli di successo risuonati ovunque troviamo Voglia di vivere, Ci pensiamo domani e Che t'o dico a fa'. A Sanremo 2024 porta il brano La noia.

I Santi Francesi Tra i concorrenti arrivati da Sanremo Giovani ci sono i Santi Francesi: gruppo, composto da Alessandro De Santis e Mario Lorenzo Francese, che si è aggiudicato la vittoria della sedicesima edizione di X Factor. Sul palco di Sanremo 2024, per la loro prima volta, portano il singolo L'amore in bocca.

La Sad Passando a un altro gruppo musicale, sul palco dell'Ariston c'è anche La Sad, composto da Theø, Plant e Fiks. La loro musica è un mix di generi e influenze, tra pop punk, emo, e trap  mentre il loro particolare look è sempre e comunque inconfondibile. Il gruppo, nato nel 2020, ha già all'attivo diversi brani e al Festival 2024 si esibisce con la canzone Autodistruttivo.

Antonio Diodato Diodato è un cantautore classe '81 che ha già vinto il Festival di Sanremo nel 2020 con il brano Fai rumore. Quest'anno torna al Festival per la quarta volta come concorrente con il brano Ti muovi. La carriera di Diodato nella musica è iniziata a Stoccolma, ma è stato poi in Italia che il cantante è riuscito a farsi conoscere per la sua musica, partendo dalle Nuove Proposte di Sanremo nel 2014 fino ad arrivare alla vittoria.

Il Tre In gara anche Il Tre, pseudonimo di Guido Luigi Senia, rapper romano di 26 anni. Il Tre si è fatto conoscere grazie alla vittoria della competizione musicale One Shot Game e al suo singolo di debutto Bella Guido. Nel 2023 ha pubblicato il suo secondo disco Invisibili, e nel 2024 partecipa al Festival di Sanremo per la prima volta con il brano Fragili.

Francesco Renga e Nek Sul palco dell'Ariston vedremo anche un'accoppiata indubbiamente vincente: Francesco Renga e Nek. I due cantanti, rispettivamente di 55 e 52 anni, sono due colossi della musica italiana che, oltre ad essere grandi amici da sempre, di recente hanno deciso di incidere un album insieme e partire per un tour. Renga ha già alle spalle ben 7 partecipazioni al Festival, delle quali anche una vittoria nel 2005 con il brano Angelo, mentre Nek è stato in gara a Sanremo 4 volte. Quest'anno tornano insieme con il brano Pazzo di te.

Clara Soccini Tra le cantanti di Sanremo Giovani anche la vincitrice del contest: Clara. Classe 1999, Clara è una cantante lombarda che ha iniziato la sua carriera nella musica nel 2020 e che nel 2023 ha partecipato alla nota serie tv Mare Fuori nel ruolo Giulia, in arte Crazy J, facendosi conoscere al grande pubblico. Dopo aver vinto Sanremo Giovani con il brano Boulevard, Clara partecipa di diritto al Festival di Sanremo con la canzone Diamanti grezzi.

Sangiovanni Sangiovanni, nome d'arte di Giovanni Pietro Damian, è un cantante veneto proveniente direttamente dalla scuola di Amici, dalla quale è uscito vincitore della categoria cantanti. Da quel momento ha avuto un riscontro strepitoso grazie a brani di successo come Guccy Bag, Lady e Tutta la notte. Il successo clamoroso è arrivato però con Farfalle, brano con il quale ha calcato per la prima volta il palco dell'Ariston nel 2022. Palco sul quale ha deciso di tornare con la canzone Finiscimi.

Il Volo Tra i ritorni a Sanremo anche quello de Il Volo, il trio composto dai tenori Piero Barone e Ignazio Boschetto, e dal baritono Gianluca Ginoble. Il gruppo è nato quando i tre erano solo dei ragazzini a Ti lascio una canzone con Antonella Clerici, per poi diventare uno dei gruppi musicali più amati del mondo. Il trio ha già vinto Sanremo nel 2015 con il brano Grande Amore, e ora torna sul palco dell'Ariston per la terza volta con il brano Capolavoro.

Alfa Sul palco anche Alfa, pseudonimo di Andrea De Filippi, speaker, cantante e rapper genovese di 23 anni. Alfa ha iniziato ad occuparsi di musica nel 2017, ma è nel 2023 che riesce ad accaparrarsi la quarta posizione della classifica italiana con il brano Bellissimissima, ottenendo un enorme successo. A Sanremo 2024 debutta con la canzone Vai!.

Alessandra Amoroso Nonostante Alessandra Amoroso, 37 anni, sia tra le cantanti italiane più amate di sempre, non ha mai partecipato al Festival di Sanremo. Quest'anno debutta quindi con il brano Fino a qui. Da Amici di Maria de Filippi, dove è nata la sua carriera, sono passati ben 15 anni e in questo tempo Alessandra ha prodotto un successo dietro l'altro: Immobile, Estranei a partire da ieri, Ciao, Stupendo fino a qui, Vivere a colori, solo per citarne alcuni.

Bnkr44 Il terzo gruppo proveniente da Sanremo giovani è Bnkr44, collettivo musicale nato nel 2019 a Empoli e formato da Fares, Erin, Caph, JxN, Faster, Piccolo e Ghera. Nel 2023 hanno partecipato al Festival di Sanremo nella serata delle cover accanto a Sethu, e quest'anno tornano come concorrenti ufficiali con il brano Governo Punk.

Gazzelle Gazzelle, pseudonimo di Flavio Bruno Pardini, è un cantautore romano classe 1989. Gazzelle ha iniziato a fare musica a livello amatoriale a 22 anni, riuscendo a farsi conoscere nel mondo della musica indipendente nel 2016. Oggi, ha all'attivo diversi singoli e album di successo, ed è pronto a debuttare sul palco dell'Ariston con il brano Tutto qui.

Negramaro I Negramaro sono un gruppo storico della musica italiana pop rock, formato da sei componenti: Giuliano Sangiorgi, Emanuele Spedicato, Ermanno Carlà, Danilo Tasco, Andrea Mariano e Andrea De Rocco. Dopo la partecipazione nel 2005 a Sanremo nelle Giovani Proposte con il brano Mentre tutto scorre (canzone di grandissimo successo) i Negramaro tornano sul palco dell'Ariston come concorrenti con il brano Ricominciamo tutto.

Irama Irama, nome d'arte di Filippo Maria Fanti, non è certo nuovo a Sanremo. Il cantante, classe 1995, ha infatti partecipato più volte alla kermesse, a partire dal 2016 nella categoria Nuove Proposte con il brano Cosa resterà. Ma è stato grazie alla vittoria di Amici nel 2018 che ha ottenuto un successo enorme, presentandosi poi altre tre volte al Festival con i brani La ragazza con il cuore di latta, La genesi del tuo colore e Ovunque sarai. Quest'anno torna con il brano Tu no.

Rose Villain Tra i cantanti più amati dai giovani troviamo anche Rose Villain, pseudonimo di Rosa Luini, classe 1989. Rose è una rapper milanese molto conosciuta per le sue canzoni e per collaborazioni con altri artisti come Gue Pequeno, Rosa Chemical, Elisa, Ernia e molti altri. A Sanremo 2024 si presenta con la canzone Click boom!

Mahmood Mahmood, nome d'arte di Alessandro Mahmoud, ha raggiunto la notorietà partecipando a Sanremo Giovani nel 2018, con il brano Gioventù bruciata. Nel 2019 è quindi tornato all'Ariston aggiudicandosi la vittoria con il brano Soldi, e vincendo anche nel 2022 con il brano Brividi in duetto con Blanco. Mahmood torna quindi a Sanremo anche quest'anno con il brano Tuta gold.

Loredana Bertè Grandissimo ritorno anche per Loredana Bertè, tra le cantanti più famose della musica italiana, che ha già calcato il palco di Sanremo ben 11 volte. Nei tanti anni di carriera ha sfornato un successo dietro l'altro, tra gli ultimi anche Figlia di… e Bollywood. Al Festival di Sanremo 2024 torna in gara con il brano Pazza, incluso nella raccolta Ribelle che uscirà dopo la kermesse.

Big Mama Big Mama, nome d'arte di Marianna Mammone, classe 2000, è una rapper italiana particolarmente apprezzata dai giovani. Big Mama si è avvicinata alla musica da adolescente sia per passione che per esprimere a modo suo il disagio causato dagli episodi di bullismo. Nel 2023 è salita sul palco dell'Ariston nella serata dei duetti per affiancare Elodie, e quest'anno ritorna come concorrente ufficiale con la canzone La rabbia non ti basta.

The Kolors Dopo il grande successo estivo Italodisco, il gruppo The Kolors, formato da Antonio Stash Fiordispino, Alex Fiordispino e Dario Iaculli, è pronto a tornare per la seconda volta all'Ariston con il brano Un ragazzo una ragazza. Dopo il loro esordio nella quattordicesima edizione del talent Amici, hanno portato a casa un successo dietro l'altro, compreso il brano Frida presentano in gara a Sanremo nel 2018.

Annalisa Scarrone Annalisa è tra le veterane di Sanremo, con all'attivo già cinque partecipazioni al Festival con i brani Scintille, Una finestra tra le stelle, Il diluvio universale, Il mondo prima di te e Dieci. Anche lei nata tra i talenti di Amici, è diventate tra le cantanti più amate della musica italiana. Nel 2024, porta al festival il brano inedito Sinceramente.

Ghali Ghali, di origini tunisine, è un rapper milanese tra i più apprezzati del panorama musicale contemporaneo. Classe 1993, Ghali ha iniziato ad occuparsi di musica nel 2011, fino ad arrivare nel 2016 alla pubblicazione del singolo Ninna Nanna che lo porta al reale successo. Dopo essere stato super ospite nel 2020, Ghali torna sul palco di Sanremo, questa volta da concorrente ufficiale, con il brano Casa mia.

Mr. Rain Rapper e produttore discografico italiano, Mr. Rain, pseudonimo di Mattia Balardi, ha partecipato per la prima volta al Festival di Sanremo l'anno scorso con il brano Supereroi, grazie al quale si è classificato al terzo posto. Un brano che è stato risuonato ovunque con un grande riscontro. Quest'anno Mr. Rain ci riprova e torna all'Ariston con il brano Due Altalene.

Ricchi e Poveri Un ritorno attesissimo quello dei Ricchi e Poveri a Sanremo. Il gruppo, nei tanti annidi carriera, ha partecipato alla kermesse ben 12 volte. Inizialmente, il gruppo era composto da Franco Gatti, Angela Brambati, Marina Occhiena e Angelo Sotgiu. Dopo l'abbandono dell'Occhiena e la recente scomparsa di Franco Gatti, il gruppo si è trasformato in un duo composto da Angela e Angelo, che quest'anno tornano a Sanremo con il brano Ma non tutta la vita.

Maninni

A chiudere la lunga lista di Big di Sanremo 2024 c'è Maninni, nome d'arte di Alessio Mininni. Maninni è un cantautore barese conosciuto per aver partecipati al programma Amici nel 2016. Nonostante l'esperienza nel talent sia durata poco, Maninni è riuscito a farsi conoscere anche fuori con brani come Parlami di te, Monolocale, Dicono e Graffi. Al Festival 2024 propone il brano Spettacolare.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Antonio Dawson x Reader

TW: some implications of domestic abuse, and miscarriage (not a main theme)

Btw- reader is fem-coded but I kept it neutral with the story itself

The metal tip of the gun pressed against your temple was ice cold, making you squeeze your eyes shut. It was an uncomfortable feeling, the cold, but knowing that it was also a weapon capable of killing you within a millisecond was infinitely more uncomfortable. You simply squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think of happy things to calm you down. Tears streaked down your cheek as the man above you said his name.

“Antonio Dawson.”

You shifted your weight slightly in the chair, letting out shaky breaths in an attempt to calm yourself. All you wanted was to be in his arms, and yet, here you were, tied to a chair, waiting to die.

-

“Hey (Y/N),” Antonio said, humming as he traced patterns along your back. “What do you think about kids?”

You hummed quietly as you listened to his heart beat against his chest. “Kids? Do you mean… in general? Or the thought of us having kids someday?”

“Well, I guess both?” He shrugged. “I would want kids. Would you?”

You sat up to look at his face, a gentle smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a few.”

His hands moved up to hold your waist, gently pulling you back down into a soft kiss, humming and holding you close.

-

You’d been in college at the time. Antonio had been going through some hardships with the police academy. He felt he had to prove himself every day just to stay there. With you, he had nothing to prove. But, the distance was difficult, seeing as you attended college elsewhere in Illinois. It was a couple hours drive and not one you made often. Inevitably, you had drifted apart, and he had found someone new.

-

“I-I don’t understand,” you murmured into the pay phone. “Toni, what is happening right now?”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), I just… I don’t feel it anymore. Not having you around is so hard.”

“It’s only for a few years, and I come back every couple months, Toni.”

You could hear a long sigh on the other end of the phone, one of remorse. “Look, (Y/N), it’s just hard. It’s not working for me. I don’t have you with me to support me here and I can’t support you there. And, look, I met someone else and…”

Tears welled in your eyes. “And she…” You swallowed hard, nearly holding your breath as you thought of the man you loved with another. “She can give you everything you need… Everything you want… Right away.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I haven’t cheated on you. We haven’t done more than flirt. But if it goes any farther, it would make me a dishonest man. I won’t do that to you. I’d rather just… officially end it.”

A soft sob escaped your lips and for the first time in your life, you felt truly helpless and hopeless. You simply hung up the phone after a few moments of silence, stumbling back to your dorm, overwhelmed by emotions.

-

Laura, who he had gone on to marry and have children with instead of you, divorced him two years ago. At least, that’s what you had heard through mutual friends.

You let out a ragged breath at the thought of his ex-wife, and how he had two wonderful children, just like he’d always wanted. Despite the hardships of the divorce, he was still their father.

The gun was pressed deeper into the skin on your temple and you whimpered. “Please,” was the only word you could muster, voice barely a whisper.

“Shut up,” the man holding the gun huffed. “Dawson, do you really want her to die?”

“You’re surrounded,” Antonio’s familiar voice cut through the darkness. “Give yourself up and turn the hostage over.”

The hostage.

His words were like a slap in the face. As if he didn’t even know who you were. You knew it was probably some kind of protocol or mind game, to not show weakness, but it hurt your heart. You weren’t anything but a hostage in that moment. It reminded you of the last time you saw Antonio, when he worked the beat.

-

You were breathing deeply to calm yourself, waiting for the distant sirens to grow closer. You listened to the consistent noise they made, trying to level your breathing with the pitch of the tone. Biting your busted lip as your friend sat beside you, you realized what had just happened and put your head in your hands, beginning to sob again.

The officers arrived first on scene, but when you looked up, you saw him get out of the passenger seat. “Oh great,” you muttered softly, again letting your head sink back into your hands.

“What is it?” Your friend asked as Antonio approached the two of you.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, a tone that he used to use with you all the time as he knelt on the step below yours. “You alright?”

When you didn’t respond, your friend chimed in. “Just a busted lip and black eye, I think. It was self defense.”

“I’m not a judge or jury,” Antonio replied with a shake of his head as you looked up. “I’m just here to make sure everyone’s alright and to take a report.”

You swallowed hard as your eyes met his. He seemed genuinely concerned, as if wanting to reach out and touch you, but couldn’t.

“I-I didn’t mean it,” you said softly, shaking your head. “He… He was going to hurt my baby…”

Antonio looked you over, then nodded. He hid his surprise well, but hummed. “We’ve got an ambulance on the way to check you out. Make sure they know. Did he hit you in the abdomen?”

“Yes,” you squeaked out, swallowing hard once more as you relived the nightmare that had only been about thirty minutes prior. “I’m scared, Antonio…” All you wanted was for him to hold you and tell you that everything would be alright. You wanted to lunge forward into his arms and sob into his chest, and tell him how much you loved and missed him.

But you couldn’t.

-

Of course Antonio didn’t want to acknowledge you. You were nothing to him now. Despite his wife divorcing him, there was no reason he should still hold any feelings in his heart for you. He had kids with her, not you. You had lost the one child you did have, a child conceived out of lust, and illegitimate. You had loved her nevertheless, but she died before she even had the chance to live.

You started to sob softly as all of these thoughts, feelings, and images crashed through you like waves hitting the beach. The man above you growled, not expecting you to burst into sobs, bringing the pistol up to hit you. You didn’t care.

The next thing you heard was a gunshot, and you cried out in agony, not knowing what was happening in the darkness around you. Your ears rang from the echoing shot, but you soon found that you weren’t dead or even injured from the gun. Suddenly, you were free from the bonds and wrapped up in someone’s arms, still sobbing. You could barely breathe, but when his scent hit your nose, you knew exactly whose arms you were in.

You were paralyzed as he just held you, barely able to breathe. As your ears cleared from the ringing, you heard several voices around you, but you couldn’t make out anything specific in the commotion. Antonio held you tightly until you calmed down, which seemed like hours later. You finally were able to catch your breath and he pulled away, putting a gentle hand to your cheek. “Hey,” he said softly. “You alright?”

You heard his words, just like when you were on your front stoop beside your friend. You couldn’t speak, just shaking your head and pushing your forehead into his shoulder, taking in shallow breaths. He rubbed your back, holding you until the ambulance arrived.

[callsign-dexter]

Hii!

Can you do a antonio dawson x reader where she is a little younger (25 or so) and also from the inteligence?

She is very seductive but just to him since his divorce with laura and eventualy it all blows over and the have sex.

Maybe the next morning laura is there to drop of the kids amd she is in there with his shirt? 🤭

(laura slander bcs she just forgot her own damn kids and fucked off with a rich guy)

Hiya!!!!

Of course I would love to do this for you!!!! It may take a while as I get caught up on some requests and I have family in.

[atletasudando]

Paraguay designó su plantel para el Sudamericano

Fuente: Federación Paraguaya de Atletismo Los mejores atletas de Paraguay concurrirán al Campeonato Sudamericano, a disputarse entre el 28 y 30 de este mes en Sao Paulo. La nómina difundida por la FPA es la siguiente: HOMBRES Cesar Almirón: 100 metros – 200 metros – Relevo 4 x 100 Misael Jonas Zalazar: 100 metros – Relevo 4 x 100 Alexis Wolk: Relevo 4 x 100 (s) Gustavo Mongelos: 100 metros (s) – Relevo 4 x 100 Jhumiler Sánchez: 200 metros – 400 metros – Relevo 4 x 400 Freddy Maidana: 200 metros (s) – Relevo 4 x 100 – Relevo 4 x 400 m – Relevo 4 x 400 Paul Wood Niella: 400 metros – Relevo 4 x 400 Marcos Gonzalez: 400 metros (s) – Relvo 4 x 400 m – Relevo 4 x 400 Rodis Arrúa: 800 metros Ericky Dos Santos: 1500 metros Kevin Mendieta: 110 metros con vallas Antonio Méndez: 400 metros con vallas Iván Brítez: 400 metros con vallas Alexander Villalba: Salto Largo Juan Gabriel Lugo: Salto Largo Lars Anthony Flaming: Lanzamiento Jabalina Antonio Ortiz: Lanzamiento de Jabalina DAMAS Macarena Giménez: 100 metros – Relevo 4 x 100 Xenia Noreen Hiebert: 100 metros – 200 metros (s) – Relevo 4 x 100 Briza Aranella Duré: 200 metros – 400 metros - Relevo 4 x 100 – Relevo 4 x 400 Andrea Baez: 100 metros (s) - 200 metros – Relevo 4 x 100 – Relevo 4 x 400 Monserrat Gauto: 400 metros – Relevo 4 x 400 m – Relevo 4 x 400 Rossmary Paredes: 100 metros con vallas Cecilia Narvaez: 100 metros con vallas Fatima Amarilla: 400 metros con vallas – Relevo 4 x 400 m – Relevo 4 x 400 Maria Hortensia Caballero: 3000 metros obstáculos Noelia Vera: Salto Largo – Relevo 4 x 100 (s) Luciana Román: Salto Largo Josefina Brítez: Salto con Garrocha Laura Paredes: Lanzamiento de Jabalina Fiorella Veloso: Lanzamiento de Jabalina María del Pilar Piccardo: Lanzamiento de Martillo Ana Camila Pirelli: Heptatlon Ana Paula Argüello:Heptatlon Oficiales: - Lázaro Balsinde (saltos y pruebas múltiples) - Fulgencio Torres (velocidad y relevos) - Milciades Alarcón (lanzamientos) - Jorge Articanaba (Fisioterapeuta) - Magdampi Marín (Metodóloga) - Laura Orihuela (Nutricionista) - Laura Perrota (Fisioterapeuta) - Hector Manuel González (Prensa) Entrenadores invitados: - Plinio Penzzi - Thomas Zuddy - Raúl René Rolón Read the full article

[bullet-prooflove]

Secrets Part 2: Evidence - Antonio Dawson x Reader

Tagging: @rosaliedepp    @misscharlielulu   @witches-unruly-heart   @orileyfiction   @kimm4710   @k-k0129   @tonio-dawson   @enchantedblackrose   @storiesofsvu   @ikbenplant     @jayblackpanther   @crazy4chickennuggets   @neapolitantoebeans    @cixrosie   @swannyswan      @halsteadloversworld    @i-spaced-sorry   @bradshawsdarlin    @cosmic-psychickitty   @horny-and-sad27   @gummybabey​

Part One: Exs & Ohs

You stood in front of Voight’s desk, your hands clasped together in front of you. You’d caught his attention when you’d made sure the door was shut behind you. The team was already rattled by his thing with Antonio, they couldn’t reconcile the man they knew with the lies that spewed out of Laura’s mouth, they were working every angle, but it was slow going and you held the key to it all tightly in your right hand.

“He didn’t do it.” You told Voight, swallowing hard against the ache in your chest.

“I know that, and you know that.” Voight told you. “But without evidence he’s stuck in holding until he’s arraigned.”

“He was with me last night.” You said quietly.

Voight gave you a sceptical look.

“She says the attack happened at three in the morning so unless…” he paused for a moment scrutinizing the expression on your face. “How long has this thing with the two of you been going on?”

“Six months.” You said before you put the flash drive on his desk, sliding it towards him with a fingertip. “It’s footage from my ring doorbell. It has sound and video.”  

Voight plugged the device into his computer and opened the file. You felt your cheeks colour as you heard your own laughter emit from the speakers, followed by Antonio’s husky voice.

“Baby, you better open that door otherwise I’m gonna be fucking you right here on the porch for every one of your neighbours to see.”

You moaned as he kissed you. It was obscene how good he was with his mouth. His fingers threaded in your hair, tugging your head back so that his heated lips could leave a blistering trail along the curve of your throat. You cried out his name as his fingertips toyed with the buttons on your blouse, popping the first one open.

“I want you so damn much right now.” He murmured, before undoing another button. “I wanna get on my knees and…”

Voight stopped the video.

“I really could have done without seeing that.” He told you, leaning back in his chair.

Your face was burning, you could feel the heat climbing across your cheeks as you cleared your throat and looked away.

“If you fast forward, you’ll see that he doesn’t leave until seven the next morning, he comes straight here after that.”

“Do you know what this will do to your career if it gets out?” Voight asked, indicating towards the video. “And things like this…. They have a habit of getting out. You know what it’s like, Antonio will get a clap on the back, and you get a reputation for being easy. I’m asking you if you are sure this is what you want?”

“I understand the consequences.” You told him resolutely.

Voight unplugged the USB and handed it back to you.

“Keep hold of it for now.” He advised. “If we don’t turn up anything else to prove he didn’t do this, we’ll have to use it.”

Neither of you wanted that. Voight was willing to let this play out as long as he could before he pulled out the ace out from under his sleeve.

“When this is over, we’ll need to talk about this situation and whether it’s tenable.”

“I know.” You assured him, before leaving the office and closing the door behind you.

Love Antonio? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee